Amy’s Hat

(With apologies to Arlo Guthrie)

Now it all started about one year ago. At Glacier National Park we bought the ever-popular hat/shirt combination. The hat was supposed to go to one of us, the shirt to the other. The shirt was too small for Scott so it became Amy’s. Somehow, so did the hat. It was a navy blue, Anvil brand baseball cap with Glacier Bay, Montana printed just above the bill. It immediately became Amy’s primary hat.

This morning we arose with the idea of making the day a half internet, half rafting affair. That’d give us plenty of time to plan the rest of our trip, provided we got a good, reliable internet connection. On the way north along Highway 95 we kept stopping at libraries and cafes which weren’t open yet and didn’t have wi-fi signals into the parking lot. It soon became clear that an internet connection wasn’t going to happen for us. Finally, we hit Riggins, The Whitewater Capital of Idaho, the base for most of the companies whose rafting brochures we’d gotten the night before.

From their brochure, Salmon River Experience seemed like the company to start with. They put a lot of emphasis on the quality of their guides and we figured the guide would be a pretty important part of the trip so we’d want as good a one as we could get. SRE was the last place in town and we went up to the office a little after 11 with a bunch of questions: Do they take walk-ins? How much experience would we need? What time would the next half day trip leave?

Nobody was in the office but we heard voices from upstairs so we headed up towards what began to look like a residence. As we stopped uncertainly on the staircase, the front door opened and a smiling woman came out, followed by a man in a Hawaiian shirt. We recognized their faces from the brochure: Deb and Chuck. We asked about a half day trip. There wasn’t one scheduled to leave that day but we could see Chuck’s mind begin to work. “What time do you have?” he asked. “A little after 11.” “I’ve got a little after 10, we operate on Pacific time.” Their full day trip was due to launch soon. If we hurried, we could hop on that trip which would allow a) one of their guides, Frank, to lead a trip rather than come back to the shop, and b) one of their guests, Alan, to ride with us instead of on a potential party barge. We’re not so much into the drinking of beer. How about we take a full day trip, but he’ll charge us the half day rate since that’s what we’d come looking for? We’d need to leave now, we could settle up when we returned. “What time would we get back; we still don’t have a place to sleep tonight? Are there campgounds in the area?” “You’d be back around 5 and there are places not far from here.” Sold! With Deb shouting things like, “Got a hat?” and “Don’t forget sun block!” from the balcony, we hopped into Chuck’s Subaru Legacy for the trip to the raft launch. In the canyon, cell service and CB radio just don’t happen so the only way to reach the group about to launch was to catch up to them before they left. Chuck drove at what he seemed to consider an unsafe speed down a long, windy one-lane road following the Salmon River all the while regaling us with tales of local color. Morals of the stories: You can beat a man up, just don’t kick him in the ribs when he’s down and send him to the hospital. And we understand you don’t want to be taken in by just one deputy so we’ll send three out after you. It’s a pride thing.

As we approached the launch, an SRE van passed us going the opposite way. Chuck paused momentarily and tooted his horn, “I hope Frank wasn’t in there. Well, if he is, I’ll take you. Worst case, you end up with me.” No doubt it was just too beautiful a day for whatever office work he may have had in store for the afternoon.

Most of the group – which would eventually consist of four rafts and two inflatable kayaks, one operated by a pair of pre-adolescent boys – hadn’t left by the time we hit the launch. Chuck kept the Legacy running and hopped out of the car to explain the new plan. Within minutes, Amy had returned from the rest room and Scott had learned we’d be sharing a raft with a New Jersey-raised Swarthmore grad now living in Tucson, and our guide, Frank. Wallet and keys into the dry bag, sun block into the cooler, lifejackets on and fitted tight, ‘the solution to pollution is dilution’ (pee in the river if you need to), if you fall into the water use your paddle as an extension of your arm, yes the headrest on your life jacket will keep blowing into the back of your skull but it’ll hold your face out of the water if you happen to get knocked unconscious, if you have to pull someone into the raft grab them by the lifejacket rather than the arms, we were on the river before we had time to process everything.

Frank introduced himself as a recent graduate of Colorado State University in his first summer as an SRE guide. Turns out he was a civil engineering major who was interested in water resource and ecology and rationalized the guide job as good experience for his future.

We went through a couple of sets of good rapids and gorgeous scenery before stopping for lunch on a beautiful beach which would have been a thoroughly wonderful experience were it not for the stiff breeze which added a little sandy texture to some of our food. The wind was blowing a little harder than usual, making things tougher for Frank and a tad chillier than the thermometer would suggest. After lunch all three of us opted for splash jackets to keep us drier and warmer. Alan, it turns out, has been to a number of national parks in the area and after swapping stories about common experiences he gave us some valuable tips on a couple of the parks in Washington (we’re both really looking forward to North Cascades now, and expecting Mount Ranier to be closer to Crater Lake than Glacier), and we gave him some suggestions for his future travels as well.

As we approached the Time Zone rapids Scott – sitting in the front of the raft – got caught up watching the drama in front of him: the kayak containing the two boys flipped over. They turned it upright and one boy got back in but it flipped again before the other could join him. Eventually, they were rescued by the raft guided by Greg, the most experienced SRE hand on the river (who spent the rest of the trip giving LOUD instructions to the kayakers on how to navigate each set of upcoming rapids). In the midst of all of this, Scott dimly heard Amy exclaim in surprise and Frank say, “Sorry Amy”. After our raft had made it through the Time Zone, Scott turned around and saw that Amy wasn’t wearing her hat.

Remember Amy’s hat? This is a post about Amy’s hat.

“Where’s your hat?” “Uhh, you mean you missed all that?” “Missed what?” Amy’s navy blue, Anvil brand baseball cap with Glacier Bay, Montana printed just above the bill had been swept off by a sudden gust of wind and blown into the water. Frank had stopped steering the raft (which was approaching the rapids) and had used the oars to try to fish the hat out. At one point, he dropped the oars entirely and was fishing in the river with his hands. Alan was using his paddle as well. Evidently Frank came extremely close to grabbing it on more than occasion. But, alas, it had remained out of reach.

A few moments later, Frank – in a voice surprisingly devoid of surprise – said, “There’s your hat.” And, sure enough, about three feet beneath the surface of the river (and moving faster than our raft) was a navy blue, Anvil brand baseball cap with Glacier Bay, Montana printed just above the bill. Frank attempted to steer the raft alongside and he, Scott and Amy reached out with oars and paddles and implements of recovery to grab it but again it eluded all rescue attempts. By now, folks from the Group W party barge noticed our efforts and were filled in on the story of the loss of the navy blue, Anvil brand baseball cap with Glacier Bay, Montana printed just above the bill. With tears in her eyes, Amy gave up all hope of recovery, again.

Moments later, a cry arose from the other raft. They had spotted it! The chase was back on! Someone in the Group W raft was able to recover the navy blue, Anvil brand baseball cap with Glacier Bay, Montana printed just above the bill and it made its way back to Amy.

Triumphantly (and firmly) placed on Amy’s head, the hat survived the rest of the trip down the Salmon River and now has a story to tell all of its companions in our coat hall closet when we return to CT.

After all that excitement, we drove into town and had a steak dinner that couldn’t be beat.