Boatmen and Bedlam - a Rafter's Story

Mike Holstrom, being in front, had come across the log in complete surprise. He tried to warn the other boatmen but there simply wasn't time. He tried for the right bank but only made it to midstream before he impacted. Somehow his boat surged over the log and landed unscathed on the other side. He eddied out on river right at the first opportunity which was several hundred feet down river and around a bend. He watched anxiously with a throw bag in hand as five boats floated past. Seeing no swimmers he quickly hiked back up with rescue gear.

Just seconds behind Mike, Steve crashed into the log and managed to jump out of his boat and onto the log. As he scrambled toward the left bank he kept a tight hold as the log shuddered under the impact of 5 cat boats slamming in, each and every one instantly crushing under the log. He had just made it to the bank and was on the rocks immediately downstream of the log when it suddenly shifted hard, nearly rolling over onto him. Later we figured that it was most likely my boat hitting and my tube getting ripped off that had caused the dramatic movement.

Mike Howell in the 17-foot Aire had been running left of center and was against the bank when he impacted the log. Being so close to shore prevented the boat from smashing completely under and his boat suffered minor damage. He was able to quickly scramble for shore

Chris Hewitt, our other kayaker, was trying for the left bank but impacted the log sideways. He just managed to grab onto the frame of the pinned Aire and, pulling with what must have been extraordinary strength, he was able to pull himself and his kayak free and to safety.

In his 14-foot cat Jim Rolf hit the log and somehow managed to scramble off his boat and onto the log. He was crawling toward the right bank when another boat hit, impacting and breaking his foot. Running on adrenaline Jim made it to shore safely. Even though he was largely out of commission, he still managed to help out with ropes and would play a large role later as we moved downriver.

Jim's son Hamilton, rowing a 14-foot cat, Richard Terry and Ken Peters, each rowing 16-foot cats, impacted and swam. All were swept under the log. Hamilton and Richard ended up on the stump in the middle of the river and Ken scrambled to shore through the brush on river right.

Only kayaker Rick Hill, running behind me, managed to grab a small eddy and stop himself short of impact with the log.

As we loaded the Aire with my gear, the fellows on the right bank were busy setting up a rescue line to our boat. The plan was to swing over to the right bank using the rope as a pendulum. When the time came for this maneuver we had six guys and almost two boats worth of gear piled on a 17-foot cat! We disconnected from shore and, using a rope brake, swung quickly and cleanly over to the opposite shore. Finally, we were all united once again.

I have to say that I was more than impressed with the way things had progressed to this point. Within minutes of the accident everyone was moving forward with the goal of getting people to safety. No one flipped out; no one made any moves that exacerbated the situation. Everyone moved forward competently and calmly. It was a testament to the value of swiftwater rescue training and the expertise of the boatmen in the group.

We still had major obstacles in front of us and we wasted no time in getting moving. We had two boats, two kayaks and 10 people. We needed to get moving downstream. The weather was deteriorating and cooling off. We were all suffering from the shock of the situation but we were still 11 miles from help and the safety of Boundary Creek. Steve, Mike Howell and I piled onto the already overloaded 17-foot cat and took off ,while Mike Holstrom and the others started to hike downstream to Mike's boat. Immediately around the corner we passed Mike's cat tied to the right bank. Just downriver we spotted the carcass of my cat stranded midstream with all of the remaining gear still intact. We had no chance of making it to the boat and we blew by it. Maybe Mike would be able to get to it.

Just ahead was a tight left hand turn. There, stuck in a logjam, was Jim's 14-foot cat, right side up. Mike maneuvered in close to it and I jumped aboard as we passed by. They eddied out below me on river right. I looked at the situation and it was pretty grim. Both oars were gone. Both spares were still attached but one was bent. Both oarlocks were bent over flat, one inboard, the other outboard. The rower's seat was smashed flat. I was exhausted and needed a nap but I knew that Steve and Mike would take exception to that!

So I set to work straightening the boat enough to get the oars in and row it. About then I heard a yell, looked up and saw my boat come sailing around the bend followed by Mike Holstrom and the rest of the gang on his boat. They had managed to ram my boat knocking it loose in the process.

The cooler had come free and was floating away from the boat and directly toward me. The cooler came past within reach and I grabbed for the handle which immediately broke away, the cooler screaming away downstream. The boat floated by and stopped on river left. Steve and Mike Howell ferried over, tied up and scrambled through the brush to get to the boat. Holstrom and the others on his boat continued on down river in search of more gear.

I turned to making repairs. I needed something to act as a fulcrum so I could pry the bent oar locks back into shape. Fortunately the frame was an NRS modular style with set screws so the oar locks had rotated on the pipes rather than being actually bent or broken. I spotted a perfect rock lying ON TOP of a log right next to the boat. It was the only rock within reach and I had to wonder how it came to be there on the outside of a logjam. I used it and one of the oar shafts to pry the oar locks up, grabbed the tractor seat and bent it back into something close to a seat shape. Now I thought I could row the boat but before that was possible I had to get it out of the logjam.

The logjam was mostly smaller logs and branches, on the outside of a tight turn with water rushing through the logs. Falling into the river from here would be a very bad thing. To get the boat free I would need to get off the boat and balance on the logs to lift and push the boat clear.

This was a pretty nerve-wracking experience. I looked at Steve and Mike for help but they were on the wrong side of the river and, standing in waist deep water, were busy stripping the remains of my boat. Soon enough I had the boat free and was able to get it to shore on the left bank just below Mike's boat. I joined Mike and Steve in hauling gear back to the boats where we loaded up both with even more gear.

Suddenly we had company. Three men in hard-shell kayaks came bombing in to the beach. They were professional guides who had been waiting for people at Boundary Creek and decided to make a day run down Marsh Creek while they waited. They had narrowly avoided the log and managed to stop above it. Now they were rushing to Boundary to get the word out to stop launches at Marsh Creek. We told them the situation with our group and, seeing that we had things well in hand, they moved on down river to catch up with the guys and help out as they could.

Mike's 17-foot was at capacity carrying his gear and most of the gear from my boat. We left my torn and twisted frame in the brush alongside the creek and set off down stream. Steve was rowing Jim's 14-foot that I had recovered and Mike and I were riding on his boat. Rowing the overloaded boat was a real chore and Mike was beginning to show the wear and tear.

It was not long before we passed Bear Valley Creek, where the river doubled in size and volume. We soon spotted some of the guys, as well as the new kayakers, on river left working to right a capsized cat. Steve pulled in to help out. Mike and I continued downstream looking for more boats and gear.

We spotted Mike Holstrom's cat and another boat on shore on river right. People were waving and Mike reached deep and began pulling hard for shore. It didn't take long to figure out that they were actually waving us off due to some really shallow surface rocks. While trying to maneuver back into deeper water Mike Howell snagged a rock and broke his oar. Somehow he managed to get us into an eddy where we swapped the broken oar for our only option - an oar with no handle. The handle had been broken off in the impact with the log.

Holding the slippery, plastic coated oar shaft with gloved hands was not easy. Mike runs with open oarlocks and no Oar Rites to keep the oar in a vertical position. In the heavy water we were running, and with the heavy boat, the oar spun in his hand at almost every stroke. I watched as Mike struggled with it as we moved down river through some pretty heavy, class 4 drops, Mike working hard to stay out of holes and avoid waves.

Suddenly, in the middle of it all, he hit the wall of exhaustion. He jumped forward and I jumped on the oars. The broken handle was really a problem. Holding the fat, slippery plastic shaft with my gloves was next to impossible. I peeled off the glove and it was still a problem. Looking down stream I saw a giant hole directly in front of us. Since fighting to avoid the danger wasn't working for either of us I pointed us into it and started pushing forward. The big, over-loaded cat smashed through the holes and waves like a snowplow.

The weather had turned. It was getting colder and to make things worse it had started to sleet and rain. Even in my new dry suit and fleece I was seriously feeling the chill. Mike and I swapped off rowing just to stay warm. We pulled to shore and waited for our guys to catch up. The guide kayakers came by first and gave us the news that everyone was OK and that they would be along shortly. We waited getting colder by the minute. Soon the boats came into view and we pulled out into the stream. All of the boats were accounted for with the exception of Steve's Achilles. We now were aimed for camp and help.

Moving downstream we approached a braided area. Mike and I followed Mike Holstrom down a tight right side channel only to watch in disbelief as he encountered another log completely spanning the channel! We watched helplessly as he slammed to a stop atop the log with us close behind him! We could do nothing save to avoid hitting his boat as we also swept onto the log. This situation was a lot less dire than our previous encounter, not life threatening anyway. Both boats were stuck but the weight of our boat and the current worked in our favor and we soon slipped free and were on our way. Mike was still stuck but the situation looked manageable as we pulled away. Sure enough he was free and was on his way behind us. This was getting old!

Soon the Dagger Falls scout beach came into view and we all pulled into shore - cold, sore and VERY tired. As the boats came in I did a double take when I spotted my cooler strapped on top of Mike Holstrom's gear. Somewhere along the way Mike and Jim had recovered it. Even though it was not secured by any strap it was still full of food and ice, even a bottle of tequila nestled safely in the ice!

Several of us walked up into the Dagger campground where we were extremely lucky to find a fellow there on the prowl for firewood. He was packing a fifth of peppermint schnapps which he willingly (lucky for him!) shared. He was camped at Boundary and had driven to Dagger in a big diesel pickup. We loaded the truck with gear and he drove Mike and the injured Jim to Boundary to find help and grab a camp. While they were gone the rest of us started to hump gear up to the trail head in preparation of moving to Boundary.

Several of the boats would not be going any further. My boat was in pieces. Two other cats had severe frame damage and simply could go no further. Jim's broken foot put him out of commission and his boat was seriously damaged in any case. And we had not found Steve's Achilles, or any of his gear.

Before long a pickup truck quickly approached. As it pulled up I saw the Utah license plate "SOITGOS". I had to chuckle when I introduced myself to Steve Christensen, the web master for Utah Whitewater. Being the web master for the NWRA, Steve and I had exchanged many emails and I serve as a moderator on his Utah-based e-mail list server. We had never met in person until now.

Steve and his son Bo, a friend named Ed Blankman and another young fellow named Kellen Spillman jumped in and started hauling gear up the steep trail from the beach. Steve White used a satellite telephone to call his wife Regina. Steve asked her to immediately post the news of the log to the Idaho Whitewater e-mail list server which is monitored by the Middle Fork rangers and a lot of whitewater boaters. We learned later that another group had intended to launch on Marsh the following morning. Only a last minute e-mail check alerted them to the danger.

During our move to Boundary Steve White asked if anyone had seen a red Achilles raft sail past. Amazingly Steve Christensen said "It's tied up in the eddy below the Boundary put-in!" He told us that the boat had come floating by the Boundary ramp upside down. Someone on the beach rigging a boat jumped in and caught up with it just before it dropped through the first rapid below the put-in. They pulled the boat upstream into an eddy, reflipped the boat and tied it off to the bank! "But," Steve warned, "there's not much left in it."

Once we had unloaded our gear at camp, Steve and I, still in dry suits and PFDs, walked down to survey the damage to his boat. From the top of the ramp it looked pretty grim. The only gear visible was my River Bank toilet and the spare tank. Everything else was gone - dry bags, cooler, kitchen box, ammo cans, rescue gear, oars - gone.

We walked down the trail a hundred yards to get above the boat. Imagine our surprise when we spotted a big pile of gear piled up on the trail. Our saviors had not only recovered the boat, they had humped the heavy gear up an extremely steep and slippery, log strewn slope! There, neatly stacked on the trail, were Steve's kitchen box, his not so-dry bags, his cooler and ammo cans,

There were a lot of things missing - oars, rescue gear and some other things. His frame had taken a serious beating. Some of the gear has since been collected up on Marsh Creek. We joke with Steve now about being the only guy we know to flip a boat and recover gear from 4 separate zip codes.

At camp we all shared our experiences over warm drinks and a fire. It was a strange night, we were a pretty happy but sober bunch. Not a man among us was unaware that he had just had an extremely close call. I think that there was also a measure of pride in the way the situation had played out. We could all be proud of our actions and abilities as we dealt with the aftermath.

Now, two days later, as Steve White and I stood on top of the hill in the Garden Valley Pioneer Cemetery with Walt Blackadar, the quiet moments of reflection were not just spent admiring the view.