| Wes Boyd's Spearfish Lake Tales Contemporary Mainstream Books and Serials Online |
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| Wes Boyd's Spearfish Lake Tales Contemporary Mainstream Books and Serials Online |
Chapter 8
Lee’s Ferry is mostly an asphalt parking lot, nestled between a cliff to the east, a cliff to the south, and a steep hill that the road winds down from the northwest. It is pretty, redrock country with a little fringe of the scrubby invader tamarisk trees and a river that seemed blue as the sky. Duane and Michelle had been there many times before, but each time it somehow seemed special. This one was more special than most.
One of the really frustrating times in the life of a boatman was having everything loaded up and ready to go at Lee’s Ferry, as ready as they could be, and having to wait for the customer bus to show up. The rafts were all floating on the water, snubbed up to the shore on a single line. The tarps that covered the loads on the rafts were still off, waiting for the customer’s gear to be loaded into drybags that waited in piles along the shore. Everything on Duane and Michelle’s mental checklists, with nearly two hundred trips between them, had been done.
The rigging had gone exceptionally well, with less confusion and re-packing than normally was the case for a first launch of the season. They’d had help from Al and Karin; that may have made things go easier, though the crew had to do the majority of the work since they needed to know where everything was. Now even that was done, and there wasn’t much to do but stand around or sit on raft tubes talking about nothing in particular, once in a while glancing up the valley to see if the bus was coming.
“Not a bad day for it,” Duane observed. “The last I heard on the weather it’s supposed to be pretty nice for the next few days.” It was a hollow statement and he knew it – this time of the year the weather was usually pretty nice, and once they were on the river there was no choice but to take it as it came and make the best of it. They didn’t even have weather reports to help them prepare for what was to come – radio reception in the Grand Canyon was spotty to non-existent. It was one of the things that made it a special place to all of them, giving them a chance to really get away from it all for at least a while. There weren’t many other places in the world where that was possible anymore; at least for him, it was one of the reasons he was a boatman.
“Yeah, should be,” Al agreed, not wanting to make much more of a comment about the obvious than that. He was feeling much the same way, although he didn’t get down in the Canyon anything like as much as he once had. “Doesn’t look like it’s going to be as windy as it sometimes gets.”
“That’ll be nice,” Duane agreed, thinking that Al’s statement didn’t need much of a reply. For some reason the wind often blew hard up the Canyon in the first few miles, making it a struggle to row the rafts into it. Getting a break on this first day back on the river would be nice, but again, it was one of those things that would have to be taken as it came to them.
“You thinking about stopping at Badger again?” Al asked. Again, it was something to try and make conversation; most Canyon Tours trips stopped at one of the campgrounds at Badger Rapids the first night out, unless both camp sites were full when they got there, which occasionally happened.
“Most likely,” Duane said. “I’ve asked around a little, and it doesn’t look like there’s going to be anyone else launching today who’s planning on stopping there. I talked to the trip leader for those GCR motor rigs, and they’re planning on running to North Canyon or someplace down there.”
“Not surprising,” Al nodded. “Once every now and then you’ll find a motor rig stopping as early as Badger, but not very often. Did you remember the oars?”
“Yep,” Duane smiled. It was an ongoing Canyon Tours joke – at this point it always seemed like there ought to be something important that they’d forgotten, something obvious, like maybe the oars. No one had ever forgotten them, but every now and then there was something stupid left behind that they’d just have to make do without. The worst example that Duane could recall was forgetting to get catsup at the grocery store one time. Everybody made do, but there were some teases from the customers at every meal. It had never happened again; that was why there were checklists, after all.
“I’ll tell you something you may have forgotten,” Michelle smirked. “Are you going to wear your kilt?”
“Oh, shit,” Duane shook his head. “I hope that’s the worst thing I’ve forgotten.”
Like Scooter had her tradition of smoking a cigar at Lee’s Ferry, Duane had taken to wearing a kilt for the meeting with the customers and the orientation session. He didn’t usually bother with it after the first day, but like Scooter’s cigar it helped set the tone of the trip and get the message across that things weren’t going to be quite like normal. The MacRae tartan kilt was a hand-me-down from his father, a little too beat-up for formal wear, but perfect for this. Duane got up, hustled over to the drybox on his raft, and pulled on the kilt over his pants. With it on, it was no trick to slide his jeans off; it was something like a girl taking off her bra without exposing anything. Once he had them off, he pulled the belt out of the jeans and threaded it through the belt loops on the kilt. The belt didn’t have his Iditarod Finisher belt buckle on it – that was safe up at the Rawson house – but it did have a dogsledding scene on it. In the matter of only a minute or two he had things back under control.
“That’s a little more like it,” Michelle laughed. “Now we’re ready to start the season.”
“Jeez, a kilt?” Terry smirked. “What is this?”
“I’ll warn you,” Barbie piped up, “don’t get on him about wearing a kilt. He knows every damn bad kilt joke that anybody ever came up with, and he’ll use them at any opportunity.” She turned to Duane and said, “Duane, what does a Scotsman wear under his kilt?”
“Och, we are verra proper,” Duane replied in the fake Scottish accent he’d picked up from his father. “A proper Scotsman always wears socks and shoes.”
“Is that what’s worn under your kilt?
“Nothing is worn,” Duane replied in a dignified voice. “It’s all in perfect working order. Michelle could tell you that if she’s of a mind to.”
“I get the picture,” Terry grinned. “This is going to be like running with Scooter, isn’t it?”
“Aye,” Duane replied, getting into the swing of things. “Except that you don’t have to worry about getting downwind of her cigar.”
“Yeah,” Erika shook her head. “Those things stink. At least she doesn’t smoke them very often.”
“It helps set the tone, I’ll give you that,” Al smiled. “Over the years I’ve learned that each crew sort of develops their own personality. It tends to reflect the leaders a little, but the crew gets involved too, so it changes a little from year to year, and even from trip to trip. The White Team, that’s Preach and Crystal’s, well, they tend to get a little spiritual. Dave and Mary on the Blue Team tend to get a little New Age. Erika, I think you know how that works.”
“Yeah, there always seems to be a lot of good karma there,” she nodded. “I had a real good time with them last summer.”
“I think it’s safe to say that you’ll have a real good time with the Gold Team,” Al nodded. “It may be a little bit different good time, since I think of these two as being the most adventure-oriented of the four leader teams. It doesn’t hurt that between them they have more trips down the river than any of the other leader teams.”
“To be honest, most of those are Michelle’s,” Duane said, settling back down on the raft tube where he’d been sitting before and taking a drink of the Pepsi he’d gotten from the soda cooler up by the rest rooms. “But it’s only a matter of nuances. In years past I’ve been on the river with all three of the other leader teams, and to be honest about ninety-five percent of what we do is pretty much the same. I think that’s mostly because Al sets the standard, and the standard is having a good experience for the customers. Always keep that in mind, since it’s the key to the whole thing.”
“Good point,” Al said. “A real good percentage of the new customers we pick up comes from word of mouth from customers who have made the trip in the past. That means giving the customers a good time and an adventure, but it also means their being safe and relatively comfortable. People will put up with discomfort if they’re having a good time, but we don’t want to overdo it, either. And at that point I think I’ll let Duane take things over since that’s the bus I see coming down the Canyon. Karin, let’s head over to the johns and I’ll buy you a soda, so that the Gold Team can meet their customers without any extra confusion.”
The bus came to a stop in a squeal of brakes right in front of the rafts; Duane and Michelle headed over to it to greet the customers getting off, checking them off a list of names that Dan had provided up at the office in Flagstaff on Saturday. It was a full load of twenty-four customers; in years past they hadn’t often had that many on early-season runs, but the somewhat-later start had helped with filling the first trips to launch.
Michelle helped them get their gear out of the luggage compartment under the bus and directed the customers over to the piles of numbered drybags that had been set out in front of each raft; the rest of the crew helped the customers get the drybags loaded. As soon as Duane was done with the check-in – everybody who was supposed to be there was present, which wasn’t always the case – he went over to help people get their stuff arranged. Each customer had a large drybag for their clothing and the things they wouldn’t need on the river, and a much smaller one for things that would be wanted while the load on the rafts was under the tarps. With a little help from the boatmen, they separated one from the other; it was a process that took a while.
Again, while it may have been new to most of the customers – there two couples who had made the trip before – it was very familiar to the Canyon Tours people, all of whom had done this more than once. Once the process was near done, Duane hopped on board his raft and got up on the drybox to speak to everyone.
“Good morning, everybody,” he began. “I’m Duane MacRae, your trip leader on this little journey, and yes, you can tell by the kilt that I’m more than a little bit Scottish. Sometimes they call me ‘Icewater,’ because while I was in college I used to surf on Lake Superior. Now, I know some of you have made this trip before, but I also know that most of you haven’t. We’re going to play this like it’s new to everybody, especially as some things may have changed since the last time those who’ve run before were on their trip. But before we get into the details, let me introduce the crew we’re going to have on this run. Our assistant trip leader is Michelle Rawson, who despite her young looks is one of the most experienced boatmen on the river. She’s also sometimes known as ‘Alien,’ mostly because her folks come from Roswell, New Mexico, and to be honest, sometimes she acts like she stepped out of a UFO.”
As the crowd laughed, Michelle raised her hand to identify herself, and Duane went on. “The rest of the crew includes Barbie Tompkins, who is in her sixth year on the river,” – Barbie also raised her hand. “Next to her is Brett Riley, who’s in his fifth year, although part of that wasn’t with Canyon Tours, and then there’s Terry Dolcett, who’s in his third year on the river, although this is the first year he’s had a raft of his own. We also have Erika Mowrer, who’s going along as a helper, we call them swampers, and as a trainee boatman, so you’ll be seeing her rowing one or another of the rafts at times to gain experience.
“Now, I don’t know any one of you except for the names I read off this sheet of paper, and I’m sure it’s going to take a while to get everyone’s name attached to a face. For the moment, let’s just have each of you introduce yourselves, and tell everyone where you’re from and if you’ve made this trip before.”
The round of introductions took a while, and Duane asked a few questions to make things seem a little more personal. “Well, it looks like a pretty good group to me, and I’m sure we’ll get to know each other a lot better over the next two and a half weeks. While looking at the scenery and having fun are some of the more important parts about taking this trip, it’s not uncommon for people to become fast friends as they go down the Canyon. Al Buck, the guy who owns the company, is standing over in the tammies and trying to keep out of the way, but he’ll tell you that the Canyon can change people. We know that it often does, and all of us on the crew like to watch that happen.
“What I’m going to do now is to give you a little safety orientation, and a few things you should know about being on the river. I’m not going to try to dump everything you’re going to need to know over the next two and a half weeks all at once, because there’s no hope that you’ll remember it all. That means you’re going to have to get used to the sound of my voice over the next few days. Once we’re done with that, we’re going to finish loading the rafts, and while the crew is tying down the covers you can have the last shot you’re going to get at a flush toilet until two weeks from Thursday. We’ll stop for lunch a little ways down the river, and then I’ll have some more to throw at you, but at least this way keeps it in small doses.
“OK, a few things about the trip. It’s already late today, but it almost always is when we get started, so we’re only going to run a few miles, just to let you see what being on the river is like. First, your boatman is in charge of your boat. Listen to them. They know what they’re doing. You may not. As boatmen, we’re here to give you a good trip, but also a safe trip. There’s an accident every now and then, but it’s hardly ever that anyone gets hurt. In nearly forty years, Canyon Tours has never had a death on the river and we aren’t going to start now. Major rule: when you’re on the river in a raft, you will wear your PFD – that’s your Personal Flotation Device, or life jacket – at all times. If I catch someone on the river without a PFD, you’re not going to like what I say. It’s not just our rule, it’s the insurance company’s rule, it’s a Grand Canyon National Park rule, and it’s the law. Period. End of discussion . . . ”
Duane talked on for a while about the river, safety, and procedure, trying to go over everything that needed to be said at this point. While the lecture was pretty routine, there were some details that varied from trip to trip and it sometimes was hard to remember them all. Finally, before he finished, he said, “We’ve already had you pack your gear in the drybags in front of each raft. That’s the raft I want you to ride in, at least for today. We’ll probably switch around a lot as we go down the river, but if there’s somebody who wants to ride with someone else, maybe so we don’t split up a couple or something, we need to switch the gear bags around now. See Michelle about that, since we need to keep the numbers of people on the rafts the same. Don’t go switching your stuff without asking her.
“Also, if anyone has any backup medications they want me to keep safe, please give them to me now, and I’ll put them in a baggie so we can keep straight whose is whose. Also, if you have any other questions, you can ask me or one of your boatmen while we’re getting stuff tied down. I’d like to be leaving in about fifteen minutes, so here’s your last shot at the flush toilets. You’ll find things are a little bit more primitive while we’re on the river.”
Duane clambered down from the drybox as he watched them head over to the cinder block restrooms a little ways away from the rafts waiting on the launch ramp. There were a couple people talking with Michelle about switching gear around; it really was not a big deal, other than wanting to keep the number of customers on the rafts equal, so the changes were easily made. With that done, he told the other boatmen to go ahead and finish loading. With the help of Al and Karin the drybags were handed up and placed in the gear load, and then each of the boatmen, Duane included, spread the waterproof tarp over the pile and began to lash it in place. Although they wouldn’t be seeing much water today where having the load securely lashed would be essential, it was always done carefully to avoid getting out of the habit if nothing more. It was something that every boatman did for himself. Since this was the first launch of the year Duane checked everyone else’s tie downs, even Michelle’s – not that she would do it wrong after all her time on the river, but to treat her as he treated the rest of the boatmen. Not having run with Terry before, Duane took a little extra time to check his lashings, but didn’t find anything wrong with them either.
“OK, gang,” he said when the lashing check and a general glance at all the rafts was completed. “The same thing about the johns goes for you guys. We’ll be on river rules in another few minutes.” He didn’t need to use the john himself – he’d made a point of doing it before the customer bus was expected to arrive, and the same went for most of the boatmen, although Barbie and Brett took advantage of the opportunity.
Duane watched them go as he felt the anticipation rising even further. The long winter’s wait was now just about over with. Even now, he remembered the first time he’d made the trip down the Grand Canyon. Back in those days he’d heard a lot of stories, gone through sessions with Crystal and Scooter and Al to get ready, but it was still an unknown thing for him. He remembered wondering if he would be able to handle it well enough to be able to keep doing it. That had been a long time before – well, not that long, five years, but it seemed like a long time. The Canyon had proved to be even wilder and more spectacular than he had imagined, a wonderland out of time, “the most awesome scenery on the face of the planet” like it said in the Canyon Tours brochures. It had hooked him the first time out, and every time he was off the river he couldn’t wait to do it again.
At that, he knew Michelle had the bug even worse than he did. He had done it for five years; she’d been doing river trips down here close to three times as long and seemed to get more anxious to get out on the river with each trip and each year that passed.
As they stood around waiting for people to get back from the rest rooms, Al wandered over. “You act like you’ve given that orientation a few times before,” he grinned.
“Yeah, I guess I have,” Duane nodded. “The heck of it is, you never quite know what’s going to happen. There always seems to be something unexpected. I guess I get a little nervous right about now.”
“That’s good,” Al grinned. “If you ever get to the point where you aren’t a little nervous about a new trip and a new group of customers, it’s time to start thinking about whether you want to keep doing this, or what. It’s never good to get complacent about a new trip. The fact that you’re a little nervous about it just shows that you’re thinking about what could happen.”
“I realize that,” Duane agreed. He’d heard that from Al before, and knew that his boss was right. “It’s not like the Iditarod, where everything out there was new to me, but I still know that I don’t know all there is to know about this place.”
“Me, either,” said the veteran of over thirty years on the river. “I always worry about if this is the trip when things are going to really get fucked up. The potential for it happening is always there. We take all the precautions we can, but it’s never a guarantee. But you’re as prepared as you can be, and things will most likely turn out all right.”
After a while it seemed like most of the customers were clustered around the rafts, about as ready to get going as Duane was. “All right,” he said. “Everybody get on your rafts, and boatmen, help get everyone in a good seat.” He climbed back up on the drybox fastened onto the frame of the raft, looked around, and counted the people on each raft. Five rafts, six people on each, some not seated yet but finding places. All the rafts but one had five customers, just like they were supposed to; one of them, Terry’s, only had four since Erika was going to be riding with him. It seemed to Duane that the two of them were sniffing around each other already, but that wasn’t anything to complain about, at least not yet.
“Good enough,” he said when he’d completed the count. “There doesn’t seem to be anything else to do, so let’s get on the river.”
Down at the far end of the line of rafts, Al untied the bow line that had kept it snubbed to the shore, then he and Karin gave the raft a good shove. In an instant it was floating freely, and Terry was already picking up the oars. Over the course of the next minute or so, they did the same thing on the rest of the rafts. Finally they reached Duane’s raft. “You ready, Icewater?” Al asked.
“You wouldn’t believe how ready I am,” he replied as Al and Karin got set to give him a shove. In seconds, he was drifting free of the shore and getting his oars in the water to spin the boat and head downriver.
The long wait was over. They were on the river again at last.
