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The Thrills and Spills of White-Water Rafting

By Anamika Mukherjee

I have always loved water. At a young age, I learnt to swim, and despite nearly drowning (or being convinced that I was, which is nearly as bad) during one of my first attempts, and cutting my chin badly, years later, when I tried to jump backwards into a swimming pool, for me swimming in particular, and water sports in general never lost their allure. There was never anything about water that scared me, not even when I met the sea, and knew of the power and potential it had, and my own insignificance in the face of its rushing, gushing waters.

So when I got an opportunity to go white water rafting, naturally I jumped – I mean, dived – at it. It was an organised weekend trip to Sita Nadi, in Mangalore, Karnataka. Though the Himalayas are, of course, the best place to go white water rafting, and they have a whole range of grades, for everyone from beginners to professionals, as I was based in Bangalore, a spot in Karnataka was a lot more practical.

We set off by bus on a Friday evening, and reached – after a long drive through the Ghats at night – on Saturday morning, a scenic spot with hills in the background and a narrow river running nearby, and a couple of shops and a post office. This was to be our home for the night. We wanted to get into the water right away, but we had lots of preparation to do first. The raft, inflatable rubber, and heavy, had to be inflated. This was hard work, with a pump similar to that used to inflate bicycle tyres. It could be inflated in sections, and we all took turns with the pump, me first because it was easiest when it was absolutely airless, and most difficult when it was nearly done.

Next the organisers gave us a training session. They showed us how to strap ourselves into our life jackets and helmets securely. Then we stood in the water, paddles in hand, divided into two teams of five each, one for each side of the raft. We learnt the correct way to paddle, to steer, to pull together, and when not to pull. We were eager to hit the water, and so we did soon, but not quite the way we had anticipated. Suddenly one guy was pushed in, and then, one by one, amidst much fighting and dodging, so were the rest of us. After getting used to the water and its harmlessness at the shore, the organisers decided that those of us who could swim (most of us could) should walk some way upstream and then launch ourselves into the middle of the rushing stream. We were, of course, already wearing life jackets. We had to just float with the current, feet first and concentrate on finding our way to the side of the river. This was great fun. There was an outcrop of rock in the middle, with a small tree, and we got into all sorts of situations with these. I found myself pushed against the rock with full force and held there deeply entangled in the tree. I almost panicked, before I managed to extricate myself from its crushing embrace.

Our next lesson involved putting the raft in water, and turning it upside down and right side up again. This, said the trainers, was a good way of getting rid of excess water. It also taught us how it felt to be trapped under an upturned raft, how to get out of it, and how to haul ourselves aboard.

This part of the stream, our playground, was quite placid, so for the sake of excitement and practice, we decided to row our raft upstream, against the current, to the point where the water gushed and swirled around the same outcrop of rock which we had already (and some of us, painfully) encountered. In this valiant endeavour we were effortlessly defeated by the stream, and we finally gave up, dragged the raft out of the water and went for lunch. We were wet, and it was raining. We had all been advised to bring shorts or swim suits for the rafting, and, since continued to rain any move to change out of our wet things seemed doomed to failure. We remained wet, and soon ceased to be aware of it.

In the afternoon we went for a long rambling walk in the countryside. Some of us wanted to get the raft back in the water, but were advised against it, to conserve our energies for the next day, when we would have a 40-km stretch of river to tackle, without a break.

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