Jeff Driver was my guide on the White Salmon, when my good friend Jim insisted that I go rafting for the first time. As we drove up the winding dirt and gravel path to All Adventures Rafting I instantly felt a sincere relief wash over me despite the thought that I would soon be struggling into a skin tight body suit in the chilly February air. The business was run out of the Driver's home right on the edge of the White Salmon, a bit upriver from where we would put in.

The home was small and rustic, with an easy country charm about it. The rural atmosphere and assemblance of vehicles in the yard took me back to years of boy scouting, gathering together with other kids on small country farms, working together to stow away our gear for a weekend of camping and trouble making. Karen, Jeff's wife, pulled in right behind us, Bible in hand, on her way home from morning worship. I felt completely at home.

Despite the awkwardness of shoving myself into layers of synthetic thermal underwear and thigh-hugging rubbery outerwear, Jeff taught us the basics of rafting right there in his front yard. He had such an air of confidence and off-handedness about everything that I was certain no ill-fate awaited me under the waves of the river. Well, not as long as I did what he said.

Soon afterwards the confidence Jeff had inspired was washed rapidly away as we approached the roaring turbulence of the put-in. The water churned and spat at us as Jeff guided the huge purple and yellow raft off the guiding rails and into the river. I felt as if Poseidon himself had decided that this would be the year to vacation in Southern Washington, tired of washing away sailors, he was eager to suck young, foolhardy men beneath the frigid waves of the White Salmon. Not about to let me back out, Jeff ordered me into the raft. After a few moments spent reviewing paddle commands, we launched into the waters.

Jeff called out for us to paddle forward, meeting the turbulence of the initial rapids head on, with speed. Somewhere between my brain and my arms a neural traffic jam of alarming proportions occurred, causing me to fumble with the paddle. Suddenly we were being accosted by waves of water, tossing me back into the raft, off of my seat. As my rump hit cold rubber, my arms decided to remember what I had asked a moment before and began enthusiastically paddling at the air as I struggled to pull myself up with the heals of my feet as we were buffeted back and forth.

A few seconds later, Jeff and Jim were laughing loudly as they helped right me in my seat while the raft slowly spun in circles to bump against rocks butting out into the water. Karen chuckled at our mishap as her kayak pulled up alongside us. Soon we were back on track and steaming down the river at full force. The cold winter air, the breathtaking beauty of the day and the splash of freezing water in my face soon plastered "perma-grin" on my face, as Jeff called it.

Jeff, along with Jim, had brought back my love of the great outdoors through a new way of experiencing God's great handiwork. Eventually the trip winded to a close, yet there was no going back to life on land for me. I loved rafting.

When Mom and Matt came to visit last Summer there was no one else I trusted to the lives of Joleine and my family with. Though Jeff guided the accompanying raft behind us, I knew I could trust any guide he placed in our raft. Perma-grin again plastered our faces as we plunged over the 14-ft. drop of Husum Falls. Later, we tired friends and family with memories of one of our greatest vacations.

It's with these fond memories that I think Jeff should be remembered and he would enjoy the most. I thank God for the short time I knew this man, and for the memories he helped create.

- Written by Michael Sigler

I just got off the upper Klick this afternoon. I'd like to give everyone a quick heads up on the run.

Most of the debris from this weekends recovery efforts has been removed. There is still a raft broached on a log (River Left) about 3 miles above the fish hatchery. I would not recommend attempting to remove it just yet. There is another very dangerous strainer just down stream, and a slip could prove fatal. Also, it serves as a good "warning" for the nasty log that it's splatted on. We'll get it later.

The site of last weekend's accident is still very dangerous. We marked it as best we could with some caution tape. It is roughly 3.5 miles above the fish hatchery. There is an impressive and beautiful basalt cliff on the left, with an island drop just past it. There are some non hazardous logs on the up stream side of this island. One of the most visible logs has been marked with 3 bands of yellow caution tape. At this point, ALL RAFTS MUST GO RIVER LEFT. The right looks good; however, it is very dangerous and deceptive. Good class 4 kayakers should have little problem with either channel. But go left anyway just to be safe.

The accident that happened last Saturday was a terrible blow to the entire river community. We have all suffered a huge loss. I found myself saying to many people the last few days: That if I had come across an accident like this one, Jeff Driver would have been the FIRST person I would have called for assistance. I'll miss his friendship, his knowledge, and his contagious respect for the river.

I would appreciate this information being passed on to any and all that might be running the Upper Klickitat in the near future. Especially private and commercial rafters.

Let's all have a great time paddling this spring, and remember those who have passed.

Thanks for your time.

Brandon Backman
River Ranger
Columbia River Gorge National Scenic Area
541-308-1729
541-806-0105

P.S. If anyone would like to help out Jeff's family, the best way right now would be to make a donation toward the costs of Jeff's funeral. Please contact Gardner Funeral Home if you would like to help. Thanks.

Gardner Funeral Home Inc
1270 N Main
(509) 493-1323
Fax: (509) 493-4229