We went to see the Croton Dam, the day after heavy rain (the remnants of a hurricane) had passed through the area during the night. The scale of the waterfall was breathtaking, and the river it fed into rushed by at a furious pace.
We were surprised to see five men carrying in an inflatable raft — properly dressed for the occasion, and obviously experienced. We saw them again a bit later, further along the fast-moving river as they passed under a small bridge.
We found out later that the inflatable raft had overturned, and all had to be rescued from the river. One of the men, unfortunately, had died.
My wife wishes I hadn't told her. I wish I didn't know.
What I still haven't told her, and the memory that continues to haunt me, is of two women with very young children who were with the men as they were trying to make the decision on where to begin the journey.
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