The next day our float took on a different nature. It was raining furiously when we started our drift and continued relentlessly. The river rose at an alarming rate, and at one point we had to pull over to the bank. The rain was coming down so hard that Dan could not distinguish between the water and the sky. With treacherous rocks around the bend and no visibility, we waited for a let-up, bailing out the boat with coffee cans and shivering. The river was showing us it's merciless tyrant persona. When it finally let up, we made for the take out and a hot bath. In the years to follow I have seen the river wear many masks, but its ability to transform itself into a furiously churning dervish is the most startling. In a huge storm last year the river rose from 9 feet to 32 feet(one foot below flood stage) in 24 hours. Unfettered, the river rose one foot per hour, altering its course and reforming its bed. Each year the "holes" are modified and born anew, and each year it is a 'new' river.

Christmas on the river is always special. We have floated the river on Xmas day for the last few years. The first Christmas Float we made with my son Dan, home from the Air Force Base in Aviano Italy. It was his first trip down our river, and a special day for all of us. This year was even more special. We were just approaching the Simpson Hole with one other driftboat close by. There were a couple of bank fishermen staring across the river intently, and so we shifted our gaze in that direction. Moments later there was a huge cracking noise and in slow motion a giant old growth redwood hurtled downward. It was about 15 feet in diameter, about one hundred feet high, and it exploded right in front of us sending a five foot wave in our direction. We were all stunned, then we started yelling at each other.

The bankies told us that they had been hearing loud pops from the tree right before it toppled. Only ten people on the whole earth saw this tree fall, and we were two of them. People who had lived here all their lives had never seen such a thing. What a Xmas present. Huge pieces of redwood were everywhere floating down the river and littering the beach. When we had recovered our senses and closed our mouths, we tried to decide whether we should try to outrun the debris. We decided that the wood could stack up between the big boulders in the water and we would be stuck with no way down to the take out. Dan power rowed us down below the major debris and out of harms way. As soon as we had the boat on the trailer, we headed for the mouth of the river. Huge trees, picnic benches, and various other household goods raced by us toward the crashing surf. We spotted a thirty foot piece of redwood heading to the breakers. When it reached them, the river and ocean flipped it skyward, twirling it like a baton thirty feet in the air.

The river tempts the fish and the fishermen into its waters, for it assured that one is surely followed by the other. These fish must be equal to the challenge of the waters, and the salmon and steelhead of the Smith are world famous for their courage and endurance. Anglers must be prepared to engage in battle. Guides must respond with changes in tactics as conditions fluctuate continuously throughout the day. Having achieved a hookup, only a well orchestrated game plan will bring that fish into the boat. Location, river height and speed, and a miriad of obstacles must be overcome. This is true sport. Smith river battles make the best "fish stories".

Well, my husband is calling me. Wants to know if I want to hang around the house all day or if I want to get my butt into the drifter and fly fish some salmon. Not much of a decision to make here. Once in your life, you must come our way and float the Smithy. You too, will never be able to get it out of your mind.

Columnist Joan Carter co-owns, with her husband, Dan Carter's Guide Service.