FLAT BOTTOM BOATS - by Sally I. Stoner »

The first time I swung my legs over the gunwale of a drift boat was more than twenty-five years ago. It began a love affair, which has only deepened. The craft was constructed of aluminum and had seats in the bow for three anglers. We were floating the Deshutes River on a four-day fly fishing trip.
When we hauled out and trailed up the dusty road to the highway, I felt transformed. Even though we couldn’t fish from the drift boat, the joy of being in the flow of the river was an experience I wanted to repeat as often as time and pocketbook would allow. And I wanted to share the ride with my friends.
So, years later when my dear friend, Marcie, flew into Idaho Falls for a visit, a float trip was the highest priority item on our itinerary. Since I was a fresh graduate of the Reel-Women Guide School, I wanted my Marcie to experience the beauty of the South Fork of the Snake with a Reel-Women guide.
Kim Trafton was more than happy to take the oars for a trip through the canyon. She cautioned us about the length of the float. Generally, it is an overnight trip. Since Marcie didn’t fish, my intention was to expose her to the grandeur of the country from the exquisite vantage point of the river. If Kim was willing to row, I was more than happy to curtail my fishing when she needed to make time. Angling isn’t just casting to every trout in the water.
There are wonders best viewed from a drift boat; sensations and rhythms that are felt and heard only when embraced by the power of flowing water. Most river guides understand.

On our departure morning the river access was busy. Kim good-naturedly followed the unspoken etiquette, which guaranteed friendly relations on boat ramps. Our boat was a low-sided, fiberglass Clack-a-Craft designed to give a guide and her clients a perfect day on the water. My dog, Scout, was just as excited as Marcie. All of us were anxious to be on the water.
Kim backed her boat expertly down the ramp, unbuttoned the craft from the trailer, instructed us to hold it to the dock, and took off to park the trailer. She was back in a flash and we pushed off. When we were far enough away from the other boats, Kim gave me the go-ahead to cast. It was the beginning of a perfect day.

I looked back at Marcie and she was smiling from ear to ear. I missed the first trout of the day because of it, but there would be ample opportunity. Kim had tied on a big, fuzzy, double humpy and it was riding high and delicious. What trout could resist the buggy silhouette?
The fishing was wonderful. Marcie tried casting with gentle guidance from Kim, but preferred to watch for wild life and enjoy the serenity. Kim adroitly pointed out bald eagles hidden high in the conifers. A keen eye is a true asset for a river guide.
The day seemed suspended in time. We enjoyed a delicious lunch along the bank, relaxing easily into the companionship. As the afternoon waned, Kim began pushing hard to reach the take-out ramp. Marcie and I didn’t mind, we were content to be in the river’s thrall. Kim rowed expertly through a particularly tough piece of water, which looked like an immense churning washtub.
Just upstream from the ramp the sky suddenly darkened and it began to rain. Not the soft drizzle of spring but the heavy pelting of a summer storm. Lightning was striking in the distance and the rumble of thunder added to the intensity of the weather. We were all whooping and laughing. Our brilliant, sunny day had delivered a most dramatic conclusion.

When the boat was loaded and we were all safely inside Kim’s Jeep, we were soaked to the skin. I wondered what Marcie thought of her first drift boat trip. By the beautiful look on her face, I didn’t have to ask her. She had felt the joy of the river’s current.
During the course of a quarter century, I have slid into countless flat bottom boats, a few rubber rafts, a handful of prams, and one canoe. Rivers have been rowed with tens of fishing companions and a couple of beloved dogs. Most drifts have been wonderful, but a few verged on mutinous. The fishing has always been fabulous, but the catching sometimes lacking. Yet all of my sojourns in the current have strengthened my passion for the float.
Whoever wrote that the journey was more important than the destination, surely must have taken a float trip on a spectacular river. More than likely, a Reel-Women guide was on the oars.

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