The Raft of the Rail/Raft Adventure

It all begins so calmly. Beautiful afternoon... sun at your back... still, placid river... laughing life-jacket wearers beaming with anticipation.

Then it all goes crazy.

Soon after we hopped off the train, we snapped on our life preservers and tripped our way onto a raft, ready to ride back down the same river we viewed from our rail car. I had never been rafting before. I was ready. Really ready. I wanted big waves and harrowing rock misses and a tale of river adventure and survival.

For the most part, I got it.

I would have been happy to show you more, but here's the thing: you can't hold on for dear life and take pictures with your disposable, underwater camera at the same time. You want to, but you can't. The only pictures you come up with are right before the wave smashes you in the face... before you're gasping from the 41 F degree water... and while you're bracing for another hit.

Or during those precious moments you're trying to admire the scenery before you get to those splashes and rocks ahead.

I joked with the guy in front of me, promising him that all 27 of the rafting pictures I took were of his elbow. "But it's tan and looks fine from this angle," I assured him. He was a Texan, too. During the ride I took great comfort in that, and the fact that I wasn't the only one clinging to the "chicken line" on the side of the raft.

Told you. Even here, when it finally calmed down to a smooth sail to the shore - just beyond the bridge - I was still clinging to the chicken line.

Truly one of my Most Fun Days Ever. I could rail and raft every single day of my life. Or... you know... most of them. Some of them. Okay, on those days I wouldn't mind getting into the shower with a bra full of coal specks and shorts full of sand. Those days would be great.

The Rail/Raft Adventure. Won't soon forget it. Not sure I want to, either....