Mack White

We rowed on in anxious silence. I could not take my eyes off the light beyond the trees. I hoped the light belonged to the Highway 67 bridge...

What am I doing on this stupid river, I thought. Middle of the night, injured, tripping, and any minute might fall in the river and drown. ...

We rowed on as the night continued to darken and the quiet deepened. There was only the croak of frogs and the occasional splash of a catf...

The river widened and began to darken. Sunlight strobed through the trees on the western bank, flashing Navajo sun patterns. At a bend in ...

We rowed on—or rather, Jim rowed. The instant ice pack gradually lost its effectiveness, and with no real ice to replace it, the burning a...

The metal edge of the upside-down canoe tightened its grip on my leg, pulling me down deeper into the water. I tried to free myself, but c...

We started around the island. The current quickened and we heard the burbling of water ahead, just beyond the bend. We rowed on. The curre...