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< March/April 2000
	River Runner Supplement
The Skinny on Big Boats A reminder from sweepers on the Snake that bigger is better Matt Hansen

The landing came up way too fast and I was thankful I wasn't on the sweep, responsible for stopping this huge thing we called a raft. We were in training, riding the highest recorded water level the upper Snake River had ever seen - about 22,000 cfs. Bill, our river boss, had us dragging the rubber beasts through trees, willows, mud and snow, teaching us how to land a 33-foot boat in these difficult, early-season conditions. As we approached the take-out near the southern end of Grand Teton National Park, Bill yelled for the rear boatman, Mike - at this point the loneliest man in the world - to get the raft's ass-end over and bump it against the overhanging trees to slow us down. This sent the rest of us to the floor, covering our faces against an onslaught of pine needles and branches. But not Mike. He stood there and took it, branches and all, holding the landing rope in one hand and the sweep in the other.

The trees did little to slow us down, and as we passed them we saw the landing occupied by three small rafts (small being mere 22-footers). Up on the bank were about 20 tourists, gaping wide-eyed at the train-wreck-like spectacle unfolding before them.

"Get out!" Bill yelled. "Jump! Land this *#*@#* boat!" And in Mike went, hopping knee-deep into cold, fast water, stumbling up the bank with rope in hand to begin his belay. The rest of us hung over the side, placing ourselves strategically between our monstrosity and the other boats at the landing. We slammed forward and it took all eight of us, three small rafts, and about 40 feet of shoreline to stop our boat. Mike, meanwhile, in trying to belay the beast, had been pulled over and through the other rafts, taking coolers, oars and life jackets with him. He came up scraped and bruised but grinning from ear to ear. He'd stopped us.

This was 1996, my introduction to pontoon boats, or, as they're called in Jackson Hole, simply "big boats." That same summer, Grand Teton National Park officials drafted the Snake River Management Plan, outlining a program to end the 40-year history of big boats on the Snake. The plan was developed because of increased river use, which had caused launch areas to have boat and trailer jams, some of which led to arguments or even fisticuffs among the more impatient river users. One of the alternatives called for discontinuing any boats that required special hoisting systems. In other words, the Park Service felt the big boats were taking up too much room at the landing. Fortunately, that alternative wasn't chosen, and, according to park officials, there are currently no plans to discontinue the use of big boats.

Like any watercraft, pontoon boats vary in size and weight, but on the Snake River, they're 33-feet-long, eight-feet wide and weigh almost 1,000 pounds. They are operated by two boatmen, one at each end, who use sweeps (rudders) to guide the big pig downstream. Normally the boats carry about 20 commercial passengers but rumor has it that they've been secretly dispatched under full moons and have carried as many as 30, not counting dogs. But I wouldn't know anything about that. Normally sluggish, the boats cruise quickly in high water, drafting about 10 inches of current. In the wind they're a boatman's worst nightmare but for those who've worked and bled with them, big boats represent the doorway to the glorious world of flowing waters. They represent the training field, being used as tools for the Grand Teton Lodge Company every spring since the mid-1950s to teach a half dozen men and women the quiet yet powerful laws of the river.

"You get better boatmen when you train them on the big boats," says Bill Guheen, the aforementioned River Boss who's been breaking in recruits for nearly 30 years. "Because they're so big and awkward they force you to read the water to get the boat down safely." Oar boats allow a boatman to be out of position, Guheen says, yet still be able to pull quickly away from obstacles. But using a sweep on a 1,000-pound raft doesn't allow any forgiveness in positioning, forcing whoever is steering to be looking one, two, sometimes three turns ahead.

Big boats first appeared in the 1950s on the Grand Canyon, after Georgie White bought a bunch of them from military surplus stores. The military had used them as bridge pontoons during World War II, turning them upside down to drive trucks across them and sometimes filling the chambers with ping pong balls so they'd still float after being shot. After the war these "bridge pontoons" were distributed to various outlets, like the National Park Service, and the military stopped making them in 1962.

The Grand Teton Lodge Company and other Snake River outfitters used the boats almost exclusively until around 1970, when Frank Ewing and Dick Barker developed the Snake River Raft, a 22-foot-long oar boat that created a more efficient way to get people to and from the river. At that time the outfitters in Jackson Hole ditched most of their big boats. Dave Demaree, owner of Friendsville, Md's Demaree Inflatable Boats - one of the few manufacturers who still makes the boats - knows of only three rivers where the rafts are still used: the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon and Cataract Canyon, the Frazier River in British Columbia, and the Snake River in Jackson Hole. Of the three, the Snake is the only place where the boats are non-motorized, operated only by sweeps. Selling only two to three boats per year, Demaree doesn't think the usage of the rafts has gone up or down. It's just that, with care, they last up to 25 years, he said.

In the Grand Canyon the boats are bigger than those used on the Snake and are usually powered by motors. Diamond River Adventures has used the big boats since 1965. For them, the rafts are 35 feet in length, eight feet wide, and carry up to 14 passengers, two guides and about 6,000 pounds of cargo, enough to last the group for eight days.

Leslie Diamond, co-owner and guide for the company, said some people perceive the big boats as boring, figuring they won't have as much excitement on one as they might on a smaller oar boat. "People think since they're so big they won't have a good ride," she says. "But you can go through bigger waves than you can with an oar boat. I just love 'em."