On a recent afternoon in Bend, kids and adults squealed as their inner tubes bumped down river rapids designed for summer fun. When it’s hot outside, the city’s whitewater park on the Deschutes River can draw more than 7,000 floaters a day. The scene gets chaotic with tubes, kayaks and paddleboards piling up on each other.
One floater held an iPhone in one hand, and a beer can in the other. Others clutched soggy shoes, and more than a few lost control. Lled Smith studied the fray with a trained eye.
“Watch this lady,” said the 53-year-old database administrator from Bend. He pointed to a woman sprawled over a flimsy pool float, and tried to guess exactly where it would flip over.
If she dropped something, Smith wanted to know where to look for it later.
He’s an avid river surfer who rides a wave at the park most mornings, but he also puts his wetsuit to another use: diving with a snorkel and mask to find what gets lost in one of Oregon’s most popular recreational rivers. He and two friends — Miranda and Kea Eubank — started doing this regularly in 2018, and Smith created an Instagram account to post pictures of their underwater finds. Now, @LootTheDeschutes has nearly 8,000 followers, and a compelling mission to reunite lost items with their rightful owners.
“It’s like treasure hunting,” Smith said, “And the littlest thing can turn into the biggest thing.”
A delicate silver ring slipped off Layla Yako’s finger in the rapids last summer. A year later, she saw a photo of it on Loot the Deschutes’ Instagram and messaged Smith. He asked her to send a picture of herself with the ring, which is one way he verifies people’s claims. Yako responded quickly and they met up.
“Oh my gosh. You’re the absolute best. Thank you! I appreciate this,” Yako beamed at Smith.
The ring wasn’t a particularly sentimental or valuable item — she thinks she paid about $40 dollars for it online — but the act of kindness by a complete stranger almost brought Yako to tears.
“I am pretty freaking blessed, I still can’t believe it,” she said.
For Bridget Evans, the jewelry she briefly lost in the Deschutes was much more than a ring.
“It was the symbol of hope in this new chapter after cancer,” Evans said.
Her ring was a gift from friends to celebrate the end of Evans’ breast cancer treatments. When it turned up in the river, Loot the Deschutes’ followers tracked her down by recognizing which store sold the distinctive mother of pearl design.
“I hope to be able to pay it back one day,” Evans said.
With that in mind, she recently volunteered to go on an early morning dive with Smith. As they prepared on the shore, he walked her through the basics of snorkeling.
“Keep your mouth shut and breath,” Smith quipped, then mischievously showed Evans how to spit on her goggles and rinse to keep them from fogging up.
Over the years, about a dozen volunteer divers have joined the cause and started patrolling various stretches of the Deschutes. Mostly, they find sunglasses, cans, phones and garbage. Evans went out for the first time with higher hopes.
“I’m hoping to find a ring, and trying not to get my hopes up,” she said.
Under the water, fish darted away from them. Swirling bubbles made it hard to see as Smith checked each nook and cranny of the rapids passing over sharp lava rocks, where rings tend to hide. Evans stuck to calmer eddies, where the risk was lower of getting her foot stuck or falling. Then, she popped up gleefully with her first finds.
“Woo!” she shouted. “A nice pair of sunglasses and some trash.”
Garbage is typical for a dive like this. Smith estimates that he and other divers have pulled thousands of pounds of trash from the river.
“We need to pick it up, or else it’ll always be there,” he said.
At a separate, one-day river cleanup this summer, volunteers hauled out nearly 2,000 pounds of litter, weeds and debris from the most trafficked stretch of river in Bend. Smith has personally found refuse dating back a century. At his fellow divers’ house, a hodgepodge of river junk accumulates in a backyard shed.
“Check out the size of this bullet,” Smith said proudly, combing his fingers through a pile that also included dog tags, two pairs of false teeth and some brass knuckles.
He led the way to a pile of old parking meters and rusty metal. He poked through a basket of wallets, and wrenched open drawers filled with watches, vape pens, lighters, ruined Bluetooth speakers, cameras, and one drawer so chocked full of cell phones it wouldn’t open.
The growing mountain of debris speaks to the rising popularity of the Deschutes River, and the need for groups to help clean up people’s impact on the ecosystem.
The self-described river looters post most everything but the trash they collect online, in the hope of finding an owner. The majority of items go unclaimed.
Smith eventually gives away much of what he finds if it remains unclaimed. But the rings, about 300 found so far, he keeps for as long as it takes, just in case someone comes looking. This year, 11 of about 40 found rings have been claimed. Smith said he has no interest in pocketing or selling them.
“Because they’re mostly wedding rings,” he said, “These are all mainly men’s wedding rings.”
One thing he would keep, if it turns up, is his own wedding ring. Smith is still looking for the platinum band that came off years ago in the same stretch of water. If someone else finds it first, he hopes they’ll try to track him down.
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