TUBING
On the weekend I camped with my kids, we decided to try tubing on the Dan River. We panned for gold most of Saturday. I knew if I spent another day bent over a stupid pie tin, sifting through river muck, I’d lose my mind.
It rained on and off the entire weekend. So instead of a cheerful, meandering river we encountered a torrent of water with whitecaps. I had my reservations, but the kids were dead set on going.
The meeting point for our tubing adventure was at an old mill. It was just us and an older couple from Germany who showed up for the bus — a faded pink van from the 60’s. It took us to the tubing put-in.
I wore a one-piece bathing suit and flip-flops. My kids were similarly attired. The Germans were dressed in matching neoprene wetsuits, complete with masks and fins. I guess they expected a diving expedition with whales.
The bus ride was an expedition in itself. We careened around hair-pin turns. We sped down the sides of mountains, the brakes smoking. My kids and the Germans thought this was great fun. They whooped and hollered like they were on a roller-coaster ride.
Finally reaching the put-in, we disembarked from the bus. We put on life jackets, grabbed tubes and jumped into the water. Our bus driver tied our tubes together so we wouldn’t get separated. He pushed us off and we were on our way.
Our flotilla moved rapidly downstream. I was a bit alarmed, but my kids thought this was part of the adventure, especially when their tubes bounced off rocks. I was not amused. I sat lower in the water than they did — my butt banged into every underwater rock. It made me wish I’d sprung for the upgraded tube with room for a six-pack.
We drifted along for quite some time. The Germans weren’t much for conversation. They were really into taking pictures, though. And nothing seemed to be too mundane a subject. In between shots, they pointed and chattered excitedly — about what I had absolutely no idea.
I figured it out though, noticing the horizon dipping and the unmistakable sound of a waterfall.
“Wow! A waterfall. Yippee!” The kids were ecstatic. I wished I’d paid more attention to the waiver I signed. The Germans lowered their face masks. I braced myself, grabbing the tube handles.
“Hold on!” I yelled at the kids. They ignored me, splashing each other merrily until they noticed the tubes picking up speed and the water turning from green to brooding black. I thought we were going to die and I’d never get to try Hootin Annie’s Brunswick stew.
The kids had their arms thrust overhead, their eyes glowing with excitement. The Germans had their eyes squeezed shut as I watched them disappear over the lip of the falls. I think I screamed, but I can’t be sure as the water drowned me out.
Next thing I know, I’d landed. My tube went underwater briefly and then resurfaced. I managed to stay in it. But our tubes had come untied. I saw the kids drifting just a short distance away. The Germans sheltered them protectively, patting their backs as they coughed up water. We apparently arrived at the tubing take-out point. I spotted the bus on shore. Our driver was asleep.
Catching her breath, my youngest shouted, “That was fun, Mommy! Can we do it again?”
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