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.

Related Articles:

Falling for Utah: Hiking & Rafting Canyonlands’ Backcountry

Going Rogue: A Self-proclaimed City Girl Goes Camping

The Most Underrated State for Adventure Travel

The post 7 Incredible River Hikes appeared first on River Currents.

Pure wonder is rare as an adult . Not much in the world of manufactured entertainment takes our breath away. So when I raised my face from a splash in the pristine water of the swimming hole at Mule Creek to find five sets of brown eyes contemplating me, I gasped. One by one, the deer turned and made their surefooted way out of the creek, leaving me dripping and smiling.

Some people (me!) visit spas for luxury water treatments. But no spa has ever delivered such pure bliss as reclining on a water-smoothed stone in that creek, water surging over the rocks to pummel my back and cascading from a log over my hair. I bathed in the serene pool, the only sounds running water and birdsong. Reluctant to leave my sanctuary, I plucked wild blackberries. But it was time for coffee, so I hiked back to Mule Creek camp. If this is camping, I thought, I don’t know what I’ve been waiting for.

Though stamps from across the globe fill my passport, I’m not a camper, nor an outdoor adventurer, preferring posh hotels. When I was invited to raft the Rogue River for five days, my wanna-be adventurous side cheered while my high-maintenance side quaked at the thought. Could this city girl put up a tent? Sleep far from the comforts of home? Take on the whitewater rapids?

To my surprise and delight; yes.

I started off easy, relaxing on one of the gear rafts among the string of single and double kayaks. Doc, a long-time river guide, patiently answered my ceaseless questions about wildlife and rocks, trees and the river as he expertly rowed. After lunch where we left the last signs of civilization, I graduated to the paddle boat. We set out into a rapid and immediately launched a rescue, as a teenager behind us—his first time in a kayak—promptly capsized. We fought the powerful current back upstream. “Swim to me!” our guide shouted, then heaved the boy, dripping, into the raft.

Once at camp I pondered which guide to ask for help assembling my tent. I decided to try it myself first, though, and managed fine. I surveyed my little home; cushy sleeping pad on the tarp topped with a cozy sleeping bag and tiny pillow. Well satisfied I followed the scent of grilling meat down the hill to find a feast underway. All week the meals the crew conjured out of supplies stashed on the rafts astonished me. Enchiladas, stir fries, cobblers, eggs Benedict and French toast were just a few of our culinary treats along the Rogue.

Sipping cold drinks the campers lounged in chairs set in the translucent green river, swirling our feet in the cool water as fish darted about our ankles. Despite promises of a brilliant display of stars, I soon curled up in my tent, asleep before dark. I caught the last glimmer of stars before they faded though, as chattering birds woke me before dawn.

“Coffee’s brewing,” Doc promised. An abundant breakfast followed coffee, and with great efficiency the crew packed up. “Last call for the groover,” shouted a guide and we laughed—we all knew what that meant. Foremost on my mind before embarking on this adventure was the bathroom question. I tried to assuage my concerns, recalling unspeakable toilets in southeast Asia and Africa—surely it couldn’t be worse. In fact, this was preferable. A guide provided a guided tour of the “facilities” the first afternoon, casually addressing bodily functions. “Women pee in the bucket, men pee in the river.” Said bucket came complete with a small seat and lid. “I don’t want to see any turds or toilet paper,” she went on. “That goes in the groover.” A wooden screen offered privacy, and a distant location ensured no olfactory distress for others. (Outhouses a couple nights later were a little less wholesome, sending all of us to the river for number one.)

Groover business tended to, it was time to hit the Rogue. Today I’d navigate in my own kayak. I headed out, heart pounding at the prospect of tumbling into the seething cauldron of a rapid. I paddled madly through my first one and sailed out to find a bald eagle perched overhead, solemnly observing our escapades.

The rapids weren’t the only adventures, though. Afternoon hikes led us through fearsome trails that I’d never have broached without a trusty guide leading the way, often culminating in kids and adults alike flinging themselves off high rocks into swirling water, to the merriment of all. In a moment I’ll never forget, I joined a few intrepid souls at a natural water slide in the secret depths of the forest. We scrambled up a rope then plummeted into the clear, dark pool, where we popped up like otters, laughing our heads off. How great is it, I thought daily, that we are so gleeful just jumping off a rock and splashing around in water?

Further delight still came with evenings at camp where we gathered to munch on appetizers—toasted bruschetta with caprese salad anyone?—and swap tales. We’d recount the day’s adventures, laughing uproariously at the guide who dumped all her passengers and mooned the rest of us in the rescue. And as dark settled on the tall pines, we’d tear into a well-earned dinner. Evening entertainment often featured games; while the kids played cards, “Two Truths and a Lie” was popular among the adult set. A hotly contested Connect Four game might erupt between a teen and a guide at any moment.

With a final night’s game of Postcards, the trip leader instructed us to describe a favorite image from the trip, the caption, and who we’d deliver it to. I chose my dawn encounter with deer. But as I described it, I realized my postcard would go to this group. Strangers five days ago, the people around me felt like friends and family now, and that’s who I wanted to share my magical moment with.

Related Articles:

5 Reasons Roughing it is for Schlubs

Going Outside Your Comfort Zone Has Never Been So Easy

Confessions of a First-time Rafting Trip Paddler

The post Going Rogue: A Self-proclaimed City Girl Goes Camping for the First Time appeared first on River Currents.

But, I’m not.

A Syrah goes exceptionally well with whitewater, particularly when it’s paired with Chicken Viognier with morel mushrooms, white truffle grits and micro mustard green salad.

Just as an example off the top of my head. (Sort of.)

The fresh air of pristine rivers is certainly complemented by the bouquet of a Cabernet Franc. Pair this with a Dungeness crab-crusted fillet with Creole Hollandaise, potato hash and grilled asparagus salad, and what rafter wouldn’t call the day complete?

Maybe a chardonnay is more your style, you say, as its body and clarity go so well with the bubble of rapids and eddies. In that case, let us sup on pink sea salt-crusted sockeye salmon, say, with a sweet dill vinaigrette, garden vegetable and smoked Gouda risotto, and a citrus jicama slaw.

But, wait! We’ve forgotten the wines to pair with appetizers. And desserts! (How could we forget dessert?)

What goes well with lemon streusel-topped, white chocolate creme anglaise-dashed raspberry tart and oar rigs? Well, the Roxy Ann Winery’s Late Harvest Rielsing comes to mind.

As I sink my toes into untouched beach sand riverside, I often find myself craving a Pinot Noir to tie together the flavors in an andouille sausage, shrimp and crawfish fritter with cilantro remoulade.

And, of course, we’ll be having s’mores at the campfire. You might like a Port from Woolridge Creek Winery to go with them, and the sight of stars reflecting on ripples in the river.

OK, so I sort of cheated. I didn’t think this up at all. But it might surprise you to know this is all off the menu of a single trip earlier this year — a Rogue River Wine Trip.

Chef David Georgeson of the Ashland Springs Hotel put together this menu (and more), pairing up his favorite dishes with wines from Valley View Winery.

If gourmet is your thing, you should find out how heightened the sensitivity of your palate is after a day on the water, in some of the most beautiful places on earth.

Not only do O.A.R.S. guides know how to cook up a storm in their own right, but chefs are regularly invited along to share their epicurean creations on culinary whitewater adventures.

No beans and weenies here. Come find out.

What sort of food fantasies do you have when you’re off in the wilderness? Tell us your dream river meal in the comments below.

The post 6 Wines That Go Well With Whitewater 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.

After 5 days and 4 nights of rugged luxury rafting with O.A.R.S., she changed from an apprehensive first-time rafter, to a wilderness enthusiast.

I completely understood her enthusiasm. This was my first rafting trip, too. I loved the idea of spending more time in the mountains, but with 2 small children at home and a fear of adrenaline-rushing experiences, I put off the idea as too risky and hoped to do it “someday.”

‘Someday’ Arrives

Fortunately, I had the opportunity to change that “someday” to “now” and joined O.A.R.S. on the Rogue River. As Dan, another member of our rafting trip told me one night while sitting in our camp chairs next to the hypnotic white noise of the river, “You need to live your own adventure — otherwise you’ll end up telling other people’s stories instead of your own.”

Those words would stay with me for the duration of the trip.

There were 17 very diverse members of our group. There were brothers, the eldest at 75 years old, and his younger brother who walked with a cane from injuries incurred in the Vietnam War. There were two women, long time friends, in their mid-70‘s — one having been on many rafting trips herself, the other excited about being on her first. There were active young married couples, others with physical limitations, and even some single travelers.

Despite our differences, we quickly formed a tribe and connected over delicious camp meals with wine glasses in hand. Like many people who have never been on a rafting trip before, I made up the story of what it would be like and who it would be with without living the real experience. Reality was far more interesting.

The Preparation

There were 3 different types of rafts that we could choose from while running the river — an oar raft, a paddle boat led by a guide that had seats for six rafters, and the “duckies” which were inflatable kayak rafts. The level of effort you put into the rafting experience was similar to an exercise video with a selection of intensity levels — easy, moderate, and challenging. You were never pressured to go beyond your physical abilities.

After an instructional safety meeting with our expert guides, we were ready to paddle onto the Rogue. Helmets on and personal flotation devices snug, we pushed off. Within moments, as we were passing into the Wild and Scenic part of the trip under Grave Creek Bridge, one of the rafters in a ducky lost control and flipped into the river.

This is when the trip got real. As we were instructed, our guide blew three quick whistles, alerting our tribe that a rafter had become a swimmer. We paid close attention as our guide maneuvered the paddle boat to get the swimmer back to riding the rapids. While initially shocking, it was essentially an effortless non-issue with the guides keeping our trip safe.

Our guide had us lift our paddles in a glistening yellow peak above the paddle raft, “On the count of three —one, two, three — WILD AND SCENIC!” Our adventure got off to an exciting start.

The Magical Journey

We navigated the river through large canyons covered in a thick shag carpet of trees towering above us. We explored waterfalls surrounded by the shimmering emerald leaves of Alder trees, and had fun jumping off cliffs near turquoise pools of creek water. We had a nice mix of rafting time, relaxing moments during our meals, and dry time hiking the banks.

At the end of our days, our guides prepared our gourmet dinner. We sat back and, aside from effortless tent set up, enjoyed a work-free vacation. We delighted in an incredible dinner of ceviche, and caprese salad skewer appetizers paired with Pisco Sours, salmon moussaka entrees paired with Oregon wine, and crème brulee with a wedge of dark chocolate perched on top. It was unbelievable that we were eating so well on the banks of the river.

After dinner, the early risers hit the sack while the night owls spent the evening laughing and discovering constellations under the starry night sky. Basking in the darkness never got old. We slept soundly, lulled by the waves of the Rogue.

My Own Stories To Tell

I decided to experience the single ducky on my own, paddling exhilarating rapids while Steelhead jumped out of the river next to me, and Osprey circled above watching their every move. The water was refreshing, and the adrenaline now addicting.

At camp, we noticed a black bear meander down from the opposite side of the river, snacking on wild blackberries and happening across a gigantic wild salmon in the water. He scooped it from the river and carried it to a rock, where we watched him eat his dinner — slowly savoring every bite and licking his lips. Meanwhile, we relaxed on the rocks sipping wine and craft beer, enjoying a real life National Geographic moment.

At the end of our rafting journey, people began telling stories of previous adventures to pass the time on the drive back to our cars, and Dan’s words echoed in my mind — “You have to live your own adventure, otherwise you’ll be telling other people’s stories instead of your own.” This was certainly not going to be my last wilderness trip, and the next time I go rafting, I’ll be able to share my story about my adventure on the Rogue River.

“I went rafting down the wild Rogue River with O.A.R.S., and had this amazing adventure with bears, almost tipping a raft, and swimming through a rapid, all while eating incredible gourmet food …”

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 Confessions Of A First-Time Rafting Trip Paddler appeared first on River Currents.