This is not them, but close
It was mid-summer 1981 when my oldest daughter and her husband motorcycled from Eugene to Bend. I don’t recall the original purpose of the trip, even though Barb and I rode our 1979 Gold Wing. Shortly after lunch they joined a group floating down the Deschutes. Some of it was a pond-like while other parts were get-a-grip white Water.
They were soaked through when they rejoined us. Everything they owned was wet and they rode the 135 miles home that way.
Good times, they were.