I’ve been whitewater canoeing and sea kayaking for years, so I am no stranger to small boats in confined, fast and rough waters. My lovely bride had been whitewater rafting for years when we met, and decided that I needed to add this sport to my quiver. So, we signed up for a week long class in Whitewater Rafting on the Deschutes River in Oregon. We spent a week on the river learning both paddle boats and oar boats. I took my daughter, Sarah(17), on this last trip because she asked to go. We had taken several guided trips down the Wenatchee River before, so she was no stranger to whitewater, either. This trip was sort of a graduation trip down the Methow River in North Central Washington. One of the techniques we practiced to avoid becoming wrapped around a rock in the middle of the river (a most distressing place to find one’s self) is to purposely place the bow of the raft on the rock. The current of the river will safely carry you around the rock, into the hole below the rock, and then you will float out. I did as I had been taught, and at no time did I feel the least bit threatened. Sarah, on the other hand, had never done this before. Well, this particular rock is as big as a house. In fact, it is called by the river rats, “House Rock.” There is a cable bridge just downstream from House Rock that will support a man who has a death wish. One of the photographers from the Wenatchee, WA Daily Fish Wrap, who also just happened to be a whitewater aficionado, knew of this bridge, and knew that if he was patient, he would get some great shots. He was also the Photo Editor for said Fish Wrap. Another thing must be told, in order to fully understand the story. This particular raft, the one Sarah and I were in, was not of the self bailing variety. It was what is commonly called a “bucket boat.” We had just gone through some Class III+ rapids, and I had arranged our path to fully drench Sarah in payback for some smart-mouthed comment that only a 17 year old girl will make to her loving and tolerant father. To this day, she still has me wrapped around her little finger. Our boat was swamped. Sarah was bailing. Enter innocent Steve and Sarah into the clutches of this dastardly photographer, laying in wait. Did I mention that Sarah is a drama queen? Did I mention that the Photo Editor for the Wenatchee Daily Fish Wrap only interviewed Sarah? Anyway, without further ado, my fifteen minutes of fame. One of my friends in New York called to tell me that it had been picked up by one of the papers back there. Another called from Sandy Eggo to tell me the same thing. The small photo in the middle is the first in the series, then the big one on top, then the one on the bottom.
Among those who go whitewater rafting with me now, that rock is now called “Steve’s Rock.”
