I wrote a blog about the 175 mile hike/packraft of the Owyhee River about my preparation tactics on the Oregon Natural Desert Association website. Here is my trip report.
Getting to the Little West Owyhee River where Oregon Desert Trail
Section 21 begins is a logistical challenge. I had arranged for a
variety of rides to get from Bend to the river for my mid-July
adventure, and after a full morning on the road finally set off with a
very heavy pack. I never weighed the overflowing load, but with 7 days
of food and packrafting gear, I’m guessing it was about 60lbs. Yikes.
Since most of our past ODT hikers reported heavy bushwacking in the
first miles north of Anderson Crossing, I decided to hike an alternate
that would skirt the west side of the canyon rim to drop in at Flag
Crossing, about 13.5 miles into the canyon. I was happy to make easy
miles that first afternoon, but the heat took its toll, and as I reached
the river bottom that evening, I was completely wiped out. I made my
camp right there, and spent the twilight hours marveling at the jagged
canyon walls around me.
The
next day I found myself in a boulder-choked canyon with a long drop
down to a deep pool of water. Even though I knew the terrain would be a
mixture of willows, boulders, and water, I decided to blow up my
packraft and see how much of the canyon I could float. I was happy that I
didn’t have to swim these sections, but the pools were short, and then I
was left picking up my boat and pushing through the thick willows until
I found the next pool of water to paddle.
The Little West Owyhee is extremely impressive, and challenging. If I
didn’t have my boat I would be in for some swimming, but with my boat I
was worried some sharp willow branch or thorny bush would pop the light
inflatable craft. Fortunately the boat stayed afloat, and all in all I
was happy with my decision to inflate the packraft…at least that day!
Plenty of fish and crawfish darted around in the water, and the
canyon walls narrowed to squeeze the river into slim channels of deep
blue-green water. Lots of sandy beaches dotted the canyon, and the air
was alive with birds. The day was blissful despite the challenges.
At the end of the second day I put my boat away, and not a moment too
soon for I was in for some bouldering. Rocks the size of houses and
cars choked the river canyon, and I had to carefully pick my way up and
around the obstacles. The rocky terrain continued into the next day
before the canyon eventually opened to release the deep pools of water
into intermittent shallow ponds where fish darted and hid from my
shadow. I was thankful for my tall gaiters and thick-soled hiking shoes
since I had been walking in and out of water and through thick brush the
past few days. As much as I like to hike in a skirt, this was not skirt
territory.
Evening
on the third day found me a few miles from the confluence with the main
Owyhee River. Right before making camp on a sand bar, I looked up at
the sound of some rock fall to see two big horned sheep surveying me
from their lofty perch. I was thrilled at the sight, and felt it was a
good omen for the rest of my trip.
The next morning I made short order of hiking the final few miles to
the confluence. I began to spot numerous caves in the canyon walls, and
imagined they had been used by the Northern Paiute, Bannock, or Shoshone
tribes that lived in the area for thousands of years. If these walls
could talk!
I waded through the deep water and willows in the final stretch
before reaching the river, and had my fingers crossed that I would find
enough water to paddle… soon I saw I was in luck, the Owyhee had
current! It was flowing and I would be able to turn this hike into a
packraft trip.
After
all my gear was transferred into my boat (a very smart design in my
Alpacka Raft allows me to pack all my gear INSIDE the inflatable boat)
and my day bags were loaded with snacks, sunscreen, maps, and wag bags,
(all river trips need to provide for human waste, carrying wag bags on
Owyhee trips are necessary) I was ready.
River time! I was laughing at how hard the first few days of the trip
had been, but now all the weight was off my shoulders (literally) and I
was floating. The canyon downstream of the confluence was nothing less
than spectacular with rock spires and hoodoos lining the shore; I spent
as much time looking up around me as looking down at the schools of fish
and fresh water mussels that sparkled along the bottom of the river.
Warm springs poured out of the canyon walls in numerous places, and when
it was time for lunch I pulled over at a cascading flow of water to lie
down in a shallow pool.
Later in the afternoon I saw the first people of the trip a few miles
before Three Forks; Ron and his grandson Gavin were out for a few days
of hiking in the Owyhee area, and also happened to be ONDA members!
Small world. I paddled on and soon saw Three Forks warm springs where
multiple groups of people were floating in inner tubes and fishing. I
pulled over to climb up to the warm pools in the side of the cliffs, and
shared the soak with a family from Idaho who was out for the day. I
enjoyed the clear warm water and company, but desired my solitude more,
so after a short soak I continued down the river. The 11 miles from the
confluence of the Little West Owyhee to Three Forks was a very pleasant
float, and would be appropriate for boaters of all levels. The river
after Three Forks however, was another story.
After
passing the last car-accessible spot at Three Forks, I was soon to my
first big rapid: The Ledge. Rated as a Class IV+ rapid at higher flows, I
wasn’t sure if the low water levels would allow me to pass safely
through the big boulders that normally cause dangerous hydraulics, or if
I would need to find a safe way to walk around. I decided to scout the
rapid from both sides of the river, and soon determined there simply
wasn’t enough space between the rocks for my boat. That started a 45
minute expedition to carefully walk over and around the rocks until I
could paddle once again. The water levels were low enough to walk in the
water for short sections, but overall I found myself slowly picking my
way around the river edges. Whew, getting around some of these larger
rapids would prove to be a time consuming task, but as I had already
determined, each step needed to be intentional; my mantra became “one
rock at a time.”
That evening I had to withstand strong upstream winds in camp, and
tried to keep the blowing sand out of my dinner and eyes as much as
possible. I brought a light-weight tarp to use as a shelter, but a clear
forecast had me sleeping out instead. Unfortunately the full moon got
in the way of the some of the darkest skies left in the whole country,
and in retrospect I will bring a light net-tent next time. I might have
avoided rain, but sleeping on the sand will bring out all sorts of
little gnats and bity things.
The
next day I had some big rapids to contend with, but not before 5 miles
of calm flat water. I got into a steady paddle rhythm since there wasn’t
much current in the river, and when I got to Half Mile, a Class V
rapid, I got out for what would be an hour and a half portage. Again I
was able to paddle short sections between the boulders, but had to
carefully find my way around some of the shallower but rocky sections.
I’ll let you guess why the rapid is called Half Mile, and well into the
portage I realized this rapid had combined with Raft Flip (a Class III
below it) to make for one long rocky stretch at these low flows. When I
began my trip water levels were about 200cfs and dropping, but already I
was pleasantly surprised at how much of the river I had been able to
paddle at these levels.
I had a few more mellow river miles before Subtle Hole (Class III),
Bombshelter Drop (Class IV), and Sharks Tooth (Class III). I was able to
run the Class III rapids, but Bombshelter was too rocky for the
inflatable boat. I was always aware that a sharp rock could puncture the
boat, so tried to be careful of sharp pokey things where I paddled.
I pulled over at Soldier Creek to make camp, and was happy to see
there was a path up the drainage so hikers up on the canyon rim would
have an option to hike down to the river for water if they needed it.
Again the wind picked up, but I was so tired I wasn’t as bothered by it
as the night before.
I
woke the next morning, made some coffee and psyched myself up for the
big rapid I had heard so much about: the Class V+ Widowmaker. If a big
giant boulder-strewn rapid wasn’t enough, the rapid was surrounded by 5
other Class III rapids. I repeated my mantra: “One rock at a time,” and
added “Don’t get lazy.” I added in the lazy part because I wanted to
remind myself to scout everything where I couldn’t see a clear line of
travel. Getting lazy could get me into trouble, and I wanted to be sure
of every move.
The three smaller rapids before Widowmaker were passable for the most
part, and by the time I reached the larger rapid I could see the narrow
and steep canyon walls had crumbled into the water creating a big
barrier in the water. It took well over an hour to pick my way around
the rapid, huge boulders blocked the river, and my passage, and at times
I had to lift my full boat up onto rocks, climb up behind it, and lower
it on the other side with the rope from my throw bag. Again and again I
lifted and lowered, careful with every step. At one point I didn’t see
how I would get through, but found the extra bit of strength I needed to
hoist the boat up one more time, and felt incredible relief at finally
seeing the clear river channel below me. The next few rapids after
Widowmaker were somewhat passable, and I was finally able to lay back in
my boat and rest some as I floated beneath the towering canyon walls.
I
took a nice long lunch complete with nap and swim, and the afternoon
passed smoothly as I got closer to Rome and the half way point in my
trip. Towards camp I realized I had sprung a leak in the boat and in my
inflatable seat, so took the time in camp to patch both and do a good
survey of myself and the rest of my gear. I had some scrapes and
bruises, had almost stepped on a little rattle snake on one of the
portages, had slipped and bruised my tailbone, had bug bites spread
evenly everywhere, but all in all I was in good shape and great spirits.
I was doing it! A paddle alternate is possible…for experienced boaters
not afraid of some extreme portaging.
The next morning I had a 7 mile paddle to Rome where I had planned to
take the rest of the day off. When I arrived at the Rome boat launch I
met a group from Idaho fishing in the warm waters, and they were quite
interested to hear what I had been up to. I was even given a cold beer,
which made the chore of transitioning my boat back into my backpack a
much more pleasant task.
As soon as I walked up to Rome Station, the staff knew I was the
Oregon Desert Trail hiker. I had called the store to confirm I could
send a resupply box there, and had also arranged to stay in a cabin for
the night; Rome doesn’t get too many hikers in July…could be the 100+
degree heat. Owners Joel and his wife and young son were welcoming and I
indulged in a huge burger while reading an abandoned newspaper. A lot
had happed during the week I had been on the river. Disconnecting can
feel so blissful, but even a week without news or internet can feel like
a slap in the face when faced with tragedy. Terrorism attacks, hate
crimes, floods…it was incredibly overwhelming news after spending 7 days
in the canyon, and after the peace of the river I felt vulnerable to
the tragedies of the rest of the world.
I spent the rest of the day luxuriating in the air conditioning of my
cabin, eating oreos, and finding nothing good to watch on TV.
The next morning I inflated my boat again. The first miles out of
Rome were slow and the shallow river wandered in and out of farm land. I
saw lots of deer and numerous fish sucking bugs off the surface of the
water. Can’t say I’ve seen that before!
I
was relieved to enter the canyon again, and floated by chalky pillars
of rock. Apparently the first homesteaders chose the name
Rome after a well-known location in Italy…something about the white pillars of rock reminiscent of the Colosseum.
Even though I knew water levels had dropped to 140 cfs, there
appeared to be more water, which could have been attributed to the
numerous springs that poured into the river channel. There were so many
springs that the flow became quicker; instead of the 2 miles an hour I
had been making above Rome, I was now making a steady 3 miles an hour. A
handful of Class III rapids were quite easy to navigate, and before I
knew it, I had gone over 20 river miles that day. I was astonished at my
progress, and pleased the boating was going so well.
I had purchased a book in Rome about the history of Jordan Valley,
In Times Past
by Hazel Fretwell-Johnson, and was fascinated to read about the early
homesteaders and their struggle to exist in this beautiful, yet often
harsh environment. Harsh that is, when trying to farm or graze
livestock. Native Americans had lived in the Owyhee region for over
12,000 years and didn’t take to the settlers lightly. The Jordan Valley
was one of the most violent fronts in the clash between the tribes who
had called this area home for thousands of years and the westward
expansion. I’ve found it incredibly engaging to read about eastern
Oregon as I am traveling along the Oregon Desert Trail. An immersive
adventure like the ODT can be an incredible opportunity to know a place
at a deeper level. To learn about the history, geology, and wildlife can
all make a place come alive. I hope to provide resources to Oregon
Desert Trail hikers to not only learn about the area they are hiking
through, but to assist in really
knowing a place like the Owyhee Canyonlands.
I had a restful night camped near White Rock Creek, and started
paddling in the morning knowing I had a fun day ahead. The Class III
Artillery rapid was probably the biggest water I had yet on the trip,
and I splashed through the waves and holes with glee. The rapids
definitely had more water down here. I soon floated past the hot springs
near Lambert Rocks, and even though I love a good soak, found the water
too hot in the equally hot air. Turning the corner I was faced with the
incredible colors and striations of Chalk Basin. Simply incredible. But
the day would get better.
I
had lunch after portaging the rocky Class III Whistling Bird rapid, and
entered the dramatic Green Dragon Canyon area around Iron Point. The
walls were vertical and the water a deep deep blue-green. Simply
astounding! I was envisioning another long portage around the Class IV
Montgomery rapid, but the low water made the rapid almost non-existent. I
lay back in my boat and watched slivers of sky float by the towering
walls.
After few more rapids I was ready to make camp at an old road grade
near Morcum Dam. It looked like this would be a good alternate for
hikers to descend off the rim to walk along the river again. Part of my
goal on this trip was to identify other places hikers could access the
river, or walk along the banks. By leaving the rim and hiking down to
the river near Morcum Dam, people could stay low all the way to Birch
Creek. The alternate would increase miles, but be a nice change of pace
from the drier rim walking.
The
next morning I pulled over to inspect some pictographs on the side of
the river. The remote nature of this area has done well to protect it
for thousands of years, but I fear increasing development could change
that in a matter of years. I started to understand on a much deeper
level why
ONDA has been working to permanently protect this area for almost 30 years. Once it’s gone, it’s gone.
I glimpsed the iconic Devil’s Tower from miles away, and as I
approached, the impressive basalt pillars appeared with more clarity.
The river continued to reveal many more geological wonders, and after
passing Greeley Bar (the hotsprings there were a bit too murky for me)
the canyon got even more interesting. Colors streaked across rock
pillars, rock pillars gave way to side canyons, and side canyons
revealed huge rock walls. It’s hard to find the right words for so much
beauty…this is an area that needs to be experienced first-hand.
By the time I passed Birch Creek (the popular take-out for rafting
trips), I knew the river would slow and the canyon widen out. About half
way to the next boat launch, Leslie Gulch, the Owyhee river would turn
into the Owyhee Reservoir. Even though the dam was 50 miles upstream,
the lake snaked for miles to create the longest reservoir in Oregon
which in turn provided water to thousands of farms in eastern Oregon and
south western Idaho.
- It was so hot I took lots of swim breaks
Because water levels were low, I passed the spot where the river
usually turns to slack water, and continued to see flowing currents in
the river channel. I was able to find moving water, and when I turned a
large bend in the river near Diamond Butte, the currents finally slowed.
I could see the high water mark about 15’ above my head, and the muddy
shores were now covered in bright green grasses. Unfortunately the
dropping water had left lots of carp stranded on the banks of the river,
and a pungent odor in the air.
I passed another hot spring on a rocky outcropping, and made camp on a
gravel ledge around the corner. I had to flip a few dead fish away from
where I wanted to camp, and enjoyed the view despite the smell.
The next day I passed Willow Creek where the hiking route meets the
river once again. At Spring Creek the hiking route seemed to cliff out
and I realized hikers will have to climb about 50’ above the river to
safely traverse over to Leslie Gulch. I believe this route had been
scouted when water levels were even lower than what I was experiencing,
and it had been possible to walk along the shore. This year there was
simply no place to walk north from waypoint OC163 unless hikers found
the faint trail up above.
- Packing up at Leslie Gulch
I pulled over to the Leslie Gulch boat ramp and took the next hour
to pack my boat and transition over to hiking mode. It was very hot, so I
filled up on about 5 liters of water, and just as I was walking up the
road to where I would meet Juniper Gulch and begin my overland traverse
for the final 25 miles, a car pulled over. Ross and his friend were out
for a drive, and after chatting for a few minutes about how spectacular
the area was, they offered me some cold water. Yes please! Every cold
thing is most welcome. The day had to be over 100 degrees, and soon I
was laboring up the road, second guessing my plan to hike to the end of
the trail.
I had only gone a little over a mile when I stopped in a bit of shade
from a large sagebrush and debated going any further. If I hadn’t been
carrying the extra boating gear the hike probably wouldn’t have been as
strenuous, but the added heat had me fearing heat exhaustion or heat
stroke. I didn’t think it was safe for me to be hiking, so after a long
break in the shade, decided to walk back to the water, inflate my boat,
and paddle the 25ish miles to Indian Springs Campground at the end of
the Oregon Desert Trail.
I was walking back down toward the boat ramp when a car pulled over
and asked if I wanted a ride. I jumped in the back of the pickup and the
couple deposited me at some shaded picnic tables where I could unpack
everything all over again. They were out for a few days from Portland,
and were so taken with the area that they were considering forgoing
their plans to head to Zion for a family vacation next year, and instead
come back to the Owyhee. That’s how spectacular it is!
My original hesitation in paddling the reservoir all the way to the
end was the packraft’s inefficiency in flat water. Because it’s an
inflatable boat, strong wind can blow the craft all over the place. It
tracks pretty well in moving current, but on a lake I would have to
paddle harder to go the same distance than in something like a canoe or
sea kayak. However, I didn’t want to suffer in the heat, so decided a
long hard paddle on a lake where I could swim frequently was preferable
to a hot and dry walk with a heavy pack.
- Relief only came when the sun went down
The lake north of Leslie Gulch was stunning. It was late enough in
the afternoon when I started my paddle that I had only gone about 5
miles before the afternoon wind picked up and I decided to make camp. It
was probably the hottest evening I had experienced yet, and relief came
only after the sun set behind the west hills.
I wasn’t exactly sure how many miles I would have to paddle on the
lake before getting to the end, but that morning I woke early and
decided I would try and finish the trail. The end was in sight, and that
is a powerful motivator! I was in my boat by 6am and took my coffee to
go. I paddled hard and made good time on the still water, only pausing a
few seconds in the first few hours of the day to take sips of my
coffee.
I paddled, paddled, paddled. When I couldn’t tell where the lake
continued, I got out my smart phone. I had been using the Gaia gps app,
and was tracking my progress on the lake. Because the reservoir was so
large and had so many forks, I often checked the map so I could travel
the most direct route. Without it I surely would have paddled up some
dead ends…the perspective on the water made it hard to determine the
best path.
About
midday my shoulders were starting to ache and my hands were stuck in a
painful claw-like grip. I passed a bunch of lake houses, and saw a man
waving at me from the shore. Dave pulled up a while later with his dog
Clue. He had spent the weekend at his house, and because these homes
were boat-access only, had a motor boat to get him the 12 miles in from
the boat launch at Lake Owyhee State Park. He stopped to ask what I was
doing out there, and we chatted for a few minutes. He offered to take me
the rest of the way to the end, but I had come this far under my own
power, I wanted to complete the journey. I immediately second guessed
myself as I turned the next corner and met a strong headwind. Oh no.
The next 5 hours the wind blew, if I didn’t paddle I would get blown
backward, so I had to dig deep and continue on despite the growing pain
in my arms and shoulders. I can be stubborn like that. The waves got a
little bigger, and I had to be sure to paddle directly into the wind so I
wouldn’t get blown over. This is why I was hesitant to paddle on the
lake, but I was already here and I could only go forward, so paddle!
Paddle! Paddle!
- The end!
By late afternoon I had only taken a few short breaks, and a few
more boats had passed offering me rides. I continued on, and the last
few miles seemed to take forever. At about 4:30 I could see the rocky
jetty that marks the end of the Oregon Desert Trail behind Indian
Springs Campground, and I dug for the last little bit of energy I had
left. I made it to the boat ramp at just about 5pm. Done! Paddle
alternate complete!
In 12 days I had thru-paddled the Owyhee River section of the Oregon
Desert Trail for a total of 140 miles of packrafting. There is a certain
beauty in an unmarked route that can be experienced through multiple
modes of travel. The Owyhee River hiked is an entirely different
experience than the Owyhee River rafted at high flows, or the Owyhee
River packrafted at low flows. What I explored from a lightweight
inflatable boat is a good example of how I see the entire 750 mile
Oregon Desert Trail. Whether on foot, on bike, in a boat, on a horse, or
even on skis, there are sections of this route that can appeal to
entirely different types of quiet recreation. If the goal of the Oregon
Desert Trail is to facilitate a deeper connection with our remote high
desert, to engage people on a deeper level to care for this land and
join us in wanting to see it protected, or simply to create the
framework for a grand adventure in an often overlooked part of the
country, than I think a trail that appeals to a variety of people is a
step in the right direction.
Stay tuned for more information on packrafting sections of the
Oregon Desert Trail; my goal this winter is to identify sections appropriate
for all types of quiet recreation, all to help you get out there and
explore our public lands.
