My first time on real whitewater was a trip down the North Fork of the Flambeau River in the summer of 1991 with an experienced canoeist. At the last rapids of the trip - the infamous Beaver Dam Rapids - we had a hair-raising experience. After scouting the rapids for 45 minutes, we decided to avoid the center chute in order to prevent swamping, as we were in a Mad River Malecite loaded with camping gear. So we took the left side, where a well-timed draw stroke was needed to miss a sloping rock that would otherwise flip the boat and send at least one of us into a keeper hole to the left. We got to the rock, my partner called to me for the draw stroke, and I froze. The boat flipped, we were both thrown out, and he was stuck in the hydraulic. The backwash pinned him against a rock, while the water flowing over the rock pushed him down. His PFD kept him afloat long enough for some bystanders to reach out to him with a couple of paddles tied together. I collected our gear, towed the boat back and retrieved my friend. Bless his soul, he didn't give me a hard time. I've been through that rapids several times since then. Every time I stop and scout it, grateful for that day in July where the stars lined up right for a newbie who choked.