Step 1: Get a raft.
Step 2: Get your buddy's one-man pontoon boat's rowing frame.
Step 3: Get some ropes and tie that thing down however you can, and make sure the ropes are tight.
Step 4: Stuff a folding chair in the front of the boat so your buddy can ride in style.
Managed three days on the Trinity between storms last month. Water was in various stages of fishable while we were there. Water below French Creek was a raging torrent of chocolate milk:
Water between JC and Big Bar was okay, 12 inches of visibility, but still super high. Didn't see much of the water between DC and JC, but the water below Indian creek was looking pretty good. The water above DC was in great shape. A little cold, but good flows with a hint of the steelhead green.
We started off below JC in hopes of swinging up a fish or two tight against the bank... no dice. Wading was tough and swinging was pointless with the water temps below 40. Had one grab between the two of us all day.
Next day we checked out steel bridge and found some prime water, but no fish. Even the fishiest slots and buckets turned up nothing. We switched back and forth from the nymph game to the swing game and came up blanked again. This time not even a grab. We saw fish, just no takes.
With the prime water came the boats as well. We saw at least 10 or more guide boats below bucktail, every one with a different report, "Oh, an epic day," to, "I've never seen it this tough." Our sentiment agreed with the latter. We heard the fish were on the egg bite, but we had been hammering the river with every different size and color of egg for nothing.
The last day we started at the steel bridge but quickly moved on... Another epic showing of shitty fishing etiquette... We got an early rise and corked out the fishiest water of the trip first thing that morning. Before I had made 10 casts a gear guy comes sloshing in below me about 30 ft and starts bombing casts over my fly line... men have been known to kill people for less than that... THEN... then his buddy appears out of nowhere just above me... I had gone from a good 50-60 foot long run all to myself, to having 10 ft of river to fish. Their mission was a success: I packed up and left.
We moved down river to get away from the people and the boats, and it turned out to be a better move. Nate hooked a good looking brown trout on a big brown rubberleg stone:
and I managed one average steelhead on a rubberleg red copper john:
Not the epic trip we predicted, but at least we didn't get skunked.