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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

He was right. I was trying to ride an avalanche of water that roared in my ears and blocked out everything else. In the midst of all that, Rob was trying to stay right behind me, yelling at the top of his lungs, and I could only barely hear him. Those commands had to be dead-on, delivered with perfect timing and accuracy, and the other part of the equation: I had to execute his commands flawlessly. Being a foot too far left or right meant the difference between getting hammered or squeaking through, and it would only be getting bigger and louder. So with the memory of Man-Eater lingering in my restless dreams, the search for a radio communication system began.

9

We needed a completely submersible, hands-free system, and while the array of radio choices was dizzying, no one system seemed to offer exactly what we needed.

The next spring, I organized another family trip, this one down Desolation and Gray Canyons on the Green River, an eighty-four-mile section below the Gates of Lodore in Utah. This would give us a chance to test a new radio setup. The river was normally a Class III section, but when we arrived, we found the water was flowing at flood stage—forty-two thousand cubic feet per second (cfs). That meant: superfast. It was a thirty-five-year high, and Rob said, “Get ready for a wild ride.”

At the put-in, I slid the walkie-talkie box into a pocket in my PFD. I attached the cables that trailed up to my headset, which wrapped around my forehead with Velcro straps. I adjusted the dangling mike against my mouth and finally pulled my helmet over it all.

As I began paddling, I noticed that this new technology added another layer on top of a sport that, with a tight spray skirt, dry top, and PFD, already felt cumbersome and claustrophobic. Now I had a bulky box jammed into my chest pocket and a series of cables protruding from my PFD, wrapping around my shoulder straps, and connected to an earbud plugging my ear. With my left ear no longer hearing the ambient sound around me, I was now listening to the world in mono, no longer in stereo. Being reduced to one ear made it harder to assess space and distance and respond to the sound cues I was so used to. I felt less connected to the river. But with Rob’s voice immediately in my ear, I was now more connected to him, my lifeline, and it gave me confidence.