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Back No Barriers Save as PDF
Chapters (48)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. FOREWORD
  5. Winter Solstice
  6. THE NO BARRIERS PLEDGE
  7. PROLOGUE
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35
  43. 36
  44. EPILOGUE
  45. GLOSSARY
  46. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  47. ABOUT THE AUTHORS
  48. Newsletter Sign-up

I clawed for the surface, for air, inhaling water as more waves slammed down and spun and shook me. My head finally popped above the surface, and I gasped for breath. I could hear voices again—Rob’s? Timmy’s?—but not Harlan’s as I felt a boat next to me and held on to it, trying to catch hold of something; it tipped a little, like the beginning of an Eskimo roll. I realized then I was feeling a smooth hull, the bottom of a boat. It was Harlan. He’d flipped, too! I let go, and Timmy was beside me, hauling me toward an eddy.

Then I could hear Harlan again, his voice breathless and quavering, explaining that a big wave had snapped his carbon fiber paddle in half, the severed, jagged edge spearing him in the face. That’s why he’d flipped. But I was hardly listening as Timmy deposited me on shore and I pulled myself up onto the slippery rocks at the river’s edge, thankful to be out of that terrifying maelstrom.

I could hear my team’s voices and their boats clacking into one another as they hovered in the eddy. Rob said, “You’re done, buddy. No more big rapids.”

With shaking hands, I took off my helmet. Water and silt streamed down my face as I tried to process what had just happened.

“No worries, Erik,” Harlan said. “You remember that old kayaking adage, right? We’re all just between swims.”

As I sat there, I tried to keep my face from reacting, trying to hide the shock and devastation. Lonnie ran Lava clean, flipping just once. The team whooped and hooted for his success, especially since he’d swum last year. I cheered for him, too, but not with as much enthusiasm as I should have. I felt bitter, like I’d let my team and myself down. It felt as if I had dishonored the journey I was on.

35

We pulled off and camped at Tequila Beach just a half mile below, beside the rapid called Son of Lava. The boys tried to cheer me up, and Harlan said, “Look at it this way. Right now, you are as far from Lava Falls as you could possibly be. You are through it. Lava is behind you.”

He was right in a way. Swimming through one rapid didn’t make the entire trip a failure. In the overall scheme of things, it didn’t really matter that I swam. I was through it. I was safe. I was alive. Part of me was glad it was over.