Of Dumb Decisions and Lightening Storms on a River

 

I saw the wind gust in the sheets of rain before they hit, and still I was almost knocked off my feet. Grappling around me for something to hold other than the thorns, I cupped my hands around my eyes and yelled again “Ellen?!?” She came into view, hair dripping, tube lifted above her head, wobbling as she tried to make her way up through the blackberry bushes tugging at her swimsuit. That’s when the hail started, one little ice nodule going straight into my right ear hole and lodging itself there. My vision blurred while branches began whipping my entire body. And boy was I praying.

It's been a week of making silly, little, dumb mistakes. I blame the heat. It’s been hot. Really hot. So when we started making plans to float the Rhine, Thursday was the first possible day and the most ideal as it promised to be our highest high yet. Three of us rushed Ellen out of work around 6 and headed west to the France-Germany river border. When we dropped off the one car at the “end” spot, I did make everyone look up at the clouds once and asked, “What do we think? Is it going to rain?” We all shrugged that we’d get wet anyway and went for it.

45 minutes into our 90-minute float, the two former lifeguards were pushing us with all their might toward the riverbank, lightning hot on our heels. Of course it was the deepest part of the river and there were thorny blackberry bushes on the steep bank, making it impossible to grab on. “Let’s used that down log to pull ourselves to shore,” I shouted. That may have been the biggest mistake of the week, for with the water levels where the were and the wind being what it was, instead of helping us, the log flipped Ellen. With her tube caught between the log and her body and the current threatening to wash her underneath, it took all three of us to pull her into one of our own tubes and then get around the log as best we could. 

While Ellen and I took longer to find a manageable berth, Alissa and Stephanie managed to scramble up in a milder spot, using the long grass as grips. So they were - we thought - safe up on the path when that initial wind gust and hail hit. Because of the wind, Ellen and I didn’t hear them scream when a tree branch broke off and smashed into the path a mere 5 feet from them. By the time we were all on the path, huddled under our tubes for “protection,” we had the understanding that this was no small storm that would just blow over. I estimated that we were pretty much halfway between cars, so we elected to go to the one parked at the end, which turned out to be the wisest choice all day.

We trekked for nearly an hour, probably 3-4 kilometers in our swimsuits, dragging the tubes, sometimes using them as shields when the rain intensified. There were fallen branches and even a couple of trees on the path. The sun began setting, and I could tell dusk was settling in. When Alissa’s car came into view, we all nearly melted for relief that we weren’t just alive, but had a way home. 

However, the adventure wasn’t quite done. We drove back to the start to retrieve my car, only to find the way blocked by a downed tree and powerline. Alissa bravely forged a trail far away from the wires through the top branches of the tree so that we could see if my car was okay and get our cell phones. Sure enough, it was okay, but we had to leave it for the night since there was no other way out. Using our phones as flashlights, we worked our way back to Alissa’s car and began answering the 29 messages we had, mostly from Alissa’s husband, wondering about our welfare. A friend drove me back the next day, and I was able to drive my car home, the adventure finally feeling like it had truly ended well.

Don’t worry. I’ve learned my lesson.

What it's supposed to look like (an earlier trip)