Two of my dear friends recently went on tours. Independently of each other.
Penny went to Northern Wisconsin to a county that’s between Green Bay and Lake Michigan, so lots of water. With a large group of mostly women.
Rose went on a cruise in Europe that encompassed several countries, with a group of friends, both men and women.
Both came back exhausted. Glad that they went and would never go again. Too many stops. Too many getting to a port onto a bus and a small amount of time at a location and then back on the bus and back on the ship.
Same for Penny, without the ship.
When I asked Rose if she brought anything back with her, she said, “There wasn’t any time to shop!”
There was one “tour” adventure I took with a group of people who were rafting down the American River. In our raft (there were two rafts) there was a guy who had just gotten out of jail or prison on a marijuana selling charge and his girlfriend. They paddled on the starboard side of the raft. Two others were on the port side, and I was squeezed in on the aft of the raft with the paddle captain.
Right from the get-go I knew there was trouble in River City. Prison Boy couldn’t follow the captain’s instructions. He didn’t paddle when he was supposed, he basically just held on, which put us in danger when we hit the rapids.
The water was a bit low, which meant a lot of rocks were exposed. At one point we tipped up, which put me practically in the water. Two seconds later I got dumped! Cold water made it hard to breathe but I remembered to get my feet pointed downstream. That way I wouldn’t bash my head against any rocks (it was the days before helmets were worn). It wasn’t too long before the raft got to shore along with me in tow.
We gathered our wits and I firmly announced that I wasn’t going any further with Prison Boy in our raft! He was useless.
Fortunately, everyone agreed, and Prison Boy and girlfriend switched with someone in the first raft.
Another time I went on a “tour” rafting down the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon with a group of people I knew. At one stop along the river our guides took us on a hike up a portion of the Little Colorado River.
Lagging behind while taking photos of everything, I got separated from the group.
I ended up in a maze of cliffs, overlooking my friends who were swimming in the amazing, mineralized springs that had created travertine dams and waterfalls, all of which were a turquoise color. I shouted down, unable to find a way down.
One of our guides, Swamper, made his way up the cliff and somehow got me down. Of course, the rest of the group had headed back to the raft. “Follow me,” Swamper said, as he began to climb. I followed. Until I froze, gripping the rocks in fear. “You can do it,” he said, “just don’t look down.”
Loosening my grip I made it to the top, 60 feet above the water, and stood next to Swamper at the ledge. “Ok, now,” he said, “we’re going to jump!”
Fat chance, I thought. And then Swamper jumped.
What was a girl to do?…standing there alone, I took a deep breath, held it, and then I jumped like a warrior, screaming all the way down!
Best tour ever!
Lucy Llewellyn Byard is currently a columnist for the Record-Bee. To contact her, email lucywgtd@gmail.com
