Memorial Day weekend: the official start to summer. This year Oregon missed the date, in fact, the northwest as a whole has bucked every cue to warm up, still dumping snow in the cascades and rain in the city. Last year we had braved the crowds in a Cascade wilderness area for an overnight backpacking trip, but this time around it was east we looked. Our good friend Mark has recently purchased an old 12 foot river raft and it was time for the maiden voyage. With another rental boat from Portland State University, we were ready to hit the water.
Mark, Amanda, Sara, Nick, Toby, Jamie and I drove in two vehicles to the John Day River about three hours drive from Portland. Chuck the dog stayed home with our friends, citing his questionable swimming ability and fear of going in up to his belly. The John Day is the second longest untamed river in the country. Lacking dams, the river is prone to quick changes in flow levels, but also remains much healthier as a system. We had been warned by several news outlets that flows were high this memorial day due to some 90 degree days the week before, which caused snowmelt to send the cascade rivers into a frenzy. After a report of a wild helicopter rescue on the Willamette river, an uneasiness lingered about the upcoming trip. After all it was Memorial Day weekend and if probability stays true there are always a few yahoos drunk on yellow beer without life jackets. The outcome is usually bad for someone. But a little encouraging words from some local rafting people and everyone was calmed to a degree.
When I first caught sight of the river at the put in point, I did have to squash a butterfly in my stomach. It looked big, heavy, fast, brown and swollen. By now I was well versed in cfs flow levels, flood stages and other river terminology. But seeing it swirling against the high wall of the river bend was another thing entirely. The presence of a state cop and BLM officer lent an official feeling to our casting off, as if they were there to size us up and wish us good luck. I am pleased to say that in hindsight, even Mark, a relentless optimist, thought it was moving FAST! Fast here is 5mph. In river speed that's a good clip. However, despite all the portents, people in uniform, and the brown unforgiving river, we were excited. We donned our life vests, pushing off Mark in the equipment barge, later to be named the trash barge. Then the rest of us in the yellow bannana boat, a whitewater version of the infamous "Jaws" float toy, pushed into the swirl.
After a hairy a first three minutes, culminating in several bridge pilings foaming with white water, we settled in to more gentle turns and riffles. The only reason I can even lend a tone of danger or excitement to this account is because it was my first time in a raft, the first time for most everyone on a good size river. Looking back it was a pretty benign stretch, peppered with class 2 rapids that kept us on our toes. Mark was right: a perfect beginner stretch.
Clouds dominated the day, punctuated at points with rain and drizzle, which we could see ahead of us in the dark clouds that veiled the hills and canyons downstream. We hoped, sometimes to no avail, that we would move slower than the rain clouds ahead. Mark spent the better part of the day on the water, bailing out his boat. There was an unidentified leak somwhere.
Sole, Amanda's black lab, (Amanda back right in first photo) kept us one with the water throughout the day. She, like many labs, is out of her mind when near water. She reminded us of this every few minutes as she slid out of the boat like a seal off a rock. We took turns banishing her from boat to boat until we came across a high flat spot on the river dotted with sage brush and willows and looking very inviting. It was soon camp.
Having come ashore we unloaded, soon discovering a hefty tear in the bottom of the leaking raft. Next to come was finding out which gear had been saturated with water. Jamie and I had to sacrifice a little food and ended up saving our oatmeal by laying it out on the sagebrush where the sun could dry the packets. Amanda found a wet sleeping bag that belonged to her but was able to dry it in the sun as well. Had it been raining when we hit camp the mood would not have been so upbeat. But the sky had gone blue and we were soon climbing up the ridge behind us for a better view.
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