At 7.30pm I rounded a bend just 15km above Foshan to confront yet another class IV rapid. This one was slightly steeper than most. Without a clear view from the eddy of what lay below I should have scouted it but a mixture of fatigue, frustration at scouting so many previous rapids that turned out to be easy and impatience caused me to determine that it would most likely be another burley wave train. I peeled out of the eddy paddling hard to skirt a hole on river left and bashed through a large standing wave that I expected to be followed by a wave train. Upon breaking through the wave I was confronted by a huge hole about 8 meters wide and I was headed straight for the middle. There was no time to do anything accept power into it and hope to bash through. Bam! It felt like I hit a brick wall. I rose and was slammed down again, and again, and again I was being re-circulated by the hole.

I made the firm decision in the gorges not to bail out of my boat and swim until there was absolutely no other choice so I tried to sit it out and hoped that the hole would release me as they often do. It slammed me twice more before I felt a sort of release and saw daylight. Pheww!! I was relieved for about 1 split second until I realized that the roaring hole was still behind me. I was side surfing in front of it. Before I had time to establish control of the surf I was sucked back in.

One has to feel the force of a powerful hole to fully appreciate the violence involved. Anyone who surfs or plays in ocean surf has somewhat of an idea. Yet where as a surfer can relax in the fact that no matter how powerful a wave is the violence of being dumped will gradually subside, allowing the swimmer to establish control, river holes on the other hand continue with the same undiminished violent force for days and weeks.

I was running out of oxygen fast and realized that this beast of a hole was not going to release me as long as I was attached to the buoyancy of the kayak. It took a few seconds to separate from the boat because simultaneously doing back flips, summersaults and erratic acrobatic maneuvers while not breathing is particularly bad for ones orientation.

Once out I sank into the current and felt a flush of water push me out. I broke the surface and tried to take a breath and of course received a helpful breath of liquid. I was pissed. “Why the hell did you throw yourself in that after safely paddling hundreds of kilometers of significantly more difficult white water?” It’s odd what goes through ones mind in such situations.

I only had a dry top and pants on instead of a full dry suit and could feel the freezing water seeping in. I tried repeatedly to take a breath but the water on my lungs prevented any air from entering. I looked back and saw the kayak and paddle some 20 meters upstream and began swimming for them. Without being able to breath I began to feel weak.

I looked down stream and saw another class IV rapid approaching. I tried to visually seek out a safe route through but with my line of site so close to the water all I could see were the tops of waves and foam. In the last moment I spotted a hole and swam left to avoid it. “I made it!!” then plopped straight into another even larger hole that tumbled me once and spat me out. I was really pissed when I realized I could still not take a proper breath with the water in my lungs. All I really wanted to do was swim upstream and drag the kayak to shore but I looked up stream and could no longer see it, then down stream to see yet another rapid approaching.