Hike where few footsteps are found

The hills hugging the Main Salmon offer hikes that range from easy to extreme. In the morning before we broke camp it was fun to explore. Often there was a trail on the north side that traced the canyon just above the high water line. Other times we followed goat trails that zigzagged the steep slopes. What a pretty place.

Kayaking lesson

Two in our party kayaked while the rest of us floated the river in the big boats. A few hours in the inflatable kayak will give you a taste of what it's like to be one with the river. As I wrote earlier in this blog the view is much different because you ride in the current rather than atop of it.

After several days our daughter asked for a lesson in kayaking. Harder than it looks. Here she sits in a borrowed Dagger, sprayskirt secured, ready to roll. Took several attempts to get it right. The smile on her face told us it was fun.

Breath taking sunset

Our next challenge was Looney Tunes, a long narrow stretch of river with slow current against strong gusts of wind. Our progress was made easier by tying three rafts together and rowing in unison. I was beat by the time we made camp at Mann Creek.

Our camp hugged the shore. The sandy beach was longer than it was wide. After dinner we sat with our camp chairs in a circle. Our gang sang songs. It was a joyous sound. The nature around us responded with this wondrous sunset. When the singing paused, I closed my eyes, and felt the sun and wind on my face. The only sound I heard was the ripple of the current. I felt blessed to be here.

Jumping from the Pack Bridge

"Best be going," our leader said.

Soon we were underway again, past several camps on the left and right, then ran Action Jackson and Ludwig rapids, traveling some three miles to Mackay Bar where we stopped to jump fr0m the Pack Bridge.

At least 30 feet above the river the daring ones in our group climbed over the rail and stared down at the current below. The boys leaped right away but our daughter wasn't far behind. Each made a giant splash as they entered the water. The teens swam to shore, then scrambled up the rocky bank so they could race across the bridge and jump a second time.

It looked like fun.

Five Mile Bar: home of Buckskin Bill

Our sojourn today started slow and peaceful, drifting by a couple of camps on the river's north side and running a pair of no name rapids. Our first thrill of the day came at mile 50-- Boise Bar Rapid, a Class II+ to III. The left side was littered with rocks so we ran the center. Hiding at the bottom right was a boat flipping hole. I followed the others, paddling left to avoid the obstacle.
Later we beached our boats at Buckskin Bill's place. Everyone stops here as the trading post offers a big beach, self guided tours of the mountain man's homestead and a little store where you can buy bags of ice, soda and ice cream. The place is like a museum with plenty of old pictures and relics of guns, bullets and tools made by the man. High on the hillside stands a tower that Bill built of rock and cement. Bill had feared the government would come and take his property. From the top we could see the encampment on the left, the beach the river in both directions. For a brief moment I imagined standing at Bill's side staring down his enemies.
On our way to the beach we came upon a bomb shelter that was built of stone and concrete, a musty cavern large enough for 3-4 adults. We made our way to the museum and gift shop that once was Bill's home and guesthouse. The furnishings were still intact. We could look but not touch.
We were summoned to the museum to watch a video on a small TV where we watched Curt Gowdy from ABC's Wide World of Sports in 1963 interviewing Buckskin Bill. The producers wanted to see him shoot his home made guns. It was fun to hear the mountain man speak in his deep, gruff tone. "Umm-humm," Bill repeated as he replied to Gowdy's questions.
"What kind of gun is this?" Gowdy said.
"30 millimeter," Bill said.
"And what kind of bullets does it shoot?"
"Round bullets, umm-humm," Bill answered. "It's got double triggers."
"Looks like it's got a lot of kick," Gowdy said.
Bill pulled the first trigger, then took a deep breath, bracing himself against a big rock, aiming at something in the distance. With the pull of the second trigger there was a loud explosion, the rifle recoiled and pushed Bill back, but he quickly regained his balance.
We all laughed.
The stop here isn't complete without a group photo taken on the steps that lead to the beach. Do we look like a bunch of river rats?

Baby bear spotted on the shore

Check out this spider on our tent.

Five minutes before we beached our boats to camp at Rhett Creek we spotted a baby bear on the shore. Moments later our daughter pointed to a larger bear, presumably the mother. Another reminder that we were deep in the Frank Church Wilderness.

Tonight's dinner had a mexican theme: enchiladas, chips, salsa and pitchers of margaritas. We celebrated a birthday with pudding marshmallow cake. Yummy.

Stop to enjoy Jim Moore's place

Born about 1868, died April 25, 1942. We found Jim Moore's grave with his name and vitals carved into a small wooden headboard overlooking the compound with a picturesque view of the vast meadow and mountains in the distance. Imagine what it was like 100 years ago when 1800 prospectors rode through here on horseback on their way to the hills for gold. They stopped for food, hay for their horses, freshly made moonshine and other necessities. Six decades later the remnants of the trading post remained much like they were left. Legend says that taking anything from Jim Moore's place was bad luck. For me it's good enough to mill about the pot belly stoves, leather straps, horseshoes and fossilized road apples. I felt at peace here and didn't want to leave.