01x02 - Raging Torrent

[bunniefuu]

This is ridiculous.

It's so steep.

- There's no pool.
- Yeah.

f*ck, f*ck, f*ck, f*ck,
f*ck, f*ck!

Doing something that
nobody's ever done before,

there's no guarantee that
your plan's gonna work.

Once you commit,
there is no turning around.

We're entirely removed
from civilization.

Look at this one.

We know once we get there,
we're on our own.

Climbing.

We've chosen to live a life
that does have risks.

Oh, my God.

One mistake,
and you're dead.

- Come on, now.
- If you harness that fear,

you can do something that
you never thought possible.

Is the pursuit
worth the risk?

To be able to make a journey
through a place

so few other people
have experienced

is like maybe being
the first person

that goes to the Moon

or the first person that goes
to the top of Mount Everest.

This is a place
that doesn't exist

almost anywhere else
on our planet.

Ecuador is one of the most
hydrologically rich countries

on Earth.

It is a principal
headwaters of the Amazon.

And with the amount of water

mixed with the amount
of gradient

that exists
in the Andes Mountains...

The second-tallest
mountain range on Earth...

You have a huge potential
for whitewater kayaking.

But the Llanganates Mountains
is a wild place,

in that it is
completely roadless.

It's vast...

impenetrable jungle...

with 14,000-foot ridgelines
going in...

surrounded
by a 20,000-foot volcano.

The topography of this area
is like none other.

What we're attempting
to do here

is basically be
the first people,

the first known group,
to cross the Llanganates

via the Chalupas River.

It's crossing
this part of the jungle

that's pretty "unpenetrable."

Some people have tried
to cross there by foot,

and hasn't worked.

We know it will be big
and complicated

and remote
and continuous.

And I think that makes
it the highest difficulty

on the kayaking scale.

The one thing
about this river objective...

Nobody's done it.

There's no map.
There's no information.

You're moving through
this huge national park

that doesn't even have
a park ranger.

The challenge of crossing
the Llanganates

is only made possible because
of the whitewater kayak.

And so that becomes some kind
of life's accomplishment.

To have trained
as a whitewater kayaker

for more than two decades,

to bring that to bear

on one of the world's
greatest river challenges,

there's no other
accomplishment

that I can imagine
that would match that for me.

It's winning the World Series.

It's a sporting accomplishment
on that level.

Since the plan is to spend at
least two weeks in this river,

well, we're gonna have to
utilize all of our experience

and, you know, rely
on each other

for hopefully
the different attributes

that we bring to the table.

We've done several rivers
now together,

from one of the steepest
rivers ever run

in the United States
in the Big Horns of Wyoming...

We did the first descent
of the Box Canyon

in the Tongue together.

And it was in that
steep-a*s crazy river

that we realized we had
something really special

and we all functioned
well as a group.

Did a huge mission
in Patagonia together.

Took down the first descent
of the Año Nuevo,

which was a 20-mile hike in.

People kept telling us,
"It's too steep.

There is no way you guys
can pull that one off,"

and we did.

This is not the first time
we've been

on the most
difficult challenge

and stressful rivers
on Earth,

but it's not just a group
of professional kayakers.

This is, like, a group
of really good friends.

The river is so remote,

and the satellite imagery
is not great.

So we did a scout flight
in the helicopter.

This river
has thousands of rapids,

and not only
thousands of rapids

but dozens
of vertical-walled gorges

and places where
the walls go straight up.

And on top of those walls
is some of the thickest,

most biologically rich jungle
on Earth.

From what we see,
there just may be a few spots

where a helicopter

could potentially pick us up
or drop things.

So it's really important
just identifying

those specific spots.

It's a huge risk
to go into this river

that is completely cut off
from the outside world.

If someone
gets, like, a close call

or a drowning
and we manage to CPR them,

they will still die
'cause we're so far out there.

Are we doing seven nights,
eight days

or eight days...

I don't know if we're ready
to make that decision,

but it would be,
I would imagine,

eight days from the way
we calculated it, right?

Try eight days of food,
see how that feels,

and then go from there,

but that's about the maximum

that I want to try to pack
into my boat for weight.

Ben is probably

the most experienced expedition
whitewater kayaker there is.

His river records
are just crazy.

- Ben's reputation...
- On one side,

he's probably paddled
more first-descent rivers

than anybody else
in multiple countries

all around the world.

And on the other hand,
he's also got a reputation

as being a bit of a cowboy.

At this point in kayaking,

if you're looking
to go paddle something

that hasn't been done,
you need a new tactic.

And that's what Ben
came up with.

He was running
really big waterfalls

with a lot of food
in his boat.

That's something
that you don't see.

Some people
are probably afraid

to go on these missions
with Ben.

And there were times maybe
that I felt the same way.

I like to be
the one who's gonna push

the issue
to the very bitter end

and never say no.

I haven't had successes
on every river,

but I like to push it
as far as it'll go.

The mission, it's on.

Not on the river yet,
but it is still a mission

just to approach the put-in.

The weather is looking good,

so I'm faithful
that we can make it over

to our shelter tonight...

The last possible
shelter we can find.

And we got a long journey
all day, off-roading.

This is where the bit
of adventure begins,

just getting to the put-in
for this river.

We've got this mix
of the local ranchers

that are taking us
into their land,

some four-by-four specialists
out of Quito,

guys that
just live for nothing more

than to get their rigs
super muddy.

This is a pretty unlikely
group to get together here.

I've never been in
the high equatorial Andes,

and to see Cotopaxi,

the tallest active volcano
on Earth

right next to us
and then arrive,

finally see the water that's
actually gonna be draining

into the Chalupas River

that we had dreamed about
for so long...

Drove in one day,

hit the shelter
with a lot of hope,

what we thought was
perfect weather conditions.

We are getting there.

What's our elevation here?
We're at, like...

- 3,700.
- 3,700 meters.

Woke up in the morning
and made our way out

to this peninsula
that is two major tributaries

that come together right as
the alpine páramo ends

and the highest jungle
of the Amazon begins.

We've been gathering

as much information
about this river as we can,

and we're just having
to separate this

into two sections...
The upper and lower Chalupas.

The upper section looks like
it's gonna be eight days.

From there,
we're gonna resupply

and head down
the lower section,

which will take

at least another


We're gonna drop 10,000
vertical feet in 50 miles

through this remote area.

And it's gonna be
one of the steepest

and most technical
whitewater descents ever done.

I thought we could put on

and kind of start figuring
it out, you know?

That's what we're here for.

Well, the water's
nice and cold.

That's for sure.

Oh, God.

This is so ugly.

It took us much longer
just to get to the put-in.

So we only had a few hours
to get downstream.

We're finally spending
our first night

properly on the river.

Got really lucky.

We're still in the páramo,
and we found

the very first grove
of stout, little trees.

And so we're gonna
make it happen.

Get the hammocks up,
get protected for the night.

We've got some low clouds
blowing up the canyon,

but, otherwise, we're just
so stoked with the weather.

Little bit f*cked.

So we definitely knew
the temperatures were there,

but I just did not think
about a blizzard.

We hadn't even barely touched
the river yet,

and it already spiked to what
we would later find out

was, like, a 20-year high.

Not only did
this blizzard hit,

the river is just
ripping high, bank to bank.

Best-case scenario is,
is that...

this lasts a couple days
and then it starts to dry out

and we can reset and try again.

So it became
not an easy decision,

but, like,
a mandatory decision

to get out of there.

We left our boats out
at the confluence area.

The plan was to go back
to the shelter.

We had left
a food cache there.

Along the way, just these
tiny, little tributaries

that I had hopped across
with my sandals on

on the way in...

One, two, three.

All of a sudden, they're like
raging torrents.

None of these rivers
have been explored.

And probably the reason why
they haven't been explored

is this place is more prone
to flash flooding

than maybe anywhere else
on Earth.

The rivers have got
this ability to just swell up

and raise 30 to 40 feet
with a little bit of rain.

We hiked all day.

It took us, like,
eight and a half hours

to get back to the shelter.

This place is messed up,

and we really need
to be careful.

All the information
that we've gotten

from weather forecasts,
from our team back in Quito

seems like there's
a big weather event

that's coming here
in three days' time.

And that the smartest thing
for us to do is to wait it out

and to wait to get
into the river.

I don't think many kayakers
have been snowed in

in Ecuador.

It might be a first.

Hopefully the river
just drops

and we'll get
a second go at it.

It does seem like this river's
gonna take patience.

You know?

It's gonna be a river
that really takes patience.

I grew up in the potato fields
of southeast Idaho.

I'm the youngest
of two older brothers.

The oldest one
was a heavyweight wrestler

for Nebraska,

and the middle brother

was a professional
football player.

And they made me tough.

Boomer, like, brings

a different sort
of kayaking style.

Like, he's at his best
when it's most uncomfortable.

Think about some of these
missions that he's pulled off.

The only circumnavigation

of the world's northernmost
island, Ellesmere Island...

That sounded like
the most horrific trip

I can ever imagine.

His partner went down
from kidney failure.

He got attacked by a walrus.

I love this stuff.

Money is not what I'm chasing.
It's the experience.

The put-in
is gonna take us two days

to kind of just, like,
start making progress.

And after that, we still have,

like, seven question mark
boxed-in canyon

to get to the landing zone,

- plus some stout whitewater.
- Yeah.

So there is no way
we make this in eight days.

I think, realistically,
it will for sure be

more like 10 to 12.

And we can stretch two days
and not eat for two days,

and we'd still be fine.

But, ideally,
there are a few spots

that they could drop us food.

Yeah.

I became aware
of this little French girl

that was, like, running
some of the biggest rapids.

She just came out of nowhere.

I was intrigued right away.

You know,
she has real high voice,

but she is one of the stoutest
individuals I've ever met.

I grew up in the French Alps
in a very small village.

And I started kayaking
in my local club

when I was five years old,
racing slalom.

I was world champion in 2013.

Awarded to
a female competitor...

That was the ultimate goal
that I've set

for the last 12 years.

And I'm just like,
"What's the point?"

And I love slalom,

but sometimes
competition is just not fun.

And so, after that,

it started being
a little bit harder for me

to be in this environment.

And so every time I had
some in-between races time,

I would just try to go
on a river somewhere.

That's when I met Ben.

Nouria
I've been boating with

for five-straight years,

spending a lot of time
following her downstream.

She's absolutely one
of the best paddlers on Earth,

gender notwithstanding.

It's been really good
to have Ben

kind of, like,
take me under his wing,

because
without him helping me

and inviting me on trips

and then planning trips
together,

I would not be there today.

For this type of mission,

particularly this type
of whitewater,

Nouria's the best
in the world, hands down.

- Well, it's looking good.
- The rain has stopped.

Seems like we've got
a good plan to move downstream.

It will be good to
try to make a move

and get back in there, kind of
commit to it and get into...

into this tight canyon,

which is really exciting

and really scary
at the same time.

We're moving.

We're just already
a week behind the schedule

that we had set for ourselves.

There was a lot of doubt.

Is it gonna be easier?
Is it gonna be harder?

Is it gonna be impossible?

Are we gonna get
another snowstorm?

This is gonna be one
of the bigger challenges

on this whole river...

Where this river
starts to drop,

like, 900,


Paddling and battling
through the waterfall...

Once we started
making some mileage,

we knew turning around was
less and less of an option.

By midmorning,

that's basically when we
passed the point of no return.

When we realized
that on that day one

we only moved
two and a half kilometers,

it was pretty obvious
that we needed to move faster.

We're probably getting into
one of the steepest section

of this river.

Most of it is not runnable,

so now we kind of need
to try to move

but slow and steady
and carefully.

This river's gradient...

Which is the steepness
and how much it drops...

The highest percentage
is about 12%.

There's a whole lot of 7%.

And just to put this
into perspective,

most of the hardest runs
in the world

are around 4% to 5% gradient.

- So stoked on today.
- I love days like this.

I don't know how he could.

Well, I love it 'cause you
think you're gonna die

one moment,
and then you don't,

and you appreciate life
so much, right?

Cold start.

Jeez.

Nouria has us at 3,200 meters.

I have us at 10,800 feet.

So we're within


And we're gonna hit this,
like, really steep stretch

of river

that we kind of anticipated

might be a full portage...
Full, like, two-day portage.

A portage
is basically a way around

running a section of river.

So you put your kayak
on your shoulder

and hike around that rapid.

We hit this relatively short
section of river,

maybe only three kilometers.

But it slowed us down
to a crawling pace,

literally,
'cause we were, like, crawling

over giant boulders,

trying to portage
sections of river

that were
completely "unsurvivable."

When you're moving
with a 100-pound kayak

that's really slick,
you drop that boat once,

you can hurt somebody,

or the boat's
going in the river,

and then you're really
on your own.

I know, but I feel like...

It's okay. It's ok...

Nouria bobbles
my boat for a second

over a river that would k*ll
you if you slipped in there.

And I just
f*cking lose my mind.

I start cussing like a sailor.

When you're
in these group dynamics,

when somebody is pushing,
somebody else is pulling.

It's like a marriage on acid.

It's so intense.

It's really hard on the team

to run such a stacked,

scary, consequential stretch
of rivers.

- Yeah, I get that.
- I totally get it.

For me, that's the situation
I don't like being in...

When the communication
breaks down,

and you're
in a dangerous place.

Being one as a team is what
I want, one way or another,

or we're not gonna go
down this river.

Just hoping and praying
that we have options

to move through here,

'cause these rapids
are becoming pretty deadly.

We hit the place
where the canyon

turns into
a full walled-in box,

and it's gonna go through
its very steepest section.

Right there, there's a part
of the river that'll k*ll you.

And so we go looking up on
the canyon wall

for some route
around this section of river

that looks
probably "unsurvivable."

It looks like
we have at least two miles,

from looking at the map,

before we have any chance of
getting back into the river.

That's gonna take us
at least two days.

f*ck, it's so muddy,
I cannot even...

clip my throw bag.

We're trying to keep
our shoes on in knee-deep mud

with this 100-pound kayak
moving up.

Kayaks are just like
backpacks

but 20 times
more inconvenient...

and heavier.

[grunts, exhales sharply[.

The jungle is terrifying...

The pumas or jaguars,
the snakes.

Yeah, I don't like
all these downed trees,

just 'cause we're starting
to get into snake territory,

and I know that's where
they like to hide.

I'm told, if there's
a big palm leaf,

you better, like, pick it up
with the machete first

to make sure there
isn't a poisonous snake.

Literally,
don't touch anything green

is what I've been told.

For sure,
we're not moving very quickly.

But I feel like
it's about a kilometer per day

of what we're doing, right?

If we have to move
through the jungle...

Yeah. You know, especially
like with that gorge

coming up where there's that,
like, up and over.

You know, that portage
might take us a while.

The timeline's
falling way behind.

We're coming
to the stark realization

that we don't know 100%

whether or not
being able to actually move

through this crazy terrain
will actually work out.

Don't leave me
with too much soup, now.

That's good.
I've got that salt.

Hey.

Super cool.

I wonder if they're, like,
curious about us

or if we just moved
into their home.

They're everywhere.

Probably 20 or 30 monkeys

jumping from branch to branch,
chirping.

To see the Chalupas

in this pristine form,

it just makes it potentially
all the more tragic

to see what could possibly
happen to this river

in my own lifetime.

The crosshairs of development

and of water resource
extraction

is squarely on the headwaters
of the Chalupas.

It could have a new road

punched directly
through the drainage...

forests cut down in order
to create holes in the jungle

in search of gold.

And all of these things are
not just remote possibilities.

They're things
that are actually

not only being considered
right now,

but also happening right now,

with some
of the ill*gal mining

that's going on in there.

If the mining problem
wasn't enough,

there is a dam proposal
on the Chalupas.

And if that were to happen,
it would just be a disaster,

because this place
is truly untouched.

We need
to start speaking up,

because the river
could be totally changed.

The jungle can be totally
altered and compromised

if we don't start putting
our hands up right now

and paying extremely
close attention to it.

We made it down to the river.

You know, we spent two days

just doing
that single portage.

Yeah, buddy.

Yeah.

Kind of like stage one,
complete.

Stage one of five.




to go to the takeout.

We're dropping
into the unknown here,

and the walls
are starting to close in.

And, yeah, we don't want
to get boxed out in here.

So fingers crossed...
We can work down

this box canyon
at river level.

You don't know till you go,

and hopefully
you don't go too far.

It's a real f*cked-up spot...

Boxed-in hole, nowhere to go,

no other real good option.

You're thinking of trying
to not touch that rock.

I'm going
on the right channel.

We had no other choice

but to put Nouria and I
in our kayaks

and just hope that one of us
was gonna get through.

If you swim
and you lose gear,

it's game over.

Like, I don't even know
what would happen.

Whoo. Yeah.

Here we are at camp six.

We've dropped 3,000
vertical feet.

We have 7,000 more
vertical feet to drop.

We were planning to do
half of the river

in eight to ten days.

But you haven't done
a quarter of the distance

that you were supposed
to cover.

And so that brings up
a lot of question

for the rest of the descent.

It was pouring rain all night,

and the river spiked up.

Right now it's, like,
a foot higher

than it was yesterday.

I think
it's too much water for...

To just navigate it safely.

Well, hopefully it doesn't...

Doesn't rain again tonight,
hopefully it keeps drop...

- It's raining afternoon a bit.
- Yeah.

But hopefully it
keeps dropping.

- But not as much, hopefully.
- Yeah.

If the water is too high,
it's harder to stop.

We have less possibility of
portaging high river levels.

We'd have no margin,
and we need that margin

because this river
is just full-on.

Even
when the river was low,

one mistake would be
a life-or-death scenario

with very few options
for rescue.

And now that the river's high,
it's like, forget about it.

One mistake, and you're dead.

If we continue
to have bad weather

and the river stays high,

we basically
just can't go anywhere.

We're gonna need pretty much
the next 16 to 18 hours

to be pretty dry for us
to get back on the river.

And we're running
out of supplies.

To communicate with Abe,
we had a satcom inReach.

It's basically just like
a satellite texting unit.

And, initially,
it was working super well.

Every step we took downstream,

it delayed the messages
even further.

You're so remote,

and the fact that your inReach
is not working

just makes you
so much more vulnerable.

It felt a little bit
touch and go yesterday

'cause we were down
to about one full day

of food left.

But we're super fortunate

to have
helicopter support on this,

and we got four more days
of food dropped.

I honestly think
we're gonna be dependent

on probably one more drop

to hit our halfway point
on this river.

If we can't paddle because
the weather is too bad,

it means the heli
cannot fly to help us.

Like, that support is not
endless and limitless in time.

For me, I was like,
"We're in a really bad spot."

And you have your friends
that are, like,

just way more
relaxed about it.

And I was, like, making me
feel even more scared.

We've all been
kind of saying

that today is kind of
a make-or-break day,

because if we can't make
some kilometers,

make some miles today, we're...

We may not make it
all the way down this river.

A week ago, we probably
would have just stayed at camp

on a day like this,
with the high water,

but now we feel the urgency
of getting downstream

and getting out of here.

Every single horizon line
is brand-new,

and we're trying to stop
for all of them.

But, inevitably, we're having
to run a lot of stuff

just, like, blind.

This is ridiculous.

It's so steep...

- 'cause there's no pool.
- Yeah.

Oh, f*ck!

f*ck, f*ck, f*ck, f*ck!

Oh, man, I almost got
totally f*cked right there.

That would have been
the worst place to swim.

We had another pause
in the action

due to a rainstorm
that hit last night

and brought the river up
two and a half feet.

It's definitely not
what we wanted,

not what we expected,
not what was forecasted.

Not good.

Check this out.

It's so f*cking big.

I don't want to get stuck
in the walled-in section

with that kind of current.

It's f*cking terrifying.

It's so f*cked.

Yeah, it's not looking
any better.

The way it's affecting
everything is insane.

Just angry, angry.

This incessant rain
that has been coming through,

even in days
that it's supposed to be good,

has dampened our spirits
a bit.

So there's a lot of,
you know...

a lot of talk of what if
and what's downstream.

Our goal is to move
one kilometer down

so that we have
an airdrop support position.

This section is dropping


and that's just Richter.

We're basically
at, like, our food drop,

possibly an evac point,

and the start
of a big-a*s portage.

And for me to go on,

I'd want weather
and continued support.

That's me.

If we get a forecast back

and it's, like,
ten days solid rain, like...

that would start to make me
think twice.

But I can still probably
be convinced, to be honest.

For me, it was really hard,
because I was like,

"We have all
the red lights...

"Environment, the steepness,
the remoteness, the forecast.

"It's all against us,

and they're still talking
about going all the way down."

But I was, like, starting
to question

if my partners
and if my friends

were still making
the right decision.

We're just putting it out
there to our ground support

to see if we even have
an option to evac here.

And that will really determine
what the next step is.

I think that
was an uncomfortable place

for especially
Nouria to be,

to be the one
for the very first time

in her paddling career
that wanted to evacuate.

I'm fully committed
to going downstream.

I'm not really there
to consider backing down.

- It could be raining.
- We could wait there.

- But give it an hour...
- Or two hours,

maybe a couple hours.

Maybe more.

There's nothing we can do.

We're just trying
to do what we can.

Get 'em out fast
and efficiently as possible.

Just can't imagine.
Think how they feel right now.

Yeah, the clouds over there
in the mountains

are starting to open up.

Everything is pushing out.

And the east side
is looking clear,

but it's not gonna
last forever.

There's another front
coming in.

So we get, like, one shot,
I guess, this afternoon,

hoping that it stops
raining up there.

But, realistically,

if we don't do it today...

we may not do it
for a couple days.

So this is our shot.

Every time
you bring in a helicopter

into any kind of rescue,

everything can go wrong
really fast.

We have
some very unique conditions

which involves temperature
and high elevation.

This is not good.

The only thing
that they can help us with

is just throw supplies
from the sky.

Extraction's not possible.

If someone gets injured,
that's game over,

and nothing will happen.

And so it just had a whole
other level of commitment.

That's only when it's clear
to the whole group

we have to go downstream
to leave the river.

We know
from our map research

that just below us here
is this massive waterfall

that's "unrunnable."

So the only way for us
to move downstream

is to take our boats and hike.

That's gonna take us
at least two days

to get around this canyon.

I was doing good until, like,
the spiky one went, like...

And slapped me in the face
and in the nose.

Hopefully I don't get
a jungle scar...

and we get out fast enough

that it doesn't get infected.

I want out.

I'm not against risk taking,

but I want to control
the amount of risk

that I'm willing to take.

And at this point,
I didn't have that control.

And then on top of that,
it's been almost four weeks.

So that's about what
I told my friends

and family that I'll be gone.

I want to do
this kayaking thing,

which is something
really selfish.

We do it
because it makes us happy.

And then it's fine

until you put the people
back home

in a position
where they have no comms,

so they start worrying.

They don't care
if you're a success

or a failure or whatever.

They just want
to see you again.

Right below us
there's this huge landslide.

And just... yeah, it's so steep
that a little bit of rain,

and everything slides down.

We definitely have our work cut
out for us moving down this.

It's so steep.

We're dropping
into a section of river

with unknown vertical gorges.

We don't know
what's around any corner.

But we just have to do it

'cause there's
no other way to get to the LZ.

Not only are you playing

this life-or-death chess match
against the river,

you're also trying
to do battle

with the demons
that have really developed

in all of us that said,

"You might not even
make it to the LZ."

When you're moving
in this type of white water,

we'll send one person ahead,

and then the group really
needs to trust

whether that person
says it's a walk,

or if it's, like,
good to go,

there needs to be a serious
amount of trust.

Communication is just
totally critical out here.

If one of us is paddling

through a hard section
of white water,

you can't just have
somebody dropping in on them.

It's literally a matter
of life and death.

You still watch
while I'm going in the rapid

because you don't hear
those guys,

and you f*cking lost it at me.

You scare me.

I just don't want to be

on this f*cking
sketchy-a*s river with you

because I don't believe
you guys are making

- the right decisions.
- You're not gonna...

- I want out.
- I want out.

I just told her,
like, if she doesn't want

to look at anybody else,
then that's fine.

She's just dropping into sh*t
without, like, even...

She scouted it, and she
waited for a while up there.

- Oh, did she?
- Yeah.

Okay.

But nobody's talking
to each other or anything?

I was like, "Hey, guys,
Nou's getting ready to go."

Maybe you didn't hear.

At the end of the day,

when we
had our worst blowup,

when we had
our worst communication,

when it just felt
like this five-year-old,

really precious friendship to
me had totally deteriorated,

I walked into the jungle
to try to, like, clear myself

a tent spot later
than I normally would

just because I was trying
to dry out my feet.

I slipped and frigging took
a machete to the finger.

Ah! f*ck!

- Oh, no, sh*t!
- What'd you do?

Ah. Damn it.

I cut my finger real bad.

I saw Ben cruising
down the river

with blood streaming
down his finger.

His pants were stained.

His feet were just, like,
deep red with blood.

I felt like,
in cutting my hand,

it was, like, this physical
"karmatic" manifestation

of the issue
that had developed

between Nouria and I.

You're out here alone.
Don't worry about it.

You're alone.
Don't worry.

- Ooh, she's a bleeder.
- Yeah.

A sliced finger
in day-to-day life

isn't such a big deal.

But in extreme
class 6 whitewater kayaking,

your life depends
on your hand.

It was pretty clear
that my clock was ticking

in terms of an infection.

It's bleeding
the same as it was.

This is gonna have to do.

In scouting the river,

we knew that maybe
the most committing portion,

maybe the most dangerous
section of river

that we had seen
on the entire thing

was situated almost just
upstream of the actual LZ.

So, for over two
and a half weeks,

we always had that in the back
of our mind of...

That sh*t that's between
here and any hope of exit

is peppered with areas

that were
completely "unrunnable"

or "unsurvivable."

Picked kind of a shitty day

to go in with a f*cked-up hand.

Right off the bat, just...

real scary box canyon.

But we've got a few options.

None of 'em
are that great or easy.

Hopefully we won't have to go
do some craziness

in the vertical jungle.

My intuition tells me
to go catch that eddy

over on the left.

But my hand's,
like, "Think twice."

This ferry is, like, one
that I have 100% confidence

that you would make.

But, like, for mere mortals
like me,

I would make it
some of the time,

but I wouldn't want to do it
ten times in a row.

I think you would have it
ten times, no problems.

You know, you're at the top
of a hard rapid.

I had decided to run it.

It means I'm 100% sure
that I will get it.

I'm not gambling.

Nouria, do you want to talk?

I've got to just, like...

temper my sh*t.

I can't do that.

Even if there is a mistake,
I can't do that.

- I was trying to tell you.
- I know, I know.

I'm sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry.

- I'm gonna work on that.
- Ben, it's all right.

We all have our moments.

- It's like, whatever.
- Yeah.

- You know?
- Yeah.

- It's just so much stress.
- Yeah.

The good thing
about this team is its ability

to just, like, acknowledge
that stress and move past that

and be like,
"Oh, yeah, I know actually

"you were not angry at me,

you're just scared,"

and kind of accept
that everyone has those swings.

Come on in here, Boomer.

He's got his cut finger,
his foot rot.

He's, like, limping around.

He's kind of f*cked up
right now.

We'll see.

We'll get there,
and then we'll see.

If there's enough
food and stuff

to just sneak on the river,

that could be awesome.

I feel like those big rapids,
like you said,

- they were kind of cool.
- Yeah.

Big water.

At the end of that day,

Ben and Boomer were still
talking about making it

all the way downstream.

Up until this point, like,
I was just like,

"No way I'm gonna stop
willingly.

No way."

But it's been such
a monster undertaking,

I just can't even imagine
going the next 40 kilometers

to the finish line right now.

I can't speak
for the rest of the group,

but I know personally, like...

I'm gonna be looking
to call it good, like...

It's not what any of us wanted,

but that's what
we're gonna get.

And, man, I feel, like, lucky
to get there.

What a f*cking river, huh?

It's only now becoming
fully clear to me

what an accomplishment it was
just to get to the LZ.

We dropped 70% of the total,

almost two vertical miles
of gradient

in not even half
the distance down the river.

I'm so proud of what we did.

And I'm proud
of how we did it, you know,

safely moving
through those dangerous zones

and descending

one of the hardest sections
of white water

that's ever been done.

I mean, I don't know
how you measure these things.

I'm not much for records.

But, yeah, I challenge
a team to go out

and paddle that thing.

I mean, I think
the numbers speak for itself.

I'm really thankful
for the opportunity

to be able to put myself
in this situation,

even if that means
that it gets really hard

and uncomfortable at times.

That's what I live for.

There's a part of me that...

only truly exists and thrives

in these river canyons

with the unknown
in front of us

and hard work behind us.

Anywhere else,

I'm a lesser version
of myself.