a trip in June, July or August. The process was easy at first. Trips that did not have space available matching our desired dates were the first to go. This included the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon, which due to its popularity has to be booked a year in advance. Next to go were the trips on seasonal rivers. These are rivers that only have enough water for rafting in the spring during the snow melt such as the Selway, Bruneau and Moyie Rivers. That was just as well since some of these seasonal rivers are so violent and dangerous in season that many of their rapids are Class V or higher. This means even skilled white-water enthusiasts are putting themselves at risk of injury or death. I’ll discuss types of white-water rivers and rapids in a later chapter.
The options had narrowed down to the Salmon River (also called the Main Salmon), and the Middle Fork of the Salmon River. The Salmon River passed the initial impression test because of its scenic beauty, but the Salmon River has fewer exciting rapids and consequently is marketed as more suitable for family trips. The notion of a family trip was not appealing to us. We saw ourselves as having better skills and more experience, and besides who wants to do a high-adventure trip with little kids anyway!
The short list became one – The Middle Fork of the Salmon River, through the legendary River of No Return Wilderness. A designated Wild and Scenic River rushing through the Frank Church Wilderness, and one of the deepest river gorges in North America. From high in the mountains above Stanley, Idaho we would drop nearly 3,000 feet in 75 miles ultimately joining the Main Salmon River. What an adventure it would be!
The next decision – which outfitter should we choose? There were two companies that had openings on trip dates that suited us. Their trip brochures offered essentially the same packages. The prices and terms for a 6 day, 5 night trip were roughly equal. In the final analysis it boiled down to the person on the telephone. I found a young woman named Annie with a rafting company Wild Rivers to be helpful, positive and full of energy. Annie was a top river guide with the company. I figured that if this company has employees like Annie then they must be doing something right. By coincidence we lucked out and Annie was assigned to be the lead guide of our trip.
Shortly after signing up for the trip, we received our reservations, an equipment list and release forms. Fortunately, we were not having second thoughts about our decision, because the equipment list was intimidating (even for seasoned adventure travelers like us) and the release forms were positively scary.
The release forms were like all liability release forms, full of the standard legal boiler plate that absolved the company if you were killed or injured on the trip, unless the company was negligent. What set the release forms apart from others that I had signed for previous high-adventure trips was the excruciating detail outlining how you might be killed or injured. When you stop to think about it, death by drowning is pretty straight forward. What is not straight forward is all the different ways you could end up drowning on a high-adventure river trip. Aside from the run-of-the-mill drowning by falling off a raft, you could be sucked into a “keeper” a hazard in a rapid; get caught in a tree submerged in the river; have your foot stuck in between rocks in the river with the force of the river pulling you under; and the list went on. No matter how much you don’t want to sign the release you do it anyway, because otherwise you won’t be going on the river trip. Besides, you always think that some sharp lawyer will find a way to win your estate a huge settlement.
The equipment list for the trip was a real challenge for us even though we had some experience from previous high-adventure trips. For those poor souls who have no experience in the ritual of preparation for high-adventure trips the equipment list must have appeared overwhelming and impossible to satisfy. The amount and nature of clothing and gear that you need to bring and stuff into a small waterproof sack and an even smaller waterproof day bag must, to the uninitiated, appear to defy the laws of physics.
First you need to haul out everything you have accumulated over the years for camping and the outdoors that you think is on the equipment list. Spread it across the floor of a room you won’t need before the trip. Then spend hours with your kids sorting through the stuff, organizing it into piles by person. Once you have organized to this point, you need to draw up a list of things that need to be purchased before the trip. Armed with a list, you can then head to the nearest outfitter like REI to buy very expensive things that you may use only a few times in your life.
Actually the trip(s) to an outfitter store was the fun part of the equipment list ordeal, despite the financial carnage every time we went. The reason is that for a man, an outfitter store is more exhilarating than even a hardware store. You have to fight the urge to buy one of everything. You also have to act like you know what you are doing, and skillfully let the sales people know that you are heading out on a way cool, high-adventure trip.
The night before we left for the trip, we made a final run through our equipment and clothing. We checked each item against the clothing and equipment on the list. We had way more stuff than we could possibly take on the trip. In not so quiet desperation we set aside all the surplus items with true belief that we would return them after the trip.
We were packed and ready to go. I had a restless night wondering just what crazy exciting adventure I had signed us up for.
Chapter 3
Getting There
After Lee dropped us off at O’Hare International Airport with tearful goodbyes and strict admonishment that I had better bring back her children safe and sound, Sheila, Tommy and I boarded a United Airlines flight to Boise, Idaho.
Upon arrival in Boise in the early afternoon, we were greeted by a wall of dry hot air. I didn’t realize that large parts of Idaho are semi-arid and very hot in the summer with 90 degree plus being common in July. We retrieved our bags and made our way to the end of the terminal where there was a waiting room for charter flights. We were scheduled to take a charter flight from Boise about 90 miles northeast to Stanley, Idaho, a very small town nestled in the Sawtooth National Recreation Area amid the Sawtooth Mountains at an elevation of 6,200 feet. Stanley was the jumping off point for our trip. We would meet the lead guide and other members of our trip later that evening in Stanley for an orientation session. While we waited for our charter flight we met a middle age couple from a small town in Wisconsin who would be travelling with us.
When our pilot came into the waiting room looking for Wild Rivers passengers I wasn’t quite sure what to make of him. He was the stereotype of a cowboy, but without the spurs and chaps. His name was Hank. He was tall and lanky with a big unclipped mustache hanging over his lips. Hank was dressed in jeans, cowboy boots and a plaid shirt with a belt and big western belt buckle. He had a deeply tanned face with a friendly but sparing way of saying things. He looked to be about 40 years old.
Hank led us out of the air conditioned waiting room to the sweltering tarmac where a handful of small charter airplanes were parked. His plane was a single engine Cessna that could sit a pilot, copilot, 4 passengers and a small amount of luggage. I had flown in a number of small charter planes for business so I was not concerned when I saw the plane. I looked around at Sheila and Tommy and their eyes were as big as saucers. I made light of how much fun the flight would be to ease their anxiety.
After strategically stowing our bags in a rear compartment and behind the last passenger seats, Hank sized us up to decide where we should sit to balance the load. I drew the copilot’s seat. The Wisconsin couple was placed in the middle two seats. Sheila and Tommy sat in the back two seats. The plane’s dashboard had all the requisite dials and knobs and even a few pieces of duct tape, which I hoped did not reflect on the safety of our flight. Other than riding with my knees jammed up against the dashboard controls, the well-worn seat was the best place to see what was coming. Besides, how could you go wrong riding shotgun to Stanley, Idaho!
Once we were all safely strapped into our seats Hank started up the engine which turned over on the first
