Upper Salt River Arizona from Tad Jones on Vimeo.
Adventure Journal and Photography
Showing posts with label river running. Show all posts
Showing posts with label river running. Show all posts
River Guiding | Middlefork of the Salmon, Idaho
Tad Jones worked for Canyons for many years before taking on his career as an architect. Tad is a licensed Lead Boatman on the Middlefork of the Salmon, Main Salmon, and Hell's Canyon Section of the Snake River and is licensed on the Selway River of Idaho. Tad has over 20 years of river experience & occassionally takes a break from architecture to guide a few trips for Canyons in the summer months. Canyons runs the Middle Fork of the Salmon and the Main Salmon Rivers in the heart of the Frank Church Wilderness area in Central Idaho. The Frank Church is the largest wilderness area in the lower 48 states. The Main Salmon River is the longest undammed river in the lower 48 states. Please click the logo below to learn more about Canyons River Company.
Grande Ronde 2012
A slideshow of a trip I took with some friends on the Grande Ronde river in Oregon this summer.
Two Feet First
I have always been one to jump into things with both feet but as I am getting older I find myself testing the water a little more before taking the plunge. When I began whitewater kayaking back in the mid 1980s I didn’t know how to roll my kayak back up for the first few years of my paddling career.
Whenever I would get turned over, I would pull my spray skirt and swim to shore with my paddle and boat. I figured I was no worse off than my parents who were good whitewater canoeists. If they capsized their boat, it was just expected that they would swim to shore and empty their boat and then be back on the water within a matter of minutes. Eventually this got very old in a kayak and was greatly reducing the fun factor.
My first roll was not in a flat water pond or swimming pool like you might expect. I was on a six day river trip on the Main Salmon River, also named the “River of No Return” with my family in an old “infinity” kayak. The kayak was very long by today’s standards and was designed by Judson Zenzic and Ed Roper of McCall. It was narrower than a typical kayak with high side rails which, combined with a displacement hull, made the boat great for catching fast glossy waves. The drawback to the design was that the high rails also made the boat feel very unstable unless it was up on edge.
On the first day of the trip I flipped over in a hole. I was getting tossed about in the hole and really did not want to swim so I gave a roll a try. I popped right back up and wondered why it had been so difficult in the past. After that I practiced the roll until I could do it without a paddle and started enjoying kayaking much more. I initially learned what is called a “rodeo style roll” or “classic roll” where the boater starts with their body over the front of the boat and as the roll is completed the body ends up lying on the back of the boat. The problem with this roll is that if the boater rolls upside down again he has to go through the entire set up process and this roll also exposes the body and face to the bottom of the river. I later learned what is called the “C to C”, which is now the standard roll and a bit safer. Sometimes when I roll back up, even now, I will find myself on the back of my boat. The subconscious mind is a strong thing and old habits are hard to break.
During my college days at the University of Idaho I lived in a house with some other Architecture students. One of my roommates was Chris Amonson and he was an avid outdoorsman. We both developed an interest in rock climbing at about the same time. One of our other friends in the Architecture program named Rob Church also started climbing with us.
We got our gear from a guy that had a single wide trailer out by Paradise Creek. He had taken a portion of his trailer and turned it into a little climbing shop. We bought a couple instruction books and some minimal gear. The University had recently converted one of the racquetball courts in Memorial Gym into a rock climbing gym. We practiced developing our technique in the gym. We would top rope the different routes and practice our moves on a short wall traverse. It was a good form of meditation. It became a great way to relax after stressful Architecture critiques.
At one point we entered a climbing competition and I won a backpack. The brand name of the pack was “Sundog” and later I would walk to class with my border collie puppy named “BoBeau” in the backpack. He would stick his head out of the pack and rest it on my shoulder. I also took him downhill skiing and cross country skiing in the pack until he got too big to tote around in the backpack.
While practicing at the gym, I met another climber that sold me one of his old ropes for $30. He indicated that the rope had quite a few lead falls on it and that we should use it only for top roping. After procuring the rope, Chris, Rob and I promptly drove to some cliffs above the Snake River past Pullman called Wa Wai. It was our first time on “real” rock. We later would use the rope for protection while climbing buildings on the University of Idaho Campus. We climbed the back side of Art & Architecture South up into a nook under an arch. To our surprise there were names of many previous students etched into the masonry with the dates of their visits as well.
Chris had a friend that owned a paraglider and was going to be out of town for a few weeks. He lent Chris the paraglider and a small parachute. After class, Chris, Rob, and I would take the paraglider out to the rolling Palouse hills and lay the paraglider out behind us. We would get a good run and glide off the tops of the hills. We would glide about twenty to thirty feet off the ground and the feeling was absolutely exhilarating! I remember Chris being the first to try it. He had experimented with paragliders in the past and may have even had some instruction. I was nominated to go next as I was also training for my private pilot’s license at the time and it was thought that my newly acquired knowledge of aerodynamics might prove helpful. On one “sledride”, as we called those first flights, I was lifted a bit higher than anticipated by a gust of wind and I floated much further down to the bottom of a gully. In the bottom of the gully was a barbed wire fence and fence posts. I lifted my legs up to my stomach to just clear the fence and landed in the field beyond.
After practicing for about a week I woke up early on a Saturday morning thinking of bigger ideas. I went to Chris’ room and shook him awake. “Let’s go fly at Steptoe” I told him. Steptoe Butte is a large butte that rises out of the Palouse. It is said to be the top of a quartzite mountain extending deep into the earth. The surrounding fertile land was deposited around the mountain’s base during the Missoula Flood. The butte rises 3,612 feet above the surrounding sea of patchwork farms.
We were excited to get the day started and we arrived at the top of the butte well before sunrise so we decided to take a nap until the sun came up. While asleep a fighter jet buzzed the butte startling us to consciousness. Later I would find out that the butte is actually on a military flight route. As the sun began to rise we picked two straws of grass & Chris held them in his hand. I chose one. Chris opened his hand and I had drawn the short straw.
We laid the paraglider out on the edge of the butte facing the wind. There were cows grazing on the butte next to us. I got harnessed up and put my kayak helmet on for some protection. We still had not figured out how to use the safety parachute, but I strapped it onto my body anyway, figuring if something did happen I would have a few seconds to try figure out how to open the chute.
Facing backward to the direction I would fly, I pulled on the chords much like lifting a kite into the air. The chute filled with air and began to take flight. As the tension in the lines increased it lifted me free from the ground and I spun around to face the wind. The next thing I knew I was looking down at a cow staring up at me and the cow was getting smaller. The wind was lifting me up from the launch site as it was being deflected off the face of the butte and being sent skyward. There is a radio tower on top of the butte and I remember being afraid of being blown back into the tower. As I realized I was moving forward and away from the butte and the tower these thoughts subsided. Then it began to occur to me that I was gaining altitude and had thoughts of blowing across mountain ranges and ending up somewhere in Montana. As I flew further away from the butte, I realized it was not thermal action, but instead the bending of the wind over the butte and I settled into a nice glide out towards the fields beyond.
It was one of the most surreal feelings I have ever had. The wind was actually quite loud through the holes in the kayak helmet, but the feeling of freedom has never been matched. I floated well above the farmland and over some power lines below. As I came in for a landing in a field I realized I was dropping altitude faster than I was comfortable with and realized I did not have the glider faced directly into the wind. As the ground rushed toward me, I tried to turn the paraglider to face more closely into the wind. I ran out of time and elevation and landed almost ninety degrees to the wind and landed hard. My legs couldn’t keep up with my velocity and I began rolling on the ground being tangled in the lines. The strong crosswind was keeping the canopy inflated and pulled me for quite a distance across the field before finally deflating and coming to rest.
Chris drove my jeep down off the butte and stopped on a road near to where I had landed. I gathered up the canopy and began the walk over to the jeep. We had a good laugh about my “graceful” landing and it was Chris’ turn next.
We headed back to the top and laid the canopy out on the ground. We got Chris in the harness seat and put on the kayak helmet. Just a couple tugs on the lines and he was off. Chris took off flying directly into the wind and watching him seemed much more graceful than the terrifying images that had gone through my mind when I was in the same situation. I wondered if my takeoff had looked that graceful to the observer.
Chris flew in a much different direction than I had. He flew much further and more directly into the wind. I watched him until he landed and then I got in my jeep and drove to a road near his landing area. It was an exhilarating day, but one that I would never again try to repeat without proper training. Today there are designated schools that teach proper techniques for paragliding and there are a series of endorsements and licenses. I believe there were a handful of paragliding schools back then, but we were just a couple of kids that somehow ended up with an amazing flying invention for a few days.
The experience now reminds me that wisdom comes with age. It also reminds me that with age comes a reluctance to try new things. It is a struggle to balance that reluctance with a willingness to explore new activities and set new personal limits. I also believe that to experience life to its fullest requires at least a little bit of reckless abandon.
That was my last experience with a paraglider. I think I scared myself pretty well that day flying off that quartzite mountain rising above the Palouse. I realize how lucky we were to escape injury that beautiful morning. Chris went on to receive proper training and has continued his paragliding career and has become an accomplished paraglider pilot. I have stuck to flying machines with engines, but I often revisit the memory of gliding like a bird without the use of a reciprocating engine. The paraglider pilot must be intensely aware of the weather and the wind patterns and direction. Paragliding provides an uncompromised connection with nature that is reaffirmed by the feeling of the wind on your face and the ground many thousands of feet below.
~Tad Jones
Tad Jones & Jamie Laidlaw Learning to Kayak
Whenever I would get turned over, I would pull my spray skirt and swim to shore with my paddle and boat. I figured I was no worse off than my parents who were good whitewater canoeists. If they capsized their boat, it was just expected that they would swim to shore and empty their boat and then be back on the water within a matter of minutes. Eventually this got very old in a kayak and was greatly reducing the fun factor.
Tad Jones Running an Oar Rig in Ruby Rapid | Main Salmon River
My first roll was not in a flat water pond or swimming pool like you might expect. I was on a six day river trip on the Main Salmon River, also named the “River of No Return” with my family in an old “infinity” kayak. The kayak was very long by today’s standards and was designed by Judson Zenzic and Ed Roper of McCall. It was narrower than a typical kayak with high side rails which, combined with a displacement hull, made the boat great for catching fast glossy waves. The drawback to the design was that the high rails also made the boat feel very unstable unless it was up on edge.
Tad Jones | Testing out a New Kayak | Spring Boating in McCall, Idaho
On the first day of the trip I flipped over in a hole. I was getting tossed about in the hole and really did not want to swim so I gave a roll a try. I popped right back up and wondered why it had been so difficult in the past. After that I practiced the roll until I could do it without a paddle and started enjoying kayaking much more. I initially learned what is called a “rodeo style roll” or “classic roll” where the boater starts with their body over the front of the boat and as the roll is completed the body ends up lying on the back of the boat. The problem with this roll is that if the boater rolls upside down again he has to go through the entire set up process and this roll also exposes the body and face to the bottom of the river. I later learned what is called the “C to C”, which is now the standard roll and a bit safer. Sometimes when I roll back up, even now, I will find myself on the back of my boat. The subconscious mind is a strong thing and old habits are hard to break.
During my college days at the University of Idaho I lived in a house with some other Architecture students. One of my roommates was Chris Amonson and he was an avid outdoorsman. We both developed an interest in rock climbing at about the same time. One of our other friends in the Architecture program named Rob Church also started climbing with us.
Chris Amonson | Climbing in the Early Days
We got our gear from a guy that had a single wide trailer out by Paradise Creek. He had taken a portion of his trailer and turned it into a little climbing shop. We bought a couple instruction books and some minimal gear. The University had recently converted one of the racquetball courts in Memorial Gym into a rock climbing gym. We practiced developing our technique in the gym. We would top rope the different routes and practice our moves on a short wall traverse. It was a good form of meditation. It became a great way to relax after stressful Architecture critiques.
Tad Jones | Climbing in the Early Days
At one point we entered a climbing competition and I won a backpack. The brand name of the pack was “Sundog” and later I would walk to class with my border collie puppy named “BoBeau” in the backpack. He would stick his head out of the pack and rest it on my shoulder. I also took him downhill skiing and cross country skiing in the pack until he got too big to tote around in the backpack.
Tad Jones | Climbing at Wa Wai
While practicing at the gym, I met another climber that sold me one of his old ropes for $30. He indicated that the rope had quite a few lead falls on it and that we should use it only for top roping. After procuring the rope, Chris, Rob and I promptly drove to some cliffs above the Snake River past Pullman called Wa Wai. It was our first time on “real” rock. We later would use the rope for protection while climbing buildings on the University of Idaho Campus. We climbed the back side of Art & Architecture South up into a nook under an arch. To our surprise there were names of many previous students etched into the masonry with the dates of their visits as well.
Art & Architecture South | University of Idaho
Chris had a friend that owned a paraglider and was going to be out of town for a few weeks. He lent Chris the paraglider and a small parachute. After class, Chris, Rob, and I would take the paraglider out to the rolling Palouse hills and lay the paraglider out behind us. We would get a good run and glide off the tops of the hills. We would glide about twenty to thirty feet off the ground and the feeling was absolutely exhilarating! I remember Chris being the first to try it. He had experimented with paragliders in the past and may have even had some instruction. I was nominated to go next as I was also training for my private pilot’s license at the time and it was thought that my newly acquired knowledge of aerodynamics might prove helpful. On one “sledride”, as we called those first flights, I was lifted a bit higher than anticipated by a gust of wind and I floated much further down to the bottom of a gully. In the bottom of the gully was a barbed wire fence and fence posts. I lifted my legs up to my stomach to just clear the fence and landed in the field beyond.
Chris Amonson Learning to Fly © Chris Amonson
After practicing for about a week I woke up early on a Saturday morning thinking of bigger ideas. I went to Chris’ room and shook him awake. “Let’s go fly at Steptoe” I told him. Steptoe Butte is a large butte that rises out of the Palouse. It is said to be the top of a quartzite mountain extending deep into the earth. The surrounding fertile land was deposited around the mountain’s base during the Missoula Flood. The butte rises 3,612 feet above the surrounding sea of patchwork farms.
Steptoe Butte
We were excited to get the day started and we arrived at the top of the butte well before sunrise so we decided to take a nap until the sun came up. While asleep a fighter jet buzzed the butte startling us to consciousness. Later I would find out that the butte is actually on a military flight route. As the sun began to rise we picked two straws of grass & Chris held them in his hand. I chose one. Chris opened his hand and I had drawn the short straw.
We laid the paraglider out on the edge of the butte facing the wind. There were cows grazing on the butte next to us. I got harnessed up and put my kayak helmet on for some protection. We still had not figured out how to use the safety parachute, but I strapped it onto my body anyway, figuring if something did happen I would have a few seconds to try figure out how to open the chute.
Facing backward to the direction I would fly, I pulled on the chords much like lifting a kite into the air. The chute filled with air and began to take flight. As the tension in the lines increased it lifted me free from the ground and I spun around to face the wind. The next thing I knew I was looking down at a cow staring up at me and the cow was getting smaller. The wind was lifting me up from the launch site as it was being deflected off the face of the butte and being sent skyward. There is a radio tower on top of the butte and I remember being afraid of being blown back into the tower. As I realized I was moving forward and away from the butte and the tower these thoughts subsided. Then it began to occur to me that I was gaining altitude and had thoughts of blowing across mountain ranges and ending up somewhere in Montana. As I flew further away from the butte, I realized it was not thermal action, but instead the bending of the wind over the butte and I settled into a nice glide out towards the fields beyond.
© Chris Amonson
It was one of the most surreal feelings I have ever had. The wind was actually quite loud through the holes in the kayak helmet, but the feeling of freedom has never been matched. I floated well above the farmland and over some power lines below. As I came in for a landing in a field I realized I was dropping altitude faster than I was comfortable with and realized I did not have the glider faced directly into the wind. As the ground rushed toward me, I tried to turn the paraglider to face more closely into the wind. I ran out of time and elevation and landed almost ninety degrees to the wind and landed hard. My legs couldn’t keep up with my velocity and I began rolling on the ground being tangled in the lines. The strong crosswind was keeping the canopy inflated and pulled me for quite a distance across the field before finally deflating and coming to rest.
Chris drove my jeep down off the butte and stopped on a road near to where I had landed. I gathered up the canopy and began the walk over to the jeep. We had a good laugh about my “graceful” landing and it was Chris’ turn next.
© Chris Amonson
We headed back to the top and laid the canopy out on the ground. We got Chris in the harness seat and put on the kayak helmet. Just a couple tugs on the lines and he was off. Chris took off flying directly into the wind and watching him seemed much more graceful than the terrifying images that had gone through my mind when I was in the same situation. I wondered if my takeoff had looked that graceful to the observer.
© Chris Amonson
Chris flew in a much different direction than I had. He flew much further and more directly into the wind. I watched him until he landed and then I got in my jeep and drove to a road near his landing area. It was an exhilarating day, but one that I would never again try to repeat without proper training. Today there are designated schools that teach proper techniques for paragliding and there are a series of endorsements and licenses. I believe there were a handful of paragliding schools back then, but we were just a couple of kids that somehow ended up with an amazing flying invention for a few days.
© Chris Amonson
The experience now reminds me that wisdom comes with age. It also reminds me that with age comes a reluctance to try new things. It is a struggle to balance that reluctance with a willingness to explore new activities and set new personal limits. I also believe that to experience life to its fullest requires at least a little bit of reckless abandon.
That was my last experience with a paraglider. I think I scared myself pretty well that day flying off that quartzite mountain rising above the Palouse. I realize how lucky we were to escape injury that beautiful morning. Chris went on to receive proper training and has continued his paragliding career and has become an accomplished paraglider pilot. I have stuck to flying machines with engines, but I often revisit the memory of gliding like a bird without the use of a reciprocating engine. The paraglider pilot must be intensely aware of the weather and the wind patterns and direction. Paragliding provides an uncompromised connection with nature that is reaffirmed by the feeling of the wind on your face and the ground many thousands of feet below.
~Tad Jones
Kayaking the Burnt River | Unity, Oregon
We left Boise around 10:30 and headed West toward the Idaho border with Oregon near Ontario. We stopped in Ontario for some coffee.
We got all turned around in Ontario and ended up finding this old building. The trains were still running in the background and the building looked like it was still in use.
Union Pacific Train Depot | Ontario, Oregon
We drove on to Huntington and looked at the river section from Lime to Huntington. It looked like there was a lot of industrial material in the river along with diversion dams and barbed wire, so we decided to head further up the river. I had seen on the map an area called the “Burnt River Canyon” and the topo lines made it look like a more exciting run.
We figure that the only thing keeping us from running the canyon stretch would be if there was enough water in the river to get down it.
We were in luck and the river had enough water. It needs to be running over its banks to be successfully run in the canyon. It is very swift in many areas. I have no idea what the gradient is or what the flow was. The run looked too difficult for Karma to run as we scouted the river from the gravel road adjacent to the river. We decided that I would paddle the run alone and that Karma would drive the road back down to the takeout. I put in at a place just upstream from a “roadhouse” called Loma. Loma looked to be nothing more than a single building. There is still a lot of mining in the area and there are still working dredges in the area. We saw one of the dredges being used by some of the Loma locals.
Typical Rapid in the Burnt River Canyon | Spring Flow
The run I did was about four to five miles long. The first mile or so was very mellow but fast moving. I had to keep an eye out for half submerged rocks. The rocks are very difficult to see due to all the sediment in the river. The water has a horrible taste to it as well as the dark color. We later found out that the taste and color are probably due to ranching activities upstream of the canyon stretch.
It is said that settlers named the river for the burned trees flanking the sides of the river and the area was prone to large fires in the days the covered wagons were passing across the land. The fires burned the vegetation from the surrounding hillsides and allowed sediment to flow freely into the river turning it a chocolate brown color, thus the name “Burnt River”. The river color still runs in a color consistent with its name, but now from a different type of sediment.
After the mellow section next to the mining operations the river starts to steepen quite a bit. As the gradient increases the difficulty of the rapids increases. I found creek boating skills to be very important on this stretch of river. I chose the Godzilla as the boat to take down the river, but in the future might chose a boat with a bit more turned up nose to help prevent the possibility of pinning. There was really no way to pull over or stop by eddying out in the steeper sections of the river. The river is too narrow and too shallow to turn the boat sideways in the current. I was very nervous about turning sideways and risking a possible broach as well. Especially knowing I was running the river alone with no one to help if I did become broached. Every so often the river would ease gradient and pools would form for a quick rest.
At many points the river would split into two channels. These areas made it very difficult to maneuver through, given that you were only running on half the water of the main river. Downed trees were a concern in some of these narrower channels. The larger main channel usually allowed you room to skirt around a tree, but the smaller channels didn’t allow as much room and made for some tight squeezes.
Sluice Box Rapid | Class III
As I didn’t find any guide books on the Burnt River I took it upon myself to name some of the rapids for my own reference and to take my best guess at their classification. There were three distinct parts of the river that presented particular challenge. The first was one that I called “Sluice Box” . I figured that was a good name given all the mining activity. Coupled with the fact that if you had gold fillings, the amount of bumping and jarring from bouncing from one rock to another would be likely to pop one of those gold fillings out.
The next rapid was probably the most difficult on this stretch. It is created by a beaver dam on river right that has forced the water to the left next to the road embankment. I scouted this rapid by pulling over on the right side of the river and looking at the rapid from the top of the beaver dam. there is a clean run down the left side. It was a bit of work to get lined up after scouting from the right. The current is swift and not much room for error on this one so I bump it up to a Class III+. It is close to the road if something was to happen, so others might call it a solid III.
Beaver Dam Rapid | Class III+
There is one more distinct rapid that I would probably rate as a III just under a cable crossing. I instinctively called this rapid “Cable”. I was paranoid about running into some barbed wire or other man-made objects on the river, but didn’t see any signs of barbed wire on the canyon section of the river.
I was happy to see Karma and BoBeau at the takeout playing a game of catch with the frisbee. I wondered how much material I had left under the seat of my boat from bouncing off so many rocks and being my first run of the year I was beat. We packed up the gear and headed up the road towards Unity reservoir, where we would spend the night.
Bobeau | Playing Frisbee at the Takeout
Bobeau
We drove up the road to Unity Reservoir and as we came around a corner we saw a Bighorn Sheep. There were two males traveling together. Karma got a good picture of one of the Sheep standing on a rock looking at us.
Bighorn Ram | Burnt River Canyon
The end of the canyon is marked by the entrance of Clark’s Creek into the Burnt River from the South. The Creek is named for a man that accidentally shot himself at the site. We drove up the road only about 100 yards or so. My grandpa said that there is an old ghost town up the road about 20 miles or so.
There is a great fertile valley above the canyon where there are lots of ranches and farms. The springtime brought lots of baby calves. We took a few photos of the cows. We saw some real cowboys at a place called Hereford. It is said that the town of Hereford was named when an outside rancher paraded a prized hereford cow through the middle of town. Because the people that lived there were so enthralled in ranching and saw such a prized cow walking down the street they decided to name the town Hereford.
Cattle Near Bridgeport, Oregon
There is another town in the valley named “Bridge Port”. This town was supposedly named for a large bridge that was build across the river near the location of the town.
Our next stop was in Unity. We stopped previously at the State Park at the reservoir. We then decided we were too low on beer and needed to go to Unity (the closest town) to replenish our supply.
Unity Store | Unity, Oregon
Mountains Outside Unity, Oregon
Unity was named after the decision to locate the post office in an area most accessible by all the local people in the area. There had traditionally been many disagreement and feuds in the area. When all parties involved agreed on the same location to receive mail the decided to name the location “Unity”.
Unity was a small town with an interesting town center. We stopped at a convenient store next to a hotel that had deer fenced in the front yard in a ploy to attract visitors. The convenient store was decorated with heads of deer and elk over the beer coolers. The girl that sold us the beer had a belt buckle larger than a silver platter and was as nice as any true cowgirl could be.
Sunset | Unity Lake
Sunset | Unity Lake
We headed back to the State park and found a campsite. It was $12 for a campsite. That included showers in the morning and fresh potable water in the campsite.
Karma and Bobeau | Unity Lake Campground
It seemed like the fishing was good at Unity lake since everyone else there has fishing boats and were up early in the morning to catch fish. On the drive back to the campsite we saw a few guys riding along out in a field in the back of a pick-up truck shooting ground squirrels.
A Very Large Ant Pile | Unity Lake
At Unity campground there are teepees for rent and the campgrounds are well maintained. Just remember to lock up your food at night or the ground squirrels will get it.
Tee Pees | Unity Lake State Park
Large Tree with Birdfeeder | Unity Lake
Tad Jones | Unity Dam
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