“RROOWW!” “HARRD” “HARRDERR!” Panic sinking in, nine oars thrusting into the foamy, white, roaring water, we row for our lives right into the thick of a Grade 5 rapid, and the impending doom that I somehow seemed to get a front-seat view of, stupidly volunteering to go up front. It’s fair to say I’m well and truly bricking it! “RRROOOWWW!” “HHHHAARRRDDDERR!!!” The noise is deafening, we’re drowning in the raft with 12ft mountains and valleys of gurgling water all around us. Rocking about in a washing machine, we all row as hard as possible into nature in its most powerful expression. Extreme chaos. An aqua-hurricane. Then, with a simple parting of waves, we see it, the G-Spot, the heart of the rapid and a huge hole with no visible escape, surrounded on all sides by 5m
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