Yesterday I headed to the White Salmon River in Washington with a group of friends for a day of white water rafting.
The river is a couple-hour drive northeast of Portland, via the beautiful Columbia Gorge. I rode up with Hannah, Stacy and Justin, and we had a long (and surprisingly lively) discussion about the differences between cupcakes and muffins. We also found Jesus on the back of a Subaru. Needless to say, we were all deeply moved.
Once we arrived at the River Drifters office, we got suited up in wetsuits and hopped a bus for a boiling hot ride to the drop-in point. I vividly remember the feeling of being unbearably hot and sweaty, trapped in that bus and just wishing I could jump in the cold water. This is the definitive example of the saying, "Be careful what you wish for."
After a quick safety lesson that made everything look easy as pie, we were in the boat and on our way. I was teamed up with Katie, Mark, Nicole, Shana and Mike, while Hannah, Mark, Stacy, Justin and Linda were in a separate boat. I later learned that our guide's name was Keenan Hoar (yes, that's pronounced "whore" - I guess that makes him a man whore).
We had a pleasant 45 seconds or so of peaceful rafting, then hit our first stretch of class four rapids and promptly tipped our boat, dumping four of us in the water. I guess that's how they name the rapid classes - by how many people are going to fall out of the boat. Katie got stranded upstream and I ended up getting sucked under the boat and wedged between a rock (which wasn't in the mood to move) and the boat (which wanted nothing more than to go over me and on its way). It gives a new perspective to being "between a rock and a hard place."
Eventually we all made it back in the boat, where we got a lecture about this not being Disneyland the boat not being on rails. After that we all took our guide's commands more seriously, which my muscles can attest to. Pretty much every part of my body hurts today, after being tensed up and ready to spring into action for three hours.
By the end of the trip it got harder and harder to get my "assing" (a term Mark coined, similar to "footing" - you get the picture), and my toes were so frozen I could barely stand up when it was time to get out. When we got out to scout the final waterfall, Nicole and I opted out and took photos of the group going over the falls instead.
A handful of us stopped for dinner at the Big Horse Brewpub in Hood River on the way home. Now, I admit I had fun on the raft trip in spite of my complaining above. 
But it was a huge relief to be warm and dry, sitting overlooking the gorge, enjoying good conversation and a nice dinner with friends. Here's to warm toes and solid ground.
More photos at http://babas.typepad.com/photos/great_northwest/.