Chapters (48)
I heaved myself out of my boat and flopped onto a rock, weak and dizzy. I could barely lift my head as I poured sweat and tried to slow my labored breathing. My arms and hands shook uncontrollably. It felt like my nervous system had broken, like a wire that had been frayed and exposed to the elements. I leaned over. Waves of nausea sent me into a series of convulsive dry heaves, and I could taste bitter acid rising in my throat.
Rob sat beside me and tried to convince me to get back in and give it another go, but even if I’d wanted to, I knew I couldn’t. No pep talk or motivational speech could get me back in the water. I had gone toe to toe with the river, and it had won, sending me sprawling into the corner battered and bloody. I was done!
I rode in a raft for the next day and a half until the take-out and tried not to bring everyone else down, but emotionally, I was shattered.
Then, when we got to the airport in Villahermosa and back to the world of e-mail, I got the news that Kyle Maynard had made it to the summit of Kilimanjaro. After the summit in Colorado where we first met, I had connected Kyle to an old friend of mine, Kevin Cherilla, who’d been my base camp manager on Mount Everest. Kevin was now running a guide company, K2 Adventures, regularly leading Kilimanjaro climbs. With Kevin’s support, Kyle’s plans took shape and his hiking technology began evolving. And now, Kyle had successfully climbed 19,340 feet in ten days to reach the top of Mount Kilimanjaro.
Of course, I was thrilled for Kyle. His No Barriers dream had become a reality. It was an amazing accomplishment, and I understood the pain, suffering, and bloody stumps he must have gone through to get there. But although I could envision him at the summit, my own dream had now become unclear, like the wispy jungle haze evaporating over the Usumacinta.
16
Rob wasted no time coming up with our future battle plans. He had figured out, from watching me ski and climb over the years, that I liked to do the same route over and over. “The problem with natural rivers,” he said, “is that you can only do each rapid once. Well, there’s a place called the U.S. National Whitewater Center. It’s in North Carolina, and it may be a very good solution.”