Relief from being choked to death was replaced by fear as he was swept down the river, crashing into rocks and gulping large quantities of water. He hit his shoulder twice and his head once before he got himself situated feet-first heading through now what would be considered rapids. Cliffs replaced the banks as the river increased velocity. His legs absorbed the shock of smashing into rocks but he was getting tired. He managed to grasp a log wedged between two boulders and had a moment’s reprieve, but the relentless current took hold once again and swept him away. It seemed like hours but was probably only twenty minutes when the cliffs opened up and the river slowed. John dragged himself to a sandbar on the right bank and lay exhausted until his shivering turned into seizure-like convulsions. He stood and rubbed his arms, then stumbled over to higher ground looking for deadwood and sticks to start a fire. Ten minutes later he had a small pile of leaves, grass, and twigs with larger branches to feed when the fire took. Darkness enveloped him. Several attempts later, and a few fumbles, he got his lighter to work and a small blaze flickered from the pile. Carefully he added larger twigs, small branches, then a log or two. It was another hour before he stopped shivering and his clothes began to dry.