Floating away

There are many levels of relaxation.

There's a nice easy chair, a bottle of suds and a great sporting event on the tube. There's a leisurely game of golf played at a leisurely pace. There's transcendental meditation, but, uh, I really couldn't tell you much about that...

However, nothing really compares to gliding down a river on a inner tube on a summer day for the ultimate kickin' back experience.

Hundreds head up the Coeur d'Alene River on warm days, their vehicles adorned with every flotation device imaginable.

And the devices have become very specialized. Wander through the local sporting goods store these days, and you'll find blow-ups with coolers (or cooler mounts) built in, making the barge capable of partying at a snail's pace.

I've floated plenty of rivers and streams in Montana, where I grew up. As is always the case, the destination is not important, just the journey.

What was important was enjoying yourself. It really didn't matter to me if we had water, sodas or beer in the cooler, as long as we had something to drink.

Having two cars definitely made the relaxation last throughout the day. You could unload all the gear upstream, then drop one car off miles down the road for use later and drive back up in the other and begin your trip.

Water depth was also somewhat important, as you needed a minimum of a foot of water to make sure you weren't dragging your derriere over the moss-covered rocks beneath. But, by the same token, water too deep usually meant the flow was a little faster than kick-back pace.

Slow-moving rivers with a winding path also made for great opportunities to get out of the tube for awhile.

If there was a switchback, that almost always meant that there was a pool of water at some point in the curve that was deep enough to dive into.

If we could find such a curve with a nice depth (at least 6 feet), and if there was a steep incline on shore, it was time for what we referred to as "Acapulco Cliff Diving."

Named after the real daredevil feat that we grew up watching on Wide World of Sports, our cliff diving usually had slightly less danger. Nevertheless, there were times that the jump out to the "pool" was a little more harrowing than we imagined on a trip that was meant more for relaxation than exhilaration.

Probably the highest free jump we ever did was about 15 feet, but it seems like four or five stories from the high perch. If you had room to run up and jump off, the flight down was a little less hectic, but there were times we had to stand and push off with both feet, hoping our backsides cleared the shore before we splashed to safety.

Once everyone was content with enough air time, it was time to remount and go with the flow.

On one trip, the flow was interrupted by a rattlesnake dangling off a low-hanging branch of a cottonwood tree. The branch extended out over the river, and the first few of our party passed beneath it unaware. Naturally, one of the idiots in the group decided he didn't want to pass under it, so he grabbed a rock from the riverbed and managed to knock it off the branch just a few feet from me.

Without a weapon, I started pushing water at the snake, hoping he would get the hint and head for shore about 10 feet away. Luckily, it worked. The snake slithered to shore (later I thought it was kinda cool to watch a snake swim) and my goosebumps finally went away about a mile downstream. So much for flow...

Once the trip had run its course, it was time to hike back to a car with all our gear. Sometimes this activity yielded some great wildlife moments, as we would pace through the woods, brush, thickets and meadows of Central Montana.

Some years, rattlesnakes seemed to be everywhere, and the hike back to the car with just sneakers on (nothing to protect your legs) was a little daunting, as you might encounter a "shaker" at any moment. But with the preemptive rumbling of our party (and with a little luck, no doubt), we all escaped our youth without a snakebite, as far as I know.

Soon the local tributaries will be covered with ice, and another season of inner tube relaxation will be in the books. Unless of course you're into wetsuits and hot chocolate...

You can attempt to reach Jerry Hitchcock at 664-8176, Ext. 2017, or via email at jhitchcock@cdapress.com. Follow him on Twitter at HitchTheWriter.