When I was 6 months old, my mom put me in a swimming pool and I have loved the water ever since then. By her account, I swam like crazy and never had to be taught how.

When I was 14 years old, I got my first taste of whitewater on a youth trip to the Blue Ridge Mountains. I still have a much treasured t-shirt from that trip, despite that it looks like its been sprayed with birdshot from all the years of wear.

When I was 19 years old, I moved to Chattanooga, TN and befriended a group of “river hippies” who invited me to become a whitewater rafting guide. I spent the entire summer on the Ocoee River, famous as the hotspot of the ‘96 Whitewater Olympics. That summer was one of the most adventurous that I can recall… swimming class 3-5 rapids, drinking $1 Highlifes at The Duff Tavern, sleeping in my jeep with the top down, learning how to “read” moving water, and meeting some of the craziest people that walk the earth.

I worked for the black sheep outfitter of the river and had an insane trainer, named Dwight. One hot summer day we had the extremely bright idea for the two of us to take a one man inflatable kayak down the Ocoee, one of the most fierce rivers I’ve ever seen. Needless to say, we were severe adrenaline junkies… at least that sounds better than dain bramaged suicidal idiots. It was a sensational experience… the boat flipped towards the end of the whitewater at a class 4 rapid named “Hell’s Hole“. After being powerfully washed through the rapid, I swam hard to the right using my paddle for leverage. I knew that if I was too far left that I would be painfully swept over the rocky edge of the last roaring rapid, “Powerhouse Ledge“. My heart was pounding out of my chest as my body was rushed downed the ledge. The best way I can describe the feeling is that for about a minute, it was like being in a washing machine. I grasped for breathes of air at every opportunity the river gave me until finally I was rushed into the calm waters across the ledge. I looked back for Dwight and all I saw was his paddle rushing towards me. I swam out and grabbed it and then saw him, being battered across the rocky ledge. He’d tried to catch up with the boat and ended up being too far left. His busted up shins and bleeding knees didn’t stop him from exclaiming that it was one of the best times he’d ever had… but we also agreed that we’d not test fate and ever do that in a “funyak” again.

To Be Continued….