The river was angry that day my friends. Boiling and seething like a serpant looking for an unwilling victim. I started the voyage giving Jessie shit for flipping his raft the prior weekend. Cracking beer, and facing the onslaught of the afternoon headwind on the canyon we made our course. Just before the intimidating shadows of triple bridges, I instruct Robs girlfriend to quit putting empty beer cans back in the cooler. My river experience instructs her, "its too hard to find the full ones, throw them in the raft, it's not like we're going the flip." We continue on through the bridges, like gods watching us from the heavens, we passed underneath.
Tumbleweed looked boily and frothy from around the bend. Just upon coming into the monster, Doc's boat cuts in front of us and we bump off line. I know my level of skill would get us through just fine as I reflect, you'd have to be way off to flip in this. Next is Fang. 5 to 6 miller lites into the trip, worries of carnage were farthest from my thoughts. I yell to Jessie, " have you ever taken the middle? this is the last rapid and I'm feeling brave." Robs girlfriend asks, please don't take the chance, "I don't want to get wet". I throttle back, and drift into the easy, predictable right line then flush center into one big wave. I maintain some ego and catch some froth outside the green tounge for fun. No problem, perfectly center I push forward into the one big wave. We crest the wave with perfect timing, not a drop comes over the bow. I must admit I was disappointed about the ease of that run. Just behind the big wave is a smaller slightly right lateral. I let off the oars with no fear, notice the boat quickly turn right, and decided for a split second to not push or straighten out knowing we're through and...WAMMO.
No highside, no "holy shit", just bam we're in the river. 1st flip ever.
No highside, no "holy shit", just bam we're in the river. 1st flip ever.
