the river

 when I was young, central california experienced a major flood  .  a sequence of heavy snowfall in late spring followed by high temps and warm southern rains literally scrubbed the sierras of its snow and swelled every lake and river to the max .  a levee had to be built around the little hamlet my grandmother lived as the kings river overflowed its banks widening its swath from a couple hundred of feet to over a couple of miles inundating the fields and orchards .

    My brother and I had rode our bikes to the edge of this expanse and always felt the urge to see what lay beyond .  we made our way to the now closed highway and could see the road barely under the surface .  we tossed our bikes down and began to wade towards the high ground of the levee we could see in the distance .  after much drudging we finally made it over and  worked our way to the first bridge where the water was moving but not in an alarming way . we then worked towards the second bridge which crossed the main channel . there where we were met by mother nature in her full fury . water was splashing against the railing and there was a low rumbling howl i will never forget as the debris filled waters rushed underneath . we looked at each other and then decided to cross the bridge and experience this raging maelstrom . we stood there in the middle of the span , looking upstream at this mess of white water in complete awe , feeling the vibration under our feet and the sight of the trees that lined its shore trying  to remain rooted . water splashed around us , feeling like we were on the prow of a ship in a storm .  suddenly we watched a huge oak tree tumble into the white water and watched it bob toward us with its branches flailing and spinning . then right before it looked it was to sink under the bridge it rose and hit the bridge so hard we thought that was the end of the bridge and us as we watched the branches cling to the railing then dissappear underneath to the other side rapidly vanishing downstream .

   we ran and sloshed our way back to our bikes , stoked in the rush of nature , and thankful we lived to tell about it  ..  except the story  got back to mum and that is another story ..

Reviews

[Samuel Dickens]

It's hard to imagine the King's River getting that high, but I can believe it, having seen similar floods in other places. You and your brother sound just like me and some of my buddies when we were kids. No fear of anything, and we always had to have a closer look.

[Chloe..Across the Unive..]

As children we don't feel or see the fear and in ways it is a shame that as we become older we most often do.That sounds like a perfect, if not dangerous adventure.

Chloe

[Ed Hart]

compelling...the things we survive!!