Rare is the day at Havasu that you don't talk to a dozen boatmen. Usually you know most of them; occasionally you meet a new one; on an odd occasion you might introduce two senior boatmen who have somehow never met.
Well, there didn't used to be so many boatmen or so many trips. In fact, November 20, 1937 marks first time in Grand Canyon that two river trips, or two boatmen, ever met. Frank Dodge was the head boatman of the Carnegie/CalTech geology trip, slowly working his group down river. On the water behind him, moving fast, was Haldane “Buzz” Holmstrom, an Oregon filling station attendant, about to complete the first solo voyage from Green River, Wyoming, to Boulder Dam.
The following is an excerpt from The Doing of the Thing: the Brief, Brilliant Whitewater Career of Buzz Holmstrom, by Vince Welch, Cort Conley and Brad Dimock, which will be published later this month.

Frank Dodge's trip had been going well. Dodge ran a tight ship — too tight for some people — but they had come through the Granite Gorges upright and had ample time for their geologic work. At Upset Rapid, Dodge had gotten too far left, headed into a yawning hole, and vanished entirely from sight. Climbing back aboard his boat below the rapid, he rowed to shore. Washed out? No, he said. When it looked as if the boat would hit a rock, he jumped out. Raised in Hawaii, Dodge was a lifelong swimmer, more comfortable in the water than out.
Dodge first earned notice on the 1923 usgs expedition at the same rapid. As the boatmen prepared to run it, Dodge stationed himself at the foot of the rapid in case anything went wrong. Head boatman Emery Kolb went into the hole, capsized, struck his head on a gunwale, and appeared disoriented. Dodge dove in, swimming at the perfect angle to intercept Kolb and his boat. He climbed on the boat, pulled Kolb up, and brought him to shore. Colonel Birdseye, who had been skeptical of Dodge's abilities, immediately promoted him to boatman.
In 1927 Dodge was hired as lead boatman for a movie-making trip that ended at Hermit Creek. In the early 1930s he lead two survey trips through the lower gorge. Now, at forty-six, he was considered one of the best boatmen around. When Holmstrom began writing to him for a job in 1936, Dodge had already picked his crew — Owen Clark and Merrill Spencer, two boatmen he had run with before. Besides, Holmstrom's letters had not impressed him. Nor had the name.
Dodge, in his autobiography, wrote,
I couldn't help but size him up by his letters as a punk kid, though having some experience on other streams, would not be a reader and so would be ignorant of this stream. That if he did get through it would be purely luck. From Tapeats Creek down, the gang began to razz me in fun.They'd make believe they were asking Buzz questions such as, “Buzz, how many rapids did you line or portage?” Answer, “Hell, me line these rapids? No, I ran every one — I wouldn't bother with such as these, etc., etc.” Well, I thought when and if he catches us he may very well be a blowhard kid and though I've never had a bit of jealousy in my system regarding the river, it would be hard to listen to a kid, riding his luck, to tell me my mistakes.
Indeed, the party had received the radio message from Holmstrom that he was on his way, and much of their campfire talk concerned his chances of making it. John Stark, one of the geologists, known as “Cactus Jack,” had taken to leaving notes in the sand and on driftwood for Holmstrom, on the chance he might overtake them.

* * *
Holmstrom spent a miserable night below Lava Falls. The wind howled, blowing grit and embers in his face as he tried to cook. Exasperated, he went to bed early, pelted with sand, sparks, and spray.
Nov 19 — 8:00 — Boat loaded below Falls — cloudy again this a.m. — will take some pictures & shove off — got up early & took drink of water out of bucket in dark — at daylite discovered two drowned rats in it — Before drowning however they had eaten some butter for me — Between rats & myself the butter is not holding out very well — On looking at the Falls this a.m., am quite sure I could run it but would portage every time unless there was some very good reason for trying it.
8:40 — actually ready to leave Lava F now — got thinking possibly those rats drowned themselves in remorse for eating my butter.…
He made twelve miles before lunch, and another seventeen by late afternoon, when he stopped at a fresh camp. Pulling in, he found a slab of driftwood on a tripod of sticks. Cactus Jack had written “Hello Buzz” in large letters on the board. A can of cocoa rested by the smoldering campfire. Holmstrom camped for the night, profoundly touched by the welcome from boatmen he had yet to meet.
Nov 20 5:30 a.m. — eating break — still bright moon lite — surely pretty — rapids roar below — across river on top of cliffs a sleeping giant — at least 1 mile long — sleeping on his side — can see clearly from head to toe — all the cliffs & rocks are surely pretty in the moonlite & starlite — 6:50 all ready to shove off only waiting for a little more lite as quite a rapid right below — sunrise is beautiful — moon still in sight in the west as though to show the sun the way — in the east above the dark cliffs the sky is the bluest blue I ever saw & runs through different shades up to the pink & red clouds — makes me mad to try to describe it as there are no words that will do the work.
My overalls are developing a good sized hole where they touch the seat of the boat the most — off at 7.…
As soon as he could see well enough to negotiate 209-Mile Rapid, Holmstrom launched. Hot on the trail of Dodge's group, he hoped to catch them that day, perhaps at Diamond Creek, a large tributary on the south shore. Perhaps, Holmstrom hoped, they would stop there for a day or two.
* * *

The twentieth of November
Is a day we'll all remember
For around the bend at Diamond Creek
there came another boat
And a bearded youth sat rowing
With a red hat plainly showing
Buzz Holmstrom had come down
more than a thousand miles afloat.

He was eager and excited
Scarcely ate as he recited
His adventures from Green River
and his eyes they fairly shone,
As he told of his ambition
Which had nearly reached fruition
To be the first to travel down
the Colorado all alone.

Thus wrote Cactus Jack in his Doggerel Log of a Canyon Trip, adroitly capturing the spirit of Holmstrom's arrival. Never in Grand Canyon history had two river parties met. Never had anyone run it alone. The entire trip was as excited to meet Holmstrom as he was to catch them. As he pulled in and stepped out of his boat, he held up the “Hello Buzz” sign, wanting to know who had written it. He thanked Cactus Jack for “the biggest morale boost of my life.”
Geologist Bob Sharp took careful notes:
Buzz caught us at 11:15 a.m. at mouth of Diamond Creek — Height 5¢ 8H= weight 155–165 lbs — husky — nice build — Heavy black beard — fairly large head — nice patches — hair dark brown — hair thinning in front — eyes blue gray.… Buzz obviously very glad to see someone — mentions lonesomeness — talks very fast and at good length — good natured.…
They shook hands, exchanged stories. Each wanted to know what the other had done at Lava, at Dubendorff, at dozens of other rapids. Holmstrom was amazed by the size and weight of Dodge's expedition boats, telling the men that his own feat was nothing compared to what their boatmen had managed. They were the heroes.
Head geologist Ian Campbell asked Holmstrom if he'd ever been scared. “Gosh, Dr. Campbell,” he replied, “I've been scared ever since I left Green River.” They loved it. They loved him. Here was a man equal to the place, a man more humble than the Canyon was grand.
Standing back, aloof from the excitement, was stiff, overbearing Frank Dodge. But his preconception of Holmstrom was crumbling. Finally, he came over and held out his hand. Holmstrom, awed at meeting the famous Frank Dodge, grasped his hand and shook it heartily, beaming. Years later, Dodge described Holmstrom's first few minutes in their camp:
Something shone out of his eyes, something of wonderment and relief that the worst lay behind him and that he was with friends and only a little more to go. I think if one man can love another that we all loved Buzz from that moment on.
Holmstrom spent the rest of the day with the men, rowing down to Travertine Canyon, where they camped together. Holmstrom was interested in the geologists' work and fascinated by a garnet outcrop they discovered there. At meal times, wrote naturalist Edwin McKee, Holmstrom was ravenous — his personal food cache was down to one can of beans.
Around the fire that night, the men of the survey party wrested more of Holmstrom's tale, from the finding of the Port Orford Cedar log to spending his last dime in Flagstaff. They talked of rapids run and rapids to come. Dodge described the two major cataracts still ahead, Separation and Lava Cliff, and the route through each.
The next morning the boatmen were reluctant to take leave of each other. A bond — a boatman's bond — had formed. In his journal Campbell wrote:
Didn't get going very early, as wanted to have sun to take farewell pictures of Buzz, & he seemed loath to leave — tho he had to rush to get back to the job he hoped he still had. A true amateur — said he expected to make no money out of his trip — “the most money I can make will be by going right back home and going to work again.” He had with him Jack's wooden board on which Jack wrote all our names. Said he was going to have it framed — & it was something he'd never take any amount of money for. We asked him if he hadn't noticed any writing in the sand, & he said yes, “Hinds for president” which brought a loud cheer. He surely has sharp eyes — knew our boats were mahogany because of a small splinter pulled loose on the Lava Falls portage.
As Holmstrom prepared to leave, the men came over and offered him a collection of money they had taken up, a little something to help him get home. Holmstrom was overwhelmed, but refused it. As he climbed into his boat, Frank Dodge held out his hand once more and clasped Holmstrom's hand. “Buzz,” he said, “you're all right.”