Ten Feet of Fun on Two Inches of Water
For our annual Bob Marshall trip this year, Josh and Caleb came up with a brilliant, foolproof plan: hike in, then float the South Fork of the Flathead River out. Josh came to me with this proposal and said, “Since #3 is on the way, this is the last time we’ll get to do this for a while.” I could see the desperation on his face—and the excitement about this potential trip. Their plan? Pack two 10-foot rafts in on horseback—along with three toddlers and one pregnant wife—fifteen miles to Hahn Cabin, where we’d start our float.
On the first day, the energy was buzzing as it always is before an adventure. The boys spent an hour (or more) packing the horses while Chelsea and I thwarted three toddlers’ repeated attempts to get smashed by said horses. Turns out, packing two oddly sized boats on either side of a horse presents a few more difficulties than anticipated.
Then there was the food.
The first time we did this trip, we fell prey to the old “the horses are packing it in, we can bring whatever we want” mentality. Our pack rafts were so heavy they tipped in the water. When the boys went to hang the food, they kept breaking branches because the bags were too heavy. We learned our lesson this time—packed lighter—but my sister-in-law and I were still a little worried about the food panic that tends to run in the Healy side of the family. It apparently shows up early in the genes of our children too.
Flash back to the night before in the tent:
Me: “Josh, where did you pack my hiking shoes?”
Josh: “I didn’t pack your hiking shoes.”
Me: “They were on the pile of snacks you packed.”
Josh: “Oh, I moved those off to pack the snacks and thought you grabbed them.”
Snapshot: my hiking shoes, still at home.
I’m not going to blame anybody, but I did have them placed in plain sight, right on top of the snack bag—the very snack bag that Josh loaded into the car. You can decide who’s at fault. Needless to say, I hiked in fifteen miles wearing my treadless, arch-less, mesh river shoes. The hike was more brutal than we had anticipated and took us a lot longer than we had anticipated. A lot of river crossings, lots of baby stops, lots of snack stops…but we made it. The next morning I couldn’t even look at my river shoes…
The boys decided there was “enough water “to put the boats in right outside of Hahn cabin. Loading boats with kids is an adventure all on its own. Three hours later we were ready to go. Noah is a super good unpacker. We put the boats on water, all got in and immediately hit the bottom. The boys, eager to make this work, enthusiastically hop out and drag us until there is enough water. Thus started our two days of boat, dragging…
The first day floating wasn’t bad. Josh and I had talked about the order of operations on our boat. We had decided he was basically going to captain by himself as much as he could while I wrangled children. In theory, it was flawless. Once we started, we realized there was no way he could do it alone and my help was needed paddling. A sort of chaotic river waltz ensued where I alternated between paddling, handing out snacks, catching toys before they went overboard, and scanning for rocks. Albeit exhausting, it was fun because we were all excited and now on the river together as family.There’s something magical about finally being on the river together as a family, even if that river is mostly two inches deep. We didn’t mind pulling the boats a few times that first day; it was hot as blazes, and the cold water actually felt amazing. The kids did really well the first day! They both fell asleep and took naps on the boat, which was great! Lou even slept through a portage.
Young’s Creek gorge. This is the point of the trip where we all questioned our sanity and decision making abilities. We thought in July there would be plenty of water. There is a reason most people do this trip in pack rafts and not 10’ boats loaded with snickity snacks. This part of the trip broke everyone at some point. The amount of boat dragging off rocks in the gorge is indescribable. To make it better, the rain started that day, really setting the mood for a jovial time. ’m pretty sure we were out of the boat more than in it; “floating” would be a generous word. We basically walked the gorge. Being six months pregnant I was rolling into and out of the boat. Feeling like a beached whale the whole time. There were some… spirited marital discussions (on both sides). The kids, somehow, kept their cool better than we did. By the time we made it through the gorge, we were sore, soaked, and slightly broken—but also weirdly proud. Because sometimes the worst parts of the trip end up being the best stories.
The next day brought huge relief—or so we thought. We’d made it through the trickiest part of the trip and were sure our days of boat dragging were behind us. Spirits were high, and the kids were bundled up in their rain suits while we zipped up our soggy rain jackets, ready to keep moving. We still had three full days left of floating and enjoyment. We found some amazing campsites along the way. The kids were in heaven, throwing rocks, jumping on the boats like trampolines, and laughing at the dogs’ every move. It’s funny how quickly a miserable experience can fade when you hear your kids belly-laughing beside a river. We had some wrestling matches inside the tent on the air mattress. We had some wild poops. At one point, Noah crouched on the side of Caleb‘s boat and took a poop as Josh turned around. He said it looked like soft, serve sliding down the side of the boat. We are still reaping the consequences of the wild poops with Lou, whose preference is still to poop outside. The kids ate four trout one night and acted like it was poison the next. Classic. We had Lou get sick one night, puking at 2am. When she was done she just let out a huge, sad, “snuuuuuuuuuggggggggggle,” and tucked herself back into the crook of my arm. We would go on fire wood excursions every night collecting fuel together. We made a wading pools out of rocks.
Grandma and grandpa
But honestly? It was an awesome experience to complete together. Not just our little family, but with Josh’s brother, my sister-in-law, and our niece. We were all pushed to our limits, and even afterward, Josh and I agreed: that was our limit. But it felt good to complete something really hard with them. I felt good to know that we have the mental toughness, fortitude and stubbornness to continue pushing. It felt good to show Noah and Lou the things that we love and hopefully set a core memory inspires a passion in the future. We also realized, ten feet of boat is not nearly enough for the party we are carrying these days. We were dreaming of our 14 foot boat with a frame, all the luxuries and amenities at our fingertips.
We needed to get two ten-foot boats, three toddlers, and all our gear out. Caleb and Chelsea wanted to float the end of the river—Meadow Creek Gorge—which is far too dangerous for babies. So they volunteered to help carry a load out first, then run back in, float the last section with gear, and meet us for the pickup. We were all loaded for bear. Josh had a dry bag strapped to his back and Audrey strapped to his front. I was six months pregnant, so I only carried Lou on my back—but that was plenty. Poor Caleb looked like a mix between a hobo and a pack mule, balancing two heavy bags on oars slung over his shoulders. We trudged through mud, brush, and fatigue, laughing at how ridiculous we looked and how far we’d come from the confident version of ourselves that had set out days before. Every step hurt, every pack felt heavier than the last—but the end was in sight.
As we were getting out of the trip, we pulled into a sandwich shop in hungry horse. I had my swimsuit bottoms on no shoes, a tank top with no bra and my hair and a bun. As we parked, I started giving Josh my order to-go when I heard Lou start puking. We both jumped out of the truck. I yanked her from the car seat—puke everywhere—and without thinking, ran her straight into the restaurant bathroom. Meanwhile, Josh and Caleb were outside trying to scrape out the car seat. I didn’t even think about what I looked like or what I was wearing or not wearing at that point. After Josh came into the bathroom to check on us, he explained everyone’s look of confusion as I traipsed through the restaurant shoeless and braless with Lou on my hip. At that point, the boys decided that it would be better just to eat there since we had already gotten out of the car. So there we sat at the end of our trip, me in my swimsuit bottoms, no shoes, no bra, puke all over me eating the most delicious Reuben that I’ve ever tasted in my life.
Definitly one of the harder trips we have pulled off with kids, it was worth it. Learning your limits, and backing off when you know youve gone too far is a skill. We learned to trust each other and ourselves. We have a shared memory forever. One that we will all look fondly upon but also be able to realize we pulled something truly incredible off. Something not many people would do. Out kids were perfefct age for this advenuture. They were intereseted in the outdoors, ready to see everything and touch everything. Ready to explore, learn, absorb and grow. Watching them discover the world alongside us reminded me why we do these things in the first place.
"The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy". - Martin Luther King, Jr.
