Ranch Rudolf.
We were approaching Traverse City, Michigan, unsure of that night’s accommodations, when I said to Kate, “Hey, Ranch Rudolf is somewhere around here.” Ranch Rudolf is a place I went with my family as a teenager, and Kate has heard me tell the story of “The Disastrous Winter Canoeing Adventure” many times. She was excited about the possibility of seeing the place she’d heard so much about. She called them up, and their campground was full, but they offered us a spot in an overflow lot. The turn-off for the resort was just a couple of miles up the road. We took it, and then bumped down three miles of what was surely the worst dirt road we’ve driven Bessie on.
The Disastrous Winter Canoeing Adventure
In 1974, my family vacationed at Ranch Rudolf with two other families. We had camped there before in the summer and had tubed down the adjacent Boardman River, but this was our first winter visit. Our second day there, all six parents went into Traverse City to go shopping, leaving the 11 kids back at the ranch to entertain ourselves. You can only play so many games of Crazy Eights before the walls of a motel room start closing in on you, and when we noticed the trailers full of canoes stored at the far end of the camp, one of us suggested a winter canoe trip. Why not? The sun had come out and warmed the air to above freezing. It felt downright balmy for Michigan.
Colleen (sitting), me, and Beth, getting ready to launch.
I can’t believe that we actually talked one of the younger, inexperienced employees into not only renting us three canoes but driving us three miles up the road and launching us into those icy waters. The current was relatively calm, but we hadn’t counted on all the storm-felled trees and beaver dams. Every bend presented a trickier obstacle to maneuver around. We hadn’t gone very far when we smashed into a dam. The boat tipped upside down, tossing my sister and our friend, Colleen, into the frigid river. The shock of it knocked the breath right out of me, and even though I could stand, it took some time for me to command my legs to move. Colleen was trapped underneath the canoe, and it took some time to get her out. By this time, the canoe was firmly wedged between rushing current and logs. There was no righting it.
Our friends’ boat.
We made our way to the nearest bank, which unfortunately was the side opposite the road. We waved on the other boats, who promised to send help, and trudged along the river’s snowy edge. The bank got steeper and steeper, until cliff met river and we had no choice but to climb. By this time, Colleen, who’d been submerged the longest, was really slowing down. Her hair had turned to ice, and she just wanted to rest. Near the top, Beth grabbed onto a tree to hoist herself up and with a ripping CRACK, it broke and fell, narrowly missing us below.
At the top, we were disoriented and soon lost track of the river. Unsure of which way to go, we kept walking just to keep moving. When we heard the distant sound of snow mobiles, we started screaming as loud as we could. There were three of them, enough for all of us to hitch a ride. I hate to think what would have happened to us if they hadn’t come along and rescued us. Back at the ranch, our parents had returned to find no children. When they heard we’d all gone off on a canoe trip, they were beside themselves. Long after we were all back safely, they continued to fume, even when our fingers and toes finally regained some feeling and we were hysterically re-enacting our adventure. Had our parents had been at all litigious, we might all share ownership of Ranch Rudolf today. But as it is, we have a great harrowing tale to tell. For my sister’s angle on this story, check out her blog post: http://thebethlists.weebly.com/55-strangers/category/rescuers-on-snowmobiles.
The dining room/lodge.
Ranch Rudolf Today
I was delighted to find that in 40 years, Ranch Rudolf has changed very little. The dining room/lodge looks exactly like our old photos. The same antler chandeliers, same bar and captain’s chairs, and the round fireplace where we thawed our toes. Even the 10-foot couch is from the 70s. The only thing new is a large, flat-screen TV. The place has been kept up well, just preserved. There’s still a stocked fishing pond, the swimming pool, stacks of canoes and tubes for rent, horses for trail rides. There’s a campground and motel-like rooms. I was happy to see it again, but without our big crowd of families, it just wasn’t the same. I thought we might be legendary there: The Stupid Kids Who Tried to Canoe in the Winter. But even though the current owner has had the place for 32 years, no one went that far back. They did get a kick out of my story, though.
Ready to jump into the icy water.
Thunderstorms were forecast for the next day, but not until noon. So we got up early and rented tubes at 10:00. It was cloudy and cool and the water was icy, but nothing compared to my last dip in the river. It would have been more enjoyable on a hot afternoon, but I was determined to go down that river that had thwarted me 41 years ago. And Kate was a great sport about joining me. Even in the summer, the current was tricky with many low branches and obstacles to navigate. We made it back just before the rain hit, and quickly packed up to go to Sleeping Bear Dunes. What we didn’t know is that a record-breaking storm was headed our way. If we’d waited another hour or two, we could have had a second disastrous Boardman River adventure.