Flushed
“UNLESS SOMEONE LIKE YOU CARES A WHOLE AWFUL LOT, NOTHING IS GOING TO GET BET-
TER. IT’S NOT.” —DR. SEUSS PHOTO: PATRICK CAMBLIN
THIS IS YOUR BRAIN ON WHITEWATER
Why kill me, I give you life. Love from Rupert River.
I STOP WALKING TO READ THIS message, spray-painted on one of the copper-colored pillars of a bridge over the river, which as I glance down, suddenly seems angry—fast, dark water crashing on grey rocks. When I took my first paddle
strokes on the Rupert, I knew only one thing about the river— it was slated to be damned. Twenty-eight days and almost 400 miles later, I knew much more. I knew that
the best
sound to wake up to is the bab- ble of whitewater. That the rich culture of the Cree people is directly connected to the wild- flowing water of the Rupert. I knew that fire-grilled, freshly
62 | RAPID
caught whitefish melts in your mouth. I knew that this river was once a highway through history. That oatmeal-fed mus- cles could solo portage a canoe for many miles and that if you got enough blackfly bites, your eyes could swell shut. What I didn’t know was that
my time on the Rupert had changed me. A connection had been forged with wild water, a connection that I would take with me to other rivers. A con- nection that would direct the course of my life without me even realizing it. The rest of my summer was
spent washing dishes. Dam construction was underway de- spite my letters, petitions and phone calls. As I filled the sink with water, my mind filled with questions. Who
decided the
fate of the Rupert? Had they ever experienced the north- ern lights as they dance to the acoustics of whitewater? Had they felt the exhilaration of run- ning rapids blind, or the calm of navigating the vast shoreline under afternoon sun? I connected everyday obser-
vations to the Rupert. A sprin- kler on a lawn or an idling car. When someone left a light on, or let a tap run. If people weren’t so frivolous, if they didn’t waste so much, rivers wouldn’t need to be dammed to meet their demands. A decade later as a raft guide,
I was daydreaming at the back of the boat when it dawned on me. Maybe I could give the people on my raft a taste of the experience I had on the Rupert. Instead of just getting
them down the river, maybe I could share it with them too. Along with giving them the
ride of their life, if I could show people some aspect of the river—a great blue heron fish- ing on stilts, an osprey circling a tree-top nest—maybe they would take home a sense of pride and respect. Maybe they too would look at things differ- ently. Maybe the environment would climb their priority list. It’s easy to see the rivers we
paddle as strong and free. We feel the thrill, fear and accom- plishment that comes with con- quering whitewater but it’s not until we know a river and un- derstand its threats—develop- ment, damming, diverting and pollution—do we realize it can also be fragile and defenseless. CARMEN KUNTZ
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