The next day the sun shone all day long and we all got fried to a crisp. It was a great feeling to be pulling with a team, feeling the little craft sometimes surge ahead with our efforts, other times get pushed this way and that by the rushing waters, despite our best efforts. At times one side had to ship oars, while the other pulled hard to steer out of harm’s way. Once we got pushed to the side, and were swept towards a low-hanging branch of a tree. Then the leader yelled “all in” and we all dived into the boat, except for one really tall guy who chose to go overboard instead. When we had met up with him farther downstream, where he was washed ashore, we resumed our watery battle.

Along our path came many rocks, many rapids (albeit of the smallest, easiest kind) and many times we heard our raft grate its bottom or sides on the rocks we struggled to avoid. We dodged this way and that, sometimes heading straight for what seemed the roughest patch of water, sometimes preferring quieter channels with smaller rocks. Sometimes we found time to look around and enjoy the peace of the surrounding greenery, or spot a bird flying above us.

And then we came to the waterfall. Before we actually reached it, we pulled off to the side and found a path over the rocks to a vantage point from where we could admire the waterfall and look forward, with a good bit of anticipation, to going over it. The pebble-strewn path cut our bare feet (shoes were pointless, slippers would soon have floated off to meet their own destiny) but in our hurry to meet the waterfall in person, we hardly noticed.

And when we did go over it, it was great. It was only a small waterfall, but when one is in an unprotected rubber raft, it is thrilling. We paddled to its very edge and then shipped our oars and felt our vessel take a plunge and then we were pushed and thrown at the will of the falling waters.

That was the high point. Once or twice we hit a rock hard enough to get thrown, and one such time I almost found myself stranded on a rock, but then was hurriedly pulled back into the boat. At one point, we did get a tear in the boat. We had been told that the boat would last several hours, and would stay afloat even if three of its sections took in water. But we had to stop for quite a while, to stick a piece of tyre rubber on the tear.

And at the end, we had a 5 km stretch that was literally plain sailing. That was the worst. No excitement, no turmoil, no chance of getting thrown overboard. And no current, almost. Just hard work. But the excitement was behind us, and there was peace all around and we could chat, laugh, re-live the moments when we scraped the rocks, or ducked under the tree, or went tumbling down the waterfall. We can re-live them even now, so many months later, as we wait for the monsoon to pour frothing waters into the rivers once again, and give us another chance to get tossed around while we battle the powerful current in our tiny rubber raft.