Summer Fun on the Salt River

The SALT RIVER

It was more than 10 years ago when I first stuck my big toe into the Salt River. I was a coed at Arizona State University, and "tubing the Salt" was considered a rite of passage no red-blooded Sun Devil would miss. I remember hundreds of brightly (and barely) clad bodies, each slumped into an inflated automobile inner tube, bobbing up and down in the calm current of the Salt River. I remember the warnings about the dangers of tying a cluster of tubes together. And I remember the sharp pain of slamming backward into a rock when half the tubes we'd tied together anyway chose one way around a rock island, while the rest chose another. Tip 1 for touring the Salt: the only inner tube you should be tied to is the one carrying the ice chest.

I recently went back to the Salt to take a float down memory lane.

But just as my thirtysomething ears now prefer soft "alternative" music to ear-ringing rock and roll, my thirtysomething bones seemed better suited to one of those cushioney inflatable rafts than to a bodyscrunching inner tube. So I contacted professional river guide Ned Lareau and made arrangements to tag along on a half-day Salt River float planned by Desert Voyagers. On the appointed day, our van navigated the dips and drops in the Bush Highway (Power Road in Mesa) until we turned off to reach our put-in point, named Phon D. Sutton. Because most tubers get out of the river at Phon D. Sutton, Ned likes to avoid river traffic by starting here. As his crew unloaded its armada of 16-foot rafts, we waited by the river for the other rafters to arrive.

This didn't look like the same river I had tubed all those years ago. I remembered the vegetation being taller and the river being wider. Perhaps both are still true when you're sunk into the water in the center of an inner tube, distracted by the fish that take an occasional nip at your backside in exchange for being disturbed.

What I hadn't seen during my original Salt River go 'round were the wide-winged blue herons that sailed above the shoreline trees and plunked themselves down on skinny flamingolike legs in the middle of the shallow water.

We returned to the parking lot to welcome the day's rafters, a group of 30 or so German high school students who were wrapping up their summer excursion through the United States with a last hurrah in Arizona. They stood stoically as Ned explained what was allowed and what was taboo in the sport of water fighting. The cardinal rule: do not bonk an opponent over the head with a paddle.

After much motioning and laughing, the teenagers helped each other wiggle into their life jackets and clomped down the incline to the river's edge. As they waded into the water, their puffed up torsos set atop bony white legs called to mind the blue herons that had been there minutes before.

Everyone set about the very serious task of choosing a raft. As an equal-opportunity rafter, my choice in boat captains was Jody Spargo, a well-tanned in-charge type who looked like she knew her way around a river. Soon after we'd all piled in and pushed off from shore, Jody looked around as if she'd lost something important. "Has anybody seen my bucket?" she asked. No one had. Then she called out to the other boats. No one had it; she must have left it on shore. Convinced by her reaction that the loss of this equipment would put a crimp in our excursion, I asked what she used it for. "It's my best dunking bucket,"

she said. "And with this crowd, I can tell we're going to need it."

As I looked over to the boat that had paddled up alongside us, my face met a chute of water that drenched me and several eyes, I saw a gangly, grinning kid holding our missing bucket high above his head. "It'll only last 10 minutes, max," Jody said, assuredly. "They start out strong, but they usually wear out pretty quickly." A half hour later, the water still flying by the bucketful, I looked back at Jody. "I guess these guys have more energy than most," she said sheepishly.

They all did, but one. Every time I caught sight of him, Dieter was looking directly at me. Upon closer observation, I recognized the gaze. It was the one I had used on a handsome camp counselor many years before. It was the I-may-be-much-younger-than-you-are, but-I'm-more-mature-than-I-look look.

For the rest of the trip, when I jumped into the water to cool off, so did Dieter. When I decided to paddle around in an inflatable two-person funyak, Dieter volunteered to be my partner. Looking on the bright side, I knew that with Dieter watch-ing my every move, there was little chance I would drown.

Except for Dieter, this was not a sunbathing and scenery crowd. By the midpoint of the two-hour trip, there were more German kids in the water floating their way downriver than there were in our rafts. But there was little danger. At this stage of the river, it wasn't necessary to be a strong swimmer, just a strong walker.

The Salt River Project controls the river's water flow. During a typical summer day, the flow will average from 1,000 to 2,000 cubic feet per second (cfs). On this day, the 1,500

The SALT RIVER

(FAR LEFT) Tubing down the Salt River is a venerable summertime tradition. (CENTER) The wildlife panorama along the shore is a bonus for those floating downriver. This blue heron keeps a watch over its rookery. (LEFT) A two-person funyak offers an option to the ubiquitous tubes that ply the Salt.

WHEN YOU GO

The main recreation area on the Salt River is 20 miles northeast of Phoenix. Take State Route 87 (the Beeline Highway) east to Bush Highway (also the Saguaro Lake turnoff), then travel south, following the signs to parking lots and put-in points.

Salt River Recreation, the concessionaire that runs the tubing operation under permit from the Tonto National Forest, is located at the intersection of Bush Highway and Usery Pass Road. The cost for all-day tube rental and shuttle bus service to five stops along the river is $7.25.

Roadside entrepreneurs often set up stands on the way to the river, selling inflated tubes for about $4. Those who bring their own tubes can get a full-day Salt River Recreation shuttle ticket for $4.

There are five authorized put-in points along the river. Depending on the length of river covered, float times range from one and a half hours to eight hours.

Several rafting companies are licensed to offer guided half-day and full-day floats down the Salt River. Half-day rates are approximately $50 for adults and $30 for children under age 12. Group discounts are available.

Salt River Recreation generally operates from April 15 through September 15.

Life jackets are recommended and are required for children and nonswimmers. A typical river rat's gear includes tennis shoes, sunglasses, a bathing suit, hat, and a supply of sunscreen. Wear a light-colored T-shirt for added sunburn protection.

For more information, call Salt River Recreation at (602) 984-3305 or the Mesa Ranger District of the Tonto National Forest at (602) 379-6446.

A small patch of white water, the highlight of this and any river trip. While the Salt River's Class 1 rapids may pale in comparison with the Colorado River, which has some of the roughest rapids in the lower 48, one can still delight in the Disneylandlike ride, no matter how brief. And we did. Remembering our on-shore briefing, we knew that when Jody barked orders, we had to listen up. As we approached a stretch of white water, Jody told us that the paddlers on my side of the raft needed to start stroking. Because my raft was almost an all-girl affair by now, those of us who weren't distracted by what the boys in the other rafts were doing and saying and thinking responded. It turned out to be too little too late, as we learned when we slammed against the rock wall that Jody intended for us to drift around.

Chagrined, but unharmed, we pushed ourselves back into the current. To prove that we had élan, or perhaps because Jody had given up on getting real help from her crew, we traveled through the rest of the passage backward.

The lower Salt River's brief white water segments may be the most exciting part of the river float, but they aren't all there is to enjoy. A few weeks after my first flat-water raft float, I returned to the Salt with Ned, his crew, and a group of vacationers that included a coterie of sixtysomething New Yorkers.

This time we put in at a point higher up the river, a point that would run us right through the prime tubing territory. But it was a Sunday morning-not prime tubing time.

From my perch on the edge of our raft, one leg dangling in the water to keep cool as the temperature rose, I witnessed a wildlife panorama. Ahead of us, trout jumped out of the water, perhaps in an effort to get a good look at who was coming their way. A band of what appeared to be turkey vultures circled and swooped in the distant desert. And a boom box played, signaling that we were approaching a band of those most curious creatures of all, teenagers.

While most folks who come to the Salt come to get in it, others come to its shores to watch the rest of us float by. You might say it's a Southwestern version of Paris' sidewalk cafes. As we rounded a bend in the river, there they were, a few of the loudmusic lovers, their beach chairs set up in the back of their trucks, out on the rocky beach and at the river's edge. Because it was early, they weren't out in full force yet. They waved. We waved back.

We came upon a small group of tubers, each of their rubber inner tubes tied to the one carrying the ice chest. The New Yorkers started teasing a teenage couple sharing the same tube. With his girlfriend sitting in his lap as if his body were the seat of a swing, the fellow innocently replied, "We're doing this to keep warm." This excuse drew laughs and high marks from the couples on board.

It was a mellow kind of day. The Salt was so mellow, in fact, that the woman at the bow of our raft was caught napping under the cover of her sunglasses. This easy pace is part of the Salt River's charm. Because the current on the lower Salt is usually no more tumultuous than the twirling teacup ride at an amusement park, anyone with a manpowered craft, whether an inner tube, a kayak, a canoe, or a raft, can ply its waters. But they usually don't. They lean back and let the river do it for them.