whitewater rafting

My Whitewater Rafting Experience The unforgiving water rushes past the boat, waiting for a false move. Called a class 5, this rapid looks more like a class 6 with the water as low as it is. Six to ten foot swells come crashing down from time to time keeping the crew sharp and wet. To the right, a thousand-foot wall of stone reaches for the sky, yearning for the omnipresent. The canyon walls look as smooth as silk, yet upon contact are as coarse as sandpaper. Quartz crystals glisten in the summer sun. No storm clouds today. The skies are clear. To the left, a valley stretches into the distance, winding back and forth like a drunk driver. Weeds take over much of the bank on either side. They stretch out for miles in either direction like they are the sole owners of the canyon. It didn't used to be this way. Ten years ago you could actually see the sandy banks most of the way down the river. Now scouting is the only way to find a nice sandy beach to set up camp. Elk along the shore are a reminder of the necessity for boiling even the cleanest water. Lawsuits loom large and safety is a priority. The speed of the water is frightening, yet exhilarating. The water's spray is cool and keeps us laughing. The captain looks anxiously about for rocks and logs. To one side, a cliff that must be four thousand feet tall looms over the raging river like an overgrown skyscraper. The canyon contrasts against the sky like black carpet in a house with white walls. Little metallic pieces of rock mirror the sun's rays and create a magical ambiance. The sky is very blue here, like the bluest water in the ocean on a clear day; not a cloud to be seen. To the other side of the river, a canyon winds into the distance like a freeway overpass. Lots of beautiful plants line the shore of the river, leaving only a few bare places where a sandy bank can be seen. Today, elk was spotted along the shore drinking from the muddy water. What a magnificent rack! It's