Rescue in the Rapids

THE VIEW FROM our canoes on the Buffalo River was stunning. No wonder this was one of the Ozarks’ premier destinations. Massive bluffs towered over the water on either side—nothing but the calming blue heavens above. But soon into our float trip, the rapids whipped up unexpectedly. My gnawing unease returned with a vengeance.

At 28, I was plenty adventurous and a strong swimmer. Still, I felt there was danger waiting on the river. I’d been dreading this outing almost from the moment my husband, Larry, had made reservations for us and his Uncle