While I might be great in water, rivers are dangerous and unpredictable. But dammit, I can’t let this woman’s dog die. I spot a downed tree that extends well into the river. I run to it and scoot across.
“Durango!” CT shouts.
I twist in his direction as he throws me a rope. Then I turn my attention back to Tiny. He’s heading toward me and about to go under the tree I’m perched on. I reach down as Tiny passes under and am able to grab him and haul him up onto the tree with me. This is not a light dog by any means, but I’m able to get the rope tied onto hiscollar. CT is standing at the river’s edge, and I try to push Tiny toward him as CT pulls on the rope. The dog is scared, but when his owner calls him, he runs down the tree and jumps onto the grass.
CT picks up the dog and runs around the house, likely putting him into the car. I start making my way toward land as well, but a loud crack pierces the air. Uh oh. That’s not good.
There’s another crack. The tree is breaking away from the roots.
CT runs back, holding the rope as the tree twists, about to break from its roots and send me downstream.
“Catch!” CT throws the rope as the log moves again. It misses, and I can’t reach it.
I swear the current has picked up in the short time I’ve been on this tree.
CT throws the rope again, and I catch it. “Watch out!” CT shouts.
I look upstream in time to see what appears to be part of a wooden shed heading straight for me. I can’t get out of the way, and it smacks into my hand and the tree. I lose grip on the rope, and the tree breaks off from shore.
“Durango!” CT yells.
The current quickly pushes me out of sight of my friend. The shed is pushed up against the tree, and I try to climb onto it, but the tree spins, sending me under the water. I try to get above water, but I can’t get in front of the log. I push myself against the current, trying to get to the other side of the shed. It’s my only chance to get above water. My hands move along the log and over onto theshed. It seems like minutes that I’m under, but it’s likely seconds.
The water is freezing, and I have to get my head above water. Finally, my hands find the edge of the shed and reach up above the water. I grip something and haul myself up, gasping for air. Now that I can see, I spot a two-by-four that has come partly unattached, and I grab it, pulling my body out of the water and onto the top of the shed.
Keeping my eyes on both sides of the river, I look for something I might be able to grab onto to get away from the strongest part of the current.
About one hundred feet downstream are two men are waving to me. I try to use my body weight to turn the shed in their direction. But it’s no use. The water is moving too fast, and I have no control over the structure I’m sitting on.
As I pass the men, they are waving their hands and jumping up and down. One is shouting something. The river is so loud I can’t hear. I put my hand to my ear, and he shouts louder.
“Waterfall!” He points in the direction I’m going.
The familiar sound of water rushing down grows louder. I can’t see where the water drops off, but I don’t have much time. As I pass under a tree, I grab on, hoping to hoist myself up into its branches. But the branch I grab breaks, sending me back onto the shed.
One of the men who was shouting is now running along the river, but he can’t keep up. The rushing water grows louder. I glance up and can’t see the river beyond, about twenty feet in front of me. There are no more trees above me, and I’m in the middle of the river with no way topaddle or get to the edge. Ten feet. I realize I can’t see the river because that’s where it drops off.
Five feet. I have no choice. I’m going over. All I can do now is brace for impact. With no clue how far this water drops, I have no idea if this shed will remain intact. Hoping for the best, I grab onto the doorknob at the last minute. And then I see the drop. It’s big. Too big for a free fall. I close my eyes as I go over. Please let this be painless.
