The bus shuddered to a stop, its old engine struggling against the storm. Rain lashed down the windows, hard and unsettling. Inside, more than forty campers huddled together, bracing for what would be the most terrifying moment of their lives.

Two summers ago at camp, my group—the National Girls—visited Old Valley Forge in Pennsylvania for a four-day long trip. The itinerary was packed, but the real highlight was saved for the last day: a heart-pumping white-water rafting trip down the Lehigh River, home to some of the most thrilling rapids in Pennsylvania.

That morning, my entire cabin jolted awake to the blaring alarm on my nightstand. Groaning, I slowly stretched out my arms and let out a long yawn before looking over to my camp friend, Taryn.

“TARYN, LOOK OUTSIDE!” I shrieked, popping up from my bed. “It’s pouring! There’s no way I’m stepping outside this cabin.”

Taryn, still half-asleep, walked towards the small, foggy window and pressed her face against the glass.

“Sooo, I am not going out there. No way,” she muttered.

A loud knock startled us. We tiptoed toward the door and saw Lexi, our counselor, standing there with rain dripping off her coat.

“Girls, come on,” she said, her voice firm but tired. “We have to be ready in ten minutes—no later.”

Taryn and I exchanged a fearful glance. Today was the day. Six hours of rafting in a thunderstorm.

After putting on our gear, which consisted of a black stretchy bathing suit, soft shorts, and hideous waterproof sandals, we were finally ready. Outside, rain-soaked campers emerged from their cabins, their faces marked with dread.

Up ahead, Tyson, the head of our excursion, called out, “Okay boys and girls, are we ready to go? We have to leave right now! Take everything you need and head to the buses!”

I groaned, watching as everyone sluggishly moved toward the line of buses awaiting our arrival.

The ride down to the river felt both too short and too long. I rested my head against the cold window, shaking and bouncing up and down from the unsteady road. When we finally arrived, the sight of the Lehigh river made my stomach drop.

“Is it too late to leave?” I said sarcastically.

“Ugh, same,” my best friend Liv added. “I can’t do this.”

Tons of large rafts—red, yellow, and blue—lined the muggy floor, each equipped with paddles and bright orange life jackets in various sizes. Instructors buzzed around, shouting over the howling wind as we adjusted our gear. The air smelled of damp earth, and I could’ve sworn bugs were crawling on me.

Our instructor, a sturdy man with a deep voice, gathered us around.

“Alright team, listen up! We’re hitting strong currents today. When I say ‘get down,’ you get down. When I say paddle, you paddle. I’ll explain more on the river. I am aware today is very harsh,” he said.

I rolled my eyes. Is this man serious? How is he not scared? Why are we doing this?

“Let’s have a fun day!” he added with a grin.

The rain was relentless as we pushed off from the shore. I grasped onto the paddle harder than ever. Water sloshed around the bottom of the raft as we drifted off into the river.

The first set of waves hit us hard, slamming into the raft and drenching us in freezing water.

“I can’t feel my feet!” I yelled.

“Just keep paddling!” our instructor commanded.

Then it happened. The moment I dreaded.

Our raft twisted in every way possible as we hit a rapid, and before I could react, I was thrown overboard. My paddle ripped from my hands, and suddenly I was gliding down the raging river.

Everything blurred. The current kept pulling me under, getting stronger and stronger.

I could finally see the surface and was now gasping for air in a full panic. I could barely hear over the strong water, but the instructor’s voice cut through.

“Paddle forward! We have to get her back!”

My life jacket fought to keep me afloat, but the river had other plans, dragging me down.

Then, out of nowhere, a strong hand grabbed the strap of my life jacket, yanking me up onto the raft. The instructor had pulled me back up.

I lay there for a moment, chest heaving and limbs weak.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Voices swirled around me.

I managed to nod, catching my breath.

Liv sat hunched over, shaking her head. “I am done. I cannot do this anymore.”

For a second, I almost laughed. I had just been swallowed by a river, and she was complaining about being cold.

By the time we reached the shore, the exhaustion had settled. I had fallen. I had survived, and I had a memory that would last a lifetime.