Escaping life’s cares on the Selway River

It’s easy to lose track of time when floating the wilderness section of the Selway River. Swept along by a beautiful yet challenging stream, modern voyageurs are treated to a glimpse of the world as it used to be.

Magnificent old-growth cedar trees hem the banks, ospreys patrol the skies, and otters frolic at water’s edge.

Huckleberries grow in sun-drenched patches, while tasty mushrooms pop up in shady corners.

Best of all, the Selway is one of the loneliest rivers in the Lower 48; with rare exceptions, paddlers have it all to themselves.

Some friends and I were there recently, floating on limpid green waters, occasionally punching through stout rapids, constantly marveling at the wonders of nature.

Far from Instagram, Facebook and electronic “friends,” we were companions in adventure and the bonds we formed were deep and real.

Getting started

There’s no easy way to reach the launch site for the Selway, which is about 67 slow miles from Darby, Montana.

After cresting Nez Perce Pass, the road drops down into Idaho and begins running parallel to the Selway.

The river is a narrow mountain stream at that point. Aspiring navigators are exposed to glimpses of tight, rocky rapids barricaded by logs.

It’s an intimidating sight. Before even dipping a paddle, the Selway has the upper hand psychologically.

Our ragged little caravan rolled up to the put-in one day before our June 19 launch.

We pitched our tents in a U.S. Forest Service campground a few hundred yards away, then busied ourselves preparing for departure.

Launch day dawned gray and rainy, so it was a test of commitment as we horsed our four rafts down to the river.

Heavy coolers and aluminum dry boxes filled with food, kitchen equipment and camping gear were strapped to the frames.

A mountain of sleeping pads, tables, chairs and other items were lashed down as well. A portable toilet and the metal fire pan rounded out the equipment list.

In typical Bitterroot fashion, the rain wasn’t heavy, but it wasn’t letting up, either.

It was obvious that blue skies weren’t coming to the rescue, but the mood was buoyant as we shoved off and enfolded ourselves in nature’s embrace.

After that first day, things got better and better.

The Spokesman-Review

Gateway to the wilderness

The permit section of the Selway runs for 47 miles, from the launch site at Paradise to the takeout at Race Creek – about 18 miles upstream of Lowell, Idaho.

Boaters are advised not to miss the takeout because, shortly after its confluence with Race Creek, the river plunges through a deadly series of rapids known as Selway Falls.

The Selway is 100 miles long, and anybody is welcome to float the sections upstream of Paradise or downstream of its eponymous falls.

For all but its final 2 miles, the permit section of the river flows through the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness. The wild character of the land and water is palpable, and there is plenty to keep the eye busy.

Huge cedar trees with lacy green boughs give the river corridor a primordial, almost Hobbit-like feel.

Some of the trees are little more than wizened, gray stumps, while others are blackened by fire.

Every imaginable shade of green is visible on grassy upland slopes. Even the river itself, lit by slanting rays of the morning sun, almost seems to glow.

Western tanagers, sprightly little bursts of color, flit through the understory while butterflies swarm on stones near the water’s edge.

Mother ducks and their ducklings, fleeing a perceived threat, churn the water to froth with whirling feet and wings.

Raspy-voiced kingfishers swoop from tree to tree, while ouzels dip and bob in their never-ending quest for food.

On our final morning, a young buck – antlers still in the velvet – swam serenely past our camp.

The river itself has a thousand faces, frothy and menacing in the big rapids, smooth and sibilant in the quiet pools.

For all its wild chaos, the Selway is capable of amazing feats of symmetry; many of the cobble bars are so well arranged that nearly all stones are of the same size.

Immediately downstream of the bigger rapids, millions of tiny bubbles emerge from the depths like champagne bubbles.

For all its delicate moments, the Selway also bristles with reminders of its power.

Here and there, huge snags with 50 or more logs are wedged against the rocks – mute testimony to the awesome forces of nature.

Troubled waters

The Selway has a deserved reputation as a serious whitewater river. Paddlers – whether in kayaks or rafts – need to know their limitations.

There aren’t many “big” rapids, maybe eight or so, but several are substantially harder than anything on the Middle Fork of the Salmon.

In its upper reaches, the Selway is studded with tight, rocky Class III rapids where the line isn’t always obvious – and errant rafts can get hung up on rocks for hours.

As the miles unfold, and more tributaries boost the flow, the rapids become more formidable.

Its signature rapid, the one everyone talks about, is called “Ladle.”

At mile 28.3, it bestrides the river with a dizzying maze of rocks.

Rafts generally take a line down the right, while kayaks sometimes follow sneaky lines down the left.

Ladle is strewn with powerful hydraulic holes that can knock even the heaviest boats off course. It is a place where control can spiral into chaos in a heartbeat.

Ten miles farther downstream, at mile 38, is an equally sinister rapid called “Wolf Creek.”

There, the river writhes and twists like a dying snake before smashing against a rocky wall on the right.

Again, rafts are forced to run with the bulk of the water down the right side, but at medium to higher flows kayakers can thread their way down the left.

On our trip, the lone kayaker got pinned against a rock on the left side of Wolf Creek.

He wiggled free after 10 or 15 tense seconds, but capsized immediately after sliding off the rock.

Deep in the heart of a furious rapid, he summoned all his mojo for a desperate Eskimo roll – and it worked!

His kayak heaved upright, water drained from his eyes and, to the cheers of his friends, he emerged from the jaws of Wolf Creek.

The human element

Like any human endeavor, a six-day voyage down the Selway River requires people from differing backgrounds to work together.

Our group of 12 was comprised of 10 people in their 20s and early 30s – none of whom had paddled the Selway – plus a couple of Medicare-eligible graybeards with several previous trips under their belts.

Half of the upstarts work for NRS, a paddlesports equipment company located in Moscow, Idaho, so they knew what they were getting into. There were also some out-of-town guests who quickly adapted to the rhythm and pace of the trip.

Together, we forged a tight, capable team that overcame all challenges.

Our mornings started slowly, with coffee and a cooked breakfast.

Afterward, the silverware, plates and griddle were washed, rinsed and dunked in a mild bleach solution.

After stowing the kitchen gear in dry boxes, we tore down the tents and tarps, stuffed everything into dry bags, then piled them in the rafts.

The last item to get packed up was the portable toilet.

When the boats were finally loaded, usually around 11 a.m., we hit the water.

Because he was in the fastest boat, our kayaker typically ranged ahead of the rafts, but he’d stop and wait above significant rapids.

Sometimes, he paddled the rapid first, then pointed out the safest line for the raft skippers.

At other times, he went last to assist any rafts that might get hung up.

Mile by mile, day after day, we made our way downriver.

Along the way, we passed through scenes of indescribable beauty, so many that they ran together and thickened in a rich tapestry of memories.

When we stopped for the night, there was music, laughter and the clink of glasses in moments that define love and happiness.

On the Selway, human friendship runs deep.