We slept downstream from one such operation on the second night. Scrambling over a pile of driftwood, I side-stepped bustling ant highways, to look for suitable trees to string up my hammock. With a few remaining minutes of sunlight, I swam out to a large boulder at the base of a cascade in the river. With my feet in the foaming water, I watched lightning flicker in the distance and enjoyed a solitary moment on the river.

As breakfast cooked the next morning, we tried our skill at mining using some hand tools left by recent miners. Though futile, it was an enjoyable way to pass the time as we waited for the group to rally. By mid-morning, the group assembled around the waiting rafts. With the habitual helmet and life jacket check behind us, we jumped in the raft and slid into our self-assigned places.

Around mid-afternoon, we approached a large metal bridge, rattling with the passing of heavy trucks. Armed military guards, scrambled from their post in the shade to watch us with great amusement, drop one last rapid before taking out the rafts. We lunched on fried fish, plantains, and sugarcane lemonade in the shade of a local home. Worn down by three days of the expedition, we succumbed to the stifling heat of the afternoon and napped on the dusty patio of the front porch.

By the fourth day, the Río Samaná was picking up steam. Even in low water the river was impressive, smashing against rocks the size of truck trailers, churning powerfully in spots, drifting quietly in others. Known to rise and fall up to 30 ft in a day, I was content with the steady flow of the drought-parched river.

After avoiding several large rapids, lady Samaná flashed her strength. While charging one particularly strong rapid, our guide Victor took an errant paddle to the face and broke his nose. Screaming “Adelante! Adelente!”, he urged us to shore where he spat out blood and held his nose in disbelief. After several hectic moments, the scene calmed down as he stuffed gauze into his nose to slow the bleeding. Peering out from behind a massively swollen nose, Victor heroically climbed back in the raft and prompted us to continue. Like any good outdoor guide, he broke the tension by cracking a joke about the quality of plastic surgeons in Medellín, a mecca for implants and nose jobs.