“We’ll take this one,”
W points to the narrow yellow inflatable kayak, more of a canoe than a raft.
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| The beautiful Flathead River |
My heart sinks. I
remember a wild ride ten years ago, bouncing in a 10-person raft through
stretches of the canyon we are about to paddle. The experienced river guides
take the wider Sea Eagle and launch into the roiling current.
Several days before, W
negotiated a calmer stretch of the Flathead River from Hungry Horse to Columbia
Falls. “I had a blast!” he exclaimed, coming in from an exhilarating float in
the yellow kayak. “It’s stable, fun to maneuver, and I hope you love it as much
as I did.”
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| Wildflowers on the gravel bars |
With two people, one
sitting in the middle (me) and one in the back as well (W), the stability of
the boat is compromised. My reaction as we hit the first rapids is that this is
akin to riding in a tippy racing car – as the passenger. W’s every paddle
thrust tilts the boat, sometimes sharply. It’s discomfiting.
Nope. Actually I’m
gripped by sheer terror, swaying side-to-side on an uncomfortable sloping seat
above an inflated floor. Nothing about this feels safe. We negotiate the first
series of cascades, carefully following Paul and Cathy’s lead to the side. I
start to breathe easier as we are swept downriver. There’s nothing I can do at
this point. We’re committed, our lifejackets are buckled, and boat floats
forward.
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| Colored rocks in the Flathead River |
Sometimes it feels
like we are hardly moving. The green glacier water shimmers between the iron
and other minerals sparkling in the cliffs.
W points over the side,
“Look below. You can see how fast we’re actually going.” Green, pink, burgundy,
and black rocks rush underneath us as the swift current lifts us on its
shifting surface. We avoid the pillows of water striking the upstream side of
boulders.
 |
| Rapids around a boulder |
“Let’s pull in and
carry the boats through the next section,” Paul says as we approach a stretch
of churning rapids. We divert from the main river to float shallow water
streaming over a gravel bar. When we bump to a halt, I’m not strong enough to
carry my end of the kayak over the rocky terrain. Paul banks their boat and
backtracks several hundred yards to help W carry the kayak back to the river.
We relaunch and are
carried swiftly away. A young buck, fuzzy antlers held still, watches us from
the shore. The Blankenship Bridge drifts by overhead before the canyon narrows
to an 80’ deep trench between sheer mountains. The stunning beauty has us
gasping with pleasure. “Unless you want to go around and around, avoid those
areas,” Paul points to large lazy-looking whirlpools. Apparently, when the
water was running high a few years ago, a vortex sucked the front of a canoe
straight down. Ugh. Not interested!
A few more bumps
through choppy waters and we’re near camp. Paul and Cathy pull in ahead of us.
Cathy makes the same wet exit I took yesterday. The fat sides of the Sea Eagle
make for an unstable departure into knee-deep water.
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| Our style of dismount near shore |
We start to swing
toward the shore, W paddling on the right side. I back-paddle on the left to
swing the kayak to shore. Except that he’s switched sides to push us closer in
so we’re paddling against each other… while the current is taking us past the
landing. I paddle on the right, then quit paddling altogether, and hope for the
best. W jumps out to drag the boat in, stumbles on the slippery rocks, and tips
us into the icy water.
“Is that your gear
bag?” Paul points to the fluorescent orange pouch floating downstream. He, the
only dry one, jumps in to swim after it. He snags the bag several hundred yards
away and starts for the bank. Meanwhile, the kayak slips from W’s grip, the current
catches it, and sweeps it away. The thin elastics of the paddle-straps snap off
as the kayak freewheels toward Paul.
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| A runaway kayak |
W and I have moved thigh-deep
into the fast-moving stream, trying to capture the kayak. We struggle back
upstream toward the landing, our Keens slipping on the silted rocks. If we lose
our footing, we’ll be hauling ourselves out of the water near Paul. Cathy grabs
my hand and pulls me to the riverbank.
We three are sopping
wet, head to toe. It’s hilarious – a really ugly dismount with a happy ending.
As Cathy and I trudge toward our cabins, trousers dripping through the
campground, we laugh about the awkward finale. We agree that it was a fun ride.
A hot shower afterwards is my best reward.
Tucked into warm
clothing, I thank God for the beautiful surroundings. For safe travels on
fast-moving waters. For a wonderful husband whose instincts are opposite mine
in a crisis. For cold and warmth. For wet and dry. For senses created to let us
fully experience the Creator’s inventiveness. God is good!
Read more:
*What god in heaven or on
earth can perform deeds and mighty acts like yours! Deuteronomy 3:24
*Christ was revealed in flesh, vindicated in spirit, seen by angels, proclaimed among Gentiles, believed in throughout the world, taken up in glory. 1 Timothy 3:16
Moravian Prayer: In the whole of creation and your actions throughout the world, we are blessed from the beginning until now. May we always trust in you. Amen.
*Christ was revealed in flesh, vindicated in spirit, seen by angels, proclaimed among Gentiles, believed in throughout the world, taken up in glory. 1 Timothy 3:16
Moravian Prayer: In the whole of creation and your actions throughout the world, we are blessed from the beginning until now. May we always trust in you. Amen.
