My left hand was flapping and fluttering, like a leaf in a hurricane storm.
In other words, it, and only it, extended beyond the edge of this submerged rock face, where I was trapped. With the entire force of Sunburst beating me down.
But don’t you know that resistance is everything in the face of a current of tyranny. Even a tiny bit.
So I pried my right hand free, my body turning sideways, a bit. Putting my two hands together, forming a small hand paddle, which I angled straight into the face of that insane, overwhelming rush of whitewater.
And suddenly, I was free. Ripped free, like a rag doll, from the prison where I’d been trapped.
No, never. Ever. In my entire life had I ever been so desperate for a breath of air…
And, seconds later, I got it. As I bobbed to the surface and gasped, like I never had before. For a gulp of air, to put that life-saving oxygen back into my lungs, heart, and entire bloodstream.
And I thank God, that H.H. and E.B. were also right there on the nearby shoreline. Indeed, H.H. had my paddle in his hand, which he extended to reach me in the rushing waters. No, I didn’t miss it.
I wouldn’t allow it, as I was heading downstream towards Charlie’s Hole, which would claim the first kayaker’s life at Great Falls, a few years after this incident.
Then, I scrambled onto shore. Watching, stunned, as my kayak suddenly exploded out from the base of the falls. Then, proceeded to drift downstream right to us on the shore. Unreal!
Funny thing was, I still wasn’t completely safe, since there was just no way to escape from the rest of the rapids, except for me to ferry my kayak back across the rushing waters to the safety of the Maryland shore. That said, I was able to do that. Then, abort the rest of my run of the falls that day. Thus, my ordeal that day was finally over. However, there were just a few more things to deal with in the aftermath.
For starters, none of the other whitewater kayakers that I told about my ordeal underneath the surface of the Potomac ever believed me. Not E.B. Not J.R. Not R.R. No one. Then again, I suspected that maybe they just didn’t want to hear my story. Otherwise, they’d have to acknowledge the existence of all those dark corners, crooks, and crannies in the riverbed where they, too, might get trapped, someday, and drown, like I almost had.
I mean, it’s something that you conceptually understand that could always happen to you as a whitewater kayaker. But, in reality, you’re not ever gonna believe that it’ll actually ever happen to you. But it did almost happen to me.
And maybe the reality of that near drowning experience was just too much for me. Cause, I couldn’t shake it. I almost lost everything at Great Falls that day.
And this is even crazier, considering that. But I did go back and kayak Great Falls again. And again. No way was I gonna end it all on that. But something had changed. As I no longer had the passion for the whole experience anymore. Moreover, in other aspects of my life, I could feel a darkness and anxiousness creeping in.
A few months later, I remember drifting in my kayak on the Potomac River. Through Mather Gorge. Beautiful, stunning, stark.
Meanwhile, all I felt was emptiness. No joy. No happiness. Then slowly, but surely, over the next few months, even years, I felt these dark, deadly currents dragging me back down into a cold, dark, desolate place. And suffocating me, just like they’d done to me that day at the falls.
In time, with all this going down, I’d reach the nadir of my life. My ultimate struggle for survival and salvation, which you can read about here. If you want to understand the nature of fear.
Eventually, though, in time I’d prevail over those demons in my life. Reinvent myself in my struggle to regain my mental and spiritual well-being. At which point, I soon found some new things that I loved doing in life, like hiking, backpacking, and especially fly fishing. But that change of activities made a lot of sense to me, especially when you consider this old adage that we used to bandy about as whitewater raft guides, which goes something like this:
There are old kayakers. And there are bold kayakers… But there are no old and bold kayakers.
And, in the end, this was also why my blog was conceived as, Save Quit Fish. And not, Save Quit Kayak.
Anyway, thank you for reading my post about Losing It All At Great Falls. If you’ve enjoyed reading this. Then, I have no doubt that you’ll love my novel, Big Thunder-Hearted River, as it’s loosely based on my unforgettable adventures as a whitewater raft guide in Western North Carolina. And amidst all of the nonstop action, mystery, and intrigue, you’ll also follow the daring journey of whitewater raft guide, Eddy Arway, as he boldly leads tourists down North Carolina’s untamed Thunder River. While desperately trying to uncover one of the river’s oldest secrets, before it’s too late and his fate gets sealed. So if you really want to immerse yourself in a daunting, river journey from its legendary beginnings to its jaw-dropping end; well then, definitely get yourself a copy here. Whitewater, legend, and love collide in my debut novel.
To Kayak Great Falls:
Also, if there are any expert kayakers out there, who’ve just finished reading this post, here, and are still interested in learning more about kayaking Great Falls, itself. I’d recommend starting your research at American Whitewater’s website.
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Gary Alan
After a long career in the publishing industry, Gary Alan left his corporate job to pursue his next adventures in life as a blogger, writer, investor, fly fisherman, hiker, and traveler. He is the author of the adventure fiction book, 'Big Thunder-Hearted River'.