Eddylines

spark (blue mix)

The sharp rocks of the path bit through the thin neoprene as they made their way up to the road, and Daszé took the opportunity to lift off his helmet, freeing a new flood of trapped water. His unplanned, embarrassing swim at the confluence had severely shaken his confidence enough that he welcomed the opportunity to get out of his boat and stretch his legs. Yet everyone seemed to think he had what it took to run the Zoar Gap, and played off his out-of-kayak experience as a rite of passage. 

"That swirly stuff back there gets everybody at LEAST once, man," Jeff had said, bobbing nearby as Daszé glumly struggled to drain his boat among the reeds and slippery boulders on the shoreline below a pair of old camp trailers. "That's how the river reminds you who's in charge." As if on cue, a flipped canoe barged into the eddy to await its master, laughing and spluttering his way over in tow behind a friend.

"Just don't let it get to you, that's all."

But that was easier said than done as the two boys made their way up the side of the road to join the peanut gallery, booties slapping wetly on the tarmac above the growing roar of the Gap.

"Jav'naata," Daszé exclaimed as they left the shade and approached the guardrail, gazing down at the hungry torrent pouring over the uneven ledges. "You were right, it got... big."

"Yeah, like I said, it's gnarly in there," Marek observed, nodding to a wide-eyed couple as they regarded Dasze with surprise, then went back to snapping pictures. "You can totally do it, though. Just don't hit the O.S. rock."

"The what?"

"The Oh, Shit rock, that one right after the second drop, see it stickin' out down there?"

"Nice name for it."

Marek laughed, running his fingers through his hair. "When you get in there, you'll understand."

"I don't think so, kuvano. Not after what happened back there," Daszé gestured, then sniffed, his sinuses still full of the earthy scent of the river. "That kind of ruined things for me."

"It shouldn't, and if you run this, no matter how it goes, it's still better than hauling your boat all the way down the road to the picnic area."

Daszé silently admitted to himself that he had a point. And he could do this. The only reason he'd flipped in the first place was complacency, and not for lack of skill.

"Worst that can happen is you get dumped, lose your paddle, and then you float out under the bridge. Just remember, nose and toes, and you'll be just fine." He chuckled. "And you get a t-shirt."

At that moment, a paddler in an playboat appeared, caught the tongue, then set a perfect line through the rapid.

And promptly got swallowed.

Daszé nervously followed suit, tugging at the neckline of his damp shirt.

***

The approach into the Gap was ugly, snarly water, shaped by numerous ancient boulders that had come to rest above and below the surface of the river as it tumbled through the steep canyon. He wondered what it would have looked like a thousand years ago, then made a mental note to pull up some of the ancient Caaratiige photomaps of the region just to see how much things had changed. Then an unseen rock reminded him of where he was, and he shuffled the thought away as he aimed for the shelter of the nearest eddy.

All around, other paddlers were huddled along the riverbank, awaiting their turns through the Gap and plotting their lines through the steep ledges. Consensus among the uninitiated and their minders seemed to favor the right side of the rapid, and Daszé was keen to follow their lead.