Into the Rapids

One minute, Wyatt was perched on the edge of the raft like everyone else. The next, he was falling overboard, right into the monstrous rapids.

They were on the Arkansas River, navigating a 10-mile stretch of whitewater that passed through one of Colorado’s deepest canyons. There were seven people on the raft: six paddlers and Brody, their guide. Brody had cautioned them that some of the rapids would be intense. “Just follow my commands and we’ll do fine,” he yelled over the thundering river.

Wyatt had become accustomed to Brody’s instructions of “Forward one stroke!” and “Forward two!” But now Brody was telling them to paddle backward.

Just seconds earlier, they had freed another raft that was hung up on a rock by intentionally slamming into the stalled raft. But the momentum had caused their own raft to enter some tricky rapids too quickly.

“All back, everyone, hard!” Brody shouted. “We do not want to hit this!” But it was too late. The raft rammed into the canyon wall. As they bounced back, one end of the raft was sucked downward. Suddenly, water was pouring in everywhere.

The paddlers struggled to keep their balance, but as the boat popped back up, Wyatt was thrown backward into the water. His body took off like a shot.

He was overwhelmed by the river’s frightful power. The water tossed him around, pummeling him with waves, pulling him under, thrusting him up. He caught breaths whenever he could.

He looked over his shoulder, expecting to see Brody about to toss him the lifeline, but he’d already moved 50 yards ahead of the raft.

I can’t believe this is happening, Wyatt thought. On either side of him, the canyon walls rose straight up like skyscrapers, offering nothing to hold on to. 

He tried to remember the safety talk he had half-listened to. “If you fall out, we’ll either pull you back in or I’ll throw you a lifeline,” Brody had told them.

Wyatt’s brother, Johnny, had leaned toward him, whispering, “Wouldn’t it be awesome to fall in?”

“Like a flume ride,” Wyatt had joked, grinning.

Dad had shushed them, making it clear they should be listening to the guide.

 “If you do fall in,” Brody had continued, “don’t stand up. Float on your back, feet facing downriver and held high so your legs can cushion any rocks you might run into.”

Wyatt rolled onto his back now, pointing his feet downstream, and lost his grip on the paddle that was still in his hand. He watched as the paddle quickly disappeared into the whitewater.

He knew he had to let go of the idea that someone was going to swoop down and save him. I have to get out of this myself, he realized.

He thought of his middle-school basketball tournament — how he had kept calm and blocked out the crowd while shooting foul shots. Don’t panic, he told himself.

The river quieted momentarily and Wyatt was able to catch his breath. Around the bend, he saw a stretch of riverbank with some tumbled-down rocks that might provide a handhold.

Then he saw something even more promising: the raft they’d freed earlier was pulled up alongside the riverbank. Its crew spotted Wyatt and started waving frantically. “Swim!” they shouted. “Swim to us!”

His hopes ignited, Wyatt turned onto his stomach and swam. He gave it everything he had.

 “You can make it!” they yelled.

He was getting closer, but the relentless current was pushing him downstream, away from the raft. Wyatt adjusted his angle by aiming higher upriver and swam even harder, using every last ounce of energy.

Finally, he was just a yard away. Knowing this was his only chance, he took two strokes and lunged for the raft. 

Immediately, he felt strong hands grabbing hold of his life vest and pulling him from the river. As he collapsed in a shaking heap, someone asked him if he was OK, but Wyatt was too winded to speak.

A moment later, his team’s raft pulled up next to them. After Wyatt had recovered, Dad, Brody, and the other guide helped him climb into their raft.

“You did a great job getting out of a dangerous situation,” Brody told him. “You really kept your head.”

Wyatt grinned self-consciously, and then Brody said, “OK, team. We’ve got one more set of rapids today, and then we’re home free.”

Wyatt looked at him in disbelief.

“Don’t worry. They’re small,” Brody said reassuringly. “Besides, the river’s our only ticket home.”

Wyatt nodded as Brody handed him an extra paddle. He had a new respect for the river’s power. But now, that same power was going to carry him safely back.

Brody pushed them off. “Forward paddle, everyone!” he called. And they started for home.