Our Story
Who was Whale?
By Brad Dimock
Photo: Nancy Erger
Curtis Hansen came to Hatch River Expeditions in the late ’60s and became both a boatman and an institution. During one wild run of Upset Rapid, portly Curt—who had hiked in to join the trip at Deer Creek on a hot summer day and quenched his thirst with whiskey—tumbled overboard and washed ashore comatose. And someone said “Look—a beached whale.” From that time on, few ever heard the name Curt Hansen again—he was Whale. Of course some say it happened in Deubendorf. He was wearing, as the story goes, a poncho. No life jacket. Some say he was naked…
Yes, he had vices—he smoked, he drank, his weight fluctuated from the trim Killer Whale to the giant Sperm Whale. From a boyhood in southern Idaho potato country, Whale had gone to Vietnam and served as a door-gunner on a helicopter. Demons that climbed on his back over there would resurface throughout his life. He had ulcers and his health was sometimes a concern to his friends. And there were many, many friends. No matter how much he might irritate you at times, you could not help but love the man.
Because he had so much love in him. He loved his garden, his goldfish, his friends, and, most especially, the ladies. His big heart had a big lap and a big shoulder nearby. Few ever heard him say a bad word about anyone.
You didn’t have to know him too long, though, before you realized he was a heavy hitter. He was capable of anything. And one thing was certain—Whale didn’t do anything he didn’t want to do. He was his own man and no one—no one—made his decisions for him.
Late in the summer of 1995, Whale decided to clean up his act, take care of his health, get a real job, and become a 90s kind of guy. But a rock none of his friends ever saw got in the way of his run. As August was ending, Whale went to the woods and laid himself to rest. He left without a goodbye and left more shocked and saddened friends than can be counted. Although we will all miss his physical presence dearly for a long time, his spirit and soul live on, permeating the Canyon, the Mountain, and his friends.
Whale, thanks for your time with us, your love, and the sparkle in your eye.
Lessons from Whale
The loss of Whale Hansen underlined the struggles of seasonal employment and the lifestyle of commercial guiding. The very real difficulties he faced in his career are still present today.
Lots of folks face challenges in their family lives, but guides have to address theirs in the few days' break between long stints away from home. Many people think about changing careers, but it's a bit more difficult when your part-time employment keeps you out of society for five or six months. There are bankers, doctors and teachers who get to a point in their lives when they decide to address their habits around alcohol use. Guides who make that decision are leading everyone else's vacation for an entire summer, participating time and again in what for so many is their peak life experience, and one seemingly deserving of a spirituous celebration, nightly.
Add to this the crashing loss of camaraderie, purposefulness, and accomplishment that comes from ushering wide-eyed folks through the sublime landscape of Grand Canyon when, at the end of a season, friends and co-workers disperse to all corners of the country to make their way through the fallow off-season. It can be desperately quiet and an overwhelming adjustment to return to "the real world." Annually, guides face the listlessness of seasonal retirement, and that's a real challenge to contend with for some, as it's often faced very nearly alone.
What the founders of the Whale Foundation have ensured for over 25 years, is that never again will a guide feel alone or have nowhere to turn when he or she is ready to ask for assistance in facing these trials head on.