Excerpt from new book: rafting the snake. Chapter 6: The Waterfall

Around noon, we went ashore on a small grey beach to have lunch. Nearby, a large creek boiled with energy as it met the Snake. Huge black boulders were strewn about as though to emphasize the primeval force of this exuberant stream. We listened to the roaring water as we sat on black rocks and enjoyed our food. The plan was that when lunch was done, we would hike up the valley of our tumultuous creek to a splendid waterfall.
A rudimentary trail, fringed by reindeer lichen and low willows, led upward. . . In less than a kilometre we reached a yawning canyon, and torrents of water thundered over a magnificent waterfall below us. It was an impressive sight, and as best I could tell, one without a name.
 As we descended. . . It began to rain heavily. . .We crossed the stream and returned to the small beach from which we had started. Where there had been so much activity only an hour or two before, there was now only a small pile of gear and two empty canoes. We had been spotted from across the river, however, and soon another canoe was coming to meet us. Amyah and Ruth were whisked away to our new camp, while I was left behind to fend for myself in the Yukon wilderness. I clutched a can of bear spray and waited for a canoe to return.