A Little Bit Like Home

The Float Trip

It was more than a school trip. It was an experience.

The trip came at the end of the year, usually a week or two after school was out. For three days, members of the high school Science Club headed to the Current River near Eminence, Missouri. It was a tradition that had taken place for years, and by the time I was a freshman, I knew it was something I wanted to be part of.

The first day on the Current River was my first time in a canoe. I was paired with fellow football player and lifelong friend Scott Swaney. Science Club co-advisor John Bishop took a canoe on his own.

It did not take long to realize that a canoe does not always go where you expect it to go. There is a rhythm to it, and at first we did more correcting than moving forward. The sun made sure we noticed it. Aluminum canoes, reflection off the water, shirts off, wet bodies, then back in the sun again. Sunscreen would have done little in that environment, so by the end of the first day, most of us were burned.

Mr. Bishop never seemed bothered by any of it. He knew that river. He knew where to stop and where to keep moving. He pointed out caves we could canoe into and led us into places we would have passed without noticing. There were springs along the route where the water felt warm, places that made for a natural break in the day.

There were also places he told us not to go. Certain stretches of bank were left alone, and the message was simple. Stay in the canoe and keep moving.

Late in the first day, after close to 20 miles on the river, things changed. Spring rains had raised the water level, and the Current picked up speed. The river turned and narrowed, with fallen trees in the water tightening the path.

Scott and I did not handle it well. The canoe tipped and the current carried us downstream before we could recover. I remember being carried into a fallen tree. Seconds later, the canoe came along and pinned us against it. For a moment, everything narrowed to that one spot.

Others were already moving toward us, helping turn the canoe back over and make sure everything was in place. Before long, we were back in the water, finishing the day a little quieter than before.

That night at camp had a different feel. There was food, a campfire, and more conversation than sleep. At some point, someone suggested a game of midnight madness across the campground. One group hid while the other searched, trying to make it back to a designated spot without being seen.

It was harder than it sounded. There were guys in trees and tucked into low spots, waiting for the right moment to move. Once the game started, no one wanted to be caught in the open.

The next day brought another 20 miles on the river. There were fewer surprises, but more time to settle in. The paddling felt easier, and the river felt more familiar. There was a stretch where the water funneled into a deeper channel, just wide enough to carry you along. You could float through, step out, walk upstream, and do it again. We did, over and over.

The springs felt warmer that day. The stops lasted longer. The river felt less like something to manage and more like something to enjoy. Mr. Bishop moved among us the entire time, never in a hurry, always paying attention. He offered a suggestion here, a reminder there, and pointed out things along the bank that would have gone unnoticed.

Looking back, it is hard to say exactly what made that trip what it was. It was not just the river or the miles. It had something to do with the timing.

Old enough to go. Young enough to still be figuring things out. Just enough freedom to make it feel important.

For three days, Science Club was not about science. It was something else entirely. Like most things that mattered at that age, you did not think much about it at the time. You just knew it was something you would not forget.

Tom Brand writes about faith, family, and growing up in Missouri. He believes growing up sometimes looks like tipping over and getting back in. Read more at ALittleBitLikeHome.com.