The Church Lady on the Middle Fork of the Salmon
by John Montgomery, WA
I just got back from Idaho a few days ago and I think there's still a smile plastered on my face from all the fun I had over the past two weeks. Idaho has some of the most incredibly beautiful rivers I've ever seen and warm, sunny weather that leaves you begging to be in the water. It's definitely a paddler's paradise! The main purpose of the trip was a six-day, fully catered run down the Middle Fork of the Salmon River with Phil and Mary DeRiemer.
We spent the Fourth of July driving up to Stanley, way up in the Sawtooth Range. This was the first time I've ever ventured up into central Idaho and I must say it is absolutely spectacular country. We watched a fireworks display from our hotel that night and met a few of the other kayakers who were going to be on the Middle Fork trip with us.
The flight into the back country in a squadron of four-seaters heavily laden with kayaks and gear, seemed like something out of an Indiana Jones movie and it was amazing to buzz over the ridges and look down at the mosaic of living and dead trees left by last year's huge wildfires.
The trip began as jumble of people and gear. With 17 paying kayakers, 3 kayak guides, and 4 rafts we were hardly the smallest party of the river. But all the guides were well organized and the first couple days passed by in mindless relaxation. We had lots of time to surf waves and work on play moves. The scenery wasn't too bad either. I really enjoyed seeing ancient pictographs from the Sheepeater Indians and soaking in a couple hot springs along the river. Life could be worse.
I think the thing that really "made" the trip for me was paddling with such a wonderful group of people. As usual, almost everyone there seemed to have a PhD or an MD or some other string of impressive letters behind their names (we even had a retired Rear Admiral from the Navy!) But what is so great about a trip like this is that you seldom, if ever, encounter those "work egos" on the water. We're all just kayakers out on the river, nothing else. Those big keeper holes don't give a damn what you do for work or where you live or how much money you make... they'll eat you alive all the same! What does matter is your heart and soul and paddling ability and the river seems to bring out the best of those in each of us.
Our camps along the river were wonderful. Sometimes we had a hot springs nearby, or a good swimming hole, or just a gorgeous view of the river and mountains. The guides served up fantastic meals and we even had a short-order cook making breakfast in the mornings! On several nights, my friend Gregg and a doc from Washington state named Kim, took turns playing guitar and singing. They were both incredibly gifted musicians and it was such a treat to hear excellent live music on a warm summer night in the wilderness. It didn't matter how droopy my eyelids got in the falling darkness, I wasn't going to my tent until the music stopped!
As we entered the Impassable Canyon, the river narrowed and the volume of the river increased as several feeder creeks joined the flow. The drops we ran became more difficult and some were pretty exciting. At Tappan Falls, I took an easy route down the first time, then got out and hiked up for a second run down a harder line. The run took me right into a big, friendly hole and I found myself standing straight up in the boat with foaming white water up to my chin. Slowly, the boat rose up and flattened out and I paddled out the hole as if I'd just slid down the Kiddie Slide at the swimming pool.
I tried a similar maneuver on a different pour over on the next day and had a much different experience! After missing the correct line, I found myself heading for the pour over and decided to take it straight on, just like before. I buried into the foam again, but this time, as I rose up, my stern caught the pour over and I was instantly flipped end over end in spectacular fashion. I had to keep from laughing as I rolled up, but when I did, I could still hear cheering from my compatriots.
The camp was definitely in a groove on our fifth and final night on the river which probably had something to do with the punch we were drinking. Mary came around with a bag full of costumes and soon everyone was sporting something outrageous. There was Roger in Mikhail Baryshnikov's tights, George in a punk rock wig, John (not me!) in a 1930's woman's one-piece bathing suit (check out those hairy bosoms!), and other folks wearing everything from boy's Superman underwear to John Travolta's disco pants. It was crazy, but it didn't get insane until I staggered from my tent in a daze (I'd been napping when the fun started) and soon found myself dressed in a large pink dress with white polka dots and puffy sleeves. At first, I was given a hideous red wig to wear, but a short, blond wig became available and I was transformed (by alcohol as much by the wig and my wire rim glasses) into The Church Lady.
I really don't have a very clear memory of what happened after that, but I soon found myself in front of the crowd welcoming those who knew the "Lawd Jay-Sus" and sermonizing about evil to those who didn't. (Can you say "Say-Ten"?) From there, I baptized Elizabeth in the river (who was wearing a pink bride's maid dress with an open heart sewn in the back) and she responded by tackling me into the water. Next, we baptized John (who was now wearing Playboy bunny ears along with the ladies' swim suit) and as the Revival atmosphere swept through the crowd the faithful rose up with swaying hands singing halleluiah's and clapping. Things soon reached their climax after I baptized Skip. After falling down in the river for the umpteenth time, I lost my glasses. A hush fell over the crowd as Skip and I waited for the water to settle, but the place exploded when Skip found them and I proclaimed, "I CAN SEE!!!" Whew! All I can say is that I hope God has a sense of humor, or I am in deep, deep trouble.
And that's what I did this summer. Be safe y'all and happy paddling!
- John