I see my point of entry and focus on that exact place on the lip of the first horizon line. I splash water in my face, adjust myself to sit up tall in my seat, and I leave the safety of the eddy and enter the flow of the river. I dig hard and drive to the lip. I launch off of the lip flying and hovering weightless momentarily in the air. I drop down on top of the water below the first drop, and I find my next point of focus for the second drop. White noise engulfs my senses and I am a part of the water, not separate from. My blades feel solid biting into the churning water as I approach the next lip. After another brief flight, I am fully embraced by the water at the bottom of these falls. I rise to the surface pointing a bit too skyward for my liking. I reel it all in and keep it together as I flatten out my boat just in time to drop over the final ledge drop with one last strong stroke. I wash into the eddy at the bottom of the whole staircasing rapid. I look back up at the entire amount of lost gradient and revel in the battle that was just survived. Not totally pretty or smooth as I would have liked, but successful nonetheless. I bathe in relief and joy. I am alive.

We empty all of the contents of our kayaks covering the smooth granite slab. We are a junk show with all of our crap strewn everywhere instantly. We have traveled fairly light on clothes and food, as we thought we would have been done with this task by now. We feel relieved to be out of our kayaks, and put on dry clothes after being wet all day long. We are home for the night.

Terra firma. Solid ground is underneath us once again, and we will rest for the night. The late afternoon of the clear spring day begins to cool and darken. We scrap together some twigs and sticks for a small smokey fire. I stretch out on the smooth slab of worn granite and wait for the pot of river water to come to a boil. Becky drops in the last tea bag, and Land cuts up our last energy bar for the main course. It is a dinner fit for kings and queens. We are all hungry, but it is perfect. We laugh at our self-induced fasting. We think ahead of the chips and salsa we left in the take out vehicle. That is our carrot that will keep us going for one more day on the river.

After filling up at dinner, I lay down to rest and end the day. My sleeping pad leaks air, so I am resting on a slightly padded granite slab of rock. With my already aching back, I know it will be a long night’s rest. I watch the darkening sky fill up with twinkling stars. I am content above all else. This is right where I want to be. We all lay out our scant bedding and recount the highlights of the day. Aching from fatigue and a full day of action, sleep is coming easily over me. The pause between thoughts grows longer. Sleep is coming. I notice in me, as I am fading, a glow of excitement for what the next day in Dinkey Creek Gorge may bring.

Editor's Note: Dunbar Hardy is a senior contributor for Kayak Session Magazine (www.kayaksession.com) , as well as a co-owner of Tarkio Kayak Adventures (www.teamtarkio.com) This story is an excerpt of a book in progress entitled ‘Searching for Water - Whitewater Adventures Around the World’ due to be released spring 2005.