Sevnica is a gorgeous town in the heart of Slovenia, nestled right along the Sava River—one of the longest rivers in Europe. The section of the Sava that flows past Sevnica was once a beloved destination for kayakers and canoers. That was until 2008, when a hydroelectric dam was constructed across the river. This dam created a dead end for anyone trying to paddle through. Adventurers would have to stop at the dam, carry their gear around it, and then continue on the other side—or simply end their trip there.
During the dam’s construction in 2008, the mayor of Sevnica—who supported the project—recognized that while the dam would bring more electricity to the town, it also marked the end of an era. Wanting to honor the river’s legacy, he decided to organize one final trip down the Sava before the dam was fully completed. He called it “The Final Descent.”
The mayor went around town inviting people to join him. Eventually, 27 others agreed to come along for this symbolic journey.
On July 3rd, after all the preparations were complete, the mayor and the group made their way upstream to a launch point where four canoes awaited them. The staff providing the canoes offered life jackets to everyone. Strangely, nearly the entire group declined. Maybe it was the calm waters or the assumption that the trip wouldn’t take long—but no one seemed too concerned.
Once all 28 people were settled into four canoes—seven per boat—they pushed off and began a slow, peaceful trip down the river. The mayor had even hired a photographer to document the occasion.
The weather was beautiful, and the water was calm. Spirits were high. But about 15 to 20 minutes into the trip, the group rounded a bend and finally caught sight of the dam—about 1,000 feet away.
Though the dam wasn’t yet fully operational, the main structure was complete. From a distance, it was clear: massive concrete arches stood over the flowing water, and there was no visible passage around it. The original plan, according to the mayor, was to pass safely along the left side of the dam where construction hadn’t yet blocked the river. The construction crew had assured him that the left channel would remain open for one last descent.
But standing there in their canoes, it was obvious—there was no safe channel. The dam spanned the entire width of the river. The group was faced with a decision: either go around on foot or end the trip entirely.
Yet, the mayor and a few others had a different idea.
Despite warnings from the construction crew not to go over the dam due to the dangers, the mayor looked at the structure and decided it didn’t look too bad. It wasn’t a towering drop—it was more like a sloped slide, maybe 10 to 15 feet long, with some churning water at the bottom. It even seemed like it might be fun.
He pitched the idea as a thrilling adventure, and soon, three of the four canoes were onboard. The fourth canoe, carrying the photographer, wasn’t interested in taking the risk. They decided to pull off to the side and film the others instead.
As the group approached the dam, the photographer set up and began recording.
In the video later released to the public, the first canoe can be seen heading into the dam. The passengers looked nervous but excited, as if they were about to ride a water slide. The boat slowly disappeared into the shadow of the dam’s arches, and then, suddenly, the back of the canoe tilted upward as it began to descend.
You hear someone scream—and then, silence.
That first canoe capsized at the bottom of the dam, immediately throwing all seven passengers into the turbulent water. They barely had time to react before they were sucked under. Not only was the water rough, but it concealed a far more dangerous element: the operational intake tunnels of the hydroelectric dam.
These tunnels acted like powerful vacuums, drawing water—and anything in it—into massive turbines that generated electricity. The dam wasn’t fully online, but these systems were already functioning.
Unaware of what had just happened, the other two canoes followed. The second canoe also capsized, and its passengers were immediately sucked into the depths. The third canoe, however, stayed upright. After clearing the dam, they looked around and realized something was wrong. The two other canoes were gone.
They turned back toward the dam and saw wreckage—one canoe flipped, the other smashed to pieces in the churning waters. They paddled back desperately to help, but it was too late. The 14 people from the first two canoes had vanished.
Rescue efforts began immediately, but 13 of the 14 people thrown from the canoes died that day. One of the victims was the mayor himself.
The only survivor from the two capsized canoes was the mayor’s wife, who, by some miracle, managed to escape the grip of the swirling waters and reach the shore.
Over the following days and weeks, police divers recovered all 13 bodies—one of which had drifted 25 miles downstream into Croatia. Authorities never disclosed the condition of the bodies or whether the turbines had caused fatal injuries. What is known is that all or most of them were pulled into the dam’s intake tunnels and didn’t survive.
The Final Descent was meant to be a farewell adventure—a celebration of the river and its history in Sevnica. But instead, it became a devastating tragedy, remembered as a stark warning about the power of nature and the consequences of misjudging it.