Middle Fork of the Salmon - River of No Return

It's been almost a year since one of my best-ever family and friends river trips. Why did I tarry so long to tell the tale?

Looking upstream from one of our camps on the Middle Fork of the Salmon River. 

Truth. I am a slow and deliberate writer and easily distracted. Also, I've been busy, occupied with extensive travels and interests. If I don't die first, I have a few dozen posts in the works.

More to the point, I couldn't figure out how to describe this trip without dissolving into maternal pride and boasting. Warning: there will be maternal pride and boasting. 

I'll just get to it, finally, ...No more lame excuses.

About this time in 2018, PK and I along with six dear friends were feverishly prepping for a week-long adventure down the Middle Fork of the Salmon River, AKA River of No Return, in Idaho's Frank Church Wilderness.

We launched on July 12, 2018, with the masses.
 It was a tense scene with commercial and private groups vying for position to descend the steep log slide to the river.


Ferron Mayfield, in his elfin persona, blew bubbles as tempers roiled at the put-in. He soon joined the work crews.

Having our son Chris join the trip at the VERY LAST MINUTE — like a half hour before we put on the river — was a momentous surprise. Without him, PK and I might still be stuck on rocks. And in my opinion, Chris' river and wilderness expertise and humble, gentle spirit enriched the experience for all. 

As a camp activity, Chris studied the Indonesian language and the cannibal activity and other oddities in Papua New Guinea. A few days following our trip he launched into a kayaking expedition on a wild Papua river. Along the way, he and his companions were "held" for four days by still primitive human beings. He has yet to tell the whole story.

THE MFS RIVER 

The Middle Fork of the Salmon is rated the best wilderness whitewater river trip in the West. If not in the entire USA. Maybe the world. The Universe?  It deserves superlatives.

It's a permit-only experience. Would-be floaters apply for limited permits in January and in February learn whether they won the lottery. PK and I have NEVER gotten a permit, but have been involved in several trips because we own a raft, camping gear, and possess rowing expertise. That would be Paul. With me in back-up position. Plus we are kinda fun people. And nice.

Twenty or so boats are ready to roll on down the river at the Boundary Creek put-in. Most are commercial outfitters. We will add our four private rafts and a kayak to the mix. 


The river's crystalline water, natural hot springs, dramatic gorges, sandy beach camps, and pristine cutthroat trout habitat combine to create a slam-bam-for-the-whole-damn-fam wilderness experience. The river is part of the 2.3 million-acre Frank Church Wilderness area.

Except for the Boundary Creek put-in and a few historic ranches downstream, the river corridor is without electronic connectivity or roads. Hallelujah! 

The river descends 3000 feet in elevation through 100 miles of Class III-IV rapids and stunning scenery. It starts small - like a creek - through the alpine forest then gathers speed and power from tributaries before ripping through a rugged high desert to merge with the Main Salmon River. 

On Idaho's Middle Fork of the Salmon, July 2018. Chris Korbulic, Mary Korbulic, Paul Korbulic, Gail Frank, Jenna Stanke, Jerry Marmon (behind Jenna). Front, Sue Orris, John Jessup, Ferron Mayfield, Curry the Worried Dog.

Chris Korbulic, photo credit

THE RIVER EXPERIENCE

Our group gathers to position one of our rafts for its launch down the steep log-slide to the river. Most of the weight is in the back.

Did I say steep? The camera angle distorts it,

but not by much. That's Ferron on the oars,
helping another group launch.

These boaters were with another private group.
The river level was on the edge of being too
shallow for rafts. Rocks are sticking out all
over the place, and dodging them with a fully
loaded boat requires skill and luck.

Paul is an experienced whitewater rafter; this was his eighth time rowing the MFS, but luck was not with him. Like others in our group, we got stuck a few times. I took this photo from the front of our raft as Chris plunged over the slippery uneven river bottom to pull us free.


Jenna and Jerry Marmon, on their first trip down the MFS, encountered exposed rock as we did. Chris is waiting on river right, but intervention was not required.


Downriver, John Jessup rows and Gail Frank assists. Their roles reversed from time to time. 


Ferron Mayfield and Sue Orris along with worried Curry enjoy rapid after rapid mile after mile.

Our first camp was idyllic. They all were. Campsites are reserved at the put-in with trip leaders negotiating for favorites sites. Reserved camping eases the pressure of getting down the river to score an extra special spot. 

In a later camp, Ferron Mayfield, a whitewater rafter for decades, relaxes with Curry, the worried dog. Curry is concerned about Ferron, I think. 

Our hot spring camp the first night. Ahhhh! It's the Sheepeater Hotspring and is about a five-minute walk from camp. Paul Korbulic, John Jessup and Chris Korbulic.

Back at camp, Gail Frank, a fantastic cook who planned the menu for the entire trip, grills planked salmon over charcoal. Every single night was gourmet. We took turns cooking, and everyone pitched in on cleanup. As usual. 

Had we launched a few days later, we may have

been forced to put in here, avoiding the by-

then impassable shallow rocky section we'd just scraped through. This launch area requires
flying in on bush planes. Expensive and scary!

             Every camp was ideal, but I favored this one.

Paul enjoyed the fishing, catching about a dozen cutthroats 
on dry flies during the trip.

Gail worked hard and caught a nice fish. Catch and release, of course. 

Cooking partners Jenna and Gail exult over a
sumptuous Dutch oven lasagne.

Sue Orris basks in Sunflower hot spring overlooking the river. However, the four or five pools above the river are scorching. We all ended up in the "shower" at river level. Sunflower is the most popular of numerous hot springs along the river.

Chris Korbulic  (AKA Charles Atlas) is in heaven with Sunflower hot springs massaging his shoulders. Ahhhh. We all had our turns. 

That's me in my unfashionable outfit reacting to HOT.

      Ferron and Paul enjoying a philosophical moment.

Casual relaxed interludes such as this rank high in defining private wilderness river trips. 

Mornings are usually early with lots of coffee and a hearty breakfast. Packing and reloading rafts become the routine.

There she goes again! Beans, rice, and chicken

with all the Mexican condiments to accompany.

Gail is amazing. Want to hire her for a trip? Sorry, 

she's busy building for Habitat for Humanity.

Perhaps you can tell that river trips, for me, are not as much about whitewater thrills as they are about the wilderness itself. After the put-in cluster, we saw few people but lots of wilderness wonders - and hours of in-the-water relaxing. 

Jenna and Jerry prep their raft for another day on the river. 

Accustomed to sleeping on rocks and rough surfaces, Chris snoozes on a log. Sleeping like a log came to mind.


Another hot spring, this one named Loon Creek for the snow-melt creek that runs alongside it. Where's Chris?
He's in the frigid snow-melt creek, more interested in cold therapy than hot. Curry is a fool for anybody who might toss water into his mouth. Life is strange. I kinda get it about the dog. But icy water with a natural hot spring nearby? No.


Later we stopped at one of the historic ranches, that now has a nifty convenience store with ice, beer, sunscreen, tee shirts, and toothbrushes. One of the horses along the trail appeared to be dining on tasty bird tidbits.


Chris relieved Paul at the oars when river action was quiet. 

A mule train carries supplies through our lunch stop en route to a historic ranch/lodge, a throwback to the days of yore. Wilderness transports visitors to a different time. The absence of Internet connectivity alone makes some fidget and yearn, and others move toward grateful acceptance of a semblance of what life might have been like 100 years ago.

Jenna relaxes after another day of thrilling rapids. We have only one more day on the river, which by this time has warmed for comfortable swimming. 

Sue and Ferron enjoy yet another tender moment.

Our final camp. Nobody is quite ready for the trip to end. 

Close to where the Middle Fork of the Salmon
merges with the Main Salmon, Paul checks his
watch. It is beer time? No. Because the gnarliest 
rapid of the trip is coming right up on the Main 
Salmon about a mile before takeout.

John Jessup flirts with a big flip hole while Gail
contemplates her last will and testament.

Jenna makes it look ho-hum. In a few minutes, we'll be scrambling to take out just as we struggled to put in.


It's sad how the mood changes when you're in a big rush and other boaters are awaiting their turns. Then we're in our vehicles transitioning back home, to jobs, and for us lucky ones, on to further travels.  

The river experience recedes, but the glow lingers as we. prepare for the next chapter of the summer of 2018.

No one is traveling to a more exotic (or dangerous) place than Chris, and maybe no one appreciated this trip as much as he did. Although we all loved our time together.

Upon his return from Papua New Guinea, Chris posted this photo of Paul and me on Instagram and warmed our loving grateful hearts.

Posts about other river trips, including one about when I gave them up. 

Mountains, deserts, hot springs and Las Vegas?

The Alabama Hills at sunrise in March 2017. We didn't see quite this much glory in April 2019, but you can't go wrong with the Hills. 

Pool venue at the music fest.

We drove our fancy van in early April to a music event - the Bender Jamboree (bluegrass) at the Plaza Hotel in Las Vegas. Yes, Las Vegas. An absurd reality, perhaps the furthest possible place from the natural world.

Although we had an engaging four-day musical experience, the road trip from Southern Oregon to Las Vegas was rich with scenic routes and side trips. And, of course, a couple days in Reno to lavish love on the grands.

We were able to spend several of those scenic-routes and side-trips explorations with hometown friends Sue Orris and Ferron Mayfield, and their worried dog, Curry.

Yes, they brought Curry to Las Vegas, but it turned out OK, even though the dog was worried about staying in the van while his people were in a hotel a block away.

Maybe that was me who was worried. Anyway, the weather was cool and Curry was fine and very well attended. No worries!

Three places stand out: Alabama Hills near Lone Pine, CA, the Shoshone and Tecopa Hot Springs area bordering Death Valley, and Red Rock National Conservation Area about 17 miles west of Las Vegas, NV. 


ALABAMA HILLS - Not to Be Missed

The Alabama Hills was our first stop after meeting up with Sue and Ferron in Bishop, CA on Hwy. 395, which cuts a pretty path alongside the scenic Sierras. Truly, if you haven't driven that road, add it to your plans. And do not miss the Alabama Hills. Even for a quick drive-through.

The Hills are just outside the town of Lone Pine, the western gateway to Death Valley National Park. 

Our Class B vans are dwarfed (look for them) in
a perfect camp spot in the Alabama Hills.

Compared with nearby Death Valley's vast expanse, the Alabama Hills is a concentrated wonder. A jumble of giant buff-colored rocks is lorded over by the Sierra Nevada Mountains including 14,000 ft. Mt. Whitney. I used to think about climbing up there, but I got over that notion when, age-wise, I was already over the hill.

Lenticular clouds are common in the Alabama Hills. This dreamy color was fleeting during an otherwise dull sunset. 

If you've lived long enough, you've probably seen the Hills on the big screen. Over 150 movies (Some sources claim as many as 400 ) and numerous TV shows, mostly Westerns, were shot there in the days of Hopalong Cassidy, Gene Autry, and their ilk. A film museum in Lone Pine is said to be worth a visit. We will get there next time.

Responsible campers carry it out.

Alabama Hills is managed by the BLM, which means, that in addition to one fee campground, the rest of the area is absolutely FREE for dispersed camping, AKA boondocking.

Campsite hunting is competitive, with tent campers, small trailers, and Class B and C RVs seeking the perfect place to settle in and enjoy the splendid views all around. 

Sue and Ferron were in their element. Mt. Whitney is circled. The Mobius Arch Trail begins behind us.

The loop trail to the arch is about a mile long. 

Ferron exults at the Mobius Arch. A sprite-like person,  Ferron usually doesn't travel without a kite, a blaring horn, or his dog. I was pleased that he left the horn behind. 

DEATH VALLEY - Blown away

Death Valley, where we had camping reservations for two nights, was devoid of spring blooms and spring crowds. Due to the unrelenting wind and dust, it was soon devoid of us.

Serendipity at SHOSHONE and TECOPA

Thus we took an unplanned one day/night side trip to the Tecopa Hot Springs.  Our experiences there hung me up for days in getting this post out. 

Honestly, the Shoshone/Tecopa hot springs area just outside Death Valley is such a quirky bit of Wild West Americana that I got all twisted about it. I wrote pages. None of them any good!


I've decided not to tackle it. There's too much to tell and way more to learn before I pretend to capture the spirit of this unusual place. We were there for fewer than 24 hours. 

It's worth a return trip and perhaps a few days .... or more. But I'd better be careful.

Seems that numerous people living in the area had been just passing through.....and the place took hold of them. On the surface, it's dry, dusty and decrepit with scant visual charm. But there's something juicy going on there.

I didn't get his name, but the bartender/brewmaster at Death Valley Brewing was justifiably proud of the 15 or so beers being served. No wine. No liquor. Just beer. Just pizza. Crust crafted in Italy. All good. I had pineapple beer. It was delicious. 

If you're traveling from Death Valley to Las Vegas, discover Shoshone/Tecopa for yourself. Be sure to visit the museum in Shoshone, where, if lucky, you'll be greeted by John.

A former big-city chef, John is eager to share info about a place he loves. After living in Tecopa for 13 years, he knows everything tourist.

Curry contemplates as he walks the labyrinth at the Tecopa Hot Springs Resort. What is life's meaning? Why is my tongue so long? He's quite the philosopher, that dog.

Typical Tecopa scene. Curry leads Ferron in exploration. Soon we reluctantly leave Tecopa. At least I was reluctant.

RED ROCK CANYON National Conservation Area - Great side trip from Las Vegas

In Nevada's Mojave Desert, Red Rock Canyon's primary attraction, aside from an excellent Visitor's Center, is a 13-mile scenic loop drive with numerous viewpoints and parking areas from which to hike, picnic, photograph, rock climb, or otherwise take pleasure in this beautiful place. 

Here's the not-red-rock part of the conservation area, but even if not red, it is imposing, dramatic, beautiful.

Two million people visit Red Rock Canyon each year, which might keep shy persons away. But after several visits, we've learned that it doesn't take much effort to hike a mile or so on one of the 26 trails and escape the crowds. The canyon is just 17 miles west of Las Vegas and is an antidote to the madness and mayhem of the city.

Cairns for Dummies is what we called the numerous (thank you) extravagant (thank you) trail markers.  Without them, we might still be there.

Is it an agave?  Curry is weighing in from a lower position. Or maybe that's his power position.

Sue was still recovering from knee surgery, so we chose a relatively short hike through the red rocks. See that cairn? 
Without it, we would not have chosen this skinny passage.

Then, I'm afraid, it was on to Las Vegas and the Plaza Hotel and wrapping our heads around living in a casino the next four days. 

But then, there was the 
    🎶MUSIC! 🎶


BENDER JAMBOREE -whoopee!

This is Billy Strings. Never heard of him? Neither had I, but the virtuoso guitarist/singer was my favorite.  Apparently, he's getting around. Check him out. 

Other artists to join my "listen" list: 

• Railroad Earth (not new to the list, but the primary reason we attended the Jamboree)
• Della Mae - all female. Kicked butt!
• Leftover Salmon
• The Hillbenders
• The Good Time Travelers
• Keller Williams Pettygrass (all Tom Petty covers)

Like many music festivals, this one was crazy with costumes, theme days/nights, gregarious music lovers, spontaneous celebrations, lots of dancing, and not too much casino. 

Della Mae's band stood out amidst a mostly male lineup.
Not just for being women, but for being good!

Ferron always brings a cute outfit.

On our way home to Oregon, we camped alone at a reservoir near Fallon, NV. Ahhh. Just what we needed.

Previous Posts

SW Road Trip Spring 2017 
Death Valley 1, Super Bloom
Death Valley 2  



A couple of posts about our winter Baja trip are below. A few more to come. Unless I decide to write about gardens and food for a while.

An Inglorious Day on the Road in Baja
On the Road in Baja - Part 1