The River

It was a warm, sunny day and the river, as it flowed beneath the bridge, looked as if it never before been visited by

humans. Sixteen year old Rick had driven by the river many times and had often thought how great it would be to float from

this bridge the ten miles or so to the next bridge downstream. Other than the fact that it flowed from point A to point B on the

same highway, Rick had no knowledge of the river itself.

Would it be easy or difficult, smooth or turbulent? Would he encounter rapids or waterfalls? All of these questions ran

through Rick’s mind as he pondered the decision, today or soon? With the impetuous nature of youth Rick decide, today.

After all, he was young and strong and had rafted often with his dad.

Once the decision was made he quickly retrieved his one man raft from the trunk of the car. Launching was no problem,

the river at this point was smooth and slow moving. As he drifted blithely downstream Rick enjoyed the day more than any he

remembered in his short sixteen years on earth. With the sun shining and a light breeze blowing, every-thing was perfection.

Rick stopped several times, unlimbered his fly rod, and with the skill he had acquired fly fishing with his dad caught and

released several plump, sassy trout. Later on, as he neared the end of his float, he would keep a few for that evening.

By mid-afternoon, after an hour of lazy, somnolent floating, Rick lay back and enjoyed the scenery. The scenery had

changed somewhat. For the first few miles the river had flowed through gentle pasture-land and had been quite placid. Now,

the river flowed more swiftly and was boxed in by large boulders and steep cliffs. During the first part of the float leaving the

river would have been easy; here it would involve some climbing. The river had also narrowed to half its previous width.

Suddenly Rick was aware that his speed had increased perceptibly. What did this mean? Were there rapids ahead, or

a waterfall? He now realized the folly of being alone, and of not knowing what lay ahead. His speed increased even more as

he tried to decide what to do Then, without warning, the river dropped away in front of him and he could see the churning

white water at meant rapids. There was nothing he could do now except hold on and use whatever rafting skills he

possessed to guide himself through the passage ahead. No way could he leave the raft and make it to shore, the river was

too swift and there were steep cliffs lining each side.

Down he swept, narrowly avoiding submerged boulders by deft handling of his oars. Rick knew that it was only a matter

of time before disaster struck. It happened sooner than expected. While maneuvering around a large boulder one of the oars

wedged between two other rocks and was torn from his grasp. Rick improvised and used the other oar as a paddle. The raft

soon became cumbersome as it filled with water, which helped slow the speed but also made it more difficult to maneuver.

Seconds later disaster struck again. Rick felt himself falling and realized he had gone over a waterfall. The raft skidded

off a rock projecting out from the stream bed and, in one sudden motion capsized, hurling Rick into a whirlpool at the foot of

the falls. Down he went, carried by the force of the water, until he was sure he would never stop.

Several seconds passed before Rick realized what had happened. Then, with the awareness that he couldn’t hold his

breath much longer, he tried to kick his way to the surface. All to no avail. The pressure of the water prevented him from

making headway against it. With lungs nearly bursting Rick decided that, as he couldn’t go up he must go down, with the flow

of the water, and try to find where it emerged at the bottom of the pool. Down he dived, blindly, allowing the water to carry

him, knowing that if there was no passage he would surely drown. Finally, he could see a glimmer of light ahead and with one

final surge he shot up to the top of the boiling cauldron.

His troubles were not yet over. The force of the water literally tumbled him down-stream, gasping for breath each time he

surfaced. With virtually his last breath Rick grasped at a large boulder and hung on.

At least ten minutes passed before Rick recovered enough to plan his next move. He looked downstream and could see

flat water ahead and could also see his raft, wrapped around a rock. To reach the flat water meant releasing his grasp on the

rock and repeating his tumbling performance of a few minutes ago. There was no alternative.

This time the trip was easier, almost like a roller coaster ride. Rick was able to stay on the surface and experienced a

thrill greater than any he had ever encountered before.

In less than a minute he reached the flat water. It was still fast moving but seemed dead calm compared to what he had

already gone through. When he reached the raft he pulled himself up on the rock where the raft had ended its journey. A brief

examination showed Rick that the raft was repairable. He could carry it the mile or two that remained to the bridge; from

there he could get a ride back to his car.

With a safe ending to his adventure now assured Rick made his way to the river’s edge and slowly climbed up a narrow

defile in the cliff, grasping handholds with one hand while dragging the raft with the other. Soon he was at the top and made

his way carefully through the trees and rocks that paralleled the river. There was an occasional gully to work his way in and

out of but after his wild ride down this was easy. When he reached a barbed wire fence he knew he was approaching

civilization and could get help.

Rick tossed his raft over then eased himself under the bottom strand. He entered a large pasture and was able to walk

easily for the first time. After he had gone about a hundred yards he heard a voice calling.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Rick looked up and saw a rather large person, dressed in blue jeans and a plaid flannel shirt, walking toward him.

“This is private property. What do you think you’re doing, Sonny?”

As the person came closer Rick saw that it was a middle-aged woman and that she was carrying a shotgun. Before he

could respond the woman continued. “Leave my property immediately or suffer the consequences. I don’t want any young

ruffians on my property.”

Rick realized that, after his experience, he must look strange, but he had never been called a ruffian before. He tried to

explain the circumstances of his being there but could see immediately that his words were falling on deaf ears. This old hag

meant business. If Rick didn’t leave her property there was no telling what she would do. He had no choice but to retrace his

steps and find his way back to the river.

“At least, tell me how far it is to the next bridge,” he replied.

“About a mile,” the woman answered.

“Thank you.”

Rick picked up his raft, re-negotiated the barbed wire and made his way back to the river. Getting to the bridge wasn’t

easy; he had to work his way along the edge through large boulders, and in some cases had to swim. At least, there were no

more rapids.

In the quieter sections Rick reflected on his day’s experience. He was extremely lucky to be alive. Never again would he

attempt such a hazardous undertaking alone and without more knowledge of where it might lead him.

A short time later he rounded a bend in the river and heard the sound of a motor vehicle; the bridge must be close. This

spurred him on to quicken his pace. Even so, it was almost dark when he at last reached the bridge and the highway.