Encountering a raft of excitement
VAIL VALLEY, Colo - When it was all over, there was a look of complete contentment on my wife's face.
In fact, as we munched on excellent BBQ pulled pork sandwiches while sitting on a streamside plot of grass, we both agreed our just-finished morning outing was a 10 on a scale of 1 to 10.
Charlotte and I had just experienced what she had been yearning to do for almost 10 years - white-water rafting.
Because last winter's snowpack reached epic proportions here, the spring and summer runoff brought the rivers and streams in this magnificent country to record high levels.
We'd made arrangements with nearby Timberline Tours to "slide" down the Eagle River.
Under normal water conditions, the Eagle itself is one of this area's premier trout streams. Now it became a vehicle for bands of screaming and laughing humans searching for a bone-chilling experience to tuck away in their vaults of treasured memories.
Timberline picked us up at The Lodge in Vail and drove us to their headquarters. It was there we changed into neoprene wetsuits, life jackets and helmets.
Our guide, Ronnie, a well-muscled young woman, tutored us on paddling techniques and safety features, just in case we were tossed out of the big raft we were to use.
I had made a half-dozen previous floats on western rivers, including a hair-raising adventure on the Wyoming portion of the fabled Snake River. I considered myself somewhat experienced.
My wife on the other hand had absolutely no idea what was in store. Regardless of her naiveté, she was ready to tackle the Eagle.
Once at the starting point of this trip, our guide told us to haul the big raft to the edge of the river and get in. Seconds later, we were off and paddling.
The rafts we used carried six people, two abreast. The guide asked if we wanted to sit up front, and for a split-second, I thought that would be a great spot for us so Charlotte could experience the soon-to-be monster waves that were to crash over the bow.
"Put us in the back of the boat," I suggested, "she'll get wet enough without any additional help from me."
Rapids are number classified, depending on the amount of drop from a higher point to a lower section. The classification also takes into consideration the intensity of waves in those rapids too. We were told we would encounter rapids from a Class II to slightly over a Class III.
The Eagle River winds its way through Vail Valley, skirting towns, ranches and spectacular mountain vistas, not to exclude the fabulous houses built along the banks.
Ronnie yelled, "Four forward," which meant for our crew to simultaneously initiate four solid paddle strokes as we went through numerous rapids that brought wave after wave of freshly arrived mountain runoff crashing over us.
Everyone on board shouted and laughed at the same time. We all looked as if we'd just rolled our way through a car wash.
The adrenaline rush was almost equal to the river's ultra-fast current. We went through quite a few more rapids, and by now we were paddling like pros. I secretly wished for a dozen more rapids so as to continue to sustain the excitement level.
Before I knew it, 10 miles of rough water had raced under our raft, and we turned the boat to the shoreline. Our Lewis and Clark foray was over and it was time to consume a streamside lunch.
Charlotte told me she loved it and it was a great experience, and she wanted to do it again, on another river - maybe one a little faster, a little more daring.
If I didn't pick up a fly rod while I was here, I would have been satisfied, just to see the look on her face during and after this wonderful trip down the Eagle.
angler@mikejacksonoutdoors.com