What the hell am I getting myself into? I haven’t even come close to spending a month outside, let alone in the winter! What if I am miserably cold for 30 days straight? What if I get unbelievably sick? That would be an absolute disaster. What if I drown? Wait, that is true, I could most certainly drown on this trip. I don’t even know how to row a boat, how am I supposed to get through these insane rapids? What if I do not click with the group? It would REALLY suck if my dry bag failed and all of my clothes got sopping wet, or even lost in the river? Yes, that definitely can happen. It probably will happen.

It seems ridiculous now when I reflect on my thoughts and emotions a week before the trip. For me, pre-trip anxiety has haunted me for all my life. I always consider the worst-case scenario in any environment or activity that I am about to plunge myself into. It is interesting to see how my brain deals with the potential of discomfort and perceived risk. It is impulsive in its decision making. It instantly looks for a way out; an excuse. Any way to protect me from indirect, self-inflicted physical harm. It’s as if my conscious is an overly protective mother where the only safe haven for me is in my room, mindlessly scrolling through my Facebook feed and watching my friends participating in radical, adventurous endeavors. But for this trip, my conscious was onto something. All of my fears and worries that propelled my anxiety were somewhat realistic. Yes, there was a chance of being a popsicle for an entire month. Yes, it was possible that I could catch a stomach virus and cause quite a mess. Yes, there was a possibility that I could drown at the mercy of the river. And no, I did not have any legitimate whitewater experience.

I had to come to the realization that I was absolutely going to deal with a constant balancing of torturous and serene moments. I was going to have to learn all about whitewater rafting. I was going to have to spend all my time with many people I have never met before. The need to deal with my problems was a necessity, there was no way to tiptoe around it and make excuses. It was time to step up and jump into this expedition with my best intentions and maximum enthusiasm. There was potential to see and experience things that cause a paradigm shift in how I want to live my life. In times of uncontrollable stress and anxiety, I find that the best way to calm my nerves is to focus my attention towards the potential to learn. Through discomfort, I tend to understand things about myself that I would have never even been able to grasp if I was just sitting in my room, drowning in boredom. I knew that this experience may be rich with discomfort, but no matter how it goes, I will walk away wealthy with wisdom.

Now, it was time to shop for my necessary gear. But how am I supposed to pack for a river trip? I am a backpacker at heart; I try and avoid taking any luxury items if possible. I have specific systems for packing and organizing all of my stuff so it looks like an incredibly satisfying, ultralight Tetris board. After coming to the conclusion that I may not pack appropriately the first time around, I sat there staring at the basic items I would be taking.

Sleeping bag, check.

Headlamp, check.

Toothbrush, check.

Two changes of clothes, check. Wait a minute…

The first thing that blew right over my ultralight noggin was that I have the opportunity to literally bring as many warm layers and changes of clothes as my heart desired. I did not have to carry a load all day, it would just sit on the boat as I pleasantly floated through hundreds of miles of river. This is a beautiful thing! I began to rip all of my various jackets, sweatshirts, pants, long underwear, and socks that I owned and threw them into my insanely large 120-liter dry bag. A new problem then came to mind, I had absolutely no plan to organize my clothing. My dry bag was essentially a waterproof potato sack. I imagined the future mind-numbing frustration as on day twenty five I dug endlessly for my last pair of dry, clean socks. I needed to develop a new system of gear organization. My final plan was to take a slightly smaller duffel bag with a few pockets and slide it into my behemoth potato sack. It was not close to my organized standard, but it will have to do.

Endless mountain of clothes, check.

Hats, check.

Camp pillow, check…

Oh, I can actually take my bed pillow? No more plastic inflatable backpacker’s pillow? Wow, I am going to sleep incredibly well, I could almost feel the tension in my neck and back easing away.

Journal, check.

Books, check.

Hand Salve, check.

Drysuit, check.

Booties, check.

Ugly Christmas sweater and Santa hat, check (truly essential items).

Camera and ammo can, packed and checked.

At this point, my gear was all starting to come together. I felt as if I had all of the essentials to maintain a happy camper attitude for the entire month. I checked everything two more times to ensure I wasn’t forgetting anything of necessity. Once I knew I was absolutely prepared, it was time to bring my ridiculous pile of adventure gear to Ceiba Adventures, our outfitter for the excursion.

Once arriving, I handed all of my equipment to Max, one of our leaders for the trip. My irrational thought of being ridiculed for over packing was quickly shot down once I witnessed the enormous trailer that would be holding all of our gear. This beast could have been forty feet in length and stacked twenty feet high. It contained a mountain of eighteen foot long boats, an impressive strapped cube of metal boat frames, more oars than we could ever need, ammo cans so abundant it was like we were prepped for World War III, and dry bags thrown to such a height that you had to literally climb to the top to strap it down. It was definitely an interesting sight for me, I have never seen such a logistical operation being conducted to prepare for the outdoors. I have always kept my adventures simple, light, and efficient. This was out of my element, but a part of me liked it. Witnessing all of the boating gear instantaneously filled me up with intense excitement. I couldn’t wait to get behind the oars of one of those enormous rafts and charge into some waves while immersed in the mysterious Grand Canyon.

I was directed to a separate trailer to pack any alcohol I was bringing, which for me, was reasonable, but slim by boating standards. I took my 24 beers and liter of tequila and loaded them into our slightly ridiculous party wagon. From my river companions, I received three different comments of, “That’s all the booze you’re taking?”. After some enticing words of wisdom from experienced boaters assuring me I would need more, I later picked up some more beer and loaded it up before we left the following morning. I humorously accepted that I might be running off of coffee and Pabst Blue Ribbon for a month, adequate fuel for a true river rat I suppose.

Everything was packed and loaded up in the trailers, it was crunch time. In less than 24 hours, I would be camping on the beach of Lees Ferry, waiting for an adventure of a lifetime to begin. My thoughts and emotions were balanced with excitement and anxiety.

Why can’t I just fast forward to tomorrow? Let's get this show on the road!