Adrift on the Nansene

By KELLI FONTENOT
Published July 10, 2008 by The Dalles Chronicle

It’s about 11:45 a.m. on Saturday and I am standing on a bridge in Dufur, aiming a zoom lens at the innertubes in the creek below. I snap a few shots and run back to the truck to get rid of the camera. When I return to the creek entrance, I expect to see someone waiting for me (I’ve got the keys to the truck, after all) but once I reach the water, I am met only with a black rubber tube and a six-foot walking stick to paddle with.

Hesitantly, I wade into the water and peer down the creek. The family has floated out of sight, but voices carry across the wind and I realize if I don’t go now, I may never catch up.

I am about to become a participant in The Great Nansene Creek Flotilla. Every year, Michael Glover, the commodore of the Ft. Dufur Yacht and Tubing Club, leads a group of explorers on an innertube flotilla down the creek. This year’s participants include five members of the Alexander family, originally from California. Michael invited them after meeting them at church.


According to the bright blue advertisements, Bryan and Marilyn Alexander are the “Exaulted Guardian of the Fog Horn” and the “Royal Ruler of the Deck,” respectively. Three of their children — Tess, Cole and Rene — are also along for the ride. (At the creek, both parents lamented that their eldest son stayed home to sleep.) Bryan rides with 3-year-old Rene resting on his chest while Marilyn rides close to 5-year-old Cole. Michael’s brother, Kenneth, is second in command, tugging two spare tubes behind him in the shallow creek. He identifies bucks and blue herons just before they escape from our view. Kenneth’s knowledge of plant life also comes in handy, as he warns us when we get close to poisonous leaves.

Ice-cold water encompasses my lower half as I float down the winding creek. For the most part, the water is calm and the sun is bright on my arms (suddenly, I regret declining the sunscreen Michael offered me at the fort). Innertubing is not as easy a sport as one might think. Getting positioned in the tube itself feels like a chore; I fall out of it at least three times. Ladybugs and daddy longlegs climb over the sides of my innertube, apparently jealous of all the fun I’m having.

Truly, though, this experience is one I’ll never forget.

Michael’s knowledge of the creek never ceases to amaze me and the Alexanders talk with me like they’ve known me for years. The creek provides endless new sights and sounds.

Bryan and Rene watch a beaver hiding near its dam, followed by fleeting glimpses of a doe and a hawk. Marilyn calls out “bottoms up” each time the rocks come too close for comfort, which makes everyone else in the group laugh.
Seeds attach themselves to the arms and legs of the Alexanders (Michael remains curiously clean and dry). Tree branches stretch out over some areas of the water, forcing the occasional game of limbo.

At first, I avoid the rough spots of water and prickly foliage lining each side of the creek. “Coward!” Michael shouts to me. “Where’s your sense of trailblazing spirit?” He smiles, but I know he’s only half joking, so I decide to give it a shot.
Pushing myself forward with my tree branch, I hear the sound of rushing water and brace myself for what I assume will be a small-scale version of whitewater rafting. My guess is accurate. The tube twists and spins in the water as I am seized by the current. I find myself laughing and shrieking with 10-year-old Tess. She uses her walking stick like a kayak paddle and peers around every corner with wide, excited eyes. She and Brother Glover (as the children refer to him throughout the flotilla) manage to stay ahead of the group for the majority of the trip, speaking in pirate jargon and laughing like conspirators.

We stop several times on the trip to breathe, stretch our legs and snack on the Red Vines and beef jerky Michael has brought in airtight bags.

At each stop, Michael describes what we’ll see on the next part of our exploration. He seems to know every curve of the creek by heart. He has been doing this since 1976. His interest is simple: Once, he overheard a few guys talking about going down the creek and thought, “That sounds like fun.”

Soon, he and about 27 other explorers were positioning themselves in innertubes and floating away. Michael’s brother, Buster, says he accompanies Michael on many of the trips.

This year’s flotilla began Saturday morning at Fort Dufur, an ancient yellow two-story house in downtown Dufur. Michael, Buster and the Alexander family signed the “ship’s log,” loaded up a truck and two SUVs with large black innertubes and travelled to Fifteenmile Creek. This was the Alexanders’ first year on the flotilla, so Cole and Rene seemed a bit uncertain about the trip at first.

“You’re going to feel really proud of yourselves once you’ve done it,” Marilyn told them.

I know I did. It’s not every day a reporter — who is not athletic by any means, mind you — spends an afternoon brushing against algae and hiking through a thicket after falling out of an innertube. By the end of the voyage I feel sleepy and sunburned, but I definitely appreciate the appeal of the journey. It was exactly what Michael said it would be — an adventure. I felt like the female Huck Finn on a miniature Mississippi.

As Michael describes it, the experience is about witnessing nature up close and enjoying each other’s company in the process. The flotilla is an opportunity to relax, laugh, swap stories and make new memories. Michael’s tradition seems to have made quite an impact on the Alexanders already.

“We might end up making this an annual family event,” Marilyn tells me.

When the flotilla finally reaches Wrentham, Tess and Cole hike up a hill to the main road and sprawl out in the sun over their innertubes to recover from the chilly water. Standing in the empty street, Cole displays his pruny fingers and toes and Tess climbs inside a stack of the rubber tubes. “What are you, the Michelin woman?” Marilyn jokes. Cole sees Tess’ creation and starts building one of his own.

It seems Michael’s flotilla tradition may continue with the Alexanders for many years to come. When Buster, Michael and Bryan finish retrieving all the innertubes from the water, Cole asks if he can go again the next day.