Hanging by his fingertips, his wet-suit booted feet scrambling on the wet crumbly rock of the cliff face, the man screamed and wailed in a pretty, melodic language that I did not speak (Spanish? Maybe Italian?). Twenty feet below him the severely flooded Tatshenshini River raged. A normally fun little drop named “Squirrely Ender Hole” had morphed into a roaring hole, wave train, and massive eddy fence with a huge whirlpool ripping open and slamming shut at random yet frequent intervals. When the man fell, he was going straight into it.
From the far side of the river, I watched and tried to come up with a plan. On the ground behind me, another man lay sprawled on the rocks in the cold rain and sobbed softly in a different, gruffer-sounding language that I also did not speak (Dutch? Austrian?).
While I did not understand their words, I have never agreed with two human beings more than I did with those guys at that moment.
It was one of the first trips of my second season as a Raft Guide, my raft was stuck in a hole upstream and I found myself standing on the riverbank with 4 clients with me, client number 5 topped out and screaming halfway up the cliff on the far side of the river, and by far worst of all, client 6. Just moments before he had been scaling the cliff right behind client number 5 when the rock he was standing on crumbled, he fell, bounced off the rocks at the bottom of the cliff into the whirlpool, and just disappeared…
Several lifetimes later he surfaced about 40 meters downriver and I got one quick glimpse of his pale expressionless face and wide unseeing eyes before the river washed him down past Back-flip Wave and out of sight. I was pretty sure he was dead and number 5 was going to be next. I had never felt worse in my life.
I will never forget the exquisite timing of the following events. They are laser etched into my brain.
Just as I was about to flop down and cry with the clients, as if to add the final insult to the injury, my raft, having freed itself from the hole where it had been stuck since it had dumped us all out, zipped by on a mid-river run and followed client 6 out of sight.
As I stood there in the rain absorbing the enormity of the shit I was in and contemplating that even sobbing has an accent. The most beautiful sound in the world came piercing through the air.
Cooooeee! Coooeee!!
So… How does a rookie raft guide mess up so badly that he ends up with only 4 of 6 clients, No Raft, and not even a paddle?
The day had started out cold, even for early June and the rain and wind made it extra nasty, but the water was in full flood and the fun was turned up to Maximum. The kind of day it is fun and scary enough just to do a clean line through the rapids without any playing around, and everybody gets plenty wet enough without swimming.
The clients were a bunch of businessmen who each owned Franchises of a Big Chain store in Europe. They each had the best-performing store in their country and won this trip to the Yukon together as a bonus. They all looked in good shape and eager to go.
There was a small group of older guys who seemed to be a little bit tentative, I think they were the Bosses of the company and they did not look as fit or enthusiastic as the rest. All of the other guys in their group were concerned about them. Bob took one of the biggest rafts we had and set it up with a rear frame. He explained to the Bosses that he was going to bring lunch and the extra gear and take a conservative, safer line all day. The Bosses looked happy to be getting in the “Conservative Boat” and everybody else was too.
It was ON!!
None of the 6 guys in my boat spoke the same language or dialect for their mother tongue but they all spoke enough English to understand my commands and they learned quickly.
The run to the lunch spot had been quick and fun. We all grouped together by the fire at lunch. Bob told stories in at least 3 languages and I took the opportunity to get each of my clients to teach me how to say hello and order a beer in their language. It was really fun and cool to be having such an international experience right at lunch spot and one of the many many amazing things about guiding.
The Big 3 Rapids were booming that day and we hit everything dead center going as hard as we could and blasted through cleanly. I remember grouping up at the eddy below Twin holes and breathing a huge sigh of relief.
A couple of corners later I was really intrigued when I saw that our good old, regular, standard, friendly “Flip Rock” had become a hole! I had hit Flip Rock on nearly every trip last season but I had never seen it as a hole!
And not just a hole, but a snappy powerful hole with a steep face that looked like you may be able to surf it!! It was only 6 or 8 feet wide at the widest, the same size as Flip Rock itself, but it looked powerful. I decided to hit it at a slight angle and spin the raft around with the impact to try and catch a surf and just for the ride.
Oh man, what a ride it turned out to be.
With the initial impact, the hole spun the raft so quickly that the front 2 left-side clients were instantly ejected. The raft then surfed the hole momentarily, until the empty side caught the downstream current and was driven under. The raft stood up vertically on its side and seemed to just hang there.
I tried my best to high-side but the 3 clients on the upper tube fell onto the one poor guy left on the lower tube and they all tumbled out.
The raft fell back down, upright and still in the hole, and I was even sort of in it! for a second.
Unfortunately, years of lifeguard training had kicked in and I had let go of the perimeter line and grabbed the collar handle on one of the client’s PFDs as they fell out. They were in a tangle with the other clients in the downriver current so when all their weight hit the end of my arm, I got popped out of the raft right on top of them.
We scrambled and tumbled in the water until I managed to turn over into a defensive swimming position. I started yelling to the four guys in my little group to swim to the left and swim hard. Three of the four guys flipped over on their fronts and swam hard for shore but the guy I had a hold of did not seem to react at all so I kept pulling him and let go of my paddle to swim.
The shore was right there, just a couple meters away, but I could not believe how fast the river was taking us and was really scared that I would not be able to get both of us stopped and out of the water, even if I could touch the shore.
Thankfully the first three clients hit the shore first, got stopped, and grabbed us as we went by. I climbed up on the shore and looked back upstream to see my raft still merrily surfing in the hole. I glanced at my four clients and noticed that client #4, the one I had dragged to shore, was crawling up the beach, while the other three were running downstream on the river bank looking across the river. That is when I saw clients 5&6.
The first to be thrown from the raft when we hit the hole, 5&6 had landed in the downstream current on the opposite side of the hole from us. So, where we swam 60 meters downstream and climbed on a gravel bar, they got dragged, beaten, and bounced around the outside of the bend along the big rocks and rough cliff bottom for 100 meters or more before getting sucked right through the middle of the now big nasty hole at “Squirrelly Ender Hole” and recirculated round and round in the cliff-ringed eddy behind it. As we saw them, they managed to grab the wall, get their footing and stand up in the fast-moving current of the thigh-deep water at the bottom of the cliff.
Then the first one began climbing up a crack in the wall.
I knew the crack in the wall fairly well, we had used it the year before to climb up and cliff-jump back in. From the cliff right above the hole itself, you could jump into the seam of the eddy line and go down for a long time before coming up quite a way downriver. It was really fun and scary and the guides loved it, but then some clients did it as well and when the Bosses saw the pictures, they said to cut it out. Lynn’s exact words had been “We are insured for Whitewater rafting, not Rock climbing or Cliff Jumping” and I heard them in my head as I watched my client climb higher.
I knew that there was nowhere for him to go, but I had no idea what to say, or do, so I just watched, stunned.
The second guy started climbing up behind the first guy. He barely got his feet out of the water when the rock and his grip failed and he fell backward right into the eddy line and it ate him.
He was down underwater for a long long time. Longer than any of us had ever been when we were cliff diving. He was hauled a long way down the eddy line before he popped up and was ripped downstream in the main current.
This freaked us all out and greatly invigorated the client on the cliff. He scrambled further up the cliff, free soloing a new line I would never have thought a person could climb, and began the aforementioned melodious screaming and wailing. Client #4 began softly sobbing behind me.
Totally overwhelmed, I just stood there looking stupid and thinking, “I put all these people in this situation”.
I can still feel the depth of the low when I think of it 25 years later.
Then the Glorious Noise ringing through the rain and rapid’s roar !!
Cooooeee! Coooeee!!
Bob Daffe’s river call!!! I turned my head and looked upriver and beheld a truly glorious sight.
Long Black Beard flowing in the wind, Bob was already hammering forward on the oars in his rear frame set up when he called out.
As I looked on, he asked the Bosses to please move back a couple of seats. They slid back with a look of slight annoyance on their faces. Then a look of concern set in when Bob shouted “forward hard!” but the old boys were a good crew and they leaned forward and dug in.
They were flying as they punched through the hole.
Bob got up as the big raft skipped over the eddy line and slid across the eddy. He quickly shipped his oars and jumped up on the gearbox. Dancing gracefully, like a running Caribou, Bob ran forward on top of the thwarts of the raft, singing “Paddle Forward! Paddle Forward!” at the astonished Bosses as he looked up at #5 clinging to the cliff wall.
The Bosses all cheered and looked delighted at this new stunt of Bob’s. But their expressions all turned to terror when they realized they were headed full speed, straight into the wall.
When the light, empty, front end of the raft slammed into the cliff wall, it bent upwards and the raft began to climb. Bob timed his run; bounced high and landed on both feet on the nose of the raft and stood there looking calm and cool like a guy on an escalator, as the big raft did a mighty tail stand.
Up, up, up it went until the terrified Bosses looked like they might fall out the back or the whole raft go over end for end.
Then, just at the apex of the wall ride Bob stood on his toes, reached way up with both hands like getting a box off a high shelf, and plucked a rather severely startled Client number 5, still mid-wail, off the wall by the back of his PFD.
Turning as the front of the raft fell, Bob lowered #5 into the front section of as it slid back down the wall. Skipping back across the thwarts and between the astounded Bosses to sit at the frame of his raft Bob smiled and yelled “Let’s Go! Paddle forward!”.
Sliding his oars back in place, Bob used the power of the big eddy to hit the eddy line high up, punch his way onto the wave from downstream and surf out to start the ferry across to my side of the river.
Bob yelled “Mister Basnett, shall we go get your boat?” as his raft crossed the eddy line in front of us. I barely had time to help Client #4 up before the raft boofed the riverbank at my feet and we all tumbled in on top of an astonished-looking client number 5.
I grabbed a paddle and jumped up in the bow and began to dig my way downstream, terrified.
Bob yelled paddle forward and to my surprise, all 5 of my clients got up and began paddling too.
Client 6 on our minds we all hammered downstream, eyes peeled, hearts and minds racing.
Two or three corners downstream, Dave and Derek, two of the safety Kayakers had managed to push my raft into an eddy. We flipped it up right jumped in and paddled on.
The safety Kayakers said that they had been right beside Client #6 for a couple of seconds and he even looked at them but they could not get him to even move his arms to try to hold on to their boats. They said Andy had just got a hand on #6 from his raft when they had turned away to rescue my raft.
Several corners later we saw Andy’s raft, pulled up on the shore on river right.
Andy’s eyes were wide when we hit the shore. Client number 6 sat at the bottom of his raft, his eyes were wide open and looking around but he was not making a sound and he was pale pale blue. He was just shivering and taking huge slow breaths and looking at us. I was frozen in place just staring at him breathing when Bob broke the spell.
” We have to get him out of those wet clothes!!”
The next couple of minutes probably looked more like a mugging/shiatsu massage/exorcism than proper care of an injured person but we got it done.
As Bob and I pulled him out of the raft, Andy flipped it up on its side as a windbreak.
Then, while Client #4 and Client #5 each prayed aloud in their own language, the Bosses joined in and watched looking very concerned.
We ripped all #6’s gear and wetsuit off piece by piece and gave him a thorough look over.
One of the Bosses jumped in and gave #6 a gruff Pep talk in what I am pretty sure was German while he administered an invigorating slapping percussive massage. We quickly redressed #6 in rough wool long johns, fluffy neon fleece pants, and an ugly wool sweater from the spare clothes bag. As each new layer of clothing went on the Boss enthusiastically gave a new series of phrases and invigorating wacks on top of it.
We then jammed client number 6, like a severely overstuffed sausage, back into his wetsuit and life jacket. We topped it off with an incredibly ugly toque and finally sat back and took a breath. All eyes on Client #6’s face we waited…
At that exact moment, for the first time all day, the clouds parted and a single brilliant beam of warm sunshine shot down like a spotlight from heaven straight on to our little group.
The heat and light poured straight down on #6’s toque. Looking straight up at the Sun he took a huge slow breath and smiled a massive glowing smile.
Looking slowly around the circle of our concerned faces he smiled even wider.
“Isn’t it Wonderful to be Alive?” he asked us.
The whole crowd gasped, before exploding in laughter and a dozen voices talking in several languages.
Relief flooded over me like a crashing wave. My knees felt weak and I collapsed down on my butt in the dirt as the emotions hit me.
I could not believe how fast it had all happened. In real-time it was probably less than 3 minutes from when we dump-trucked until we were in Bob’s raft and less than 10 minutes for the whole incident. As I sat there in the sun it all felt unreal.
25 years later I can still see Bob’s smile and hear him laugh as he said “Life is Good Monsieur Basnett!!” and helped me to my feet.
The crowd roared when Bob yelled,” Let’s go Rafting!”
Everyone went back to their boats and Bob and I helped Client #6 to his feet. We offered him a spot in Bob’s raft with the Bosses but to my surprise, he climbed back in my raft with our crew.
The rest of the trip went smoothly.
The shuttle bus ride after the trip almost always starts out loud but this time it seemed particularly raucous. The beautiful sound of dozens of people excitedly telling their stories in several languages at full volume filled the air as we ground our way up Dalton’s Post Road. By the time we hit the highway, the bus was toasty warm with the windows all steamed up. The warmth and sudden smoothness of the highway combined and it got quiet, as one by one, the clients stopped talking and heads flopping over, fell asleep.
Usually, the guides sit in the back for the Bus for the shuttle but this day we all slid forward and stood in the door well or sat around Bob in the Driver’s seat. Eating cookies and laughing, the other guides tried out loud to do the accounting of just how many Beers I owed the Beer Pond.
I sat, silent for once, and waited to hear what Bob had to say.
Without looking back from the windshield has asked me;
“Well Monsieur Basnett, what did you learn today?”
In the sudden silence, I was keenly aware of all the other guides and clients who were awake, looking at me and waiting for an answer.
“If Flip Rock is a hole stay the Fuck away from it”, I began. Everybody chuckled.
Looking around, I looked into the eyes of clients 4, 5, and 6. It was so good to see them smile and look back at me.
”If you have a choice between holding on to your raft and holding on to the clients, pick your raft. Then you can use it to go get all the clients. Having your clients but no raft sucks” I stated, as I grasped a fact that in hindsight seems quite obvious. They all nodded their heads sage-like.
“But The biggest thing I learned was to stay close to Bob and Thank God for Good Friends, don’t leave home without them” I said firmly. Everyone shook their heads in enthusiastic agreement. Bob smiled at me in the big bus mirror as we crested the last hill and camp came into view. Life is Good.
Bob Daffe was a great friend, teacher, and mentor. He was the Grandmaster Waterman and a wonderful human in every way that really matters.
Truly the ultimate adventurer his wilderness skills were unmatched and I can not count the things he taught me or the times he saved me. I am sure he is checking out new rivers in the next world right now and I look forward to our next trip together.
Thank you so much for everything Bob.
