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< March/April 2000
	Paddle Tales
A Shuttle to Remember - or Forget

Back in 1981 I was starting my fourth season as a river guide for Echo: The Wilderness Co., based in Oakland, California. Our Easter weekend assignment was to load equipment from the guide house in California and drive it to the warehouse in Salmon, Idaho. From there we were headed to the Snake River for about a month of river trips. It turned out to be a shuttle I'll never forget.

About halfway through loading the truck we had to move it, and were greeted by an ugly sound when it started. After debating the severity of the problem, we decided to take the other truck rather than risk breaking down in the middle of nowhere. The decision wasn't easy because the second truck had a small (15-gal.) gas tank, a broken gas gauge, and was stuck in the muddy parking area. We figured we could get around the broken gas gauge by counting the miles. Getting the truck out of the mud proved tougher - it wouldn't budge. Finally we got out some safety line, set up a Z-drag and dragged it out. Then we unloaded the first truck, loaded the second truck and a trailer, and hit the road.

Since we had no idea how much gas we had, we headed for the nearest gas station to fill up. Turns out the locking gas cap wouldn't unlock. We tried WD-40 and jiggling, but finally we had to break out the trusty old channel locks to pry it off. Then we borrowed a replacement cap from the gas station and set out again. We made it out of California and were headed through Reno at dark. Suddenly, blue lights in the rear view mirror. The officer informed us that the trailer's tail lights weren't working, and we weren't to continue through his state without said lights. Ah, Reno. A happening town on Saturday night of Easter weekend, but maybe not the best place to try to find a mechanic willing to fix the tail lights. We drove around town following leads like, "Well, boys, head on down to the Gold Dust Saloon, just around the corner from the Last Chance Casino, and ya' just might find a mechanic." We finally found one who was just closing, but we convinced him to help us out with some pleading, cash and six pack of Rainier ale. On the road again.

Counting miles and filling up at every opportunity worked pretty well until around midnight, when we ran out of gas 30 miles shy of Winnamucca, Nevada. John remembered seeing a gas station a couple miles back and volunteered to head back down the highway, while I stayed with the gear. About an hour later a truck pulled up and John jumped out with a gas can. Turns out the gas station was closed but he found the owner in the bar next door and after a beer and a round or two of pool he agreed to open his station and give John some gas and a ride back.

We pulled into Winnamucca around 1:30 am and looked for a motel room. Winnamucca had a lot of Easter visitors, but we finally found a place with a vacancy. As we drove through the parking lot looking for a spot, we came to a drive-through marked "Clearance 10 feet 6 inches." We got out, looked at the stack of raft frames on the truck, looked at the drive-through, looked back at the parking lot, then started laughing. There was no way back and no way under, so we ended the day the way we started - unloading then reloading the truck.

The next day we crossed into Idaho, heading for Salmon via Lowman and Stanley. About 10 miles out of Lowman we heard some thumping and realized the trailer had a flat. We pulled over and began looking, finally realizing that there was no spare. We should have checked before we left, but we assumed it had one. We unhitched the trailer and I headed for town, this time leaving John behind. Lowman isn't big. It had only two gas stations, neither of which had 14-inch trailer tires. One station did have a huge pile of old tires in the back, and I was welcome to dig through it. Somewhere deep in the pile I found one old trailer tire with exactly two treads left on it. Yahoo, I'll take it.

Murphy's law struck again as our shredded tire wouldn't come off the rim, no matter what the station guys tried. Finally, they said we had to burn it off, leaving only the steel belts. These also proved stubborn, and needed to be cut off with a torch. Finally, we put my prize tire on and were ready to go.

I'd been gone for several hours by then and a light rain had started to fall. When I got back to the trailer there was no sign of John. Finally the pile of life jackets started to stir from where he had burrowed in to stay warm and out of the rain. By this time no story would shock him.

A few hours later, warm, dry and relatively optimistic again, we came to the mountain pass between Lowman and Stanley. The pass was open, but there was snow everywhere. With a whoop we were out of the truck and into the snow, expending our stress in the form of snowballs. John snapped a few pics between snowball fights. Piling back in the truck we headed down the road to Stanley. Of course, we had to fill up with gas again, and I reached into my pocket for the Travelers Checks entrusted to me, enough money for the whole month of raft trips. They weren't there. We searched the truck, no luck. As panic set in, John said he remembered seeing something fall out of my pocket back at the pass. We raced back and sure enough there they were right in the middle of the road. Later, when John developed his film, one of the shots showed a small gray packet of checks lying in the road next to where I was standing.

- Vince Semonsen, Reno, Nevada