I was white water rafting the Colorado River as part of a field trip with the Earth Science Department of the University of Northern Iowa. And that day we hit the biggest rapids yet. As I recall, water was shooting through the canyon at around 35,000 cubic feet/second. Definitely Class V rapids. And very close to being too dangerous even for our experienced guides to mess with.
I have never experienced anything so thrilling in my entire life.
The guides called the troughs of water our boats dove nose-first into "bus eaters" and they were not exaggerating. I was sitting in the back wearing nerdy goggles so my contacts didn't wash out and made sure that I kept my eyes wide open the entire time. So, eyes wide open, I gripped the ropes along the side of the boat and watched the other students in the front dive 20 feet as my end shot into the air. Then my stomach would do a quick flip flop as the butt of the boat came crashing down and I was staring up at a wall of water that, could indeed, crash over a bus with no problem. I wish I had the words to adequately describe how terrifying and exhilarating the experience was but, honestly, anything I could say would sound flat. All I know is that, before I die, I would dearly love to hit Class V rapids again.
We camped on a beach that I don't remember the name of and lit a campfire for the first time in the four days we'd been on the river. I remember alternating between exhaustion and freaking out about the day and eating hot dogs but that is about it. At some point early in the evening it came out that the entire time we were bucking and plunging in Class V's, one of the students was feeling a very sharp pain in his lower right side.
The guides and our prof gathered around him trying to figure out what to do. By the time the severity of the situation was realized, it was too late and too dark for the guide who was an EMT to take him on one of the boats alone to the nearest edge of civilization. It was decided that he would monitor the guy until first light when it would would be safe to navigate. We were told that if he got worse they would have to call in a rescue. It was pretty hot out (in the desert, you know) so I bedded down in just my rain gear for warmth and my sarong spread on the cool sand.
I have no idea what time it was when they woke us. The middle of the night. I remember the stars making it almost as bright as twilight and the walls of the canyon casting shadows on the sky (something else I want to see again). We were told that the student's condition had worsened and rescue had been called in. They were sending a helicopter to lift the kid out and fly him to a hospital. We had to wet down the beach so it could land.
One of our guides later told us that we Iowans worked quickly and efficiently. We formed a human chain passing buckets of river water to wet the fine sand. It was a small beach. If I recall correctly maybe a quarter of a football field? It still took a long time. We passed the buckets and dumped it on the ground working our way from one end of the beach to the other watching the sky and listening. Eventually we got the beach as wet as a surface made of sand can be, grabbed our gear, and dragged it into the scrub. Then we listened and watched some more.
I can't remember if we heard the helicopter or saw it first. Either way, it was far away. It had a light that it swung around searching the many canyons of Canyonlands National Park for one small group of humans. We flashed our lights a couple times. Don't know if it helped. It probably didn't. Eventually, the helicopter found us and everyone but the sick student and the EMT guide ducked into the scrub. Despite our efforts to wet the sand down as much as possible, we were pelted and kept our heads down. Nothing more could be done at our end so we bedded down in what open flattish places we could find and tried to catch some sleep before morning. I recall sliding downhill and waking up to my feet in a bush and something in the bush hissing at me. I scooted up and passed out again.
We woke up to daylight and a helicopter landing on the beach next to the first one. Turns out something (I have no idea what) was broken on the first helicopter and they had kept the student stable until the sun came up and another helicopter could be safely sent in to pick him up and take him away. One helicopter gone and one remaining. We passed out for a while more.
And woke up to a helicopter landing on the beach for the third time in just a few hours in the middle of the vast DESERT WILDERNESS of the United States. They brought a replacement part for the first helicopter. This time, I woke myself up enough to think of grabbing my goggles. They replaced whatever the heck was broken and I kept my eyes wide open and watched as two helicopters lifted off the beach, pelted us with sand, and took off into the desert sky.
We ran our last rapids of the trip that day. Nothing over a Class III. And I had the amazing fortune of being allowed to "swim" some high Class II's (by swim I mean the guide told us we were allowed to jump in with our life vests and have the current sweep us along. I laughed hysterically the entire time. In a good way.). We landed in civilization sometime midday. I don't recall where. Then we received the happy news that the sick student had been flown to a hospital somewhere in Arizona where they definitively diagnosed him with acute appendicitis (our guides kinda figured that but definitive is good). And then they took his appendix out. And we all lived happily ever after!
