Stack, Again

So I finally ran stack again. It was quite the adventure, again. This time, when we went to the concrete beach, we found a five-man raft and about a dozen duckies (inflatable kayaks). We piled the duckies on top on the raft just like Jenga-blocks and pushed off into the river.

Our construction immediately fell apart. We dove in after the boats and dragged them back to shore. Then, we re-constructed the craft in the water, and I tightened my PFD. We set off towards the falls.

I was sitting on top of the mighty vessel, leaning all the way off the raft in order to get the tiniest tip of my paddle in the water. My friend was guiding in the back. How he could see where we were going, I have no idea. We skirted expertly around Top Hole, and then we hit the drop into Bottom Hole.

The rafts rocked and tilted dangerously. I clung onto the ducky I was perched atop. The rafts shifted. My friend was momentarily buried under them. Then, the bottom raft slipped out from under the duckies. "Oh no," I thought, "We lost one!"

The professionally responsible side of me instantly want to jump into the raft and save it, but my instincts for self-preservation stopped me. My friend, and supervisor, however, did care about my own self-interest in saving myself. "Bail into the raft," he called, "Bail into the raft!"

I bailed into the raft. Paddle in hand, I leaped off a stack of duckies into the raft. Mid-flight, I prayed to make it into the boat.

I did. With one paddle, I guided the boat back to shore and the take-out eddy while my friend chased the duckies downriver. "Mas-ter guide!' chanted everyone on shore, as the stack fell apart and the guide gathered the boats as they drifted.

Running stack, the adventure never ends.