“A Friend Loves at all times, and a brother is born for a difficult time.” Proverbs 17:17 

I glance above as a rusted truss bridge spans the width of the Gunnison River, casting a shadow over Noah, Ethan, and I. As we descend farther down the river, I take a breath of the cold, dry Colorado air and feel the presence of the gray sky as rain gently taps my skin with a slight drizzle.  

The ever-growing wind is pierced by Noah’s voice from the back of the canoe, “Well guys. It shouldn’t be much further to the Hail Mary Rapids.” The rapids would mean bad news, but the snowfall was generous, and the river is a few feet higher than it had been the previous years. 

My eyes find their way towards Ethan who is in front of me. His once restful posture is now vivid as he tightens his back and scans the river. My thoughts wander to the night before when we were atop a waterfall tracing Virgo in the sky. I Kept calling it “Vir-gio” not “Vir-gho”. For some reason this irritated Ethan. I’ll have to make it a running joke and do it next time. That is if we go stargazing again. 

My hand jumps to my neck where I find another mosquito adding another star to the constellation of bites on my neck. I notice Ethan’s eyes lock on to a fork in the river and Noah points it out. I didn’t expect the rapids to come along so soon, I hoped to have more time drifting with the current, occasionally pointing out another eagle perching on a light pole. 

I effortlessly slip my paddle into the water and join my friends as we get into position. It was just yesterday when we were blessed with the tranquil current and the once bright sun. Or at least it would have been tranquil if Ethan hadn’t broken the calm silence with the stupidest joke I have ever heard: “There were two penguins paddling in the desert and one said, ‘wears the paddle?’ the other one replied, ‘it sure does!’” Both Noah and I unleashed a fury of unkind words at him for how horrible the joke was. The paddle obviously wears down if it is being used in the desert, but it is so cryptic. Why not ‘Where’s the paddle?’ and it is just lost in the sand? I can come up with something much better if we ever go on a trip again, maybe about the eastern collared lizard we found on our hike yesterday. 

I’m brought back to reality as the wind picks up and thunder lands somewhere in the distant farmland. The current catches us off guard and we narrowly miss the first rock before we are thrusted deeper into the rapids. I tumble to the side and grip the hull for support, hardly managing to maintain my grip on the paddle. Noah leans to the other side to counter the balance. 

I quickly return to position as we steer to avoid a few more rocks and almost collide with the last rock in this section. It pivots our canoe to a ninety-degree angle, and all our hands clasp the sides of the canoe to stay topside. Our heavy breaths would fill the air, but the wind continues to strengthen, and thunder fills the cold air once again. Noah begins paddling, Ethan and I follow in suite, but we all know it isn’t enough to straighten us out. We make it to the final rock of the rapids, and hit the current sideways, causing the canoe to gracefully plummet. Everyone goes flying over, crashing into the freezing water. 

I lose control as I submerge and find myself surrounded by the peaceful blackness of the water. I enjoy life when it is predictable, when things don’t change. Now the two people who have gotten me through a painful summer of work at the greenhouse are going to college hundreds of miles away. I can’t begin to picture a life without them. Without Noah. Without Ethan. 

I surface the freezing water, and my face is met with more droplets of rain. Ethan is gasping from the Cold and Noah is already swimming for the Canoe. Noah’s voice comes out in gasps, barely audible over all the tumult, “We need to… Push the canoe to the riverbank!”  

In unison Ethan and I grip the boat and try pushing the canoe to the left bank of the river. Being filled with water made it painfully slow, but we finally manage to get the canoe to stick to the dirt alongside the river, catching us with it as we hug on to the boat with deathly grips. Noah and I finally lift the canoe to let the water out and throw it ashore underneath the cover of the seep willow trees. We all huddle together under the foliage where we shiver in silence. 

I find it powerful that not one of us abandoned one another. Had we lost one person, the canoe with our keys, phones, our way back home would have been gone. I realized that we had just overcome the closest near-death experience of my life together and didn’t once think about leaving each other. I let out a laugh and clasp my friends on the back. First Noah smiles, then they both let out a hearty laugh. 

Written by Sean Beasly