The River Below the Falls

Kieran had run this stretch of river a dozen times with the outdoor club. He had never done it with the water this high, though, after three days of rain. Sofia paddled just ahead of him, her kayak riding low over the current.

"Stay river-right past the rock garden," their instructor Elias shouted from the bank. "The channel on the left is faster than it looks."

Sofia didn't hear him, or she misjudged the line — Kieran was never sure which. Her kayak clipped a submerged rock, spun sideways, and flipped before she could brace against it.

Kieran's stomach dropped. He had been trained for exactly this moment, though training and the real thing felt nothing alike.

"Sofia's out!" he called, already angling his kayak toward where her paddle had surfaced. She popped up seconds later, gasping, being pulled downstream faster than she could swim.

"Swim to me, not to shore!" Kieran shouted. If she tried to fight straight across the current, she would tire before reaching either bank.

She turned and swam with the flow, angling gradually toward him. Kieran reached out his paddle, and she gripped the end with both hands.

"I've got you. Kick if you can, don't pull," he said. He was remembering exactly what Elias had taught them, on a calm afternoon that now felt like a different lifetime.

Together they worked toward an eddy behind a large boulder, where the water finally slowed. Elias had been running along the bank the whole time, and he met them there, already reaching down to help pull Sofia out.

"You're okay. You're okay," he kept saying, more to himself than to her, it seemed.

Sofia sat on the rocks, shivering but laughing with relief. "I really thought I had that line."

"You almost did," Kieran said. "Next time, we go right."

Elias radioed the rest of the group to hold above the rapid until the water dropped. The three of them hiked the bank trail back to camp instead, kayaks balanced on their shoulders.