Floating Fathers Part II

An hour later, we had finally brought all of our gear down to the river, and having pumped up the inflatable kayaks we tried to figure out how we were going to load up the large amount of gear. I was paddling a one man, while the others all had two-person boats. We kept Travis’ boat pretty light, as he was the novice. I filled up my boat with as much gear as I could fit and Mike and John took the rest. Despite the fact that the boats were riding a bit low in the water, they were trimmed out well and were surprisingly easy to paddle.
We set off under some darkening clouds, an eerie fog and the first few drops of rain that would stay with us off and on for the next four days. The river was just big enough to fill the riverbed, yet still large enough to hide the deeper late summer channels. I spent the first few minutes dodging what must have been a bazillion rocks and instructing Travis to simply follow me. Apparently easier said than done; after broaching on a few rocks, Travis quickly learned it was much easier to go around the rocks instead of through them. It certainly would be a good test for the bottom of these boats.
We stopped and looked at our first large rapid to show Travis which areas were good and bad and to settle his nerves a bit. It was very straightforward and could be run just about anywhere. I chose a fun line on the left while John moved to the right. I told Travis to follow John’s line and remember to have fun, as it would be pretty difficult to flip in this rapid. Toward the bottom of the rapid, I looked to the right to make sure Travis was online. To my amazement and John’s chagrin, Travis looked great and John was swimming. John’s only comment was, “at least the water is cold.”

A few miles later, we stopped at a horizon line and the four of us scrambled across the rocks for a better look. I saw a nice line in the center and started back to my boat to play the stick while the others watched. After a minute or two the other guys started yelling at me and pointing at the river. I looked up to see John’s boat (without John) had drifted out of the eddy and apparently had decided to run the right side blind and take its chances with the hole at the bottom. I raced to my boat and started the chase. Half way through I was amazed to see the boat had actually punched the hole. However, the pull was too great and the boat was actually being sucked back into the hole tail first. As the boat did a perfect rear ender I could clearly see John’s fishing pole, Pelican case and most importantly our food! Luckily the only lost or damaged item was the fishing pole. The new camera NRS purchased was dry as a bone. – Thanks, Pelican!

The next few days were just fun river days. The rain came and went, and we took advantage of what little sun was available for fishing and warming up. We found one beautiful beach that allowed us a couple hours of sunshine to set-up camp, dry out clothes and break into the good wine that we had saved for an occasion such as this. Mike Bieser told us countless stories of his encounters while sailing the open sea. And John spun a few hilarious tales from his previous job as a pilot. Travis was still amazed he was alive and not talking much. It was clear he was going to enjoy talking about his adventure from the relative safety of his office chair.

Our final night was wet, but “at least it was cold”. This was the only night we were driven from dinner to our tents trying to avoid the rain. In retrospect, John and I should have pitched our tent a bit further away from the dining area. For, well into the night I thought I heard a stick snap. I sat there and listened to the rain and the beat of my own heart for a few minutes, eventually laughing at my imagination. What happened next could only be described as, “a huge crashing through the brush.” John and I were instantly awake attempting to tell ourselves that it was probably just a deer. The dinner plates were rattling around and we decided that it was time to make some noise as we were only 20 feet away and protected only by Mountain Hardware’s finest 70 denier rip stop nylon. So we yelled to Mike and Travis that we were about to be eaten by a bear and would they please save us. After a bit of yelling, whatever was feasting in our campsite meandered away without ripping us limb to limb. I didn’t sleep much that night.

The next morning the river had turned a chocolate brown and had obviously risen during the night. I had placed some rocks at the shoreline to gauge how much the river was rising and all of my rocks were underwater and several feet away from the shoreline. In fact, the water was very close to our boats, which we had dragged up the beach several feet. Besides the rise in water, the more important question became, “Hey Travis, where’s your boat?” Sure enough, there were only three boats on shore and nothing downriver for as far as we could see. Luckily, there is a beautiful backpacking trail that runs along the river, and after about a half-mile hike, we spied the boat eddied out spinning in circles.

We arrived at the take-out without any further adventures and waited for Travis’ wife Audra to negotiate the 20 miles of washboard and mud that we Idahoans call a road. In grand style, a full cooler of beer awaited us and we somehow managed to pack all of our gear into one Chrysler Town and Country minivan. For the next few hours the rapids got bigger, the swims more terrifying and the bear more aggressive. But as I sit here tonight in the comfort of my own home, thinking of those four days, I cannot wait to go back. But I’m sure a few things will be different - John probably won’t swim. He certainly will not take his good fly rod. I’ll be sure to have some bear spray for my friends and me. We’ll tie up the boats every night. And I’m quite certain Audra will not volunteer her new Mini Van with leather seats to four guys who hadn’t showered in four days.

I can’t wait for September. See you on the river.

Todd Benson
NRS Buyer