Whitewater Fever: Part II
They say a little knowledge is a dangerous thing and I guess this  trip proved it.  My wife, Andrea, and I had been paddling for about five  years.  The first three years we were very careful and only paddled on  small ponds and lakes.  Then we took a guided trip down the Delaware  River and everything changed.  Once I got hold of nautical charts for  the Delaware, I was convinced that I was all set.  I had no idea that  the water level changed radically depending on snow-melt and rain. 
We  took our friends Justin and Danny with us.  I was paddling a whitewater  kayak—thinking I was all that and a bag of chips—while Justin and Danny  borrowed our old recreational kayaks.  Andrea paddled her beloved  Eddyline Merlin.  It never occurred to us that I was the only one  paddling a kayak that was made for whitewater.  No matter, we had  paddled the Delaware at least a half-dozen times in those old  recreational kayaks and we always wore our life vests.
It had been raining heavily the previous weeks, and the Delaware was  running high.  We were smashing through waves and having a great time.   We spotted a feeder creek that was normally just a dry rock bed.  Now it  was a raging whitewater siren calling our names.  I asked Justin and  Danny if they wanted to hike up and run the rapids and of course, they  agreed.  Andrea was far too smart to join us, so she waited by the  entrance to the stream for us to come out.  I had estimated that the  whole side trip would take us 15 minutes.  45 minutes later when Andrea  saw no sign of us, but saw debris floating down the stream, she began to  worry.
To be continued…
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