This note describes a wonderful rafting/fishing trip my wife and I took in mid-August of 1990. This was her first camping experience, and my first outing with a guide. The fishing was not great compared to what I've since had on other rivers , but the overall experience was first rate and one we'd like to repeat. After reviewing several operations, we went with Aggipah River Trips, owned and operated by Bill and Peggy Bernt, Box 425, Salmon Idaho 83467, (208)756-4167. It turned out to be an excellent choice. There are bigger operations on the river, but Bill's smaller groups and personal attention suited us perfectly. All expenses are clearly presented in the Aggipah literature and there were no surprise additions.
My wife and I had been married only a couple of years at the time of this trip, and we had already taken a couple of vacations of her choosing: resort hotels and a Caribbean cruise (never again!). So it was my turn to choose a vacation. As usual she started collecting literature nearly a year ahead of time while I pondered all of the reasons why this trip might not be a good idea: expensive, dangerous, toilets, snakes, poison ivy, mosquitoes the size of birds, chain smoking guides, etc. (I have a healthy imagination!).
The state of Idaho gave us a list of registered outfitters/guides and put us on some mailing lists, and within a few months we had just under a dozen pamphlets to peruse. We chose Bill Bernt's operation strictly on the basis of his literature: it was well written, compared three different portions of the river in what seemed a forthright way, and I hoped that his explicit inclusion of his wife in the operation would make it something other than a man's trip. We took the plunge and signed up for a mid-August trip and chose an extra cost option of going for a "fishing" float in a drift boat rather than a raft.
We either chose well or were very lucky, because the organization of the trip was truly excellent. The owner, Bill Bernt, not only came along on the trip (something I mistakenly took for granted on a later trip down a Canadian river), but handled the oars on our boat. He was a true professional at this work, extremely conscientious and careful, and when we encountered the serious rapids on the "River of No Return", we surely appreciated his skill.
His guides were mostly local school teachers earning summer money and had all been officially qualified on this section of river before being allowed to run rafts. They were uniformly pleasant, helpful, and generally interesting with enough experience on the river to have some good campfire stories. Bill himself was a storehouse of information about the river, it's past inhabitants, geology, etc. Bill runs summer floats, horseback combination trips, fall steelhead fishing, and fall hunting trips on various parts of the Salmon so he can offer something to interest most tastes.
The river was low in August after recent dry winters, and we banged up the metal boat a bit on exposed rocks, but there were still some dramatic runs down chutes with plenty of water under the boat. Earlier in the year, I expect some of these rapids would really take your breath away, but the fishing is reportedly not as good early in the year People in the rubber rafts got wet regularly: we took water into the boat a few times each day (usually over my side of the boat because Bill was a true gentleman), but managed to keep a video camera dry the whole time.
Prior to the trip we were sent a detailed list of what to bring, where to stay, and options for getting to Salmon, Idaho or to the river directly when the water is low as has been the case lately in August. We flew into Boise, spent the night at a well run Red Lion inn, and flew to the Indian Creek launch point in a single engine light plane the next morning. The pilot turned out to be a lady with experience flying in Alaska, and the flight itself was punctuated by a thrilling spiral descent into the narrow river canyon.
Short dirt and grass landing strips are a feature of the river and are the only way on or off the river between Stanley and the take-out point 100 miles away. Indeed, the only motorized transport we saw for six days were the morning flights of light planes coming into the river before the heat of the day made flying into these canyons really exciting
There are no roads anywhere near the river on this stretch: Aside from drifting boats, the only signs of contemporary civilization are the horse trails, one horse bridge, one fly-in lodge (which is welcome for it's ice), and the slightly trampled camp sites. Less than thirty minutes after we landed, our two unwieldy duffel bags had been fitted into large dry bags and packed onto the large "sweep" boat, we had been fitted into our life vests, briefed on the rules of the river by a forest ranger, and settled into the front of the McKenzie drift boat. This first day we were the only passengers and were heavily outnumbered by guides: The float was being joined the next day by a party of two adults and three children who were coming over the mountains on horse back.
In the boat, we carried with us a large video camera in a semi-waterproof case, a camera, two fly rods (6 and 8 weight), my loaded fishing belt pack, some fly boxes full of flies that were mostly too small, and a small backpack that held odds and ends. We did not take waders and there seemed to be little opportunity to use them on the trip as we covered a lot of ground (water?) each day.
My wife had not yet shown a serious interest in fishing at the time of this trip, but the tranquillity of the river, its varied scenery and geology, signs of past habitation, Bill's repartee, and a couple of good books held her interest during the trip.
The weather was really hot this August; regularly in the high nineties away from the river, but the river water was really cold so in the boats it was cool even in bright sun. Good hats and sun tan oil were essential, and we had planned for that; but we were surprised by the effect of the very dry air on our delicate southeastern constitutions. Both of us were suffering from chapped lips and nose bleeds by the third day, so Vaseline lip balm and salt water nose spray are now part of our standard kit.
Camps are in short supply on this river, so it pays to have an experienced guide who knows how to secure the best sites. Our first camp was somewhat lacking in shade, but cooled off nicely when the sun dropped behind the low hills, and it had the advantage of a nearby hot spring. There were several of these along the river and a couple have been modified to make a graduated temperature pool at the edge of the river...but no soap allowed! For serious washing we were given buckets of hot water and sent above the high water line; one of the many rules that keep this wilderness river reasonably unsullied. Everything down to the fire ashes is carried away down river so the river bank is very clean. Each of the camps had a three sided outhouse, but we were told that they were probably soon to be replaced with portable potties so "everything" could be carried out.
Our first camp was on the wide grassy plane of the Hood Ranch site. It was sunny, dry, and hot when we stopped in late afternoon, but became pleasant enough as soon as the sun dropped behind the distant mountains. With Bill's organization, each party pitches their own tent, so his camps are informal, scattered, and as private as you like. Other camps we passed often looked a little like an Army camp with tents all in a neat row.
At the end of this first day, we were given instructions on how to set up our tent and promptly found a flat spot overlooking the river to try out our new skills. Tent pitched, our sleeping bags installed atop the supplied air mattresses, and our work for the day was done!
As best we can reconstruct, our other camps were at Cow Creek, Funston, Survey Creek, and Tumble Creek. The river bank was very dry so there were very few insects at any of the camps, just enough mosquitoes to make you close the tent netting. From Cow Creek on down, the banks are lined with sparse old-growth forest; I mostly remember the Ponderosa pines.
At the Cow Creek camp after the second day we were joined by the rest of the party (a couple of lawyers from Missoula, MT off on a father's holiday with their children). One of the children was a girl of about eleven so on the next morning Bill had his daughter flown in along with another guide. One of the guides was female so the rafts were quickly organized into a boy's boat, a girl's boat, with a father in each. The entire party was very pleasant and we had many interesting fireside conversations.
The food was varied, well prepared, and quite good if a little heavy for our tastes. There was ample ice for cool drinks and plenty of snacks. We never had the slightest doubt about the cleanliness or quality of the water or the food, and it was clear that the guides were both intelligent and well instructed as to the safety concerns of city folk. There was always an extra bucket of hot water on the fire for washing. And nobody smoked!
The fishing was sufficient to hold my interest for five of the six days. On the next to last day we encountered dirty water caused by runoff from a recently burned area and to make matters worse my 6 weight rod broke for no apparent reason. So on the last day I settled back, enjoyed the water, and watched the steep walled canyons close in on the last day of the trip.
Except for a few small rainbows, the trout were all cutthroat mostly in the 10" to 15" range. While not a large as Blackwater rainbows, these were somewhat heavier fish for the same length. They hit readily at the large hair caddis dry flies supplied by Bill; about size 8-10 as I recall. They also liked my royal wulffs and coachman but used them up rapidly. My smaller caddis also worked but were often difficult to see in the rapidly moving water. I wished I had taken some size 6 and 8 caddis and grasshoppers as these might have pulled up bigger fish. I didn't try any wets or streamers. From the rapidly moving boat, fly visibility on the fast water is a problem. When we go again I'll take plenty of white winged flys.
The cutthroats sat mostly in the eddies or in the dark water near the base of rock cliffs. On the strike they were very aggressive, hitting with a flourish., but once hooked they were fairly sluggish. All fishing is catch and release, and you are encouraged to use barbless hooks and not to handle the fish. Bill was partial to the areas where springs or small streams entered the river, and these were regularly hot spots from which you could get a strike every second or third cast.
Some of the spots could have produced more and bigger fish if we had lingered awhile, but we needed to cover nearly 20 miles each day so most of the fishing was done on the move or below particularly promising eddies where Bill worked hard to hold the boat out of the current for a dozen or so casts.
Memorable moments along the trip were the camps (which my wife decided she really liked), a two-sided out-house up on a rocky hill at Cow Creek with a million dollar view of a bend in the river, but fully exposed to the incoming planes, Indian paintings on the rocks, a cave under a tiny waterfall at the top of a short but rocky climb to Veil Cave, some young mountain goats that came quite close, some heart stopping drops through rapids, the section of river where the walls get so steep that even the narrow horse trail along the bank disappears, and the haunting and unforgettable echoing sound of a canyon wren trilling in a serious canyon.
We came out on the sixth day at a prepared landing at the end of a gravel road. Peggy Bernt was there with a fresh lunch of salads, sandwiches, and fruit which we attacked while the guides tore down the boats and loaded the equipment onto trucks. The sight of an automobile was a definite culture shock after the tranquillity and isolation of the river and saddened us all.
This site was itself interesting in that there were no trash cans and a sign that said you could find one 30 miles down the road. Most amazing was that there was not a speck of trash anywhere around, not even a cigarette butt!
After lunch, Bill drove us down that road to a country store where some of the group had arranged to be picked up. He then drove us on down a paved road to Salmon where we spent the night before flying back to Boise the next morning.
All in all this was a great trip, that we are planning to take again. If you are contemplating a trip on the Middle Fork, I would recommend that you collect some books on the river before the trip. There are several that describe the varied history of the river, but for a simple guide to the river itself, I'd recommend "Handbook to the Middle Fork of the Salmon River" distributed (it says in the book) by Educational Adventures, Inc. PO Box 4190, Sunriver, OR 97077. We got our copy in a bookstore in Salmon after the trip!
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