One of my favorite things to watch are those moments of trepidation expressed by someone who has never - ever - been in a packraft, but suddenly finds himself deep in a wilderness, far from a road, and wondering how the heck he got to this point. It's as if he's saying, "Oh my God - what have I agreed to? I have zero boating experience and I'm about to get into - and captain - my own boat in a place where rescue is nearly impossible."
I love watching people go through that!
Not because I love watching people go through miserable emotional experiences - quite the contrary - but because I love seeing the satisfaction they get fifty miles later when they've battled rapids, freezing rain, grizzly encounters, and logjams - and battled them with grace and toughness and celebration!
It would be neat if we could watch everyone battle their life struggles with such vigor. Perhaps these lessons and the people that learn them comprise the more valuable reasons to preserve wilderness, than to do so for wilderness' sake alone.
Photo: Matt V. taking a deep breath, about to enter Danaher Creek in a packraft for the first time, deep in the heart of the Bob Marshall Wilderness, July 2009. Sigma DP2. Ryan Jordan photo.
The Bridger Mountains attract some crazy storms. After the jetstream settles a bit on the eastern slope of the Continental Divide, everything goes haywire in the Gallatin Valley and slams into the Bridgers. My attempts at backpacking the Bridger Crest from Flathead Pass to I-90 are filled with stories of peril.
This photo, taken a few nights ago from Chestnut Mountain, shows why. I can never decide whether a bivy sack or an assault tent is the better way to go up here.
On my recent trip into the Bob Marshall Wilderness, we floated about 40 miles of the South Fork Flathead Drainage. Here's a video I a put together as part of a GoPro Wide Helmet Camera review for Backpacking Light that will be published next week.
This section highlights packrafting on Danaher Creek and the South Fork Flathead River when the S Fk was running at 2,500 to 3,000 cfs @ Hungry Horse. Class I-II / PR 1-3. Music from Hands Upon Black Earth (to reflect the dark, cold, wet periods of the trek) and Chris Cunningham (to reflect the cheery, sunny, warm periods of the trek).
Details: Several miles of both Danaher and Youngs Creek (the two main tributaries that form the South Fork Flathead at their confluence) can be floated. These creeks are best when the S Fk is flowing > 2,000 cfs at Hungry Horse Reservoir. Expect more logjam portages on Danaher than on Youngs, and consider not putting in on Danaher until below Cabin Creek (Camp Creek on some maps), it's pretty woody above there. Youngs is more robust and offers a few pushy corners at high flows, but neither creek offers any significant technical challenges.
The 40 miles of the S Fork below the confluence to Meadow Gorge is generally a Class I river for the entire length at normal summer flows. At 2,000 - 4,000 cfs, there are a few sections that could be called Class II, and above 4,000 cfs, the river provides a spectacular Class II+ whitewater adventure for packrafters, with big wave trains. It's more interesting at flows in the 2,000 to 4,000 cfs range, and requires a little more maneuvering, but it's still not a technical river.
The S Fork can be floated in 3 days at flows > 2,000 cfs, starting at Benchmark and hiking 16 miles to Cabin Creek (a tributary of Danaher Creek) on the first day*, down to White River on the 2nd day (a 21 mile float), and out Meadow Gorge on the third day (a 20 mile float). Once the river drops to 1,200 cfs or lower, expect a relaxing, but sometimes laborious float and add at least one extra day. And if you're a fly fisherman, all bets are off. You could get stuck out there for a long time, so bring some dill and pepper.
* Other good first day options, that require less shuttle logistics, include the Monture Creek approach from the south to Young's Creek (put in at Marshall Creek during high water and Babcock or below as the river clears), or Babcock Creek from the west to Young's Creek. My favorite approach is still from Benchmark, it gives you the feeling of a big traverse, and you'll spy other packraftable creeks en route that you'll want to come back and tag someday!
In addition to Danaher and Young's, the lower stretches of Gordon and both the Big and Little Salmon offer interesting side floats, and the White River below the South Fork White River is spectacular when the S Fk Flathead is running higher than 2,000 cfs. Above the S Fk White, there is very good technical boating in June, but watch out for wood.
So, if you have a vacation week, try this for a late June or early July itinerary:
Day 1 - Benchmark to Cabin (Camp) Creek via the Stadler-Hoadley divide, or come in from the west or south to the headwaters of Young's Creek. Pack light, this is a long day!
Day 2 - Float Danaher Creek to the Confluence with Young's, fish the rest of the day here.
Day 3 - Hike up Young's til noon, then float the S Fk to Gordon Creek. Camp at the mouth and spend the rest of the afternoon and evening hiking up Gordon Creek, then floating and fishing your way back down to camp.
Day 4 - Float and fish the S Fk to White River Park.
Day 5 - Side trip as far up the White as you can go, packraft back down to camp.
Day 6 - Float to the mouth of Black Bear Creek and play in the rapids above the Black Bear Gorge.
Day 7 - Float to Meadow Creek (take out above the gorge!).
Last night we walked up Drinking Horse Mountain, and although the night was pretty, the sky was featureless. Then, a magic moment appeared and I found this tangled snag silhouetted in the half-set sunlight.
Everyone has a local trail. Bozeman's is the "M" trail at the S end of the Bridger Mountains.
Our family likes to do the circuit of local trails for our day hikes - because the M has its crowds, of course. But tonight, the trail was relatively barren at sunset and we enjoyed its moods as alpenglow blanketed it.
Tonight, I finally left the crappy little m.Zuiko lenses behind on the Olympus E-P1 and screwed on an M-mount lens. Manual focus, manual exposure, far fewer pictures ... and a lot more photographic enjoyment. The type of photography for which I think the E-P1 will shine.
Photo: Olympus E-P1, Voigtlander Nokton 35/1.4. f/8.0 1/25 sec.
Recently, I found myself hiking in the Hyalites searching for midday beauty where none seemed to exist, at least from a photographer's eyes. Hiking was certainly more inspiring than picture-taking in the harsh midday light.
So I turned my attention to the forest floor, where I found this long-dead snag. I couldn't figure out how to fit the whole snag into a photograph without cluttering up the image with lots of background noise, so I instead focused on a small bit of it - a bit that seems to tell the life story of the snag: the storms it's seen, the winter's it's weathered, and perhaps, the bolt of lightning that ultimately spelled its demise.
Sometimes, we look for grand landscapes to inspire us, when instead, the inspiration can be reflected in the smallest, and most mundane, of places that provide windows into the grandeur of ages gone by - you know, like that toenail that is about to fall off...
Photo: Olympus E-P1, m.Zuiko 17mm, f/9.0 1/125 sec.
Firewarming is that glorious activity that occurs intermittently on wilderness expeditions fraught with attempts to packraft across vast landscapes in bad weather or on water that is more difficult than you anticipate.
In a July trip into the Bob Marshall Wilderness Complex, we'd had enough of freezing rain and water from the very cold South Fork Flathead pouring into our boats, so by the time we stopped at midday, we were chattering our teeth, wringing out our clothes, and mumbling the incoherency of hypothermia.
So we secured the boats and dashed deep into the woods, built a real messy firepit in the bush (it's under there, I promise), lit a Wetfire (probably the best emergency firestarter I've ever used) and piled anything remotely burnable on top of it.
I will remember this fire for a long, long time, for its ability to so dramatically change our moods from cold and dark to warm and cheery.
Contrary to popular belief, I don't think that descending a ridge closes the loop on the ridgewalking experience.
In fact, perhaps my favorite means of ending a chapter (ridgewalking on a particular ridge) is to climb to the next ridge and view the ridge you just walked.
When I did that back in July, I paid the price: bushwhacking, complicated navigation, and rain. But when I emerged from the treeline and took a gander back to where I'd been, boy was I thrilled.
Yeah, we walked that ridge!
Photo: Ryan Jordan, looking back to the Mid Creek-Silvertip Divide from the Silvertip-Spotted Bear Divide, Bob Marshall Wilderness Complex. Sigma DP2, f/6.3 1/60 sec.
I recently wrote two articles for Backpacking Light (a video and photo essay, and a gear list article) about our Jefferson River float in June. These articles illustrate some of the nuances of sharing one boat with another.
Descending them is not always so fun. I had to crick my neck pretty hard to take this photo up our descent gully, a steep bowling alley of limestone talus, scree, and snow.
Photo: Ryan Jordan, Bob Marshall Wilderness Complex. Sigma DP2, f/8 1/100 sec.
RYAN JORDAN is the Founder and CEO of Backpacking Light, and a wilderness adventurer, speaker, writer, photographer, instructor, and guide. Learn more about Ryan and his services.
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Ryan also serves on the Board of Directors for the Continental Divide Trail Alliance and the Winter Wildlands Alliance, is an Eagle Scout, Assistant Scoutmaster with Troop 676 of Bozeman, Mont., and the High Adventure Committee Chair for Montana BSA.
