When I tried to scream for help, water rushed into my mouth, choking me, burning my chest as I swallowed in a mad attempt to drink the river away. The Tyne was terrifyingly cold and immensely powerful as it carried me down, battered me off a rock and tossed me head over heels along the course of the river. I struggled, trying to swim, trying to find a rock to cling to, trying to end my mad passage. I swallowed water, no longer thinking logically, not knowing what to do. I smashed into something substantial, realised it was the trunk of a tree trapped between two rocks, grabbed hold and clung on tight.
Gasping, I looked around, seeing only churning water and the darkness of rocks. I gagged, kicked with my feet and felt no bottom. My hands slipped on the wet wood as my strength gave out and
