“DON’T DO THAT”

Rowing, rowing, and more rowing. Then some more rowing. You had to pull and push to get where you wanted. The river would take you down, sure, but on its own terms. If not guided by our oars, the rafts would be dashed against the rocks and pop like golden kernels of superheated maize. This was made clear when my uncles went for a little swim when we pulled over to rest. They swam out too far and the river caught them. The Snake is a beast and will sweep you away in an instant. The problem is not that you can’t get to shore; it’s that if you float too far downriver, there might not be any shore to cling to. In many places, the cliffs dive straight into the water. Rodney and Bob made it, though.

They emerged from the river, spat up by nature, and filled with a newfound respect for it. The water broke in small waves at my feet, and I could feel the power of the Snake. Hell’s Canyon wanted me.

“Don’t do that,” was all I remember them saying.