First Descents Camp

I made it to Coram, MT promptly at 9am. Although haggard from 22 hours of travel and physically recovering from the Los Pinos female first descent, I was anxious to see what this whole cancer camp was about.
We started with a staff meeting and discussed safety matters such as possible seizures, compromised bone strength, and other fragilities attributed to chemotherapy and individual cancers. I started to question my qualifications as camp counselor, and anxiety only grew as the campers filed in. I was not sure how I was supposed to “counsel” someone who defeated cancer. I am just a kayaker.
Thinking back on the Los Pinos mission, I recalled how sorry I felt for myself. The seven mile hike up to 10,500 feet, blisters, lost toe nails, swollen hip and collar bones, and freezing cold sleepless nights. Then I felt silly comparing my pathetic self-inflicted struggles to the loss of limbs, hair, and adolescent experiences due to their cancers. I wondered how they’d treat me – a non cancer person. Admittedly, the camaraderie between the “survivors” was intimidating.
Throughout the rest of the day I realized they didn’t want to talk about disease, feelings, struggles; they just wanted to kayak. But first jump off the “Old Bridge”, bare skinned, into glacial fed Middle Fork of the Flathead.
I felt more and more welcome as I realized they wanted to be treated like young adults. They wanted to be made fun of, and they wanted to be roughed up on the river. We didn’t baby them and they loved every minute of it. These survivors could finally spend their energy on progressing into adulthood and not just surviving childhood.
Adults, they were not, but neither were any of the counselors. I guess that is why I felt so at home by the time the off color cancer jokes were flying through the air. When we were denied river access by a private landowner the campers replied, “D’ya tell ‘em we have cancer?” I almost choked on a cookie the first time I heard that one. Even better, our short bus was pulled over on the highway interrupting our “holla-back cheers”. As the bus driver hopped out, shouts from the back chased him, “Pull the “C” Card, pull the “C” card!” These guys are good! Then to confirm their brilliance they decided to gather all their unused meds and have a narcotic sale instead of using the typical fundraising tactic.
This camp was a little different from others, obviously. No trust falls were necessary; we did the “T- Rescue”. I saw the most incredible hang time while these campers floated upside down through class three rapids with their hands patiently feeling for a counselor to come barreling in for the rescue. I wouldn’t wait that long.
Through all the carnage and higher-than-expected water levels, the campers proved, again, that they were survivors. I told them I would have been crying a long time ago. Their cancers and physical challenges stand second in relevance to the conquering attitudes of this classy group. Each person made a lasting impression on me and each deserves recognition.

“Too Tall” gracefully flowing through uncertainty and risk
“Tractor” fearlessly dozing through obstacles with or without “Trailer”
“George” stunning smile with a ‘kiss this’ attitude
“Buttons” youngest of the group showing calm mature leadership
“Mateo” laughing at danger while stern squirting amidst chaos
“Napolean” aspiring physician who defies weakness by ignoring diagnosis
“Care Bear” feminine, confident sophistication when imperiled
“Sassy” optimistic extravert destined for success
“Presto” grinning while laid back (literally) in turbulence & in tranquility

I guess I was due for a little attitude adjustment. They reminded me to use my legs happily, because I have them. I was re-inspired to explore and expend my energy progressing in life, while I have that too.
My next female first descent expedition, Bull Lake in Wyoming, was the hardest thing I’d ever accomplished. The 20 mile two day hike with a loaded creek boat was brutal and painful. At one point, I rolled my ankle falling into a tree that entangled my boat and the mosquitoes came in for the kill. Yes, at that point I forgot about having “a good attitude”. The Bull Lake test was to take the hits, survive the portages and still remember to appreciate the glorious views and incredible whitewater of Wind River Wyoming. Surviving Bull Lake probably doesn’t feel as rewarding as conquering cancer (hard act to follow), but I will keep pushing.
Thank you, First Descents, for inviting me to participate.
Sincerely,
Lizzy (Chuckwagon) English