havasu canyon flood - part one

Every action has a reaction:

     I look out the train window at the giant cement piers that holds me and a hundred tons of rumbling motion above the bay and think 'all this started with one step, one person, one action.' In 1869 John Wesly Powell decided to row down an enormous waterway from the headwaters of the Green River down the Colorado to the Gulf of Mexico. He was not a boatman at the time, but he thought it would be a good adventure. Now the Glen canyon dam holds back the Powell Reservoir. How ironic that the enchanting canyons he claimed his favorites now lay still and dark under millions of cubic feet of water bearing his namesake. Is it just my race of people or all of mankind that needs to change, develop, and improve every nook, rock, and cranny of Mother Nature, no matter how beautiful and functional it is to begin with? In fact the more pristine and perfect it is the more we want to change, groom and manage it. I wonder if Powell knew how far reaching his ‘one step’ would be, what reaction his one action would bring.

 

Aug. 16 2008

     It is still dark but I can tell it is predawn by the subtle changes in the night sounds. I lay here and watch the stars fade. I can’t sleep but I don’t want to get up either… even though this day has been promised to be “the best so far!” Havasu canyon. Ayla has been talking about this hike since the day I met her four months ago. “Oh wait ‘til you see it. It is the most amazing canyon in all of Arizona!”

     I see a dark figure moving along the beach, I’m sure it is her.  She probably hasn’t slept a wink in anticipation of today’s adventure. Ayla’s face is weathered with adventure, deep smile lines and bright blue eyes. Her figure pushes the boundaries of slender and her strength is graceful and seemingly endless.

             Dooooooooong

    There is it ... the  beautiful, vibrating clang of her ancient brass bowl. My body jerks with a negative response.  It is confused by the conditioning of the last two weeks. By which that beautiful sound normally mean scrupulous food is ready and the conflict of knowing that this morning it is telling me to just ‘GET UP.' Something I don’t necessarily want to do but am not really opposed to either. I guess it is just the idea that someone is telling me "do it ‘right now’" that pushes my rebellious button. It isn’t quite 5:00am and the work will begin the minute I drag my sore bones off this paco pad, at least I’m not on kitchen duty this morning.

     Sixteen years ago Ayla, returning from her first Grand Canyon rafting tour, wholeheartedly signed her name to the ever growing list of people asking for permission to float the mighty Colorado. Sixteen years of waiting for this day! Today we will hike the pristine Havasu Canyon.

     It’s 7:20am we are packed, strapped and pushing off the banks of Upset Hotel camp. Seven cool, tranquil miles slip by in little over an hour. We arrive at the Havasu eddy around 8:45am. Not surprisingly we are the first party to anchor here ... all a part of the plan that was formulated months ago around the table of our trip leader.

    To everyone’s great relief we all catch the tricky eddy and tie the lead boat to the webbing attached along the canyon wall just outside the tiny mouth of the expansive canyon. I’m not sure exactly how wide the mouth is but our boats are 18 footers and they defiantly can’t fit through sideways.  We tie all the boats securely to each other.

part two

     I gather my hiking gear; my daypack, nalgene bottle, the sandwich I made this morning and my sun shirt & hat.  It is already about 100 degrees. We are all eager to get going knowing that Mooney Falls lay six miles up an unknown trail and we must be back by 4:30 -5:00, approximately seven hours for 12 miles or so. Cedar paddles the IK full of packs and people upstream to a trailhead on creek right. The rest of us dive into the turquoise water and swim upstream easily conquering the gentle current. There is some discussion as to where the ducky is to be left. Matt suggests the cliff we climb towards the trail but that means dragging it a good fifteen feet up to the level ground.  An alcove across river is chosen, which leaves it about four feet above the waterline. 

     As we prepare for the day ahead, Ruby reads us a passage from her guidebook.  It goes something like this:  It is suggested that a boat wrangler be left to tend the boats as the canyon has been know to flush away whole groups of boats due to the flash floods of the monsoon season.

    No one looks directly at each other, our eyes averted, we just keep rifling through our drybags and changing our attire. Finally someone says 'fuck that, I'm not staying'.  We all sigh in relief and look around with a chuckle, 'me neither' we all think silently.  Happily we start the acclaimed adventure together. I start to think about what one would do if they were left behind with the boats and a flash flood was emanate.  Untie them? ...ride one and wrangle the rest into an eddy by yourself?...stay with one and set the others free?... leave all your buddies behind and do the last 60 miles by alone?...with five boats? Oh well, its a beautiful, sunny day... not a cloud in the sky.

part three

 

    The excitement is accumulating and we take off in various groups. It is like the beginning of a bike race and soon we are spread out according to hiking speed and waterfall-sighting intent. The trail is a smorgasbord of fascination, weird rocks, watery tunnels, palm trees, snakes and scratchy cliffs.  It is well marked, running alongside river right, then river left, then river right again and so on and so on. Even before the first crossing I jump in to cool down in the lusciously wet water. It is so warm compared to the icy Colorado, so clear, just perfect for a warm day's hike. There are no bothering bugs.

    Soon we see Beaver falls, incredible! Travorntine teacup clusters create turquoise-green pools with foamy white drops.... but gentle... everything looks and feels so gentle. We jump off the cliffs into the deep pool.  I ask Matt to take my picture while I am waist deep in the middle of the stream, a waterfall as the backdrop. I remember a scene from Blue Lagoon where Brooke Shields looses her virginity, well this scene looks kinda like that one. I can't really describe the true peacefulness and beauty of this little valley tucked away in the depths of the great Grand Canyon desert. We wade through acres of wild grapes not being able to see below out waists. I imagine all the little gnomes and other creatures down there just watching our legs and feet tromp by.

      Around noon we start to meet other hikers on the trail. They are coming down the trail from the Supai Village. A funny mix of people. We ask how far to Moony Falls and they ask how far to Beaver Falls.  I notice some sleeping pads and bags tucked away in tiny cave near the cliff. Someone will camp here tonight even though it is not permitted.

    By 1:00 we arrive at the spectacular Moony falls. WOW. Only photos can help me now. We eat our packed lunch and marvel for awhile.  The sky is still blue with a pretty white cumulous cloud building near the horizon. Its 2:00 and we all decide to head back. Seven of us have made it this far. The wind begins to blow and the temperature drops noticeably. Within 20 minutes the sky darkens and we feel the spatter of raindrops, we hear thunder. 

part four

    We hurry across the Havasu creek, back and forth.  The rain is fierce now. I feel cold, but walking fast helps. We enter the grape filled valley and the buckets of raindrops are joined by aspirin sized hail balls. The river is rising and taking on a brown film color. I look up and see muddy water pouring over the top of the rim walls... everywhere. Where the cliff trail was dry hours ago a mighty shower now pours down on us, we climb through newborn waterfalls. It is slick and slippery. We pass the other hikers headed back to Supai. Not many words are exchanged but a few 'good lucks' and 'be carfuls'.  I feel excitement, crazy energy from the storm, wonderment at the strength and spontaneity of Mother Nature. We stick together.

    About a mile below Beaver Falls the trail makes another crossing. On the opposite bank we see four other people from our party.... I can see their eyes are wide from here. Excitement? The rain has let up. They beckon us to hurry and join them. It isn't so fun to cross anymore. Ruby is almost breathless as she describes her experience of forty minutes ago. 'I was standing right there!' she points to the submerged bank of a brand new side creek that is gushing over a twelve foot cliff into the Havasu creek. What was a dry side canyon hours ago now gushes to life.  The water is thick with mud, rock and red sand. There is an usual smell in the air, like the damp earth of a cave, like sulfur. It smells damp yet dry. The thick water is still shooting out over the cliff like projectile vomit. It has been an hour since Cedar and Ruby heard the grumbling roar that sent them running up the bank out of the draw. The flow has slowed considerably. They show me a video they had been shooting, a panorama of this spot.

   Ruby's video dialog; 'Here are all the elements of a possible flash flood.... the rain, the dry creek bed, water pouring over the rim of the canyon..... I don't know why there is only a small trickle here, it has rained hard for hours now'.  The video abruptly ends, this is where they hear and smell it coming. A feeling of panic, an overdose of adrenalin, refrigerator size boulders falling from the cliffs pushed by the unexpected flood. Cedar is concerned about the boats. 'They could never have ridden that sudden amount of water out.... they're gone for sure' No. They can't be gone. They were tied tight to the wall..... it will let them raise up and the ride the flood wave out.... maybe, just maybe they are still there..... I want to hurry and see.

     We wade across again, just above the side creek created by the flash flood. The water is just about up to our chests, but it is still gentle, unlike the mudflow that has taken over the canyon below us. Larry and Elaine are still down there, somewhere, in the canyon below. I feel anxious, alert, like something important is pending, like when you see a mountain lion in your yard.  All my senses are heightened.... adrenalin.

    Ten minutes later we find Larry. Hallelujah! I see him slip down the last bit of bank to join us. 'Oh man, am I glad to see you all. I thought I was a goner' He had climbed the hillside when the flood rushed passed him, taking higher ground. His video dialog: 'something is happening. Oh man this is not good. The water is rising, I better get out of here. This is bad.' As the water rises he turns the camera on himself, gives a loving good bye to his family and settles in atop a huge rock for the night. Luckily we are together, now. I start thinking about Elaine, what if something really bad has happened to her. My natural state of 'worrisome mother' kicks in and I imagine all sorts of scary scenarios. Michael was the last one to see her and he said she was sunbathing near the mouth of the canyon, near the boats. I feel the gritty feeling of dread. 

     We come to yet another river crossing.  The current is strong but it is only thigh deep.  We decide to use the three buddy system.  I grip Matt and Larry's arm and we begin to slowly rotate across the creek.  Wouldn't you know it I lose my footing and pull Matt down with me, his eyes are startled wide open and seem to say to me 'Oh mom!'.  Larry has a solid foot hold and we are soon recovered.  My legs and feet are sandblasted with the age old clay and bruised by rolling rocks.  They begin to swell... just a bit.  We decide not to cross again.  I walk in the back  of the line with Larry and Bob, urging speed.  Soon we come to another ford. 'NO way' is the consensus.  We start to bushwhack along the cliff wall.  Matt is out front scouting a through route, our 'indian scout'.  The rock climbing is doable, but a bit challenging for some.  Finally we scramble down a rock ledge and find the path which has crossed the creek again to join us.

As we walk alongside the water we notice fish scattered on the ground, left behind by the flood.  Larry picks one up that must be a 22 inch brown trout  'Look at this one.  We can't leave this one behind'.  I agree we should bring it ...'for dinner tonight' I say jokingly.

We have come miles and still no Elaine.  We trudge on, sometimes on the path  and sometimes not, for often it dips down under this new, bigger creek.  It is still clear but threatening clouds begin to move across the small patch of visible sky.  Finally we spot some of out river mates and hear the greatly appreciated story of Elaine's rescue. She had been standing on a rock ledge on the opposite wall of the canyon, no path to the right or left and no way to get any higher, the water had risen to within a few feet below the shelf. Four of the bigger guys formed a human chain into the creek, Adam was chest high. First she threw her backpack to see how well they could catch and then she jumped in the raging mud hoping to be grabbed.  She climbed from one to the other until she was safe on our side, the trail side of the messy water.

We are all here, together. What a strong feeling of togetherness I feel ... I never want to be apart again, not until things fall back into place anyhow.  Soon I hear the sad news of our boats departure, disappearance, detachment.  They are gone, kaput, discombobulated, headed down river with all our precious possesions ...and more importantly WITHOUT us!

I climb the last half mile hauling mama trout in one hand, fingers hooked through her useless gills and grabbing hand holds in in the rock wall with the other.

In the late afternoon sun I sit on the hard, cold rock on the cliff that overlooks the spewing mouth of the Havasu Creek.  I just stare at the place our boats should be. I am thirsty, no one has any water left, we didn't really take enough for the hike in the first place.  All our food, all our water, all our warm clothes, and sleeping equipment, and shelter, and fire starting stuff, EVERYTHING is gone... rushing down stream ... headed down the mighty Colorado, riding the great wave in the freak flash flood.  I think with apprehension 'did I retie the straps after I undid them for my back pack ???!?Did I tighten the one that holds down Matt's kayak???!? How many did I loosen and how many things will hang on when the Zambezi FLIPs!?!?!

part five

     The ground under my butt is hard and cold and the pointy rocks hurt.... but I just sit there anyway, my emotional body and my physical body well on the way to exhaustion. It starts to rain again. Shana has been spelling out our new plan. Get shelter, start a fire, dry our pathetically insufficient clothes out, find drinkable water, pool our snacks and get ready for the night. Tomorrow we will flag down a commercial trip and try to catch our wayward rafts.

     A quarter mile back up stream is a pretty big overhang that diverts the rain. Firewood is readily available, there is a stack of driftwood under the huge logs that runs parallel to the canyon wall in our new 'dusty-but-dry' camp. It has been deposited here by an ancient flash flood.  I have distinct eye contact with my friends, as we slowly, deliberately discuss an emergency exit should the river raise up this far. I am reminded of the earthquake and fire drills of my elementary school years.

     Soon a fire is crackling and people are hanging there soppy clothes on the rocks that protrude from the wall. The rain is coming down in rivulets, we gingerly place our water bottles under them and wait expectantly for the gritty liquid they will yield. It is dark. I am cold, we are all cold. Some of us have only bikini tops. Any extra shirts and pants are distributed.  The food is pooled, beef jerky, oranges, two cookies, a few power bars, some seaweed and dried papaya spears. We start claiming sleeping spots. The ground is not level and there are only small patches that are not rocks.

     Luckily the youngest crew member brought his knife with its one and a half inch blade. Cedar somehow finds the energy to clean the mighty trout.  He slaps it down on the log, her body muddy from the still flooding creek. How shall we cook her? Cut her up into steaks and skew them with marshmallow sticks? Someone comes up with a piece of tinfoil their sandwich had been wrapped in. After the rain has rinsed her clean she is wrapped up tight with her head and tail exposed and thrown onto the red coals. Oh how wondrous the aroma, how glorious the taste. Each of us gets a fork full.... yes Matt has come up with a FORK from his backpack. It is a meal I will not soon forget.

     Exhausted I rub an indention into the dirt with my cheek and shoulder and fade away into shivery sleep.  I wake to the smoldering embers and notice a few others are stirring. We build up the fire and sit around bullshitting quietly. Shawnee asks Matt what time it is, for he is the only one with a time piece.  A hefty time piece at that, the one he bought to assist him with his EMT endeavors.  He looks down and slowly, silently shakes his head. "Eleven thirty."  Shawnee lets out a soft squeal "This is going to be the longest night of my life".  Its crazy.... I thought it was predawn, I had hoped it was predawn. I am pretty over it, the relentless cold, the warmth seeping ground, but my mind doesn't stray far from the moment, from the now, and the only thing I want is right now is sleep. I cuddle a warm stone from near the fire and drift off again.

     The next thing I know my eyes shoot open and my head is full of sound.... BIG sound. People shouting, running, tripping over my inert body. "Run!" But there is something bigger, something louder, like a freight-train's roar filling the canyon, bearing down on us. Oh god, its another flash flood! I grab my shoes and join the mad rush up the trail to our 'higher ground' emergency spot.

     Here we are again, sitting on the cold, hard ground with the pointy, hurtful rocks ... watching the creek turn into a turmoil of churning foam. In the moonlight I see the thick water climb steadily up the opposite wall, one rock crack after another is covered. It rises for over two hours and then plateaus off. It does not recede for another few hours, and then only slightly. We huddle together on a 'not-so-big' ledge. Elijah spreads over a few laps soaking up all the warmth he can absorb.  Oh man, when is this night going to end. My head hurts.

part six

Well as always, morning comes and with it the gloriously warm sun. Funny how the day seems to wash away the importance of a cruel night.  I drink rainwater from the puddles in the rocks. We are all anxious for nine o-clock to roll around. That is what time we expect the other river trips to start passing by. Shana and Matt shimmy along the cliff that runs alongside the Colorado, upstream to a large eddy.  For there is no eddy at the mouth of the Havasu anymore, not even a tiny one, just a monstrous current intersection. Even after six hours the water continues to thump, the creek swollen with violent velocity.  I watch as propane tanks, debris and thirty foot trees quiver and shake at the intersection before they are swallowed up by the muddy Colorado. The Colorado has also risen noticeably. There must have been other canyons that flashed last night.  But, what kind of flash flood lasts this long?.... I guess it's raining pretty hard somewhere up there on the giant plateau that drains into this watershed, Dead Horse I think its called.  Ruby stands on the hill,  higher and around the bend to flag any oncoming boats in. They all have whistles.

     Suddenly we hear an engine. It is a helicopter, the whopping sound echos of the canyons walls overpowering the sound of the river.  They buzz by us and we tap our heads in the universal OK sign. They seem to be counting us. Too bad we are on cliffs. I can't imagine them landing here. They fly off and Ruby spots a commercial raft trip on its way down. YEAH! Matt jumps off the cliff into the waiting raft.

     They give him a PFD (personal flotation device) and send him back with a backpack full of gorp and water. He ties it off using his flip line and I haul it up to some very grateful hands. Matt relays the news from the commercial rafts. Someone reported our guideless boats to the Parks service around eight o-clock last night, each trip is supplied with a satellite phone .... too bad ours is AWAL with our runaway boats. They think the boats have been corralled by another helpful group. These guys have five extra PFDs and are willing to take that many of us down river with them. They are sure other trips will follow and we will all soon be on our way downstream.  Cool, I am ready to go.  I was not looking forward to hiking back up this crazy canyon ten miles to the Havasupai village, and then another eight and a half up to the rim. My feet are twice the size they should be and my shoes are too tight, even with the adjustable straps!  Ouch.

part seven

 

   Just before Matt climbs the face to rejoin us we hear the chopper again. We stand flabbergasted and watch it LAND! It is on the other side of the Havasu creek but it lands none the less. WOW.  Ruby and Cedar confer with the park rangers across the smallest part of the canyon, they are about 15 feet apart. The rangers are a special rescue unit known as the yellow and black.

     For me time stands still for a moment.  Like the centrifuge brakes on a huge turbine engine that is about to change directions, I slow the inertia of plan A and get ready for plan B.  Their news is enlightening and threatening, an earthen dam gave way last night and another one forty miles away has released a far greater volume which should be here soon. Oh wow... again.

     A game begins, an ancient game, the game of cat and mouse, protector and victim, fear and reaction. We begin to shift from in command to victim. They are here to execute a rescue.  When we talk about our plans they counter with theirs, unquestionably the better... the only. "We will save you all" We are scattered, the information comes in fragments, our ideas are countered with new ones, our options seem to dwindle. I still feel the powerful feeling of 'sticking together' that began with the urgency of our situation, the feeling that has created our tight functioning group, the relief of being all together.  So now, after one more question, 'how much will it cost', we concede.  The minute that decision is made the conversation turns to commands .... it is out of our hands, we listen and wait for the next move.

     I watch as their spokesman explains the procedure. He is kneeling, telling us not to worry, we are in good hands.  They haven't actually done a rescue of this size before but they are prepared... they practice for this every year. His body language expresses excitement, nervousness and .... is that fear? He squats on the other side of the canyon, smiling, wringing his hands. His eyes dart from one person to the other as if he is sizing us up, counting and judging our abilities and weaknesses.

part eight

     They have decided on a 'short haul' to get us to their side of the creek and then a helicopter ride out of the canyon. Cedar jokingly says 'don't you have a ladder or plank?', implying that the gap between us seems so small. I think a zip line is in order. But no, they want do a short haul, which means we dangle from a carabiner a hundred feet above the rocks and raging water.  The idea is growing on me, let's go.

     First they hook themselves up to the cable and rise up ever so slowly, silhouetted against the sky, under the belly of the helicopter.   I am impressed with the steadiness of the pilot, the tail has no propeller just two jets that are constantly moving.  The chopper sways in the gusts of wind but the cable stays steady, I see the pilot watching from the window.  Two of them are on our side now. I am fascinated by 'the procedure', they are definitely functioning 'by the book'.  Everyone has a job, everything has an order and things run smoothly.  We are grouped together on the ledge, 'everyone in sight at all times'.

    The excitement is increasing. Its our turn now. Two at a time we slip on the 'diaper' and walk to the edge of the cliff. The ranger snaps the carabiner of our harness to the suspended cable.  A good-bye tap on my back and the straps begin to tighten.  Hip to hip shoulder to shoulder we are lifted so gently off the ground. I look up and see the pilot looking down at us like the friendly face of God.

     It is not like the tense 'Charlton Heston' rescue films. There is no whistling wind in our ears, no frayed ropes or shuttering lines frightening us into thinking about our emanate death. It is more like a Disneyland ride, the gondola above the park, the 5 story ferris wheel with the incredible view. Our friends get smaller and smaller as we gently glide to the opposite bank.  The landing is just as incredulous, I've hit the ground harder dismounting my horse. 

part nine

     Soon we are being schooled about the next leg of the adventure. They hand out five fireproof jump suits, which are gladly donned by the semi naked, and helmets. We listen as we are told the fourth revised plan of where we will actually end up tonight and what to do in case of a helicopter crash. "There are two toggle switches located in the center of the dashboard, flip those down. Then below them you will see two more switches with red lights above them, flip those down also. These turn off the fuel pumps. The side windows can be unlatched and kicked out. Remain in the cabin until all the moving propeller parts have stopped ..... unless it is on fire, in which case you try to get out as fast as possible."   ( -:   OK then, lets have a go at it, yeepee.

     Of course in reality we now play the 'hurry up and wait' game. It is 'us' and 'them', and they have our back packs, and we are thirsty again and hungry!  We have been ordered to stay together in sight at all times .... over here. Ruby braves the protocol and ventures into their territory to retrieve her backpack, which has her lip salve in it. She even takes on the roll of 'Oliver Twist' and asks for 'water... please'. Before being shooed away from their debriefing, she is handed one of the rangers  personal, half full nalgene bottles. A hole in the 'procedure' has been discovered, they do not have water for sixteen very thirsty victims.

     I see Matt soaking it all in, he seems stoked. "That will be me in two years, mom." He is a eighteen year old EMT on his way to Paramedic school next Spring. Yes I can see him joining the rescue unit of some national park... right up his alley.  Ruby is doing a homey break dance move in her oversized jumpsuit sporting her cap bill to the side. Cedar squeezes horizontally under a ledge the size of a coffin to get out of the rain. We wait..... and wait.

     An hour later we are drinking ice cold gator-aide and crystal bottled water. A tiny police helicopter lands and drops off a blue ice chest. 'Yeah, the BEER is here' Not. But how welcoming is this drink. 'Drink up my friends, for this is probably the most expensive drink you will ever experience in your lifetime'  How much does a helicopter delivered gator-aide cost anyway?

finally

    Finally the time has come to lift off. There will be four trips, the chopper can only fit four passengers at a time, I am designated to the last one. The round trip takes almost an hour so we wait some more. Just before we jump in up walk four boat type rangers. They have been sent to retrieve our wayward rafts. Apparently only one has been captured and the others are headed towards the biggest rapid of the whole stretch, the notorious 'LAVA'. "Come with us and row your boats down" they say tauntingly. Oh man I wish we could. I really want to see those last river miles and canyon hikes, but alas it is not so be.

     The view from inside the helicopter is like no other I will ever see again. We fly up the flooded canyon and see Mooney Falls brown and gushy and the green valley where the Havasupai people "the people of the blue green water" have lived for hundreds of years.  Can you imagine parking your car on the rim, taking the groceries out and then hiking eight and half miles to the house? That would take a different mind set. Everything looks so different than it did yesterday. How wild mother nature is.... especially helped towards disaster by mankind. This pristine paradise will be changed forever.

     We arrive at the emergency staging area where the Red cross  is handing out army MREs and blankets.  Blackhawk helicopters are evacuating tourists out of the Havasu wilderness.  National emergency vehicles are everywhere...no repeat of New Orleans here.  Then it is a bus ride to the reservation town of Peach Springs.

     On the way we encounter a roadblock set up by the natural disaster team to begin the job of accounting for every person in the area. I remember the sleeping bags and pads down by Beaver Falls, ten hikers are still unaccounted for. A TV crew boards the bus and asks if anyone is ready to give a firsthand account of the events, we're not... too tired and dirty.  Little did we know there would be nine national TV station camera crews waiting at the high school gymnasium that is doubling as the Red cross center tonight, home sweet home.

     And it was sweet, I have not appreciated a shower quite as much since. Turns out we and four other hikers were the only ones to utilize the cot and blanket accommodations.  The villagers all seemed to have a relative to stay with.  But oh the stories I heard..... well they will take a whole new page to retell.

     Now here is the real mystery of this crazy adventure. When our 'outfitters superior' picks us up and reunites us with the rafts, EVERYTHING is here!!!  The four renegade rafts have navigated Lava Falls rapid on their own and they all did it without FLIPping! Even my map which was hastily slipped under my seat strap is still here and DRY. To me this is the craziest part of the story.  We all laugh when Matt says 'well now we know ..... all you have to do to make it through Lava is stop paddling a few miles above!'