Despite having worked as an editor at several adventure travel magazines, author Mark Adams hadn’t slept in a tent since 1978 and didn’t have any real outdoor experience at all. That’s when he decided it was time for him to take an adventure. And what he chose to do was no minor undertaking.

Adams had come across the name of the infamous explorer Hiram Bingham III, who in 1911 had been in Peru searching for the Lost City of the Incas when he instead landed upon the spectacular site that is Machu Picchu. As the 100th Anniversary of that discovery neared, Adams became intrigued with Bingham, his adventures and all the questions that still float out there today about Machu Picchu’s mysterious past.

Turn Right at Machu Picchu jumps back and forth in time, from past to present and back again as Adams follows Bingham’s journey (on foot!), tries to get to the bottom of the controversy surrounding Bingham’s explorations, and seeks to unravel some of the mystery and theories behind Machu Picchu.

Adams takes the reader on a journey through Peru, up mountains, through jungles, and across valleys to rediscover various Inca sites, and ultimately, Machu Picchu. We’re brought along on his brutal and oftentimes amusing trek, and offered a detailed glimpse into the fascinating history of Peru.

Get it now: Order Turn Right at Machu Picchu on Amazon.

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The post Recommended Read: Turn Right at Machu Picchu appeared first on River Currents.

The nine scattered cabins that make up Jim Moore’s Camp among knee high grasses were all hand-hewn. I see the ax marks and wonder at Moore taking 15 years to make all the massive beams by hand. Most of the cabins still stand, with a little help from volunteers from the United States Forest Service and a designation in the National Register of Historic Places (#78001063, respectfully).

Flocks of people came through making the property’s extensive development worth the effort. Jim Moore said himself that between the years 1900 and 1902, 1,800 men came through his property as they headed upstream to Campbell’s Ferry, crossing the Salmon, and heading for the purported gold on Thunder Mountain. He said they came year-round, with backpacks and mules in the summer and snowshoes and skis in the winter.

Whether stopping for lunch or camp along the Main Salmon River, we guides oftentimes make the couple hundred-or-so-yard walk up to the terrace and take a look around Jim Moore’s Place. We tell the guests a short history of Jim and his homestead. He was born in Kentucky around 1868 and died April 25th, 1942.

As the guests are milling about and looking in cabin windows at old shoes and rusted pots, I walk towards the scree slope. I give Jim’s grave a little nod as I walk by it, acknowledging him and his long-gone, historic and generous homestead on the Salmon’s shore. As I get near the hill’s base, I take a look around, trying to remember where I left off last time. I start lifting up rocks, hoping that maybe I’ll pick the right one and find a mason jar filled with gold nuggets.

Jim started placer mining in the late 1890’s and didn’t find much. As word spread that gold was found on Thunder Mountain, Jim recognized opportunity. He raised chickens and sold eggs. He was known to make good money selling his homemade moonshine, whiskey, and peach brandy. He grew veggies and planted an orchard that still produces deliciously crisp and sweet apples for rafters and bears passing by in mid-to late summer.

I search a few more minutes. Sometimes a guest will saunter up and ask what I’m doing. I always tell them I’m hunting for Jim Moore’s lost treasure. Sometimes they help. They always laugh. I haven’t found it yet.

I allow the tiny irrational part of me to think this day might be the time I strike gold. The appeal? Fame and fortune? More, I imagine it would be remarkable handling a dusty treasure not seen since Jim’s death in 1942. Oh, and it’s full of gold, and I need a new truck.

I’d love to find the hidden treasure someday, even if that means facing Jim Moore’s ghost.

Much of Moore’s history was gleaned from Carrey and Conley’s River of No Return.

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The post Searching for Jim Moore’s Treasure appeared first on River Currents.

Much as some might grumble and groan, electronics are sneaking their way onto river trips. Whether it’s a GoPro video or an iPhone photo, river rafters want to document and share their adventure. Trouble is, with the nearest electrical outlet tens (sometimes hundreds) of miles away, how to keep your electronics charged becomes quite a challenge.

Over at O.A.R.S.’ headquarters, the adventure specialists have been receiving plenty of questions regarding portable solar charging units, mostly to ask if they are appropriate for a rafting trip. Because of this, we decided to take a closer look at the Guide 10 Plus Solar Kit made by Goal Zero, one of the most popular portable solar charging units available today, to see how it would fair on a whitewater adventure.

What’s Included

The pack comes with two main components, the Nomad 7 Solar Panel and the Guide 10 Plus Battery Pack. Also included in the package is a USB cable, 12V cigarette adapter, and four rechargeable AA batteries. The solar panel measures 6 x 9 x 1 in., and the battery pack is 2.5 x 4 x .75 in. The battery pack and cables fit nicely into a zippered pocket on the solar panel, folding closed and weighing a total of 1.2 lbs. A complete charge takes approximately 2-4 hours for the battery pack and smart phone, while only 1-3 hours for a cell phone or MP3 player.

Using the Battery Pack and Solar Panel

I found the Guide 10 Plus Solar Kit remarkably easy to use and a breeze to set up.  I opened the panels and allowed it to “warm up” for about ten minutes. My cell phone battery had 60 percent power, and the first time I plugged it into the solar panel charge, I didn’t see the battery charging symbol. I waited an additional ten minutes, and then plugged it in again. Finally it started to charge and after one hour of killing time while soaking up the rays, my iPhone was up to 80 percent. Awesome. A nicely added bonus is a small LED flashlight on the battery pack, which I could see using when looking for my toothbrush on the river at night.

Fit for the River?

The Guide 10 Plus Solar Kit would be a solid option for multi-day rafting trips. For one, we almost always have bright, sunny weather (a never ending supply of energy). Secondly, when we pull into camp in the early afternoon, there’s still plenty of time to pull out the solar panels and get some good ole’ charging done. And lastly, I was impressed with the burliness of the kit.  It is water-resistant and can be tossed into my dry bag without a worry.

Goal Zero Guide 10 Plus Solar Kit can be bought on their website for $159.  It’s an investment, as any outdoor gear can be, but a worthy one for rafting trips and backpacking trips alike.

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5 Ways to Stage A Tech Intervention at Home

1.  Implement a mandatory weekly tech detox day. No TV, video games, computers, nada. From the time everyone walks through the door in the evening til’ when you all wake up the next morning. (Insert big kid and little kid tantrum here). But guaranteed your backyard will get more use in a month than it’s seen in a year.

2.  Good old fashioned dinners. Remember when families had to sit around the dinner table and talk about stuff together? Bring those days back and make the dinner table a technology-free zone. No more scarfing down your meals in separate rooms, in front of separate devices.

3.  Pull the plug on everything wireless. It’s super easy to change the password on your wireless router. Switch it up and then “forget” to let the rest of the family know for a day or two. They’ll be frustrated with their devices, but forced to get creative with their time until the issue miraculously fixes itself.

4.  Bust out the big bribe. Example: Promise that the in-laws will stay at a hotel during their next visit, if your partner doesn’t bring the iPhone to bed for a week.

5.  Book an “unplugged” vacation together. That means somewhere deep in the woods, out in nature (i.e. the boonies). Finding a cell signal at the bottom of a river canyon? Good luck.

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Trout are opportunistic feeders and can be fooled and caught with a good offering at any time of the day, but in many places the last hour of light can be the best time to fish with dry flies.  Once the light gets low and the shadows cast on the water, the trout, who spend much of their life hiding from overhead predators like osprey and eagles, lose their inhibitions and begin to venture closer to the surface of the water looking for an easy meal.

Many of the insects trout feed on are sensitive to the harsh UV of direct sunlight and become more active in the twilight of the day—dancing in perfect unison over the surface of the water in a mesmerizing display of natural harmony and synchronicity.

Rhythm and motion combine as the line from a 5wt. fly rod unfolds back and forth into the warm air.  Little droplets of water take flight off the line and illuminate in the patches of sunlight.

A well-timed cast and accurate loop land my small deer-hair caddisfly imitation in the perfect spot on a seam of current near the far bank of the river.  I mend the fly line upstream to alleviate any drag from the swift current on my leader and fly.  Intensity and anticipation as the fly drifts perfectly down with the current like a dying caddis in his last dramatic encore, offering himself to the fish.

I may repeat this scenario dozens or even hundreds of times in a good evening of fishing—interrupted only by the indescribable thrill of having a fish engulf the fly with a splashy rise.  It’s a great way to tune into and interact with the natural world and underwater ecosystem.

In today’s world it’s hard to keep my mind in the present.  I find myself always thinking forward into the future or brooding over events from the past.  Things I need to do or the things I should have done.  Fly fishing, however, is one of the sports that has an uncanny way of stealing thoughts and returning them to the moment.  It’s a present moment meditation, as I like to call it.  Once I’m out on the water, everything else falls away for a while and my mind zeros into fish mode.  Every cast, every drift, holds my attention until finally I realize it’s dark and I need to find my way back to my car or campsite.

Curious about fly fishing?  Here’s a little how-to video to spark your interest.  Enjoy!

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What prompted you to leave your lawyer life behind and become a river guide?

I was living in Flagstaff and I had a friend who worked as a guide for another company. She was determined to get me on a rafting trip. She did eventually convince me. As soon as I was there, I was gone. It was just one of those magical moments when the angels sing, and bells ring, and I knew where I was supposed to be.

Rafting is a demanding job. What drives you day in and day out?

It has been such a powerful thing for me—a healing—mentally and physically. I think it’s the way we’re supposed to be. We need to be outdoors. We need to be connected to these things, and in our day-to-day lives, we’re just not. So I really just appreciate bringing people out here and giving them that experience.

It seems like there are a lot of lady guides on the rivers now. Why do you think that is?

Well, it’s definitely a new experience for me. The last couple of years, particularly in Idaho, we’ve been getting a lot more women into the business. This year we actually are more women than men, and that’s a first. The men entertain and the ladies do the work, so it’s nice to have four ladies to do the work (laughter).

What do you think is attracting more women to guiding?

I think a lot of us find a home here. It’s good to be surrounded by other strong women. I think that’s a big part of it. We’re surrounded by other women who are like us.

What makes a strong woman?

You need a strong sense of self. To do this job, you have to have a lot of self-confidence. You have to be able to make your own decisions. In the middle of a rapid, you’re in charge of the people on your boat and you need to be able to take care of those people. So I think it takes a certain amount of strength to do that.

What’s the best moment you’ve had on the river?

I had a friend that I brought on a river trip. We visited a place that had turquoise blue waters. There was a spot where you could make a pretty good size jump into some really deep pools. He was just so excited about it. You could just see that sparkle in his eyes—that glint that he was truly alive. It let me re-experience my own revelation of what the outdoors can bring to you.

What does the outdoors bring to you?

Harmony. Balance. A sense of rightness. That feeling that this is what I was made to do. That I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

Watch the full interview with Erika below…

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So here’s why a whitewater rafting trip tops any sort of spa weekend and is the ultimate girls getaway:

Reconnect with friends:
Whether you’re paddling together through a major rapid, floating through the canyon or trying your luck in a double inflatable kayak, rafting provides some of the best opportunities to reconnect with friends. We all know that women make better paddlers, and your guide will be stoked to have you and your friends as his crew. Sitting in a chair on the bank of a river, sipping a beverage and watching the roaring campfire under a star-filled sky, you’ll all being laughing about the day’s excitement and saying there’s no better place to be. It’s the perfect setting for catching up with old friends, making new memories and enjoying the great outdoors.

Rejuvenate:
Escapism is what it’s all about on a girls trip. Getting far, far away from boyfriends, husbands, partners, kids and the everyday grind in general. What’s further from the norm than a trip down the river, into the remote wilderness, with nothing but beautiful sunsets, wildlife galore and whitewater? Paddling hard through the rapids, taking in the surrounding beauty and breathing in the fresh air, you’ll find yourself re-energized and re-charged by the end of the trip. The river has a way of breathing life into you in a way no hot tub ever could.

Have fun:
Have you ever punched through a wave? Gotten completely doused by water as you ride high through the rapid? Turning to your girlfriend, grinning widely, soaked to the skin, I can guarantee you’ll throw your head back and laugh with glee. So. Much. Fun.

If you can’t let go of visions of vineyards and the sweet taste of Syrah on your lips, consider taking a wine on the river trip with the gals. Dinner by the river with linens, food by a catered chef and plenty of wine brought by an accompanied winemaker, your getaway will surely be the best girls trip yet.

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1.  You can drink out of the river.

Well, at least the Chilko River section of the trip is that pure.  The Chilko water is so cold and so pure; it beats any bottled water you’ve tasted.

2.  The flight.

Flying from Vancouver to Williams Lake over Whistler and the Coast Range will make you feel very small in a huge world of conifers and endless unnamed mountains. Welcome to the wilderness. It’s nothing like the commute at home.

3.  Rapid-happy.

The Chilko-Chilcotin-Fraser trip guarantees the longest stretch of commercially navigable Class IV whitewater in North America. There’s a lot of respect for a claim like that. That’s a lot of super-fun rapids to face. There is a section of whitewater that is actually called “The White Mile.” What more could an adrenaline junkie ask?

4.   Toothpaste.

The Chilcotin River section is the color of toothpaste, not unlike Grand Canyon’s Havasu water.  While Havasu’s creek color is the result of play between the Magnesium and calcium carbonate content, the Chilcotin’s blue-green has more to do with “rock flour.”  This “flour” is actually ground up rocks from beneath the river’s originating glacier. It is fine sediment flowing in the river that doesn’t easily settle and refracts light to make the milky blue. It’s an unreal color. Don’t be surprised if the color makes you want to brush your teeth. (It does me, anyway.)

5.  No smog or city lights.

Sometimes we forget what the night sky can look like. City lights and smog dim the constellations; big buildings limit what we can see. Multi-day Canadian rafting affords views of an unfettered night sky. When the smog and city lights are gone, the stars come out, and you won’t believe how many there are.

6.  Covering some ground.

The Chilko-Chilcotin-Fraser river trip drops 3,000 feet in 130 miles. At 23 feet per mile, this Canadian gem finds comparable company with the Middle Fork Salmon’s average 30 feet per mile drop. Both rivers start as barely more than floatable streams and gather side creeks as they go from sub-alpine to high desert over the course of a week’s travel, ending in formidable rivers

7.  Wildlands music

If you are lucky enough to have Niels Jewitt as one of your Canadian river guides, be prepared for some phenomenal campfire-side 9 ½ fingered harmonica music. He’s good, very good.

As a final note, be prepared to use the ubiquitous Canadian “eh” in the two weeks following your trip. Yes, your neighbors and coworkers will look at you strangely.  It just happens. A lingering regional vocab word is worth the trip.

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My wife and I are planning on doing Phantom to Whitmore in a dory in September. As we prepare physically I’m hoping you can help us mentally. My wife is somewhat concerned with rapids. We have been whitewater rafting before, and she loves to go, but the nerves build and build in the week or two before the big day. As this trip has months of time for the stress to rise, is there any reassurance you can give her troubled heart about the rapids encountered on this section? How can we best prepare for the worries that come from being miles from civilization in the bottom of the Grand Canyon and in a drift boat going over some of the best rapids in the whole canyon. Please keep in mind we both can’t wait to get there but would rather not have to take anti-anxiety meds to do it.  -Russ

Dear Russ:

I find the beach at Phantom to be a great place for scanning faces. We hand out sandwiches and apples and snickers bars, as well as some much-needed Gatorade, teach you how to pack all your gear for the next ten days into a rubber container the size of a shopping bag, pass out the Ibuprofen, and generally let the enormity of the place soak in while you rest your weary knees.

Then we advise you that you’ve just hiked into one of the biggest stretches of whitewater on the river. The black schist cliffs rise a thousand vertical feet straight out of the water, and the rapid’s roar is right there, sort of in your face.

And as you slowly become aware of those tiny little wooden boats rocking gently in the eddy, and begin to notice the scruffy river guides in our floppy hats, flip-flops and gaudy rescue knives, I watch.

I tend to look for the eyes and the smile. The eyes are a little too big to be just appreciating the amazing scenery encompassing Phantom’s “Boat Beach,” looking instead like they’re about to pop out of their sockets. The smile is curled up at the edges and tight, definitely NOT amused. Those are the ones I veer towards with a kind pat on the shoulder or a hug, and a firm “YOU are coming with ME in MY boat. No arguments!”

Now, I understand that the above isn’t very helpful to your needs, so maybe you won’t want to share that part with your spouse. But I do think it important to illustrate to your lovely wife that she’s not alone, which should help a little. Nothing to be ashamed of, and something we guides cope with regularly. It’s the changeover from one world to the next that gets us–be it getting married, a climber’s first step onto the verticality, or getting dropped off for your first day in childcare (which, come to think of it, isn’t all that different from this). It’s like we always used to say: “The first step’s a Looloo” (whatever that meant). Never easy, always queasy.

But, as always, just barely in the tailwaves of the very first rapid five minutes downstream, everything comes together. Awareness replaces shock. The smile softens. The body and soul lose the feeling of rigor mortis and become supple, ready. This boat’s pretty stable, after all. This is kinda fun. The waves are big, yes, but it’s more exciting than scary. The guide (who might look like the person you’d cross the street to avoid in New York) is calm, strong, a real craftsman, very intelligent, quite handsome (or pretty), witty, and is probably more experienced than most of the other elite professionals who guide rafts down the Colorado put together.
Sort of a WHOOOHOOOOO! moment.

And from that moment on, my vast experience tells me that the very person who was most sh..t scared at first evolves into the one riding the bow, punching the waves, jumping into the waterfalls, sharing stupid jokes and generally acting like a twelve-year-old at camp, which is sort of what this is all about, isn’t it?

So, whilst there is nothing you or I are going to be able to do to quell the pre-trip anxiety attacks, which are perfectly normal and certainly will result in the equivalent of getting between two fighting dogs if you try to interfere, I’d say be loving, gentle, and understanding. Bring her favorite cup of coffee (tea, Jagermeister), encourage her to conquer her fears, and keep telling her that the River God guarantees that she will, when all is said and done, consider this trip as the most fun, most wondrous, most glorious, most perfect adventure of her life. She’ll have made some great new friends, and found that she was capable of feats–of superhuman hiking, camping, and going to the riverside Pooperia–that she’d never dreamed of. She’ll want to come back again and again, spending your children’s inheritance and yes, getting stage-fright before every trip and loving every minute of it.

Cheers,
River God

Got a burning question about rafting trips? Then it’s time to Ask A River God. Send us your questions, and we’ll put our guides and staff to the test!

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It was our third week straight of forest fires. The Church (Frank Church Wilderness Area) was on fire. There were rumblings and whisperings about more road closures that could delay our getting to the river or even flat out prevent us from going. The air was thick with smoke. My throat and eyes hurt, I took to carrying a handkerchief with me in case the smoke particulates got REALLY bad. There was no turning back, though, if I could help it. The guests were on their way from all corners of the country and there was wilderness boating to be done.

Driving through and past Stanley, Idaho, I was grateful we had gotten this far, especially amid reports that part of Stanley was being evacuated that day. We drove along Highway 21 out of town and gazed out of the right side of the cramped truck’s cab. The wilderness was burning a few miles from the road.

A few days later, as we set up the kitchen tables at Shelf Camp on the Middle Fork Salmon, I contemplated the impressively mature and enormous spires of Yellow Pine scattered through camp. It was hard to imagine all of these incredible trees almost went up in flames like match heads. That fire was only a few years ago, in 2007, and it came within yards of one of the most incredible camps on this river.

Now I’ve heard the “Middle Fork big fire” story a few times, and I wouldn’t do justice to telling it, but let it be said that an O.A.R.S. river trip was chased from this camp. If you want the full (and excitable) story, guide Nick Grimes gives a compelling recounting/reenactment. Let’s just say Mr. Nick is NOT a runner. And he was sprinting.

On a different trip earlier in the 2012 summer we stopped for lunch at Lower Yellow Pine on the Main Salmon River, just upstream of Big Mallard Rapid. As we were eating we could see fire-lit trees less than a mile downstream, moving our way. We didn’t feel in danger, but there was reverence as we watched the thickening smoke and flames while we ran the next rapid. Around the corner I saw what I’ve never seen. The forest fire here was ON the shore. There it was. Downed trees touching the water’s edge were crackling and smoking. Boat after boat passed the burning land, mouths agape as we watched Nature do her mighty thing. The only noises were the dip of oars in water, clicks of cameras, and the crackle and pop of dried foliage taking the heat. It was an astounding sight.

At camp later, after checking in with the boss via satellite phone and assuring our safety, guides and guests talked about what we had seen. Some people thought it tragic, the scorched earth and killed trees stripping the landscape of a coniferous beauty as far as one could see. While the coal-ridden landscape was indeed more monotone than we were used to, we agreed that the beauty of The Frank Church Wilderness Area was that it was managed AS a Wilderness Area. That is to say the Forest Service’s “let it burn” policy was letting Nature be natural. And that was healthy.

The Halstead Fire at its end consumed over 180,000 acres. The wildflowers will be back next year. And I am grateful to work in a wild land that is ever-changing. I’m looking forward to the 2013’s season of renewal.

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