“Going Barefoot” by Tom Szakacs

  

“So, you guys are sure you’ve done this before right?” he asked as he unpacked the gear onto the beach.  The guide was in his thirties, with the bearing of a man who’d done this a thousand times before. 

“Oh yeah, we’re totally fine” answered Daryl, my oldest friend, with total assurance.  My brother Zol, our friend Nick, and I got busy readying the lifejackets and helmets, not daring to look up.  We left Daryl, a stuntman by trade, to do the talking. 

“Ok then, just remember, the pick-up zone is about five kilometers that way” the guide said, pointing off into the distance.  “Be sure to be off the water by five p.m.  You don’t want to be on the water in the dark.”

When he’d left, we were suited up with our lifejackets, helmets, and whatever we could find in our closets that passed for water shoes.  We picked up our kayaks and walked towards the cold Ottawa river.  I was 26 years old, about to do something very stupid. 

Months earlier, we’d begun planning for a boys’ getaway weekend.  Daryl and I had decided that it’d be really fun to go white-water kayaking in the world renowned, class III-V rapids in Ottawa.  Had I kayaked before?  Of course I had!  On a Grade 8 school trip to Camp Kandalore, I’d spent a tranquil morning on a still lake veering left and right trying to look skilled next to my love interest, Gillian Mullens.  This rigorous training made me among the most experienced in our group.

We got into our kayaks at the shore’s edge, each of us silently contemplative, like a parachutist at the moment before their leap.  Once in the water, Daryl and I decided to try our first barrel roll, an essential skill for what lay ahead.  I flipped upside down, feeling the sudden shock and panic of cold water on my chest.  I struggled to flip back upright and realized that unless a merciful school of salmon helped me, I had no choice but to escape or drown.  I pushed out, and surfaced. 

Daryl laughed and said “Not so easy, is it?  Lemme show you.”  He proceeded to enjoy the same experience.  After surfacing with his coy smile, we all remained undeterred.  Daryl outlined the new game plan: “Ok guys, I guess we’ll just have to not flip upside down.  If you do, DO NOT let go of your paddle or kayak, or else they could disappear downstream.”  We all nodded agreement and began paddling away.

It was a cool but sunny fall day, and the river had a gentle current.  For the first kilometer, we savoured the moment, laughing and splashing water at each other with the paddles.  Eventually, we noticed the current starting to speed up, and heard the distant sound of crashing water.  Looking ahead, the horizon suddenly seemed to end.  Our collective hearts fluttered.

We pulled to the side, and walked through the woods in order to get a look at our first waterfall.  The water thundered over a 10-foot drop, with sharp rocks jutting from the surface around the base and downstream.  Did I think this was insane and should call it off?  Damned right.  Did I do that?  Absolutely not.

After carefully debating the merits of various approach routes, we got back into our kayaks.  “Remember,” I reminded “DO NOT let go of your kayak or paddle if you flip, just swim with them to the nearest shore.”

Naturally, Daryl went first.  I couldn’t see what happened so I took a deep breath, and went next.  The water got faster and faster approaching the edge, the roar louder and louder.  I realized that it was now too late, I was trapped in the current and even if I wanted to quit there was no turning around. 

The kayak tipped downward over the edge, and I saw the foaming and broiled water beneath me.  In a total blur of action, I was underwater, surfaced, and immediately started to roll violently over to my right side.  I slapped the paddle onto the water and righted myself, then navigated through the chop to calmer waters.  I saw that Daryl had also survived and seconds later, Zol came through successfully and started fist-pumping and hollering, “We did it!” 

Nick came last.  His kayak crashed over the edge into the base and vanished.  We looked for him to surface but instead saw the underside of the kayak floating downstream.  Terrified, we scanned the river and were relieved to finally see Nick’s head surface.  He swam with flailing strokes to a rock in the middle of the tumultuous river and wrapped his arms and legs around it, clinging to his only lifeline. 

“Daryl!  Daryl!...Save me.”  Nick had lost his kayak, his paddle, and even his shoes.  Panicked and completely shaken, he hung onto the rock, praying that Moses would appear and banish the churning waters around him. 

I paddled near and yelled, “There’s no other choice, you’ve gotta swim for the shore.” 

After some time, his fate dawning on him, he swam, not majestically, but eventually to the shore.  Luckily his kayak had lodged in a bend in the river downstream and so we brought it to him and began paddling away together, Nick doing so by hand.

We came across another five or six waterfalls that day.  Daryl, Zol and I felt bolstered by our successes, and continued to dare them.  We each had to evacuate our craft at some point, but somehow managed to swim with the water-filled kayak in one hand, and the paddle in the other to the nearest shore.  No one wanted to suffer Nick’s fate.

At each rapid, Nick paddled towards the shore and with his dejected head downwards, he picked up the kayak and portaged, barefoot, several hundred meters through the dense woods.  After reaching a safer spot on the other side, he would begin to paddle again by hand, completing over 4 kilometers that way. 

The guide met us at the take-out spot just before night finally settled.  “Everything go ok?” he asked. 

We all smiled, “Everything worked out just fine”, I said.

Our group, now older and wiser, continues to laugh about our adventures.  When one of us grumbles about some difficulty in our life, we encourage each other to not take things too seriously.  That we’ll find a way and that things could be worse.  We’ll convey all this with one simple saying, “Let’s see you do it barefoot!”

Tom Szakacs is a practicing Infectious Diseases physician.  The habit of observing small details in his day-to-day work to solve a medical problem also lends itself well to writing.   He enjoys journaling (ok, let’s call it personal venting), and loves to find symbolism and interesting themes in the world.  Always on the lookout for a neat turn of phrase when reading, he continues the hunt to create them himself. 

 Tom has always enjoyed learning something new, whether it be another sport, photography, poetry or anything handyman-related.  When not spending time with his family, he can usually be found around the house doing home renovations or finding something that needs fixing.  He likes gardening, especially the care of shrubs and trees.  Road cycling and exploring the world through travel are favourite pastimes. 

 See upcoming weekly writing classes, one-day workshops, and four-day retreats here. 

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