AFIELD

from WALTER Magazine - September 2018

by waltermagazine

GIVERS

LOOSE on the NEUSE

words and photography by CC PARKER

The plan for our family Neuse River paddle was announced at the dinner table. Our family had enjoyed a nice Sunday meal together, everyone loosened up by good food, conversation, and libations (adults only). During a lull, I announced that the upcoming Sunday we were having a family-only, mandatory kayak trip. Never quite sure what the response will be to my ideas for family fun … I paused for their reaction. They didn’t fail me. “MOM, it’ll be so long!” “MOM, it’ll be a far drive. Where is it? WHY DO WE HAVE TO DO THIS?” “Mom, the water will still be cold!” “Mom are the snakes out yet?” Then they turned to my husband pleading for intervention but he ended the subject. Th “This is what your mother wants to do.” Before they could reload with another set of objections, I pointed out what they really B needed to worry about: Their boatmate. We will be in tandem boats. Who in the famn ily can share a boat for a prolonged period of time? Who is going to paddle their fair i share? Who is the least annoying? Who will permit their partner tanning breaks? They s surveyed each other critically. s This was unexpected … it never occurred to me that inner-family alliances would be formed from this excursion. Would anyone choose to ride with me? Why do I find b such pleasure in forced family fun? I know I am not alone. But why do some pars

ents feel such joy in forcing their most beloved ones to spend recreational time with them? The opportunity to tell your children to put down the Fortnite headphones feels like a victory. Perhaps in my case it’s due to my upbringing: summer after summer of camp drop-offs, my parents (people who don’t normally seek out attention) would honk, wave madly and scream Ahoy There! to every handsome counselor in sight as I hide from the embarrassment in the back of the station wagon. Thirtyfive years later and I am doing the same thing. Scheduling our float down Paddle Creek was seamless. The website is easy but I had questions, and Brittany (who runs the show) called me right back and we were booked for our tandem kayak special. I ignored all the rolling eyes. The children were sullen and silent and even my husband was grumpy. I ignored their negative energy and gathered the necessities for the trip: a small cooler of ice water, towels, wine (it’s never too early for that), sunscreen, and bug spray. We were ready to roll. The drive to Paddle Creek is a 20-minute drive from downtown Raleigh. We found a parking spot and joined the crowd at the makeshift registration tent next to the river. My sister and parents were already there and looked a bit pensive—they surveyed our crowd to determine their own boatmates. Brittany distributed wet sacks for anyone needing to protect electronics. Once the participants checked in, she introduced us to the team of four young men, reviewed the rules, and pointed out the nearby train trestle. That trestle would serve as a visual reminder to the group that the trip ends at the “take out” spot. The group piled into two large vans and drove 15 minutes to the put-in site at Falls Dam. Once arrived, the young guides distributed paddles and unloaded the kayaks as we made our way to the water. Falls Dam is a busy spot with a happy vibe. The guides instructed us to load into the kayaks with our partners. It was the moment of truth for family alliances. It was a bit of a shock when my beloved youngest child grabbed my mother’s hand. He picked her for his team. She was the safest. And the nicest, certainly compared to his siblings who were yelling all sorts of admonitions to him about not waking up the snakes on the river. We filed two by two into our boats and let the current carry us downstream. It was a hot day—97 degrees—but pleasant on the water. My husband and daughter immediately took the lead and passed the group. That was a shame because the water cooler was on their boat. My eldest child and my sister took their time, mainly because my son was snapchatting and tanning so his aunt had to do most of the work. My father and I took in the landscape as he reminisced about a real estate deal on the river that he brokered as a young agent many moons ago. I knew he was in the spirit of the day when he suggested there was no rush to the finish and we should allow the current do some of the work. We made small talk and splashed family members as they passed. My mother and youngest pulled up the rear. Brown was on the lookout for those dreaded water snakes but then

became distracted by the frolicking tattooed millennials floating nearby. He has a keen eye for misbehaving shenanigans. Paddle Creek’s “short run” is only three miles and takes about an hour and a half. Lots of paddlers, tubers, and other kayakers are out there with you, and you can find lots of pretty spots for a picnic. Bathroom pit stops aren’t a problem as the river isn’t that big. Our boats stayed within view of one another throughout the run. It was relaxed, old-fashioned fun. As expected the train trestle eventually appeared and the young Paddle Creek guides waved us in as they helped us out and hauled the boats away. When our family reassembled at the registration tent, everyone was sort of… quiet. Peaceful. Relieved? Perhaps wanting to make a point (or wanting reassurance), I asked my eldest son his thoughts about our paddle. In reply, he gave me a hug and said, “Yea Mom, it was good.” Two hours with the people I love most in the world. Parental sadism aside, his hug and reassurance was the best gift.