Have you ever made a decision that felt right - until you were already in motion?
Excitement brewed for the yearly whitewater rafting to West Virginia, filled with laughs, sighs, campfire stories, and blasted with water. This time was different.
A strong hurricane hit the Carolinas and was scheduled to travel north along the Appalachian Mountains by our departure day. Every day, I called the outfitter, guide service to see if there were any changes. In 20 years, we've never cancelled a trip. The one aspect I loved about this guiding company is that they chose safety over purposely flipping a raft for people to laugh and sigh.
The Gauley River is no joke. It's whitewater rafting with Class III-V rapids that demand precision and power on a good day, let alone a day with more intensity.
Friday night, after a long work week, 12 people drove five hours through the remnants of a tropical storm. Upon arrival at the campsite, the rain was finally tapering. While not verbally stated, the nervous tension was felt by all.
By 7 a.m., the sun and blue skies cast over the wet soil. The head guide said, all is a go. We'll have two guides per boat. Humm. That's unusual, yet two is better than one, right?
The first one-third of the river is a gentle float with minimal rapids. The rafts have a chance to practice on one class IV rapid before the true rafting begins. Then, a small creek comes in, the gorge narrows significantly with full-intense rapids to follow.
As we hit the one-third mark, it was not a creek; it was a full-on river flowing into another river. Holy cow! The water levels quickly rose a few feet. The extra guide yelled - Hell yeah!!!! Then, it dawned on me. Extra guides came to raft the intensity of the river flowing at full throttle.
What did we get ourselves into?
Once we enter the canyon, there is nowhere to exit. The first major rapid, a Class V called Iron Ring, set the stage for the hours to come. There was no talking, only silence to listen to the guide's specific instructions.
Boom! We were paddling air while perpendicular to the waterline. We hit the rapids so hard that we were almost dead vertical. We made it through.
Only 20+ more rapids to go. Sigh, gasp, here we go again...
On high alert, paddle hard with feet shoved under the crossbar of the raft. It didn't matter how awkward our bodies were turned as long as we were safely secured in the raft.
The guide screamed:
Paddle hard.
Left Backpaddle. Left Backpaddle.
Paddle all.
We lined up the raft to cut through the rapids without flipping.
Do we have everyone?
The guide is always looking at the next set of rapids.
The intersection of nature, human dynamics, and decision-making explains everything. The water, our life, is always moving. Rapids and obstacles always appear. Sometimes with less intensity and other times with greater intensity. In whitewater rafting, the mistake isn't the rapid. It's entering the rapid without choosing your line.
Discernment decides when force becomes progress and when it becomes damage. Paddling without direction leaves you spinning in circles. The moment the raft tips over the edge into the rapid, there’s no easing in. The force is immediate, loud, and directional. Hesitation gets you sideways. Overreaction flips you. Attempting to course correct when you're vertical in the air doesn’t work either; we'll flip over.
As the intensity of the world increases, so do your decisions. The discernment for which you enter these decisions becomes key. Choose your direction, and the natural line to commit appears when least expected.
Be present when the force is directed and move with discernment.
Ask, Is this the right moment to commit—or am I forcing timing?
© 2026. Lora Lapiz. All Rights Reserved.
