Yesterday my search and rescue pager went off for a river rescue at Bridal Veil Falls in Provo Canyon. Information streamed in over the radio as I headed up the canyon as to where the nine-year-old girl could be, and SAR units, together with Sundance and Provo Fire Departments, were deployed along the swift river. When the girl had slipped into the river near Bridal Veil Falls - where the river is narrow and fast, and the river trail is always full of mothers strolling with young children - her uncles and cousins responded immediately. At least three people went into the river after her, running downstream for an opening in the brush, then jumping in, only to find that the current had already swept her by or barely able to get a hold of her - but not a good enough hold to win the tug of war with 440 cubic feet per second of water - that's 27,500 pounds per second - rushing past. The girl was eventually located caught on a rock in the middle of the river between Canyon Glen and Nunn's Park, and I drove up the river trail to where fire fighters had arrived two minutes earlier. With safety backup and throw bags ready downstream, Sundance Fire Chief (I think) and swiftwater rescue technician Kenny Johnson had already jumped into the river to retrieve the girl, but the strong current swept him down before he could dislodge her. Kenny had already run a quarter mile up the trail in his dry suit and he must have been exhausted as he prepared to try again when I clambered down the bank and he sent me out instead. The current pushed me around as I waded and swam out, and I was able to stop myself atop the rock with several inches of water pouring over it. I picked up the girl and cradled her in my arms before being swept off the rock, and was able to walk most of the way back to shore before being knocked down again. I held the child up in front of me and shouted for a fire fighter to take her as I swept past, then regained the shore just downstream. Everyone began CPR immediately along with all the available miracles of modern medicine. She had a faint heartbeat and we flew her to Primary Children's Hospital hoping for the best, but fearing the worst. Normally, this would just be another exciting rescue for me. If it had a happy ending, I would be excited; if not, I would regret it and feel sorry for the family. I learned long ago that accidents happen all the time. People die all the time. That's something I can accept. There's no way around it. "I just hope I don't know them," I would always add. As I returned to the Command Post after my next assignment to make sure everyone was safely out of the river in other locations, I saw a friend. After quickly telling him what I had just done, he said, "That was my cousin!" Oh, that's when everything changed. His sister appeared behind him and I hugged them and told them how sorry I was. They walked me over to their father, one of the uncles who had a hold on the girl but had not been able to fight the current. "I felt so helpless!" he sobbed. We're never ready. We are NEVER ready for what will happen next. I know some people involved are blaming themselves for not doing more, but what more could they have done? I imagine they're making lists of things they could have done differently, but that's not fair!!! They ran. They reached. They swam. They tried their hardest, but they were simply outmatched. We are never ready for our challenges, we don't get a trial run before the real thing, and all we can do is try our best. To the family: I'm so sorry for your loss. I love you and I believe in you. I wish you all the best as you move through this difficult time. The grief will pass eventually and when it does, let it go. That's the only way to make the most of the precious time you shared with Caitlin. That's the only thing left to do. We're never ready for life or death, but in hindsight, we can at least make peace with it.