Adventure therapy is the best therapy

Last month, I had one of the best weeks of my life in Tarkio, Montana on a white water kayaking trip with First Descents. For those of you who I have not gushed to in person, First Descents is an amazing organization which provides free outdoor trips to young adult cancer survivors. Here's a more eloquent description of what they do, courtesy of their website:

First Descents offers young adult cancer fighters and survivors a free outdoor adventure experience designed to empower them to climb, paddle and surf beyond their diagnosis, defy their cancer, reclaim their lives and connect with others doing the same.  

During the First Descents experience, young adult survivors and fighters are empowered through conquering legitimate outdoor challenges to push their limits and face their fears, and by doing so, they are able to regain the confidence and self-efficacy lost to cancer. 

Pretty awesome, right? Can I get a whoot whoot?!

I found out about First Descents pretty early into my treatment for Hodgkin's, and I immediately signed up. Even though I live in a concrete jungle -- the concrete jungle -- I love the outdoors, especially anything that has to do with water. Before my diagnosis, I had been wanting to plan a trip out to Glacier National Park in Montana -- which I have been obsessed with for quite some time -- for some hiking, kayaking, and outdoor adventure, so imagine my jubilation when I found out that I could go to Montana and go white water kayaking (for free!). All I had to do was finish chemo. Not a bad deal, right?

This trip definitely helped me get through my down days with treatment. I kept reminding myself that in just a few short months I would be on the river, battling white water rapids, and would be feeling like my old self again. Soon enough, I was done with treatment and it was time to pack up and head West.

Aside from a skiing/snowboarding trip to Colorado and a couple of trips to California, I've never been "out West". I had always wanted to spend a summer working at a national park, but internships, then jobs, and life always got in the way of that. It took cancer to get me there, and while I am by no means happy I got cancer, I'm happy that it gave me the time, excuse, and opportunity to have such a transformative experience (#yolo!).

So, where to begin?

After a long morning of travel, I arrived in Spokane, where I met up with a few other campers before our ride arrived. Everyone clicked almost instantly, and by the time our "counselor", Patch (that's a nickname -- more on that later), arrived to pick us up, we went from being strangers to close friends. FD is an organization that is all about trust, and the airport meeting was the first time I really had to "trust" them. I mean, meeting up with a bunch of strangers to go to a secluded spot in the wilderness? Sounds like the beginning of a horror movie if you ask me. However, from our initial airport meeting to our wonderful conversations during the 3 hour (gorgeous!) drive deep into western Montana, I was instantly sipping the FD kool aid.

So, about this nickname thing. To really get the full FD experience, you have to take a break from "real life". One way to do this is by ditching your "human name". Most nicknames have to do with a hobby or passion or the like. For instance, our chef's FD name was Lambchop, because she (shockingly!) likes to cook. Others were a little more random -- Moose, for instance, got his FD name because on the drive to Tarkio he spotted a moose from the car. I was one of the few "campers" that was familiar with this tradition beforehand, because I had the chance to attend some local NYC FD events and got the d/l before my trip. Once I learned about the nicknames, I instantly knew I wanted to do something to incorporate the memory of my boyfriend, Scott's, older brother, Peter, who passed away from cancer about 10 years ago at the age of 19.

Here's Pete, wearing a 24 sweatshirt. He later got to visit the set of 24 and even make a guest appearance!

While I did not get the chance to meet Pete, I almost feel like I knew him because of all the wonderful stories I have heard about him from Scott and and the rest of his family and friends. As Scott's mom, Jenny, puts it, Pete was the strongest athlete she will ever know. He was an athlete in the sense that he loved sports, but Jenny is referring to his endurance and drive to keep a positive attitude during his treatments. While my treatment protocol was no walk in the park, his was downright hellish, with multiple surgeries and long stints of in-patient chemotherapy.

Unfortunately, FD wasn't around while Pete was going through treatment, but I have no doubt that he would have been super stoked to go on an FD trip if he had the opportunity (he did get to do Make a Wish, which flew him out to the set of 24, then his favorite show, where he got to meet the cast and crew and get a cameo on the show. Peter definitely charmed everyone at 24 -- to the point where they invited him and his family out to the set two more times.). Here is a nice write up on Pete from a local newspaper if you'd like to know more about him and his all-too-brief journey.

Pete's nick name was Mez, which is a shortening of his last name. I decided to take that name and add my own spin to it, and dubbed myself "Mezzy" for my FD trip. At first, everyone was a little bit confused. Most people thought it was "messy", which would have also worked with me because I tend to struggle with keeping my room clean (yes, I'm 27 years old, but it's still something I have to work on each and every day!). But then, at the first night's "campfire" session (campfire is in quotes because we did a mock campfire indoors, because we were in Montana, aka Wildfire Country, and the conditions were too dry to do it outdoors), I explained the story behind my nickname name and from then on I was referred to as Mezzy. Jen who?

Now, on to the meat of the FD experience: white water kayaking! Only 1 out of 12 of us campers had been white water kayaking -- and the one who had done it before had only just recently tried it on an FD day trip. I have been in a kayak numerous times on lakes or more mellow rivers, so while I didn't have the white water experience, per say, I felt pretty comfortable taking on some rapids. After all, it can't be much different, right?

Let's just say that my ego definitely got checked at the door the minute we got to the water. Unlike more mellow kayaking, white water kayaking requires you to be strapped in because you're being thrown this way and that way. You're strapped in by a "skirt", which is attached to your waist and then stretched over the opening to keep the water out and you in.

Sparkles and I modeling our sexy kayaking skirts. #fashionistas

The first thing we did was practice how what to do if we flipped (which, to my dread, we were told right away would most likely happen). In kayaking, there are three ways to handle this. The first option is to do a "wet exit", in which you undo your skirt and swim out (while you're underwater and upside down). This isn't really the preferred way to go about it, because with a wet exit you, your kayak, your paddle, and anything else you're carrying in your boat, goes tumbling down the rapids and it requires a lot of help to get everything back together and to drain your boat.

Instead, our guides preferred us to wait for them to do an "assisted rescue", where they come to you and put their boat near your hands (which are pathetically flailing in the air while you're upside down and underwater), and you use their boat to help pull yourself rightside up. This is much more efficient because you don't have to worry about getting separated from your boat and draining it, etc. The guides promised that they would get to us in 3-5 seconds if we flipped. That being said, the first time you flip and you're underwater and upside down, 3-5 seconds is a LONG TIME, and most beginners panic and just want to get to the surface for air, which is why we spent much of the first day practicing wet exits. The last way to handle a flip is to roll yourself over, but this is a skill that takes awhile to learn, and while a few people did eventually get it on my trip, most of us (including yours truly) were helpless little creatures who had to resort to options 1 or 2.

After practicing our exits, we did a few small rapids and then called it a day. While I had a shit ton of fun, I was also terrified. White water kayaking is a lot different than kayaking on still water, and it requires a ton of different skills. I almost flipped a few times, which really psyched me out. It's one thing to learn how to do a wet exit, or practice waiting underwater for an assisted rescue in controlled conditions, but it's another thing for it to happen IRL with raging rapids sweeping you down the river. Let's just say that Anxiety Gurl was on high alert all day.

A few people flipped the first day and said that it's just one of those things that you should get out of the way so you're not as scared. HA! That might work for normal person, but for Anxiety Gurl that shit wasn't going to fly. I WOULD HOLD ON TO THE DEATH. Unfortunately for me, by Day 2 we did a more challenging part of the river and I was forced to tackle my nemesis, the rapids. I started going down close to one of the other campers, Moni, along with one of our guides. I flipped almost instantly and of course started to panic while I was underwater. I heard the guides' soothing voices in my head, "We will get to you in 3-5 seconds. Just stay calm", but the minute I was underwater I said "SCREW THAT!", unhooked my skirt, and swam the hell out of there. Little did I know that while I was spazzing underwater, Moni -- my sweet, wonderful, nurturing Moni -- tried to do an assisted rescue and help me up. In her moment of courage, however, she also flipped and did her own wet exit. The poor guides then had to deal with what is called a "yard sale" where there are multiple swimmers, boats, and paddles to deal with. Luckily, our photographer, Goose, happened to get shot of all the chaos. For your amusement, I am underwater in the red kayak that is flipped, Moni (my hero!) is in the green kayak trying to rescue me, and Jus, one of the guides, is in the purple kayak rushing to our rescue.

All of this -- from flipping, to wet exiting, to getting rescued by the guides and being pulled to calmer water -- probably took no more than 10 seconds, but going through it seemed way longer. While I was a little frazzled after The Incident, I quickly regained my composure. It was by no means a fun experience, but it wasn't as bad as I had feared. Everyone was right; it is just better to get the first flip out of the way so you're less paralyzed by a fear of flipping.

In addition to kayaking, we also got to spend one day doing "alternative crafting", where we could try other vessels on the water, like rafts or duckies (where are basically inflatable kayaks without the skirt). It was a really nice way to break up the trip, and after a few hard days of kayaking, it was almost relaxing to experience the river in a different way. Both rafts and duckies are a lot more stable than kayaks!

While the whole trip was amazing, the last day sticks out the most. After building up our skills for four days, we were heading for the big rapids (by big, I mean class 3 rapids, which are "big" but they're nothing like what the pros do. But Rome wasn't built in a day, right!?). These bad boys basically submerged you and then popped you back up. We went one-on-one with the guides since it was basically assumed a lot of us would be "enjoying" some time under water. Somehow, I managed to make it through the first rapid unscathed, but I knew I didn't want to push my luck for the even bigger one (yes, I had already flipped, but that was 3 days ago -- which, on river time, felt like FOREVER ago -- so my fear of flipping re-established itself).

For the final big rapid of the trip, we had a choice to go to the left, where the water was calmer -- there were still some rapids, but nothing too crazy -- or to go right, where the Big Bertha wave was. Again, we went one-on-one with a guide in case we needed a rescue. Dishes was my guide for this rapid, and he asked me which route I wanted to go on.

"LEFT! LEFT! PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, LEFT!" I wailed.

"Are you sure? You have the skills to go right if you want to." Dishes said.

"Are you kidding? I don't want to flip! We're going left!"

Dishes kindly led me to the left where the cute baby waves were, to my relief. However, the river had other ideas and sucked me to the right. All of the sudden I was in the midst of the Big Bertha wave, being pretty much completely submerged and then popping right back up. And somehow, I made it all the way through!

Here I am about to battle Big Bertha

When all is said and done and I had made it through the waves, I was so, so, happy that the river had other ideas and pushed me to challenge myself. I literally couldn't stop giggling afterward. I was finally at a point where kayaking wasn't really that scary anymore; it was just really fucking fun. My only regret is that I didn't have one more big wave to try where I could intentionally choose the harder option, rather than just get thrown into it because of incompetent paddling.

In a lot of ways, the river really is a metaphor for life, which is something we often talked about at our nightly campfire sessions. Here's a few things I took away from my time on the river, which I will carry with me the next time I kayak (there will be a next time, I can assure you), and through my day-to-day life:

• Challenge myself, whenever and wherever possible. The Big Bertha wave was the highlight of my time on the river. It would have been easier to cling to the side and avoid it, but I doubt I would have had the same sense of satisfaction afterward. Risks = rewards!
• Just go with it! I may have mentioned a few times on this blog that I'm kind of a control freak. I like things to work on my time and my way. Who doesn't? But unfortunately -- from your job to your health to your relationships -- things usually don't work out how you planned. The river forced me to be flexible and to be at peace with things I couldn't control. Of course, as I mentioned above I will probably try to fight it, tooth and nail, because I am who I am, but once you finally accept that sometimes you're NOT in control, things get a lot easier.
• People are special, wonderful, beautiful creatures. I often forget this as I'm trying to cram into busy subways or avoid the old cranky dude in my neighborhood who yells at me for walking my dog on the (public!) sidewalk in front of his apartment. Truthfully, this city makes me despise humans 99% of the time. But each person I met on my FD trip -- the campers, the lead FD staff, the river guides, the cooks, and the volunteers -- was amazing. I mentioned before that FD is all about trust. Not only are you trusting your fellow campers when you reveal an intimate detail about your life or your cancer experience; you are also trusting the guides to come help you if you flip on the river. Even though I knew these people for just a few short days, I feel incredibly close to everyone. While I by no means want to be buddy-buddy with cranky old stoop dude in my neighborhood, this trip was a good reminder that most people are inherently good, want to help, and want to make your life better. Even (the optimist in me likes to believe) New York City assholes!

Believe it or not, this is just the tip of the iceberg of how awesome my FD experience was. There were so many other amazing experiences and conversations that I don't even know how to begin putting into words. 

I'll close this super long post by discussing one of the conversations we had on the last day, while having lunch on the river, on the importance of adventure. There is no rational reason why humans choose to attack crazy rapids on a puny little kayak. In fact, white water kayaking -- at least at advanced levels -- is actually irrational because of how dangerous it can be. Unfortunately, people die in this sport, and, as we all discussed at campfire one night, kayaking and cancer are a lot alike in one way: they take people who are far too young. 

That being said, white water kayaking is amazing. Like, probably one of the coolest things you will ever do amazing. It's not only fun, but as I mentioned above, it teaches you a lot about "life". As Uncle Dirt, one of our river guides said -- more eloquently than I am summarizing here, but just go with it -- the need for adventure is a primordial human desire. Yes, most of us live in big cities and sit in front of computer screens all day, but that doesn't mean that we don't also need to experience a good, old fashioned adventure once and awhile. Unfortunately, most people don't get this opportunity, whether it is because of external obstacles like money or family obligations, or psychological ones like being afraid of going outside of your comfort zone, but for those of us lucky enough to have had a taste of it, it will forever be something we crave.

Thanks, FD, for helping me get my mojo back, and for providing me with a truly life-changing experience. Now that I had my experience, I'm excited to give back by fundraising. If you have some dough to spare, please consider donating to this amazing organization. My goal is to reach $2,500, which will provide the same life-changing experience I had to another young adult battling cancer. Thanks for reading this Tolstoyesque blog post, and as a reward for your patience I'll leave you with one more breathtaking photo of the majestic Clark Fork River: