A Fun Adventure, the Brochure Said…

It was raining hard for our first-ever Grand Teton paddle boat ride down the Snake River. “Put on your safety vests,” Guide Steve told us. “If you fall in, remember: nose and toes up. If you try to stand, your feet could get stuck between rocks and you’ll drown. Had a photographer recently, following the flight of an eagle, turned too far and went in. Lived, though.”

Turns out, Steve had many tales. “There were two boats out on a day like this, when a sudden high wind came up, blew them both over and they had to scramble to a small island until they could be rescued. Much later.” 

There were just four of us. Most people had canceled. The other couple, Nita and Richard, were from NY. He seemed optimistic. She didn’t. Steve also told us this was his last year paddling the boat. “Just turned 78. Speaking of paddling, anyone here ever paddled a boat? Pat said: “I have.” “Great,” Steve said, “because if anything happens to me someone has to take over.” “In that case,” Pat said. “Put down Ernie.”

“That ever happened?” I asked. “Once, the guide passed out, heart attack, I think. A passenger had to take over and save everyone.” I looked at Pat, but she would not look at me.

It was raining really hard now. We wobbled our way into the boat and sat on the edge of the pontoon. I finally got a look at the oars. They were huge and heavy looking. Plus, Steve stood up to row, telling us how he had to get to the other bank right away, where the current was more favorable. One minute later, we bottomed out. “All right, everyone bounce,” said Steve. We bounced as best we could. “Move closer to the middle of the boat.” We stood shakily. “Now bounce again.” We broke free, got into the current, hit a wave that splashed into the boat. My butt, the only really dry part of me was now wet as the Snake River. People back at the Teton Lake Lodge were probably sitting around the big fireplace, drinking hot cocoa with a splash of Bailey’s. 

I looked over the edge. It was shallow, but filled with ankle grabbing rocks that seemed to be looking at me. You? You’re the one that’s going to take over in an emergency?

“Keep watching. Sometimes moose come down for a drink. Seen a lot of them over the years.” Did they need to come down for a drink today, couldn’t they just open their mouths and suck down rainwater?

Steve made a lot of jokes about his wife, who was in Idaho. “Don’t see her during the paddling season, probably the reason we have been married for so long.” Either that or she never wanted to be the fallback rower.

Steve pointed to the middle of the river. “Boy Scout rock,” he said and waited. Richard gave him the opening. “Why is it called Boy Scout rock?” “Well since you asked…” Steve steered the raft toward the rock. Are you kidding me! We hit the rock hard and bounced off into a different direction. “Boy Scout does a good turn every day,” Steve quipped. Yeah. If he lives!

“See all these downed trees? Beavers. When the water gets high in the spring. The trees break free and go downstream. They’ll upend a raft in a minute.” 

Steve pointed out a colorless, wet, bald eagle. I pointed my dripping camera in the general direction. It was bouncing around like a one-winged butterfly. I fired off a dozen shots. 

Steve told us more wildlife encounters he’d had to fill in the gaps of the wildlife we were obviously not going to see today. “Had a large herd of bison cross the river once completely surrounding the boat. Seen bear, too. Many times.” 

Steve looked upriver. There was another pontoon behind us. “Wish they were in front,” Steve said nervously. “Could use some guidance going down this final stretch of fast water.” We went left, then right, up, then down. We flew by downed trees. Splash, splash. Nose and toes, I mantra’d. Nose and toes.

But we made it! Two hours. In the rain. No bison. No moose. No deaths. Bring on the Bailey’s.