Captain Adventure in Fort Fun

Originally written on or about May 9, 2004

Yesterday, I went with my brother and his friend John to Fort Collins where we drove up the Poudre Valley Canyon so as to introduce me to the thrills of whitewater kayaking. John has just moved back to Denver after spending the past three years in San Diego and Seattle. He is a fairly experienced kayaker and plans to get in as many weekend days as he can for the next three months while the water flow is high.

I have never been on the river. When I was a young boy, we used to go to a lake in Minnesota during the summer. There I played in a small lake kayak that I paddled back and forth across the lake just because I had the boyish energy to do so. I was comfortable with the general idea of how to propel and steer such a craft.

We rented gear from an outfitter that John had often used before, and the owner stopped to speak with John and his guests at length. Turns out that yesterday was the first real day of the season. They have been waiting for the waters to rise enough. They were predicting that the heavy flows would not be kicking up until next weekend, but things got started a little early.

I rented an inflatable kayak called a duckie. It's like a blow up canoe with an inflatable bump in the middle that serves as a brace and a back rest. I also rented a wetsuit, booties, a waterproof, sealable wind breaker, helmet, life jacket, and paddle. I was all ready to go.

We drove up the canyon nearly to Mishawaka. There are some Class V falls above and again right at Mishawaka. The Poudre unwinds from there. We scouted the pickup point and a few of the first turns and rapid sets. Then we parked the car and unloaded all of our gear. John and I got set up to take the first trip down. Peter would drive the car down to the pickup point so that we could repeat the trip with alternating players.

During the car ride up the canyon John emphasized the most important points that we would need to know:

     1) If you fall out, keep your feet up. Do not try to stand. The force of the river will snap your legs on unseen hazards.
     2) Follow your strokes all the way through. Keep stroking to maintain your balance and control.
     3) Look to the clear path. You will end up where you are looking, so do not stare at the big drop off. Look to the smaller rapids.

I understood all of the rules and the reasons behind them. I was ready to jump in the water. I got all suited up and went over the rules and some strategy with John before getting in the boat.

The first thing that I did was mistake the back rest for the seat. I sat up high on my horse and promptly fell in. We played around with the boat and figured out my mistake. Later I would watch other guys get in and out of their duckies. The other boats had straps for your knees to tuck into for better control and stability that mine did not have. The straps met up with a footrest that allowed you to use your legs to hold yourself in the boat and to get the best leverage possible from whatever angle you happened to be heading. My kayak did not have these things. I would just need to balance in my inflatable duckie and float down the river on top of the swirling currents.

Not twenty-five yards from where we put in, I faced my first set of rapids. This area was Class IV rapids on the first day of the year with the waters churning fast and rumbling loudly to a crowd of local enthusiasts.

I remind you now that I had never been on the river before.

As I headed by the first big rock, an outlier before things got nasty, the current pulled my kayak tight against the rock and trapped me there. I was locked in by rushing water that now suddenly seemed to be moving faster than I had realized and was powerful in a way that I had not imagined. I took a few strong strokes being certain to follow through.

I spun free of the big rock and was instantly headed for the big rapids. The roar was loud and getting louder. The rumble and rage of the water seemed to be building in some sort of percussive crescendo. Clearly the moment was at hand.

I darted by John unable to hear any of his final words of advice. At the top of the rapids I glanced a view down the river. I was shocked by the clear drop off ahead. I knew, obviously, that the water was running down hill. I just hadn't realized how steep the hill was. In front of me lay fifty meters of angry, brown water churning ferociously and constantly spraying off the huge boulders that formed the canyon and the rapids.

I paddled as hard as I could toward the right bank. I kept my eyes to a path on the right. I thought that if I could pick my path a bump or two at a time like I do with moguls, then I would be fine. But I never made it to the right.

Through the middle of the river, the current was fast. Suddenly my boat was again sucked up and pinned by the water against a huge rock. I looked down to my right and saw a four foot drop into the churn. Before I could figure out which side I should use my paddle on, my kayak suddenly was overrun with water. The change in pressures was just enough to dump the kayak over. I was falling.

Not falling, flying! I was suddenly hurdling through the rushing waters. Keep your feet up! Now breathe!

But I couldn't breathe. I was already and always underwater or had water rushing by and over my face. I knew which way up was: the opposite way that I was being sucked and pulled. Suddenly a chance for a big gasp of air as the water fell away from around me and I fell down another drop off. Back underwater. I was thankful that I had the tight fitting helmet, but my life jacket was not nearly tight enough at the waist. It rose up and pushed my head underwater. I crossed my arms up to my shoulders and pulled myself up by my life jacket. I was gasping and swallowing a lot of water. I was being spun and shaken and flipped and sloshed and mauled.

As I gasp for air I notice all of the people watching on the banks. I think to myself that they will all feel awful when I'm dead and they didn't do anything. The thought continues on though: they shouldn't be in here; no one should be in here.

I catch about three or four consecutive full breaths as the waters run deep for a moment before I am sent through the last part of this portion of the falls. I get my feet up try to grab hold of a boulder I am carried past. I am soon pinned like my kayak against the rock only to be almost instantly scrubbed off.

As I fight to keep my head and feet up through the last set of rocks, I think about death. I never thought I was about to die, but at the same time, I was very aware that I was a microsecond away from it all going wrong at any point.

Then suddenly it was over. The rapids stopped and I was able to get over to the right bank. John brought my boat and paddle right over. I was shaken, shaking, and exhausted. The waterproof jacket had nearly killed me. Water rushed in and couldn't get out. I had been fighting the currents with sleeves filled with water.

It took me a good fifteen minutes to catch my composure. John assured me that we were through the worst of it. There were no more Class IV's below us. I had swum the Class IV and should have no problems from here.

So I got back in the boat. We finished out the last 15 meters of smooth river, and I shot through a small rapids field without incident. That little field promptly dropped off into a set of Class III rapids. I headed right, my boat was pulled alongside a large boulder then promptly filled with water and dumped me out to swim the Class III. The introduction nearly identical to the IV's.

I'm too new to the sport to distinguish III's from IV's, but believe me when I tell you that the III's can be pretty rough too. The river seemed to turn more in this part of the river and I went from side to side gasping, thrashing, gulping huge amounts of water and thinking, "Man, this water is cold and delicious. I'm going to drown in the most refreshing water." I was really thinking that.

I was heading to a big rock on the left bank. It was a huge boulder the protruded into the river and formed a nice little seating area for folks to watch the kayakers go by. But there also seemed to be a big deep spot of water in front of that boulder that was sucking everything down and then by. I frantically flailed to stay to the right. I again was pushed and pressed against a large rock. This time though I was slowly being pulled down instead of being pushed by. For five or ten seconds I tried to pull myself onto the rock. I realized then that I just had to get away from the rock before I was sucked under. I pushed away hard and was spit down into a deep section below and behind where I had been pinned.

I headed into a modest section of little rapids but found myself too tired to keep going. Again, I didn't think I was actually about to die, but I did realize that I was truely facing mortal peril. I crossed my arms and pulled my head up from the life jacket and just tried to catch a few breaths.

I caught my breath as the water again reverted to babbling. This time I was able to hold a rock as I went by. I pulled myself up and began to catch my breath again. I was more shaken this time; more exhausted. My left hand was scratched, raw, and bloody from the rocks. The rocks had drawn blood from my arms and legs through the wetsuit and jacket. My legs and arms were shaking. When I tried to draw a full breath, I could only shiver. My bouyant paddle had disappeared. It was sucked down below one of those big boulders and never came back up. We never found it. I paid $100 to replace the thing and thought merely that I was lucky that only the paddle had been sucked under.

John assured me that from here down, we would not face any further big rapids. But I couldn't get back in the kayak. I was to the point that if I had fallen out again, I am not sure I would have had the strength to make it through that kind of fight.

John rode the rest of the way to the meeting point alone. He and Peter came back and decided to only take the river from the point where I had ultimately quit. I had lost the paddle on my second swim, but they were able to borrow one from an accommodating fellow with an extra.

I waited with the dog while they took their run. I chatted with the other kayakers making their way down and back up the river. Universally, I was told that I was due an apology (which I received 100 fold) for being started where I was. I was also universally encouraged to try it again.

John wants to go up again next weekend. The waters should be higher and faster. I have some deep bruises and a few cuts and gashes that need to heal, but I think I'll be back up there soon.

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