September 1, 2001

Stephen's Big Trip -- April, 1999

Stephen had never paddled his Merlin more than a couple miles before, but he was game and had a history of cycle touring and an even longer one as a surfer, so we invited him along. Should be an easy ten miles, what with the tide ebbing in the right direction the first seven or eight miles, followed by reversal to push us up the side channel. And, the forecast was for moderate winds, only 10 knots or so from the west, coming on in the afternoon. Normal conditions around here.

Three vehicles at the launch site, one a van with a trailer for six or eight yaks, a bunch of people out in the islands looking at birds. Well, more power to 'em. Hustle down the bank, gear in the muddy rocks, boat in the water, slide the truck next to Stephen's. Nice little yak he has. Off we go, fighting a little head current up the backwater, loons and scaups in the distance. A raccoon messes in the mud on a near bank. Power boat behind us, looking for a channel in this mud. Shallow here, so Becky and I shift right and make the turn, putting the current at our backs, and wait for Stephen. He rounds the turn and scoots past, determined to gain a few yards on us.

We lollygag along, letting the current do the work, spying on birds. No eagles yet. Two immature otters spyhop us and sink into the current, disappearing forever. Time for feeding number one: candy bar, juice, apple. Stephen seems to understand we are not going to break our butts this trip!

Splitting off from the main channel, moving north around Seal Island, and no buoy! Number 19 is gone, a casualty of winter duress. Oh, well, 21 and 17 are enough guidance, as the current builds, sucking us downhill to the flats. Another island past us, spying half a dozen seals in a distant haulout. Time for a pee and food break (number two) as Stephen discovers the false economy of a wet suit without a relief zipper! Tortillas and cream cheese, more candy bars. Getting hungry -- paddling moderately hard. Lotta sand around, with half a dozen eagles hulking back and forth, making territory. One carves out a fifty yard square and takes a huge dump in the middle. Must be eagle Metamucil!

Widgeons waddle then burst into the air, as we ride the tide -- what's this? No water? The chart says there's a channel here! Won't float us! Oh, man! Now we have to go a mile out of our way to make the next turn. Remind me not to come out here on a minus tide again. Stephen paddles along behind the double, grinning now and then. This trip is already three times longer than any he has taken before.

Pushing off the bottom and looking for signs of two inches more depth, we finally hit open water as the afternoon breeze clobbers us. Dig dig dig. Take turns paddling, so Stephen does not get too far behind. Spotting buoys in the distance. Only two more miles to Lois Island. Grunt grunt grunt. Man, this is work! Easing by sturgeon fishers in anchored cruisers, and sliding onto the beach. Creaky legs, can't get out! Stephen is a long quarter mile behind us, jawing with the fishers.

More tortillas and cheese, eat the last apple and the last candy bar, and shove off after a much needed half hour rest. Another corner turned and now the flood should boost us -- enter the John Day, dodging powerboats and hit the fancy ramp, complete with golden retrievers, trailers, and a foil wrapped candy easter egg on the windshield wiper!

Eleven miles -- not bad for Stephen, who is grinning from ear to ear, and jabbering about how much Audrey would love this! She finally got a PFD to go with that brand new boat. Yeah, maybe they will head up to Barkley Sound on their week of vacation this summer.

Hope they do. Stephen can come along any time.
---
Dave Kruger
Astoria, OR

Copyright 2001 by Dave Kruger.
May not be reproduced or redistributed without author's permission.
Republished here with permission.