Middle Fork of the Salmon

Rivers are magical places that embody freedom and adventure, the fine line between chaos and control. They resist our efforts to control them and remind us that not everything is regulated, sanitized and certified safe for our consumption. You might damn well get hurt on a river.

They say that some river trips are for testing yourself and some are for having fun. An early season run down the Middle Fork of the Salmon river is one of those trips about testing yourself. The Middle Fork slices a 100 mile path through the Salmon Challis National Forest of central Idaho. It begins as a tiny high alpine creek, but during its run, 100’s of feeder creeks join with it. By the time it reaches the confluence with the Main Salmon near North Fork, Idaho it’s big and burly.

High water and blustery weather go hand in hand on the Middle Fork. Rain, snow, sleet, microbursts. In May, the Middle Fork is in your face. Be prepared to be cold and wet and spend nights trying to convince yourself that synthetic fill sleeping bags really do insulate when they’re wet. Whiskey helps.

Extensive forest fires in 2007 have dramatically altered the river. Tributary streams that once tumbled down lushly forested side canyons now run unimpeded dumping untold numbers of charred ponderosas into the river, in turn creating big debris fans, new rapids, and floating hazards in every eddy. The Middle Fork is alive.

Paddling rivers with good friends is a moment of living in the hive mind. You can let your guard down knowing that anything that gives your friends trouble is a spot to be aware. Memory gaps of rapids and safe lines are collectively filled. Epic surf waves and play spots are communally annotated with near pinpoint precision. Collective memories are are the best river guide ever.

Flickr Photos

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Elevation Profile

As recorded by kayak from the put-in at Marsh Creek to the takeout at Cache Bar on the Main Salmon.

Livingston 365: 01 October 2009

When I heard about Lynn Weaver’s photo-a-day project for Livingston, MT I begged her to let me participate.

Her photos on the site are stellar, very inspiring but also nerve-wracking. I drew October 1, 2009. Of course, the day started out gray and overcast. A fresh dusting of snow held promise but the clouds just wouldn’t break. I got some photos of windsocks ironed flat by the gusts, highway signs blown sideways, and some shots of Chaco at the Firehall.

Finally settled on this one below Carter’s Bridge.