Wade in the water...

BY: KAITLIN IN AUSTRALIA

The theme of this post will be water, since I spent most of the last few days in and around it.

Isn’t water something else? I’m a Pisces myself; my element is water. Maybe I’m not the strongest swimmer, but I love it anyways.

The weekend started with some of the most perfect swimming I’ve ever had—all at the Josephine Falls in Queensland, Australia. This nook would be easy to miss, with only a rather drab sign to announce it. You hike for a tiny bit, and then you hear it—ever stronger and stronger—the sublime noise of rushing water.

The sight was something else—a waterfall structured around boulders so huge and massive they must have been the playthings of the gods. And here’s the most glorious thing: a slanting rock with cool, clear water flowing over it. In other words, a natural water slide.

Of course, we will be young and foolish, and that means we are a little drunk with our own invincible recklessness. Right away, we began racing right down the face of the slippery rock. One of the guys’ secret for winning so consistently? Pulling down his shorts a little to expose his derriere. Priceless.


In other news, I guess you won’t be surprised to know I fell straight on my back at the top of the slide. My legs flew straight out from under me, and I hit my head on the face of that smooth, dark rock. The “slide” was covered with a filmy mucus that’s common on a lot of river stones, and combined with my natural clumsiness, I now have a rather largish lump on my head. But as the Aussies love to say, “No worries, mate!” I wasn’t too hurt, and it certainly didn’t stop me from sliding down three more times.

Tired out from racing, we all sat back on the huge rocks and sunbathed—the perfect finish to any day.

That night, we stayed at a hostel in Cairns, a little tourist trap of a city. It reminds me of Miami, a city of which I’ve never been a fan. Too many tacky bistros, too many bleached blondes, too many souvenir shops hocking the same wares. Typical tourist fare. Maybe I’ve spent too much time in the rainforest amongst a different sort of people, but regardless, the city was a little much for me to handle.

We awoke bright and early the next morning and boarded a bus to the Tully River. It was here we’d spend another epic day—whitewater rafting down the Tully.

I’ve only been whitewater rafting once before, and it was on Class II rapids. The Tully Tiver, in contrast, is full of Class III and Class IV rapids. In other words, the rapids have high waves, dangerous rocks, and difficult passages. Nothing to scoff at.

I was scared stiff, but our guide, Renee, was extremely calm and sweet. I think she was used to high-strung passengers because she hardly noticed my nervous laughter and chatter.

But soon enough, my high-pitched giggles (so well known to friends and family) turned into shrieks of sheer excitement. Whitewater rafting is another thing that I find impossible to describe in words. But I know people who’ve also whitewater rafted will know what I mean. There’s nothing quite as life-affirming as when you look over your shoulder and realize that you just came through a dangerous and steep rapid over jagged and angry-looking rocks. You think to yourself, “Did I really do that? And how soon can I do it again?”

First row: Cass, Terry (poor guy, he was the only stranger and male on our raft), Elyse, our awesome guide Renee, and Nichole

Second row: Laura and me

The only part of the trip that I was truly frightened was when rafters were allowed to swim directly through a rapid. I had no idea what I was in for. I thought it might be some calm waters that a current would carry me through. But it wasn’t.

These rapids were the real thing: fast-moving and dangerous. With only a life-jacket, I was buffeted about in the breaking waves. I kept breathing at the wrong time, and each time I opened my mouth, I swallowed more and more water. And I would see a huge wave, taller than me, coming right at me.

Panic abounded.

I thought I was going to die. I’m not even just saying that, I was scared. I even started waving my hands, hoping to God that someone would see my frantic gesturing. Along the way, I picked up this little beaut of a bruise on my knee:

(I guess the other theme of this post could have been "Just how clumsy is Kaitlin?")

But all of a sudden, the waters suddenly slowed, and with a huge amount of relief, I saw my fellow rafters, contentedly bobbing in more placid waters. My heart was pounding, and then the exhilaration of having survived a particularly fearsome danger set in.

After that particular thrill, the daylong rafting trip was almost over, and I was ready for the long bus ride back. These days, I’m using any excuse to catch some extra sleep, and in no time at all, lulled by the drone of the engine and wheels, I was out.

We got back to Cairns just in time for a late dinner of some of the best pizza I’ve ever had—crispy and cheesy and all the other wonderful things that pizza can be.

The long and tiring day ended with me and a good friend (Laura from the above photo) looking out from the Cairns marina—my first view from the opposite side of the Pacific Ocean.

I squinted my eyes all I could. I thought of shouting out. For a second, it really seemed like if I tried hard enough, maybe I could make you hear me all the way from sunny, beautiful Australia. But instead of yelling, I stayed quiet. I closed my eyes. I thought hard. And I wished you all the precious gift of water—so perilous and humbling, so cleansing and sweet.

All my love,
Kaitlin

Next time: I’ll be going to the Chillagoe Outback on a three-day camping excursion, exploring caves and jumping off rocks. Wish me luck!