As I reeled up, Matt reappeared with a worried look. “How does it look down there?” I asked, hearing the thundering of a big drop below. He paused, then slowly explained, “Looks really crazy, man. I mean REALLY nuts.” I smiled, but I was nervous. Matt’s been in the front of my boat enough to know my respect (read: fear) of whitewater. And here he was again, braving another hairball float that neither of us had ever seen.