Roy and I met on a canoe trip – but that’s another story. When we were dating and later, married, we went on a lot of canoe trips: from day trips, to base camping trips, to the premiere white-water trip in Texas – the Lower Canyons of the Rio Grande. It occurred to me that couples who intend to paddle the river of life together should learn to paddle the still water and moving waters of Texas first – together.
Learning to paddle a tandem canoe can be compared to plotting a life together. First, like canoeing, you should define what position in this arrangement you will fit. The bowman sees what’s coming up first, keeps the rhythm of the forward motion and makes corrective strokes to continue on the path chosen by the man in the stern. He/she determines the path and steers the craft in that direction. People in both ends of the canoe need to communicate what they see in order to navigate – especially on tricky water. Each going off in their own direction is a sure-fire recipe for getting wet and not making it through the rapids.
When paddling together, each partner needs to know his/her own strengths and weaknesses, and they need to know their partner’s as well. You need to tell your partner if you do not feel comfortable attempting a certain section of the river and find a way to portage that problem area if necessary. Don’t just run it and hope for the best. No matter how good a swimmer you are – wear your life jacket. It will lift you when you cannot do it yourself.
Flat water is good to paddle to test your strengths and weaknesses. The water stays put and doesn’t push you somewhere you don’t want to go. These sections of the river of life are pleasant and make good memories. Like paddling in the light of a full moon, just to surprise a beaver working on his dam, who gives you a cold shower for disturbing his work.
Sometimes, your partner teaches you lessons on slow moving water. Usually, the man in the stern steers the canoe, but there is one move the bowman can make that can save the boat from a strainer across the river. By planting his paddle in the eddy line once you cross it, and holding the paddle in place, he/she can swing the canoe 90 degrees violently turning the bow parallel to the strainer, allowing the stern man to find a hole around the end of it. Instead of crashing and burning, you work together to save your boat and perhaps your lives. You can practice that move all day and not know you have it down, until you need it. Then it just happens. There are events in your life that are like that. Working together is magic.
Then there’s big water. Monster rapids. Remote locations. Very limited access. Once you put on the river, you don’t get out until the takeout miles downriver – or by helicopter. For those trips, you learn how to pack everything you need to survive for several days in the wilderness. This is not a trip you take if you do not trust your partner. You learn trust. You learn to think as your partner does and you react in situations to take care of each other. You learn which freeze-dried foods are edible and which ones you never want to see again. You learn cold water at the end of paddle is the best drink in the world.
I’m glad Roy and I paddled together – ours was a good marriage. At the end, paddling was a bit strenuous for us. But, I’m glad we paddled together for the years we did – it taught us so much about each other. And I’m glad we made the trip down the Lower Canyons of the Rio Grande in 1986. Most of the campsites are on the Mexican side of the river. Drug cartels were not as active or as mean then – you were more afraid the Federales would confiscate your canoes and equipment if someone on the trip had a gun with them. The white water was your adversary then. I would not do that trip today, though – even if I were much younger – the drug dealers would be the main concern.
Married life is like paddling a tandem canoe in differing waters. Learning something every day from your partner and the river that carries you on.