Heartbeat rapids

It is mid-July. I am in Banning State Park navigating a whitewater flume where the Kettle River is pinched in a gorge of stone. "Eddy out at the right!" shouts a friend, providing an exit strategy from the river's edge.

Riverboarding is a growing whitewater sport that involves running rapids in a prone position with a boogie-board-like craft. Participants kick and swim through big water and off-drops, outfitted head to toe with fins, helmet, wet suit, life vest and kneepads for protection from rocks.

The sport's namesake boards -- beefy, buoyant platforms with handles and "brace grooves" for your arms -- offer protection and maneuverability when the water gets rough.

Riverboarding has garnered a small but dedicated following in the United States, said Josh Galt, founder of FaceLevel.com, an online publication that covers the sport. Galt said about 1,000 people regularly participate worldwide and compete in events. The 2009 U.S. Riverboarding World Championships was held in June on the Payette River in Idaho.

In Colorado, California, West Virginia and Montana, whitewater guiding companies offer riverboarding trips. Clients learn on mellow water and work up to torrential rapids as high as Class IV. Rapids are classified from I through VI, from gentle ripples on the water to the turbulent whitewater with holes, standing waves, chutes and drops (Class V). Class VI, the top of the scale, signifies extreme danger and un-boatable conditions.

Galt estimates that more than 500 people per year pay a guide for the experience. In Minnesota, despite numerous rivers and streams teeming with rapids, riverboarding remains at the whitewater fringe. Peter Noren, head of the boating sales department at Midwest Mountaineering, said riverboarding is rare in the region.

But for a small local group, the excitement of shooting rapids at "face level" prompts outings to the St. Louis River, the Kettle and other area waterways. Pete Curtis, 34, was initiated into the sport in 2006 on the Green River in Utah, where towering desert walls funneled a river on a 9-mile stretch.

More recently, on the Gallatin River in Montana, Curtis, a software developer from St. Paul, negotiated a torrential run of holes, drops and standing whitewater waves -- all racing by with a river at flood level. "There was almost no time to prepare -- it was mostly letting the river take me downstream and trying to avoid the worst of it," he said.

Despite the potential drama, Curtis said, people intimidated by fast water might feel more in control on a riverboard than a kayak. "You've got at least 50 pounds of flotation and your center of gravity is below the waterline, so you're quite stable and can easily bounce off obstacles or the face of a standing wave," he said.

On the Kettle River in July, standing waves and flood currents were not an issue. A recent rain had brought the river level up enough to be navigable, but it was still moderately low.

A friend and I met with Curtis and Mark Bedenbender, another area 'boarder, for an afternoon session. "Keep scooted up on the board," Bedenbender instructed as I pushed off.

We were below the main put-in at Banning, where a large park sign warns "VERY DANGEROUS RAPIDS NEXT 2 MILES." Indeed, the sets of rapids -- including Blueberry Slide, Dragon's Tooth and Hell's Gate -- are among the state's more infamous. Each is a few hundred feet long and separated by a brief stretch of calm water.

Stanley Barton, my friend and a first-time riverboarder, ran multiple laps on a rapid to get a feel for the sport. He began by swimming into calm water, then nudging his board into the flow for a fast ride downstream. Barton bumped over waves and was tossed between rocks, the board rocketing like a sled. His feet kicked to steer, and he fought to stay in control.

"You need to have a level of submissiveness," Barton said. "You really do have to go with the flow."

I suited up and borrowed Bedenbender's board for a run. The pool above Blueberry Slide was calm and quiet, a deceptive pause before the river turned and broke, its cascade skirting a wall of overhanging stone.

The riverboard bounced under my body, rocks bumping my dangling feet. I kicked and surfed through the boils and bubbles and froth, the Kettle's brown water pouring madly away.

The current sucked me sideways and I caught an eddy, the board spinning around, safe. I took a breath and looked out to the waves. Then I kicked off, the board snagging fast water, and peeled back into the flow, on my belly, to do it all over again.

Stephen Regenold writes a blog on outdoors gear at www.gearjunkie.com.