| My river-rafting adventure started on
a bicycle. The small daypack I
wore carried a hatchet, a saw,
some scraps of rope, food, water,
a garbage bag bivy sack, a hat,
and odds and ends. It weighed
less than fifteen pounds total.
It was late May, so Id stay warm
in my homemade bivy, without a
sleeping bag. I might wear my
hat, and pile up some leaves to
sleep on. If the mosquitos were
bad, I'd use my headnet, which,
I had learned, would also trap
warm air around my head, keeping
me warmer. I had matches and a
lighter, in case I needed a fire
in an emergency. Thirty miles
of pedaling had brought me from
my home in Traverse City, Michigan,
down the backroads to the Baxter
Bridge, on the Manistee River.
It was almost 10 a.m. I pushed
the bicycle into the woods, and
rolled it along, lifting it over
logs, until I was a mile upstream.
Looking around at the trees, I
knew this was the place to start
the river rafting part of the
trip. Sometimes Adventure Involves
A Lot Of Work The first tree was
the biggest, and I almost couldn't
drag the ten-foot sections to
the river after cutting them.
They were perfect, however. Dead,
dry-rotted Poplar was always good,
because it was like styrofoam
inside. It cut easy, and floated
well. White Cedar was the best
quality, but it was more difficult
to find, and to cut. When I had
hauled enough logs to the river,
I got into the water and pulled
the first two pieces in after
me. I tied them together, then
tied two long thin poles to them
perpendicularly near either end.
The other logs were guided, one
by one, under these two rails,
and tied in place. By early afternoon
I was finished. With the last
piece of rope, I tied the raft
to shore. I cut a good rafting
pole to guide me. I was ready.
Tom Sawyer Day My first river
rafting adventure had involved
four of us. I advertised it to
my friends as an adventure-disaster,
sure to get them wet and cold.
Three took the bait. Apart from
snacks and water, we took only
a hatchet, a small saw, and whatever
scraps of rope we could find.
It all fit into a small backpack.
We parked near the river and hiked
a trail upstream until we were
a few miles from the car. The
plan was to build a raft, using
only dead trees and our scraps
of rope. We would then get on
it and go rafting back to the
car. It was dubbed "Tom Sawyer
Day," and became a much anticipated
event among an ever-changing group
of participants. Since it was,
in equal parts, fun and dangerous,
we didn't usually bring beer.
Even sober, it was enough of a
challenge to keep a thousand-pound
pile of logs, with four people
on it, from going where it wanted
to go. Where it wanted to go inevitably
involved pain and cold water,
but with each trip I managed to
learn a little. Sometimes we even
stayed dry. Sometimes Adventure
Involves Math The first trip,
Roland and I were cutting and
hauling logs to the river, while
Cathy and Leslie cooked hotdogs
over a fire. We began to do geometry
on a piece of birchbark, trying
to figure out how many logs were
needed, allowing for the dishonesty
of the women's stated weights.
"Cedar weighs 37 pounds per cubic
foot," I told Roland, "leaving
a lifting capacity of about 27
pounds, given that water is 64
pounds per cubic foot." The girls
were laughing at me. "The volume
of a cylindrical object is pi
times the radius squared, times
the length, right?" Roland agreed.
We counted out the logs and began
to build the raft. When finished,
we had a floating pile of old
rotten logs and two frightened
women. Sometimes Adventure Involves
Getting Wet Leslie and Cathy sat
on a stump in the middle of the
raft. Roland and I stood with
our poles, ready to fend off the
banks of the river and the overhanging
trees. We did this successfully
for at least fifteen minutes.
Then, when a low, horizontal tree
refused to move, Roland pushed
us all off in order to regain
his balance. We quickly gave up
trying to find the bottom of the
river, and swam after the raft.
Sputtering and cursing at Roland,
the three of us climbed back on.
This first rafting trip was in
late April, when the water is
still like ice. The sun warmed
us, but our feet were almost always
in the water. It was bad enough
that the raft didn't float very
high off the water, but then it
began to change shape before our
eyes and under our feet. "It's
a square. No wait! It's a parallelagram...
Now it's a square again." The
girls decided that there was too
much geometry in river rafting,
so a few minutes later we let
the raft drift close to the shore,
where they stepped off into the
shallow water. The water, however,
wasn't shallow. Once the girls
had resurfaced, and climbed up
the sandy bank of the river, we
waved goodbye. The trail took
them to and from the river on
their way to the car. The next
time we saw them, Leslie was hiking
in her wet bra and panties. This
part of the adventure story was
crucial to recruiting other young
males in the future. The trail
went into the forest again, and
the girls didn't see us for thirty
minutes. Sometimes Adventure Involves
Running Actually, they saw the
raft first, floating quietly down
the river by itself. Soon they
saw Roland and I, running along
the opposite side, trying to catch
up. This was because of a tree
that stuck out from the bank,
low to the water. We were unable
to avoid it, despite our excellent
rafting skills, but we thought
we could jump over it as the raft
passed underneath. It seemed like
a reasonable plan at the time.
It didn't seem so reasonable when
Roland was pushing my face into
the sicks in the tree while climbing
over me to get to shore. The raft
went on, not noticing our absence.
We ran through swamp and woods,
pretending this was part of the
plan when the girls saw us. The
raft came near the riverbank just
as we caught up to it. We leapt
for it, and we were back in control.
More or less. "How do we get off?"
Roland asked, when we were near
the car. We decided that we just
had to get close to shore and
jump. It seemed like a good idea.
Roland was still hanging over
the river from a tree when I started
up the big hill to the car. Tom
Sawyer Days went a little smoother
after this first one. Sometimes
Adventure Involves Being Pointed
At After pedaling thirty miles
and hauling logs for hours, I
was tired, but satisfied. It was
the best raft yet, and I was soon
rafting down the river, under
Baxter Bridge, and into the National
Forest. I noticed immediately
that these rafts float better
with only one person on them.
There was just one small group
of houses to pass before a long
uninhabited stretch. My bicycle
stood proudly in the center of
the raft, tied in place, with
the backpack on the handlebars.
The first guy to see me yelled
hello, and pointed me out to his
wife. The second didn't know what
to say. The Manistee is not a
well-traveled river, especially
not by bicyclists. A few minutes
later I was past the houses. Around
the next bend, a whitetail deer
saw me and backed off through
the cattails. I floated for hours.
Apparently my previous river rafting
experience was paying off, because
I managed to miss the trees, rocks,
riverbanks, and to stay dry. I
was even able to sit down and
soak up the sun for a minute or
two at a time. The latter was
always interrupted, of course,
by the necessity to jump up and
use the pole to avoid something.
In the evening, I stopped, disassembled
the raft, and began pushing my
bicycle through the woods. A mile
later I found a trail, and started
pedalling. A mile after that I
met two guys on a two-track, with
there truck. The ice-cold beer
they gave me made them instant
friends, so I told them that,
no, I wasn't out bicycling. I
was river rafting. Then they weren't
sure they wanted a new friend,
so I traveled on. Sixty miles
of bicycling, miles of pushing
the bike through the woods, three
hours of log-hauling, and five
hours of rafting, all in one day,
seemed like a worthy goal, so
I decided to just head for home.
And the mosquitos were worse than
I had anticipated. Sometime after
dark I rolled into the driveway,
dropped the bike, and stumbled
into the house. I took a shower
and answered the phone. It was
time to go dancing. Steve Gillman
has been hiking, biking, floating
and adventuring in general for
decades. For more of his stories
and outdoor advice, you can visit
http://www.TheMountainHikingSite.com
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