4. The Terminator
The Cromwell Gorge now became a scene of destruction upheaval. In the rush to re-shape and try to stabilize this towering, rock-studded landscape, little had survived. The river, too, had changed. Ahead, lay “The Terminator” - a Grade 6.
The river slowed, pooling, stalling. Downriver ahead we still couldn’t see the rapid, but the din of the pounding torrent reached toward us with ever-increasing intensity.
Approaching the Terminator, near the Nine Mile in the Cromwell Gorge.
The current accelerated, and within moments, there it was – a steep descent into a white wall, with currents driving from both sides into the centre.
A steep descent into a white wall.
The raft headed for the edge. Incredible speed. Over the edge.
Over the edge.
Massive hole on the left. Boulder on the right. Raft in between. Good line in. Dropping.
Dropping.
Paddles clawing. Speed. Feet bracing.
Speed.
Into the wall.
White wall … impact!
Impact!
Pressure. Foam. Tumbling. No air. Deep. Deeper. If I had not been under the rapid, I would have seen the raft buckle violently against the wall, lurching on edge. I would have seen the forward crew thrown in, the raft tossed up, spinning. I would have seen them hauling themselves aboard in the backwash. The raft had not flipped. The prospect of righting the fully loaded raft with flip-lines, between rapids, had been avoided.
Surfacing on edge.
Swimming.
Lewis heads downriver (blue helmet).
Unfortunately, I had caught the fast current underneath the rapid and was propelled downriver ahead of the raft. Surfacing briefly, I snatched a breath. Down again. Dragged down. Held down. Speed. Tumbling. Rising. Another breath. Down again. Concentrating on breathing, I caught enough air and finally stabilized on the surface at the head of the next rapid. A glance upriver confirmed that the others were exiting the first rapid safely, having reboarded the raft. A glance downriver revealed a huge, high-rolling chute. Aware of the holes either side, I swam toward the centre and assumed the usual whitewater position.
After an exhilarating ride up, over, down the chute and through the clean-flushing waves below, I eddied out and climbed onto some rocks, scarcely believing that I was about a kilometre ahead of the raft. The others barrelled through the second rapid - a Grade 5, almost on edge, first one way, then the other.
The second rapid.
Through the chute.
I presently leapt aboard and we chased, and retrieved, an oar that had sprung loose. Elated, we now found a landing place and paused to take stock. We had come through safely, with all our gear secure and dry.
A reporter close to the rapid captured the following sequence in black and white:
Descent.
Surfacing.
Exit.
