A Beginners Guide to An Adrenaline Fix: The Cagayan de Oro Whitewater Rapids!

Two summers ago, my office mates and I tried the whitewaters in Cagayan de Oro City. It was one of the highlights of our summer in the city and we were flushed with excitement. We were up early at six in the morning waiting for the company to take us to our destination. We were ready, clad in what we thought was our whitewater rafting attire – tights, shades, and shirt. We also wore our waterproof sunblock because they said rafting is going to take several hours, the sun is fierce and we were sure to bake. The most important thing, a camera, was not advisable because the rapids are wild and it will end up broken if not, our bones, so they say.  The jeepneys came to fetch us with our plump and colorful rubber boats screaming and bouncing on top of the vehicle. There was the driver and one thin, sun-baked guy, with Afro hair. I think he lacked sleep because he slept curled in a fetal position peacefully beside the driver on the front seat all the way to our destination. The jeepneys in Cagayan de Oro earned a mad reputation of speeding off like fighting jets at the height of an important battle. It never bothered the guy in dreamland.  We bought arm covers from the colorful stores lining the riverbanks which will be our start-off point. A frenzy of shopping started the adventure. Until we were cajoled to wear our headgears and life-vests and learn our Basic Whitewater Rafting Crash Course and Orientation. Armed with our paddles, we were taught how to maneuver a rubber boat in a desired direction. We forced ourselves to look patient even as we were raring to hit the river with or without the instructions because we were very excited. Nevertheless we listened to our guide/instructor who was speaking in impeccable english with an American accent, to the surprise of my officemates who came from the north because they think Visayan’s who are on the far reaches of the earth can’t ever speak like that. He is the same lanky sun-baked guy with the afro hair who curled and slept beside the driver. He is now wide-awake and hopefully during the whole course of the adventure.  I joined the other team, with a guide who says he never finished any high school and rafting is his life, his sport and his source of income. He is one of the originals who brought white water rafting in CDO using home-made rafts. His english is good but with a local accent. I gathered that they were trained by the City Tourism, and the years of rafting with local and international tourists polished his english. He has joined international whitewater competitions, the knowledge of which upped my confidence. No worries now, I’m in good hands! So I relaxed my back against the rear, whistling to myself. He was great and told us stories as we paddled ourselves against the waters. There will be fourteen rapids and I was ready to capsize, to drown, to break my neck, anything. I was so ready! My office mates were beaming from ear to ear obviously very excited. I do not see them as scared the fact that they were never ‘water persons’, never ever had a ‘boat’ experience and never ever learned how to swim. They brought their cameras inspite of the advisory. They were ready to break them. But the risk is worth taking because they need a living proof - a picture that tells their facebook friends and all the people in the world they white water rafted.  The three-hour adrenaline trip was highlighted with some soft rapids, some lulls, some swimming and some wild torrents. Some rapids are soft, just enough to cause us panic while the guide yell his instructions, ‘forward’, ‘back’ something like that. I was never able to apply the paddling skills that I mastered during the crash course because they put me on the rear facing the guide. There were lull moments when I wanted to doze off to sleep or watch the scenic cliffs in front of us. Some of the lull moments we spent jumping off our rubber boats, swimming against the strong current, climbing the smooth boulders and diving into the water. The guide can name all the rapids, and tell stories of celebrities he guided and how they screamed and fell off. There were several wild rapids that half-capsized and twisted our raft 360 degrees. One rapid is called “Kris Aquino Fall” because that was the famous point where she fell. The “Kris Aquino Fall” and the likes of it are the ones we wanted. Those were the times my teammates grip their paddles in panic, not knowing the forward and back anymore while I can only scream and laugh. Those are the times our lives were in the hands of our one and only guide. There’s the beautiful feeling of satisfaction with the adrenaline rush, each time. But what I wanted was a continuous surge of adrenaline from end to end. It did not happen because what we paid for was a beginner’s ride. There were more rapids, more swimming and more adrenaline rushes and scene viewing and dozing time and story-telling of snakes clambering up the cliffs and snaking its way with the current and so on.  We came to know the end of the journey at the sight of rubber boats laid to rest on the river banks. We never counted the rapids, there was no time for it and besides we can’t tell one from the other. We finished at 12 noon and it was perfect time to eat. There was a big restaurant that welcomed adrenaline fixed adventurers with great food. After lunch, the same jeepney took us back to the same place where we were fetched off. We were tired, happy and sun-baked and the only thing we wanted was sleep and for some of my friends post pictures in facebook as soon as possible.