Sometimes Moab can have very strange weather. On this day the skies looked especially ominous. We had just driven our 40 passengers 45 minutes to where the rafting would begin. While the passengers waited for us to strap down all gear to the rafts and get ready for the trip a slight breeze picked up.
Moab is known for it's knock out wind storms in the Spring and Fall, but this was late June so we were probably going to be rained on, but we didn't think much of the "W" as most superstitious river guides called it. The main reason why we abhorred a visit from the "W" is because it almost always blew UP RIVER - the opposite direction we were trying to row. It was in those muscle-trembling, hand-blistering moments that I would always remember the words of my boss when I was first being considered for the job . . . "We have a great benefit package - free gym membership!" Very funny.
When we finished getting the boats ready and gathered everyone for our safety speech the breeze suddenly became stronger, so we talked faster and quickly started loading the passengers on the boats. Now I say "quickly", but if you've ever been privy to driving cattle (which I HAVE), oddly, you start feeling like a cowboy. Even though you're shouting out directions and herding them in the direction they should go, (and in this case even pointing with fingers and using head motions) they somehow end up in an area you didn't want them or just standing there dazed and confused.
Two boats were loaded with people and pushed off to make room for the loading of two more boats. The "W" had picked up significantly and was blowing the dirt from the banks into all open orifices, thus making it very difficult for everyone to breathe let alone SEE. The passengers all suddenly decided it would be better on the boat over the water where the dirt and dust wouldn't be such a bother. The effect was not unlike a very thirsty herd finally seeing the watering hole. I gave up and let the cattle trample. Usually the first two boats would be idlely floating just off the river bank to wait for the rest of the group, however on THIS day as I was busy with my European cattle proding for five mintues, I glance back to the river and see . . . No boats.
I lean over the river bank and look down river to see . . . No Boats.
I look UP-STREAM and see two boats full of people floating away and four inflatable kayaks paddling in circles or holding on to the willows. One guide was trying to row the direction of the river flow and was making very little progress at a physically tiring rate. The other guide was too invested in tying a few items down on her boat to notice.
We push our last two boats off the river bank and call out to the other guide to catch up as we start to row. The "W" was not to be shrugged off and ignored. In five more minutes NONE of the boats had made any progress and we were all working hard to stay in one place. The passengers in the inflatable kayaks (which we had advertised to them as totally safe, very fun and pretty easy to control) had looks of frustration and fear as they were pushed around the river surface. Hair was in our faces; communication and commands were quickly captured by the fierce "W" and shattered into tiny indecipherable fragments that no one could understand; white-capped waves blew upriver!
At this rate we knew we could never make it on time to the next ramp seven miles down-river for the afternoon passengers to join us. Slowly we rowed to the side of the river and let the "cattle" off and back into the buses. Boy, did they mooooo. "You mean you're canceling my river trip?!"
Many hats were lost to the river gods.
No cattle were injured in the wake of this event.
