Prolly ten years or so ago, I took my single man pontoon down the river after work, mid-summer, by myself. (Put-in was only like 6 miles from my house.) Got on the water by 5:30. I pulled over right away cuz there was a spot I wanted to get out to fish. Fuck, I started slaying em'. All nice fish, and seemingly one right after another, and it just kept going. I couldn't tear myself away from it, but at some point snapped out of it, and realized I had been there for a while, and still had a long ways to go on the float. Looked at the time and it was pushing 8:00, and I still had at least 2.5 left in the float.:yikes: My wife was to pick me up at the takeout, but I had to call her and have here come get me at the highway(couple miles up river), as it was pitch black by then. Last 45 minutes of the float was pitch black. Had to listen for "whitewater" and go towards it. Anyway, one stretch, the river gets pretty small, maybe only 15-25 ft across, and this goddamn beaver kept coming right up next to me and slapping the water with his tail, like right fucking next to me. He did that prolly 6 times. The first few scared the bejeezus out of me, as I couldn't see shit, and it's obviously heavy bear country. Shortly after that stretch, the river widens back out, and splits off into a half a dozen channels, (Shallow enough to walk across), before they all dump back into one huge river. A huge herd of, presumably elk, stampeded across those channels, I would guess maybe 25 yards ahead of me? Sounded like an avalanche.
My wife was not impressed, to say the least.