Arca Publishing

Pernecky, Tomas

 
 
Title: Postdisciplinary (Academic) Being 
Author: Tomas Pernecky 
Affiliation: Auckland University of Technology 
Contact: tomas.pernecky@aut.ac.nz 
Session Type: Presentation 
 
Abstract: 
Postdisciplinarity addresses the ways in which tourism knowledge is possible. This 
notion has been articulated in the seminal works of Coles, Hall, and Duval (2005, 2006, 2009) 
and by Hollinshead (2010, 2012). Yet, despite their contributions, there is still considerable 
debate among tourism scholars as to what a postdisciplinarity approach might entail (Feighery, 
2013). This talk introduces a novel existentialist approach to the postdisciplinarity debate by 
drawing on the notions of creativity, criticality, freedom, methodological and epistemic 
pluralism, and semantically diverse readings of our worlds. Postdisciplinarity, as presented here, 
is an invitation to various interpretations, critical analysis, and creative problem solving. It 
extends to questioning conventional norms and processes of knowledge production, 
dissemination, and communication; it is an invitation to a debate about the genres that have 
received a privileged position in scholarly activities; and it challenges the established views 
about the scope and limits of what is possible, relevant, desirable, and even credible in academic 
terms. 
 
 
 
  


English

Postdisciplinary (Academic) Being

Morgan, Nigel

Gritzali, Alkmini

Kinchin, Ian

 
 
Title: Pedagogic Frailty and Conventional Wisdom in Tourism Education 
Author: Nigel Morgan1, Alkmini Gritzali2, & Ian Kinchin2 
Affiliation: University of Swansea1; University of Surrey2 
Contact: Nigel.Morgan@Swansea.ac.uk 
Session Type: Presentation 
 
Abstract: 
This study takes a knowledge structures approach to explore the concept of pedagogic 
frailty (Kinchin et al., 2016) in the field of tourism studies. Pedagogic frailty in higher education 
is a recently established concept, which involves a number of key issues that significantly affect 
teaching practice, such as stress, change, environment, and adaptation (Kinchin et al., 2016). 
Being deeply rooted in academic perceptions, pedagogic frailty is, in essence, individual, but 
also global and cross-disciplinary, as it is a response to contemporary challenges and pressures of 
academia (Caton, 2012; Teelken, 2012). We view pedagogic frailty as an individual set of 
perceptions, which are also shared (or not) within departments and institutions, often through 
academic conventional wisdom passing from senior colleagues to young academics (Klocker & 
Drozewski, 2012; Kinchin et al., 2016). 
In order to analyse the micro-dynamics of shared pedagogic frailty within this 
conventional wisdom, we present auto-ethnographic narratives of two academics (an early career 
researcher and a senior colleague), who have team taught for three years across all academic 
levels (undergraduate and postgraduate). We analyse the potential for pedagogic frailty in its 
most simple and intimate academic sharing form to achieve a deeper understanding of pedagogic 
frailty and resilience as integrative concepts, and their evolution through formal and informal 
interactions between a young and an established academic. This is achieved through a concept 
map-mediated autoethnographic study of two individuals team-teaching in a UK School of 
Hospitality and Tourism Management. The study shows that elements contributing to the 
emergence of pedagogic frailty are partially shared, and rooted in conventional wisdom, which is 
endorsed by senior colleagues attempting to mentor younger academics in the highly complex 
and changing academic environment. 
 
References: 
Caton, K. (2012). Taking the moral turn in tourism studies. Annals of Tourism Research, 39(4),  
1906–1928. 
Kinchin, I.M., Alpay, E., Curtis, K., Franklin, J., Rivers, C., & Winstone, N.E. (2016). Charting  
 the elements of pedagogic frailty. Educational Research, 58(1), 1–23.  
Klocker, N., & Drozewski, D. (2012). Survival and subversion in a neoliberal university, 
available at: http://ro.uow.edu.au/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=2202&context=smhpapers 
(accessed 14 January 2015). 
Teelken, C. (2012). Compliance or pragmatism: How do academics deal with managerialism in  
higher education? A comparative study in three countries. Studies in Higher Education, 
37(3), 271–290. 
 
 
  


Pedagogic Frailty and Conventional Wisdom in Tourism Education

Lean, Garth

Condie, Jenna

 
 
Title: The Curious Case of Tinder Tourism 
Author: Garth Lean & Jenna Condie 
Affiliation: Western Sydney University 
Contact: g.lean@westernsydney.edu.au 
Session Type: Presentation 
 
Abstract: 
Like all facets of social life, digital technologies have become deeply entwined in the 
performance of travel and tourism. Yet their investigation has largely been restricted to reflecting 
upon their use in place marketing/promotion and facilitating visitor experiences (e.g., 
interpretation in museums, self-guided walking tours, etc.). As such, there is a significant, and 
rapidly expanding, gap in knowledge surrounding how digital technologies are reshaping travel 
experiences, including social interactions and connections during travel and tourism.  
The TinDA (Travel in a Digital Age) project was established in 2015 to examine the 
ways in which digital technologies mediate travel experiences and mobile lives. This paper 
presents the findings of an interdisciplinary, mixed-methods study investigating the 
commonplace use of location-aware social discovery applications (or apps), such as Tinder, 
Grindr, Backpackr, and WeChat, during travel. It also reflects upon a second area of enquiry 
exploring women’s experiences on Tinder. The paper argues that the use of these apps during 
travel is embedded within a broader shift toward increasing digital connections and intimacies in 
a mobile world. In the context of travel and tourism, location-based discovery apps represent a 
quest for alternate ways of encountering ‘local’, ‘difference’, and ‘other’, comparable with the 
rise of other digital platforms such as Airbnb and Couchsurfing. Beyond intimate encounters, 
data from the project suggests that travellers use the apps to connect (in all manner of ways) with 
people and places and to discover local knowledge. These apps have quickly become common 
travel tools for young travellers. While experiences reported in the travel study have been largely 
positive, the apps raise a number of concerns, particularly relating to issues of gender, sexuality, 
and safety/security. They also serve to blur boundaries between social networking and dating, 
‘traveller’ and ‘local’/‘host’, ‘here’ and ‘there’ (especially via features such as Tinder’s 
‘Passport’ function that allow travellers to change their geolocation), and online/offline (as the 
online becomes increasingly embedded in the physical experiences of travel).   


The Curious Case of Tinder Tourism

Kirillova, Ksenia

Wang, Dan

Lehto, Xinran

Socio-Genesis of Leisure Travel: Insights from the Russian Society (1955âPresent)

Haven-Tang, Claire

Sedgley, Diane

Thomas, Andrew

 
 
 
Title: Welsh Food Tourism: Bringing Home the Bacon? 
Author: Claire Haven-Tang, Diane Sedgley, & Andrew Thomas 
Affiliation: Cardiff Metropolitan University 
Contact: chaven-tang@cardiffmet.ac.uk 
Session Type: Presentation 
 
Abstract: 
Food is playing an increasingly important role in the tourism offer in tourism 
destinations, on the basis that local food enhances the visitor experience and facilitates 
competitive advantage, through cultural distinctiveness, authenticity, and sense of place. 
Furthermore, some authors (Bramwell, 1994; Scarpato, 2002; Sims, 2009; Everett, 2016) argue 
that food is pivotal to sustainable tourism studies, particularly in relation to economic, socio-
cultural, and environmental elements. As such, food tourism features in an increasing number of 
Destination Management Plans (DMPs) and National Tourism Strategies. For example, the Food 
Tourism Action Plan for Wales 2015–2020 defines food tourism as any activity which promotes 
high quality, distinctive, local, and sustainable food experiences linked to a particular place 
(Welsh Government, 2015) and aims to ensure that food tourism is integrated into all of Visit 
Wales’s activities by 2020. 
Tourists are demanding distinctive, high-quality local food (Hardy, 2012), with 76% of 
visitors to Wales believing that it is important for them to sample local food and drink (Visit 
Wales, 2009) and 75% of producers identifying ‘Welsh’ as the most commonly used theme in 
their product branding, demonstrating that Welsh provenance is a positive strength (Welsh 
Government, 2014). In 2013, 89 million day visits were made to Wales, generating expenditure 
of over £3 million, 40% of which was spent of food and drink (Welsh Government, 2015). 
Food tourism is also of value to the food industry, in that tourists and tourism businesses 
are attracted to short food supply chains (SFSCs) where they can buy produce directly from the 
producer (e.g., farmer’s markets) or local outlets (e.g., farm/village shops, cooperatives), 
reducing overhead for food producers. Moreover, once tourists have made a geographical 
connection, there is an increased likelihood that they will gravitate to food products from that 
area, consequently addressing the challenge of placeless foodscapes (Ilbery & Kneafsey, 2000). 
Unfortunately, however, Wales is underperforming in relation to the exploitation of the 
opportunities inherent within food tourism. The 2013 Food and Drink Producers Survey (Welsh 
Government, 2014) recorded that less than half of the 300 food businesses surveyed are current 
suppliers to the tourism sector, with 6% finding it a ‘difficult market’ to operate in, and over a 
third have not considered the potential in the tourism sector. Reasons for the lack of engagement 
with food tourism and the difficulties encountered by food businesses are poorly understood. 
This paper presents the findings of an exploratory study undertaken in South Wales, which 
sought to investigate congruence and dissonance in the development of local food economies. 
 
References: 
Bramwell, B. (1994). Rural tourism and sustainable rural tourism. Journal of Sustainable  
Tourism, 2(1–2), 1–6. 
Everett, S. (2016). Food & drink tourism: Principles and practice. London: Sage. 
 
 
Hardy, R. (2012). Wales becomes a top gastro-tourism destination. Available at:  
http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2012/aug/29/wales-top-gastro-tourism- 
destination (accessed 14 June 2016). 
Ilbery, B., & Kneafsey, M. (2000). Registering regional specialty food and drink products in  
the UK: The case of PDOs and PGIs. Area, 32(3), 317–325. 
Scarpato, R. (2002). Sustainable gastronomy as a tourist product. In A.M. Hjalager & G.  
Richards, eds., Tourism and Gastronomy (pp. 132–152). London: Routledge. 
Sims, R. (2009). Food, place, and authenticity: Local food and the sustainable tourism 
experience. Journal of Sustainable Tourism, 17(3), 321–336. 
Visit Wales (2009). Hospitality. Available at:  
www.tourismhelp.co.uk/objview.asp?object_id=423 (accessed 1 May 2012). 
Welsh Government. (2014). Towards sustainable growth: An action plan for the food and drink  
industry 2014–2020. Available at: 
http://businesswales.gov.wales/foodanddrink/sites/fooddrink/files/Images/Action%20 
Plan%20-%20English.pdf (accessed 7 June 2016). 
Welsh Government. (2015). Food tourism action plan for Wales 2015–2020. Available at:  
http://businesswales.gov.wales/foodanddrink/sites/fooddrink/files/WG24494%20Foo 
d%20Tourism%20Action%20Plan%20WEB%20E_PDF.pdf (accessed 7 June 2016). 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  


Welsh Food Tourism: Bringing Home the Bacon?

Dolezal, Claudia

Ricaurte-Quijano, Carla

 
Title: Ecuador’s Community-Based Tourism: Policies and Practices on the Ground 
Author: Claudia Dolezal1 & Carla Ricaurte-Quijano2 
Affiliation: University of Westminster1; Escuela Superior Politécnica del Litoral2 
Contact: c.dolezal@westminster.ac.uk 
Session Type: Presentation 
 
Abstract: 
Community-based tourism (CBT) is an alternative form of tourism that emerged out of 
bottom-up development efforts and is widely used by governments, NGOs, and development 
agencies to foster community empowerment and development. While promising wider socio-
economic benefits (Zapata et al., 2011), at the same time CBT is often criticised for its tokenistic 
nature, for creating local inequalities, and for being used as a political tool by governments in the 
developing world (Dolezal, 2015). 
This paper is based on a project which investigates the governmental structures and the 
local realities of CBT in Ecuador. It presents insights from the early conceptual stage of a 
collaborative research project which seeks to comprehend the relationship between CBT policies 
and practice—that is, the government’s conceptualisations of CBT and how these are reshaped 
on the ground. It questions to what degree the structural conditions created by the government 
enable or hinder empowerment and the articulation of agency of those residents for whom CBT 
turns into a new livelihood strategy. Although the term empowerment is used with high 
frequency within tourism for development, it has also been found that the possibilities for 
empowerment through CBT are highly unequal in the vastly heterogeneous communities where 
CBT happens (Blackstock, 2005). What is more is that CBT is often used as a political tool, with 
dominant discourses imposed on communities, creating disempowering structural conditions that 
impact residents’ agency (Dolezal, 2015). This research therefore problematizes the word 
“empowerment” and sheds light on the complex power relations between government and 
residents, revealing how policies shape practices and opportunities on the ground. 
In Ecuador, the geographical context of this research, CBT has been closely linked with 
socio-political struggles and the Indigenous movements and mobilisations in the 1990s. Indeed, 
the Ecuadorian Plurinational Federation of Community-Based Tourism (FEPTCE) indicates that 
CBT is a mechanism for the social inclusion of Indigenous communities that were exploited as 
tourist attractions and historically marginalised from tourism revenues (FEPTCE, 2010). In the 
Santa Elena province, there are two versions of CBT. In the first version, CBT is managed on a 
whole-commune basis through the communal tourism committee, charging a fee for each visitor. 
The second version relates to the communes settled on the coastal fringe, where the tourism 
resource is mainly the beaches, which are not community-owned. As a consequence, CBT has 
been developed on a family basis, in which families participate in the programs set up by NGOs. 
However, the National Regulation for Community-Based Tourism Centres (Mintur, 2010) only 
recognises the first way to engage in CBT, leaving entire communes outside of the law. 
These two different contexts therefore create different power structures between 
government and residents, and ultimately different opportunities on the ground, which deserve 
closer investigation. The data is planned to be collected by drawing on ethnographically oriented 
methods, including semi-structured interviews and participant observation, starting in summer 
2017. In so doing, this research seeks to reveal the degree to which the government’s actions 
hinder or enable residents’ agency in engaging in CBT in Ecuador to ultimately create 
 
possibilities for empowerment through tourism and to inform tourism policy in Ecuador. 
 
References: 
Blackstock, K. (2005). A critical look at community-based tourism. Community Development  
Journal, 40(1), 39–49. 
Dolezal, C. (2015). Questioning empowerment in community-based tourism in rural Bali. 
Doctoral dissertation. University of Brighton. 
FEPTCE. (2010). Historia del Turismo Comunitario en el Ecuador. Retrieved October 25,  
2010, from feptce.org/doc/feptce/historia-turismo-comuniecuad.pdf 
Ministerio de Turismo del Ecuador (2010). National regulation for community-based  
tourism centres. Quito: MINTUR. 
Zapata, M.J., Hall, C.M., Lindo, P., & Vanderschaeghe, M. (2011). Can community-based  
tourism contribute to development and poverty alleviation? Lessons from Nicaragua. 
Current Issues in Tourism, 14(8), 169–177. 
 
 
 
 
  


Ecuadorâs Community-Based Tourism: Policies and Practices on the Ground

de Jong, Anna

Foraging Tourism as Productive Nostalgia: An Embodied Response to Changing Climates?

Ren, Lianping

Wang, Peilai

Making Chinese Cuisine Artistic: Fad or Trend?

Wong, Cora Un In

Being a Monk for a Day. Really? The Case of Pu-Tuo-Shan

Elwood, Tanya

1
 
 
 
She Is Strong 
By Tanya Elwood 
 
Do you remember the teen years, when invincibility and adventure were like an everyday 
occurrence? For me, these years consisted of rock-climbing with friends, hiking up at the Wells 
Grey Falls, and rafting on the rapids of the North Thompson. Rafting was one of my favorite 
activities because raging water had always fascinated me; I was enthralled with its power: white 
caps, her thunderous roars, and thrashing debris; sometimes she would rip entire trees by their 
roots and carry them away to an unknown place. She was a force to be reckoned with; I adored 
her, and her ability to control every living thing around her, including us. I couldn’t wait for the 
dry heat of summer when my mother would bring us to the river. 
Teaching us the rules of ‘work before play’, my mother never allowed a trip to the beach 
unless the list of daily chores were complete: laundry swinging in the pine-filled air, dishes 
sparkling and placed in their stack, floors vacuumed and hand-washed with care, gardens weeded 
and watered, and lawns trimmed and mowed. As the oldest of five, I felt as though I carried the 
larger portion of responsibility, and for me, these breaks to the beach provided rejuvenation, and 
a spiritual connection to God and His creations.  I enjoyed the quiet times, soaking up the sun 
and hearing the water gushing by, but my favorite thing was when friends would arrive and we 
would head out on a rafting trip. We were invincible, extreme adrenalin junkies. Although we 
knew the river’s powers, we had a mutual respect for her. She allowed us to play on her, and we 
just had to understand her rules: there were none. At any time, she could switch the current, hurl 
you towards a boulder, send a tree your way, or grab you with the undertow and pull you down. 
We would have to be quick; always ready to move with her. Acknowledging this, we would 
jump on our vessels and head down river. What a rush. Life jackets? No way. It was the eighties. 
I’m not sure that life jackets were even a thing - definitely not helmets - you didn’t even need 
them to ride a bike.  
2
 
 
 
My excitement for adventure soared: rock climbing, forestry fire fighting, trail building, 
falling trees, overnight wilderness hiking, horseback riding and mountain biking. I was an 
adventurous country girl, but I longed to be independent and move to the city. I was tired of 
cleaning chicken poop off the local eggs, and skimming the cream from gallon jars of fresh 
cow’s milk. I decided it was time to explore bigger things – Kamloops. I loved the conveniences 
of shopping, cafés, restaurants, and theatres. Also, the hills were close. I loved hiking and 
smelling the pleasant aroma of sagebrush and evergreen. But, I soon became homesick. The 
initial lure of the city was overshadowed with loneliness. I wanted someone to share my dreams 
and life with.  
I lived with three female roommates, but the outdoors was not their forte: reading or 
partying was their thing.  Now I was tiring of the uninvited party guests, late night calls for a ride 
home, unkempt rooms, and their entitlement to the groceries that were supposed to last a week. 
However crazy this living arrangement was, it did serve a purpose, because one of those late-
night calls resulted in the introduction to a man who changed my future.  
In the spring of 1995, at 2am, I awoke to a phone call for yet another ride. I resentfully 
ventured to Yuk Yuk’s nightclub to pick-up my roommate, but after I arrived, I was glad for the 
call because that is where I met my husband. I was immediately mesmerized with his steel blue 
eyes, and blonde hair, but more importantly, I was pleasantly shocked by his antics. I couldn’t 
stop laughing, and I didn’t want to leave. When he asked me out for coffee, I couldn’t resist. The 
next evening, we chin wagged at Tim Horton’s from 7pm until 5am. He was a business student 
at UCC, and he was an impulsive, “out of the box” thinker. I loved the way he saw things – 
everything was an opportunity. A broken-down car was a chance to spend time with his father 
fixing it; no employment and no money in the bank provided the possibility to start a business.  
Our third date was at a tiny café, tucked away in a motel. He reached across the table and 
put my hands in his, and then he sweetly and hesitantly said: “I know you’re the one I’m going to 
marry.” This should have been shocking, but his bright blue eyes and his honest words paralyzed 
my logic. Without hesitation, I replied: “That’s crazy, because I know you’re the guy I’m going 
to marry.” The romance was insane, and we knew it. Just as the North Thompson captivated me, 
I was taken in by his spontaneity and charisma. I couldn’t wait to be with him. His passion for 
3
 
 
 
life was what I had thirsted for and I was overjoyed to have found a partner to explore with, and 
to enjoy life with. We married within that year and four years later we had a beautiful baby girl.  
She was a real spitfire who loved to be with us. She despised being away from us for any 
length of time. Dropping her off in the church nursery was horrible. Inevitably, every Sunday, 
our number would flash behind the pastor’s pulpit and we would panic, embarrassing ourselves 
as we scooted through the aisles, tripping over feet, rushing to rescue our tearful child. It didn’t 
take long before she had us trained – we were soon taking turns volunteering in the nursery. 
Loving her was easy, but parenting was difficult. Her passion for exploring was beautiful to see; 
she was carefree and innocent, but she had inherited our daredevil mentalities. Running ahead 
was her style, and after a near miss with a vehicle, and a case of the missing child in the mall, a 
collar was purchased. Nasty looks were the norm, and each one felt like a dagger; it was hard, 
but knowing she was safe was all that mattered to us.  
My adventurous spirit was beginning to diminish as the anxiety that harm could come to 
my daughter was always at the forefront. I aspired to share the outdoors with her, but the fear of 
“what if” continued to prevail. With each new mommy moment, paranoia blanketed my thoughts 
and a heaviness continued to stifle my spirit. I relied on any excuses that would excuse me from 
outdoor activities: we have the flu; it’s too cold and besides, there’s a storm warning you know; 
we’re just having a snow day. However, the summer always came. This was a time of guilt for 
me. Why wasn’t I sharing the great experiences I had as a child? Why was I allowing my 
anxieties to dictate my actions? I needed to spend time with my daughter and let her see the 
outside world. 
One July, we decided to head out on a road trip. We had just finished a long cold winter 
and spring, and we were experiencing a welcome warm spell; however, that meant the river, that 
ran alongside the highway, was unusually high for this time of year. It was muddy and full of 
debris. I wasn’t sure if I had ever seen her this swollen. I could smell home getting closer with 
each mile: pine, and birch, the smoke of a forest fire burning in the area – I’m even certain I 
could smell the potato salad that my mama had mentioned she was making. This was what we 
needed: some time in the valley of Vavenby, sharing our daughter with the grandparents, and 
family, relaxing and watching her play.  
4
 
 
 
But when we arrived, the group was antsy and had already decided that a rafting trip 
would be neat. I was reluctant but I didn’t want to show it. As a strong, independent woman, the 
oldest of five, and the oldest cousin, I had a reputation to maintain; I couldn’t let the team down. 
We began preparations: phoning people from the church to muster up life jackets (they were a 
thing now), driving around town to pick up two skidder tubes and two yellow dinghies, and 
gathering snacks and drinks for the afternoon of fun. Eight of us headed out for the trip – two of 
whom were five years old, my daughter and my niece. Their big blue eyes starred at us, so 
innocent, relying on the protection of their parents. I had a feeling this rafting trip was a bad idea. 
I wrestled with my thoughts and concluded that it was my anxiety that was, once again, 
debilitating my desire to enjoy life. I didn’t want to let fear hold me back anymore.  
We piled in the trucks and headed up the road. The river looked mad: she twisted and 
turned, hissing mist and hurling words of caution. She was acting crazy. It was like she was 
trying to warn us. I wasn’t going to listen. This was what I had worked so hard to fight against – 
my crazy thoughts. We would be fine; besides, we had life jackets and rope. When we arrived, I 
had a thought that we should connect the devices so no one would float away or go past the pick-
up point. This was the mistake that nearly cost our lives. 
We tied the boats using a long rope, fastened the lifejackets, secured our spots on the 
floatation devices, and pushed off the slippery rocks and began our trek. Over the drumming of 
the water, laughter could be heard, no words, just unharnessed laughter. We were having a blast. 
The earthy smell of the riverbanks hosted a flood of childhood memories. Suddenly guilt arose. 
Why had I been such a prude lately? Why was I so worried all the time? This was no way to 
raise a child. My daughter and her cousin were bouncing up and down, giggling and smiling. 
They were having such a good time. I needed to lighten up, for the sake of my girl. 
I could see my husband in the boat just ahead. He was with my mom. What was she 
saying? Her hands were flailing; she was frantic. Something ahead? What, I can’t see. Is that a 
boat upside down? A tree? A, a, rock… A gigantic boulder, firmly planted in the middle of the 
North Thompson, splitting the river into two, pushing trees to either side. Quick! Everyone 
paddle. Go to the right, everyone, paddle to the right. Harder, paddle. It was too late. We were 
heading straight for that rock.  My Mom and hubby in one boat, my sister and daughter in 
5
 
 
 
another, I and my brother-in-law each on a tube, and my cousin and his daughter in the last 
vessel: three boats and two skidder tubes.  
The river thrashed us around, violently whipping us up and down. White caps sprayed 
our faces and it was difficult to catch a breath. The anticipation of the rock catching the rope was 
gut-wrenching. My muscles tightened as the rock snagged the rope. I soared through the air, 
landing on the stinging, ice cold water. Like a bag of bricks, I sank down. The current pulled me 
under, holding me victim. I needed air. I heard my Mom in a distant-muffled voice yell, “No, not 
my Tanya”.  I was breathless, unable to fight the rage of the river. She showed me I was not in 
control. I needed to listen if I wanted to thrive. I surrendered and prayed, “Lord, please help us.” 
Peace. A calm, warming sensation embraced me. Strong arms wrapped around me and I felt 
God’s presence in the water. I felt as though the omniscient power heaved me towards the shore.  
Winded and shaking, I saw my brother-in-law scampering up the riverbank. I assumed he 
was going to get help. I floated in and out of consciousness. Whimsical images danced through 
my mind. I could feel my husband stroking my hair, and the voice of my daughter singing 
Twinkle Twinkle was angelic. I awoke, still shivering. In the distance, I could see my husband, 
daughter, mom, sister, cousin, and niece. They were all still in the river. I am not sure how, but 
my husband and mother were standing on the rock, holding onto the rope. Just then, the boat, 
with my sister and daughter, collided into the rock, bursting the rubber dingy; it disappeared. My 
baby disappeared. I screamed, pleaded with God again, “Please, save my daughter”!  
I could see her head floating up, then down. She struggled. My husband and mother stood 
on the rock and threw the rope to my sister, who caught it and pulled herself and Madison into 
the back eddy. They could breathe for a minute, although the water was ice cold. My sister, a 
fitness trainer, a triathlete, and a health enthusiast, used her strength to throw the distraught five-
year-old up to her Dad. He quickly placed her in the dingy. My sister then used her upper 
strength to catapult herself onto the rock. They were safe on the rock, with our child in the 
dinghy.  
Their attention shifted to my cousin and his daughter who were floating on a skidder 
tube, but still attached to the mangled rope. Pulling and fighting against the brutality of the 
current, the group managed to heave the last two onto the rock. Scared and bewildered, they 
6
 
 
 
began to climb into the last boat, but just as they thought it was under control, the river made 
another move. The water grabbed the dingy, with my daughter, and she began floating away. My 
husband dove in and dug the paddle deep into the river, but the water pushed him back towards 
center. Finally, after a hard fight, he was able to paddle towards the rocky shore and they were 
safe. I ran to hold them. We were overwhelmed with a gamut of emotions: nervous laughter, 
crying, anger, fear. My niece, sister, mom, and cousin were still stranded. We watched, 
helplessly. They were drenched, using every muscle to straddle the boulder. They huddled and 
shared words of encouragement.  
My mother, an optimist to her core, diverted their thoughts with details about supper prep 
and the delicious potato salad awaiting their return.  My husband, the spontaneous opportunist, 
frantically ran up and down the shore, attempting to MacGyver an apparatus that would save 
them – but nothing could be done, except to wait. It felt like a long time before my brother-in-
law returned. It had been about forty-five minutes. He frantically spewed the news, breathing 
heavily between the words.  A team of search and rescuers was being dispatched from 
Clearwater, and they would soon be on their way. Relief and comfort swarmed my body. Finally, 
some hope. I needed to relay this message to the others. They were barely hanging on; their 
bodies squished together by the constant force of the water on them. Hypothermia would soon 
set in, if it hadn’t already. Holding onto each other, they rested their heads on each other’s backs. 
This rescue news was imperative; they needed it now more than ever. The water was deafening; 
no human voices could be heard. Maybe they would see hand signals.  
We jumped up and down, screaming until we were dizzy. Finally, my mom peered over. I 
flung my arm in a circular motion, hoping the years of family charades would pay off, they did; 
my mom lit up. Her arms locked tight to my sister, she looked up to the sky and motioned her 
head in a loop. She understood; the helicopter would soon be there. We waited for another hour. 
I remember feeling an intolerable weight pushing down on my shoulders; we were losing hope. 
My cousin and sister were dosing in and out of consciousness, and at times, falling towards one 
side, which jolted them back into consciousness. They were hypothermic.  I looked up to the sky. 
Where was the helicopter? Where was God? Why was this taking so long? Why wasn’t God 
helping us in our hour of need?  
7
 
 
 
But, just as our hope was fading, search and rescue arrived - in a kayak; that’s right, a 
kayak. We could not believe our eyes. A mint green, inflatable kayak, floating down the river. I 
assumed that it was another fool challenging the river; however, when the kayak did a one-eighty 
and rested in the back eddy of the boulder, I knew this guy was serious.  He appeared to be 
middle-aged, with dark hair. He was tall, and he was wearing a red search and rescue life vest 
that showed his chiselled, muscular arms. I felt a sense of assurance. His panache was 
mesmerizing to watch. His upper body twisted and turned to maneuver the oars, effortlessly 
slicing through the water. He commanded the river and she respected him.  
One stroke at a time, he soared down the river, contorted his kayak in a fancy half-turn, 
and then rested in the back-eddy. First, he returned my niece, and then my cousin to shore, where 
they huddled and cried, elated to embrace the ground. The kayak returned for my sister, who was 
feeling the effects of hypothermia. She clung tightly to the rescuer as he brought her to the shore. 
Then her husband held her in his arms, and she relished his embrace.  
Mama was last to have her triumphant ride to safety. The kayaker fought one more time against 
the current, soared down towards the rock, and performed his fancy maneuver into the eddy. His 
stealth and finesse was amazing to watch. Those of us on shore were overcome with emotion as 
he floated our mother towards the shore.  
We were all relieved to be safe, and to have the family on ground. Tears flowed, and the 
uncontrollable realization of what we had just encountered, hit hard. Most of us were shaking, 
crying, and overwhelmed – but not for long. My mom, who always sees the bright side of things, 
charismatically said, “Who’s ready for that Barbeque? I’m starved.” We drove home buzzed, as 
adrenaline and disbelief welled up in me. I gazed out the window and watched the majestic life 
source roar beside me. She was mighty, and responsible for many things: sustenance for people, 
nourishment for trees, home for the salmon, and the veins of the Interior. Her responsibilities 
were vast, and she was to be respected.  
She was strong. She inspired me to embrace my inner strengths: to work through my 
anxieties, to be an adventurous mom, and to make the best of each day. I owed this to my 
daughter.  
8
 
 
 
 Over my thoughts, I heard the chatter – everyone was awestruck that search and rescue 
had sent a kayak. We laughed, and then, without hesitation, my husband said, “Where do you 
think you could find one of those inflatable boats? I think they would be awesome. What do you 
think, Hun?” I shrugged my shoulders and sighed: “As long as we’re not on the river, I guess, 
but for now, let’s go home and eat.” 
      
 


She Is Strong

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