Trouble on the Truckee

Trouble on the Truckee
By Betsy Malloy, Freelance Writer

Red-faced, with soaked shorts and hat askew, I look over my shoulder. Our raft is going backward, and we struggle to guide it to shore, a tricky task because of our unorthodox approach. We didn’t intend to end our trip this way, but nevertheless we hit the dock with a “thump,” back end first.

It all began three miles upstream on Lake Tahoe’s northwest shoulder, where the Truckee River begins its 140-mile journey to Pyramid Lake. Whitewater experts rate the three-mile section from Tahoe City’s Fanny Bridge to River Ranch as Class I, defined on the International Scale of River Difficulty as "EASY- Waves small; passages clear; no serious obstacles," and by some professional river-runners as "slowly moving ponds." For most of those three miles, the river runs close to the highway. When my husband and I stop to watch the yellow, blue and red inflatable boats, kayaks and inner tubes drift down the river, nothing hints that our upcoming rafting trip will be anything other than relaxing.

Sunbeams chase the early-morning chill from the river. Children laugh, dogs bark, and fishermen bait their hooks along the banks. It’s a perfect day to float down the river. Or is it? Warnings crop up as we gear up –- a request to sign collision damage waivers for our bodies, cautions from the nondescript young person giving directions and even more warnings at the dock -- but all sound like the standard disclaimers. If people do this every day, how perilous can it be? Without a nanosecond's training, we hop into a bright red raft and start downstream.

All seems well – for a moment. Then we enter “The Twilight Zone.” Without warning, the vessel refuses to go straight. Is it the mental challenge of paddling backward to go left and forward to go right? My sweetheart's greater strength? His eternal confusion between right and left? Is the raft defective? Or worse, possessed?

Whatever the reason, at the command "straight," the raft veers left (or right). "Right" or "left" yields outcomes as random as yesterday's lottery numbers. We pause on three rocks, greet one tree, and careen into enough bushes to fill a nursery. Other rafters pass, going straight as an arrow and under complete control. Some feel compelled to offer helpful advice.

The ill-behaved boat relents. Good Samaritans ahead are unmolested when they pause to let a duck family cross the river. We pass a fisherman without becoming the catch of the day. “They look worried,” I say, as four rust-and-gray ducks on a log ruffle their hair at our approach, but their perch remains safe. Pink and white wildflowers cover the banks, and gray mountain peaks soar beyond. The river widens and grows quiet. Blackbirds sing a rusty-creaking song in the cattails. Milkweed seeds tumble on the water’s surface, and sapphire-blue swimming holes beckon.

The hiatus lasts until the first rapids. As the water begins to churn, the raft turns backwards. “I said forward, not backward,” I shout. Our steering ability does not improve in reverse, and we hit another rock with a jolt. People on the shore see an apple-shaped woman, her feet flying skyward. I do not resemble Michael Jordan as I hang in the air before my bottom meets the raft's bottom. A chuckling sound comes from the rapids. It’s just the water, isn’t it? The Truckee injures more egos than people, and mine joins the toll as I crawl back into my seat.
The river becomes a conspirator. If rapids pass without incident, it throws the recalcitrant raft into the bank. If the vessel goes straight, a rock leaps into its path. Near the journey’s ends at River Ranch, river and raft have the last laugh as once more the inflatable jokester jumps into reverse. Diners on the patio must wonder why the approaching rowers selected a backward approach.

Shouts from the shore, “Bring it in here… No, not that way!” are not helpful. No one yells, “What are those fools doing?” but a few may be whispering it. Using hard-won reverse-steering experience, we lurch into the dock, albeit some distance from the official landing zone.

Cheerful young people reclaim the raft, tactfully pretending a back-first approach is normal. “Have a nice day,” they chirp. I stifle the urge to suggest that they take the red devil in for an exorcism, and instead summon as much dignity as a middle-aged woman with a soggy bottom can muster, and walk away consoling myself by muttering that perfection is an overrated virtue. Oh, and that red face? It wasn’t sunburned.

If You Go

Rafting season on the Truckee River from Tahoe City to River Ranch runs from May through October. A leisurely trip going straight down the river takes two to three hours, but there is no time limit other than finishing by closing time.
Rafting companies cluster near the Fanny Bridge in Tahoe City. They supply life jackets and paddles, and a shuttle to your car. Rates are about $30 per adult or $25 per child, with discounts for early or late starts.

Truckee River Raft Rentals
(530) 581-0123

Truckee River Rafting
(888) 584-RAFT

Fanny Bridge Raft Rentals
(530) 583-0123