Personal Narrative: The Elk River

I sat at the front of the boat with my two sisters and our friends as we pressed through the rough water, heading towards Three Rooker Bar. It was satisfying to relax there and feel the warm summer breeze blow through my hair. I watched the seagulls, as they circled in the air then plummeted down into the water to come back up victoriously clasping a fish. Occasionally the boat would hit a huge wave and send the salty sea water splashing up into our eyes.

Put all together is hard to describe – something I had only seen in photos! I walked around with Sheila and she introduced me as a new member and I was met with such welcoming kindness. Of course, I had to explain that our boat wasn’t ready, and that it was PLASTIC! No one cared! “Welcome to the club!”, “Those boats are cool!”, “I can’t wait to see it!”, “How did you decide to buy a classic boat?” All my fears about not fitting in because our boat was fiberglass and not completely stock were silenced. Ann Guldemond and Judi Schoenherr welcomed me to the club and Margaret Herr took me for a personal tour of the beautiful home on Bryson’s Island. I enjoyed my first day with the club immensely, feeling welcomed and looking forward to more great times boating with nice people. I couldn’t wait to tell Scott! Now if there were only cell service on this

People don't believe much anymore in warning dreams, fateful omens, prophesies and such-like. But just fifty years or so ago, along the Mississippi River of my youth, such notions were considered no more fanciful than believing in the wireless or the telephone today. Not everyone believed, of course: there were always those who judged such ideas to be nothing more than foolish superstitions.

“THREE!” She took my hand and jumped into the water, despite my struggle to stay on the doc.

The Central Valley has been known as the epicenter for the most diverse set of students. Each year, there are students from all backgrounds that are given a multitude of opportunities to advance towards success. I was one of those students, the only difference between me and the student working beside me, was my confidence. However, in my junior year, I noticed a clear distinction between my class and me; there was a fine line between the quantity and quality of my work and many others’ works. This notion became apparent to me when the week of finals came along, and the moans and grunts bombarded the hallways as students began to gather their study materials. Certainly, I was weary of my finals just as much as the rest of the other students were.

After about 45 minutes of intriguing instructions, we finally departed. I hopped into the raft as I felt the cold water seep through my water shoes. Once everyone was secured into the raft and life vests bolted on, we headed down

My head bobbed in the water, allowing my arms and legs to tread. A smile grew on my face when I saw how calm the water was, up and down and back and forth, moving in a constant wave. Before I could react, my head went under, held down by two large hands wrapped around my neck. I attempted to fight whoever was pushing me farther into the water, but my efforts were futile. My hands latched on to those of my attacker; my hair swirled over my field of vision. I screamed and let the air escape, but water filled my lungs, making it increasingly difficult to breathe. More and more water weighed me down, hundreds and thousands of feet deeper than I could handle. My body gave out; I couldn’t keep fighting. The hands around my neck squeezed tighter and tighter. Breathing was impossible.

Immediately upon entering into the water, something seemed to reach up and ensnare her ankle within its grips. Blinded by the dark green river water, she couldn’t tell what it was. A rock, a branch? The strong current prevented her from using her hands to assist the escape. The continuous denial of her self-rescue attempts allowed many seconds to pass. Her hand began to stiffen from the impeding frigidity that had started penetrating. This forced the question, if she was going to die there? The forty degree water numbed the fear. which formed it into a sort of satisfaction. The adrenaline could no longer warn off the bitter constraints. The entrapment continued to grapple on. She continued to twitch her leg in attempts to get her ankle free, exhausting the air supply. Her disorientation elevated the longer she stayed submerged. The consciousness seemed to waver as time went on. Time seemed to slow down until it stopped, frozen in its

We catch tiny cutthroat and rainbow trout but they're a lot of work for the meat they provide. We won't be eating like the kings I'd imagined. I was really looking forward to showing off some of those Kamloops and repeating Frank's cool lie. "Worms."

After fifteen minutes of being out on the waves, Leah had caught four. Now she was floating 40 feet out from the shore. Looking to her left, she saw a wave coming for Sadie. She paddled, and paddled, and-

The first few days of the trip were started getting tougher. Although Sam is a fast and strong swimmer, he started to get really tired on the 5th day of his trip. When Sam was in high school, he was on the swim team. Sam was not only the fastest swimmer, but he was able to swim for forever and not get tired. However, Sam had to swim upstream which meant he was swimming against strong waters which made him really tired. He had already seen many other salmon die from exhaustion. Sam was getting closer and closer to his destination. At the pace he was going at he would arrive at the Snake RIver in a day or two. Sam was minding his own business just swimming along until one of the other salmon swimming beside him started to start a conversation with Sam. “Hey you should be careful, up here is where we’re going to swim through Richland Falls.” Sam replied “Why do I need to be careful? What’s so dangerous about Richland Falls?” The salmon yelled back to Sam “I can’t believe you don’t know about Richland Falls. To get to Snake River where I assume you’re going you have to pass through

Just a short distance of nearly a mile from the island, some heavy rapids awaited our coming. They were something we all had to just deal with, and figure out by trial and error, the best way to pass through them. A fellow scout of mine, Ben, decided he wanted to be the first to try his luck in these rapids. Ben was a first year scout, who had never been on the canoe trip before. Ben was in a kayak as well. I followed closely behind Ben so that I could be of assistance should anything go

Suddenly, the boat tipped and I tumbled into the dark, murky water. I had achieved some kind of record - capsizing in less than ten minutes. As I brought the sunfish

I am snapped back into the water, as the bow defeats the large wave. With my family aboard, the stakes are higher. The tide rapidly recedes, and the time for us to get home washes away. As a captain, you learn that passengers are calm if you are. In this situation, I appear calm. Focused, standing, knees bent to absorb the wave shock. Inside I am quaking. This is my family. The baby is at the wheel in a vehicle with no brakes. As we crown another big wave, the anchor hatch springs open with a clank. We eventually reach the dock, and my body returns to normalcy. Mission

Every summer, in the dead of night, a blood-curdling scream came from the mountains; at first, I thought it was old man rivers dogs getting one of them coons; then I remembered, old man river hung up his gun for good last fall. Fascinated by the noise I took Lakota, my one hundred and sixty pound Great Dane out into the woods for a look around. So, Rufus and I were off; off into the unknown thicket of the Ozarks.