Tim Parks - Rapids

Community experience, Amelia said solemnly. She lifted two fingers in a V — sign.

We look out for each other all the time, Clive insisted. With no distinctions, no likes, no dislikes. We’re a team.

Right, Vince said. This was the delirium of the real thing, he thought, the highly levered gamble. Adam said nothing. One by one then, Clive ordered. His voice had the assurance of military command. Myself, Max, Brian, Phil, Amelia, Michela, Mark, Vince, Adam. Same procedure as this morning. I scout with Max. Otherwise, we’re three boat — lengths apart. And nobody ever out of sight. Okay? Sorted, Phil said. We’re going to paddle like gods; at the bottom you’ll feel like you’ve never felt before. You’ll have adrenaline coming out of every pore of your body. And tonight we’ll go out and get blind drunk, promise. The beers are on me. All of them. What a hero! Max applauded. May Wally protect us, Amelia announced. Adam said calmly: Okay kids, if we’re going, let’s go.

Somehow Vince’s boat got tipped the wrong way as it shot down the bank. At once he was over. The paddle was dragged violently down. His knuckles banged on something hard. They banged again and scraped. Keep calm. He has the experience now. There’s time. As the boat reached the speed of the current, the pressure on the paddle eased off. Vince crouched forward into position, swung his arm over his head. Coming up, he found Adam right beside him. All right? Just fine, Vince said. He even smiled.

Ten minutes later, Vince was only a couple of boat — lengths behind Mark when the boy tipped over in a swirl of water piling against a rock wall on the outside of a bend. It seemed the kid made no attempt at all to roll up, because his head was already bobbing in the water as Vince passed. Max had been placed on the bank at the first safe pool and tossed his throw — bag. Amelia and Brian were chasing the runaway boat, while Vince followed the swimmer into the bank. Okay? Max asked. Bash on the knee, Mark grumbled. Then he started to grin: Just one more thing to tell Mum. He’s lost his fear, Vince saw. He felt moved.

Half an hour later they had to portage again around a rapid that Clive felt was too much. There are risks and risks, he said. Adam carried Brian this time. From a well — trampled path they were able to see three six — foot drops in quick succession, twisting from left to right and back. Ex — treme, Phil breathed. His confidence is coming back. There was a general feeling that they had cracked it now. Fucking fantastic, Mark kept repeating as he carried his boat. Bet I could do that too, he crowed looking into the boiling water. Fucking fantastic, Dad! Language, Adam said mildly. And don’t start celebrating till you’re home and dry.

Amelia went down in the next rapid, it was her first swim of the holiday, but again Max was on the bank to pull her out. Am I a safe pair of hands or what? he demanded. As she scrambled ashore a long dark box floated by, banging on the rocks as it passed. Brian shot out into the stream to inspect the thing. Some kind of cupboard, he reported, shaking his head. You wonder how this stuff gets in the river. Clive told them to watch out. A knock from a log coming over a rapid can be fatal. This is the last stretch now, kids, he shouted. Remember, we go under the road bridge and it’s two hundred yards on your right. I’ll be there ahead of you. There’s that orange plastic strip on a tree too. On your right, just before the spur. You can’t miss it.

As soon as they launched again, Vince appreciated that the danger was over. The river was wider. The gorge had broadened and flattened before its next plunge into Sand in Taufers. He felt exhilarated, but also slightly disappointed. The tension that had seized the mind entirely was dissolving. Clive no longer went ahead to scout with Max. The line of boats grew more ragged as people chose their own routes through easy rapids. And the rain had eased too. The cloud was lifting, the late afternoon brightening. With the sudden change of temperature, a mist began to steam off the water.

Yee — ha! Phil ran straight up against a smooth flat rock, forcing his boat vertical. Adam shook his head, exchanged knowing glances with Vince. Clive has won, Vince thought. Michela was wrong, thank God. The Italian girl had dropped back a little and was paddling slowly down on her own. They glided under the road bridge. The water was barely turbulent here. I must thank the man, Vince told himself. Clive got it right. He is a man you can follow. Even Adam was radiant. Here was the orange ribbon fluttering from the spruce tree. The rock shielding the eddy was just beyond. Easy! Ahoy, canoeists! Max was already out. He had scrambled up to the vantage point where they had been yesterday. He waved his paddle. Paddlers, ahoy! Vince was just turning to pull out of the current when he saw that Michela was not stopping. She paddled straight by.

His responsibilities over, Clive was kneeling on the bank helping Brian to get out of his boat. The swelling on the boy’s ankle had reached the point where he could barely stand. The others were in the eddy or already beaching. A watery sun was brightening the patches of mist. Bringing up the rear, Adam was turning into the slack water right beside the big rock. With almost cartoon merriment he was whistling the hamster song. It was the biggest smile he had smiled all week. He banged his paddle on the water so that it spun up in the air over his head, caught it and held it there, using only his hips to control the turn and deceleration as the kayak crossed the eddy — line. Someone applauded. Epic! he laughed.

Hey! Micky! Micky! Apart fromVince, only Max had seen. What are you doing? This is the get — out. It’s here! Micky! Come back!

Everyone looked. The girl was still well within striking distance. She could still regain the slack water. And in fact she had swung her boat round to face them now, about ten yards down, but drifting rather than paddling. For Christ’s sake, Clive called, get to the bank! Sitting erect, the girl lifted her paddle and tossed it away into the stream.

Vince has never thought of himself as courageous. He is not a man of action. But with no caution now, he veered away from the eddy and set off straight for the girl’s boat. A clamour of voices rose behind him. Vince had no idea what warnings were being shouted. He knew what was waiting if he crossed the water’s horizon line, shimmering in the mist up ahead. But it seemed to him that since she had no paddle he must catch up with the girl before the drop, he would drag her to the side, somehow. Reach forward, was all the voice in his head was shouting. Reach forward! The kayak surged.

Using her hands in the cold water, Michela was keeping her boat turned upstream towards the others. Now she raised her arms, pulled off her helmet and dropped it in the water. She shook the water from her short hair. Vince was almost there. The girl’s drifting kayak began to spin. Grab the sling, he shouted. He released the thing from round his waist. Clip it on! He would tow her. But the girl had put her arms straight down by her sides. Her eyes are closed, Vince saw. It was the concentration of the diver on the high board. She leaned her head away from the approaching rescuer and capsized.

They were only a few yards away from the rapid now. The boom of the rushing water had drowned out any cries behind. Yet to the very brink the river was flat and calm, sliding mud — brown under a bright strip of surface mist. Two ducks flapped up as the red boat tipped over. They raced for the trees. Vince leaned to grab at the upturned hull. There was nothing to hold. He rocked it. She hadn’t pulled out. Now the stream was accelerating. There is no time. Leaning on the hull, he reached right under the water, found an arm and tugged. She wasn’t helping. Her hands were stiffly at her sides.