I like to consider myself adventurous. The kind of girl that is up for new experiences and crazy escapades. Yet perhaps I still fall into the camp of the cautious since I’ve never broken a bone, never done anything too terribly stupid, never injured myself too seriously…well except for a concussion snowboarding, joining a bull-run in Nicaragua, second degree burns from a midnight ramen party, a torn knee ligament from having my dirtbike fall on top of me mid-jump, and exploring a WW2 mine that said it might have bad air inside. But all that aside…I’d never had a truly near-death experience until the summer of 2018.
It all started one day when I was driving home with a couple of my co-workers/friends. I had made plans to quit my job of 8 years at the end of the summer and so now my friend Bailey and I were discussing all the things we needed to do in the area before I moved away. We were living in prime Canadian wilderness and there was just so much good stuff to do. “Hey we never went white water rafting!” Bailey exclaimed.
