There is nothing I love more than taking my daughters to the river to swim. We have found a perfect swimming hole, with a sandy beach, a slow current and deep enough waters to enjoy floating on a tube. We also enjoy watching the many people float down the river.
River tubing was something I grew up doing in my small town. My best friend and I would put our tubes in the river at one end, float the river and ride the small rapids for hours before pulling in at a public park. It was the perfect mix of relaxation and a thrill seeking adventure.
Our river disasters are what has made the memories so exciting. I’ve been thrown off, trapped under logs, attacked by bees while eating lunch and there was the famous trip, where my tube popped no less than twenty minutes into our float. Laughing, my friend and I, attempted to share her small tube for the remainder of the trip.
My daughters, who are thrill seeking little gals, have been wanting to try a river float. We’ve been hesitant because now as parents, we look back at all the dangerous situations, and it frightens us.
We recently took a vacation to Central Oregon. The beauty of the desert and the lands formed by extinct volcanoes, made the world appear so much more vivid and exciting. We decided a river float was necessary. If you happen to be staying in Bend, Oregon, there is almost no way you can get away with not floating the Deschutes River. We assumed that this lazy trip down the river would be fun, easy and relaxing. We rented our tubes, put the girls in life jackets, took the shuttle and entered the river. It was beautiful and refreshing against the heat of the day. We were surrounding by meandering geese and everything appeared to be in perfect order. That was until we decided to float down the fish ladders.
We were told we had two options, leave the river and walk around the fish ladders or ride down them. The girls were starting to complain about the slow pace of the river and my husband whose eyes were gleaming with excitement, made the decision that we should ride down the ladders. It’s perfectly safe, they wouldn’t allow the public down it, if it wasn’t.
Like lemmings to the sea, we were engulfed in a sea of tubes, as we eagerly awaited the rapids. We were holding onto each other’s tubes, intent on staying together, when we hit the first rapid. In a gulf of screams and swift rushing water, we went down the first one. The girls are screaming! I’m crying out in fear as my hand is ripped from my husband’s tube! I look behind to see him stranded on a rock.
It was all I could do to keep myself and my two daughters from falling out of our tubes. There are rocks and scattered bodies everywhere. Every single person is screaming out in terror, people are taking refuge on rocks or attempting to pull to shore only to be stranded. I’m on my own, holding onto two tubes containing my precious babies as we are rushed over the rocks. With every rapid, we bottom out. My seven-year-old, nearly falls out with each massive swirl of water. My adrenaline has spiked and I’m literally praying to God that we make it down safely.
Meanwhile, my husband is trapped with each rapid, swirling around in circles until the next tube hits him and launches him down. He eventually loses his tube and as he tries to jump back into it, he flips over, goes straight under the water with his tube landing over him. He comes up for air, sputtering and he hears laughter. There is an older couple, sitting on the beach, laughing at him and all the other people who have stupidly braved the fish ladders.
To save face, he yells at them. “You didn’t see that!”
They reply with laughter. “Oh, yes we did!”
We finally reached the last rapid and I’m confident we’ll make it through. I have no idea what has happened to my husband. My fear for him is completely outweighed by the need for survival. I’m biologically programmed to save my offspring. And I will! I scream for my girls to brace themselves. We go down it and bottom out at the largest swell of them all. My oldest daughter flips out of her tube and falls into the swirling water. Her tube juts out behind her.
I’m screaming, my youngest is wailing and my oldest bobs up and grabs onto our tubes. My youngest is trying to pull her sister into the tube and I’m frantically trying to keep her calm until I can get us to shore. Her little legs get bashed up against a rock and she cries out in pain. I look ahead of me and I see a woman and her teenage son, up against a small shore of dry rock.
I make eye contact with her and scream. “Can you help my daughter? Her legs were crushed against the rocks!”
I may have been slightly over exaggerating!
This woman, recognizes that motherly fear and rushes out to us. She grabs my daughter from under her arms and takes her to shore. The teenage son, grabs onto our tubes and pulls me and my youngest to the rocks. The woman, who I now view as a guardian angel, checks my daughter’s legs. She’s just fine and only slightly bruised. The woman’s son, retrieves our missing tube and they tell us, they have also had a tubing accident and are waiting for the rest of their family.
I thank them both repeatedly and try my hardest to comfort my crying daughters. Finally, my husband shows up. He has no idea the horrifying situation we have just gone through. He’s all smiles and laughing at himself. We are looking at him in misery.
The rest of our float, was delightful and thankfully uneventful. When we finally crawl to shore, I’m emotionally spent, sore and I feel as if I’ve dislocated a rib. When we return our tubes, this woman with a five-year-old asks me about the fish ladders.
I look her right in the eyes and tell her. “Do not under any circumstances, take your daughter down the fish ladders!” I then give her my two minute long rant!
Fortunately, my daughters aren’t traumatized though I still am. At the very least, they have the desire to river tube out of their systems. What’s a vacation without a little drama?
