By noon, we shoved off. The sec- tion of river we were floating con - tains only small rapids, and with flows low we did not expect any - thing more than some minor class 1 and 2 to break up the longer “flat water” sections. It took me the first mile or two to get back into the groove of things; rowing a white- water raft wasn’t something I have done for quite some time. How- ever, years of maneuvering oth- er types of paddlecraft on moving water gave me the baseline under- standing of how the boat would in- teract with the water and it wasn’t long before I was putting the boat exactly where I wanted it. Not far downstream of the boat launch, the river narrows and en- ters one of several stunning and impressively rugged canyons. Steep craggy, multi-colored rock walls towered above the turquoise green water. Massive old-growth ponderosa pines, with their twist- ed and gnarled branches, seemed to defy the laws of nature grow- ing out of cracks between massive boulders and megaliths. Anywhere there was a shady spot, the ground and rocks were covered in moss; the sunny areas were full of blooming Arrowleaf Balsamroot. The river and the landscape around it were truly a sight to behold. Earl, Steven and I floated along conversing about everything from geopolitics to relationships, from rock and ice climbing to kayak- ing to stock investments. Having the likes of these two old, highly intellectual friends along for the ride was the perfect addition to what was shaping up to be a fan- tastic weekend. Nearby, and often alongside us, Mike, Ben and Taylor floated along sharing in the conver - sation and taking in the scenery. Almost immediately Ben pulled
rode in their truck, and Mike Dun- can in his truck with his 15-foot raft on his trailer. We arrived at the takeout to a locked gate and a sign informing us we were too early in the season; the ramp at the wa- ter’s edge along with at least a mile of the road leading to it were still closed. Under normal seasonal cir- cumstances, this road would likely still be under at least a foot or two of snow. We reconvened at the top of the road next to the highway after turn- ing the trucks and trailers around on a narrow forest road. We decided that the next closest, and only log- ical takeout was 20 miles farther downstream. That decision would make for a very long second day on the water. We arrived at the primitive dirt, cobble and broken concrete boat ramp, situated perfectly in the mid- dle of nowhere. We quickly hopped out of the truck and began sorting through and organizing gear for the trip. The challenge, as it always seems to be, was to balance the frig- id water with the unseasonably warm and sunny weather above the water with the potential for a very, very cold night of camping. After roughly 45 minutes of fid - dling around, we were nearing read- iness. We managed to pack all of our gear into four large dry bags and lashed them carefully onto the back of the raft frame behind the rowing seat that was situated just behind the middle of the boat. Earl and Ste- ven would be sitting up front, side by side to balance out the center of gravity. If we were to negotiate any sizable rapids, they would be treated to an exciting and wet ride in those positions. Shortly after we finished setting the boat up, Ben, Taylor and Mike arrived. They quickly set up Mike’s boat for the float ahead.
sea kayak expeditioning, but with the big difference being that I had to balance the boat for three full- grown guys, their gear and food, in- stead of me, myself and I. The day of the trip finally arrived, and as usual, that Inland North- west weather forecast was laugh- ably wrong… at least for a minute. We headed to the takeout first un - der abundant sunshine with an al- most comical lack of clouds, despite the time of year. Steven Scarcello, Earl Lunceford and I were in my truck with the raft and trailer in tow. Ben Read and Taylor Jacklin
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