"So this is how I die..."

The water was calmer. We were still moving fast, about 11mph, but the rapids had changed from class 4 to class 3, and at this point I had grown a bit complacent. It was day 3 on the Selway River, and I was the lottery winner, picked from 1,000’s of entrants, one of only ~60 for the year. At 54, I was the second youngest person on this trip, with seven other deeply experienced boaters, each having over 30 years under their respective belts.

Seated up front, on our three person boat, I was looking to my right, listening to a story my fellow boater was telling me. She told great stories, and we laughed and shrieked with excitement as the river tossed and drenching us with 45℉ water. This was day 3, so I had loosened my grip on the strap that ran around the boat, especially after we took our helmets off, having cleared the last of class 4 rapids for the day.

And that’s when it happened.

As I was looking and listening to her, the back of the boat rose out of the water and I was tossed over on the left side, legs in the air, head first, between the boat and a bank of rocks. The water was ice cold, and I was wearing a t-shirt and pants, having opted against a dry-suit or splash-guard for this stretch of the run. The force of the impact knocked my hat off my head and it was now dragging behind my head, attached by a chin strap that was now around my neck. I turned my body over and came up for air by the side of the boat. The captain (my term, not his) was yelling for me to grab the oar, but I tried twice and couldn’t get a grip.

And that’s when the party started.

I took in a big gulp of water, not expecting to get pulled back under when I did. My body did a twist or two under water, and I remember the sound and force of the current, and millions of bubbles, hurling both me and the boat down the rapids.

When I opened my eyes I saw something unexpected. I was staring at the bottom of the boat and couldn’t figure out how to extricate myself and catch a breath. This was the moment that I realized that I will most likely die, pinned down by 11,000 cubic feet of water per second.

After about 10 seconds (not my number, what I was told later) I popped up on the right side of the boat, well behind it. I remembered my training and sat back, letting my personal floatation device do the work, keeping my knees bent and feet up so as to cushion against potential impact with oncoming boulders. And sure enough, I was rushing feet first towards a massive rock cluster, just 20 feet in front of me.

As I braced for impact, something unexpected and terrifying happened. About 10 feet ahead of the rocks, the water just opened up and I dropped straight down into the river. I was in a vortex, spinning, and I could not get out of it. I sank down about 13 feet and touched the riverbed, allowing me to kick upward to the top. My hand broke through but I was still not able to get my head (and mouth) or the rest of my body up and out. Later on, the crew described what they were seeing: a spinning hand, just out of the water, kind of like John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. This was very appropriate, as I later found out that the section of the river that was trying to claim me was called Tango Bar.

How perfect.

Almost out of air, tired, I finally got up and out, but only after drinking more water. I was able to swim to one of the boats and get out of the water. From start to finish, I spent a little over 2 minutes in the water. I had two sessions of 10-20 seconds under water. And I recall drinking water twice, maybe three times.

I was quiet for the next two to three hours. They asked me if I was cold and I remember not feeling cold at all. I also didn’t have the same awareness of time. I felt like I had been in the water for only 12 to 16 seconds. After about 15 minutes, I began to shake from the chills, as my body was no longer in a state of shock and the adrenaline was subsiding.

That night, I laid awake in my tent. Thinking about what happened. What almost happened.  What didn’t happen.

And I kept coming back to one simple point: why did I experience this?

More to come on that. For now, please enjoy butterflies puddling.