Day 4, a half-mile away from padding my resume/ego with another first descent when WHAM, a double overhead lateral folds me and my smiley-faced vessel faster than a taco in Mexico City. SMASH! ROLL! Fuck! And all of a sudden, I’m washed up. Yet, thankfully, gloriously, against a pocket of granite bedrock that I grab in wonder, "Is this California!?" I blink away confusion and reality speaks loudly, "NO, YOU’RE IN IDAHO OLD MAN, AND ONE THOUSAND BOULDERS AND A HALF DOZEN LOG JAMS DOWNSTREAM WILL TRY TO END YOUR LIFE IN ADDITION TO YOUR CAREER IF YOU DON’T GET OUT OF THE RIVER!"
"Frank, I need help" I mouth to my partner, who, luckily, is out of his boat on shore. In the blink of an eye, I’ve been…