As we switched back and forth across the river, pressing downstream, we were unaware that a storm to the north was dumping more and more water into Alfred Creek. It got dicey. In fact, at one point, Keith got caught by the current when his wheels rolled up on a rock, and the water flipped him -" and his quad. Fortunately, he was okay, but the quad was locked up and wouldn't start. I sat on the riverbank and pressed my hand inside a fresh grizzly bear track as Tim and Doogie worked on the machine. I wanted to be "out there" but this wasn't what I had bargained for. Thank god, Doogie and Tim figured out how to start the quad, and we began limping our way back home.

Right when I thought we had the finish line in sight, my worst fears were realized. We came to a small sandy bluff, and each of the others climbed it, no problem. But then it was my turn. I put my quad in low, and started up the grade, but I let loose on the throttle, and the machine flipped back over me. As I was going over, I remembered Glenn's advice to jump away from the quad if ever I felt it going over. I made it most of the way out, but got my legs pinned.

"I'm okay!" I shouted as those guys rushed down the hill and lifted the quad off me. It was a total rookie mistake. Totally my fault. I was embarrassed to have inflicted a bit of cosmetic damage on the Grizzly. But they insisted I climb right back on, which I did. And we made it back, a bit battered and bruised, and having never found our grayling … but a heck of a lot wiser for the experience.