9:12am: The water is gushing down on me, trying to push me off the rock I’m standing on. A thought rushes through my head, should I give up, take the easy route? I shrug it off, find a new handhold, fight back against the force. It’s go time! With the water spraying into my face I push off with my legs and heave myself up. I’m through! What a rush! Soaking wet, I pump my fists in the air.

9:19am: I’m trudging through knee deep rapids, feel the force against my legs. I clamber over a boulder and as I splash down on the other side I cast a glance forward. Just ahead, the river comes rushing down between sun bleached rocks, the light gleaming off the foamy surface. Smiling at the sight, I keep moving forward.

9:26am: The water comes cascading over the lip of a rocky outcrop, as if a giant was pouring it out from a large jug. It looks climbable. David goes first, but as he reaches over to find a handhold, the incursion of his arm forces the stream to switch direction, sending a plume of spray into his face, then splashing down to where I’m standing. Quick evaluation, there are no footholds – not climbable.

9:36am: The valley grows narrower, the sides become steeper, and the jungle comes crawling down closer all around. Ahead a slate black wall of rock rises almost vertically out of the river, the stream crashing down it all foaming and white. Fine spray rises into the air like wisps of smoke, the sunlight beaming down through gaps in the canopy catches on the droplets, making them sparkle briefly before falling to the ground.

9:47am: I am pressed up against a wall of brownish, almost black, rock that’s slick with algae. The cliff looms over me, blocking out the light and bathing me in shadow. Just to my right, the stream comes thundering down, spray raining down on top of my head, the roar drowning out all other noise.