Friday June 5th
8:00pm
After a very long and hot drive, I was standing at Sand
Wash.
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| Sand Wash boat ramp |
The drive through Montana and Wyoming was a nice prelude for
what came next. And, the three of us (there was three people who car looked out
of Montana: me, Mike, and Noah) were more than happy to step out of the cramped
vehicle and on to the moist sand of our river put in point.
At Sand Wash, we fought up with the other part of our group:
Jerry (Dad), Chris (Mom), Margo (older sister), Toni (younger sister), and Bob
(friend). We unloaded our trailered boats and found camp. Then, followed a
dinner of easy make chicken wraps with some banter and story sharing. A
restless sleep came shortly after.
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| Dinner before the trip |
Sunday June 6th
Day 1
We woke early, a regular occurrence on this trip, around 6.
Ate homemade cinnamon rolls for breakfast and finished packing our boats. I
worked on organizing the bags and such on my canoe. Margo buckled her day
things into the duckie (inflatable kayak). And, the others showed duffel bags
and sleeping mats. The ranger walked up some time later to inspect our
equipment, life jackets, fire pan, repair, medical, and the groover (more on
that later). I liked the guy, not the average ranger. He wore a large straw
hat, flip flops, a worn t-shirt and shorts, carried a small satchel, and looked
like a guy who rafted rivers his entire life. I mistook him for another rafter
when I first saw him. Maybe he was doing it on purpose. Our group and the
ranger chatted as the last raft was getting organized.
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| The ranger is on the right |
We left Sand Wash at 9:00am. Not the start we were hopping
for, but a good start all the same. I was happy that my canoe did not feel too
much heavier. A floating order soon to place, with Dad with Toni at the front
(as usual), followed by Bob, then Mom and Noah, and lastly Mike. Margo and I
were in small fast boats, so we paddled where we wanted. But, made sure that at
least one of the rafts was in talking distance.
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| Margo in her ducky, Bob behind |
Flat water met us mile after mile. (Most of this trip is
flat). But, we made the most of it. Singing, chatting, collecting bits of
trash.
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| Noah |
Unfortunately, the wind struck before lunch. This caused the
rafts to get spread out. Margo and I had an easier time, but the wind still
knocked us around. We fought the wind for what felt like hours (it was a few)
and stopped for a break on a sand island around mile marker 88. (The miles
descend on this river). The group
regrouped, and we brought out lunch. Lunch was a simple ‘build your own
sandwich’ with added veggies and cookies.
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| Lunch time |
After lunch, the wind really started blowing. Small crashing
waves were formed, and the people in the rafts couldn't stop rowing out of the
agony of being blow back upstream. The whole group made a valiant effort, but
in the end the wind won. And, we made camp 6 miles latter.
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| Getting a tow from Dad |
82.1 was not the camp that we were wanting, but it was a
good camp non the less. 82.1 was made up of two steps. The first step comprised
the boat landing with a few eddies and shallow waters, which got deeper as you
walked way from the shore. The shore moved away from the river for around 8 feet
and ran along the river for a good way. We managed to tie off all four rafts
with room to spare. Then a short, and steep, rise made way to a large opening
surrounded by the canyon walls. Some stubborn trees and some other brush grew
around the opening, as well as on the first step. A thick spire of stone rested
on the upstream side of camp, above a small amphitheater.
We set up the kitchen on the first step, a short way away
from the rafts. Sleeping areas were set on the upper step, and the groover was
set upstream, behind a turn in a cliff wall.
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| The landing at 82.1 |
(A groover, for those who don't know, is the toilet. Rivers
function on the principal of ‘pack in, pack out’, or take out everything you
bring in. This includes human waste, poop. As for the name ‘groover’. Well,
before people added a seat, the groover would leave grooves in your cheeks.)
As we had gotten off the river a few hours before dinner, we
got some time to ourselves. I wrote, some chatted, and some napped. A typical
scene after a few hours of strong wind.
Dinner was a chicken marinara style sloppy Joe served on
flat bread, with chip and dip as appetizer. Dinner was interrupted by a group
of bighorn sheep, who wanted a drink. We stopped our wild stories, moved
quietly for cameras, and watched as the sheep walk one at a time pasted our
chairs and down to the river. Dinner was
finished in silence, as the sheep drank, and then moved up to the upper step to
graze on the plants. The sheep stayed for quite some time, giving us more than
a few glamor shots and a few playful headbutts. They worked their way up the
canyon wall and went on doing whatever bighorn sheep do.
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| Bighorns at camp |
We ate dessert, washed dishes, and made our way to bed,
wondering what the next day had to give.
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