The Demise of Plug Rat III

Introduction

On October 4th at around 2pm, I pinned our new, used, Clackacraft on the overhanging tree just below the Icebox hole on the Bogachiel River. The boat took water shortly thereafter, and within a minute or two, was fully underwater. This left Teagan and I naked and exposed to the will of Mother Nature. The mere fact that I sit at my keyboard today able to retell this story is a testament to luck, or some sort of Higher Power if you believe in such things. Here’s the story of our near death experience on the Bogechiel River, a story that thankfully has a very happy ending…

October 4th

The morning was gray, with light rain and brisk, but comfortable weather. Excellent salmon fishing weather. Our new Clackacraft drift boat, deemed Plug Rat III, stationed at its post in our driveway. We had two plug rods rigged up, two twitching rods, and two float rods. All laid in their respective slots, angled off the starboard gunnel in the Moulsen holder. Waders on, gear loaded and trailer hitched, we set off.

Teagan and I had ambitions of hooking into at least a few fish, on either the Bogey or the Sol Duc, as there had been fresh rains the last couple days, making these two options quite appealing. We both have much more experience steelhead fishing on these North Coast rivers than we do salmon fishing, so we were hoping to really start grinding these fall floats to at least begin to bring our salmon experience in these waters to parity with our steelhead experience. As we drove, we decided on the Hatchery to Wilson’s section on the Bogey, thinking that that section of water would be a great stretch to learn our new boat.

The Hatchery to Wilson’s section is relatively straightforward, relatively short in length with really on one rapid of concern, the rapid just below the Icebox hole. This rapid has claimed boats and lives before, but I felt confident as I had rowed it several times in our raft (Plug Rat II) with no issue. The main area of concern on the rapid is an overhanging tree that stretches almost clean across the river from right to left, resting above the water so that its unbreakable and innumerable branches form a sort of wall or web as they dig into the water. The trick is to stay far, far left, skirting around the tree and into the rest of the rapid.

The Tree of Doom

Teagan and I arrived at the Hatchery around 10:30am to find only one other rig parked there (This will be quite an important detail later on). We were on the late program that day, hoping to miss the early rising crowds and hook into some fish that they may have missed. After getting the boat in the water, I parked our truck and headed down to the boat, hopped into the rowers seat and we were off.

Calm before the storm

The boat felt good, a bit sluggish, and certainly different from the raft, but good nonetheless. It held in plug water nicely, and was very spacious and comfortable. We took a long time picking through the water before the Icebox. This stretch is some of my favorite water on the whole peninsula. We had some nice takedowns on our K13s, but so far had only hooked into jacks, so we ended up rowing down to the Icebox to see what might be happening down there.

Once we arrived at the Icebox, we saw the boat that belonged to the only other rig parked at the launch. We would later learn that this boat was Jerry’s of Jerry’s Bait and Tackle. We floated eggs and pulled some plugs through the hole, giving the other boat plenty of space ahead of us. Soon, we saw them pick their line down the only concerning stretch of water on the section. They pulled far left, giving plenty of room between them and the overhanging tree. Their metal boat boomed and clanged over the shallow riffle, but ultimately made it down without issue, fully avoiding any chance of contact with the Tree of Doom.

Pinned

Once I saw their line, I knew I needed to take the same line, so I rowed us left…but not far enough. I think some part of me subconsciously was worried about “hurting” the bottom of our boat and thus stayed just far right enough to put us right on course for a dance with death. As we began down the riffle, I started to dig, but it was so shallow that I couldn’t get the power I needed to pull us off and away from the Tree. There was enough current to the left of us, that it was actively pushing us to the right, closer to the tree and further from safety. I kept Plug Rat III pointed straight at the tree, digging as hard as I could. There was a second where I thought I may have done enough, and by the time that thought had creeped into my skull, our bow was nestled in the jaws of the Tree’s many branches. We were pinned. Water was slapping the stern. I looked forward and saw Teagan, the love of my life, sitting calmly in the front. The water was so loud she could not even hear what I was yelling to her. We needed to get the boat through the branches, before any water got in the boat. I looked back, a few splashes of water were making their way into the boat. I looked forward and started frantically breaking branches, rocking the boat slightly. I looked back and saw water pouring into the stern. I looked forward and kept trying to pull us through the web of death that this Tree had spun. By the time I looked back again, the boat was underwater and I was no longer standing on anything. Now, I was in the early stages of drowning. Neither of us had our life jackets on, neither of us had our wading belts on correctly. My waders instantly filled with icy water. I had no breath and I was kicking my legs erratically. The only thought going through my head was, “Where is Teagan, Where is Teagan, Where is Teagan". I found her and tried to grab her. At the time I didn’t notice that she was doing relatively ok. She had kicked her feet up and was floating well until I grabbed her. I grabbed her because I thought I might be able to help, but I was only hurting. She screamed to let go of her, so I did, but then I began to sink. She was yelling at me to kick my feet up, but I couldn’t process anything. At that moment, I thought I was going to die. I was making sounds I had never made before. Sounds I heard in war movies of people right before dying, I was screaming for help and gasping for air at the same time. Then, all of a sudden, I was in calmer water. All I knew was “Left, Left, Left, Go Left”. My knees hit the rocky bank, but I was still gasping and panting and I could see Teagan had already come ashore near me. I could see Jerry and his boat had already moved upstream to us. I was completely soaked. Our boat was gone. Our gear was gone. The day had gone from pleasant to deadly within seconds.

Jerry had turned his heater on in the bow of his Willie, in preparation for fighting the hypothermia that Teagan and I were now vulnerable to. He gave us dry sweaters and jackets and had us pile into his boat. As we began downriver I was fighting extreme nausea. My entire body was shaking relentlessly. My brain was racing with thoughts of extreme gratitude that Teagan was beside me and healthy, and also with thoughts of self hate and disgust… “This is the thing you’re supposed to be good at, and the first time you row a drift boat you sink it and almost kill both onboard.”

Jerry’s role in this story cannot be overstated. There’s a very real chance that he saved our lives. There was no cell service, no one coming down behind us, and no road to walk to within reason. I was hypothermic and we had, realistically, no way to make a fire to warm up. We had no food and no water. Without Jerry, our odds of survival were quite low. Not only did he respond immediately and without question, once we were in the boat, he treated us like long time friends. He handed us rods and got us fishing, doing his best to take our minds off of what had just transpired.

As we floated further downriver, we ran into another character. A man Jerry referred to as Russel the Love Muscle. He informed us that he had already contacted dispatch to inform that a boat had likely gone down. He had seen some gear floating down and grabbed it. He was a very nice man and a great help.

Eventually, we arrived at the launch, where both Russel and Jerry said with great confidence that we would see that boat again. All we needed to do was contact Jack Iotte. Jack was supposedly the man for the job, as he had recovered many downed boats in his day. My mind raced with how this would all unfold.

As we headed home, pulling a trailer with no boat, without any of the fishing gear we came with (except our box of plugs, which was an awesome find), there was utter silence. My world had been rocked. This was supposed to be the thing I was good at… I simply could not believe what had happened. We arrived back home in silence, still wet from the day’s events and I called Jeff. He’s the only person in the world that I knew I could talk to. The only person that I knew who would have gone through something similar.

Jeff offered the advice that would ultimately result in this story having a happy ending, and it started with his favorite analogy:

Why don’t you stub your toe anymore? Because you stubbed your toe over and over as a kid until you learned to pick your damn feet up. You gotta pick your chin up, get back out there and pull that damn boat out before it’s gone kid.

After an hour or so of speaking with him, we were resolved to go back out in our raft that next day to try to get a rope on our downed boat, or at least get eyes on it….

It was a silent, miserable night that night. I questioned my existence. I thought I might never row again. Might never fish again. Perhaps it was even foolish to move to the place that gave my life meaning.The most bizarre part of this entire day however, was the fact that mere minutes before getting pinned, I quoted Game of Thrones to Teagan:

“What do you say to the God of Death…..not today.”

We cheated Death that day. And now was our time to exact our revenge and “pull that damn boat out of that fucking river”.

To be continued.