It was time for me to bring up something I’d wanted to discuss with Lonnie all night. “As you know,” I began, “in a little more than a year, I have plans to kayak the Grand Canyon. If one blind guy paddles it alone, people can easily write it off as some kind of anomaly, but if two blind guys paddled it together, then the story gets bigger, and it becomes more about what’s possible for everyone. It says that all of us can push forward and be that inspiration. So what I’m getting at is, will you join me on my expedition?”

“Partner,” he said, “I’d be honored.”

21

Rob and I had just finished a training session paddling Clear Creek. We were sitting on the back of his tailgate taking off our wet gear when Rob said, “By next year, by the time of our trip, I just don’t know what my health situation will be. So I’ve been thinking, you should reach out to some other kayakers. What about that guy you mentioned from your first Grand Canyon trip with the blind kids?”

Rob was referring to Harlan Taney, the young kayak safety guide, described by his sister as “half-human, half-dolphin.”

“You said he was pretty awesome, and he knows the Grand Canyon better than anyone, so let’s test him out,” Rob said.

Rob was right. When I’d met Harlan, he could describe all 165 rapids down there with his eyes closed, and he knew all the best lines through, which changed in the myriad of different water levels.

“Where should we test him?” I asked, fearing I was stepping into something I might regret.

“Well, that brings us to the second idea I’ve been pondering. We need a river we can train on this winter, and I think we should go back to the Usumacinta.”

My gut lurched a little, and my face must have twitched, because Rob jumped in. “I know you got in a little over your head,” he said, “but you’re a way different paddler from what you were a year ago. It’s a big Grand Canyon–style river, and you already know it and what to expect.”

“I think that’s the problem,” I replied. “Do you really think it will be different?”

“One hundred percent!” he answered.

So in March 2013, I once again sat in my kayak on the fertile banks of the Usumacinta with the buzzing whine of insects swarming around my head and the growl of howler monkeys above.

Rob guided me through the flat water, coaching Harlan on our technique and systematically handing over the guiding reins. Harlan was observant and a quick study; by the end of the day, we were getting calibrated. That night, sitting together at dinner, since Harlan was the newbie, we tried to coax some stories out of him.