Chapter Ten #2
She reined in her imagination. Beneath the pounding of her heart, Lulu could hear the soft rush of the slow waters. Oscar, the rafting guide, offered a slew of safety tips, and she tried to concentrate on his words.
“When we get in the raft, we’ll practice these moves, but the most important thing is that we work together as a team and follow all of my instructions.”
Instructions? Hopefully, they would be repeated because her brain had staged a worker’s strike the moment Oscar began his sentence with the words, “If the raft flips…” and didn’t spring back to attention until he organized the group to carry the large raft down the rocky slope to the water’s edge.
“Grab yourself a paddle,” he called to them, and for an instant, Lulu experienced a swell of relief.
Ah! A paddle. They were going to play pickleball after all, not take a death-defying ride down a swollen river bubbling with class III and IV rapids.
Her respite lasted only a millisecond—until she spotted the pile of rafting paddles, helmets, and life jackets.
Resigned, she suited up and waded into the water.
“You two in front,” Oscar suggested and pointed Lulu and Ariana to the bow seats.
Tyler sprang over rocks before they could get into the raft. He tagged Ariana. “I’ll rock-paper-scissors ya for it.”
Ariana scoffed. “Oscar just told me I should take it.”
“The front of the boat gets the biggest splashes,” Oscar said. “And a slightly higher likelihood that you’ll fall out of the raft when we get into swells.”
“It’s all yours.” Ariana gestured to the seat beside Lulu, right up front.
And while Lulu’s brain was still processing the ramifications of Oscar’s comments, Tyler was on the move.
“Yes!” Tyler punched the air, waded into the shallows, and jumped toward the seat at the front. As he got his balance, he listed into Lulu. Unthinking, she reached out a hand to steady him.
Now they were holding hands. He sat down. Still, she had his hand.
She could release his hand now but…she needed to hold a hand. Any hand. But. Tyler’s hand in particular. His hand felt nice. Comforting. If she was going to do this scary rafting thing, it was an especially good hand to hold.
Yet it was inappropriate. There was a rule for the length of time one could hold a friend’s hand, and she was certain she had exceeded it. Maybe two seconds, in a regaining-one’s-balance sort of situation. They were going on eight. Maybe ten by now.
Let go, hand, she told it, but it would not listen. Tyler’s balance was no longer an issue. At this point, he could have played Jenga on the rubber floor of the raft.
“Uh. Someone wanna pass me my paddle?” Ariana asked. “It’s right there.” She pointed to the floor of the bow. “In front of you. You just have to…pick it up.”
Detaching from her mighty grip, Tyler scooped up the paddle and handed it to Ariana. Lulu shifted her body, ostensibly to view the scenery, but really to clear her head. Get a grip, Lulu, she told herself.
With Gwendy and Ariana taking the center bench, Bill and Alejandro sat in the last row, balancing each other’s weight. Perched like a figurehead at the very back of the raft, Oscar was a picture of confidence and security. “Forward,” he said, and they all paddled into the calm waters.
“Forward,” Tyler repeated with authority, and shot Lulu a happy grin.
Oscar continued, “Make sure you have a foot tucked under the raft in front of you. That will help to keep you in the boat when things get bumpy.” How was it that everything the guide said sounded like a veiled threat?
“Let’s practice our commands while we’re in slow water.
” He ran through the list: “Forward. Back. Stop. Left back. Right only, forward. Stop. Paddle hard. Stop. Paddles in and get down.” Hamming it up, Tyler performed a sitting disco move.
“Not that kind of get down,” Oscar said, but even Lulu smiled at Tyler’s effort to relieve the tension. “Let’s try it again.”
Oscar ordered, “Forward.” They dug into the river, gripping the paddles by their smooth handles.
“Stop. Paddles in. Get down!” The six tourists flung themselves into the center of the boat like sardines in a tin.
Lulu’s chest throbbed with adrenaline, and she hoped necessity would not dictate such a move.
“You all did that exactly right.” Oscar beamed.
They paddled out, or at least six of them paddled.
Ariana manned her camera, shooting footage of Tyler, posture erect and eager, and looking like Washington crossing the Delaware, if the illustrious president had been a tatted-up picklehottie in an orange life jacket. Which to Lulu’s knowledge, he was not.
“The river is just perfect today—too low and we would get stuck on rocks, too high and we rush through the best parts. Left back, right forward. Stop,” Oscar called, explaining as he helped them navigate the early rapids.
Oscar’s competence and the ease of the paddling relaxed Lulu.
This was actually kind of fun. She liked the structure and rhythm of it; she liked that somebody else was in charge of making sure everything went smoothly and all she had to do was follow directions.
There was, she noted, a certain peace in releasing control.
Frankly, letting go was a huge relief. She could get used to this chiller Lulu.
During a smoother segment, Oscar explained that this jungle in the bowels of the Cuerici mountains was the home of the indigenous Cabécar people.
The Pacuare River was the tribe’s veins and arteries—their water, transportation, and their homes all were made from the wood and thatch on the surrounding banks.
Here and there, Lulu spotted huts tucked into the rainforest.
“Forward!” Oscar called, and they paddled with purpose until another still section of the river allowed for explanations and nature watching.
“Ten years ago, the president of Costa Rica rafted the Pacuare and when he finished, he signed the order to protect this river until 2030. And I hope it stays protected. Putting a hydroelectric dam here will displace the indigenous people. And,” he said, “the white water rafting you’re enjoying would not be possible.
You can see why many of us see the Pacuare as a national treasure. ”
“Wouldn’t a dam produce clean energy, though?” Tyler asked. On several occasions, Alejandro had mentioned Costa Rica’s emphasis on ecological practices.
Oscar nodded. “That’s true. But the short-term benefits would outweigh the loss of land for the Cabécar and knock out rafting and nature tourism here.
And already, ninety-nine percent of Costa Rica has access to electricity, and nearly one hundred percent of that comes from renewable energy sources.
So you see, Ticos put a lot of thought into protecting our environment.
We know it is our lifeblood. Conservation and innovation.
And we have the resources to protect the Pacuare, so we do. It’s all about balance, right?”
There was a lot to be said for balance. Lulu considered the power of the river…
and the push-pull of the community that wanted to harness the river’s electricity but also maintain its majesty.
Certainly, she should consider the balance in her own life.
Her gaze slid to Tyler, and she wondered if he found it easy to balance his work, his relationship, his friendships.
Tyler, she knew, had always been good with the social stuff.
It seemed easy for him. Or could that just be the face he chose to show the world?
His focus remained on the river, a smile of pure glee spread across his face.
Maybe some of his antics weren’t a show, she thought, as his infectious reaction tugged at her cheeks.
His energy could come off that way, but maybe Tyler Demming was just someone who allowed everyday joys to fill his spirit.
Just then, Oscar said, “Get ready, you guys. This is a class three rapid, the first one of the day for us. Called Pele el Ojo. Paddle hard on my go.”
Tyler shouted into the approaching roar, “What’s Pele el Ojo mean?”
“Spanish for ‘watch out!’ ” Oscar yelled.
Lulu had little chance to panic before Oscar commanded.
“Paddle! Dig. Keep paddling. Stop! Now, right forward. Left back.” The water rushed up around the raft, battering it around like a toy boat.
Spray hit her cheeks, and her heart leapt into her throat.
Lulu had only an instant to circumvent her panic with action. She needed to paddle!
“Left back. Left back!” Oscar was yelling, and Lulu realized that she was on the left and yet was paddling forward. She switched her paddling just in time to hear Oscar yell, “Stop,” as they emerged panting and breathless from their first big rapid.
“Woo-hoo!” Tyler shouted.
“Paddle high five.” And they all tapped their paddles together above the raft.
Lulu, still shaken, caught Tyler’s eye as he turned toward her, grinning, and nodded his chin toward the view ahead.
Coming down from the adrenaline rush, she turned to see why her fellow passengers stared ahead, wide-eyed.
A glorious canyon welcomed them. The raft floated languidly on the river now, and not a word was spoken as each of them marveled at the red and gray rock walls that stretched upward, appearing to lean toward the river like fingertips reaching out to touch.
“Welcome to the canyon,” Oscar said. “We won’t hit another rapid for a few minutes so this might be a good place to jump out for a quick swim.”