The river was running high, overflowing its banks, at the Kink, as we call the big hard left turn in the joint-controlled river bed here, above the reservoir, in the free and wild Rubicon River (minus the sea-run steelhead trout that can’t make it past the damn dams).
The river here flowed a hundred feet wide, out through myriad granite-bound flood channels, with a rushing momentum that was terrific. My main mission today was to see if there was a viable river crossing. That was the next crux of this whole project to ski the Crystal Crest from home. But to think of crossing here was laughable.
