It started as an ominous low rumble. But as we floated closer, the sound of water rushing between the rock walls of Mule Creek Canyon grew until-as we approached the V wave entering the rapids-it was an angry roar.
I couldn’t see down below because I was floating low, just inches above the river, in an inflatable kayak that now felt small and vulnerable. The noise pressed on my chest; the warm sun suddenly felt cold.
I and my fellow kayakers and rafters had been forewarned: Mule Creek Canyon would be the most difficult rapids we would shoot during our five days on one of America’s premier Wild and Scenic Waterways, the Rogue River in southwestern Oregon. The trip, through the pine-forested Siskiyou Mountains, already had been a trip of many splendors: of floating alongside otters, of sleeping beneath the star-loaded Western sky, of shooting down surging, white-water rapids. But this would be the high point.
Our guide, Larry Stettner, had even diagramed Mule Creek Canyon rapids in the riverside sand for us-showing how to pass safely by entry rocks called the Jaws, how to resist the pull of the White Snake Narrows, how to stay out of Telfor’s dangerous hole and, most important, how to steer clear of the boiling, swirling waters of the Coffee Pot.
I quickly played back Larry’s words, took a deep breath, and plunged into Mule Creek Canyon.
It all happened so fast. Down I went into the deep waves alongside the Jaws, my kayak bobbing like a cork. White water surrounded me-spraying, slapping and finally soaking me. Up and down I slammed in the waves, close to losing my balance.
“Keep on stroking, keep on paddling,” the guides had said time and again. So I paddled madly, though my efforts seemed puny compared to the powerful pulls of the Rogue.
Half-scared, half-exhilarated, I stroked hard to the right, away from the White Snake Narrows. More big waves and then that smell-that wonderful spicy, after-a-summer-rain ozone smell of Rogue River rapids.
I am told that all rapids have a signature scent, the product of their ever-churning waters, and the Rogue’s is as sweet as they come. Suddenly I was near dizzy with delight. Nobody could hear me in the commotion, but I yelped for joy.
But not for long.
Ahead lay Telfor’s hole-the backwash from an enormous, boulder-induced wave.
“Go into Telfor’s and you will swim,” Larry had warned. Nobody wants to “swim” in Mule Creek Canyon, and so I pulled and groaned and stroked and then I was past the hole, and headed for the Coffee Pot.
Usually the Rogue is 40, maybe 50 feet wide. In the Coffee Pot, all that water is squeezed into a canyon only 16 feet across, and it shot through as if from a high-power hose. I remember seeing bubbling water around me, the gigantic percolations of the Rogue’s Coffee Pot.
I lost concentration for a moment and was grabbed. Round and round I turned in this frothy whirlpool. My circles were getting smaller (and anxiety growing) when suddenly, somehow, I was spit out.
The canyon walls were still towering on either side, but I was back on flat waters. My wife and two sons-also beaming from their ride down the rapids in the larger rubber raft-floated up alongside. We laughed for a long time.
Shooting the rapids at Mule Creek Canyon was probably no more than three or four minutes of action. But when all your senses are 100 percent engaged, three minutes seems an awfully long time.
I never meant to be going down roaring rapids in a little kayak. We had chosen the Rogue River for our children’s maiden white-water trip because it was described as a good “family trip.” We had made our arrangement through Outdoor Adventure River Specialists (called O.A.R.S.), an Angels Camp, Calif., group that specializes in exciting trips down Western rivers.
We knew of O.A.R.S. because my wife and I had used it 15 years earlier for our first white-water trip in Idaho. It had been a perfect adventure for us-lots of thrills, but also knowledgeable guides who could not only navigate the rapids, but also bake a cake over a campfire using a Dutch oven. We stayed outside for five days then, but it was not exactly roughing it, given the kind of food and service the guides provided.
We were eager to return to the white waters, but children arrived and the rules are pretty clear: No children allowed under age 7. When our youngest son turned 7 last year, we were ready.
The Rogue River trip would be through the Siskiyou Mountains in southwestern Oregon. We would float for five days, covering 45 miles of the federally designated Wild and Scenic Rogue.
We were told that August was the time to go, because the blackberries were ready to pick and it seldom rained.
Some of our friends thought we were more than a little crazy to be taking children on such an unpredictable white-water ride. It’s true that some people are hurt shooting white-water rapids every year, but our experience with the O.A.R.S. guides and their big industrial-strength rafts had been so good we felt the risk was minimal.
And the potential benefit was so great. At its best, white-water rafting combines the thrills of a roller coaster with the peace and beauty of wilderness backpacking. Definitely worth a little risk.
But as we prepared to set off on the first day of our trip, an unexpected question came up.
“Who wants to ride the kayaks?” the guides asked our group, which consisted of my family and six other people. These kayaks were made of a soft rubber and had a lot better balance than the sleek, fiberglass kayaks used by the pros. The “fun yaks,” as the guides called them, were safe even for beginners.
I had never paddled a kayak before, and assumed that mastering one would require more than the brief instructions that were given. I also knew there were some Class III, and even Class IV, rapids up ahead, and you really did not want to go tumbling down one of them outside your boat.
But it was a beautiful day, my stomach was filled with sweet, just-picked Oregon blackberries, and the Rogue River looked inviting. I put on a helmet, strapped on my life vest, and climbed into my little yellow “fun yak.” And for much of the trip, that is where I stayed.
You leave civilization pretty fast on the Rogue River.
The river has had federal protection for only 25 years, but the scars from a century of human activity-the mining, the lumbering-have mostly been healed. The Douglas fir trees that cover the slopes of the river canyon are not first growth, but some of them looked awfully big and old.
When timber interests lobbied in 1978 to clear-cut the forest to within one-quarter mile of the “Wild and Scenic” Rogue, wilderness groups and nearby residents and sportsmen rallied in protest. Congress soon agreed to add 38,000 acres of forest surrounding the river to the wilderness area.
This means that with the exception of a few old homes and lodges, you see nothing but nature and an occasional group of other rafters on a Rogue float. Everywhere you look, everything you hear, most everything you smell-it will be pleasing to the senses.
The daytime skies were a crisp blue for our trip and nighttime skies were jampacked with stars you don’t often see in the East, thanks to pollution and big-city lights. For one magical evening, entertainment was the streaking lights of the Perseids meteor showers.
The Rogue is also known for its wildlife, and we were not disappointed.
Only 15 minutes into our float, we came across a fierce-eyed osprey-a relative of a hawk-sitting on a rock alongside the river. It had a large trout in his claws, one that was too big to fly away with. Unperturbed by the rafts floating by, the big bird held its ground and ate.
Later came bald eagle, mink, blue heron, deer and otter-all on display along the river. The otters, with their goofy, playful ways, were a special treat.
One sunny afternoon, my sons and I did some exploring upriver from our resting group, and found a narrow spot where the waters were just starting to grow white. The boys would climb on rocks alongside this riffle and then float down, where I would catch them.
As we were playing, I saw a brown head moving fast toward us in the middle of the channel. Eyes wide and whiskers bunched, the otter looked at us, paused for just a second as if deciding whether to join in the fun, and then swam happily on. At one point, he passed within 10 feet of us.
And then there was the bear.
It was not long past dawn, and the rest of the family was asleep on the Battle Bar bluff-scene of a long-ago battle between the Rogue Indians and federal troops-overlooking the river. I was sitting up in my sleeping bag, looking blankly across the river, when I heard some branches cracking loudly. I turned toward the sound and saw something big and black lumbering along the bank.
“Lynn, there’s a bear!” I said, pounding on my sleeping wife. She shot up, quickly.
“Across the river! And it’s big!”
The bear went from bush to bush, looking for berries, I guess. His size was impressive, but his waddle was silly. For maybe 15 minutes we followed him from across the river, watching the show. And then he walked into some underbrush and was gone.
Life for us on the Rogue quickly settled into a pleasing rhythm: the morning breakfast bustle, loading up and putting in, moments of white-water thrill followed by miles of gentle floating, an afternoon bath in the chilly waters, an evening feast and a night under the stars.
All the really hard work was done by the three guides. From early-morning coffee to dinner dessert, they prepared all the food-everything from breakfast pancakes to a fresh salmon dinner. They packed and unpacked the rafts, cleaned the sites, and manned the boats. Our only work was carrying gear from the rafts up to our camping sites.
Shooting down rapids is always exciting, but floating down the “flat waters” had its pleasures, too.
The river canyons had a distinctly Old West feel. It came as no surprise to learn that the writer Zane Grey, who specialized in tales of the Old West, had a cabin along the Rogue years ago and wrote many of his stories there.
The river itself was a source of constant entertainment. The force of the water had, over the centuries, smoothed and molded many of the canyon walls and riverside boulders into graceful Henry Moore sculptures.
My favorite design, seen many times over, was a giant-size scoop taken out of the silky-smooth rocks like so much ice cream. When the sun was hot, you almost expected the rocks to begin melting.
Many of us rafters-including my 12-year-old son, David-took turns in the “fun yaks.” The guides could see who was getting the knack and who wasn’t, and made sure the more adept paddlers were in the kayaks when the big rapids came.
In our five days of rafting, we had only one person “swim”-an eager-for-adventure Oregonian named Angela who tipped over when plunging into a deep hole. She said that her life story did, indeed, speed through her mind as she went under, but she popped back out quickly. She returned to a “fun yak” later that day.
As we were floating one afternoon, I asked lead guide Stettner how dangerous the white waters really were. Stettner, who has been running the Rogue since 1983, said that in more than 100 trips there has never been a serious injury. Twice, rafters had to be helicoptered out, he said, but both involved injuries away from the rapids.
Serious injuries have occurred in other parties, he said. But often it turned out that people were drinking or lost, or not taking standard precautions.
We experienced no real problems. The trip was not cheap, but it was worth it. The journey was a delight-a true change of pace and a great way to introduce children to the wilderness.
The five days passed in the blink of an eye. Just like shooting Mule Creek Canyon.
HOW TO PLAN A RAFTING TRIP
Getting there: The closest airport to the Rogue River is 43 miles away in Medford, Ore., which is served by United Airlines. Outfitters can help arrange transportation.
When to go: Four-day trips on the Rogue are available from May 3 through June 9. Five-day trips begin June 18, and continue through Sept. 17.
What it costs: The five-day trip with Outdoor Adventure River Specialists costs $690 per adult, $630 per child. O.A.R.S can be reached at Box 67, Angels Camp, Calif. 95222; phone 209-736-4677. Groups providing similar services are: Rogue Wilderness, 800-336-1647; Orange Torpedo Trips, 800-635-2925; and Rogue River Raft Trips, 800-826-1963. All must meet safety standards set by the U.S. Forest Service and the U.S. Bureau of Land Management.
More information: To find out more about the area, contact: Grants Pass Visitor’s Center, 800-547-5927.
