*Carried over from my old blog because, hey, it's a good story*
I was reading one of those oh-so-clever myspace surveys the other day and I came to the following question.
"Have you ever had a near death experience?"
With that, I thought upon an event I haven't thought about in years. And I realized it was a good story to tell.
With that I give you the story of how I almost died.
Summer of '99. I'm camping with my uncle and some friends on Lake Isabella in southern California. Nearby was the Kern River, sometimes known as the "Killer Kern" within rafting circles.
At the time, I fancied myself a proficient whitewater rafter.
To that end, myself and some of my paddler brethren decided that we should tame the vicious Kern with our combined awesomeness.
Paddles, PFDs, and raft in hand, we put into the lower Kern.
All was well, the late summer had resulted in a low fast river with plenty of hazards. All of which we conquered.
Then we came to the Royal Flush.
This rapid had some infamy in rafting circles. Most guides for the lower Kern list as a portage (i.e. skip it or risk horrifying death).
We had not read those guides.
To our credit, we pulled the raft over and hiked up to the rapid to check it out and plan our attack. After reviewing the raging torrent below us, we decided that this beast, which qualified somewhere between a V/VI class, was beyond us.
There was a small problem though.
The portage trail ended abruptly past a small bridge, onto a large square boulder in the middle of the rapid. On each side, a sheer cliff prevented us from completely bypassing it.
We portaged out to the boulder and developed our plan. We would strap all the equipment into the raft, make sure our PFDs were secured, toss the raft in and make a mad dive into it, holding on for dear life until we rode the rest out.
It seemed like a solid plan at the time.
Sadly, the current was much faster than it appeared. The moment the raft touched the water, it was gone in a flash. Only our Tillman was able to get himself into it before it was long gone.
So there we are, four of us standing on this rock, our raft long gone. We looked at each other, realizing with horror what had to be done. I had some experience riding rapids with just a life jacket, but nothing past a class IV.
This was a much MUCH more dangerous situation by far.
So we plotted out route though the rocks, swirls, and drops and resolved ourselves to the task ahead. First guy went in, nailed the route, and we watched him drift downriver. Second guy had the same success.
I went third, and of course as I went in, my river shoes slipped on the rock, falling into the water at completely the wrong angle. As the current grabbed me, it immediately pitched me over a rock into the strongest reversal I'd ever seen, sucking me straight to the bottom while spinning me endlessly.
This wasn't my first time in this situation so while unexpected, I wasn't yet panicking. As I spun, I slowly got a feel for which way it was spinning me and tried to push my way out of the axis. Just as I felt its grip on me weaken, I was spun back head over heels into the reversal again.
There were two reversals perpendicular to each other.
At this point panic had set in.
I had been underwater for what seemed like an eternity. Realistically it had probably been about 40 seconds because oxygen depervation was starting to set in. As I started to think "so, this is how I die..." I felt my foot catch a rock.
With my last ounce of strength. I planted both feet on it and pushed with everything I had left. I felt myself suddenly break free of the swirling current and the flow carried me through the rest of the rapid.
I floated to the surface, my body completely spent. As my adrenaline subsided, I felt myself slowly start to black out as I heard my name shouted from the shore.
I looked up to see the rest of my rafting crew human-chained from the shore, trying to catch me as I floated down river. the guy on the end of the chain was actually the man behind me on the rock. I had been under so long he had actually jumped in and passed me in the rapid.
I have since researched that river and that rapid in particular and found that I'm not alone. The Royal Flush has claimed many a life in it's time and had many more close calls.
At least I'm in good, adventurous (yet vasty unprepared) company.
Note: that is the rock in question in the picture, and that bridge was built after our little adventure.
I was reading one of those oh-so-clever myspace surveys the other day and I came to the following question.
"Have you ever had a near death experience?"
With that, I thought upon an event I haven't thought about in years. And I realized it was a good story to tell.
With that I give you the story of how I almost died.
Summer of '99. I'm camping with my uncle and some friends on Lake Isabella in southern California. Nearby was the Kern River, sometimes known as the "Killer Kern" within rafting circles.
At the time, I fancied myself a proficient whitewater rafter.
To that end, myself and some of my paddler brethren decided that we should tame the vicious Kern with our combined awesomeness.
Paddles, PFDs, and raft in hand, we put into the lower Kern.
All was well, the late summer had resulted in a low fast river with plenty of hazards. All of which we conquered.
Then we came to the Royal Flush.
This rapid had some infamy in rafting circles. Most guides for the lower Kern list as a portage (i.e. skip it or risk horrifying death).
We had not read those guides.
To our credit, we pulled the raft over and hiked up to the rapid to check it out and plan our attack. After reviewing the raging torrent below us, we decided that this beast, which qualified somewhere between a V/VI class, was beyond us.
There was a small problem though.
The portage trail ended abruptly past a small bridge, onto a large square boulder in the middle of the rapid. On each side, a sheer cliff prevented us from completely bypassing it.
We portaged out to the boulder and developed our plan. We would strap all the equipment into the raft, make sure our PFDs were secured, toss the raft in and make a mad dive into it, holding on for dear life until we rode the rest out.
It seemed like a solid plan at the time.
Sadly, the current was much faster than it appeared. The moment the raft touched the water, it was gone in a flash. Only our Tillman was able to get himself into it before it was long gone.
So there we are, four of us standing on this rock, our raft long gone. We looked at each other, realizing with horror what had to be done. I had some experience riding rapids with just a life jacket, but nothing past a class IV.
This was a much MUCH more dangerous situation by far.
So we plotted out route though the rocks, swirls, and drops and resolved ourselves to the task ahead. First guy went in, nailed the route, and we watched him drift downriver. Second guy had the same success.
I went third, and of course as I went in, my river shoes slipped on the rock, falling into the water at completely the wrong angle. As the current grabbed me, it immediately pitched me over a rock into the strongest reversal I'd ever seen, sucking me straight to the bottom while spinning me endlessly.
This wasn't my first time in this situation so while unexpected, I wasn't yet panicking. As I spun, I slowly got a feel for which way it was spinning me and tried to push my way out of the axis. Just as I felt its grip on me weaken, I was spun back head over heels into the reversal again.
There were two reversals perpendicular to each other.
At this point panic had set in.
I had been underwater for what seemed like an eternity. Realistically it had probably been about 40 seconds because oxygen depervation was starting to set in. As I started to think "so, this is how I die..." I felt my foot catch a rock.
With my last ounce of strength. I planted both feet on it and pushed with everything I had left. I felt myself suddenly break free of the swirling current and the flow carried me through the rest of the rapid.
I floated to the surface, my body completely spent. As my adrenaline subsided, I felt myself slowly start to black out as I heard my name shouted from the shore.
I looked up to see the rest of my rafting crew human-chained from the shore, trying to catch me as I floated down river. the guy on the end of the chain was actually the man behind me on the rock. I had been under so long he had actually jumped in and passed me in the rapid.
I have since researched that river and that rapid in particular and found that I'm not alone. The Royal Flush has claimed many a life in it's time and had many more close calls.
At least I'm in good, adventurous (yet vasty unprepared) company.
Note: that is the rock in question in the picture, and that bridge was built after our little adventure.