by Graham Averill

First, Kevin makes me sign an insurance waiver. Then he suggests we pray before getting into the river. And there’s his wetsuit. It’s spotted with holes and gashes like he swam through a cheese grater. So yeah, I’m a little apprehensive about running a river I’ve never paddled, on a contraption I’ve never used, wearing more protective gear than a linebacker. Is this safe? Is my insurance current?

Riverboarding is the newest way to experience big whitewater fun. Picture a boogie board made of polyethylene (the same stuff kayaks are made of). Now picture yourself holding onto this small, three-foot-long board running class III and IV whitewater…head first.

Kevin’s my guide. He’s a 23-year-old Southern Baptist who’s gearing up for a two- year stint as a missionary in the Himalayas. On weekends he guides people through their first riverboarding experience.

Today, it’s just me, Kevin and Larry, a corporate head hunter who’s broken every bone in his body while trying to slow down the aging process. Larry’s the perfect example of the type of person interested in riverboarding. He’s always looking for something newer, faster, and more intense, and that’s exactly what the riverboard is supposed to be. As Shane Bolling, the owner of Ripboard Inc., the only manufacturer of riverboards in the United States, says, “It’s whitewater at face level.”

The sport started in New Zealand and was imported to the States about a decade ago. Other than the occasional adventure race featuring a riverboard section, it hasn’t caught on yet. It’s a fringe sport still waiting for its coming out party.

I’m glad to get into the water, if for no other reason than to camouflage the getup I’m wearing: helmet, wetsuit, kneepads, shin guards, and flippers. I feel like I’m dressed for a vicious fraternity prank.

We get a 45-second lesson about using our flippers to turn, and then we’re off. That’s it. No safety talk, no “in case of emergency” discussion. We’re all adults. We signed the waiver. Plus, you’re supposed to be able to learn riverboarding in just a couple of hours.

We’re running Big Laurel Creek, one of those skinny class III-IV rivers you can only run after a good rainfall. For the first quarter mile, though, it’s slow moving and I don’t like the riverboard much. I can’t maneuver the way I want, and it’s not very comfortable. You hold onto a set of handlebars and rest your weight on your elbows. And don’t get me started on the rocks-you know, the ones that keep bludgeoning my knees and shins.

But Larry, Kevin, and I share an affection for Keanu Reeves movies, so I’m happy to debate the greatest Keanu performance of all time (“Point Break” hands down). Then we hit our first class III, a handful of consecutive four-foot drops with a wide hole at the bottom. I’ve done rapids like this before, but only in a boat. Going head first doesn’t seem like a smart idea.

I jump in anyway and, to my surprise, manage to move into the slide with more control than I’ve ever had in a boat. I cruise over the lip of the first drop and my stomach climbs into my throat. I stick the line through the second and third ledge, eating water the entire time, and the last drop pushes me to the bottom of the hole.

I’m not into Zen. The closest I’ve come to nirvana was when TBS ran a 24-hour “Saved by the Bell” marathon. Yet I say that there is something peaceful and nirvana-like about being pushed face first into a hole at the end of a man sized drop. Yes, you’re stuck there, and yes, you can feel the falls tumbling over your back, but somehow, it’s okay. I guess it’s the way fish must feel.

That’s the beauty of riverboarding. You’re in the water. You’re not sitting above it like in a canoe. You’re not floating along the lip of it like in a kayak. You’re in it. You’re a part of it.

During that class III staircase, I get it. I finally understand why Kevin puts up with the bruises and discomfort. Psychologists call it a breakthrough. I’d rather say it’s like that scene in “Point Break” when Keanu finally gets a clean ride on a decent sized wave. He pumps his fist in the air toward Patrick Swayze and shouts, “I’m surfing! I’m surfing!”

Yeah. That’s exactly what riverboarding is like.

–Graham Averill