An Adventure on the Little Missouri River
On my first long trip in my motorhome, I met a semi-retired airline attendant named Judy who had a precious six-year-old papillon, named Harper. We traveled side-by-side in our motorhomes for a couple of weeks in North and South Dakota. In my book Finding Joy in the West, which is scheduled to be released in early 2025, you will read about my adventures with Judy and Harper. Following is the first part of the first of many adventures with the dynamic duo.
The first morning we camped together at Theodore Roosevelt National Park South, Judy suggested we take her inflatable kayak and inner tube down the Little Missouri River. We found a place to launch at a nearby state park. We squeezed through a clearing in some brush, scaled our way down a steep embankment, and waded into the river. Judy put Harper on the back of her kayak, stepped in, and pushed off with her paddle. Following suit, I pushed off and plopped myself into the center of the inner tube.
We floated downstream, admiring the perfect view of the buttes and the amazing blue sky splattered with pillowy white clouds. Harper, perched at the stern inches behind Judy, looked confident like he had done this a million times. Several times we walked in the water because our crafts dragged on the river bottom, and occasionally the current became swift, but most of the time we just floated gently down the river.
An hour or so into our excursion, we switched places so I could try her kayak. Thirty minutes later we switched crafts again. When we got out to walk through a shallow area, I held on to the tube, but I hadn’t gotten back on it yet. In half a second, the water changed from too shallow to float to a rushing current too deep and strong for either of us to fight. Judy pulled over to the bank for safety. She called for me to come to the bank, but I was further downstream.
To get back to her, I tried walking, and then swimming when the water rose above my waist. I felt as though I was in one of those resistance swim pools designed to give you just as much resistance as you can swim against—the swimming equivalent of a treadmill. My efforts got me nowhere. It was funny at first. But then, the water got deeper, and the current stronger. Though swimming as hard as I could (which was not that hard given I’m not much of a swimmer and I was still holding onto a tube I could not climb into), I was getting whooshed further and further from my friend.
Judy pushed off and steered her way through the turbulence. Thankful she was willing to push away from the safe spot she found on the bank, I held on to the tube and quit fighting the raging waters.
Once I quit battling the current, I gave one big kick with my legs and hoisted myself back on top of the tube, which now posed as my life-saver ring. With Judy and Harper close behind, the current shot us downstream as though we were on a ride at a water park. Within 2-300 yards, the water returned to the peaceful flow we had experienced earlier, and on we sailed. Minutes later, as though our lives had never been in danger, we once again marveled at the charm of the river, the stunning buttes, and the soft blue sky with the wispy snow-white clouds.
This is the end of part one of my first adventure with Judy and Harper. Part two of this story chronicles my first and only ride in the back of a police car. It all turned out ok, but you will have to get my book to read the rest of this story and the many Judy and Harper escapades that followed.
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