Woman vs. Reservoir

In less than fifteen minutes, I can get from my front door to the beautiful Horsetooth Reservoir west of town. It’s a great recreation spot for camping, boating, hiking, fishing, and hanging out on the closest thing my landlocked home has to a real beach. But due to the fires and severe drought conditions this year, the reservoir is down to 42% of capacity. The boat ramps are all currently closed because, well, they’re no longer in the water.

Before that happened, my non-boat-owning family and I had a chance to join some friends for an afternoon on their boat. These people, who are in most other ways kind and rational human beings, also brought along an inflatable raft and a tow rope. Normally when someone offers to pull me around behind a boat at high speeds, I decline because I am averse to swallowing my weight in lake water. But I am trying to be less of a wuss. So I agreed. And because I am not above some good old public humiliation, I will share the proof with you.

With my husband, looking a bit nervous:

Hey, not as bad as I thought:

Until the first bump:

You know where this is going, right?

Yep.

And only the strong shall survive:

I was retrieved from the water in all due haste, which spared me from having to swim for shore and live among raccoons until a ranger found me. In fact, I got back on the raft, held on much tighter the second time, and actually had a lot of fun. I was really sore for a couple of days, though, and consider myself very lucky that I didn't bruise anything. Other than my ego.

Thanks to my son for taking the photos, which make me laugh until I cry every time I see them.