Even though I’m a correspondent for Outside Magazine—I’m on the masthead—I am frightened of everything. That’s my baliwack at the magazine. In fact they send me to do things that scare the hell out of me (for some sick comedy effect). But nothing seemed as terrifying to me as rafting the Futaleufu. The minute I accepted the assignment, I regretted it. I spent the weeks leading up to the departure, crossing Manhatten streets a little less energetically, in hopes that a cab might hit me and break my leg and get me out of it.
So how extraordinary is it when I say what an amazing trip I had with Earth River on the Futaleufu. The word I heard over and over throughout the week was “exhilarating”, and it’s apt, certainly, but actually not strong enough. The color of the water, the crazy volume, the roar, the velocity of the ride, and through it all, the absolute mastery of Robert Currie in the back of the raft - made every element seemed heightened, perfected, colorized, almost virtual. And incredibly fun it must be said.
There was an amazing variety to the week, your stunning, private camps, all different from one another, but all surprisingly and ingeniously comfortable - from the Arcadian, lost-boys hideaway of Cave Camp, to the truly fantastical dwellings up in the canopy of the forest of the Tree House Camp, to spires rising from the turquoise water at Mapu Leufu. The food was great. Now when I watch the video of the trip, I can pick out my face in the raft, against the barreling froth. I frankly can’t believe I ever managed to do it, but I’m supremely glad I did. I’d go back for the view of the stars alone.
