NIAGARA FALLS — There is something about Niagara Falls that always leaves you with a sense of awe.

   I don’t know whether it’s the sheer breadth of the Horseshoe Falls, the height of the American falls or just the raw unbridled power of the water that flows over them. Somehow, every time I see them I’m mesmerized by the sight.

Growing up in Western New York, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve visited the falls and stood on the pedestrian bridges watching the ferocity of the Niagara River rapids.

Working for three decades as a reporter here, I’ve lost count of the number of stories I’ve done about heroic rescues and horrific tragedies involving those same rapids.

So when I had the opportunity to report on the State Park Police Swift Water Rescue team as they trained last Tuesday, I didn’t hesitate for a moment. I knew it would be a story our readers would find fascinating.

What I hadn’t planned on was another opportunity — the chance to actually join that training.

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When Lt. Pat Moriarty and Sgt. Clyde Doty asked if I wanted to “come on in” to the rapids, I immediately said yes.

It wasn’t the first time I’ve reported with Pat and Clyde. I’ve spent time with them on the Park Police’s various boats that operate on the Niagara River and watched them practice water rescues in the Niagara River “Danger Zone” just above the rapids.

Doty took me back to the Park Police station and “suited me up.” I donned a three-quarter length wet suit, underwater booties, a safety harness, helmet, police gloves and a large floatation vest. Most of the equipment was yellow, so I looked like a giant banana.

As I got ready to step into the water, I looked out and saw, just a few feet away, what I was used to seeing at a much greater and safer distance.

The white water of the Niagara River rapids is intoxicatingly beautiful. Yet at the same time, only a fool could look at the swift moving water and crashing waves and not see the potential for danger.

I asked Pat, who I’ve seen perform miraculous rescues in these waters at great personal risk, “Are you ever scared when you’re out there? Are you ever nervous or worried?”

He replied, “I respect the water but I trust my equipment and my partner.”

I was about to do the same.

The rapids are deceiving. The water is not particularly deep and along the shoreline it’s quite calm.

On a 90 degree day, walking into the water was refreshing.

I was tethered to a pulley on a guideline that stretched from Green Island out to an out-island. Clyde moved on the line in front of me and I side-stepped my way along behind him.

As we got to about 15 to 20 feet from shore I got my first taste of the rapids. Water, moving at about 30 mph, began to buffet my legs.

It was unnerving for a second, but I kept my feet anchored on the river bed and continued to move deliberately to my right, sliding the pulley and holding on to the guideline. The further I moved out into the rapids, the more I could feel the power of the water pushing against me.

Then, at the halfway point across the rapids, the water calmed. I stopped and looked behind me.

About 100 yards away, I could see the horizon. It was the brink of the American falls.

Clyde, who was already at the out-island, took my picture.

It’s hard to describe what it’s like to be out on one of the small islands in the middle of the rapids. I sat on the branch of a tree that extended off the island and dangled my feet in the water. Leaning back and looking up at the tourists crossing the pedestrian bridge to Goat Island my mind wandered and I thought, I could do this all day.

But all I had to do was look to either side for a reminder of just where I was. It actually seemed like the water had become a little rougher while Clyde and I were on the out-island.

We jumped back into the water for the walk back to the shoreline. As I reached the calm mid-point of the rapids again, I stopped and turned and looked at the brink of the falls one more time.

I thought, I’ll never see a view like this again.

As we got to about 20 feet from the shore, the water got rough. There was a large rock I needed to step over and I tried to keep my right foot anchored on the river bed as I lifted my left foot up to get over the rock.

As my left foot came up, I felt my right foot start to slip. I twisted on the guideline and powerful, fast moving wave crashed into me.

The force of the wave knocked me under the water.

Realizing I was going under, I was able to take a breath and then I felt the water of the rapids rushing over my face. The rapids are so powerful, once you go under it is virtually impossible to get your head back above the water.

You can feel the water forcing you down. It’s a recipe to drown.

Was I scared? No. I knew Clyde was right next to me.

Though it seemed longer, I think I was only under the water for a few seconds before I felt Clyde pull on my tether and my head shot back above the waves. There was just one problem now.

The force of pulling my head above water took my feet out from underneath me. With all my floatation gear on I had now become buoyant and there was no way for me to get my feet back on he river bed.

I was now floating in the Niagara River rapids, above the brink of the falls, like an oversized piece of driftwood. The only way for me to get back to shore was to be pulled in.

The Swift Water Rescue team was going to have to perform a bit of a rescue.

I remember Clyde telling me to “just relax” and I could hear Pat yelling, “Pull, pull, pull.” I thought to myself the guys on the shore are probably thinking, “Jeez Rick, couldn’t you have skipped some of those doughnuts and dropped a few pounds.” I made a mental note to try to shed some weight in the future.

It’s funny what you think about in a situation like I was in. As I bobbed on the waves and the rocks on my way to shore, I realized the water was about to force one of my booties off.

I suddenly decided I would not lose a piece of my equipment to the rapids, so I reached out and plucked the bootie off my foot and held on to it. When I reached the shore, it was the first thing I handed Pat.

I never feared for my safety. Like Pat had told me, I trusted my equipment and my partner and I am eternally grateful for both.

Had it not been for my equipment and my partner, I might not be writing this.

In the space of about an hour I experienced both the beauty and the unrelenting danger of the Niagara River rapids in a way few human beings ever will. But this also one time when I would not want anyone else to try to follow in my footsteps.