Chapter 17 Cara
SEVENTEEN
CARA
Aquaphobia, or fear of water, is common in people who have experienced a traumatic event, such as a near drowning or a boating accident. As a certified cognitive behavioral therapist with over eighteen years of experience, I can help. Results guaranteed!
—
Cara couldn’t see very far in the darkness, but she could clearly hear the sound of water.
Not the gentle trickle of a stream or the playful splash of beavers frolicking in a stagnant pond, but a full-on rushing and tumbling river.
As she got closer, she felt the temperature drop. Soon, she came to a break in the trees.
It had been five years since the catamaran incident.
The trip to Cabo, her first as a sponsored content creator, ended in the harrowing rescue video that established her as an influencer.
It was a balmy, sunny afternoon with light southern winds, ideal for learning how to reach, tack, jib, and record the glamorous outing.
Her instructor, José, was documenting the one-hour lesson via the GoPro on his safety helmet.
Everything was going as planned, even the staged moment when she leaned too far and nearly capsized their two-person craft.
But then, while José was teaching her how to balance on the trapeze, a rogue wave—she’d never heard of such a thing—rose up like a frothing monster, slammed into the boat, and sent them flying in different directions.
José was knocked out by the boom as the catamaran sailed on without them.
She swam over, looped an arm around his neck and made sure his head remained above water while Karl, who had been watching from the dock, commandeered a jet ski and rushed out to help.
The unconscious instructor’s video of their dramatic but ultimately happy ending topped out at nearly a million views.
Cara had assiduously avoided what she and Karl jokingly referred to as “water sports” ever since.
Now, as she stepped out of the forest and onto the banks of a churning, swollen river, its water frothy and white even in the blackness of the night, she was overcome with thirst-quenching joy.
But was it safe to drink?
Given both the dangers she’d already survived and the ones that lay ahead, she really didn’t want to die from diarrhea, immortalized in an obituary headlined: Cara Campbell, 38, Couldn’t Outrun the Trots.
The best chance for the cleanest water, she decided, was in the middle of the river, where the current was too fast and cold for parasites to thrive.
Using the phone’s flashlight, Cara worked her way up the bank, scanning for a narrow chute or rocky outcropping, but there was no way to reach the middle.
After painstakingly traveling a hundred yards or more, she finally came upon an inlet formed by two water-snagged logs and closely spaced rocks where, assuming she didn’t slip and fall in, she could get far enough out into the water for a theoretically safe drink.
Water is good . . .
She needed the light, but it was more critical to keep her balance, so she tucked the cell phone back into her bra.
The logs and rocks were too slippery to cross in bare feet, so she pulled her pant legs out of her shoes, rolled them up above her knees, as far up her thighs as they would go, then tightened and double-knotted her shoelaces.
Water is life . . .
She stepped out onto the first log, wobbled, and then steadied herself.
Yes.
The second log bobbed, but somehow, she didn’t.
You.
She leaped onto a big rock half submerged in rushing water.
Can.
With each step, the air got colder and the rumble of the rushing water grew more thunderous.
She took a final hop onto a flat-topped boulder that was as near to the middle as she dared to go. Kneeling, she dipped her cupped hands into the icy current and brought them to her mouth.
The first sip was so deliciously frigid it stung her teeth.
So was the next.
Cara gulped as much as she could hold, then washed her dusty face, even though it made her shiver. She felt like she could live indefinitely on nothing but fresh, clean water.
Hydration: achieved.
She would shelter for the night in a bush away from the river’s coldness but close enough that she could drink again before daybreak. From there she planned to head away from the fire, figuring out what to do next as she went along.
She made it almost back to the bank before she slipped off the log, landing calf-deep in the current. At least she hadn’t fallen in.
Then a blinding light made everything go white. She squinted in confusion as a deep male voice called out.
“Put your hands up and turn around slowly!”