From my kayak, the jump from the giant rock into the Meanders, a calm, flat section of the Payette River at the north end of Payette Lake near McCall, seemed simple enough.  

People were running, leaping and splashing into the water below. It looked like fun. My grandson, 9-year-old Holden, wanted to do it. 

“If you will, I will,” I told him. 

Holden was game. 

A few minutes later, after a short scramble up a dirt, rocky incline, we stood at the top and looked out. Scores of kayakers and paddleboarders were stopping, watching and waiting for him to go.

Hmmm. 

What seemed like a great idea mere moments ago now seemed foolish. This had to be about a 30-foot jump or so. I looked out, now uncertain if I really wanted to do this. 

Questions and doubt swirled through my mind.

What if I don't jump far enough out? 

What about the rocks below? Are there some hidden under the surface?

How deep is this water? 

Who will save me?

Even Holden hesitated and backed up to make room for another person to go. 

Then, it was back to Holden. His turn.

By now, it seemed every kayaker and paddleboarder was rooting for him. A chorus of cheers arose. Still, he waited. Debated. Pondered. This kid is fearless. If he has doubts, what am I doing here? Perhaps this is dangerous. Just as I thought he was going to say no way, he said yes. He took a few steps back, charged and leaped. 

He was gone. 

For a few seconds, he was soaring through the air, legs and arms windmilling. A blonde-haired comet soaring through the sky.

He landed with a crash, disappeared below the surface, then reappeared to applause and congratulations. Even from where I stood, I could see his big smile. He had done it. Holden did not let fear stop him.

Then, eyes turned to me. 

My turn. 

How did I get into this situation? 

What seemed cool from the comfort of my kayak now seemed like a good way to kill myself. 

I'm too old to be doing this.

My wife watching from below yelled encouraging words. Well, kind of encouraging: “C’mon grandpa! You can do it!” 

I took a deep breath. Then another. And another. I stepped back, pumped my arms, let out a yell and rushed forward. It wasn’t so much of a jump as kind of falling, propelling myself outward.

Seconds later, I slammed into the water, sank deeper, then reemerged. 

I was still alive. 

I felt relieved. Pleased. Even proud. 

I had almost backed out of it. For once, I didn’t chicken out. All it took was a moment of courage, call it madness if you will, and I found it. 

A grandson will do that to you. 

Such moments will lead to great things. 

I can’t wait to see what Holden has in store next.

I think.

• • •

Bill Buley is the managing editor of The Press. He can be reached at [email protected].