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.

From Oregon to the Grand Canyon and everything in between, here are a few outstanding river hikes worth the trip…down the river, that is.

Stone Creek/Land of the Seven Waterfalls Hike
Location: Colorado River through the Grand Canyon
Accessible from two separate superb river camps in the Grand Canyon, above and below mighty Dubendorf Rapid, this one has it all: Ancient granaries, incredible geology, numerous swimming spots, and one waterfall after another. You can make it as long or short as you want, as leisurely or as active as you want. If you go long there’s an incredible cove an hour or so up. Or, you can up the adventure level and find your way into the final Quartzite slot, over boulders and around a few exposed ledges, to the best waterfall of all (a four-hour round trip including some hang time).

Jack Creek Overlook Hike
Location:  Middle Fork of the Salmon River, Idaho
This is a buns-of-steel hike approximately 1-mile straight up from Little Pine Camp. The pay-off after an hour’s worth of very steep and switch-backed hiking is unquestionably worth it, though, as the overlook’s summit gives an unencumbered view of the Impassable Canyon and incredible perspective on the far-reaching and wild Frank Church Wilderness. Hikers get unbeatable views of snow-capped peaks and forests for as far as the eye can see.

Loon Creek Hike
Location:  Middle Fork of the Salmon River, Idaho
Also worth the mention on the Middle Fork Salmon is the 1 ½-mile (one-way) Loon Creek Hike to hidden hot springs. The trail to the springs is easy to moderate and offers lots of options for hikers who might want to peel off and sit by Loon Creek or even go fly-fishing. For a longer, harder hike, going past the hot springs takes you into a gorgeous granite gorge. The trail climbs from there and gives a great view of a valley before descending back to the creek and crossing a lovely small bridge.

Tate Creek Slide Hike
Location: Rogue River, Oregon
Despite being a short, ¼-mile hike, the Rogue River Trail at Tate Creek Camp offers a special surprise that will leave a lasting impression. Following a creek bed on the moderate-to-challenging trail, hikers find themselves at a lovely waterfall. But this isn’t just a waterfall to admire. Lively spirits can go hand over hand up a rope to the top of the waterfall, turning it into a wild 10-foot water slide with a 5-foot free fall into a refreshing pool below.

Wind River Hike
Location:  Main Salmon River, Idaho
Winding its way back into the Humboldt Wilderness, the Wind River Hike ranges from between 3 and 6-miles round trip. After approximately 1 ½-miles, the trail leads to a beautiful shady nook of pouring pools to cool off in. This is a good turnaround point for people looking for a shorter hike, or you can continue on from here for a longer moderate-to-difficult 6-mile round trip trek.

Doll House Hike
Location: Colorado River through Cataract Canyon
You have to wake up early to beat the heat on the 6-mile (round trip) Doll House hike into the remote Maze District of Canyonlands National Park. The trek starts out with a grueling 45-minute, 1,300-foot Stairmaster climb, but is well worth it once you arrive at the top of the canyon among playful rock formations that make up the iconic Doll House region. Here you’re also rewarded with an awe-inspiring, 360-degree panoramic view of the colorful spires of the Needles and Island in the Sky Districts of Canyonlands, and the Colorado River below you. Wander around the rim of the canyon to discover an Anasazi granary, and an area called the Refrigerator that offers a slot canyon experience with relief from the heat.

Seven Devils View Hike
Location:  Snake River, Idaho
From Salt Creek Camp on Idaho’s Snake River, deep in Hells Canyon, take on a difficult ¾-mile round trip hike for stunning mountain and river views. The steep, semi-marked trail is a steady gradient with some need for scrambling. Reach the top and see a bird’s eye view of the winding Snake River below you, or look off onto the horizon to take in the Seven Devils Mountains, which make up the Idaho/Oregon border.

Insider Tip: The Ultimate Hiking and Rafting Vacation
While we’re talking about rafting and hiking, the proximity of the Tuolumne River in California to all the great trails and iconic landscapes in Yosemite National Park has to be mentioned. In fact, hiking enthusiasts can take a wild ride down the action-packed Class IV Tuolumne River and then spend a few days exploring Yosemite’s backcountry by foot on a special Tuolumne & Yosemite Hiker trip. If you’ve got 6 days, this might be the most epic hiking and rafting vacation you can take.

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Forget the ocean, the new beach vacation is on the river. And while getting to your very own secluded beach is half the fun, that doesn’t mean the fun stops there. After running the rapids, you’ve typically got the entire afternoon and evening to waste away the hours in total bliss.

What could you possibly do with yourself in the middle of nowhere, miles away from civilization? Plenty. Here are some of our favorite ways for making the most out of your beach vacation (redefined)…

Let your inner-kid shine and play a game.
Whether it’s the classics like horseshoes and volleyball, or a guide favorite like Hunker Down, where you’ll have to test your balance and outsmart your opponent to win, you won’t be able to resist jumping into the beach game action. And when the stars start to come out, the guides will pull out glow bocce. You better eye up the competition throughout the day, because things will get competitive!

Water sports of a different sort.
You’ve been on the water all day, yet the crystal clear water of the river is right there enticing you and the family to jump in. But why just take a dip when you can go on an adventure swim? You’ll need a life jacket for this one because it involves hiking upstream and letting yourself flow through the rapids, minus the boat. Or, back at shore, challenge a guide (or family member) to a “duckie war.” It’s like king of the hill, but you’re both balancing on an upside down duckie (also known as an inflatable kayak). Chances are you’ll both fall off, but hey, you wanted to get wet, right? And sure, you see them on the ocean, but stand up paddle boards (SUPs) are just as much fun on the river. Take one out for a whirl.

Hikes you can only access via the beach.
So, you’re in the middle of this river canyon, on a glorious secluded beach, but you can’t help but be curious about what lies beyond the beach. Is it a stream that leads to a hidden waterfall, or perhaps a hot spring calling you in for a dip? One thing is for sure, beyond a river beach, there is way more than a line of resorts. And it’s all yours to discover on an exploratory hike.

Rediscover your love of fishing.
You can’t just cast your fishing rod from an ocean beach and hope to catch something. But you can do that from a river beach. And with fish biting often, from some of the most pristine fishing holes you’ll ever see, the fun will last for hours.

Just kick back and relax.
Sometimes all you need is a good book, cold beverage, and feet dipped in the water to have a good time. We recommend grabbing a beach chair and plopping it right in the river. Why not?

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The post The Beach Vacation Redefined appeared first on River Currents.

And it’s only February.

I blame it on a recent hike at Hetch Hetchy (pictured above), where the gorgeous Tuolumne River rolls out of Yosemite National Park through a spectacular granite canyon and then flows down to create the most wild and exhilarating rafting in the U.S.

The weather was gorgeous for being the middle of “winter” and I found myself basking in the summer temps, day dreaming about a 3-day Wine on the River trip I took down the Tuolumne with O.A.R.S. several years ago. It was epic. You know, the kind of trip that you’re always comparing to other trips because it was that good.

The Tuolumne is exciting. It’s the kind of river trip that challenges you with its Class IV-V rapids, but then rewards you for your efforts.

The reward? Sandy beaches perfect for sleeping under the stars (highly recommended), calm stretches for swimming (some of the clearest water you’ll ever see), the feeling of being a million miles from everything (unplugged bliss), and if you happen to be going on a Wine on the River trip, gourmet food and good wine too.

But, those are just a few reasons the Tuolumne makes it on my top five best trips ever list.

For me, the Tuolumne was adventurous and liberating. It was my first whitewater rafting trip, and I had plenty of worst case scenarios running through my head for weeks before I went. After the first day on the river though, I got over that fear, and fell in love with the adrenaline rush and exploring the backcountry in a whole new way. I knew the Tuolumne wouldn’t be my last trip. I was hooked.

Now, my ole’ bucket list has largely been taken over by the names of all the rivers in the West — the Rogue, American, Colorado, Snake. I want to raft them all, not to mention several rivers in other countries. But even after I’ve scratched a few rivers off my list, there’s still something about the Tuolumne deep down that gives me that fever — the eagerness to hop on a raft and disappear into a river canyon for a few days.

It’s special. It’s full of first adventures, lots of laughs, great camping, even better food and the start of what I’m sure will be some life-long friendships.

I’m not sure I’ll make it back to the Tuolumne this year. I might catch the Rogue instead. I’ve got that “list” after all. But I’ll be back on the Tuolumne some day, that’s for sure.

Have you rafted the Tuolumne? Tell me about your trip in the comments below!

The post Tuolumne River Rafting Dreamin’ appeared first on River Currents.

This was after a day during which we had leapt from 15-foot-tall cliffs, swam through trains of standing waves, and negotiated scream-inducing rapids mined with boulders, huge suckholes, and raft-swamping ledge drops. The sun had just slipped behind the rim of the gorge and our party of 11 had emptied a gigantic Dutch oven of its chicken-chili-cornbread contents. We’d drawn our camp chairs close as the conversation turned to old college stories and river stories and assorted misadventures endured in the pursuit of adventure.

But Markie wanted to catch a newt.

She’d plucked a reed from the riverbank, bored a hole in a hunk of jicama left over from dinner, and strung the two together in the form of a primordial fishing implement from “Survivor.” Could I help?

The Wild Child

I could not have been more comfortably slumped in a camp chair, or more engaged in the rounds of tall tales. In fact, I could not have been less interested in the remote possibilities afforded of South American legumes, a piece of tall grass, and aquatic vertebrates.

So, of course, I got up from the chair and dangled jicama for newts with my daughter. Within minutes, one of the bug-eyed creatures sidled up to the sodden bait and started nibbling. Markie slowly pulled in the reed, and I scooped the salamander up in my hands.

We have talked about that moment for months. We will talk about it for years. It taught me a lesson in how to turn a guided wilderness trip into one of the greatest gifts you could give your kid. And yourself.

Wilderness trips impose on a relationship a commonality of purpose and direction and even velocity of experience. You slow down to the pace of the paddle, of the trail rising ahead, of the dry fly drifting through the riffle. There is no electronic hypnosis through a flat-panel screen. There are constellations, not pixels. This, in turn, provides fertile ground for the sort of life-lasting connections that become increasingly difficult to foster as a son or daughter soars through the teenaged years.

Our trip to the Rogue had its genesis in Rob Kesselring’s self-published memoir “Daughter Father Canoe: Coming of Age in the Sub-arctic,” the story of Kesselring’s and daughter Lara’s 27-day canoe trip through the Northwest Territories in the summer of Lara’s 14th birthday. I shared the book with Markie, and she immediately insisted on a pact: Let’s do something like that some day.

I’ve paddled remote rivers across Alaska and Canada, but to work up to a multi-week father-daughter trip, I told her, we’d need a guided, multi-day trip as a shake-down cruise, of sorts. Oregon’s Rogue River was a perfect fit.

More Than Adventure

We put in at Oregon’s Galice Resort — 3 oared rafts piled high with tents, personal gear, food, inflatable kayaks, and a group of wide-eyed rafters ranging in age from 10 to nearly 70. For 5 glorious, blue-sky days we floated and swam and paddled our “duckies” through roaring boulder fields and narrow canyons. We caught snakes and day-hiked to ghost ranches and picked blackberries by the bucketful. We watched river otters and launched water fights and lay in our tent with the doors zipped open, wishing for one more falling star.

Before the trip, I could not have imagined the endless and vast and varying types of pure hoot-and-holler fun we packed into 5 too-short days.

But there was more. Over the previous year, Markie had grown up — up and a little bit away — at an astonishing rate. There were fewer requests for bedtime stories. Her door sprouted a sign requesting potential trespassers to please “knock first.” She and I have always been connected at the soul — the wildlife lovers, the contrary spirits, the gregarious loners. It has been said that parenting is largely a process of learning to let go, and letting go was something I’d been doing a lot of where Markie was concerned.

I yearned for a new way to connect, a means to propel us into a new kind of relationship rooted in her emerging self-awareness of who she was apart from mother and father, and where her spirit seemed to be taking her on the untested spectrums of self-reliance, comfort with adventure, and new experience.

When we leapt together off a high cliff and plunged into a bathtub-sized swimming hole of 63-degree water, she emerged from the river with her arms around my neck, screaming her desire to jump again and again and again and again.

I knew then that answers to certain questions of the future were coming to her and I together. And I knew that I would return to that exact spot in exactly 3 years with my 7-year-old son, Jack.

Plan Your Trip

You learn plenty of lessons planning a first-time wilderness trip with your kid. Here are some of the best decisions I made:

Do your homework. There are a few specific questions to ask of an outfitter:

• Are family-oriented departures available? Some outfitters offer itineraries—and hand-pick guides—specifically for trips where there will be kids or youth along. This way you won’t be paired with a honeymooning couple or stuck with a guide who will make that second PBJ only begrudgingly.
• What is the client-to-guide ratio? The number (and character) of the guides on our Rogue River trip was perfect: 3 guides to 11 clients. There are no hard-and-fast rules about this, for different trips require a varying set of helping hands. If the client-to-guide ratio creeps above 6-to-1, however, have a serious conversation with the outfitter about your expectations.
• What is the daily pace of the trip? When I first read that we’d be on the water an average of 6 hours a day, I was a bit concerned. What in the world would we do the rest of the time? The answer: Climb trees, jump off cliffs, skip rocks, explore hidden side canyons. Take a hard look at the itinerary to make sure you’re not being pushed.

Let your child help choose the trip. Maybe you think it would be grand to horsepack for 5 days with your kid. Maybe your kid doesn’t. Maybe you should listen.

My friend Tim Lassiter recently proposed to Austin, his 14-year-old son, a serious backcountry mule deer hunt. “But I could see it in his eyes,” Lassiter reported later. “He didn’t want to disappoint me, but he wasn’t jumping up and down about the idea, either.” Lassiter asked his son for his idea of a dream trip with dad, and then they booked a Costa Rican multisport venture that involved fishing for sailfish, ATVing through the jungle, touring local villages, and hiking through national parks.

“The best thing I ever did,” Lassiter said, “was listen to what Austin wanted.”

Personalize the trip. Commercial wilderness trips have to rely on a certain degree of cookie-cutter logistics. The group sleeps in similar tents, eats the same food, wears the same color life jackets. Do what you can to individualize the experience. Early on, Markie asked if we could take our beloved yellow and purple Marmot tent; she loves waking up to the ethereal yellow glow that suffuses the tent interior when the sun rises. It seemed ridiculous given that O.A.R.S. provided fine tents that didn’t need to be packed, checked on an airline, and fussed over. But we took it. And I’ll baby that yellow tent for as long as I can, knowing that each time we pitch it in the future, we’ll remember our clifftop campsite at Mule Creek Canyon, or the sandy beach along some unnamed riffle where we caught the newts.

Consider taking a friend. I anguished over this. My sole purpose for putting this adventure together was to spend sustained one-on-one time with Markie and allow for serendipitous, meaningful moments of connection to happen of their own accord. I didn’t want to be a chaperone. But I also was aware that the welcome mat between father and child might wear thin during 5 days of togetherness.

In the end, Markie and I had a good chat about what this trip was all about — and we invited George and Katie, another father and daughter, to join us. I knew George would share my desire to center the trip on the bond between father and child, and their presence added immeasurably to our experience.

But I still worked hard to maximize face-time with my daughter. When she wandered off to pick blackberries, I wandered with her. When she turned in at night, I turned in, and our time together in the tent, reading and writing in our journals, led to moments of connection that we’ll talk about for the rest of our lives. It was no easy feat to leave the riverside gathering spot when the story-swapping grew to a fevered pitch. But I’m glad I did.

The Effect It Has On The Kids

“How about this!” Markie grinned one morning, as she scooped up hunks of cantaloupe from the riverside buffet. “Appetizers for breakfast!” For 5 days, our girls never complained, never groused, never pouted. They played cards in the tent, scooped up minnows with the camp colander, scrambled barefoot across miles of lichen-covered boulders, and dutifully marched off to “the Groover” — the designated camp latrine — with a raft paddle in hand with which to mark its occupancy.
They washed their own dishes. They said “yes, ma’am” and “no, sir” and “please” and “thank you” with no prodding. They learned the lesson of getting along with others even when those others were teenaged boys for which (at least for the time being) they can ascribe neither purpose nor function in their universe. Dealing with, and being happy with, the circumstances immediately at hand is an enduring lesson of wilderness travel.

It was as if the woods and the water and the lack of civilization had somehow civilized them — the cotillion of the Rogue.

Even on the river, I wondered how long this would last: How long would we enjoy a kind of cosmic father-daughter afterglow once swim practice and Saxon math homework re-entered our lives? On our second-to-last day in the woods, we were picking blackberries on a periwinkle-cloaked ridge above Mule Creek Canyon. Markie was humming to herself a tune punctuated with grunts of pain from the thorns, and this unselfconscious chorus of content rose above the sibilant sighs of the whitewater 200 feet below, and there were black-tailed deer grazing along a distant gravel bar, heads rising whenever a pot or pan would clank from camp, and Markie said, through cheeks stuffed with berries, “Daddy, I wish we could do this all of our lives.”

And I thought: We will, sweetheart. A week or two at a time.

This essay was originally created for the 2012 O.A.R.S. catalog. For more compelling stories from other renowned writers, request your catalog copy today!

The post How To Plan A Vacation That Reconnects The Family appeared first on River Currents.

It only took ten minutes. Just out of Jackson, a moose and her calf graze at their breakfast, barely registering our presence as the van sped past toward Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks, a.k.a. “America’s Serengeti.”

The game, it seems, is afoot. Let the wild life begin.

We (myself and 5 other adventurers, plus Danny and Ali, our trusted guides) are heading into Wyoming’s wilderness for a week of solitude, sea kayaking and scenery. Everyone else is a seasoned outdoor-person. I, like Dave Barry, have always seen camping as nature’s way of promoting the motel industry. It promises to be an interesting week.

Passing Isa Lake, I crane my neck in hopes of spotting more animals. Choked with yellow water lilies, the lake straddles the Continental Divide, draining into both the Atlantic and the Pacific. Conversation in the van is centered around bears, who’ve been appearing in the headlines with alarming regularity this summer. Ali assures us that she’s never lost a guest to a grizzly. I resolve not to be the first.

Arriving At Yellowstone

The journey starts from the ground up at our arrival in Yellowstone. The ground, in this case, being Old Faithful, the most famous attraction in the world’s first national park. Wildfires engulfed much of the surrounding area in 1988. Charred trees near the sprawling Old Faithful Inn are a chilling reminder of how close the historic structure came to being destroyed.

Danny and Ali direct us down the slippery boardwalk, away from the crowds queuing at the “front” of Old Faithful. Just a few hundred feet away, there’s an unobstructed view of the eruption. The air is thick with sulphur and a boy walks by holding his nose. A hawk poses haughtily on a fossilized tree. Hoof prints inside the barriers mark where elk and bison have broken through the brittle igneous rock. The earth’s crust here is thin, the molten magma closer to the surface than any other place on the planet. Dragonflies flit among the fumerols, their rust color matching the reddish iron oxide deposits.

We bid goodbye to the geysers and head to Yellowstone Lake for a quick kayak introduction. Nicknamed “divorce boats,” tandem sea kayaks are nonetheless known for their stability. But wind has whipped up 4-foot whitecaps on the lake, so the paddle is postponed in favor of a trip to geothermal paint pots. Rain clears the modest crowds, who stream back to their cars as we make our way along the jewel-toned craters. Mayflies flutter, making the most of their 24 hours of life. Mud ponds belch “bloop bloop.” If a dinosaur appeared in the midst of this landscape, no one would be surprised.

Day Two: Breakfast & Bald Eagles

And no one is more surprised than me the next morning. Danny’s cry of “Good morning, campers! We’ve got coffee! We’ve got cocoa! We’ve got teas from around the world!” rouses me from a sound sleep. We’d camped at Grant Village, only to be immediately joined by a young elk who stretched out behind us, making her bed in a patch of wild strawberries. After dinner around the fire—pork loin and asparagus—I’d settled my sleeping bag atop a thick foam pad and had a five-star slumber. Surprise!

Refueled with bacon and blueberry pancakes, we make for Leeks Marina and make our first foray onto the water. Even in mid-August, the lake is numbingly cold, the kayaks’ stability reassuring. Ali heads off in the motorized support raft that holds our gear while we get to know the lake. Soon paddling basics have been mastered, and we skim smoothly across the clear waters, under the watchful Tetons. It’s like paddling in a postcard. Scenery: we’re soaking in it!

Two bald eagles monitor our approach to Colter Camp, on the lake’s western shore. We make camp in a flower-strewn clearing next to a small icy pond. After dinner, an animal approaches loudly through the brush. A small doe appears in the firelight. She circles the perimeter for most of the night, and well-guarded, I sleep.

Day Three: Kayaking & Surf-and-Turf

Morning comes with an osprey’s cry, and a hummingbird dive bombs the clearing as I’m folding the tent. The day’s paddle starts with a short detour north, where Ali guides us into the pond beside the campsite. A frigid stream burbles up to the surface. Heading south, glacier-fed waterfalls crash down to the lake. Ali stops and picks wild berries while telling tales of the area’s nature and history.

Heading across Moran Bay to Grassy Island, the wind picks up and the waves rise. Fighting our way across the water we arrive at Grassy Island, our base for two nights. Danny makes hot tea and cocoa while we hastily erect tents. When the rain stops, we feast on steak and salmon while mosquitoes make a meal out of me. The group takes turns testing insect repellents, and soon they’re (mostly) repelled.

Day Four: Hikes & Almost Bears

So far we’ve been traveling by paddle power, but the next morning it’s time to hike. Or bushwhack, actually, as Danny and Ali lead us up a steep trail that threads through dense undergrowth. I scramble over a freshly-fallen tree that is promptly named “Pants the Ripper.” A swift snowmelt-fed stream cascades besides the trail. This is prime bear territory (bearitory, if you will) so we make plenty of noise on the way to the summit. At the top, we’re rewarded with breathtaking views of the surrounding peaks.

After lunch, a quick paddle through Bearpaw Bay brings us to a trailhead leading to Leigh Lake, where we spot our first humans. Ranger Philips comes from his cabin to tell us about the black bear and 2 cubs he’d spotted shortly after dawn.

Leaving Leigh, we wander through a “Sound of Music” alpine meadow, laden with lupine and other alpine wildflowers, before returning to the island. Morning means saying goodbye to Grassy, as we head to the final campsite.

Day Five: Jaw-Dropping Views

Danny and Ali have saved the best for last. Spalding Bay is exceptional even in a jaw-dropping landscape, and my tent window faces what must be the most spectacular mountain view in North America. The site is littered with age-polished bones and eagle feathers, and watched over by 2 sandhill cranes. Tomorrow we’ll raft the Snake River, floating back to civilization. But today I can call this spot “home.”

This essay was originally created for the 2012 O.A.R.S. catalog. For more compelling stories from other renowned writers, request your catalog copy today!

The post Exploring Wyoming National Parks — An American Safari appeared first on River Currents.

Working primarily in Dinosaur National Monument, she gets to enjoy the Yampa River, Green River through the Gates of Lodore, Split Mountain 1-day trips and many more! Zollinger has a spunky personality, mountains of geological knowledge, and sheer flower power on the river. Get to know this easy going Utah native in our regular series of guide interviews!

What water level do you enjoy rowing most, and what makes Utah watersheds unique?

I think the coolest thing about Utah, is that you have a scale of Class I to Class VI all within a 150-200 mile radius. You have extreme desert where there’s very little vegetation, to the Gates of Lodore where it’s a narrow stretch with clear water and tons of wildlife so you can kind of pick and choose. What’s really great about being here in Utah is starting in one place, and through your whole season you bounce around to different rivers and then come back to that same place. You can go from Cataract Canyon to Westwater, to Desolation Canyon to the Green River, to the Yampa River to the San Juan and meet a lot of different people because they’re choosing that adventure. When you’re always on one river, you’re seeing that same group of people, but when you’re bouncing around from a lazy river to a Class V river, it’s cool to see the variety in people.

What does the job mean to you?

The biggest thing for me is meeting a bunch of people and being able to have a lot of conversation that provides you with connections all over the world. It’s really cool to say that you have friends all over the place and that you’ve all shared a connection on the river. What keeps me going is running a rapid and having the adrenaline completely fill me up, there’s nothing better; it’s free drugs, it’s awesome! I think that’s what keeps me going as well as just being very physical all day and having that challenge and just working really hard, being at the end of the day completely exhausted — it (weirdly) helps me keep going.

What individual thing would you say inspires you the most?

I had a brother pass away approximately 12 years ago, he was an outdoor enthusiast who loved and seeked adventure; he was an extremist. When he passed away, I vowed to myself that I would live the life that he would’ve lived. So when I’m on the river or when I’m out hiking, climbing, biking, (things like that), I just consider him and think that he’s with me and we’re both able to do what he would’ve done if he were alive. We both live his life, it’s kind of cool.

What’s something you can’t leave home without?

My flowers [laughs], I’ve got a bouquet of flowers that I started doing my second year [guiding], and it sits on the front of my boat – it’s a maiden head. And it’s progressed from a bouquet of bird of paradise to a bouquet of carnations to — a couple years ago — changed to poppies. I’ve found that poppies are my power flower! And also turquoise [shows her turquoise pennant]; I always make sure to wear turquoise on the river.

Can you share a story where you’ve had a unique interaction with wildlife while on the river?

‘Skunkito bandito’ got us one night. We’re sitting there asleep on the boats, and the skunk travels up to the cooler and hops off on one of the guides — checking him out, looking him in the eye — until the guide was fed up with it. So we got out our water guns, so next time we’d be ready. An hour later he comes over and we get the water guns and squirt him, but he flips into the front of my boat and gets into the front hatch! I then open up the hatch, and there’s this pink sphincter looks right at us, we thought he was going to spray, but he didn’t, he was scared. Then I got a stick and tried to get him out, but he kept nuzzling up against it like a cat. I realized he probably didn’t know how to get out, so I made him little steps. He then went up to shore, so we went back to sleep, but woke up with him still there only to find that he pooped all over the front of my boat. We tried to wash it out, but the poop just went to the sides and into the back. The next day my whole boat stunk, and since we were in an eddy, the whole boat next to us stunk, too, so we got shunned a couple miles back from the rest of the group because we smelled so bad [smiles].

The post Meet Natali Zollinger, Utah & Colorado Rafting Guide appeared first on River Currents.

We found our way through the National Park icons like Yellowstone and Yosemite and eventually made our way to Utah. To this day, Zion still holds a special place in my heart. And by the end of that 2-week road trip, I had fallen in love with Utah. But life takes you in many directions and eventually Utah, with its red rocks, meandering rivers and deep canyons, fell to the back of my mind.

Second Encounter

Fast forward a few years (too many to share) and I’m back, flying over the Colorado River in a six-seater Cessna, staring down at Canyonlands National Park and Cataract Canyon where I’ve just spent the last week exploring. I think I spot the entrance to Dark Canyon and make out what has to be Big Drop II. I see the Doll House to my left and the stretch of river that was bypassed when we hopped on land to hike the Loop. I’m smiling. I’m a Californian now, but I just fell in love with Utah all over again.

A week earlier I had arrived in Moab, a Mecca for all things outdoorsy, in the southeastern corner of the state. I came specifically for the rafting and hiking and hooked up with O.A.R.S., which promised both in one trip. I was excited about rafting 96 miles of the Colorado River and accessing remote trails along the way, typically hard to reach by any other means.

The trip began with our guides rowing the group, 23 of us all together, through peaceful Meander Canyon, rich with geological features that make you scratch your head in wonder. Early on we passed into Canyonlands National Park, but Cataract Canyon doesn’t officially start until 50 miles into the trip. Having already heard about some of the hikes that lay ahead, I was eager to get further down the river.

The Hikes

At lunch on the second day, we reached Lathrop Ruins, our first hike. A 15-minute jaunt through the bright green, weedy Tamarisk trees lead to Anasazi ruins, including pictographs and an abandoned granary, which an ancient community created to store their surplus of crops and grains.

Day three began with the Loop hike, an approximately one-mile, moderate trail that goes straight up about 500 feet with great views at the top, then straight down with some tricky foot maneuvering. While we hiked, the boats kept rowing to pick us up on the other side. We bypassed four miles of the river, but it was well worth it for the chance to peer down into the layered canyon walls we were living among for the week.

We then headed off to the confluence of the Colorado and Green Rivers where you reach a sign-in box for groups to write-in the various camps they’ll be staying at throughout the trip. Sign-up is voluntary, but also an unspoken rule of the river. We all had our fingers crossed for plan A and were thrilled when the guides came back and shouted, “Winning!” — our motto for the rest of the trip. We were now set up perfectly to hike the Doll House, as well as Dark Canyon.

Day four was going to be epic. Not only were we hiking the six-mile Doll House trail into the remote Maze District of Canyonlands, we were also running a good chunk of the trip’s Class III-IV rapids.

About half of us woke up early to beat the heat and take on the grueling 1,300-foot ascent that takes you to the playful rock formations that make up the Doll House. After a 45-minute Stairmaster climb you get to the top, and are rewarded with an awe-inspiring, 360-degree panoramic view. In one direction sits the colorful spires of the Needles and Island in the Sky Districts of Canyonlands. There’s an Anasazi granary to discover, and an area called the Refrigerator that offers a slot canyon experience with relief from the heat. 

The Whitewater

We could have spent the entire day up there, but after an hour of exploring we had to get back for lunch and gear up for the rapids ahead, including some big plunges, literally called Big Drop I, II and III.

The following day brought more rapids, which I took on in a ducky after successfully kayaking the first day’s rapids. Lower Imperial got the best of me and my paddle partner and we took our first official “swim.” Luckily, we made it through laughing and unscathed. But I wasn’t as excited about the rapids on day five as I was about Dark Canyon, a hike that hasn’t been accessible for at least eight years due to low water levels and impassable debris.

On a perfect day Dark Canyon offers approximately two miles (or more if you’re adventurous) of hiking and bouldering between its steep, narrow red walls alongside a pristine stream. When we arrived to clay-red water it was obvious a flash flood had come through the day before. Nonetheless, we took advantage of the many swim holes, waterfalls and prime cliff jumping spots that are hidden away in this remote paradise. It was a magic moment to be wandering among canyon walls that glowed like a flame and towered 3,000 feet above you. The wait had been worth it.

As we pulled up to the boat take out the next day a sadness came over me like I was saying good bye to an old friend. Planes arrived to take us out of the canyon and, as we flew over the Colorado River back to Moab, I couldn’t help but think about all the people out there who haven’t gotten a chance to see any of this yet— to fall in love with Utah.

This essay was originally created for the 2012 O.A.R.S. catalog. For more compelling stories from other renowned writers, request your catalog copy today!

The post Falling For Utah, Hiking & Rafting Canyonlands’ Backcountry appeared first on River Currents.

Trust me. More than a few folks have limped their way to and from the boats, missing hikes to waterfalls and swimming holes because they’re too beat up, eating ibuprofen like candy.

But it doesn’t have to be that way. With a little bit of effort before your trip, you will not only enjoy the hike, you’ll have a pair of legs to take you to some mind-blowing places downstream. Honest.

As for hiking out, the unprepared hallucinate through an eternity of suffering; the fit have a really cool desert trail experience. Your call.

So, having gotten that bit of tough love out of the way, what to do?

The Trail Of All Trails

The Bright Angel Trail follows an old Native American route into the Grand Canyon from the South Rim. It follows a fault line through otherwise impenetrable cliffs for thousands of vertical feet, like pretty much every other route into “The Big Ditch.” Comfortably on the rim, you’re seeing the canyon, but not really getting it. Yet. If you’ve come down the river with us and are hiking out, you get it, for sure. You’ve also been training on all those short river hikes we’ve been taking you on.

You take 300 steps down below the rim, and the universe changes into a wilderness. All of a sudden you get this feeling of vastness. An immensity of rock and desert. And that zig-zaggy thing that goes way down there with the little bugs moving along it until it disappears in the far blue haze? That’s where you’re headed, amigo.

Before you go, take the recommendations in your O.A.R.S. pre-trip package seriously. Take daily walks, in the park, on the beach, or to the market instead of driving. You know the drill. That’s D-A-I-L-Y.

How To Train For It

Start slow, a half-hour or so at a time. Build into an hour. Surely you can afford an hour a day for the trip of a lifetime? It can make all the difference. Pain sucks. Trust me.

Ideally, you’ll be training on hills (or, on the Stairmaster if you live in the Midwest). That’s where the knees come in. And the aerobics. It’s critical to work your heart and knees and hips for the pounding they’re in for. Up and down, down and up. So start several months out, get some good music on your iPod, NPR on podcast, and enjoy the day. It’s a good excuse, anyway.

OK, you’re fit. Now what? In summer, when it’s about a thousand degrees and the sun is baking your brains out, you’ll want a large-brimmed hat, sunglasses with UV protection, a lightweight long-sleeved shirt and the same in pants, and a good pair of tennies (or light-weight hiking boots if your ankles are like mine), with some cushioning in the sole.

Other Things To Bring

Of course, a water bottle is a must, though two liters is sufficient since on the “BA” there are plenty of watering holes where you can refill your bottle. I use a bandana as well, dunking it into the water fountains or creeks (upstream of the mule manure) at every chance. Getting wet and staying wet is the difference between heaven and hell. It takes getting used to being wet like that. But it’s like having a palm-frond fan and being fed grapes, watching all those poor heathens sweat — good desert trick to know.

During spring and fall, you just might encounter snow up on the rim. If you’re hiking you’ll probably stay warm, but not in a T-shirt. Synthetic or wool undies, a fleece for when you stop to snack or pee (and you will stop to snack and pee), and a wool cap. If you’re prepared, it’s stunning.

Did I say snacks? Your car doesn’t run without fuel, and neither do you. Fuel up, don’t get bloated, snack regularly: some carbs for instant energy, a little fat for later, and a bit of protein for the long haul.

If you take my advice, you will absolutely love the most popular trail in the Grand Canyon. If you stuff this in the “I’ll-get-a-round-to-it” pile, you will be thinking of me somewhere along your personal trail of tears.

Did I say trust me?

This essay was originally created for the 2011 O.A.R.S. catalog. For more compelling stories from other renowned writers, request your catalog copy today!

The post Grand Canyon Hiking: How To Survive AND Enjoy It appeared first on River Currents.

In the heart of canyon country, you’ll find Moab, a no-frills town that caters to adrenaline junkies and adventure seekers. Only have a day? Here’s the ultimate one-day itinerary:

7am — Fuel up with homemade fare and healthy portions from the funky Eklecticafe (352 N Main St.). Then hit the trails.

8am — Moab is known as the mountain biking Mecca. There are trails for all skill levels, but seasoned riders will want to ride the famous Slickrock Trail, a challenging 10.6-mile loop (located off of Sand Flats Road). Rent a bike or sign up for a guided bike tour through Dreamride.

12pm — After breaking a sweat, grab some lunch . Not much has changed since this classic diner’s opening in 1954, but Milt’s Stop & Eat (356 Millcreek Dr.) is where to go for the best burger in town. What to order if your stomach can handle it: The Chili Cheeseburger and a banana malt.

2pm — Walk off your lunch at Arches National Park. Depending upon how much energy you have left, consider taking an O.A.R.S. 4×4 backcountry tour of Arches for just $99/person. You will have the option of a couple of hikes to the iconic Delicate Arch and your guide will take you to the perfect spot to catch the sunset. Set among spectacular rock formations, the dramatic sky show will be a wonderful ending to an action-packed day.

8pm — Go where the guides go: If you’re looking for a light dinner or something other than cheeseburgers and milkshakes try the White Rim Roll at Sabaku Sushi (90 E Center St.). This hip spot will blow you away with its fresh fish creations in the middle of the desert.

10pm — Still going? Grab a stool at Woody ’s Tavern (221 S Main St.). Live music on Friday and Saturday nights.

The post Destination: Moab, Utah appeared first on River Currents.