Happy To Be Alive....Basically

I told Justin that whatever happened, he was not to get into the boat with that family. We were at the Ottawa River, about to go white-water rafting again. It was one of our favourite pastimes and since my husband was in Spain, we decided to take a little holiday and do something fun together.

The day before, the rafting company took all of the potential rafters out in 12-man rafts to practice their existing skills or to gain new ones.  Our guide was a young woman who spent most of her time telling us off-colour jokes; very inappropriate considering there were several young children 'on board'.  She did almost nothing to instruct us in the art of rafting. Among the twelve, was a family of four. The father was loud and his mannerisms were grating.  I remarked quietly to Justin that this was obviously the first time in a boat for the family. They didn't know how to hold the paddles, much less manipulate the raft. The instructor announced that the next day we would be in rafts of six and one person on each raft would have to be the guide.  She asked if there was anyone who would like the job. I nudged Justin.  We had been rafting several times before and even though he only fifteen, he was very good at canoeing.

"Put your hand up, please."  I whispered.
  
"No, I don't want to."

Something inside told me to insist.
  
"Put your hand up!" 

"No, let someone else do it!" 

"Please, do it for me," I hissed.

"No, I really don't want to." 

The 'father' raised his hand, and even though his lack of experience must have been glaringly obvious to the instructor, he was made captain of one of the rafts for the following day.

When we disembarked and were walking back to the lodge, we discussed the father, his timid wife and children, and their dearth of knowledge and general clumsiness when it came to rowing. 

"I'm so happy we don't have to be in their boat tomorrow.  I feel sorry for the unfortunate people who'll be stuck with them."  

At the same time, I had a strong sense of foreboding.  

The feeling that something terrible was going to happen kept me awake most of the night.  I attributed it to my imagination, telling myself that everything would be just fine. The next morning, bright and early, we were off to the meeting place.  As we were walking to join the others - some 45 to 50 people - I noticed the johnny-on-the-spot and thought I would use it before we set off.  

Before I went in, I turned to Justin and said, “Whatever happens, do NOT get into the raft with that family.”

"I won't," he promised.
  
When I exited the W.C. and walked toward the river's edge, I saw him standing near a raft with the family.  My heart sank and panic set in.  

“What are you doing here?” I whispered angrily.  “I told you NOT to go with them!” 

“The father saw me and called me over. He said there were four of them and two of us and that we should come in the boat with them.  I didn’t know how to get out of it.”

“You should have said NO!”  

Instead of listening to the small, insistent voice that was telling me to take my son and run back to the lodge, I unwisely relented. 

We climbed into the raft with the unpleasant man and his family.  The other groups got into their rafts and were on their way.  We followed. From the outset, it was hard-going.   The wife and children tried to help, but their efforts were ineffectual. Justin and I were the only ones who knew how to paddle and we had the weight of a large raft and four other people to carry.  We lagged far behind the other boats.  The father laughed and joked and was generally obnoxious. 

"Hey, look at those mounds over there, hon.  They kinda look like yours.  And that one over there, looks like a johnson."  I was disgusted.  How could he talk like that in front of his children and strangers?  Justin had finally had enough and angrily told the man to pay attention to where he was going and to start guiding the boat. It took forever to reach the rendezvous point at the river bend where all of the others had been waiting for us for some time.  

Two guides were with the rest of the 'armada' ready to tell us about the level 5 (dangerous level - level 6 being the most dangerous) water chute we were about to experience and how to make it down safely.  One of them told us that we were to stay to the left at the beginning...NOT to go to the right. When he gave each of us the go-ahead, we were to paddle hard to the left, then as we started our descent we were to stop paddling, get low in the raft and then midway down we were to get up and paddle very hard and very fast to the right. They assumed that we all knew our left from our right, but failed to take into account our 'captain' who, as usual, was having a grand old time, joking around and laughing and guess what....not listening.  

The rafts started down one by one and once each made it down safely, the two leaders got the next one lined up, ready to go.  We were up next.  As we began our descent, our 'leader' started shouting, 

"Right, right...hard!"  

His family started paddling furiously. 

Justin yelled, "NO, not right....LEFT, you idiot!"  

Too late!  Wrong way!  Our raft plunged down into the crevice we were supposed to avoid, and was tossed up by the rushing water. Then, when we were supposed to paddle right, the leader shouted, "Left!" and took us smack dab into another deep crevice.  We were wedged in, the raft bucking and shaking violently under a waterfall on the left side of the boat.  It flipped to the right briefly, and the whole family was ejected from the raft into the boiling rapids. Justin and I were left alone in the boat.  He was ahead of me and I was near the back.  At that time, I had a good 10 kilos on him, so the back of the boat was low in the water. The water from the falls crashed heavily on me, pushing me down and making it nearly impossible to sit up or to take a breath without choking.  It was unceasing in its effort to crush and drown me. Justin's end of the boat was high and clear of the falls.  He managed to turn around, and tried several times to help me sit up under the overpowering weight of the water, but was struggling to stay on the raft himself, so there was little he could do for me. 

"Are you all right?" he shouted. 

"Mama, are you all right?"

I couldn't breathe, the deluge was choking me, but I didn't want to scare him. 

I finally managed to gasp, "I'm okay."  I was very far from okay.

The water continued to hammer me.  I was sure I was going to drown.  I was being asphyxiated by the continual onslaught.  I couldn't hold on to my paddle and the ropes on each side of the raft, so I released the paddle. Many minutes passed. I struggled to hang on but we were being tossed from side to side so violently that all of my efforts were becoming more and more futile.  I could see several of the guides standing at the side of the river watching us helplessly.  My arms ached and were weakening. I was terrified of being tossed overboard, but it was too much.  The relentless flood of water in my face and the powerful lurching of the raft finally won out; without warning, I found myself in the water. I could see the belly of the raft above me. The current lifted me up until my face was touching the underside. 

I'd had no time to take a breath before being plunged into the water and knew that this was it.  My life was over.

"Lord, I never thought I would die this way." 

Just as I was about to inhale, the current spewed me out from under the raft, head first, into the river.  Coughing and gagging, I sucked the air in greedily. Anyone who knows anything about rafting, knows that one must never, never go head first down a current.  I knew that, but had been drained of all energy and couldn't even attempt to turn. Thankfully, we were all wearing helmets because there were large rocks blocking my passage downstream.  I banged hard into several.  The current eventually slowed and several men were able to swim out and drag me to safety.  When I was able to stand up, I was crying hysterically and praising God for allowing me to live another day.  I learned then, that the group had been waiting for more than twenty minutes.

But where was my son?  I started to panic, imagining many different scenarios, all of them with tragic endings.  Panicking, I frantically yelled his name over and over.  

A good five minutes later he appeared, sitting bolt upright at the front of the raft, smiling to beat the band, paddling like the almost expert that he was.  The rafters and guides broke into spontaneous applause and shouted, "Bravo, bravo!" I had almost died a horrible death, and my son was being celebrated as a hero. The injustice of it all!  But, I was overjoyed and so thankful he was alive that I immediately forgave him his new-found celebrity!

There's a lesson to be learned somewhere in all of this.  Pay attention to that still, small voice.  Don't ignore it...not ever!  When it tells you to run, listen to it and high-tail it outta there!  

Later that evening, we went to an expensive restaurant to celebrate.  I'm sure I had never before and have never to this day, enjoyed food as much as I did that night. I've heard that this is quite common when one has had a near-death experience.

Justin said I was sighing a lot.   As he put it, 'happy to be alive, basically'.