It seems like a decade ago that I spent almost every summer weekend guiding trips on the American. It has been.
Until last weekend, it had been two years since I had even touched an oar. It was a silly feeling to be in a boat without having command of its direction. We went through the first turn sideways, into an eddy, and heading upstream. In the other raft, Steve thought the episode was hilarious.
By the time we reached Satan's Cesspool, I could slow the raft and turn it so the person I wanted to soak got splashed with the main wave. I wish that skill translated to the 9-5 week.