The next ten miles were through the Roaring Twenties, a bunch of big rapids in quick succession. A third of the way through, we stopped at one of the giant waves to try to surf it, one of Harlan’s favorite hobbies. We all waited in the eddy, and when it was my turn, Harlan tried to get me angled just right, and then gave a “charge” command to get me paddling hard across the hole, leaning hard and bracing upriver and desperately trying to stay upright. For a moment, I rode the wave laterally, back and forth, before being flipped and flushed out the bottom.

Neither Lonnie nor I had the technique down, but Steven, Rob, and Timmy could stay on the wave for thirty seconds or more, while Harlan managed to stay in the longest, doing spins and cartwheels. I gave up after a few tries, happy to float in the eddy, listening to the yips and critiques of the team, but Lonnie was persistent. He must have charged that hole a dozen times, each time getting flipped, spit out the bottom, and eagerly ready for another try. Lonnie attacked the big rapids like a rodeo cowboy riding a bull.

“Lonnie hit that play wave like the lawn dart that he is,” said Timmy. “He’s got a sharp point, and he launches in hard and headfirst, ready to impale anything in his way!”

We all laughed, and “LonDart” became his official river name.

25

Throughout the rest of the Roaring Twenties, the radios were driving me crazy and increasing my stress level. Sometimes they worked and sometimes they didn’t, and the unpredictability was the most disconcerting aspect.

In Rapid 24.5, a set of powerful waves sent me and my kayak airborne. When I landed in the storm of water, Harlan yelled, and it came out as “Brrrr rttt!” and it took me a second to process that he was saying “Brace right!,” but when I leaned right, it was too late. A crashing wave pounded me from the left. I went under, finally rolling back up at the bottom of the rapid. By the end of the Roaring Twenties, the mental tension had translated into physical exhaustion. My upper body was tight, my reactions delayed and imprecise.

When we got to camp, I was quiet and on edge. “A rapid has enough wild cards,” I said to Skyler dejectedly. “I don’t need another one.” In the midst of big, loud chaos, it was so comforting to have a voice in my ear. It gave me confidence. Without that tether to another human being, I felt alone, like that sea of water would engulf me and overpower me. The team gathered on the rocky bank and began troubleshooting, trying to figure out the source of the problem. We could not come up with a clear solution, and the ongoing radio problems continued to jeopardize the trip for me.