Trip Report as you consider joining/inviting newbies - Mountain Buzz
 



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Old 02-24-2019   #1
 
Idaho Falls, Idaho
Paddling Since: 1970
Join Date: May 2009
Posts: 74
Trip Report as you consider joining/inviting newbies

Book 1 -



Immediately following ‘the trip’ I knew I would have to write it down. First, for posterity; second, to provide therapy for me to be able (maybe) to laugh about it: and third, so that you, whoever you are, would find some humor, perhaps at my expense, in the “Trip from Hell’.

For reasons that will become obvious, names have been changed to maintain anonymity (and to protect me from further death threats). This trip report clearly is written from my perspective with only a request for review from others on the trip.


Steve would not talk to me. Jason had set up a backyard barbecue in early June as a meet n greet for those in the area that would be going on the Middle Fork in July. We had three distinct groups that had been invited on the trip. I will refer to them as the Owl’s, Fishes, and the Monkeys. In this reference, I mean no ill toward any animal or animal group.

Six months earlier, I had I bumped into an ex-neighbor of mine at the grocery store. I had not seen Roger for several years. He asked if he could put in for a Middle Fork Salmon River permit with my group. As a result of that discussion, he and his friend Jason put in on the days I thought offered our best chance of drawing. In February, Jason drew!. The third week of July would see great weather and water likely at 2’ (challenging but certainly manageable). As a result of my great analytical skills in predicting which dates to choose, I was invited on the trip.

By my nature, and profession, I am analytical. I have, and continue to gather, the permit statistics for the Four Rivers Lottery. I can tell you which day of the year has the best odds of a successful draw. During many of the winter months, I am crunching numbers. I will admit that my results may not be accurate, but I have numbers to support whatever conclusion I draw. I chalk up my lack of drawing to dumb luck. 18 of my 21 trips (at water levels ranging from 1.6’ to 6’) are the result of cancellations or friends drawing permits.

The Owl’s were made up of two close friends (Robert and Mike), my wife (Clara), and myself. The Owls, as you would expect from their namesake, are very organized. Organized to the point that cooking assignments and menus are known before a trip. As in all my trips, each raft would have a State or Country flag depicting the oarsman’s home, genealogy, or favorite destination. Coolers, dry boxes, gear bags, and dry bags are correspondingly marked with a matching luggage tag indicating which boat the gear goes in. Besides adding some color to the rafting flotilla, it provides a tool for those not familiar with the logistics of river running to engage in the morning and evening rituals of loading/unloading the rafts. “See that luggage tag? Put it by the boat with a matching flag. Repeat until all gear is on the beach (or in camp)." We have three rafts.

The Fishes consisted of Jason (Permit Holder), Roger, Kendall (RIP my brother) and his daughter. Jason and Roger had been down the river once before. While they could not remember the water level, they had no experience planning of executing a trip. They were avid fishermen and were looking forward to ‘ripping some lips’. Kendall was looking forward to sharing his newly found love of whitewater rafting with his daughter during some one on one time. The fish’s are in two rafts.

The Monkeys were made up of Steve (a doctor), his two daughters (8 and 10), his son (age 15), and nephew, Daniel (age 19). Steve had grown up with a family outfitter business on Southwestern rivers but had no Middle Fork experience. They are in a raft and Cat.

On the night of the Barbecue, everyone was there except Robert and Mike who live in Colorado and Utah. With introductions out of the way, we cooked some burgers and visited about the upcoming trip and expectations. As the seasoned low water Middle Fork boater, and the analytical one, I asked a lot of questions and offered more advice than was prudent. Despite my objections, Jason directed us all to fend for our respective groups. While we would cook together, individual kitchen and camp equipment would be provided by each group for each group. The only common equipment was the Grover and fire pan. I emphasized that weight is not anyone’s friend for a low water Middle Fork Trip. My comments fell on deaf ears.

A 6 day trip was planned. We would drive over in mid-day arriving at Boundary Creek by 3 pm Sunday (the day before launch) and have boats on the water in order to get camp assignments at 5. This would provide us our best choice of camps and to enjoy the pre-launch evening with an early start the next morning.

Cooking assignments were as follows:
Owl’s – Sunday Dinner & Monday Breakfast/Lunch, Tuesday Breakfast
Monkey’s – Tuesday & Wednesday lunch/dinners, Wednesday & Thursday Breakfasts
Fishes – Thursday & Friday lunch / dinner, Friday & Saturday Breakfasts
My analytical nature almost has me schedule an hour of spontaneity just before retiring to bed.

The trip was on.

Now the waiting, packing, and repacking began. The first of July I was asked to take a church group of Young Women down the Alpine Canyon Stretch of the Snake River in Wyoming. This was to take place on Saturday, day 6 of our Middle Fork Trip. A simple change for the owl’s. On day 4, we would camp near the mouth of Impassable canyon. On Day 5, the Owl’s would simply float out the remaining 30 miles (give or take), drive home, and run Alpine the following day. The Fishes and Monkeys would navigate impassible canyon over the final two days without the Owl’s.

A week later, I had a heavy feeling about the trip. I talked to my wife, called Roger and Mike, and expressed my feelings and suggested that we cancel. Roger made a convincing argument: “let’s go, the cost will be the same, the entertainment is free”. I agreed to go but planned to take additional food as a backup.

The trip was on (again).

Roger and Mike arrived in town on Saturday as planned. We transferred boats and gear into the trailer, had a great night visiting and talking about another adventure on the Middle Fork. Little did we know!

Sunday we arrived at Boundary Creek about 2:30. Water levels were at 2.2’ – an awesome late July level. No one else from our group was there. The ranger was quick to greet us, asked what name the permit was under. I responded “Jason”. After a short wait, we unloaded boats and gear and got them on the water by 4:00. Still no-one else from our group. At 5 pm the ranger came over and said “Jason, come to the cabin, we are going to assign camps”. It was then I realized that she thought I was the Permit Holder. I did not correct her but slipped over for the round robin camp assignments with the other groups launching Monday (forgiveness is easier than permission).

Assigned Camps and daily miles as follows:
Monday night – Dolly Lake, 19 miles (19)
Tuesday night – Marble Left, 12.6 miles (31.6)
Wednesday night – Hospital Bar, 20.5 miles (52.1)
Thursday night – Wollard Creek, 22.8 miles (74.9)
Friday night – Parrot Placer, 11.3 miles (86.2)
Cache Bar – 13.5 miles (99.7)

We then went to our camp for dinner, and to worry – where is everyone?

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Old 02-25-2019   #2
 
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Kalispell, Montana
Paddling Since: 1997
Join Date: Apr 2012
Posts: 2,269
An den?
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Old 02-25-2019   #3
 
Boise, Idaho
Join Date: Aug 2015
Posts: 46
You scheduled 19 miles on day 1 in late July? We launched July 14th last year at 2.34 and it took most of the day just to make it the 8-9 miles to our camp. I'm anxious to hear the rest of this story!
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Old 02-25-2019   #4
 
Idaho Falls, Idaho
Paddling Since: 1970
Join Date: May 2009
Posts: 74
Response - 19 miles is a full day. I have no problem making that distance if we remain focused and can 'follow' through pinball alley.



Book 2 (of 3 ?)




About 6:30 Sunday, the Fishes showed up. We quickly unloaded and got their boats on the water by 8:00. Jason had talked to Steve just before losing cell phone coverage outside of Stanley. At 5 pm, Steve had not left home. He was, at best, 4 hours from Boundary Creek. We had dinner followed by a restless night, knowing that we had to make 19 of the toughest (low water) miles on Monday. It was imperative that we launch by 8 am. Sleep finally took over when I heard a rig pull in about midnight.

Monday morning, we got up early for breakfast and to get Steve’s boats staged, have our Forest Service talk, and launch. Problem - no sign of Steve. The rig I heard pull in was two camps down. After breakfast, we began to wait. 8 am and no Steve. 9 am, no Steve. Another hour passed. 10 am, still no Steve. I approached Jason and he convinced me that we would wait until 11 and launch if Steve was not there. 11 a.m., right on cue, Steve pulled into the parking lot. We all jumped to get his two boats and gear staged. It would be almost 1 pm before we were ready to launch – 19 miles to camp! It was clear we could not make our assigned camp. After a short discussion with the Rangers, we were able to change our first night camp from Dolly Lake to Sheepeater. A sliver lining. We would have two camps at hot springs. But still 16 miles to camp.

As Steve jumped out of his truck, the strap on his right sandal pulled out of the sole. No problem. With a large upholstery needle and dental floss, I stitched his sandal back together. It worked, and would hold the length of the trip. In the flurry of activity, I saw Steve literally throwing gear in the boats to get them on the water. His dry bags were old rubber lined army duff sacks. Seeing them brought back a flood of memories of visits to, and regular purchases at, Smith & Edwards (the Army Surplus Store) between Brigham City and Ogden. Those bags didn’t keep my things dry on Boy Scout trips in the 60’s, but I thought Steve’s experience on the SouthWest Rivers had tested his gear sufficiently.

Once onloaded, Robert volunteered to take Steve’s truck and trailer up to the shuttle parking lot while Steve and the rest of us finalized Steve’s boats. Steve agreed and told Robert to lock the keys in the truck, he had a spare set with him.

Apparently, at home as Steve was preparing to load boats and gear, he was backing up his truck and trailer to load his boat and ran over it. I presume the damage was beyond immediate repair to either the boat, the frame, or both. I know it was not in my best interest to ask for details. He was able to borrow his brothers raft, get it loaded, and pick up a rented Cat. As a result, he did not leave home until sometime Monday morning. He then got lost in the back-roads of the Sawtooth’s trying to find Boundary Creek and the put-in. Then his sandal. . . . and the pressure of it all . . .

At 1 pm we launched from Boundary. The trip was on – 16 miles to camp.

We agreed that I would lead the group through the low water obstacles. The route is pretty well defined through many of the rapids: First Bend and Ramshorn. But there is a definite route or strategy for Pinball Alley, Sulphur Slide, Hell’s Half Mile, Velvet Falls, and The Chutes. Robert would be the last boat to provide bumps or other assistance to keep the group moving. I would eddy out periodically in order to keep the group from getting too strung out. Our goal was to 1) keep moving, and 2) keep everyone in sight. All went to plan – well, at least for 100 yards through First Bend rapid. We were soon scattered over 2 miles of river. Robert had his work cut out for him. He was continually bumping and pulling boats off rocks. Steve was struggling to control his boat with gear and three (albeit small) passengers.

I do not recall if it was above or below Velvet Falls, a 5 gallon, orange Home Depot bucket washed out of Steve’s raft. For a quarter mile or more, it bounced along the river bottom in from of his boat until it was in multiple pieces. I insisted that he make at least make a reasonable effort to recover it and stow it for the balance of the trip. Steve was not talking to me.

A mandatory stop at Trail Flats hot spring for a soak, snacks, regroup, and words of encouragement, and we were back on the water. 5 pm and 6 miles to go to camp. Thank goodness for the long days in July. We finally pulled into camp about 9 pm. No time for me at the hot springs tonight. I will make up for it at Hospital Bar.

Steve was the last boat to pull in and began to unload, wet – soaking wet, dripping wet, sleeping bags from the floor of his boat. They had not even been rolled up or put in his Army Surplus duffs. Clothing and personal gear that were in the duff sacks were also soaked. No dry clothes or bedding for the Monkeys tonight. I sorted through my gear and found a couple blankets and sleeping bag liners that I carry for emergencies (that warrants another story) and took them to Steve. For unknown reasons, Steve was not talking to me.

Dinner and sleep were welcomed. A long stressful day was behind us. Perhaps tomorrow would bring lighter moods. After all, this is a vacation - it supposed to be fun, Damnit!

As was the case with day one, the weather for day two was delightful. With each mile, we saw small streams flowing into the river. Each one bringing more welcome water and I celebrated doing our family tradition ‘happy dance’. I had swapped places with Robert and was now in ‘sweep’ position. Life is good – for 6 miles.

Between Big Snag and Dolly Lake Camps, Steve made contact with the rock wall on the left channel and tore a hole in his brother’s boat. I was a bit puzzled how a boat could hit a rock wall that hard. I stayed with him and we patched the boat. We pressed on - 3 miles to Indian Creek. Steve was talking to me now, although it is only to complain about the pressure to get to our assigned camps. The more I tried to hold my position as sweep boat, the more Steve slowed down, eddied out, or otherwise got stuck. Clara and I decided to press on to Indian Creek. Upon arrival we found the rest of the group waiting. They had filled water jugs, gotten reports from the rangers, and were anxious to get to Pungo Creek for lunch. We all waited for Steve and Daniel to arrive at Indian Creek, and forged on.

Clara and I landed at Pungo and while waiting for Steve, the Owl’s and fishes went on the short hike up to the Pictographs. We took pictures, enjoyed the view down onto the river, and returned to the boats. No Steve. An hour later, no Steve. Steve had the lunch assignment for Tuesday and we were getting hungrier by the minute and began to feel the pressure of passing hours without putting miles behind us. I opened my cooler and grabbed some grapes, cheese, and crackers to munch on while waiting. Soon, the Owls and fishes were chowing down on leftovers from Sunday and Monday. (Without feeding the Monkey’s on Sunday, we had plenty of leftovers.) Nearly two hours after we landed at Pungo, Steve showed up. As he came from his boat up to the single shade tree where we sat, his lunch assignment in hand, he saw evidence of our makeshift lunch on the rock. He turned around and stormed off to his boat. Steve was not happy.

The Owls and Fishes were anxious to get moving, and of course, were no longer hungry. To appease the now angry(er) Steve, the fishes convinced him to bring his up lunch. We ate token amounts in an effort to settle him down. Steve, again, was not talking to me.

Marble left is a wonderful camp. Just downstream from camp, the roar of Marble rapid is a constant reminder of the eminent excitement waiting in the morning. Camp is located just above the river and the cliffs provide a great vista and launch into the clear waters below. I was excited to cool off, wash off, and relax. Steve has been down at the boats for a long time. I found him waist deep, wrestling with the now detached frame from the cata-raft. I do not recall the reason he thought it need to be adjusted. After undoing straps on both tubes, he was frustrated when the frame sunk to the bottom of the river. He borrowed a socket set from Robert’s tools, and while adjusting the frame, spoke his only words to Robert by complaining about the ratchet. Two hours later, he and I had the cat put back together.

I was reading a book – “What If God Wrote Your Bucket List” (- Payleitner). My chapter this night was titled “Be Last in Line”. The gist was to surrender to others and let them lead rather than follow. The scripture reference for this chapter was Matthew 20:16 “The first shall be last and the last first”. I get the message and commit to, on Wednesday, let the fishes and Monkey’s experience the river on their own.
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Old 02-25-2019   #5
 
Crested Butte, Colorado
Paddling Since: 82
Join Date: Feb 2010
Posts: 268
I'm ready to read from the book of Steve now.
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Old 02-25-2019   #6
 
Idaho Falls, Idaho
Paddling Since: 1970
Join Date: May 2009
Posts: 74
There are always at least two sides to every story. I would love to read 'the book of Steve' as well.


Book 3 - final


With the low water obstacles, and Indian Creek behind us, Day 3 was to be a fun day. Marble, Ski Jump, and Jackass rapids, together with Sunflower hot springs, and Underwater canyon create a new beginning of sorts. Although we had 20 miles to cover today, with the increased water flows, maintaining momentum is not typically a concern. Clara and I did our best to ‘be last’. We started by frequently floating alongside, or just behind Steve and Danny, making small talk and enjoying the river. I soon realized that Steve was getting frustrated from hanging up on many (if not all) the rocks in the river. Perhaps it is a multi-tasking thing. Clara and I begin watching from a distance. About 3 or 4 miles from Hospital Bar, Steve ran up on an exposed rock near Loon Islands. I lined up to ‘bump’ him off the rock – unsuccessfully. Clara and I grabbed his boat and attempted to pull him off from downstream. When I looked up, instead of rowing with us, Steve was quietly putting on his sandals. We left him to his own fate, in the middle of the river, and floated on to camp.

The Fishes were enjoying the late afternoon fishing, hopping from one eddy to the next. Mike and Robert were already in camp when we pulled in. An hour later, ahead of the Fishes, Steve pulled into camp, proceeded piling buckets filled with ice and food in front of my boat, and announced “I am floating the rest of the way out tonight and going home”. After the shock of his statement, Mike, Robert, Clara, and I realized he was serious. Attempts to reason with him only spun him up the more, Even Daniel’s pleadings did not reach him. He thought he could float in a few hours, further than he had been able to float in 3 days!

I feared for the safety of his three children and nephew to the point of giving serious consideration to putting a hole in his boat so he could not continue down the river. He continued ranting about how he had talked to the Ranger at Indian Creek about leaving the group and was going to float out, drive home, and take his family on a real vacation to Lagoon – that night!

It was about this time that Roger, Jason, and Kendall showed up. It would take the next hour for them to talk sense into Steve. He agreed not to attempt to float out under three conditions:
1) I would not talk to him
2) I would not camp by him
3) I would not eat his food

The wonderful thing about Hospital Bar, is that the camp area is about the size of 2 football fields. That helped with the first two of his conditions. The problem however, was that his daughters and nephew had begun to frequent our tent area each night. Clara would draw or paint and include the two girls were fascinated with their new-found interest, and loved the attention. Discussions with Daniel would typically center around rafting techniques.

As for the food . . . The owl’s decided to cook their meals two nights early. The only problem with that was they had planned on feeding four less people. Shortly after dinner, Daniel and the girls came over to visit and paint. Steve was quick to send a messenger that consorting with the enemy was not to be tolerated (my words not his). I kept my distance and stayed near my tent, opting not to risk bumping into him at the hot springs.

The next two days, I kept my distance for two reasons. The first, to honor Steve’s request(s), but more importantly, I began a process of reflection. How did I create, or contribute to Steve’s meltdown? What could I have done, or now do, to alleviate the conflict? Even toward the rest of the Owl’s, I became withdrawn. As a result of my state of mind, I honestly do not remember much of Steve’s actions or interactions during the rest of the trip. Consequently, the rest of this account may be short (thank goodness!).

Thursday, day 4 started out stressful. I do not recall if the Owl’s even ate breakfast, but we decided we would not risk further interactions with Steve. We quickly loaded our boats, told the Fish’s we would see them at each of the big drops of the day, and meet them for lunch at the Flying B. The day was uneventful and we arrived early at Wollard, set up camp, swam and bathed, and I actually, for the first time, broke out my fly rod. Two hours later, the group pulled in.

This would be the Owl’s last night on the river. In order to get an early start, and being desirous to leave the large campsite for the group (not to violate Steve’s demand #2), the Owl’s had opted to camp on the rocky beach on the south end of camp.

As Steve had put off cooking thus far in the trip, he was on for dinner. I was not particularly paying attention, but since his boat was in the eddy I was fishing in, I was dumbfounded when he pulled off the floor of his boat, not one, not two, but three cast iron dutch ovens! Like the sleeping bags, they had been left to slosh around in water on the floor of the boat. So much for wondering why he was struggling to control his boat and keep off every rock in the river.

After dinner, Robert and Mike quietly asked if we had some food. They were still hungry. Soon Jason came down. Steve’s daughters had been in the same swimsuits for 4 days and each had developed a rash. Did we have anything for them? I handed him my wilderness first aid kit to take up to Steve. I will never know if he used anything I had, but I do know he complained to Jason about not having a specific anti-fungal cream. In his world back home, he would have had a supply at his fingertips or a prescription away. Unfortunately for Steve, the local Wal-Mart was closed.

Just before retiring to bed, I ventured up to the campfire to bid farewell. The Owl’s would likely be leaving before the rest of the camp was awake. They would have an easy day with only 11 miles to their final camp. Jason told me that Steve wanted to see me, so in the low light of the campfire, Steve apologized. We talked briefly, I gave him a brace (I am a ‘hugger’) and retreated to my tent to contemplate the strange ending to the ‘Trip From Hell’.

Our trip out, and home was uneventful. Upon arriving home, as I stepped out of the bath, I realized I had two appendages that I did not have prior to the trip (and that I did not want to have). A few days later my suspicions were confirmed – double bilateral inguinal hernia. If you are wondering, no, I did not go to Steve for the diagnosis. After two surgeries and too long of a recovery, I was left to wonder – when and where did I overdo? Maybe it was trying to lift the raft full of gear, wet sleeping bags, and three cast iron dutch ovens off of any of the rocks on the Middle Fork.

Several weeks later, Roger called to share the final day of their adventure. Their last two days were also uneventful and as they landed at Cache Bar, Steve came over to Roger asking “what did you do with the keys to my truck?”. Steve had forgotten that he had given his ‘extra’ set to the shuttle service. Both sets were now securely locked in the cab of his truck. After failed attempts to get the truck unlocked, Steve was forced to break out the back window. Apparently the 250 mile trip home was a bit noisy.

It was a full year later when I ran into Jason, Robert, and Steve. We chatted about the Middle Fork and our adventure. Steve was still not talking to me.

You know, I’m ok with that.

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Old 02-25-2019   #7
 
Crested Butte, Colorado
Paddling Since: 82
Join Date: Feb 2010
Posts: 268
Interesting story. The sad part is knowing that thew kids on Steves boat will probably have zero interest in rafting again. If you boat long enough you will have some sort of trip from hell. I've had a few.... there are always good parts though, even on a trip from hell.
Now that I think about it, my grand trip of 2000 had a Steve. I got off to a bad start with steve, hit him in the back of the head with a golf ball before we even got to the river. I felt bad at first, by day 10 I was ready to bounce a few more golf balls off the back of his head, lol.
Thanks for sharing.
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Old 02-25-2019   #8
 
Denver, Colorado
Paddling Since: 2001
Join Date: Sep 2017
Posts: 13
We had one boater on a MF trip where it seemed like at every turn something went wrong for him (holes in the boat, broken oars, serious injury, etc). Any one of the mishaps could have happened to anyone on the trip. But his attitude was awesome. I have complete respect for the guy. Great reminder to stay humble, take advice and if all else fails, smile.
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Old 02-25-2019   #9
 
John_in_Loveland's Avatar
 
Loveland, Colorado
Paddling Since: 1990
Join Date: Jun 2011
Posts: 245
What a great narration. Thanks for sharing...and the Mathew 20:16 passage was appropo.

Sent from my SCH-I545 using Mountain Buzz mobile app
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Old 02-25-2019   #10
 
MT4Runner's Avatar
 
Kalispell, Montana
Paddling Since: 1997
Join Date: Apr 2012
Posts: 2,269
I enjoyed your tale, lyhfamily, thank you!


My first MF experience, I brought my own raft, but kayaked while a friend rowed my boat. I agreed to paddle his kayak so he could do the mellower stretch past Indian in a boat he was comfortable in. It hurt my legs, but oh well, I was on the MF!!


The kicker was the oarsman in the other raft who slept in and took way too long to get loaded. He always made comments about "how easy it was to load kayaks and they just didn't understand how long it took to load a raft". By about Day 3, I tended to ignore him and I'd help my buddy load my raft with ALL the kayakers gear bags and half the group gear, put on my drysuit bottom half, and sit in the sunshine for another hour sipping a beer waiting for the other guy to lash everything for the umpteenth time....because hey, I was on the Middle Fork!
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