Words by Dalene Heck / Photography by EräPiira
My Mom and I…we have a deal.
I check-in at least every couple of days via email, and if I know I won’t be able to do that, I make sure she knows why and predict when she can finally expect to hear from me. I also check-in on all travel days, so that she knows when we’ve arrived to our new location safely.
In return, she doesn’t harass Canada’s foreign embassies to stalk the whereabouts of her daughter (although, she was *this* close once when we were out of internet-land a little longer than intended in Bolivia). And I really don’t mind the constant contact, knowing that she can sleep much better at night because of it.
There are some things, however, that she doesn’t know about (or at least, not until afterwards). My Mom is deathly afraid of water, and well, I’m a water baby. Put me on a kayak in frozen Patagonia or send me on a raft down Class V rapids and I’m all over it.
So when we knew we were going rapids floating – in Finland, in February – that definitely was on the no-tell list. Forget being in a raft or kayak, we were set to float down a river on our own – we were to be our own boats.
Forget being in a raft or kayak, we were set to float down a river on our own – we were to be our own boats.
Now that it’s passed, I can safely tell her how harrowing yet exhilarating it was to fall through the thin edges of snow-covered ice. How relaxing it was to float in the sub-zero temperatures with four layers of clothes on. How I mildly panicked when I took a face-full of water, yet recovered and made it to the side with a giant smile on my face. How we joked with Urpo, our guide, when he stated that he “hadn’t lost anyone on this tour…yet.“
And now, we can also torture her a little bit with a show-all video. (Sorry Mom!)