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Chapter XIII
THE PI C T U 1! E WE D I D X ' T G E T
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nb year I planned a rather ambitious trip, that of personally conducting two canoes down Clarke's Fork River in Montana, the Pend Oreille River, and then into the Columbia River to the sea, a voyage of approximately 1200 miles. I wrote to the Adventure Magazine for data regarding the rapids and falls that would be met on this trip, and also the feasibility of the undertaking. In due course of time the answer came back that it couldn't be done with any degree of safety and that it was a good idea to forget.
So one night early in July found us encamped on the banks of Clarke's Fork just below the town of Thompson's Falls, Montana. The party consisted of a cook, two actors, my assistant and myself and about eight hundred pounds of duffle. After launching the two 16-foot canoes, which were to carry all of this outfit and five passengers, in the quiet back-water of the river, I discovered to my astonishment that I was the only one of the group that had ever been in a canoe. The moonlit evening was spent by my teaching the boys the various uses of the paddle. After watching our nautical (lass for a half hour the cook silently stole off to town returning about eleven o'clock with a rowboat which he had purchased for $9.00 and which he emphatically informed us was his own personal property, and was to be used by him in preference to either one of the1 canoes.
After an early breakfast next morning we stowed the cameras, film, and camp duffle into the two canoes. The cook placed all of the kitchen utensils and three beds in his own boat, and we shoved off, bound for Astoria and the Sea, twelve hundred
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