As I limped away from the river that day I was left with a lot of questions. Some valid and some that were simply birthed out of fear.

But no matter what the questions were, this was a moment, that would shape the rest of my life.

Was I going to walk away from it all, throw in the towel and call it quits? Or trudge forward and risk similar or worse situations happening in the future? Would fear control me and decide my actions, or lack thereof? Or was I going to face it and deny it control over me.

I’ve always been a bit stubborn, and the very thought of the way my terror controlled me sort of pissed me off. So, gathering myself back together I prepared to face the river yet again. Besides it’s always fun to overcome challenges….

It wasn’t until having hit some of the bigger rapids earlier in the river that I realized just how much damage had been done on that fateful first Tamahi run. Any big wave, or small hole sent terror and dismay screaming through out my entire body, all I wanted to do was quit. This wasn’t going to be a simple Hollywood film type of thing, where you stand up to that which haunts your darkest nightmares, put it in its place, and it disappears as if it were nothing more than a temporary itch. No, this was going to take everything in me, and maybe even then I wouldn’t win.

Being not quite ready to take my own raft once more, I decided it was best to just join other guides to start out. I would run most sections but let them do the larger ones. When we got to Tamahi, the season still flooding it with high water levels, I would join whoever I trusted the most, and even then, as a passenger not as a guide. This allowed me to further familiarize myself with the rapid, to better memorize the line, see what went wrong and what the line should have been. 

Finally, I was ready. I was here to guide, not to be a passenger for the rest of my life. If this couldn’t be overcome, then my guiding days would likely end here and now.

Hopping on the oars, ready to give it all another go, we push off from shore. The current slowly starts to carry us towards Tamahi. Unable to breathe, my insides feel like they’re in a giant knot and my limbs heavy like cement. Everything screams at me that this is crazy, just give up, get out of the water. However, having already decided that I would do this, I continue forward. Fear’s grip on me feels almost paralyzing, like a foreboding warning of what may come..

Every breath I take has to be forced. My limbs seem to have forgotten how to function. When it’s time for my arms to move,it is a mental effort to make them do as I wish. I push onward: Take a breath in, move right arm forward, breath out, move the left arm, right arm, breath, left...

and then we drop into the mighty Tamihi. There was no longer time to second guess and try to bail, we were already coming up to the first big move, split the boulders. Thankfully my brain allows my body to function on its own again.

I can do it, this was the only move I got right last time….I make it!

Alright, now just to miss that nasty hole that started it all.

Fortunately, there is a racing gate just to the left of it. The top section of Tamahi is often used for kayak racing and there are gates set up in various locations in the rapid. I aim for the gate, my heart feels like it’s going to burst right out of my chest and then we pass through. Shortly after, the boat enters a momentary calm patch, but that moment is enough for Fear to take control yet again.

The panic rises inside me, doubt begins digging its claws in deep while anxiety plays its own overwhelming tune. There is no controlling it.

I can’t do this! It’s too much....

and so I switch with the other guide. I don’t know whether to feel proud for doing so much or angry at myself for giving in, but really it doesn’t matter. Fear still has control of me and I still have a very long way to go to conquer it.

Day after day, for weeks I repeat this, do as much as is manageable before giving in. In some ways it becomes easier and in other ways it was like nothing was changing.

Halfway through summer we moved to a different river; I had yet to fully run Tamahi alone again. It felt like a towering obstacle, if left unsurpassed, I would never be able to move on, and be strong enough to continue as a guide. 

We had one more trip remaining on the Chilliwack river, it was going to be the last one for the season. This was it…it was my choice, to either take my own raft…or to not go at all. The very thought of having to run Tamahi made me feel nauseous, and it crippled any confidence I had built up.

Do I really need to do this? Is it really worth it? It would be so much easier to just not go…. But I need this, I have to beat it!

And so, the decision was made.

Unable to eat anything all day, due to the very thought of having to face Tamahi alone once more, has my nerves on edge, and myself feeling drained. The start of the river is all a blur next to what awaits just up ahead.

At lunch it was decided that we would start out on the left instead of the usual right. This would allow us to avoid splitting the boulders and the massive hole after it. In reality, it should be easier; except for the fact that I’ve never done the left side of the rapid.

We finally reach the last stretch before dropping into Tamahi, and Fear who I have been trying my hardest to overcome hits me with everything it has. Tears begin to spill from my eyes. All I want to do is quit, get to shore and walk away from it all.

Up ahead the guides signal me to speed up and close the gap, I’ve fallen fairly far behind. Despite my attempts  to catch up it appears nearly impossible. My body is so heavy it doesn’t seem to be able to function in the slightest, my mouth is parched, and it’s hard to catch my breath. But this is no time to give up.

I decided to do this, I have to do this! Besides there is no one else to take my boat down for me...

Forcing myself to inhale, I drive my right arm forward and then my left, exhale and repeat. Finally, the gap between myself and the other boats begins to close. Despite the huge inconvenience and my attempts to control my tears, they threaten to continue pouring from my eyes as we approach the horizon line of Tamahi. The boats quickly drop into the left of the rapid. I’m so stiff and terrified that my line is sloppy and the raft begins bouncing off rocks near the shore. Despite this chaotic entrance I make it through the first stretch and manage to relax a little as I prepare for the next section. Before I know it, we are at the end.

I did it! And nothing went wrong!

In fact, after the beginning it was all fairly smooth going.

I would like to say that was the end of my watery despair, but it wasn’t. It was a huge step forward and it taught me a lot about myself, what I’m capable of, and able to overcome and work through. 

The following summer I was confident in running Tamahi by myself and with clients but the anxiety and unease still lingered. To this day it stirs in the depths and reminds me how painful and crippling a simple mistake could be.

 Every now and then it still wins, and I choose to walk a section of river. However, despite that lingering fear I still run rivers and guide. It’s become one of the things that I’m most passionate about: being on the water, running rapids and sharing it with others. Guiding has changed the direction my life took drastically and has shaped it in many aspects.

In some ways, I wish that moment on Tamahi had never occurred and in other ways I am so thankful that it did. It made me really consider just how much I wanted to continue down this path I am on, a path that I couldn’t imagine now not having taken.

By: Bethany Paquette