That badly needed rest was not enough, as we dropped into the first part of the Big Drop. The front oar's timing to pull was crucial here, and the sound of his voice sent my entire body pulling against the forces of the river. Our penetration was instantly stopped by a solid diagonal wave, and the boats were topped with water. Passengers and bail buckets floating inside the boats, and the desperation in the front oar's voice told me something went wrong. My mind shut out all awareness other than the pleas to pull harder. Pushing my body beyond its limits, the solid oak oar bent against the two forces. The words "We're running it," then the endless "Pull! Pull! Pull! Hold up! Pull the other way," as the boat is constantly being covered by huge walls of water. The next instant, the vision of a mountainous wave put everything into slow motion. As we began to climb, I set my blade in the wave's glassy side and braced for the inevitable. The boats continued to climb until they were directly overhead, and coming down on top of me. Suddenly all vision is gone, and everything turns back to fast confusion, as my body is being thrashed uncontrollably underwater. The death grip on my oar is lost and my body set free, becomes a part of the river itself. Limp with exhaustion and lack of oxygen, I see light, take a breath and go under again. The second time up I see to my amazement, the boats upright and forty yards ahead. Upon reaching the boats, I immediately tried to mantle myself back into the rig and found my body no longer responded to my mind's wishes. Screams from the font oarsman sent passengers jerking my helpless body back to the unattended oar.