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Rafting on this wild river readjusts perception: Heartbeats demand notice, small comforts become luxuries, and nature's canvas dwarfs the memory of life in town.
By ROBERT N. JENKINS
© St. Petersburg Times, published July 29, 2001
ON THE SALMON RIVER, Idaho -- "Now see that rock and how the current moves to the right beyond it?"
Dave Warren, seated behind me and holding the oars for our 16-foot, 10-inch-long rubber raft, is trying to impart some navigational advice about the Salmon River.
But despite two days of being rowed nearly 40 miles by Warren, I cannot see what he is talking about. This part of the Salmon all looks like so much rushing, dark-green water, broken in some places by varying hills of white caps. Beneath the white caps the river flows either into holes or past more rocks.
Nonetheless I nod for Warren, who is now standing in order to get a better view of the water flow. I nod because I do not want to make him repeat what to him is obvious and thus break his train of thought as we accelerate toward the toughest rapids we have faced yet.
"We're going to back into this" -- what's that? Back into the rapids? -- "and let the current shoot us over to the left, before we reach that big hole there after the rock," Warren is saying.
Well, yes, I can see that rock, because it is about the size of my Honda Accord and we are on a collision course with it.
"And then the current will carry us back to the right," Warren continues, smoothly.
"That's in theory, of course," he adds, a summary I didn't need to hear.
As push comes to shove -- in this case as untold cubic feet of water force us downstream -- Warren leans into his oars, ripping forward with one, backward with the other. This pushes the rear of the raft into one of the seemingly contrary currents.
The water swirls us to one side, magically jets us across the river, then turns us back to face front -- and I see that we are headed just to the left of the Honda boulder, where the water flows most swiftly, into the hole most deep.
I don't dare turn around to see what Warren is doing to save us. Instead, I hook each hand into straps securing my seat pad to the metal frame lashed securely to the raft.
We miss the boulder, but at that instant I am looking down into the hole of rushing water next to it. Way down, maybe four or five feet.
Then, the expected does not happen, and I am not looking up at the clear Idaho sky from underwater.
Instead, the laws of hydraulics, in which Warren has a Ph.D. from the school of hard knocks, whip the front end of the raft forward and up. I get one big, cooling splash in the face, and we are past the turmoil.
I have scooted right through the Salmon's Big Mallard Rapids, categorized as a Class IV rapids. The European Rapid Rating System, running I-VI in ascending order of difficulty, helps boaters and kayakers determine potential danger; Class IV is defined as:
DIFFICULT -- long rapids with powerful, irregular waves, dangerous rocks and boiling eddies . . . take all possible safety precautions.
I did that part, at least, for I got into this raft with a man who has guided rafts, kayaks and wooden boats on this section of the so-called River of No Return about 190 times in the past 14 years.
Warren, 39, readily acknowledges that he does not advertise his 15-20 trips each summer as dizzying white-water adventures. Rather, his trips, and those of the other 27 outfitters licensed to put their craft onto this federally regulated river, are more about enjoying the great outdoors.
White water is part of the thrill, surely, but so is seeing a bear (as I did, during two of our stops), eating surprisingly good food prepared in Dutch ovens on the riverbanks and just relaxing for days in a place where even cell phones won't work.
"On this river you're not at the end of the world," Warren says, "but you can see it from here."
The Salmon River, originating in northeastern Idaho near the border with Montana, is swollen with snowmelt from four mountain ranges. It is undammed anywhere on its 425 miles, the longest such stretch of river in the lower 48 states.
For about 180 miles, the Salmon travels through a granite-walled canyon more than one mile deep -- about 1,000 feet deeper than the far-more-publicized Grand Canyon.
On the part of the Salmon called the Main, the drop in elevation averages more than 12 feet per mile, enough to push the water along at 4-5 mph. An experienced river runner adds 1-2 mph pulling occasionally on the oars.
Over 151 of its miles, the Salmon flows through a remarkable place, a place few people will ever see, even though it is publicly owned and covers 2.37-million undeveloped acres. That is 11 percent larger than Citrus, Hernando, Hillsborough, Pasco and Pinellas counties combined.
Most of us will never get to this special place because we would be discomforted in doing so. This is the Frank Church-River of No Return Wilderness. While that convoluted name honors an environmentalist, it does little justice to the grandeur and solitude of the land.
The late Church, D-Idaho, served in the U.S. Senate from 1956-80. He got legislation through Congress not only to set aside the vast tract for recreational purposes but also to preserve its pristine state by severely restricting the ways humans may use it.
Thus, you won't find any RVs, all-terrain vehicles or even mountain bikes in the wilderness: Mechanical devices are not allowed. Not even a wheelbarrow.
There are no gas-powered generators to run electric appliances, no chainsaws for cutting firewood.
Also restrictive are the federal laws concerning the quarter-mile-wide corridor on either side of the Salmon, designated a Wild and Scenic River. No more than eight sets of rafting groups, public or private, may set out on the river on a given day.
The object is to protect this land for all generations to come. If you want to hunt, fish or hike here, fine. You'll do it on foot or move to your sites by river craft or horseback.
There are rudimentary dirt trails leading to unimproved camping sites and to about a dozen back-country lodges. (The existence of three of these lodges is coming to an end, under a federal court decision; please see related story on Page XXE.)
What the relative handful of visitors find along the Salmon is horizons of mountains, usually covered by Douglas fir and Ponderosa pine. There is also the mountain mahogany, which outfitter Warren calls "the Northwest's answer to mesquite" because of the flavor the burning wood imparts to food.
The vistas often include huge stands of burned trees -- "black toothpicks," Warren says -- destroyed by forest fires as old as the 1940s and as recent as last year.
But everywhere you get long minutes of silence, broken only by the white noise of the gurgling river and the occasional bird's song.
Or maybe your river guide will interrupt to name each creek (pronounced crick, here) or recount how mountain men, gold prospectors, loners and eccentrics -- Andy the Russian, Buckskin Billy Hart -- tried their luck in these parts, more than 100 years ago and less than 40 years ago.
The guides debate how far along the Salmon Capt. William Clark actually scouted in August 1805 before he decided he and Capt. Meriwether Lewis and their Corps of Discovery couldn't make it on the river in canoes.
Occasionally you see bears, deer, elk, eagles, osprey. Occasionally you get out of the rafts to walk up a hillside to see pictographs -- paintings on rocks left centuries before by Indians. Occasionally you get out to ease gently into a natural hot spring; even in July steam rises from the surface of these pools.
The hot water feels good, if the rapids have splashed you often enough. But even when the temperature reaches the low 90s, the mountain air lacks humidity, and six hours of running the river does not wring you out as much as an hour of yard work in Florida.
Warren and other outfitters offer their customers two kinds of sleeping accommodations during the typical five-day trip: in lodges or on sandy patches by the banks. "Doing dirt" -- sleeping outdoors -- is roughing it, gently.
Rafters are shown how to quickly pop open a domed, two-person tent for the night, how to get the "key" (the roll of toilet paper) in order to use the chemical toilet that is carried from camp to camp. ("Only one key, only one person at the "unit' at a time," Warren explains in a mock-serious lecture during the first beach landing.)
Warren leaves the cooking of breakfast and dinner for the campers, and the lunches for everyone, to the barrel-chested man whose business card reads "J. Michael Hovey, Business Ed/Marketing Ed Teacher-Coordinator, American Falls High School."
Mike Hovey spends his summer vacations running the Salmon, rowing a raft and cooking meals. Warren carries hundreds of pounds of kitchen gear for Hovey. On my trip, breakfast at the campsite one morning was eggs Benedict with salmon substituted for the Canadian bacon, asparagus with hollandaise sauce, and sweet, freshly baked bread. Dinner that night was Creole shrimp, bowtie pasta, freshly baked baguettes, tomato salad with Parmesan cheese dressing, and bread pudding with a whiskey sauce. Warren and two other outfitters sell a cookbook of their recipes.
Opting to pay a little more to stay in lodges each night offers a variety of experiences:
The Salmon River Lodge, on a smidgen of waterside land that is privately owned, uses water power to generate its own electricity. The cabin walls are made of thick pine; in the main lodge's great room-dining room, guests can kick back on huge recliners to watch videos.
At the 24-bed River of No Return Lodge, there is no electricity -- propane lamps put out minimal illumination but notable heat -- the walls are of pressed wood-chip paneling, and the entertainment shelf includes a box of dominoes, a set of horseshoes, Ping Pong paddles and the game of Uno.
Farther down river, Jack's Cabin is aptly named. There is no electricity, the beds are sleeping bags on bunks in dorm-style rooms, and there is no indoor plumbing; the toilet is an outhouse.
At the privately owned Whitewater Ranch, there are beds enough to sleep 22, electricity, indoor plumbing and an airstrip for single-engine air taxis that ferry rafters, hunters and fishers in and out. The manager is a professionally trained chef who decided to opt out of the developed world.
Now Big Al Fernaays has to drive 26 miles on graded dirt to reach a paved road, then 14 miles farther to get to Elk City. City may be stretching things: Only 450 people live there. If Big Al wants to take in a movie, it is about 90 miles and three hours to Grangeville.
The crank-style telephone on his dining room wall connects to only one other lodge.
Still, he can sit in the yard with his sleep-over guests and trade the binoculars back and forth to watch the mother bear and her two cubs on the opposite side of the river.
With just four years in the Wilderness, Big Al is a relative newcomer. Not so Dick Smith, a horse wrangler and general handyman at the relatively fancy Salmon River Lodge. For 34 years he has been running pack-mule trips for hunters, guiding anglers and maintaining various lodges.
"The river dictates what we do," Smith says one night on a cabin porch. With winter's ice and spring's thaw, "It decides when we can come back, when we have to go."
Smith relates that the federally licensed, motorized boats bring the lodge mail and newspapers once a week, which is enough.
"I went to the town (the city of Salmon, population 3,000) the other day, and I couldn't remember why. Everything there is so artificial, and this," he nods toward the river, "is so real."
GETTING THERE: River-rafting outfitters "putting in" on the Main Fork of the Salmon River typically assemble their passengers in the town of Salmon, Idaho. Be prepared for a full day of travel to reach Salmon from the Tampa Bay area.
You most likely will have to fly to Phoenix or Salt Lake City, then change to a commuter jet to Boise. At the Boise airport, you can rent a car and drive five hours -- part of the way over scenic but narrow mountain roads -- to reach Salmon.
Or you can pay to have your outfitter reserve a seat on a single-engine plane for the 80-minute flight to Salmon. The planes typically fly at about 9,000 feet, high enough to give an interesting view of the several mountain ranges between civilization and Salmon.
At the end of the usual six-day raft trip, passengers have two choices for returning: They can either be flown back to Boise on a plane taking off from a grass landing strip -- to me, more thrilling than zipping through rapids -- or they can ride a jet boat back to the place where the rafting began, where they will be driven the two hours back to Salmon.
A jet boat is an aluminum-hulled craft, not much wider than a bass boat but powered by enough engine to whip up the river at 35 miles per hour. That speed enables the hull to plane over the rapids. The jet boats are allowed on the river by federal law because they provide a safety measure if raft passengers or rowers need medical help.
STAYING THERE: Passengers arriving the night before the river trip begins have a modest choice of motels in Salmon; ask your outfitter for recommendations. I stayed at Wagons West, rated just one diamond by AAA. It was adequate, but except for the air conditioner, less comfortable than each of the three lodges I stayed at on the river.
WHAT TO BRING: Your outfitter will supply a list of recommended items: an extra pair of sneakers or sturdy sandals you don't mind getting wet, a rain suit and sweater or fleece in case the weather turns, sunblock, etc. Otherwise, imagine spending several days on a small boat and pack accordingly.
Every rafter is supplied a life jacket, and the guides will make sure it fits snugly, in case you fall into the river and someone has to grab the jacket to pull you back into the raft.
Every passenger is also given a spacious, watertight "wet bag" in which to put all luggage and clothing, and a much smaller version for items you might want to get to during the day on the water: camera, sunblock, water bottle, etc.
Once on the river, all meals are provided; beer and wine may be offered during times ashore. You may wish to bring your own liquor.
Do not bother bringing your cell phone; you will be too deep in the wilderness to reach a relay tower. Lodges use radio telephones.
WHO ARE YOUR GUIDES: Guides range in age from teens to those in their 60s. The state of Idaho licenses guides, who must prove they have maneuvered a craft down the river at least three times under the supervision of a licensed guide. Dave Warren requires additionally that his guides take a 90-hour first aid course that emphasizes emergency response when no formal medical help is close at hand.
In an emergency, a patient would either be taken by jet boat to the nearest town or to a helicopter landing area alongside the river.
RESTRICTIONS: Getting in and out of the high-side rafts, especially if you are clambering over slippery river rocks, can be difficult for anyone. The guides will always offer assistance, but people who need to use walkers, canes or wheelchairs will be at a significant disadvantage, even going from the riverbank up the sometimes steep slope to lodges.
Warren River Expeditions prefers not to take children younger than 6 years, although the outfitter does offer grandparents/grandkids trips.
COSTS: This company's six-day trips range from $1,200 to $1,650, depending on the type of voyage (kayaks, beach stays, lodges). It also offers six- and seven-day steelhead-salmon fishing trips, in March and October, for $1,600 and $1,700, respectively. Warren River Expeditions offers a 10 percent discount for those under 17 or over 55.
In addition to the company's rates, each passenger pays a 3 percent Forest Service Use Fee, 5 percent Idaho sales tax and a separate $5-per-day Forest Service fee. Those added charges are standard for any outfitter.
FOR MORE INFORMATION: Contact Warren River Expeditions, P.O. Box 1375, Salmon, ID 83467; call (208) 756-6387 or toll-free 1-800-765-0421. The fax is (208) 756-4495; e-mail to SalmonRiver@raftidaho.com. The informative Web site is www.raftidaho.com.
The Idaho Outfitters and Guides Association can be reached at P.O. Box 95, Boise, ID 83701; call (208) 342-1438. The Web site is www.ioga.org and includes lists of those guiding river-running, fishing, hunting, hiking, biking and horseback trips.
The U.S. Forest Service puts out a handy, slim map and guide, The Salmon, a Wild and Scenic River, that details the river-rafters' path through the wilderness. I bought a copy for $7 at Rendezvous Sports, a big outfitter in Salmon that is owned by Dave Warren's wife, Thyra.
A good general guide to the state is Compass American Guide's Idaho, by John Gottberg, for $18.95.
The state agency handling tourism requests is the Idaho Division of Tourism Development, Idaho Dept. of Commerce, 700 W State St., Boise, ID 83720; call toll-free 1-800-635-7820.