“Forward! Harder! Keep paddling!”
“I CAN’T REACH THE WATER!” Nathan yelled out as we hit wave after wave of our first rapid of the day.
Sometimes our paddles cut straight through the water, launching us forward into our next blow from the waves, sometimes we were lifted so high up in the boat, we went through the motion of rowing without actually coming in contact with the river, and sometimes we’d dig our paddles in, only for it to stay there as if we’d try to row ourselves out of a brick wall.
Our final day in Victoria Falls, Nathan, Mark, Molly, and myself woke up before the sun and left to raft down the Zambezi – the river with the most level five rapids in the world.
I have been rafting since I was a little girl, and wasn’t nervous at all. That is, until I realized that Africa uses a different rapid grading system than the States. A level five in Colorado would probably only count as a mild three on the Zambezi. This realization quite literally hit me in the face when I was thrown from the boat on the fourth rapid of the day – a level four named the Morning Glory. I managed to hang on to the rope that lined the perimeter of the boat, and wasn’t under water too long before our guide pulled me back in. It was long enough to make me second guess my ability to continue, though. That was a four?! How am I going to make it through all those fives? I thought, completely doubting my ability to continue without fail.
Something super comforting about this rafting trip was that they send two kayakers through every rapid before you, just in case you fall out and need to be rescued. I lost my paddle once, and they were able to get it back to me – it was really reassuring to see them go ahead of us.
Remember when you were a kid learning to swim or do anything new, really, and either your dad or your older sibling would do it first to show you that it’s possible? It was a lot like that. Not only did these guys go before us, but they made the massive rapids look really easy to pass. Of course, they do this about 5 times a week and are more experienced in a watercraft than I’ll ever be, but it was comforting nonetheless.
Of course, there were times when I relived the stubborn moments of my childhood. Those times when I looked at my older brother after he had just effortlessly flipped off the diving board. “Just because YOU can doesn’t mean I can! YOU’RE OLDER THAN ME” arms crossed, hip cocked. Just because these kayakers made it through alive without a helmet doesn’t mean I could with mine, even if it was topped with a GoPro.
Luckily, none of us had to be rescued by the kayakers, but I did fall out of the boat a second time towards the end of our trip. A huge wave hit the side of our boat, I fell out, and Molly was flung to the other side where I had originally been sitting, which was pretty convenient cus it meant she could just reach over the edge and pull me back in. Another time, I fell in to the middle of the boat as we went over wave after wave. I could not find my balance and had to scream for Mark to pull me back up.
All this to say, that day was a huge challenge. It was the cherry on top of a face-your-fear-filled weekend.
I’m a naturalist at heart, meaning I connect to God through nature and His creations. Bungee jumping over the Zambezi, swimming above Vic Falls, and rafting were some of the best ways I could ask to experience His creation. I was in awe through it all. And even when I was afraid, I could find comfort knowing that God was there, because I was in His playground.
Just like the kayakers who went through the rapids before us, God walks before us, showing us our path. And better yet, He’s sitting next to us in the boat telling us when to paddle forward, paddle back, and when to just sit there and hang on.
He’s with us through it all. We don’t have to be afraid.
