My dad was a volunteer coordinator for the Idaho Falls Alpine Club’s whitewater division my whole life. He got me (along with hundreds of other first-timers) on the river starting at a very young age. These days, his river running buddies are hanging up the oars. One of his oldest river running friends succumbed to cancer two weeks ago. Another emailed earlier this season saying he was selling all of his gear, as dementia began to set in. So, every trip I get with my dad–each time I see him with his pole in his hand on the side of the river–feels like a miracle. This picture is a miracle.