Lessons from Guiding the Blind

Last week, I had the fascinating opportunity to GUIDE A BLIND CREW ON A WHITEWATER RAFTING TRIP – a humbling experience in which I learned so much more from them than they did from me!

I’ve been guiding whitewater trips commercially for five years (and paddling in whitewater as a “weekend warrior” for much longer!). A company I guide with, Outdoor Adventure Center in Index, WA, hosted a trip with Outdoors for All Foundation and Washington State Department of Services for the Blind for the Blind, and asked me to guide one of their rafts on the Skykomish River.

Guiding on whitewater already demands and offers valuable leadership skills, bringing together groups with diverse range of skills and experience, and shaping them into high-performing teams in a fast-paced and dynamic environment, all the while focusing on safety, productivity, and fun. But guiding the blind in whitewater?!? This was a new challenge that instantly had me nervous and excited to take on. I couldn’t possibly pass it up!

My raft had one fully blind guest, 17-year-old Annie (not her real name), along with other low-vision guests and a fully-sighted chaperone. Walking Annie down the rocky beach to the boat, I realized I was in for a new experience, just as she was. She surrendered her white cane to me when we got to the boat, and it was at that point that I had to adopt a new style of communication. All my normal cues were visual: “Ours is the third red raft on the right,” and “sit on the red tube, not the grey thwart,” just didn’t work, and I had to shift to more tactile instructions, like “feel that inflated tube by your right ankle, then slide your leg over that and lock your heel in the corner between that tube and the one you’re sitting on.” My normal instructions for paddling were all visual as well, and after failing to get crucial information across that way, I found myself bear-hugging her from behind, showing her where to put her hands on the paddle, and how to move her torso and arms to paddle effectively. Verbal and haptic instructions ruled the day.

If paddling is the most important part of rafting, then paddling in sync is the most important part of paddling. Normally, I would put my least-able paddlers towards the back of the raft, near me, where they can stay safe and dry, and simply follow the pace of the lead paddler in the front of the boat – and that’s exactly where I started Annie, so I could keep a close eye on her. But she couldn’t sync up with the rest of the team at the front of the boat, and my verbal commands weren’t effective enough to get Annie meshing with the rest of the crew. We weren’t efficient in the rapids, and everyone was showing early signs of frustration.

So, I took a chance, and swapped paddlers to put Annie in the lead paddler’s position in the front left. There, she could drive at her own pace, and the rest of the team could sync up with her. Moving her from a relatively “safe” place to a “risky” place proved to be the opportunity she needed to undergo an amazing transformation. The move instilled her with confidence, she embraced the role with pride, and she blossomed into an effective leader.

But then she took it further: we had some stretches of slow water, and faced a headwind, so would stall out from time to time in the current. After a few times of hearing me call a “forward” command in those conditions, Annie would rely on her own sense of motion, and start paddling just before my verbal command. In other words, she used her own hypersensitivity to conditions that others didn’t (bother to) notice, learned what to do in that moment, anticipated it, and eventually took action on her own. Soon, I didn’t have to call as many “forward” commands. Rather, I supported her decision to lead from the front, and I shifted to be a watchful backstop for her decision-making, occasionally offering a “stop” or correcting command when she wasn’t reading the conditions quite right.

Eventually, we had as much fun in the river as any other trip: the crew was sharing stories, I was telling lame guide jokes, and we had plenty of opportunity to get splashed. By the time we got to the takeout, I had practically forgotten that Annie was blind!

Then, when we beached our raft, it instantly came back to me. Annie needed her cane back to navigate. She needed an extra hand to exit the raft. She needed guidance up the boat ramp and to her ride. It was startling and revealing to see her transform back into being on familiar ground, with familiar tools to navigate, yet once again cautious and dependent on others, where just moments before she had been an effective and confident leader.

Like I said, I’m certain I learned more from her than she did from me, and I’m optimistic that much of what I learned is transferrable to the workplace:

• Set a common goal, and make sure that everyone understands their role to achieve it
• Recognize that everyone learns differently, so have different ways to teach them
• Provide a safe environment for people to try, fail, learn, and grow
• Put people in a position or environment where they can be successful
• Instill confidence in someone who needs the extra boost
• Take a risk as a leader, and trust your team to do what’s right
• Thrive in having others learn from your guidance, then become independent leaders
• Guide from the rear, just in case they still need you

#whitewaterrafting

#adaptiveprograms

#guidelife

#lessonslearned