It took us five hours to drop nearly 600 feet. But there was nothing slow-paced about it.
The upper part of the Ocoee, where thousands of thrill-seekers each year whitewater raft and kayak, is what the experienced guides who take many of them downriver call “the serious river.” They call the middle part, which is what most of us regular landlubbers opt to experience, “the playtime river.”
I toppled into the tumultuous waters on both sections.
“Lean in!” came the yell from the back of the raft. Before I had time to process, I fell out – into the water rushing rapidly over the course built to test Olympians’ mettle and prowess. And that wasn’t even on one of the highest drops, which measure 6 to 7 feet.
As I frantically kicked my way toward the yellow rope, barely visible in the whitewater flooding my face and vision, I felt my knee hit bottom – jaggedly grooved concrete built by men for maximum water flow – and scrape along toward the shore and the outstretched arms waiting to rescue me.