"You're going to have to be a bit more specific than 'uh-oh'", Elke said, maneoevering us around the obstacle that had promoted my comment. Me, I thought "uh-oh" was a substantial improvement over "we're gonna die!" but Elke demanded more. Something about naming both the obstacle and its position relative to the canoe. I never did get this one down, and after a while, 
Elke adopted my style of communicating: "uh-oh" she said, as we came up to a stretch of what looked like not super scary stuff. Don't tease the chicken in the bow, because I didn't know *what* to make of it if *Elke* said uh-oh. Turns out she was just messing with my head (which, if you know how Elke and I interact, is about par for the course...)
On the May long weekend, I tagged along on a Wilderness Canoe Association "wine and cheese paddle" down the Lower Madawaska. Elke foolishly decided she'd prefer to run the river with a monkey in the bow than solo, and thus I got the invite. 
And since I am still subscribing to the tripslut philosophy (ie. I am so keen to go and *do stuff* that I say yes, even when I don't know really know what I'm saying yes to. And you can roll your eyes if you want, but I *don't* get invited on trips all the time, not at *all*. I usually *ask* people if I can tag along! I organize things and invite other people!), I of course had my barrel packed before I confessed just how little I remembered from the whitewater course. Really, confessing that was a waste of time - Elke would have figured it out by the first riffle, when I did all but clutch the gunnels and cry. (Ok, I exaggerate somewhat. I only clutched my paddle, not the actual boat, and I sniffled, I didn't cry.)
Other than Elke and me and the wonderful organizers and the very cool poodle Nimbus, there were, by boat: Jon and Dian, Brian and Charles, Jim and Ethan, Peter and Rick, and Jaromir paddling solo in a kevlar boat with a kayak paddle, and Matt paddling solo in a playboat kayak (also with a kayak paddle). They were all nice people, and every single one of them - including Ethan, who is about 1/3 my age - far more accomplished at this hurling yourself down water flowing over drops than I am.
The one thing I was accomplished on, though, was eating - and this trip had some pretty wonderful eating opportunities. I'd read the trip notes, which said something about 
bringing a snacky thing or a desserty thing and Larry and Helen would take care of the rest of the food - and I figured that maybe there would be pretzels or similar snacks. Oh no. Not with this crew. Sure, there were chips (hi!), but there was also bruschetta and clams and several kinds of dips and olives and so on. And, for dinner the first night, Helen made a thai green curry dish with chicken and sweet bell peppers and cashews. These people are good at everything.
Do you notice the part where I'm telling you more about the food than the river? There's a reason for that - see, I would feel awfully silly describing a river when what you're looking for I don't understand. There were words like pillows and eddies and haystacks and while I know what they mean in theory, I can't read a drop worth the green onion garnish on the second night's beef stew, so I just did as I was told.
Well, not all the time. At Rifle Chute, I took one look at it and told Elke to make a new friend, I was having none of this, and Larry took over the bow of her canoe (for the record, I regretted this decision later, after I watched a few people run that sucker). I pulled a similar move at Raquette Falls, but this one I don't regret. On that one, Ethan 
chose to walk it too, and Jim first ran their boat down solo and then took the bow of Elke's. And before you chastize me for being a big chicken, do keep in mind that Elke likes some of the pictures I took of her doing her thing, and I couldn't have been doing that if I'd had a death grip on my paddle in the boat (or if I'd been swimming). I *know* that's a weak excuse, but I'm going with it. And it's not *that* lame an excuse, see for instance these series of Jim and Ethan and Elke and Larry at Rifle Chute:
You have to admit all that looks cool. And whining and uh-oh aside, I really did enjoy it a lot. Even Split Rock, where we successfully avoided a big hole on the left but took on a lot of water - and still made it into the eddy ok. 
It wasn't until after we left the eddy and tried to ferry across the river to be in a better position for the next set that I demonstrated my inexperience very spectacularly and subsequently showed that I was perfectly capable of getting out of thigh straps and swimming. Oops. But the thing is, it was *so cold* that day (at one point, frozen stuff came down on us) and I was wearing polypro and fleece under my drypants and drytop - the river actually felt kind of nice. Not that any part of my bare skin touched it except my face during the split second I was under. Elke, who was wearing neither drywear nor wetsuit, probably didn't agree with me. But amazingly, she was still talking to me. And she still is! I got an email from her today and everything!
We camped at the Narrows the first night, and just below Slate Falls the second night. We portaged around Slate falls on the right, and the portage was short and painless - but maybe that's because Elke was carrying the canoe? Ethan and I were at the front of the pack when we got to the end of the portage, and I think we both had a moment of "that's it? we're at the end?". Elke had been telling me how sucky this one was all day, after all (and I'm told the one on the left side is all that and more. But that's not the one we used!)
And, except for that one quick comment about how the water felt warm relative to the weather, I'm not even going to bitch about rain and cold this time. For two reasons: the brief period where it wasn't raining and kind of warm, it was super buggy; and... well... I've been on so many cold 
and wet trips that I'm kind of bored with complaining about that. And maybe, just maybe, I also don't feel like moaning about cold because it's 32 degrees inside my apartment as I write this, and my hair is blowing in the wind from the fan and a bit of cold sounds good to me. I wish the pool 
were open already. But back to the trip... we had great snacks and great food that second night too, and by this time I even knew everybody's name.
Our last day, there was not much more paddling - and only one serious drop. And it was a big one... Hyland falls was scary. So scary that even the big boys portaged it. Well, some of them. Jaromir ran it in that kevlar boat, Jim and Ethan made it look easy, Larry and 
Helen had no difficulty, and Brian and Charles did it wonderfully (and they should have, they spent about an hour scouting it!) And then, the trip was over! I want to take this opportunity to thank Elke to share her boat with a dummy, and Larry and Helen for incredible organizing and even better cooking, and everybody else for being such a warm and welcoming group.
