I couldn't quite get the angle, so I assessed the risk of the situation.
I decided to inch forward. I was a photo sniper trying to get the right shot, and I had all my gear on me, ready for whatever happened next.
At least that's what I thought.
The two thick branches were close to the main trunk of the tree. It formed a forked platform over the flowing river so that I could maneuver myself toward the water to capture what I was envisioning.
My camera shutter fired.
Click.
Click.
Okay, this is better.
Click.
Just a little bit further.
Click.
Click.
SNAP
Click!
"SNAP" isn't quite the sound I wanted to hear, and in a split second I knew things were about to get pretty hairy. The tree support I was completely laying on overlooking the water now could no longer bear my weight and gave way with a loud crack that disturbed the peaceful silence.
Despite the severe abruptness and harshness of the moment, time seemed to slow down to allow my thoughts to collect clearly. My camera was slung around my neck, but I immediately raised it as far above my head as possible as I fell so it didn't drown.
Apparently I squeezed the shutter one last time as it was raised above my head. An eerie, yet somewhat beautiful image of panic.
My feet hit the muddy bottom of the river, but my boots just couldn't grip at all, so I fell backwards with my head partially submerged under the cold dark water, but my camera still held high so the water couldn't touch it.
What I remember most about this event is what scared me the most.
First, the water was much deeper than I expected and the ice cold shock sent chills to every square inch of me. My feet could not find traction on the bottom because of the slippery sludge, but matters were made worse because the dense root structure of the tree hidden beneath the surface seemed to pull and entangle me. I was living a horrible nightmare. The steady flow of the current pushed my body downstream as my feet stuck.
I'm sure the fact that my stubbornness to keep my camera above my head out of harms way certainly didn't help my balance and leverage, and made everything seem so much worse, but I seriously remember thinking that I might have to sacrifice my camera's life in order to save my own.
Suddenly, one foot was set free and then the other, all while my camera was held high. I fought my way up the muddy slope of the river and made my way to a cluster of dry leaves and plopped down. I looked at my camera and I could see only a few water droplets on the surface. I sighed.
I then realized that my backpack of camera equipment (a.k.a. backpack full of cash) was mounted to my back. I recall that very backpack being submerged in dark, murky water during my struggle.
I felt the backpack and it was soaked.
Gulp.
I made my way to flat dry land and put all my equipment down to diagnose the damage. Just then I realized my brand new iPhone I bought the week prior was in my pocket.
Double gulp.
Somehow, some way, my phone was fine. I later discovered that the new one is waterproof or water resistant. Thank you Apple!
I quickly unzipped my backpack to unveil the lenses and they were perfectly dry. All of the contents (a lot) in every pouch were completely dry and safe. All my memory cards, sunglasses, and heck, even gum! Thank you Tamrac!
Thank You, Lord.
I felt relieved and quite pathetic. I looked around in embarassment. Of course, realizing there wasn't a soul around sort of gave me the jitters thinking of the absolute worst thing that could have gone wrong with no one to help.
Sure, I might be a little dramatic when I tell this story, but situations like these make me think twice about whether the shot is worth the risk.
This is the shot I got before the big plunge.
Before the double gulp.
This is called FALL for a reason other than what you might first think.
For the record, I was completely soaked, but the light was still promising so I kept taking pictures...away from water. Water sloshed in my boots as I walked to find the next picture. Yes, I sort of have a problem.
