His mouth opening and shutting like a fish on land, his white teeth shone like pearls as his pale white face slowly became engulfed in the foamy white water.
The fog made my vision blurred as I reached to grab the innocent hand of the kayaker.
The river seemed angry, as if we weren't supposed to be there, grumbling, and spitting in my face while pinning my mate against the rock and slowly tugging him under.
I grasped his numbing cold hand and clamped it tight; it felt lifeless like a twig.
Suddenly an overwhelming amount of pressure struck my arm.
I tried to combat the force but my arm was aching and my mate's pale white hand was slipping from my vise-like grip.
It all happened so fast. The last thing superglued in my mind was his fear-stricken white eyes disappearing under the rock.
Earlier that day, I had been staring down the barrel of the Nevis River, kayak over shoulder, paddle in hand and eagerness dashing through my veins.
It had become time to face my fear and paddle down the savage river.
There was something different about the atmosphere, an airy feeling like no other.
Was it the white fleecy fog pouncing over the barren Central Otago hills, or the fact that we were isolated and alone with no help nearby?Whatever it was, I felt uncomfortable, and like something bad was about to happen.
It had been exhilarating, the feeling of being free and water droplets spraying over my face.
The feeling of gliding over a waterfall and seeing all the rocky moon-like landscape, before coming to a sudden violent thud, displacing water, catching a breath and taking a long powerful stroke at the water.
We had all settled into a routine, powering our way down the white powder-like, aerated water.
I had stopped in an eddy to quench my thirst, my throat being as dry as the Sahara Desert after all the forceful paddling.
I had dunked my face under the icy cold water and gulped in a large amount of water, soothing my bone-dry throat and swallowing to the excruciating pain of brain freeze.
I had raised my head out of the water. Droplets dripped down the back of my neck and sent a shiver down my spine.
''Heeellllpppppp!''
I had heard a faint noise in the distance.
Before I even had time to register the screech, I was powerfully paddling out into the main current with my heart beating a million miles an hour and arms trembling from fatigue.
All I could see was his wide open mouth and his white shiny teeth.
I felt sickened by the sight of my mate getting hauled under the rock.
Helpless and innocent were the words spinning in my head as the last of his white fingertips slowly blended into the water.
The river turned quiet, in fact everything seemed like it was in slow motion.
My ears where ringing and my head was light as a feather.
I was sick and could feel the bass-like thud in the back of my throat. The seconds felt like an eternity while waiting for a glimmer of hope.
''Just let him go,'' I was saying to myself.
My mind was racing around, random thoughts flicking through my mind like a slideshow.
I was steering straight at the river when suddenly a burst of red popped out of the water like lava out of a volcano.
It was him. He was alive!He dragged himself out and stayed lying on the rocks, his chest rising up and down like a balloon.
It was a miracle.
I looked up into the fog and said, ''Thank you.''
• By Jonty McKinnel, Year 12, Roxburgh Area School
