Istill love the swooping, flying thrill of fear so much that I’ll go miles out of my way to ride a really good ’coaster even when my children are begging off.

No wonder, then, that I took to rafting. I’ve been fortunate enough to ride several rivers over the years from the Ocoee in Georgia to the Colorado, but Inow have a new favorite trip —rafting the Gauley River in West Virginia.

For the past 16 years, several of my friends who attended Catawba College with me have been making the trek up Highway 19, to just north of Beckley.

The group, numbering anywhere from 15 to 35 participants, hails from everywhere from Georgia to Pennsylvania. A sizeable Salisbury contingent usually converges with them, too.

For years, this has been an all-male affair and, although I begged and pleaded, I was never included. These tough guys finally relaxed their standards a few years ago, so I looked forward with great anticipation to joining them this year.

Every outing has been done through Class VI River Runners, a top-of-the-line outfitter. If you decide to make any trip down the New or Gauley Rivers, I highly recommend these folks. Why ride in a Chevy when you can go for the Rolls-Royce? The moment you arrive at their beautiful woodland facility, you are aware of their professionalism and thought for every detail.

My friends and I reunited on a Friday night at a nearby campsite. After a few beers and a great makeshift dinner we rustled up, the years since college seemed to fall away. I was delighted to find that, out of our group of 14, two other women were coming along, although neither of them had rafted the Gauley before, either.

Our evening campfire was largely marked by tall tales that I’m sure were designed to put the fear of God into us.

The following morning we reconnoitered at Class VI to pick up our equipment and load our gear onto a truck that would carry it downriver to Saturday’s campsite. Ihad asked a former participant for any words of wisdom. His single reply was, “Get the wetsuit.” Iobediently slid into mine, as well as some tight rubber booties supplied by the outfitters, and was very thankful on several occasions over the next two days that Ihad heeded my friend’s advice.

On the bus ride to the river, we were instructed by Bobby Bower, who turned out to be our personal river guide, on rafting technique and river etiquette. Particular attention was paid to what to do should you find yourself in the water outside of the boat.

As we slid into the river, great curtains of white water spewed from the Summersville Dam, and we found ourselves paddling like crazy to negotiate the first set of rapids. Between the two parts of this river, the Upper and Lower, there are over 100 sets of rapids, some named and classified, others not. The classification for rapids runs from I-VI; VI is impassable. You have to portage, or carry your boat around the rapids. Along the Gauley, there are no class VI, but there are many III, IV and Vs, and one that several people consider a V and a half.

The Gauley is ranked one of the most challenging rivers in the world, particularly on the six weekends in September and October when the water is let out of the dam at Summersville Lake.

Our trip, made over two days, took us 28 miles and we dropped over 800 feet in altitude. The more demanding Upper Gauley required constant coordination of paddling between Bobby, our guide, and our crew of six.

I was very glad to be among experienced hands as we negotiated boulder-strewn rapids like “Insignificant”(which was not) and “Lost Paddle,”and, I must admit, that my heart lurched as we went over the 12-foot drop of Sweet Falls.

Moments of calm water were savored for a rest of the arms and back, perhaps a smoke, and a chance to really look at our vernal surroundings. The steep walls of the canyon, still wearing their summer green, watched us silently float by.

For the entire two days, we never spotted another non-rafting human being, or car, train, building of any sort, or even a farm. One has the stunning feeling of being in a very remote, rugged place.

Class VI does its best to make you feel anything but rugged. When you pull up for lunch, sandwich makings, salads and cookies await you. All of the meals were both tasty and first class. Dinners in camp featured appetizers, kegs of beer, wine, prime rib, poached salmon, a good array of vegetables, breads and desserts, and the best mashed potatoes I’d eaten in a long time. Breakfast had a good variety of dishes and excellent coffee.

Bobby, it turned out, was an excellent raconteur and wonderful guide. He recounted hilarious stories of things he’d seen on the Gauley, and explained very carefully how to get into position for the more complex rapids.

We nearly lost it on one set, but were going very smoothly, hitting everything just right when I heard him yell behind me. Our raft suddenly flipped over and I was the last to fly from it into the heart-stopping 50-degree water. After slamming into a huge boulder, I came up for air underneath the raft. Feeling the current’s fast draw, I shot out and up within arm’s reach of another raft and was pulled by my life vest to safety.

The other two boats in our party deftly gathered up the other swimmers, while Bobby, as angry as the proverbial wet hen, righted our raft, quietly cursing himself. The other two guides made much of this. “That’s the first time in years that he’s flipped,”they laughed. “Bobby doesn’t like to get wet.”

After supper and campfire fun, I slept harder than Ihad all summer, but felt refreshed for the second day of the Lower Gauley. Although the river calms down a great deal, so much so that you can swim, even jumping from cliffs if you like, there are several really good rapids on the lower portion. After our spill of the previous day, my group took “Heaven Help Us”and the “Lower Stair Steps” with care and had no accidents before we reached our put-in to load the rafts.

For two days a kayaker had circled us like a mosquito. After a hot shower and dinner at Class VI’s excellent outdoor pavilion restaurant, Smokey’s, we learned why. On a big screen TV in the bar, we watched a video of our entire trip, complete with interviews, set to music. The kayaker had shot us from the water, from high rocks and several other interesting vantage points.