All sundried and bowlines retied, lost a couple logs so smaller now but still seaworthy, “We gotta get back on the river if we’re gonna get to town before sundown. You ready?” Up off the rock, bend grab the rope, “Okay, one, two, three,” strain lift our vessel and walk into the mud cold up past the ankles, careful step around the moss rocks, up calves past the knees into the slow pool with the rapids behind us, “Okay, you first,” up and on, out of the water, then he hopped on back, slightly crammed but found our balance, hand paddle back into the current…