Lured Back by the Roar Story and Photos by Scott Kunau “You!” Ron “Mad Dog” Bolton barked at me during the Idaho Regatta’s Friday night test-and-tune in 1981. “Borrow that helmet and that racing life jacket, and come
Over Our Heads in Every Way By James J. Pizzadili Back in the early 1970s whitewater river travel in Idaho was more motorized than today. Jet boats prowled up and down the Main Salmon River and the Snake
And Flood on the Snake By Ray Brooks After a winter of drought, the Salmon River was running unusually low in late June 1994. My wife Dorita and I had discussed doing a multi-day Fourth of July whitewater
Under the Sun and Stars Story and Photos by Linda Lantzy In less than thirty-six hours I’ll be floating the mighty Salmon “River of No Return.” Contained completely within Idaho, this 425-mile-long river begins as a trickle in
Rafting and Climbing in the Salmon River Canyon By Ray Brooks Long ago, I heard there were two types of whitewater rafters: those who have flipped their raft, and those who are going to flip their raft. Despite
A Lochsa River Adventure By Alice Schenk Photos by Becky Dowdle The instructions I received before rafting northern Idaho’s Lochsa River in June were straightforward: when you go overboard, hang onto your paddle and if the boat is
A Rare Float on the Best Wilderness River in America Story and Photos by Link Jackson The odds of drawing a permit for a launch on northern Idaho’s Selway River, protected by the federal Wild and Scenic River
Canoeing Silver Creek By Martha Ripple “The weather is supposed to be beautiful,” Penny Traylor said. “Don’t forget to bring sunscreen and binoculars.” Penny, who’s with The Nature Conservancy, had arranged for a small group of us to
I just want to be on the water,” has become what my husband Smiley and I refer to as Conversation #51. Continue reading
It started out innocently enough. I enjoyed day trips in my youth with friends on the Payette River in rented rafts and our kayaks. Then came the South Fork of the Payette River. Then the Salmon River. When I was about eighteen and got a permit for the Middle Fork of the Salmon, the sirens’ song of whitewater began to engulf me. Continue reading
