Go with the Flow, by CJ Robison
I didn’t know beforehand that yesterday (4/23/2012) would be my first commercial river outing of the season. I thought my day would consist of a CPR/First Aid refresher, and probably little else. My boss, Kathy Miller, was poised for taking a group down the Racecourse with fellow guide Mike Boren. At the last minute a call comes in on Kathy’s emergency responder radio, that there is a brush fire in Dixon. Mrs. Miller’s other hat is that of a fire-fighter, and she is being summoned. And I was next in line for the assignment.
It was a stellar day to be out on the river – in the 70’s with those big willowy clouds that are not only a delight to look at but also supply a moment of shade. We met our guests at the County Line – two psychoanalysts and three film industry accountants. The party of three are in funyaks with Mike, and the two others with myself in the raft.
A predictable experience for those of us who spend a lot of time on the water is encountering the “weekend warrior” – an under-equipped and/or under-skilled private boater, in trouble. It happened again yesterday. We ere just above the Narrows, half-way through the section I call the “Mile of Smiles”. Mike was pulled over where he and guests were admiring some river-sculpted boulders, and I saw that he was signaling me. “Is he telling us to rescue someone?”, one of my ladies says, with a noticeably elevated pitch to her voice. I reply: “Yes, ma’am. Are you ready girls?”, and off we go. When we arrive, the warriors are carrying their boats up the steep bank to the highway. We confer with a fellow guide who had arrived on the scene before us. He tells me that all is good, then smiles as he suppresses a chuckle, recounting that the evacuees had sit-on-top hard kayaks from Wal-Mart. No wonder they got in trouble.
Not too far downstream we come upon what guides call ”river booty”, in this case zip lock bags that have floated to the shoreline. Not knowing what the bags may contain, I experience a bit of trepidation as I climb over a boulder to reach the eddy that holds these precious packages of someone else’s stuff. SCORE!! A Nikon D-90, a purple iPhone, an ostrich skin wallet that holds more plastic than the Taos landfill and a package of green Dentyne gum. I take a moment to consider these items, first the camera. I’m saying to myself: “Dude! This is an expensive tool. What were you thinking putting it in a zip lock? Don’t you know they make waterproof cases for these things?”; the iPhone, I just have to say this was tugging at my heart strings, being my favorite color, but why bring it on the river? There’s no reception in the canyon, and, again, water and electronics don’t mix; the wallet, well, bring it if you must; and the chewing gum? I head back to the raft, thinking that I may have won the lottery … but probably not. Chances are the poor sap will be waiting at the take-out hoping to see his belongings once again.
I appropriate a piece of gum and we continue. At the take-out, sure enough, we find the forlorn traveler. He looks at me sheepishly and inquires after his belongings. I hand the stuff over, while apologizing for taking a piece of his gum. He says that he has learned his lesson – that he should have had straps for his stuff. “No sir”, I reply, “the lesson to be learned is that next time you should go with an experienced outfitter”.
CJ
Mike
