I’m one of those individuals who always dreams of things I’d like to do and places to visit. Although I lived in Europe for seven years and experienced a great deal of travel during that time, one place I didn’t make it to was Ireland. It’s something I’ve long regretted as I fantasize about viewing rocky cliffsides while feeling cool breezes coming off the ocean; exploring stoic historical castles; drinking stout Guinness in smoky pubs filled with dark wood furniture with the lilting notes of Gaelic music playing in the background.
Likewise, the Greek Isles is another dream I’ve envisioned. Swimming in the clear blue waters of the Aegean Sea, feeling the warm sun as gentle breezes caress my skin; the sound of lapping waves against the sand and tingling smells of salt water filling my senses.
Ever the adventurer, I envy those I see hanging below a paraglider as they maneuver with the updrafts and wind currents. I imagine the quiet solitude of coasting in a glider plane above the earth. And although I am not afraid of heights, I have often pondered if I would be brave enough to step out of an airplane to parachute downward or take that step off a bridge while attached to a bungie cord. Some of these dreams I have come to realize, will in all likelihood never be fulfilled and will remain in my mind as daydreams.
One aspiration I pondered as I felt was within the realm of possibility was a multi-day float down a river. I’ve read of explorers discovering new lands while traversing along our nation’s waterways, and often thought what an ideal way to do this. Of course, in my mind’s eye I see a scenic, peaceful and idyllic stream, lulling one in a sense of serene bliss. And since I grew up in Colorado, adding camping, hiking and backpacking to the vision, only enhanced it.
Convincing my husband to join me and of my sincerity to do this adventure was my first hurdle to overcome. It took mentioning my ambitions in this area a few times over the course of a couple of years to convince him of my determination. After he relented, I was next faced with identifying where this should occur. As we live in the West, I felt this was where I wanted to float. I scoured the internet looking for multi-day float trips from Washington, Oregon, California, Arizona, Idaho, Utah and Colorado. After viewing rivers such as the Columbia, Snake River, Colorado River and more, my attentions fell upon the Arkansas River.
This river has its head waters high in the Colorado Rockies just North of Leadville in an area specifically called the Sawatch Range. From Buckeye Lake, located on the South side of Buckeye Peak, a stream flows downhill, dropping 10,000 feet within 125 miles. As it makes this journey, it is joined by other streams to become the Arkansas River. The River ultimately flows 1,469 miles in an East and Southeast direction as it traverses Colorado, Kansas, Oklahoma and Arkansas, becoming a major tributary of the Mississippi River. Early explorers such as Zebulon Pike followed it westward. The river served as the boundary between the United States and Mexico from 1820 to 1846, and the Santa Fe Trail followed the Arkansas River through much of Kansas. It is the second-longest tributary in the Mississippi-Missouri River System, the sixth-longest river in the United States and the forty-fifth longest river in the world. And it is designated as one of the top rivers for floating rapids.
The City of Buena Vista seemed to be one of the most popular locations for experiencing a float trip as there are over 20 river guided companies offering tours. I ultimately decided on one named Wilderness Aware. Wilderness Aware was founded in 1976 and their guides are all extensively trained on guiding down this river as well as certified in first aid and CPR. Their reviews were great and they seemed to have survived the test of time.
Buena Vista was first settled in 1864 by settlers drawn to the area by the plentiful water which made the land suitable for agriculture. It is located in central Colorado roughly midway between Salida and Leadville in the Upper Arkansas River Valley at an elevation of 7,965 feet. Originally named Mahonville after James and Martha Mahon, it was renamed in 1879 to Buena Visa (Spanish for “beautiful view”).
The town was noted for its wild and wooly early mining and railroad inhabitants. It is said there were once 32 saloons, many dance-halls, and no churches. The “Palace Manor”, a bordello that became famous throughout Colorado, was operated by “Cock-eyed Liz”, (Elizabeth Spurgeon), who ultimately married the local plumber, Alphonse “Foosy” Enderline and became a “respectable” woman. It was located only two doors west of the courthouse on Main Street.
According to an article written by Jan MacKell Collins, Liz told others she was only 13 years old when she married a man old enough to be her father, who forced her into prostitution. “I used to run away,” she said, “but he would always find me and bring me back. He would beat me so badly that I finally gave up.”
People who knew Liz could not help noticing that her right eye visibly strayed, earning her the nickname “Cockeyed Liz.” The true nature of the impairment remains a mystery. Author Ron Franscell attributed it to a childhood injury, while historian Caroline Bancroft claimed that an adversary, madam Belle Brown, once got several men drunk and encouraged them to go fighting at the House of Joy. Liz’s eye was injured in the fray.
Three years after advertising in the 1894 statewide “Traveler’s Night Guide” for those seeking female entertainment, she married one of her customers. He was Alphonse “Foozy” Enderlin, a miner whose knack for gardening intrigued her. The couple married at Fairplay in 1897, and returned to Buena Vista, where Liz closed her business and settled into a quiet and pleasant married life. (Foozy worked as a plumber in Buena Vista and also served on the volunteer fire department. At a fireman’s contest in Leadville, the Buena Vista hose cart team competed with the Leadville team. Alphonse did not get a connection tightened on the fire hydrant during the competition and it blew off. His team mates then labeled him Foozy because he “foozled” the connection and they lost the contest.)
On August 18, 1929, Liz suffered a heart attack and died at age seventy-two. The Chaffee County Republican ran a brief obituary in its August 23 issue. The rumor in history circles is that despite being respectably married for over three decades, not a church in Buena Vista would hold services for her. Foozy remained at the old House of Joy until his death in 1934. He is buried beside Liz in Buena Vista.
The first morning of our rafting adventure started as we were fitted with life vests, helmets and paddles. This was followed with an introduction to our guides and a quick lesson on safety while rafting through rapids. There were three rafts of individuals floating and two supply rafts accompanying us since this was a multi-day float trip. One raft comprised of a church group of teenagers that we affectionately dubbed the “Pop tart Paddlers” since they proudly proclaimed they’d all had Pop tarts for breakfast. The second raft was a group of beefy men from Texas. You know that expression, “Everything is bigger in Texas”, well these guys exemplified that. That evening they kept us laughing with their antics and stories of life in Texas. Our raft was the eclectic group comprising of my husband and I, a father and his teenage daughter from California, one of the Texans with his eight-year-old son, a man from Tennessee and our guide named Gato.
Gato impressed us with her abilities to steer us through the rapidly moving currents of water, maneuvering us through, while simultaneously yelling for us to paddle left; right; back or whatever she felt was required at that moment. As we approached each swirling and churning tumultuous spot of white water, she told us the name of it and explained how we would address that specific rapid. The names alone were terrifying as we approached widow maker, toilet bowl, pinball, zoom flume, raft ripper and more.
Starting out on the first morning, I will be the first to admit I was nervous and had butterflies in my stomach as I wasn’t sure what to expect. Each time a wave of cold water would wash over the raft and hit me; it would steal my breath. I sat behind my husband on our side of the raft and am not embarrassed to declare that I ducked behind his broad shoulders on more than one occasion to keep from being pelted with the ice-cold water. He, on the other hand sat in the very front and had no choice but to bear the brunt of it for both of us.
By noon I was feeling a lot more confident in my abilities to ride these waves and maintain my balance in the raft. I found I was truly enjoying this adventure. In the lulls between the moments of terror we exchanged information with each other and formed a camaraderie amongst us.
This is not to say we didn’t experience some frightening moments as one of the teens in the “church” raft lost his balance, falling into the river. We were successfully able to maneuver our raft towards him, grab ahold of him and pull him in with us. He rode with us for a while until we were able to get him back to his group.
Another time, at a particularly harrowing and narrow rapid called House Rock, we were able to squeeze through the rapid at the correct angle as it pushed us through. Unfortunately, the guys from Texas had another experience entirely as their raft ran into the rock, climbed up it and then promptly flipped; dumping all eight of them and their guide into the fast-moving current. We were effectively in rescue mode at that point as we also grabbed oars, water bottles, and sunglasses floating by. The Pop Tart Paddlers rescued the majority of the men that were bobbing around in the water like corks as they were closest. In retrospect, it was amazing they were able to get so many of these big guys in an already crowded raft. Those not pulled into a raft managed to swim to the side of the River. Their guide remained with the raft, scrambling onto the overturned float. We all watched as he grabbed a rope dangling from a side and flipped it right-side-up while standing on it; an impressive feat in itself.
Immediately after this experience, we found a raft belonging to another company, upside down in the water on the edge with its occupants scattered along the bank. A reminder that this wasn’t child’s play.
As I’ve mentioned, we also had supply rafts accompany us, fondly referred to as “the pig”. Watching guides take their turn steering a raft piled high with tents, sleeping bags, clothing, food, stoves, tables, wood and water was amazing. They sat in the back half of the raft and utilized long stemmed paddles. They could scarcely view the river over the contents of the raft and had to keep a focus downstream as they navigated the currents. Their arm muscles flexed as they pulled and rowed their way downstream. Occasionally getting grounded in shallow sections, we would have to ram them to get them free.
The Pig had a portable Bluetooth speaker strapped to the top where the guide of the day could listen to music as they worked their way downstream. On the second day one of the guides named Gatlin was on the Pig. We synchronized the stroking of our paddles through the swirling river currents in time to the beat of the music as it floated to us from the supply raft. Laughing, we played “guess that tune” and called out songs as we recognized them. At times we observed Gatlin’s head bobbing to the tunes as he rowed.
Although you can bring your own tent, sleeping bag and mat, we opted to rent one from them. While we all set up our tents, the guides cooked us dinner. Surprisingly, the food was delicious. Dinner comprised of chicken stir-fry over rice, salad and dessert with cups of hot tea or cocoa available over a campfire. Breakfast the next morning was bacon, a vegetable egg scramble, toast, juice and coffee. We were definitely well fed. We signed up for a two-day trip, however, others in our group were continuing down the river for a five-day float taking them through the Royal Gorge.
As we pulled up to our take-out place along the river, I experienced a great sadness that I was leaving the group. This adventure had been truly exhilarating and one that I wasn’t ready to end. Our new friends and fellow raftmates tried to convince us to stay and continue the float with them; however, we had plans elsewhere. So, I bid them adieu and set my sites forward to my next adventure.
Life is an Adventure 