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CHAPTER 7

SHOOTING WHITE WATER

‘OK,’ Karl said, getting organised, ‘who’s the captain? Me or Kevin?’

‘You, Karl, you’re the captain,’ Kevin said.

‘OK, then I’ll be in the bow with an oar. Marcus and Kevin, you will each take a corner in the stern, holding a long pole. You’ll push us along with the poles. Lower them down to the river bottom and give a push. Yossi, you sit here by me holding a pole. Whenever we come too close to a rock or the bank, you use the pole to push us off and keep us from colliding. Understood?’

‘Captain,’ Marcus piped up. ‘The poles are too long and heavy. They’re hard to handle.’

Karl picked up one of the long poles that the villagers had prepared and agreed, ‘Yes, you’re right. They made them too long.’ He took out the machete and hacked off the ends, leaving the poles shorter by about a yard. Then he put on my small backpack and tightened the straps. He had spent the day before cutting chips of dried balsa, filling the pack with them. He was the only one of us who couldn’t swim and was afraid of