Frank Church-River of No Return Wilderness

Now that I've been there, I will give it up to all my Idahoans in the house. These people know how to do wilderness areas right.

THE

View from Site 1

Frank Church/River of No Return Wilderness felt like the Northern Cascades, in equal parts due to the alpine slopes, whimsical wildflowers and abundance of greenery. I started out going South on the Idaho Centennial Trail where it intersects with Forest Road 1614. North on the trail takes you, surprise, west along the riverbank and, from what I could see, up the the steep banks of the canyon. It's supposed to be a really nice hike, but I hoofed it the opposite way. Followed a creek uphill to a sweet open area with tons of grass and flowers. Ended up camping on a cool little meadowy ridge with a great view after I ran into a murder (or pride) of deer.

Gang of thugs (note resident bird on central deer)

 It rained that night, and I stayed in late to let my tent dry before I packed up and left. Ran into that same group of deer and then started up a pretty hard climb up to the mountains. The trail was easy to find even when I ran into snowpack, mostly because it was a jeep/atv track. Normally I prefer classic, single-file-style trail, but when the views are good and the snow is bad, I definitely don't mind walking on something that's easier to follow. Anyway, I climbed up out of the river canyon and onto a ridge at about 6 or 7k feet, where I took a wrong turn and got off the Centennial Trail. I discovered the mistake about 10 minutes after I made it, but I consulted my map and realized that the rest of my planned route was going to be snowy, so I let the accident be. That was a smart move as it turns out, because the incorrect trail took a steep dive down and the snowline stopped about halfway down my descent. There were a few abandoned mines on this route as well, and I got to check them out while heading towards a small backcountry puddle named Bear Lake.

Exterior (Signage Ignored)

On the way, I found two abandoned mines, but only really poked around in one of them. It was pretty cool though it was boarded up and/or caved in. I tried to break and enter but the door wouldn't budge and I thought I heard a hissing sound and I started thinking about The Descent and left in a hurry.  Walked by an abandoned camper and little cabin that I guess used to be miners' homes, but there wasn't anything spectacular in there. Just a bunch of old jars and what I'm assuming to either be hundreds of small or possibly one single enormous mouse, judging by the smell of the place.

There's a snowstorm in there that I wouldn't fuck with for the world.

Anyway, on the long descent, I also found and packed out some notable rocks, even though I'm not a big geology guy.

As a side note I always find it interesting how many amateur and/or professional geologists I encounter while hiking. The sheer number of these like-minded scientists is somewhat alarming and I often wonder if the general public is at any sort of risk from any well-organized geological cells that may or may not operate interdependently of each other in our national parks and recreation areas. I've interrogated quite a few of these so called "graduate students" but have learned nothing except that they all seem to have been brainwashed thoroughly. Try maintaining a constant theme of questioning with someone that keeps on wandering off to excitably identify granitic schist or something and see how far you get.

Bear Lake Site

I reached Bear Lake a few hours before sunset, and checked out some of the buildings that stand there. It seems that Bear Lake Mining (LLC? Company?) is an active mining situation located a few miles South of the Salmon River. Wasn't trying to poke around too much in case Yosemite Sam rolled up on me, so I left and set up camp a few hundred yards away from the buildings.

Afterwards, I found an old, red Mad River canoe on the marshy shore of the lake and took her for a joyride. Anyway, Bear Lake is tiny and my float was short-lived. I beached the canoe, stored it properly and left. As a PSA to whichever dingus left the canoe belly  down (floating) in the water, it had filled up with rainwater and half of it was sunk into the lake. Flip it upside down next time you leave, you dingus.

Now, before I had reached the Lake, I had considered the possibility of, once arriving at the site, attempting to bushwhack the 2 miles north back to the river and either cross it to get on the fireroad on the far bank or to float down the river back to my truck. I had laughed at the thought of trying to wade/swim across the Salmon River, and decided that a discarded packraft or inner tube would be necessary to even attempt a crossing or float. I figured the odds of finding such a device would be higher at a backcountry lake than, say at a backcountry trailhead, but still wasn't thinking that I'd stumble across any watercraft at Bear Lake.

It wasn't the first time I've thought of using a river as a transportation device during a hiking trip, and I can promise you it also won't be the last. I've attempted a pack n' float before, but the Greenbriar River didn't want to co-operate and I was left with deflated hopes, dreams and inner tubes.

What I'm trying to say is that I considered stealing the canoe, since it was weathered and had obviously been misused during it's tenure at Bear Lake, but ultimately my conscience won out. My decision had nothing to do with the fact that bushwhacking with a 15 foot boat on one's back falls far short of being "fun", nor did it have anything to do with Idaho's harsh canoe-larceny laws.

Up Top

Had a fire and woke up to rain again, but got going in spite of it.  The long climb up to the junction I had taken the day before was definitely tough, my pack was overloaded and some of the more important support straps had ripped a few trips ago. I also haven't been able to hike any appreciable distance for some time, due to snow, and my legs were definitely paying the consequences of such a long hibernation.

 Anyway the way up was cold as hell, and the rain that was pouring down soon turned to slush that soon turned to snow. Got up top, found myself in a cloud and started kindly hammering up and then down the trail to keep my body temperature up.

Finally got down to snowline again and the sun popped out for a while, took a game trail shortcut down past my first campsite to a more exposed precipice where I set up camp for the night just as stormclouds rolled in. Turns out they looked meaner than they were and I woke up the next morning drier than I had on any of the others.  Packed up, ran into my deer family one more time and left town with really sore legs for the first time in months.

Site # 3

Was a beautiful trip, best one in recent memory for a few reasons:

Mainly I've gotten sick of snow and anything other than snow looks amazing to me, but also my pack, while still way above summerweight, was way below winterweight. The deer were cool, the views spectacular, but most importantly.....

MILEAGE happened. Hasn't gone this smoothly for a long time, and it was nice to make some distance disappear, even if it wasn't too much (about 25 round trip).



Video is comin and pictures will be on the flickr soon.

PS one of the major hassles about this trip was the difficulty I had in getting a map of the wilderness area. Had to end up buying an Idaho Atlas and photocopying the pages. Still wasn't useful, as my I had trouble finding where I was, which means I gave up after a while because I knew I could back to my truck one way or another ("Go to the river and take a left, how hard can it be?"). I imagine someone out there has a better map of the Frank Church wilderness, and I'll do my best to track it down and post it here soon.

Stay warm, stay dry.

I got hungry and the latch was stuck.

Rainbow

Clouds rollin in

Loud