Guns A Blazing on the Lower Salmon

Linda and I were sitting in the Jeep at Fred Meyer when my phone rang. I looked at the caller ID and did a double take. What a blast from the past, a call from Steve Fitzgerald! I answered and Steve (Fitz) explained that some of our friends were getting together for a cast and blast raft trip down the Lower Salmon River. He invited me and I said that it sounded good but I needed to talk to Linda before I could answer.

We ready our gear at the Hammer Creek boat launch.

Over the next two days, I gathered all the facts. Linda said it was up to me and that I could go if I wanted. Well, of course, I wanted to go! Linda was also invited but she had plans in Cd’A and she needed to stay home.

I walked next door and asked my neighbor, Steve Nelson, if he would be interested and he said yes immediately.

Mike Beckwith stows his gear.

So we drug the cat out, packed the needed supplies, strapped on fishing poles and a shotgun and headed down to the put-in at Hammer Creek.

Steve and I were the first to arrive. There were a few rafters putting on the river and we chatted with them as we unloaded our cat and organized our gear. An hour and a half later the group began to arrive. Mike and Caroline Beckwith were the first to hit the boat launch. They launched their raft and started the process of loading and strapping down the gear.

Steve Fitzgerald and Jim Soon.

About a half hour later the rest of the gang arrived. Mike Fuhrman and Charlotte backed their trailer loaded with Mike’s cat and Jim Fuhrman’s raft, down to the river’s edge. While the Fuhrman’s rigged their boats, Steve Fitzgerald and Jim Soon, and Terry Beckwith and Rick Aman worked on their boats up in the parking lot. Once everything was in order the boats were launched and our group was set. All together we were a group of three cats and three rafts filled with eleven excited boaters.

I am ready and waiting!

We launched at about 1:30 PM and floated down to our first camp at about mile 3.1 from Hammer Creek, setting up our gear on Lyons Bar.

Mike and Charlotte made a great dinner of grilled chicken breasts with all the trimmings. Everyone was talking and getting to know each other. It was a fun-filled evening.

Next day we floated down to the Indian pictographs by Shorts Bar. The boys, Peyton and his brother, and everyone who had never been there hiked up and found the native paintings. It was a good stop. As a group, we moved on down through the Green Canyon. Everyone handled Wright–way Drop, Demons Drop and Pine Bar Rapids as we floated on down and on to the part of the river with no roads to bother us.

Our second night was spent on the beach on river right just 200 yards above Killer Goat Beach, about mile 34. It had been a long day of fishing and chukar hunting. Terry Beckwith provided stew and garlic bread. We all hit the sack early. Our arms were a bit tired and we needed to be ready for our next day’s float.

Once packed and ready we moved on into Cougar Canyon and started the rapid section of the trip. We ran rapids with names like Cliff Side, Pipeline, Lorna’s Lulu, and Upper and Lower Bunghole Rapids. We gathered up for a quick lunch at White House Bar and then continued deeper into Snow Hole Canyon.

As we moved on down the river the chukar count increased. There were more chukars down near the water than I have ever seen. It took us longer to move due to the bird hunting, but what were we here for if not that?

Harm’s Hole Rapids lead us to Bodacious Bounce and then into Half and Half Rapids. Of all the runs during the trip, the one down Half and Half was my worst. Not a huge problem, but I just didn’t like my angle through the lower part of the run. I sort of went sideways instead of straight. Oh, well…

Mike Beckwith, "At least I held onto my oar!"

I was in the lead when we rounded the corner to face the big rapid, Snow Hole. It always gets your attention when you approach this obstacle. Today was a bit more unnerving. As we lined up to look at the run you could see the remains of a blue raft wrapped on the big rock left center of the rapid. It looked nasty and put a huge knot in my gut. I looked back at Mike Fuhrman and saw that he saw the disaster too.

With all the initial adrenaline of running a big rapid and the surge provided by knowing someone made a big mistake, I set up for our run. We approached and looked at the tooth rock on the right and I let us drift down just left of the little pour-over rock on the upper right center of the run. Then when I was satisfied I would not get stuck in the top rock, I pulled like hell and brought the boat into a cross-river ferrying angle. One, two, three, huge pulls and the boat slid left and centered up. I dipped my oars and swung us down pointing straight into the chaotic mess ahead and pushed with everything I had. We dropped through the whitewater and bounced passed the mess! I let out a holler and pulled the boat into the big eddy on the right at the bottom of the run.

Next to the run came Mike Fuhrman followed by Fitz and then Jim Fuhrman.  All followed our line and had great runs.

Mike and Terry Beckwith were next. They were a bit behind us because Mike waited for Terry who had lagged behind due to chukar fever.

Mike approached the rapid but entered it much farther to the left than the rest of the boats. This entry placed him into the heart of the rapid and closer to the hidden boulders near the bottom of the run. He made it past the entry rocks and was heading down the middle of the run when his boat caught on a boulder and spun halfway around. When it dropped over the rock Mike bounced up and out of the rear left corner of the boat. He held hard to his oar and came up immediately. Caroline had noticed his departure and scrambled quickly to grab his hand and then pulled him into the boat.

Steve Nelson and I were in the eddy holding as safety boat and were ready to follow Mike if his boat had flipped. When we saw him appear in the rapid and then was grabbed by Caroline we stayed put knowing Mike was safe and the rest of our group would lend a hand collecting anything he had lost during his swim.

Terry entered the rapid in the same spot as Mike. Well, not exactly the same spot. Terry’s run was about four feet right of Mike’s and he missed the hidden boulder and had a clean run.  Steve and I followed as Terry pushed to catch up with the group. We stroked downriver and spotted a shoe floating in an eddy. We cleaned up the yard sale and caught up with Mike, delivering his right shoe completing the pair. Later Mike confessed all he lost was his hat and a bit of his swagger.

The group continued on down stopping whenever the sounds of chukar were heard. We stopped for the night at Lower Maloney. Mike and Caroline prepared a wonderful dinner of fresh Alaskan salmon. I have to admit that Mike was the target of many comments after his run; it was compounded when Steve Nelson brought out his phone with evidence of the mishap. Mike took it all in stride knowing that if it had happened to anyone else on the trip they would be hearing the same; all in good fun.

As the trip progressed so did the fish and bird count. We moved on down the river stopping to hunt birds and taking in the spectacular panoramas of this lower river section.  Chukars were so abundant that we moved slower than expected. Our next beach ended up being above Wapshilla Creek.

Makes your gut clench when you see this!

As we pulled around the corner to the beach we had set out to get, we noticed two boats on the upper end of the beach. This beach is huge and the two boats made it look bigger. The three guys were sitting in chairs next to their rafts. Fitz landed and asked them if they were staying. They said yes, and Fitz asked if they minded if we shared the lower half of the beach. It was late and the next beach was a couple miles downriver.  First, they said yes they cared, and Fitz said OK and started to walk away. Then they called him back and said it was OK. I think they noticed the six boats and felt guilty for having the huge beach with just the three of them.

We were prepared to move on and felt guilty ourselves for asking, but it all worked out. They actually walked upriver around the corner to a nice small beach and set up their camp. It probably was their correct choice due to their group size. Linda and I are very careful that we don’t take any big beaches whenever we do solo trips. It is just a good karma builder to leave the large beaches to bigger groups.

A camp was set and the guys cleaned all the birds and fish. For appetizers, we ate fresh chukar breasts and bass rolled in cracker crumbs and fried on the grill. Man, that was delicious. Fitz and Jim F. provided a great taco dinner and we stuffed ourselves. Every evening on this trip was spent laughing and reminiscing about past adventures. On most nights we all were in bed by 9:00 PM.

We were up early and on the river by 9:00 AM. We pushed down to the confluence to the Snake River and the Lower Salmon. Mike and Jim Fuhrman rafted up with Fitz and used Mike’s boat motor to rumble out. I connected to Mike Beckwith’s boat and we rafted on to Terry’s boat and we were off downriver. The wind was strong and so we were very glad to have motors to push us down to Heller Bar and the takeout.

Hang on to that stick, Beckwith!

At the ramp, we loaded up and said our goodbyes. It was a super Fall Classic Cast and Blast. The best hunting we have ever had! The weather was superb. You can’t beat the Lower when the weather is good and the river is running clear.

Caroline grabbing Mike as they bounce down Snow Hole.

Peyton and one of the chukars hey shot.

Rick Aman and Terry Beckwith. 

Jim Fuhrman and Rick Aman.

Breaking waves in China Rapids.

Setting up in the run at China Rapids.

A fine example of columnar basalt!

Fall Cast-n-Blast with Sting

The annual Cast and Blast took place last weekend.  It was way more cast than blast. Chukkar were few and far between for the second year in a row.  Now bass were another story. We fished slow and a bit deep for those slippery crawdad eaters and were able to pull in a nice dinner's worth.

My Steelhead, just before release.

Our trip started at Pine Bar where we put on at around noon, give or take an hour.  The party consisted of five boats at the ramp and one boat catching up later on in the evening.  When everyone was together our party totaled 10 humans and six boats. This combination made for nice boat weights and plenty of room for fishing and shooting.

 

Our rogues' gallery was enough to scare even Jack Reacher: Steve Fitzgerald, Mike Fuhrman, Jim Fuhrman, Connor Fuhrman, Paul Harris, Jared, Nick, Rob, and bringing up the rear Mike Beckwith; A great group of guys that have fun and always pitch in with the camp and boat work.

Paul Harris and Mike Fuhrman running Snow Hole Rapid.

We floated from the launch down to Killer Goat Beach (Packers Creek) giving us about 10.5 miles for the day. With the river running at 3700 CFS we had to work through the twists and turns of the river. Everyone did well on the oars; we were a bit rusty but it all comes back real quick.

On the way down I floated into my favorite area just above the Rice Creek Bridge. There is a big eddy on river left that I never pass up fishing.  I usually catch big rainbows in the foam line and I will always catch something there. This time was no exception.  I was casting a light weight rod for bass and had a green twin tail jig on.  I tossed it in the foam and let it sink. I felt a tug and set the hook.  It was big, I could feel right away. I played it for quite some time and finally got it to where I could see it. It was a big rainbow and it didn't want to be caught!

Paul and Mike in the tail out waves.

I worked it in and it would run, in and run. As I did that I readied my net.  The fish was tired and I was finally able to bring it into the front of the boat where I netted it! It was a steelhead! The fin was cut off so it was a keeper; the only problem was that it was exactly 19.75 inches long. I had read that steelhead must be over 20” to be a legal catch. I thought about it and tried to justify keeping it because it also says in the regulations that all hatchery fish with cut fins must be kept. In the end I lowered her into the water and let her swim free. Maybe my buddy Mike Wassmuth will catch her upriver some time. The river temperature was still warmer then past floats; it was about 63 degrees, so catching steelhead could be a bit harder.  Warmer water keeps the fish grouped up down river waiting for changes.The excitement of catching a big fish is always one feeling that I love and remember so every catch is worth an entry in the blog.

Happy boaters!

The camp was big and we had more than enough room to tie up, spread out and relax. Dinner was served up by the Furhmans. We had pork loins, a rice dish and Caesar Salad; more than enough for everyone.

After our meal everyone faded off and sprawled out on their beds which turned out to be about as far as anyone made it.  Three of us stayed up until 9 PM, the others never returned. I guess the sun going down at 7 PM was invitation enough for them to hit the sack.

Mike Beckwith in Snow Hole Rapid.

Morning came and everyone packed up for the big water day. We ran all the big white stuff with no mishaps.  Snow Hole Rapid was exciting because of the low water levels, but proved to be no problem for this group.  After the Snow Hole rush we ran across our first chukkar sighting. We spotted them the same time as a jet boat so they got the first shots off.  Paul was able to bring down one as it flushed away from the other shooters.  We collected the bird and were on our way.

We planned to stay at Maloney Creek but it was taken so we went on down through China Rapid to the beach across from Bent’s cabin. (River Mile 35) It was taco night and so we threw everything together and had a feast.  We built a fire in the fire pan and once the sun set it only took about an hour before folks were off to bed.

Every morning I woke to laughter.  This group got along so well there was never a time when someone wasn't laughing.  As we sat on the beach everyone searched for deer and other game.  Rob noted some otter swimming upstream.  I ran and got my camera and was able to get a few good shots and then they were gone.

Two Otter heads.

With the boats packed we launched and floated to our last camp site at Wapshilla Creek about 8 miles from the confluence of the Salmon and Snake. The beach was the same one we camped on for our last night as a group on the trip in July.

 

Group photo on the rocks.

There was, however, a dramatic difference in the view this time.  During the time between now and our last visit the Big Cougar Complex fire had swept through and blackened the vistas around us. Check out the two photos and you will be able to note the difference.  The fire was massive, but as you look around you see that there really wasn’t much in this panorama that couldn't be burnt. Cheat Grass, Star Thistle, and small brush were about all that went up in smoke.

Our beach camp looking Northwest in July. 

We all were in bed by about 8 PM. Of the past nights, this one had provided the most drinking entertainment. I figured that some of the boys would not feel as pert in the morning as they had in the past.  As we slept the clouds rolled in and by about 11 PM we were seeing some lightning.  It should have been a forewarning of the rain that followed, but we ignored it and slept on.  At about midnight or so it started to rain.  Everyone did the big dash to gather their tents and for the next fifteen minutes it was a rush of tent cloth and pole clicks as the shelters were set up.  Beckwith could be heard saying, “Turn it 180 degrees.” about ten times before he and everyone else got settled back to sleep.

It rained for a while and then stopped, and then it rained hard for an hour, slowly fading away to nothing but a cool breeze.

The same beach, same shot in September.

We woke at sun rise and went about our morning routines.  Packing was wet but it was our last day, a quick eight miles to the confluence and then the long motor out. Everyone worked together and we were on the river and to the takeout by 3 PM.

There is nothing much to say about our trip down the Snake River.  There was a big blow out of Cottonwood Creek that was cool to look at.  (See the photo) and we were still following the burn down river right. Steelhead fever was in full swing and the jet boats were clogging the confluence.  We saw several of those beautiful fish boated as we floated our way out to the ramp and our waiting trucks.

Great trip is all I can say.  We would have enjoyed seeing and shooting more chukkar. It would have been nice to catch more steelhead. We are so lucky to be able to get on that river as much as we do; it is a gift.

Contrasting colors of the river, bank and burn.

Down river of the burned hillsides.

Blowout of Cottonwood Creek on the Snake River.