My Last Float Down the Guadalupe River

When I was living in Houston, every summer, my boyfriend and I, and a group of friends drove to New Braunfels to camp out on the Guadalupe river. We had a favorite campsite on River Road and the owners knew us well. We would always bring a brisket, and the owner would throw it on his smoker to slow cook overnight. One of the girls in our group also cooked up a storm and packed lots of food, even fried chicken, so we always had plenty to eat. Nothing tasted better than cold fried chicken when you’re floating down the river with about 18 beers in you and more to come. There was an old truck that would drive us to the furthest point of the river to start our float journey and we would float four hours until we reached our campsite.

I remember when we would initially arrive to the campsite how it always seemed unbearably hot as we were putting our tents together thinking I’ll never survive this for three days. But then after a while, you really do get used to it and think “I could do this. I could live in a tent. Who needs air conditioning and brick walls?” There was a sink up by the road where you could brush your teeth and I would stand there brushing my teeth every morning waving at people driving down River Road as if it was the most natural thing in the world to brush your teeth outside and wave at people whilst brushing your teeth.

One year, and it happened to be the last time I ever camped out and floated down the Guadalupe, everyone was in their respective floating tube. I always got the one that had a wooden bottom attached to keep fish or turtles from nibbling at my backside. I don’t know that they actually would, but I felt better having something between me and them.

On one particular floating expedition, as we got farther down the river, most of my group floated off to the left but I floated off to the right because I wanted to go down one of two chutes that were next to each other but divided by a big rock. I underestimated what was about to happen. That’s what 18 plus beers will do to you. There were people up on a rock ledge at the edge of the chutes watching people like me who decided to go down a chute. The water was flowing so fast, it immediately flipped me upside down. I was underwater being tossed about as if I were in the spin cycle of a washing machine. I could not surface. I kept banging into rocks. I had a feeling my life was about to end and that is no lie. Then suddenly I felt someone grab my arm and pull me up and help me climb up on the rock that divided the two chutes.

I sat there bloodied and out of breath and realized I was trapped on this rock with no way out. I wondered if they were going to have to send in a helicopter. I looked behind me and saw these two guys with their inflatable kayaks tethered together. One was going down one chute and the other guy was going down the other chute. Problem is, the rope that tethered them together caught me in my back and pulled me back into the water. And again, I’m being churned about. I guess it was the same man who was previously able to reach me who pulled me out of the water to save my life yet again. This time, him and another man helped to get me up on the rock ledge above the chutes. I sat there trying to pull myself together, almost overwhelmed with embarrassment but grateful to be alive. One of them told me, “Hey I live in this house up on the hill, please feel free to walk through my yard, you’ll reach River Road and can walk back to your campsite.”

I was so grateful because I wasn’t sure how I was going to get back seeing as how my inner tube was long gone. I decided to make the trek through his yard and down River Road, bloodied and exhausted hoping someone might pick me up and drive me back to the campsite. That wasn’t the case but I made it back to the campsite cursing to myself that I was just too old for this nonsense. I wanted a shower so I walked up the rocky hill to the shower area and managed to step on a rock just right, and snapped a bone in my foot in half. I didn’t realize it at the time, all I knew was that the pain was excruciating. Later that evening, the people camping next to us were passing around a jar of fruit that was soaked in rum. I took advantage of this delicious drink to help numb my pain. When I got back to Houston, I went to the doctor and he confirmed that I had a broken bone in my foot.

I never camped or floated again.