The Tana River Trip: An Alaskan Adventure. Otherwise known as that time the plane crashed and we ran some crazy whitewater...
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“Would somebody tell Cory we’re all waiting on him?” Jules asks.
We giggle. It’s 1pm and we’re sitting in the 185, a small bush plane. Behind us sits the Beaver, a slightly larger bush plane packed to the brim with a week’s supply of equipment and food necessary for a remote rafting trip. The three of us look at each other and then at Kelly our pilot. Kelley is staring at Cory in disbelief.
Jules leans out of the plane and waves his arm at Cory. Cory smiles and waves back and keeps talking on his cell phone.
“Really?” Jules says, his voice oozing dismay. We giggle again.
I’m also laughing at the three grown men in the plane giggling, but staring at Cory standing in the airstrip talking leisurely on his cell phone while we wait, things are borderline ridiculous. The palpable excitement in the air is making us all giddy. Jules leans out of the plane again, waving his arms. “Cory! Come on!”
Cory smiles and waves back. Kev throws his head back in glee and snorts. Finally Cory snaps his cell phone shut and walks slowly over to the plane. Tall and lankly with long blonde dreadlocks and beautiful blue eyes, he gives us an innocent smile that wrinkles the corner of his eyes. “You guys ready? You weren’t waiting on me were you?” Kev snorts again. Kelley laughs as well and hollers, “Well, crawl on in the front seat, I guess that’s one way to make sure you get to sit up front!” We help shut the door of the plane and taxi out onto the runway. I turn back to look at the Beaver. Collin and the other pilot Martin are lifting Collin’s dog Rocky up into the passenger seat of the Beaver. A Rottweiler/ Golden Retriever mix, Rocky is not exactly a small dog. Watching them try to lift him over their heads keeps me smiling.
The flight is great, it’s a beautiful day. We fly over several rivers I recognize.
Suddenly Kelley's voice booms over the headsets. “Here ya go boys, we’re getting to the Tana now.” I’ve never been in this part of the Wrangells before. None of us have. A stillness falls over the plane as we all lean closer to the windows. I stare down at the river intently. This could be my only chance to see it before we raft it. I can make out a massive bend in the river where all the water pounds in a cliff wall as the river makes an abrupt 90 degree turn. I search the bank for a marker for the approach. Upstream there’s a canyon, perfect in its tightness and symmetry, with two massive boulders smack in the middle of the current. And then upstream of the canyon there’s a long rapid littered with gigantic holes. That’s the one, I think. A few smaller rapids mark the beginning of the whitewater. Even from the air the waves are gigantic. Slightly further upstream a sand dune eats into the black spruce forest. The wind at this place must be intense. I’ve never seen a sand dune sit so close to a glacier before. Wild.
We set down on a gravel bar on river left and even before we open the door of the plane we can feel the wind. When we get out of the plane Kelly waves and takes off without turning around. Martin lands and we rush to unload the Beaver. A bush pilot’s time is dear and we all really like Martin. We’re careful as we stack things, the wind is strong enough we could easily loose even moderately heavy items. Finally, when the massive pile is stacked and hugs and handshakes and pictures are finished, Martin turns on his engine.
Instantly we are being sandblasted. The combination of down valley wind and the wind from his propeller is throwing up the loose gravel of the river bar. Our clothes are being blown up and our exposed skin is being pelted with rocks. We take cover and wait for Martin to fly away. 5 minutes later we’re still waiting. What is he doing? Why won’t he at least turn so we’re not forced to take cover like this? We keep peaking, but he is just sitting at the end of the runway, facing his plane into the wind. Eventually he leaves.
When we saw Martin later he explained how he had been trying to turn around and return to the other end of the runway so he could take off into the wind. The wind had been so strong he hadn’t been able to turn the plane around. He had spent 10 minutes trying to inch the plane around but every time he started to turn perpendicular to the wind it had grabbed his wings and threatened to tip the plane. He had taxied to the end of the runway to turn around so he was cornered, unable to turn, but with less than 100 feet of airstrip left. Eventually he realized that in such a strong wind he didn’t need much runway. He put his flaps up and took off into the wind, going straight up like a helicopter. None of us watched, the rocks pelting us were too vicious. I wish we had watched.
Waiting with my back to the wind, I stared downriver. There was an obvious problem with where we had been dropped. We were in a wide open river valley, several miles wide and mostly covered in gravel from the river. There were no trees or vegetation of any kind until the valley started its climb into the mountains off in the distance. Directly below us the shallow braided river made a sharp bend from right to left with all the main current on river left, divided from us by several gravel bars. With the direction of the wind and its force, there was very little chance we could row our heavy gear boats to the left side of the river and we’d be beached on the gravel shallows just downstream with fully loaded gear boats. We didn’t want to make camp for the night in this wind, and there was an airstrip downstream of the next bend in the river that promised if not less wind at least some tress to take cover behind. We needed an airstrip so the final member of our group, a bush pilot named Ben could meet us in the morning. We’d been dropped at a gravel bar with no vegetation within a mile of the river and this wind was going to seriously cramp our style.
After Martin finally left I looked at the boys. Cory, Jules, and Kev were all grinning. Collin looked concerned. We made eye contact and I flicked my head downstream and then shook my head. He nodded and I knew we were thinking the same thing. We couldn’t put on the river here. We started walking upstream, scanning the braids in the river and trying to decide how far upriver we need to portage in order to make it river left. We settled on a spot about 300 meters upriver where we decided we could line the boats to the next gravel bar in the river, unload and carry the boats to the next braid, then reload and line the boats to the second gravel bar, unload, carry, reload, and then we would be in the main channel. Time consuming and labor intensive, but better than being beached in gravel shallows without any way to get across to the main channel until the wind died down. We turn back and explain to the other guys. Their stunned looks are filled with disbelief. I am very glad that Collin has my back on this one. I don’t think they would have listened to me alone. Jules respects me as a boater, but the other guys don’t know me, and I’m starting to realize they don’t even know I’m rowing one of the boats through the whitewater- they must just see me as the lone female of the group and an unknown. The boys swap a bit of back and forth banter and scout along the river bank. Collin and I follow behind swapping looks of bemusement until it’s decided. Everything must be carried upriver. We start the long haul into the wind. At least the sun is out.
An hour later we’re just finishing the final load when three grizzlies come out of the woods, directly across the river from us. They lope along easily and then suddenly break into a dead run straight at us. Chaos breaks out instantly. Everyone is hollering, waving their arms, and I’m ransacking the huge pile of boating gear for my camera bag. I hear Jules yell over the din “Collin get your gun!” just as I hear Collin yell “Haley get your camera!”
Suddenly a hush falls over everyone. The only sound is the wind moving sand over the gravel and the running of the river. The grizzlies have stopped at the river bank. It’s shallow and there’s no question they could come over easily if they want. I’ve finally found my camera but I want my telephoto lens and it’s in the bottom of my bag. All three of the bears stand up on their hind legs. “Holy shit.” Somebody says. “Jesus those are three young punks if I ever saw em,”Jules says over the wind. “Those are teenagers on the loose.”
“Haley are you getting this?” Collin asks.
I finally screw the telephoto onto my camera and get one shot of the three before they turn and run back into the woods.
There’s a stunned silence for a minute before we all start yelling at each other.
“Can you believe this!”
“Outta control!”
We start rigging the boats.
Finally, hours later, we’re ready to set off for the point. We’re all in our regular outfit of carhartts, hoodies, and boots except for Cory who has decided to put his drysuit on. Cory’s drysuit has been the subject of much debate so far. It’s a neoprene diving suit with a waterproof layer and gaskets on the arms, legs, and neck. I have no doubt it’s wonderfully warm, but it’s so untraditional for a river trip that we’ve dubbed him “Aquaman” So, with the wind still whipping, the sun dipping lower in the sky, and a large quantity of our trip supply of PBR already drank, we set out to get to the main channel.
The plan works. Aquaman leads the way, lining the boats out into the current, fighting the wind, and making us all smile.
After a lot of dragging, loading, and heaving, we get both boats to the main channel and head out towards the point to look for the next air strip and a bit of relief from around the wind.
We settle in for the night and the next day is a layover day, while we wait for the final member of our group to arrive.
Mid-morning Ben buzzes the camp in his bright green supercub, a two person bush plane. He circles twice and then lands on the airstrip. Minutes later he arrives in camp. He’s a young, good looking guy, and he seems a little shy.
“Should we scout the river?” He asks. “I’ve got enough fuel for one quick scout.”
“Yeeah,” says Jules. “It should be Colin or Haley, they’re the ones rowing.”
We all look at each other.
Scouting from the air is important because the cliffs of the river make it virtually impossible to scout from the ground. If we don’t see it from the air it’s going to be read and run.
“How ‘bout rock, paper, scissors?” Kev says.
“Or Bear, Cowboy, Ninja?” Cory says.
Bear, Cowboy, Ninja is fun. Same principals as rock, paper, scissors, but you act out the characters, turning your backs to the opponent and jumping around on three in your attack of choice. Bear kills ninja, cowboy kills bear, and ninja kills cowboy. Or something. I always get confused and am thankful that others are around that set more store by the rules.
It's close, neck and neck, but I loose. Ben and Collin turn to head for the airstrip, which is a good walk away from camp, when Ben turns back. “Haley, if you’re waiting at the airstrip ready to go, I’ll take you up for a quick scout. I won’t turn off the plane so be ready to hop in. Okay?”
“Cool. I’ll be there.”
We fly low over the river and I’m amazed at how wide it is. These large glacial rivers are awesome in their size. They’re Alaskan in size. We come up to that massive sand dune and I think about the wind still hammering off the Bagley Icefield. It hasn’t stopped since we arrived, but we’ve found a great shelter in the alders at camp. The sand dune is just taking over the forest. It’s also the marker for the whitewater, just downstream is where it starts to constrict. In no time we’re over the rapid that seems to be of the most consequence. As we fly directly over it, Ben suddenly banks hard and I’m looking at the sky. Frustrated, I jerk to see over the edge of the plane side. I’m short, so for the whole flight I’ve been straining to see over the windows edge, but now I’m absolutely jumping.
“STOP!” I freeze.
“DID YOU MOVE?” Bens voice booms over my headset. It has an edge to it.
“Uh, yeah.”
“DO IT AGAIN.” It’s a command.
“Okay.”
I jump up.
“DO IT AGAIN.”
I jump up.
“DO IT AGAIN.”
I jump up.
“DO IT AGAIN.”
“We’re going back. I think I felt the engine miss.” His voice is quieter now. Decided.
“Uh, okay.”
Silence.
In no time we’re over the air strip. We’re low, going in to land on the approach. But something is happening at the air strip. The boys are standing in the middle of the strip, waving. Someone is carving into the ground with a big stick. I strain up in my seat trying to see all the letters.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Meanwhile, when we took off and flew low over the camp, Jules had noticed there was something wrong with the plane.
“Collin, that plane doesn’t look right. The tires look wrong. I don’t know if they’ll notice.”
They rouse Cory out of his tent and holler for Kev and set out for the airstrip. You have to cross a braid in the river and from there it’s a bit of a walk to the strip. They ran. Once there, they only had minutes, but they set out to make a sign. The letters were six feet tall and they lined them with sticks to make them visible from the air. They were still working on it when we arrived, coming in hot to get on the ground.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
“√ TIRES” Ben reads out loud.
“Does that mean anything to you?”
“Uh, not really.” I’m processing. We both crane around in our seats, looking for the problem.
“Oh my god, I don’t have a right tire.” Considering what he said, his voice is calm.
Silence.
I don’t really feel anything except wonder.
“Well, we can’t land here, it’s too remote. Let’s go crash in McCarthy.”
“Okay.”
We fly along without talking. I decide to not say anything because I don’t like it when people worry to me about something I can’t change. I find that I’m not super worried. I decide that there are things to worry about and things I can’t change. Either today is my day or it’s not.
After about 5 minutes Ben gets on the radio to his father-in-law Paul who is flying in the area.
“Hey, Paul. I’ve had gear failure. I’ve only got one wheel. I’m headed to McCarthy to land. Could you meet us there in case anything happens?”
“Yeah sure. You alright?” Paul’s voice crackles on the radio.
“Yeah. Fine.”
We fly for another 5 minutes or so. I take some pictures but it’s cloudy and not very good for photography.
Ben gets back on the radio. “Hey, Paul. Make sure to grab the med kit. Alright?”
“Sure.”
I sit for another few minutes. I decide to take a picture of myself with my camera in case we die. I laugh at myself for the thought. Feeling like I ought to say something, I get on the radio and say the only thing I can think of.
“Hey, Ben. Just so you know, I don’t usually panic in these kinds of situations. Just let me know if there is anything I should know.”
“Yeah, yeah, this is fine. No problem. Just make sure your waistbelt is good and snug and I’ll tell you how to brace when we get closer.”
“Cool. Sounds good.”
We get close to McCarthy and Ben gets back on the radio.
“Wrangell Mountain Air, this is Ben. I’ve had gear failure and I am landing with only one wheel. Be great if somebody could meet us out there.”
“Yep. Will do.” The radio crackles and then goes quiet.
“Haley, this is no big deal. On a scale of 1 to 10, this is like a 2. Could you video it for me? I’ve got my camera here. Look, when we come in to land, hold the bars above your head and arch your back so it’s not against the steel seat. Main bummer about this is the 10-20,000 dollars in damage that the plane will probably have. I’ve never had to file an insurance claim before. I’m going to circle McCarthy till Paul shows up and to burn off fuel.
And so we circle McCarthy.
Suddenly Ben sits up straight in his seat. There’s an edge in his voice, which is quiet. “We’re landing now.”
I prop his camera between my knees and turn the recording feature on. I grab the metal beams above my head and arch my back. Just before we hit the ground Ben clicks the engine off. We’re gliding and then the left wheel touches down.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
Four seconds.
Five sec BAM!!!
The right wing hits the ground and the plane whips up onto the propeller. I’m staring at the ground. We’re sliding down the runway on the nose of the plane. Then the plane slows enough that it falls back to the ground like a jack in the box.
“You okay?” Ben asks.
“Yep. You okay?” I ask.
“Yep.”
“Cool. Can I get out now?” Even though I know there’s hardly any fuel, and it’s not like we’re likely to catch fire, I feel like a crashed plane is not a place I want to be.
“Yep.”
I grab the camera from the floor of the plane where it had landed and push the door open. I leave my own larger camera tucked under the seat of the plane. The wing over the door is touching the ground so it’s a crawl. Ben gets out quickly as well. We stare at the plane lying flopped onto one wing. He shakes his head. "Huh. I didn't want to tell you in the air, but I ran out of fuel. I wanted to wait to land till Paul showed up, but I guess that extra drag of the tire hanging below the plane burned through my fuel quicker than normal."
“Huh. Well, okay. Nice landing.”
Ben walks over and spins the bent propeller. He opens up the casing over the engine and takes a look. “Well, that’s good. The engine is still on the mounts. Man, I wonder what happened. I just had those tires certified two days ago.”
Another plane circles overhead and then lands. It taxis up next to us and turns off its motor. The propeller is still spinning as two people, a man and a woman, hop out of the plane and rush up to Ben. The woman gets to Ben first. “Ben. Are you alright?” her face is sheet white. Ben gives her a long hug and whispers in her ear. She relaxes in his arms. I realize this must his wife Ellie. Looking at Ellie’s face I suddenly feel like Ben’s insistence that this landing was no big deal was maybe not quite true. I am still feeling really calm. I look over at the man who is circling the plane, inspecting the damage and the offending tire. This must be Paul, Ben’s father-in-law and Ellie’s dad.
“Well,” Paul says slowly. “Looks like she won’t be flying home, we’ll have to get her off the runway and she can sit until we can drive her out.”
An old burgundy Volkswagon bus putters up and a whole group of men sporting knee high rubber boots, fleece jackets, and beards pile out. I recognize several of them as local bush pilots but there are others I haven’t met.
The men spend 20 minutes of grunting and head shaking and lifting the plane up to inspect the wheel before Paul gets down on the ground and begins lashing the tire back into a somewhat normal position. When he is done, everyone grabs a piece of plane and we push. After 5 minutes of slowly wheeling the plane down the runway, someone runs back and fires up the Volkswagon bus and drives it up. We sling the plane to the hitch and tow it the rest of the way off the strip.
After the bus is turned off and the sling detached, everyone turns and looks at one another.
Suddenly Kelly gives me a double take. “What the hell are you doing here? Didn’t I just drop you off at the Tana?”
I nod and give him a smile.
He tilts his head over to the side thoughtfully and then nods back. “You were the passenger. Holy shit.”
I break into a big smile.
“Yeah Kelly, I was just talking to Jacob the other day. You crashed a plane with him didn’t you?” I can’t resist asking him.
His face lights up. “Oh yeah! That was a big one!”
Everyone is smiling now. Kelly’s excitement is contagious.
“Yeah, Jacob is telling me this story and I just kept thinking – Wow, what a crazy experience. I just don’t fly that much, I’ll probably never experience something like a bush plane crash.”
The airstrip explodes with laughter, Kelly’s laugh booming loudest of all.
Paul steps forward, “Well, you ready to go back?”
Gosh, I feel like we should get a cup of coffee or something first. I don’t even drink coffee, but that is my first thought.
“Sure.” I say.
Paul turns and walks towards his plane. Ellie, Ben, and a man I don’t know follow him. I bring up the back of the group.
Ellie crawls in first, sitting in the cargo space behind the seats. There’s not enough seats for us all.
“Thanks Ellie!” I holler up. “I don’t mind sitting back there, just so you know!” She waves and smiles at me and shakes her head.
As Ben and the man I don’t know are crawling in, Paul steps up close to me, looking me up and down. His gaze is not particularly warm.
“Are you planning on running the Tana?”
“Yes.”
“You know that river kills people.”
I stare at him.
“Yes.”
He looks me up and down again.
“I used to run commercial trips down there, 2, 3 times a month every summer. I had three people die out of my raft. I hope you know what you’re doing. That river kills people.”
I try to choose my words carefully.
“I know it’s a dangerous river. I’m treating it with a lot of respect.”
He nods and turns to walk around to the pilots door.
I look around at the empty airstrip and hop into the plane. I think to myself, we’re just going to have to run clean lines.
As we fly over the Tana, Paul gives me the best scout of the river I’ve had so far. I try and get some clean shots of each rapid, but also try and look at what I’m seeing through the lens as a boater and not worry quite as much about the pictures as I normally would. The two rapids I’d noticed on the earlier flights are clearly most impressive, but there are some wave trains that look massive from the air. Having scouted several rivers from the air before, I am a little overwhelmed at how LARGE this river is from the air. Most rivers from the air, the features look small. If this stuff looks big from the air, it must be enormous at water level. I am feeling very lucky to have had so much air time at this point to scout. After we pass the whitewater I close my eyes and do a mental review of everything I’d noticed. I feel nervous but good.
When we land, Ben and Paul walk over to camp to collect Ben’s belongings. Ben has decided he needs to go home and file his insurance claim rather than be on a river trip. Jules and Collin are in the kitchen and it’s an enthusiastic reunion. Loads of hugs and hollering, and questions.
“We thought you’d be hours! You’re back! How did you land? You knew you didn’t have a tire right? Is the plane totaled? Could you read the sign?” Jules and Collin are spitting out questions on top of each other.
After sifting through the questions we sort out that when we had flown over once and flown away, the guys on the ground had decided we had already known about the wheel and were just coming to tip our wings at the camp to say bye. Jules jumped up in a victory dance! “See! I knew there was something wrong with those tires!” Collin chimes in, “yeah, none of us noticed it, if Jules hadn’t been onto it, there would have been no sign on the strip.”
“Jules buddy, I think you may have just saved our lives, we were coming in to land. Ben thought the engine was failing.” I suddenly am feeling lots of love for the boys.
“Seriously? No way.”
I smile. “Seriously.”
I walk over and give him and Collin big hugs.
The attention turns to Ben, and the boys are disappointed to hear he won’t be staying. I am surprised to hear Ben say he might come back tomorrow to run the whitewater and then have Paul pick him up. In McCarthy he had been adamant that he was not going to be running the river this trip.
Suddenly they’re gone, and I stare at Collin and Jules. “Is there any breakfast left? I’m starving!”
“Nope, we didn’t know when you’d be back, we ate everything.”
“Cool. I’m gonna hop in the kitchen, I need to eat!” It must be 2pm and I haven’t eaten anything all day.
As I light the stove and pull out the eggs, this rush of adrenaline hits me and my hands suddenly feel shaky.
“Oh my god guys! We just crashed a bush plane! I was in a plane crash!”
We all stare at each other for a minute and then start laughing.
Jules shakes his head. “Only on the Tana man, only on the Tana could this stuff happen.”
The nerves are up in camp the next morning. Rapid day. The layover day was great, but it gave the guys a whole extra day of staring at the river in anticipation. I had resorted to visualization, and it seemed to be working. Before I had left on the trip, I had called my mom and told her I was nervous about running the Tana.
“But you’ve run harder stuff, right?”
“Yes, but I haven’t spent much time on the river this last year.”
“So you still know what to do, right?”
“Yeah, but knowing is easier than doing.”
“Well, you’re just going to have to visualize clean lines.”
Thanks mom.
I think the multiple scouts by air gave me such a clear picture of the crux moves, I had fallen asleep the night before visualizing my entry in the rapid we had dubbed “The One”. I could see myself making all the moves. It was gonna be alright.
I WAS really worried about the temperature however. The wind was still howling, but its temperature had turned to ice. I had an overly-worried female moment and held a pow-wow, asking the guys if they wanted to hold off and see if the weather improved. They were not happy with the idea and I couldn’t blame them. I just wanted to make sure we were thinking about what we were doing. Flipping rafts in enormous glacial flows while it’s snowing sucks. Finally, just as I ease up and agree I’m being a sappy prude, the sun breaks out, the wind dies down, and the temperature of the breeze warms considerably.
We explode into action.
We are packing tents, breaking down the kitchen, dragging gear to boats, shimming into fleece and drysuits; and all eyes on the sky, waiting to see if Ben arrives.
The plan had been for each boat to run with a center mount oar frame for control, and two paddlers in each raft for power and weight in the nose of the rafts to help get through the big waves and holes. Now, if Ben didn’t arrive, one boat would only have one paddler. One paddler means considerably less power and weight. Also, without a counterpart to balance the paddling the boat will want to turn instead of drive straight.
Once again, Collin and I find ourselves in a powwow.
“So, Ben’s not gonna show.” I say.
“He said he might. Jules thinks he’s coming.” Collin says.
“Naw, I heard him talking to Paul in McCarthy. He’s got days of insurance paperwork in front of him, he’s not coming.”
“So, three paddlers instead of four.”
We stare at each other, each of us thinking.
Collin breaks the silence.
“I’m not worried about myself if I flip, but if Rocky swims he’s just gonna head for shore. Dogs don’t understand. You saw this river, there’s no eddies and most of the banks are just cliff walls. He’ll die if he swims.”
What he said is so true, I don’t even hesitate.
“You’re right. Collin, I think you’re great, but I absolutely love Rocky. You take two paddlers.”
“Thank you. I’ll run first and then you’ll have safety if you flip.”
“Great. But I want Aquaman. If I swim him, he’ll be alright.”
We stare at each other for another moment and then smile.
“Just take care of Rocky alright?” He nods.
When I get into my gear, I decide to put my thin wetsuit on underneath of my drysuit. Just in case.
Everyone is amped. We shove off shore and the tension is palpable.
“Alright Corey, we’re gonna rock this.” We have about a mile of river time before we hit the first rapid.
I give him my best big smile.
“I’m gonna walk you through a bit of what you can expect from me, okay? Just paddle like we are in a rapid.”
“Yeh, sure.” He smiles back at me.
I holler out a bunch of paddle commands. I am pleased by how much of a difference Corey’s paddling makes. With the oars for correction, I don’t think it’s going to be a big deal just having one paddler. Just a lot less power than two paddlers. I remind myself to focus on making the moves on my own. “Well, Corey, that’s sweet. Look, just be ready to highside. The power from your paddling is a nice extra, but what I really need is for you to be ready to throw your weight around if the boat goes up on it's side. And when we are making a move I’m going to be pulling cause that is my strongest stroke, so you’ll be back paddling then. Also when we’re going into a big wave we should be facing into it, and then make sure you’re reaching out and digging your paddle into the wave to help draw us over the top of it.”
He gives me big smile and nods.
In just minutes we’re looking at the first rapid. I can’t get over how much water is in this river, even in the flat water we are just rippin downstream. I look down into a huge wave train that takes up most of the river. At the end of the wave train, slightly right of center is an enormous breaking wave. Huge. As soon as I see it I start pulling left, before I even enter the rapid. We start riding over the waves of the wave train, on the left side of these gigantic haystacks. I see Collin pull left of the wave train and he’s headed downstream in the slackwater. I’m pulling hard. I’m still getting sucked right. “Alright Corey, back paddle for me. Dig it in!” Corey is pulling, I’m pulling. I’m staring at the slackwater. I know where that wave is but I am determined to get left. This is the entry rapid for crying out loud! We’re seconds away from the wave. We’re going straight into the meat of it. Damn. I square into it and holler “FORWARD COREY”. The wave breaks just in front of us and rises up again as this gigantic glassy mountain. The face must be two full boat lengths. My 14ft raft seems very small. I have enough time to get three solid strokes in with my oars and then we’re riding up a glassy wall. I can feel the speed of the water pushing my boat forward, and the pull of gravity dragging us down. I dig my oars into the wall of water with a grunt and watch Corey reach up into the wall and bury his paddle in the glassy surface. Miraculously we glide over the face and drop over the crest. I take a few easy pulls and we’re left in the slackwater.
Wow. We’re screwed. That extra power suddenly seems very important. My heart is beating fast, I’m breathing heavy, and I’m dripping sweat.
Around the corner is Granite Creek. We’re meant to stop here to fill our jugs of drinking water. There has been some debate because this is directly above “The One”. “The One” is the rapid with the most consequence. “The One” is the rapid that Paul warned me about. Granite Creek is on the left and the line for “The One” is far right moving left at the bottom. Suddenly I’m worried about making the move from the creek on the left to right just above "The One". The speed of the water and my lack of control in the first wave train has me questioning everything. As we round the bend and Granite Creek comes into view, I stand up in my raft and holler at Collin.
“Collin! This is a bad idea! Let’s keep going! There’ll be creeks downstream.”
Collin hollers back “We’re fine! Don’t worry!” and starts pulling towards the creek.
I sigh. I can’t go downstream without Collin. He’s right, we’re fine, I’m just letting my nerves get the best of my thoughts. I pull into the small eddy just below the creek, upstream of Collin. Corey holds the boat and I carry two water jugs up to the creek. Jules and Collin are already at the creek. It’s silty.
“Jules man! I thought you said this was a clean creek!” Collin’s voice is frustrated.
“It is. It’s sweet man, no worries. It’s good to go.”
There had been a lot of banter about bringing a water filter along and Jules had promised Collin it was unnecessary. Collin and I were used to clear mountain water, and I knew he was uncomfortable with the murky water. Having drank plenty of untreated water in New Zealand I was more comfortable with the stream, but I had to agree the water had a pretty high sediment load and it wouldn’t have been my choice for drinking water.
Collin sighs. “Alright man, I’m blamin you if I get sick.”
We fill the jugs and send Jules down to the boats with the first full ones.
I’m nervous now. The vibe is so tense between everyone, it’s not helping.
“Collin, I’m gonna run tight with you. I got pulled right up there, I’m a little nervous about this next one.”
He grins. I relax seeing him smile. That’s nice.
“Yeah, I saw that. That was a beefy hit.”
“uh huh. I’m damn lucky that thing didn’t break on me. I started pulling way early too.”
“Yeah, I’ve got way more power than you. Just run it like you see it, don’t follow my line, and you’ll be fine.”
“When I get out of here I’m just gonna haul right and stay there.”
Collin shakes his head.
“No, if you get right immediately you’ll have less control. You’re going to have more control in this stuff if you’re moving from across the current than if you’re trying to make a move once you’re all the way right.”
This doesn’t make any sense to me. I’ve never heard anything like this about running a river.
Oh, why am I learning this NOW.
Collin has way more river time than me though, I trust that what he says is intelligent.
“O-kayyy… So, stay center then move right when I need to? Work across the current? I’m just going to make sure that when I get that top hole in sight I’m in the right current. I don’t want to be fighting the water feeding into that hole. I don’t have a lot of power.”
“That’s about it.”
We talk through it a few times. I can see what he’s saying, but it’s a leap of faith for me. This goes against everything I’ve ever learned about big water. I’ve always learned to start early, drive hard, get where you’re going sooner than you need to, and if things aren’t looking right, check your angles and give it all you’ve got.
Might as well try something new I suppose. If all else fails, Corey and I are both dressed to swim, but I really believe we’ve got it.
I remind myself that it’s just water.
It does the same thing every time.
It flows over rocks, it goes downhill, and it fills in voids.
I’m more scared of the unknown than I am of the actual river. And I’m a little scared at the possibility of getting recirculated in one of the many massive holes downstream. Being recirculated is when instead of flowing with the water downriver, you get stuck in a current that just continuously moves back up stream, like doing circles in a washing machine.
As I strap the water jugs back to the frame on the boat I remind myself that this isn’t rocket science. The man that hired me for my first river job assured me that his golden retriever could do the work if he could talk, and I’ve often felt the same way. Still, this is pretty big stuff.
I’m nervous, but the adrenaline is good. I take a deep breath and visualize my line. In my mind's eye I visualize the big hole, I get right, I work around the two meaty holes below it, and then work my way left, squaring into a massive lateral wave.
I am deep into my visualization, I’m only vaguely hearing the conversation around me.
Collin is talking.
“Hey guys, should we take that group picture? It may be the last one of all of us together!”
He breaks into a big laugh. The faces around him are stoney. The tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife.
“Oh come on! This isn’t a funeral, it’s rafting! Geez, you’d think I was serious!”
I finally tune in to what Collin said and laugh, but it is way too late, and I’m drowned out by the river. Everyone still looks gripped. I suppose I must also look gripped, but I feel pretty good. I’ve got nerves, but those are healthy for me. Mainly I’m still trying to wrap my head around Collins advice and translate that into a clear idea of how I am going to make my moves.
I sit down on the cooler and tell Corey what Collin suggested. The river is so loud that I am hollering. I walk him through what the rapid looked like from the air and what to expect. I explain that if we flip or he swims the goals is to never let go of the boat. I explain that if he lets go of the boat he should get back to the boat. I make myself tell him we are “gonna style it”. I can hear my mom in my head telling me to visualize clean lines. Oh dear. How silly. Sometimes I wonder why I run rivers. At this moment, I am wondering why I run rivers. Is it worth this? I look across the river and register how fast the water is pumping downstream. It is slate grey from all the sediment it is carrying. I look downstream at the sharp bend in the river and wonder how much time I have to get right.
We shove off the bank and I bring us up to the top of the eddy. I watch Collin pull out and make his way into the main flow, his two paddlers working hard. I give him a moment for spacing and then put my boat across the eddy line. I hold my angle and start pulling hard. “Back paddle Corey!” I’m not paying any attention to what Corey is doing. I’m focused on my strokes. I am breathing hard out with each stroke and my strokes are as fast and hard and concise as I can make them. Sweat is dripping down my back and forehead.. I am sure Corey can hear me huffing even over the river but I don’t care. I know that more than anything else, I need to get center. My head is craned awkwardly to the right to focus on where I want to be in the river. We’re in that bend in the river and I realize the water is fighting my move. I readjust and angle the boat downstream slightly to work with the current. In seconds we’re center. “STOP!” I holler to Corey. “Thanks, nice work. I wasn’t sure how hard it was going to be to get over.” My heart is absolutely pounding.
The sweat drips down my forehead and when I lick my top lip it is salty.
We float for a minute in the center of the river. The river is so wide I hardly register the banks. It's like being on a violent ocean. I am keeping my oars in the water and just gently adjusting my angles, trying to slow my breathing. I look downstream and see several small and medium sized holes and several rocks that I need to avoid. This is actually pretty technical stuff up here. I am surprised. I thought it would just be all huge obstacles with huge open highways to run around things. I work my way through the holes and nasty looking rocks, and focusing on the small moves calms my breathing. Then I am staring down the river at a hole the size of a double decker bus. The water is crashing down and a white froth is dancing on top.
“See that Corey! We’re headed right of that! Back paddle!”
We get right of the hole easily, the current pushing us around the hole. Collin’s advice to move across the current seems to working, but I can’t really process it all. I’m going to have to think about it all later. “Stop Corey! We’re sweet. Paddle easy from now on. If I need more, you’ll be able to tell.” I look downstream and take a sharp breath. “Oh! More! Back paddle now!”
Immediately in front of us are two holes, just offset from each other. I had known they were coming, but I hadn’t expected them to be quite so big, so vicious looking, or so close to the top hole. Each the size of a large van, I am surprised to see they look even more dangerous than the top hole. From the scout, Collin and I had discussed possibly running left of them to get started on the move back to the center of the river. Looking at them now, I had no question in my mind. I was running right of those puppies. I wanted nothing to do with them.
We get right of the holes and I look downstream. Wow. The river makes a bend to the left just downstream of me. Coming off the left bank is a diagonal wave almost as large as the monster I hit in the first wave train. It is river wide.
A bald eagle soars up out of nowhere and circles in the air just downstream of the boats. It is awesome looking. As it works to gain height above the river it is facing us and we can see the span of its wings they beat back and forth. Holy moly. What a magnificent bird. Is that like an omen? A blessing? I look back downstream at the river wide maw of water.
“Corey! We’re gonna hit this thing straight, but be ready to highside!”
He starts paddling ferociously.
“NO! STOP! STOP! STOP! Wait! I’ll tell you when!”
In the center of the river there is a glassy spot in the wave that I want to hit. If we drove forward now, we’d end up high on the diagonal in a beefier part of the wave. If we had more power, that’d be fine, but with just one paddler, that’s not where I want to be. But I don’t want to be lower and further right on the wave either.
I take a deep breath and as I breathe out I push my oars hard against the current, feeling the boat push forward. “Alright! Paddle!” Corey didn’t need to be told twice.
We hit the sweet spot in the wave perfectly and glide over the top. Water is crashing all around us.
“YahoooooO!!!!!!!” The boat downstream is going wild. Everyone is hollering, cheering, laughing, and shouting. Corey and I give a big holler back to the boys downstream. Then I hastily flop back into my seat and give a few hard pushes. I had forgotten about the wrap rocks downstream. But they are easy to avoid and we pull up to the other boat. Everyone is hollering and laughing.
“Did you see that bald eagle?!!! Was that like a sign or what!”
“Those holes below the big one were nasty!”
“Wow! That was great!”
I look at everyone smiling and laughing and I am deeply relieved that my boat is upright and I am in it.
It’s nice to see everyone smiling again. I look at Rocky in the front of Collin’s boat.
I holler over to Collin. “How’s Rocky? How’d he do?”
“He’s doing great!”
That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.
We make our way through some boogie water. There’s some waves, a few rocks, a few holes to avoid. It’s fun and consistently busy. Suddenly I see the big left bend in the river. This is even bigger than I thought it was going to be. I watch Collin make his way to the right to avoid the huge holes blocking the left side of the river. My gut is protesting but I push my way right and closely skirt the centermost hole. As soon as we are past it I set the boat to a downstream ferry. This is where the boat is pointed downstream with a left hand angle, and I am looking upstream. This allows me to maximize my power of a backstroke pull and still get the most help from the current to move left as well. I’m pulling hard. Corey is paddling hard. There is no need to tell Corey to keep going, it’s clear that being so far right in the main flow at the top of the rapid means that there is only so far left we can get in a limited amount of time. Below the holes are a series of haystacking waves, each one bigger than the last. Then as the water slams into the cliff wall it makes a sharp 90 degree turn and everything explodes. There is a gigantic wave that I feel must be from the pressure of the water pushing back off the cliff wall. I can’t see what is behind that, just the cliff face above it. I want to pull far enough left that I can surf across that pressure wave and not see up close what the water is doing against the cliff wall. I watch Collin’s boat do just what I would like to do. He pulls and pulls and pulls with his downstream ferry and then squares into the wave and continues to pull, surfing left on the face of the wave and crashing down in the center of the current as it banks hard left.
I pull and pull and pull. Corey is paddling hard. I have this feeling that I am not pulling hard enough but there is nothing I can do but keep pulling. The haystacking waves we are gliding over are enormous. Some of the biggest waves I’ve ever been on. I’m pulling as hard as I can, but the force of the water is surging forward, racing to hit that cliff wall. The water is so fast and so strong. I square my boat into the gigantic pressure wave but as we hit it, we have so much momentum that we punch right over all 20 feet of it. Damn. So much for surfing across it. Like when you are on ski’s and you speed down a hill and the momentum sends you speeding up over the next small hill. I look over the crest of the wave and see what I hadn’t wanted to get close enough to see. The water is surging up against the cliff face as a monster, gigantic, pillow of water that slides left and dumps into frothing, violent seam. As the boat slams into the water with the force of a car crash I pull my downstream oar out of the water and use my upstream oar like a rudder, keeping the nose of the boat straight up in the air against the cliff. My heart feels like it's stopped beating. Everything goes into slow motion. We surf across the pillow with such force that when we crash down off it's edge we are on the downstream side of the seam. Upright. Wow. What a rush. My heart is hammering and my head feels clean from the adrenaline. That was the biggest pillow ride I’ve ever had.
We pull the boats together and Jules starts pitching beers to everyone. There is a feeling of release in the air, a bit of magic. Headed downstream we have five more days to float and enjoy life in one of the most remote, pristine, and beautiful places on earth. I take a deep breath and start laughing wildly. The Tana is an amazing place.
