Two River Bag Boogie

NRS is big on training for the sales force. Not everyone who gets hired to take your calls and emails comes to us as a boater. Qualities like excellent customer service skills, ability to multitask and openness to learn lots of new stuff are also important.

As we talked about the trip, I said to Tyler, “You know, when we come out of the Pittsburg Landing take-out for Hells, we come within three miles of the Hammer Creek put-in for the Lower Salmon. We’ll have boats and gear, what do you think about taking vacation and bagging the Lower too?” Now, Tyler is a real river rat so he was all about it and the Two River Bag Boogie was born. Down Hwy 95 and up the Winchester Grade and the van overheated. Bad sign. Let it cool, continued on. Stopped once more on the grade to let it cool. Yep, bad sign. Coming down the Whitebird Grade, the trailer brakes overheated. Yep, another bad sign. It became clear that we weren’t going to make it to the shuttle service, Scotty’s Hells Canyon Store, at Pine Creek, Oregon before they closed so we called. Diane graciously agreed to wait for us. After we left 95 at Cambridge we saw a mountain goat, which was very cool. Got to Scotty’s just as Diane was giving up on us. Took care of business and on to the Idaho Power campground.

We got a pretty early start from the campground. Busy scene at the put-in below Hells Canyon Dam. It was post-lottery permit time and multiple groups were putting on. We got rigged as soon as we could and pushed off under a cloudy, threatening sky. Started with Josh and Ashley in the cat; Paco rowing the E-140 with a stern frame and paddlers Erin G, George and Gary; Kurtis rowing the proto 13-footer; Erin C styling her kayak, Tyler in the proto 12-footer; Ryann in the Bandit; Terry in the MaverIK and Matthew and me in the E-150.

Tyler busting a big wave in Wild Sheep as Paco and crew look on. © Ashley Niles

Josh and I had the biggest boats, so we were heavy loaded and doggy. We stopped at the first beach and did our safety talk. Five miles down to Wild Sheep, the first major rapid. We scouted and all chose the enter left, pull right route. Josh and Ashley, our two photographers, chose to go first so they could pull in and photo the rest of us coming through. We all got wet and everyone did a fine job. It’s only two miles down to the next biggie, Granite Rapid, but in that short distance the weather went totally south. It began to rain, hard and a ferocious wind coming from downstream whipped it into our faces. It was raining hard enough that it became difficult to see.

Matthew and I had gotten to the back of the pack after leaving Wild Sheep. Suddenly the boats ahead of us parted, some scurrying left, others right. And right ahead of us was the rapid! Granite is a pretty simple rapid. The river necks down here and there’s a huge boulder in the center of the river. The runs are either left (Oregon side), right (Idaho side) or down the center, over the rock. Over the rock is only advisable in higher water, otherwise it’s a total boat eater.

Now, Granite and I have a mixed history. I always try to run the Idaho side; I find it the more challenging run. I’ve run it at least 20 times and I’ve run it perfectly and I’ve totally screwed it up. Once, I was reefing back on the oars to correct my angle, when the water dropped away from my right oar; it whipped around and whacked the head of my passenger (my boss’ wife) hard enough to knock her silly. Another time, I ripped an oar shaft in two in the nasty hole that forms along the right bank.

So, we’re on the right side of the river and the rapid is straight ahead. If I do manage to pull this pig ashore, the water may be too swift for us to land. To hell with it, let’s run it. Stand up, gauge where that little slot is between the pillow off the rock and the right hand gnar. Tuck the bow into the slot and give a hard push with the right oar – bingo, we styled it!

We’d brought our own firewood and soon the Firepan was ablaze with a good fire. Chairs circled the fire and a good bull session ensued. Paco is from Argentina. One of the highlight stories that enlivened the campfire was his and Erin G’s story of being stalked, at night, by a puma in Patagonia (the region of Argentina, not the gear company!). It was like a great ghost story, only the ghost was a huge cat and it was true and made the hair stand up on the back of your neck for real. I’ll try to get them to write it up for a future e-News story.

The next morning dawned overcast but not raining. On the water, folks were swapping boats to learn more about other styles of boating. We ran Upper and Lower Bernard, then stopped to scout Waterspout. Lots of fun, no carnage. Several other Class II/III rapids for fun and practice.

We stopped for the night at Caribou Creek Camp. The fires that ravaged the canyon earlier in the summer had burned the hillsides above the beach but spared the camp. The weather had cleared a lot, so we took a chance and didn’t put up the River Wings.

We’d decided that the theme for the evening was Luau! I brought silk flower leis, folding paper pineapples and some breakdown Tiki Torches. How do you make breakdown Tiki Torches? You cut the bamboo shafts down to a length that will fit in an XL Tuff Sack. Then you glue a piece of dowel in one half and shim the exposed end of the dowel with duct tape to fit in the other half of the bamboo. Slide ‘em together and put some duct tape over the joint. Voila!

Again the firepan was stoked with our wood (thank you Keli), the chairs circled, the torches lit and visiting continued. We had a couple of presentations for some almost birthday folks. Josh had his the day before we left and Ashley was having hers a couple of days after we got back. Josh received a written plan for helping overworked manager-types get more boating time. Ashley received a crown, was declared Queen for the day and instructed to pass on the crown next year to someone having a birthday during an on-the-water trip. A good time was had by all and the last holdouts at the fire snuffed out the torches.

Finally we reached the bottom and turned down the Salmon River to the Hammer Creek put-in. Paco and Erin G. had decided to join Tyler and me on the Lower Salmon. We’d loaded our gear on the front and back of the trailer so the returning load would be well balanced.

It was total dark when they dumped us off on the concrete launch ramp. The BLM had recently poured a concrete apron to one side of the ramp and that’s where we set up the three boats: the proto 12 and 13-footers and my E-150. We rigged the frames, oars, coolers and dry boxes, all in the light of our headlamps. We set the camp stove up in the nearby rocks and heated up a scrumptious thick chicken/rice/veggie soup that Tyler had made ahead. Washed it down with a beer.

I was real tired, from the Hells trip, from walking on the Pittsburg Grade, etc. The sky was clear, so I elected to just roll out my Paco Pad and sleeping bag on a tarp right on the apron. Bad decision.

About 1:00 a.m. I awoke to pelting rain. I swept the tarp over me, only to find that it leaked like a sieve. It’s pouring rain. I reached out to my nearby Bill’s Bag and pulled out the rainfly for my tent. I wrapped it over my sleeping bag, under the other tarp. The rest of the night was spent dozing, waking, making sure I had an air hole so I didn’t smother, cursing my decision not to put up the tent, dozing, repeat cycle. I’ve spent more miserable nights than that but it had been a while.

As 6:00 a.m. approached, it was still raining and I was quite sure my bladder wasn’t going to hold out much longer. Then, as if to answered prayer, the rain stopped. I popped out of my puddle, peed and got dressed. I’d gone to bed in a HydroSilk Shirt and WaveLite Pants. Over them I pulled on a pair of HydroSkin Pants and a HydroSkin Shirt, then a pair of Black Rock Drypants and a Na Pali Jacket. Ah, warm and protected.

Tyler wandered up. Found he’d gone to the campground but also neglected to put up a tent. We were both chagrined to find out in the daylight that there were a couple of dressing rooms that we could have retreated to and kept dry. Weather - one, dirtbag boaters - zero. Well, not zero. Paco and Erin were smart enough to put up a tent. Dirtbag boaters - 0.5.

Near the Pine Bar boat launch we stopped for lunch. Erin and Paco were doing lunches. Erin whipped up a delicious tuna salad, with dried cranberries, almonds and chopped purple carrots from their garden. Yes, purple carrots, who’d have thunk it? It was wrapped in pita bread and hit the spot. I bent my oar blade back straight while they prepared lunch.
 

There were no major rapids, so we were able to cruise. After about 20 miles we decided to camp a bit early to dry out some of our wet gear. We grabbed a small sandy beach, spread out sleeping bags on the rocks and darn sure put up tents. Paco jumped in and practically put up the River Wing by himself.

On waking and sitting up in his tent, Tyler felt a “bug” drop down on the back of his neck. He swept it off with his hand, to his shocked discovery that it was a small black widow spider!

Coffee and breakfast burritos, then off to the river. Down through the Bunghole Rapids, Bodacious Bounce, Half & Half and the Gobbler to Snowhole Rapid. We scouted and ran it with no harm, no foul. At China Rapid, we elected to just run the left hand slot without scouting. Below China, in some of the flat sections, we cranked up the motor we’d mounted to the Raft Motor Mount attached to the E-150. With that bit of help from the motor, we peeled off a 30-mile day. Tyler remembered some nice beaches near the mouth of Blue Canyon, five miles from the Snake. We found a good one, plenty big enough for our small group, less than an hour before it started getting dark.

The evening sky was promising, so we skipped putting up the Wing. Tents went up, Tyler kindled up the fire and supper was fixed in the dark. Nacho appetizers were heated in the Coleman Oven.

Life is Good. Boating is Awesome!

Boat Often & Boat Safe. See You on the Water.

Clyde Nicely
e-News Editor