Stranded on the River

When our daughters were teenagers, we had to get creative one year to enjoy a family vacation on the cheap. I had been working solely as a freelance writer while otherwise in between jobs. My husband, Dee, picked up a part-time job to supplement our income, but money was still tight. I had an offer in hand but was holding out for another; the vacation allowed me to buy some time in my decision.

I mentioned to my parents that we might travel to nearby Michigan, their home state, and they generously offered the use of their new fifth-wheel camper. My kind-hearted dad drove the camper to our chosen campground, more than an hour away from their home, and set it up for our stay. The campground served as our home base as we took day trips along the Lake Michigan shoreline.

We took advantage of the campground amenities but also visited beaches; window-shopped; and treated ourselves to hand-dipped ice cream in quaint beach towns as part of our explorations. And we had quite an adventure on the Paw Paw River.

For years, I had wanted to try river tubing. I heard other people talk about their fun times lounging on inner tubes, floating alongside their friends and family, and I imagined it would be a blast. I had heard some people mention encounters with snakes while tubing, but I kept that tidbit to myself. I had a greater fear of drifting too close to the riverbank and overhanging branches where I might pass through an occupied spiderweb or pick up other crawly, jumpy things. My excitement about tubing outweighed that fear.

I located a canoe livery that offered tube rentals not far from where we camped. We had gathered from others that we would be wise to rent an additional tube to hold a small cooler, so that was our plan. I made our reservation a couple of days in advance; river tubing was our only planned activity for the day. I requested a three-hour trip, which Dee and I believed would be not too short but also not too long for first-timers.

On the day of our big adventure, we packed the bare necessities, including a small picnic lunch and drinks. As advised, we rented an extra tube to carry them. Seasoned tubers likely take yet another tube to haul a watertight container for their towels—perhaps not—but in hindsight, that would have been good as well. Instead, we left our towels in our car to use on our return.

When it was go time, we applied sunscreen and doused each other with bug spray. Then the desk associate called the driver to take us to our drop point for our three-hour trip.

I wish I could remember the good parts of our river-tubing adventure. We all love water play, so I know we enjoyed that aspect. We know how to have fun, so I am sure we laughed, sang, joked, and engaged in other antics. But the craziest thing we experienced that day, and unfortunately, what I remember most, was not so fun.

We were not in a hurry to reach our destination; the day was meant to be spent leisurely. Hours into our trip, we realized our route seemed much longer than we anticipated. The employee at the livery had advised us that we would know our destination when we found it. He said we would clearly see the bank where canoes are pulled up onto the property, and the rental office would be visible from the river. Long past three hours, we determined that we must have missed the exit point. The problem was that none of us had seen anything fitting the description.

To make matters worse, my inner tube did not fare well and developed a fast leak. We had encountered areas where the river had tree branches and debris, which had likely damaged the tube as we maneuvered ourselves around them. I was so glad we had rented the fifth tube. We were able to continue safely, though not comfortably, down the river, while I held the cooler on my belly, and Dee carried the deflated tube.

And the trip dragged on … longer and longer past the time when we should have returned. At one point, we noticed a house perched high above us in an area where the bank was steep. All four of us yelled, “Help,” as we floated past, feeling somewhat foolish but also desperate. Nobody came to our rescue. The experience was surreal, as if we were characters in a horror flick.

Seven hours after our launch, we arrived at our stopping point. We were thirsty, tired, cranky, chilly, and our fingers and toes were justifiably pruney. We could not properly return our tubes, because the shop was closed with no one in sight. We decided to leave the equipment behind the building. I found some scrap paper in our car, and I wrote a note regarding the damaged tube and our long, scary trip. I had to wedge the note in the office door.

The employee who had arranged our rental called me the next day and explained that the driver had mistakenly dropped us off at the three-hour drop for canoeing, not for tubing. Ya think?! Where the driver left us would have been the equivalent of an eight-hour river-tubing trip. He said they would not charge us for the damaged tube due to the error the driver had made. I could have made a much bigger stink about the issue than I did, but I just wanted to get back to enjoying the vacation with my family. Besides, the zany adventure was a learning experience that became part of our memories and gave me this great story to tell.