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Going with the flow
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Wilderness rafting on one of America’s few remaining untouched Wilderness Rivers

The River

The Child is a River,

The River is a Drum,

Listen to the rhythm,

Listen to the water drum.

Earth Mother, Sky Father,

Everything turns a corner.

The Parents are the rocks.

River, Ocean, Evaporation,

Precipitation.

Blood of the Earth,

Life force of your heart.

Channel, ledge, wedge,

Sieves, dams, undercuts.

What will you use for your drumsticks?

— Poem by Andy Lee, River Guide.

By Robyn Cubie Photography by John Meyer

Idaho – it’s more than just potatoes. It is also about rattlesnake canyons, towering granite peaks, fork lightning forest fires, hot spring waterfalls, golden eagles overhead and one of the most scenic, untouched wilderness white water journeys in North America – at least that’s the perspective after one week on Idaho’s Middle Fork of the Salmon River.

Admittedly I am a bit of a white-water junkie, having worked in the rafting industry on and off for more than 10 years, in between periods of journalism. And when the invitation came to jump aboard a six-day journey down this class III/IV river, I didn’t hesitate. Why? Because the Middle Fork of the Salmon has many qualities that are becoming increasingly rare in this "developed" age.

For starters, this 106-mile river, which begins with the merging of Bear Valley and Marsh Creeks north-west of Stanley, is one of the few remaining rivers in the United States to escape the onslaught of human development. It remains free of dams or industry, its composition purely the result of the more than 100 tributary streams that contribute to its free-flowing waters, before it joins the Main Salmon River. Fortunately this will remain so, because of its 1968 designation as an official Wild and Scenic River.

Equally attractive is its isolation, with humans forced to take the eagles’ route in via airplane, or hike their way to the river through sections of the surrounding Challis, Payette or Salmon National Forests.

As with any river adventure however, the journey begins long before dipping your toes in the water. Twisting the arm of my photographer partner John Meyer to come along was the easy part. A little tougher was the 18-hour drive from Whistler to Ketchum, Idaho where we would join our host Payette river company, Far & Away Adventures – a company founded in Idaho by Steve Lentz in 1980.

Fortunately the changing landscape kept us captivated. Spiralling columns of dust across the yellow plains of northern Idaho and Washington hinted at the tornados they could become, while the earth breathed motionless under the beating sun. Travelling east past Boise, the weather became increasingly moody with the crackle of lightning across the sky while dark clouds boiled ominously on the mountainous horizon.

Arriving in Ketchum was like stepping out of small town America and into an up-market year-round resort community, similar to Whistler. Home to Hollywood’s rich and famous – Demi Moore, Arnold Schwarzenegger and Tom Hanks all have homes here, and it’s easy to see why. The silhouettes of chairlifts stand out against the surrounding hills ready for the winter’s snow and the town bustles with people enjoying themselves at an array of appealing restaurants and cafes. We kicked ourselves for not arriving a day earlier. But there were people to meet and a six-day trip to pack for.

It didn’t take long to track down one of the trip guides and a great friend of mine, Jane Dicey from South Africa. Together we have been down rivers in California, Ecuador, New Zealand and Oregon – the most exciting being our infamous Rogue River trip that left me with a broken nose and all of us enjoying the chills of white-water rafting during a blizzard. At least Idaho was hot.

Joining us were Clare and Mark Robinson from Massachusetts with their 10 and 13 year old sons, Matt and Brad. Rounding out the group was river guide John Le Roy, former New Yorker and jack-of-all-trades.

"I’ve done just about every blue collar job under the sun, from construction to truck driving, being the maintenance guy in a brothel and working in a factory," Le Roy beamed.

Central to his portfolio since the mid 1990s has been professionally running rivers throughout western and central USA and Mexico.

"The Middle Fork is such a choice trip that when a space opened up with the company in 1999 I jumped on it," he said.

Middle Fork trips with Far & Away typically include about 24 clients shepherded by six guides. Lentz said 10,000 people a year boat the river, regulated by the Forest Service’s commercial and private permit system, but most times you would be hard pressed to guess there were others on the river. It’s isolated – apart from the place where the trip starts, that is.

Our mode of travel out of Stanley and over the jagged Sawtooth Range was a twin-engine Britain Norman Islander, piloted by Andrew Emde. A real rough diamond if there ever was one, 53-year-old Emde said he has been flying since he was 13 years old – officially since he was 16.

"My brother in law would make sure I knew the course and then fall asleep at the controls," he chuckled.

Emde started his own air taxi business in Alaska during the 1980s and subsequently moved his operations to Idaho several years ago.

"You can’t beat this for an office," he said, gesturing at the surrounding 9,000-foot peaks and forests. "This is my summer job and I love it."

Thirty minutes later we touched down at the Flying B airstrip – one of several landing strips along the Middle Fork. We were not alone, as every guide in the state seemed to be pumping up a raft or giving a safety talk to a group of clients.

Our group’s boating arrangement consisted of three people in the oar raft with Jane, followed by four others kayaking in inflatable "duckies" – so called because the kayaks bob behind the main boat, similar to a mother duck and her ducklings. Within 10 minutes of paddling on the Middle Fork, Jane assessed our respective kayaking abilities – or lack of. John was assigned the post of "team rescuer," charged with helping comrades stuck between or wrapped around rocks. He also assumed the position of "team guinea pig" and got to run the biggest rapids first.

People wanting a chance of pace could also ride with Le Roy on the sweep boat, which carried the bulk of the gear.

As we journeyed down the series of Class III rapids and float sections, Jane filled us in on the history of the area. We learned of the Sheepeater Wars of the late 1800s, which saw the US Cavalry’s systematic removal of the peaceful, resident Indians who used to live off the Big Horn sheep there. We found 700-8,000-year-old Indian pictographs on canyon walls and boulders, and checked out the occasional "dude ranch," including one owned by a Mormon and his wives, until the bigamy laws caught up with them. We saw golden eagles, fish, wild sheep and listened to the coyotes whine. The group behind us saw black bears. We also got personally acquainted with a rattlesnake on the first night when moving rocks to built a tent site. Despite the teachings of that mad Australian, The Crocodile Hunter, we decided not to stick around and annoy the snake for the hell of it. The rattler got to keep its space and this subsequently saved us from getting flooded.

How’s that? When a huge electrical storm rolled in later that night, bringing with it torrential rains, we were pitched on a nearby slope rather than on the reptile’s piece of flat ground, which collected a couple of inches of water.

Now I’ve been on plenty of camping river trips around the world but none have ever come close to the food we ate on this one. It’s enough to give you the post-trip blues – especially as I eye the Kraft Dinner options presented by my food cupboard. The on-river menu included filet mignon, shrimp cocktail appetizers, fresh berry fruit and pineapple, duck, pork tenderloin, salmon steaks and fresh asparagus. Loaves of bread were baked daily in a make-shift Dutch oven, comprised of a circular pot resting on hot coals and a few extra coals on the lid to make the loaf-top crusty. There were also fresh baked cakes and flans for dessert. Throw in the full linen and china service and it was pretty much five star dining – with a superior view.

The whole experience can seem surreal. There you are, a temporary visitor to the home of bears, snakes coyotes and mountain lions, dining five-star riverside with a glass of wine in your hand. Taking time out of "the bubble" is something Jane urged us to do from the outset.

"Walk out of the sight and sound of our camp and think about the wilderness," she said. "If you get away from the hubbub of what this camp provides for some quiet, private time you will find it well worth it."

Even if you missed doing this, the beauty and power of the natural environment was impossible to ignore. For example, a forest fire sparked by fork lightning made our last camp uninhabitable. We simply moved further down river and watched a helicopter with a monsoon bucket fight the fire.

On day three we got to find out why Le Roy has earned the nickname Rumpelstiltskin, when strong head winds wedged the sweep boat onto rocks. It’s a mammoth task for a team to shift that much weight, let alone an individual. A subsequent perfect run down a technically very difficult section lifted his spirits again.

"Rafting kicks every other job’s ass," he laughed. "It has really reinforced to me that you don’t have to stay in the rat race to have fun. I wouldn’t trade this lifestyle for half the hours and twice the money."

But life in the commercial rafting world is hard work, with the guides up at 6 a.m. every day to start preparing breakfast and without much chance to take a load off until well after sunset. Jane said the seduction of a rafting lifestyle is being outdoors, the independent travel opportunities and realizing how little you need materially to be happy and the freedom that brings. She said being away from family is tough at times, but the international boating community is a family within itself.

Le Roy added that you would be hard pushed to find a more educated group of individuals than in the boating world.

"Pretty much everyone is qualified in a trade or profession, so the wide skill range comes in handy."

Jane said it is river journeys like the Middle Fork of the Salmon that especially reinforce why they chose this lifestyle over others.

"This journey changes many peoples’ lives forever in ways they don’t expect, and when it’s time for each trip community to go its separate ways, the farewells are often very emotional."

Day six and we found ourselves back next to a road access, where Lentz and his family waited with two trucks. We loaded up the boats onto vehicles for the last time. After exchanging e-mail addresses and many hugs, it was time to leave. The Robinsons were heading back east; our guides needed to prepare for the next group waiting in Ketchum.

Sitting in our truck I had the mixed feelings of a post-adventure high and the sadness of a journey’s end. Fittingly perhaps, a sudden thunderclap and flash of lightning signalled yet another summer storm. Insulated inside the vehicle, I watched fat raindrops slide down the window before hardening to bouncing hailstones, and recalled the experience of camping out in that energy field. A final reminder of the raw power and untamed beauty of Mother Nature, and our privilege to be part of it all, even if only for a week.



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