We crawl carefully into the raft. The high quality raft, constructed of super-strong
nylon and rubber, is made for safety.
We are a mixed bag of riders – the guide, two young women in their 20s,
a young man in his 20s, the young mans son, who is three years old, and
me.
We crawl carefully into the raft. The high quality raft, constructed of super-strong
nylon and rubber, is made for safety.
We are a mixed bag of riders – the guide, two young women in their 20s,
a young man in his 20s, the young mans son, who is three years old, and
me.
We spend the 15 minutes before getting onto the raft securing life-jackets
on each of us. They have to fit well, we are told, so if by some rare chance
we go into the water, the current will not pull them off. We spend extra time
making sure the three-year-olds is properly adjusted to his small body.
We push the raft off the bank and into the full current of the mountain river.
This is a beautiful day, and our anticipation for the ride is high.
The water is cold, really cold. Only thirty miles and 10 degrees Fahrenheit
away, the water had been snow and ice. Although this is mid summer, the snow
banks high in the Colorado Rockies are still abundant, reluctantly yielding
their moisture.
“You folks sit back and relax,” assures the guide. “We arent
going to go over any strong rapids. We are just going to take an easy trip down
the river.”
Riding down the river is like floating through the pages of a National Geographic.
The guide and I visit about fly fishing. He points to places along the river
where trophy trout have succumbed to the temptation of a fly that unfortunately
for him was attached to a hook. We enter a bend in the river, and he points
to several places along the bank that usually hold good trout.
Over the bend of the river crosses a highway, and one of the pilings for the
bridge sits squarely in the middle of the river. The waters current parts
around the piling and usually pushes a raft one way or the other. On this day,
it does not.
A front corner of the raft pushes hard against the concrete piling, and somehow,
the current catches the opposite corner and begins pulling it under water.
The next few seconds are horrifying, although we probably were not in as much
danger as we thought.
The back end of the raft goes under the water, and we riders go off the raft
like falling dominos, the young ladies in the back first, then the guide, then
me and then the father and son.
I see the expressions of each face. The young ladies are shocked as they are
immersed in the icy water. The son has a huge expression of surprise. The fathers
expression is totally focused on his son. The guides expression is one
of determination as he grabs the raft to keep it from rushing on down the river.
I can only imagine mine.
The father forgets everything but clinging to his son to keep him safely in
his grasp.
We are pushed quickly down the river by its current, but the water is no more
than waist deep, and we all manage to get to the rocky shore.
We fall to the bank, exhausted and thankful we have not experienced anything
more serious than
a dumping in ice water. The guide pushes the raft ashore.
The small boy is confused but does not know enough about what just happened
to be frightened. After all, he was in his fathers keeping. The rest of
us know more, and our thanksgiving for safety is significant. I think I may
have garbled out the Doxology. If I didnt, I should have.
The little boy looks down and his prized rubber boots his grandparents had
given him are gone. He loved tromping through adventures in the mid-thigh, black
boots.
“Daddy, where are my boots?”
“In the water.”
“Daddy, lets go get them out.”
“We cant.”
“Why?”
“The water is too deep and too cold. We couldnt
find them.”
“But Daddy, I want my boots.”
With that, he started to cry.
The rest of us saw strong irony in his reaction. He was not upset that he could
have lost his life in the icy water. That was beyond his comprehension. But
he understood losing his $10 boots.
We can see ourselves in the lads reaction. We get upset about such minor
things, and that is what they are, things, while we do not have the depth of
understanding to know the truly important events swirling around us. For those
of us who are too immature to know the dangers that lurk and to understand those
profound events in which we have been saved, thank God, we, too, are in our
Fathers hands.