Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Meeting Random Strangers

It all started my fourth week of college back in 2011. I had signed up for a "list serve," an entirely new concept to this doe-eyed college freshman, and I had no idea what I was getting myself into. OAR (outdoor adventure recreation) was the best organization I could have ever stumbled upon. I joined the list serve and dove in immediately, responding to my first two emails with minimal hesitation. The first was for a backpacking trip that upcoming weekend and the second was rock climbing at a local indoor gym, the Gainesville Rock Gym (GRG). I had only ever been rock climbing once before, at a gym in my hometown at the end of my senior year of high school. Quite frankly, I was, and still am, terrified of heights. Yet, I often seem to put myself in situations where I am dangling off a rope on the side of a mountain or jumping out of an airplane, such as my first (and only) tandem skydive, another senior year exploit. I didn't know anyone going and the only information I had was the location of the gym and the name of the guy I was meeting, Michael. He had a gym membership and a monthly free pass for newbies that he was offering. I emailed him and thus embarked on my first OAR adventure. Climbing was easy, though in retrospect, I wasn't climbing anything particularly strenuous. I learned how to belay and was shocked that this guy, who had never met me before, was willing to take a chance and let this novice control his life with a rope and a belay device. I've learned since then that this is the OAR way: embracing new comers and eagerly teaching them skills to engage in various outdoor activities. 

Meeting up with this group of rock climbers, all of various skill levels and personalities, ended up being the first of many random adventures culminating in a late night return to my dorm and weird looks from my roommate. The night started with rock climbing but certainly didn't end with it. Apparently, it was "talk like a pirate day," so a small group of us, four including me, decided to go paddling on some creek I had never heard of. We headed off to the Gear Shed, an old shed located on a piece of property that we share with the UF Bee Bio Unit. At first glance, I was skeptical. The shed is surrounded by an old fence with barbed wire and the key is hidden in a lock box on the ground, typically obscured by leaves. All of the clubs canoes and kayaks are piled up on some old, rusty racks and the rest of the gear is scattered within the shed. Yet, I ventured on, climbing into Carolanne's SUV and surrounding myself with paddles and life jackets. The paddle was a complete failure. We pulled off on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere and bumbled through overgrown brush and trees to find this creek. It was mostly dry and by the time all four of us had plopped ourselves into the canoe, we had sunk down into the muck. We "paddled" about three feet in each direction before giving up  on the idea. Or at least, I had given up on the idea. The rest of the group didn't back down so easily. We took off on foot to find another place for our canoe, creeping under a bridge and meeting some mosquitos and spiders. After that, we all declared the evening over and returned to the gear shed. I headed back to my dorm, overwhelmed by the whole situation and excited for the impending trip I had that weekend, backpacking Gregory Bald Mountain on the Tennessee-North Carolina border in the Smokies.  


Events occurred: September 19, 2011

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