10/10/2024
Previously published on Linkedin, 10 Oct., 2024.
We used to raft the Colorado and Arkansas Rivers. It was then that we learned to respect mother nature. The rivers are highest in June when runoff from Winter snows is melting. The river was ragging, huge rapids were crashing against boulders in the river and along its banks. It was a warm day, we all wore shorts and carried sack lunches and other belongings into a large black rubber raft. In those days, helmets weren't part of the gear we brought. Our river guide collected our stuff and put it into a waterproof container. It wasn't unsettling until we took time to think about what we'd witnessed along the river as we drove up the mountain to Glenwood Springs.
The only way I can describe it is how my Mom would when we were little kids, the river was 'mad'. I took my place straddling the side of the inflated raft, the guide handed me a paddle. I was ready, so were the other five people on the raft. We launched from the bank, the ride seemed tame enough, at first.
Until we caught sight of the first rapid. Our guide went into overdrive explaining to us what we were facing and how to deal with it. I watched the water ahead as it peaked with whitecaps and could hear the loud bangs of collisions between fast flowing water and rocks. The guide told us, whatever you do, keep your paddles in the water and paddle as hard as you can or we'll hit that hole and won't come out.
I focused ahead. What hole? Then I heard what sounded like an explosion of water gushing into the Colorado sky and fear took hold. I realized the sound and shooting water was the hole the guide was talking about. My mind raced to find answers. What if we hit it? We could die. We could be the next river statistic in the morning Denver Post. It's not my imagination. The truth is, some people have died on this river doing exactly what we're doing. I barely had a chance to pray before we hit the first rapid.
I looked down to see a huge black void, it may as well have been a canyon. It looked like the river water had disappeared then, in an instant, the front of the raft raised nearly straight up. I thought about what the guide said,'keep your paddle in the water' hell there was no water to put my paddle in. My paddle remained hopelessly in mid-air. Suddenly the raft slammed down and water rushed in filling the canyon and our raft. As it did, I witnessed one of our group get tossed several feet in the air and land in the river. Her husband went into panic and rescue mode. I heard him yell to her, 'don't worry honey, we'll pick you up!' or something like that. We watched as she panicked and swam to a sandbar in the middle of the river, not a great decision because the brush on the rugged island is anything but desirable.
Our guide motioned us to paddle toward her and we landed on the sand bar and helped her back onto the raft. That was all just a warning.
The exploding hole lie just ahead. I could see water rushing into a crevice that must have been extremely deep. As water hit the bottom, it would slam into rock as more water would begin the process again and another explosion would follow. It was a continuous event. The result was a geyser fifty feet wide and a hundred feet high. Our guide yelled, 'paddle hard or we'll hit it!' He didn't have to ask twice. We were all paddling with everything we had. It looked like a scene out of a old Viking movie where all the slaves were paddling together. I wanted to laugh but my forward view kept my humor in check.
Fortunately, we were able to avoid the hole and our guide waited for us to reach a calm spot on the river where he led us to a welcome bank, we ate our sack lunches, enjoyed each others company and traded stories about what we'd just experienced. We'd worked so hard our hardy appetites served reliable witness.
We re-entered the river and prepared for the next rapids. I could hear the river gurgling. Huge whitecaps marked the upcoming rapids. Before I could get comfortable, there was a loud gushing sound. I looked down to see a gapping hole. Before I could digest what was happening, the raft lifted violently from the front, then from the back. I was thrown off the side into the middle of the raft where the rubber floor is thin. I recall thinking; oh man, this is embarrassing, I'm going to drown inside this raft. Water had nearly filled the entire raft and I struggled to get back up. As I did the entire raft folded in half, each end slamming into itself. Then in an instant the raft unfolded in a violent return to its normal position. The first thing I noticed as I began to climb back onto the side and find my paddle was; everyone was gone. Even our guide was no longer there. I was it. Oh, crap I thought to myself, now what? I rushed to gather my senses and could see that the raft had traveled beyond the rapids to a calm part of the river. I could see one of my group swimming, then another and the rest. I began the process of pulling them in one at a time, asking each of them if they were ok. Everyone had survived.
This experience in the wild of the Colorado Rockies taught us an invaluable lesson. Never, ever underestimate the force of mother nature. She is powerful, has a mind of her own and none of us are her match.
I still have a souvenir T-shirt from that adventure. The inscription of the back of the shirt reads: 'I've Got the Colorado River Runs'.
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