Running the Salmon “…with canoes is entirely impossible, as the water is Confined between huge Rocks & the current beeting from one against the other for some distance below... running them would certainly be productive of the loss of Some Canoes.” Pushing off from the Corn Creek boat ramp, the words Captain Clark wrote on August 23, 1805 as he looked down on the Main Salmon come back to me. Lewis and Clark opted for a land route rather than face the rapids and difficult portages of the Salmon, but it is the challenge of these rapids that brings us here.

Our crew for this trip is mostly experienced guides and kayakers. We all have many trips down the Salmon under our belts, but we are novice canoeists. This open boat trip is supposed to add some spice to a river we’ve seen many times, but I’m hopeful Clark’s words won’t turn out to be prophetic.

The Main Salmon runs through the heart of the 3.2 million acre Frank Church River of No Return Wilderness Area in central Idaho, and has long been popular with rafters. As the bicentennial of Lewis & Clark’s famous journey approaches, open canoes are becoming a more common sight in this impressive canyon. Paddlers from across the U.S. are coming to follow parts of the Lewis and Clark Trail, and to test their skills against the river that turned back the Corps of Discovery.

The 80-mile wilderness section of the Salmon begins at Corn Creek, 2 1/2 hours north of Salmon, Idaho, at the end of 40 miles of wash-boarded dirt road. The Forest Service employees give us our permit and chuckle at the seasoned raft guides eyeing their canoes like first-time boaters. We are by no means purists, so we still have rafts along to carry the food and gear for our seven-day trip. It’s comforting for me to know my sleeping bag is safely stowed in a raft as I climb clumsily into a wobbling canoe. The fact that I am missing one blade is not reassuring, and the concept of bracing on a side where I don’t have a blade seems likely to make for humorous photo ops.

From the beginning, the Salmon is a classic big water western river. The rapids are class III with big waves and holes, but plenty of room to maneuver and lots of recovery time after each one. We soon find out just how important this recovery time is when we tip over two canoes in the first rapid, Killum, an easy class III. We get better as the day progresses, but eddy turns with a boat full of water will plague us the entire trip.

River veteran and longtime raft outfitter, Joe Tonsmeire began running canoe trips several years ago and says they have added a new excitement to a river he has seen countless times. “We’ve found ourselves scouting rapids we never looked at before, and having more fun in them. I think we are seeing an increased interest in the history of this area, and canoes are a great way to explore that aspect of the country.”

The historic cabins, dilapidated orchards, and twisted metal of old mines give me the feeling I am traveling back in time as I drift down river. I can almost see the hundreds of dusty miners buying supplies (and moonshine) at Jim Moore’s place as they wait to cross the river at Cambell’s Ferry near the turn of the century. At Legend Creek, not far from the put in, we stop to see the pictographs left by the Nez Perce, the tribe that was so instrumental in the success and survival of Lewis and Clark.

The Nez Perce were drawn to the Salmon each summer by the tremendous runs of red fish that give the river its name. Unfortunately, these runs have dwindled to a mere handful. Four damns on the Lower Snake prevent salmon smolt from being swept to the ocean in the rush of high water roaring off Idaho’s snow-packed mountains every spring. Efforts are being made to remove these damns, but progress is slow and a solution may come too late for these majestic fish.

When the canoes are pulled onshore, there are many activities for those who want to further explore what Lewis and Clark missed out on. Great hikes abound along the river. We climb up Thirsty Ridge (bring a camel-back) for a wonderful view of the canyon and the mountains retreating in the distance. The flowers are mostly gone now, but in the spring a mosaic of lupine, arrow-leaf balsa root, and Indian paintbrush covers this ridge. We don’t stop to fish Sabe Creek on this trip, but its cool waters and boulder-filled pools are prime habitat for cutthroat and rainbow trout that can be deceived by a royal wolf or grasshopper.

No trip down the Main Salmon is complete without a stop at Barth hot springs. The water is a perfect temperature, and since the pool was enlarged years ago by unnamed locals, there is easily enough room for our group of twelve. As we soak, a cinnamon black bear strolls along the far bank, causing a wild scramble for cameras. He pulls down a branch loaded with elderberries and strips it through his teeth before disappearing into the brush.

Just downstream of the pool, more scalding hot water emerges from the rocks. During low water, the names of early boatmen and miners like Johnny McKay are visible, carved into the black rocks almost 100 years ago. Before the pool was constructed (and before self-bailers), many rafters would de-rig their boats here and turn them into hot tubs. Mixing the hot water with river water produced just the right temperature.

After the confluence with the South Fork of the Salmon, the river slows considerably. This section is one of the prettiest parts of canyon, but if you’re not careful you may spend more time paddling through it than you want to. The afternoon wind can be a problem in the flat water, and many groups try to get to camp early to avoid it. Another option is to pull over during the wind, and then enjoy a late evening float with an excellent chance to see bear, moose, and bighorn sheep.

We thought we had the system pretty well worked out and stopped to surf a small wave for several hours late one afternoon, figuring on making miles later in the evening when the wind quit. We were soon reminded that you can’t always outsmart Mother Nature. When we left the wave, the wind picked up immediately. We were forced to pull over well short of our planned camp when the wind grew strong enough to create foot high standing waves in the flat-water!

After a little longer last day to make up for lost time, we reached Carey Creek and the end of our journey. Clark’s predictions did not come true, but I did lose the bet on how many tip-overs we would have (I’m not revealing any numbers, but I didn’t need to shower at the end of the trip). The Salmon seems very reasonable to us now that the limits of boating have been pushed so far, but before climbing in the Suburban for the long shuttle, I pause to remember a time when the Salmon was an impassible obstacle to our country’s greatest explorers. Having just run canoes down a river that Lewis and Clark knew only by reputation is some tiny consolation for being born to late to join the Corps of Discovery on their epic journey. “My guide and maney other Indians tell me that the Mountains Close and is a perpendicular Clift on each side…those rapids which I had Seen he said was Small & trifleing in comparison to the rocks & rapids below,” Captain Clark, August 23, 1805.

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