I remember a bone that I found once on a shoreline, stripped of the flesh that had worn it. We're lining Whiplash. The decision is unanimous and almost immediate. No one wants to risk a swim. The adventure crew returns to its boats and prepares for the task ahead.
Teamwork here is key.
We double up on the ropes to make sure that no one gets pulled into the river. As we line the second boat through, we see a dory literally barreling down stream at full speed. Without stopping to scout, the oarsman pushes through Whiplash. We look at each other in awe, jealousy and surprise, shaking our heads at the foolhardy act. The twelve miles below Whiplash seem easy.