Now, where were we?
After hurling more than my body weight, thanks to the magic that is altitude sickness, I was a little, erm, tender. I did not feel like hiking. Or maybe even living. So, Mr. Wonderful and I road the lift up the ski mountain to enjoy the view.
As some of you may recall, the last time I was on a ski lift, I attempted to ski and told Mr. Wonderful that he should leave me on the hill to die. This time was a bit of an improvement, although I was a bit trepidacious about just how high we were. But the views? Glorious. And the best part? I didn’t have to ski when I got off the lift!
Later that afternoon, we went whitewater rafting. We signed up for the uber-beginning float, so it was us and all families with kids. I figured it would be pretty safe since there were 6-year-olds doing it. Everything was cool until the float leader spoke at length about what to do if you fall out of the boat. Which was important information, because we would be passing through some class 3 rapids.
Suddenly, my life had a new meaning and purpose. I would stay in the boat. Under no circumstances would I fall out of the boat. Dave Grohl himself could be swimming out to me and I would not let my ass leave that overgrown pool raft.
So, Mr. Wonderful and I were in a boat with Hippie Dad and his two daughters, aged 6 and 13. Our guide was so lovely and charming and … bald. Lovely Bald Girl was covered in tattoos and had a shaved head and the biggest eyes you’ve ever seen and I totally want to be her when I grow up.
Lovely Bald Girl got us situated in the boat, and I shoved my foot as far into the foothold as I possible could without actually breaking anything. We paddled like we knew what we were doing. And we got splashed, and the water was amazing, and I looooooved it! I laughed the entire time.
We were almost done when we came upon The Big Rapid. Lovely Bald Girl prepared us for it and told us she’d tell us to get down in the boat. She wasn’t kidding. The Big Rapid hit, we got down in the boat … and I felt the water pulling me out of the safety of the overgrown pool raft!
I looked at Mr. Wonderful, and I did the one thing I knew how to do. I used my core skill: language.
And it worked. The rapids passed. I remained in the boat. All was well.
And then I realized that I cussed at the top of my lungs in front of two kids. Two kids who didn’t seem to be fazed.
Mr. Wonderful and I later decided that they were probably all high anyway, so it didn’t matter. But I still felt a teensy bit guilty.
The rafting company took photos of us along the way, but I looked like a bloated, orange-vested chipmunk in all of them, so there is no photographic record of our historic journey. However, it was totally awesome.
After that adventure, we adjourned to the hot sulfur springs, where we sat in what looked like hot milk and offered our bodies as a feast to the gazillion mosquitoes surrounding us.
Next: The. Best. Hike. Evah.