Rafting With Guns

The greatest generation grew up and got old. But they were still amazing. I never tire of hearing stories of heroism and courage during World War II.

This story starts out in the unlikely of all places a well-known rafting river in Wisconsin, the Wolf River. During the spring season the river would rise and provide for some of the best rafting in the Midwest.

As many of you know, the skill level of a rafter falls into 1 of 5 classes. Class 1 and 2 are float trips, whereas Class 3 is a typical beginner level for rafting. Class 4 is intermediate to advanced and good for adventure rafters. Class 5 is advanced and recommended only for the most experienced rafters.

It was a beautiful summer day when Carrie and I drove up into Wisconsin with our good friends Mark & Julie and Charlie & Jeff. It was a good weekend for some rafting. Reports online said we should expect a Class 3 ride today. That’s the class we prefer so we were quite excited to arrive at the Wolf River where there were several outfitters that can help touristy rafters get into the game. We parked and grabbed our gear for the afternoon water ride, things like water bottles, sunglasses, sun screen, etc.

The outfitters were family run and had years of experience. We felt comfortable with our choice. Of course, we would get rafts and paddles. We stepped out of the building and I remember looking at the sign in front. It was boasting a Class 3 sign as expected. But I was a bit nervous to see it coming down and being replaced with a Class 4 sign. I asked the gentleman why were we up to four now?

“We had a lot of rain last night. The river is up and the current is more challenging now. By Monday we will be back down to Class 3, but today the water is fast.”

“I see. I didn’t think to check the weather.”

“You will have a lot of fun. Just be careful out there. Things will be really moving.”

And so it was. We were in for a full day of Class 4 fun. Let it be, as they say.

We were driven up river and guided to the river’s edge then given our rafts and paddles. We received three rafts (double seaters) and six paddles. Once they left and began to prepare for the ride I took notice that both Charlie and Jeff were donning shower caps. They looked silly and they knew it.

We boarded and entered the river. We were quickly pulled into the current. Julie, Carrie, and Charlie paddled from the front of their rafts and Mark, Jeff and I steered from behind using the paddles as a rudder. We had never ventured into Class 4 water before and it was exciting and scary too.

Exposed rocks lay all around. They had to be navigated around. There were places on the Wolf that slowed to an almost lake-like experience but there were faster moving river sections that contained several small waterfalls. And that is where the trouble lies. Keeping the raft upright with both riders was paramount to our strategy. Nobody wanted to fall out of the raft in a waterfall and risk injury.

And so that is how our afternoon went. Lounging lazily in slow lake-like water and then the sudden rush of a waterfall or two kept our day filled. It wasn’t long before we could see that we were close to ending our rafting adventure. The outfitter’s place was coming up and just around the bend. Someone in our group suggested we race to the finish line (it might have been me) and that added a little competition at the very end.

And that’s when it happened.

Carrie and I had successfully dodged several large exposed boulders in our path. However we got caught up on the last one, turning the raft sideways and causing water to spill inside the raft and stress the floatability. Working as a team all day long, it quite surprised me that we both took different techniques to realign our stuck raft. She was pushing off the rock with her paddle while I had (unfortunately) decided it might be best to stand and keep one foot in the raft and one on the rock in an attempt to dislodge us.

It didn’t work though. As Carrie began to move the raft from the rock, my stance began to spread. I didn’t even have the balance to return my leg and before I knew it, I was falling. I hit the rock with my knee and fell to the water. The good news was that I was able to scale up back into the raft. The bad news was that I received a huge gash on my knee and I was bleeding out pretty bad. Luckily we were five minutes to the finish line. And, we were still in the lead.

Carrie apologized profusely but I wouldn’t hear of it. It was not her fault. I just wanted to stop the bleeding and get out of the raft. I had had my share of fun for one day. We turned the corner and could see the outfitter building in the distance. The only thing between our raft and end of the line was a small protruding peninsula that we could easily float around. The water current had slowed to a lake-like experience again.

Oddly, on the peninsula, there were two older couples. The ladies were talking to each other and enjoying a lovely day along the river side. The two gentlemen were just standing there with their hands behind their backs. I did not seem concerned about any danger with this scene. I looked up from my bleeding knee and estimated the age of the four elderly adults. I suspected that maybe the two men may have served in World War II.

We inched around the peninsula. My wife had assumed the rear position and was using her paddle in a rudder like fashion to ease us in. I lay in front with a knee bathed in blood. The gash was long but not so deep. But I bled, bled a lot.

As we approached the two couples I made my best attempt to smile and acknowledge.

Without any warning and apparently unbeknownst to the ladies the two men pulled their arms from behind and to our utter surprise they were holding the two largest soaker water guns I had ever seen. And with full intent on destroying their foe they laid into me. Water was hitting my whole body at an accelerated rate. Blood from my knee splashed all over the yellow raft. The pain from my wounded knee intensified as I screamed out loud. Carrie began paddling away from the scene. The two other rafts in our group had arrived behind us and felt the same wrath from these WWII snipers. I looked back at my wife with an expression that merely said, I am done. Take me home.

I will never forget the look on the faces of those two men. They had lived a good life, probably worked hard, and now enjoying their retirement. But their expression was that of a six year old boy doing something very bad and laughing hard so as to enjoy the experience before they would certainly be punished.

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