Laurie, OWP 1998

 

"Hi! Hi!" my son called out to the passing raft. I had briefly forgotten his presence as I sat staring across the river, mesmerized by the sounds of the water and of the leaves rustling in the trees. The sky was blue and yet a gentle breeze kept the day from growing uncomfortably hot. My son, Gavin, and I were waiting on the boat ramp with our raft while my husband, Scott, parked the truck in the lot above. At three years old, Gavin was at the age where language is a novelty, and calling out "hi" to every passing stranger is the norm.

As he called out to the passing raft, I focused in on it, noticing its four occupants. Two boys, about five and six years old, and a man waved our way, the man smiling and calling out "hello!" A woman sat with her back turned to us. The raft seemed small for the four of them, smaller than ours which comfortably seats three. And they were towing an inner tube; perhaps one of them had planned on riding it.

We were at the boat ramp on the Mackenzie just below Marcola Road and planning to float down to Armitage State Park. It was about a 2 1/2 hour run, through mostly calm water, with a set of rapids at the end. Scott would be in charge of guiding the raft, and I of ensuring our son wouldn't fall overboard. We both were to watch for trees in the water, the only real hazard on this section of the Mackenzie. Often, unsuspecting limbs poke up from the water to snag rafts.

I finished buckling Gavin's life jacket on him just as Scott arrived. We set off, the coolness of the water feeling quite refreshing. The soothing sounds and lulling motions of the river - no better way to relax. Shortly we passed an osprey high up in the trees guarding its nest. Gavin and I hung our heads over the side of the raft, looking for fish in the clear water, but seeing only the rocks below. We reached the bend in the river where suddenly the water grows still and quiet, the bottom now dark and the rocks indiscernible. Here where the Mohawk and Mackenzie Rivers join, we slowed almost to a stop. Eventually the water becomes shallower and faster, and about 45 minutes from the time we put in, we passed by the boat ramp at Harvest Lane.

It wasn't long before we caught up with the raft we'd seen while waiting on the boat ramp. With a tube in tow, it traveled more slowly. Pulling up alongside of it, we exchanged greetings with the occupants and inquired where they'd put in. The man, clearly in charge of the raft with both oars in oarlocks, told us they'd put in at Ballinger, well over an hour upstream of where we'd put in. "I was ready to get out where you got in," the woman spoke up. I now looked at her, and I saw she wasn't smiling. Furthermore, she wasn't sitting up on the side of the raft, but rather down inside on the floor. The man then asked us how long until we reached Armitage, as this was their destination. We speculated about 1 1/2 hours. We continued our friendly exchange to learn they'd never rafted before and had just bought theirs that morning.

As we passed by, we noted that their raft was not fully inflated. And once out of their earshot, my husband pointed out the hazard of towing a tube: one easy way to get snagged by a tree branch. "No wonder she's not smiling" I replied to my husband. Scott looked back at them and observed, "At least they are all wearing life jackets." I didn't feel much solace though, and felt sympathetic for this woman with a companion at the lead who had no prior experience guiding a raft, a new raft that had either developed a slow leak or was never fully inflated, thus sagging into the river. A total or four people riding on this obviously three person raft. Plus having two children on board for which she was at least partially responsible. It occurred to me then that perhaps the man's optimism may have been solely for the benefit of his family.

As we continued on I began to worry about these people, total strangers. We passed some fishermen wading into the water with their fly poles. We floated on a ways and approached another bend in the river. Downed trees lined the banks, some with trunks poking out into the current. We passed a flattened raft that had become tangled in one of them. Carefully we navigated our way through this tree jam and Scott said, "I hope they make it." A short time later we spied a good spot to stop and pick some blackberries. We tasted the berries as we began filling our bags, and though the berries were not at their peak, we slowly continued to pick them. Neither of us were in any hurry to leave. I sensed that Scott shared my concern: these strangers we had met would probably make it to Armitage without incident, but if anything did happen to them, there wasn't anyone else around.

We waited until they floated past us and gave them time to get ahead of us. It was as they passed by that I heard a timid voice, "I want to ride in that boat." Though not a plea to me, I couldn't ignore the quiver in her voice; she was truly terrified.

Responsible as I was for my son, I wasn't prepared to offer to swap spots with her. But at that point, Scott and I both felt a calling: to keep pace with these people, to make sure they made it safely. We followed along behind them, and in the distance saw the flat rocks, the marking point for the set of rapids marking the end of our trip. We bypassed our protégés, making sure we were downstream of them through the rapids in case someone managed to fall out or in the worst case, their raft collapsed.

As we passed the flat rocks on our right, we hit the rapids. I hung on tight to our son, the raft buckling as we went over the two foot high crests. Water cascaded over the bow as we came down with the flow of white water. Coming out of the rapids, we were all soaking wet.

As we floated into calmer water, I heard a stifled yelling. Looking back I saw the woman with her mouth gaping, the two boys huddled in the center of the raft, and the raft spinning out of control as a wall of water crashed over the side of it. But they made it. Our boat ramp was now in sight, the trip coming to an end.

We worked our way toward the Armitage boat ramp on the left bank, the anxiety slowly draining out of us. As we landed, we looked back and saw them heading for the right bank of the river, to the dirt lot many use for parking and river access. They safely landed and glanced at us. To share such a moment of panic with complete strangers, and then afterwards to go your own ways. It was a difficult moment to completely detach. Hesitantly we picked up our raft and headed up to our car, wanting to assure them and let them know we were with them, yet not wanting them to notice our concern. We looked back across the river and at the same moment, the man looked our way, nodded and waved. His way of saying thanks.