First Descent Camp
By rick harvey
NoMo Chemo Man, aka Richard Harvey, is a brain cancer survivor; Here is a fun & moving story about his experience with First Descent, a non profit organization whose mission statement is “curing young adults of the emotional effects of cancer and empowering them to regain control of their lives by experiencing whitewater kayaking and other challenging adventure sports in a safe, fun and supportive environment”.
I am in Garden Valley Idaho, grateful to be attending a First Descents (FD) whitewater kayaking camp for young adult cancer survivors. During a two hour mechanical delay in LAX, where I started my trip, I enjoyed the carpets’ stale popcorn odor, ate a cardboard sandwich and remembered that it’s good when the airline announces you won’t be leaving until the problems your plane is having are fixed.
Eventually the turboprop puddle jumper was ready and we were on our way. I’m a brain cancer survivor, 2 ½ years past my best prognosis. So far everything has worked out for me in, spite of any gratuitous worrying along the way. But just because I know this doesn’t mean I always believe my good fortune will continue. I hope my time in Idaho as a second year First Descents camper help will fortify my confidence and faith so that they increasingly supplant my fears. That’s what happened last year when I went to and FD camp in California.
I spent a lot of time before leaving Southern California this year worrying, mostly about things that didn’t really need my attention. When I worried about rolling over in my kayak and breaking something important, I remembered that First Descents got me through camp in 2008 with all of my fingers, toes, larger appendages and faculties working just fine. I knew that the neophyte and seasoned Kayakers attracted to this experience share do no harm as our common ethos. I knew the founders of First Descents understand that if their campers go through the ordeal of learning to whitewater kayak in a fun and safe environment, some will return to do it again, and some will become the spokespeople and fundraisers FD needs to make this empowering experience available to other young adult cancer survivors. I remembered to trust that I would be in good hands here in Idaho, even while I scrambled to redesignate the beneficiaries for my life insurance policies before leaving. I buzzed from task to task, fighting survivor’s fatigue and confusion, wondering why I over-commit and why I invariably feel completely exhausted by the time I leave for a vacation.
I recalled feeling exhausted when I arrived at my 2008 FD camp, and how I left that camp with a new understanding of living in the moment. Splashing through challenging whitewater rapids and then floating down beautiful stretches of calm with wonderful new friends leaves no time for non-productive reveries. But the lesson of remaining in the moment is quite difficult to abide in the hustle bustle United States. I begin my second FD camp thirsty to further internalize what I discovered last year.
My 2008 First Descents Camp began at the airport in Yreka, California, where FD founders Brad Ludden and Corey Nielsen picked me and 3 other campers up. Once our luggage was stowed and in the van they asked, “What are your Nicknames?”
“I’m NoMo Chemo Man on my softball team,” I said.
They both shrugged appreciatively. “NoMo,” Corey said, “is your name here.”
“And the rest of you?” Brad said, “or we’ll choose one for you. I am Crotch, Corey’s Rot.”
Right from the start, the leadership of First Descents’ Camps communicates that being with FD is going to be a fun, challenging and playful experience. Campers begin by shedding their birth names for the rest of the camp. We don’t know each other by any other handles than the nicknames we pick for ourselves or ones that get picked for us. Renaming is a metaphor for leaving behind our “sick” cancer patient identities and reclaiming the fun decisive empowered selves that many of us lost during the rigors of treatment.
At the Boise airport this year, Easy E answered Smelly, the Camp Director’s cell phone, “Is this NoMo?”
“Yes, I’m at the baggage claim.”
“This is ‘E’. I have a couple of other campers with me. We’ll be right down.”
“How did you get your nickname?” I asked Easy E as she drove us through Boise towards Garden Valley.
“Well, at last year’s Idaho camp, they named me Easy E because they thought I made everything look easy. I just kind of took to this sport. I shortened it to E ”
“What are your names going to be?” E asked Cindy from Long Beach, California and Kathy and Linda from Omaha, Nebraska. We had all arrived at the airport at about the same time.
“I don’t know.”
“Me neither.”
“Not sure.”
“Well,” E said, “you better pick names by the time we get home, or we’ll choose them for you. This is one of those things you’ll probably want to do for yourself.”
I was in the front passenger seat. I smiled over at E and said, “Yep.”
E dropped us off in front of the spacious 3-bedroom home that was going to be the camp’s base house. The front door opened into a large living room. Twelve campers and as many FD volunteers and staff members were chatting energetically. They had chosen names such as Moo, Pixie, Clicks, McFly, Dog Bite and Rockie. Cindy became Smiles, Kathy became Worm and Linda became Scrappy. Our camp mom and dad, who had set out snacks for all of us, introduced themselves as Home Fry and Home Slice respectively. They had volunteered to make sure we ate healthful delicious food through the week of camp. The house smelled like sausages and peppers and garlic bread. My stomach rumbled happily.
Late this afternoon, FD’s staff and volunteers outfitted us campers with whitewater kayaking equipment.
“This is a spray skirt.” Smelly, the camp director explained, “In this camp, it is cool for everyone to wear skirts. This is the skirt’s ‘Oh shit’ strap,” she pointed at the loop sewn in the front of the skirt. “We will teach you how and when to use it tomorrow at the practice pond. This is a spray jacket, it seals around your waist, neck and wrists. It will keep you warm on the river. These are your PFDs. We will fit you in one so if you swim, it will keep you floating on the surface of the water with your head up. These are river shoes. They are by far the best way to walk in a river’s shallows. Here are the helmets. Make sure yours fits securely on your head. The chinstrap should be snug, so that no more than two fingers fit between your neck and the strap.” Fro, an advanced kayaker and volunteer from Idaho put on a helmet and demonstrated adjusting the strap appropriately.
Smelly continued, “Fro, can you please tell the people how to keep their equipment together?”
“Certainly,” he said. “Take the helmet’s chin strap and pull it through one of the spray jacket’s sleeves, one of the PFD’s armholes, the waist seal of the spray skirt and the laces of your river shoes. It all holds together nicely.”
“This is your equipment for the week,” Smelly explained, “it is your responsibility to make sure your stuff is ready to go when we leave for the river in the morning and to lay it out to dry when we get back in the afternoon. You don’t want to start the day with soppy equipment. It’s cold, stinky and nasty.” We campers broke into separate groups and collected our equipment, tied it into “gear babies” and placed it in the base house’s garage to prepare for the next day.
We ate our delicious Italian dinner and talked. I met campers and staff from many regions of the United States and Canada. I knew many things would be different here from my awesome experience at last year’s FD California kayaking camp, but I felt good about this group. I heard lots of playfulness and laugher as people compared common experiences and began to bond. One of the main goals of First Descents, in addition to facilitating young adult cancer survivors’ success in overcoming the physical and emotional challenges that whitewater kayaking provide, is to create a community where survivors can network and have fun with their peers and the seasoned kayakers who are there to support and encourage them. Going through cancer treatment can be a very isolating and at times socially devastating. Last year I loved watching the most guarded new arrivals open up and begin to have fun as the week flowed.
We have enjoyed our first campfire. The chill of the air, the warmth of the fire and the smell of smoke were a nice combination. The stars above Garden Valley Idaho shimmered sublimely.
We are back in the house feeling at home. Smelly and her staff set a friendly goofy and reassuring tone that has helped everyone relax. Tomorrow we will hit the pond and start building skills. For tonight, it’s peace and blessings to my future readers.
NoMo Chemo Man
Support First Descent: http://www.firstdescents.org/
9/15/09
I’m chillin’ with my homies from FD Idaho after our first day on the water. The hours I invested since last year paddling in my kayak made a huge difference in my physical skills and confidence on the pond today. I was easily able to do everything the instructors asked of us. What a fight that was last year, struggling to move my boat around the pond, feeling all tipsy turvy. Today I was right in the fray, keeping up with the counselors and returning campers. Feeling completely in control of my boat as we played a spirited game of kayak water polo felt so rewarding. I started some roll practice with Hyou, who is E’s husband. He became a roll instructor in the year since he and E attended FD couples camp together. Now both of them are here as Campselors. When FD alums become skilled enough kayakers, they can transition into being counselors for first year campers. Perhaps some day I will be able to do that?
Initially, when we got back to the base house, I felt energized. In minutes, fatigue set in. I crashed for a half hour. I woke up hungry and there were snacks set out, but I could smell the pond on my skin. After a refreshing hot shower, I felt awake and ready to munch.
As I was finishing my snack Smelly announced, “We have set up a slack line outside, you are welcome to come out and give it a try.”
I was one of the last people to arrive. Smelly and some of the volunteers had strung a one-inch flat nylon webbing slack line between two trees. Several of the campers and staff members were taking turns walking across, assisted by a steadying aide on both sides.
“NoMo, are you going to try it?” Thrifty, a volunteer from Utah asked.
“I’ll watch for a while.” I sat remembering a ropes course I was forced to attend at a team-building day in the job I worked at before my brain cancer diagnosis. I didn’t like the company. The corporate culture unequivocally communicated that employees were not valued and then on team building day we were all supposed to forget the abuse and act grateful. I had been scared of heights since I was 8 years old. When my turn to walk the tight rope came up, I refused. I was belayed from four sides, but I couldn’t trust the intent of that community’s leadership.
This afternoon, I stood up, feeling calm confidence in the people ready to help me keep my balance on my walk across the slack line. Even with the micro adjusting balance issues that most brain tumor survivors experience after surgery, I made it back and forth several times. After I finished, I watched in amazement while Smelly crossed several times without assistance, squatted down on one leg while holding the other out, stood back up, pivoted around to face the other direction, jumped up and then landed back on the line. She’s quite the stud. Almost all of the campers ended up trying. Some were even able to take a few steps without assistance. Many of the counselors were at least able to walk across unassisted, and some were able to do some of the tricks smelly had shown us.
“Balance,” Fro explained to our group, “is one of the most important skills in Kayaking. Slack line practice really helps on the river.”
Dinner was replete with great food, in the form of vegetarian and meat lasagna donated by a local FD supporter. First Descents networks with the local kayaking community before camps so the food in many of the camps is almost completely donated. This allows the organization to spend more on providing camp experiences to survivors. The fact that neither of the founders is paid for their work with First Descents stretches donations even further. At the campfire I took off my sandals, warmed my feet and stole glances at the gorgeous sky. Beemer, the lead counselor looked around and asked the group, “What are your goals for this camp.” Around the campfire, a lot of individuals connected with wanting to complete rolls, wet rescues or combat rolls, but collectively we all wanted to have a fun week.
I said, “I want to roll. I want to keep facing challenges and overcoming my fears.” I shared my process of deciding to slack line earlier in the afternoon, and then said, “ I feel like I can trust you all. I felt that at last year’s First Descents camp too. And in the year between then and now, I have been able to do things I never imagined doing. Last month I went zip lining in Guatemala. I’ve been terrified of heights since I was 8, but I figured, hell, zip lining is really pretty safe, the fear of heights is all in my mind. I’ve been whitewater kayaking. There’s some real risk in that.”
I’m enjoying watching the people shed and step away from their protective social and physical shells. Faces are relaxing, smiles are coming easily. We are building a community, overcoming perceived limitations.
9/17/09
We just returned from our first day on the river. I practiced rolling at lunch and at the end of the day. After putting a lot of effort into increasing my flexibility during the last year, my stocky build is still getting in my way. This year I brought earplugs, so I can practice for five or more minutes without getting dizzy. The challenges of the roll include being upside down and under water, remembering which way to go, what to do and with what degree of force in which place – and then just doing it all without over-thinking it. The treatments for brain cancer left me with short-term memory and physical coordination issues. As each earnest instructor has described my to-do list for rolling, I have struggled with forgetting important details in the sequence. So, I didn’t roll yet today. It was, however, a pleasure pulling into and out of eddies with poise today.
On the river, the staff and volunteers were quick to recognize what we do well and diplomatic while answering our queries about how to improve our skills. We have not ferried yet, probably because the Payette River is pretty narrow. It seems to flow faster than the Klamath did last year but maybe that’s because it is less wide. Thankfully I didn’t require a rescue today, but several campers went swimming. Our safety boater instructors were on the spot in a flash. As one would swoop in to collect the wayward duckling, a second would adroitly chase down the abandoned kayak. There was plenty of light humor and encouragement coming from campers and instructors as half swamped boat’s were emptied out. Soon enough everyone was peeling out into the downstream current.
At lunch I joked with Rockie, a 19 year old leukemia survivor from Connecticut, that with the amount of swimming she was doing I was sure she would be one of the first to learn to roll. She laughed. I felt very proud of her and the other campers who faltered today. They were so amiable about it. I was the same way in my first camp, and boy did I swallow my share of river water.
Today on the river we met our challenges and cheered each other on. The spirit was loving, jovial and kind. I could see camper’s skills and confidence building. I don’t feel nearly as exhausted as I did yesterday at this time, but I probably should. Towards the end of the day, we got out of our boats below S-Turn a rapid we had just kayaked.
Smelly said. “I want you to consider swimming this rapid. Swimming rapids is fun, and teaches you what to do if you have to get out of your boat in a rapid.”
Almost every camper accepted Smelly’s invitation. A few of us skinned our knees or shins stumbling over rocks on the way to the top of the rapid. When we arrived, Smelly talked us through the process. “When you jump in,” she said, “roll over and float on your back with your arms out. Keep your legs up, cross your left over your right, keep your feet extended out. If the current brings you to a rock, your legs will protect your torso from the shock of hitting it. Never let your feet sink because your toes could catch on riverbed rocks. Then the current will push you forward and down under the water. It is very hard to escape when this happens. People have drowned this way.”
After watching several of the other campers and counselors do it, I jumped in. I got into the correct position, with my legs up, right under the left, but I was down to the eddy where we were supposed to swim in so quickly that I couldn’t grab it. The current swept me past and then I aspirated water fighting to break the eddy line. By the time a safety boater swooped in, I was wheezing pretty heavily. I felt worried because I only recently recovered from a 4-month bout with pneumonia. This experience was an unequivocal incentive to avoid swimming. The wheezing shook me up. It took me some time to regain my confidence and cheer.
I’m okay now, ready for tomorrow’s adventure. Swimming was a minor bump in an otherwise excellent day.
At the campfire, Beemer asked, “What has surprised you most so far in this camp?”
Smelly said, “I’m surprised at how trusting everyone has been. When I asked you to swim today, almost all of you jumped right in. I didn’t necessarily expect that.”
Rocky said, “I’m surprised at how cool old people can be.” (Ouch) Worm, who is seven years younger than me - and old enough to be Rocky’s mother - inspired Rocky’s comment. She has been keeping her roommates in hysterics describing how surreal and hilarious cancer treatment was for her.
When my turn came around I said, “Last year in California was an awesome camp. Corey and Brad told us it was one of their three favorite camps ever. Coming from that, I didn’t know what to expect when I got here, but I knew it might be a let down. But this has been just as good as last year.”
We all agreed that this camp has already become special. Spirits are high.
There are peals of laughter in the living room. At the campfire, CC, who is a Cuban American from Miami, is conducting a Salsa lesson tonight. The dance lesson has evolved into rehearsal for a dance routine that will be presented after tomorrow night’s campfire. If I wasn’t so tired I would join in, but I can barely keep my eyes open. Clicks from Omaha is tapping his head with the palm of his right hand, which we learned today signals Everything Is Okay on the river, and then crossing his forearms, which means Medical Emergency.
Much love to my family in other parts and to the First Descents family for making this great program available.
NoMo
9/18
Yesterday was a fun day at a small dam called The Gutter. Stuff to do there included boogie boarding, stand up paddle boarding and roll practice. I decided roll practice was all I really wanted to do. I exhausted Dog Bite from Wyoming’s roll instruction resources and moved on for a long stint with You-Da-Ho, Idaho’s finest medicine woman and roll instructor. She sure was patient. I made progress, but mostly got and A for effort. She eventually told me I had to quit. I got so tired that when we left for a barbeque at Cascade Raft, I forgot my sandals.
I thought I packed carefully for today after we got home yesterday afternoon, but this morning I couldn’t find several items I needed on the river. Since going through treatment, I have noticed a pronounced link between my level of fatigue and my brain’s ability to organize. This morning I felt worried because I was fatigued and scattered. So I wasn’t sure how I would function on the river.
McFly and Thrifty were the volunteers assigned to my paddling of survivors today. We put in at Cascade Raft. The first rapid we kayaked, Toilet Bowl, earns its moniker due to the disconcerting pair of whirlpools at its base. These are best left alone by newbies. I had no complaint with that. Then we ran S-Turn and No-Name. Despite nagging fatigue and the fact that I am right handed and picked a left hand dominant paddle in the morning, I paddled well through all of them.
Our final rapid for the day was called Climax. As we approached Climax, Thrifty, who was my mentor for the day said, “You can always tell a good rapid if the river drops off from the horizon.” Sure enough, I couldn’t see what was going to happen sitting on the river, but I could definitely hear the roar. The entire First Descents group eddied out right above climax. We got out of our boats and walked up for a bank scout. Going left, Climax dropped 10 feet through three big waves and ended in a big hole. It was the scariest water I had ever seen, aside from the huge stuff I’ve watched expert and professional kayakers bucking through in adventure films.
“The way down the right is easier,” Thrifty noted. On the right there was a shallower riffling path with lots of rocks.
“Okay everyone,” Smelly shouted over Climax’s roar, “If you choose to go down on the left side, there are three offset waves. It is a good place to challenge your self. You can also go down the right side, or you can hike down. It is up to each of you to decide what you want to do. No matter what, you will be okay here.”
Cascade Raft, who had outfitted our camp and shuttled us had also provided three of their most excellent “Monkeys” (volunteer interns) to help get us down the river. I pondered my decision while watching the young professionals wave wheel up and down Climax. It looked like fun. The mist rising from Climax’s churn brushed past my face.
“Now the monkeys are going to show you where you should paddle if you go down the left side,” Smelly shouted. She waved broadly with her right arm and the monkeys adroitly shuttled into their positions. I was amazed by their ability to read the water and park their boats in the rapid.
“What do you want to do?” Thrifty asked.
“I think I can do the left side,” I gulped.
I noticed the smell of sweet grass and sage as I walked back to the boat, carefully avoiding poison ivy along the way.
In pairs and fours, everyone in the entourage ferried to the left side of the river and peeled off downstream. Thrifty coached me on how to approach the top, and where to head down the tongue. I struggled to follow his line as we plunged toward the first wave on the right. I bounced towards the second on the left, but when I hit the tube wall, it threw my weight right as the left side of the boat jerked up. I flipped and dropped my paddle. I tucked forward and slapped my front gunwales, feeling for the bow of a T-rescue boat. I briefly fingered and then lost purchase on the bow of McFly’s boat.
I had been under long enough to scrap the wet rescue. I pulled my spray skirt’s strap. On by far the hardest rapid we have faced this week I swam. When my head surfaced, Smelly was on the spot.
“Get on,” she shouted and nodded towards her boat’s stern. I seized the grab loops and started kicking towards shore.
Once I relaxed, I noticed that the Payette’s water tasted delicious – like minerals. Soon I was back in my boat watching from an eddy on the right. I watched and cheered as camper after camper bounced down Climax. In the end there were only 3 swimmers total. The first year campers have done their share of swimming earlier in the week, but almost all of them made it down in their boats. I was grateful I was able to stay up for the rest of the week and that I got to see so many fellow campers succeed on in facing their peak challenge.
I asked McFly, “What should I have done differently - to stay up?”
“You were going along great until you hit the second wave,” he said, “When something pushes you right, you have to lean hard to the left to stay up. That will get you through most situations like that.”
After leaving the Payette’s South Fork, we drove to the Boise National Forest. Twenty minutes down a dirt road that shadows the middle fork of the Payette River we stopped across from the Rocky Canyon Hot Springs. The hot spring source is about 100 feet up a hill along side an easily forded section of the river. The hot water pours down, filling a series of eight stone and mortar collecting pools. Each pool has a spillway spout about 2 feet above its floor. As the water flows from pool to pool it cools incrementally.
We chose pools and sat, initially wincing as the scratches and bumps from our fun on the river reacted with the sulphur scented water. Then we soaked and massaged our sore kayaking muscles. We talked and listened. We settled until fatigue and the water’s heat nudged us towards sleepy. Patches of the dark algae that thrives on the walls and floors of these pools broke off, leaving splotches on our shoulders and backs. Some time later, we lazily rose out of our pools and walked down.
On the way back across the Payette, Fro, an Idaho native volunteer who has been guiding and teaching us on the river helped me to locate a couple of special rocks for my wife. He offered up several keepers.
“I collect one from all of the creeks and rivers I Kayak,” he said. Pointing at a 60-pound chunk of impure quartz he said, “That is what gold prospectors look for, unusual pieces of white quartz with small chunks of other rock types.” We hiked up to the dirt road with our pockets full of river rocks.
When we got home, I sat back in a section of the couch and began watching Kung Fu Panda with some of the campers, Smelly and McFly. I woke up with everyone in the living room looking at me and smiling. Apparently I treated the whole gang to a snore fest. I still feel tired – really tired. Before campfire I again began to worry about fatigue. I accepted that even though one of my main goals for the week was to get my roll, I probably wasn’t going to achieve that. I actually began considering riding on the support raft tomorrow if the fatigue became too much. Then I went to Campfire.
I sat down next to Moo, a 25-year-old leukemia survivor from Boise, ID. “How are you doing, NoMo?” she asked.
“I’m beat,” I said.
“All lot of us are. I’m exhausted,” she said.
“Oh? I’m glad it’s not just me.”
“Not at all.”
Talking to Moo helped me feel better. Then the Campfire was great. Listening to the group’s memories and thoughts about our time on the river and the gratitude expressed about our new friendships refilled my tank. Several people mentioned they felt tired. After hearing that, I didn’t feel as alone or disappointed in my stamina as I had.
We are all going through a rite of passage. Passing through an ordeal, even in the company of a loving professional support system, is taxing. Part of the First Descents challenge is about showing cancer survivors that we can rise from our own ashes and flourish. We fight fatigue and perceived limits with cheer and determination, accepting that we might falter, and if we do, a team of professionals and loving friends will be there to catch us. We will leave this camp wanting to continue doing the things we just did, and committed to rebuilding our wellness. We will return to our lives inoculated with the determination to get the most out of our new normal.
9/19/09
After 5 days of increasing challenge, today is this year’s final adventure on the river. We’re all a bit nervous. Coming home in the van yesterday, Smelly, the camp director promised that none of today’s rapids will be as challenging as Climax was yesterday. Climax was the only rapid I swam in this week. After a brief stop at Cascade Raft to pick up our boats, we shuttle to milepost 77. Before we put in, Smelly assigns me to one of Cascade Raft’s safety boaters. His name is Conner. In the FD tradition, I rename him Con Man, which he doesn’t mind at all. He is 16 and has been kayaking for 6 years. Like all of the young men from Cascade Raft that are working with us, he is a very accomplished kayaker. He is serving an internship at Cascade, living here through his summer vacation. Youngsters like Con Man come here because Cascade is known in the whitewater industry as the place to start a kayaking career, and probably because the Payette River is a load of fun to kayak. Brad Ludden, one of First Descents’ founders started as a monkey with Cascade when he was 12. Early in their apprenticeships, when they work for free, they are called Monkeys. They wear brown shirts with pictures of big yellow bananas on the back. We have three monkeys with us today. Curious, from Wyoming, is 12. Con Man and Camel Toe, who is 14, are from Idaho.
Starting at Milepost 77 puts us above Bennets Rock, a class II + wave train. It also saves us from running GLOYF (Go Left Or You’re Fired), a very challenging Class 3 rapid. The campers in my paddling of survivors today include Worm, a 37 year-old mother of 6 and a breast cancer survivor, Smiles, a young single mother and a small bowel cancer survivor, Scribbles and me. Both Scribbles and I are brain cancer survivors. Our FD volunteer staff includes Dog Bite, from Wyoming and McFly, from Ontario, Canada. Dog Bite is in the back of a tandem kayak with Scribbles in the front. The rest of us survivors, McFly and Curious and Con Man are in single passenger kayaks.
When I cross the eddy line, I lay in a couple of downstream stern strokes and tilt left to expose the bottom of my boat to the current. That’s how I learned to peel out at First Descents camp last year. As soon as she breaks the eddy line, Worm flips and ends up swimming. The rest of us immediately eddy out right, above Bennets Rock, and wait for McFly to bring Worm in. After Curios retrieves Worm’s boat, she gets back in.
As we pull back into the current, I ask Con Man, “How do we run this?”
“Stay right of the center rock,” he says, “and ride the wave train. Eddy out right just past the rapid.”
McFly adds, “Lean forward and paddle aggressively. Cross the waves as close to perpendicular as you can, keep paddling until it’s calm.”
I crash through several swells, reaching the end of the train scared but unscathed. Worm flips and swims again, as does one of the campers from a different paddling. McFly executes Worm’s speedy rescue and drops her on the right bank. Thrifty tows her half-swamped kayak back to the eddy where we’re waiting. Stumbling towards us over the rocks on the right bank, Worm is in tears, a hair’s width from spending the rest of the day on the support raft.
“Slow down,” I urge her, “We have all day. You can get back in the boat whenever you’re ready.”
McFly picks up that Worm’s not sure she wants to stay in her kayak. “After this,” he says, “We can raft the rapids together. I’ll hold on to your boat. That way nothing can turn us over. I swear, I’ll be on you like white on rice.”
“Worm,” I add, “last year on my 4th day with FD on the Klamath River, Corey Nielsen swooped in to help me when I broached on a rocky section. We were at the top of a class 2 rapid. Corey rafted up with me. ‘Watch this,’ he said, ‘Nothing will happen. Hold onto your paddle and we’ll float through together.’ I was scared, but I trusted him. It went just like he promised. At the bottom I was ready to keep going. I guarantee you Worm, you’ll be just fine with McFly.”
I notice Con Man watching and listening with quiet interest. I don’t ask what he’s thinking, but I feel he is experiencing the moment all people who become involved with First Descents seem to get to remember. The one where we really understand how positive this program can be.
Worm gets back in her kayak and peels into the current with McFly close at hand, and without incident. On the next two rapids, Constriction (Class II) and Mike’s Hole (Class III) Worm and McFly raft. On Mike’s Toe, and Chief’s Headdress, both Class II rapids, Worm shifts to paddling through with McFly right next to her.
When we put out at Chief Parrish Campground for lunch, I walk over to Worm. After a good long hug, I say, “I’m so proud of you. You got back in and did okay. That must have been very hard. And scary.”
“Yes was,” she says. “Thank you so much.” We embrace again and walk up the trail.
Up in Chief Parrish campground our camp mom, Home Fry, and dad, Home Slice and You-Da-Ho, one of our excellent Idaho Native volunteers are busy setting out sandwich makings. You-Da-Ho has been my favorite roll instructor at this camp. She’s also very interesting to talk to. She’s taking a break from medical school so she can do stuff like volunteer for First Descents. “I believe,” she told me, “doing stuff like this will make me a better doctor. It gives me the chance to understand how cancer survivors think.”
These volunteers make it possible for a group of mostly inexperienced cancer survivors to go kayaking for a week in challenging water like the Payette River and accomplish what we do. We use every bit of energy up on the river. Organizing meals would cut our kayaking time half because we just don’t have enough stamina to do it all. Thankfully we don’t have to. First Descents camps are a beautiful thing.
There are few things more welcome than a sandwich with lettuce, mustard, mayo and roasted turkey after a challenging morning on the river. Even though I’m ravenous I eat with moderation. Early last year at FD Camp I noticed how uncomfortable a full stomach is under a spray skirt, jacket and PFD. Again this year I have eaten light at breakfast and lunch. Dinner is a different story.
While we are at lunch, Beemer, the head counselor and a three-year FD alum, spends some time with Worm talking about focus - what she really wants out of the rest of the day.
I’m sitting in my boat waiting on Chief Parrish Campgrounds beach. Soon we will put out and do our last run for the week. Worm sits down in her Kayak. She looks over and smiles.
Smelly calls everyone on the beach together. “FD volunteers and monkeys,” she says, “I want you to paddle down the rapid. Campers, stay here.”
When all of the guides and safety boaters have gone, Smelly turns to us and says, “Now it’s your time to run a rapid alone. There is plenty of help waiting down in and past this rapid, if you need it. It’s a very fun run, lots of choppy waves. There’s nothing here you haven’t done this week. You can do this. Good luck, have fun, leave one at a time. Remember, lean forward and paddle aggressively. Let me know when you’re ready.”
When my turn comes, I peel off and paddle downstream. From just above Chief Parrish’s Class 2+ wave train and all the way through I keep repeating, “Stay loose, relax, go with it.” Through the rapid, on wave after wave I correct so my boat lines up perpendicular to the swells I’m crashing through. I suck in deep breaths of the fresh mineral-scented water, occasionally noticing the water’s shock against my hands as I dig left or right with my paddle. I continue paddling out corrections in a choppy section at the bottom where the cross riffles jog my boat. I see the campers who kayaked before me eddied out left, waving their paddles and cheering. I paddle over, cross the eddy line tight and diagonal and whip around into the calm. I join the group in cheering those who follow me.
The run is a huge success. There are a few swimmers but almost all of the 16 campers get through with our wits skills and hearts.
Our next test is the Mixmaster, a Class III rapid. Con Man leads us down the tongue, but when I hit the waves, my awareness of anyone around me vanishes. Lateral waves jar me left and right. When my boat begins to flip, I lean fiercely into the inertial wave and stay up. I shout, “Stay loose, relax, go with it!” take deep breaths and consciously relax my hips. My boat plunges down and whips up the biggest wave yet. As I crash through, my face smacks into the water below the crest. I feel completely alone with this rapid in this river - the challenge is all I know.
After a brief calm stretch, we are above AMF - Adios My Friend, or there is the expletive version of MF. It is another Class III rapid. At the bottom of the tongue I crash through and lean into numerous waves. I manage to avoid tipping over.
In the calm stretch that follows Smelly calls everyone in the camp together and instructs us to circle up our boats. We hold on to each other’s gunwales and become connected all the way around. After a brief calm stretch, we and raft through Beehive Bend, a choppy section of water with light rapids. Sixteen campers and as many support boaters remain one through the rapid.
Below Beehive bend, Smelly pops her spray skirt, stands up and walks along the bows of our circled boats as we hold together. The circle breaks and she falls in the water. With ease she snags her boat, and with only the steadying hand of You-Da-Ho on her boat’s bow, She shimmies into her kayak’s cockpit and pops on her spray skirt.
We all take out at Cascade Raft, in possession of our limbs, fingers, toes and faculties, baring a few well-earned scratches and bruises, but mostly fortified with empowerment. We feel tired, sad and exuberant. We wish we could stay in camp for another week, but we’re glad to know we will return home soon.
I stayed up all through the Payette’s Main fork. Most of us did. We kayaked three class III rapids, two Class II + and two Class II rapids. Not bad for a bunch of young adult cancer survivors.
At our campfire tonight there were tears and laughter. We shared what we have learned at First Descents Camp about courage, trust, overcoming perceived limits and about fully living life. Not all of us will voluntarily peel out into a river’s current and kayak down through a rapid again, but most of us can’t wait for our next opportunity to lean forward, paddle hard and enjoy the ride. If we’re lucky, maybe we’ll get to watch from the bank while a fluttering Osprey on the hunt surveys the water we’re preparing to paddle through. We eagerly look forward to the fragrant warmth of campfires enjoyed at the end of a days spent kayaking through new waters with good friends. There were three parts to the First Descents closing Ceremony at the campfire tonight. First we tied Laotian charm bracelets called Bacis on each other’s wrists.
“When you tie a Bacis on someone’s wrist, you tie three knots,” Smelly explained as we passed them around. “When you tie knots for someone, think of the positive thoughts and outcomes you most want for them.”
You-Da-Ho, who selflessly worked with me to help me achieve my roll asked to tie on my Bacis. I gratefully accepted. In addition to focusing on my good health and success, perhaps one of her wishes for me was that soon, I would get my roll. Next we all lit votive candles in glass flotation globes and one by one, with a prayer and our best intentions we set the lit luminescent orbs on the water in a small pool FD provided for this purpose. Two extra candles were lit. One was for Allan Goldberg, who was FD’s first Executive Director. He died of cancer in June of 2008. Serving young adult cancer survivors through First Descents was one of his greatest passions in life. The second candle was for campers who could not make it back to camp this year. Finally, Smelly explained that they always close out the last campfire by listening to the First Descents national anthem, Garth Brooks’ Friends in Low Places. She turned on a portable CD player. We linked up in a circle, arms on shoulders, around the pool filled with floating candles. We listened and sang along. The last fun of the night was watching a montage of photos that Nutter, our camp photographer had put together with music. The photos told of how we transformed from fledglings; our spirited game of kayak water polo, us boogie boarding at The Gutter, us practicing rolls, crashing through rapids, eddying out, clowning around in the living room at then end of the day, walking slack lines to build balance, us playing volleyball, us laughing in ways many of us forgot existed after cancer came to visit, but now remembered; us dancing together, embracing, us victorious in our boats, new kayakers in love with the moment. Us, a constellation of newly shining stars.
On August 20th, after hugs and farewells, I boarded a plane in Boise and flew to Portland, Oregon. As I we approached for landing, I looked out over the Columbia River. I realized that the same water that flowed through our practice pond on our first day in our kayaks at FD Camp had followed gravity down the Payette River, joined into the Snake River and in the Columbia River was finding its way to the Pacific Ocean. I thanked the water for its promise to return to land as snow and rain, to sustain all forms of life with food, drink and habitat, and when in our small boats we become one with the river, for its promise to remind us to cultivate balance and flow in the moment.
More about First Descents Camps visit www.firstdescents.org
Donate here: https://www.active.com/donate/firstdescents/richardharvey
By rick harvey
NoMo Chemo Man, aka Richard Harvey, is a brain cancer survivor; Here is a fun & moving story about his experience with First Descent, a non profit organization whose mission statement is “curing young adults of the emotional effects of cancer and empowering them to regain control of their lives by experiencing whitewater kayaking and other challenging adventure sports in a safe, fun and supportive environment”.
I am in Garden Valley Idaho, grateful to be attending a First Descents (FD) whitewater kayaking camp for young adult cancer survivors. During a two hour mechanical delay in LAX, where I started my trip, I enjoyed the carpets’ stale popcorn odor, ate a cardboard sandwich and remembered that it’s good when the airline announces you won’t be leaving until the problems your plane is having are fixed.
Eventually the turboprop puddle jumper was ready and we were on our way. I’m a brain cancer survivor, 2 ½ years past my best prognosis. So far everything has worked out for me in, spite of any gratuitous worrying along the way. But just because I know this doesn’t mean I always believe my good fortune will continue. I hope my time in Idaho as a second year First Descents camper help will fortify my confidence and faith so that they increasingly supplant my fears. That’s what happened last year when I went to and FD camp in California.
I spent a lot of time before leaving Southern California this year worrying, mostly about things that didn’t really need my attention. When I worried about rolling over in my kayak and breaking something important, I remembered that First Descents got me through camp in 2008 with all of my fingers, toes, larger appendages and faculties working just fine. I knew that the neophyte and seasoned Kayakers attracted to this experience share do no harm as our common ethos. I knew the founders of First Descents understand that if their campers go through the ordeal of learning to whitewater kayak in a fun and safe environment, some will return to do it again, and some will become the spokespeople and fundraisers FD needs to make this empowering experience available to other young adult cancer survivors. I remembered to trust that I would be in good hands here in Idaho, even while I scrambled to redesignate the beneficiaries for my life insurance policies before leaving. I buzzed from task to task, fighting survivor’s fatigue and confusion, wondering why I over-commit and why I invariably feel completely exhausted by the time I leave for a vacation.
I recalled feeling exhausted when I arrived at my 2008 FD camp, and how I left that camp with a new understanding of living in the moment. Splashing through challenging whitewater rapids and then floating down beautiful stretches of calm with wonderful new friends leaves no time for non-productive reveries. But the lesson of remaining in the moment is quite difficult to abide in the hustle bustle United States. I begin my second FD camp thirsty to further internalize what I discovered last year.
My 2008 First Descents Camp began at the airport in Yreka, California, where FD founders Brad Ludden and Corey Nielsen picked me and 3 other campers up. Once our luggage was stowed and in the van they asked, “What are your Nicknames?”
“I’m NoMo Chemo Man on my softball team,” I said.
They both shrugged appreciatively. “NoMo,” Corey said, “is your name here.”
“And the rest of you?” Brad said, “or we’ll choose one for you. I am Crotch, Corey’s Rot.”
Right from the start, the leadership of First Descents’ Camps communicates that being with FD is going to be a fun, challenging and playful experience. Campers begin by shedding their birth names for the rest of the camp. We don’t know each other by any other handles than the nicknames we pick for ourselves or ones that get picked for us. Renaming is a metaphor for leaving behind our “sick” cancer patient identities and reclaiming the fun decisive empowered selves that many of us lost during the rigors of treatment.
At the Boise airport this year, Easy E answered Smelly, the Camp Director’s cell phone, “Is this NoMo?”
“Yes, I’m at the baggage claim.”
“This is ‘E’. I have a couple of other campers with me. We’ll be right down.”
“How did you get your nickname?” I asked Easy E as she drove us through Boise towards Garden Valley.
“Well, at last year’s Idaho camp, they named me Easy E because they thought I made everything look easy. I just kind of took to this sport. I shortened it to E ”
“What are your names going to be?” E asked Cindy from Long Beach, California and Kathy and Linda from Omaha, Nebraska. We had all arrived at the airport at about the same time.
“I don’t know.”
“Me neither.”
“Not sure.”
“Well,” E said, “you better pick names by the time we get home, or we’ll choose them for you. This is one of those things you’ll probably want to do for yourself.”
I was in the front passenger seat. I smiled over at E and said, “Yep.”
E dropped us off in front of the spacious 3-bedroom home that was going to be the camp’s base house. The front door opened into a large living room. Twelve campers and as many FD volunteers and staff members were chatting energetically. They had chosen names such as Moo, Pixie, Clicks, McFly, Dog Bite and Rockie. Cindy became Smiles, Kathy became Worm and Linda became Scrappy. Our camp mom and dad, who had set out snacks for all of us, introduced themselves as Home Fry and Home Slice respectively. They had volunteered to make sure we ate healthful delicious food through the week of camp. The house smelled like sausages and peppers and garlic bread. My stomach rumbled happily.
Late this afternoon, FD’s staff and volunteers outfitted us campers with whitewater kayaking equipment.
“This is a spray skirt.” Smelly, the camp director explained, “In this camp, it is cool for everyone to wear skirts. This is the skirt’s ‘Oh shit’ strap,” she pointed at the loop sewn in the front of the skirt. “We will teach you how and when to use it tomorrow at the practice pond. This is a spray jacket, it seals around your waist, neck and wrists. It will keep you warm on the river. These are your PFDs. We will fit you in one so if you swim, it will keep you floating on the surface of the water with your head up. These are river shoes. They are by far the best way to walk in a river’s shallows. Here are the helmets. Make sure yours fits securely on your head. The chinstrap should be snug, so that no more than two fingers fit between your neck and the strap.” Fro, an advanced kayaker and volunteer from Idaho put on a helmet and demonstrated adjusting the strap appropriately.
Smelly continued, “Fro, can you please tell the people how to keep their equipment together?”
“Certainly,” he said. “Take the helmet’s chin strap and pull it through one of the spray jacket’s sleeves, one of the PFD’s armholes, the waist seal of the spray skirt and the laces of your river shoes. It all holds together nicely.”
“This is your equipment for the week,” Smelly explained, “it is your responsibility to make sure your stuff is ready to go when we leave for the river in the morning and to lay it out to dry when we get back in the afternoon. You don’t want to start the day with soppy equipment. It’s cold, stinky and nasty.” We campers broke into separate groups and collected our equipment, tied it into “gear babies” and placed it in the base house’s garage to prepare for the next day.
We ate our delicious Italian dinner and talked. I met campers and staff from many regions of the United States and Canada. I knew many things would be different here from my awesome experience at last year’s FD California kayaking camp, but I felt good about this group. I heard lots of playfulness and laugher as people compared common experiences and began to bond. One of the main goals of First Descents, in addition to facilitating young adult cancer survivors’ success in overcoming the physical and emotional challenges that whitewater kayaking provide, is to create a community where survivors can network and have fun with their peers and the seasoned kayakers who are there to support and encourage them. Going through cancer treatment can be a very isolating and at times socially devastating. Last year I loved watching the most guarded new arrivals open up and begin to have fun as the week flowed.
We have enjoyed our first campfire. The chill of the air, the warmth of the fire and the smell of smoke were a nice combination. The stars above Garden Valley Idaho shimmered sublimely.
We are back in the house feeling at home. Smelly and her staff set a friendly goofy and reassuring tone that has helped everyone relax. Tomorrow we will hit the pond and start building skills. For tonight, it’s peace and blessings to my future readers.
NoMo Chemo Man
Support First Descent: http://www.firstdescents.org/
9/15/09
I’m chillin’ with my homies from FD Idaho after our first day on the water. The hours I invested since last year paddling in my kayak made a huge difference in my physical skills and confidence on the pond today. I was easily able to do everything the instructors asked of us. What a fight that was last year, struggling to move my boat around the pond, feeling all tipsy turvy. Today I was right in the fray, keeping up with the counselors and returning campers. Feeling completely in control of my boat as we played a spirited game of kayak water polo felt so rewarding. I started some roll practice with Hyou, who is E’s husband. He became a roll instructor in the year since he and E attended FD couples camp together. Now both of them are here as Campselors. When FD alums become skilled enough kayakers, they can transition into being counselors for first year campers. Perhaps some day I will be able to do that?
Initially, when we got back to the base house, I felt energized. In minutes, fatigue set in. I crashed for a half hour. I woke up hungry and there were snacks set out, but I could smell the pond on my skin. After a refreshing hot shower, I felt awake and ready to munch.
As I was finishing my snack Smelly announced, “We have set up a slack line outside, you are welcome to come out and give it a try.”
I was one of the last people to arrive. Smelly and some of the volunteers had strung a one-inch flat nylon webbing slack line between two trees. Several of the campers and staff members were taking turns walking across, assisted by a steadying aide on both sides.
“NoMo, are you going to try it?” Thrifty, a volunteer from Utah asked.
“I’ll watch for a while.” I sat remembering a ropes course I was forced to attend at a team-building day in the job I worked at before my brain cancer diagnosis. I didn’t like the company. The corporate culture unequivocally communicated that employees were not valued and then on team building day we were all supposed to forget the abuse and act grateful. I had been scared of heights since I was 8 years old. When my turn to walk the tight rope came up, I refused. I was belayed from four sides, but I couldn’t trust the intent of that community’s leadership.
This afternoon, I stood up, feeling calm confidence in the people ready to help me keep my balance on my walk across the slack line. Even with the micro adjusting balance issues that most brain tumor survivors experience after surgery, I made it back and forth several times. After I finished, I watched in amazement while Smelly crossed several times without assistance, squatted down on one leg while holding the other out, stood back up, pivoted around to face the other direction, jumped up and then landed back on the line. She’s quite the stud. Almost all of the campers ended up trying. Some were even able to take a few steps without assistance. Many of the counselors were at least able to walk across unassisted, and some were able to do some of the tricks smelly had shown us.
“Balance,” Fro explained to our group, “is one of the most important skills in Kayaking. Slack line practice really helps on the river.”
Dinner was replete with great food, in the form of vegetarian and meat lasagna donated by a local FD supporter. First Descents networks with the local kayaking community before camps so the food in many of the camps is almost completely donated. This allows the organization to spend more on providing camp experiences to survivors. The fact that neither of the founders is paid for their work with First Descents stretches donations even further. At the campfire I took off my sandals, warmed my feet and stole glances at the gorgeous sky. Beemer, the lead counselor looked around and asked the group, “What are your goals for this camp.” Around the campfire, a lot of individuals connected with wanting to complete rolls, wet rescues or combat rolls, but collectively we all wanted to have a fun week.
I said, “I want to roll. I want to keep facing challenges and overcoming my fears.” I shared my process of deciding to slack line earlier in the afternoon, and then said, “ I feel like I can trust you all. I felt that at last year’s First Descents camp too. And in the year between then and now, I have been able to do things I never imagined doing. Last month I went zip lining in Guatemala. I’ve been terrified of heights since I was 8, but I figured, hell, zip lining is really pretty safe, the fear of heights is all in my mind. I’ve been whitewater kayaking. There’s some real risk in that.”
I’m enjoying watching the people shed and step away from their protective social and physical shells. Faces are relaxing, smiles are coming easily. We are building a community, overcoming perceived limitations.
9/17/09
We just returned from our first day on the river. I practiced rolling at lunch and at the end of the day. After putting a lot of effort into increasing my flexibility during the last year, my stocky build is still getting in my way. This year I brought earplugs, so I can practice for five or more minutes without getting dizzy. The challenges of the roll include being upside down and under water, remembering which way to go, what to do and with what degree of force in which place – and then just doing it all without over-thinking it. The treatments for brain cancer left me with short-term memory and physical coordination issues. As each earnest instructor has described my to-do list for rolling, I have struggled with forgetting important details in the sequence. So, I didn’t roll yet today. It was, however, a pleasure pulling into and out of eddies with poise today.
On the river, the staff and volunteers were quick to recognize what we do well and diplomatic while answering our queries about how to improve our skills. We have not ferried yet, probably because the Payette River is pretty narrow. It seems to flow faster than the Klamath did last year but maybe that’s because it is less wide. Thankfully I didn’t require a rescue today, but several campers went swimming. Our safety boater instructors were on the spot in a flash. As one would swoop in to collect the wayward duckling, a second would adroitly chase down the abandoned kayak. There was plenty of light humor and encouragement coming from campers and instructors as half swamped boat’s were emptied out. Soon enough everyone was peeling out into the downstream current.
At lunch I joked with Rockie, a 19 year old leukemia survivor from Connecticut, that with the amount of swimming she was doing I was sure she would be one of the first to learn to roll. She laughed. I felt very proud of her and the other campers who faltered today. They were so amiable about it. I was the same way in my first camp, and boy did I swallow my share of river water.
Today on the river we met our challenges and cheered each other on. The spirit was loving, jovial and kind. I could see camper’s skills and confidence building. I don’t feel nearly as exhausted as I did yesterday at this time, but I probably should. Towards the end of the day, we got out of our boats below S-Turn a rapid we had just kayaked.
Smelly said. “I want you to consider swimming this rapid. Swimming rapids is fun, and teaches you what to do if you have to get out of your boat in a rapid.”
Almost every camper accepted Smelly’s invitation. A few of us skinned our knees or shins stumbling over rocks on the way to the top of the rapid. When we arrived, Smelly talked us through the process. “When you jump in,” she said, “roll over and float on your back with your arms out. Keep your legs up, cross your left over your right, keep your feet extended out. If the current brings you to a rock, your legs will protect your torso from the shock of hitting it. Never let your feet sink because your toes could catch on riverbed rocks. Then the current will push you forward and down under the water. It is very hard to escape when this happens. People have drowned this way.”
After watching several of the other campers and counselors do it, I jumped in. I got into the correct position, with my legs up, right under the left, but I was down to the eddy where we were supposed to swim in so quickly that I couldn’t grab it. The current swept me past and then I aspirated water fighting to break the eddy line. By the time a safety boater swooped in, I was wheezing pretty heavily. I felt worried because I only recently recovered from a 4-month bout with pneumonia. This experience was an unequivocal incentive to avoid swimming. The wheezing shook me up. It took me some time to regain my confidence and cheer.
I’m okay now, ready for tomorrow’s adventure. Swimming was a minor bump in an otherwise excellent day.
At the campfire, Beemer asked, “What has surprised you most so far in this camp?”
Smelly said, “I’m surprised at how trusting everyone has been. When I asked you to swim today, almost all of you jumped right in. I didn’t necessarily expect that.”
Rocky said, “I’m surprised at how cool old people can be.” (Ouch) Worm, who is seven years younger than me - and old enough to be Rocky’s mother - inspired Rocky’s comment. She has been keeping her roommates in hysterics describing how surreal and hilarious cancer treatment was for her.
When my turn came around I said, “Last year in California was an awesome camp. Corey and Brad told us it was one of their three favorite camps ever. Coming from that, I didn’t know what to expect when I got here, but I knew it might be a let down. But this has been just as good as last year.”
We all agreed that this camp has already become special. Spirits are high.
There are peals of laughter in the living room. At the campfire, CC, who is a Cuban American from Miami, is conducting a Salsa lesson tonight. The dance lesson has evolved into rehearsal for a dance routine that will be presented after tomorrow night’s campfire. If I wasn’t so tired I would join in, but I can barely keep my eyes open. Clicks from Omaha is tapping his head with the palm of his right hand, which we learned today signals Everything Is Okay on the river, and then crossing his forearms, which means Medical Emergency.
Much love to my family in other parts and to the First Descents family for making this great program available.
NoMo
9/18
Yesterday was a fun day at a small dam called The Gutter. Stuff to do there included boogie boarding, stand up paddle boarding and roll practice. I decided roll practice was all I really wanted to do. I exhausted Dog Bite from Wyoming’s roll instruction resources and moved on for a long stint with You-Da-Ho, Idaho’s finest medicine woman and roll instructor. She sure was patient. I made progress, but mostly got and A for effort. She eventually told me I had to quit. I got so tired that when we left for a barbeque at Cascade Raft, I forgot my sandals.
I thought I packed carefully for today after we got home yesterday afternoon, but this morning I couldn’t find several items I needed on the river. Since going through treatment, I have noticed a pronounced link between my level of fatigue and my brain’s ability to organize. This morning I felt worried because I was fatigued and scattered. So I wasn’t sure how I would function on the river.
McFly and Thrifty were the volunteers assigned to my paddling of survivors today. We put in at Cascade Raft. The first rapid we kayaked, Toilet Bowl, earns its moniker due to the disconcerting pair of whirlpools at its base. These are best left alone by newbies. I had no complaint with that. Then we ran S-Turn and No-Name. Despite nagging fatigue and the fact that I am right handed and picked a left hand dominant paddle in the morning, I paddled well through all of them.
Our final rapid for the day was called Climax. As we approached Climax, Thrifty, who was my mentor for the day said, “You can always tell a good rapid if the river drops off from the horizon.” Sure enough, I couldn’t see what was going to happen sitting on the river, but I could definitely hear the roar. The entire First Descents group eddied out right above climax. We got out of our boats and walked up for a bank scout. Going left, Climax dropped 10 feet through three big waves and ended in a big hole. It was the scariest water I had ever seen, aside from the huge stuff I’ve watched expert and professional kayakers bucking through in adventure films.
“The way down the right is easier,” Thrifty noted. On the right there was a shallower riffling path with lots of rocks.
“Okay everyone,” Smelly shouted over Climax’s roar, “If you choose to go down on the left side, there are three offset waves. It is a good place to challenge your self. You can also go down the right side, or you can hike down. It is up to each of you to decide what you want to do. No matter what, you will be okay here.”
Cascade Raft, who had outfitted our camp and shuttled us had also provided three of their most excellent “Monkeys” (volunteer interns) to help get us down the river. I pondered my decision while watching the young professionals wave wheel up and down Climax. It looked like fun. The mist rising from Climax’s churn brushed past my face.
“Now the monkeys are going to show you where you should paddle if you go down the left side,” Smelly shouted. She waved broadly with her right arm and the monkeys adroitly shuttled into their positions. I was amazed by their ability to read the water and park their boats in the rapid.
“What do you want to do?” Thrifty asked.
“I think I can do the left side,” I gulped.
I noticed the smell of sweet grass and sage as I walked back to the boat, carefully avoiding poison ivy along the way.
In pairs and fours, everyone in the entourage ferried to the left side of the river and peeled off downstream. Thrifty coached me on how to approach the top, and where to head down the tongue. I struggled to follow his line as we plunged toward the first wave on the right. I bounced towards the second on the left, but when I hit the tube wall, it threw my weight right as the left side of the boat jerked up. I flipped and dropped my paddle. I tucked forward and slapped my front gunwales, feeling for the bow of a T-rescue boat. I briefly fingered and then lost purchase on the bow of McFly’s boat.
I had been under long enough to scrap the wet rescue. I pulled my spray skirt’s strap. On by far the hardest rapid we have faced this week I swam. When my head surfaced, Smelly was on the spot.
“Get on,” she shouted and nodded towards her boat’s stern. I seized the grab loops and started kicking towards shore.
Once I relaxed, I noticed that the Payette’s water tasted delicious – like minerals. Soon I was back in my boat watching from an eddy on the right. I watched and cheered as camper after camper bounced down Climax. In the end there were only 3 swimmers total. The first year campers have done their share of swimming earlier in the week, but almost all of them made it down in their boats. I was grateful I was able to stay up for the rest of the week and that I got to see so many fellow campers succeed on in facing their peak challenge.
I asked McFly, “What should I have done differently - to stay up?”
“You were going along great until you hit the second wave,” he said, “When something pushes you right, you have to lean hard to the left to stay up. That will get you through most situations like that.”
After leaving the Payette’s South Fork, we drove to the Boise National Forest. Twenty minutes down a dirt road that shadows the middle fork of the Payette River we stopped across from the Rocky Canyon Hot Springs. The hot spring source is about 100 feet up a hill along side an easily forded section of the river. The hot water pours down, filling a series of eight stone and mortar collecting pools. Each pool has a spillway spout about 2 feet above its floor. As the water flows from pool to pool it cools incrementally.
We chose pools and sat, initially wincing as the scratches and bumps from our fun on the river reacted with the sulphur scented water. Then we soaked and massaged our sore kayaking muscles. We talked and listened. We settled until fatigue and the water’s heat nudged us towards sleepy. Patches of the dark algae that thrives on the walls and floors of these pools broke off, leaving splotches on our shoulders and backs. Some time later, we lazily rose out of our pools and walked down.
On the way back across the Payette, Fro, an Idaho native volunteer who has been guiding and teaching us on the river helped me to locate a couple of special rocks for my wife. He offered up several keepers.
“I collect one from all of the creeks and rivers I Kayak,” he said. Pointing at a 60-pound chunk of impure quartz he said, “That is what gold prospectors look for, unusual pieces of white quartz with small chunks of other rock types.” We hiked up to the dirt road with our pockets full of river rocks.
When we got home, I sat back in a section of the couch and began watching Kung Fu Panda with some of the campers, Smelly and McFly. I woke up with everyone in the living room looking at me and smiling. Apparently I treated the whole gang to a snore fest. I still feel tired – really tired. Before campfire I again began to worry about fatigue. I accepted that even though one of my main goals for the week was to get my roll, I probably wasn’t going to achieve that. I actually began considering riding on the support raft tomorrow if the fatigue became too much. Then I went to Campfire.
I sat down next to Moo, a 25-year-old leukemia survivor from Boise, ID. “How are you doing, NoMo?” she asked.
“I’m beat,” I said.
“All lot of us are. I’m exhausted,” she said.
“Oh? I’m glad it’s not just me.”
“Not at all.”
Talking to Moo helped me feel better. Then the Campfire was great. Listening to the group’s memories and thoughts about our time on the river and the gratitude expressed about our new friendships refilled my tank. Several people mentioned they felt tired. After hearing that, I didn’t feel as alone or disappointed in my stamina as I had.
We are all going through a rite of passage. Passing through an ordeal, even in the company of a loving professional support system, is taxing. Part of the First Descents challenge is about showing cancer survivors that we can rise from our own ashes and flourish. We fight fatigue and perceived limits with cheer and determination, accepting that we might falter, and if we do, a team of professionals and loving friends will be there to catch us. We will leave this camp wanting to continue doing the things we just did, and committed to rebuilding our wellness. We will return to our lives inoculated with the determination to get the most out of our new normal.
9/19/09
After 5 days of increasing challenge, today is this year’s final adventure on the river. We’re all a bit nervous. Coming home in the van yesterday, Smelly, the camp director promised that none of today’s rapids will be as challenging as Climax was yesterday. Climax was the only rapid I swam in this week. After a brief stop at Cascade Raft to pick up our boats, we shuttle to milepost 77. Before we put in, Smelly assigns me to one of Cascade Raft’s safety boaters. His name is Conner. In the FD tradition, I rename him Con Man, which he doesn’t mind at all. He is 16 and has been kayaking for 6 years. Like all of the young men from Cascade Raft that are working with us, he is a very accomplished kayaker. He is serving an internship at Cascade, living here through his summer vacation. Youngsters like Con Man come here because Cascade is known in the whitewater industry as the place to start a kayaking career, and probably because the Payette River is a load of fun to kayak. Brad Ludden, one of First Descents’ founders started as a monkey with Cascade when he was 12. Early in their apprenticeships, when they work for free, they are called Monkeys. They wear brown shirts with pictures of big yellow bananas on the back. We have three monkeys with us today. Curious, from Wyoming, is 12. Con Man and Camel Toe, who is 14, are from Idaho.
Starting at Milepost 77 puts us above Bennets Rock, a class II + wave train. It also saves us from running GLOYF (Go Left Or You’re Fired), a very challenging Class 3 rapid. The campers in my paddling of survivors today include Worm, a 37 year-old mother of 6 and a breast cancer survivor, Smiles, a young single mother and a small bowel cancer survivor, Scribbles and me. Both Scribbles and I are brain cancer survivors. Our FD volunteer staff includes Dog Bite, from Wyoming and McFly, from Ontario, Canada. Dog Bite is in the back of a tandem kayak with Scribbles in the front. The rest of us survivors, McFly and Curious and Con Man are in single passenger kayaks.
When I cross the eddy line, I lay in a couple of downstream stern strokes and tilt left to expose the bottom of my boat to the current. That’s how I learned to peel out at First Descents camp last year. As soon as she breaks the eddy line, Worm flips and ends up swimming. The rest of us immediately eddy out right, above Bennets Rock, and wait for McFly to bring Worm in. After Curios retrieves Worm’s boat, she gets back in.
As we pull back into the current, I ask Con Man, “How do we run this?”
“Stay right of the center rock,” he says, “and ride the wave train. Eddy out right just past the rapid.”
McFly adds, “Lean forward and paddle aggressively. Cross the waves as close to perpendicular as you can, keep paddling until it’s calm.”
I crash through several swells, reaching the end of the train scared but unscathed. Worm flips and swims again, as does one of the campers from a different paddling. McFly executes Worm’s speedy rescue and drops her on the right bank. Thrifty tows her half-swamped kayak back to the eddy where we’re waiting. Stumbling towards us over the rocks on the right bank, Worm is in tears, a hair’s width from spending the rest of the day on the support raft.
“Slow down,” I urge her, “We have all day. You can get back in the boat whenever you’re ready.”
McFly picks up that Worm’s not sure she wants to stay in her kayak. “After this,” he says, “We can raft the rapids together. I’ll hold on to your boat. That way nothing can turn us over. I swear, I’ll be on you like white on rice.”
“Worm,” I add, “last year on my 4th day with FD on the Klamath River, Corey Nielsen swooped in to help me when I broached on a rocky section. We were at the top of a class 2 rapid. Corey rafted up with me. ‘Watch this,’ he said, ‘Nothing will happen. Hold onto your paddle and we’ll float through together.’ I was scared, but I trusted him. It went just like he promised. At the bottom I was ready to keep going. I guarantee you Worm, you’ll be just fine with McFly.”
I notice Con Man watching and listening with quiet interest. I don’t ask what he’s thinking, but I feel he is experiencing the moment all people who become involved with First Descents seem to get to remember. The one where we really understand how positive this program can be.
Worm gets back in her kayak and peels into the current with McFly close at hand, and without incident. On the next two rapids, Constriction (Class II) and Mike’s Hole (Class III) Worm and McFly raft. On Mike’s Toe, and Chief’s Headdress, both Class II rapids, Worm shifts to paddling through with McFly right next to her.
When we put out at Chief Parrish Campground for lunch, I walk over to Worm. After a good long hug, I say, “I’m so proud of you. You got back in and did okay. That must have been very hard. And scary.”
“Yes was,” she says. “Thank you so much.” We embrace again and walk up the trail.
Up in Chief Parrish campground our camp mom, Home Fry, and dad, Home Slice and You-Da-Ho, one of our excellent Idaho Native volunteers are busy setting out sandwich makings. You-Da-Ho has been my favorite roll instructor at this camp. She’s also very interesting to talk to. She’s taking a break from medical school so she can do stuff like volunteer for First Descents. “I believe,” she told me, “doing stuff like this will make me a better doctor. It gives me the chance to understand how cancer survivors think.”
These volunteers make it possible for a group of mostly inexperienced cancer survivors to go kayaking for a week in challenging water like the Payette River and accomplish what we do. We use every bit of energy up on the river. Organizing meals would cut our kayaking time half because we just don’t have enough stamina to do it all. Thankfully we don’t have to. First Descents camps are a beautiful thing.
There are few things more welcome than a sandwich with lettuce, mustard, mayo and roasted turkey after a challenging morning on the river. Even though I’m ravenous I eat with moderation. Early last year at FD Camp I noticed how uncomfortable a full stomach is under a spray skirt, jacket and PFD. Again this year I have eaten light at breakfast and lunch. Dinner is a different story.
While we are at lunch, Beemer, the head counselor and a three-year FD alum, spends some time with Worm talking about focus - what she really wants out of the rest of the day.
I’m sitting in my boat waiting on Chief Parrish Campgrounds beach. Soon we will put out and do our last run for the week. Worm sits down in her Kayak. She looks over and smiles.
Smelly calls everyone on the beach together. “FD volunteers and monkeys,” she says, “I want you to paddle down the rapid. Campers, stay here.”
When all of the guides and safety boaters have gone, Smelly turns to us and says, “Now it’s your time to run a rapid alone. There is plenty of help waiting down in and past this rapid, if you need it. It’s a very fun run, lots of choppy waves. There’s nothing here you haven’t done this week. You can do this. Good luck, have fun, leave one at a time. Remember, lean forward and paddle aggressively. Let me know when you’re ready.”
When my turn comes, I peel off and paddle downstream. From just above Chief Parrish’s Class 2+ wave train and all the way through I keep repeating, “Stay loose, relax, go with it.” Through the rapid, on wave after wave I correct so my boat lines up perpendicular to the swells I’m crashing through. I suck in deep breaths of the fresh mineral-scented water, occasionally noticing the water’s shock against my hands as I dig left or right with my paddle. I continue paddling out corrections in a choppy section at the bottom where the cross riffles jog my boat. I see the campers who kayaked before me eddied out left, waving their paddles and cheering. I paddle over, cross the eddy line tight and diagonal and whip around into the calm. I join the group in cheering those who follow me.
The run is a huge success. There are a few swimmers but almost all of the 16 campers get through with our wits skills and hearts.
Our next test is the Mixmaster, a Class III rapid. Con Man leads us down the tongue, but when I hit the waves, my awareness of anyone around me vanishes. Lateral waves jar me left and right. When my boat begins to flip, I lean fiercely into the inertial wave and stay up. I shout, “Stay loose, relax, go with it!” take deep breaths and consciously relax my hips. My boat plunges down and whips up the biggest wave yet. As I crash through, my face smacks into the water below the crest. I feel completely alone with this rapid in this river - the challenge is all I know.
After a brief calm stretch, we are above AMF - Adios My Friend, or there is the expletive version of MF. It is another Class III rapid. At the bottom of the tongue I crash through and lean into numerous waves. I manage to avoid tipping over.
In the calm stretch that follows Smelly calls everyone in the camp together and instructs us to circle up our boats. We hold on to each other’s gunwales and become connected all the way around. After a brief calm stretch, we and raft through Beehive Bend, a choppy section of water with light rapids. Sixteen campers and as many support boaters remain one through the rapid.
Below Beehive bend, Smelly pops her spray skirt, stands up and walks along the bows of our circled boats as we hold together. The circle breaks and she falls in the water. With ease she snags her boat, and with only the steadying hand of You-Da-Ho on her boat’s bow, She shimmies into her kayak’s cockpit and pops on her spray skirt.
We all take out at Cascade Raft, in possession of our limbs, fingers, toes and faculties, baring a few well-earned scratches and bruises, but mostly fortified with empowerment. We feel tired, sad and exuberant. We wish we could stay in camp for another week, but we’re glad to know we will return home soon.
I stayed up all through the Payette’s Main fork. Most of us did. We kayaked three class III rapids, two Class II + and two Class II rapids. Not bad for a bunch of young adult cancer survivors.
At our campfire tonight there were tears and laughter. We shared what we have learned at First Descents Camp about courage, trust, overcoming perceived limits and about fully living life. Not all of us will voluntarily peel out into a river’s current and kayak down through a rapid again, but most of us can’t wait for our next opportunity to lean forward, paddle hard and enjoy the ride. If we’re lucky, maybe we’ll get to watch from the bank while a fluttering Osprey on the hunt surveys the water we’re preparing to paddle through. We eagerly look forward to the fragrant warmth of campfires enjoyed at the end of a days spent kayaking through new waters with good friends. There were three parts to the First Descents closing Ceremony at the campfire tonight. First we tied Laotian charm bracelets called Bacis on each other’s wrists.
“When you tie a Bacis on someone’s wrist, you tie three knots,” Smelly explained as we passed them around. “When you tie knots for someone, think of the positive thoughts and outcomes you most want for them.”
You-Da-Ho, who selflessly worked with me to help me achieve my roll asked to tie on my Bacis. I gratefully accepted. In addition to focusing on my good health and success, perhaps one of her wishes for me was that soon, I would get my roll. Next we all lit votive candles in glass flotation globes and one by one, with a prayer and our best intentions we set the lit luminescent orbs on the water in a small pool FD provided for this purpose. Two extra candles were lit. One was for Allan Goldberg, who was FD’s first Executive Director. He died of cancer in June of 2008. Serving young adult cancer survivors through First Descents was one of his greatest passions in life. The second candle was for campers who could not make it back to camp this year. Finally, Smelly explained that they always close out the last campfire by listening to the First Descents national anthem, Garth Brooks’ Friends in Low Places. She turned on a portable CD player. We linked up in a circle, arms on shoulders, around the pool filled with floating candles. We listened and sang along. The last fun of the night was watching a montage of photos that Nutter, our camp photographer had put together with music. The photos told of how we transformed from fledglings; our spirited game of kayak water polo, us boogie boarding at The Gutter, us practicing rolls, crashing through rapids, eddying out, clowning around in the living room at then end of the day, walking slack lines to build balance, us playing volleyball, us laughing in ways many of us forgot existed after cancer came to visit, but now remembered; us dancing together, embracing, us victorious in our boats, new kayakers in love with the moment. Us, a constellation of newly shining stars.
On August 20th, after hugs and farewells, I boarded a plane in Boise and flew to Portland, Oregon. As I we approached for landing, I looked out over the Columbia River. I realized that the same water that flowed through our practice pond on our first day in our kayaks at FD Camp had followed gravity down the Payette River, joined into the Snake River and in the Columbia River was finding its way to the Pacific Ocean. I thanked the water for its promise to return to land as snow and rain, to sustain all forms of life with food, drink and habitat, and when in our small boats we become one with the river, for its promise to remind us to cultivate balance and flow in the moment.
More about First Descents Camps visit www.firstdescents.org
Donate here: https://www.active.com/donate/firstdescents/richardharvey
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