River Flows in You

We just got off the Rogue River near Grant's Pass, Oregon. I worked there as a river guide for 3 (and a half) seasons in the mid 90's taking unsuspecting outdoor enthusiasts down  38 miles of wild and scenic wilderness. The Rogue is frought with wildlife. Our first 15 minutes, we encountered a bald eagle flying majestically through the canyon while Osprey tried to pick him off in-flight like some kind of World War II air battle. It's an impressive display of nature where the Osprey attack the Eagle and the Eagle simply rambles off as if nothing happened. It's that moment where everybody on the river trip looks at each other, wide-eyed and telepathically conveys, "Did anyone else just see that? Did that just happen?"It's also about the time when someone realizes they forgot something crucial at put-in or forgot to put their non-waterproof item in a waterproof container. It used to be my job to make sure that not only did the Eagle v. Osprey show get witnessed, but that no one had their car keys in their pocket or their iPhone sitting out. I used to be pretty good at it too. Almost 20 years later, I wondered if I was still any good at it.
This summer, Marek and I built our ideal down river craft, a 16' Sotar with a Down River 4-bay frame decked out with diamond plate rails, a trailer hatch, 3 composite oars with ash blades, a custom dry box to fit one of the frame bays and the Bugatti of all coolers, a Yeti 160. I'm sure you are thinking blah blah blah, WHAT EVER, but the devil is in the details and every little perk counts on a trip over 4 or 5 days. While I was so excited to row this Lamborghini of all raft setups, I was nervous to wrap and/or sink my own stuff. It was a lot easier when someone else owned it, insured it and had plenty of other rafts in the warehouse. This is our baby. We sink it, we buy it. Again. Marek and I are both experienced oarsman. Having worked 8-10 seasons on different rivers, we don't underestimate the power of the river and use water dynamics to our advantage whenever possible. Anything can happen and the first few trips are always the trickiest because you are figuring out your oar set up, tying down your load and all the due diligence required to have a safe and enjoyable trip down the river. It's one thing to forget the tortillas. It's another to have to limp to take out with soaked gear, wrecked equipment and damaged egos.
On any given commercial trip, guides have different roles. There's the "AB" or assistant boatman who is probably rowing the river for his/her first few times and is not approved to row guests. This is the swamper or the person who usually rows the porta-potty and any other non-essentials that might get lost. There is a Head Guide or trip leader who is the first point of contact for guests and generally makes any big decisions on the trip. The Head Guide keeps the peace, settles disputes, decides where to camp and takes most of the credit if things go great. When things don't go so great, he/she is the first to get their hand slapped. Then there is the "Food Dude". The Food dude buys all of the food for the trip based on pre-determined quantities and packs all the dry goods and the coolers prior to the trip. The Food Dude then pulls all food items from boxes and coolers on the trip and is responsible for maintaining ice in coolers and drink gotts. It's a tough job in 100 degree heat and the Food Dude who has ice leftover is generally a stud.
Marek used to manage the operation for ECHO in Oregon and would try to get me to Head Guide because I was older and more anally retentive than the myriad of 18 year-olds who filtered through the doublewide and other ECHO guide houses. However, I hated being the Head Guide. I was terrible at diplomacy, my standards were impractically high, and I didn't smoke pot which made me extremely uptight and unpopular with my fellow guide friends. Nope. I am a seasoned Food Dude. I loved buying the food, packing the food and nailing the ice situation. I loved ice cream on the river. I loved an icy, cold, fizzy beverage at the end of a scorching hot day on the river and I thoroughly enjoyed the wonderment of guests over a rockin dutch oven. Plus, the stoners loved me when I threw in an extra bag of potato chips.
I am now the Food Dude for Robinson Inc. Rafting operations which is a whole different ball game when there are only four guests who barely eat. I have yet to balance a commercial, 5-course menu with 4 people who are willing to eat leftover chicken for 3 days. Needless to say, I always overbuy. We could invite 6 more people and not run out of food. Food makes the trip and cooking is a group activity.  This last trip, the BLM announced "NO FIRES" which meant no firepans, firewood, fire-anything other than a gas-powered stove. That takes away just about every dutch oven dessert we have planned and makes barbecue chicken a serious challenge. However, all good food dudes have back up plans. S'Mores over the blaster (high-powered, gas flame) or strawberry shortcake go on all of my trips just in case....
I rowed days 2 and 3 on this trip. Day one is pretty stout with Rainie Falls to contend with. It's a tricky run at lower flows with only the mid-chute or the falls to run. On a one boat trip, both runs are sketchy because one of your guides is in the boat and the one outside has to be a really good swimmer. We try to run conservatively when we can as rescue options can be limited. Marek ran the mid-chute with Stella, an awesome rite of passage for her and a moment of pride to see my husband and my eldest daughter come careening down  a chute only wide enough for a raft. 20 years ago, I made this run solo often. One time it went awry resulting in me breaking a solid ash oar around a thole pin. That made a very loud crack I will not forget, and the fact that I was not skewered in the process was a touch of good fortune. Yet here was my 13 year old sitting in the front of our raft, like a sitting duck, clueless to the forces that were about to act on her. Marek rowed splendidly of course but it was still a bumpy ride and a surprise drop in elevation while the raft tried to turn itself into a taco. I love the mid-chute run. It's technical, tricky and requires just enough finesse and a little luck to master a really good run. I envied Marek's success. On day 3 I would row Blossom Bar, a class 4 rapid with a crux move that if executed poorly, could result in dire consequences. However, I chose to row both days 2 and 3 so that I could work the bugs out on day 2 and prepare for day 3. It was a good strategy. By day 3, my confidence had returned, and Blossom Bar was almost "easy" although I overpowered my move, bounced off of the guard rock and ended up pushing for my life. Funny how experience kicks in after 20 years. If only my body were still 20-something.
All in all, we had an awesome trip. We ended up camping below Wildcat on river left on a sandy beach. It was a honeymoon spot for four. Day 2 we camped at Rogue River Ranch after being passed by 6 private trips who must have left the beach at 7am to compete for their ideal camping spot. We passed people setting up camp at noon. That's all fine and good, but we like to be on the river on our river trips. I think people just go down the river to camp and start drinking at 2. They're drunk by 6, hungover by 10 and passed out cold by midnight. My favorite time of day on the river is late afternoon when the sun is hottest and all I have to do is fall off the raft to keep cool. There's nothing like watching the sun set while you sit down for a nice warm dinner with friends and family. At the end of day 3, we were excited to be past all the big rapids and happy to have all of our equipment in one piece. As we made our way toward camp, we saw our first black bear who would later try to poach some treats from our cooler. We chased him off and he was so scared he jumped in the river and swam to the other side. However, a bigger, bolder bear hit us later on that night. He was a little stealthier and by the time we heard him picking away at our cooler, he had down just enough damage. Marek had a mexican stand-off with him 20 feet from his face. I'm pretty sure if the bear knew he outweighed Marek by about 250 lbs., the bear might used this to his advantage. Instead, he lumbered off to some other unsuspecting private trip with a much flimsier cooler. Smart bear. Our brand new Yeti is now marked by Rogue black bears. It's both a bummer and a badge of honor. Still perfectly functional and ready for another trip, our Yeti stands tall.
I am sorry to see summer end. I want just one more Rogue trip, one more opportunity to hone my rowing skills, one more revisit to my glory days as a river guide. It's such a magical wild place and yet feels like home. It might be time to run back to the river in the grand scheme of my life. Love and life are simpler there. I love not only the river, but who I am on the river. The river does not doubt me. It demands my best and pays little attention to my self-worth. It doesn't play games. It loves me unconditionally, ignores me on a daily basis, and loves others freely without fear of retribution. If my body holds up, I just might have my retirement plans all figured out.