Hike with Me: Idaho Centennial Trail Frank Church Part 1

Hike with Me:

Idaho Centennial Trail

Frank Church Part 1

by Jeanne M. Bustamante

Boise, ID

© 2019 by Jeanne Bustamante

All rights reserved.

All photos by author unless otherwise noted.

This book is an account of one hiker’s experience, and does not constitute instruction or guidance.

Table of Contents

Prelude      1

Days 0 and 1: Dagger Falls and the Middle Fork

Day 2: More Middle Fork

Day 3: Marble Creek

Day 4: Ridge Walk

Day 5: The Crossing

Day 6: Big Creek

Prelude

There is only the roaring water, gathering itself for a wild canyon run, and myself. I am in the water, of the water, heartbeat and harsh breathing both drowned out amid the rushing white noise. I struggled against the weight of the water, which is pulled, inexorably by gravity, down, down, down, and which wishes to take me with it.

At just below 8400 feet, in Valley County Idaho, the waters of Big Creek gather into a stream. The stream, unusually for water west of the continental divide, flows to the east, feeding into the Middle Fork of the Salmon River, the River of No Return. Tributary waters swell the creek, their size and rate of flow influenced by last year's snowpack, the time of year, and even the time of day.

By the time all that water reaches the 30th mile of Big Creek, it is flowing fast and loud through a canyon, fast and loud against my legs and ears and trekking poles. If I dared take the breath to yell, no one would hear me. Even if there were people on either bank (and there are decidedly not), the sound of the water overwhelms everything.

I use my trekking poles aggressively on the sun-sparkling water. I stab down and maintain three points of contact, even when the water is only at my calves, because this water has had time to build speed - and depth.

It creeps to my knees as I near the midway point, and I have a brief feeling of relief, a jump in my stomach, before I realize that it is getting deeper, will continue to get deeper until I’m almost at the far bank. My stomach hardens now against the task at hand. This was probably not the best place to cross, but I’m committed now. I won’t turn back.

The water pushes and pulls against my legs and my poles. My shoes grasp for purchase on smooth, slippery river rocks. My hands have a death grip on the cork handles, damp with splashes and sweat, but I will not let go. As I reach for another stab, with the water nearly at my crotch, my pole is flung downstream rather than embedding in the rocks of the creek bed. I can’t afford to freak out about it, though I'm sorely tempted. I have to pick the pole up out of the water and try again, a firmer stab, into the rocks, hold.

The water tries to take my foot with my next step. I lean with all my might on the trekking poles while I brace with my one planted foot and force the other one down against the current, fighting into the current because if I turn, if I hesitate, then the current will win. There is no room for despair in my head, no room for giving up, because I must put everything I have into striving against the water and staying upright - and alive. Just a few more steps…

Days 0 and 1: Dagger Falls and the Middle Fork

If you asked me before this trip what I would have least expected to encounter on a solo hike along the Middle Fork of the Salmon River, a bagpipe serenade would not even have occurred to me as an option. I had this vague idea that I might run into rafters. I’d heard that rafters tended to be generous with food and beer, and I thought it would be cool to run into some. But I pictured a trip like the one I took in college, or a group of friends rafting the river. And that is not at all what I found at the end of my first day’s hike.

Well, technically, I started the day before. Last year, I had intended to hike all the way to the Boundary Creek trailhead, but there was a fire going on in the area, and I was lucky that my husband was allowed to come pick me up right at Dagger Falls. So when we drove out, Ambrose would drop me off at Dagger Falls and drive on ahead to the Boundary Creek Campground, where we planned to spend the night.

The drive that morning was uneventful. The sky was dark as we drove towards Idaho City, following the canyon road through its twists and turns, seeing very little traffic going in either direction. By the time we got to Idaho City, it was brighter out. We stopped for gas and drove on to our planned breakfast in Lowman. I like being driven to Lowman, but I don’t think I’d like to drive it. The road has to go up and over a pass and takes as many switchbacks as possible to do it. Ambrose drives it well, but I know there are other drivers that could be on the road, and based on some skid marks we saw, they scare me.

At Lowman, we stopped for breakfast at the Southfork Lodge. Last time we were in Lowman, we ate at a different place which had abysmal service (though decent food), and we had decided to stop here instead, figuring the service couldn’t possibly be worse.

It was decidedly not worse. The service was, in fact, great, and the food was also very good. While we ate, several other groups came by to get food, including one lone traveler that I am almost certain is an adjunct professor from whom I once took some creative writing classes, but I didn’t like them well enough to go over and say hello to find out if I was right about their identity. Too much on my mind.

After the hearty breakfast, we drove on. We found a gas station in Lowman, right near the Banks-Lowman highway that Ambrose planned to take to route 55 which would aim him towards Big Creek - a much more efficient option than driving all the way back to Boise to 55. The gas station was very small and hardly looked open, but we stopped so I could go in and get some water and paper plates, since Ambrose had forgotten to bring any plates to eat off of.

There was a small fire burning near 21, and we got to see some of the firefighters' vehicles along the side of the road, along with smoke rising from the trees, but no flames. We turned onto the dirt road without incident and the only scary thing from there to Dagger Falls was a big school bus passing us in the opposite direction. We arrived at the Dagger Falls campsite before lunch time. I got out, and Ambrose drove away almost before I could wave goodbye.

I didn't linger, since I wanted to get to the campsite in short order. After all, I wasn't even bothering to carry a pack for this jaunt, just a bottle of soda and a snack. I knew from being driven on this road last year that I had an uphill stretch followed by a downhill to the parking lot where we turned around and headed out after checking in with the firefighters.

There were no campers at the Dagger Falls campground, no cars in its small lot. Once Ambrose drove off, there was just the sound of the wind and the distant whisper of water that faded as I headed up the road. My shoes crunched on the dirt road, and I tried to avoid the sun since I had neglected to bring a brimmed hat or sunscreen on this little mini hike.

I started to hear vehicles as I approached the junction that would take me down to Ambrose, but none of them turned towards me so I didn't see them. At the junction, I left all the shade behind and kept my ears open so I could avoid any cars or other vehicles that came by.

I didn't have any problems with the walk to the parking lot, but I had half expected to see Ambrose there. When I didn't, I regretted not having a talk with him about where we would meet before getting out of the car, because I half thought we’d be meeting at this very lot. I kept walking past the lot for a bit, where the road continued to wind between stands of evergreens, but then when I didn't see the trailhead, I turned back so I would know where to go in the morning.

Back at the parking lot, I had a hard time finding the trailhead. The lot, made of dirt and gravel like the road, was pretty large, with two rows nearly full of cars and trailers, both for boats and horses, but no people were around.

Nature was starting to call, so I detoured over to the pit toilet, and that's how I figured out where the trailhead was - hidden behind a horse trailer. There was actually a little worn path from the pit toilet over to the trailhead. Quite rude of the horse trailer to be parked right in front of the trailhead, in my opinion.

Then I went back to the road to find my husband at the campsite that I had to hope wasn’t too far. With any luck he'd have the tent set up by the time I got there. The road curved in a gentle upwards switchback. My shoes picked up sand on the softer sections. When a car drove by, I walked in the dirt on the side of the road to be safe. The sun was beating down on my head, and I was wishing I’d taken my brimmed hat for sun protection, but all I had was a beanie hat which was too hot to wear. I mean, I wore it anyway, because I’d just gotten my hair buzzed way down and Ambrose kept teasing me about getting