Day one - Hells Canyon Dam to Below
Granite Rapid
Granite Rapid
Since early June Steve and I had been planning on making a trip out to eastern
Oregon to paddle some rivers and explore this far away corner of the state.
Tentative plans were hatched to kayak the Imnaha River’s seldom visited
canyon, and talk about running the Wallowa Mountain’s Lostine River was
growing more frequent. Just when it looked like a solid plan might not
materialize, an email went out from one of Steve’s friend’s in Portland saying that
he had managed to pick up a cancellation permit for the 4th of July weekend on
Hells Canyon of the Snake River. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to run two of
the coveted rivers regulated by Idaho’s Four Rivers Lottery System so deciding
to join the trip was easy.
Choosing a boat for the trip was the only real decision that I had to make in the
planning process. I hadn’t lined up anyone to watch the dog so it seemed like
bringing my 15 foot Mad River Explorer would be a good idea if Hells Canyon
could be run in a non whitewater specific canoe. My initial research on the
Forest Service website for Hells Canyon was not encouraging. The website
clearly stated that the river was not suitable for canoes at any water level. A few
emails to some friends of mine that had been down the Snake River through
Hells Canyon more or less echoed the sentiments of the Forest Service. “The
boils are too big. The eddy lines will destroy you. There are strong up canyon
winds. There is no way to portage the two big rapids.” These were all common
phrases I heard. Not to be deterred, I downloaded some maps and checked out
as many descriptions for the run as I could find.
To me it sounded like the river would be quite canoeable. We would be looking
at flows between 10,000 and 16,000 cfs over the 4th of July weekend, medium
levels that would not be producing flood like conditions. From everything I read it
sounded like the 50 mile run from Hells Canyon Dam to Dug Bar was
predominantly big water class II with lots of smooth sections and two large class
IV rapid. This sounded like the perfect river for a canoe trip and I decided that I
would give it a go. The pictures of Wild Sheep and Granite, the two big class IV
rapids on the run, made it look like it would be very possible to line or portage.
Despite the fact that my dog had never before been in a canoe and that she
kind of dislikes water, I thought that it would be fun to bring her along as well. At
the very least I would be in for a good adventure.
At just over 1,000 miles long and with an average discharge of 56,900 cfs at its
mouth, the Snake River, largest tributary to the mighty Columbia, has been host
to many an adventure over the course of its thousands of years of existence.
From massive floods produced by the failure of glacial dams, to lava flows, to
Indian wars, to ill fated exploration by traders, trapper, and gold miners, the
Snake River has a vast collection of material for many a good story. Rising high
in the alpine meadows of Yellowstone National Park, the Snake races downhill
as it heads due south before flowing westward through deeply incised canyons
in southern Idaho’s high desert. Eventually the Snake turns north and forms
today’s border between Oregon and Idaho where it cuts through the spectacular
Hells Canyon.
Oregon to paddle some rivers and explore this far away corner of the state.
Tentative plans were hatched to kayak the Imnaha River’s seldom visited
canyon, and talk about running the Wallowa Mountain’s Lostine River was
growing more frequent. Just when it looked like a solid plan might not
materialize, an email went out from one of Steve’s friend’s in Portland saying that
he had managed to pick up a cancellation permit for the 4th of July weekend on
Hells Canyon of the Snake River. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to run two of
the coveted rivers regulated by Idaho’s Four Rivers Lottery System so deciding
to join the trip was easy.
Choosing a boat for the trip was the only real decision that I had to make in the
planning process. I hadn’t lined up anyone to watch the dog so it seemed like
bringing my 15 foot Mad River Explorer would be a good idea if Hells Canyon
could be run in a non whitewater specific canoe. My initial research on the
Forest Service website for Hells Canyon was not encouraging. The website
clearly stated that the river was not suitable for canoes at any water level. A few
emails to some friends of mine that had been down the Snake River through
Hells Canyon more or less echoed the sentiments of the Forest Service. “The
boils are too big. The eddy lines will destroy you. There are strong up canyon
winds. There is no way to portage the two big rapids.” These were all common
phrases I heard. Not to be deterred, I downloaded some maps and checked out
as many descriptions for the run as I could find.
To me it sounded like the river would be quite canoeable. We would be looking
at flows between 10,000 and 16,000 cfs over the 4th of July weekend, medium
levels that would not be producing flood like conditions. From everything I read it
sounded like the 50 mile run from Hells Canyon Dam to Dug Bar was
predominantly big water class II with lots of smooth sections and two large class
IV rapid. This sounded like the perfect river for a canoe trip and I decided that I
would give it a go. The pictures of Wild Sheep and Granite, the two big class IV
rapids on the run, made it look like it would be very possible to line or portage.
Despite the fact that my dog had never before been in a canoe and that she
kind of dislikes water, I thought that it would be fun to bring her along as well. At
the very least I would be in for a good adventure.
At just over 1,000 miles long and with an average discharge of 56,900 cfs at its
mouth, the Snake River, largest tributary to the mighty Columbia, has been host
to many an adventure over the course of its thousands of years of existence.
From massive floods produced by the failure of glacial dams, to lava flows, to
Indian wars, to ill fated exploration by traders, trapper, and gold miners, the
Snake River has a vast collection of material for many a good story. Rising high
in the alpine meadows of Yellowstone National Park, the Snake races downhill
as it heads due south before flowing westward through deeply incised canyons
in southern Idaho’s high desert. Eventually the Snake turns north and forms
today’s border between Oregon and Idaho where it cuts through the spectacular
Hells Canyon.
By many estimates, Hells Canyon is the deepest river valley in North America, with
Idaho’s He-Devil Mounatin rising to an elevation of XXX and Oregon’s XXXX rising to
XXX on its western flank. Regardless of what you think about Hells Canyon’s
distinction as North America’s deepest canyon, it is without a doubt an incredible
place. The bottom of the canyon is characterized by desert like conditions, with
scorching hot summers, cactuses, and rattlesnakes living in an environment that
receives less than 15 inches of precipitation a year. Higher up the flanks of the
canyon moisture is more common and sparse forest can be found, while less than 30
miles away the Wallowa Mountains of Oregon see over 40 inches of precipitation
annually.
Only a day or two before the trip our logistics were figured out and a shuttle arranged.
We would be paddling the 50 some mile stretch of river between Hells Canyon Dam
and Dug Bar. Interestingly, I would not be alone in canoeing the river. Scott and
Michelle Reed would be in a tandem whitewater canoe and Mark Kacmarcik would be
in a solo canoe. Rounding out the trip would be Mark’s girlfriend Sarah and Steve
Stuckmeyer, both paddling kayaks in case us folks in canoes needed saving. We
rolled out of town after work on Thursday July 3rd and made many stops as we
shuffled boats around and dealt with getting the team of six plus one dog into two
vehicles. Quickly we left the lush forests clinging to the western edge of Oregon and
made the long drive across the deserts of central Oregon.
At midnight we gassed up in the Pendelton, still oven warm from the day’s heat, and
decided to drive another twenty miles before camping. To the east of Pendelton I-84
climbs steadily into the Blue Mountains and into a much cooler and wetter
microclimate capable of supporting thick forests. We exited the highway at Emmigrant
Springs, a place name from the famous Oregon Trail, and drove down a rough dirt
road for a mile or two before finding a suitable place to camp for the night. Everyone
was exhausted, there were no mosquitoes, and the stars were out, so we all rolled out
our sleeping bags and crashed next to the vehicles. My dog Middie was a little
restless for a few minutes, but she quickly stopped trying to sleep next to everyone
and settled on curling up near my head.
The next morning I was up early to walk Middie and tire her out for the remaining two
hour drive to our launch point at Hells Canyon Dam. After a huge breakfast in Baker
City we rolled out to the east and began following a sizeable river down an ever
deepening valley towards Hells Canyon. By the time we reached our shuttle service to
check in temperatures were already pushing ninety. From here a mere twenty miles
brought us across the Snake River at Oxbow, where we picked up a narrow paved
road that led along a flooded portion of the canyon to the put in at the dam.
Idaho’s He-Devil Mounatin rising to an elevation of XXX and Oregon’s XXXX rising to
XXX on its western flank. Regardless of what you think about Hells Canyon’s
distinction as North America’s deepest canyon, it is without a doubt an incredible
place. The bottom of the canyon is characterized by desert like conditions, with
scorching hot summers, cactuses, and rattlesnakes living in an environment that
receives less than 15 inches of precipitation a year. Higher up the flanks of the
canyon moisture is more common and sparse forest can be found, while less than 30
miles away the Wallowa Mountains of Oregon see over 40 inches of precipitation
annually.
Only a day or two before the trip our logistics were figured out and a shuttle arranged.
We would be paddling the 50 some mile stretch of river between Hells Canyon Dam
and Dug Bar. Interestingly, I would not be alone in canoeing the river. Scott and
Michelle Reed would be in a tandem whitewater canoe and Mark Kacmarcik would be
in a solo canoe. Rounding out the trip would be Mark’s girlfriend Sarah and Steve
Stuckmeyer, both paddling kayaks in case us folks in canoes needed saving. We
rolled out of town after work on Thursday July 3rd and made many stops as we
shuffled boats around and dealt with getting the team of six plus one dog into two
vehicles. Quickly we left the lush forests clinging to the western edge of Oregon and
made the long drive across the deserts of central Oregon.
At midnight we gassed up in the Pendelton, still oven warm from the day’s heat, and
decided to drive another twenty miles before camping. To the east of Pendelton I-84
climbs steadily into the Blue Mountains and into a much cooler and wetter
microclimate capable of supporting thick forests. We exited the highway at Emmigrant
Springs, a place name from the famous Oregon Trail, and drove down a rough dirt
road for a mile or two before finding a suitable place to camp for the night. Everyone
was exhausted, there were no mosquitoes, and the stars were out, so we all rolled out
our sleeping bags and crashed next to the vehicles. My dog Middie was a little
restless for a few minutes, but she quickly stopped trying to sleep next to everyone
and settled on curling up near my head.
The next morning I was up early to walk Middie and tire her out for the remaining two
hour drive to our launch point at Hells Canyon Dam. After a huge breakfast in Baker
City we rolled out to the east and began following a sizeable river down an ever
deepening valley towards Hells Canyon. By the time we reached our shuttle service to
check in temperatures were already pushing ninety. From here a mere twenty miles
brought us across the Snake River at Oxbow, where we picked up a narrow paved
road that led along a flooded portion of the canyon to the put in at the dam.
A ranger station doubling as a visitors center was situated just downstream of the
300 foot tall Hells Canyon Dam and we parked at the top of the boat ramp to
unload and prepare for our trip. The warm sun and dry made putting on lots of
sunscreen a no brainer, and I made sure to find plenty of shade for the dog. The
canoes definitely drew some strange looks at the put in, and although we had to
answer lots of questions from all of the rafters, no one seemed to be discouraging
us all that much. Still, it was obvious from everyone’s reaction that Hells Canyon
seldom sees open canoes. The registration process and accompanying
paperwork was fairly painless and after strapping and clipping gear into the boats
we were ready to get on the water not long after noon.
I was pretty nervous that Middie wouldn’t like the canoe so I slid the boat down to
the water well ahead of everyone else to see how she would react to being in the
canoe. In retrospect I probably should have brought her out on some introductory
paddling trips, but hindsight is always 20/20. It only took mils coaxing to get the
dog into the canoe and on to the padded platform I had built to keep her from
having to lay in the bilge water. We floated out in the put in eddy and Middie
circled around, looking over one side of the boat and then the other, seeming
kind of nervous about being surrounded by water. Still, she seemed willing
enough to trust me and stay in the boat, at least it seemed better to her than
jumping overboard and into the river. All in all, I was pleased with Middie’s first few
minutes in the canoe, and by the time I was comfortable heading downstream with
her the others had arrived and were launching.
Hells Canyon is immediately spectacular, with stark brown cliff walls rising directly
out of the water and terraced barren hillsides soaring for thousands of feet above
the river. The hills reach so high that they extend into a different climate zone and
are able to support scattered patches of evergreen trees high on their crowns.
Instead of trees lining the river, as is often the case, lush vegetation is not found
on the Snake through Hells Canyon until you are several thousand feet above the
river. The river itself runs brown and deep and the first rapid, which looked easy
from the top of the boat ramp, is now hidden by a slight horizon line. The day we
launched the Hells Canyon Dam was discharging a minimum of 8,000 cfs and a
maximum of 15,000 cfs with the level slowly ramping up throughout the day as
power demands increased. Although these are medium flows for the Snake, they
would be considered large on many other rivers and it was clear from the growing
rumble that even the easy rapids would be quite powerful and require care and
attention in my small canoe.
I paddled hard to stay out of the main flow in the first rapid and managed to avoid
a series of fast five foot waves in the center of the river. The strong eddy line that
I rode the edge of was a little squirrely, and the excited dog added to the difficulty,
but in general paddling the rapid was no problem. The tandem canoe ran the
wave train and did a great job despite taking on a considerable amount of water.
Quickwater led away from this first rapid, but more similar class II+ or easy class III
rapids followed, making for a much more interesting first few miles than I had
anticipated. Instead of a mostly smooth run with only two or three rapids, we were
encountering significant whitewater at each bend. Without Middie in the canoe I
would have been willing to take more exiting lines, but instead I found myself
powering across the top of each drop trying to punch a wave or two in order to
skirt the heaviest water. I spent a good bit of time bailing and dumping water from
the canoe, but in general we were doing just fine.
300 foot tall Hells Canyon Dam and we parked at the top of the boat ramp to
unload and prepare for our trip. The warm sun and dry made putting on lots of
sunscreen a no brainer, and I made sure to find plenty of shade for the dog. The
canoes definitely drew some strange looks at the put in, and although we had to
answer lots of questions from all of the rafters, no one seemed to be discouraging
us all that much. Still, it was obvious from everyone’s reaction that Hells Canyon
seldom sees open canoes. The registration process and accompanying
paperwork was fairly painless and after strapping and clipping gear into the boats
we were ready to get on the water not long after noon.
I was pretty nervous that Middie wouldn’t like the canoe so I slid the boat down to
the water well ahead of everyone else to see how she would react to being in the
canoe. In retrospect I probably should have brought her out on some introductory
paddling trips, but hindsight is always 20/20. It only took mils coaxing to get the
dog into the canoe and on to the padded platform I had built to keep her from
having to lay in the bilge water. We floated out in the put in eddy and Middie
circled around, looking over one side of the boat and then the other, seeming
kind of nervous about being surrounded by water. Still, she seemed willing
enough to trust me and stay in the boat, at least it seemed better to her than
jumping overboard and into the river. All in all, I was pleased with Middie’s first few
minutes in the canoe, and by the time I was comfortable heading downstream with
her the others had arrived and were launching.
Hells Canyon is immediately spectacular, with stark brown cliff walls rising directly
out of the water and terraced barren hillsides soaring for thousands of feet above
the river. The hills reach so high that they extend into a different climate zone and
are able to support scattered patches of evergreen trees high on their crowns.
Instead of trees lining the river, as is often the case, lush vegetation is not found
on the Snake through Hells Canyon until you are several thousand feet above the
river. The river itself runs brown and deep and the first rapid, which looked easy
from the top of the boat ramp, is now hidden by a slight horizon line. The day we
launched the Hells Canyon Dam was discharging a minimum of 8,000 cfs and a
maximum of 15,000 cfs with the level slowly ramping up throughout the day as
power demands increased. Although these are medium flows for the Snake, they
would be considered large on many other rivers and it was clear from the growing
rumble that even the easy rapids would be quite powerful and require care and
attention in my small canoe.
I paddled hard to stay out of the main flow in the first rapid and managed to avoid
a series of fast five foot waves in the center of the river. The strong eddy line that
I rode the edge of was a little squirrely, and the excited dog added to the difficulty,
but in general paddling the rapid was no problem. The tandem canoe ran the
wave train and did a great job despite taking on a considerable amount of water.
Quickwater led away from this first rapid, but more similar class II+ or easy class III
rapids followed, making for a much more interesting first few miles than I had
anticipated. Instead of a mostly smooth run with only two or three rapids, we were
encountering significant whitewater at each bend. Without Middie in the canoe I
would have been willing to take more exiting lines, but instead I found myself
powering across the top of each drop trying to punch a wave or two in order to
skirt the heaviest water. I spent a good bit of time bailing and dumping water from
the canoe, but in general we were doing just fine.
As we floated along a upcanyon wind increased, but never became too much of a
problem. The scenery remained phenomenal, with jagged triangular peaks rising
thousands of feet from the river and vertical cliff walls plunging to the river bottom.
Everyone was getting into a rhythm and progress was steady under the hot and
sunny conditions. Splashed felt great and the low humidity desert air dried things
out almost immediately. After an hour or so we reached the top of a drop that was
obviously larger than anything we had seen yet. This was Wild Sheep, one of the
class IV rapids on the Snake that are warrant a scout. We all eddied out on river
left and carefully made our way across some of the most slippery rocks I have ever
encountered. It seemed like we had reached Wild Sheep at a low cycle in the dam’s
release schedule. The result was a band of smooth water polished rocks covered
with a slimy brown green algae that made walking and even standing almost
impossible.
The river left scout showed an impressive rapid scattered with numerous holes and
some truly big waves near the bottom. The main hazard was a jumble of rocks and
shallow holes near the bottom on river left, but any swim in main part of the drop
could last for a while since the run out was rather fast. After much contemplation I
decided to leave Middie with Mark and Sarah while I paddled down the first part of
the rapid on river left and lined the bulk of the drop on the left. Running the lead in
was no problem and almost decided to just run the rapid, but I thought better of it
and hopped out to start lining.
problem. The scenery remained phenomenal, with jagged triangular peaks rising
thousands of feet from the river and vertical cliff walls plunging to the river bottom.
Everyone was getting into a rhythm and progress was steady under the hot and
sunny conditions. Splashed felt great and the low humidity desert air dried things
out almost immediately. After an hour or so we reached the top of a drop that was
obviously larger than anything we had seen yet. This was Wild Sheep, one of the
class IV rapids on the Snake that are warrant a scout. We all eddied out on river
left and carefully made our way across some of the most slippery rocks I have ever
encountered. It seemed like we had reached Wild Sheep at a low cycle in the dam’s
release schedule. The result was a band of smooth water polished rocks covered
with a slimy brown green algae that made walking and even standing almost
impossible.
The river left scout showed an impressive rapid scattered with numerous holes and
some truly big waves near the bottom. The main hazard was a jumble of rocks and
shallow holes near the bottom on river left, but any swim in main part of the drop
could last for a while since the run out was rather fast. After much contemplation I
decided to leave Middie with Mark and Sarah while I paddled down the first part of
the rapid on river left and lined the bulk of the drop on the left. Running the lead in
was no problem and almost decided to just run the rapid, but I thought better of it
and hopped out to start lining.
Now, I’ve lined lots and lots of rapids in my day, most with great success, but the
twenty minute escapade that ensured at Wild Sheep has to go down as one of the
worst jobs I have ever done. A portage would have made much more sense since
the route for lining was blocked by boulders and the shoreline much too slippery for
walking. Things started out fine, but I soon had to struggle to swing the canoe out
and around a big rock. Wading out into the current was the way to get the best
angle of pull and while doing that the falling started. Over the course of the next five
minutes I must have fallen on my ass about ten times. Walking on the rocks in the
water was like balancing on ice glazed bowling balls. It wasn’t happening. I wish I
could have watched my floundering from shore, because I am sure it was hysterical.
To make matters worse I ended up loosing hold of the bow and stern lines while the
boat was perched on a rock. This wouldn’t have been a problem if the lines hadn’t
become chocked between rocks somewhere way underwater. I had to cut the lines
and complete the lining job with Steve’s help by dragging and wrenching the loaded
boat over a pile of boulders. Bruised and battered, I walked back up to get Middie
and watch the others make their runs at Wild Sheep, all the while wishing I had just
paddled the rapid and taken my chances with having to swim into the giant river left
eddy below.
Now that I had managed to get my loaded canoe past Wild Sheep I sat down with
the dog and watched the others as they prepared to make their runs through the
rapid. Mark came first in the solo canoe and looked pretty dry when he squared up
for the big curling wave at the bottom. I was sure he would make it, but the force of
the hit tossed the boat over and sent him swimming. Steve and Sarah were able to
get everything together below the rapid and soon enough Mark had paddled back
up the eddy to the base of the rapid. Scott and Michelle spent a long time scouting,
but soon enough they were in their boat and lining up on the big drop. Again, their
line looked perfect as they came down the green water ramp into the curling wave.
The canoe took the wave nicely, but the boat was swamped and despite the crew’s
best bracing they soon wallowed over and dumped into the fast outwash.
Everyone was down so Middie and I loaded up on the slippery rocks and paddled
on to where the others were bailing and regrouping. The hot and dry weather
quickly dried me out and I didn’t even mind the splashing I took in the next few
bigger rapids. The scenery remained incredible and we all eagerly paddled on
towards Granite, the second class IV rapid of the trip. Fast water and frequent
easier rapids moved us through the two miles intervening miles in little time and
soon we found ourselves eddied out on river right above the rapid. A group of
commercial rafters had caught up with us and the others were content to follow their
lines down river left, but I thought better of it and decided to make a more thorough
scout. From the river right eddy above Granite it was obvious that the left side
indeed held the best line. Still, the drop was steep enough and big enough that I
didn’t want to paddle it with the dog on board. I made a string ferry to river left and
off-loaded Middie. We walked to the bottom of the rapid and I leashed her to a nice
big rock while I decided that I would give a good looking river left line a try.
The line I had picked out was straightforward and involve heading down about ten
feet out from the river left shore, skirting between two pourovers. I nailed the line
and just when it seemed like I would cruise into shore and pick up the dog without
incident a little wave managed to flood over the bow and half swamp the canoe. Still,
I was really stable so I started to gingerly paddle towards shore. The problem was
hat the canoe was now riding incredibly low in the water and the next few waves in
the run out completely swamped the boat. I rode things out for as long as possible,
aiming the canoe towards shore and setting up some momentum to help with the
inevitable swim that was only moments away. Eventually I floated out of the boat,
which was now nearly a submarine, supported only by the dry barrel and bags that
were lashed into it. The others were way downstream since they had been helping
to recover the tandem boat, which had dumped as well. The water was deep and
warm and with some good side kicking and one armed swimming I was able to get
the canoe to shore and dumped without much trouble. The two hundred yard walk
back up the boulder jumble of a shoreline to retrieve Middie was a bit of a pain, but
the dog enjoyed the walk and overall my run was much easier than and less time
consuming than lining or portaging Granite would have been.
Despite hazy skies, the hot oven like desert air had my clothes dried out in no time
at all. More easier rapids and substantial quickwater followed and we moved along,
hoping to cover a few more miles before setting up camp for the evening. As the
day progressed dark cloudy began to sporadically roll over the canyon walls and
the breezes grew shifty and stopped completely from time to time. It seemed likely
that we were in store for a storm at some point this evening, but the sun was out for
the time being. While floating along we discussed our route and found that one final
class III+ rapid was just ahead. It was getting late, we had not stopped for snacks
this afternoon, and folks were getting tired, but our first search for suitable tent
spots at a likely camp proved fruitless. Middie and I clambered over shoreline
boulders while dodging prickly pear cactus and poison oak for about 5 minutes
before coming out at a rocky flat piece of ground that we thought looked promising
from river level. This would have worked as a desperation camp, but with a few
hours of daylight left, it would have made little sense to stop here for the night.
twenty minute escapade that ensured at Wild Sheep has to go down as one of the
worst jobs I have ever done. A portage would have made much more sense since
the route for lining was blocked by boulders and the shoreline much too slippery for
walking. Things started out fine, but I soon had to struggle to swing the canoe out
and around a big rock. Wading out into the current was the way to get the best
angle of pull and while doing that the falling started. Over the course of the next five
minutes I must have fallen on my ass about ten times. Walking on the rocks in the
water was like balancing on ice glazed bowling balls. It wasn’t happening. I wish I
could have watched my floundering from shore, because I am sure it was hysterical.
To make matters worse I ended up loosing hold of the bow and stern lines while the
boat was perched on a rock. This wouldn’t have been a problem if the lines hadn’t
become chocked between rocks somewhere way underwater. I had to cut the lines
and complete the lining job with Steve’s help by dragging and wrenching the loaded
boat over a pile of boulders. Bruised and battered, I walked back up to get Middie
and watch the others make their runs at Wild Sheep, all the while wishing I had just
paddled the rapid and taken my chances with having to swim into the giant river left
eddy below.
Now that I had managed to get my loaded canoe past Wild Sheep I sat down with
the dog and watched the others as they prepared to make their runs through the
rapid. Mark came first in the solo canoe and looked pretty dry when he squared up
for the big curling wave at the bottom. I was sure he would make it, but the force of
the hit tossed the boat over and sent him swimming. Steve and Sarah were able to
get everything together below the rapid and soon enough Mark had paddled back
up the eddy to the base of the rapid. Scott and Michelle spent a long time scouting,
but soon enough they were in their boat and lining up on the big drop. Again, their
line looked perfect as they came down the green water ramp into the curling wave.
The canoe took the wave nicely, but the boat was swamped and despite the crew’s
best bracing they soon wallowed over and dumped into the fast outwash.
Everyone was down so Middie and I loaded up on the slippery rocks and paddled
on to where the others were bailing and regrouping. The hot and dry weather
quickly dried me out and I didn’t even mind the splashing I took in the next few
bigger rapids. The scenery remained incredible and we all eagerly paddled on
towards Granite, the second class IV rapid of the trip. Fast water and frequent
easier rapids moved us through the two miles intervening miles in little time and
soon we found ourselves eddied out on river right above the rapid. A group of
commercial rafters had caught up with us and the others were content to follow their
lines down river left, but I thought better of it and decided to make a more thorough
scout. From the river right eddy above Granite it was obvious that the left side
indeed held the best line. Still, the drop was steep enough and big enough that I
didn’t want to paddle it with the dog on board. I made a string ferry to river left and
off-loaded Middie. We walked to the bottom of the rapid and I leashed her to a nice
big rock while I decided that I would give a good looking river left line a try.
The line I had picked out was straightforward and involve heading down about ten
feet out from the river left shore, skirting between two pourovers. I nailed the line
and just when it seemed like I would cruise into shore and pick up the dog without
incident a little wave managed to flood over the bow and half swamp the canoe. Still,
I was really stable so I started to gingerly paddle towards shore. The problem was
hat the canoe was now riding incredibly low in the water and the next few waves in
the run out completely swamped the boat. I rode things out for as long as possible,
aiming the canoe towards shore and setting up some momentum to help with the
inevitable swim that was only moments away. Eventually I floated out of the boat,
which was now nearly a submarine, supported only by the dry barrel and bags that
were lashed into it. The others were way downstream since they had been helping
to recover the tandem boat, which had dumped as well. The water was deep and
warm and with some good side kicking and one armed swimming I was able to get
the canoe to shore and dumped without much trouble. The two hundred yard walk
back up the boulder jumble of a shoreline to retrieve Middie was a bit of a pain, but
the dog enjoyed the walk and overall my run was much easier than and less time
consuming than lining or portaging Granite would have been.
Despite hazy skies, the hot oven like desert air had my clothes dried out in no time
at all. More easier rapids and substantial quickwater followed and we moved along,
hoping to cover a few more miles before setting up camp for the evening. As the
day progressed dark cloudy began to sporadically roll over the canyon walls and
the breezes grew shifty and stopped completely from time to time. It seemed likely
that we were in store for a storm at some point this evening, but the sun was out for
the time being. While floating along we discussed our route and found that one final
class III+ rapid was just ahead. It was getting late, we had not stopped for snacks
this afternoon, and folks were getting tired, but our first search for suitable tent
spots at a likely camp proved fruitless. Middie and I clambered over shoreline
boulders while dodging prickly pear cactus and poison oak for about 5 minutes
before coming out at a rocky flat piece of ground that we thought looked promising
from river level. This would have worked as a desperation camp, but with a few
hours of daylight left, it would have made little sense to stop here for the night.
Just around the bend was the horizon line for the last larger rapid on the run and
we all got out to scout on river left. The rapid featured an enormous pourover
style hole in the center of the river with a straightforward but heavy line on river
right. Folks were clearly tired at this point and I knew I wouldn’t be running this
drop in my canoe. We all put in a pretty good effort at finding a place to camp on
river left at the rapid but again, the prospects were slim and dealing with the
rapid was the only smart thing to do. While the others made their runs down river
right with varying success I used two throw bags to replace my bow and stern
ropes and lined the canoe down river left through a steep rock jumble with little
difficulty.
The Snake River slid on downstream from here and we floated and paddled
along lazily, intently looking for camp spots. The first spot we saw that looked like
it would provide easy access while having level tent sites was on a large river
right bench about thirty feet above the water. We eddied out and a quick scout
showed a nice camp complete with a few small trees and plenty of level ground.
Scott made a complete reconnaissance downstream and spotted the next
officially marked campsite, but it was occupied and everyone agreed it made
sense to stop here. A few distant rumbles of thunder motivated us to speed up
the unloading process and since it was clear that the water level in the river
fluctuated widely each day I carried everything, including the canoe, up to the
level bench where we would be camping.
Away from the river the temperature was easily ten degree warmer and
everything dried out almost instantly. I pitched the tent in a nice level spot free of
cactus and hooked up Middie to the canoe with a long chain I had bought for her
just before the trip. It would have been great to let her run around camp but I
was concerned about the Prickly Pear, rattlesnakes, and her chasing one of the
many deer that inhabit the canyon. While we all got busy relaxing I broke out a
bottle of Tequila and margarita mix so we could have some drinks. Sitting around
felt great and despite some ominous looking clouds blowing down the canyon we
all decided to start dinner.
I chopped onions and peppers and opened up cans of beans for the burritos
that Steve and I would be sharing. While prepping food it quickly became clear
that the storm clouds we had spotted were approaching quickly and that we
would either be hit or not sometime within the next ten minutes. The sky turned a
strange soft purple and pink as the thunderstorm moved in front of the setting
sun and filtered the light. Thunder became much more frequent and the echoing
booms reverberated through the canyon. We were sitting out in the open at our
campsite, but I wasn’t too concerned since the storm seemed like it would just
skirt us to the west and we really were in just about the most protected spot
around. Lightning danced across the sky and could be seen striking the high
ridges to our west. Just when everyone thought we would get away without any
rain a steady sheet of misty white was seen dropping down the mountain side
and blowing straight towards us. The first few drops fell heavy on the dry
landscape and sent all of us heading for shelter. Middie and I just had enough
time to get into the large vestibule of my tent before a deluge of rain pounded us
and the intensity of thunder and lightning increased to a crescendo for five
minutes.
Soon the rain stopped and we all made our way back out to watch the storm roll
away and to finish up with dinner. Considering that the bottom of Hells Canyon
only receives about 11 inches of rain each year, the quarter inch that dumped
on us in the last five minutes was considerable. Incredibly, the low humidity in the
air had most things dried out within minutes. It had been a long day and soon
dusk was settling in on us. I headed off to the tent and Middie was so exhausted
that she curled up next to me and passed out in a matter of seconds.
we all got out to scout on river left. The rapid featured an enormous pourover
style hole in the center of the river with a straightforward but heavy line on river
right. Folks were clearly tired at this point and I knew I wouldn’t be running this
drop in my canoe. We all put in a pretty good effort at finding a place to camp on
river left at the rapid but again, the prospects were slim and dealing with the
rapid was the only smart thing to do. While the others made their runs down river
right with varying success I used two throw bags to replace my bow and stern
ropes and lined the canoe down river left through a steep rock jumble with little
difficulty.
The Snake River slid on downstream from here and we floated and paddled
along lazily, intently looking for camp spots. The first spot we saw that looked like
it would provide easy access while having level tent sites was on a large river
right bench about thirty feet above the water. We eddied out and a quick scout
showed a nice camp complete with a few small trees and plenty of level ground.
Scott made a complete reconnaissance downstream and spotted the next
officially marked campsite, but it was occupied and everyone agreed it made
sense to stop here. A few distant rumbles of thunder motivated us to speed up
the unloading process and since it was clear that the water level in the river
fluctuated widely each day I carried everything, including the canoe, up to the
level bench where we would be camping.
Away from the river the temperature was easily ten degree warmer and
everything dried out almost instantly. I pitched the tent in a nice level spot free of
cactus and hooked up Middie to the canoe with a long chain I had bought for her
just before the trip. It would have been great to let her run around camp but I
was concerned about the Prickly Pear, rattlesnakes, and her chasing one of the
many deer that inhabit the canyon. While we all got busy relaxing I broke out a
bottle of Tequila and margarita mix so we could have some drinks. Sitting around
felt great and despite some ominous looking clouds blowing down the canyon we
all decided to start dinner.
I chopped onions and peppers and opened up cans of beans for the burritos
that Steve and I would be sharing. While prepping food it quickly became clear
that the storm clouds we had spotted were approaching quickly and that we
would either be hit or not sometime within the next ten minutes. The sky turned a
strange soft purple and pink as the thunderstorm moved in front of the setting
sun and filtered the light. Thunder became much more frequent and the echoing
booms reverberated through the canyon. We were sitting out in the open at our
campsite, but I wasn’t too concerned since the storm seemed like it would just
skirt us to the west and we really were in just about the most protected spot
around. Lightning danced across the sky and could be seen striking the high
ridges to our west. Just when everyone thought we would get away without any
rain a steady sheet of misty white was seen dropping down the mountain side
and blowing straight towards us. The first few drops fell heavy on the dry
landscape and sent all of us heading for shelter. Middie and I just had enough
time to get into the large vestibule of my tent before a deluge of rain pounded us
and the intensity of thunder and lightning increased to a crescendo for five
minutes.
Soon the rain stopped and we all made our way back out to watch the storm roll
away and to finish up with dinner. Considering that the bottom of Hells Canyon
only receives about 11 inches of rain each year, the quarter inch that dumped
on us in the last five minutes was considerable. Incredibly, the low humidity in the
air had most things dried out within minutes. It had been a long day and soon
dusk was settling in on us. I headed off to the tent and Middie was so exhausted
that she curled up next to me and passed out in a matter of seconds.
Steve's Jeep high in the Blue Mountains at the site of our first night's bivy on the way out to Hells
Canyon from western Oregon. The lush forests and cool temperatures would soon be a thing of the
past as we dropped into the desert.
Canyon from western Oregon. The lush forests and cool temperatures would soon be a thing of the
past as we dropped into the desert.
A group of rafters floats towards the first rapid in Hells Canyon just a few hundred yards below put
in and the towering Hells Canyon Dam.
in and the towering Hells Canyon Dam.
From the start the scenery in Hells Canyon is some of the most impressive to be found in
Oregon. Deep rugged canyon walls are the norm and the sense of being surrounded by a vast
expanse of rugged terrain is hard to ignore.
Oregon. Deep rugged canyon walls are the norm and the sense of being surrounded by a vast
expanse of rugged terrain is hard to ignore.
Canoes in Hells Canyon are a rare sight, but in reality most of the rapids are similar to the one
pictured here and easy sneak lines generally exist.
pictured here and easy sneak lines generally exist.
The first rapids of the trip came only minutes after Middie first set paw in a canoe. She was pretty
hesitant on this first day of paddling, but she did well and learned quickly.
hesitant on this first day of paddling, but she did well and learned quickly.
Mark lines up on the big standing wave at the bottom of Wild Sheep. He ended up swimming, but
that looked way easier than lining the drop.
that looked way easier than lining the drop.
Even though she was confined to the canoe, the excitement of the river was enough to exhaust
Middie. As we scouted Wild Sheep she was happy to lie on the warm rocks.
Middie. As we scouted Wild Sheep she was happy to lie on the warm rocks.
Scott and Michelle entered Wild Sheep perfectly, but the big lateral at the bottom quickly flipped
their canoe and sent them for a swim.
their canoe and sent them for a swim.
Middie resting on the hot rocks, a sight we would get used to over the next several days.
The tandem canoe about to hit the big lateral at the bottom of Wild Sheep. This is the feature that
dumped the two canoed that ran the meat of the rapid.
dumped the two canoed that ran the meat of the rapid.
Middie looks on as I run the first part of Wild Sheep and eddy out at a point fro where I could line
the steepest part of the rapid. This turned out to be much more difficult than it looked.
the steepest part of the rapid. This turned out to be much more difficult than it looked.
Below Wild Sheep the Snake runs smooth for a good distance, a nice feature considering we had
several swimmers here.
several swimmers here.
Scott scouts the third and last major rapid in Hells Canyon while we decide what the best course
of action is for passing this obstacle.
of action is for passing this obstacle.
While we didn't stop at an official campsite at the end of the first day, we did find a nice flat bench
with ample flat ground and easy access to the river.
with ample flat ground and easy access to the river.
An evening thunderstorm rolled through the canyon, producing significant lightning and a quick
downpour that sent us running for the tents.
downpour that sent us running for the tents.