This past week I enjoyed my first white-water rafting experience. We are vacationing in Central Oregon, and as soon as we got settled into our accomodations, I looked into my options for some outdoor adventure. Sun Country Tours offered what sounded like the perfect first-time trip (especially for daughter Jenny, who took some convincing that while thrilling and wet, this was going to be a safe and fun experience). We chose a three-mile trip on the Deschutes River, just outside of Bend. We boarded an old school bus with about 30 other folks, most visiting from outside of Oregon, and were dropped off at the launch site just above the Big Eddy section of the river. After being fitted out with lifejackets and paddles, Jenny and I boarded a raft with four other guests hailing from North Carolina. Our guide, Gus, helped acquaint us with some basic safety guidelines and paddle maneuvers and commands as we glided along a fairly smooth section of the river. There were plenty of jokes and laughter, but one couldn’t deny the tension and nerves lying just under the surface as we approached our first set of rapids, the rather alarmingly named Class-2 “Murder Death Fang.” With some whoops and more than a little splashing, we bumped right over that first obstacle quickly and fairly easily. The rapids didn’t live up to that frightening title at all. Okay, we can do this! Gus had to keep reminding our two “leaders” at the front of the raft to follow his commands (paddle forward or back, left or right, and stop) and let him do the steering — this in spite of the fact that neither of them had ever rafted before. After giving ourselves a “paddle high-five,” we maneuvered the raft to shore so that we could climb out and scout the next few sets of rapids. I could see as we stood on the bank looking down at a mass of glass-green water churning into white foam that Jenny was regretting her decision to join me on this little excursion. Gus pointed out the route we would be taking and his strategy for attacking each portion of the river. After introducing us to the first “strong Class 3” named Kenmore (yes, like the washing machine — for the obvious reason), Gus walked us farther downstream to discuss the next rapids. These were also a strong Class 3, but the terror that had enveloped my mind at that point prevents me from recalling what horrifyingly appropriate name that one is called. As our now quiet and more-than-a-little-anxious group trudged back upstream to climb back in our raft, Jenny rolled her eyes at me and announced, “You owe me, big time!” I tried to sound upbeat and light-hearted as I reassured her that all would be great, but all that fast-moving and dangerous-looking water had me a little weak in the knees, too. After wedging our feet firmly under the seats in front of and behind us, we paddled the raft back to the center of the current. Gus steered us into the proper path, and then we were paddling as fast as we could. We slammed into the wall of standing water just over the first drop and were engulfed by water washing over the front of the raft and smashing down on us from behind. Involuntary hollers and yelps erupted along with exhilarated laughter, and ferocious paddling finally brought us clear of that first obstacle. I remarked that my legs were more tired from straining to hold my posture in the raft than my arms were from manning the paddle, but what a thrill that ride was! We had only moments to realize we’d made it through that first powerful stretch with no one going overboard before we were upon the next Class 3. Again we were engulfed from all sides, it seemed, with the roaring, chilling deluge, momentarily blinded by the splash and deafened by the wash of water before paddling furiously out of it. By now we were eager to meet more white water, but the most challenging stretches were behind us. We splashed through The Three Stooges (Class 2) and then Rodeo, where one member of our group got to sit at the very front of the raft and ride the Class 2 water as if on a bucking bronc (she fell back into the boat after just the first bump). And then, well before we were ready for it, our pull-out point was reached. All of us, even Jenny, were wishing we could run the river again. I would certainly recommend this kind of excursion to anyone visiting this area, and I am eager to try a longer outing on my next trip here. And on a hot summer day, there couldn’t be a more thrilling, fun way to cool off! — Patty Vanikiotis, associate editor/copy editor