Swimming the Rapids.

Tumwater Canyon

Sunday, July 3rd. 2:13pm.

We were rapidly approaching "Slant Six," the final and biggest rapid on the Wenatchee River. "Big" is a relative term this summer, because nothing is as "big" on the Wenatchee as it should be. A drought this past winter depleted the snowmelt, meaning it's an extremely mild rafting season. In fact--the past few weeks, we've been taking Inflatable Kayaks out with the kids, because they're a lot easier to maneuver in the shallow river.

I, however, was in a hardshell kayak. This is all thanks to my friend Greg, who has been at this for 13 seasons, and insisted that I can do it. Hardshell Kayaks are scary! They're tippy, they have a very low center of gravity, and best of all--when you roll over, you are suspended upside-down under the water until you can right yourself. When you cannot right yourself, basic panic ensues while you're conking your head on the river bottom.

Above "Slant Six" was a short wave train. I rode it well, and was like, "woohoo, that's fun!" Then I remembered that Greg had told me to cut left to miss the big stuff and then back right to miss the super biggy--"Grand Finale." So I started left, but the current was pulling me right--straight towards a big hole of whitewater. "NOO!" I cried. I dug it in, but I couldn't make it, and I entered the rapid sideways, immediately flipping into that suspended upside-down pose...right at the top of the rapid, with a good fifty yards of whitewater through which to navigate.

Instinct kicked in, and I pulled my spray skirt off and grasped around the side of my boat for the surface. I ditched the boat and paddle, though, when I saw the wall of white in front of me and tried to swim away. I ended up swimming towards it and scraping my butt and back across some very angry, exposed rocks, while plummeting right through the heart of the water with just myself and my trusted life vest.

At the bottom, now floating down without boat or paddle, I swam towards one of the kids, who was on her knees in her Inflatable Kayak, safe in slow water, screaming, "I don't have a paddle!" while waving her arms. I yelled back, "I don't have a BOAT!" and grabbed onto the nose of her boat and started paddling towards shore. She kept trying to jump out of her boat, and I don't remember what I said to her, but I'm sure it was rather concise yellings of "WHAT ARE YOU DOING, CRAZY WOMAN! STAY IN YOUR BOAT!"

I pulled her safely into shore, and then walked down another hundred feet to where Adam was holding my kayak and paddle, which he had rescued from the water. I got settled back in the boat and took off down the river, glad to have the worst behind me. Greg called out, "Did anyone hit that big rock in Grand Finale?" I said, "I did. With my butt." "What?!" "Yeah, I bailed on the first big hole." He shook his head, grinned, and paddled away saying, "You know better than that."

Ahh...glorious empathy.

On the way home, Greg and Adam decided it would be fun to give me a heart attack by attacking some actual big water in Tumwater Canyon. I stood with the van at the pullout, peering over the guardrail, wondering how it is possible that man can navigate whitewater and not die.

I will learn how this is possible this upcoming weekend, when I am swimming in Tumwater Canyon for "Swiftwater Rescue Training." Is it possible for the Lord to bless you when you're taking crazy adventurous risks but calling it ministry?