When deciding what we wanted to do we knew we had to do some rafting in costa rica. We debated between the class 2/3 rapids which were closer by (only around 20 minutes away so we could do a half day excursion) or going all the way out to the Serepique river near the coast of Nicaragua where there were some class 4 rapids. We decided we wanted the experience so would schedule a whole day just for rafting. The tour guide said the rapids should be awesome since it had been raining for a couple of months, so we were excited.
When we first hopped in the van that picked us up there were three other guys with us – it was nice that I’d be in a boat with at least a little bit of strength behind the paddling. We picked up another three girls from Boston on the way from another hotel, and would later learn that the three guys would go in their own raft and I’d go with the other four girls – I was a little sad but I made the joke that at least with that many we’d be less likely of flip.
They needed two of us to take the front – usually you get the most wet, and are the most likely to fall out, so I decided to sit there along with one of the Boston girls.
We went through the standard safety procedures, a couple explanations, etc and then we started down the rapid. We were the first boat out that morning with a bunch behind us. On the first rapid of the trip, I am in the front – paddling hard. Right before we hit the rapid the guide with us reminded us if he says “get in” – get in and hold the rope tight. It was a large rapid and looked exciting.
“GET IN!!”
We hit the rapid hard, bodies flew. One of the girls crashed on top me, and I lost the rope. Eventually I came up from being tossed around underwater. Fairly optimistic – not my first time getting tossed out of a raft I tried to catch my breath, point my feet forward. Standard procedures, I waited to be rescued.
Water was moving fast – I could hear many whistles – but I was doing the usual feet forward – keeping calm. I see a paddle nearby so I grab it. I hold it in the air a little bit so someone could see me.
The whistles started to fade and I was moving very fast. Another large rapid was approaching and I was heading right for it so I braced myself. It was a bit worse than expected; I dropped a couple feet down and then was crushed by a very large wave. I was thrown around a bit, underwater for an eternity of probably around 5-6 seconds.
I swallowed a decent amount of water but came up looking for air – quickly another rapid washed me under – this time filling my lungs half way with water. I came up from the water again but could not breathe since I was choking – then swept under again. Twirled around, without having taken a breath in a while my feet were no longer facing forward – I was under water. As my knees smashed into some rocks and I was thrown backward again, it was at that point that I first really accepted that this could be how I was going to die. Shitty luck.
I came up again – the water and myself moving quickly but at least no major rapids for another 100 meters or so. I decided no one was around to help anymore so it was all up to me.
I started looking around and I noticed Katherine a bit behind me!
The whole time no one had been in front of me and the experience painfully lonesome, though her sight only made it worse as I felt terrible knowing her bad swimming water phobia self had likely experienced something similar to what I just had.
I looked forward and could see another major rapid approaching and knew while still choking it was unlikely I’d be able to handle being tossed around again.
Katherine was too far to help and I was helpless myself.
I decided to try to swim towards shore. My knees smashed on some more rocks as I tried to swim perpendicular to the strong downstream current.
I got close to the shore moving quickly – I used what felt like my last energy to grab a branch. I had hold of it! It broke immediately. I grabbed a vine that slipped through my hands. Eventually I managed to left hook a tree stump with a good amount of whiplash. I clung to it literally for dear life – wheezing – coughing up water. I sounded a bit like a choking donkey. Instantly my own relative safety made me feel terrible about letting Katherine literally continue to float downstream without a paddle. I eventually saw the second raft, all four guys paddling hard to try and get close to me on shore, missing by about 200 feet, but hitting land somewhere nearby. They called for me to come over.
I needed a minute to get the rest of the water out of my lungs.
Eventually I walked over and sat down on the ground nearby, explaining my girlfriend is not a good swimmer, she would need help. She was downstream, floating towards Nicaragua.
I felt terrible.
My legs were bleeding – people kept asking if I was OK. Did I need to go to the hospital? I was too busy puking up the water from my belly at that point to answer.
I actually felt a bit bad for the social awkwardness of the three guys who were friends sort of forced to hang out with me there while the guides accounted for the rest of the flipped boat. Occasionally they asked me if I was ok. Told them I had a lot of water in the belly. I found out one of them had been tossed out of the boat on the rapid, they got him back in the boat quickly and managed to not flip.
Eventually a boat showed up with the three other girls. I asked if they had seen Katherine. They had not but she was ok just upstream a bit – surprisingly chipper having had a bit more comfortable of an experience than I did. I later learned that we had flipped. The front two – myself included launched forward out of the boat but the 3 girls not including Katherine had gotten to shore about 250m before we did – avoiding the next major rapid area.
Our guide had flipped the boat right side up and was trying to catch us but simply could not because the raft would not go as fast as our life-jacketed bodies. The lone kayaker evidently caught up with Katherine just after I swam to shore screaming at her to “Swim hard left!” where he was able to catch up and have her grab on – paddling her to shore.
We were only about a half mile into our nine-mile trip. I had no desire to get back into the boat but did anyway. We had lost half our paddles – I no longer sat in the front but I did paddle the rest of the way. I was a bit timid of the rapids, but happy to have a paddling purpose as opposed to just sitting there. It was cold. I was quiet. It took me a bit to consciously accept all that had happened.
The
casado that I would limp towards afterwards with ice on my knee was a solemn, robotic, but delicious meal.
We tipped the kayaker who caught up with Katherine $20 which felt valid given he may have saved her life.
We decided not to buy the photo cd.
