We shot around a curve, and what we saw made us freeze with fear. Downstream boiled a cloud of white spray from a narrow raceway of water that was more a waterfall than rapids. We were headed straight for it. Now my father’s voice was snatched away by the wind as he cried, “Lizzy! Fend off!” I had more than I could do for the next few moments, jamming my paddle down to shove us away from the rocks. I soon learned to brace it against the bow of the canoe, but even then the shock of the impact was enough to make my wrists ache. There was no more laughter now as we cascaded toward the bottom of that incredible flume, but rather fear and dread, because we could see that at the end of the raceway was a tumble of surf and a whirling eddy that was such a boiling churn of white water that there was no liquid visible at all—only spray and foam.

It was too late to save ourselves. We plunged into foaming, watery chaos, water brimming over some unseen dropoff. We fell down its yielding side like a bobsled. When we hit the wave of water at the bottom, it was as ungiving as a wall of ice.

The canoe shot into the air. As it turned over, I remember thinking: But I’m not ready to die! It seemed as if I floated in the air for hours, but still there was no time to take a breath and so store up more time to live beneath the black waters.

Then time came back to life as I was plunged into the icy water. Suddenly I was strangling. A voice spoke inside my head, telling me to be calm and hold my breath, but as the rocky bottom scraped my back, I gasped without meaning to, and some water got into my throat. I coughed it out and, with an effort more resolute than any I had ever made, refrained from trying to breathe. My chest burned. It was an exquisite agony.

To my amazement, my head shot out of the water, and I had time to gasp a quick breath before I was thrown under again. I tried to look about in that brief time, to see where my father or Tim or the canoe was, but to no avail. Under the raging stream once more, I began to have a faint hope that I might survive if I used my head. I opened my eyes and in blurred fishy fashion fended myself away from threatening rocks and the sunken trees that lined the bottom. It seemed that I could hear the stones grinding under the liquid torrent. I prayed that I would be thrown to the surface soon, for my resolve not to breathe until my head had broken out beneath the sky was fast weakening. My prayer was answered. I was heaved once more to the surface and this time was able to suck in two breaths before being drawn under again.