By Dominic Valentine

Over 20,000 rafters ride the Shenandoah River each year on commercially guided trips. As a father of three daughters and someone who lives on one of the local  waterways, Dominic Valentine felt a kinship to one of them. Roger Freeman, who died in a Shenandoah River rafting incident in 2004, was a family guy in his 40’s who loved life and to play music. For Valentine, Freeman is a reminder of how precious life is.

The vast majority of those trips are uneventful and end pleasantly. On the day Roger Freeman and his co-workers went on their guided ride, the Shenandoah was uncommonly high. Over the last six years, many have questioned the wisdom of going through with the commercially guided trip when the water level was at flood stage. Legal battles have been engaged to determine culpability. In November of 2009, all legal  actions surrounding Roger Freeman’s death came to a dramatic close as an eleventh hour settlement was inked before the jury hearing both sides came to a verdict.

On the morning of September 30, 2004, the Shenandoah River was a different river than the lazy, shallow one we see most days. The water level was at flood stage. Just after dawn it had crested at an unusually high 13.5 feet. The rocky ledges that make up the cascade known as Staircase, beneath the bridge at Harpers Ferry, were hidden beneath several feet of debris and clay-colored water. The river was out of its banks, filling in the low-lying areas next to it. On this day, amidst the churning murky waters at the lower staircase, at a point known as Hesitation Ridge, Roger Freeman, a husband and father of two young girls, found himself in the water fighting for his life. It was a battle he would lose.

By all accounts Roger Freeman was a responsible man, a caring person with a great sense of humor and a talent for music. By the age of 40, he had carved out a successful career as a financial analyst. He was the type of person co-workers would go to for advice or turn to when they needed something done right.

He had a good marriage, and was the kind of father that planned daddy days with his daughters. He had won his wife’s heart by making her laugh, and by pursuing her with a playful relentlessness. They studied finance together at college, they both loved music. Their college romance blossomed into the kind of marriage that most of us admire. Freeman was the rock in the lives of his family and friends, always on time, always showing up with an agreeable attitude and enjoying life for what it offered whether at work, playing music, or doing homework with his daughters.

Team Building

Freeman pulled into the parking lot of River Riders, a commercial whitewater outfitter operating on the Shenandoah River outside Harpers Ferry. River Riders had been contracted by Freeman’s employer, Kaiser Permanente, to present a teambuilding workshop that would culminate in a group trip down the river. Typically, Freeman was right on time, but arrived with a bit of apprehension. In the weeks before the trip he had expressed hesitation at being on the river because he could not swim. He was not the only apprehensive non-swimmer among his workmates. Betty Green was another. The two of them spoke about their limited experiences with water, growing up in the urban environs of Washington, D.C. But if Freeman was anything, he was a team player. He brought his usual confidence and willingness to what was ultimately a team event.

The accounts of the day, offered by the participants and trip leaders, differ as to whether Freeman and others had raised their concerns to trip planners or guides that day. They generally agree that one raft was designated as the “slow boat” for participants who wanted a calm ride. That raft was to be anchored by the most experienced guide, Tim Main. The slow boat was a self-bailer and longer than the others. Rather than run the rougher rapids, the slow boat would avoid them. Freeman and Betty Green took seats on the slow-boat raft.

The average flow rate for the Shenandoah around Harpers Ferry in September is 1000–3700 cubic feet per second (cfs). On September 30, 2004 the rate was about 35,ooo cfs. Because of the fast water, River Riders slightly altered the original trip plan and shortened the ride. They decided to take-out at Brunswick, Md., shortening the duration of the trip by about one hour.

The guides and customers were organized into five vessels that hit the water around 1:30pm. There is a stretch of calm, flat water before the first whitewater section where the guide can go over river safety issues, like paddle commands, how to brace in the boat and what to do if you fall out of the boat. The guide of Raft Five, the slow boat—Freeman’s boat—used this time to explain to his guests that they would need to paddle hard when they got to more challenging water. That first mile or so passed easily.

At the first rapid, Entrance Rapid, each of the crews successfully navigated the river. Directly after Entrance Rapid is Bull Falls, the largest drop on the river. Later, in court documents, Benjamin Harrison, guide of Raft Four, would comment that the Bull Falls run went well. “We blew right through it, had a good hit. Everybody got wet. It was fun,” he said.

After Bull Falls the rafts proceeded down Bull’s Tail, and encountered a train of up-and-down waves. The five boats paddled to the right side of the river, then took a short break at Copperhead Rock, where there is a large natural eddy.

Leaving the Copperhead Eddy, the rafts stayed close together—a common practice in high water. If a passenger falls out, the rushing river can quickly sweep them away from the boat. Having all the boats close together increases the opportunity to collect anyone who falls in the water, but it also increases the danger of the rafts colliding, which can lead to ‘dumping,’ a term used to describe a raft flipping over and dumping its riders into the water.

Beyond the eddy came another section of flat water. Then the rafts came around a bend, and entered the Upper Staircase. In high water, the run is not so much a cascading staircase as a series of big waves. Riders in Ben Harrison’s boat seemed to be doing well, while others were experiencing some difficulty.

In Raft Three, Kaiser Permanente team member April Goss was beginning to feel panicked. She had declined to ride in the slower, less adventurous boat, and boarded one of the shorter non-self bailing rafts. Her guide assigned her the task of bailing out the raft as they hit the Upper Staircase.

Shortly after Goss’s boat left the eddy, she noticed the roar of the river growing louder. As she felt the boat rocking, she hunkered down behind a fellow passenger. They had begun to hit the most challenging part of the river.

As the waves broke against the rafts, water hurled onto and over the riders. As water started coming in, Goss started bailing, and her guide began yelling to the others to paddle. “Dig deep, dig deep,” he shouted above the roar. And then they were through.

Although the upper part of the staircase was rough, all the rafts made it navigated them without dumping, but the non-self bailers took on significant amounts of water, making them slower and less maneuverable.

Goss was having trouble keeping up with the bailing. The water level inside the raft was up to the knees of the riders in her raft. At that point, she just wanted to be off the river, but remembered that she was part of the “team,” and this was an extension of the morning’s teambuilding exercises. Feeling unfit and overwhelmed, she bailed on.

Carrie Mueller, another Kaiser Permanente employee, was in Raft Three with Goss. She recalled hearing her guide yelling with a sense of panic that the boats were too close together. As they approached Hesitation Ridge the rafts began to bang into one another like bumper cars. The lead raft was the first to find itself in trouble. It flipped, tossing all the riders into the water. Raft Two slid over the third, then flipped. Mueller and Goss’s raft followed. It made a deep dive and turned over, sending the riders into the water. Later, in a deposition related to a legal case that emerged from the incident, Mueller made the following statement describing her experience at the Ridge:

“I am a good swimmer and I can hold my breath for a long period of time, for almost two [pool] lengths I can hold my breath underneath the water. And I remember being underneath the water, and it being dark and cold, and I just felt like I was being jostled around. And I never had experienced anything so strong in my life . . . I just felt trees underneath and rocks, and it was just so strong, the current was just so strong, and I remember getting up for air and I could only get a little bit of air because there were so many waves, and the water was so deep, and I took in water and this thick mud, and it was inside of my throat, and I started to panic, I thought, God, is this the way I am going to die, and I just  kept rolling around in the water, and I finally got another gasp of air, and it happened for probably three or four times before I was pushed out. I was sort of shot out the side of the rapid and I could finally get a little bit more air, and I wasn’t in that rolling sensation anymore. The water was so deep and it was just coming into my mouth and I just remember floating down the river, and just being so cold and so afraid that I was going to go back into a rapid, so I just closed my eyes and I said the Our Father . . . and I finally had this jolt and it was another boat that grabbed my life jacket and pulled me into the boat.”

Harrison’s Raft Four was the next to cross over the Ridge. It made some contact with Goss and Mueller’s raft, but did not flip. Harrison’s crew paddled to an eddy.

Raft Five, the slow boat, was significantly behind the others and was not caught up in the preceding bottleneck. However, it also was in distress as it approached the Ridge, where the other boats had flipped.

Betty Green, one of the non-swimmers fell from the raft. A wave had hit the raft and knocked her back into the water. As she fell back she knocked another rider, Christina Friddle, into the water. Freeman was seated in the front of the boat. With the assistance of two riders, the guide Tim Main immediately pulled Friddle back into the boat. Others were assisting Green when another wave hit the raft, forcing it to capsize. Now Freeman was in the water.

Friddle struggled in the water, at first coming up under the raft, then going up and under seven or eight times before grabbing hold of the raft. All but two other passengers were holding the raft. Main yelled for them to get atop the raft, but the rough water kept them from doing so. He was able to secure Green to the boat. At that point Friddle remembers seeing Freeman near the boat, struggling in the water. She saw him being pulled under and away. “I watched him float away. He was awake when he passed me. I saw his eyes open and he was struggling to stay above water,” Friddle said.

At this point, Harrison, the only guide whose boat remained upright through the Ridge, saw Freeman floating in the water and dived into the water to rescue him. The following is his account given during the trail:

“As soon as I started to get close I could tell there was something wrong. He had his eyes open . . . not that your eyes shouldn’t be open, but the way he was leaning back, he was facing the sun. As I was swimming out to him, that was the first thing that really caught my attention . . . his eyes were open looking at the sun.  That kind of . . . triggered something. There is something wrong with that.

“As I was swimming up to him, you know, when I started to see there was something wrong with him, I yelled back to call 911, and I swam up and grabbed him. He had his eyes open. I didn’t see any movement from him at all, you know.  As I saw him coming down he wasn’t trying to swim or moving his arms.  He was still. I grabbed him and swam as hard as I could. I got him back into the eddy on the right side, and we got him up on shore and I started CPR.”

The Aftermath

Was it safe to go out on the Shenandoah River that day in September 2004?

Immediately after the incident Everett Ruppert, the manager of Blue Ridge Outfitter,  another outfitter who ran commercial rafting trips on the Shenandoah in 2004, told the investigating conservation officer that water levels above nine feet are unsafe for commercial rafting on the Shenandoah. Yet River Riders set off on a guided trip with five rafts, five guides, and 27 persons—two of whom were non-swimmers— at levels of 12.5 feet. This decision, the conservation officer investigating the incident would say, “demonstrated that River Riders used poor judgment conducting commercial rafting operations on 30 September, 2004, based on the conditions of the Shenandoah on the afternoon of the incident.” No other rafting companies licensed to operate on the Shenandoah were operating that day because of river conditions.

There are no guidelines set by the West Virginia Department of Natural Resources or by the state’s Whitewater Commission concerning water level cut-off points for commercial guided trips. Individual outfitters are free to decide the point at which they will not conduct guided excursions.

Matt Knott, owner of River Riders who was also a guide on the trip on 30 September 2004 was reluctant to talk about the need for cut-off levels. He says that most people do not understand what they are looking at when they see high water. He and other commercial operators also insist that taking non-swimmers is perfectly safe, and is a common practice of all commercial whitewater outfitters. This sentiment was also shared by Mark Lewis, president of the West Virginia Professional River Outfitters Association, who also suggested that some parts of a river are more dangerous in lower waters than in high. Lewis believes that the guides and operators have the experience to best decide when water levels are safe, and that there should not be hard and fast cut-off levels. Lee Baihly, owner of River and Trail, another company that runs raft trips on the Shenandoah River, agrees that there should not be a cut-off level for rafting trips.

In November 2009, River Riders and their insurance carrier settled with the family of Roger Freeman. The Freeman  family was represented by Charles Town attorney Stephen Skinner. The details of this settlement are sealed and not available to the public.

In November 2009, in a separate lawsuit brought by other Kaiser Permanente employees who took part in the September 30 trip, a jury acquitted River Riders of failure to conform to the standard of care expected of a commercial whitewater outfitter. The jury did, however, make an unusual request. They asked the court if they could add an attachment to their verdict, and with the consent of both sides, they included the following statement:

“We as a jury, recommend that River Riders develop a written policy as part of their standard of care to include:

To be more consistent with regard to the height of the river on a commercial whitewater excursion, with the policies of other outfitters on the Shenandoah River (7–10’ as a cutoff for river operations);

To be more aware of the limitations of their customers (ability to swim, physical ability, etc.);

To be more effective in communicating with their customers as to the actual conditions on the river prior to their trip.”

When asked if River Riders now had an established cutoff point concerning water level for not conducting commercial trips, Knott said that the company had established flood level at 13.5 feet. Knott also stated that he had a lot more to say about the incident and subsequent legal actions, but was not at liberty to do so because of ongoing legal proceedings. He said he would be able to elaborate on the incident and the cases sometime in the future.

As for Roger Freeman’s family, his widow Kathy said, “It has been a major adjustment and turnaround, but with time the girls and I have gotten stronger and better. There are times of course when we particularly miss his presence, especially now that our oldest daughter is getting ready to go to collage. There’s prom and graduation and all those special things.

“I miss most his conversation and sense of humor. We were in-sync and partners, so I miss his companionship. I really miss him being a father to the girls, and through the years I have missed him more for that than anything.”

Disclosure: Stephen Skinner is the attorney representing The Observer in its FOIA petition case.