Quebec+Trip

Emily Mastrogiacomo I thought taking a summer trip to Quebec would be a great opportunity to spend time with my family all while taking in the surreal surroundings. We arrived at the hotel Le Chateau de Frontenac which was so beautiful that I couldn’t stop starring at it from the outside. As soon as I entered the building I was even more amazed. It truly was a castle. I thought it was going to be a perfect week. My Dad, the historical buff, took his first classic move by running up to the hotel room, blasting the AC, and finding as many historical sites that were in the city so that he could be determined to see them all by the time we left. Mom was busy tying up her shoelaces so that she could go off walking to explore the city on foot. Tim, as hungry as always, ran off to find a café he could get a sandwich at to refuel him with energy. As for Sam, always stuck in the middle, spent her time trying to avoid me, so that she could have a break from the constant annoyances I gave her. It was only the first hour into vacation and my family had already all split up to do their own things. I thought to myself, this was supposed to be a “family” vacation, but so far it was the least family oriented trip yet. The first few days were completely hectic with family battles over choosing the activities. At one point everyone got into a big fight and stormed off in different directions of the busy, city streets, leaving only fifth grade me standing in the middle having to take a side, or be abandoned all day. The trip needed some unity, so I figured that after dinner I would go to the lobby to look at some brochures to try and find an activity that my whole family could enjoy and not fight over. I picked up many of the brochures and brought them back to the room to show my family, but only for them all to make quick judgments and reject all of my ideas. It was not until we were all in the car on one of Dad’s chosen long road trips to see something so insignificant to everyone but him that I saw a sign for white water rafting! My eyes widened as I realized I should shout at the sign and suggest that we all try a unique new activity that no one knew anything about so they couldn’t complain. It took a lot of begging to get my Dad to agree to put his history search on hold, but eventually he gave in and let us go. We arrived at the white water rafting company with our minds open to the new experience, but little did we know that we were almost the only ones that spoke perfect English. They divided us up with one other couple that was from the US and gave us an instructor that also knew how to speak English for the most part. They then told us to suit up, which we did. All of us except my Dad whose wet suit wouldn’t Velcro and whose helmet sat on his head but couldn’t be all the way pushed down had no problems suiting up. We then got onto a bus that took us about an hour up stream of the river where it let us out to begin the real journey. My Dad was highly concerned that I would fall into the rapids so he sat behind me on the raft and tried to hang on to me the whole time. His focus was on me because I was the youngest and he figured everyone else knew how to swim well enough if they fell in. We started out with level two and three rapids so that all of the new people rafting for the first time could get the hang of it. It was very exciting, but at the same time gave me a nervous chill because what we were doing was very dangerous. The day was going by quick as we paddled into our last rapid of the day. The instructor warned us that it was a level five rapid and that it was the most dangerous type that exists so she warned us to be extra careful. It was called the Meat Grinder which speaks for itself. We started paddling down the Meat Grinder with sharp cuts and big drops. Our raft lost control as we paddled the wrong way which made our raft fall off an unexpected waterfall. Our whole raft tipped completely on its side so that one row of people were high in the air as the other side was safe and secure. My Mom who is on the side in the air and not knowing what to do she grabs onto a big, tall rock that is at her eyelevel when in the air, and stays there as our raft returns to the waters surface and gets out of the rapid. She was stranded on the rock in the middle of the rapid. No one knew what to do, and no one expected her to fall in. The man who was in charge of all of the rafts put his kyack on his head and walked fifty feet back to the place my Mom was stranded. He attempted to paddle to her, but the current was too strong. Eventually a boat with all French speaking people came gunning by her as she jumped into the boat out of fear. She ended up staying in the boat until making it safely back to the starting point. It was this unique, adventurous rafting trip that saved my families vacation and ended up uniting us. It brought us together and eventually over the trip we started agreeing on more activities to do. It was also an experience that I am sure none of us will forget. Although we went through many arguments on the Quebec trip, we ended up letting a new experience bring us closer together.