Growing up, my family always took a summer fly fishing trip to Colorado. My dad was determined to teach my sister and I how to be tough. Our trips consisted of fly fishing, hiking fourteeners, and rafting. The first stretch of whitewater I encountered was the class three Fractions section on the Arkansas river outside of Buena Vista. I remember feeling both nervous and excited to try this new outdoor activity. Our guide was a woman named Megan. She was a confident and talented whitewater guide and that left a huge impression on adolescent me.

I remember seeing the canyon walls and the large rocks around me, thinking what an awesome job she had. I thought to myself, someday I would love to be her. We had a clean trip without mishap, filled with laughter and splashes all along the way. That was the best day of that whole summer. 

Fast forward ten years, I was living in Aspen, CO. My family came out for our annual summer trip in the middle of my rookie year of whitewater guiding. I channeled my inner Megan and decided to take my family down Fractions. This would be my first time sitting in the back of the boat for these rapids because I had not yet attempted to “check out” on the Fractions. I had paddled the section during training and observed that it was quite technical to navigate but naively thought that I would be able to “wing it” cleanly with my family in the boat.

The first rapid of this section is called Miracle Mile, named so because it is a miracle should you make it through, without some carnage. Well, this day was no miracle. I wrapped our boat on the very first rock. Luckily, I was accompanied by some senior guides who could set up a z-drag to get us off the rock. At this point, I started to lose my cool. I was excited about showing off my new skill set to my family, yet here I was flopping like a fish come show time. The rest of the trip went no smoother. We were bumping into every rock and hitting all the waves sideways. It was hardly the easy, fun ride I remembered from my youth. Instead of cool Megan, I was chaos Kendall- relentlessly yelling commands at my family the entirety of the trip. When we finally arrived at the takeout, after a near flip on House Rock, I was mortified. In my eyes, the trip was a disaster. But despite all the craziness that occurred while on the water, my family members hopped out of the boat with big smiles. They were soaking wet, with shakey river legs and laughing wildly at the mayhem we had all just gone through. At dinner later that night we each told our version of the events that transpired on the river trip and to this day we still reflect on it fondly. 

That’s the beauty of the river. Even though I didn’t take the cleanest lines that day, everyone still had a good time. Rafting is about bringing people together to have a shared experience. And maybe that experience is a bit scary or intense at times, but that’s what makes it such an adventure. Since that fateful family raft trip, I have matured in my white water skill and went on to successfully “check out” the Fractions. Rafting is a sport that will continue to test and challenge my abilities but I will never forget what that trip taught me about the true meaning of rafting to me, and that is to always remember to have fun and enjoy the thrill of uncertainty while on the river.