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Sheer canyon walls rose vertically on either side of the Colorado River as we approached the churning white water. Dick Griffith and I knelt on the floor of the inflatable raft, a position where we were less likely to be swept overboard. The next moment a cold wave crashed over us. I gasped for breath as one wave after another pummeled us. It felt like being flung around inside a washing machine not knowing which side was up. The raft was hung up on a rock with water pouring over the top. When...
