Matthew Singer

One of my best friends from high school invited Erin and I down to Las Vegas for Thanksgiving. In fact, we were invited down last year, but we weren’t able to make it. Therefore, I decided that we’d make it work this year. Erin still wanted to host our annual Thanksgiving dinner at our house, so we had one on Saturday before everyone left for their break, and on Sunday, we packed up the car and headed south.

This trip has a lot of firsts in it for me. It was my first time venturing south of McCall, my first time stopping in Boise, my first time driving through Nevada. It wasn’t my first time in Las Vegas, however. If you recall, I had actually been in the city four years earlier for this same friend’s wedding.

I love road trips because it’s a chance to see new places with freedom along the journey. It’s the freedom to stop spontaneously to explore attractions that come up without prior knowledge. It’s the freedom to bring dogs with you, which we did. And in some cases, it’s cheaper than flying. But road tripping in the winter has its downsides, the biggest of which is the short daylight cycle. We spent Sunday morning cleaning up the house and packing, which meant we didn’t get on the road until after noon. This gave us about 4 hours of daylight, so by the time we reached Cascade, it was dark. I enjoy watching the scenery as I drive. It’s what keeps me awake and interested. But the drive from Cascade to Boise, and then Boise to Twin Falls was completed in the dark. A similar situation occured the next day, but resulted from a different cause.

We actually woke up fairly early on Monday, checking out of the hotel a little after 9:00 and grabbed breakfast at the nearby Shari’s. But, Twin Falls had something I wanted to see: the falls. Just north of town, the Snake River cuts a fairly deep slot canyon in the valley, and here, the river tubmles 212 feet down Shoshone Falls. So we drove out to the falls after breakfast and played around for a while, taking the dogs on a walk to one of the overlooks and just enjoying the warm air and sunshine. It was a beautiful sight, but by the time we actually hit the road, it was noon again.

From Twin Falls, it’s about an hour to the Nevada Border where the small casino town of Jackpot lies. It’s about another hour to Wells, where we intersect I-80, but continue through. It’s about 2 more hours to the town of Ely, gateway to the Great Basin. But between Wells and Ely, there is virtually nothing. In fact, there was a sign just out of wells reading “Next Gas 126 Miles.” To add to the nothingness, the road is fairly straight, often continuing for 10 miles without requiring the use of the steering wheel. There is only one major intersection in this stretch, and there used to be a gas station there. Now it sits empty and the residents have an army of peacocks.

As desolate as northern Nevada might be, it’s not all bad. The valleys are wide and flat, but flanked by some rather tall mountain ranges. It’s particularly nice to drive in November because the mountains are snow-capped, though had this been late Spring or early Fall, I would have been tempted to take a side road into the mountains and camp.

By the time we made it to Ely, it was dark, which meant no more gawking at the awesome landscape. It also meant a 4-hour drive in the dark, which just made the time go by that much slower. Driving through Nevada just makes you aware of how lonely you can be. This landscape is dark at night. If you’ve never driven through these parts of the destert Southwest at night, you have no idea just how dark it is. This is one of the only places in the lower 48 states where the light pollution drops to almost zero. In that regard, Nevada is awesome. I just wish it had been a clear night. As we got closer and closer to the city, I began to notice a faint glow emanating from the southern mountains. It became apparant just how bright civilization can be as we approached our intersection with I-15. The truck stop in the middle of the desert put out more light than the entire town of Deary during a football game. Once on the interstate, we were about 15 miles out of town. As we crested over the final pass, the ocean of light revealed itself. Suddenly, you go from feeling completely alone to wondering if you were going to have any personal space in the valley. In any other metropolitan area, the transition from rural to urban is somewhat gradual. In Las Vegas, it’s as stark as transitioning from dry land to ocean.

Welcome to suburban sprawl in the southwest.

Coming up…

Part II: Visiting friends and playing in the desert.
Part III: The drive up.

There’s nothing quite like the feeling of getting that perfect cast with your fly rod, landing the fly perfectly on the water exactly where you intended it to land, and having a fish jump for it seconds later. I was in that groove Sunday afternoon where the fish were chasing after my fly, but only one actually hooked. But the thrill of fly fishing isn’t so much the catch as it is the pursuit. There’s something theraputic about standing thigh deep in running water while throwing the line back and forth, even if nothing is biting. Then again, it’s just theraputic being in the middle of nowhere away from the hustle and bustle of modern life.

After last week’s trip to the North Fork of the Clearwater, I had been itching to go back out and spend more time on the water with my rod and reel. When Tyler suggested we do another trip, I jumped at the chance and suggested we try the St. Joe river. Like the North Fork, the St. Joe winds through a narrow valley for over 100 miles from its source along the Bitterroot Divide to its end in Lake Coeur D’Alene in the town of St. Maries. In fact, one of the things that makes the St. Joe more attractable is that it sees fewer people than the North Fork, despite an easier drive. The entire road back as far as Spruce Tree campground, the end of the road, is paved. It was an unexpected surprise after spending several hours on forest service roads trying to find our way down to the river.

Normally, we’d drive to St. Maries and pick up the St. Joe River Road, but in good Idaho DOT fashion, there was road work on Friday afternoon causing a massive delay only a few miles out from St. Maries. There is a “short cut” not too far back that the GPS originally tried to route us on, but I suggested we skip because I had no idea what the condition of the roads would be like. After waiting for 20 minutes with no sign of movement, we turned around to try the path through the forest. Somewhere, we took a wrong turn because instead of travelling straight across as the map suggested we would, we ended up winding our way south back to Clarkia where we had to cross over Hobo Pass and along Marble Creek. In hindsight, we should have just taken that shortcut in the first place. So we were quite relieved to make it back to paved road and find a smooth drive back to our destination at Fly Flat campground.

The St. Joe is a smaller river than the North Fork, at least half the width and most of it fairly flat and shallow, but there are some deep canyons with deep pools and lots of fish. Unfortunately, they weren’t biting much. I think Dan and Tyler each caught about 5 fish on Saturday, most of which were in the 6-inch range. I caught none. We returned to camp and then headed upstream for an evening catch where Dan pulled in two nice sized cutthroat right away with his spinner, but Tyler and I weren’t getting any bites with flies.

Part of my problem is that I spent a good chunk of the day tying tippet. Several times, I got my line tangled or snagged and lost my fly or part of my leader. So finally, on Sunday, I cut off a twisted portion of my leader and tied on a fresh length of tippet and was having much better luck. I still lost a few more flies, one to grass, and another to a fish. We first started Sunday by heading into a deep gorge full of deep pools. Since it was too deep to wade, we had to fish from the bank, and in such a confined space, I was having trouble getting good casts. So after losing a fly to the grasses, I called it quits and headed upstream where the river was more open. This is where I caught my one and only fish of the trip, and upon releasing it, lost the fly after another cast. I suspect that the fish had chomped on the line by the hook, creating a weak spot in the knot. After that, I was getting bites, but no catches.

The St. Joe is beautiful country with great seclusion, scenery, and fishing. I can’t say whether I like it over the North Fork because both rivers offer a spectacular experience. I’m glad that I have such terrain close by and I’m looking forward to more visits in the future. One of these trips, I’ll actually take some time to photograph the area as well.

I went fishing along the North Fork of the Clearwater with Tyler and Dan, two graduate students in the department. Unfortunately, it was a short trip, leaving Thursday morning and returning late Friday afternoon, but that’s just how the timing worked, and it was a much needed getaway for all of us.

We camped at Kelly Forks campground, luckily snagging a spot along the river. The campground is located at the confluence of Kelly Creek and the North Fork of the Clearwater which has some added benefits. Kelly Creek has an amazing fishery, but it is catch-an- release only. At one time, Kelly Creek barely had any fish left due to over fishing and habitat degredation. Thanks to recovery efforts started in the 60’s and a no-harvest rule, Kelly Creek is one of the best fishing grounds in the state. The North Fork, on the other hand, has a trout limit of 2 per person per day, which meant we could potentially bring some home to cook up.

We must have been on some pretty popular spots on Kelly Creek. The fish were biting, though they were pretty small. We each caught at least one, though all were 8 inches or less. My first catch was a fluke. I was showing Tyler how to cast a fly rod and during the demonstration, I had a bite that hooked. Tyler and Dan were having more luck with their spinners, but I was having more fun casting flies.

We moved to a spot along the North Fork before dinner to try and catch something to bring back to camp. Tyler caught a sizeable mystery fish, so ultimately we let it go. We went back to camp and decided to try our luck along the confluence. I caught a small  cutthroat, but it was nowhere near the 14 inch limit. We made spaghetti, lit a fire, and relaxed before bed.

Friday morning, we tried a spot two miles downstream from camp at a place called Cold Springs. It turned out to be a good spot. Almost immediately, Tyler brought back a nice Mountain Whitefish which we promptly threw into the bag for keeping. Soon after, Daniel reeled in a nice Cutthroat, but it wasn’t quite big enough to keep. I was getting some bites, but eventually realized that my leader was too short and should be extended, so I headed back to the car to add a bit of tippet to my line. While I was trying to figure out the surgeon’s knot, I heard a big splash in the pond beside me. I looked over and saw that a moose had just jumped in and was swimming for the other side. I dropped what I was doing, grabbed my camera, and ran, hoping to intercept it as it climbed out onto the bank. I didn’t run fast enough for it was long down the dike and there was no way I was going to get a decent shot. I went back and finally figured out my knot when Dan and Tyler returned to tear down camp and move on.

We intended to hit up Weitas Creek on the way out. The bridge over the North Fork to the campground has been closed on account of structural unsoundness. When we got there, it was completely gated off and closed to pedestrian traffic as well.  We found a trail down to the river and waded across. Here, the water was relatively shallow: waste deep but fast flowing. Add some slippery rocks and it was quite a challenge to cross, but we made it to the other side and to the confluence with Weitas Creek. There was a nice rapid below the confluence and that’s where we all headed. I found a set of rocks that Tyler had been fishing, but decided to leave, so I gave it a chance. I landed my fly right beside the rock in a small pool of calm water and immediately, a fish jumped after it. Unfortunately, it did not hook. So I re-casted a few times and then waited a bit, threw the fly in again and got another bite, but no hook. I threw it in a third time and again, got a bite. This one held on for a few seconds, but ultimately I could not get him hooked. Of course, I was excited that I was actually getting bites. However, I kept casting and noticed that my fly wasn’t very far away from the line. The leader had gotten incredibly tangled. I tried to untie it, but the mess was too much for me to handle while standing in the middle of fast flowing water. Frustrated and hungry, I headed back upstream to cut off the knot and tie on a new piece of tippet. At that time, I also noticed Dan was heading back. It was about that time that we needed to head home anyway. So there’s my story about the one that got away.

Of course, I learned a valuable lesson from this experience:
1. Always bring all of my equipment with me onto the stream, especially if it’s going to take considerable effort to get back to the car.
2. Bring a snack.

The North Fork of the Clearwater is beautiful country. Like the Clearwater/Lochsa river that flows along Rt. 12 from Lolo Pass, the North Fork winds through a deep V-shaped valley flanked by peaks that reach 7000 feet. It’s a beautiful drive that is more remote and slower paced than Rt. 12, only because the roads aren’t major highways. The North Fork still sees a lot of visitors, but as many people as there are back there, there still seemd to be room for that feeling of isolation. I’m so glad I finally got down there and I’m looking forward to planning my next trip, hopefully spending more than one night out in paradise.

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Every year, the graduate students from the University of Idaho’s biology department embarks on a float trip on the Snake River. It’s an annual tradion that carrys on well before my time. Actually, I’m not sure when the tradition began. In 2010, the float trip was held shortly after I arrived in Idaho. By that time, the daytime temperatures had cooled and I was not feeling up to floating in the river. In retrospect, I wish I had gone my first year. I made up for it by going last year. Actually, we held two trips last year, but I was only able to go on one of them. It was a blast, but Erin was working and couldn’t come.

So this year, we set out to continue the tradition of floating 6-10 miles down the Snake River on a hot and gorgous day. We put in about a mile downstream of the confluence with the Grand Rhonde and floated for 7.7 miles, taking out at Bufalo Eddy. We had never started this high up, but decided to do so because Bufalo Eddy creates a challenge when floating in tubes. Essentially, a small rapid propels you around a turn on river right and shoots you into an eddy on river left which is nearly impossible to get out of. Last year, we got stuck in the eddy for about an hour, each time thinking we  were in the current only to be routed back toward shore and up river. We finally had someone on a jetski tow us out so we could finish the float.

So to avoid that fiasco again, we decided to just end at the eddy where there is also a nice beach and a parking area. The advantage of starting farther upstream is that we got to ride Captain Lewis Rapids. When I saw these waves from the road, I was quite excited that we’d get to float through some “major” rapids for tubing. When it came time to hit the rapid, we actually missed the big waves, and it’s probably a good thing. From the water’s surface, they looked to be 3-4 feet from crest to trough and could have easily caused some problems since we weren’t wearing PFDs. The rest of the ride was pretty smooth. Any rapids downstream of Capitan Lewis were ripples barely big enough to splash us on the tubes.

The float trip is a great bonding experience. We sit there, tied together as a great floatilla, hanging out and drinking beer. Erin came along and actually had a good time. I’m kind of hoping that we do another one before the season ends, but with the semester starting up in two weeks, I don’t think it will actually happen. Still, one can dream.

So until next year, I’d say we had a pretty successful float trip.

The final chapter in the visit of the in-laws consits of a visit to one of my favorite mountain ranges. There are many spectacular mountain ranges in the country, but I happen to have a fondness for the Wallowas in northeastern Oregon. Perhaps its because they’re the closest mountains of their kind, or because they truely are a spectacular gem. I’ve always wanted to bring people to the Wallowas, but there aren’t really a whole lot of day hiking opportunities. All of the lakes and the peaks are just far enough away that the trips would be better done as an overnight trip. There is one exception. Mt. Howard is accessible by a gondola that rises 3700 feet into the mountains. And so when I mentioned that this might be a good place to come on their next visit, the plans quickly changed to seeing these mountains before they left for Pennsylvania.

We were originally going to go camping along the North Fork of the Clearwater to go fishing and explore the bit of inland rainforest at the base of the Mallard-Larkins area. We were going to leave Sunday and come back Monday, but Sunday morning, nobody was motivated to pack. Steve and I were still recovering from our backpacking trip, which although was short and sweet, was also tiring. Once noon had passed and we still hadn’t packed, we decided that Sunday would be a more relaxing day with a trip to Elk River and Freezeout Saddle (see previous post). So we moved the camping to leave Monday and return Tuesday. Those days had better weather reports anyway. However, once we were up at 6000 feet, Retta had decided she wanted more high elevation experience, and when she heard that we could get her to 8000 feet without any hiking effort, she had made up her mind.

Of course, I didn’t really mind either. I love the Wallowas and any chance to bring new people there is a chance for me to see these wonderful mountains. I also love the drive out. On this trip, they got to experience the Lewiston Grade and the deep canyon of Rattlesnake Grade which also blew their minds. It’s one of the most scenic drives we can take in this area, though doing it twice in one day does wear you out.

So there we were, riding the Wallowa Lake Tramway. Retta did well with her height issues and once we were on top, it was nothing but sheer enjoyment. 8000 feet can take your breath away, litterally. The air is thinner so less oxygen gets to your lungs per breath, and while most people don’t notice it until exceeding 10,000 feet, first-timers will feel the effects on Mt. howard. But no worries. The paths atop the tramway are very easy and short, only 2.5 miles in total, so there is no rush.

Now that I’ve finally been up the tramway, I don’t really feel the need to do it again, but I think I may bring my parents up there next week with the intent of following the ridge to East Peak above 9000 feet for better views of the Wallowas and Hells Canyon. And then I’ll be back once more for our 3rd annual backpacking trip in the Eagle Cap Wilderness. I never get tired of this place.

Any time someone visits us, their stay would not be complete without a trip to Elk River and Freezeout Saddle. We were limited in our acitivites because one of our guests were not fit for any major hiking, but luckily, we have options for that. So Sunday, we took an easy morning and headed out mid-afternoon for some local adventure. In Elk River, we stopped at the general store for huckleberry ice cream and then headed out to see the giant cedar, which always amazes anyone who has never seen big trees.*

The allure of Freezeout Saddle is that it’s the closest place to exceed 6000 feet, and it’s also the closest place to find alpine flora. Retta had never been this high up before, so this was certainly a novelty. We also found out the hard way that she has a fear of heights. Since we weren’t going to hike to Grandmother Mountain, we decided to drive past the trailhead out on Freezeout Ridge. Last year at this time, the road was blocked by a patch of snow after leaving the open slopes and reentering the forest. This year it was wide open. Unfortunately, the road is quite bumpy with a steep drop on one side, so I can see how anyone with an issue with heights might be nervous.

Freezeout Ridge is nice. There used to be a fire lookout, but the tower is now gone. The area where it stood is still bald of trees and provides a 360-degree view of the clearwater mountains. We spent some time enjoying the cool air and the awesome views and then I realized that we might as well just stay up there for the sun set, which looked like it may turn the sky a fiery pink. Unfortunately, there were clouds on the horizon that blocked the light, but it was a nice sunset anyway. We headed down in the dark hoping to see an Elk, but no such luck this time.