The Middle Fork

By Chris Dean

"All forward!" yelled our guide above the roaring river as we approached the rapids. "Left--forward!" he hollered to the six of us as we paddled furiously.

If there was one thing we had learned during our brief "training period" with our guides, it was to never, ever take your oar out of the water when you were working your way through the rapids. The urge to just hold the oar still and experience the thrill of going through a Class III rapids was in direct conflict with what we had been told. We all paddled hard as the water sprayed in our faces, "All forward! Hard!" His expertise at the back of the raft controlled the path we took and we supplied the manpower. We swerved and danced our way through the rapids, and within minutes, were again in calm water. We cheered and hooted until our guide said calmly, "Good job, everybody. All forward." We all exhaled, collectively, and continued our adventure down the river. We were on a six-day rafting adventure trip and this was just the beginning.

In Idaho, when you say, "The Middle Fork," everyone knows that you are talking about the historic, adventurous, and vastly complex middle fork of the Salmon River.

For myself, my husband, and our two sons, ages ten and thirteen, this was to be our first river rafting trip to Idaho. We had read much about the Middle Fork of the Salmon River, and from what we had learned, it seemed like a perfect fit for our August, family adventure vacation.

The Middle Fork of the Salmon River originates twenty miles northwest of Stanley, Idaho, in the Rocky Mountains. It is 106 miles long and eventually joins the Main Salmon River. On October 2, 1968, according to the guidebooks, the Middle Fork was one of the original eight rivers in the nation designated as Wild and Scenic. In July, 1980, the President of the United States established the "Frank Church--River of No Return Wilderness" which encompasses the Wild and Scenic River in its entirety. The "Wilderness," through which the river runs, has been set aside to preserve and perpetuate natural conditions. The Middle Fork is a river that is known for its diversity and dramatic changes in its geology and scenery. It drops approximately 28 feet per mile and starts at 6,000 feet elevation. Where the Middle Fork meets the Main Salmon River are the Bighorn Crags, one of the most dramatic mountain ranges in the country. This land is still preserved in its natural, breathtaking beauty and except for a few trails, landing strips, private ranches, and Forest Ranger stations, there is no evidence of man's presence. It sounded like the perfect place to launch a family adventure vacation.

We arrived in Boise (pronounced Boy-Cee, not Boy-Zee, we were told) in the early afternoon and rented a car to drive to Stanley, where we would stay for one night. From there we would go to Challis, about a 45-minute drive from Stanley. Because the river was low, we would be flying in a small airplane, from the Challis airport, into the wilderness, and getting on the river at mile thirty, of one hundred miles.

The ride from Boise to Stanley took about three hours and was over the Sawtooth Mountains, part of the Rockies. Stanley is a small resort town, on the highway, that has a population of no more than one hundred and is within spitting distance of the Salmon River and a stone's throw from the dramatic Sawtooth mountain range that borders Stanley. Stanley has a natural hot springs, a general store, a lodge, a few motels, and a lot of charm. The next afternoon we left for Challis, where we were to meet our group and have an orientation in the evening.

We met up with our fellow adventurers in the parking lot of a local motel in Challis, where most of the guests on the river trip were staying. We met our adventure provider and were given instructions about how the next six days were going to unfold. We were given our sleeping bags, mats, and instructions on how to pack the dry bags that would be on the river with us. We were all given mugs that were to be used for everything from brushing our teeth to drinking our evening beverage. We soon came to cherish these mugs.

We were up early the next day and met at the small, local airport, as was planned. My two sons and I were to fly in one plane and my husband in another. The experience of riding in a plane the size of a Volkswagen, deep into the Rocky Mountains, was a thrill I will never forget. When the pilot asked my fourteen year old if he wanted to fly the plane, he eagerly responded with a nod of his head. (He now thinks he's a pilot!)

The mountains were breathtaking from above and after about twenty-five minutes in the air we saw a small ribbon of river that our pilot identified as the Middle Fork. There was a very small landing strip, etched into the mountains, onto which our pilot set down. There, we were greeted by our guides, who were an affable, outgoing, incredibly knowledgeable, and extremely funny bunch of guys. After the other members of the party arrived, we went to the river. We were given an introductory lecture by the forest ranger stationed there about the rules we were to adhere to for the next six days. She told us that ten thousand people a year go on the river, and private parties (those not affiliated with tour companies) have to wait up to six years for a permit. The quickest way to lose a permit was to disrespect the rules of the National Forest. She stressed that the Chinook salmon is an endangered species and is federally protected, and anything that is done on the river can impact the larger river and any fish within it. The Middle Fork has a "catch and release" policy for fishermen, and even the types of hooks that are used are regulated by the Forest Preserve. Throughout our experience on the river, I was impressed with the groups we encountered that were strictly fishing trips, and the sheer joy its members experienced, catching and releasing. In our own party, we had several avid fishermen. They were up early and in the river before the sun came up and their passion for the fishing experience was contagious. That they could not bring home their big catch did not seem to matter.

After the educational piece from the forest ranger, our guides told us how the next six days were to unfold. We had kayaks, rafts that we could paddle, rafts that were paddled for us, and a huge sweep boat that would carry all of our supplies. The sweep boat would leave camp before the rest of us and would get to camp before us, to set things up. Which ever guide took the sweep boat down the river had an awesome responsibility. The raft was huge and it was usually manned by just one person who stood in the back and controlled it with an enormous rudder. It was quite a sight to see a sweep boat maneuvering down the river and through the rapids.

We all put on our life jackets, which we were told we were to never be without while on the river, and set out. The river adventure began--and what an adventure it was! Over the next six days, we had the time of our lives.

We traveled with a group of twelve people that we got to know extremely well by the end of the trip, and four incredible guides. These four guides, three in their twenties and one in his forties, were the most remarkable people I have ever had the pleasure of spending a period of time with. They were extremely knowledgeable about the river, from every aspect. They knew the history of the region, all the folklore, the names of all the falls and camps along the way, every minute detail of the river, and . . . they were gourmet cooks! They could answer any question that came up while we floated down the river, and they were perfectly comfortable allowing us to take in the magnificence of this river and the mountains, in eloquent silence. They never lost their sense of humor and thoroughly enjoyed time spent with guests.

During a typical day, we would rise shortly after sun-up and have a delicious breakfast. We slept in two-man tents on comfortable mats and after we had breakfast, we would re-pack our dry bags and the guides would begin to break down camp. We would be on the river by 9:00 and float, break for hikes, stop to look at pictographs (Indian cave drawings), and have lunch around 12 or 1:00. The lunches were delicious, as were all the meals. After lunch, a hike, or nap, we would get back on the river. During our six days, we encountered rapids with names like, Tappan Falls, Jackass Rapids, and Haystack. On one particular day we set up camp early and hiked into the mountains where there was a natural hot spring. We basked in the steamy water and relaxed. It was a piece of heaven! Normally, we were off the river by 5:00. When we arrived in camp, the tents were set up, tables and chairs for dinner were set up, and all we had to do was kick back and relax. All of our dinners were prepared in Dutch ovens and I have a new and profound respect for this type of cooking. These incredible guides would make the most exquisite dinners, each and every night. After dinner, we would sit around the fire and talk amongst ourselves, or our guides would regale us with stories and anecdotesÑall very entertaining!

The Rocky Mountains, through which the Middle Fork flows, were rugged, dramatic, gorgeous, and complex. There was evidence along the way of the forest fires that ravaged parts of Idaho. Interestingly, next to a sterile, blackened, mountain peak was another, thick with new, lush, green growth--truly a testament to the regenerative and restorative powers of nature. We were all humbled and awed by the beauty that we witnessed on this trip.

Where the Middle Fork comes into the Main Salmon River are the Bighorn Crags, one of the most rugged, wild, and stunning mountain ranges in the nation. This was where our journey came to an end.

We all took a bus back to Challis. After six days, we all were sorry to say good-bye to each other and we parted amidst promises to stay in touch. We were all infused with a love of the Middle Fork and the experience we had shared. My sons were asking our guides what they had to learn if they, too, wanted to become river guides. These wonderful guides were heroes to my sons, and they couldn't stop talking about how "cool" it would be to spend summers on the Middle Fork of the Salmon River. My husband and I could not have agreed more.

Chris Dean is a freelance writer and an avid adventure traveler.