MY BEST DAY WITH MY SON BRAD
When my son Brad had just turned fourteen, his mother and I were in there middle of a contentious divorce. Since things were dragging out and things were on the nasty side, I did everything I could to ensure our son all the attention he required from his mom and dad. After all, why should he suffer the effects of feuding parents? So I would plan as many father-son activities as possible.
We had gone camping a few times when he was a scout, and he enjoyed the experience. We had done some hiking at the Chickamauga Battlefield, and we did some mountain biking. However, this weekend I found an excellent activity that neither of us had ever done before. We would go camping and WHITE WATER RAFTING on the Ocoee River in Tennessee. How exciting and fun can a son’s weekend activity be with his dad and visa versa? This could be the adventure of a lifetime.
I immediately called Brad and filled him in on my idea. His response was what I had hoped for. I had been worrying that things were getting a little stale for him, and he was doing his best to patronize me. I hit the ball out of the park with this one.
The remainder of the week, we called each other several times, making plans and creating a list of necessities for our great adventure into the wilderness. I read up all I could about the sport of white water rafting. I collected brochures from travel agencies. From all the information I had gathered, I had a pretty good idea of what to expect.
We decided to go the next weekend, so I made reservations for the rafting with the Ocoee Outdoor Center and reserved a tent campsite at the Ocoee State Park. We made a trip to the local sporting goods store for equipment and off to Krogers for food.
Come Friday, we headed out for the mighty Ocoee, about two hours away on Hwy 64. I had never been there before, and I found the ride to have scenic views of beautiful mountains, lakes, and streams.
Upon arrival at the outdoor center, we found ourselves in a new world. The place was packed with college kids and lots of people in their twenties and thirties. For the most part, they all looked like a society of granola eaters. They all seemed to look and dress alike. Later on, this cult of whitewater enthusiasts was known as river rats.
While we were checking things out, we noticed people congregated in the parking lot taking instructions on rafting. Most of the people in the crowd were wearing helmets and life vests. They were about to make their run down the Ocoee.
We walked across the road and found ourselves at the put-in. At least four or five inflatable rafts were being carried by large groups, all wearing life preservers and helmets. We watched as group after group placed their rafts in the water and climbed aboard. Each group had a leader or guide who was responsible for the navigation and safety of all aboard.
We hurried back to the Explorer and drove downriver to the first set of rapids. We were in time to watch the action. Man, it was wild, and the scene really got my adrenalin going. I couldn’t wait to do it. Following the rafts came several kayaks and canoes. This whitewater stuff was really exciting.
We stayed by the rapids for a little more than an hour and decided to pitch camp on the mountain behind us in the state park. So we drove and drove for at least an hour up this winding dirt road to the park and checked in.
After finding a campsite, we found ourselves overlooking the river and Ocoee lake. It was a magnificent view, and we noticed the water to be turquoise color. The coloration was the result of copper content. Later I was told no fish were to be found there because of the copper.
We set up camp and I began preparation for dinner while Brad did the more menial chores. We were going to have my specialty, pan-sized hamburger steak with all the fixings. Brad enjoyed learning all about camping and my cooking. What a wonderful memory. Suppose life was only this simple all of the time.
After dinner, we cleaned up, and I built a nice campfire. We sat and talked for a long period just about everything but mostly about tomorrow’s adventure down the Ocoee. We checked everything out around the campsite and turned in—an end of a great day with my son.
The next morning we were up bright and early. We anxiously headed down the mountain to the outdoor center. We ate breakfast at the bar next door. Its name was Grumpy’s. Come to find out, Grumpy’s was the hot spot for all of the river rats.
After breakfast, we checked in and were introduced to our river guide for the day. We waited in our location with our equipment until our group was formed. Finally, we carried our raft to a designated spot and received our lesson on the dos and don’ts of whitewater rafting.
Rafting is serious business and a lot more menacing than it looks. The rapids on the Ocoee could be extremely challenging and dangerous. I was a little concerned as to whether Brad could handle the experience. I thought if his mother knew what it was all about, she would kill me.
Suddenly, whistles started blowing, and bull horns were blasting with instructions for us to carry our rafts to the entrance of the put-in. We all had our equipment and paddles. So, off to the jaws of hell, we marched, looking the challenge of doom in the eye—all mighty warriors. We had a cohesive group prepared for the challenge.
Our turn finally came, and down the put-in ramp we ran yelling at the top of our lungs. We hit the water, and all jumped in the raft with the precision of Navy Seals entering battle. We were on our way while the guide was yelling commands.
We approached the first set of rapids, and I was in one of the front seats with Brad right behind me. The guide was yelling, paddle, paddle as hard as you can. The icy water was flying over the sides, soaking us, and we were pounding up and down. Finally, we made it through, and we were all cheering. I turned to make sure Brad was OK. He was exhilarated, just like the rest of us. No fear in this lad, I thought. Great for him.
We made it through two more sets and pulled to shore for a break. So far, only two were thrown from the boat and rescued. But, as I said, this was dangerous stuff.
While resting, I had a discussion with the guide. I asked if he wouldn’t mind if I jumped in at the next rapids to see how it felt to swim in them. He told me I was crazy and he would not permit it. To be truthful, he was doing the right thing, but I continued to hound him. What he didn’t know was that I was raised on the Jersey Shore, and I was accustomed to some pretty big water having body surfed after large storms many times in my youth. I thought I could handle this, and I was looking for the buzz.
When we reached the second of the two following sets, the guide turned to me and said, go, now. Without giving it a second thought, I flipped over the side. Damn, I jumped into a washing machine. I was getting kicked around pretty good for several seconds, and I finally found myself in the preferred position of being in a sitting position with my legs in front while drifting going forward.
About forty yards in front of me was our raft, with everyone waving their arms in the air. I thought they were all cheering me when all of a sudden, something came down on my head like a ton of bricks and smashed me back under the water. It was such a hard blow that I had lost my breath. When I returned to the surface gasping for air, I found that another raft had landed full weight on top of me. As soon as I realized what had happened, I was furious and started to swim towards the raft, but it was too late. I was caught in another rapid. When I made it through the second rapid, I was done. I had nothing left.
Our raft was waiting for me in a calm area known as an eddy. It took every bit of my strength for me to swim over and hoist myself in, but I will tell you, I came close to dying. Finally, the guide looked at me and said, “do you want to do more”? I smiled and said sure, but I didn’t, and I didn’t.
We finished the run down the river, and each rapid was as exciting as the last. We had a blast. Brad and I met a great challenge together. How good does it get?
After the run, we stopped off a Grumpy’s for something to eat. We bought some authentic river sandals and other gear for our next trip. We were hooked. This sport was for us.
We were both pretty knocked out, so we went back to the campsite. I was worn out from my close call. Wow, was that dramatic and stupid?
The next morning we broke camp and started to head out. On the way, we decided to investigate kayaking. We stopped off at a kayaking school for some lessons. I tried it for a while but found it was not the right thing for a guy my size, but Brad took to it like a fish in water. In later years come, he became a very highly accomplished kayaker. He once ran the entire Ocoee without the use of a paddle. He did it using his hips and his hands. That is quite an achievement.
I took up white water canoeing and never excelled at the sport, although I did lots of training and enjoyed the sport and whitewater very much.
Brad and I became river rats at appropriate times and interested others in our sport, including my daughter Allison who became a guide.
The first trip permitted Brad and me to create a bond that continued until family issues became obstacles. You can’t turn the clock back, but I know he values the fellowship we shared as father and son. I know I do.
