Even though I'm a correspondent for Outside MagazineI'm on the mastheadI am frightened of everything. That's my bailiwick at the magazine, in fact; they send me to do things that scare the hell out of me. But nothing seemed as terrifying to me as rafting the Futaleufu. The minute I accepted the assignment, I regretted it. I spent the weeks leading up to my departure, crossing Manhattan streets a little less energetically, in hopes that a cab might hit me and break my leg and get me out of it. So how extraordinary is it when I say what an amazing trip I had on the Futaleufu. The word I had heard over and over was "exhilarating," and it's apt, certainly, but actually not strong enough. The Futaleufu is an astonishment. The color of the water, its crazy volume, the roar, the velocity of the ride, and through it all, the absolute mastery of Robert Currie in the back of the raftmade every element seemed heightened, perfected, colorized, almost virtual. And incredibly fun, it must be said. There was also a great variety to the week, the camps all different from one another, but all surprisingly and ingeniously comfortablefrom the arcadian, lostboys hideaway of Cave Camp to the truly fantastical dwellings up in the canopy of the forest of the Tree House Campthe food was great. Now, when I watch the video of the trip, I can still pick out my face in the raft, against the barreling froth. I frankly can't believe I ever managed to do it, but I'm supremely glad I did. I'd go back for a view of the stars alone.