August 29, 2020 Saturday
Got up early, ate breakfast in the room, fruit and yogurt and drove about a mile into the center of town to the rafting center, Mountain River Outfitters, one of several such outfits in town. We were warned to arrive on time so we arrived early for the 9:00 departure at about 8:20. Parked across the street in the City Park lot. The river was just beyond the parking lot
The Outfitters' store was a combination coffee shop, general store and rafting center. We wandered around the store, spoke with the cashier with whom I left my car keys and who was very pregnant and just graduated from high school. I purchased two croakies and water sandals for my spouse. She was till nervous about the rafting. This was to be a one day rafting trip with several class 3 and 4 rapids.
Other rafters slowly wandered in as well as some who were completing multi day trips. We boarded an old school bus about 9:10 which was driven by one of the river guides. He was not too skilled with the clutch. The bus ride quickly took east out of town, past the confluence of the Salmon and Lower Salmon Rivers and on a winding road along the latter river in the shadow of the Seven Devils Mountains. We drove past Riggins Hot Springs and French Creek, neither of these were more than a few structures, to our drop in point, about 15 miles up the river. The Little Salmon River road we drove on was hammered out of the side of the mountains by the members of the CCC in the 1930s. The bus trip was the only time during our time in Riggins when we were required to wear a mask.
There were several families and groups in the bus with us. During the safety briefing it became apparent that all those people were going into the two paddle rafts, about 8 in each boat. That left my spouse and I to go along in a boat with the supplies and guide who would row. Not a problem. Less work and more sightseeing. There would also be a young female Outfitters administrative employee in the boat.
We rafted through a very deep canyon, represented as the second deepest canyon in the US. Hells River, one mountain range to the west, is the deepest gorge. The Grand Canyon, while much bigger is almost 2000 ft less deep. Our guide named Brett, a twenty something, grew up in Riggins as the son of a river guide. In the winter he is a liftee at a local ski resort, Brundage, about 30 miles away. He spent some time in Colorado, but said that he loves this area and plans to remain. He had no interest in ski instruction and was unimpressed that I have been a ski instructor, but he did express a strong dislike of Vail Resorts. His younger, but as noted bigger, brother was the guide in one of the other boats. He seemed to know the river intimately and explained that he has rafted or kayaked down it countless times, most frequently for recreation. The administrative passenger had moved to Riggins from Seattle where she complained about the fast pace of life and the high rents. She had bought a house in Riggins and sang the praises of the outdoor recreational opportunities that the area offered.
We went through several rapids, got splashed on and wet and swam in the river. I got to row the boat when Brett was in the water. There were the usual splashing battles between the boats. We passed elk and llama ranches along the way.
We stooped for lunch on a sand bar and I got to go swimming again, this time without the life vest.
We reached the take-out point at about 4:15. I floated in the river the last two hundred yards. It was too hard to swim with the life jacket on.
As we were waiting for the guides to gather the rafts and equipment and some people were waiting on the bus, the bus began to role forward. I was standing several feet away and although I saw what was happening I did not react fast enough to intervene. Fortunately one of the guides did react and he ran over, jumped into the bus and pulled the brake. No one else reacted to this or even spoke about it.
After being driven back to the Outfitters and picking up the car key, we drove back to the hotel, showered and headed out on foot to find a restaurant for dinner. The city may have only 419 residents, but it has lots of historical markers and plaques. Main Street is the only street that runs through the town. It is state route 95 which is the only state highway that connects the state panhandle to the rest of the state. It is also the most northwestern town in the Mountain Time Zone. Pacific Time zone starts just north of town at the bridge over the Salmon River.
Riggins was named for a local businessman and the first local postmaster. However the town was originally named Gouge Eye after a fight in a saloon over a woman of marrying age during which the eye of Big Markham, one of the fight's participants, was nearly gouged out. The name remained for about 50 years, but when Mr. Riggins applied for a post office, the Post Office rejected the city name as being too violent. Gold was the reason for Riggins' establishment in 1856. Ranches and farms followed and as the gold ran out, timber became the predominant industry. That gave rise to a timber mill, but the mill burned down in 1982 and has not been replaced. Today tourism, centered around hunting, hiking and rafting are the area's core economic engines.
After passing a few restaurants and conversing along the way with several locals hanging outside in the outdoor bars (no one was masked) we settled on the Summervilles Cafe. We were lured in by the prime rib special and the impressive array of horns from various animals. The food was very good and very large portions. The service was also excellent. However when the bill came I was surprised by the $2 charge for the "loaded: baked potato. Very expensive chives.
Walked back to the hotel. The same locals were still hanging out at the bar.
Do you think this is where the silver suitcase is?
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