Ten years ago, I dated a medical doctor from Little Rock, Arkansas. Charlies flew me back-and-forth. In April, we drove three hours to kayak a river in Tennessee.

It was a hillbilly kayak rental outfit. I pointed out that they broke four safety rules:

1. No lifejackets.
2. No helmets.
3. No guide to show us where to go.
4. No “sweep” to bring up the rear and help people in trouble.

“This is unsafe,” I insisted. Charlie argued. “Let’s try it.” You can’t try rapids, I replied. Launch your boat and you’re committed. “Are there any other kayak rentals in this area?” I asked. No. Charlie badgered me into relenting. I didn’t want to spoil the trip. My good manners nearly killed me.

Kayaking a series of rapids, my kayak suddenly flipped and I was swept under a “strainer,” pinned underwater beneath a big tree that had fallen into the river with its roots attached to the bank. Strainers are deadly. I took a big breath just before flipping underwater.

“I’m not going to drown on my watch,” I thought.

Trapped underwater

The powerful river pushed me under the tree from two directions. Trapped underwater and holding my breath, I tried different things in quick succession. Couldn’t pull my body through the tree with my arms. The water force was tremendous: 7,000 pounds of pressure. Tried climbing the riverbank, a vertical high wall of mud. ("F-king Tennessee," I thought.)

Then I got an idea.

It was counter-intuitive because I was trying to get to the surface. Pushed myself down to the bottom. Held a branch to keep myself down. Scrabbled around with my feet, desperately searching for a big rock to kick off. Found one.

Bent my knees and kicked as hard as I could off the rock. Used the power of my hiking legs. Blasted sideways through the tree. Grabbed the kayak as I shot by and held it over my face to protect my eyes from branches. The kick brought me to the surface away from the tree where I was aiming.

Sweet air! Quickly lunged to grab the kayak that was being swept away by the rapids. Stay with your craft. It took three tries to roll into the kayak. Was trembling and shaken.

Bent down to fix the footrest that was knocked askew. It felt calming to sit in the kayak breathing air. Then I sat up and looked around as I shot downriver.

A dozen people were madly paddling upriver to help me. How nice. But they couldn’t reach me because of the rapids. Waved to show I was okay.

“Has anyone seen my paddle?” I called. “I’ve got it!” a man yelled. “I’ll come to you.” He handed me the paddle as I shot by. “Thank you!”

Still had to concentrate, paddle and steer. Miles to go. Nearly cried with relief when I finally spotted the landing. Was too tired to lift the kayak onto the truck. Two men kindly did it.

“You were underwater a long time,” Charlie said when I arrived. “You messed up your hair.” I showed him my cuts and abrasions. “I’ve seen worse,” he dismissed me.

Asshole. I dumped him shortly thereafter.