I have made a point of going on at least one float trip every year since 1978. After more than thirty-four years, I feel that I have achieved a certain expertise—not in the way I paddle, but in my observations of couples on the river.

I am a firm believer in the Relationship Float Trip Test. I believe that every state should pass a Pre-Marital Float Trip Law. Providing that a couple can pass this assessment, they would be issued a marriage license and not one second before. If a couple can survive a ten mile float, remain in the same canoe, and not want to kill one another, they have a good relationship, and in my opinion, could survive and thrive in marriage.

Floating tests the patience, adaptability, endurance, and love of a couple almost from the start. For some couples, the bus trip to the put-in is the high point of the day. If someone forgets the cooler or they’ve pre-partied and puke on their shoes before even hitting the water, a couple may want to reconsider. If it’s this ugly now, it’s only going to get uglier later. Save everyone the drama and ride the bus back to town.

Having made it to the river, it can rapidly go downhill from there sometimes as soon as just trying to get into the canoe especially if both parties are first timers. Previous but separate paddling experience will help, but canoeing as a couple is a completely different breed of float tripping.

For starters, “floating” is a misnomer. No one “floats” downstream, they paddle. Maneuvering a canoe down a waterway is a joint effort. From the person up-front who provides the speed to the person in-the-back who does the steering, it’s a rare couple that can get downriver without pissing off each another.

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Because a person sits above the waterline, canoes are top heavy and prone to tipping. Tipping results in getting wet, losing your gear, and eventually assigning blame to the person who “caused” the failure. At Mile 1 of a ten mile trip, nervous laughter is usually associated with a tip over; laughter and the naïve assurance that it’s not going to happen again. At Mile 5, the laughter fades and it’s with a disgruntled resilience that the canoeing couple propels forward. A tip over at Mile 9 is grounds for dissolution of the relationship. Ask either party, and they will blame the other.

I’ve seen marriages literally “hit the rocks” and fail on a float trip. Couples have separated, with one getting into the canoe of strangers, leaving a partner behind to paddle downstream alone. This, in turn, results in the phenomena of a “river wheelie”—canoeing with the front end sticking two to three feet out of the water—for the remaining miles all the while cursing whoever thought a float trip was a good idea in the first place.

For the first-time couple who arrives at the pull-out without having once considered the homicide of their significant other, a brass band playing the Hallelujah Chorus awaits. After thirty-four years of floating and observing, I’m still waiting to see that band.

Despite a shaky, first float, some couples make floating an annual event, and eventually, they get it right. It’s a joy to see these couples work as a team as they swiftly load gear, store coolers, assume their positions, and take off with a purpose. Their masterful stroking carries them far ahead of the pack and they enjoy a relaxing day on the river. With enough practice, any couple can do it.

Good luck, keep calm, and paddle on.