With temperatures in the mid-80s, it couldn't have been a better day to launch an inflatable raft into the icy Gallatin River, water that had been snow on mountain peaks the week before.
At Montana Whitewater Rafting, we found lots of fellow rafters getting outfitted with booties as well as optional wet suits and splash jackets. Of the four of us, only Amy decided the wet suit would not be overkill. Jay and I decided to also skip splash jackets.
Not that I didn't have the wet suit and splash jacket on at one time. It just seemed ridiculous for someone who boogie boards in the Pacific Ocean without a wet suit on cool days to have one on for a raft ride on such a hot day.
It proved to be a good decision overall, although my clothes did get soaked, and some of us didn't have any dry clothes for the ride home.
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| Julie in Manito Park Greenhouse in Spokane, Washington |
Julie had selected the advanced rafting trip including the "Mad Mile," because we've rafted several times on big rivers and inner tubed dozens more times in big creeks.
Filling out our crew were our guide Bryce, who was Jay's age, and two ladies my age whose children had been shocked to hear they planned to go whitewater rafting.
With our feet firmly locked deep into the gaps between the inflated seats and raft sides, we turned out to be what our guide called the Dream Team, stroking our oars in harmony at his every command. It was like we'd practiced together on a crew team. We were invincible on the Class 4 rapids, bouncing off boulders and reversing direction without missing a stroke.
We enjoyed every thrilling moment as Bryce directed us through the most dangerous passages, repeating we could handle it, comfortably reaffirming that he hadn't lost a passenger all year.
He reminisced that years earlier when he started, he had almost reached triple digits in lost passengers, which was expensive because he would be forced to buy beers for the other guides any time he put a guest in the brink.
When we came to the hardest section of the river, Bryce announced his plan to follow behind the other rafts so that we could rescue anyone who needed help, but then blast past them all at the last minute. After all, we were the Dream Team.
All went well...until it didn't.
We hit a shoot and somehow headed up a rock in such a way that we tilted to almost 90 degrees on our left side.
It felt like we were destined to tip over. Jay and I were on the left side, adding extra weight over Julie and Amy's side, or I think we might have flipped.
Rowers on the right side of the boat, relied on our tucked feet to stop us from flying out.
Jay, at the front of the boat, nonetheless toggled over and landed on Amy's lap, which she later attributed to weighting her down sufficiently to stop her from tumbling out of the boat.
When I looked over at Julie, however, I saw her falling away, both arms and legs stretched toward me like a person falling off a sky scraper in a movie.
"All back!" Bryce yelled, a command that we knew meant everyone paddle backwards in unison, but what we'd practiced flawlessly in calmer times became rather disjointed, with some paddles going forward and some frozen in neutral.
Before Julie could grab the end of his paddle handle extended by Bryce, we had moved a little further down the river than Julie, making that paddle handle an inch outside of her reach.
Julie said she reflexively thought about standing, but standing in Class 4 rapids is extremely hazardous. Not only are the rocks slippery and the water powerful, but there's the possibility of getting a foot caught between rocks, leaving the overboard person at the mercy of rapids repeatedly thrashing herhead and torso into the same rocks.
Remembering the instructions from the safety briefing, however, Julie instead went into a back float almost immediately. The bus driver/photographer positioned at this dangerous spot to take action photos, switched into his other job --- life guard assigned to rescue anyone thrown from the boat.
Fortunately, he threw the life line bag like Tom Brady, and the rope inside it unfurled without a snag.
Julie caught it like his favorite wide receiver.
She was safe.
Our guide directed our craft to shore and assigned me to get out and hold it while he ran back along the shore to check on Julie.
They offered to let her return to base on the bus, but Julie proved to be a trooper.
She hiked behind Bryce along the rugged shore to where we had landed the raft, and back on board, she finished strong as part of the crew.
Back at Montana Whitewater Rafting headquarters, there were some great photos of our trip, including the rescue, for sale. A complete digital set of several dozen was just $61, but Julie said, "If there's not a photo of proof, then it never happened."
So be it.
Here's stuff that did happen in our last week in Big Sky, when Julie and I were on our own:
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