As I said in last week's post about backpacking on the Upper Rogue River, Cheryl, Janet, and I were walking hard on the last day to walk the twelve miles back to the trailhead in time for dinner at the Prospect Hotel, so we set a faster-than-normal pace. Nonetheless, when we got to the only place on the river that looked possible for a swim, we stopped there. 
The river was wide, and the current looked slow, but I don't trust rivers. Besides, the bank dropped so steeply into the river I didn't think I could safely get in. And if I got in, how would I ever get out?
Janet thought she could do it. Holding onto the branch of a riverside bush, she carefully lowered herself into the water. Then lower. And lower. She sank up to her chest before her feet touched a strong root growing out of the bank, where she stood for a split second before letting go of the branch. Then she was swimming downriver with the current. Shortly she turned and swam easily back. Holding onto the branch, she pulled herself out. She was exhilarated.
That looked wonderful! If she did it, I thought, I could do it, too. Cheryl and Janet assured me they could help me get out, so, holding onto the branch, I lowered myself into the river. But Janet is taller than I, and I sank to my neck before my foot touched the root. Then I let go and swam downriver.
It was a great swim. Cold, yes, with a gentle current and an easy return next to the bank, where the current was slower. I thought about swimming down and back up again, but the cold was beginning to pound at the back of my neck, so I thought I should get out.
Not so easy. The bank fell perpendicularly deep into the river. Even standing on the root and holding onto the branch, I couldn't scramble out, as Janet had done, so Cheryl grabbed one arm and Janet the other, and, as I scrambled for a footing in the slippery grass, they hauled me ashore.
Worth every moment. I'd do it again with the same help.
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