Once on the water, we passed under the Kaibab Bridge leading to Phantom Ranch, and pulled over. There was news to celebrate. The new—and hopefully improved—radios had arrived. Harlan’s mom had found a courier to drive them from Phoenix halfway to Flagstaff, where Marieke had met the driver on the side of the road. Marieke had then relayed them to a good friend of Harlan’s who drove to the South Rim and hiked them down the steep, nine-mile Bright Angel Trail, where he hand delivered them to us, just in time. Skyler opened the box to check that everything was there. I just hoped they worked. I was going to need them.

Sooner than expected, I heard the distant rush of Horn Creek ahead. “We’re gonna angle in from right center,” Harlan said, “and split the horns.”

I could hear him fairly clearly in my earpiece, which helped me try to stay calm. I floated tentatively down a perfectly smooth tongue, like riding a moving sidewalk that you knew was leading you into a category-five hurricane. Then the bow of my boat dipped, and I dropped off the edge of the earth, accelerating into the storm. I paddled harder, leaning forward and squaring off against the big hits.

As I continued to find myself upright, I felt some confidence rising. When Harlan gave the word, I edged left, leaning downriver and bracing my paddle against the surging waves. Then water exploded on top of me, and it hurled me over. Upside down, I waited for it to release me, and when I felt its energy subsiding, I rolled up, bracing for more action. Instead, I was surprised to hear the cheers of the team and Harlan. I was through it, through Horn, a rapid with a fearsome reputation.

There wasn’t much time to celebrate, because the next thing I knew, we were entering the thunder of Granite. It had a strong pull to the wall on river right, with waves coming fast from both directions. I managed to remain upright, staying loose and reacting to the punches striking me from either side. Yet as I bucked and bounced, Harlan’s voice went silent for several seconds. No radios! my brain screamed, but then I heard something faint, almost like static: “Blrglrgshshsh.” Harlan, I realized, was upside down! I sensed I was pointing in the right direction, so I just kept charging. Then there was a louder sound, a gasping breath, and Harlan’s voice resumed: “Small left … charge!”

As I paddled into the tail waves that led me out of Granite, I thought, Even Harlan can get rocked by this river.