The source of the Nile is one
of the most spectacular white-water rafting destinations in the world.SOLOMON OLENY took on the Nile’s rapids and survived
to tell the tale.
White water rafting on the Nile
is one adventure that needs the bravery of a lion, I was happy to be among the
daredevils who have ticked white-water rafting off my bucket list.
An early morning drive from
Kampala to Jinja, arranged by Adrift, took us to the camp base by River Nile.
Close to 30 tourists, mainly from Australia, Turkey and India, joined us.
As we happily took in the
enchanting view of the scenic river, we had a healthy breakfast which aroused
our appetite for the adventure.
Greg, an administrator with
Adrift, said though no one has ever lost their life while rafting on the Nile,
the risk could not be eliminated from the adventure. He implored us to abide by
the safety precautions.
However, he was quick to drown
our worries, assuring us that a team of over 10 professional rescuers would be
on hand throughout the ride.
Into
the river
The team gets swallowed
by the rapids
My team of five was led by
Sadulu Khadir, a rafting coach. We were strapped with life jackets and kayak
helmets. We had to leave our shoes, watches, phones and cameras behind to avoid
damage or loss during the adventure. Armed with kayak paddles, we jumped into
an inflatable raft, ready to beat the hell out of the rapids — or so we
thought.
First, Khadir coached us on
rowing techniques and sitting postures needed to contain both the polite and
the ugly that would come our way. Then he ordered us to dive into the river to
hone our survival skills.
For those of us who knew
nothing about swimming, it was like Khadir was commanding us to commit suicide.
I looked him in the eye, hoping he was joking. But he returned the hard stare,
and showed no signs of relenting or engaging in any small talk.
Stuck between tough choices, Ijumped into the river. Shockingly, it turned out to be the sweetest surprise of
the morning, for the life jackets did what they do best.
Floating on my back in the
blissfully cool water was great. It was the closest I had coming to swimming
all my life. He then ‘rescued’ us and took us back into the raft. It was time to
paddle towards the fun-filled hell that awaited us. We rowed, along with tonnes
of support around us, including safety kayakers and a rescue boat nearby.
After a lot of paddling over a
flat stretch of the river, we reached the mouth of the first rapid, dubbed
grade three, the third most aggressive rapid. Its nerve wrecking roars left my
chest thudding with terror and when the foaming waves came into view, the
terror came alive.
Fortunately, Khadir was such a
fantastic coach. He kept calm, making us feel that he was in control. Alas! No
sooner had we struck the edge of the two feet deep rapid than the boat got
hooked onto a flat rock. The gushing water flogged us angrily as it forced its
way downstream.
To crash through the explosive
rapid, towards the calmer stretch downstream, it took team work to bounce the
raft back and forth before it was dislodged. It was too soon to celebrate, for
a few meters ahead was a much more terrifying challenge — a grade five rapid.
The closer we got, the more it looked like a starving lion ready to rip us
apart.
It exploded powerfully,
flipping our raft upside down. Only three of us escaped being buried under the
raft, in the choppy waters. I was vertically flashed onto the rocky edge, where
I hit my head. But thanks to the helmet, my skull was protected.
Nonetheless, I could not whine
because I knew my suffering was nothing compared to what the folks under the
boat were going through. After seconds of waiting for them to swim out in vain,
a wave of panic ran through me.
It was a relief when Khadir
jumped onto one of the corners of the boat and grabbed a rope to flip it back
into position. It was then that the buried folks popped out their heads,
struggling to catch their breaths.
Flustered, we finally hauled
ourselves back into the boat, with the help of the day’s hero — Khadir.
Once inside, the fright changed
to incredulous happiness. “That was close!” Excitement bubbled inside everyone.
The water was calm for a while, giving a chance for the fright to ebb slowly
while we enjoyed the view of floating plants, the small forested islands and
the various birds.
In between them were small
rapids which were a piece of cake to manoeuvre, the type of cake you can stuff
in your mouth and swallow without chewing. With the sun becoming hotter by the
hour and our earlier fears long extinguished, we felt free to dive into the
water for leisurely cooling dips.
But there was one more giant to
overcome. We still had to face the most inviting but deadliest rapid — the
grade six rapid. But we had to dodge the worst part of it, so we paddled to the
left bank and got off.
We then walked for five minutes
on land as Khadir tactfully steered the empty boat on a calmer side to the
nearest safe point, where we jumped aboard. We then dared the safer part of
this rapid with towering waves, but thankfully, did not flip.
We paddled to the finish point
at the foot of Adrift’s second camp base. I could not help but wish I had gone
for the full-day rafting as it entails thundering through eight rapids, unlike
the half-day which has only four rapids. I also wished I had some champagne totoast to the sweet victory we claimed.
By Bruce Amp
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