Last weekend, a plan a few weeks in the making finally came together, and four of us ran the Selway River at low flows. The Selway is a river that I've wanted to get on for a long time--its permitted throughout the prime months (April through August), and flows through the most remote and pristine area in the lower 48--the Selway Bitterroot Wilderness. The river canyon is filled with big whitewater at higher flows, and tight, technical whitewater the rest of the year. The shuttle is fairly horrendous, 10 hours if you do it all at once, but the rewards of the river are incredibly high. We had the opportunity to paddle 47 miles of continually interesting, stunningly beautiful whitewater--miles from the nearest person or town. Many thanks to my co-instructor Brandon Gonski for supplying these beautiful photos that give a glimpse into some of the many joys of this river.
The odyssey really started on Friday afternoon, when Ryan and I spent 6 hours running the take-out shuttle. We drove through the afternoon and evening to drop my truck at the take-out. By the time we had rallied over the washboard, it was completely dark, and we ended up just putting the truck where the river sounded the loudest--making sure that we were above the class V Selway Falls.
We woke up the next morning at 4, and, with Kaitlyn generouslyvolunteering to drop us off at the put-in, loaded up Brandon's
Subaru and started another 3 hour drive. By the time we got close to the river, and the sun began to come up, we could see tiny islands of ice around every rock, and, between them, a shallow trickle of water makings its way towards the Lochsa, 50 miles away. It was clear that this wasn't going to be an easy trip. With only two days to cover all the distance, and without the massive flows that are common in the springtime, we knew that our first day on the river was going to be a marathon. Ryan, eternally the optimist, had made it clear that the first day of paddling, ending at Moose Creek, was going to be "miserable...but awesome."
Here we are putting on the river. Our boats were loaded down with a lot of gear. Only Ryan had the secret weapon--he had borrowed the Outdoor Program's Prijon Chopper. The chopper absolutely swallowed his -40 sleeping bag and had room for more. I think that we all secretly wished for a Chopper of our own, or at least that he wouldn't be able to negotiate the technical whitewater downstream with his gargantuan, comfortable boat.
Here I am looking at the first rapid of our trip. Brandon is sitting behind a rock, taking photos. Little do we both know that soon I'll be upside down, and Brandon will be running the rest of the rapid trying to protect is gajillion dollar camera. It all ended well, though.
The first morning of whitewater was super tight, and there wasn't much water, but we didn't have to get out of our boats, or really stop for anything. We just kept moving, through a beautiful river canyon surrounded by high, arid walls and large evergreens. It was cold, and the day never really seemed to warm up.
We just kept moving, though. Here Ryan pushes the Chopper to its limits.
We kept waiting to see Moose Creek, which marked the half-way point, as well as the beginning of the largest rapids on the river. We managed to convince ourselves that we had passed it, and made camp at a beautiful sight, near a large wooden bridge that spanned the river.
Zach used his boyscout techniques to bring a fire up, we broke out the dehydrated chili, and we had a wonderful evening in camp, followed by a cold night in the tents.
Once we got on the water the next day, one of the first things we did was pass Moose Creek--the spot that we thought we had passed 5 miles earlier. We were in for another, equally long day. Because we didn't know where we had parked the truck, either, we knew that we had to get off the river before it got too dark to find.
On the bright side, though, Moose Creek meant an additional flow that sped up our progress, and significantly beefed up some of the rapids. Here Zach is deep in one of the larger rapids below Moose Creek.
Even though my facial hair is confidence-inspiring, I don't think that I'm looking too sure of myself as I run the same rapid here.
Here, Ryan is taking a look at the Chopper prospects for running this drop with a big pin rock right in the middle. Ry and I both decided to walk this one. By this time, it was getting late in the day, and we were all tired. We hadn't gotten on the river particularly early, due to our little Moose Creek mix-up, and we needed to make solid progress downstream.
Brandon's picture frequency also declined somewhat, as we buckled down and charged for the car.
By the time we finally made it, we were completely exhausted, and happy that we had the foresight to leave BBQ chips in the truck. We drove back out on the washboard just as the light was beginning to go. All in all, a sweet trip in one of the most pristine places that I've ever been.
We were pretty tired by the time we finally made it back to Missoula...
Once again, thanks to Brandon for the sweet pictures. Moral of the story--you may not get to reading all your student's essays, and you may drive for a thousand years to get there, but the Selway River is certainly a spirit-place. Every minute spent on the river you are surrounded with the immediacy and fullness of the wild. See you on the river...
