It was July 2004 and I had just finished my undergraduate degree at the University of Kentucky. I had one remaining elective to fill going into my final semester that spring, and I stumbled upon a class called Stream Restoration which I thought would somewhat compliment the water resource focus of my degree. That little stroke of fate changed my life forever.
By the end of the spring semester, I was sure I had found what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. Play in creeks for a living?! Yes, I can do that. My experience in that class made me want more, so I decided to stay in Lexington and pursue a graduate degree where I could learn even more about streams and rivers. This concept started a fire in me and I was excited about this new path. This was the biggest reason why I replied ‘sure’, when one of my housemates asked if I was interested in a canoe trip on Elkhorn Creek his church group was going on in two days. Elkhorn Creek is in Franklin County, Ky just north of the state capitol, Frankfort. It meanders through a predominantly agricultural portion of the bluegrass region before joining the Kentucky River. It is formed from its north and south forks, both of which start in Lexington, KY. The portion of river we were canoeing was in Peaks Mill, Ky and perfect for a canoe trip with beautiful countryside, plenty of swimming holes, and just enough riffles to make it interesting.
That ‘sure’ I responded with when invited on the trip was a big deal for me because I was/am painfully shy with a degree of social anxiety. New people make it worse. Big groups make it worser than worse. So, a large group of people I have never met before is not my idea of a great Saturday. Fortunately, the idea that I could actively explore my newly gained river wisdom was enough to mask all the irrational fears that would create palm-sweating, stomach-churning questions like “what if my less-than-stellar swimming abilities are put on display?” or, “what if my fear of open water somehow is tested in front of these people” or even worse, “what if I have to ride in a car with people I don’t know and they actually (gulp) talk to me”. Even that question was small potatoes compared to the biggies that would surface later.
Those questions eventually made it to the surface on the way to meet everyone that Saturday morning. Those fears became much more rational to me when I stepped out of the car and confirmed I knew a grand total of one person. The one I came with. This one person who is a social butterfly and likely not willing to stay glued to an introvert’s side all day. Cue the palm-sweating. One bright side was a cute girl who pulled up and was apparently solo. It was even brighter when we ended up riding with her and another girl to the canoe livery. However, it quickly became obvious she was out of my league, as she was an established professional who was clearly making it in the world. Quite a stark contrast to a poor, career college kid who shared a house, lived for watching sports, and dined on mac and cheese. I might have managed 10 words in the 45-minute ride. I think 5 of those were putting my foot in my mouth and the other 5 were from trying to pull it out. Still, the river and all its glorious meanders and floodplains, riffles and glides, substrate and macro-invertebrates await!
After the obligatory safety video and death-defying shuttle ride to the drop off, the biggest fears began to materialize. Who is going to ride in a canoe all day with some new guy who doesn’t talk much? People began to grab gear and canoes and pair off. Buddy I came with… Gone. Cue stomach-churning. Am I getting stuck with another introvert for a silent 4-hour canoe ride? Am I going to be the last one standing here with no partner? Am I going to have to command a canoe by myself? Am I going to have to sit in the middle of a canoe between this boyfriend and girlfriend couple over here? Cue dry-heave sensation. Why did I agree to this? Can I just get back on the bus? The group dwindled down to the last two people. Nothing like getting picked last. Moment of truth. I walked toward the last canoe to accept my fate. Apparently, the last prayer I muttered slipping down the bank was just right. My partner was the cute girl I had rode up with. I think the sun came out from behind a cloud. And one of the knots in my intestines just unlocked. Only nine more to go.
I shoved us off, trying not to tip her out before we even picked up our paddles. Over the next 4 hours I tried to impress her with my knowledge of river dynamics and ecology, pointing out fish habitat and rack lines from floods. Somehow, I did not bore her to death. Somehow my fears subsided. Somehow, we talked and laughed and had an amazing time clumsily maneuvering our canoe back and forth across the river in that hot July sun. Somehow, it was never awkward, but nearly perfect.
Somehow, she said ‘YES’ one year later in that same parking lot where we met for the first time. Somehow, we are still together after 12 years, although still maneuvering clumsily back and forth at times. We still canoe and float rivers as often as we can. We have added 4 children to join us on our river adventures (need to have an even number so the canoes work out). We are hoping to make that same canoe trip with all our additions when we travel back through our Old Kentucky Home this July. Although I don’t think it can get any better than our first trip down the Elkhorn. Probably just a little less nervous.
Fortunately, someone took a picture of us on that special day!