Deubendorff Rapid

Deubendorff Rapid revealed itself with a long, powerful tongue of water dropping into a broad stretch of surging waves and crashing laterals. The river roared as it funneled between rocky outcrops, the main current driving hard through a maze of boulders scattered across the channel. The sky above had darkened further, thick clouds piling along the canyon rim while a cool, damp wind swept through the corridor. The air carried the sharp, electric edge of an approaching storm as we lined up our entry. We dropped the dory into the tongue, the boat surging forward with a burst of speed as the first wave heaved the bow skyward and sent a sheet of cold water crashing over the deck. The hull flexed underfoot, absorbing the force as we plunged into a deep trough and climbed the next steep roller. Spray hung in the air, blurring the jagged shapes of the rocks ahead while the roar of water and the deepening rumble of distant thunder filled our ears. Oars bit hard into the current as we worked to dodge exposed boulders and punch through laterals that slammed at us from the sides. The dory took each hit with a strong, resilient glide, its hull bending and shifting but holding steady through the chaos. As we broke free into the tailwaves, drenched and grinning, the canyon stretched out ahead beneath a slate-gray sky. Deubendorff had delivered a fast, heavy run that tested both boat and crew, leaving us wide awake and alive beneath the weight of the gathering storm.