"My Close Call"

The events herein take place three summers ago on a gorgeous, serene day in July in a lake under a waterfall just outside of Kapa'a, Hawaii. It is wholly factual, down to the fibers, and reprocessed for the first time since its occurrence. It goes as such:

We drove for an hour or so down the only main street on the island. Poipu's beach was as beautiful as any other but we were looking for a new adventure. Something like from a movie. So we drove. Farther and longer until we saw the sign. "Wailua Falls".

"Let's go," she said with excitement. I obliged. After all, how do you turn down a waterfall? Especially if you've never seen one before.

So we turned and drove down the street that would lead us to the falls. We drove for twenty minutes before finally reaching Wailua Falls. Nothing I'd ever witnessed before had come close to being so magical, so peaceful and fierce, all at the same time.

"It's amazing," she said.

"Seriously."

I parked the 1992 Toyota truck my grandfather had let us borrow earlier in the day at the lookout point to the falls. We were at least 100 yards away over looking the raging water poor 80 feet into the lake below us.

"There are people down there," she said, a hint of curiosity slipping through the syllables.

"How do you think they got down there? There's no boats or anything," I replied, just as interested.

Below us were about 15 people, all swimming and lounging around the lakeside, taking in the beauty of the falls.

"You want to go down there?" A woman said to us. Why wouldn't we? So she led us away from the lookout point, along a fence line, directly to an opening in the fence.

"Go down there," she said, pointing to the man-made trail that seemed to drop off like the end of the world.

So we did. I mean, it was vacation. Plus there were ropes so what could go wrong.

We navigated our way down the damp, muddy trail like amateur explorers, slipping of a branch or slope ever ten seconds. Rope held in place by branches and makeshift weights kept us from falling of the edge. The sound of rushing water grew with every misstep until we finally reached the base of the trail.

Wailua Falls.

I stood there at the lakeside for a moment, soaking in the size, the sheer magnificence of it all. Something that you never forget. People played near the edges. We could see a few people swimming out in the distance, making a run for the waterfall.

"Let's go," I said, pointing to the waterfall across the lake. It was a good 80 yards or so across the water.

"Okay," she replied without hesitation.

So we did. We took of our clothes, save for the swimsuits we already had on and our shoes because of the rocks, and dove in to the cool, refreshing water.

I recall thinking how awesome it all was. The lake, the waterfall, the island in general. It was all so surreal.

We swam nearly three-fourths of the way to the falls when it happened. I remember feeling scared. Worried, but not yet aware of what was actually happening. So I kept swimming. At least I tried to. I moved my arms, front to back, kicking my legs with every stroke, yet I went no where.

"Katie," I slurred, "Katie, help."

She turned. I remember her turning, coming back, seeing me fight to stay up.

"Kevin," she yelled, panic suffocating her voice. "Kevin."

And I sank. Like dead weight. Like a marble in a cup. I sank. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how badly I struggled, I just kept sinking. She did her best to keep me up, to keep my head above water. She tried so hard. But I kept going under.

I had never been so terrified in my entire life.

Lifetimes past before I felt an arm come under and around my chest. I don't remember it clearly. A man and his son noticed us from the shore. They swam out to help. I remember sitting for a long time afterward, throwing up water, head spinning, trying to comprehend what had just happened, and thanking the two men for being there.

The rest of the day came and went. We went home, returned the truck to my grandfather, and had dinner with the entire family like we'd done every night before.

"Do anything exciting today, CK?" my grandfather asked.

"Not really," I said sheepishly, "just went to the beach."