Life happens. Families change. And regardless of the circumstances, we continue to do whatever it takes to care for our children in the best way we know how. But it’s rarely smooth sailing. 

When you’re trying to be everything to everybody—mom, dad, breadwinner, domestic goddess—you often have to let some things go. In our family (aside from a clean house), that thing was our yearly camping trip.

Until recently, I can’t say that I regretted it much. Sure, I missed that magical moment when the world seems to stand still in some spectacularly scenic location. But let’s be honest: camping with kids is a lot of work.

It’s hard enough for two parents to manage the weeks of preparation, activity planning, and care and feeding of children who don’t understand why we must brush our teeth at a spigot 100 yards from our tent. It’s impractical—bordering on unbearable—to do all of that solo.

Tent-building alone is solidly a two-person job. And while there are technically other persons in my family—Brontë, 17, and son Colden, 16—I won’t be the first person to admit that teenagers don’t always qualify as particularly helpful.

So when I consider taking a vacation these days, it’s usually a break from the single mom lifestyle that I crave most of all. Give me a day at the spa to unwind. Let me take the kids to the amusement park and we’ll call it a getaway. But camping? No thank you. It no longer seemed to offer the respite I needed.

Still, I knew in my heart that Six Flags didn’t offer the kind of quality time I wanted with my teenagers. I longed for the outdoor, sleep under the stars/reconnect with the kids/“get off the computer and back to basics” wilderness experience we had had every summer before our family of four became a family of three.

Brontë and Colden would be grown and out of the house soon and time for family vacations was beginning to run short.

So I started joking to my friends, “I will pay you to take us camping.” I was actually half-serious, but never had any takers.

Then, last summer, a friend who had just returned from an O.A.R.S. trip suggested that it might be just the thing I was looking for—an outdoor vacation in which all I had to do, essentially, was just show up.

After scrolling through the amazing photos and personal stories on the O.A.R.S. website, I found out that their camping/rafting trips were perfect for partner-less parents. Their professional guides would take care of everything from the tents and sleeping bags to the food and beverages and even games! They even provide a little luxury item called a Paco Pad, which makes sleeping in a tent a more pleasurable experience.

It seemed too good to be true. I booked a trip immediately.

A few months later, I packed up our clothes and toothbrushes and headed to Colorado for a five-day/four-night trip on the incredibly scenic Yampa and Green Rivers.

Pretty soon I found myself in the single parenthood boat again, but this time I had company.

Turns out there were three other single parents on our trip—all with teenagers. The community we created over the course of our trip was almost familial.

On the first night, another single mom offered to help me with the tent. On the second day, a single dad offered to hang out with my kids so I could enjoy a child-free day on the river. By that night, the four of us had started an impromptu single parent support group.

Not only was I well taken care of by the guides and well supported by my fellow travelers, but Brontë and Colden were too. The other teens and the O.A.R.S. guides—who are not only the best river guides around, but also play chef, teacher, Sherpa, housekeeper, activities director and stand-up comedian—provided constant entertainment for my easily bored brood.

On top of it all, I did not cook one meal, start one fire, clean one pan or set one table for five whole days.

Aside from the five minutes it took to put up and take down our family’s tents, all I had to do was be there—to watch my daughter geek out over all the local wildlife on her critter checklist and see how the sunlight looks on my “never comes out of his bedroom” son. Heck, I didn’t even have to paddle the boat if I didn’t feel like it. Most often, I did not.

After years of keeping our family afloat by myself, it was an amazing gift to just sit back and let someone else do the work.

Our O.A.R.S. trip ended up being both the outdoor family experience I had hoped for and it was exactly the respite I needed. Being a single mom is not always easy, but an O.A.R.S. river trip always is.

The post Staying Afloat In Single Parenthood appeared first on River Currents.

After 5 days and 4 nights of rugged luxury rafting with O.A.R.S., she changed from an apprehensive first-time rafter, to a wilderness enthusiast.

I completely understood her enthusiasm. This was my first rafting trip, too. I loved the idea of spending more time in the mountains, but with 2 small children at home and a fear of adrenaline-rushing experiences, I put off the idea as too risky and hoped to do it “someday.”

‘Someday’ Arrives

Fortunately, I had the opportunity to change that “someday” to “now” and joined O.A.R.S. on the Rogue River. As Dan, another member of our rafting trip told me one night while sitting in our camp chairs next to the hypnotic white noise of the river, “You need to live your own adventure — otherwise you’ll end up telling other people’s stories instead of your own.”

Those words would stay with me for the duration of the trip.

There were 17 very diverse members of our group. There were brothers, the eldest at 75 years old, and his younger brother who walked with a cane from injuries incurred in the Vietnam War. There were two women, long time friends, in their mid-70‘s — one having been on many rafting trips herself, the other excited about being on her first. There were active young married couples, others with physical limitations, and even some single travelers.

Despite our differences, we quickly formed a tribe and connected over delicious camp meals with wine glasses in hand. Like many people who have never been on a rafting trip before, I made up the story of what it would be like and who it would be with without living the real experience. Reality was far more interesting.

The Preparation

There were 3 different types of rafts that we could choose from while running the river — an oar raft, a paddle boat led by a guide that had seats for six rafters, and the “duckies” which were inflatable kayak rafts. The level of effort you put into the rafting experience was similar to an exercise video with a selection of intensity levels — easy, moderate, and challenging. You were never pressured to go beyond your physical abilities.

After an instructional safety meeting with our expert guides, we were ready to paddle onto the Rogue. Helmets on and personal flotation devices snug, we pushed off. Within moments, as we were passing into the Wild and Scenic part of the trip under Grave Creek Bridge, one of the rafters in a ducky lost control and flipped into the river.

This is when the trip got real. As we were instructed, our guide blew three quick whistles, alerting our tribe that a rafter had become a swimmer. We paid close attention as our guide maneuvered the paddle boat to get the swimmer back to riding the rapids. While initially shocking, it was essentially an effortless non-issue with the guides keeping our trip safe.

Our guide had us lift our paddles in a glistening yellow peak above the paddle raft, “On the count of three —one, two, three — WILD AND SCENIC!” Our adventure got off to an exciting start.

The Magical Journey

We navigated the river through large canyons covered in a thick shag carpet of trees towering above us. We explored waterfalls surrounded by the shimmering emerald leaves of Alder trees, and had fun jumping off cliffs near turquoise pools of creek water. We had a nice mix of rafting time, relaxing moments during our meals, and dry time hiking the banks.

At the end of our days, our guides prepared our gourmet dinner. We sat back and, aside from effortless tent set up, enjoyed a work-free vacation. We delighted in an incredible dinner of ceviche, and caprese salad skewer appetizers paired with Pisco Sours, salmon moussaka entrees paired with Oregon wine, and crème brulee with a wedge of dark chocolate perched on top. It was unbelievable that we were eating so well on the banks of the river.

After dinner, the early risers hit the sack while the night owls spent the evening laughing and discovering constellations under the starry night sky. Basking in the darkness never got old. We slept soundly, lulled by the waves of the Rogue.

My Own Stories To Tell

I decided to experience the single ducky on my own, paddling exhilarating rapids while Steelhead jumped out of the river next to me, and Osprey circled above watching their every move. The water was refreshing, and the adrenaline now addicting.

At camp, we noticed a black bear meander down from the opposite side of the river, snacking on wild blackberries and happening across a gigantic wild salmon in the water. He scooped it from the river and carried it to a rock, where we watched him eat his dinner — slowly savoring every bite and licking his lips. Meanwhile, we relaxed on the rocks sipping wine and craft beer, enjoying a real life National Geographic moment.

At the end of our rafting journey, people began telling stories of previous adventures to pass the time on the drive back to our cars, and Dan’s words echoed in my mind — “You have to live your own adventure, otherwise you’ll be telling other people’s stories instead of your own.” This was certainly not going to be my last wilderness trip, and the next time I go rafting, I’ll be able to share my story about my adventure on the Rogue River.

“I went rafting down the wild Rogue River with O.A.R.S., and had this amazing adventure with bears, almost tipping a raft, and swimming through a rapid, all while eating incredible gourmet food …”

This essay was originally created for the 2012 O.A.R.S. catalog. For more compelling stories from other renowned writers, request your catalog copy today!

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