Packrafting: A Mother/Daughter Adventure

Guest Post by Cathy Edison

My daughter, Samantha, is brave. At 27, she gets her mom out adventuring regularly. I don’t just mean walking the beach or socializing. I mean off the couch, hiking, skiing, camping, and boating. When she was younger, we had our difficulties, but now, we are tight. We squabble, bicker, and are best friends who don’t want to live together because we might drive each other crazy. We enjoy each other’s company and then go off on our separate journeys. This summer was no exception.

Cathy and Samantha

In August, Sam introduced me to her friend and colleague, Alejandro Strong, who she met while working for the non-profit organization, Teens to Trails. Alejandro had been an Outward Bound guide and philosophy teacher, and then started his own business with a niche unknown to New England, called packrafting. He had invited us to try it out, and promised to go easy on me in particular, since I had only been whitewater rafting with a group a couple of times.

We had planned our weekend getaway after buying tickets to a concert, The Chicks, who were performing in Bangor, ME. Adventure or no, Sam is always concerned about total costs of doing fun things. She saw me struggle financially to raise her with a meager salary, and even now that I can afford more, is cautious about how much our fun will cost, where we will stay, and what we will eat when we get there. She’s a Virgo after all, and it is all about the advance planning and preparation. She’s also an outdoor guide, program manager, and a survivalist, who watches the weather, communicates, and knows the right gear to pack at all times.

“Don’t worry, Mom, we can go packrafting with Alejandro and then camp out in Bar Harbor on this lady’s land. She’s a friend of Jessica’s - she is asking her if you and I can crash there. It is a beautiful lot on the Southwest Harbor. Camping is fully booked, but I think she will let us stay on her land for free. I can also ask at work if we can crash at the retreat center near the concert. It’ll be fun!”

What is a 55-year old single mom to do but say, “Sounds great!”. I trust Sam to do what she does best - plan the adventure start to finish - make the lists - and communicate what I need to do beforehand because she KNOWS how I operate. Now that I am middle aged, she is the one to get me fired up about time in nature. It is payback after raising her the way I did.

Since she was born, I influenced Sam to love the outdoors, and love all of New Hampshire, where I live. After I divorced her dad, we moved a couple times, and she was forced to change schools and make new friends. All the change stressed her out. When she would lose her temper, I would say, “Get your sneakers on, it is attitude-adjustment time.” We’d leave our apartment and get some exercise. She’d ride her bike, and I would jog next to her. Or I would drive her to the fire tower near our apartment, and she and I would climb all eight flights together. Or I’d take her for nature walks, make her climb a hill, anything to boost the heartrate. We wouldn’t go home until she had a good attitude again. It generally took all of 30 minutes.

August finally arrived. I packed my stuff, grabbed Sam’s list of gear and equipment, stopped for groceries, filled the cooler, and drove north to her apartment in Portland, ME. It was a cool morning, with some clouds overhead, but the weekend forecast looked pretty clear. We packed up Sam’s car with our luggage, bikes, and gear, and headed north. We got to Orland in about two hours. We exited the highway and drove down country roads for a while. Soon, we were approaching a small bridge with one car parked just beyond it. Sam said, “That might be him!” We pulled over and jumped out. Alejandro stood across the road surrounded by his bike, equipment bags, deflated packrafts, and lifejackets. Sam greeted him with a warm hello and introduced me. We shook hands.

Alejandro is a quiet man, unassuming but confident, with brown hair, dark eyes, and a kind smile. After hearing of all of his guiding, and after seeing his website, I was surprised at how chill he was. He was outfitted for river travel wearing a well-worn baseball cap, wicking clothes, waterproof pants, and sandals. He was relaxed and not overly concerned about the clouds closing in above us, as I pulled my raincoat out of my bag.

Sam had packrafted with him once before, and proceeded to help him set up. Alejandro gave us instructions, explaining the steps in order for me to get the hang of it the first time. He demonstrated how to fill the air bags and inflate the rafts. We inflated each raft and sealed the air in tight. We then removed our front bike tires, and placed our bikes on the bow of each raft. He showed us how to strap the bikes down securely. Alejandro then demonstrated how to lift our own rafts and carry them to the river’s edge.

I picked up my raft by grasping the bike frame and leaning its weight against my hips. I stepped gingerly down the embankment and got myself to the river. Just as we walked in the river up to our knees and laid the three rafts down, the clouds thickened and the rain let loose. Sam laughed and said, “Embrace the rain, Mom!” Alejandro demonstrated the best way to get into our rafts without losing our balance. Sam held one end and started to video as I approached my raft. “What are you doing?,” I asked. She said, “I am capturing our adventure on film!” Next I knew, I was plopping my butt down into the stern and swinging my legs over the side, resting my feet comfortably in the bow under my stacked bike.

Off we went, meandering down the 20-foot-wide river in a slow current, surrounded by tall grasses and low trees. As we got further from the bridge, the river narrowed to a stream, veering left and right, revealing the surrounding mountains and rolling hills. We paddled and floated down a ways, and I was in front. It was so quiet, it caught me off guard. The rain stopped and the sun shone down through the clouds. We were paddling slowly, enjoying the reflection of the sky in the water, and the long grasses swaying in the shallow water beneath us.

The stream narrowed to a mere five feet across at intervals. We paddled a bit, and passed a few beaver dams built up along the route. Alejandro shared his tricks for navigating around the beavers’ homes. We silently moved a mile or so further down the river, soaking up the beauty and peacefulness of it all. We were in an oxbow, swirling down the stream curve after curve.

Soon, I was far ahead of Sam and Alejandro. I came upon a beaver dam that crossed the width of the river. Alejandro told me to wait up, and paddled ahead of me. He climbed out of his raft and stood upon the beaver dam, pulling his raft over and resting it on the grassy shore beside him. He gave me a hand helping me out of my raft. Once I was stable, standing in shallow water atop the meticulously woven pile of sticks and grass, we moved my raft over the dam to the opposite side. I hopped back in my raft and watched as Sam crossed the dam behind me. “Have you ever stood on a beaver dam?,” Alejandro asked us. “No, never!”, we said together. We kept going a bit further until the oxbow ended, and the stream widened into a pond.

I paddled into the large pond before me, sad that I was out of the stream. Alejandro led us across the pond at our own pace, pointing out our next destination on its far side. By now the sun was hot, and the lack of a current prompted Sam to rest her head and nap for a moment. We had the whole place to ourselves.

Alejandro paddled ahead and I followed, looking for an entrance through the tall grass which separated us from the shore. A thick forest sat behind them, with a bike trail invisible to the naked eye. Alejandro pushed through the tall grasses as Sam and I enjoyed the pond. Sam talked about going swimming, but then rested her head back down, relaxing in the sun.

Alejandro waited until we both got closer to the tall grasses at the edge of the pond. He directed us to the easiest point to paddle through the grasses and reach the shore. Sam headed in first, and we both laughed while watching the grass engulf the frame of the mounted bikes on our bows. We were about 20 feet from the shore when we landed on the mud. Sam got out of her raft, and her sandals plunged into the mud. She said, “Embrace the mud, Mom.”

I climbed out of my raft as Alejandro and Sam pulled their bikes off of their bows, and began setting them up on shore. “Yes, I am getting a free foot bath here,” I said. My sandals sank in the mud about two inches as I began unstrapping the bike and squishing my way to the shore. I made it to dry land, and a small clearing where we washed off the mud and stacked our equipment.

Alejandro had deflated his raft, and gave us instructions on how to proceed. We first brought our rafts from the grassy waters into the clearing. We loosened the air valves and the rafts emptied most of the way. Alejandro showed us how to fold and roll the rafts, properly repacking them into bags, and then together, we collected the rubber straps to secure all the gear onto our bikes. After packing everything back onto our handlebars, we pushed our bikes up the pathway to a broader trail.

Once we got on our bikes, we adjusted to the extra weight in the handlebars. Alejandro told us of the journey ahead. We had about four miles to bike to reach the bridge, and our cars. He asked that we travel one by one when we reach the paved road, and said he would follow us. I told him I was a slow poke, and he could go ahead. But he insisted on riding behind us for safety.

Sam took the lead. We had a good uphill climb across a rough trail, then thick grass, and then gravel and stone. We crossed a small stream at one point, finding the shallows to walk or ride our bikes through it. When I was hesitant to cross, Alejandro showed me the best area to get by.

Sam was moving faster and I struggled to keep up. I thought about the things I should have brought with me. I didn’t take my iron this week. I forgot my Deep Woods Off or bugspray of any kind. I was falling behind Sam and feeling a bit embarrassed, but Alejandro patiently waited, following me without complaint.

Soon we were on a path as wide as a car, and then we saw a gate with a paved road beyond it. I was happy to see the road ahead. We had made it and had just a few more miles to pedal.

We walked our bikes around the gate and entered the roadside. It was a straight, hilly, country road with no traffic. Carefully checking for traffic anyway, we crossed the street and jumped back on our bikes.

I was clearly out of my comfort zone. The bikerafting was a big challenge but I was happy. A few hills later, we were speeding down towards the small bridge where we began. We clapped hands and celebrated our success! We unpacked the bikes, filled the cars, returned the bikes to our bikeracks, and thanked Alejandro so much for sharing the experience.

Our weekend adventures continued as we traveled on to camp in Southwest Harbor. Over the next two days we had more fun and laughs. We set up our campsite at the edge of the ocean. We listened to the seals play late into the night in hammocks under the stars. We built a campfire, and survived a 3AM thunderstorm in our tent. We went canoeing across Echo Lake, then packed up and drove to Orland to stay at a retreat and enjoy The Chicks concert.

On the drive home the following day, we talked about when we could packraft again with Alejandro, and which of our friends would love this sport. Sam and I will try new challenges such as Class II rapids next time. I can get stronger by biking hills before we go again, and keep up next time. Most of all, we can’t wait to packraft across rivers we have never seen, and create new memories along the way.