The Frozen Rowers

Its hard to look forward to a river trip when the pre-trip preparation involves shoveling snow off the raft. Without sticking so much as a toe in the water, you begin to make assumptions about its temperature. However, when you have customers foolish enough to sign up for a trip during such weather you find yourself shoveling snow off of a raft. Also, at the beginning of the season a checkout trip is required. Even if you know a section of river well, there are many hazards that can appear in a river between rafting seasons. Threats like: trees could have fallen across sections of the river, the river might have had sections "restored", rocks could have fallen from cliffs and created new rapids, the landowners in the canyon might have built new dams (or installed machine gun nests), etc.

Tying a raft to a trailer with stiffly frozen rope and equally frozen fingers is tricky, but with determination it can be done. After driving to the put-in it was then up to me to raise the spirits of the two hapless souls whom I'd talked into going on this checkout trip with me. "It'll be fun," I said. They didn't buy it. "Think of the adventure!", I insisted. This sounded suspiciously like my first claim though. "Everyone will think we are crazy when they see us floating through a snowstorm!", for some reason this one worked.

We got the gear ready and waited for the storm to die down. Then, finally realizing that it was not going to die down, we settled for a brief pause between gusts of wind. We were all so layered up with fleece and rain-suits that we moved like ducks on xanax, but we managed to get the boat into the river. Then, waving farewell to our driver as we disappeared into the swirling snow, we bared our teeth into the storm and the task at hand. Or perhaps we simply gritted our teeth? In any case it was all very dramatic. A heavy Wagner composition would have been quite appropriate.

A few minutes into the journey however, when we were just beginning to feel quite macho, the snow stopped. The weather turned very nice in fact. This was a change for the better, although we could now no longer feel like some sort of holy martyrs for the rafting cause. So instead we settled down to just having some fun on the river. After skiing all season my strength had dropped down to my legs. So as I strained at the oars I discussed with these muscles the possibility of moving up to my arms for the Summer. This is a point of argument with my body every year. Eventually I win, but by then its getting close to ski season and everything must be reversed.

Being dressed as we were for a snowstorm, the hot sun began to extract some life from us. So we all shed a few layers, and continued lazily down the river. The water being somewhat low, there was one long section where precise maneuvering around rocks was required. As we were negotiating this section the wind picked back up, and a cloud swept towards us. Before we had even much chance to whine, we found ourselves back in a snowstorm. A snowstorm we were no longer dressed for.

When you are in a snowstorm, and underdressed, there is a point of crossover in your decision making. At what point is it too nasty to even consider taking off your top (waterproof) layer to add other layers? Is warmth worth the brief, but horrifying, exposure of naked flesh to a serious storm? We decided it was not, and settled instead on a slightly less refined strategy: the strategy of rowing like hell. This seemed pretty effective for awhile, keeping us somewhat warm and getting us down the river faster. The weather had more fun in store for us though . . . graupel.

graupel (grou'pel) n. Precipitation consisting of pellets of snow. Also called "snow pellets," "soft hail." [probably from Serbo-Croatian krupa] - American Heritage Dictionary.

If this word came from Serbia and/or Croatia, I'll have to add it to my list of "100 reasons never to move to Eastern Europe." While graupel might be a silly sounding word, its a word that I've come to hate. Mostly because of experiences skiing in graupel, which is very much like having your face sandblasted. At least I assume the two experiences are similar, but this is of course open to argument by someone knowledgeable in this area. In any case when skiing in graupel the only defense is to wear goggles and a ski mask. Ski goggles and masks not being your usual rafting gear, we were out of luck. So we resorted to crouching down and hiding our faces from the abuse of the storm. This worked great except for one minor detail, you cannot guide a raft through rapids while hiding your face. This is for two reasons: (1) My face hiding technique, perfected as a teenager for reasons I'll spare you, involves using my hands. Hands are a required component for rowing a raft. (2) Eyes are also required when raft guiding. Hiding ones face tends to severely dampen vision.

Being blind and unable to grasp the oars left us but one tactic to fall back on, the "pinball technique." This is a method of river navigation most likely invented by John Powell when he first tried running the Grand Canyon in a rowboat. Its very simple, you don't even bother trying to control your boats direction, you simply wish very hard. All the while shouting magical words of fear and awe. Words which are best not printed in a small community magazine because of their power. The outcome of the pinball technique is that you generally ricochet back and forth off of rocks, your spins making you cry out your magical words all the louder. And usually you are OK . . . but then again sometimes you are not. In this case we were OK, the rapids were past and the graupel had given way to normal snow.

Soon after our pinball adventure we saw the welcome sight of the bus and trailer by the side of the river. From this point on, everything was great. And sometime after loading the equipment and getting some food I even got my passengers to forgive me for taking them on the trip. Upon arriving home I found out that the customers had been smart enough to cancel tomorrow's trip after all. This cancellation drew from me more of the magical language discussed previously as I wondered then why we had been on the river today at all!

Its impossible of course to never get caught outdoors in a snowstorm here. As much as our flatland friends like to talk up such storms as "flukes", sudden snowstorms can happen in Colorado even in July. But take my advice: don't be dumb enough to purposely start a raft trip in one. Its been done. Find something else stupid to do, this ones mine.

(Old footer) Todd Murchison is a Wilderness Guide when its warm, and a Ski Instructor when its cold. He has developed the uncanny ability to get all of his rafting customers wet, while he himself stays quite dry.