The Boy Scouts of Troop 30 were assembled at the canoe livery, ready to journey down the river. For some of the dozen boys this was their first experience with a canoe. Scoutmaster, George Anderson, gave the boys some instructions before they set off in their canoes. 

“Two guys to a canoe, select a buddy and stay with him. Stow your camp gear and food in the middle of the boat. Be sure to cover it to keep it dry. I have selected a nice campsite on the map. Stick together and we’ll meet there and make camp for the night,”

The boys loaded their canoes and were given safety instructions. Then they set off down river.

It was not technically a wild river but it was close enough for the boys. The river traversed through a completely wooded area. The only sights of human involvement were broken twigs, overturned rocks and the leftover tracks of campers. The water was clear and cold, running moderately fast. Stretches of the river ran straight and quietly for a short way. Then just around the bend ahead, a rapids appeared, shallow water flowing over a bed of rocks, with boulders of various sizes placed promiscuously so that there was no straight pathway between them. This, of course, presented a serious obstacle for the canoers, especially the new ones. Further, it explained most of the dents and scratches in the aluminum canoes. There were many rapids in the course of the river, each affording its own challenge. 

There was scarcely a sluggish spot in the stream. Even where the water seemed to run quietly, eddies played along the shore and little whirlpools danced about and hid among the leaves of a small shrub that bowed to the river. Riding with the current, one would frequently encounter a young tree that took root on the shoreline, grew for several years, and then succumbed to the forces of nature. It lay there still green, helpless in the passing water. 

On the first leg of their trip the boys learned, more or less, to control their canoes, and work as pairs. A couple of teams evidently got carried away and pulled ahead of the troop and didn’t recognize the planned campsite. Scoutmaster Anderson was more than perturbed when he found the campsite vacant.

“Damn it, I told them to stay close together. I ought to just let ’em fend for themselves until we catch up with ’em tomorrow,” said George. Then he thought about his responsibility, and continued “We’d better go on and catch up.”

About an hour and a half later the others overtook the eager beavers at an inferior camping place. Darkness was near, and when George was done chewing out the culprits it was much nearer. They made camp and had supper by flashlight, firelight or in the dark.

After breakfast the boys broke camp and loaded their canoes.

“Today we have only a short way to go, so take your time. Enjoy the scenery. Stop now and then. Nobody is to be out of sight or hearing of the group,” George laid down the law.

It was a leisurely day. Hardly anyone went faster than the current. They needed only to steer the canoe. Although there were some wet feet, they all managed the rapids without swamping a single canoe.

The boys pitched their tents at the new site in a relaxed manner and prepared for a good time that night, with even a campfire.

The next day went as one would expect. There was an occasional flurry of getting a canoe untangled from brush or getting around a huge rock in a rapid.

Some heard these words ahead and just around a bend in the river, “Look! Up there! It’s an eagle. Watch him soar.” Then, a moment later,

“Left, Gordon. Left, Gordon! LEFT, Gordon!!!” Next, scrapping, scratching, and moaning sounds were heard, then, “I meant right, Gordon.”

The expected sight was a reality. The river’s current was driving them ever deeper into the tangle of a fallen tree. With help, the embarrassed pair finally escaped.

Weather for the trip had been perfect. At their campsite the sky was clear and bright.

“Let’s sleep under the stars tonight,” one boy said.

“Good deal,” said another. “ It’ll save a lot of work, putting up tents.”

George Anderson consented, but warned, “Be prepared in case it rains.”

It was a star-studded night when the boys turned in. Some enjoyed lying on their backs searching out constellations before they went to sleep. Most of them slept well for a while.

“Ouch, my face is wet. Oh, it’s raining. It’s not suppose to do that,” came a cry from the dark. There was instant bedlam as the “starlight” sleepers awoke and looked for tents. Some took refuge under the overturned canoes. By the time the tents were ready most things were wet, or at least partly so. They nevertheless survived the night, and were up at daybreak. The rain had stopped and they were greeted by another bright sunny day. They packed their soggy gear into the canoes and after a somewhat gloomy breakfast headed down the river on the last leg of their journey. The river flowed into a manmade lake. As they approached the lake, moving the canoes forward became more work and slower. The troop paddled along until they came to a clear grassy area where they went ashore. They unloaded the wet stuff from the canoes. It was not long before the place looked like the proverbial Chinese laundry. Every shrub in sight was covered with wet clothes, sleeping bags and such. By the time their drivers returned from the canoe livery, the stuff was dry enough to pack for the trip home. 

“We’ll get everything right next time,” they all agreed, not realizing all the hazards they had avoided.