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HomeMy Public PortalAboutSalmon RiverMile High Ranch - Salmon River IDA Shepp Ranch on the Salmon River 4 a.m. to outfit mules and hor- ses before the cowboys are up. She works in the corral and rounds up the horses. Mary Jane and Brother Bobby often ride all day back in the hills. Some days they take a nosebag lunch and go down the river in the boat where Al puts them ashore. After hiking three miles up the steep Salmon River hillside they catch horses to ride, then drive the other horses home —a hard day's work for the most sea- soned cowboy. MARY JANE first started rid- ing Arab when she was eight years old. He was young and spirited, worse than most to head for the barn when he wanted to go. One day he did just this with Mary Jane astride. "Turn him!" her mother yelled. White as a sheet, Mary Jane screamed, "I can't. I can't! He won't turn!" At the same time she jerked hard on the reins and Arab turned. That moment Mother and Dad decided the chestnut sorrel Ara- bian was the horse for their oldest daughter. He is still lots of horse for an inexperienced rider but looks quiet and docile when Mary Jane is riding him. Horse and rider share a faith and love. This faith and love gained its reward as preparations for the river trip began to take shape. Since Arab had to become ac- climated for the rodeo, he would have to be taken down the river at least five days prior to the events. * * r PAUL FILER, a physically tough guide, is considered to be one of the best boatmen on the river. Everyone agreed that his 24 -foot aluminum river boat powered by two 50 horsepower outboard jet motors was big enough to carry a horse -900 pounds of horsepower. Two days before the exodus Paul brought his boat to Mackay Bar. A ramp was built for Arab to walk into the boat. Boards were laid from the ground up over the back of the boat. Side railings were ham- mered into place. Everything ex- cept the boat looked pretty rick- ety. But it was as ready as it was going to be. Rodeo Eve was here. It was a sleepless night for the Tice family. Everyone was up early, pretending to be busy doing unnecessary things. Mary Jane bridled Arab and brought him to the shed. Father Al and Mother Mary made a big thing with the electric clippers and the final grooming of Arab's fet- locks and mane. Sister Nellie walked around repeating "I love that horse." Brothers Bobby and Pat proudly led Arab, stopping every few feet to pet and hug him. Finally, the bright red warm -up blanket was put on, Mother trying in vain to hide a big triangular rip which exposed Arab's left hip. Martare was ready to go. He was ready to 'leave the hills for the first time since he came 11 years ago. IT HAD been Mary Jane's show from the beginning and now it was still her show. She picked up a bucket of grain and went up the ramp, bridle reins in hand. Arab hesitated just a minute, looked things over, then with tail held high calmly walked into the boat. Rapport between girl and horse was so perfect that it brought tears to the eyes of everyone. No one said a word. Mary Jane turned the horse, wild -eyed for just a moment, so that he would be facing down- stream. Two pieces of plywood THROUGH DEEP Salmon River Canyon goes the jet boat, almost engulfed by the rapids, with Paul Filer at the controls. Mary Jane rests her hand on Martare's neck. The Arabian gave no trou- ble whatever through the "River of No Return" canyon. Photo by Walt Rubey, Shore Lodge, Mc- Call, Idaho. —24— were put on each side of the boat to form a stall reaching eight inches above the sides of the boat. Rope was secured around his chest and twice over his back. Bales of hay were thrown in front to protect him if he were thrown off balance in the rapids. Arab didn't realize this and nonchalantly nibbled first on the hay and then on the grain, completely unaware that he was about to make horse history. The ramp and boards for un- loading were put into the boat and it was shove -off time. There was a moment of consternation as Filer thought he had `got a motor" on a rock. Then smooth- ly out into the River of No Re- turn they went, rodeo bound. Mary Jane sat beside Arab, re- assuringly petting his neck. With Bobby in the bow of the boat, they headed into the first rapid. Arab pointed his ears and held his head and tail high, on balance, absolutely relaxed. They went through first one rapid and then another. Mary Jane's look of concern gradually changed to one of joy. Her horse was proving her belief in him. s . PAST TOWERING rock crags and sheer cliffs, the boat zoomed— rocking, leaping, swooshing, swirling, dipping, dancing, drifting occasionally in crystal clear calm water. They sped past white sandy beaches with fresh game tracks. They stopped at Filer's Shepp Ranch and glimpsed the historic cabin of Polly Bemis. On their way again, Indian relics and hiero- glyphics (probably stating that these waters are impassable) were just a blur. Through all of the rapids — unpredictable Mann's Creek, foaming Cotton Tail, tempestuous Little Growler, vio- lent Dried Meat, treacherous Chitum —it was no different. Martare was out for a joy ride. He seemed to be looking at the scenery, the rugged and rocky timbered canyon of the Salmon River. Once in a while he ate some grain or rubbed his head against his mistress's body to let her know he was glad she was there. Twenty -eight miles and two hours later the boat journey was o�sr, m s s ARAB and Mary Jane went to the rodeo. They paraded and raced. They ran the barrels and placed fifth on the judge's sheet. But they placed first in the hearts of the crowd. Arab had proved that you can lead a horse to water but you can't make him sink. Together they proved that the pioneer spirit still lives and there are ways to prove it. And Mary Jane, a teenager with a freckled face and a warm toothy grin, proved that Young America is much more than dope fiends and hippies. The Riggins Rodeo was just the beginning for both horse and rider. Mary Jane and Arab had had a taste of the excitement of competition, and they were literally "off to the races." In August they went to the Western Idaho State Fair in Boise where Arab gleaned a fourth in the Halter Class for purebred Arabian geldings. Horse and rider were learning new con- trol, new standards and new methods, as they were exposed to contests completely foreign to anything that had existed in their lives at Mackay Bar. More practice, more trial and error, and they began to place in the English pleasure and jumping classes. Arab had been a faithful per- former, loved and pampered; but he was too old to school in all of the new challenges Mary Jane was anxious to meet head - on. In 1969 she was offered a registered Appaloosa mare to ride in the I.O.N. (Idaho, Ore- gon, Nevada) Appaloosa Youth Show. MALHUER'S Painted Lady was beautiful and performed like nothing 'Mary Jane had ever rid- --26- e IDAHO COUNTY FREE PRESS is a weekly newspaper, founded June 18, 1886, at Grangeville, Idaho, and has been in continuous circulation since founded, published under the same name, and by the Olmsted family since 1924. The Free Press specializes in Grangeville, Idaho County and State news; feature and historical stories. Each week there appears a column, "Tempus Fugit," gleaned from the Free Press files, selecting items of interest at 10 -year in- tervals. SUBSCRIPTION RATES: In Idaho, Lewis, Adams and Val- ley Counties, $4.00 per year, $2.50, six months; outside the above counties, $6.00 per year; $3.50, six months. Per copy, 10 cents; 15 cents mailed. (Rates subject to change.) Idaho County Free Press maintains a complete job - printing department, well equipped with modern letter and offset presses, modern typesetting machines, large array of type faces and other equipment and material, manned by expert craftsmen. AVAILABLE from the Free Press are three historical books: "Nez Perce Indian War" and "Indian Braves and Battles" by Norman B. Adkison; "Sheepeater Indian Cam- paign" by John Carrey; Aaron F. Parker, founder of the Free Press; Col. W. C. Brown and George M. Shearer. Write for information and prices. —28— den before. So her parents bought the horse. Arab was relegated to young- er sister, Nellie, and brothers, Bobby and Pat —no less loved, but his mistress was off to big- ger things. With Painted Lady, Mary Jane competed in seven shows in Idaho, including three I.O. N. shows, two open Appaloosa shows at the Western Idaho State Fair, and at Enterprise, Ore.; and two local shows at the Highlands Saddle and Jump Club. Her winnings were 10 first, 13 seconds, 8 thirds, 6 fourths, 4 fifths, and 2 sixths — always in the top ten. Mary ,lane still went back to some of the old faithful horses she had cowgirled on in the Salmon River hills, riding Trig- ger, an Appaloosa gelding she had raised from birth, and a Quarter Mare Punk, owned by the Tices. When her own horses were back "duding," she bor- rowed Appaloosa geldings to show at 4 -H shows. Her versatility was amazing. She entered everything— halter, reining, stump races, stake races, barrel races, trail class, key- hole races, rope races, horseback equitation. Western pleasure, English pleasure, rescue races, and costume class. Her biggest thrill of the year came when points totalled to give her the high point award for 1969 in the 1. 0. N. Youth Shows, for youth 13 and under and for which she received a beautiful silver- mounted bit. s r . MARY JANE'S horizons con- tinued to broaden. Being ready for high school, she left Mackay Bar and home to attend Parnell Preparatory School at Pomona, Calif., a school specializing in Western, English and jumping showmanship for grades four through 12. Approximately 60 students are schooled on 125 Arabian, Thoroughbred and Quarter horses, with competition in shows each weekend. School officials were quick to recognize this young girl's com- plete rapport with any horse. They had been having some trouble with a `green - broke' Thoroughbred gelding called Music Center, which had been badly spoiled and needed ex- pert handling; so Mary Jane be- gan to ride this difficult horse. The big event of the year was an International show at the Diamond Bar Ranch in San Gab- riel Valley —a long way from the Salmon River hills. Mary Jane, atop Music Center, won third in Small Working Hunter (15 hands or under) under saddle; third in Pony Jumper; fourth in Pony Pleasure; seventh in Pony Hunter. In. the Pony Jumper Class, riders were not judged on class. When Mary Jane completed the last jump, she couldn't stand it any longer. She kicked her stir- rups free, heeled her horse and in Mackay Bar style "let 'er rip -" To the spectators' shouts of "Come on Idaho " Mary Jane `came home.' Her future is bright. It's a long way in more ways than one from Mackay Bar and the Riggins Rodeo to International competition, but this modern teen -aged girl got there —on a horse. —27— In the heart of a primitive wilderness— On a majestic free - flowing river — In the second deepest canyon in the United States— It's the place you'd like to be- MACKAY BAR LODGE ON THE SALMON RIVER WILD COUNTRY Mackay Bar Lodge is located in a beautiful setting on the Main Salmon River, where the South Fork joins. Here we have excellent accommodations for vacationers, fishermen, hunters and recreationists. Transportation is by airplane or by jet boat. Fishing, hiking, trail riding, back packing, boating or just relaxing. For detailed information on rates, seasons and license costs, call or write. MACKAY BAR LODGE P.O. Box 1099 Boise, Idaho 83701 (208 ) 344 -1881 FLOAT TRIPS July and August. Enjoy a float trip on the River of No Return. Relax and watch the rugged, primitive Salmon River Canyon as you drift along with the current. Experienced boatmen are in command of the Nylon Neoprene float boats designed for the Wild Rivers of Idaho. Camp out under the stars at the end of the day, swim, fish and look for Indian artifacts, pan gold, take pictures and enjoy the Primi- tive Area. Combine adventure with enjoying the scenery as well as watching for Big Game. The experience of a lifetime. Make your plans early, for the Main Salmon or Middle Fork. Most of our trips are five days, but we are flexible. FAMILY FVN Family Fun in Idaho's high country in Chamberlain Basin or at Mackay Bar itself. A peaceful mountain country, with stands of lodgepole pine, lovely meadows, scenic ridges and peaks. An ideal spot, accessible only by airplane or packtrain. Ride or hike to the mountain lakes — Flossie, Fish or Sheepeater, for rainbow and cutthroat trout or fish Chamberlain Creek at the ranch. Hearty meals and good fellowship all add up to a great vacation. HUNTING Big Game Hunting. Salmon River Country has them all. Elk, Deer, Bear, Big Horn Sheep and Moun- tain Goat. Our guides are the best in the business. Mackay Bar will give you a good honest hunt. Spring Bear Hunt -5 -days. Mid -April thru June. Guided 7 -day hunts —Elk and Deer. Everything is furnished except personal gear, licenses, guns and ammo. Saddle horses, guides, meals, camps and pack horses are all furnished. Guides dress and pack out your kill for you. 7 -day Special Spot hunt —We furnish camps, wood, horses and a wrangler. You furnish personal gear, guns, ammo, food, and you feed the wrangler. 7 -day Regular Spot hunt —We furnish camp, wood and we pack you in and out. You furnish everything else. GETTING THERE: We operate our own airplanes, licensed and approved by the FAA, with licensed and experienced pilots. Flying time from Boise to Mackay Bar is approximately one hour. If weather prohibits flying, or if you prefer, arrangements may be made to go in by boat from the end of the road, 28 miles from Riggins, Idaho. Class 10 Nonresident Big Game hunting licenses have been limited and should be purchased early. We hunt in Areas 19, 20 and 20A, in the Nez Perce and Payette National Forests. STEELHEAD FISHING Steelhead run the Main Salmon from late February thru March and run from October until the river ices up. Catch steelhead from 6 to 30 pounds; some are 40 -inch fish. Bring your tackle (or we'll rent you rod and reel). Drop in for a day or stay a spell. We know the river and we know the good holes. JET BOAT TRIPS In the early days, travel on Idaho's "River of No Return" was strictly downstream. The jet boat has that problem licked. We can pick you up at the end of the road, 28 miles from Riggins, Idaho and take you upstream through some truly spectacular country (and some pretty spectacular rapids) to Mackay Bar, or above there if you'd like. We'll arrange a jet boat trip to suit you. Just let us know what you'd like. 127 Mike Popovitch Dies of Gunshot Wounds Cascade News August 18, 1933 Volumn XIX Number 22 Mike Popovitch, 62, shot by Pat Reed on August 10th, passed away at a Boise hospital shortly after an operation on his spine which was shattered by one of the bullets which struck him. He was buried in Morr¢s Hill Cemetery at Boise Wednesday. Popovitch was a native of Servia and left no relatives other than a son living in Servia. Sheriff Wilson, County Physician R. C. Ward, M. D. and Coroner A. D. Robb brought Popovitch to Cascade Sunday morning by wasy of Warren after a-trail trip of twelve miles in which the injured man was carried on a stretcher between two horses. Sunday evening he was taken to Boise, but was unable to survive an operation on his spina to relieve paralysis. Pat Reed, 19, who did the shooting, was given a preliminary hearing before Tudge Campbell Monday morning and in view of the evidence that the shooting was done in self defense, Reed was exonerated and released from custody. From evidence produced it seems that tied, who was working for the Forest Service, was at the Willey ranch Thursday when Popvitch cc-me in drunk and wail supplied with liquor. He insisted on Reed drinking with him and when refused became very angry. After supper Reed had gone to bed, when Popvitch, who had continued drinking, went into the czbin, picked up an ax and struck, at Reed who dodged, the ax striking'the pillow. Reed then reached for his dun and fired three shots, two of which took i ect near the heart. " After the shooting, the Willeys, Reed and a neghbor cared for Popovitch and awaited t.es appearence of the officials. It is a well known fact locally that Popovitch became absol- THE HISTORICAL DUSTON RANCH on the South Fork of the Salmon was a gateway Into the rugged wilderness of the Thunder Mountain area. Here is a photograph taken early in 1900 showing a packstring ready for the takeoff into the remote region. • • Y W W W - Y Y W A TOWERING STRUCTURE of volcanic -fused lime and boulders is the "monument" from w h i c h Monumental Creek In the Tunder Mountain country gets its name. New Details Said Important T oV alleyArseaCentennialRole By EARL WILLSON YELLOW PINE — Additional details are now available which stress further the importance of the vast Thunder Mountain wilderness areas of Valley County as an historical attrac- tion during the 1963 celebration of Idaho's Territorial Centen. nial As publicity chairman of the Valley County Territorial Cen- tennial Celebration Committee, there has come to my hand photographs which add graphic accent to the history of that area. The area, chuck full of virgin timber and undeveloped mining resources of inestimable future value, is a challenge to the mo- torist who explores the rugged terrain adjacent to Highway 15 out of Boise. One of the photographs refers j to the Duston ranch on the' south fork of the Salmon.'. Though currently known as the Barkell place, it was, in fact, the original "Pony" Smead home- stead where that well -known character lived with his Indian wife and raised a large family before the turn of the century. Another photograph shows the unusual monument from which Monumental Creek got (its name. It is a prominent at- traction adjacent to Thunder Mountain, that weird promon- i tory from which the remote mining district derived its name. The monument is a volcanic con - glomeration of lime and bould- ers, towering toward t h e heavens like a lone sentinel — a symbol of the last frontier of enchanting wilderness that can be explored only by saddle and pack animals and experienced ' pac) ers and guides. Petition For New Bridge Circulated A petition is presently being cir- culated in McCall that would ask the Federal Government to allot sufficient funds to restore the sus- pension bridge across the Salmon river just above the town of Riggins. The bridge was destroyed some time ago by fire and since that time per- sons living in the river area above the bridge site have been forced to use a ferry, undependabel at all times and dangerous during the high water season. In former years the bridge was an important link in the McCall -Bur- gdorf- Riggins loop so popular with tourists who wished to see some oI the most spectacular road building in Idaho. The bridge was also of great importance to people in the WgTens- Burgdorf area as that, route was free of snow longer in the fall and earlier in the spring than is the route over Secesh summit. It is felt that if the petition car- ries a large number of signatures from this area the bridge may be rebuilt. Mrs. Nolan Deasey, who is staying at the Yacht Club is circulating the petition in McCall. Brad Carey, at the Annex Club, has the paper and local citizens wishing to sign it may do so there. The petition will be sent to Senator bworshak and to Congressman Goff. BOISE, IDAHO, SUNDAY M moats Make RoundTrip On Salmon Jet Powered Craft Conquer Rough Water On Five -Day Voyage By JA BROWN McCALL— Adventure stil lives in the Far West and group of Idahoans proved it las week. They made a round tri: by boat through the Salmo: River canyon of Idaho's River o No Return. Making the trip were Mila Hinshaw, former Boisean not working with Bill Burrud Pr( ductions in Hollywood; Mr. an Mrs. J. L. Driscoll of Boise; Ru; sel Hart of the State Fish an Game department, Lewistor Walt Rubey Mr. and Mrs. L. I Drew and Mr. and Mrs. Warre H. Brown of McCall; and crei members Mr. and Mrs. Al Tic jDick Tice, Sylvan Hart, Denni Thompson Carter Rowles, an Myrna Smith. . This is the first complei round trip taken through the beautiful canyon. Boatmen wit outboard motors and propeller have putsied back and forth c sections of the river for mar years. Test runs have been mac up the river in the Buehli turbocraft jet-propelled ,boat but this is the first round tr' ever undertaken and complete In two jet-propelled boats o erated by Al and Dick Tice Salmon River Sportsman' Camps, we left the boat landir at the end of the road just miles up river from Riggins. Tlirilled by the grandeur the rugged Salmon River rangy and the green of the clear % ter —a green always sought b never found by dress designe —we traveled upstream throui many rapids, some with sui fascinating names as Chitu (after the chitum tree), Dri Meat, Big Mallard, Ludwig, E] horn, Gunbarrel, Devil's Teel and last, but surely not lea Salmon Falls. Leaping and d ing through the white wab the boats defied the force th has held them back for ce turies. First Stop Our first overnight stop w at Mackey Bar, with an evem trip to Five Mile Creek to vi Sylvan "Buckskin Billy Ha Buckskin Billy lives alone in house he built, in clothes sews, cooks a fantastic assn ment of vegetables he raises, heavy copper pans he fashic and forms. In addition to this, he makes beautiful gi out of the mountain mahoga tree which grows along 1 river bank. We were delighted the n morning when Buckskin joix us in bucking the rapids as as Bargamin Creek where made camp on a fine sand b The ride was so thrilling tl Rivers Act to Open New Vistas for Outdoor Recreation .. . THE THRILL of white water boating on the Middle Fork of the Salmon River is evident in the faces of these three recreationists. Manning the sweeps is Bob Smith of North Fork, a river guide. More and more people are floating the Middle Fork annually. The gin - colored water is a habitat.of native cutthroat trout as well as a spawning area for salmon and steelhead. `Uses' of Big Came Animals Embrace Hunting, Photography or Just Looking EDITOR'S NOTE: The author is the leader of the Idaho Cooperative Wildlife Research Unit, College of Forestry. Wildlife and Range Sci- ences, at the University of Idaho. He is an internationally - renowned authority on the cougar, having conducted Years of field studies on the animal in the Salmon River Primitive area. This article dis- cusses the Wild Rivers Act and its effect upon recreation and wildlife. By DR. M. HORNOCKER Little immediate change will be brought about, as far as ef- fects on wildlife are concerned, on those rivers included in the Wild and Scenic Rivers Act in Idaho. However, very important effects will be felt in outdoor recreation in the future, some perhaps in the very near future. In discussing effects of the Wild Rivers Act on wildlife, I w i 11 confine my comments mainly to big -game species. Certainly, lesser game and non - game species will be affected, as will both resident and ana- dromous fish, but for purposes of this discussion I'll stick chief- ly to big -game animals. Before going on, I should point out that `wildlife' and 'rec- reation' , are synonymous but that recreation embodies a great deal more than wildlife. Wildlife populations enhance a recreational experience, wheth- er the participant is hunting, photographing, or merely view- ing. A great many people gain from just knowing, that certain species are present in a given area, even though the animals may seldem be seen. When we speak of manage- ment of game animals here in the West, we normally think of management for hunting pur- poses. But more and more, in other parts of the country, these other `uses' of wildlife are be- coming more important. The two Idaho rivers initially included in the legislation — the Middle Fork of the Salmon and the Clearwater's Middle Fork, including the Lochsa and Sea- way tributaries — flow through some of the state's .finest big game country. Of those in the `study' category, the main' Salmon in central Idaho and the St. Joe in the Panhandle are noted for their excellent big -! game habitat. Three of these four rivers or river systems, excepting the St. Joe, carve deep, steep - walled canyons. The Salmon canyon is more than 6,000 feet deep in places. Ecologically, the can- yons of the Salmon and its major tributaries, along with Hells Canyon, are unique to the Intermountain Area. The Clearwater system can- yons, while not so striking phys- iographically, serve the same ecologic function in that the canyons provide a great per- centage of the available winter range for big -game animals. The Bruneau, a `study' category river, serves the same purpose,, although it exists in entirely dif- ferent type of terrain. The other two Panhandle rivers in the study group — the Priest and the Moyie — are quite different ecologically. Year -round precipitation is greater, topographic relief is less, and their canyons, if one could call them canyons, are much shallower. The steep - walled canyons of the Salmon and Clearwater sys- tems provide winter range for the major portion of the nation's largest elk herd, as well as for two species of deer, bighorn sheep and mountain goats. The relatively small area of land bordering the rivers affected by the act often constitutes an im- portant part of the big -game winter range. In years of heavy snowfall and prolonged cold tempera- tures, (`hard' winters)— game animals are forced lower and lower in these canyons. Forage in the lower one- fourth of the canyon sometimes must sustain the entire herd for varying lengths of time. If this forage is not available low along thel river, for any reason, then dur- ing these hard winters we may expect serious losses, and thus smaller populations: Spring is another period when the lower portions of the can- yons receive heavy use. All spe- cies of big -game animals are at - tracted here by the new grass. This is not so important in the survival of these populations . but it does provide considerable'' -forage at this time of year. The importance of the lower canyon is evident to anyone who spends any amount of time in these areas during winter and who views things objectively. There is, however, scientific evidence to support this view: I Stewart Brandborg, who stud - ied mountain goats in the Salm- on drainage, states "During se- vere winters all of these big game species (elk, mule deer, bi�gghorn sheep, and mountain gdats) are concentrated ° on thej lower slopes ..." Dwight! Smith, in studying bighorn pop - ulations on the Middle Fork of the Salmon, found the lower. canyon important not only to sheep but to elk, deer and goats. Studies are currently being carried out by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service's Division of River Basin Studies in the Hells Canyon area of the Snake. They canyon is ecologically similar in l many respects to the Salmon. Preliminary findings indicate the lower elevations of the can- yon — which would be affected; by inundation by High Mountain Sheep Dam — receive much use by deer. My own work in the Primitive ;Area supports this view. Winter range has been shown to be the foremost factor in limiting the numbers of elk and mule deer. And in one winter — 1964 -65 — the lower portions of the canyon sustained these herds through- out late December, all of January, and early February., To determine the effects on big -game herds of retaining these lower- canyon lands, we must consider the alternatives. These include impoundment and subsequent inundation, road building, logging, mining, and other forms of ,development. Some of these alternatives de- stroy the winter range corn-� pletely, others make it, in ef- fect, unavailable to wildlife. The Wild and Scenic Rivers legisla- tion insures the retention, in a natural state, of this small but extremely critical portion of land. While the act will have future effects on wildlife populations, the effects on outdoor recrea- tion in the state will be many times greater. To establish this thesis, we must look at the !broad recreational picture, both now and in the future. And again the alternative uses must be considered and their benefits compared. It might be well to establish here what I mean by `benefits'. I'm speaking of both economic and cultural benefits. Monetary wealth and material gain are important in our society but in iour individual lives these alone are not enough. There are many, many things i— intangibles — which we can- ! not and make no effort to place a dollar sign on. These kinds of things include good music, art, architecture, and the like. Open space, a mountain lake, a free - flowing river fit the same Cate- gory. These intangibles instill quality in our individual lives and psychologists .tell us they are absolutely essential to phys- ical and mental health. I believe society must recog- nize that the same kinds of things are essential to its health and well being. We as a society ,should strive for this quality land not only for "goods ". Gross national product is a very poor measurement of the progress of a society. We enjoy a quality way of life here in the Northwest. I believe we can _retain this quality and still `.grow' economically. The economic growth is assured one way or the other, but with some kinds of growth all semblence of quality in the environment is lost. I believe, by developing our recreation industry, Idaho can enjoy lasting economic growth and at the same time I retain for its citizens the kind of an environment conducive to `good living'. In this regard — that of developing a recreation industry — Idaho's rivers and the Wild and Scenic Rivers Act are vitally important. The United States is currently undergoing an unprecedented boom in the recreation industry. The July, 1968, U.S. News and World Report states that an es- timated 100 million people in this country engage in one or more forms of outdoor recrea- tion. In 1900, 3 per cent of total consumer spending was devoted Ito recreation; today 6 per cent !goes for recreation The na- tional bill for all this — in equipment, fees of various kinds, and related expenses —adds up to $50 billion a year. The Pacific Northwest (en- compassing Washington, Ore - gon, Idaho, and Montana west of the Continental Divide) is riding the crest of a recreation boom. The Bonneville Power Administration, in its 1967 publi- cation "Pacific Northwest Eco- nomic Base Study for Power Markets" reports that $900 mil- lion is spent annually by tour- ists in the region. Projections forecast an increase to $2,210' million by 1985 and $6,765 mil- ( lion by 2010. Recreation demands in the re- gion will be three times greater in 1985 than in 1960, six times greater in 2000, and more than nine times greater in 2010. This region, with approximately 3 per cent of the nation's popu- lation, accounts for about 7 per cent of the nation's tourist ex- penditures. Because of the sheer ^diversity and immensity of Pacific North- west recreation opportunities, Northwest residents vacation more in their own region than do residents of other regions. Tourism in the Pacific North- west is properly classed as a basic or export industry. That is to say, the economic structure of tourism serves to generate i; significant net .credit in the re- gion's balance of interregional payments. This is a very impor- i tant point. In terms of employment, tour- ism is the fourth largest and probably the fastest growing in- dustry in the Northwest. (It 'ranks third in Idaho). The equivalent of 100,000 average workers are employed in jobs which stem directly and ex- clusively from tourist spending. Of these, 14,700 are employed in Idaho ... Idaho is keeping pace with this regional growth in the rec- reation business. Idaho Depart- ment of Commerce and Devel- opment reports that, despite a cool, wet season, tourism was up an estimated 5 to 7 per cent, bringing a record $215 million into the state in 1968 ... All other indicators — requests for literature, out -of- state travelers, etc — were up markedly in 1968. Another factor in the region'sI favor is that over half the land area is owned by the federal' government. In Idaho, the fig- ure is 64 per cent. In addition, state governments own 5 per cent of the land in the region. This is extremely important to the expanding recreation indus- try because publicly - owned land is generally available to the public for recreational use. Planning and careful manage- ment (which assign .a high pri- ority to recreation) should. be able to expand the resource . supply sufficiently to accom- modate the forecasted demand, and at the same time provide a wide range of recreational op- portunity; from high- density use, such as skiing and picnick- ing, to wilderness experience. But it will require planning. Why is the Northwest region so well off, so to speak, in the One way to achieve this diver - recreation business? It's diver-, sity in supply is to ration out sity is an important factor. It's scarce and unique resources topography is renowned for high such as wilderness and wild scenic qualities and suitability rivers. This is the only way to for recreation purposes. It has i maintain quality and uniqueness everything the outdoor recrea- in such resources. ,tionist wants — oceans and What are the advantages, beaches, forest, mountains, val- both economic and cultural, of a leys, rivers, lakes, canyons, wa- recreation industry over al- F rfalls, deserts, and extensive temative industries? I have ilderness. pointed out that recreation in I Another factor is the fact that the Northwest is a basic or ex -t to region is relatively un- port industry — it brings in a owded. Against the national net credit to the region. average of 54 persons per Another benefit is what econo- square mile, the Northwest has mist Myron Katz calls the `Mul- 21 per square mile. Thus the re- tiplier Effect'. Money spent by gion has a decided advantage nonresidents moves quickly and over other regions, namely nat- widely through the economy. ural environment, low- density, This money creates primary resource -based outdoor activity (as opposed to high- density, jobs and income for businesses close -in, user - oriented activity). serving the tourists. Further, as the Bonneville Power Administration points out T h i s money, however, is " . the region's recreational quickly spent and re spent on resources are used less in- tensively than elsewhere, allow - other goods and services; thus nonresident tourist expenditures ing for a wide range of dis- I have a "multiplier effect" on positions or forms of devel -I employment and income. They opment. raise income directly, but in ad- dition they set up a chain of fur- "Portions remain susceptible to preservation in their natural wildland character, a major at- traction of the region. "Other portions are susceptible tai improvement in quality and, accessibility with corresponding stimulation to demand, where comparable improvements else- where in the nation are either impossible or achievable only at very high costs..... (we have) emphasized natural environ- ment because it is here that the Pacific Northwest has a unique and demonstrable advantage over most of the nation." . In short, Idaho and the Pacif- ic Northwest have an ideal rec- reation resource base upon which to draw. ther spending and re- spending. Further, studies show that most of these dollars are spent on goods and services which are produced in the Northwest, thus tending to further stimulate the region's economy. Outdoor recreation disperses income and employment throughout the region, rather than concentrating it in already densely populated areas. Thus tourism does not create many of the problems generated by some other industries. Less money is required of society for public services, such as sewage systems, fire and police protec- tion and education of children. An interesting comparison may be made here. Tourism brought $215 million into Idaho in 1968. The Idaho Mining Asso- ciation reports the total value of mining production in Idaho in 1968 was $118.1 million. The most important facts to consid- er, however, are that tourism income was relatively well dis- persed over the entire state; mining income was largely re- stricted to one small area in north Idaho. Further, it is imperative that we consider the atmosphere — the quality of the environment — in the North Idaho mining districts to that of some of our more intensively used recrea- tion areas such as Sun Valley, McCall, or Salmon. If "tax base" is our only cri- teria for measurement, then certainly Smelterville has it over Salmon or McCall as a de- sirable place to live and raise a family. I don't think so. The really important consid- eration, at what former Secre- tary Udall terms this "critical moment ", is the environment. It is here that the strongest argu- ment for a recreation industry, over some alternatives, exists. The amount of pollution to the atmosphere and water attribut- able to reccation is relatively minor. In this respect, the economic costs to society of the recrea- tion and tourism industry are probably more fully borne by the industry itself, per dollar of income, than is the case with many other industries. And cer- tainly the cultural costs to society are far less. Contrast the air and water at Smelter - ville with that at Salmon or McCall. Finally, a characteristic of the recreation industry that is important both economically and culturally is that it does not ordinarily deplete the resources upon which it depends when those resources — scenic and other outdoor recreation attrac- tions — are properly managed. This aspect — proper man- agement of our total recreation resources — is where the Wild and Scenic Rivers Act fits into the picture. This act is doubly 'important because it deals with W what the Bonneville Power Ad- ministration terms a unique re- source. And uniqueness is one factor which gives Idaho and the Pa- cific Northwest such a decided advantage over the rest of the nation. Idaho's wild rivers and their canyons are definitely unioue. An indication of the interest in these rivers, is the increasing number of visitors to the Salm- on and the Middle Fork — 1,450 boat visitors on the Middle Fork alone in 1968. They number of float boats on the Middle Fork has risen rapidly — from 218 in 1965 to 413 in 1968. The Forest Service estimates 6,000 visitors spent 11,500 visitor days on the main Salmon from the road's end to Lantz's Bar. Further evidence of the ap- peal of Idaho's wild rivers is the fact that the National Geo- graphic Society chose the Mid- dle Fork and main Salmon for an hour -long television docu- mentary. Idaho's free - flowing rivers are one of the state's major tourist attractions. And yet we have done very little on the state level to insure that this re- source is not irreparably altered or lost. Recreation is not even consid- ered a beneficial use of water in our laws — it must be given recognition. Wisconsin as early as 1905 passed legislation protecting its streams and for a number of years has had its own `State Wild Rivers Bill'. Missouri has • similar law. Further, we need • system of evaluating and clas- sifying the recreation potential of all of our major streams and their watersheds. This classifi- cation should periodically be up- dated as situations arise and needs become evident ... My whole discussion may ap- pear more a pitch for recrea- tion development and planning than a discussion of Wild Rivers legislation. What I've tried to Bo is point out that we in Idaho have an opportunity to grow economically and at the same time maintain a quality way of life. The Wild and Scenic Rivers, Act is a step in this direction. Many of us live in Idaho be- cause of the excellence and di- versity of outdoor recreation op- portunities and because in- tangible things that are impor- tant to us as individuals exist here. I believe the recreation in- dustry offers a way to have "the best of both." I do not advocate the status quo as far as a statewide eco- nomic base is concerned, nor do I advocate "turning the state over to recreation. Certainly diversity in economic develop- ment is desirable. I do advocate giving first con- sideration to managing our re- sources for recreational pur- poses when it can be demon- strated that in the long run society will receive the greatest benefits. ...And Wildlife in Gem State A BOATER'S -EYE VIEW of a churning rapid on the Middle Fork of the Salmon River gives a perspective of the thrill of white -water float boating on the nation's wild rivers system. Sheer canyon walls make boating the only practicable way of traversing the lower Middle Fork. (Photos by Ernest Day) These benefits may he eco- nomic or cultural, or both. Summing up, the burgeoning recreation industry makes it imperative for us in Idaho to: 1. Keep the options on our free - flowing rivers open. Rivers are one of our most unique re- sources — they also are the most fragile. 2. Classify the recreation po- tential of our rivers and water resources and periodically up- date this classification. 3. Retain diversity, both in the landscape and in development. We must provide both quality and quantity recreational ex- periences. 4. Continually strive toward quality in economic growth and way of life. We have an unpar- alleled opportunity. But to ac- complish it we must alter our thinking concerning `devel- opment'. We must cast off pro- vincialism and attitudes that were valid 30-40 years ago. Technology has changed all that. Our thinking on free - flowing rivers is an example. The West has long guarded its water for irrigation purposes. Hydroelec- tric power has also come on the scene. We must now recognize there are alternatives, often much better uses of our water resources. As Bill Hall, writing in the Lewiston Tribune, May 26, 1968, states ". . Leaving a stream alone is using it. It is shocking (to the reclaimationist) that the Middle Fork of the Clearwater and that stream's tributaries can run untouched through the mountains, and the people who live here still think they are de- riving some benefit. "This river meets the de- mands of the North Idaho tour- ist industry and the recreation demands of those who live in the region .. . "Anadromous fish runs are caught up in the economy of the state and region — the com- mercial fishing in Oregon and Washington, the tourist in- dustry, and the casual as a part of the quality fish ery sports fish of life in this region that per- mits us to attract and hold able people. It permits us to bid for talent in industry, education and gov- ernment against high paying, communities and states." Reclamationists view those who battle for free- flowing streams as a poetic minority. (To them) it's money running toward the ocean. (They) don't understand that the thousands of tourists who come to see . open rivers pay cold, hard cash for the privilege. And more are coming every year ..." AT DUSK, a placid stretch of the Middle Fork of the Salmon River belies the turbu- lent, unpredictable nature of the wild river. The canyon is the home of deer, elk, bear, cougar and mountain goat as well as other wildlife. The canyon is ecologically unique to the Intermountain Area. MOUNTAIN SHEEP find the sheer, rocky crags of the Middle Fork of the Salmon a hospitable home. the small area bordering the river bottom provides an important winter range for the bighorns, as well as other big game species. Five sheep were caught by the camera in this picture. "Horse Rides the River" THROUGH DEEP Salmon River Canyons goes the jet boat, almost engulfed by the rapids, with Paul Filer at the controls. Mary Jane rests her hand on Margare's neck. The Arabian gave no trouble whatever through the "River of No Return" canyon. Photo by Walt Rubey. Shore Lodge, McCall. Jayne Brown and Walt Ru- bey, McCall, are working on a book of the Salmon River area and "River of No Return" which will contain color pic- tures and historical and local material. Rubey and Mrs. Brown have been assembling pictures and material for this book for the past two years and have set a tentative date of October, 1970, for publica- tion and release to the public. The following is just a sample of the type of material this book will contain. —o— (Continued from last week) By JAYNE BROWN Pictures by Walt Rubey IT HAD been Mary Jane's show from the beginning and now it was still her show. She picked up a bucket of grain and went up the ramp, bridle reins in hand. Arab 'hesitated just a minute, looked things over, then with tail held high calmly eve D f ' eICJl�S and sheer cliffs, the boat zoomed — rocking, leaping, swooshing, swirling, dipping, dancing, drifting occasionally in crystal clear calm water. They sped past white sandy beaches with fresh game tracks. They stopped at Filer's Shepp Ranch and glimpsed the historic cabin of Polly Bemis. On their way again, Indian relics and hiero- glyphics (probably stating that these waters are impassable) were iust a blur. Through all of the rapids — unpredictable Mann's Creek, foaming Cotton Tail, tempestuous Little Growler, vio- lent Dried Meat, treacherous Chitin —it was no different. Martare was out for a joy ride. He seemed to be looking at the scenery, the rugged and rocky timbered canyon of the Salmon River. Once in a while he ate some grain or rubbed his head against his mistress's body to let her know he was glad she was there. Twenty -eight miles and two hours later the boat journey was over. walked into the boat. Rapport between girl and horse was so ARAB and Mary Jane went to perfect that it brought tears to the rodeo. They paraded and the eyes of everyone. No one raced. They ran the barrels and said a word. placed fifth on the judge's sheet. Mary Jane turned the horse, But they placed first in the wild -riyed for just a moment, so hearts of the crowd. Arab had that he would be facing down- proved that you can lead a horse' stream. Two pieces of plywood to water but you can't make were put on each side of the him sink. Together •they proved boat to form a stall reaching that the pioneer spirit still lives eight inches above the sides of and there are ways to prove it. the boat. Rope was secured And Mary Jane, a teenager around his chest and twice over with a freckled face and a warm his back. Bales of hay were toothy grin, proved that Young thrown in front to protect him America is much more than if he were thrown off balance in dope fiends and hippies. the rapids. Arab didn't realize The Riggins Rodeo was just'. this and nonchalantly nibbled the beginning for both horse and first on the hay and then on the rider. Mary Jane and Arab had grain, completely unaware that had a taste of the excitement he was about to make horse of competition, and they were !, history. literally "off to the .races." The ramp and boards for un- In August they went to the loading were put into the boat Western Idaho State Fair in and it was shove -off time. There Boise where Arab gleaned a was a moment of consternation fourth in the Halter Class for as Filer thought he had 'got a purebred Arabian geldings. Horse motor" on a rock. Then smooth- and rider were learning new con - ly out into the River of No Re- trol, new standards and new turn they went, rodeo bound. methods, as they were exposed Mary Jane sat beside Arab, re- to contests completely foreign assuringly petting his neck. I to anything that had existed in With Bobby in the bow of the their lives at Mackay Bar. More boat, they headed into the first practice, more trial and error, rapid. Arab pointed his ears and, and they began to place in the held his head and tail high, on English pleasure and jumping balance, absolutely relaxed. classes. They went through first one Arab had been a faithful per - rapid and then another. Mary former, loved and pampered; but Jane's look of concern gradually he was too old to school in changed to one of joy. Her horse all of the new challenges Mary was proving her belief in him. Jane was anxious to meet head- * * * on. In 1969 she was offered a PAST TOWERING rock crags registered Appaloosa mare to ride in the 1. 0. N. (Idaho, Ore- gon, Nevada) Appaloosa Youth Show. MALHUER'S Painted Lady was beautiful and performed like nothing Mary Jane had ever rid- den before. So her parents bought the horse. Arab was relegated to young- er sister, Nellie, and brothers, Bobby and Pat —no less loved, but his mistress was off to big- ger things. With Painted Lady, Mary Jane competed in seven shows in Idaho, including three I.O. N. shows, two open Appaloosa shows at the Western Idaho State Fair, and at Enterprise, Ore.; and two local shows at the Highlands Saddle and Jump Club. Her winnings were 10 first, 13 seconds, 8 thirds, 6 fourths, 4 fifths, and 2 sixths — always in the top ten. Mary Jane still went back to some of the old faithful horses she had cowgirled on in the Salmon River hills, riding Trig- ger, an Appaloosa gelding she had raised from birth, and a Quarter Mare Punk, owned by the Tices. When her own horses were back "duding," she bor- rowed Appaloosa geldings to show at 4 -H shows. Her versatility was amazing. She entered everything — halter, reining, stump races, stake races, barrel races, trail class, key- hole races, rope races, horseback equitation. Western pleasure, English pleasure, rescue races, and costume class. Her biggest thrill of the year came when points totalled to give her the high point award for 1969 in the 1. O. N. Youth Shows, for youth 13 and under and for which she received a beautiful silver- mounted bit. MARY JANE'S horizons con- tinued to broaden. Being ready for high school, she left Mackay Bar and home to attend Parnell Preparatory School at Pomona, Calif., a school specializing in Western, English and jumping showmanship for grades four, through 12. Approximately 601 students are schooled on 125 Arabian, Thoroughbred and Quarter horses, with competition in shows each weekend. School officials were quick to recognize this young girl's com- plete rapport with any horse. They had been having some ,trouble with a 'green- broke' Thoroughbred gelding called Music Center, which had been badly spoiled and needed ex- pert handling; so Mary Jane be- gan to ,ride this difficult horse. The hig event of the year was an International show at the Diamond Bar Ranch in San Gab - riel Valley —a long way from the Salmon River hills. Mary I Jane, atop Music Center, won third in Small Working Hunter (15 hands or under) under saddle; third in Pony Jumper; fourth in Pony Pleasure; seventh in Pony Hunter. I In the Pony Jumper Class, .riders were not judged on class. When Mary Jane completed the last jump, she couldn't stand it any longer. She kicked her stir- rups free, heeled her horse and in Mackay Bar style "let 'er rip -" To the spectators' shouts 1 of "Come on Idaho " Mary Jane `came home.' Her future is bright. It's a long way in more ways than i one from Mackay Bar and the I Riggins Rodeo to International competition, but this modern teen -aged girl got there —on a horse. I Forest Service Destroys History In Burning Salmon River Cabin Editor, The Statesman: At noon last Tuesday, a cloud of smoke rose over the Salmon River Canyon. The U.S. Forest Service was burning another house. This time it was the cabin Ed Heintz built on his claim 40 years ago. There is something special about most log cabins, and no one who ever saw this one could help but like it. With winch, crosscut saw, and craftsmanship Ed fashioned a structure that would last. When he died in a Grangeville rest home last year, his cabin still stood tight and firm. Who was Ed Heintz? We know he came to Salmon River country from Wisconsin by way of Washington. Ile filed the Beaver Placer mining claim and built his house on the site. He dug a root cellar and grew vegetables to fill it, diverting water from the creek. There he lived, skim - digging and trapping, off and on for nearly 20 year. The Forest Service began toying with the notion of destroying his cabin in 1964. They wanted to extend a road to the site, building a boat ramp and bridge. The cabin was in the way, and construction had priority. But the best laid plans "gang oft a'lay," the road was never lengthened, and the cabin managed to survive. Offending no one, it was a source of pleasure to many. It served as emer- gency shelter in times past and present. River travelers who stopped to look it over were delighted. Moss cov- ered the nearby rocks and Long Tom Creek splashed down to the river a few feet away. Then one rainy afternoon the Forest Service unexpectedly reappeared; "policy" in head and matches in hand. In a few hours the cabin was ashes. Everyone who has learned of this ac- tion regards it as a federal arson. There is considerable irony in a gov- ernmental agency, symbolized by Smokey the Bear, and continually em- phasizing a message of "care with fire," which goes about incinerating buildings of aesthetic and historic in- terest. Inquiry at the supervisor's office re- vealed the thinking, or lack of thought, behind this particular fire. The super- visor indicated that there was no uni- form policy, each case was decided on its own merits. The Beaver placer claim had been determined to .be.void from the beginning, and Ehe Widing a "tresspass." Deciding it was not a "habitable abode," no court action was taken to inform the present owner of a quitclaim deed to the site of the plans to destroy the cabin. The action was even less defensible because the cabin was within the corridor of an area being considered for "wild and scenic" classification. That there is a general policy on the part of the USFS to destroy abandoned cabins on lands within its jurisdiction is as plain as the horn on a saddle. In at least one instance we have discover- ed, the Forest Service burned buildings on private property adjacent to its lands. Everyone who heard of the Heintz "vandalism" expressed emphat- ic indignation at such action. In one case there was only resignation: "That's the Forest Service for you!" Bring this subject up in any Idaho town, and a litany of such senseless burnings will be recalled by the resi- dents. The conclusion one quickly draws from such conversations is that this needless destruction has drawn deeply on the Forest Service reservoir of pub- lic goodwill. In many cases the reser- voir seems to have been emptied some years ago. If the Forest Service objects to such cabins on grounds of hazard or aesthet- ics, one can only too readily point out seldom -used service cabins, unsightly fire dumps, miles of USFS useless but never removed telephone line, etce- tera. In fact, this year the Forest Serv- ice has revealed plans to build perma- nent living quarters by Dagger Falls on the Middle Fork. The Forest Service could well be admonished: "Wipe out the beam in thy own eye, before the mote of an isolated cabin." There is not much doubt that under such a poli- cy, Fort Fizzle or a Lewis and Clark cabin this side of Fort Clatsop would long ago have been put to the torch by directives of some Service bureaucrat. There is little evidence of any inter- est or knowledge on the part of the Forest Service about the history of oc- cupied sites on the Salmon or Snake Rivers, If such studies have been done, no one in the headquarter or district of. fices'knows of them or cares about tAem:,In one case, having two book ci- tatid°nsio a 14 -page report was still in- sufficient to locate a single employe who knew of the existence of such a re- port, let alone its whereabouts. In `the Heintz cabin situation, appar- ently no consideration whatever was given to any of the a., errwttiues to fire. . Atf That the cabin could have been dis- mantled easily and willingly and relo- cated at Shepp or James Ranch never even occurred to anyone in the deci- sion making process. One comes to ex- pect such a myopic mentality on the part of bureaucracies. After ail, a bu- reaucrat is someone who does what he is told. But recent events in this country have had an encouraging as- pect, in that short - sighted policies and corruption have been arrested by ordi- nary individuals who have said, "No, you won't make me an accomplice to your thoughtlessness or dishonesty." So perhaps sadder than the flames that devoured the Ed Heintz cabin, was the ability of the Forest Service to find some GS2 or GS3 who was willing to go out, pour the gas and light the match. The point worth making is that some buildings still survive; remote prospec- tor's cabins, old mines. Each has its in- terest, its biography, its beauty. Yearly they are fewer. If any are to survive for our appreciation and that of our children, we must seek a change in such a near - sighted Forest Service pol- icy. A danger foreseen is half avoided. Perhaps the Forest Service should be required to submit an environmental impact statement before destroying buildings. At the very least, the people of nearby communities and ranches should be informed and consulted. They will know the historical import of the structure; it is their history — not that of some agricultural department. This might retard irresponsibility long enough to allow people with vision and multiple interests to act. A clash of ideas is not a disaster, it is an opportunity for reconsideration. Perhaps the matter removed from For- est Service prerogatives altogether. Af- ter all, we can restock fish and plant new trees, but once reduced to ashes, who can restore the wonder of an old log house? — CORT CONLEY, Cam- bridge. > lof �6a ry _ /C% %% �qg� All z f z 7 BUCKSKIN BILL'S CHRISTMAS MESSAGE Editor's Note: This message from -;. Buckskin Bill was solicited by HIGH COUNTRY through a cor- respondent, Pauline Miller. Mrs. Miller sent Buckskin a necktie for' Christmas along with a note re questing Bill's Christmas message , 1, to the outside world. He responded with a handwritten letter, reproduc- ed here, on Cyclops Mining Com- pany stationery. Pauline has spent nearly as :much time alone in the back country as Buckskin Bill. The two of them are old friends. How: Thank you for your gift. On Christmas I take a Couple of carrots vier to my pygmy rabbit. I have a pine squirrel. Perhaps I'll give him a car- rot too. I also have an old beaver and there's a cub —they can get their own Christmas food. A pioneer in Oklahoma forbade his children to go out in the snow, but they did anyway. They were scared when they saw him cutting sticks with his pocket knife. Truth was, he only wanted to measure their feet so he could get them shoes for Christmas. He cut sticks the length of the childrens' feet and, when the shoes arrived, they fit Per- fectly. I always sing in German on Christmas: "0 Tannembaum ", "Stille Nacht ", etc. But Christmas is for children and animals. The Swedes snake sure their animals get good food at Christmas time. The old Germans and Hungarians have Santa Claus who arrives per- sonally and gives good children toys, candy, fruit, etc. But along with Santa Claus comes Bug Bear, a black man with stacks to beat bad child - ren. His black face is made from a black sock with holes in it. Buckskin Bill' About Buckskin Bill: Sylvan Hart, better known as Buckskin Bill, is truly a legend in his own time. Since coming to Idaho in 1935, Buckskin Bill has lived the life of a pioneer, alone on the Salmon River. Almost entirely self- sufficient, he depends on the world outside the confines of his wilderness sanctuary for sugar, raisins, rice, flour, oatmeal, tea and books. He generally has about fifty dollars worth of these supplies packed in once a year. Otherwise he raises, hunts and makes every- thing he needs. 01- R17P Carter awaits Andrus' advice on wilderness President Jimmy Carter did not reveal his position on how large central Idaho wilderness areas should be, Gov. John Evans said Monday. Evans said that when he and De- mocratic senatorial candidate Dwight Jensen started to talk about wilderness areas with Car- ter during their ride to the Rode - way Inn from the Boise airport, "he diverted attention" from the subject. The president said Interior Sec- retary Cecil Andrus "is the author- ity. He's told me all about it," Evans said. Carter said, Andrus is going to advise him how large it should be. Carter and Andrus are to begin floating the Middle Fork of the Salmon River in central Idaho today. Environmentalists want to expand areas protected from log- ging and mining to 2.3 million acres, while Andrus and the Forest Service had apparently reached basic agreement on 1.8 million acres. That was only one of a number of Idaho issues Evans and Jensen said they discussed briefly with Carter during the ride from the airport. Evans told reporters after arriv- ing at the Rodeway Inn with the Carter - Andrus party that the presi- dent said he would "continue to support" breeder reactor research of the kind going on at the federal installation near Arco. Jensen said Carter added, how- ever, he "does not want to pour the money into the proposed Clinch River breeder reactor" in another state "because it would be obsolete" by the time it is built. Carter told the two Democrats he couldn't advocate one way or the other a bill proposed by Sen. Frank Church to aid sugar beet growers until the legislation comes out of a House - Senate conference committee, the governor said. Evans, noting that the federal government is preventing Idaho farmers from diverting Snake River water, said Carter affirmed he'll "stick by" states' rights in the distribution of water to farmers. The governor said Carter told him he was "just very excited" about being in Idaho, and that Car- ter emphasized how difficult it was for a president to be able to have a vacation by himself. "He said I'm going to catch a bigger fish than Cecil Andrus does," the governor related. Jensen said Carter sent him a letter Monday saying "you have my strong support" in Jensen's race against Republican Sen. James McClure. In the car, Jensen said, the president said it would be helpful to have him in Congress be- cause McClure rarely supports his policies. Evans, who faces state Rep. Allan Larsen in the November gu- bernatorial election, told reporters Carter made no endorsement of him. Evans said, "We never really talked about it at all," adding he "didn't think it was appropriate at this particular point." However, he said Carter's visit "in itself will enhance John Evans as the governor of the state of Idaho." Evans spoke of errors that have been made in the past about recla- mation projects and building dams, and said Carter is going to be mending political fences in the West, and will do so by 1980.. Asked if Carter, who lost Idaho in the 1976 presidential election, could carry the state today, Evans responded quicky, "No." Carter has been criticized in a Statesman editorial for not allow- ing Idaho media to cover his raft trip. G� � Carter, Idahoans say `Hello Raft trip begins this morning b, Statesman photo by James Dean 'President Carter is greeted by Gov. John Evans' family, including reluctant grandson Jimmy Evans, 2 m� 5;? � _ - rle /1 -_/I-ez -"C - , " � / "3/--) 17 � ? By ROD GRAMEk The Idaho Statesman President Carter and about 700 military personnel and families ex- changed warm greetings Monday afternoon when the president ar- rived in Boise to begin a vacation that will take him into Idaho's wilderness area. Carter arrived at 5:55 p.m, and spent the bulk of a half hour talk- ing with reporters and shaking hands with the crowd gathered in the 87- degree heat at Gowen Field. Carter told reporters he is "doing OK" in national popularity polls. But he added that he will watch the congressional election this November to "assess" the support of his programs. The president, his wife Rosa - lynn, daughter Amy and sons Jack and Chip, were to spend about 12 hours in Boise before leaving early today for a a three -day float trip down 75 miles of the Middle Fork of the Salmon River. Emerging from the blue and silver Air Force One into the late afternon sun, the president — ac- companied by Interior Secretary Cecil Andrus and his wife Carol — acknowledged the applause of the crowd with the famous Carter smile and a wave before quickly descending the steps to greet a long line of dignitaries, including Gov. John Evans and his family, Lt. Gov. William Murphy, Boise Mayor Dick Eardley, other Demo- cratic officials and Tracy and Tana Andrus, the daughters of the Interior secretary and former Idaho governor. While moving through the re- ceiving line, the president stopped briefly to comfort one of Evans' grandchildren who had begun to cry. Mrs. Carter, dressed in a white jacket and spring green slacks, was given a bouquet of red roses as she stepped from the ramp. The president — with his daugh- ter Amy and a cadre of Secret Ser- vice men at his side — went di- rectly to a group of about 75 news- men who stood in a roped of€ area. A press conference had not been on the original schedule, keeping with the president's desire to limit media coverage to a minimum during his 10-day Western vaca- tion. Dressed in a blue- checked busi- ness suit, Carter said he was "glad to be in Idaho," and termed his float trip an "unprecedented vaca- tion" for a president. He said his close friend Andrus "has never lost an opportunity to tell me about the. beauties of Idaho." Carter said he visited Idaho in the 1950s when he underwent atomic submarine training at what was then the National Reactor Testing station near Idaho Falls. He also stopped briefly at the Boise airport in 1976 while cam- paigning for the presidency. The president said he is "an old canoe and kayaking man." But he (See CARTER, Page 4A) Carter ------------------ (Continued from Page IA) said it has been three years since he has slept in a sleeping bag. Asked if his float trip was an at- tempt to boost his sagging popular- ity in the polls, Carter said he is "doing OK in the polls," but added that he can't "run the White House" based on popularity polls. Carter said a "good way to as- sess "'his popularity will be in the congressional elections this No- vernber. He said the Democrats normally lose several incumbent congressmen in an off - presidential election. "We hope to do better than that," he said., The president also said he as- sured Idaho Sen. James McClure, R- Idaho, in a meeting last Thurs- day that the U.S. would pursue a "strong" research program in the breeder reactor field. Carter said he told McClure he would not sup- port development of the Clinch River breeder reactor in Ten- nessee. 'We are strongly in favor of an adequate, very strong research and development program in the breeder' field," Carter told news- men. "What I don't want to do is firm up a specific design program which by the time it was completed would be obsolete." 9� After meeting with newsmen, the president, Mrs. Carter and Amy moved along the edge of the crowd, shaking hands and ex- changing greetings with about 700 servicemen, their families and gu- ests. One national press photogra- pher who follows the president said it is unusual for Carter to take that much time to shake hands and greet the public. "He (Carter) usually walks over to the crowd, waves and says, `Hi, how are your " the photographer said. En route to Idaho, Andrus dis- cussed the Salmon River trip and the proposed Salmon River wilder- ness area with newsmen aboard the presidential aircraft. Andrus said he mentioned to Carter one year ago that he should take a float trip down the Salmon. An administration proposal to set aside 1.8 million acres in the Salmon River area as wilderness is being studied by the Office of Man- agement and Budget. Some con- servationists want to preserve 2.3 million acres in the area as wilder- ness. Andrus told The Statesman Mon- day night that Carter should make a recommendation on the Salmon River wilderness area by the end of this year. Some get, a Carter handshake By EARL DUNN The Idaho Statesman It was a perfect crowd to greet an American president. There were no tractors with drivers carrying placards decrying the plight of the American farmer. No angry housewives chanting about rising supermarket prices. No irate military career people seeking verbally to flail their com- mander -in -chief over his veto of the defense budget. But there were military people present. The crowd that greeted President Carter at Gowen Field — estimated to he about 700 — was made up of military personnel and their dependents. One Air Force sergeant sta- necks, their eyes occasionally scanned the skies. And they ner- vously exchanged meaningless banter. Not all of the military personnel necessarily wanted to be the offi- cial airport reception "com- mittee" for the president. One member of the 116th Ar- mored Cavalry Regiment unit from Le Grande, Ore., told a re- porter, "This was about the only option left open to us. We're here on two -week training and they shut down the PX, shut down the NCO Club, locked all the gates so we couldn't get in or out, so it was this or nothing." There were 400 members of the (See CROWD, Page 4A) tioned with the Idaho Air National Guard commented, "This may be the only chance I'll ever have to see that plane and a president of the United States." All who were gathered knew they would be able to see the presi- dent, but few believed they would get to touch him. Advance an- nouncements made by the White House suggested the president would step from the plane, wave to the crowd and would then be whisked away to his overnight des- tination, the Rodeway Inn, by the presidential limousine. Much to the surprise of the crowd, the president provided that rare opportunity that so often causes the recipient to give a soul- ful glance at his hand. Carter not only walked briskly to the rope barricade where he held a brief impromptu press conference, but walked along grabbing every hand he could, touching arms and chat- ting with the now- excited throng. "He touched my face," one woman shouted to someone behind her as the president continued to exchange pleasantries with the emotionally charged gathering. Even before Air Force One touched down on the south side of the airport, it was obvious how much the gathering wished for a closer look and perhaps a brief clasping of hands with this symbol Of nationality and leadership. Their cameras hung from their Crowd ______o__________ (Continued from Page 1 A) unit at Gowen Field. Lt. Dave Swearingen, public in- formation officer for the Idaho Air National Guard, said, "With these people, the president was virtually assured of a friendly, clean -cut crowd." After the president had passed through, half of the crowd gath- ered at the rope barricade, one teen -age boy turned to his friend and was overheard to comment, "How many chances in a lifetime do you have to do this? Let's put it 111�� this way, out of 38 presidents, I shook hands with one of them." Another woman who was with her girlfriend, a WAF, remarked after Carter passed by, "He has nice presence, doesn't he ?" "I was going to ask him for a raise," the WAF replied. Still another woman showed how a presidential handclasp can elec- trify a crowd by commenting, "it was neat! I'm glad I don't have to have my blood pressure taken now. It's up 14 points." One Air Force sergeant, his left chest dotted with colorful cam- paign ribbons signifying a fairly long military career, was less im- pressed. Asked if he shook the president's hand, he replied: "No, I didn't. I could have. But I shook the hand of one president when I was 8 years old and I never forgot it..That was FDR (Franklin Delano Roosevelt). I've had other chances to shake a president's hand, but getting to shake FDR's hand was all I'll ever need. It was unforgettable." But there was a young lad — about 7 or 8 years old — who was bubbling with excite. lent as he was led away by his pa.::nts. "I got to shake his hand, dad." Civilizatteo MCCALL, Idaho (AP) When Sylvan A. Hart acquired a master's degree in engineer- from the University of Idaho; he decided that was enough of civilization for a while. He put an ax, a rifle, and a few staples on. his back' and disappeared into the Ida- ho mountains. Forcing the wilds to yield food and clothing, finding com- fort when fierce winter grip- ped, the hills, Hart became a mountain man, 'much 'like those incredible loners who roamed the West more than 100,years ago. One year became two, then three, and- except for one prolonged occasion Hart . has never found reason to leave the wilderness. Now 66, he is threatened by a civilization that wants to force him out, of his remote home —in the name of wilder - ness preservation. IT WAS 1932 when Hart went into the hills. He made' his headquarters at the point where Little Five Mile Creek flows into the Salmon River — known as the "River of no Re- turn" because of its wild THE WAR may have been current. Visitors then were his undoing. Hundreds of sur- as much as a year apart. plus liferafts made river-run- Hart made his clothes from ning popular. Tourists,increas- animal skins and eventually float past Buckskin became known as "Buckskin- Bgl s. He has become some Bill." thing of a celebrity. He hewed timbers by hand, The trouble with this is that and put up several buildings, his wilderness has become a covering them with adobe. He mined copper, smelted it, re- wilderness by statute. Now fined it, alloyed it and made you, are not supposed to live utensils. there. TO BE FREd of store- Hart; has, applied for title bought ammunition he made to the land he has occupied so several flintlock rifles, bor- long. (Under certain circum ing the barrels on a hand- stances title could be granted) - made lathe turned by a foot treadle. Federal officials in, Boise say His ' trips out of the back he has not filled out the country have been rare. When but they have he needs gunpowder, books or forms properly, t re the Darjeeling tea of which given him until July o he is fond, he pans a little apply. gold —about $150 a year. -and I hikes to the hamlet of $urg- dorf. Hart's only extended time away from the wilderness was during World War II. It w,as the spring of. 1942 before' he heard of Pearl Harbor. He promptly enlisted, and served three years in Army. ordnance. //Q e Pt c.. 6) C n Q C,� J a'( �- v Ir s 1 Wnderness Wizard Sylvan__ A. Hart He Made Clothes, Rifle, Boar&, Shot And Powder Horns a0,1"t-ci ,q Arziaono- 62Q(o (�c POP "19 0(,?— �l f q PROTECTED BY CANNON — Buckskin. Bill, who lives in a lonely cabin deep in Idaho's Salmon River Breaks Primitive Area, is preparing for another hard winter. Bill is a gunsmith who has lived on the river for 42 years, with the only access to his cabin being either on foot or by boat up the Salmon River. Bill has built and mounted a shootable cannon near his cabin —he says he is waiting for the Forest Service to try and kick him off his land and he will blow them "out of the water. ( UPI photo by Buddy Mays Editor's Note: If you think the day of the rough- hewn, backwoods individu. alist is past, you'll find` reassurance in the saga of Buckskin Billy, a man who renounced civilization in fa- vor of life in America's most primitive inhabited region. By HUGH A. MULLIGAN FIVE MILE CREEK, Idaho (AP) — The age of hyperten- sion holds no terror for Si- mon Bolivar Buckingham Syl- van Ambrose Hart, otherwise known as Buckskin Billy. Buckskin has been retired longer than most people have been working. At the age of 25 he re- nounced a career as a petrol- eum engineer to live as he could in the most primitive region he could find. "I inquired as to where was the wildest, the most desolate, the most inaccessible part of the country, and they told me Salmon River Canyon," said Billy, stroking his long flow- ing beard and settling back in his rocking chair made of a cougar hide stretched over elk antler runners. "SO I CAME here and be- gan learning about myself. That's what the back country teaches you. It teaches you to live with yourself. There are no fat people in the wil- derness, and no ulcer victims, either." Now 57, Buckskin lives in a mile -deep canyon on the edge of the wild, rushing Salmon River in a pink clay cabin with a tin corrugated roof, with deer antlers for door knobs and a book -lined bed- room with a bay window fashioned from the plexiglass of a crashed B17 bomber. Al- most any morning, he can see elk and moose, Rocky Moun- tain sheep and. big black bears romping in his vege- table garden. Buckskin insists. he is not a hermit, but his nearest neighbor is 5' miles down river, the nearest town 50 miles over the mountain. He cooks pioneer style in iron pots over an open fire, dress- es and preserves the game that abounds at his doorstep FASHION PLATE — His $40 bearskin hat sits proudly on Buckskin Billy's head. It is one of his collection of hats. In horn - rimmed glasses, Buckskin shows the intel- lectual side of his life. and once a year, in the fall, flies to town for supplies like tea and sugar. From the rafters of his cabin hang white cotton sacks full of dried elk meat, cooked Mexi- can beans and ground corn meal. "THAT BAG there contains a year's supply of dried toast," said Billy, pointing with his Bowie knife. "And don't worry none about this knife. I only use it for carv- ing up grizzly bears, Demo- crats and other varmints." Buckskin earned his nick- name from the buckskin shirt and breeches he wears, along with other period piece cos- tumes, such as authentic. In- dian regalia, bright lumber- jack shirts and the faded uni- form of a Civil War Zouave, all of which -he: -keeps .in a closet. But hats are his real ruling passion. Each fall when he goes to town he wears a'dif- ferent one to dazzle the sales girls. His collection includes a coonskin cap, a bearskin beefeater that cost $40 and is guaranteed to last 40 years, and a crested leather, miner's cap, circa 1849, . that makes him ` look like a Spanish con - quistador, He also has a miner's hel- met that he wears rakishly over his shaggy uncut hair. BORN "IN the Oklahoma Indian territory and educated at the University of 'Okla - homa, which gave him a BA degree, Buckskin came to the wilderness because his father did the same thing years ago in the Creek Indian country. "It's been a tradition in our family to go to the back woods to seek your identity," Buckskin said. "People get in a rut. They don't develop their abilities. You know, man is a pretty good predatory ani- mal, and nature has much to teach him." Buckskin doesn't think he has wasted his educational op- portunities. Rather, he thinks he has refined them and given them purpose. An avid r e a d e r whose paperback library includes D a n t e, Rabelais, Dickens, Thackery, most of the Rus- sians and all the works of Winston Churchill, Buckskin believes that good literature and do- it- yourself mechanics go hand in hand. When World War II erupted, Buckskin donned his -best buckskins, grabbed his trusty flintlock and hiked 50 miles to the nearest draft board. , After convincing them of his sanity, he wound up in the Aleutians as a buck sergeant and master mechanic in the , Air Force servicing Norden bombsights, auto pilots and other delicate equipment. "AFTER I GOT out I had to learn to walk all over again," he said. "That was flat country up there and I had to get readjusted to the mountains." Out behind the cabin, Buck - skm'=�px o' u d l"y displayed a'' "" bombshelter, a deep cave, under, a huge, boulder where he occasionally goes to sit and r read on hot days. "I know this is miles from a target area, but, I got to set a good, example for the rest of the folk, so. I built myself a shel- ter," he said. On most days, Buckskin gets up at dawn, works 'at his guns or in his garden' until" noon, spends the rest of the day loafing or receiving visi- tors, if there are any, °and retires about 8. o'clock. 3D0e-q, rC'� C '2 50 MILES FROM TOWN—On his high stoop, Buck- skin Billy takes it easy at his home. The door irnnhe era moor antlers. Elk and moose, mountain bears often appear in his garden. hermit, but his nearest neighbor Nay and the nearest town is 50 there once a year for supplies r grow. d�ql>'- q �) ( '7 &-- /$ Ale A� 9 us e, �4 � Cecil Andrus and President Carter ready for launch. TAIC, �h F J1,4 //V/ o �►/ First fa by Rachel Nicholson I now know the definition of panic. Panic is having the secret service man standing next to you (designated by the button in his ear) say "that's HIS helicopter" as the gigantic craft hovers a few feet from the ground; looking down at your trusty camera and realizing you have used 33 of 36 exposures, and struggling with cold stiff and suddenly nervous fingers to get the new film loaded. I had only one thought as President Jimmy Carter landed at the Indian Creek airstrip early Tuesday morning- - Melody will kill me if I goof this one. But in the end, all was to turn out well, including some of the 200 -plus pictures I took at the primitive area site of the launching of the Presidential vacation. President Carter, his wife Rosalynn, daughter Amy and sons Jack and Chip helicoptered to the eastern border of Valley County early Tuesday morning from Boise, to take a three -day rafting trip down the Middle Fork of the Salmon River. They flew from Boise, where they spent Monday night. Preparations for the presidential visit to Idaho's primitive area started more than a week ago when com- munications experts and secret ser- vicemen flew to Indian Creek and other backcountry airstrips to install com- plicated radio equipment to keep Carter continuously in touch with the White House and insure his security. Despite the contingent of federal personnel at Indian Creek, Challis National Forest forestry technician Bud Hamilton said Tuesday, "It has been just about business as normal for us. ily rafts the SaIn "It was quite an experience for us waterproof bags and borrowing a pair around hei ere at Indian Creek," he added. "It of binoculars from a forest service like presid eems like everything went pretty man, took about 45 minutes. Told by themselves month." one of the crowd pressing around the earth. Challis National Forest Supervisor raft that he was going to get wet, Even aft ack Bills, also at Indian Creek Carter glanced at the glowering sky, it would be uesday, said that although some smiled his now - famous smile, and said Carter in t xceptions were made to the stringent "That's okay." gave the rr rimitive area rules tur the president's The rafts departed the beach at 8:15, weekend. isit, "they were not for his personal preceded by two forest service with stayir comfort, but for his communications kayakers in wet suits. Carter was in the rode, equipment. In a sense we say it's for standing beside Norm Guth as the rafts pie for the national security." swept out of sight around the bend. The "Ray," Bills said the exceptions made in- party was gone only minutes before the voice at A: cluded allowing four oversized marine area was bathed in a downpour of rain. will you helicopters to land at Indian t^reek and The saga of how I got to Indian Creek President? the use of a power generatar for the and stepped within four or five feet of Taking it communications equipment. the President is long and winding. people to si A crowd of more than 100 reporters, When it was first rumored that the -- Ray gav forest service personnel and their President was coming to Idaho, the time: Into families, a Boy Scout troop and Interior news barely phased my thinking. After night and Secretary Cecil Andrus and his wide all, he is not a Valley County com- But wha circled the helicopter bearing thet missioner, planning and zoning the river presidential family when they touched' commissioner or city councilman from down at about 7:30 Tuesday morning. Bill and Norm Guth, outfitters for the 71 -mile raft trip, greeted the casually dressed president and family. Norm lOf} 7 F d� ... in the wilds with the President (Continued from Page A -1) instead of Indian Creek, I asked in one of several calls to Ray. He was sure that Carter was going in at Indian Creek, but I had at least a half dozen helpful knowledgeables who assured me that the President would surely put in at the Middle Fork Lodge instead. Monday, there were lists of fair and rodeo winner names to be typed before I could leave for the Middle Fork, but I wasn't much worried because there was little packing to be done for a 24- hour jaunt. At 5 p.m., however, Carol Arnold called to tell me that a shut- down of the back - country airstrips would be in effect from 7 a.m. Tuesday until Thursday night. 16 My one -day trip suddenly was four days and I hurriedly bought and packed extra supplies. At 7 p.m., I was off the ground hi Cascade, winging toward Indian Creek. With me went 10 rolls of film, two notebooks, my specially issued presidential press credentials, my backpack and the advice of my puuiisher -- "Take pictures of everything and don't get shot by the secret servicemen." I did and I didn't. I„ 64 V The people- covered forest service which wheeled down the airstrip and knoll above the rafts and watched as grounds I expected were not to be found deposited a horde of reporters from last- minute preparations were made, at Indian Creek. Besides four big -name publications who were to gear'stowed, rain capes and life jackets Statesmen reporters and myself, there accompany the President on the trip. donned. A few minutes later, they were were forest service and secret service Then came a second Marine helicopter floating down the river, the President personnel playing a, game of football - -same size -- with more presspeople. waving to the group on shore. and rafters playing a gams of hor - These were later to return to Boise In the anticlimax following the seshoes. The expectation of an unusual aboard the same airship. I took pic- disappearance of the rafts down the event was not evident anywhere on the tures of them all. river, two things struck me. I had grounds. The third helicopter bore the "United wandered within a few feet of the Still not certain that the President States of America" designation on its President of the United States, taking truly intended to put into the river at side and raised hopes that now was the pictures and gei,�rally gawking with Indian Creek, I spent a mostly time to see the President. But Interior the rest of the people and I was not once sleepless night. Periodically I rose to Secretary Cecil Andrus and wife asked to explain my presence or to give check the rafts to mr tie sure the rafters disembarked from the craft and am- my name, rank or serial number. I left � ^�p not sneaking off. for a secret bled on down to the rafts. More pic- my credentials and press badge in my rendezvous .with the President. Thank„ ,tunes. backpack. goodness, although it was cold, it did And then it. was the Presidential ti:'` And yes -- despite my carefully not rain on-my out -in- the -open bedroll. helicopter setting down. I threatened prepared air of nonchalar- - -- I was Early Tuesday, I reluctantly crawled my fingers into loading the new roll of impressed and excited. from my cozy sleeping bag and started film into the camera and stepped Coming face to face with the my picture- taking. toward the stairs the dress - uniformed President is special after all. I took pictures of the rafters officer pulled down. As he saluted, I -- (P.S. The ,word came through preparing for the trip, of secret ser- along with scores of others -- snapped Tuesday morning that planes could fly vicemen installing a multitude of picture after picture of the blue -jean- west out of Indian Creek at 10 a.m., so radios in the rafts, more pictures of the clad President and his wife and my trip once more became short term. rafters... daughte, . I winged my way home just as the And then the helicopters began After +he greetings, the President downpour broke over the backwoods arriving. and his family walked past me and area. I only hope the President's rain First came a huge Marine helicopter down to the waiting rafts. I sat on a gear works.) ��, ���� .f z��.. ������, t k" b lis" S r r NO a xP Fy Y� d> I MERL r e, s PAGE A-- 2 - -THE STAR-NEWS--THURSDAY--AUG. 24, 1978 he President . 9 - ,ems �� �q f� �+ -7`-, �7 �Es � ,� 7-- y y E Jimmy, "tosalynn a nd Amyget to know Mira Guth, it to outfitter's do Witter why joined them on their ride S'imPly Rio& ?!!omen by FRANCES ZAUNMILLER WISNER (Historical photos courtesy of the author) Had Peter Klinkhammer and Char- ley Shepp been ordinary mortals, then the world would never have learned of Polly Beamis. Who, except those two, would have seen anything un- usual, or noteworthy, in the tiny wom- an who devoted her years to an ailing husband. No complaints came from Polly ... not self - praise either. But Peter and Charley Shepp kept the rec- ord in the Shepp ranch diary. It was Charley Shepp and Peter who did the heavy chores for neighborli- ness. Still, it seemed the only thing to do was to pack Polly to Warren after the fire and Beamis' funeral. No wom- an could live alone on the river. That is the way it was for a couple of years until the morning when Peter noticed smoke coming from the Beamis chicken house. He and Shepp crossed the river to find Polly making breakfast over a campfire. "You don't need to worry about me. I not bother anyone. But this is my home and I am going to live here. I don't like it in town." The kind people of Warren had taken Polly into their hearts but "town" was a poor substitute for the Canyon of the Salmon. Here she had roots. Chestnut trees she had set out were bearing fruit. Asparagus and berries of her planting were waiting to fill bowls for the table and jars in the cellar. Here was home ... even in the chicken housel There was not a lot of talk that first morning. But Shepp and Peter sharp- ened saw and axe, gathered those tools needed to raise a house, and crossed to Polly's side of the river. Shepp ranch chores got short shift until they had Polly installed in a neat, tight, small but comfortable, new log cabin . . . smaller than the house which had burned, for Polly would be alone. She never was really alone though. The two at Shepp ranch kept vigil that she should have wood. They packed her supplies from town. Char- ley Shepp measured Polly when she needed a new dress from the catalog. As it had been in those years while Beamis was alive, the river boatman brought news of up- river. Captain Guleke appointed himself as Polly's newsman. And anyone who has spent much time in this canyon knows —if it happened, the boatmen know it. From the boatmen Polly learned that Truman Thomas, remembering the winter of 1905 and not wanting that repeated at Yellow Pine Bar, had (lug his grave, lined the hole with stone, then made a cover to keep any- It's a mighty big river, the Salmon. (Photo by Shira Studio). thing from falling in. He had built a coffin, too, and had it all ready. And Polly listened and her compassion an- swered all the unspoken questions. To the boatmen she shared her thought that "he loves her very much to want to spare her the digging. And she, sloes she use the box to hold her mending ?" Which is what Celeste Thomas did those several years that the coffin was stored under her bed. Polly knew that the Thomases of Yellow Pine Bar had no neighbor nearer than four miles. Too far when help is needed, even in summer. And four miles is out of this world in the Canyon of the Salmon in winter. Polly remembered the first boat of 1905 which stopped and told of the terrible winter at Campbell's Ferry. That winter left its mark on every- one in the canyon. No one at the ferry would talk about it, Jim Moore, across the river and just below the ferry told the boatman. "It began in the fall, before the snow came. Warren Cook told his wife to get ready to go out for the winter, so she would be near a doctor when her time came. She refused to go. Her time came in January. The doctor had been right. There were seven of us. We'd all helped cows and INCREDIBLE IDAHO twenty -three Capt. Guleke was the river's news- carrier for many, many years. Foot travel is still a modern mode of transportation along reaches of the Salmon River. twenty -four Warren, where during the gold rush, Mr. Beamis and Polly met. Winter along the river can be mighty lonesome says the author pictured with her dog on a stroll. INCREDIBLE IDAHO r HIST07 .r _ a E s This and =TTE LAI"Ie ESSIVE CLwt. ewes and mares. But not one of us could help her. It was too cold to make a coffin or dig a grave. We wrapped her in canvas and stored her in the blacksmith shop. Later the house burned down. I told them to move in with me, but Campbell said they could get caught across the river if the ice went out. Two men started dropping trees, another dragged the logs in, and two more barked them. I helped every v, - ►IC`s -- Celeste Thomas who kept her mending in a coffin. day. They had to shovel snow for the new house . . . just shoveled for the wall line (that house isn't square and the walls aren't straight like they would be if it had not been rolled up so fast) . All this time they ate and slept in the blacksmith shop. Yes, one man had to stay in the shop all day to keep a small fire for the two - year -old Thomas boy. As soon as the side walls were up, shakes were ready for the roof. And then they moved in, split wood on the dirt floor and chinked as they split wood. But they were out of the blacksmith shop. We got the grave dug the last of February. She never thawed out. And I don't want to talk about it any- more." And Polly, when she was told of Truman Thomas's waiting coffin and grave, could understand and approve that a husband would not want his wife to wait out the winter before she could bury him. It was a summer boat which brought word that Thomas had died. Strange that the neighbor who took word to Joe Zaunmiller that Thomas was took bad, merely passed the word along and did not go to help. Joe and his wife Emma rode down the moun- tain, to spend the last few clays with Mr. Thomas. It was Joe and Emma who placed him in the box and low- ered him into the waiting grave. Is it any wonder that Celeste sold the homestead and turned her face away from the river to spend her last years in Grangeville where she is buried? And Polly looked across the river at the house of her dear neighbors and knew that she, too, would not be able to live out her years in the beloved Canyon were they not the kind men they were. Boats told Polly of the sisters who lived at the mouth of Little Mallard; Mrs. Churchill, who married Prescott after Churchill drowned, and the sis- ter, Mrs. Joe Hoover who inherited the place when the Prescotts died. And Polly knew for the boatmen told her woman neighbors passed their clays much as she did— tending garden in summer, putting up the jars and crocks of summer fruit and vege- tables against a long, cold winter, and selling the surplus to passing miner and packstring. They were all so scattered. There was no chance to visit and to share in the little triumphs and frustrations which make one day different from the others. Loneliness became second na- ture. But Polly had Shepp and Peter and so, while alone, she was never lonely. Though Polly has gone from this world her spirit still reigns in this great canyon, and another woman INCREDIBLE IDAHO twenty -five While on an errand of mercy, Peter Klinkhammer's boat sprung a leak and he got his feet wet. came into the canyon and lost her heart. Lost it to timbered slopes, and grass- covered ridges ... to sparkling creeks and a deep running river. And she knew that she was going to spend the rest of her days beside that river. Is thirty -one years enough time for her to become an `old timer.' She thinks not, though she has seen the summer's storm and winter's snow un- til they are part of the pattern of her life. A tourist, stopping to view the native resident, asks what she does in her spare time and cannot understand that spare time is unknown in the I iSTORICAL RESSE FILE O QO NOT REMOVE FROM LI �„ PAYETTE LAKES PROGRESSIVE CLUB "Shooting the Rapids" on the Salmon. twenty -six Canyon of the Salmon nor is bore- dom ... nor loneliness. In time she will be thought of as `that old woman at the Ferry.' but never to her face for she thinks of age as merely years —never a physical thing. Unlike Polly, she saw changes come to the Canyon. Communication changed from the chance word of a passerby to forest service telephone lines and then to short wave radio- telephone. Will she ever forget riding the four miles to ask Billy Gaines if he would make the trip over the hill to Dixie to phone out that Jim Moore had died? And the waiting until word came back down the mountain for the neighbors to bury Jim? She saw a steel and concrete bridge replace a tipsy ferry boat. And she shed no tears at the passing of the old way. Instead she rejoiced that there was now a safe crossing on the river. Never again would high water reach up to snatch the carriage off the cable, dumping passengers into the river, leastways not at Campbell's Ferry. Polly would have enjoyed watching the little planes on mail day. She would have subscribed to all the wom- en's magazines, just as that later wom- an has done. Like Polly, the one who came later became a widow. Like Polly, she could not endure the thought of living in town. So after a couple of months in Grangeville and Lewiston —just thinking —she returned to her river, and later found a new husband' to share her love of the river country. Fifty years from now people may talk about that Frances who would not leave the river, who raised her garden ... what she did not dry on the trays in her hot attic, she canned. Some will tell of the hand - pieced, quilted comforters which covered her beds. Some will talk about her gentle- ness with children and her love of peo- ple. Others will only know of her temper when she thought one of the natural laws for life in this canyon was ignored. But all of them will grin a bit when they remember how she refused to al- low her home to be made into a tour- ist attraction. For they will remember that she had about as much privacy as an ant in a glass jar. Polly would have understood, and approved. Polly would say, as this later one said —there is a sameness to river women. Our only difference is in the little things ... where we were born ... Polly in China ... Celeste Thomas somewhere in the midwest ... Frances in central Texas. Once on the river, even the years make no dif- ference. We are simply river women. 40 But I'll stay on here forever Since I cannot bear to leave the velvet shadows When the desert sun goes down across the Snake. May Napier Burkhart (Photo courtesy of Peggy and Eldon Hauck). Letter from About Buckskin Bill: Buckskin Bill Sylvan Hart, better known as Buckskin .dill, is truly a legend in Work for part of Winter of 77 -78 his own time. Since coming to People generally want to know Idaho in 1935, Buckskin Bill has What I have been doing this winter. lived the life of a pioneer, alone on I missed seeing Jimmy Doolittle the Salmon River. Almost entirely who hunted elk at Quartz Springs self- sufficient, he depends on the in 15 degree weather at age 83. world outside the confines of his I always read a Greek poem a- wilderness sanctuary for sugar, bout Xenophon's Anatasis each raisins, rice, flour, oatmeal, tea and Winter. When he got up in the books. He generally has about fifty snow in his undergarments, it was dollars worth of these supplies fully as heroic as Doolittle's hunt - packed in once a year. ing• I made a trip out to Grangeville February 3 -11 to get a tumbler made for my new flintlock. I be- lieve I have a design that has never been used. In effect, the dragon - shaped lock seems to snap at its tail to produce fire. I want a rose- wood stock. The calibre is .75. It should take a year to complete. I made a couple of belt buckles while I had snow on the ground. I don't make anything to sell. This means I can take all the time I want to complete something. I spent about three weeks mak- ing a three gallon copper flagon. This pattern is universally seen in Russia, Normandy and various places around the world as a con- tainer for water, milk or even beer. Keats has a line: "There lay the portes in uneasy spread with a large flagon by his side ". I did a decora- tion on it in the common way to decorate armor in the Middle Ages. Cafega de Vaca is running down a mule deer in what is now Texas. The old deer has about had it and de Vaca is about to kill it with his flint knife. Estevan the Moor has run the deer all night because he can see better at that time. I have never run down deer but I have run elk in two or three feet of snow and as I got stronger the elk got so tired they were sprawling in the snow. It was too dark to shoot, so they escaped. I got some nice black walnut wood at Mackay Bar with very wide an- nual rings. Incidentally, the rings of bristlecone pine is the most ac- curate time table we have. From this wood, I make a 12" wide by 4' /a" deep bowl with two handles in the manner of a Greek Calyx. I boil the greenwood bowl for say 3 hrs. , let it dry and oil it with olive oil. I didn't even get any warpage. This is a dugout bowl and should easily last 100 years. Buckskin Bill Five Mile Creek 6 L-z t2 - AJ <' /_-J S Spawning grounds He was mauled "I by a bear This story is taken from' the files of the "Messenger," a Pocatello newspaper, dated Tuesday, Sept. 13, 1898: A MAN OF NERVE "Poor old Charlie Norton, whose death on Aug. 27 at the county hospital in this city was chronicled in our last issue, was one of the pioneers of the Salmon River and Custer, mining districts and was essentially a man of nerve. In the early days he was something of a bear hunter and many a cinnamon and silver -tip fell before his unerring aim. "It was about 10 years ago that he met a bear that ate him up and left him almost helpless and but the caricature of a man in appearance. He was prospecting in the mountains with but one companion out some 60 miles from Challis when he saw traces of a bear and followed it into some underbrush. "He located (the) bruin, took aim and brought him down, but at that very same instant a big silver -tip rose up beside him and struck him a blow in the face and broke both his jaws and literally crushed his face in. The bear then chewed him up, mangling him from head to foot and finally went off leaving him for dead. "Here his companion found him later, and finding he was still alive, fixed him up as comfortable as possible and started for Challis for help. It was 60 miles to Challis and by the time Norton's partner got back, the flies had gotten at him and blownhim and before they took him into camp they took about a quart of maggots from his face and head. A litter was slung between two horses and he was taken to Challis. He still hung onto life and the doctor was sent for 30 miles away. (This should read Custer instead of Challis.) "It seemed impossible that Mr. Norton should recover. The doctor said he couldn't, but went on and fixed him up as well as he could. It was found necessary to take out his whole lower jaw. Norton, however, went right on living and getting better. It developed after awhile that his face would not heal because of its being more or less torn every time he was fed. A hole was then cut on his neck, through which he was fed. His face, in the meantime, healed up. Then it was found impossible to heal the hole in his neck. "Finally Norton was sent to the hospital in Salt by Jeff Fee Lake and the hole in his neck was sewed up with silver wire and healed up. In the meantime, however, the contraction of his muscles of the face caused his mouth to close so tightly that he could not eat and his mouth had to be cut open time and again. It would always come together again in a short time and the operation would again have to be performed. All these operations were performed without the administration of ether or any other anaesthetic. "Finally, however, Norton left the hospital and went out with a party prospecting. Here his trouble commenced. His mouth grew shut and he couldn't eat. He begged his companions to cut his mouth open but they wouldn't do it, and finally Norton found a rock, whetted up his knife, pinning a pocket mirror to a stump, cut his mouth open himself and all was lovely again. "In the meanwhile, a cancer developed in Norton's face and in the last five years he had to have it cut out four times. He always insisted on going through the operations without the use of anaesthetics. It was just before the last operation of this kind a couple of years ago that he met Abe Pierce and was telling him that he was going to the hospital for another operation and as he ended his story he said: "And do you know, Abe I am getting to be a d - - --d baby. I kind of flinch when I think of it." "After his years of terrible suffering, after innumerable operations the old man's indomitable nerve was beginning to give away but he went through the operations bravely, and his will kept him up to the end. He died, like thousands of pioneers of this western country -- a county charge and long forgotten by his relatives, whose address he himself had even forgotten." The above article describes Charlie Norton, who some might say was a man of grit. Others might call him a stubborn old cuss. In the book from which the article was found, "The Middle Fork and the Sheepeater War," on page six you will find a dedication to the people of the past and the beautiful land that surrounded them. On the last line of the dedication Johnny Carrey and Cort Conley say it all, past and present, with the statement, "It was never easy: a heaven of a place to live and a hell of a place to make a living." Maybe Charlie Norton was willing to go through hell just to live one more precious day - -in heaven. Jeff Fee FLYINGAUGUST 1 y/5 CONTENTS /VOLUME 97 • NUMBER 2 Where one chance is all you get /page "Publishing Director EDWARD D. MUHLFELD Editor & Publisher ROBERT B. PARKE Creative Director BUD LOADER Senior Editors (CHARD L. COLLINS JOHN W. OLCOTT RICHARD B. WEEGHMAI West Coast Editor George C. Larson Art Director Art Davis Associate Editors ' 1110 Baxter, Thomas H. Blod rt Slepyan, Sally Wimer Production Editor-, - Jerry Sablo :` Editorial Assistant Anna Babij usan Kelly r' LYING, August 1975, Volume 97, Number 2. 4 Published Monthly at One Park Ave., New York, New York 10016 by Ziff -Davis Publishing Company. COPYRIGHT ©1975 I'' bird /Richard B. Weeghman 33 Aztec Evolution- -The life and times of a going success /Norbert Slepyan 81 One for the Money — Bell's 214B helicopter ...,bucks the twin- engine tide /Richard B. Weeghman 36 In Search of Lost Horizons —The winding, bumpy road to the IFR rating /Dee Mosteller 38 Bottoming Out —What to do when your learning curve takes a dive /George C. Larson 71 RMI: Easy Guider —It really isn't magic, but this instrument can ease navigation tasks like something supernatural /John W. Olcott 72 The Ifi't T of an Instru� ent-� _' i' . �._. - three into one and out co_mes RMI /George C. Larson mountains, a few pilots make regular work out of . m_ ost airmen wol ldn't dare fly /George C. Larson 6 Pro's Nest —Rule 1: The Captain Is Always Right /Thomas H. Block 45 IFR Insight— Threading the Needle /Richard L. Collins 66 1 Learned About Flying From That — Collision Course /AI McFarland 4 From the Tower e Case for Concorde 6 Flying Mail— Mooney -Eyed 10 On Top— Journey's End? 20 Calendar —Main Events 21 Product News — King's Move 22 Reporting Points —F -.5 26 Editorial —Bury the Elephant 04 Box Seat —Too Much rover /Cessna 206 in a wilderness strip. Photography by ,ussell Munson. COMPANY. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Tile �Cil��a� Rpm lieu, Their airways are valleys twisted by looming mountain walls. They fly into barely approachable airstrips. To these pilots, it's all in a day's flying, but it's really the stuff of legend. by George C. Larson photography by Russell Munson AVIATION could use a good story right about now, a story of grit and resolve in the accomplishment of a day's labor. We are not getting anywhere with plaintive whining about how difficult it is to hoof it halfway around the world in the front of a Boeing because the jet lag throws your body clock off; nobody is listening except those endless Washington committees, and those pro- ceedings are not fruit for folklore. We need a tale of callused hands and human brawn in contest with nature, doings that will stir our children. Our pilots must be a bit like Frodo in those Ring .stories: meager lads who are called to higher purpose by forces beyond their ken. They must rise to the challenge, stare death down until it blinks and emerge to shine larger than their beginnings. The machinery must be as near to living as ma- chines can be; it must have within it some force of virtue, a heroism that carries into the far realms of sorcery. The origins of such a legend are availa- ble to us —still fresh and echoing —in the Idaho mountains. In the early 1930s, the post office at Big Creek, Idaho let a contract for a winter mail route to a man who rode his horse through the snow until the drifts were too deep for the animal to negotiate without ex- hausting itself; the man would dismount and trek the remainder of the way to the post office on his snowshoes, the entire trip tak- ing a full day. It took him another full day to make it back to his route, which followed Big Creek and terminated at Cabin Creek; this became known as the Cabin Creek Route. By the mid- 1930s, it was apparent that more was needed, and an outfit in Mis- soula, Montana called Johnson Flying Serv- ice had airplanes available. In the winter, Johnson flew mail from Cascade to Big Creek Airport and to the post office at War- ren. It also flew supplies to what was then the Mackay Bar Mine, which had the only airport on the Salmon River between the town of Salmon, on the eastern end, and Lewiston, beyond the western extremity. There was a caretaker at Deadwood Reser- voir who got his mail and groceries twice a month through the services of Johnson, and the company also flew to Cabin Creek on occasion to deliver mail and freight. In the summers, Johnson picked up the entire op- eration and moved up the road to McCall Airport, from which it flew for the U.S. For- est Service. In the summers, the mail busi- ness fell off when roads opened up to allow surface travel. In 1945, Johnson left Cas- cade Airport for McCall; it has been there ever since. At about the same time, Dewey Moore's Airstrip, Vine 's Ranch, and the Tay- , (continued on page 56) FLYING — August 1975 53 ��""' �� "'x' _.....tea +. ��:'*' �� �� ����,:.,v ����, ��N ������ . _ -;: lAl MON PJVER Flying supplies (left) and mail (right) to isolated homes is more than a service. Sustaining a community through skill and courage isatthe core of the pioneer tradition. 56 for Ranch —all located in the area of Cabin Creek and desiring the same service — plugged into the route. The mining business began to lose money in those years as the easy pickings gave way to harder times and extraction methods that cost too much; when the Big Creek mines closed, the post office closed down, too. Although a post - office carrier was no longer needed, there were still peo- ple in the area who had been receiving mail service and who were entitled to have it continue; the Post Office Department put the Cabin Creek Route up for bids to the public. Johnson bid on the contract and son Ranch, Shepp Ranch and James Ranch. There was now more of the Cabin Creek Route flown along the Salmon River than there was along Cabin Creek, but the name was never changed. The mail run is called the Cabin Creek Route and is consid- ered by the post office to be a Star Route, which means in practical terms that the mail is carried for delivery to people's mail box- es, and not simply shuttled between post of- fices. Recently, the post office, as is its prac- tice, put the Cabin Creek Route up for re- newed bidding. When the results were in, Johnson Flying Service discovered that, for the first time in the history of the Cabin Creek Route, someone else had won the contract. The amount that separated the winning bid from Johnson's was not very great, but it was enough to end a tradition, and on May 15, 1975, Bob Fogg and two other pilots lifted off from McCall Airport, turned across the valley of the Payette Lake and headed north to the Salmon River Can- yon to make the last runs on the Cabin Creek Route. This is the story of that day and of the people and airplanes that are part of the legend of Johnson Flying Service and Salmon River country. 57 Boise sits like asunny- side -up egg in one corner of this great frying pan of a val- ley in Idaho. You cross over the city and head north, following either Victor 253 or a winding, single -track line of the Union Pacif- ic Railroad. The railroad skirts to the east of the Cascade Reservoir, then continues north toward a feather of smoke and a forked lake; the feather of smoke is from the waste burner at the Boise - Cascade mill, and the lake is named Payette Lake. McCall Air- port has only one paved runway, and since there is usually little wind, the local pilots like to land to the north and take off to the south, which avoids, for the most part, fly- ing over McCall, a tidy town arranged along the south shore of the lake. Just as the Boise - Cascade Company is McCall, one fixed -base operator dominates the airport: Johnson Flying Service. Want gas, repairs, a charter, advice? The answer to all questions is Johnson. Further, the an- swer to all questions about Johnson is Bob Fogg, manager and pilot of the McCall oper- ations of the Missoula -based company. AIMON Out of deep shadow toward a mural of rock and trees, the 206 strains upward, miniaturized by the vastness but undaunted by it. Fogg runs the operation from an Alpine - style hangar, one small corner of which is devoted to office space to hold the paper- work, the cash register and the telephone. His wife, Margaret, attends to some of the clerking and admonishes him on occasion to resist doing too many favors for too many people, lest he achieve sainthood —the hard way. There is a full -time mechanic assigned to the station, Don Mioknak, with Johnson 15 years, at McCall for six. Fogg himself learned to fly at the Missoula office in 1939, became a Johnson employee in 1940 and moved to McCall in 1944. In those years, he pushed Travel Air 6000s— six - place, high -wing trucks —and Ford Trimotors for the Forest Service work- ing forest fires, carrying mail as needed by the contracted carrier and running hunters and fishermen to their hunting and fishing. Later, the Forest Service specified the Twin Beech and DC -3 in its contractual agree- ments: now the Forest Service uses its own Twin Otter. Fogg says he will make his part of the last Cabin Creek run in a Piper Super Cruis- er modified for mountain flying and that takeoff time will be about eight o'clock. Fogg is lifting cases of groceries into the tail of the high -wing Super Cruiser as I arrive. He figures on a payload of 350 to 400 pounds, mostly because the rough FLYING — August 1975 fields are hard on the gear, maybe too hard if the loads ran much heavier. There is pro- duce and fruit and a bag of potatoes in addi- tion to the orange -nylon mail sacks, each with a tag labeling the destination for the contents: Campbell's Ferry, the Mackay Bar Ranch and the James Ranch. The limp sacks, each with no more than a few letters in them, lie together on a large, wheeled cart that looks ridiculously overdesigned for its task, but which is probably called the "mail cart," and, by Heaven, will be used to stack the mail and trundle it to the airplane; such are the routines of the place. Another pilot, Phil Remaklus, arrives in a medium dither, apologizing for having mis- understood whether he would be flying this morning; he will take a Turbo 206 to the Allison and Shepp ranches. Fogg and Re- maklus help each other to load their respec- tive airplanes. There is a fruit tree still to be installed atop the mound in the rear of the Super Cruiser, its roots bound up in a cage of burlap as if it were some drugged animal being shipped to a zoo. Two man -high bot- tles of proparLe go prone on the floor of the 206, to be overlayered with groceries —a ham shines up through the pile —and a For- mica counter top in two pieces, the larger of which won't fit unless the two men can modify the airplane; they decide to leave it for another way. Micknak arrives, the pipe smoker, the "Polack," the self- deprecating mechanic who, one instinctively feels, is the founda- tion upon which the whole operation rests. Remaklus and Micknak discuss the settings on the propeller governor and the manifold pressure readings for the 206; they had been a little off lately, and Micknak has ad- justed them. They also discuss fuel and weights. These men fly so far below gross weights that it is never a question of being legally overweight but only operationally overloaded for conditions. They must be their own judges, and no magistrate ever had more incentive to deal with truth, for too heavy means too bad. They check their fuel not just with gauges but with a wooden dipstick scored carefully at each five - gallon mark; since they fly with tanks no more than half filled, it is their best way to know their fuel status accurately. The passenger, Mrs. Richardson, arrives with a friend, the two of them drinking cof- fee from steaming paper cups. Remaklus is pulling the prop of the 206 through as Fogg turns to aid his passenger aboard. The 206 is first out to the runway. The day is clear, crystalline, with the ever -pres- ent smoke from the waste- burner on the lake spread out evenly in a thin layer over the town, the lake and the meadows west of the airport; again, it tells as clearly as any sequence report ever did, , "winds 0000. " Remaklus finishes his run -up, announces his departure over the unicom frequency, then takes off with the muffled snarl that turbo- chargers have a way of voicing. The sound of his first power reduction is lost as Fogg, right behind him, runs up the Super Cruiser, all 150 horsepower present but a hefty slice i not accounted for at McCall's 5,000 feet msl. Fogg lines up and takes off; he holds the tail down —or is it down of its own? —for about 200 feet, and the Piper floats off soon after. Surely there is helium in the wings. I follow in a floozy, speed- striped 235 - hp Charger as Fogg leads; he immediately turns to what later seems to have been the exact heading to the entry into the Salmon River Canyon —I never sensed any mid- course correction —and begins a gradual climb that will take us as high as 8,500 feet before he begins his descent into the river's anteroom. I know there are elk below us, because Fogg had told me so earlier, but the elk must have their minds on breakfast in private today, for they are nowhere to be seen. There is the meandering river that feeds the lake —a river now, a creek later, then a trickle when it turns dry —and a to- pographer's nightmare of knolls, spires, pyr- amids, spurs, ridges ... how can Fogg tell one from the other? Moreover, the scale of it is evasive, for there is no teilling whether each tree down there is a few years past seedling or a candidate for a mainmast. Without a familiar scale of reference, you are left with only your sense of relative mo- tion to reassure you that you are, indeed, at a safe distance from the upward reaching land. From the safety of the airport and with one's feet firmly planted upon their foothills, these mountains seemed enchanting; now they are threatening, reaching up like vast anemones for us morsels. At last, after some 20 minutes of cruise at about 80 knots, the Super Cruiser seems to pick up speed; but the velocity is due to descent. Fogg is on his way down to the river. The Salmon River is called the "River of No Return" on the local billboards and on the travel circulars that ballyhoo trips on rubber boats. The name actually stems from the fact that once you float down the river, the terrain prevents your returning by por- tage along its course. The river's potential malice should not be gainsaid, though, for although its 80.8 miles drop only 969 feet, sheer walls confine its course, so that when the volume of water increases, the river must rise; when it rises, it is no Salmon but a barracuda bent on spoor. The force of the river, at its peak, has rolled boulders along its bed. These boulders weigh many tons, and people on the banks tell of awakening at night to the weird thunder as these mam- moths grind and moan against other rocks, rolling downstream like marbles under the dogged, persuading water. It is as if the Ti- tans are playing pachinko. The river is divided into forks and named according to geography, not always logically. The main portion runs from east to west. Together with its tributary system, the Salmon drains 14,000 square miles of ter- rain that drop from 8,000 feet to a few hun- dred; peak runoff occurs from May to July, when melting snow combines with rain to turn the individual feeder creeks to rivers in (continued on page 98) 59 ������ w " �� >' �� " �� ��y�� ����'. ,�� i���iyT e.i1 ��.���� 1.` W.. " ��. fix_ ��! *4= 'M!l~r �� ��" " ' ���� 'Y y. : t " .��a'��' ,��'��. Vey.\ " f&.' �� i . i ` " ��" ��' " �� . r+ 'i rip 'S S t, R ��. ���%. t t f&. y i 64 t On an early morning before the day of his last run, Bob Fogg and the Turbo 206 fly the cabin creek star route. On this stop, there is simply the mailbox on the edge nf n (-IPnrP.d ,,nnce  nn ranch. no buildinas, no people, lust the lone mailbox A1. MON RIVER /ntinued from page 59 As a long day of flying nears its end, Bob Fogg (right) takes a breather at Cold Meadows while a passenger is welcomed. their own right. The spring waters are cold, and even in the heat of midday in the can- yon bottom, there is a natural air condition- er at work to draw off the sun's warmth. In late summer, when the water is down, tem- peratures down in the canyon rise above 100° routinely. The walls of the canyon re- flect and multiply the heat like one of those aluminum tanning aids, and black flies swarm up to turn the noons into a time - warped furnace where the minutes drag on forever. This natural kiln attracts only the hardiest as permanent residents, for they have the long, hard winters to brave as well, when they are absolutely cut off from all land -based transport. Tourists trade in boat trips down the river, with stops along the way at sandbars and landings for food, a chance to take photographs, to stretch a bit. Also, the advent of so- called "jet boats," which are powered by a pump that throws a high - velocity stream of water out the stern and thereby thrusts the boat forward, are making it possible for the first time to take passengers up the Salmon. Fogg's first stop will be Campbell's Fer- ry, which is a well -known river crossing that served miners hunting gold as a jumping -off point to the riches of Thunder Mountain. The mines are gone now, and it serves as a way station and resort ranch serving boat- ers and sportsmen. The red Piper has been slowly but steadily accelerating even as it has grown smaller. I remain above the canyon in what is probably the vain hope that if anything 98 goes wrong, I could glide to a safe landing atop the canyon's maw. I check the chart and note that the river is at 2,000 feet, and I am almost even with the rim, according to the altimeter, at between 8,000 feet and 8,400. When Fogg touches down at Camp- bell's Ferry,he'll be about a mile beneath me. Down, down, drifts the Super Cruiser, winding now between the walls and shrink- ing to the size of some winged protozoan from my perspective at the top of this scaled -up microscope. The illusions crowd in: it is at once, for me, like tending a diver who is on a deep descent; there should be bubbles rising from the Piper. My mind wan- ders to classroom talk about how altimeters measure the proverbial "column of air," and here is Fogg flying at the bottom of one. Surely it must be possible to feel the weight of the gases down there. Suddenly, the distant speck has turned a tight circle. Something wrong? There ... houses, a clearing. No, it can't be. This can't be Campbell's Ferry, and Fogg surely couldn't mean to set the little Super Cruiser down into that meager opening in the trees; it can't be done. He is probably just circling in greeting to whomever lives there. Anoth- er circle, then he is off upriver again. No, he's turned back. Like a red sparrow, he arcs tightly, and I lose him for just a moment under the wing. By the time I get the Chero- kee turned to where I can see him again, Fogg has his airplane turned straight at the canyon wall. He seems to be barely moving as the airplane crosses over some trees— how tall are they? —and I see the shadow of the Piper racing up what must be a steep slope. The airplane and the shadow merge, there is the very briefest of rolls, and he is pivoting around on one wheel, nudged up against a stand of trees, pointed into the center of the clearing. It takes a few sec- onds to realize that we are, in fact, at Camp- bell's Ferry. I had not witnessed an emer- gency but a routine landing at destination! How —? There is no time now to try to ponder what has shown every evidence of being an impossible feat. I could try to guess at the size of the airfield — clearing, strip, whatev- er —but it would be meaningless at this dis- tance. Approach airspeed? I will have to ask Fogg those questions later. For now, I sim- ply circle like an idiot buzzard too scared to chase the mouse into its hole and ill - equipped for the task. All the while, my eyes flick around for flat spots and find none; if anything were to happen now.... What am I doing here? More important- ly, what is Fogg doing down there? What would he have done if the Piper, or its en- gine rather, had decided to call it a day? If he had misjudged the approach a bit, how could he have gone around? About 1 5 minutes later, the Piper moves down there, scampering uphill, turn- ing in one motion, and running back down. In only two seconds, the shadow and the airplane have split again, and I realize that the Piper has performed another amazing levitation. Fogg turns downriver. Next stop: Mackay Bar Airport, the oldest strip in the territory. I wonder if there had been any cer- emony attendant to this last run into Camp- bell's Ferry? Perhaps a cup of coffee, some kind words? It is only a few minutes down to Mac - kay Bar, and the airstrip, unlike that surpris- ing hole in the trees at Campbell's Ferry, is obvious from a distance —a white (probably sandy) runner at a shallow angle to the river- bank. At the downriver end stand some low buildings, next to which is parked an old Cessna, probably a 172. Mackay Bar is situ- ated at the junction of the main Salmon and the South Fork, leaving a fairly wide open- ing in the canyon for Fogg to hang a U turn and drop into the airstrip. He uses no more than a fourth of the runway rolling. Again, I circle above. There may be more business and conversation here, for there are two mailboxes to be serviced at the Mackay Bar: one for "Buckskin Billy" —his real name is Sylvan Hart —and Rodney Cox, Hart's neph- ew, and family; and one labeled only "Mac- kay Bar," for the crew at the ranch —there are six in residence today. Fogg takes off in the opposite direction from the way he landed and cranks in an immediate right turn to follow the main Salmon to the next stop at James Ranch. Here, the mail will carry the address for Nor- man Close, who manages the place with his wife and two children. The James place has been described as having one of the more difficult approaches to a landing, but the (continued on page 100) Salmon River continued from page 98 word , "difficult" has a whole new meaning here. The canyon is narrow at its bottom. but it widens a bit more quickly here than it did upriver; at least that's how it looks from my vantage point. Fogg elects to fly over the strip, part of which looks to be under water, then climb a bit before turning back. I can see the shadow from farther out on the approach this time, but I notice that Fogg has it slowed down to what must surely be the near -stall point. Again, that short roll -out and a slow, trundling taxi to the buildings at the far end. While I wait, I am surprised to hear Remaklus" voice over the unicom fre- quency, announcing his departure from the Shepp Ranch, just a mile downriver from James. Sure enough, here he comes in the 206, appearing to emerge from the very rocks, then banking around to climb along the river toward me. He scoots by under- neath me and passes over Fogg's parked Piper without ceremony. Somewhere down there, Fogg is handling out the last sack of mail to the Close family. "Back in 1954, we were using a Super Cub and a Stinson Station Wagon," Fogg is recalling, "then we had a 180 for eight or nine years, sold the Super Cub. I think it was 1967 when we got the first 206; it was a 1964 model, and we sold it after 6,000 hours. It wasn't until three years ago that we got our first turbo. " All high - wingers? "Oh sure. You can't afford the ground float, you know, and the weeds really kill the leading edges on a low -wing. No, it's a high -wing operation all the way." Fogg reckons he has 22,800 hours. At his peak, he has flown as much as 178 hours in a month, 700 to 800 hours in a year. These days, he figures he is flying at the rate of 350 to 500 hours a year. Though he doesn't say so, it is obviously to his advantage to fly time himself, for he must mind the budget and keep the McCall operation profitable. The office is lined with old photographs of past airplanes working at everything from bug spraying to air drops of equipment by parachute. There are the disasters, too: one photograph shows the Travel Air with a ski driven through the snow crust ( "it took a long time to dig "er out. ") and a wingtip buried. Fogg remem- bers each airplane, how Harry Combs bought the Stinson, how they were one of the last outfits in the country to keep a Ford Trimotor working; it finally left them si years ago, though parts for one still exist u at the Missoula maintenance shop, which arouses fantasies in Micknak —he would like to rebuild one. Now there is the PA -1 2 Super Cruiser good for as much as 400 pounds' payload the 185 on skis that is capable of toting 1,600 pounds without the seats or thre passengers and 200 pounds of gear (o wheels, it does better) and the 206s, which 100 with 50 gallons of fuel, will haul five passen- gers or 1,000 pounds for Johnson. Into the really short fields, such loads are reduced by as much as half. Twins are not economical enough to earn their keep at five cents a pound for freight, so there are only singles for the foreseeable future. Micknak says he was skeptical about the turbocharged air- planes for quite a while but that they seem to have proved themselves; he now thinks they are dependable enough to become permanent in the operation. The pilots and airplanes have a drawn - out learning curve in this kind of flying. Fogg says it took him 10 years to learn from his predecessors, one of whom was Dick Johnson himself, who later died in 1944 when a downwash caught him during an elk- counting mission. Most of the pilots who work for Fogg describe themselves as his students, and even the pilot who took away the mail contract with the lower bid was af- ter Fogg to check him out. A check -out with Fogg takes time. You might start by operat- ing in and out of Chamberlain Basin, which, as these airports go, is easy. With time, you will go into fields of increasing difficulty, each time trying it with Fogg observing; when you are ready, he dismounts, and you get to try it alone three or four times, just like first solo. There are those who try it and just can't handle the pressure. Most of Fogg's pilots are, well, , "mature," with the preponderance coming out of the retired military ranks. Fogg himself spent only 31 hours at cadet school before he was called back to civilian flying by the Forest Service, which needed his skills badly. Phil Remaklus is an ex -Air Force colonel, Bill Dorris is an ex- Marine and a Fish & Game pilot, John Slingerland is an ex- Marine. In the summers, Bob Franklin, also ex- military, comes aboard, joined by an airline pilot who wasn't identified. The pay? They never talk about it, probably because it is not commensurate with the task, probably because, on their military pensions, it doesn't really matter, and probably because it is the only flying left to find where nobody bothers them — nobody woulddare —and they find a peacei that canyon that is not measurable in dollars Not that they are not conscious of the risks. One said: " "People ask all the time, 'What would you do if the engine quitT and I just say, 'Say a prayer and kiss my as good -bye.' "' There are no outs, no go arounds, no " "forgiving'" by the aircraft, n back doors, nothing. There is only exact ness, a Zen -like confidence in the outcome of the maneuver that would ensure its suc cess even if one closed one's eyes. There i x judgment and follow- through; nothing in be p tween, for commitment is final. Each ma knows what he will and will not do, an there is no bending those limits. One state categorically that he will not go into Cam bell's Ferry with a 206, though he knows i has been done; another says he will not g into Campbell's Ferry with anything. (I e seems like a good moment to ask Fogg ho n in the world he manages it into the 80 , foot strip with its 17- percent slope. " "Yo keep the Piper just above the power -on stall; it's been modified with flaps, you know, and with full flaps and power, you can get down to less than 35 mph. "" It was no trick; he was just hanging there.) The secret to their flying seems to be that they pick their conditions. Any wind is too much wind, which means they do most of their flying in the morning, and if you want to make the trip, you'd better be there, because nobody will wait around for you. Once into the canyon, they will not proceed farther if they detect even the slightest be- ginnings of the draft that can get roiling down that wind tunnel and smack them around. There are wind socks at several of the strips and wind streamers at the most sensitive ones. Campbell's Ferry has a streamer that will pick up and move in just a whisper, whereas a wind sock wouldn't. Fogg allows as how he remembers only one go- around. "'It was at Mackay Bar. A horse ran out on me and I had to go around to avoid hitting it. He hastens to add, " "But I was ready to land, I was lined up okay." One of their biggest worries is animals; if it isn't horses, it's the elk. Or a dog. They are, to a man, sensitive about the intrusions of Government into aviation. They can recite quite accurately the regula- tions that govern their operations, including one recent one that requires them to fill out more forms to waive the requirement that they get permission 24 hours ahead before carrying liquid propane or dynamite or any other dangerous cargo. They report their Federal tax collections monthly, their pas- senger loads daily. They can recite the fuel price rises within the last three months to the day and exact amount. They know all about Mr. Ullman "s tax plan. They disdain towers and controllers and rules, the damned rules. They give themselves their own clearances and check- outs, and live in the knowledge that no man is as qualified to do that as they are. They despise anyone who purports to tell them tomfoolery in any area where they are more knowledgeable. There is the story n of the Sierra Club group that came trucking through to gape at the trees, pointed at a three - year -old burn in one portion of a na- tional forest, and exclaimed, ' "Oh my, look how the lumber companies have clear cut s that hill. "' The laughter on that is forced, bit- ter. They do not tell other people how to run o their cities, and they do not expect stran- gers to come in and tell them how to run their woods. Surprisingly, a respectable number of s flatlanders who are new to the area stop in - to ask advice before they plunge on. What n is even more surprising is that these same d yokels will then go out and do what they s were going to do anyway, despite the best Camp efforts of Fogg and the others to persuade t them to wait until the winds are down or the o temperature has dropped. Each year, there t are serious accidents in this back country w that are brought on by people who are be- 0- witched somehow by the country or by u something else. One fellow drove up in a brand -new Jag with a lady in the seat next to him, claimed thousands of hours with an airline, wanted to pay double to rent an air- plane and show his little friend what real fly- ing was all about; him they could handle, though it took two hours to say no. There was the one from California who stopped to ask, heard what they had to say, went any- way, dinged it, and then was too ashamed to call them to ask for help. He called anoth- er city: "Say, uh, could you ship me a new prop? Oh, and while you're at it, um, might as well throw in an engine and a main wheel Oh, the talk! Fogg: "I remember the time into Camp- bell's Ferry in our Cessna 180. 1 lost a wheel. It was not a hard landing, and the gear was spring steel, y'know, so I bounced up a little. Up ahead o' me, I see this blur of something move, and I figure it's some ani- mal and, you know, it's too late to do any- thing about it now (laughter), so I just went on in. Turns out it was one of my main wheels just fell off from fatigue failure. That cost a landing gear and a wheel, plus a wingtip, prop and bulkhead in the ground loop. " Phil: "I knew a guy flew the Hump said that he'd never seen anything like this, that this was the hardest flying in the world." Bill Dorris: "We have this one lady flies the whole time with her eyes closed, you member that, Phil ?" Remaklus: "Yeah, she won't fly with Bill anymore. I think there was one time, too, when she just crawled in beck on top of the mail sacks and just rode the trip lying down back there." Fogg: "We're well maintained. Remaklus: "Yeah, the ships look used, but they run good." (Micknak puffs the pipe.) Remaklus: "Would you (to Dorris) take your 185 into Campbell's Ferry on skis ?" Dorris: "Oh, I've done it, but ..." Fogg: "You've got to catch the ledge. Get up there and get turned around onto the ledge. It's a 17- percent slope, and skis is kinda like floats —you ever fly floats? —and then when you go to taxi up top for takeoff, it takes almost full throttle." . All I can see in back of the Super Cruis- er is Remaklus' back and his beat -up cordu- roy hat. We have poked into two entries down to the river and failed twice, are now pressing farther west. The clouds are all cold, wet - looking, not sharply defined but simply separate parts of a ragged stratus layer at altitude. There are groceries in back of me, and I can smell wet lettuce amid the other aromas buried within the fiber mat up- holstery and insulation. The Piper had scam- pered up here quickly, and all that's left to do now is to find a way in and down. We pass the landing strip at Warren, which places us west of the South Fork. At an OAT of 40° F., the carburetor ices up —the hu- midity. The residents of the canyon all commu- nicate with each other and with Johnson by a radio net that suffers terrible noise intru- sions from atmospheric electricity. Two days ago, a giant thunderstorm had roared into McCall and blown dust up so bad you couldn't see to the end of the main street. The lights had gone out in parts of town. That afternoon, the radio had been nearly unusable for the static. Next year, there will be a single- side -band system installed that will eliminate that problem plus boost effec- tive transmitter power. To the people who depend on them, there is more than an im- personal business relationship between themselves and the Johnson pilots. They call the day before, and someone at John- son writes down their shopping list. Just this morning, Remaklus has come from the grocery store, where he has picked up an order for the Campbells at Shepp Ranch (no relation to the Campbell's of Campbell's Fer- ry). He also sought out and picked up a bronze valve for some plumbing need or other. Suddenly, the Piper whips into a hard right bank. Remaklus has spotted his open- ing, and just as quickly —right NOW —has made his decision to shoot through a saddle to the north, and then we are going down. Between two angled walls with some scrub on them, we plummet down to the river. The scrub turns out to be lodgepole pine, maybe 50 feet tall. Remaklus spots an elk all by itself, but I'm blind this morning. Finally, with his help adjusting my sights, I see it, too, a tiny blob of golden fur —the wrong color, the wrong size. I was looking for something many times that big and much darker. (Remember, the scale is way off.) The sun is breaking through the now - thinning layer, and the light catches rivulets of water on the heights that fall so far they turn to haze before they strike anything solid. "Bear!" Remaklus is looking off to the right, and this time I see him right away, standing alone, looking at us. I think. How the hell is he holding onto the side of that —? "They drive sheep in here to feed, and every fall we have to help look for the lost ones."' A dirt road appears halfway down the slope of the eastern wall, winds around, de- scending into a tortuous whip until it disap- pears again in trees. There it is! We're at the Salmon River. We are still 2,000 feet above the water and descending, and I can see white water in spots. We turn right to head east to Shepp Ranch, which sits within its own canyon hard by the river. It is upon us before I could have reacted, but Remaklus began the turn in plenty of time, now heads in close to check for horses. Four of them are down drinking at a creek, and he is a little worried about whether they will spook and run onto the landing area. One more turn - around overhead and then he is satisfied; they don't seem restless. We aim back over the river, climb a bit and then turn, sinking fast and getting slowed all at once. Flaps are coming down; power is reduced, and the Piper is settling with a whistle. We arm slightly to the right of the runway's axis, Remaklus waits until he has cleared some trees to correct, shoves in some power to halt the sink a bit, and WHOMP! We are down. I feel like a fool, for it has all hap- pened so fast, and I haven't watched enough of what happened, and my pen is still poised above the kneepad, with nothing to write. We step out of the airplane, and the ef- fect inside the canyon is as if Remaklus has just flown us into the bottom of a well. The sensation of it all has been more hurried than I'd planned for. I should have carried a motion picture camera and filmed at twice the normal speed. "You'd fly that a little different in the 206, of course," Phil is saying. '"Fogg flies the 206 in here just like the Cub —turns a complete 180 out over the river —but I don't. I turn out and head upriver where there's more room to turn. He's done it more times." Remaklus sounds almost apol- ogetic. My tongue is stuck. Some people are stirring at the ranch. It is Anita Campbell, trying to start the Jeep. The water is up, and she has to ford a four - inch -deep stream to get to us. She pulls around behind to sidle up against the Pip- er's door and alights. She is a Madonna, a wisp of a girl with her hair in two pigtails and a loose work shirt hung gawkily on her shoulders. "Jim'll be over in a minute, "' she says. Jim Campbell, a physicist, started taking people down the river because he was con- cerned about the exploitation of the Idaho forests, wanted people to be aware of the beauty. It became a business in the summer, became a full -time business, and when the Shepp Ranch went up for sale a while back, it became a whole new life. He trundles up, a troll in a T- shirt, with his beard sporting some straw at rakish angles. He and Remak- lus confer. There is some trouble. Fifteen of their horses are down in a steep ravine, and they'll need help to get them out. They have already had to cancel one party because of the lack of horses, and Jim has to get them back to keep the business. Remaklus agrees that they should both fly over to where the animals are, have a look at possible trails out of there. Once they've figured out an egress, Jim will fly back to town and try to round up some wranglers to pack into the area and drive from the bottom end. The groceries are already scattered all over the back of Anita "s Jeep; Jim and a hired hand, Ken Olsen, clamber into the airplane. Re- maklus fires up and is immediately rolling; the man simply never uses brakes. The Piper disappears over a high knoll in the middle of the Shepp "runway" and the only sound from it is the echo off the canyon walls. When Remaklus passes over me outbound, he is already at a hundred feet and scratch- ing for more. They turn west at the river and vanish behind the rock wall, the echo falling off quickly. "You need an airplane in a place like (continued on page 102) FLYING — August 1975 101 i River i from page 101 ground source. Average They think they have found a trail, and effective candlepower: 225. Optional lenses for marine &emergency vehicle use. while we all walk back to the house with the Kit OL -1155, 3 lbs., mailable ..........59.95• groceries, Jim describes what he plans to do. Remaklus is all ears, offers advice here and there; he is obviously concerned. ( "The NEW Campbells show real promise of making a Digital go of this place," he had said earlier, and it 6495 is obvious he likes them both.) Anita offers Aircraft cellar -cool apple juice, pressed from real ap- Clock /Timer ples by the Campbells and put up in canning Another "first' from Heath —a 4 -digit elec- jars. "Better check that stuff first, " Jim tronic clock & an independent 20 -hour timer, warns, half seriously. both with quartz crystal accuracy. Bright 1/2" Having briefed his crew, Jim is up and digits are visible even in direct sunlight, but rustling together his gear. Anita gathers up dim automatically at night. When the ignition is off, the display can be recalled at the touch the glasses. of a button. Mounts on or under the instrument o _ panel. Assembles easily in two evenings. 12 1p her e you won d They bothtt turn to Re! VDC powered. Great for the car, too! she ask Kit GC -1093, 2 lbs., mailable .......... 64.95* maklus, and he reddens, grins: "I don't know ... there are no guaran- tees.'" "Oh well, good -bye, dear, " Anita josh- es, and she and Jim hug one another, feign- ing high drama. You need an airplane in a place like this, Anita Campbell had said. t ita Campbell is saying. " "Were all y that Johnson' lost the mail con - /ill the new man carry groceries in Drm the same services that Johnson Ve think ... we hope so ... we re sure. talks freely of the new life, the s, the history of the place, how she husband had always passed the lace and thought fondly of one day it; when it came up, they knew they lave it. Business is pretty good, and r r._ seem to like the boat trips down the river, the chance to get this far away from NEW Heathklt the city. They have one plan whereby you i can pack on horseback into the depths of the hills. No, she is not terribly worried Aircraft 5995* about the water coming up. Strobe After a half hour, the Super Cruiser lofts You can assemble the OL 1155 in just one eve- in from the direction in which it had depart - ning. An adjustable mounting ring makes in ed. Remaklus loses some altitude over our stallation easy, too. An internal trimmer adjusts heads and then turns back to the river for he frequency of the flashes. Operates from his final 180 before landing. any 12 VDC negative, I i� �� it pi r i � � r— •, ��tir --"' 5- Instrument 8995* Weather Station O Accurately monitors barometric pressure, wind direction & speed, indoor & outdoor tempera- ture. Special barometer gives 21/2 times nor- mal deflection. Dual range scale reads 0 -30 & 0 -90 mph winds with 16 -point resolution of di- rection. Remote sensor assembly with wind cup, vane & outdoor thermometer clamps to TV antenna mast (less connecting cable). Wal- nut -grain plaque can be hung horizontally, ver- tically or stood on desk. Kit ID -1290, 9 lbs., mailable ........ 89.95* Heath Company, Dept. 105.08 Benton Harbor, Michigan 49022 1 I 1­1 Please send me a free copy of the 1975 Heath- I I kit Catalog. ❑ Enclosed is $— , plus shipping. 1 Please send models) — • I jName Address 1 1 1 1 City $tote- Zi 1 Mail order price, FOB factory. pGX-309C ` Prices & specifications Subject to change without notice. CIRCLE NO 16 ON READER SERVICE PAGE 102 "What does it feel like, losing the mail contract ? " I asked Bob Fogg later. He didn't look at me. "Oh, if you had to depend on the mail to make a living, you'd starve, " he said. "This is not mountain flying, it is canyon flying," Bob Fogg told me. No, it is much more than that. It is leg- end, and although it is probably fruitless to try to make legend —for that must happen spontaneously —you will have to forgive the folly of trying anyway. I know that finding the world's toughest, noblest flying enter- prise in McCall, Idaho may seem as likely as running into a matador at a Dairy Queen, but you wilf just have to believe it+ THIS CAN BE YOU! YOUR FUTURE IS TODAY WITH BOARDMAN'S FLIGHT TRAINING Piloting skill to sell now to business and the aeronautical industry is the advantage you re- ceive by training at Boardmans. Highly rated professional instructors in both ground school and flight concentrate on your career. 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Meacham Field • Fort Worth, Texas 76106 Call 817 - 624 -8494 CIRCLE NO, 5 ON READER SERVICE PAGE Salmon (115;1� / Of �,_ adZ C/_ / 9'19 River Boatman Johnny McKay "Salmon River Boatman" re- printed in HIGH COUNTRY from "River of No Return," copyright 1978, Backeddy Books, Cambridge, Idaho. Further publication of this material prohibited without permis- sion of the publisher. The most enigmatic figure among the early Salmon River boatmen is John McKay. He was a native of Scotland and a skilled millwright by trade. The taciturn Scotsman once confided the reason for his arrival in the Salmon canyon to Herb St. Clair, of Salmon, Idaho. McKay had con- structed a large mill for a company and proudly invited his young wife to "inspect it. During her visit her skirt was caught by a flywheel and she was dragged to her death before the machinery could be halted. Broken - fNhearted, Johnny . McKay turned placer miner and recluse along the River of No Return. Each spring in Salmon City he built a small wooded scow, with "Each of us was wondering what the sign might be; none dared speak, fearing to break khe thread of the narrative." sweep blades at each end. Carrying months of supplies which could be adequately supplemented with fish and game, he worked his way down river, placering for gold at sandbars d side streams. McKay would wild a little hut, sometimes with the %iinber from his boat, and winter in the canyon. Often he would travel down river as far as Lewiston. By spring he would be back in Salmon, trading his gold for supplies ,and preparing for the next trip. Ftb�s manner he is known to hav descended the river at least 20 times. Lee Miller floated the River of No Return as a passenger in a sweep toat in August of 1920. He had a ef encounter with Johnny McKay. The article he wrote a year later provides a remarkable glimpse of this solitary miner: by John Carrey & Cort Conley "McKay was last seen along the Salmon below Riggins, trundling his possessions in a k" Johnny McKay, swinging his old California gold rocker rhythmically, began his narrative. i ' And I gie them the sign," said John McKay, "I gie them the sign - and they knew me." "Under the gray brows, the keen eyes of the Scotchman, the veteran of the Salmon River, flashed. His voice took on a vibrant tone. - "Wild mountain sheep they were," said John McKay, "wild yoes. Two years had slipped awa'," said he dramatically, "two years! And I gie them the sign. And they knew me!" We sat about the little flat boat of the old miner, Walter; Alethea, whom we dubbed Main Marion; Henry Harty, whom we called the Jersey Lily; My Lady Brown Eyes, who had been promptly nicknamed Precious, and I of whom they had irreverently spoken as The Bishop. Captain Harry Guleke, who had had guided our boat through the treacherous waters of the Salmon River, lingered near, and Percy Anderson, mate, guide and natu- ralist, sat beside John McKay, while in the rear, and making a substantial background, stood Charley Dodge, our three - hundred -pound cook. These three made up the ship's crew of the good boat "Precious" and we the passengers. And all the way down the Salmon River, bisect- ing the great State of Idaho, we had heard of John McKay, the veteran miner of the Salmon River canyon and of his forty -eight years of strug- gle and adventing on that lonely and dangerous stream. For weeks we had adventured down The Forbidden River, had successfully negotiated without ship- wreck Skookemchuck Rapids, had gone over Salmon Falls unscathed, had shot unharmed past the deadly whirlpools of The Whiplash, had dodged the menacing rocks of Big Mallard, and dozens of unnamed falls and rapids, and now, at the lower end of the canyon we had come upon the most romantic figure of that remote country, John McKay, and sat on and about his little boat, listening with eager ears. "It was a mony a -year agone," said John McKay, swinging his old California gold rocker or cradle rhy- thmically. "I was minin' on Lone Pine Bar near the Middle Fork. I. had struck a fine pay streak and the' gold in my little buckskin bag was pilin' up. Spring had come and the flowers were bloomin'. It was a day- in June, when out upon the canyon wall a thousand feet above me came the three mountain sheep. And I gie them the sign." Always when he said these words he straightened up and his eyes glowed. "And I said to mysel', I'll nae feed them, I'll nae gie them salt. Only will I use the sign to make them know me. " Each of us was wondering what the sign might be; none dared speak, fearing to break the thread of the narrative. "All summer long they came and looked down upon me," said he, "and every day when they came out upon the cliff I'd gie them the sign. And the gold kept pilin' up in the buckskin bag." The far -away look in his eye betokened a mental picture of hat distant summer. "And fall came and winter," said John McKay, "and I built a little cabin and laid by the rocker for awhile. And the three yoes which had been comin' down lower upon the cliff came no more. "Winter passed," said he, "and spring came and with the flowers came the three mountain sheep. And the three yoes had three little lam - mies wi' them. And I gie them the sign. Summer passed. And the three yoes came near, and the three lammies played around my cabin door. And always I would gie them the sign. "And winter came again, and spring," said John McKay, "and when the yoes returned there were three more lammies. Now there were nine; and I gie them the sign and they knew me." As we watched him we thought of the years of adventure and patient toil behind him, of the long forgotten hopes of wealth that had been his. We remembered the story of the Scotchman coming from the land of heather a youngster, first to New Brunswick, then Vermont, then Nevada. Here a faint rumor hints of a young wife, of fortune smiling upon him, of a big future looming, then of the tragic death of the bride and of John McKay lost to the world in the remote and lonely Salmon River canyon. It was hard to realize that this erect, vigorous Scotchman, leading his active, lonely life cheerfully, unafraid, always with the Great Reward just around the bend, had been there forty -eight years. More than twenty complete trips through the canyon he has made in forty- eight years of placer mining, always returning to enter the canyon again at Salmon City to begin another two - or three -year voyage down The For- bidden River, seeking gold. "And that summer the surveyors came," said he, "and I told them of my mountain sheep and asked them not to harm them. The chief engineer promised - and he kept his promise. But one day a young mon o' the party, a bad mon, whispered to the cook: 'I can kill a lamb, and it will be fine eating.' And the cook looked at him wi' scorn in his eye and said, `Kill a lamb and you'll cook it yoursel'. I'll nae cook it for ye. And I'll nae cook ye anither bite in this canyon.' So said the cook, who was a gude mon. And the young man was ashamed. And so no harm came to my sheep. "Winter came," said John McKay, "and my pay streak ended; and I drifted on down the Salmon River. And two years later I was back again on Lone Pine Bar, and it was summer. And out on the cliffs came the three mountain sheep. The lam - mies were gone, but I recognized my old yoes. And I gie them the sign and they knew me." Tears of pride were in his voice as he told of these wild mountain friends. And our eyes were misty. "And ye'll be wondering about the sign," said John McKay. Indeed we were wondering - but feared to ask. "It was but this," said he simply, "I held my arm high above my head, my right arm, and waived my hand gently to and fro, but they knew it for my sign an' they knew me." And in his story John McKay had painted a picture of his own kind, wandering life among the mountains and the wild things that know him there. McKay was last seen along the Salmon below Riggins, trundling his possessions in a wheelbarrow. Herb St. Clair said that McKay finally went to San Diego, California, and was never heard from again. In any event, the Scotsman left his name in the canyon of the Salmon. There is a J. N. McK 1872 inscription on a rock facing the river near McKay Creek, a similar mark dated 1907, at Cove Creek, by the grave next to the road, and a third en- graving: J. N. McKay 1872 + 1905 + 1911, on a rock at Barth Hot springs. The letters are chiseled with the skill of a man deft at dressing stone. They are mute testimony to the life and legend of Johnny McKay. ❑ _ . by Mike Stewart Jim Smith mans the oars while Ted Epley coaches. River guides learn the ropes By Mike Stewart The Star -News The raft in front of us hit the big wave in the rapid sideways. It perched for just n instant on its side. A slight breeze from downstream would have kick - d it over and dumped its oc- cupants, McCall outfitter Ted Epley, trainee boatman Chuck Hendrix and two other passengers into China Rapid on the Salmon River. Not that the wind wasn't blowing at other times that C ay, nor that this particular rainy day wasn't miserable and wet enough already. Our boatman, Ronnie McLay, nodded his head, and pointed out that dunkings often result when a large rapid is taken on sideways instead of with the boat pointed downstream. I thought of the image that previously had entered my mind when I thought about river running and river guides. That picture, one of a laid - back, free - spirited Mark Twain -type basking in the sun while manuevering a raft through the rapids, didn't quite hit the mark. While the image is not inac- curate at times, there is a lot more to being a good river guide and boatman. One per- son who knows that well is Ted Epley, owner of Epley's Whitewater Adventures. As a result, he spends a good part of his spring seeking out those who can not only manuever a raft through some of Idaho's wildest whitewater, but who also can cook, ban- dage a cut or scrape, pitch a tent and relate some of the local color and history of the area through which the group happens to be passing. And, while not subjecting them to excess danger, the V? d L J- , guide must show clients the ex- citement that goes along with running the big rapids found on the Snake, Salmon, and Middle Fork of the Salmon rivers. Epley has just finished up the half -dozen or so training trips he runs each spring, usually in less than optimum weather, for his new and returning boatmen. On the trip, in addition tc Hendrix of Donnelly, and McLay of Payette, were trainee guides Jim Smith, Mc- Call's city administrator, and Ray Alford, McCall's building (Continued on Page A -4) Thousands line Salmon to see .boats BY RANDALL BROOKS The Star -News It was a little like fishing without the pole for thousands of spectators who lined the banks of the Salmon River below Riggins last weekend to watch the second annual River of No Return Jet Boat races. By Sunday's final day of rac- ing, race organizer I.L. "Red" Hughes of White Bird reported that seven of the 15 racing craft entered had taken the river at its word and, for one reason or another, were not making the 68 -mile round trip from White Bird to Short's Bar above Riggins and back. But that didn't damper the spirits of the hordes that dotted the shoreline. The spectators didn't seem to mind the shortage of boats and dutifully cheered those that did make the exciting runs through the Salmon River rapids. The frequent breaks in the ac- tion left on lookers ample time to cruise the shoreline of the river, bask in the sunshine, or partake of their favorite beverages while waiting to view the race. Hughes, a member of the spon- soring White Bird Amercian Legion, said four boats were lost from the race on Saturday mostly from engine failures that caused little permanent damage to the exotic boats. But he said a Canadian jet boat piloted by Albert Benson of Red Deer, Alberta, lost power above Blackhawk Bar Rapids after its engine died in the churning whitewater. Before the engine could be restarted, the boat was pulled down into the water and broke up on the rocks, he said. Benson and his crew were helped to shore unhurt by safety crews. Three more boats did not make a complete run in Sunday's rac- ing as the second annual affair turned into more of a jet boat ex- hibition than a competitive race. Despite setbacks in the' com- petitive portion of the race; most racers planned to be back for next year's race and would bring other racers because of the quali- ty of the Salmon River race course, Hughes said. Hughes was among spectators Sunday at Fiddle Creek rapids. He estimated the crowd sitting on Jet boat speeds through whitewater during Salmon River races. t'esma -ri Rafters explore history of canyon By Stephen Stuebner The Idaho Statesman SHEPP RANCH — On Wednes- day, the 11th day of the Centenni- al float trip, the 40- member party spent a leisurely day emersed in the colorful history of the Salmon River Canyon. In fact, the group toured a tri- angle of sorts that framed the historic figures of the day -- Pol- ly Bemis, Charlie Bemis, Charlie Shepp, Pete Klinkhammer and Paul Filer, among others. The party camped Tuesday on a wihd -swept bar adjacent to War- ren Creek, 10 miles downstream from the old mining town of War- ren, hiked a few miles up the creek on Wednesday morning, and then floated about five miles downriver to the Shepp Ranch. The historic Bemis cabin is di- rectly across the river from Shepp Ranch. Polly Bemis, a Chinese slave, wa'S brought to Portland, Ore., by a �an Francisco company. She w4 purchased and packed to WArren in 1872, when the town was flourishing in a gold boom. About 20 years later, her hus- band- to -be, Charlie Bemis, was shot in the face during a poker game dispute. Polly nursed him back to health and they married 1' y in 1894. Polly was being threat- ened with deportation at the time. Considered by some as the Salmon River's most romantic person, Polly's past conjured up similar feelings among the Cen- tennial float party. "I think it's people like Polly that paved the way for the equali- ty of women," said Judith Wilson of Boise, the only guest traveling the full 406 miles of the float trip. "Idaho was the second state in the union to give women the vote, you know. "I'm just impressed that a little Chinese woman did so well. And I think it's wonderful that her leg- end lives on." In 1922, the year Polly's hus- band, Charlie, died, her cabin burned down. While her neigh- bors, Shepp and Klinkhammer apricots, walnuts and chestnuts. built her a new place, she got her Klinkhammer transported the first automobile ride to Grange- goods to the mines with his pack ville, where she also saw her first strings and traveled to Grange - movie, first train, and was show- ville once a year to buy supplies. ered with gifts. She died 11 years Of all the history in the Salmon later at the age of 80. River Canyon, events at Shepp ranch are documented the best, as Shepp and Klinkhammer came Shepp and others left behind 75 to the Salmon River for the same years of daily journal entries. reasons that many did around the Shepp died in 1936; he is buried turn of the century — to find pay beside the ranch house next to dirt mining gold. Charlie Bemis and Alex Blaine. In 1900, Shepp filed a mining In 1950 after much urging, claim called "Blue Jay" on Klinkhammer sold the 136 -acre Crooked Creek. At Humptown, spread to Paul Filer, a sturdy - near the present -day Gospel- looking man who described him - Hump Wilderness, Shepp met self as being as "green as pea Klinkhammer. soup." Filer who owned a store in "They got along like finger and Elk City, paid $10,000 for the thumb," wrote Johnny Carrey place. and Cort Conley in "River of No Though he had a few more mod - Return." ern conveniences, Filer ran into They bought the Shepp ranch bad luck. Beef prices fell the next property in 1909, though nervous year, wiping out his first calf about the possibility of a North- crop. After cutting, hauling and ern Pacific rail line being blazed peeling the logs for new guest across the property. cabins, spring rains caused a Originally, the pair planned to flood that washed his work down - raise produce and sell it to the river, never to be retrieved. mines. Shepp was the green thumb, and his bounty was im- But Filer and his wife, Mary - pressive: potatoes, corn beans, belle, persevered, and operated a beets, carrots, parsnips, turnips, successful hunting and fishing asparagus, squash, and more. outfitting business for years. He His orchard grew more than 10 sold the place in 1969 and still kinds of apples, six types of cher- resides in Riggins. Marybelle died ries, and peaches, plums, pears, in 1980. Salmon River road's annual 'mud closure' starts today The South Fork of the Salmon River road will be closed 12 hours a day beginning at 10 a.m. today, according to Payette National Forest officials. The dirt road's annual "mud closure" will be in effect from 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. each day, forest officials said. The road will re- open from 10 p.m. to 10 a.m. to take advantage of a frozen road surface, officials said. The closure will extend from the road's intersection with the Warm Lake Highway to milepost 20, near the Reed Ranch. The re- mainder of the road surface is dry and no restriction is needed, offi- cials said. The road restriction will re- main in effect while conditions warrant, officials said. Violators could face a maximum penalty of a $500 fine and six months in jail. For more information, call 382- 4271 or 634 -1465. Idaho's n Dick Zimmerman has earned his nickname "Dugout Dick" after 45 years of digging caves near Salmon Story by Tim Woodward Photos by Kevin Clark The Idaho Statesman ELK BEND, Idaho — When Dugout Dick Zimmerman began building his unusual home over- looking the Salmon River, all he wanted was a cave where he could be away from people. He never dreamed it would attract them. What began in 1948 with a trickle of curious motorists has become a stream of river run- ners and other visitors. Growth is good for business — on a good day, he makes $12 from river floaters who tour his caves — but he worries that he's losing his privacy. "I have neighbors across the river now," he grumps. I can't even stand outside to take a leak anymore." The home of the "Salmon Riv- cF r as dug about 20 caves, some are for storage, others are rented. "I don't know why I dug so many. I never meant to build an apartment house." Dugout Dick er caveman, 19 miles south of the town of Salmon, is one of Idaho's stranger sights. Some 20 caves line the rocky moun- tainside overlooking the river. Some are used for storage, but 10 are habit- able and in- termittently rented. The slope is dotted with cows - kulls, old tires, ancient refriger- ators and other junk. Plumes of smoke curl from rusty pipes ris- ing from the rock. Seen from across the river on U.S. 93, it looks like a Flintstones cartoon come to life. Zimmerman dug the caves alone, using only a pick, a shov- el and a prybar. He was 32 when he came to the canyon. Now 77, he has been living in a cave for 45 years. "I don't know why I dug so many," he says. "I guess it was iust to be doing something, and the rocks were here. I never meant to build an apartment house." come he needs. His expenses are minimal — no mortgage, no electricity or telephone, no monthly bills. The land belongs to the Bureau of Land Manage- ment, but mining claims allow him to live there rent - free the rest of his life. "I have everything here," he says. "I got lots of rocks and rubber tires. I have plenty of straw and fruit and vegetables, my dog and my cats and my guitars. I make wine to cook with. There's noth- ing I really need." The biggest caves are some 60 feet deep, with rooms up to 15 feet wide. One has a sunporch, enclosed with windshields from old cars. Most have an old re- frigerator or two, for storage. A few are more like rock houses than caves. Tires an- chored in soil keep his six goats from digging beds in their sod roofs. Depending on size and amenities, he rents the "apart- ments" for $10, $15 or $25 a month. Social Security, rent from his tenants and fees from tours he gives to river floaters average about $200 a month, all the in- His own side show As the number of caves and the extent of his reputation grew, the man who wanted only to be left alone found himself a local celebrity. People passing on the high- way see the caves and stop to ask about them. Reporters ask for interviews. Television crews stop to photograph him. In De- cember, Zimmerman was fea- tured in National Geographic magazine. He has turned down offers to appear as a guest on the "Tonight show. "I told them I didn't want to go to California and that I ride Greyhounds, not airplanes," he said. "Besides, the show isn't in California. The show is here." The "show" has become the source of a modest, seasonal in- come for him. A pragmatic her - mit, he now welcomes summer visitors, who pay a dollar apiece to tour his caves, take pictures and hear folk music from a gone era. "Would you like to hear some - tbing ?" he asks, strapping on a beat -up guitar. +Something turns out to be "Wreck of the '97," a hobo song. He taps his feet and sings, r"m ba 7 �71 pounds chords on his guitar, blows into a harmonica. It's aw- ful, but somehow appealing. With his gravel wail, weathered face and wispy, white hair, he could be Bob Dylan's grand- father. For a cave, his home is sur- prisingly comfortable. An esti- mated 12 feet wide by 30 deep, it has a woodstove and lanterns, a table and chairs, a wooden bed with a mattress, a tube that brings drinking water from a spring in the rocks. Bathing is done in a metal washtub, or, in summer, the river. A wooden door and wood - framed windows wedged into the entrance let in light and keep out cold. The rock holds heat for days. He says he uses half a cord of wood per winter. Last winter, he returned from visiting his family, cousins in the Midwest, to find the temperature inside the cave had changed little from when he left. Outside, it has reached 40 below. In a typical month, three or four of the caves are occupied. In the fall, some of his renters are hunters, who pay $2 a night. The rest he kindly describes as "guys that don't have much money. They're kind of down and out when they come here." Growing up with caves Dugout Dick spent his child- hood in Indiana — fascinated by caves. "I've liked caves as long as I can remember," he says. "When I was little, I used to go down to the Yellow River and make little dugouts. I liked to play in them. It was cool and quiet there. I liked that." The dugouts were more than cool and quiet. They were an escape from the world of people. Zimmerman was born in 1916 and grew up poor. The oldest of five children, he was unpopular in school, unhappy at home. "I never did get along with my Dad," he recalls. "He was or- nery and mean. A bootlegger." Fights at school were com- mon. Victories weren't. "I was kind of backward and shy as a kid. I got picked on quite a bit. I was a farm boy and didn't know how to protect my self. I wouldn't fight, so they'd pick on me." In his teens, he worked as a farm laborer. The work was hard, the pay low. When he was 19, his last tie to Indiana was broken. "I had a girl leave me. She wanted a man who played bas- ketball. That's when I decided to leave." He hopped a westbound freight, worked two years on a ranch in Nebraska and hitch- hiked to Idaho. After serving as an army truck driver during World War II, he returned to Idaho and spent three years herding sheep and lambs. By then the thing he craved most was independence -- a home, a garden, a place to be away from people who picked on one anoth- er. The Salmon River canyon was ideal. Asked why he never married, he gives an unexpected answer: "I'm married now! I have a Mexican wife, but I haven't seen her in 15 years. She's welcome to come back if she wants. She knows where I'm at." He says his wife left him be- cause of his diet, which he ad- mits is a little strange. Unable to eat meat, wheat or sugar be- cause they upset his stomach, he lives primarily on fresh vegeta- bles, dried fruits, homemade yo- gurt flavored with carrots and onions, and mush made with rye flour, stinging nettles, goat's milk and fermented vegetables. "People think I'm crazy be- cause of the way I eat," he says. Not hard to please At 77, he craves little. In sum- mer, he spends most of his time working in his one -acre garden and orchard. The land is irrigat- ed with a windmill he designed and built to draw water from the river. A prospector of sorts, he has found enough copper to jus- tify his mining claims, but en- joys renting and exhibiting his caves more than mining them. In the winter, he holes up in his cave. If he gets bored, he reads magazines or his Bible (he can and does quote lengthy sec- tions of scripture to anyone who will listen), goes for a walk with his dog, Eddy, or drives to Salm- on in his battered pickup. "I don't know many people there, but they know me. People I don't know smile and wave. I guess I'm kind of a local charac- ter. It's because the way I live is a little different.... I don't get bored often. I've lived so much this way I don't know anything else." Dick has a discussion with his dog, Eddy, who keeps him from being lonely. Dick says the hillside he walks on daily "helps me get my exercise." f No turning back He wouldn't live in a real house if he could. "When I go away, I miss it," he says of his cave. "It's warm in winter, cool in summer. I'm as comfortable or more comfort- able than I'd be in a house. I've stayed in houses. I don't like them." Some people would look down on a person who lives in a cave. Dugout Dick Zimmerman looks down on his canyon and his riv- er, his retreat from society, without regrets. He is a man content with the unusual life he has chosen. "A cousin from Indiana came here once," he said with more than a trace of pride. "He thought I was poor and didn't have nothin' and that I'd better come and live right. "When he saw all this, he changed his mind." i 0-13 American Spotlight AP Wirephotos JETTING THE RAPIDS —Spray flies as rancher Canyon, Idaho, His passenger is AP Newsfeatures Paul Filer takes his 210- horsepower jet boat over writer Hugh A. Mulligan. Filer piloted Mulligan the rapids of the Salmon River in Salmon River and photographer Bob Scott 50 miles up river. raid a _ Aye ul a -1-yesolate Wildiervess .Ctnrk .4;nli,t,md,,- Rules Along River of No Return Editor's note —In a rugged corner of Idaho is one of the most primitive inhabited areas in the United States, a river canyon of stark solitude without roads, towns, schools or stores. Here is the story of the Salmon River Canyon and of the people < who live in this wilderness paradise. By HUGH A. MULLIGAN SALMON RIVER CANYON, Idaho (AP) -Last fall Pete Klinkhammer, who is 82 and a retired prospec- tor, saddled up his horse and rode 18 miles through a snowstorm over a treacherous mountain trail to cast his vote in the off -year congressional election. The harrowing switchback trail, which he helped build more than 50 years ago, took him out of the mile deep can- yon where his hand -hewn log cabin stands on the banks of the Salmon River, over dizzy moun- tain peaks heavy with snow and into yellow pine forests teem- ing with elk and bear, moose and bighorn sheep. ON HIS WAY to the polling booth in the little five -house community of Dixie in the high country, Pete passed not a .sin- gle house and encountered' not a single soul. On his way home through the gathering darkness, the stark solitude of the white wilderness was broken only by the howling of the wind through the gorge and the lonely cry of a coyote. To him, the back country never seemed lovelier. Pete's determination to dis- charge his obligations of citi- zenship under the most ad- verse conditions is typical of the hardy fnik who live the year 'round in the canyon of the Salmon River, a ruggedly prim- itive paradise without roads or towns, schools or stores, tele- vision or even telegraph poles. Called the River of No Re=-. turn because its swirling waters turned back Lewis and Clark in their quest of a route Ao the Pacific more than 150 years ago, the remote canyon is per- haps the most primitive' of all inhabited sections of the United States. Deeper than the Grand. Can - yon, pit is accessible only by small plane for less than three hours a day when wind currents are right or, then the river is unfrozen, by jet boat over seeth- ing, roaring rapids. But to the dozen or so permanent families in the valley, the lure of its loveliness is proof against the bleak isolation. PETE, for one, would live nowhere else. It was he who introduced us to the extraordinary way of life along the River of No Return. Photographer Bob Scott and I had flown into the canyon late in the morning, just as the wind was beginning to rise, and our descent down the mile- deep walls of the narrow, gorge was a hair raising experience. Pilot Dean Logan, who knew his business, studied the trees carefully for wind motion before banking and setting down on the narrow dirt landing strip gouged out of the side of the mountain. The old prospector was standing` under the trees waiting to greet us. "You: want to know all about me ?" he mused.' ,Well, there really isn't much to tell.'.' As it turned out, his story was a simple one, a love affair with trees and rocks, tumbling water and soaring, peaks. Pete came to the canyon in 1904 from a farm in Minnesota to search for gold, but the gold that held him fast was the morning sun play- ing on the wails of the canyon. W n BETTER THAN ENGINEERING — Modern pio- neer Buckskin Billy stands beside his pink clay cabin in the canyon. A college graduate and .for - mer petroleum engineer, Billy loves rugged 'life. WITH HIS partner, Charlie 5hepp, he whip -sawed the logs for the cabin where he still lives 'I with his friends, Paul and Mary - bell Filer. He sold the ranch, to them 10 years ago with the pro- Viso that he� could remain as long as he wished. Pete remembers when it took two days to ride into the can- yon on horseback instead of two hours by small; plane, , but little else has changed to make the area less desolate. ►. The nearest town to them 'is 50 ,— .,iles uy plane, 'bet' -e, than 100 by boat and road, once they get to where the road begins. Their nearest neighbors are 10 miles up river or 18 miles down river, depending on w h i c h stretch of white water they care to hazard. In winter, dropping in for coffee can be a two-day affair. Supplies are packed in on horseback, taken up river by jet boat or flown in by the mail plane, which comes once a week in summer and twice a month in winter. Orders are placed by radio telephone to Lewiston, 100 miles away. ALTHOUGH he cuts his own 'hair, tends his own vegetable patch and fishes for his break - fast trout in Crooked Creek; which runs right by the cabin �L '?, G-( door, .Pete is no recluse from civilization. He subscribes to six or seven magazines, reads news- papers in two-week batches and keeps up on world events night- ly via - a high powered transistor radio: Ile is concerned about such things as. integration, the test ban treaty and the British train robbery, A rabid baseball` fan, he takes a_trip out of the can- yon each fall in time to catch the world series on television: "In a primitive country," said Pete, "you got to keep busy. It's idleness that produces lone- liness:" Behind the cabin, Pete showed us the wooden markers of the graves of his partner and two prospector friends, whom he buried nearly 30 years ago. An old' diary curtly recorded the demise of one of them: 'Old man Bemis died. Buried him after lunch." All three were well along in years. "THEY JUST wore out, ", said Pete. "In this country the only . way you get a funeral is to shoot . someone or have him die of old age. Memories of the gold rush days flooded his agile mind. Across the river he, pointed to the cabin of Polly Bemis, ,a Chinese slave girl who came to MAMA'S THE TEACHER— Moving outdoors on a good day, Mrs. Jennie Dudley conducts the school she runs for the five Dudley children at their can - yon home. The youngsters, 9 to 15, can't get to regular school. Books and lessons � are flown in twice a week from district school headquarters. the canyon. to work in the gold camps at the age of 18 and lived there until her death in 1933 at the age of 81. Legend has it that Charlie Bemis won her in a poker game, but Pete, who knew her well, prefers the version that says Charlie mar- ried her after a halfbreed Mex- ican shot him in the eye in a poker argument and she re- moved the bullet with a crochet needle. That night by the glow of the Coleman lanterns in the cozy. cabin, Paul and Marybelle Filer told us how they happened to settle in the canyon 10 years ago and, despite hardships, the fascination it has held for them since. A city boy, born and bred in Spokane, Paul ran a post of- fice and general store at Oro- grande in the high country. Pete was an occasional cus- tomer. At Pete's invitation, Paul went hunting on the Shepp ranch; as -it is still called, and made up his mind there and then to buy the place. His wife, Marybelle, a registered nurse who took her training in San Francisco, shared his enthusi- asm. "WE BOTH thought''. said Paul, "there must be some jl thing more to life than stand- . ing behind a store counter 15 hours a day. My folks in Spo- kane thought I wV > crazy to ,pick up and mov�'i}nto_ the wil- derness. They still Ao., That first winter they .went from November to April.: with- out seeing another soul, except a bush pilot friend who dropped a Christmas , dinner by para- chute. Paul dreamed of raising cat - tle : but the bottom fell out of the beef market that year. The Filers soon were convinced that even in good times it would be impossible , to getZ the stock to market. They were on the verge I of giving up and going back to town when a former customer asked to pay for the privilege of bagging an elk on' the ranch. He got his elk and Paul got a brainstorm. He went into the business of guiding well- heeled sportsmen i n t o, the wilderness for elk and bighorn sheep. They might never get rich at it, but at least they would be doing what they liked best. GRADUALLY, Paul tamed the country around him. He cleared an airstrip so the mail plane could land, built a bridge over.the creek to handle heavy' supplies. and installed a water system with a 1,000 - gallon tank salvaged from a wrecked pon- toon bridge. By plane and trail he somehow managed to haul in a Jeep, a sawmill and some kitchen appliances powered by propane gas. In a year, he learned to fly his plane, run a tractor to clear the land, and, negotiate the per* ilous r a p i d s of the Salmon River by jet boat. Marybelle, meanwhile, learn- ed to cook on a wood chunk stove, put up preserves from the garden "in the root cellar. behind the cabin, and keep her- self amused by mastering the accordion by .correspondence course. /a, /j (o G At Mackay Bar, just above where the south branch of the. . Salmon battles furiously to-join the main stream and, within, sight of the rusted sluice gates of an abandoned gold mine, we came upon what may be the country's most isolated real e s t a t e subdivision. Al Tice, Paul's closest neighbor, is sell - ing 60 by 60 • foot lots along his landing strip on a meadow above the river to rich hunters and fishermen to build vacation retreats. So far, about a half dozen lodges have gone up, some of them A frame houses in the $35 000 class with wall- to-wall car- pets and upholstered cocktail bars. Al doubts that any real estate boom will ever ignite, however, since most of the land along the river belongs to the govern- meet, and he is all for preserv- ing. the primitiveness Of, the area. "That's why I deft Ore - gon," he said. "The Forest Serv- ice began putting in roads and the wilde *Ness lost its charm for me -" HEADING BACK down the river again, through the split sock and Big Mallard rapids, we stopped off at �the White water ranch and paid a visii to one of the nation's most un- usual schools, a school con- ducted on a dining room table for the five children of Harold and Jennie Dudley. That night we went to sleep to the rush and roar .of white water with the moon sitting, overhead ,in the peaks and awoke with the rooster calling and the sun just peeking over the rim of the canyon. After .a .breakfast of, home cured bacon and sourdough Pan- cakes, we set out on a 50 -mile trip up the river to meet the neighbors. Life jackets. were the uniform of the day as Paul gunned his 210 horsepower jet boat over tumultuous rapids with names like Dry Meat Rap- ids; the Growler, Elk Horn, Big Mallard and Little Mallard. THE NEZ pERCE National Forest on one side of the river and the Payette National Forest on the other offered, an endless panorama of r o c k y crags, grassy slopes and spectacular peaks like 8,900400t Oregon. Butte and 9,000-foot War Eagle Mountain, tufted with ponderosa pine, alpine fir and tamarack. Like almost everyone else along the river, the Dudleys make their living from the harvest of big game, by guiding hunters into the high country Since regular schools are inac- cessible, Jennie, a high school graduate; runs a school for her children with books and lessons flown in from the district school headquarters. The children, four boys and a girl, range in age from 15 to 9. Three times a year, they travel loo miles to Grangeville to take examina- tions. Twice a week, the mail plane flies in 10 books from the state library at Boise. THE TRIP up river had taught us something of the hypnotic appeal of the back country: Life along the River of No Return, in America's most primitive wilderness, it con- vinced us, is full of the tumult of constantly . roaring white water but serene with the splendor and solitude of some of nature's most- breathtaking scenery. THEY WORE .OUT — Memories of gold rush clays come ro rrLr n.....n- hammer, 82, as "he visits graves of. friends and fellow prospectors he buried almost 30 years ago near his log cabin in the isolated .canyon. His partner and two friends ,died of old age. As he puts it, "They just ,wore out." Something of the strength and resourcefulness of the old pioneer virtues that shaped the American character still resides here in the remote wilderness, and the nation will have lost something of value when what passes for progress finally en -' croaches. i/1�11 yo Nite Riders on the River of No Return By Ray Lappin Sometimes of a nite With my ear to the pillow When it is dark and there is no light I can hear in the hollow The nite riders on the River of No Return The riders on their ponies I can hear those ponies on the run There will not be one hoof track the coming of dawn There's strange things that go on On the River of No Return When it is dark and there is no light Sometimes I can hear women laughing And I can hear women crying And I can hear those ponies passing I may think it just a dream When it is dark and there is no light I can hear women wail and cry Sometimes I can hear women scream And I have heard women sing When it is dark and there is no light There are strange things that go on On the River of No Return I can hear the river passing , When it is dark and there is no light i Sometimes the mountains grunt and groan Sometimes I hear things that I can't explain Sometimes when it is dark and there is no light I will hear things that will chill your blood My hair will stand on end Strange things I will hear of a nite Will make one's blood run cold For there are strange things that go on Of a nite on the River of No Return Sometimes the river spirits race Up and down the river in the channel winds They will wail and cry It will chill your blood in that canyon of a nite For that's where the river spirits race And I have heard things I can't explain All vanishing at the coming of dawn And I am telling you, my dear friend Your hair will stand on end For there are strange things that go on On the River of No Return az �� 1 I have heard mud avalances on the roar Moving everything in its path Gutting the canyon to the floor Giving the river trees, boulders and mud I've seen boulders take off in flight Like ping pong balls Headed for the canyon floor It will make your blood run cold Your hair will stand on end For there are strange things that take place On the River of No Return You will shiver in fright And your hair will stand on end You will get on the run Your blood will turn to ice You can't see for there is no light You will scream things that aren't nice The canyons will grunt and groan And I'm a- telling you, my dear friend You won't think it just a dream There's strange things that go on In the Canyon of No Return Sometimes of a nite I've heard the spirits Wail, grunt, cry and groan In those deep dark canyons For that's their home It will chill your blood And your hair will stand on end And you will flee in flight And I am telling you, my dear friend There are strange things that go on In those deep dark canyons of a nite On the River of No Return (1. A4 l� 1 Campbell's Ferry Bridge renamed in honor of the last ferry operator The Associated Press CAMPBELL'S FERRY — In the heart of a wilderness, 70 tons of wood, steel and cable were hauled down a dirt road to the banks of the Salmon River, loaded onto pontoon boats and floated four miles through the rapids to build a bridge. The rafts then floated another 10 miles to Mackey Bar, where they were loaded onto a truck and driven out to be reloaded for the same trip the next day. That is how the Campbell's Ferry Bridge — renamed in a recent ceremony as the Frances Zaunmiller Wisner Memorial Pack Bridge -- was built the winter of 1955 -56. It was Frances' bridge. She and her husband, Joe Zaunmiller, ran the ferry. But she began writing to Sen. Henry Dworshak about the need for year -round crossing. Congress authorized and paid for a bridge in Idaho's primitive area. It was only one of her successful campaigns to change life in the Salmon River canyon and in Idaho. She fought for a ban on aerial hunting in Idaho. She argued for air mail service to the river canyon residents to replace infrequent overland and river deliveries. Oak signs at each end of the nearby pack bridge and a bronze plaque embedded in a boulder on the trail overlooking the fer- ry tell bypassers that Frances Zaunmiller Wisner lived here for 46 years, the last of the ferry operators. Robert F. Abbott retired in May as the district ranger who administered the river corridor, but not before preserving Camp- bell's Ferry in its present state and ensuring that Frances' name would forever be associat- ed with it. He secured approval from the U.S. Forest Service to rededicate the bridge. The last section of road to Campbell's Ferry is still 28 miles of gravel and dirt, much of it steep and barely a car's width. Four miles of narrow trail stretch be- tween the end of the road and the pack bridge to the ferry. More than 80 people gathered for the kededication. John and Mary Crowe of Cali- fornia bought the ferry in 1958. They had a generator brought in and wired the Zaunmiller cabin for electric lights. Frances listened to the hum of the generator for one night and ordered it removed because of the noise. More than 30 years later, the ceramic light fixtures still hang lifeless from the ceiling. Then came a kerosene - powered refrig- erator. Frances decided it took too much kerosene and convert- ed it into extra shelving. Friends took her to Lewiston late in December 1985 for treat- ment of the cancer she had fought off for several years. She died three weeks later. 7l�? ter- lleoW_5 - J�rP�,6rr MCCALL— Special guest speakers at the In- Stuart Aitken and John Carrey, at right, welcomed termountain Historical and Genealogical Society's by club officers Alice Dunlap and Frank Fry. December 7th meeting were Salmon River pioneers .Fast unfolded by ioneers by Lin MCCALL —John Carrey and Stewart Aitken provided insights into another era, troubled by In- dians, and the problems of settling a wild land, when they were guests of the Intermountain Historical and Genealogical Society last Thursday evening. For young and old alike, the two long -time residents presented a nostalgic return to "the good old days" of Warren and Riggins. Approximately 50 people listened to Mr. Carrey's description of Jim Warren as a roving, "gambler - type" who joined other prospectors in 1862 to take part in the Florence Gold Rush. But Jim's independent nature forced him to break away and strike out alone through the Secesh Meadows where he found gold in great quantities. Delighted with his discovery, Mr. Warren e y t"Fl whe o orence h interested 15 other prospectors and da Hansen the "Warren rush" was on. John Carrey's description of Warren's early days included such interesting names as "George Hearst" and "Three- Fingered Smith." Hearst, brother of famous newspaperman, William Randolph Hearst, gave the Warren area new life in 1870 when gold was dwin- dling. He began mining quartz and brought in Chinese people to work the mines. He also financed the famous "Unity" mine. In the very early days of quartz and placer- mining, "Three- Fingered Smith was a partner in building the first structures where Warren is now. Stewart Aitken's story of Riggins was almost as interesting as Mr. Aitken's own life. His family traveled by covered wagon from Oregon in 1903 to homestead in the Riggins area and he still lives on the original homestead. His father furnished meat to the men wn , the flourishing Pollock mines and provided fruit to McCall and Meadows. Mr. Aitken surprised some listeners when her related that the Riggins - McCall trip took five days! Mr. Aitken's "Higgins story" began with Mike Daisy who "discovered" Riggins in 1863 when he placer -mined where the butcher shop stands now. Interesting highlight of Daisy's life - he traded his claim for a watch and two horses! Riggins got its name in 1902 when R.L. Higgins moved there. With the establishment of a hotel, livery barn, blacksmith shop, and saloon, Higgins became a developed area. One interested and interesting member of the audience, Herman Blackwell, remembered those daps very well. He drove the stage to Higgins in 1906. Pete Zimowsky Low flows wreck havoc Rock! Slam! Crack! The speeding waters of the bail fast enough to keep the Middle Fork of the Salmon drift boat from sinking. River grabbed my wooden At Pistol Creek I used up dory and slammed it on a two quarts of resin, one quart razor -sharp rock before I of fiberglass putty, a yard of could row out of the way. fiberglass cloth and a roll of Water gushed though the duct tape. fist -size hole that looked like My repair kit was empty. In it was blasted by a .357 a wilderness area, you can't Magnum. My heart sank walk over to a corner faster than the boat was hardware store and buy taking on water. patching supplies. That was only 30 minutes In a panic, I ran one mile to into an eight -day wilderness the Pistol Creek Ranch. river trip. There the kind caretaker, Well, Statesman sports Barbara Hawn, radioed to SP editor Art Lawler was Air Service in Boise, which practically right on when he was going to drop more said I'd be carrying my boat supplies to us at the Indian down the river on vacation. Creek airstrip. At Boundary Creek last She got a message to pilot week, the beginning of our Scott Patrick, who 100 -mile trip on the glass- miraculously on a Friday clear, pristine Middle Fork, night before Fourth of July the sign said 1.88 feet. weekend, got me a gallon of For you folks unfamiliar ' fiberglass resin and cloth and with river ratings that's flew it in to Indian Creek. ankle deep where it should be Talk about backcountry waist deep. The flow was half people helping you out in a of what it was last summer." pinch. All you gotta do is look at the Middle Fork and other Beer? Who cares? rivers in the state and you Our supplies at the airstrip realize we're cruising for a when we floated in the next bruising when it comes to morning included a ton of water supplies. beer and other goodies, but We've got low, late August the fiberglass resin was a flows in July. Eight years of godsend. With new supplies, I drought with its parched was able to hold the boat soils, depleting groundwater, together. lower than low rivers and Every night of the eight - draining reservoirs is setting day trip except one I was us up for a disastrous water patching my boat. season next year, if we don't While others soaked up the have a snowy winter. solitude of the wilderness. I -fit took the disaster with my was soaking up resin fumes. (Wry for that to sink in. I'm not complaining. Old timers like Woodie Hindman Walking the boat and Prince Helfrich ran `'Yes Art, I had to walk my wooden boats down the boat in some spots, but that Middle Fork in low flows wasn't the worst of it. You without stuff like fiberglass. don't take a wooden dory Yup, it was a scary trip. down the Middle Fork at that But it's also a scary summer flow, unless you want a pile as far as Idaho's life blood, of firewood. it's water, is concerned. Within the first 30 miles, I It took smashing my dory put 12 holes in it, broke one on 100 miles of rocks to really of the boat ribs and busted a have it sink in. major brace. Maybe I shouldn't use the By the time I rowed to the term sink in when talking beach at Pistol Creek, our about river running. second night's camp and only about about one -third of the way down the river, I couldn't P t u�; riC 3Tc1 "ie- 6 mcii, 4u ay .- CS i�c 1 cat 3 Pnolos oy r wren tsosslCN i ne wand otatasmmit The Salmon River Canyon, dubbed "The River of No Return" by explorers Lewis and Clark, features remnants of history at every bend in the river. T !a : GTJ r C S Y;1d h A 4 P4 d C 09 013 A trip on the Salmon River is more than a wilderness adventure. It tells a story about Idaho's past. By Karen Bossick The Idaho Statesman ALONG THE MAIN SALMON RIVER — Nampa resident Pat Malloy is scout- ing the river for rocks that might snag her raft. But her mind is on early Salmon River rafters and placer miners whose tales fellow rafter Shannon Miller is reading aloud. Malloy values her dog -eared copy of "River of No Return" as much as her river guide, which identifies such notori- ous rapids as Salmon Falls, Devil's Teeth and Big Mallard. This is her fifth time down the river, but she never tires of hearing the stories of those who came before. "It's fun to see where someone lived as you read about them," says the North- west Nazarene College swimming in- structor. "I think about what they had to go through and wonder if I could have lived the life they did." The Main Salmon River — the second deepest gorge in North America next to Hells Canyon — cuts a 151 -mile swath through the heart of Idaho from North Fork to Riggins. And the colorful char- acters who inhabited the river canyon are just as entrenched in Idaho history and lore. The U.S. Forest Service has burned down many of the homes that once lined the banks to try to restore a primitive sense 'to the Salmon River. But 1990s visitors can still see plenty of old home- steads, mining equipment and other evi- dences of past inhabitants, including In- dian pictographs at Legend Creek and inscriptions by pioneers at Barth Hot Springs. The Salmon River's best known fig- ures undoubtedly are Sylvan Ambrose Hart, better known to the world as "Buckskin Billy," and Polly Bemis. And the places they inhabited are very visi- ble today, preserved as museums. Buckskin Billy worked in the Texas oil fields until he set up house on the Salmon River during the Depression. It was, he said, the one place he could live on $50 a ,year. Visitors wonder how Chinese settler Pol- ly Bemis managed to get this chinaware intact over the rough roads and waves. There, next_ to Five Mile Creek, he-carved out a self - sufficient life, raising a garden to supplement the game he shot and the fish he hooked with the help of sinkers made of hand -cast bullets. He paid for his stash of Darjeeling tea and the books he voraciously read by panning for gold. A language lover, he would rise as early as 4 a.m. to study Greek. And he was deeply patriotic, tak- ing off his hat whenever a bald eagle flew overhead. And he was far from a hermit. During World War H he left his beloved Salmon River canyon to work as a toolmaker for Boeing Aircraft. When National Geographic called to film a TV special, Buck- skin obliged. He even flew to Boi- se once to be the featured attrac- tion at a Sports and Vehicle Show at the Western Idaho Fairgrounds. During the 1970s, he greeted up to 200 rafters and jet- boating tourists a day, sporting his trade- mark grizzled beard, homemade bearskin leather medieval -style helmet and a 33 -pound muzzle - loading rifle slung over his shoulder. He pouted, some outfitters re- call, if a party of rafters passed by without stopping. Buckskin's legacy When he died of a heart attack in 1980 one week short of his 74th birthday, he was laid to rest in an unfinished pine casket in his go- ing -to -town pants and plaid shirt. It's tough to miss Buckskin Bil- ly's place today, and not just be- cause of the seven plastic pink flamingos perched around the volleyball net on the sandy beach. A round stone and pine castle tower sits on the hillside above Buckskin's place, serving as more of a beacon than a lookout. A bomb shelter blasted out of solid rock sits below — a strange con- trast between the hvner 20th cen- tury and the primitive Salmon River country. Inside the picket fence, which Buckskin built to keep deer out of his garden, is his one -room house left as he lived in it. And a museum, which houses his arse- nal of homemade muskets, rifles and Swiss Army knife. It also includes a water pitcher he ham- mered out of copper, a pack frame he built of yew wood and shee- phorn rings and an emergency bottle dated '51 in which he stuffed the message: "Am ma- rooned and out of whiskey." A German couple, who came across the site while horsepack- ing 10 years ago, tends the home- stead today, selling Buckskin Bil- ly T- shirts, $3 root beer floats and all- valuable ice frozen in milk cartons. Little Polly Polly Bemis barely stood four feet high but she stands tall as one of Idaho's most famous wom- en thanks to the movie "Thou- sand Pieces of Gold," which was based on her story. , She was born in Northern Chi- na in 1853, and was sold by her father for two bags of soybeans during a famine. He had affec- tionately called her his "thou- sand pieces of gold." A Shanghai brothel madam sold her to a slave merchant bound for San Francisco. He auc- tioned off the 18 -year -old for $2,500 to a Chinese merchant who shipped her off on a pack train to Warren, a mining town 50 miles northeast of McCall. Determined to buy her freedom and return to China, Polly took in laundry and hauled water for the townspeople. Eventually, she earned enough money to lease a boardinghouse. She made friends with gambler Charlie Bemis, who took her under his wing when other miners gave her trouble. When Charlie was shot in the face in a gambling brawl and left for dead by the doctor, Polly dug the bullet fragments out of his head with a crochet hook and nursed him back to health. In 1894, Charlie put down every bit of gold dust he had to win her in a poker game. The couple mar- ried and homesteaded along the Salmon River. Here, Polly created an oasis of green in the dry river canyon and spent her remaining years wel- coming travelers, feeding her chickens and tending her garden. Like clockwork she dropped her hoe at 3 every afternoon and went fishing until her death at age 80 in November 1933. er trees she planted now shade the two -story cabin she and Char- lie lived in. The cabin, open to visitors, has been left the way it might have looked when Polly was there. Of all the ghosts Malloy en- counters on the Salmon, Bemis is her favorite. "I'm really intrigued by her sto- ry, and her cabin is fun to visit," she says. "I think what she went through to survive off the land and I wonder if I could do the same thing." Riverside characters made past colorful The most popular stretch for floating — the 80 miles from Corn Creek to Carey Creek — whispers about dozens of legend- ary pioneers. Among them: ■ Andy the Russian, who served a visitor huckleberry pie made from huckleberries he found in a bear's stomach. ■ Rancher Neal McMeekin, who shot and killed prospector Charles White in 1919 for cart- ing off his jug of sourdough. ■ Capt. Harry Guleke, who played Santa Claus to the chil- dren of the Salmon River, throw- ing oranges and candy to them as he floated down the river. ■ Lawyer Jack Killum, who built a cabin smack on the can- yon trail, placing a door on each side so anyone coming down the trail had to go through his home and be "properly welcomed." As you might guess, the Salm- on River had its share of fugi- tives, too. Read about it To learn more about the River of No Return and its colorful characters, you might want to read: ■ ''River of No Return,'' by Johnny Carrey and Cort Conley ■ ''Last of the Mountain Men,'' by Harold Peterson ■ ''The River of No Re- turn,'' by Robert G. Bailey Among them: ■ Oakie Grogg, a moonshiner who escaped federal authorities in the Carolinas by snaking his way down the road in tire ruts. ■ William Rhett, a New York medical student who exhumed a cadaver with two other students at his professor's request. Caught, he fled for his life since exhuming a cadaver was an of- fense punishable by hanging. Rhett came to Idaho and got a creek named after him instead. �a �u 4 of 3 Sylvan Hart, alias "Buckskin Billy," of- ten treated rafters and jet boaters to a peep inside the "castle'' he built over - lookinq his Salmon River home. SALMON RIVER WAS HER. I j1FE Reho Wolfe stands on the porch of her remote cabin on the Salmon River. This photo was taken in 1986. GAINES BAR — Reho Wolfe hitched her last jetboat ride on the Salmon River on Wednes- day. She was carried onto the boat in a handmade coffin of tongue - and- groove Ponderosa pine. Wolfe died July 2 at the cabin where she had lived off and on for 40 years. She was buried near the cabin at Gaines Bar about 45 miles east of Riggins. There Wolfe befriended river runners and fought spirited bat- tles with the government over the home- school- ing of her sev- en children and her min- ing claims. She was the last of the Reho Wolfe fiver's leg- Longtime endary old- Salmon River timers. Gone resident before her were Monroe Hancock, Sylvan "Buckskin Bill" Hart and Frances Wisner. "You never knew if she was going up or dov�m or in or out," s ,. tf .� 7, the jetboat captain who took her on count- less trips and on her final ride. "She was just going. She never had a plan. Her plan was to go." With thunder but no rain, 65 friends and relatives gathered at 5 p.m. for her burial and swapped stories about Wolfe, who was 82. Among them were folks from Shepp Ranch, Polly Bemis Ranch, Mackay Bar, Chi- na Bar, Allison Ranch and Whitewater Ranch. When Wolfe died at the cabin, her son John of Viola was at her side. Her body was boated and driven out last week to Grangeville for embalming, be- fore her final return to the river. Wednesday, John Wolfe drove her body back 88 miles to WOLFE From Page lA Road's End at Whitewater Ranch — six miles upriver — where Sipple picked her up. Wolfe got national attention in 1958 when she withdrew her kids from school in Lewiston and took them to the canyon, where she taught them. The Lewiston School Board filed a criminal complaint charging her with contributing to the delinquency of mi- nors and causing their habitual truan- cy. Idaho Attorney General Graydon Smith later dismissed the complaint, but Wolfe was written up in Cos- mopolitan magazine. "She made it possible for parents to home - school their children in Idaho," Sipple said. Wolfe was truly resourceful, espe- cially at hitching rides in and out of the canyon. She spent just one winter (1958 -59) at Gaines Bar, but returned whenever weather allowed. She also could: build a fire with tree pitch; peel an apple in a single curl; hike at night; make sourdough pan- cakes; kill knapweed; teach her grand- children Dirty Scrabble; hold off a doc- tor with a handgun when she didn't want treatment; drink a mix of flowers, herbs and fruit for her health; and whip her grandkids with a willow switch. "She taught me the meaning of ad- venture, the meaning of life," said Je- remi Wolfe, a grandson from Nampa. Bob Hubner, who helped build the coffin, said, "Reho taught everyone something. If you knew her for five minutes, she taught you something." I met Wolfe in 1986 while floating the river. She told me about a fight with the U.S. Forest Service over her claim that a medicinal clay justified her occupation of the cabin under fed- eral mining law. But a couple of years later, she surrendered her claim in ex- change for a life estate. When the family asked to bury her on the place, Salmon River District Ranger Jack Carlson approved it. "I 171 -71 "Why did she always have to be on the river? I never understood it. She was driven I guess." OLGA LONG Sister can't imagine Reho being laid to rest anywhere else. People loved her, and she loved the river." Folks who met Wolfe on the river didn't forget her. One couple named their first daughter Reho. Another was married on the place. And when I heard she died, I begged to make the 8 -hour trip to Gaines Bar. Wolfe was born April 18, 1916, at Denio, Ore. Her father, John Bergman, was a gambler and occasional fruit grower. They moved often around Nevada, Oregon and Idaho. Reho first came to the canyon in 1945 with her husband, George, son Norman, and daughter, Carol. George was evading the draft. They left in 1946 after Norman drowned in Mallard Creek. He's buried just up river, as is Wolfe's father. "Why did she always have to be on the river ?" her sister Olga Longwith asked. "I never understood it. She was driven, I guess." Three weeks before Wolfe died, she asked to return to the river. The day before she died, she wanted to mow the lawn, and managed to push the mower 25 feet, despite wearing a cast on a broken leg. "That's good enough," she told son John. "At least I know my legs will work." Then, she asked John for a beer, and they sat under an apple tree. "I can get along just fine here," she said, trying to convince John she could stay on her own. She died the next morning of a heart attack. "Mom had a fascination with the serenity, peace and the beauty of this river," daughter Linda Karki said. "She truly loved this life. It was deep. Deep. Deep. Deep." _ $trite 9lrdh i u� y, /94v '.Idaho's far - traveling fish aren't the same as those you can buy at the supermarket STANLEY Bill Stutz has held in his hands what could be among the last of a race of salm- on like no other in the world. These Redfish Lake sockeye travel 897 miles farther than any other sockeye — through two time zones to reach their spawning grounds in the Saw - tooth Mountains. Only 13 of them have returned from the ocean in the 1990s to reproduce. The fish were rushed to the Sawtooth Hatchery, conked on the head with a metal bar, hung on a hook and stripped of eggs and milt (sperm) by Stutz and Idaho Department of Fish and Game colleagues. "You don't want to be the one to drop fish or eggs," recalls Stutz, a fish biologist. "You han- dle them pretty gingerly." State biologists are taking desperate measures to stave off doom — a brave new world of hatchery mating for the sockeye. It's a far cry from Wild Sex for Wild Fish, the bumper sticker slogan of one salmon advocacy The native range of sockeye and chinook spans the Pacific rim from California to northern Alaska, and from northern Ja- pan to eastern Siberia. And although millions of salmon still fatten up in the Pa- cific and return to rivers in Brit- ish Columbia and Alaska, Ida- ho's sockeye and chinook differ in their genetic material and be- havior from all others of their kind. Sockeyes' appearance belies their capabilities as long -dis- tance swimmers. They are 2 feet long, medium -size for salmon. `Males' jaws hook when they spawn, aid their bodies turn -a 'dark red. Redfish Lake, just off Salmon River upstream of Stanley, sup- ports the southernmost natural sockeye population, according to the National Marine. Fisher - .ies Service (N 1V Fq)• - "Sockeye salmon returning to Redfish Lake also travel a great- er distance from the sea (almost' 900 miles) and to -a higher eleva- tion (6,500 feet) than do sockeye 2-cile i of � Bill Stutz of Idaho Fish and Game is surrounded by vats full of chinook salmon in the dimly lit Sawtooth Fish Hatchery at Stanley. ''The reason we keep it dark is because it (light) really stresses the fish, and, much like humans, they are more susceptible to disease (when stressed). The low light also simulates dark areas in the river that they would naturally seek out.'' Bill Stutz "You don't want to be the one to drop fish or eggs." world," NMFS says in it's No- vember 1991 listing of the fish as endangered. Because the Redfish Lake sockeye travel much farther than other stocks, state biolo- gists believe their genes prohibit their replacement by similar fish from other rivers. With runs dwindling from 4,000 returning adults a year in the 1950s, biologists took eggs from Babine Lake in British Co- lumbia, reared them to smolts, and put them in Stanley Lake, near Redfish Lake. The fish never came back from the ocean, says Dexter Pittman, salmon and steelhead program manager of Idaho Fish and Game. In retrospect, he says, "They never had the potential, because of their inability to time their migration for a 900 -mile inland journey." Spring and summer chinook migrate even farther than sock- eye, another 50 miles up the Salmon River to its headwaters. (They are the same fish, except for the season the adults enter the mouth of the Columbia Riv- er, spring or summer.) Only two adults were spotted at Lower Granite Dam near Lewistown, moving into Idaho, this summer. Yet Snake River spring and summer chinook once totaled 40 percent of the Columbia River chinook run, the greatest in the world. Called king salmon, they are ?Ac Stctcsrham A CA y, l y yy Page aof� Only Yukon River chinook migrate far- ther, more than 1,000 miles. But no other chinook in North America migrate to such high altitudes.'; Salmon River royalty, reaching 4 feet long and 25 pounds, even after losing half their weight as they swim upriver from the Pa- cific. Biologists say Idaho spring and summer chinook are unique- ly adapted to migrate great ,dis- tances and return to their spawning grounds in the Stan- ley basin with exact timing to start the next generation. Only Yukon River chinook mi- grate farther, more than 1,000 miles. But no other chinook in North America migrate to such high altitudes and high water temperatures. In April 1992, NMFS listed Snake River spring and summer chinook as threatened, along with Snake River fall chinook, which enter the mouth of the Columbia in autumn. Fall chinook were plentiful in the Boise River before the Hells Canyon dam complex cut off their access. They still migrate to the tailwaters of Hells Can- yon dam, and biologists say it's very unlikely they could be suc- cessfully replaced by other fall chinook. Biologists fear Snake River salmon could enter an extinc- tion vortex, in which there are so few of them that they can't connect to reproduce, and the runs disappear. "You don't have to have any cataclysmic event," says Steve Huffaker, Fish and Game's fish- eries chief. "We're afraid we're nearing the point of no return. We may very well be there with the sockeye." He says the three chinook runs could hang on for decades, but could be in trouble if the new crop of juveniles isn't able to get "a good ride" to the ocean next spring with higher water flows. The .S f d-f e S tM d h Pae They're supported by the Idaho •Water Users Association of Ida- 'ho farmers, Northwest state fish agencies and Indian tribes. So far, the downstreamers are winning. Andrus said they and their minions in the federal agencies that control the Columbia basin hydro system want to, in effect, ,study the salmon to death. "Politics is much more respon- sible for the lack of action than any scientific activities," An- drus said. The downstreamers deny the Kevin Clark /The Idaho statesman accusation. They say no one knows whether drawdowns will .work and that the price is too high — $610 million to $1.3 bil- lion, and a 2 -5 percent increase in Northwest residents' electric Polities taint Idaho rates. And they contend the pre - � Sent method — barging the fish around the dams — is staving off disaster for Idaho's sockeye and Chinook. salmon's recovery risk, whose salmon are at e � isn't the major player, said Pat Ford of Save our Wild Salm- Downriver interests exert major influence Stories by Charles Etlinger The Idaho Statesman Science explains why Idaho's endangered salmon are dying. Sheer political power and the law will determine whether they live. The state is winning the legal fight — so far. But it's getting hammered in the political arena, and there's no end in sight. A look at the salmon's 900 - mile path from the Sawtooth Mountains to the Pacific Ocean shows why. They span a fierce political conflict that pits Idaho fish ad- vocates against what Gov. Cecil Andrus calls "downstream ban - didos." As young salmon head down the Salmon River, they drift past small -town motel own- ers and outfitters who could reap sports fishing dollars if the salmon runs were restored. The fish cross into politically treacherous waters when they ply the Snake and Columbia riv- ers in Washington and Oregon. Aluminum plants, public utili- ty districts, shippers and irriga- tors in the two states depend heavily on cheap electricity and transportation created by the huge hydroelectric dam complex blamed for killing the fish. The Bonneville Power Administration, aluminum plants and public utility districts worry that drawdowns proposed by Idaho to help save salmon would increase the cost of electricity. on. "Washington and Oregon Those economic interests line are," he said. up with U.S. House Speaker Rep. Foley is playing a major Tom Foley and other power - role behind the scenes, success - house politicos. fully protecting power rates and The salmon plan Andrus en- commercial barging in his east - dorses — drawing down water : ern Washington district, Ford levels in four lower Snake River- said. The district includes a Kai - reservoirs to speed young salm- .ser aluminum plant, irrigators on to the ocean — slams into a and shippers. brick wall of those who fear. When salmon advocates tried higher electric and transporta- to find Democratic supporters in tion costs. -the House two years ago, Ford The downstreamers got — at said: "The first question out of the salmon's expense — electric. their mouth was, `Where's Foley power "at fire -sale prices, treat- -on thisT They're not going to be ing corporate and municipal em -..on our side, because they're not pires based on public wealth," - going to cross the speaker." charges Ed Chaney, a salmon,: • Foley indeed supports a solu- advocate in Eagle. tion "that everyone can live A recent task force led by Rep., with," his spokesman, Todd Peter DeFazio, D -Ore., said the Woodard, said. "(One) that helps electricity customers are still protect our aluminum industry, being charged rates below 1984 -our agriculture industry and levels. power rates for residents." "They rule the Northwest - The split among Idaho offi- with an iron fist," Chaney said. cials on the issue allows the "What they fear most deeply is- federal agencies to write off that their political power will be drawdowns without having to compromised." 'deal with political repercus- Bruce Lovelin, of the Colum ,sions, Ford said. bia River Alliance, which most-,- Idaho Sens. Larry Craig and ly represents downstream eco- ,,Dirk Kempthorne oppose draw - nomic interests, concedes that downs on the basis there's no salmon generally have not had a scientific proof they will work. It seat at the table" in the man- Rep. Larry LaRocco supports a agement of the river system. drawdown test. Of the Idaho del - "The question is how far egation, only Rep. Mike Crapo should it swing back," he said. is supporting a drawdown, of In the salmon's corner is a Lower Granite — one of four motley collection of environ- dams on the lower Snake River mentalists, anglers and a gover- that Andrus wants to draw nor on the way out of office. down. a>n .7 "For Idaho to have any signif- icant impact, political unity is essential," Ford said. But given that Andrus is retir- ing after this year, and neither of his potential successors, Phil Batt or Larry EchoHawk, has come out for drawdowns, Ford sees gloomy prospects for achieving them politically. Saving the salmon is an im- mensely complex task stifled by what Interior Secretary Bruce Babbitt calls a mind - boggling tangle of jurisdictions through which the salmon drift: Three states, seven federal agencies, seven Indian tribes, countless local governments and the fish- ing fleets of three foreign nations. Getting all of them moving in the same direction — politics — .dwarfs the spotted owl and other ;environmental crises. "There is no precedent, no "model in what we've done," Bab- bitt said. M The conflict could be resolved .by a federal judge, Malcolm 'Marsh, a Reagan appointee from Salem, Ore., who could become ,the Northwest's salmon czar. Marsh sits downriver in Port - 'land, his gavel poised to hammer out a solution under the Endan- gered Species Act, if it can't be •done politically. tie's presiding in a suit filed :by the Idaho Fish and Game ;Department against three feder- al agencies that preside over the ;fish and the river system. So far, Marsh has ruled that the agen- cies violated the act and aren't doing enough to protect Idaho ,salmon The Bonneville Power Admin- istration, which markets the dams' power, also is a key player in the river system. BPA is paying 25 percent of its budget for massive debt and oth- er expenses stemming from the failure of a nuclear power pro- gram in Washington. Critics say the agency won't back draw - downs because it fears it could lose its competitive edge — and customers — if it is forced to hike rates to cover power lost during drawdowns. If the agencies don't come up with a better plan, Marsh could order the redistribution of Co- lumbia -Snake river system wa- ter on the salmon's behalf. That could take water from southern Idaho farmers, cut off Lewiston grain shippers or bring back the salmon sport fishery. The spotted owl case was more about preserving old- growth for- ests than about preserving the birds, Andrus said. "I believe the fight to save the salmon is the textbook case for the act, the first time an animal or plant has prompted preserva- tion efforts for its own quali- ties," he said. Marsh said the agencies "nar- rowly focused their attention on what the establishment is capa- ble of handling with minimal disruption." If Marsh takes over the river system, salmon protection would override economics under the Endangered Species Act. "You determine what the spe- cies needs to survive. Once you determine that, you can intro- duce economic considerations. That's what the law says," said Ford of Save Our Wild Salmon. "But the real world operates by Tom Foley calling the White House and saying, `Don't do anything to my dams.' And the White House says, `Yes, sir.' " The S'We 5md4 fl y�lgq�{ PdJ� 01 � The Endangered Species Act ■ Purpose: Protect non- human species and their habitats. Passed by Con- gress in 1973. ■ Provisions: Allow listing of species as "endangered" (in danger of extinction) or "threatened" (likely to be en- dangered in foreseeable future). No federal agency shall take action ''likely to jeopar- dize" existence of listed species. No one can "take" (harm or kill) an endangered species. The federal government is obliged to develop a plan to recover listed species until listing is unnecessary. ■ Expired: 1992. Congress still appropriates money to keep it in effect, while debat- ing renewal. What's next ■ Summer 1994 —The federal government is look- ing at changes in operating Columbia River hydropower system to help remaining 1994 fish migration. ■ Fall 1994 — Proposed new federal salmon strategy should be ready for regional review. Subsequent develop- ments hinge on the strategy. ■ December 1994 — Fed- eral agencies plan to have new strategy out by end of 1994. ■ Jan. 9, 1995 —Deadline for submission of new salm- on recovery plan to a federal judge in a lawsuit filed by Idaho Fish and Game. ■ 1995 — Army Corps of Engineers may hold a test drawdown of Lower Granite reservoir to see whether it helps migrating salmon. Photos by Karen BossicklThe Idaho Statesman Boisean Linden Boice naps in an inflatable kayak at a beach near Packers Creek. STafie5lndh- ,LIUST;'7111 '� -fay �1,, LOWER EXPECTATIONS IDAHO RIVER RUNNERS ONLY RECENTLY HAVE DISCOVERED THE LOWER SALMON RIVER. ITS POPULARITY AS A DEPENDABLE FAMILY RUN IS GROWING — AND YOU CAN FLOAT IT INTO NOVEMBER. Floaters return to their rafts after viewing Indian pictographs at Short's Bar. Up the trail are the remains of an old ranch. By Karen Bossick The Idaho Statesman THE LOWER SALMON RIV- ER — Sometimes, it seems, the 425 -mile Salmon River has as many positions as a baseball team. There's the Upper, the North Fork, the Middle Fork, the Main, the South Fork ... Last, but certainly not least, is the Lower Salmon. This stretch of the river, which flows north and west of Riggins, has only recently been discovered by Idaho river run- ners. River rangers counted 40 floaters in 1975. Last year, 6,140 people floated it. The reasons for its popularity: ■ The area can be warm enough even in November. ■ The river is runnable when other Idaho rivers are dry. ■ Its white sandy beaches of- fer camping capable of suiting even Leona Helmsey. ■ There are plenty of fun, big waves, as well as placid stretch- es suitable for swimming. ■ Private floaters don't need to apply for a permit, as they do with some of Idaho's other rivers.' "It's a great whitewater trip for families," says LuVerne Grussing, recreational planner for the Bureau of Land Manage- ment. "The water quality is ex- cellent, the habitat pristine and it's got the best camping of any river in the world. Boisean Judy Cook won't quibble: "I really liked it.- It has just the right amount of white - water for the first time out — nothing overwhelming. The cli- mate is great and the scenery gorgeous. Outfitter -guide Guy Santiago steers a raft full of Boise floaters by the steep walls of Blue Canyon. A 53 -mile stretch of the river from Hammer Creek to the con- fluence of the Snake River is the most popular multi -day trip on the river. It can be done in three to five days and is open to both commercial and private floaters. The 59 -mile stretch of the riv- er above it is used primarily for day trips, although some rafters do include the upper stretch in their multi -day trips. 5� -&�-e5 Mah- Au71,51;- 7,1994- Pal r -3_ Twists and turns The clear green river swings away from Highway 95 at the Hammer Creek put -in, meander - ing like a lazy boulevard through a semi -arid canyon. But don't let the gentle bob- bing lull you into too deep of a snooze. More than likely, a rol- licking rapid ride is awaiting around the corner. Among the rapids is Half and Half, so -named because half of the rafts and inflatable kayaks that challenge it are said to flip; Snowhole, which resembles a whale blowing its spout, and Devil's Slide, which is unrunna- ble at flows approaching 30,000 cubic feet per second. Remains from the past seem to be everywhere, whispering of In- dians who once fished the river for salmon, and Chinese miners who fled to the rugged area dur- ing the 1880s to escape persecu- tion and seek their fortune. Just a mile past the put -in is Soards Gulch, named for a sheep rancher who was a victim of an 1800s terrorist attack. Ironical- ly, some of the same cattlemen believed to have blown Soards to bits were tending sheep them- selves a few years later. Two miles downriver at McCulley Creek is the home of a ranching family that did its part for the war effort by sending 11 boys to fight in World War I. You can still see the remains of a small cabin, bedsprings and other furniture at Short's Bar, seven miles downriver from Hammer Creek. Follow the trail downstream past the flowering cactus to a rock wall displaying some of the best Indian picto- graphs on the river. A grave between the road and river at Pine Bar pays homage to a young man who drowned in 1906 — his fiance watching — while helping cattle cross the river. The Old Boise Trail, which passed near the Seven Devils Mountains, fords the river at Rock Creek, 12 miles downriver of Hammer Creek. In the mid - 1800s, there was even a store here. A ferry operated here in the early 1900s. Look for ditches constructed by Chinese miners to bring wa- ter downhill at Rice Creek. Just downriver at Packers Creek you can still see depressions in the earth surrounded by small rock walls. The Chinese built these as reservoirs to hold water, which they used to wash their gravel over sluice boxes. Archaeologists have found stone houses with opium tins at Half and Half Rapids, 27 miles downstream from Hammer Creek. Chief Joseph and his Nez Perce followers crossed the river below Billy Creek in 1877. The band crossed the Snake and Salmon rivers at high water without losing a person or ani- mal, only to be caught miles from the U.S.- Canada border. Salmon River Billy, a Nez Perce Indian, was a regular Johnny Appleseed here long be- fore the Nez Perce War, accord- ing to the book "River of No Return." His son Luke Billy raised cattle here after the war before moving to Lapwai. Sourdough Jones built a rock wall near Skeleton Creek to force his cattle to swim across the river. But the homesteader couldn't control the winter. Many of his cattle died one hard winter, giving the creek its name. Nez Perce Indian Jackson Sundown worked on the Wap- shilla Creek ranch after escap- ing from the Bear Paw battle- field that sentenced the rest of his tribe to life on a reservation. He won the World Champion- ship Rodeo title at the Pendle- ton Roundup at age 53. Just before the confluence of the Snake River is a mine on river left. Trails lead to the mine, which features some im- pressive mining equipment. Arm yourself with enough flashlights and you can go back into the shaft several hundred yards. Don't bother bringing the gold pan, though. The mine was more a black hole more than a pot of gold. Natural wonders In addition to the history, the four canyons of the Lower Salm- on offer varied and interesting rock formations. Columnar basalt formations curve upward, downward and sometimes sideways, depending on how the lava that formed them cooled. Canyon rock fea- tures white streaks of ash depos- ited here during the eruption of Crater Lake in Oregon. Below the canyon walls, hawk -eye floaters may discover MacFarlane's Four O'clock, Idaho's only endangered plant, as well as ancient white sturgeon. "The river is a national trea- sure," Grussing says. "No doubt about it." I and Cutthroat trout fishing is one of Idaho's greatest experiences By Pete Zimowsky The Idaho Statesman One minute your fingers are gripping a fly rod while pulling ,in a wiggling wilderness cutthroat trout. .The next minute, they're wrapped around a glass of Idaho o "Seventeen -toot lvlclienzie drift boats are designed for fly fishing in whitewater," says Helfrich. Private boaters, who are lucky enough to get a Middle Fork permit, can usually do th trip for about one - eighth the expense. But when it comes to catchir Middle Fork cutthroat, who cares about price, right? A Middle Fork fishing trip is chance to pursue wild fish that dart from the depths and eager wine, Carmela cabernet sauvignon to be exact, as you smell the aroma of prime rib cooking over the campfire. After enjoying a hot shower, it's time to sit around camp and swap fishing stories from a day on a wild river. Yes, Idaho's Middle Fork of the Salmon River cutthroat trout is the catalyst for the Cadillac of fishing expeditions, whether you go on your own or with an outfitter. If you go with an outfitter, it's a dude trip with sit -down dinners and fine wines along with premium casting opportunities. The food and beverages on the wilderness float trip alone are so good, the excursions have been nicknamed "float and bloat" trips, laughs Jackie Nefzger of Mackay Bar Wilderness River Trips in Boise, a Middle Fork outfitter. Clients don't even have to set up their own tents. In fact, with some outfitters all you have to do is show up with your clothes, personal items and a favorite fishing rod. Outfitters supply the rest of the gear. It's no wonder that some anglers pay from $1,500 to $1,800 each for the experience of floating the Middle Fork in this style and catching a wilderness cutthroat. "We take care of their every want and need on and off the river," says Joan Helfrich, who along with her husband Dave, operate the Dave Helfrich River Outfitter service on the Middle Fork. Those needs are considered right down to inflatable rafts or maneuverable wooden or aluminum drift boats that get anglers to the right spots in the river to catch fish. nip at dry flies floating like fu on the gin -clear waters. It usually means hooking it a fish that looks more like a work of art, with its greenish - blue, steel -gray back, yellowi; brown sides, black spots, and distinctive red slashes under jaw. It's truly a colorful gem in t icy waters of the Middle Fork Cutthroat fishing hasn't always be good on the Middle Fork. It started going downhi in the 1960s when more and more people started floating i river and throwing fish in the frying pan. In 1962, 625 people floated t river. In 1993, the Forest Seri checked 10,234 floaters. With that many people floating and fishing the river there wouldn't be any fish lef they were caught and kept fo camp food. 14VAr Of z lag ,0s on the Salmon R iver the run from Boundary 1Creek 11b An outfitter's drift boat is silhouetted in the afternoon sun on the launch area to the Main Salmon River is about 100 miles. Middle Fork Cutts are holding their own because the water quality of the river is protected as it winds through the center of the 2.3- million -acre Frank Church River of No Return Wilderness Area, where logging, mining and grazing are not allowed. In other areas of the state, where habitat has been degraded, cutthroats are on the Middle Fork of the Salmon River as a fly angler tries to entice cutthroat trout to a fly. decline. The Middle Fork is considered one of the last strongholds for the cutthroat, which is Idaho's state fish. Even though the Middle Fork cutthroat trout population has remained stable since the mid '80s, some biologists are still worried. You can protect the fish from anglers, but not from nature. After eight years of drought, Middle Fork cutthroats have had to contend with less water, which means less living space and less food. Time will tell as far as the drought is concerned. In the meantime, the Middle Fork cutthroat will still lure anglers to a pristine wilderness where they can have a blast casting for wild trout. It's also a time to enjoy the creature comforts at camp and float and bloat, so to speak. i,7,Zo Middle Fork Salmon River L. Brennan- SnifferdThe Idaho Statesman Fishing gear If you're thinking about do- ing some cutthroat trout fish- ing along the Middle Fork of the Salmon River, you'll need spinning or fly- fishing gear: Spinning A lightweight spinning rod and reel, with six - pound -test line, is recommended. Lures such as Mepps, Panther Martins and Rooster Tail spinners are the best bets. But remember your pliers. Special regulations require single, barbless hooks for lures and flies. No bait is allowed. Make sure your reel and line are in good condition. Once you get on the river, it's difficult, or next to impos- sible, to get fishing supplies. Fly fishing An 8- to 9 -foot fly rod and a five or six line is recom- mended. Flies such as the Elk Hair Caddis, Joe's Hopper, Yel- low Humpy, Royal Humpy, Royal Wulff and Renegade are best bets. ''We sell more Royal Wulffs for the Middle Fork of the Salmon River than any other river," says Dave Tuck- er of Streamside Adventures. On the cover A fisherman on a beached raft enjoys the early morning sunlight by fishing for cut- throat trout on the Middle Fork of the Salmon River. Statesman photo taken by Pete Zimowsky. If you want to go fishing We asked around to see how much exclusive cut- throat trout fishing trips on the Middle Fork of the Salm- on River cost. Here's what we found: ■ Dave Helfrich River Out- fitters of Vida, Ore., offers five - night, six -day trips for $1,800 a person. That's one guide per two anglers in a drift boat. Supplies, such as tents, food, drinks and sleeping pads, are supplied. A few slots are still open for trips this summer. For more information, call 1- 503 - 896 -3786 or write, Dave Helfrich River Outfitters, 47555 McKenzie Highway, Vida, OR. 97488. ■ Mackay Bar Wilderness River Trips offers five - night, six -day trips for $1,595 with the same ratio of one guide to two anglers in a drift boat. All gear is supplied except personal items. Trips are scheduled through September. Call 1- 800 - 635 -5336 or write, Mackay Bare Wilder- ness River Trips, 3190 Air- port Way, Boise, 83705. ■ Other Middle Fork out- fitters can be contacted by getting a list from the Idaho Outfitters and Guides Associ- ation, P.O. Box 95, Boise, 83701;342 -1919. ■ Another way of enjoying a wilderness cutthroat fish- ing trip is to float the river yourself. But it's not that simple. You've got to be experienced in Class III and IV (intermedi- ate and expert) whitewater, and wilderness travel. You'll have to have all the gear necessary for six days in the wilderness. You'll also need a permit to float the river and they are hard to get. Applications are taken from December through Jan- uary and winners are picked in a computer drawing. Ap- plications become available in November at Forest Ser- vice offices. For more information, write the Middle Fork Ranger District, P.O. Box 750, Chal- lis, 83226; or call, 208 -879- 5204. Pavin g to start on South Fork Salmon River Road BY SHARI HAMBLETON The Star -News Paving will begin in July on a 32- mile stretch of the South Fork Salmon River Road in a long- debated project designed to protect precious salmon habitat and ensure winter access for the residents of Yellow Pine. Paving on the South Fork Road, located 30 air miles east of McCall, should be completed by fall, accord- ing to Payette National Forest officials. The Payette's forest plan, pub- lished in 1988, called for the closure and revegetation of large sections of the road, which connects Warm Lake Road with the road leading into Yel- low Pine from the west. But a lawsuit brought against the forest on behalf of the residents of Yellow Pine altered the agency's di- rection. "Actually we had two lawsuits," South Fork Salmon River Resource Director Dennis Gordon said. "There were those who wanted the road closed and those who wanted it open." What settled the debate was a spe- cial $8 million congressional appropriation spearheaded by former U.S. Sen. James McClure, R- Idaho, specifically earmarked for paving the South Fork Road. Funding was also earmarked for mitigation of associated effects on habitat resulting from road construc- tion and paving activities. While paving should be complete this year, revegetation of fill slopes and icut slopes will continue for some time, Gordon said. Payette forest land managers have been waging the battle of erosion and habitat damage caused by logging road construction since the first 350 miles were cut in 1945. "This is a chance to take science one step further. It's a massive undertaking, and it's going to take quite a while to stabilize (erosion areas). " Dennis Gordon South Fork Salmon River Project Resource Coordinator With road construction came ero- sion resulting in sediment - clogged salmon spawning areas in the South Fork Salmon River drainage. As timber in gently sloping areas was exhausted, more roads were con- structed to reach steeper, less accessible areas for logging, mineral extraction and fire suppression. The first major erosion problems surfaced during a spring storm in 1948. Sedimentation continued to plague the South Fork area, and in 1964 and 1965 snow and rain caused a series of landslides which led to the halting of all activity until effective rehabilita- tion methods could be developed. Attacked by critics for ineffective management of the South Fork Salmon River area, forest service of- ficials conducted a study of the drainage, developed a prescription to heal it and ways to monitor the effec- tiveness of their efforts. Today, the results of those efforts are sprawled across both the Boise and Payette forests, which the road crosses. Projects include much more than the road paving project. Gordon, a soil scientist for the Pay - ette's Krassel Ranger District, said —utu uy am.. a Jack King of the Intermountain Research Station, a research arm of the Forest Service, examines a former portion of the South Fork Salmon River Road which has been obliterated and revegetated. his main job has been to evaluate the effectiveness of rehabilitation activi- ties. Restoration has been going on in the South Fork area in varying de- grees for several years. By the mid- 1970s, 500 miles of old logging roads had been closed and revegetated, Gordon said. Gordon has overseen projects for the past two years which have gone far in repairing damage caused pri- marily by road construction. Major projects have included "obliterating," or closing and reveg- etating several miles of road, relocating stretches of road away from See "S.F. Road, " back page M C _ Z South Fork_ (Continued from Page 1) waterways to protect salmon spawn- ing areas, removing culverts and re- designing streambed channels, and stabilizing chronic erosion areas. "When I first started on the project, the primary focus was to see how effective the erosion control activi- ties already underway were," Gordon said. "It was to make sure the treat- ments we were using were actually working." But the South Fork Salmon River Project has taken on a life of its own, costing perhaps as much in terms of habitat restoration than the currency realized from exploitation of its natu- ral resources. Still, Gordon remains focused on the healing process. "This is a chance to take science one step further," Gordon said. "It's a massive undertaking, and it's going to take quite a while to stabilize (ero- sion areas)." While the road construction project has taken center stage in terms of funding and public attention, other projects, like the restoration of Cabin Creek, also play an important role in the total picture. As Cabin Creek enters the South Fork of the Salmon River, in the past it first flowed through culverts. Those culverts restricted the migration of salmon and acted as a sediment col- lection spot above upstream. In a massive undertaking by forest service crews, the culverts were re- moved. But, rather than pulling them out of the streambed and allowing the stream flow to clean out accumulated sediment, workers had to devise a way to remove the pipes without dis- turbing salmon "redds," or egg beds, downstream. "When we actually bypassed the culverts, now that was a big day," said Tom Crawford, a Payette forest hy- drology technician, with apparent pride. A major undertaking, the Cabin Creek project required three weeks of intensive labor and cost about $160,000 for both the culvert removal and the restoration of about a one -half mile of road. Removing the culverts from the streambed also opened up two miles of potential salmon spawning area, Crawford said. As vast areas throughout the South Fork Salmon River Project have re- quired revegetation, Gordon said for- est researchers have realized the im- portance of using native species, which have a greater survival rate than plants imported from other ar- eas. But native plant seedlings are just now beginning to be grown commer- cially and are difficult to find in large numbers, he said. To establish a reliable supply, Gordon said the agency has initiated its own native seed gathering pro- gram, manned mostly with volunteers and forest service employees. Those seeds are distributed to local growers who nurture seedlings for revegeta- tion projects. In addition to being used for reveg- etating stretches of the South Fork Salmon River Road, the seedlings are also extensively used to stabilize road- way cuts prone to slides and erosion. The seedlings are used in conjunc- tion with a special grid technique Gordon learned during a workshop in Berkeley, Calif. Trees are positioned across the slide area in a checkerboard design, which creates "cells," or miniature growing areas better suited to young plants and trees than a barren hillside. Gordon will continue to monitor the effectiveness of all activities in- volved in the South Fork Salmon River Project. "We're still learning," he said. "Not everything is going to work all the time." s�l� �y 7y Vinegar Creek gay', Boise man's kin may hire search team By Marianne Flagg The Idaho Statesman Duane McCall was paddling across the Salmon River Thurs- day when his canoe was caught in a rapid and capsized. He had crossed the river to borrow life jackets from a neigh- bor. He never put one on him- self. Only seven to 10 feet from a beach shore, McCall slipped un- der the cold, fast river. His body hasn't been found. McCall, 39, was believed to have drowned at the area known as Vinegar Creek, 16 miles east of Riggins. Idaho County officials tried to search for McCall's body. But the wickedly fast river makes navigation difficult and dan- gerous. "Visibility is so bad you could have a diver go down and be a foot away from (the body) and not see it," said Bob Fran - zese of Clark- ston, Wash., owner and handler of Newfoundlan dogs that ard e, part of Black ; Paws, a na- tional rescue Duane McCall group. McCall's parents -- Claude "Bud" and Melva McCall — are considering using the dogs to try to find their son's body. Their hope of finding him alive is slim, but letting go of it is hard. "I'm grabbing at straws," Mc- Call said softly Sunday. "Do we do nothing ?" Franzese said the body could surface in about three weeks, as the flow slows. "I'm willing to help, but to end up recovering a body is slim right now." The water was about 43 de- grees at the time of the accident. Duane might have succumbed to exhaustion and hypothermia, Bud McCall said. The river was flowing at 52,000 cubic feet per second on Thursday, according to officials at the Hells Canyon National Recreation Area in Clarkston, Wa. Several years of drought make "normal" flow a relative term. Jane Rohling, interpretive specialist at the recreation area, said the highest flow in 1991 was about 12,000 cfs. Duane McCall, from Boise, was living in a trailer at Vine- gar Creek, working as a miner and as a broker of morel mushrooms. He had been across that stretch of river many times, his father said. McCall took off Thursday morning to go for a canoe trip with his girlfriend and her two children. They witnessed his spill into the river. McCall was divorced. He has three sons, who live in Boise. Riggins I I Warren I Wagon Payette Road Lake gay', Boise man's kin may hire search team By Marianne Flagg The Idaho Statesman Duane McCall was paddling across the Salmon River Thurs- day when his canoe was caught in a rapid and capsized. He had crossed the river to borrow life jackets from a neigh- bor. He never put one on him- self. Only seven to 10 feet from a beach shore, McCall slipped un- der the cold, fast river. His body hasn't been found. McCall, 39, was believed to have drowned at the area known as Vinegar Creek, 16 miles east of Riggins. Idaho County officials tried to search for McCall's body. But the wickedly fast river makes navigation difficult and dan- gerous. "Visibility is so bad you could have a diver go down and be a foot away from (the body) and not see it," said Bob Fran - zese of Clark- ston, Wash., owner and handler of Newfoundlan dogs that ard e, part of Black ; Paws, a na- tional rescue Duane McCall group. McCall's parents -- Claude "Bud" and Melva McCall — are considering using the dogs to try to find their son's body. Their hope of finding him alive is slim, but letting go of it is hard. "I'm grabbing at straws," Mc- Call said softly Sunday. "Do we do nothing ?" Franzese said the body could surface in about three weeks, as the flow slows. "I'm willing to help, but to end up recovering a body is slim right now." The water was about 43 de- grees at the time of the accident. Duane might have succumbed to exhaustion and hypothermia, Bud McCall said. The river was flowing at 52,000 cubic feet per second on Thursday, according to officials at the Hells Canyon National Recreation Area in Clarkston, Wa. Several years of drought make "normal" flow a relative term. Jane Rohling, interpretive specialist at the recreation area, said the highest flow in 1991 was about 12,000 cfs. Duane McCall, from Boise, was living in a trailer at Vine- gar Creek, working as a miner and as a broker of morel mushrooms. He had been across that stretch of river many times, his father said. McCall took off Thursday morning to go for a canoe trip with his girlfriend and her two children. They witnessed his spill into the river. McCall was divorced. He has three sons, who live in Boise. " Boundary Creek to Big Creek at holes, as well as some small pic- nt milepost 80. Here the river enters turesque waterfalls similar to Vice a the Impassable Canyon where those along Loon Creek. steep cliffs come right down to Veil Falls beckons with its water's edge and only mountain mysterious petroglyphs and goats can forge a toehold. rainlike shower that blows with 0 one twmg The riverside trail, which oc- the wind. casionally crosses the river via A steep, rugged trail along " footbridge, is generally more Survey Creek leads to the lost ffle Fork level and easier to walk than Survey Creek mine past a cornu- many of the side trails. You can copia of scenic vistas. reach many of the attractions on "I love the hiking along the Scenic hiking trails wind through wilds near Salmon River By Karen Bossick The Idaho Statesman Planning a raft trip down the Middle Fork of the Salmon? Don't forget to pack your hiking boots along with your river booties. The Middle Fork, which flows through the Idaho wilderness north of Stanley, has firmly an- chored a reputation for itself as the crown jewel of America's Wild and Scenic River System. But less is known about the fine hiking trails that run like veins along the river and the creeks that feed into it. Many of those who raft the chilly waters of the Middle Fork collapse into lawn chairs at the end of the day, never venturing any farther than primitive two - sided outhouses at camp's edge. But explorers who take the time and energy to lace up their hiking boots will find a bonanza: stamp mills and water wheels left by miners who sought their fortune here; hot springs that provide a warm embrace at the end of damp, chilly days; foamy aqua - colored water splashing over Volkswagen -sized boulders and a close -up look at the big- horn sheep and other wildlife that call this land their home. "I was really impressed with the hiking," says RaLynn Peter- sen, of Boise, who just returned from her first rafting trip along the Middle Fork. "I liked the mountain slopes with their pine trees, the babbling brooks and the wildlife  how you could get up close and watch their habits. And I especially liked the isolation  being away from cars and people." The Middle Fork dips and dances over jagged rocks and courses around sharp turns in teep canyons during its 100 - ;le journey from a perch 6,200 t high in the snow - chilled; the river along it. Middle Fork," says Craig Dela- gardelle of Boise. "I got up early Amon them: the Joe Bum Among p one morning and hiked up Loon The whole area has an Cabin, an old placer mine near Creek, and it was at its best. The amazing heritage. It's 9 9 Pistol Creek Rapid built by a river was exciting, the waterfall one -armed miner who lost his drops, And primitive, undeveloped pretty. there were no arm when he was mistaken for a people. That's what made it real - and completely wild  a bear; the 113 - degree Sheepeater ly special." rare resource in the Hot Springs; and Waterfall Because the area's so unspoil- Creek Rapid, where you can ed however, hikers are charged United States. stand on a bridge constructed in with leaving as little trace as Laurie Matthews the middle of a raging waterfall. possible. Don't use soap around program manager, The path along Loon Creek -- the hot springs. Stay on the Middle Fork District site of the Sheepeater Indian paths as much as possible. And War of 1878  offers a dazzling pack out all garbage, including 99 display of crystal clear water micro litter like cigarette butts, mountains northeast of btanley. bouncing over mammoth boul- twist ties and gum wrappers. Its hiking trails can be just as ders. Go a little farther and it'll "We must help preserve the challenging, clambering up slick forged into the tantalize you with jaguar-,Middle Fork area," Matthews "And steep paths hills and through jagged shaped rock formations that says. we do that by being sides of look as if they'd been carved by aware of ourselves and our sur- rockscapes patterned by Mother Easter Island natives. A large roundings." Nature centuries ago. hot spring along the edge of the "The whole area has an amaz- trail provides hikers with a re- ing heritage," says Laurie Mat- laxing soak following their hike. thews, program manager for the Middle Fork District. "It's prim A climb to the Middle Fork itive, undeveloped and com- in Peak Lookout near Camas Creek criss- crosses the path of pletely wild  a rare resource bighorn sheep who are as apt to the United States." regard hikers with as much curi- A trail follows the river along osity as the hikers them. most of the river from Dagger The Camas Creek trail lures Falls just above the put -in at hikers with some good fishing I4 �. Idaho S4af'esr�ar�. g�3�ys Floating the Salmon's Middle Fork Before 1960, almost no one ventured onto the Middle Fork of the Salmon River. Those who tried usually ended up walking out of the canyon, their wooden boats smashed to toothpicks in the numerous rapids that punctuate the river. But that changed with the intro- duction of surplus rubber Army rafts from Korea and President Kennedy's trip down the Middle Fork in 1963. In 1964, 753 rafters floated the river. Today more than 10,000 people a year float it. Rapids touting names like Dev- il's Tooth, Powerhouse and Ar- tillery entice people from as far away as Luxembourg and Paki- stan, as well as celebrities like Bill Cosby, Sir Edmund Hillary Karen Boissick /The Idaho Statesman Bighorn sheep parade along the Middle Fork Lookout Peak Trail. and former President Carter. Most floaters float the river in May and June. As the water level lowers in late July, outfit- ters generally fly guests into In- dian Creek to avoid the first 25 miles which tend to get pretty rocky and bony. To float the river, you must go with a commercial outfitter. Or, you must secure a permit. Permits are chosen through a lottery system each year. Commercial trips generally run between three and six days and cost between $800 and $1,300 per person. For a list of outfitters or for information about getting a permit, write the Middle Fork Ranger Dis- trict, P.O. Box 750, Challis, ID 83226 or call 208 - 879 -5204. Karen Bossick /The Idaho Statesman Jim Emry, Michael Hobbs and Murray Ward, all of Boise, stake out a cool spot in Loon Creek before heading up the hiking trail. 7140'95 Agency dismantles Chris Chung /The Idaho Statesman file photo Neil Sanders refused to stop using the French Creek tram even after it was padlocked by Forest Service officials, so they are taking it down. Decision leaves `mountain man' up a creek By Art Lawler The Idaho Statesman The Forest Service has re- moved a tram car that spanned a scenic stretch of the Salmon River, leaving a self - proclaimed mountain man to figure out how he'll get to and from civilization. The decision to remove the car ccmes after Neil Sanders, 65, re- fu. ,ied to stop using the French Creek tram even after it was padlocked by Forest Service offi- cials. Sanders has relied on the tram to reach his isolated cabin for the last 12 years. "Out of concern for public safety and out of responsibility to the American taxpayer, I Salmon River tram have no choice but to remove the car from the structure," Nez Perce National Forest Supervi- sor Mike King said in a news release Monday. Forest Service officials video- taped Sanders breaking a chain on the padlocked tram in Au- gust, leading to charges which are now pending in a federal court in Moscow. Sanders, who has no tele- phone, could not be reached for comment. Without the tram, the only way Sanders can travel to and from Riggins is a 40 -mile trip over the mountains on a road which is closed nine months out of the year. Or he could attach his own device to the 360 -foot tram ca- ble, but that would violate feder- al law. "Regardless, cart, or home- made chair, he's breaking the law, and he's jeopardizing his own safety," said District Rang- er Jack Carlson. Meantime, Carlson said he will try to find ways of keeping the tram open. Since the Forest Service de- cided to shut down the tram Jan. 27, its battle with Sanders has escalated. Sanders has gathered more than 2,300 signatures on a peti- tion of protest and has sought help from Sen. Larry Craig, Rep. Helen Chenoweth and Gov. Phil Batt. He invited Forest officials to watch him break their lock with an acetylene torch in August. They videotaped the incident and now he faces an Oct. 15 trial date on two federal charges. "The decision to remove the car will not be popular," King admitted. "However, it is an ac- tion we must take in the interest of public safety, in fairness to the private landowner, and in fairness to the taxpayers who would foot the bill in the event of a lawsuit." Boise architect Lynn Brown, a member of the Treasure Valley Trail Machine Association, said he hopes his group can work to keep the tram open. The association is asking the State Parks and Recreation DL-- partment, or the Historical Soci- ety of Idaho, to assume responsi- bility and liability for the tram. But he says that could take a year and a half, and he has im- mediate concerns about Sand- ers' health. "He's having to seek medical attention more often," Brown said. "What happens if Neal has an emergency and has to seek medical attention quickly? He has no means of doing that now. "Maybe the Forest Service would be glad to have a helicop- ter ready, if they're worried about liabilities." no Idaho �Sfu%PSmaK � /ir�Q6 ore space needed to raise sockeye Hatchery fish play -,key role in plans of Fish and Game the Associated Press STANLEY — In the campaign to bring back the Snake River ,sockeye salmon from the brink :of extinction, the Idaho Fish and -Came Department finds itself having to cope with a glut of the .fish. "We have too many of them," -said Keith Johnson, who over- ` 'gees the state's hatchery recov- ery program. "If that sounds ,crazy, it's true." Johnson is scrambling for -space to raise more than 300,000 =~baby sockeye, the progeny ex- pected when 600 wild sockeye adults raised in captivity spawn :next fall. Since 1991, only 14 adults .have returned from the Pacific Ocean to spawn in Redfish Lake near Stanley, and none returned last summer. But biologists hope to jump - start the recovery by flooding Redfish and other Stanley Basin lakes with the offspring of the hatchery fish. Biologists expect the smolts, once released, will imprint Red - fish Lake as home before migrat- ing 900 miles to the Pacific Ocean. At the same time, conserva- tionists are pleased with the re- sults to date but worried that captive fish — not naturally wild spawners — are respon- sible. Last summer, Johnson re- leased 86,000 pre -smolt sockeye into Redfish Lake. About 10 per- cent headed down Fish Hook Creek this spring on the first leg of their migration to the ocean, Johnson said. That percentage is about what Johnson would expect of an all - wild population. "I'm not saying everything is rosy, but we're encouraged by what we're seeing," Johnson said. "The important part is these fish are showing us, `Yes, we are Nl still: u sockeye.' " In 1994, 17,000 young sockeye were released into =r. the lake and only about 6 Mitch Sanchotena percent be- gan the ocean migration last spring. This year, the state will re- lease only 1,900 pre - smolts that will begin the migration next spring. While the number is dis- appointing, Johnson said it is still worth the effort. If all goes well in the next few years and the snowpack -pro- duced spring runoff remains as good as it has been the past two springs, Johnson hopes to see 50 adults return to the lake during the annual summer spawning run. "Two good water years have helped and two more would real- ly help both the salmon and the steelhead," he said. Salmon boosters are keeping a close eye on the program and are encouraged by the early re- sults, but some are more con- cerned about the conditions that put the fish in peril in the first place. Most blame the dams for the crisis. "A captive broodstock is ques- tionable at best," said Mitch Sanchotena of Idaho Steelhead and Salmon United. "Sometimes you have to wonder, if that's ging to be their fate, maybe we should let them die an honor- able death." Biologists have been inter- cepting the returning sockeye so that they can spawn the fish, then hatch the eggs and rear the young fry in hatcheries where the survival rate to smolt age is about nine times higher than in the wild. After five years, Johnson and his colleagues are raising better quality fish that increases the outlook for the sockeye. But Johnson agrees migration im- provement is needed. /�O t1l) 5 llaz&y 0 c%v o c a t- ya/R_� (�/ /gem South Fork Salmon River drainage damaged by heavy precipitation MCCALL — While there are numerous prob- lems in the South Fork Salmon River drainage caused by last week's heavy rain and snow, it wasn't near- ly as bad as it could have been, according to Krasset District Ranger Fred Dauber. Dauber and other Forest Service officials flew over the area Saturday and also visited it with all - terrain vehicles Monday. He said Tuesday that there are numerous mudslides that have blocked travel on the South Fork Salmon River Road, and that Forest Service and Valley County road crews are working to get it passable, which they expect to accomplish today or tomorrow. But he said there is a lot of damage and a lot of cleaning up to do. The situation is not, however, nearly as bad as the infamous winter 1964 -65 rain -on -snow events that dumped untold tons of sediment into the South Fork, nearly wiping out salmon and steelhead runs. In fact, he said the $8 million paved road did well catching a lot of the sediment that otherwise would have made it into the river. "There are lots and lots of slides," he said. "Fill - AQpe=failures, cut -slope failures, and some under- cutting of the road." The first priority is to establish access for Yellow Pine residents, he said. After that, crews will work on reinstalling drainage, cleaning ditches and cul- verts, he said. Some of that work may be difficult, as he said some of the mudslides have since frozen. All of the material being removed is also being "end- hauled" and not being sidecast above the road or below it into the river, he said, making for another hurdle to rapid progress on clearing the road. While the upper South Fork (the Stolle Meadows area) is relatively undamaged, he said the slides start appearing below the Knox Ranch on the new road. He said the damage was mostly limited to areas below the 5,500 foot snowline that existed during the days of heavy precipitation, and is mostly a case where the road has been blocked by mudslides and trees that have fallen over the road. There is, however, one place where the road was washed out, he said, but it isn't a "terribly serious" washout. The lower South Fork, however, was running chocolate brown on the day they flew over the area, however, and he said areas that were burned in the 1994 fires, around Pony Creek, have suffered some significant damage. He said the South Fork Road below Sawmill Point was washed out, as was the bridge over Pony Creek. Salvage timber sale operations in those areas had not been completed yet, and he said the road damage may hinder com- pletion of those activities. "It's pretty ugly down there," he said, adding that most of the slides took place Dec. 30 and 31. They also flew over Johnson Creek, which he said has had some slides over it, but they were of the snow and debris variety and don't include much mud. Dauber said the damaged roads on the Lower South Fork will be primarily the responsibility of Valley County and the State of Idaho to repair, but that there should be some federal assistance available to help with that work. Metal -laden waste loom's above Salmon. threatens pristine iver toxic cocktail of heavy metals A� -id -rock pollution is caused by a chemical reaction started hF pyrite ��` - ulfide, also known as fool's gold) is exposed o water and n ,: Sulfuric acid is produced and leaches out met- als present in the rock, including lead, arsenic, copper, zinc and cadmium. These heavy metals, which are highly toxic, can flow into groundwater and streams, killing fish and threatening public h—ith Mining opera- tions expose pyrite layer Exposed, oxidized pyrite Sulfuric acid, a prod - uct of oxidation, leach- es dangerous heavy metals from rocks. The metals then run off into streams and lakes or seep into ground- /-7(- round- /l - /d - q 17 5Y Falls on exposed pyrite, mixing with air n and causing oxidation. RUNOFF Special to The Idaho Statesman Yellow, oxidized pyrite began to show up on Thompson Creek's tailings dam in 1987. The mining company removed the material in 1996 with a $3 million pyrite removal plant and has proposed changes in its operations to isolate pyrite from air to prevent the pro- duction of sulfuric acid and acidic pollution. STREAM OR LAKE Lisa Day/The Idaho Statesman Public Comment > To comment on the Forest Service's draft environmental impact state- ment on Thompson Creek Mine's cleanup plans, or to get addi- tional informa- tion, write: George Mate - jko, supervisor, Salmon- Challis National For- est, Box 729, Salmon, ID 83467 or fax 208 - 756 -5151 secd e 5 /-"0J) Mine officials say problem controlled; analysis, under way By Rocky Barker The Idaho Statesman Thousands of Salmon River rafters annually float by Thompson Creek unaware that just 2,000 feet above lies a 500 - acre artificial lake filled with potentially toxic waste rock. The 90 million tons of fine tailings at the Thompson Creek Mine weren't considered a problem for years. But in 1987, miners hit a vein of sulfur -bear- ing iron pyrite, which becomes acidic when mixed with water and air. That turned the 400 -foot em- bankment that holds back the tailings bright yellow, signaling acid production. Experts now say the mixture could turn any clean mountain stream it touches into a toxic cocktail of lead, copper and other heavy metals. And it's about to become Idaho's problem. Thompson Creek has applied for a patent to take over the re- maining 2,500 acres of federal land under a 19th - century law that allows the transfer of pub- lic land to miners. When that happens, regula- tion of the mine shifts from the See Mine/Back Page M ne%rom 1A federal government to the state. Thompson Creek officials say they have the problem under control. And the Idaho Legislature passed a new law last month that gives it the enforcement powers to make sure. But if anything goes wrong, the water through the mine and its tailings would have to be treated virtually forever to prevent toxic, metal -laden pollution from poisoning the Salmon River. At stake is the future of the economy of Chal- lis, of the river, and of other riverside communities throughout central Idaho. A model mine Thompson Creek Mine, 30 miles west of Challis, supplies 8 percent of the world's molybdenum, used to strengthen steel and as an ad- ditive to lubricants and in au- tomobile air bags. The mine employs 200 peo- ple including Greg Hurless, a Challis native. It feeds his family, helps him school his children and most of all, kept him home. "It allowed me to live where I want," he said. "Right here." Bob Hammond, president of Jensen Oil in Challis, which hauls fuel up to the mine, said without it, Challis' economy would suffer, as would all of Idaho's. "Thompson Creek is not only very important for Chal- lis but for the whole state," he said. "It exports a lot of molybdenum overseas, help- ing our balance of payments." It has been viewed since opening in 1983 as a model mining operation. Its original owners prepaid their property taxes to Custer County and and the Challis School Dis- trict to offset the costs of min- ing development. The mine never has violated water - quality regulations in 15 years of operation. It even received an environ- mental award from the Idaho Conservation League. But mining is a business that sometimes operates only a few years in an area and can have long -term implications. The historic rip- and -run men- tality of past miners no longer is accepted in a time of envi- ronmental impact statements and Superfund sites. Legacy of a mine Thompson Creek has a life of just 13 more years. It will close and the company and the state will be responsible for cleaning up the site and preventing long -term pollu- tion. Conservationist Lynne Stone, of the Boulder -White Clouds Council, worries about the fate of the Salmon River after the mine closes. "What's at stake is the clean water of the river and all of the economies that de- pend on it." she said. The U.S. Forest Service is now conducting an environ- mental analysis of Thompson Creek's efforts to prevent metal -laden water from flow- ing into the Salmon River. A University of Idaho study showed that Salmon River outfitters brought in $2 million in 1993. A economic study of the benefits of steel - head by Don Reading of Ben Johnson and Associates found Salmon River communities brought in another $2.3 mil- lion. Thompson' Creek Mine Ketchum Reading said those figures greatly understate the value of the river to Idaho because many businesses locate here to be near its whitewater and fishing. "The Salmon River is kind of our corporate logo," he said. Dorothy McNeil of Nampa and her husband, Jim, camped along the Salmon River near the mine site for years, fishing and enjoying the breathtaking beauty of the White Cloud and Salmon River Mountains. She has written letters urging protec- tion from mine pollution. "We were there every sum- mer when our kids were lit- tle," she said. "But now we're interested in it for our grand - kids and our great grand - kids." It is the long -term threat of mining pollution that makes mines so controversial. A clear -cut forest will grow back in 100 years and overgrazed range will recover once live- stock is removed. But mining can leave a lethal legacy that lasts cen- 5-e �.te.6,r)) 61 v� 5'e- _? Cq( 3 tnries. In the Silver Valley of northern Idaho, children have suffered from long -term expo- sure to lead from mines and smelters there. The U.S. Agency for Toxic and Disease Registry has declared the Tri- umph Mining Tailing Site near Ketchum a public health hazard because of heavy - metal pollution caused by acid mine drainage there. Financial worries The pollution not only poses a health threat, but also could become a financial burden for the state. A defective tailings pond and acid -mine drainage at the Blackbird Mine, 40 miles north of Thompson Creek killed off most of the aquatic life of Panther Creek in the 1950s, including a run of 2,000 salmon. After a lengthy lawsuit, No- randa and other companies that mined the site finally began a $60 million cleanup. Long -term water treatment will be required to keep pol- luted water from the mine from bleeding metals into the river. Thompson Creek hopes to head off similar problems by preventing its pyritic waste from coming in contact with air. It constructed a $3 mil- lion plant in 1996 to remove pyrite that already had begun oxidizing from the base of its tailings dam. The company wants to place the material in its impound- ment behind the tailings dam, which it says is a closed sys- tem. "New technology has en- abled us to take a pro- active approach to prevent acid -rock drainage," said Carolyn Hub- ble, a spokeswoman for ('hompson Creek. Environmentalists aren't convinced burying the pyrite is the answer. They want the Forest Service to study haul- ing the material off -site or placing it in a separate plas- tic -lined waste area on site. "If there's a one percent risk that this mine could contami- nate the Salmon River, it's not worth taking," Stone said. The Forest Service can re- quire Thompson Creek to take such steps or even more if necessary. But once the patent is finalized and the land transferred, its power is limited, said Pete Peters, a Forest Service mining special- ist in Challis. He doesn't think Interior Secretary Bruce Babbitt will approve the patent before the environmental analysis is completed. Environmentalists have asked Babbitt to delay it. But if the analysis is com- pleted and the plan of opera- tions is approved, the new state law allows the Depart- ment of Lands to take over control with the same plan, when it takes over regulation of the mine. The new law also allows the Idaho Board of Land Com- missioners to increase the bond required to be paid up front by mining companies if they can prove it is needed. Thompson Creek already has a bond of $11 million in place with the state and federal government. "I think this is more an eco- nomic issue than an environ- mental issue," said Mike Medberry, Idaho Conserva- tion League water - quality an- alyst. "But the law will also benefit the environment and public health." Jetboaters enjoy .ter IR iver of �r n . By Pete Zimowsky has claimed its The Idaho Statesman share of jetboats in the past. Rocks Voices crackled on CB radios with the sound of crashing whitewater in the background as jetboats maneu- vered through some of the most mind- boggling rapids in the West. It was early spring and time for the Western Whitewater Associa- tion's annual Salmon River wilder- ness trip. This is an adventure where jetboaters get a refresher course on running heart- stopping rapids in Idaho. It's also a time of the year when jetboaters don't need permits to run the wilderness river, some- thing that might one day become a thing of the past. "Where's the water trail ?" asked Jim Per- cy, past- presi- dent of the or- ganization, as he positioned his 22 -foot boat for a run through Dried Meat Rapids in the Frank Church River of No Return Wilderness. Pete ZIm4 By water Jim Percy steers t trail, Percy was wild rapids. referring to the - easiest route through rocks, waves and churning washing - machine whitewater holes. "You're perfect," answered his co- pilot, Steve Carlin. Percy hit the throttle. The 400 - horsepower engine in his boat roared and a rooster tail of water spewed from its jet. A jetboat's engine drives a pump that forces water out the jet at the back of the boat. It looks like water coming out a fire hose. As the water flushes out, it propels the boat. That way there is no pro- peller to get busted on rocks. Percy gripped the steering wheel and went for it. The boat snaked its way through the whitewater mess. The bow rose skyward and crashed down on a wave. Suddenly, Carlin yelled, "Right! Right! A rock!" The boat zig- zagged with the turn of the steering wheel and missed a sedan -size rock. Percy's boat made it through as another 20 jetboats in the group fol- lowed. Everyone was safe. —PT"? f a a 4o f'agP �E/ Gt Z fayHc Iffle e sfiff wn shaped like giant can openers can rip into a boat as if it were an alu- minum can. "I didn't even spill a cup of coffee," said Bob Hays, another jet boat dri- - � � Y� ver. "I've seen rocks I've never seen before," jetboater George Earl said h g Y "Does anyone want to practice running this again ?" Carlin called over the radio. No takers. Once was enough for the group. The jetboat association makes an 80 -mile round -trip up the River of No Return each spring to give members a refresher course on running the river. Newcom- ers also learn about river etiquette and respect for the wilder- ness. It's a time when few people, in- cluding rafters, are on the river, and sky /The Idaho Statesman the large jetboat through group of boaters does- n't interfere with others on the river, Percy said. The early- spring trip may be a thing of the past if new Forest Ser- vice proposals for the River of No Return Wilderness are approved. Jetboats use will be cut back dras- tically, eliminating the opportunity for large powerboat groups in the spring, said Percy. Jetboaters in the 250 - member or- ganization feel they are being d =ate. pushed off Idaho's rivers. Currently, jetboat numbers are unrestricted on the Salmon River during the off- season. No permits are required. Forest Service proposals would Pete Zimowsky / The Idaho Statesma require permits in the off- season and A convoy of jetboats makes its way through the deep canyons of the also restrict numbers of boats per Frank Church River of No Return Wilderness. day. er without permits and limitations in Snowbound mountain passes can Permits are required during the numbers. block those modes of travel into the summer season, but under the pro- Limiting powerboat travel in the canyon. posals, jetboat numbers would be off - season will also limit hunting The Forest Service defends pro - more restrictive. and steelhead fishing in the wilder- posed cutbacks to prevent damage The Salmon River, in the off -sea- ness, Percy said. to the resource from overuse. son of fall, winter and spring, is one Other ways to access the wilder- Powerboaters say, through thei of just a few places where jetboaters ness are to pack in by horse or hike efforts and the efforts of rafters, the are free to run a true whitewater riv- in, which takes days instead of wilderness is in good shape. hours. Scooter Provenza, who has bee I . jetboating for about two years, ap- preciates the group's,annual learn- ing trip. "You just can't get on the water without training," he said. The convoy of jetboats pulled into the James Ranch, deep in the wilderness about 40 miles upriver from where they started at Spring Bar Campground east of Riggins. It was time for lunch and to discuss the rapids that were run. Soon after watching bighorn sheep, elk and deeeli was time to head back down the river through the same swirling rapids. Z of' 2— Pages After another bouncing, white - knuckled trip, the jetboats pulled up on .the boat ramp at Spring Bar Campground. All members of the group felt good. They should have. They had returned from the River of No Re- turn. i� f ��3 to h f1u�� 199 0-fl Tuning but on theiRiver Going Dutch: The aroma of chocolate cake floats through camp. Dutch ovens provide the opportunity to cook many of the foods you eat at home. On the cover A raft full of paddlers blasts through Dried Meat Rapids on the Main Salmon River. Photo by Pete Zimowsky aye S l�Llah 414d P � The Salmon River, rich with wildlife and history, oilers peaceful splendor Story and photos by Pete Zimowsky The Idaho Statesman t doesn't take long to get in tune with wilderness while leaning back on a raft floating down Ida- ho's River of No Return. As soon as the launch ramp at the end of the North Fork Road at Corn Creek disappears around the bend, gone are any thoughts of those brain - jarring CNN updates on TV, glitzy malls, crowded fast -food joints and traffic jams. The wild river casts its spell on ea- ger paddlers looking ahead to soli- tude, splashy rapids, friendly camp- fires, gourmet food and plenty of wild critters. The 79 -mile, six -day float trip, in the 2.3- million -acre Frank Church River of No Return Wilderness Area, is like dropping off the face of the Earth for about a week. It's a time for meditation, discover- ing little things like a dragonfly land- ing on your paddle, or waiting until midnight in your sleeping bag for the full moon to peek over the mountain ridge and light up your tent like a spot- light. There's an anticipation each evening after a hearty Dutch oven din- ner to kick back and see a sky filled with billions of stars without the light pollution of the city. The bluish -black sky is a light show of shooting stars, jet airliners going to distant cities and twinkling satellites darting across the Milky Way ex- panse. By mid- summer the river flow has dropped to expose stark -white beach- es, which are ideal for a game of wilderness volleyball or just curling sand between your toes. The wilderness journey cuts across the center of Idaho from a river launch site near Salmon in northeastern Ida- ho to a point near the town of Riggins in West Idaho. Think about it. Traveling through an area that is the largest wilderness area in the lower 48 states. It makes the state of Delaware look like a city park. Yes, a wilderness journey fills the soul. Without wilderness, there is no soul, as some river guides says. « ; - , . Part of history: The cabin of Polly Bemis on the Main Salmon River draws paddlers who are interested in history. 'J" /q ?? Although it's August, there are still spaces available on wilderness float trips on the Main Salmon River with reputable outfitters. Some are still offering trips through September and the river flow is ex- pected to be excellent into fall. "The Main's a fantastic run in Au- gust," said Jim Ritter, with Outdoor Adventures, a wilderness river outfit- ter based in Salmon. "It has fun, friendly rapids, comfortable camp- sites and big beaches.'y ..--- — . t Ritter just got off the Main Salmon last week and found it to be a mellow, fun place to spend six days. The river is a lot more friendly this time of the year. Beginner paddlers in inflatable kayaks are able to thread the needle in Big Mallard Rapids with- out.f lipping over. As each paddler makes it through the foaming, heart- pounding white - water, cheers go out from the rest of the crew. "As a beginner, you can enjoy a lot of different fun things about rafting," Ritter said. Some of those fun things are seeing a bear sitting in the grass across a campsite at Bull Creek, watching a cow elk and calf wander through camp or spying on bighorn sheep grazing on the bank between Buck- skin Bill's and Mackay Bar Lodge. The Main Salmon is rich in history, too. It's a place to learn of the pioneers who settled along the river at the early part of the century. It's a time to stroll through Jim Moore's place. Moore, who lived across from Campbell's Ferry, claimed that 1,800 men came through the area between 1900 and 1902 to mine for riches. His grave can be seen on a hillside above the river. A visit to the Polly Bemis Ranch downstream gives insight into the tenacity of early pioneers like Lalu Nathoy, who was born in China and brought to the United States as an in- dentured servant. There's a lot of history down there," said Peggy Bernt, who runs Aggipah River Trips with her husband Bill. The river is also a geology lesson. The Salmon River Canyon cuts through Idaho's Batholith with rocks that are 65 million years old. The canyon was formed during the Earth's upheaval 35 to 45 million years ago. Despite being in the wilderness, there's still a hint of civilization. Floaters can stop by Mackay Bar Lodge three - quarters of the way through the trip and order a blueberry milkshake or an ice -cream bar. The Main Salmon wilderness run is a popular trip with about 8,000 people floating it each year. To keep the wilderness from getting hammered, floaters must follow strict U.S. Forest Service regulation. Minimum - impact camping is the rule. It's the gravest of sins to leave a sliver of cellophane or a tiny match at a campsite. All dishwater must be strained so that no food particles are left behind in campsites. Floaters have to build campfires in special firepans that will not scar the land and leave blackened rocks or beaches. All campfire ashes and garbage must be packed out. Even human waste must be trans- ported out in waterproof containers by floaters. It all may seem like a lot of trouble, �d C� 3 0 Y Days of old: The gravesite of Jim Moore is one of the historic sites for rafters to visit in the Frank Church River of No Return Wilderness. but it's nice to come to a campsite in the wilderness and see nothing but footprints. That's what the Main Salmon is all about. Food's a cooking: Rafters set up a beachside kitchen along the Salmon River to enjoy gourmet camp meals. You can carry almost anything, including the kitchen sink, on a raft. If you go What: Main Salmon River wilderness float trip. Length: Usually five to six days. Cost: Ranges from $1,000 to $1,500 per person. Notes: You can try to book a late- season trip in August or September with an outfitter. Some outfitters are still re- porting openings and some are offering family bargains. It's also a good time to start planning for a wilderness float trip next summer and booking prime times in July or August. Information: Idaho Outfit- ters and Guides Association, P.O. Box 95, Boise, ID 83701; 208 - 342 -1438; online at www.iocia.org. Outfitter quote: "On the Main Salmon there is never a problem with flows. The scenery is nice, the beaches are nice; and the water's nice for swimming, " said Peggy Bernt, of Aggipah River Trips. Feds laa deflend claim to backeountq water State says Congress had no intent limit use of rivers 3y Adam Rush !'he Associated Press BOISE, Idaho — The federal gov- !rnment on Tuesday defended its :laim to unappropriated water on key 'eaches of the Salmon, Clearwater ind Rapid rivers against charges that t is trying to get the Idaho Supreme :ourt to do what Congress would not. Justice Department attorney Sean )onahue told the high court that the pecific reason for creating central daho's Sawtooth National Recre- ation Area does not limit the federal government's role there. Those technicalities, Donahue ar- gued, "do not preclude the federal government from having a reserved water right," something he called nec- essary to manage its natural resources properly. But attorneys for the state and its water users maintained that fear that development would spoil the pristine backcountry drove establishment of the recreation area in 1972. "Congress knew privately held land contributed to the overall quality of the land," Deputy Attorney General Peter Ampe contended. "Congress be- lieved establishing the Sawtooth Na- tional Recreation Area would help re- duce development, and didn't do it to limit water rights." After its second straight day of ar- guments on state- federal water dis- putes, the high court took under ad- visement appeals of former Snake River Basin Adjudication Judge Daniel Hurlbutt's rulings that the gov- ernment had a reserved right to unap- propriated water in the recreation area and on the main Salmon and its middle fork, the Clearwater and the Rapid rivers. "As a matter of law, water is neces- sary for maintaining fish and habitat," Donahue said. But Ampe said the Justice Depart- ment was inappropriately attempting to force the courts to do a job that does not belong to them. "The Department of Justice now be- lieves some statutes aren't working and wants the courts to change them," he said. "That's the job of Congress. They can go in and change them any time." Jeff Fereday, representing Potlatch Corp. and Hecla Mining Co., which joined the state in challenging Hurl - butt's rulings, contended that the Supreme Court cannot take the inde- cision of Congress on creation of a re- served water right as creation of one. The issue, Fereday maintained, is control of water, not preservation. "The only purpose for a water right is to have seniority over those junior water users," he said. Donahue countered that Congress was specific about its intent when drafting legislation on water rights. "The language is clear when it comes to reserving water in order to protect rivers," he claimed. S1 ale sAld�, re t �)o 0 v High court rehears water suit Feds say ruling the cities of Salmon and Chal- rights issued since 1980. ness. Instead, its corridor is protected lis, mining, timber and irriga- If the decision stands, it would be "a under the federal Wild and Scenic won't hurt Idaho lion companies debated before nightmare" for water users upstream, Rivers Act. The Idaho Supreme Court the court the decision that said Jeff Fereday, an attorney repre- will hear oral arguments today on a feared could affect water policy senting Potlatch Corp., disputing lower court decision recognizing fed - as much as throughout southern and Cen- Donahue's argument. erally reserved rights for the Wild and tral Idaho. The court took the unusual step of Scenic River. By Rocky Barker In its decision, the court rehearing the case in December, but But those rights have yet to be The Idaho Statesman ruled that the United States re- that didn't stop a campaign from east- quantified and will not be as extensive served the water in and flow- ern Idahoans to oust Justice Cathy as the state argues, Donahue said. Hundreds of Idahoans who ing through the 2.4 million- Silak, the author of the decision, when Wilderness water rights, by defini- depend on Salmon River wa- acre Frank Church -River of she is up for election later this year. tion, must include all of the water in a ter may not lose it, even if an No Return, the Selway- Bitter- State and industry attorneys ar- wilderness or running into a wilder - Idaho Supreme Court decision root and the Gospel Hump gued that the court made a mistake ness to protect its "natural condition," stands. wilderness areas and the Hells when it implied that a federal water Donahue said. Sean Donahue, a U.S. Jus- Canyon National Recreation right was reserved by the passage of The 1.1 million -acre Selway- Bitter- tice Department attorney, told Area from the dates they were the Wilderness Act of 1964. The act set root and 206,000 -acre Gospel Hump the Idaho Supreme Court on officially protected. up a national wilderness system to wilderness areas he at the top of the Monday that state officials The decision triggered an preserve lands in natural condition. watersheds, with hardly any develop - have overstated the effects of uproar from state officials, and Clive Strong, assistant Idaho attor- ment upstream. But the Frank the court's 3-2 decision last Oc- the Idaho Department of Wa- ney general, said the law is silent on Church -River of No Return stretches tober to recognize federal re- ter Resources issued a morato- the water rights issue because Con- across central Idaho with thousands served water rights in Idaho rium on new water rights in gress wanted to preserve the status of farms, homes, mines and business - wilderness areas. the areas around Salmon, quo on water rights, which was a gen- es developed upstream since it was "The main Salmon and the Challis, Stanley and other eral recognition that states had con- protected by Congress. Since all of the tributaries above the wilder- Central Idaho communities trol over the waters within their bor- water available for use in 1980 was re- ness are not affected by upstream from wilderness ar- ders. Just the fact that Congress de- served for the wilderness, none was wildemess water rights what- eas. The agency estimates the bated the water rights issue under- left for development upstream, in- soever," Donahue said. decision affects 3,000 water mines the legal ju§tification, he said. cluding groundwater, the state and in- He and attorneys for the "The court has no basis for imply- day argue. state of Idaho, Potlatch Corp., ing a right," he said. If the decision stands, attorneys Fereday quoted the late Sen. Frank say, it could affect other cases, in Church as saying during the Wilder - which the federal government or Indi- ness Act debate that the law would an tribes claim reserved water rights. not affect states' water rights. The Nez Perce tribe is claiming rights Fereday said the federal govern- to all of the water in southern Idaho. ment can prevail only "if it steers the The Snake River above Hells court away from the issue of legisla- Canyon was specifically exempted in five intent." the court's ruling. But the decision Donahue said the main Salmon does affect the owners of up to 30,000 River is not included in the Frank acres of private lands in the Hells Church -River of No Return Wilder- Canyon National Recreation Area, Strong said. Justice Justice Chief Justice Linda Justice Justice Cathy R. Silak Jesse R. Walther Copple Trout Gerald F. Schroder Wayne L. Kidwell Ruled twice in favor Ruled twice in favor of wilderness of wilderness water right water right Reversed her decision ruled first with Silak and Walters, now with Kidwell and Schroeder Ruled twice against Ruled twice against of wilderness of wilderness water right water right Water Tuftg reversed Idaho high court decides feds don't own wilderness flows but reserve control of `wild and scenic' rivers By Rocky Barker The Idaho Statesman The Idaho Supreme Court on Fri- day reversed its 1999 split decision recognizing federal control over wilderness water. Chief Justice Linda Copple Trout was the swing vote, shifting the 3 -2 majority in the case that was cen- tral to the defeat of outgoing Justice Cathy Silak. But in a second decision, all five justices ruled unanimously that the United States reserves control over water that flows into the Wild and Scenic stretch of the Salmon River north of Salmon. The second decision leaves a cloud over the fate of up to 3,000 rights to use water for irrigation, mining, hydroelectric power, drinking, cleaning and industrial uses from Yellow Pine to Leadore. The federal government must re- turn to Idaho's special water court to quantify its claim. In a third decision, the court ruled the United States did not re- serve water rights in the Sawtooth National Recreation Area or the Sawtooth Wilderness when the ar- eas were protected in 1972. Taken together, all three deci- sions challenge the idea that the federal land - protection laws imply federal ownership of the waters flowing through them. The Idaho Supreme Court's decisions are the law in the state unless the U.S. Supreme Court overrules it. The U.S. Department of Justice has 90 days to ask the high court to hear the case. Idaho's Republican political leaders were outspoken in opposi- tion to the 1999 decision. Gov. Dirk Kempthorne said today he was pleased the court decided to rehear the case. "Today's decision is consistent with federal law, and it upholds and affirms Idaho's sovereignty over its water — something we must never, ever, let be diminished," Kemp - thorre said in a prepared state- ment. Silak wrote the decision for the majority Oct. 1, 1999. The majority said the federal government owns the water that was unclaimed when three central Idaho wilderness areas were established. After widespread protest by state leaders, the court decided to rehear the case. Fourth District Judge Daniel Eis- mann defeated Silak in May with the water -rights case as the major cam- paign issue. Rick Johnson, executive director of the Idaho Conservation League said the reversal belies the neutrality judges are supposed to have in decid- ing the law. Rulings like this show that electing judges impacts the rulings judges' make," Johnson said. Trout said she found the suggestion that she made a political rather than legal decision "insulting." However, given the fact that Silak was defeated largely because of her authorship of the original ruling, she acknowledged, "You're asking a question that's fair game Trout said she decided to reverse ofaP9,, her decision after reviewing the origi- nal case, reading the briefs in the re- hearing and listening to the oral argu- ment in the rehearing on Feb. 14. The next day, she told her fellow justices that she had reconsidered. "I did not just say, `I've changed my mind.' It was a lengthy discussion based upon the reading I had done." In Friday's first case, the court ruled that the Wilderness Act of 1964 did not create an implied right to the wa- ters in and flowing through the Frank Church River of No Return, the Sel- way- Bitterroot and the Gospel Hump wilderness areas. 'That's different from the law creating the Hells Canyon Recreation Area, which ex- pressly reserved water to the federal government, the court ruled. "A study of the long history of de- bate over the Wilderness Act leads to the conclusion that Congress could not and would not have passed a bill that implied a water right that would prevent the appropriation of water un- der state law beyond the boundaries of the wilderness areas...," wrote Jus- tice Gerald Schroeder. Justices yne Kidwell and Trout concurred wrote their own opinions. Kidwell d specific examples in the legisla- history where Congress expressly Jaimed a federally reserved water lhTrout said when Congress passed he Wild and Scenic Rivers Act in 968 it expressly reserved water 'ghts. Had Congress meant to reserve _ter rights in 1964, the year after a ey court decision recognizing wider [niplied rights, it would have included t expressly in the law. "Having now had the opportunity o further examine the federal re- rved water -rights doctrine as it has n asserted in cases involving fed - ral acts other than the Wilderness ct, I have come to question the con- ' ued vitality of the doctrine," she Silak and Jesse Walters dissented, guing separately that since remov- gwate r impairs the natural state of derness lands, Congress must have tended to reserve all unclaimed wa- "I can see no way to retain the wilderness character of an area with- out water," Silak wrote. In the second decision, the Wild and Scenic Rivers ruling, the court said Congress expressly reserved a water right. The state never challenged Snake River Adjudication Judge Daniel Hurlbutt's ruling in favor of the United States in the Wild and Scenic Rivers case. Several mining companies, Pot- latch Corp., canal companies and the cities of Salmon and Challis chal- lenged Hurlbutt's decision. "I'm very disappointed," said Stan Davis, Salmon's Mayor. "I don't be- lieve when they created the Wild and Scenic River, they expected us to give UP our future." He urged state officials to convene a meeting with federal authorities to quantify the federal water right so that individual water users don't have to go to court themselves. The Idaho Department of Re- sources, placed a moratorium on new water rights in central Idaho commu- nities upstream from wilderness areas after the 1999 decision. Director Karl Dreher said he could lift it as early as next week. Previously, the department estimat- ed up to 3,000 water rights could be af- fected. About 100 water rights can now be validated. Dreher said he expects far fewer than 3,000 rights to be affected by the Wild and Scenic Rivers decision. If 1,011,7 "We've not done the analysis yet," he said. This summer's Clear Creek Fire threatened the area from which Salmon's water supply comes. The closing of lumber mills, mines and new restrictions to protect endan- gered salmon, wolves and bull trout make this latest development hard for residents to swallow, Davis said. "I don't know how much more mental anguish this valley can take," he said. Previous decision Oct. 1, 1999 "Because removing water nec- essarily impairs the natural state of the wilderness lands, Con- gress must have intended to reserve all unappropriated water... Although the appellants correctly point out that the United States is generally required to quantify the amount of water claimed under the reservation doctrine, a claim to the entire natu- ral stream flow is permissible where it is proven that the entire natural flow is necessary to ac- complish the purposes of the reservation." Water rights �T Current decision Oct. 27, 2000 �D /,►,,�► "A study of the long history of debate over the W,Iderness Act leads to the conclusion that Con- gress could not and would not have passed a bill that implied a water right that would prevent the appropriation of water under state law beyond the boundaries of the wilderness areas... A clear indication of the creation of implied water rights as claimed by the United States does not exist in the language of the Wilder- ness Act or its legislative history." The Idaho Supreme Court ruled that the United States did not reserve the water in and flowing through the Frank Church River of No Return, the Selway- Bitterroot and the Gospel Hump wilderness areas from the dates they were officially protected. In a second decision, the court ruled the United States did reserve the water along the Wild and Scenic River corridor on the Main Salmon River from North Fork to the western edge of the Gospel Hump Wilderness. In a third decision, it ruled the United States did not reserve a water right in the Sawtooth National Recreation Area. The decisions still leave doubts whether mines, businesses, homes and farms that diverted water upstream of North Fork hold valid rights to use water. GOSPEL HUMP HELLS WILDERNESS CANYON WILDERNESS C� /,4Arrows � euRC * lgRREN , YELLOW PINE $ if die°Q° ,4e` a r « 0 • ��a�e "I indicate � _ river flow U°U WARM LAKE q FRANK CHURCH — - -J RIVER OF NO RETURN STANLEY-y_ WILDERNESS 0 SAWTOOTH NATIONAL RECREATIONAL AREA SELWAY G-- BITTERROOT WILDERNESS wld and Scenic River corridor SALMON i,;, <10 f � 9 L c�S ac LEADORE AREA OF DETAIL • Boise What's it mean? > Political ef- fects: There's spec- ulation that Justice Linda Copple Trout's reversal comes as a result of pressure in the wake of a col- league's defeat at the polls. She says that's not true. > Legal effects: The rulings chal- lenge the idea that federal land protec- tions imply owner- ship of the waters. The decisions are law in Idaho unless overtumed by the U.S. Supreme Court. > Practically: One decision could mean some people could have less wa- ter, and it could limit new development. 7; L Ow T 13 J 11 PROMS w MAIIIIIII on the Salmon River ...- IK77F�' -, 11"I'v" (Hanna S uorna la i nen, a traveler from Finland, holds on as a jet boat tosses through a series of rapids on the Salmon River. ��/ A- ldaAl a J-i - Visitors get to see beautiful scenery, learn some history By Susan Whaley The Idaho Statesman Before leaving the dock for a daylong ride on the Salmon River, jet boat dri- ver and guide Jim "Romine" Scott issued a warning. "A couple of these rapids might be a little rough," he cau- tioned. A little rough? Later that day, midway through Ludwig Rapid, Hanna Suomalainen, standing at the back of the boat, would let out an ear - piercing scream as the 27- foot -long jet boat suddenly dropped into a rolling wave and powered into the next one, icy water splashing over the bow, the river churning all around. Safely through the rapid a mo- ment later, Suomalainen down- played the outburst. "It caught my stomach by sur- prise," she explained. A native of Finland, she has been whitewa- ter rafting and knows the roller - coaster thrill of riding the waves. Still, Romine couldn't help but smile at Suomalainen's reaction. "They all love it." Indeed they do. Outfitters say a growing number of people each year head from Riggins into the rugged and scenic beauty of the Salmon River country. Some go strictly to sightsee, many seek outstanding hunting and fishing and others stay at remote guest ranches along the river. Unlike whitewater rafts that follow the current downstream and guarantee lots of contact with the water, a jet boat can muscle its way upriver 30 miles for a ride that includes beautiful scenery and a chance to experi- ence Idaho history without ever getting so much as your feet wet. To the end of the road Getting to the launch site is a wilderness experience in itself. On Tuesday the launch site was 30 miles  an hour's drive  from Riggins to the end of the Salmon River Road, a narrow, winding path that hugs the steep canyon wall. In different water conditions and on other stretch- es of the river, boats can be launched closer to town. After a restful night at the el- egant Salmon Rapids Lodge in +'-,11, 14,E v f ' 3 PUIe, Jim "Romine" Scottguidesa 27 -foot, twin - enginejet boat upthe Salmon River near Riggins on a guided tour of historical locations, wildlife and backcountry scenery. A pair of big horned sheep with their Iambs stop to peer down at the river as a boat full of admir- ersgaze up at them on the steep mountainside. Riggins and a plate of bacon and eggs at This Old House Restau- rant, an early morning drive is a great way to ease into the slow- er rhythms of river time. Even Riggins, population 500, is a little crazy right now with fishermen in a frenzy over one of the best salmon fishing sea- sons in decades. It's good to leave it all behind. Traffic, phones and deadlines seem farther and far- ther away, the deeper one goes into the canyon. The only appointment is with Romine, a guide with River Ad- ventures, at 10 a.m. At the launch site, Romine greets the eight passengers he will take up the river. Like most river guides, he's a friendly guy with a firm handshake, a gift for gab and an eagerness to share the country he loves. Romine got his nickname, he tells the group, from the name of the isolated 15��11_712 ,- wilderness ranch where he was a caretaker 25 years ago. After loading everybody and their coolers full of water, soda and sack lunches, Romine climbs into the driver's seat, grabs the steering stick with his right hand and the throttle with his left hand and eases the jet boat into the cur- rent. With the roar of twin 350- cubic- inch Chevy engines, the trip be- gins. Rockin' and rollin' A minute later, the boat comes to one of the day's biggest rapids, Chittam. With a hard -top cover overhead, windshield across the front and plastic window covering one side, there is little chance anybody will get wet. From the passenger seats, the roiling water doesn't even look that threatening. Until you get into it. Whoa! The boat rocks and sways as Romine guides it into the first waves on the left side. There's a big bump as the boat hits a huge wave, then another one. Every- body holds on tight, grinning from ear to ear. Wow, that's a monstrous hole over there to the right where the water drops several feet into a foaming mass of whitewater. "It doesn't look bad till you get in it, huh ?" shouts Romine. What a great way to begin. ap- preciating the power of this mighty river, which runs undammed through the heart of Idaho's wilderness. Before the excitement of Chit - tam has worn off, the boat is again abuzz as Romine cuts back the power and drifts to the left side of the river. Just a few feet up the steep embankment stands a group of bighorn sheep — three ewes and three lambs, two to three weeks old. The babies move to stand by their mamas and they all lift their heads for a good look at the strange aluminum creature down on the water. The sheep stand their ground, appearing unworried but wary, and wait for us to pass be- fore resuming grazing on the rocky slope. Another great moment in a trip that is only 15 minutes old. People in the canyon While cruising upstream about 20 miles per hour, Romine identi- fies the creeks and streams pour- ing into the Salmon River and points out evidence of old mining claims and homesteads. The canyon alternately widens, providing flat areas were people can live, then narrows, squeezing between sheer basalt cliffs sculpt- ed into spires and unusual shapes by eons of water and wind. It soon becomes evident that people have always been a big part of the river's history and culture — and still are. Many early settlers established permanent homestead and mining claims along the riv- er. Some of their property has stayed in private hands, even af- ter the surrounding area was put off - limits to development as offi- cial wilderness. Mackay Bar, Shepp Ranch and other places bring guests in by jet boat and airplane for vacations, horseback rides and hunting trips in this spectacular backcountry. Two historic sites are big draws to the thousands of people who jet boat and float this stretch of the Salmon River: the original homes of Polly Bemis, a Chinese woman who settled in the canyon with her husband in the late 1800s, and Buckskin Bill, an intelligent recluse and talented craftsman who canned his own vegetables and forged his own tools. About an hour after leaving the boat ramp, the Bemis ranch ap- pears on the right. It's the fist stop of the day, and everybody gets off the boat for a 45- minute look around. The log cabin, built in 1923, contains many of Polly's belong- ings, including her eyeglasses, bed and table by the window that now overlooks her gravesite. A childhood dream Back on the boat, Romine re- veals the secret of a good jet boat driver during the five- minute ride to the historic James Ranch. "Go where there's no rocks," he says with a laugh. It's been so long since he first learned to read the water and drive a jet boat that he can't remember whether it's hard to do. Next stop: lunch. Everybody grabs their cooler and walks up the old stone steps to a cabin built by Orson James, who settled there in 1901. On the front steps of a newer but unoc- cupied home right next door, Romine chews on a fried chicken leg and tells how he came to this rugged country. "It fulfills a childhood dream," he said. When he was about 5, he had a dream that stuck with him all his life. In it, there was a place with a meadow and a trout stream run- ning through it. While passing through Riggins on a hunting trip in 1976, he saw a place that looked exactly like his dream. He chucked his old life in Minnesota, found a job as care- taker at the Romine Ranch and has lived the life he believes he was meant to live ever since. Bill's tower Back on the river, Romine points out an unusual natural feature. Up -�y _5 ts high, a boulder appears to be lodged in a hole in a larger rock. Mark Obenchain of Payette is impressed,but still wants to see more. "OK, now I want to see a cougar," Obenchain said. "I'd like to show you one, my friend," replied Romine. "In all my years back here, I've only seen three. They're pretty elusive." Obenchain's list for the day also downriver. Actually, it's good to feel the cool breeze from the river again. By mid - afternoon the canyon heat — which by August can exceed 100 degrees — has climbed into the 80s, a change from the morn- ing's more pleasant temperatures in the low 70s. Riding through whitewater is just as exciting going down, even though Romine goes easy on r+ler ooargiiaes upthe Salmon River, negotiatingthe river currents and white water. includes bear, moose and elk, but that was before he knew about Buckskin Bill's place. About an hour later, a strange stone tower appears at the river's edge, a sign that we have arrived at the home of one of the Salmon River's more colorful characters. Like Alice in Wonderland, vis- itors find themselves drawn into a world unlike any other. Although Buckskin Bill, born Sylvan A. Hart, died 21 years ago, it's clear that his spirit still lives on in this magical place. Heading for home It's hard to leave Bill's fascinat- ing collection of structures, ani- mal skulls and tools, but at 3 p.m. Romine herds everybody back to the boat for the hourlong ride everybody. He slips through the rapids so gently that nobody gets wet, although he could have let drenching waves break over the sides if he wanted to. Driver's choice. Thanks, Romine. Back at the dock the wind -blown crew takes photographs of each other. and climbs into their cars, each going separate ways but unit- ed by a day of discovery in Idaho's Salmon River country. Back in town, a cold drink and a steak at the Seven Devils Steak- house is a good way to adjust from river time to "real" time before heading back to Boise. A vine -cov- ered trellis over the outdoor patio shades diners from the hot sun. Early settlers like Polly and Bill never had it this good. Or did they? After a day expe- riencing the glorious beauty and soulful solitude of the Salmon Riv- er Canyon. it's something to think ahrntt - SfC�fC'.Si�2 0,7, daho 1 ids • t Photos by Darin Oswald / The Idaho Statesman A fortress built by the legendary Buckskin B i I I overlooks the Salmon River. No one can say for sure why he bui It the fortress, only that he did, along with an eccentric collection of creations he built and forged himself while living on the river. Homes of Buckskin the places visitors can explore About an hour into a jet boat Polly, a petite Chinese immi- Bill, Polly Bemis are on Salmon River tour By Susan Whaley The Idaho Statesman For thousands of years people have been traipsing through the rugged Salmon River country to reap its rich bounty. Prehistoric people found food and shelter there. Native Ameri- cans inhabited the area and later, when Europeans came along, gold lured miners into the steep canyon. Little communities sprang up in the canyon around the mines. Most people eventually left, but a few hardy souls made a go of it, es- tablishing mining and homestead claims that remain as outposts of private property in the wilderness today. There are no roads to most of these historic places. Travelers must float down in a whitewater raft, power up the river in a jet boat, ride a horse or hike in to sam- ple the courage and eccentricity of the canyon's inhabitants. The James Ranch, Mackay Bar and the Painter Mine are some of along the river. Few settlers are as famous or colorful as Polly Bemis and Buckskin Bill. Today, thou- sands of river travelers stop by their homesteads each summer to tour the places they lived and died. Is Polly home? ride up the Salmon River, Jim "Romine" Scott, a guide with Riv- er Adventures, pulls over for the first stop: the home of Charlie and Polly Bemis. "Is Polly home ?" asks passenger Mark Obenchain of Payette, whose one - liners kept everybody smiling all day. grant born to 1853, is beloved for her good humor, courage, hard work and kindness. A 1991 movie, "Thousand Pieces of Gold," based on an earlier fictional biography, chronicles much of her life. The Bemis' small log cabin still stands where the couple settled RvAdnne dna iviarK UDencnam, rayette, sit down in the shade of a tree at James Ranch and enjoy lunch on the shore of the Salmon River. after marrying in 1894. It was their second home, built in 1923, after the first one burned down. Today it contains some of their posses- sions, including Polly's eyeglass- es and sourdough crock. Her grave near the cabin is flanked by red peonies, not far from Polly Creek. She would no doubt be amazed to see the place now. Huge mani- cured lawns sweep from her cab- in to the river's edge. A large private time -share de- velopment with condos and cab- ins sits behind the little log home, and a store down by the river sells ice cream and T- shirts to tourists. Rafters toss a Frisbee on the park- like expanse of grass. Most of Romine's passengers confess to being surprised at all the activity and development at the historic site, but Jody Shaw of Riggins said it didn't take away from her experience. Shaw, 22, recently finished read- ing "Thousand Pieces of Gold." "It was great to see the bed she had slept on and the stove she had cooked on," Shaw said. She loved seeing the narrow lit- tle staircase where Polly carried Charlie downstairs before he died. "This area is so rich with histo- ry," she said. "It was a neat expe- rience to be able to say I have seen these places." Charlie died in 1922. Polly con- tinued to live at the ranch by her- self under the watchful eye of her neighbors across the river, Char- lie Shepp and Peter Klinkhammer. She died in 1933 and is buried on the property. Buckskin Bill's Farther up the river, the after- noon's sightseeing highlight takes place at a bend where Buckskin Bill, born Sylvan A. Hart in 1906, began living with his father dur- ing the Depression. A 50 -foot fortress sprouting from the side of a huge boulder along the river is the sign you're at Bill's place. Some who knew him or have heard stories about him say he was a mite worried about government intruders. "I remember him talking about helicopters," said Melinda Ander- son of Boise, who shared a bowl of bear stew with Bill more than 20 years ago. Tuesday, she greet- ed visitors while staying with friends who live on the property and watch over the historic home. Anderson also remembers Bill as a nice, cordial, non -stop talker who enjoyed company and wore strange hats that he fashioned. A headstone on his grave, which lies in the shade of a willow tree near his extensive gardens, shows Bill died April 29,1980. In 1966 Bill's story was told in the pages of Sports Illustrated. From that day on he was famous, and a stream of mail and visitors descended. Apparently he, for the most part, enjoyed visiting with hordes of visitors, regaling them with stories of his life. Barbara Eisenberg, who lives year -round in a home on the prop- erty, estimates that 6,000 to 8,000 people stop by on their way up and down the river each year to pay their respects and view the five small structures that Buckskin Bill called home. The most intriguing is that for- tified tower. Like a kid scrambling up a tree - house, 75- year -old Obenchain scur- ries up the sturdy but steep metal rungs leading to the top. "Oh, this is beautiful. You gotta come up here," he yells to the rest of the jet -boat group. "Is there room ?" asks Shaw. "As long as you don't yell fire, we'll be all right." Back on firm ground, Obenchain was amazed by the work required to create such an elaborate struc- ture. "He must have made a million trips," Obenchain said, "but then he had a lot of time. He wasn't on an eight -hour day, was he ?" Yup. It's probably safe to say that Buckskin Bill — his grave is marked "the last of the mountain men" — never had to punch a time clock when he was on river time. A nostalgic col- lection of rusted farm tools, ani- mal bonesand antlers decorate the outside of a log cabin at the historic James Ranch on the shore of the Salmon River above Riggins. yea -1a t) Ir 'ell s-/, 1; JDa z� ddle Fork- of Salmon Mother Nature makes her mark on Idaho's premier By Pete Zimowsky whitewatPr river The Idaho Statesman MIDDLE FORK OF THE SALMON RIVER — Bighorn sheep stand as sen- tinels on a jagged basalt cliff, their stately forms silhouetted against a powder -blue sky. Below, cutthroat trout come to the surface of the gin -clear water of the Middle Fork of the Salmon River, en- ticed by deer -hair grasshopper flies laid on the water by a ballet of fly an- glers in rafts and dories. New obstacles, like Oreo Rapids, created by blowouts from violent thunderstorms, give oarsmen a gnaw- ing feeling in the pit of the stomach. The Middle Fork of the Salmon Riv- er, the nation's premier wilderness whitewater river, is ever changing, yet it remains the same. I found that out as I returned to the Central Idaho wilderness river in July for an eight -day trip from Indian Creek to the confluence of the Main Salmon. The float trip runs through the vast 2.2- million -acre Frank Church/River of No Return Wilderness. As the light plane took off from the Stanley airstrip and banked in front of the 10,000 -foot gray fortress of the Sawtooth Mountains, I wondered what the river would look like after massive forest fires swept through the wilderness two summers ago. Flames charred about 506,000 acres, and news of the fires swept world- wide as concerned floaters and back - country trekkers wondered if the wilderness would ever be the same. I hadn't seen the river since Octo- ber 2000, when the fires were pretty much out, but still smoldering in spots. Because of low water and drought this July, our group had to fly to the Indian Creek wilderness airstrip to launch. The river was too bony to launch our rafts at the normal put -in site at Boundary Creek, northwest of Stan- ley. Bony is a river - runner term for low and rocky. Instead of doing about 96 miles in eight days, we planned to do about 72 miles. We would miss the two -day upper stretch with its unsurpassed mountain scenery and stomach -churn- ing rapids like Powerhouse and Pis- tol Creek But it was going to be a more leisurely trip with plenty of laid -back camp life and hiking. What wasn't leisurely was flying five oar rafts, a paddle raft, two kayaks, a two - person inflatable kayak, bulging coolers, dozens of dry bags and oth- er gear for 17 trippers to the dirt back - country airstrip. Loading and unloading planes and trying to beat sundown was a massive job. We could have been going on some massive expedition in Tibet or some other wild place. It took three flights each with back- country pilots ft oin Salmon Air using an Islander cargo plane and a Cessna 206 passenger plane for the 40 -mile flight to the launch site. The neat thing about flying in is that you see all that Middle Fork country from the air. I spotted the old burns as the Cess- na banked in the narrow canyon and started its white - knuckled approach for the the long and narrow tree -lined Indian Creek landing strip. The blackened skeletons of pine and fir trees were still around Indian Creek and Pistol Creek. They looked like burnt matchsticks. It was disheartening, yet there was a hint of hope as the plane got closer to the ground. Green grass and new brush were taking over the terrain amid the charred trees. New life was continuing to spring up and the Middle Fork was always evolving. Although charred trees remalned on ridgelines and in some creek drainages, the Middle Fork seemed to be the same as it has been ever since I started running it decades ago. Fire comes and goes and new growth comes and goes. It's an ever - changing fact of wilderness. Many of the 10,000 floaters who run the river each year probably don't even notice the evidence of fire. All they know is that the Middle Fork is ranked as one of the top 10 whitewater rivers in the world. They know its wild, continuous Class III and IV rapids. They know its beauty is unsur- passed because it is an undammed riv- er in the largest protected wilderness in the lower 48 states. The next eight days were heaven: running new and old rapids; tricking Despite low water, river guides can still got large sweep boats down the miaaie Fork i n J u ly. 0utf itters use sweep boats to carry gear for their c ients who either ride in rafts or dories. This sweep ca pta i n sq ueezes through Jackass Rapids. cutts with hopper flies; sampling Dutch oven cuisine like Don Taylor's enchiladas and Mydell Yeager's cher- ry chocolate cake; relaxing in camp with nothing but the sounds of the riv- er and wind; hiking trails shaded by doug fir; and seeing deer, grouse, chukars, bear and bighorns. Even actor Tom Hanks and his fam- ily floated by. He was sleepless at Fun - ston campsite while we were at Ca- mas Creek. It was a time for relaxing soaks at Sunflower Flat and Loon Creek hot springs. It was a time for biting fin- gernails at Oreo Rapids, Tappan Falls and Haystack Rapids. Oreo Rapids? Yes, a blowout cre- ated a new Class IV rapids at Orelano Creek, below Indian Creek. Guides tagged it Oreo Rapids. The river took us on a magical jour- ney past unforgettable landmarks, such as the silvery, cascading waters of Water Fail Creek, the misty waters of Veil Falls and the rocky grotto above Earl Parrott's cabin. The grot- to leaves you with a feeling that you're in nature's cathedral. The Middle Fork of the Salmon Riv- er is a land rich in the history of the Sheepeater Indians, pioneers, old riv- er rats and crusty hermits. And there's always an ice cream stop at the Flying B Ranch, which re- minds you that civilization still exists. Yes, the Middle Fork of the Salmon River is the same, but is always chang- ing. The logjam at Oreo Rapids proves that right down in the pit of your stom- ach. On lookers watch as Kristin Nelson, Boise, pivots her raft and misses a large rocK III ItdlZV1IM Haystack Rapids on the M i d d I e Fork of the Salmon. Low water means technical moves around rocks that become a sort of river - runners pinball game. t` f • ly ` Fly anglers cast for the M iddle Fork's wi Id cutthroat trout. By the way, a deer -hair grasshopper fly worked best in July. Aquickshower in Sun Flower Flat Hot Springs feels so good on a Middle Forktrio. IF YOU GO Now's the time to plan fora float trip next sum mer. The season on the M id- dle ForkoftheSalmon Riv- er, for most folks, is from May through September. The months of May and early June are favored by adrenaline junkies looking for high water thrills. July is a time for family floats and superb fly fish - ing for cutthroats. Fishing conditions get even better in August, but you may havetofly into Indian Creek because of lowwa- ter. September is another good month forfly fishing and upland bird huntingfor grouse and chukars. If you want a ful ly outfit- ted tri p, there are plenty of outfitting compan ies that wi I I take you down the river and feed you gourmet Dutch oven meals. Check out the Idaho Outfitters and Guides Association Web page at www. ioea. UP-/. If you're an experienced wh itewater rafter, you' I I want to check out all the in- formation about applying fora permit this winter for next summer's trip. See: www. fs.fed. us/r4 /sc/recre ition/4rivers/index.htm. Salmon, Idaho: Birthplace of Sacajawea Town pins hopes on Lewis, Clark bicentennial By Steve Crump The Times -News SALMON — This hard -to- reach central Idaho town of 2,964 has been eking a living from hunters, fishermen and river - floaters since the nearby mines pe- tered out in1 . the 1980s. � But Salmon now bills itself as "The Birth- 2003 -2006 place of Sacajawea," and there's little doubt where it's pinned its hopes for pros- perity in the short run. "We're projecting that the new interpretive center and the activities associated with the Lewis and Clark bicentennial will increase the number of tourists who visit Salmon from 2 to 5 percent a year, which equates to $2 million to $4 mil- lion in additional revenue," said Gary Van Huffel, grant adminis- trator for Salmon and director of the Sacajawea Interpretive Center, which will open in May or June. This summer will mark the 200th anniversary of the begin- ning of the Lewis and Clark ex- pedition, which explored the Louisiana Territory and effec- tively cemented the West to the rest of the United States. The Corps of Discovery tra- versed parts of northern and central Idaho in the process, and a strip of economically dis- tressed Idaho mining and lum- ber communities is hoping the tourists will follow. "Surveys have shown that Oregon, Idaho and Montana are the states most likely to attract visitors during the bicentenni- al," said Carl Wilgus, state trav- el director for the Idaho Depart- ment of Commerce. ly at "Clarkies" 50 -plus histo- ry buffs with money and time to spend — and families. "Many of the activities that are planned in connection with this are geared toward things children like to do, and that families like to do together," Wilgus said. Idaho is appealing to Lewis and Clark aficionados as the only state with parts of the ex- pedition route — including nearby Lemhi Pass — that re- main virtually unchanged two centuries later. And as the birthplace of Saca- jewea, the Lemhi Shoshone woman who accompanied the explorers across the Rockies. "It's hard to overestimate how widely Sacajawea is known," Wilgus said. "She has more creeks, mountains and other physical features named after her than almost any other American." tsasea on a tormWa deveT-- oped to calculate the economic benefits from the Oregon Trail Sesquicentennial nearly a decade ago, that works out to about $75 million in additional tourist revenue for the state in 2003, 2004 and in 2005, when interest in the event is expected to peak. To that end, the Department of Commerce and local eco- nomic development organiza- tions are heavily promoting the bicentennial, aiming particular- Her name is spelled in vary- ing ways along the Lewis and Clark trail — Sacajawea, Saca- gawea, Sakakawea. But her life and times are the focus of the new Salmon interpretive center, on 71 acres along Idaho 28. It will include indoor facilities, static displays, tepees and inter- active elements, all developed with the cooperation of Saca- jawea's descendants. The projected 20,000 visitors annually could transform the economy of Lemhi County, where one person out of three now works for the government. Unemployment in the county is above 7 percent, and in 2001 the average annual wage was $21,048, nearly $4,000 under the state average. That figures to improve as more tourists come. Still, by the standards of other attractions along the Lewis and Clark trail, the impact of bicentennial-relat - ed visitors will be modest: The nearby Big Hole National Bat- tlefield in Montana, by compari- son, attracts about 65,000 visi- tors annually. A statue of Sacajawea, an Indian guide forthe Lewis and Clark ex- pedition, is shown at the state Capitol in Bismark, N.D. Salmon now bills itself as "The Birth- place of Sacajawea," and there's little doubtwhere it has pinned its hopes for prosperity in K : the Lewis and pedition tennial. The ld included in the tatue is Sacajawea's son, AW Jean Baptiste. Will Kincaid Associated Press Forest Service remo, yes tram over Salmon R. BY ROGER PHII LIPS The Star -News Neil Sanders ha i lost his battle to save 160 - year -old tram that, flans the Salmon Rivers and at the same lost his 'isiest means to Riggins and landed himself in leral court. The Forest Sei ce recently removed the French Creek trap, , ocated 18 miles upstr am from Riggins, because the government -owned tram was unsafe and located partially on private land with no right of way or easement, Nez Perce Forest Supervisor Mike King said. ; "Out of concern for public safety and out of responsibility to the American taxpayer, I have no choice but to remc ve the car from the -struc- ture," King said in a, tatement. An engineer'. s repc47t filed with the Nez P ce Arest last spring found.•the timber supp rts re rotting and the tram apparatus did not meet cuiTent safety standards. At that time, the Foiest Stvice locked the tram and banned public use. Nez Perce Forest officials tried to sec4 a Vwhere Sanders could use the tram withbut g the agency liable, but that deal could ever come to terms. Sanders, 65, repeatedly cut the lock and continued using the tram, which is the easiest way for him to access the Salmon River road and get to Riggins. He lives across the river and otherwise has to travel 40 miles to Riggins over a mountain road that is impassable during the winter. Sanders has feuded with Forest Service offi- cials over the tram, collected signatures on a petition to save it, and contacted Sen. Larry Craig, R- Idaho, Rep. Helen Chenoweth, R- Idaho, and Gov. Phil Batt to rally their support, In August, Sanders allegedly cut the chain securing the tram while Forest Service officials videotaped his actions, which has led to charges now pending in U.S. District Court in Moscow. The tram has been a thorn in the side for Forest Service officials, who claim the tram is now a liability. "The decision to remove the car will not be popular," King said. "How- ever, it is an action we must take in the interest of the public safety, in fair- ness to the private landowner, and in fairness to taxpayers who foot the bill in the event of a lawsuit." Star -News News Page—Announcements Lucile retreat to be featured on HGTV Sunday A retreat center on the banks of the Salmon River at Lucile will be featured Sunday on Home and Garden TV. Mavens' Haven will be featured as part of the network's series, "You Live in What ?" which spotlights, "people who have turned the most unlikely places into personal palaces," according to the shoves website. The episode will be repeated June 14. Producers of "You Live in What ?" heard about the Basque sheep wagons that are used at the retreat for Senior Apprentice and overnight accommodations. The film crew spent a day in February visiting the retreat filming the segment. Five wagons, made by the Basque Vader family in Meridian, serve as senior apprentice quarters and rentals. "They are lovely, real craftsmanship, original wagon boxes and rigging the Vaders have renovated,' camp operater Darcy Williamson said. Poeb �emle7 Yevm! Heim acamera crew 5nm HkM-tihus one of the Basque sheep wagons used as accommo(know at Mavens' Haven atluc&. Each wagon features a queen -size bed, pull -out table, wood- burning stove, drawers, shelves, and storage. Mavens' Haven offers classes, retreats and botanical forays in support of herbal medicine, healthy and local cuisine and wilderness and homesteading skills. The retreat also offers creative writing, and guided meditation and contemplative practices, according to the center's website. The retreat is operated by wintertime McCall resident Darcy Williamson as a complement to her McCall From the Forest business. Page 1 of 1 p2Q http:// www. mccallstamews .com/pages /archive_2013 /05_23_ 13_webedition/Copy %2Oof%... 50/2013 94 THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE A CROWD ON THE BRIDGE AT SALMON WATCHES THE START OF `THE WILDEST BOAT RIDE IN AMERICA'S Because of unusually low water all the party except the boatmen and cook disembarked below the new highway span and rejoined the scow at Ebenezer Bar, 56 miles farther downstream. The boat carried the scientists who were to investigate some of the most remarkable geologic forma- tions in North America. HOW WARWICK WAS PHOTOGRAPHED IN COLOR 93 The distance of my camera was fixed and it seemed as if, in every spot where I had to set my tripod, there was a priceless mosaic table, brought from far -away Italy in the days of crude transport and since preserved through blood and fire for centuries. I felt like some rank intruder from a world that is yet to be amid the proud treasures of the past. Some of Warwick's finest paintings were away on loan during my visit, but there were enough left to have kept me busy for weeks. The picture of the two sons of George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, appealed to me because it was from Warwick that scheming Richard III wrote to the Gover- nor of the Tower of London ordering the death of his two small nephews, sons of Edward IV. These boys in their innocence and splendor of garb made me think of the "little princes of the Tower," and, besides, this painting by Van Dyck had a challeng- ing range of colors (Plate V). In the boudoir at the far end of the state apartments I selected two paintings of Henry VIII —Van Dyck's, showing him as a half -timid child, and Holbein's, which pic- tures bluff King Hal as every inch a king, albeit a king with whom the gentle George V, who called himself "a very ordinary fel- low," would have had little in common (Color Plates IV and V). While my camera was at work making the long exposures, I tiptoed back and forth, conferring with the ever - helpful electrician as to where we could plug in the lights for the next picture, or trying to restore some order to the chaos our work had caused. The painting of Ignatius of Loyola is out- standing, even in so rich a collection as that at Warwick. Rubens here combines the rich trappings of ecclesiastical dignity with the spirituality of the man. The founder of the Order of Jesuits stands before us in a portrait notable for its force and rich coloring (Plate IV) PHOTOGRAPHERS TURN ACROBATS After a late snack with the seventh Earl of Warwick, we tackled the painting which taxed our knowledge and equipment most — the huge equestrian portrait of Charles I (Plate VIII). Providing the canvas for pic- tures of such heroic size must have influ- enced the textile statistics of Van Dyck's day. To get the camera high enough, we had to construct on the state dining table a pyramid of stools, sawhorses, and tripods worthy of a circus balancing act. Then, as we focused the camera, our heads brushed the highly destructible chandelier —hun- dreds of pounds of it. "Heavy, heavy hangs over thy head," was its recurrent warning. Nor, try as we would, could we get our floodlights in such a position that a glare in some part of the painting would not kill the color. If you look closely at the sides of that great painting you will see how the electric light generated from Warwick's old grain mill, still turned by the quiet Avon, has put a sheen over the coloring. At eleven o'clock the shutter closed on the last exposure, and we hurriedly collected our equipment from its hiding places under furniture gathered from half of Europe or from the feet of lordly forms created by Flemish or English artists. Down corridors bristling with armament we carried our bulky reflectors and cameras. While a knight on horseback looked on dispassionately, my companion wondered when his taxi would arrive. We had ordered the car for 11 AS. And as we slammed the automobile door after our anachronistic labors, it was just that. Even the portcullis might have been worked by a time clock, for, as we left the hospita- ble castle behind, the grating dropped, as if closing the adventure forever. I had still to make color views of War- wick's exterior, and of the gardens where peacocks strut (Plate III). But that, in the sunshine, would be comparatively easy. That night, after seeing my friend off on the train, I returned to my hotel, empty of stomach and light of heart. It was mid- night and the ten bells of Warwick's St. Mary's softly began a new tune. Just be- fore we had taken the castle by storm, the chimes had been playing "Home, Sweet Home." Now they started a new day with "Jenny Lind." When next St. Mary's bells played "Home, Sweet Home," I was there. For better or for worse I had accepted War- wick's challenge and my plates came home in my own hands, keeping their secret of success or failure till the National Geo- graphic Society laboratories were reached. Here they are, the result of a noble hos- pitality which still warms my heart. 94 THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE I`. j E A CROWD ON THE BRIDGE AT SALMON WATCHES THE START OF "THE WILDEST BOAT RIDE IN AMERICA" Because of unusually low water all the party except the boatmen and cook disembarked below the new highway span and rejoined the scow at Ebenezer Bar, 56 miles farther downstream. The boat carried the scientists who were to investigate some of the most remarkable geologic forma- tions in North America. STEELHEAD FISHING WAS GOOD The National Geographic Society waited here at Middle Fork while Shenon, Reed, and Williams made a side trip up the rugged stream. This junction of the Salmon River and its Middle Fork is a favorite center for fishermen and hunters. ��h DOWN IDAHO'S RIVER OF NO RETURN BY PHILIP J. SHENON AND JOHN C. REED LEADERS OF THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC SOCIETY -U. S. GEOLOGICAL SURVEY SALMON RIVER EXPEDITION With Illustrations from Photographs by Maynard Owen Williams IN 1803 President Jefferson gave his blessing to an expedition led by Lewis and Clark, whose achievement is his- tory. The leaders of the Nation's first over- land expedition to the Pacific turned back only once  when they faced the precipitous walls and "white waters" of the Salmon River Canyon. Thus the Salmon remained unconquered until about 40 years ago, when Captain Harry Guleke piloted a flat - bottomed scow through its thundering rapids to its mouth (page 98). HOW GULEKE CONQUERED THE SALMON Like Phoenician mariners, using islands as stepping stones to far -away shores, Guleke and Sanderland, his first mate, braved one rapid after another, learning the secrets of each before venturing farther into the unknown. Boats were smashed on hidden rocks, and lives were lost, but one -way traffic on the Salmon had come to stay. The trip is still known as "the wildest boat ride in America." Unlike Guleke, we, as geologists working in the high mountain country above the river for the United States Geological Sur- vey, were challenged not by the rapids but by problems of scientific and economic in- terest, solution of which appeared to lie partly in the canyon that yawned below us. How did the granite mass known as the Idaho Batholith invade the rocks surround- ing it? (Page 105.) How far did the veins exposed on the plateau above extend into the canyon? Why did the Salmon River cut directly across the grain of the rocks,: and why did some tributary streams flow scores of miles to pass again within four or five miles of their sources? The National Geographic Society saw the value of an expedition through the canyon and sponsored our plans. Dr. Maynard Owen Williams, photographer and writer, of the NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE staff, was sent with the expedition. Mr. Howard R. Flint, Regional Forest Inspector of the United States Forest Serv- ice, was assigned by that organization to study the plants and animals. 95 Dean A. W. Fahrenwald, metallurgist and educator, accompanied the expedition in his capacity as Director of the Idaho Bureau of Mines and Geology. U. S. Representative D. Worth Clark, of Idaho, an enthusiast for the trip since it was first proposed, was made a member of the expedition because of his interest in the primitive areas of his native State. The Salmon River rises amid rugged peaks of the Sawtooth Range, over 10,000 feet high. From this spectacular beginning the river flows through valley and canyon to its confluence with the Snake near where Oregon, Washington, and Idaho meet (map, page 105) . In 390 miles it falls more than a vertical mile. The Salmon River Canyon is one of the deepest and most rugged in North America. From rim to river its depth in several places exceeds 6,000 feet. This is more than that of the equally wide Grand Can- yon of the Colorado, about 5,500 feet deep near Bright Angel Canyon, but less than that of the Snake River Canyon, which not far from He Devil peak is 7,900 feet deep. MANY MET DEATH FROM "LEAD POISONING" Except for occasional Indians, man played little part in the early history of the country. In 1861 gold was discovered near the canyon brink. Wades of pros- pectors from California and Oregon swept eastward, meeting a westward- advancing army from the Atlantic. Road agents and gamblers rubbed shoulders with miners and merchants. Before vigilante committees curbed crime, many met sudden death by "lead poisoning." From mushroom mining camps at Flor- ence, Elk City, Warren, Dixie, Leesburg, and Grantsville (now part of Leesburg) mil- lions poured into the war - depleted treasury of President Lincoln. Rich pockets sometimes yielded a hun- dred dollars to a shovelful. When the richest ground was skimmed, the impatient miners departed, leaving the "diggins" to Chinese, who flocked to the placers after helping to complete the Central Pacific Railroad (page 122). 96 THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE FORESTS OF PAST AGES ARE BURIED IN THESE SHALE BEDS An outcrop of the Latah formation along the North -South Highway near White Bird makes a "happy hunting ground" for paleobotanists. Fossil plants of many species are abundant here where the authors are prospecting for them. In 1877, under the able leadership of Chief Joseph, the Nez Perce Indians went on the warpath, and participated in one of the most remarkable running fights on rec- ord. In 1878 the Bannock Indians killed a number of white settlers. In 1879 a group of renegade Sheepeater (Tukuarika) In- dians, after fighting several hard battles in the upper Salmon River country, were fi- nally captured. So ended Idaho's Indian wars. Civilization again pushed forward in a more or less circumspect manner. Occa- sionally the new citizen miner would hear the call of gold and rush off to some "big strike," but usually returned with little more than hands in his pockets. In 1898 -9 rich gold lodes were discovered at Buffalo Hump and Thunder Mountain. Hundreds flocked to new diggings that soon petered out. A landslide wiped out Roosevelt, the only town at Thunder Mountain (p. 119) . The panic of 1907 finished Buffalo Hump. THE UNEMPLOYED TURN TO MINING Now, along with other early -day camps, both districts are awakening because of bet- ter transportation and dearer gold. The Forest Service and C.C.C. are construct- ing much needed roads. The unemployed have turned to gold pan and rocker. To our wild boat ride we added side trips to spots where history is repeating itself. First, with Allen Merritt, of Salmon, DOWN IDAHO'S RIVER OF NO RETURN qq Photograph by Washington National Guard SOLDIER BAR LANDING FIELD TYPIFIES THE DIFFICULTIES AND DANGERS OF FLYING IN CENTRAL IDAHO Perched on a small terrace in Big Creek Canyon, this Forest Service aviation base (the light spot lower right) derives its name from the fact that a soldier killed in the Sheepeater Indian War was buried in its soil. The small field is used principally to unload men and equipment to battle forest fires in the isolated region around it. we went by car to Redfish Lake, a source of the Salmon River. We skimmed smoothly over new gravel roads, now past bluffs cut in sediments accumulated when the entire valley was a lake bed, now along the river's edge through ancient lava flows, or slates deposited as clay millions of years ago. We passed small farms along the river and honked through flocks of sheep on their way to winter pasture. As we rounded a curve near the Pahsi- meroi River, which heads near Borah Peak, 12,655 feet high, we came upon a band of half -wild horses herded by two cow- boys. The Pahsimeroi Valley has produced some of the finest cattle and rough- riding cowboys in the United States. Amid white -faced cattle we rolled into the flat country which centers around the little town of Challis. Here we met Pete Grubb, a champion rodeo rider. After 24 miles of crooked, bumpy road our route melted into a wide highway. Steam shovels were even then at work and we paused to watch the giant machines gulp great mouthfuls of broken rock. Beyond canyon country painted with splotches of yellow and gold by an early frost we came to Stanley and Redfish 98 THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE THE MASTER CRAFTSMAN SURVEYS HIS BRAIN CHILD A veteran riverman, Captain Harry Guleke, the first man to navigate successfully the Salmon River Canyon, fondles the sweeps of the Expedition's scow built from his own design (pages 95 and 99). Forty years ago, before anyone else had dared to make the passage, Guleke worked his way through the gorge, first learning the secrets of one rapid before attempting the next. Lake. A Basque sheepherder and his flock lent a pastoral touch to the evening scene at the lake. Back at Salmon we wasted little time in seeking our beds —for tomorrow we ex- pected a Washington National Guard plane from Spokane for aerial photography above the canyon. At the landing field, provided by Salm- on's flying mayor, Flint warmly greeted Observer E. C. French and his old friend and flying companion, Pilot Clare Hart- nett. These men, at Flint's request, and in recognition of the National Geographic So- ciety, generously flew 2,000 miles over dangerous mountain country to take the aerial photographs used in this article. With an afternoon storm already clouding the scene to the west, the plane, refueled, soared gracefully back in the direction whence it had come, while we returned to the river. A BOAT FOR AN EXTRAORDINARY VOYAGE Our 32 -foot boat was almost complete. The 28 -foot sweeps, with their 6 -foot blades, were in place and by tomorrow it would be ready to "sail." What a strange craft it was! To Williams it looked like an antediluvian ark sired by some prehis- toric mail -order packing case. An elevated platform in the center gave the boatmen foothold and a better view while steering. The bottom of this de- ceivingly maneuverable scow was doubly lined with green lumber to withstand the shock of submerged rocks. A raised floor was to keep the seepage water from wetting the equipment. Between double walls on each side were stored our canned goods. DOWN IDAHO'S RIVER OF NO RETURN The boat, of a model unchanged since Guleke invented it, weighed about five tons when loaded. Without motive power, it looked clumsy. We were to learn later, however, that Hancock and Cunningham, with sweeps balanced like laboratory scales, could manipulate with surprising dexterity the best -known and most - photographed scow that ever bumped its uneven way down Salmon River. About 10 a. m. on October 4 Captain Guleke grasped the front sweep, and our scow, empty because of low water, left its birthplace, never to return (pages 94, 109). Although the old riverman has probably taken his last boat through the canyon the light of adventure still shone brightly in his eyes as he steered our craft the first few hundred yards down the river he conquered but could not tame. After floating under Salmon's new bridge, we disembarked to put in our time in side trips while the barge descended toward deeper water for cargo and passengers. To inspect the rugged uplands we motored to the Big Horn Crags country, where Supervisor John Kinney, of the Salmon National Forest, had arranged for Ranger Gutzman to meet us with horses. In the sixties the gold of Napias Creek attracted 7,000 adventurers, many of them Civil War veterans, and rival factions built up almost overnight the towns of Lees- burg and Grantsville. At Forney we turned west over Quartzite Mountain to our ren- dezvous. WHEN THE CANYON WAS "IMPASSABLE" For eight miles we rode our horses deeper and deeper into the crag country. What peculiar yet beautiful freaks of weathering they were, rearing their pock- marked faces spirelike to the sky! Re- luctantly we turned back, creakingly crawled into our car, and drove into Salm- on under a star - covered sky, tired and stiff. We set out on Sunday morning to rejoin our scow at Ebenezer Bar. After 10 miles of wide, cultivated valley the canyon narrows, and at 23 miles below Salmon we noted a decided "pinching in" of the walls. Near this place Toby, an In- dian guide of the Lewis and Clark expedi- tion, had convinced Captain Clark that the Salmon River Canyon was impassable, and here the party had turned north to seek a less forbidding "gateway" to the Pacific by way of the Lolo Pass. 99 We followed the river to Shoup, named in honor of Idaho's first State Governor and United States Senator. It is a strange - looking old place with building lots stand- ing on end, a town where for several years freight and supplies have been transferred from truck to horse. Although Shoup is now booming and new roads simplify trans- portation, the pack train will not soon end its usefulness in this rugged region. Near the mouth of Panther Creek we in- spected Indian paintings on the rocks, and piles of mussel shells left at an old camp site. Later we were to see many such paint- ings, as well as numerous petroglyphs (fig- ures cut into rocks), in both the Salmon and Snake River Canyons (page 121). Indians today have no knowledge of the origin or interpretation of these figures. However, since many portray the mountain sheep, the symbol of the Tukuarika, or Sheepeaters, it seems likely that this tribe was responsible for part of the inscriptions. When we reached the boat, we found many people had motored down from Salmon to wish us godspeed on our 2,355 - foot descent to Lewiston, 253 miles away. Low light on the water made it difficult to see hidden rocks, and Captain Hancock sug- gested that we postpone our start until morning. Though our scow had looked unwieldy, this advice seemed overcautious. "They're tired," we thought. But before the trip was over we had absolved our boatmen of undue caution and had developed a bit ourselves. We slept in a newly completed camp whence C.C.C. workers are pushing a road down the river with dynamite and "bulldozers," heavy tractors used for shov- ing obstructions out of the way. Dave Chard's "Come and get it," at day- light, referred to delicious sourdough hot cakes. Dave had installed his kitchen after leaving Salmon, and a full -sized iron range now sat in a corner of the scow, with work benches close at hand. Since the boat was heavily loaded and the water low in the Lake Creek Rapids, we struck out on foot immediately after breakfast. We were greeted at the Pope Ranch by Mrs. Mills, an old- fashioned little lady who had read THE GEOGRAPHIC for many years and was familiar with Williams' articles. She said she had thought it possible that she might meet him in China or Afghanistan, but that she never had expected to be intro- duced to him in the Salmon River Canyon. 117 116 115 114 ' gt On O .Ste Vel sCr3 f...1 ; Lewiston .� ` ���iD .� �'� 1 w�' �d}t, ni��j- ,�, }j� ��,f � �� � � � 3�f�.��•� � � � •��f� sotin p(? z - - ID a 0t@ '^ �1 ` hes Winc te N @ Nezperce. Kamtah rrP�fl 'fl�it�` �1rrP�j�f l i�}; {4j�(t#'4 ��� e f/am12?r3fi $rj rr R rtf,ec s i3'f3 '( r5 t9 e Rap or st m�ysi�,� �r c� t �Sll�tj°�ti k U l`�j41 ,o9ab1 a poi B dy 4 z1 pottonwood 46 Ld Da x� Rapids dsU- :: M O -U' A I N� �iS 11 ��` o� Darby. 'L 'are �+. ��l/ P_ .S'7LR,OL 46 � e R RcL Lds T` D ?N,1 ®N�'ANA; Tl� .a_ p �: T�, ^� r� �• fr �E ll o qK �. JOSEPH �' PLZr� a18 t' �}' PLAINS nyon .r', i n -1 Ca li ri # e f1 •a - 024 Jf�:ir�' +�r ji`. �.. : `� (� t �`�'4`k``` -, hiteBir U -` ii -- -. - }5 80 Alf Sill Q 4das sXangt�`'lt a �`;x y Pk. Hnmprt R E �' Q +Gospel +buffalo °SlatePt. c -,1ft ! LZ V Dixte� ' L� A ! 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LHof Springs Lookozif sr ,ation �- n1 = A F o L fl/ k-1 opLCLs ut t o saa = R,99 ( apC as 1 Bud gddrf r i 1'tys fit✓ ooe 1 TH�arren Steamboat , t � habch LeBiury ��)t41> ���� Baas .'it ' Creek 1 n r v° �5 —� +Warr n Sutiifil r � P +Secesh a a 11 Salmon v South Fork Summit I l � Ranger Station �sa,i +cathedral: i`wardsburg m Rock ar+ r $O d 1zi?e Mtn + µ�yu n9 STATUTE MILES =� ,rte Ld 117 116 LONGITUDE WEST OF GREENWICH 115 114 Drawn by Nem THE RIVER OF NO RETURN ROARS TUMULTUOUSLY THROUGH SOME OF THE RUGGEDEST MOUNTAIN COUNTRY Photograph by Washington National Guard THE SWITCH -BACK ON IDAHO'S NORTH -SOUTH HIGHWAY ZIGZAGS UP A LAVA HILL BETWEEN WHITE BIRD AND GRANGEVILLE At the foot of this tortuous climb Chief Joseph and his band of braves, in June, 1877, fought one of the opening battles of the Nez Perc€ Indian war (page 96). Memory of the soldiers and Indians who gave up their lives is perpetuated by monuments close to the highway. The dark, burned -over area on the left side indicates that a recent grass fire failed to jump the road. 0 N 0 w THE SCOW IDLES THROUGH QUIET WATER BELOW FREEDOM The river once flowed through the gap in the background, but gradually wore a new channel through more easily eroded rock. Thus the stream has reversed the usual process of geology by making a circuitous horseshoe bend rather than following its more direct old course. 104 THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE A HOMELY PARADISE NESTLES DEEP WITHIN ENCLOSING CANYON WALLS The cabin lies on a low terrace surrounded by stately ponderosa pines. In it lives John Cunningham, the expedition's second boatman, whose chief outside contact is the NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE. After the crew had sampled Jack's watermelons, he showed them his fruit cupboard bulging with bright bottles of preserved raspberries, strawberries, peaches, and apricots, all raised in his garden (page 108). 'R OF NO RETURN 105 117 -.. 116 115 114 e Gensee -7 5to Loo f t /Pas Stevens i{lt �tiearwQter� re o h e`Wiston s�f a Valle biz Nezperc amiah K r Winchester Rogeisburg T ANA n •Cottonwoodby. Grange v111e 7 i Et Joseph i Ci � WhiteBzrd /�NEZPERCE � D U Freegom �rATIONAL, T ORE GO Buffalo Num �� � f j � Lucil�ll ORESTi / /ff Rig�jns s_VEV iSaL // a "EV,L.s Shoup urdrl/ sn IDAHO ^N NATIONAL FORE,S� Leesburg. O Salmon I %Edwardsburg ��SALMON 1 ' % /NATIONAL 45 S o2sevett I_,- FOREST 1, 45 NewMe dews• Pc etteL ke�lcike hunderM4: `Forn 8h U ` 0 N R I V E R � M O. 1,1 N� A ( N 5 a .o �( P Cha ill s• tC Weis. r � e / ICI French 10 (0 Faj!ette • f�9TATUTfi u ,116 BoraF�Peak' M IIES% Rarf t✓,Py iLSlL LCLIGB 655 117 LONGITUDE WEST OF 115 G R E E N WIGM 114 Drawn by Newman Bumstead SCIENTISTS SOUGHT TO DISCOVER THE EXTENT OF THE IDAHO BATHOLITH This huge mass of granite (the shaded portion of the map) was long a challenge to geologists. In the trip down the Salmon River, the National Geographic Society -U. S. Geological Survey Expedition obtained valuable data on the colossal body of rock (page 136). Jack Cunningham joined us; and we got into the scow. We were now embarked on the "River of No Return." "SALMON RIVER, LET DER BUCK" As we approached the Long Tom Rapids, we could see the expression change in the eyes of our boatmen. With faces set and bodies tense, they picked their way toward the white - flecked crest of roaring water. This lull before the storm we were later to experience many times. The roaring grew louder and louder, and ahead of us we could see "white water" dashing over partly ex- posed bowlders. If there was a channel, our inexperienced eyes could not detect it. But on we went; there was no turning back. A quick surge, a rush of water, a few strokes of the sweeps, and we were through! At one moment a huge rock blocked our path. Then it lay behind. With each rapid our respect for the boatmen grew. Their timing and pre- cision were perfect. Near the mouth of the Middle Fork, Clyde Smith led us up to a high bluff, from 106 THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE Photograph by Washington National Guard HOT SPRINGS LOOKOUT STATION IS PERCHED PRECARIOUSLY ABOVE THE CANYON From such vantage points (right) lookouts keep a constant vigil during the forest -fire season. To the right of the Salmon River, the new highway winds through the gorge and passes the town of Shoup, around the bend in the background. which we could see steelheads (sometimes known as salmon trout) sporting in the crystal -clear water far below (page 94). FISHING ON THE SIDE With light tackle Dean Fahrenwald hooked a fifteen- pounder —one which jumped two or three feet clear of the water. It was beautiful to behold, its glistening green sides tinted with brilliant red. When we started up Middle Fork with the Smiths and Tom Ayers, Flint was carefully study- ing it while Clark and Fahrenwald were at work on the radio. At the mouth of the Middle Fork we had not entered the Idaho Batholith, whereas in the Big Horn Crags country, less than 10 miles to the south, we had found solid granite. A short trip up the canyon might disclose its edge; therefore, while Clyde Smith, stripped to the waist, stood in the bow of his bateau, the rest of us, rubber shod, hauled on the towrope to the "Song of the Volga Boatman." Over slide rock and up steep bluffs we scrambled, while Clyde pushed and tugged with a long pole. Where we could neither scramble nor climb we took to the water (page 114). At dusk, after three glorious miles, we reached an old camp. On each side of us walls of solid rock, forming a box canyon, rose straight toward the sky. Far above our camp six mountain goats stood like statues, their white coats in F - DOWN IDAHO'S RIVER OF NO RETURN 107 DENSE FOREST OF THE FLORENCE DISTRICT HIDES THIS CABIN In their comfortable shelter the two sourdoughs (prospectors) in shirt sleeves will "batch it" through the long winter. By Christmas the snow will cover the eaves, but with a good supply of "grub" in their larder and summer promised by next June they face the future with a smile. EVEN IN THE WILDS, THE MACHINE AGE HAS ARRIVED A gasoline - powered washing machine, brought by river boat to this ranch deep in the canyon, helped the captain's sister -in -law perform her household duties much as they are done in the towns. 108 THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE strong contrast with the dark rocks. When night closed in, they were still maintaining their silent vigil. Next morning, although we had not found the batholith contact, we had to turn back and, with Don Smith at the head sweep and Clyde at the rear, we slid back down the Middle Fork, over thundering falls and rapids, with apparent abandon. At one point the bright morning sun shone on an emerald -green bluff 500 feet above us. After scaling it, we were disap- pointed to find the copper stain only skin - deep and not the weathered outcrop of a real copper vein. We were reminded of the old saying that there is enough copper in a penny to stain a mountain. Such disillusionment is the everyday fare of the hardy prospector in his constant search for gold. A few strike it rich, but most of them barely eke out "beans." Back at our scow, Flint and Clark, in radio contact with Salmon, reported all well. Everyone was in high spirits, although Captain Hancock and Flint had colds. At dusk we camped near the mouth of Bear Basin Creek a few hundred feet be- low some inventor's dream of a short cut to riches, a suction dredge. Since the ma- chinery was still in place, it appeared that the inventor had only lately been rudely awakened. Jack Cunningham's ranch, situated on an alluvial flat at the mouth of Butts Creek, is framed by high, jagged walls (page 104). Along the river, cottonwoods bedecked in yellow and gold rivaled the more brilliantly colored huckleberry and sumac bushes of the hillsides. WHERE WILDERNESS IS PARADISE In the rustic interior of Jack's cabin, which is reached only by boat or by Forest Service trail over the mountains to the north, were copies Of the NATIONAL GEO- GRAPHIC MAGAZINE since 1916, most of which he had practically committed to memory. His larder was stocked to over- flowing with enough preserved fruits and jellies to cause any housewife envy, and from a corner he brought forth watermelons and two jars of home -made wine. The garden furnishes fruits and vege- tables, the cows and chickens supply milk and eggs, and the hillside behind the house yields meat in the form of venison, moun- tain goat, and bighorn sheep. The hydrau- lic placer mine below the orchard and an occasional boat trip supply funds for cloth- ing, magazines, and books. Perhaps Para- dise is like that! A short distance below Jack's place a miner had constructed a crude water wheel by which old coffee and lard cans lifted the water into a trough (p. 120). This device, as it swished and creaked, reminded Wil- liams of similar ones he had seen in Szech- wan, China, and on the Oronte River in Syria. We ended the day by shooting Horse Creek Rapids, much like a dozen others we had been through. Also, like most of the others, these rapids were formed by rocky alluvial fans deposited in the river by tribu- tary streams. Above the fans the water is generally ponded to form the stretches of "polished water." At a sandbar just below a Forest Service pack bridge our Nimrods shouldered rifles and hit off up Horse Creek in an unsuccessful attempt "to replenish the meat supply." Big game had thus far been scarce. The usual mid - September storms had not ar- rived, so most of the deer and bighorn sheep were still up in the high country. BETWEEN WALLS IN THE IDAHO BATHOLITH Below Horse Creek are some unusually fine Indian paintings high on a bluff. John E. Rees says these figures tell of a battle in which many warriors and a chief were killed (page 121). Here, 20 miles farther downstream than we had expected, we entered the Idaho Batholith (p. 105). For the next 90 miles we were to pass between wide - spread can- yon walls carved more than a mile deep al- most entirely from this great granite mass. The day was clear and warm. After stretches of polished water, clumsy rapids tumbled us about. But except in Rainier and Devils Teeth our anxious moments were few. Next morning we inspected a quartz vein situated a half mile below Big Squaw Creek camp. Where exposed it was 30 to 50 feet wide, but it had a "lean" look. A new location certificate and recently dug pits served notice that some prospectors "had 'er made." We were approaching Salmon Falls, the rapid that only two years before had almost taken the life of Captain Guleke. Now, be- cause of unusually low water, it was par- ticularly dangerous. To select the south DOWN IDAHO'S RIVER OF NO RETURN 109 THERE WAS A ROAR OF RUSHING WHITE WATER; THEN CALM A rapid in the lower canyon above Billie Creek, not dangerous in most years, was a real hazard because of the low stage of the river. All except the boatmen and Shenon, who had bruised his hip in Rice Creek Rapids, disembarked to lighten the craft. THE SCOW LEAVES ITS BIRTHPLACE, NEVER TO RETURN Because of exceptionally low water the good ship National Geographic Society is riding light and equipment will be loaded at Ebenezer Bar, at the end of the Salmon River road (page 94). 0 FIDDLE CREEK RAPIDS ARE NO PLACE FOR PLEASURE PADDLING! The thunder of the rapids, the faint shouts of the crew, and the express -train speed of the boat seem expressed by this picture of a breath - taking ride. For 33 miles below Riggins the North -South Highway follows the Salmon River. Crowds along the road, after watching the scow "take" one rapid, rushed ahead to the next. They had one opportunity to make return for their entertainment by pulling the craft off the rocks. 114 THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE THE BOX CANYON OF THE MIDDLE FORK PUT UP ACTIVE RESISTANCE While four of the party tugged to the tune of the "Volga Boatman,." Clyde Smith pushed and pried to keep his small craft off projecting rocks. A QUIET STRETCH ON THE MIDDLE FORK MEANT TOIL FOR SOME While his fellows scrambled over slide rock or bluffs with the towrope, Clyde Smith stood poised to push his bateau away from submerged rocks. Where the towing crew could neither scramble nor climb, they took to the water with the rope. IPA F. DOWN IDAHO'S RIVER OF NO RETURN 115 SALMON FALLS TOSSED THE SCOW UPON PROJECTING ROCKS Here the rocks almost proved the expedition's undoing. While two prospectors pried with a long pole, Wil- liams, after taking this picture, braced his back against a huge bowlder and pushed with his feet. THE SAIL PROVED MORE OF A HINDRANCE THAN A HELP Reed and Chard tried to make the scow a "windjammer" in a stretch of "polished water," but their scheme was not entirely successful because the tarpaulin obstructed the view of the boatmen and the wind started to blow upstream. 116 THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE RAPIDS AHEAD! THERE'S THE COURSE! The short log attached to the sweep near Captain Hancock's hand balanced the steering device like a laboratory scale. About midway through the canyon the boatman replaced his first piece of sapling by another, for the green wood bad dried out enough to become lighter than he liked. QUICK FOOTWORK PREVENTED THE SCOW'S BEING SUCKED SIDEWISE INTO A RAPID Here in the Green Canyon, as elsewhere, a wrong choice of channel might have meant disaster. At some bad places the boatmen went ahead on the bank to pick the best course. Care was taken going down rapids, for if the bow sweep should "trip" or become caught in an eddy, the handle would be wrenched violently from the boatman's hands and the craft would be out of control. DOWN IDAHO'S RIVER OF NO RETURN channel would probably spell disaster; to use the north one almost certainly meant a hang -up on protruding rocks. With a I creak and a groan the boat slid upon the b wlders and stopped short —stuck fast! Tw placer miners, who had come to watch the fun, dashed to the rescue. With a long pol they pried while the boatmen tugged on their sweeps. Williams, lying flat with his shoulders against a rock, shoved wit both feet (p. 115) . Grudgingly the boat gave way and then, like a fallen warrior running the gauntlet, it was off again with 4 rush between lines of bowlders. At Bart s Hot Springs a copious flow of hot water 'sues from joints in the granite. Its temper ture, about 134 degrees Fahr- enheit, is hotter than we could stand. The river as 54 degrees Fahrenheit, too Me for co fort. Where a big stream of hot water joined the cold, w underwent the peculiar sensa- tion of sta ding in a bathtub in which the water chilled our feet and at the same time nearly scalded our shoulders. Flint felt better after his bath, but dur- ing the rai y night he somehow rolled out of bed, and efore he was thoroughly awake was wet to I the skin. In the morning he was weak and we decided to rush him to a hospital. Reed walked ahead to a Forest Service phone. The rest of us broke camp, carried Flint to the boat, and set out in the rain. Arrangem nts were made for a plane piloted by ick Johnson, Flint's buddy on many a ha ardous trip, to fly from Mis- soula, Mont Lna, to Mackay Bar, a flat ter- race which the only emergency landing field in the c nyon. Even that was 25 miles away —two days by boat. Everything else was forgotte . We had to get Flint out! THE RIVER BARES ITS TEETH A mile bel w Allison's ranch we escaped disaster. A 1 except Dave Chard, Flint, and the boat an had unloaded for a rapid which, exce for being shallow, did not look particu arly bad. However, as the boat swung to avoid one bowlder it smashed into another with enough force to throw it partly out on the shore. For an instant it perched at a dizzy angle and then glided back into the water. We touched at the Ayers ranch only long enough for Captain Hancock to say hello to his wife and then on we splashed through the Big Mallard and Little Mallard Rapids to the Growler Rapids. 117 With Flint confined to his sleeping bag, we could take no chances. Hancock chose the safer but shallower channel, toward which the heavy boat plunged at top speed. Then a sickening creak and groan, and we were stuck, this time on a three -point sus- pension that held with viselike tenacity. For two hours we pried and pulled, to no avail. The dean cut a long pole while the rest of us tediously unloaded the boat over a slippery bridge of saplings. Then, with a rope tied two feet or so from the bottom end, we applied the tree -trunk lever and, led by Representative Clark, pulled as never before (page 123). The boat moved. inches. Again .'we pulled. It moved a foot, then two feet, then slipped free. Though darkness was upon us, we pushed on to the hospitality of Joe Zunmiller's ranch, where Flint was given broth and placed in a warm bed. The early -day trail to Thunder Mountain crosses the river at , this place, known as Campbells Ferry. Near it we found hun- dreds of dikes cutting the granite. They line up with the dike zone of the Edwards - burg district, where they are closely as- sociated with gold deposits. AN AIRPLANE TO THE RESCUE In the cold dawn we carried Flint down to the scow on an improvised stretcher. On through rapids and polished water we hur- ried. At noon we chatted a few minutes with Mrs. Jones and Mr. Painter. On the previous day, this fine old gentle- man had celebrated his seventy- fourth birthday. Years before, he had hired Cap- tain Guleke to float from Salmon nine boat- loads of machinery, which is now installed at his mine. Although one boat was wrecked, Captain Guleke had delivered all the machinery. The moment the boat touched shore at Mackay Bar, we climbed to the landing field, to find Dick Johnson, who had just landed, looking for us. While he was cruis- ing about, seeking a place to land in the depth of the_ canyon, his gasoline supply had run low and he had made a side trip to replenish it from a Forest Service cache in Chamberlain Basin. After seeing the landing field, we could well understand why this small, powerful plane had been selected. We arranged an improvised bed in the front cockpit, bun- dled Flint in his sleeping bag, and fastened two safety belts securely over all (page 124). 118 THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE As he bade us farewell, his last words were: "Well, fellows, if the doc lets me, I'll join you at Riggins," and then up into the familiar and friendly sky he sailed with his old flying comrade, winging his way toward the "Great Divide." While we made camp, two visitors ap- proached us. One of them, a former trapper named Moore, had been badly mangled several years earlier by the explosion of a box of giant caps when he started a fire in a deserted cabin. He had suffered four days of agony before his partner arrived. Today Mackay Bar landing field is a monument to the suffering Moore endured. This crippled man cleared it himself so that if others in this back country should meet with misfortune their trials would be less than his. To this field Dick Johnson had dropped from the sky for his last rendez- vous with his old air buddy, Howard Flint. Flint's death in Missoula, Montana, while the expedition was in progress took from us a beloved companion and ended the career of a true scientist. He was an avid student, and his many years of experience as Forest Supervisor, aerial photographer, and Re- gional Forest Inspector had enriched him with encyclopedic knowledge of mountain lore. The next morning a big yellow and green plane bearing the insignia of the Washing- ton National Guard hove in sight. Our friends Hartnett and French were with us again. Three times they tried to bring their plane down on the tiny field, but had to zoom past to avoid the hills. Shortly after we passed the mouth of the South Fork, a message fluttered to earth. Not having heard about Flint's sickness, they were at a loss to know why they could not reach us by radio. Flint alone knew how to operate ours. From the Shepp ranch, a few miles farther downstream, we sent them a message of explanation. ROMANCE FROM PIONEER DAYS Across the river stood the former house of Polly Bemis, "the Chinese slave girl," about whom many legendary tales have been told. We asked an old- timer, "Is it true Polly was won in a poker game ?" "Well," he replied, lifting the greasy brim of his old hat to scratch his head, "poker had something to do with it. War- ren was a wild town in those days and gold dust and poker chips seemed to reach out toward each other. "But Polly? It's a shame to spoil a good story. They're getting scarce. But I guess the fact was that Bemis got hurt in a poker game, Polly nursed him back to health, and Nature and a minister did the rest." For many years the generous hospitality of Polly and her husband was a byword among the mountain people. Her death, three years ago, removed Salmon River's most romantic figure. The Forest Service cabin at the mouth of Sheep Creek was occupied by miners, so we spread our beds on the sandbar. Next morning, after collecting samples of concentrates from one of the sluice boxes, we passed through several exciting rapids, including Sheep Creek and Carey Falls. A stiff up -river breeze developed in the afternoon and in stretches of polished water we "spelled off" on some crudely improvised oars. ROADS UNLOCK THE MOUNTAINS Near French Creek we heard blasts, and saw rocks falling into the river. For the first time in a hundred miles we were now in sight of a road. As we drew closer, we could make out C.C.C. boys, like ants on the hillside, drilling or prying away at bowlders. We stayed that night at the C.C.C. camp, and next morning two New York boys waked us while kindling a fire. When it was going well, we ventured out of the blan- kets. We missed our downy sleeping bags under a canopy of clouds and stars; but a roaring stove and a dry floor on a frosty morning were easy to take. With the officers of the French Creek camp and Ranger Briggs and Fritchman of the ever - helpful Forest Service, we left our scow and started the long automobile climb out of the canyon to have a look at mining and forestry activities. From a bend we could see the road weaving back and forth above us, in and out of a small valley, in a breath - taking series of switch - backs. This road is one of an amazing number built in the last few years by the Forest Service and the C.C.C. (page 127). Sup- plemented by mountain- meadow airplane fields, such highways have revolutionized transportation in central Idaho. Last sum- mer when the Warren baseball team played Elk City, 40 miles away across the canyon, the team went by plane in 20 minutes. The present road distance is about 140 miles, practically all mountainous, but still I I i DOWN IDAHO'S RIVER OF NO RETURN 119 and rainbow trout. 120 THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE THE RED MAN NOW REACHES HIS HUNTING GROUND BY AUTOMOBILE The adventurers met these members of the Nez Perce tribe while they were on their way into the Nezperce National Forest to shoot deer. The old brave cannot speak English, but through an interpreter he said he well remembers the Nez Perce war of 1877. Comparison of the man's hands with those of his wife illustrates the Indian custom of letting the squaws do the manual labor. MINERS HARNESS THE SALMON TO SEPARATE GOLD FROM DROSS So swift is the current that it easily turns the crude paddles of this wheel. Coffee cans fastened on the. wheel scoop up water and pour it into the trough. Led to a sluice box on a trestle, it washes the earth and gravel and leaves the precious metal on the bottom. good enoug to make an a sy day's drive. my about five y ars ago, however, the road distance was 225 miles, and much of it st ep and rocky, so that at least th ee days would h ve been required or the trip. Pack train a d foot travel re still in vogue in large areas t inaccessible y road, and will e for many yea s to come. The mounta hotel, store, an few cabins th t constitute Bur - dorf have grow up beside a freel flowing hot sprin in which the na tives bathe out doors, even in th dead of winte with the temper ature at 40 de- grees below zero. Faces are sur- rounded by a heavy coating of frost as bathers dash to the warmth of the glowing hotel stove. This is the only settlement for miles. Twenty -se en miles away (as the crow flies) over ecesh Summit lies Mc- Call, at the sout end of Payette Lake. Twelve miles east and Warren still mines gold; and 22 mi es northwestward, on Salmon River, is iggins, on the Idaho North -South High ay. A short divergen a took us to a tall steel ome whence an unob- stretches in all direc- , at our feet, yawned more than a mile deep tower on structed tions. To the northwar d DOWN IDAHO'S RIVER OF NO RETURN 121 PRESENT -DAY INDIANS CANNOT READ THESE PICTOGRAPHS John E. Rees, a student of Idaho Indian history, says this group on the north side of the river below Horse Creek records a battle in which many braves and a chief were killed. The paintings are in red on a gray back- ground. The nature of the pigment has not been determined, but it has soaked into the rock for about a sixteenth of an inch and is not just a surface coating (pages 99, 108). Carey panorama the mighty canyon,. and about eight miles wide, and beyond stretched mile after mile of our old stamp- ing ground, the Nezperce National Forest, where we had worked as members of the U. S. Geological Survey. Oregon Butte, Buffalo Hump, Gospel Peak, Black Butte, and Nut Basin —all were clearly visible in the clear, cold air. In the west, the jagged Seven Devils Mountains pierced the sky above America's deepest canyon —that of the Snake (see page 95). From our - eminence we could pick out more than a half dozen lookout stations 122 THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE A DARING YOUNG.MAN RIDES A "FLYING TRAPEZE" TO HIS MINING CAMP Don Smith of the Middle Fork demonstrates the operation of one of the cable cars used in the Salmon River Canyon to transport passengers and goods from bank to bank. forming part of the marvelous network from which, in the dry summer season, watchful eyes are constantly on guard to spot and quickly report that great destroyer of the forests —fire. A "GHOST TOWN" RESURRECTED The strident note of an iron poker beat- ing a steel triangle was our breakfast call on the 17th. Then Briggs and Fritchman appeared in their Forest Service truck, and we were off for Warren. At Steamboat Creek we saw our first gold dredge, looking like a Mississippi River steamboat lost in the mountains. Much of the valley has been dug up by these floating monsters, which chew away hunks of landscape and spew out worked - over gravel as they swing back and forth across the flat. In their wake they leave a gleaming, hummocky, and totally barren surface marked by crescentic bowlder ridges that cross and recross the valleys as if raked there by a gigantic comb (p. 131) . Warren, twice a ghost town, is now in its third period of activity. The depression, $35 gold, and more efficient handling of low -grade gravels have resurrected the once glamorous town (page 125). Three dredges and a quartz mine are operating 24 hours a day. Prospectors are scouring the hills for likely places to dig from old Mother Earth her well - guarded treasures of precious metals. Some have set up sluice boxes in valleys already placered two or three times by whites and Chinese and are extracting fair wages from the worked -over ground and the few patches of virgin gravel overlooked by earlier miners. Here on a steep hillside is all that re- mains of an old placer ditch, dug for miles with infinite labor and patience, and used to carry water for washing gold from some rushing mountain stream to the diggings. Occasionally one finds windowless cabins, not much larger than dog houses, once the homes of Chinese miners. Thousands of these Orientals, released from the Central Pacific payroll after a golden spike joined DOWN IDAHO'S RIVER OF NO RETURN 123 AN OLD CITY FIRE ENGINE PUMPS WATER FOR PLACER MINERS A few miles below Freedom prospectors work the gravel on the terraces above the river. As the expedition boat passed this old "fire hog" a blast from its proud whistle announced high noon. THE SCOW HAD TO BE LIGHTENED BY A TON AND A HALF The rushing water of the Growler Rapids served only to lodge the boat more firmly on the rocks. In desperation the crew finally unloaded, over an improvised gangplank of pine poles, some of the heavier pieces of freight, such as the radio batteries. The high- riding scow was finally pulled free by means of a lever pole attached to the rope fastened to the bow. 124 THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE FIVE MILE RAPIDS ALMOST GET THEIR PREY The bend here is so sharp and the current so swift that the scow was flung up on a shelving rock before it could be brought about. It tipped enough to ship water, but fortunately slid free and continued unharmed. The backbone of the craft is made of green timber and is flexible, so that one corner can tip up at an alarming degree without injury or danger of upsetting. PILOT DICK JOHNSON FLEW INTO THE CANYON TO RUSH FLINT TO A HOSPITAL Howard Flint contracted a cold on the trip which aggravated a sinus infection and had to be flown out of the narrow canyon. His parting words to his companions as they put him aboard the plane were: "Well, fellows, if the doc lets me, I'll join you at Riggins." But he never returned (page 118). DOWN IDAHO'S RIVER OF NO RETURN 125 ! MINING CAMPS, LIKE CATS, HAVE MANY LIVES Warren, a "ghost town," is now experiencing its third boom. A roaring placer camp in the sixties, dead 'n the seventies, revived in the eighties, dead again in the early 1900's, it is now resurrected in,the 1930's (page 122). that railroad $nd the Union Pacific on May 10, 1869, swarmed over the mining camps of the North est, making a living from ground too le n for the white men. Copper opi m boxes about the size of cigarette packages are still common around these cabins and occasionally flagonlike rice - whisky bottles of pottery are found, some still pr es' rued in the original wicker baskets in vZ h they traveled from China nearly 70 year ago. Trees more han 50 years old grow in some of the old pits, but it will take a long time for Natur to hide all the ugly scars of the early go d•rush days. THE MOTOR REACHES THE WILD Today, Warr ;GE n, though over 30 miles from a railroad booming. Unpainted log and board houses closely line the part of the mountain toad that forms the street. But modern ways of living have intruded even into these mountain fastnesses. Late - model cars line the streets; radio aerials, stretching from pine tree to log cabin, link this outpost with the world's broadcasting stations; a plane ',zooms down to its field in the meadow. � One dredge, named "Mickey Mouse" by Al Fisher's two- year -old daughter, had just passed through town; turning back yards into rock piles; and "bulldozers" were again leveling off the town lots ( page 129) . After an elk steak lunch at the Warren hotel we set out, with the foresters and our Army friends from the French Creek C.C.C. camp, for the South Fork Ranger Station. At Warren Summit, a crudely lettered sign announced that here were to be had guides and horses for hunting parties. Guides and horses indeed! A few hours ago at Burgdorf we had seen a car sagging under the weight of three fine deer. The driver was complaining that it was no fun, for his party had shot all three from the road and their whole season was over in 20 minutes! "Couldn't they have held their fire ?" asked Williams, himself incapable of doing so with a camera. Nestled in a scene of grandeur amid high mountains and beside the sparkling stream lies the South Fork Ranger Station— cabin, barn, and warehouse, of which Ranger Briggs and his associates are justly proud. Several lookout men were here on their 126 THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE way to the outside after their lonely sum- mer. Bed rolls, saddles, canned goods, lanterns, tents, shovels, and all the other paraphernalia needed for fire control were being checked and stored. Back at Warren we saw an ancient Chinese gold balance which once belonged to "China Sam." Warren has not been the same since Sam's death, two years ago. Honest, pub- lic- spirited, and industrious, this "heathen Chinee" had the reputation of being War- ren's best citizen. Before rolling down through the night to the French Creek camp, we carried miners' lamps nearly a mile into the Unity Mine at Warren, where a tiny rotary pump kept the drainage of a mountain side from drowning us all like rats in the dark. Across the river from French Creek nestles the house of Mrs. Standish. It is now barricaded by heavy planks. A rock fully a foot thick had been blasted across the river by the road builders and lay partly embedded in the ground just outside her door. Her home boasted a lawn, with piped water and a whirling sprinkler. She even showed us a small potted lemon tree grown in that sunny pocket at the bottom of the canyon. At Howard's ranch our hostess remarked that it was so good to see people after being isolated for many years that she would not have objected had the new road gone right through the "front room." BY RIVER TO RIGGINS A mile below Howard's ranch the river narrows to The Crevice between almost perpendicular granite walls several hun- dred feet high. The C.C.C. lads had been given a holi- day in honor of our voyage, and two truck- loads followed, like a regatta cheering sec- tion, along the corniche road they had built through this difficult region. As we passed under Manning Bridge, it was lined with smiling, cheering faces and waving arms. A brisk run through several rapids put us in Riggins about noon on Saturday, October 19. To most down -river voyagers Riggins is journey's end. Several scows, here broken up after their short but thrilling life of ad- venture, have been transformed into rest - houses for motor travelers. That night we attended a dance in - the schoolhouse. Oxfords, high- heeled cow- boy boots, hobnailed high -tops, silk stock- ings and wool —all were equally at home. People had come for miles, as they do every Saturday night, to this "fifty- gallon" dance. Here were officers and boys from the French Creek camp, the Howards, the Casners from Riggins Hot Springs, "schoolmarms" from White Bird, cowboys, miners, and even grandpa and the babies. On the morning of the 20th, while we were just below Riggins, a plane droned high overhead, zoomed down upon us, prac- ticed aerial acrobatics between the canyon walls, and went its way. It was the Wash- ington National Guard plane again, with Hartnett and French in to photograph us from the air and deliver to us Spokane Sun- day papers before late- rising citizens of that city were out of bed.. Riggins' motorists were out in force, following our progress, or darting ahead to .vantage sites overlooking the rapids, here almost devoid of thrills. From Riggins to White Bird, a distance of 33 miles, the river is paralleled by the Idaho North -South Highway. Throughout this stretch the canyon is generally more open and there are a number of ranches, placer mines, and even two intermediate settlements, Lucile and Freedom. The surface of the older, more resistant rocks of the mountains was beginning to pass below the younger surface formed of the great plateau flows of lava, and these nearly horizontal flows were now visible, capping the hills high above us. As we proceeded, the lava became more and more the dominant rock, sometimes forming the whole canyon. But at most places the river has cut through the flows and thus exposed the older rocks below. THE RIVER MAKES A SUDDEN TURN At Riggins, after maintaining a westerly course for many miles through the moun- tains, the river suddenly turns north and flows roughly parallel to the Snake River a few miles to the west. Apparently a block of the earth's crust roughly coextensive with the area between the two great rivers has been uplifted across what otherwise would have been the course of the Salmon, and thus forced the stream to flow north along the "fault zone" for more than 40 miles. We passed several placer outfits working the bars along the river or the terraces above. New lumber of flumes, sluices, DOWN IDAHO'S RIVER OF NO RETURN 127 Photograph by Washington National Guard C. JC. C. BOYS HEWED THIS ROAD FROM THE CANYON WALLS The route cr wls like a snake more than a vertical half mile up the south face of the Salmon River gorge near iale hmouth of French Creek, the stream at the right (page 118). Rancher York, who farms the s terrace above the creek, is reported to look up his stovepipe in the mornings to see where his orses have strayed during the night! trestles, and sha ks gave visible proof of the recent stimul s to gold mining. At Freedom o r Forest Service friends had left new bed and mattresses for us at a C.C.C. camp, now deserted for others deeper in the hills At dark, thinly covered bowlders in a s all but difficult rapid proved too much f r our heavily laden craft and we came to a grinding stop only a few feet from shore. A group of onlookers soon pulled us fre , letting go our rope just in time to avoid dr gging us upon some new Scylla after we ha escaped Charybdis. While we huddl d under our kitchen tent at breakfast the n xt morning, Forest Su- pervisor Roy Phil ips arrived to escort us over the top to Florence and Adams Ranger Station. Tire chains enabled us to proceed through a blinding snowstorm to Slate Point Look- out Station, about 6,000 feet above the Salmon. A small herd of cattle, pitiful in the snow, was congregated around the look- out, and inside the cabin we found some cattlemen on their way from the high range down into a more equable climate. At any season of the year the Florence country has a weird, eerie appearance. It is an extensive flat, bounded abruptly on the south by the Salmon River Canyon, and on the east and west by mountain ridges. Quiet streams meander through 128 THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE swampy peat bogs screened by symmetrical spruces. The tempo of life is slowed, with a resultant calmness, aided perhaps by the quiet beauty of the enveloping shadowy forest. At length we reached Jack Hardin's cabin at Florence, and stamped gratefully toward its sheltering warmth to be met, not by jovial prospector Jack and his motherly Scottish wife, but by the comely young daughter of another miner. The Hardins had gone to Lewiston for winter supplies. On our way to the site of the original town of Florence, we stopped for a moment at the deserted hotel which, with two or three old cabins, still marks the "New Florence" of the naughty nineties. Of the "Old Florence" of Cherokee Bob nothing remains (page 134). The very ground on which it stood has been sluiced for the gold , for which the early comers lived and died. HARDSHIPS OF EARLY DAYS The blizzard recalled tales of Florence's terrible first winter of hardship and priva- tion, as told by Bancroft. Discovered ac- cidentally by a party of nine men in Sep- tember, 1861, the fabulously rich district had, in spite of impending winter, attracted 1,000 miners by November, thus leaving its predecessors, Pierce and Elk City, al- most deserted. That winter the snow was as much as ten feet deep and by January there was nothing to eat for sale in the camp except a little flour at $2 per pound. For weeks men kept body and soul together with bread and snow water, or tea made from fir needles. Not until May could pack trains get within ten miles of Florence. From there supplies were back - packed at forty cents a pound "and the starving were glad to per- form this labor for wages." We came to the old Florence cemetery, on a few of whose wooden headstones the painted letters rise in relief above the un- painted portions, nibbled away by time. Here hard - working miners lie side by side with desperadoes, dance hall girls, claim jumpers, and the rest. Slightly deeper pits, now empty, mark the temporary resting places of oriental miners, whose remains have long since been sent back to China. The low, earth - covered cabin of Albert Adley stands in Pioneer Gulch, once most productive. Adley is successfully "go- phering" out small rich stringers exposed in the granite bedrock of old placer dig- gings. He trundles his rock by wheel- barrow several hundred yards to the creek, where he feeds it by hand through a small home -made mill constructed from an old boiler shell, with a few pieces of discarded steel shafting as a grinding medium. Within a short distance of Adley's cabin are the new "digs" of Bill Pape, former officer of the Imperial German Navy, who saw service on the Kaiser's yacht before the World. War and on a submarine during it. Before we reached the Adams camp, headquarters of Ranger McConnell, the clouds broke a little and we were able to look out over the country through which we had just come. We invaded the Adams "hotel," only to acknowledge defeat at the heavily laden table of Mr. and Mrs. John Wilson. Our quarters, that cold night, were in two an- cient but still comfortable log cabins. The road to Freedom led down through the beauty of snow - ermined forest under a sky with touches of blue— winter caught lovingly in the arms of conifers. A low rock overlooking a flat terrace be- low Freedom was pointed out to us as the spot from which Chief Joseph harangued his warriors just before the Nez Perce In- dian war (page 96). Vic Peterson, of Grangeville, an enthusiastic friend of the expedition, rode with us on the barge, and Al Wagner abandoned car for scow. From the mouth of Whitebird Creek we were taken as guests of the Grange - ville Commercial Club to Grangeville, where hospitality crowded the best hotel and speeches truthfully began, "Unaccus- tomed as I am." A COUNTY LARGER THAN NEW JERSEY Jack Cunningham thus visited his county seat for the first time. This is easier to understand when one learns that Idaho County not only reaches all the way across the State from the Bitterroots to the Snake, but is more than 1,000 square miles larger than the land surface of New Jersey. For every Idaho County inhabitant the eastern State has 400. At the scene of the White Bird battle of the Nez Perce war, monuments to both soldiers and braves stand within a mile of each other. The road cuts beds of soft rocks containing the abundant fossil re- mains of a forest long extinct (page 101) . Below White Bird we entered the little DOWN IDAHO'S RIVER OF NO RETURN 129 T111: BACK YARDS OF WARREN ARE DEMOLISHED BY "MICKEY MOUSE'S This dre ge handles about 3,000 cubic yards of gravel a day. Power for it, the Unity Mine, another dred e, and the town itself, comes from a hydroelectric plant on the South Fork of the Salmon s veral miles away. The machine is making a good "cleanup" from gravel that lay too low to b worked in the old boom days. At the right are the buildings of the U. S. Forest Service Rang r Station. known but more thrilling lower canyon. places where we could tie up or go ashore. The depth nd ruggedness of the gorge This stretch, the Green Canyon, is no- have rendere it comparatively inaccessible, table for its long, straight reaches of polished although mu h of the plateau country on water reflecting green cliffs and cloud - top belongs i the famous northwest wheat studded blue sky. belt. For th most part, the lower canyon The Green Canyon ends at Pine Bar is wider at t e top and not so deep as the Rapids, one of the worst in the river. At upper canyo the foot of a steep, rocky slope we saw the A characteristic feature of the lower gorge crumpled body of a cow. High above, is its steplik appeby arance, the result of others placidly grazed their way around the erosional con rol the lava flows, con- cliff face. trasting shar ly with the jagged, rounded, or irregular Walls and spurs upstream. A PRECARIOUS GANGPLANK A few miles below White Bird the bot- At dusk we approached Rice Creek where tom few hundred feet of the canyon walls a narrow, rough road from Cottonwood have been cut'' in a hard, dense, green rock, bridges the river on its way to the Joseph called greens one,• underlying the lavas. Plains, between the Salmon and the Snake. The greensto a is traversed by several sets Although we chose the deepest channel, of joints and I one of them, about para11Q1 we rode high on a buried rock and stuck. to the river, ig nearly vertical. The water was too deep and swift for us to This set m kes the lower walls steep and wade to shore. It was too far to jump. Un- smooth. Although the river is generally shipping the rear sweep, we let the rushing narrow, deep, and quiet between them, the current carry one end aground. On this rock faces, on which the flood waters had unstable gangplank some of us did a tight - left their record high above our heads, are rope walk. so precipitous that there were but few Our old device of the rope and a lever W O YOUTH FINDS ROMANCE AND REALITY IN GOLD DIGGING Passing down the Salmon, the expedition met several young placer miners who were trying their luck on the river banks. This couple has stopped prospecting long enough to accompany the National Geographic Society from Long Tom Rapids to the mouth of the Middle Fork. A NEW GENERATION AND A RELIC OF AN OLDER ONE The dredge "Mickey Mouse" unearthed this beaten -iron pike from tailings left by miners more than 60 years ago. Musket balls and hand -made nails are common. Around Chinese cabin ruins are found rice - whiskey flagons and copper opium boxes (page 125). W Photograph by Washington National Guard TAILINGS ARE PILED LIKE FANTASTIC FROSTING ON A CHOCOLATE CAKE In the early placer days miners worked with shovel and sluice box or rocker. Today three huge dredges chew into the valley floors near Warren, spewing out bowlders in uneven windrows. The one operating in the background, after working the ground in the center of the picture, will skirt the side of the basin, mining as it goes, to reach the far end of the valley, now used as an airplane field. W N W W AT "JOURNEY'S END'S AN INTERSTATE BRIDGE CONNECTS THE TWIN TOWNS NAMED FOR LEWIS AND CLARK The steamer Lewiston hauls grain on the Snake River to and from the shipping points shared by Lewiston, Idaho, and Clarkston, Washington (left). Here it is moored to the Idaho bank, near where the stream is joined by its tributary, the Clearwater. In 1805 Lewis and Clark reached this river junction. The huge white "C" on the mountain to the right was built of painted rocks by students of Clarkston High School (page 136). 134 THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE CHEROKEE BOB DIED OF `LEAD POISONING" His Christian name was Henry Talbotte and he came from Georgia. "Bob" tried to make the local gentry recognize his low -caste "gal" Cynthia, but the resulting quixotic battle ended in his being shot. Even to the placer miner, a burial place is sacred ground. Although this grave is at the head of one of Florence's richest gulches, the soil has not been washed for gold. pole was without immediate success, princi- pally because we pried loose huge bowlders instead of moving the boat. But after a half hour's labor the boat was again free. Rice Creek was our first camp without good fresh water, thus marking the transi- tion from the mountains, where clear streams abound, and the more arid plateau country. Below Rice Creek we used boiled river water. It was late on the 25th before the sun rose high enough to warm the huddled group on the scow and make a camera more than a burden. Our course now lay through lava that extended to the water's edge. Its pillarlike columnar jointing is similar to that of the Giant's Causeway in far -away Ireland. Locally the jointing radiates in huge rosettes as much as 50 feet in diameter. At the treacherous Snow Hole Rapids, about 63 miles below Riggins, the whole volume of the river is concentrated in a narrow stream that roars and foams be- tween angular blocks of rock rising 20 feet or more above the water. No choice of channels was offered and there was no chance of simply hanging up on rocks until the boat could be pulled free. Obviously we would either rush through without a scratch or the boat would be demolished. Slowly the scow eased toward the brink, became caught in the now swift but still smooth current, and then was hurled bodily into the churning, foaming wildness of the Snow Hole. Through the spray we could see the sharp edges of the cold, wet rocks as they appeared to grasp for our frail craft, and some missed by inches only. In a few moments it was over and the boat was flung out into a quiet, sunny, foam- flecked pool. Sixty -eight miles below Riggins, as the low- hanging sun began to throw chill shad- ows across the stream, we tore through China Rapids, deadly at high water but comparatively easy at this low stage. Beds were made as Dave started supper, and Captain Hancock soon had a roaring campfire on the beach near Billie Creek. As we gratefully crowded around its warmth we were visited by a local prospector and his wife. The soft - spoken, intelligent con- versation of the girl led Williams to ask the name of her college.. To our surprise she was not a graduate but, like a majority of DOWN IDAHO'S RIVER OF NO RETURN 135 JUST BELOW RIGGINS FRESH NEWS DROPPED FROM THE SKIES Chard and Shenon became absorbed in the Sunday papers brought by plane from Spokane, while Congressman Clark meditated. these hardy and independent people, was intensely interested in affairs of State and Nation and extremely well read. PROSPECTORS INVADE THE BANKS The number of prospectors along the river had been a never - ending source of surprise to us. We more or less expected them along the bars in the upper canyon, but were not prepared for the tents, sluice boxes, small pumps, tailings piles, and other evi- dence of their current activity seen every mile or so all the way to the Snake. With the sun behind us, we started early on the 26th. The current was generally swift, there were many small rapids, and we made good time through a most pictur- esque part of the canyon. Occasionally bits of trail could be seen and at one place three youngsters raced us on a galloping horse, finally waving their arms in friendly defeat as they were swal- lowed in a cloud of dust. Near the mouth of Flynn Creek green - stone again displaces lava in the lower walls and the sides steepen to form some of the most rugged canyon we had yet seen. This, the much - feared Blue Canyon, extends all the way to Snake River. Since the river had constantly been - increasing in volume, we fairly tore through the Blue Canyon. About noon the high rock wall of the Oregon shore appeared dead ahead and we were whirled out into the Snake, 86/ miles below Riggins and 260 miles from Salmon. In the narrower places along the Snake we observed high sandbars and huge tree trunks lodged along the cliffs high above the river. These indicate the tremendous seasonal variation caused by increased flow when the snow on the mountains melts. That evening we camped in Oregon, only 38 miles above Lewiston. We were visited by Mr. J. L. Chapman, who next day showed us some of the many Indian paint- ings and caves along the Snake River. The scow cast off early next morning and made no stop until it reached the small store and several cottages that make up Rogers - burg, Washington, at the mouth of the Grande Ronde River, on one of whose tributaries gold was found in the fifties. After a brief tie -up all haste was made to Asotin, only seven miles above Lewiston. Representative Clark had long since de- veloped into a crack oarsman, and in spite of a head wind we put more than 30 miles of river behind us that day. 136 THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE The next morning a cold wind was blow- ing. Winter, long at our heels, was ready to empty its snows on our heads. Below Asotin, Hartnett and French dipped their wings in our first welcoming salute. Soon a huge white "C," built of painted rocks by the students of the Clarkston High School, appeared through the mist, and about ten o'clock we anchored at Lewis - ton's bathing beach within sight of the in- terstate bridge that spans the Snake be- tween the twin cities named for Lewis and Clark (page 133). With mingled regret and anticipation of warm rooms and hot baths, we carried our duffel ashore. A grand trip was over. SCIENTIFIC SECRETS DISCLOSED A voyage rich in adventure lay behind us and we had learned much of scientific and economic value. The canyon, cutting deep down into the huge Idaho Batholith, had shown us the inside of this vast granite mass as easily as one might cut a cake to learn what lay under its frosting (p. 105) . Measuring 240 miles by 70, this huge body of granite is one of the largest of its kind in the world. Pushed up as molten rock from deep in the earth many million years ago, it holds important clues to the manner in which valuable minerals are formed. Contrary to expectations, we found there is no sharp dividing line between the granite mass and the rocks that enclose it. The surrounding rocks were "soaked" with molten granite for a distance of several miles when the batholith first pushed up- ward into the earth's outer crust, as a pie filling may soak into the enclosing pastry. Gold is the most important metal found in and near the Idaho Batholith; central Idaho now produces nearly $3,000,000 worth a year. Gold veins are numerous near the top of the granite mass. We sought to learn whether they pene- trate deep into its interior as well. The voyage down the canyon showed us a cross section of the interior. But gold veins along the river were few. What is the origin of gold and other min- erals? Originally, it is believed, they came up toward the surface from deep in the earth in the form of hot solutions, later crystallizing into the ores we know. In parts of the Idaho Batholith streams of molten rock, or "dikes," have pushed up from below into fissures in the hardened granite. The solutions that formed mineral deposits may have come up with the dikes, or soon afterwards. On the voyage we studied many dikes and from them we learned more of how Nature caches her riches among the rocks. West of the batholith, the canyon's deep cut showed us the "inside" of another kind of rock mass —lava —one of the largest and thickest lava masses on earth. About thirty million years ago this lava poured out of volcanic vents to cover western Idaho and most of Washington and Oregon east of the Cascade Range. It has formed the rich soil that makes possible the fertile wheat country of the Northwest. Our voyage helped solve the problem of how the river cut the deep canyon across the grain of the hard masses of the granite batholith and its surrounding rocks. Once central Idaho was a flat surface close to sea level. Quiet streams flowed across it, probably from north to south. Then the plain was tilted toward the northwest and uplifted, and new streams cut energetically into the surface. As the uplift went on, the .streams cut deeper, forming canyons. Today the streams are cutting the canyons ever deeper, but they have not cut down- ward as fast as the country has risen, for the upper river is still several thousand feet above its mouth. At various heights on the canyon walls are terraces, marking the banks of the Salmon in former days when the uplift halted from time to time. On many of the terraces are old gravel banks laid down by the river in those distant ages, and in many of them gold is found today. TRUSTY SCOW PRESERVED Lewiston's hotel was crowded the night we arrived for a dinner given by the Lewis- ton Chamber of Commerce. The toast- master, R. G. Bailey, had provided favors with the menu printed on Idaho white pine. Captain Hancock presented to the State of Idaho the scow that had safely carried us through many hazards. Today it rests on the campus of the State Normal School in Lewiston, a specimen of the strange craft that conquered the Salmon but may soon disappear before the advance of the cross - state motor road. On it, side by side, are the banners of the National Geographic Society and the United States Geological Survey, co- sponsors of our thrilling trip down Idaho's "River of No Return."