Who: 16 Current and Former Hoofers
What: Kayaking (+ 1 Oar Rig) the Selway River
When: 7/18/14 - 7/27/14
Where: Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness in central Idaho (2nd largest wilderness in the lower 48)
Gauge Info: Ranged from 2400-1800cfs on the USGS Lowell Gauge - more water than usual for this time of year, but a small percentage of the standard spring/early summer flows
Why: Super-Awesome Boating
Sixteen folks from five different states converged on Missoula, MT toward the end of July. We had traveled countless hours to come and run one of the most tightly permitted Wild and Scenic Rivers in the states: the Selway. Dan Y., our trip leader, had astounding river lottery luck, winning both the Selway and the Grand Canyon in the same year.
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| Loading up at the put-in |
I was in the first car to arrive; as one of two cars coming from Wisconsin, we had driven straight through the night and were desperately hoping to find a site along the Blackfoot River. No dice. The weekenders were out in hordes, and we ended up in a KOA in the middle of Missoula's suburbs. (And I ended up hammocking in someone else's postage-stamp of a tent site - thank you, very nice Ohio people.)
Over the next couple days, our group filtered in (and we relocated to the Blackfoot campsites). We enjoyed a couple paddles through the Class II run adjacent to our site, some awesome cocktails at Montgomery Distillery in Missoula, tasty pizza, quality beer, and pre-backcountry ice cream. We had a few days to sift and winnow through our gear. I knew that I could fit everything in my club creekboat, but it was nice to find that I wouldn't need to bring a bug net for my hammock! Some folks tried cramming their boats with rocks/water as a trial run, but I waited until the Selway to figure out just how raft-like my kayak had become.
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| Ladle Rapid |
The day we were slotted to put on, we headed south from Missoula, west into the National Forest, and then along windy gravel roads until we hit Paradise (yep, it's actually the proper name of the put-in). We ran into a hiker who had scored the old ranger cabin - still stocked with everything you could ask for, and reservable for a pretty modest sum. He seemed pretty jealous of our impending river trip. We didn't put on til 3 (I forget which time zone), but we had plenty of daylight to get us to the first campsite - 7 miles downstream.
The first day's paddle wasn't too much of a challenge. The river at the put-in seemed shockingly low-volume, but low water was only an issue twice for our raft (and never for us wee little hard-shells). There was some continuous I/II boogie water, and a couple of tougher II+ (supposedly III) rapids (think puzzle rather than pummel). I knew that I would likely be the weak link of our group, and while the first day largely set me at ease, I did manage to pin myself in the middle of a boulder garden called Galloping Gertie by focusing on charging through a little hole instead of what was downstream of said hole. One of the folks in my group came back, gave me a shove, and I made it through the rest only slightly shaken.
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| My favorite camp - Day 4 |
The first night we were camped on a narrow beach next to a trail bridge, across from a trail crew (who had seen 9 rattle snakes in 5 days!), and surrounded by huckleberries and thimbleberries. Dinner was couscous with
mole, which was rich, salty, and generally amazing. We got to hang out, chat, swim, and munch on berries well into the evening; the sun didn't set til quite late. I decided to put my tarp up thanks to some beta from one of the current hoofers, and while the stars were great at bedtime, rain did end up chasing others under the bridge and into pre-arranged tents.
Day two was supposed to be a step up in terms of rapid classifications. There was one supposed IV ("Ham") on the menu, but the low water turned it into a straightforward series of little holes. I continued happily following a conservative ex-hoofer downstream, and enjoying the easy II/III water. We all knew that the next day would be the toughest, even though our biggest rapid wouldn't show up until Day 4. The hills surrounding us were beautiful, but it was really tough to tear my eyes off the crystal clear water. Though the rapids and boulder gardens were pretty continuous, there were plenty of eddies. Bigger rapids tended to have emerald green pools after them; I would look down and see house-sized boulders below me. Several small streams were feeding into the river, bringing the volume up. We passed a remote air strip and fishing lodge, and surprisingly, ran into another group on the river! The permits are set up to allow only one launch per day, but the forest service was running a half dozen oar rigs down to deal with invasive species. The oar men and their passengers were volunteers who received a un-permitted trip down river and a small per diem. The ranger in charge was great, and they made sure not to take our choice campsites the rest of the week.
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| Jake |
Our second campsite was at the accurately named Rattlesnake Bar. Within a half hour of landing, some of the former Hoofers had located Jake, our very own Western Diamondback. We vacated his area, and got our tarps up as some dark clouds started rolling past a mountain just upstream of us. I wasn't thrilled with my tarp/hammock set-up, and spent much of the evening tweaking things (and retying them as the wind picked up).
Thai coconut shrimp soup was on the menu; without soy sauce, it would have been perfect. We pulled out a Cosmopolitan that one of the guys had brought along, and tucked underneath our shelters as the rain started to spit. The wind was howling by this point, and the trees on the fire-ravaged (far) side of the river started toppling over and sliding down to the banks of the river. The forest service crew (downstream by now) was almost hit by a tree while they were paddling along. The weather calmed before everyone went to sleep, and we woke rested for the longest, toughest day.
We swapped our groups around for day four. (To manage such a large group, we split into two groups each day.) Our day was supposed to contain several class IVs (Double Drop, Ladle, Little Niagra, and Puzzle Creek), but at our water levels, the rapids were manageable IIIs. While I managed to take some, ahem, interesting lines down several of the rapids, Day 4 was certifiably my favorite river day. I got confused about what I was going through on Double Drop (we didn't scout, but had people downstream directing us), and dropped into a monster hole without having a clue about what I was headed into. I flipped, carped (a poor-technique roll where you try to get air and have no chance of getting rightside up), and would have rolled up on a second attempt, except a would-be rescuer knocked me back into the water. That was my first swim of the trip, and it left me less than certain about my abilities. (To be fair, my abilities are not that awesome to begin with.)
Ladle and Little Niagra had some meaty holes, but weren't too bad. Wa-Poots, a class III rapid, had this amazing, giant standing wave in the middle of the current, and it was, by far, my favorite rapid. I cut the corner at the end of the rapid, went over a pour-over sideways, but managed to brace my way out of any trouble.
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| Lunch stop |
The other two swims of the trip (one for me and one for Dan P.) were at a shouldn't-have-been-that-difficult rapid near the end of the day. The river curved left, the water pushed right, and the bottom of the rapid held a meaty hole complete with recirculating room-of-doom (a really strong eddy that traps you against an escarpment). I stopped to scout, figured I should ferry left, and then watched as several others had tough-looking lines downstream. Dan P. didn't ferry, and he ended up flipping early and scraping over a ton of rocks. I couldn't see him clear the bottom of the rapid, and when our safety boaters grabbed their ropes, I was afraid he was getting recirc'ed in the hole. Like the calm and collected person I am, I told the third safety boater that came down "Dan flipped, swam, hit a bunch of rocks, and I haven't seen him since." Of course, the safety boater tore off downstream, managed to get his boat into the room of doom where Dan P. was stuck (banged up, but otherwise ok), and rescued Dan & his gear. After watching all of this and trying to calm another member of our group (who had a great like), I made most of the necessary ferry, tried desperately to avoid the hole, got surfed, and swam the moment I was upside down. If I hadn't been so tired and so nervous, I would have been able to roll after about 5 seconds.
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| Top of Wolf Creek |
The rapids continued that day, meaty III after technical III, and we were all looking forward to the highly-endorsed campsite at the end of our long day. When we got there, a bunch of rafts were already parked there, enjoying a zero day. The next campsite was also occupied (complete with one very drunk Pope offering the sacrament of Crown Royal). After miles of tough paddling, we collapsed into my favorite camp of the entire week: the river curved around this stunning white, sandy beach that slowly gave way to a thin band of rocks before transforming into a pine-laden open sort of woods. Plenty of tent (and hammock!) space with soft beds of needles. After two long days of paddling, I was ready for my
fancy tortellini and Oreo Jello No-Bake (seriously, No-Bakes are the best thing known to campers). We had an evening fire, and a chilly, crystal clear night.
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| Tee-Kem Falls |
Thanks to our very long paddle the day before, we only had three miles to make on the fifth day. Just downstream of our campsite was Wolf Creek rapid, the only actual class IV at our water levels. Following my spectacular performance the day before, I decided to walk the rapid rather than risk getting my boat pinned. There was a middle sneak I'm 85% sure that I could have made, but I didn't want to run the hole-filled right line, and I didn't want to get blown into a really, really technical rockfest on the left. There were only minor rapids until our campsite at Tee-Kem Falls (which apparently can also be a IV at some levels). Tee-Kem was pretty fun to punch through, especially since I had been taking as many sneaks as possible. The campsite had another nice beach, with a bunch of boulders perfect for spectating along the rapid.
We were in camp by noon, so we had a perfect day of swimming, fishing, cramming 5-8 people in a double duck, cliff jumping, and generally goofing off. I swam early off of the duck, possibly knocking everyone else out, after my shoulder gave out mid-stroke. Though I then got run over by the massive inflatable, the duck's carnage run was 100% worth the scrapes. Dinner was
Mango Chicken Curry with Lentils, which claimed the favorite-meal slot. Desserts, various snacks, and cut-throat trout were passed around as everybody tried to finish off their excess food. We had another campfire, another chilly night, and the Milky Way was blazingly bright when I woke up around 3am.
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| Impending Doom |
The last day was bittersweet. I needed a couple more days to really switch into wilderness mode, but the trip had been spectacular. We drove out of the forest, said our goodbyes to the group in Missoula, and set out on our long drive home.
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| The view from my hammock the last night |
Though I spent a lot of time on this trip trying to figure out if I should continue kayaking (or give up my forever-rookie attempts and switch over to paddle rafting with Ali), I couldn't have asked for a trip along a better stretch of river, and I can't imagine going on a river with better companions.
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| Our Flotilla |
For more pictures and a second opinion, check out 1000daysbetween.com. That Hoofer has also come out with a book that you can
find on Amazon.
