June 30, 2006

By Chris Honoré
Tidings Correspondent

Larry Zitzelberger, beefy helmsman for Ashland’s Kokopelli River Guides, having just taken his small group of rafters through Nugget Falls, sits back and gazes at the shore, then off in the distance.

The raft is drifting, the water a mirror, the slanting afternoon sun warm. Birds sing in the high trees that border the river, the foliage deeply green, the air damp and fresh, redolent of newly mown grass. At the water’s edge stands a grey-blue heron on long, pale stems, its graceful body motionless, watching as we drift by.

To no one in particular Zitzelberger says, “You know what is so great about being on the river is that when you’re out here you’re in the here and now. Everything else falls away. There’s nothing else.”

And that’s likely one of the best descriptions ever of what it means to be out on the water.

From the minute that yellow raft sits on the bank, the bow rocking benignly in the Rogue, the exigencies of life begin to fall away. First you slip into your life vest, pull the buckle straps tight, then, paddle in hand, step tentatively into the boat and sit on the rounded side of the raft near the edge, very near the edge. With a hard shove the raft is launched and begins to drift as Zitzelberger, sitting high in the stern, gives paddling instructions: “All forward means you all paddle together, in synch, taking short, deep strokes. All back, you hold the paddle securely on your hip and backwater. Right forward, left back, you dig deep. Same for left forward, right back. If I say hang on, grab the red strap and lean into the boat. Try not to lose your paddle.” Right. Hang onto the boat, hang onto the paddle, hang onto the strap. Zitzelberger continues: “ If you fall out ... and sometimes that happens ... on occasion ... but not often ... point your feet downstream, cross your arms and legs, and don’t try and stand up, no matter how shallow you think it is. Don’t want to get a foot caught under a rock with the water pushing you from behind.” Right. Feet downstream, don’t let go of the paddle, cross arms and legs, stay horizontal.

Front left Chris Honore, front right, David Davis, rear right, Niki Davis, rear left, Larry Zitzelberger. photos by Jeff Wishard | For the Tidings

There’s something atavistic about being on the water, gazing into its depths, reaching down just below the surface and feeling the cold. Along the river are houses, tucked back among the trees. Inevitably, it seems, the owners bring chairs down near the banks, placed side by side, as if waiting for a parade, all facing the water. The Rogue’s a magnet. It pulls.

Leslie Dopp, co-owner of Kokopelli River Guides with her husband Matt Dopp, said, “These days life is so hectic that people need an escape. Paddling on the lake or the river allows people to see wildlife, beautiful scenery, and also to challenge themselves mentally and physically. The joy in it for us is that we get to share our love for the rivers and outdoors with our clients. We get to expose them to a new lifestyle, being on the water and loving it.”

Being on the river and loving it also means running its rapids, like Powerhouse. It’s the payoff that comes near the end, and its where the force of the river — its muscular, bucking surge — is most evident.

Zitzelberger pauses before reaching Powerhouse and rehearses the run. We’ll paddle into the rapids, swing left toward the trees, dig deep, go for purchase and balance, then hang on. We can hear the roar in the distance. All forward and we’re on our way. If the placid stretches of the river are the Rogue’s Yin, this is its Yang, a snarl of water that cascades repeatedly over the bow wanting to claim whatever it can. It’s a ride.

Niki Davis, up from Santa Clara, with her husband David, for a weekend of Oregon Shakespeare Festival plays and a half-day on the river, squints through mist-covered glasses and smiles broadly, as if about to yell “yahoo.” David, seated forward, paddling on point, keeps repeating that he “almost lost it,” could feel himself pitching over the edge. Exhilarated, he grins and laughs.

And then it’s over. We push the raft up on the bank and with one glance back in the direction of Powerhouse, at the green water, the dense trees on the opposite bank, step back on shore. We strip off the life vests, secure the paddles and helmets, and move up the bank. Incrementally the river lets go and so does the here and now.