Thirty years into Alaskan adventures, my husband, George, and I found ourselves up a creek without a boat — or, that, is, with a boat that wouldn’t float.
George had floated Moose Creek many times and finally talked me into this adventure. We rented a really nice rubber raft and paddles, and paid a bunch of money to a fly-in service to be dropped off by car at a remote creek, with airplane retrieval three days later and 30 miles downstream.
As we were dropped off in the middle of nowhere, we were eager to get going. We might have been a bit too enthusiastic while pumping up the boat. The side we were inflating was nearing full and tight when, to our horror, we heard an explosion. Had we read the instructions, they probably would have mentioned pumping up the two sides equally before topping them off. Unfortunately, we caused an aneurysm that popped, ripping a 5-inch hole in the tube.
The patch kit contained a tiny tube of glue, a few quarter-sized patches, a needle and flosslike thread. Not liking the thought of swimming the river, we got to work on the patching. Fancying myself a good seamstress, I rolled up the ripped tube, stitched away, squeezed out the entire quarter ounce of glue and stuck on the patches as best as possible.
