It was a day I'll never forget; water gushing from all sides, threatening to take us along with it, while we stood there helplessly for nearly two hours. It was one of those moments in life when one thinks, “these things happen to someone else”. Only this time, that “someone one else” was me and the six other people in the raft.
How did we get into such a predicament?
Well, the monsoons were in full swing in South India when my husband and I decided to head to Coorg for a short vacation. It was supposed to be a typical road trip, relaxing, lazy and away from our usual routine. Now when I look back, relaxing may not be the most appropriate word to describe it. Let me fast-forward to day two, when we drove down to the Barapole river from Kutta town in Coorg where we were staying.
We'd heard to much about white water rafting and weren't going to miss the chance to try it. For those of you who haven’t heard of it, Barapole is a turbulent river that winds along the beautiful jungles of the Bramhagiri Wild Life Sanctuary before joining the Arabian sea. With more than Class 2 and Class 4 rapids, it's the adrenaline-junkie's wet dream and the aquaphobic's worst nightmare. This is because these rapids offer the most challenging rafting opportunity along the 4 kilometer stretch, which ideally lasts for an approximate two hours.
Helmets and lifejackets on, it was time to paddle away. The river, brimming with the recent rains, beckoned us as we followed the instructor's commands to “row forward” and “row backwards”. As part of the training, before we hit the rapids, we were required to jump overboard in order to familiarize ourselves with the water, and understand how to stay float with the lifejackets on. Despite being an average swimmer, I needed several minutes of persuasion and coaxing before I jumped in. The cold, dark water hit me hard. My breathing started to tighten because my first reaction was panic. Around me I saw that the everyone else was calmly floating and enjoying themselves, and I immediately felt ashamed. These people couldn't even swim! The moment of panic passed and we hopped aboard again and set off towards the real challenge – the rapids. One of the most important and life-saving lessons we all learnt when we were in the river is how to use lifejackets. The key to staying alive is facing upwards, and letting you arms and legs loose. No matter what, never go face down into the water.
Our raft bobbed up and down as we negotiated the first rapid. The water gushed in as our instructor yelled “get in”, and in one swift movement we locked our paddles between the rope and our hands and kept our heads down until we passed the first one successfully. I wasn't afraid, because I figured the instructor knew what to do and appeared to be in full control. After all, he did this several times a day.
Rapid two. This one taught us never to take nature's fury for granted. Besides my husband and I, and the instructor, our little team included another 30-something couple and two single men. We were almost out of the rocky stretch of the river, when suddenly our raft lodged itself between three huge rocks. To make matters worse, another raft came charging towards us at full speed and hit us with such force that it created the “hammer and nail” effect. We were now completely and firmly stuck between the rocks. No one realized the extent of danger we were in. In a matter of seconds, our raft was completely filled with water. The only other option was to get off and stand on the rocks and try to dislodge the raft. The slippery rocks didn't help. One misstep meant getting washed away.
Try as we might, the raft didn't budge an inch. For the first time we realized our expert, let me call him Mr K to make narration easy, was absolutely clueless! The only other woman besides me in the raft looked absolutely terrified. Truth be told, none of us felt very brave either. Another thirty minutes passed, and we hadn't moved an inch. I looked around me, and saw the other raft that had pushed us into the rocks at a distance. The instructor on the second raft, equipped with only a whistle to communicate, was frantically waving his arms trying to tell us something. Meanwhile, realizing how much trouble we were in, another one of the tour organizers (I'm going to call him Mr. S) stood on one side of the river bank and tried tossing a rope towards us. The idea was to rappel to safety because the stubborn raft refused to move! The distance between the raft and the river bank was too great for Mr. S's rope to reach us. After several failed attempts, Mr. S decided to wade into the water and then try to toss the rope. This time it worked. Mr. K managed to catch hold of it and looked around to see which one of us was going to be the guinea pig. I don't know if it was her slight frame or the sheer terror in her eyes that made her the obvious, albeit unfortunate, choice. As we watched, Mr. K fixed one end of her lifejacket to the rope and urged her to cross over. No sooner was she in the water, when the rope slipped from Mr.S's hand. She was completely at the mercy of the river! We watched in shock and horror as she was swept downstream, her hands and legs thrashing about as she tried to come up for air. Lessons forgotten, face down, she rapidly swallowed water until she all but stopped moving. I can still hear her husband's heart wrenching screams when I close my eyes. All this while, Mr. K stood rooted to the spot. No attempts made to rescue her, because they assumed she was a lost cause. Realizing it was up to us amateurs to do something, we caught hold of the other end of the rope and started to pull her lifeless body towards us. She was like deadwood, as she came closer and closer. My heart was thumping in my chest as I prayed like I've never prayed before. We just hoped she was alive. Mr. K, at last coming to his senses, helped us haul her to the rock and thumped her on the back, until she coughed and spat water. She was alive! Too stunned to speak and in shock, but alive. Her husband was hysterical, poor bloke. But it wasn't over yet. We were still on the rock and the raft was still lodged firmly. I'd like to believe that the near-drowing of that poor woman brought some senses back into Mr. K's head. A sudden idea dawned on him that he should perhaps let some of the air out of the raft to lighten it enough for us to be able to tip it over and drain out the water. It worked!
After 2 horrifying hours, filled with morbid thoughts, there was finally some hope. The raft dislodged, we paddled back to the safety. We were soaking wet, rattled, but alive. As I stepped off the raft, onto solid ground, the gravity of the situation sank in. Those were two of the longest hours of our lives, where nothing else mattered. Hugging each other, we parted ways, the relief evident on our faces. As I walked, barefoot, holding my husband's hand tight, I realized that I had never felt more alive!
Quick Facts
Where to Stay: Kutta, Coorg. Plenty of home-stays available
Distance from Bangalore: Approximately 236 kilometers
Route to Take: Bangalore – Srirangapatna- Hunsur – Nagarhole – Kutta
Places to Visit: Nagarhole National Park, Tholpetty Wildlife Reserve, Irupu Falls, Thiunelly Temple, Barapole River Rafting ( At your own risk)
Well, the monsoons were in full swing in South India when my husband and I decided to head to Coorg for a short vacation. It was supposed to be a typical road trip, relaxing, lazy and away from our usual routine. Now when I look back, relaxing may not be the most appropriate word to describe it. Let me fast-forward to day two, when we drove down to the Barapole river from Kutta town in Coorg where we were staying.
We'd heard to much about white water rafting and weren't going to miss the chance to try it. For those of you who haven’t heard of it, Barapole is a turbulent river that winds along the beautiful jungles of the Bramhagiri Wild Life Sanctuary before joining the Arabian sea. With more than Class 2 and Class 4 rapids, it's the adrenaline-junkie's wet dream and the aquaphobic's worst nightmare. This is because these rapids offer the most challenging rafting opportunity along the 4 kilometer stretch, which ideally lasts for an approximate two hours.
Our raft bobbed up and down as we negotiated the first rapid. The water gushed in as our instructor yelled “get in”, and in one swift movement we locked our paddles between the rope and our hands and kept our heads down until we passed the first one successfully. I wasn't afraid, because I figured the instructor knew what to do and appeared to be in full control. After all, he did this several times a day.
Rapid two. This one taught us never to take nature's fury for granted. Besides my husband and I, and the instructor, our little team included another 30-something couple and two single men. We were almost out of the rocky stretch of the river, when suddenly our raft lodged itself between three huge rocks. To make matters worse, another raft came charging towards us at full speed and hit us with such force that it created the “hammer and nail” effect. We were now completely and firmly stuck between the rocks. No one realized the extent of danger we were in. In a matter of seconds, our raft was completely filled with water. The only other option was to get off and stand on the rocks and try to dislodge the raft. The slippery rocks didn't help. One misstep meant getting washed away.
Try as we might, the raft didn't budge an inch. For the first time we realized our expert, let me call him Mr K to make narration easy, was absolutely clueless! The only other woman besides me in the raft looked absolutely terrified. Truth be told, none of us felt very brave either. Another thirty minutes passed, and we hadn't moved an inch. I looked around me, and saw the other raft that had pushed us into the rocks at a distance. The instructor on the second raft, equipped with only a whistle to communicate, was frantically waving his arms trying to tell us something. Meanwhile, realizing how much trouble we were in, another one of the tour organizers (I'm going to call him Mr. S) stood on one side of the river bank and tried tossing a rope towards us. The idea was to rappel to safety because the stubborn raft refused to move! The distance between the raft and the river bank was too great for Mr. S's rope to reach us. After several failed attempts, Mr. S decided to wade into the water and then try to toss the rope. This time it worked. Mr. K managed to catch hold of it and looked around to see which one of us was going to be the guinea pig. I don't know if it was her slight frame or the sheer terror in her eyes that made her the obvious, albeit unfortunate, choice. As we watched, Mr. K fixed one end of her lifejacket to the rope and urged her to cross over. No sooner was she in the water, when the rope slipped from Mr.S's hand. She was completely at the mercy of the river! We watched in shock and horror as she was swept downstream, her hands and legs thrashing about as she tried to come up for air. Lessons forgotten, face down, she rapidly swallowed water until she all but stopped moving. I can still hear her husband's heart wrenching screams when I close my eyes. All this while, Mr. K stood rooted to the spot. No attempts made to rescue her, because they assumed she was a lost cause. Realizing it was up to us amateurs to do something, we caught hold of the other end of the rope and started to pull her lifeless body towards us. She was like deadwood, as she came closer and closer. My heart was thumping in my chest as I prayed like I've never prayed before. We just hoped she was alive. Mr. K, at last coming to his senses, helped us haul her to the rock and thumped her on the back, until she coughed and spat water. She was alive! Too stunned to speak and in shock, but alive. Her husband was hysterical, poor bloke. But it wasn't over yet. We were still on the rock and the raft was still lodged firmly. I'd like to believe that the near-drowing of that poor woman brought some senses back into Mr. K's head. A sudden idea dawned on him that he should perhaps let some of the air out of the raft to lighten it enough for us to be able to tip it over and drain out the water. It worked!
After 2 horrifying hours, filled with morbid thoughts, there was finally some hope. The raft dislodged, we paddled back to the safety. We were soaking wet, rattled, but alive. As I stepped off the raft, onto solid ground, the gravity of the situation sank in. Those were two of the longest hours of our lives, where nothing else mattered. Hugging each other, we parted ways, the relief evident on our faces. As I walked, barefoot, holding my husband's hand tight, I realized that I had never felt more alive!
Quick Facts
Where to Stay: Kutta, Coorg. Plenty of home-stays available
Distance from Bangalore: Approximately 236 kilometers
Route to Take: Bangalore – Srirangapatna- Hunsur – Nagarhole – Kutta
Places to Visit: Nagarhole National Park, Tholpetty Wildlife Reserve, Irupu Falls, Thiunelly Temple, Barapole River Rafting ( At your own risk)
