Water Sledding
The owner of Cépal Adventures in Jonquière, Nancy Hewitt, had already told us about water sledding: "You've never seen a river from that close!" Intoxicating words for the adventurers we then believed ourselves to be. Moreover, the Rivière aux Sables, renowned for its kayak competitions, isn't the smallest of streams. So we smile as we walk towards Jean-François Bergeron, our guide for the meandering river.
Young and friendly, our guide is also built like a rugby player. I worry about my frail constitution, but I reassure myself by thinking that I won't be alone facing the torrent on this rainy day. Wrong: Yanick Rose and Daniel Desrosiers, the expedition's two cameramen smile ear to ear, and with an apologetic look, point to their equipment. Before handing me the frogman suit in which I'm supposed to look intelligent, Jean-François asks a few questions about my physical condition.
«How's your health?»
"Good up to now."
"Have you ever done river sports?"
"Yes, but never on a piece of styrofoam with the intention of riding Class 2 and 3 rapids."
"Are you anxious about going?"
"No, but..."
Before I finish my sentence, he's whispering in the other guide's ear, "We'll have to watch her." My pride a bit bruised. With determination, I slip into the padded costume. As I emerge from the washroom, the general hilarity provoked by my appearance makes my blood pressure rise a notch or two. "All right, are we going down that river or what?" I ask in a half-frustrated, half-playful voice.
We set off. Since the river is set up for kayak competitions, the two cameramen are installed at strategic places, ready to catch everything on the spot. For the first rapids, a waterfall about 5 feet high, I keep smiling for the camera. Wrong again. "Keep your smile waterproof," laughs Jean-François.
Having passed the first test with a certain success, I hear my two guides suggest that we go enjoy ourselves in the basin. Our arms around the styrofoam hulls, to keep the sled in place, we leap into the wave. The smile is back, less waterproof than ever, and in no time I'm propelled backwards, swept many metres downstream by the rapids. Unable to get out of the current, I'm desperately trying to find my sled. Water everywhere, only water.
Forgetting all about Daniel Desrosiers and the camera that's pointed at me like a gun, I make it out of the current, as best I can. Eyes bulging, I look for my guides who, for lack of finding me, hold my sled securely. Phew!
As we catch our breath on the side of the river, I try to gain a few metres by walking on the rocks. With flippers on my feet, I get stuck at every step, but it seems to me that rock sledding is less dangerous than water sledding! To my guides, I suggest pursuing this new discipline, but obtain only a meagre smile. "The worst is over", says Jean-François. "You had to get used to the river, now you can enjoy it!" He didn't know how right he was.
In the river-sports category, sledding wins the hand-to-hand-combat prize. You are literally on your belly, head first, with the rapids seeming to come at you, more than you at them. To direct the descent, just lean the sled to one side and kick your flippers a few times, but the low-angle view of the rapids heightens the sensation of being at the mercy of hydraulic forces, as if the river reclaimed its rights over people. Given that sledding is not widely practiced, there are very few places to try it. And one should know a river before embarking on it with a piece of styrofoam and flippers! We resume our trip down the Rivière aux Sables. The last rapids are easier to get across. I suddenly feel I'm one with the sled. I've left my fright somewhere upstream and the smile is back waterproof this time!
