Meet Jake. River runner, adventure seeker, ski-patroller, beer mile winner, and someone who managed to spend six weeks of his summer on river trips. This summer, Jake and a crew of 10 friends took on 100 miles of Idaho’s Middle Fork of the Salmon—seven days of whitewater, hot springs, camp meals, sleeping under the stars, and one unfortunately lost oar. 

We asked Jake to take us along for the ride on just one of many of his river trips from the summer:

100 Miles, 7 Days & One Lost Oar on the Middle Fork

Seven days. Roughly 100 miles. Eleven wonderful humans. A whole lot of whitewater. And, eventually, one less oar.

We set out to raft the Middle Fork of the Salmon River, a legendary stretch of whitewater running through Idaho’s Frank Church–River of No Return Wilderness. Most of our crew were experienced rafters, although the Middle Fork was definitely a step up in technical difficulty for a few folks.

We’d been on trips with almost everyone in the group before, aside from two people we hadn’t met yet—which is always a fun gamble when you’re about to spend seven days together with no easy escape route.

Luckily, the river vibes were good from the start.

As we get older and people have families, careers and approximately 400 other responsibilities, it seems harder and harder to stay connected with the people we really enjoy. Getting a group of like-minded people together who love rivers, wild places and being outside felt pretty special.

The excitement was high at the put-in and even higher around dinner that first night.

We were officially on river time.

Welcome to the River of No Return

Getting to the Middle Fork is an adventure before you even touch the water.

After two days of driving, the final few hours took us down rocky, steep roads until we finally crept into the V-shaped valley and caught our first glimpse of the river.

You can look at photos and watch videos all you want, but they don’t really prepare you for seeing it in person.

And then you get to Boundary Creek.

The boat launch is a unique wooden ramp where the group loads each raft and guides it down 67 steps before letting go and launching the rower and boat directly into the river.

There’s not much time for a sentimental “we made it!” moment, because as soon as your raft hits the water, you need to start rowing to catch the eddy.

Miss it and, well... Welcome to your first rapid.

The first 25 miles were busy water—lots of rapids, rock dodging and technical rowing at a gauge height of around 2.2 feet.

This was not exactly a leisurely float-with-a-beer-in-hand situation.

The beer could wait. Staying on your line could not.

Mornings > Alarm Clocks

We averaged around 12 to 16 miles each day and somehow ended up with a crew full of morning people.

I don’t think I’ve ever been on a trip where I was the last person awake at 7 a.m.

Huge thanks to Kevin, who had hot coffee ready at first light—or sometimes before first light, which frankly feels suspicious.

But those early mornings became one of my favorite parts of the trip.

There’s a kind of quiet you only get when you’re that far away from everything. You wake up to the call of a canyon wren echoing through the canyon and the constant bubbling of water moving past camp.

No traffic. No notifications. No leaf blowers.

Just the river.

Being farther north in Idaho during the peak of summer also meant incredibly long days, followed by evenings with that magical golden light that seems to hang around forever.

Hot Springs, Ponderosas & the Good Stuff

The scenery along the Middle Fork is hard to describe without sounding like you’re writing copy for an Idaho tourism brochure.

Steep rocky slopes jut up from the river, with huge ponderosa pines lining the banks. Along the way, there are hikes, petroglyphs, old ranches and hot springs to explore.

Lots of hot springs.

Some sit right at river level, while others require a mile or two of hiking. They’re always worth the stop.

We had Loon Creek Hot Springs completely to ourselves and somehow fit the whole group in. Anyone interested in a little contrast therapy could follow up their soak with a few steps into frigid Loon Creek.

Very refreshing. Or terrible. Depends who you ask.

And while we’re talking about ponderosas: stop and smell the trees.

The bark and sap smell like vanilla and butterscotch. It’s one of those little details I never want to forget—and a great way to make your friends question why you’re standing alone sniffing a tree.

The Art of Doing Absolutely Nothing Online

One of my favorite things about river trips—and winter ski hut trips—is disconnecting from technology.

No service. No emails. No doomscrolling. No checking your phone every 45 seconds because your brain has forgotten what else to do.

Instead, you’re actually there.

Floating through rapids in your designated order. Tying boats together into a flotilla during the calmer sections. Talking. Laughing. Hooting and hollering when someone hits a good line.

At camp, the conversations continue around the fire with jokes, stories, good food and a few drinks.

Everyone is present.

By the end of these trips, I always wish I could go straight back to day one and start over.

There’s something pretty great about the simple life of going downstream with your friends and family and worrying mostly about what’s around the next bend.

Turns Out Rafts Can Carry A LOT

Something people might not realize about multi-day river trips?

This is not backpacking. When you have 14- and 16-foot rafts, you can bring a truly impressive amount of stuff.

Each meal group was responsible for an appetizer, cocktail and entrée, so we weren't exactly surviving on freeze-dried noodles.

One highlight: salmon curry on the Salmon River.

And then there was Cowboy Candy: cream cheese, diced jalapeños and honey served with pretzel chips. Dangerously good.

A Little Rain, a Beach Party & Bye-Bye Oar

One rainy afternoon, we got to camp early to repair a boat with a slow leak. Once everything dried out, some Tear-Aid made for an easy fix.

What could have been a less-than-ideal afternoon turned into one of my favorite camps of the trip. We were surrounded by ponderosa pines, had trails to explore and caught a bunch of trout fly fishing.

Then, on the hottest and sunniest day, we did what any respectable group of adults in the wilderness would do: Beach party. Hawaiian shirts.

There were also river otters, which are objectively more fun to watch than almost anything on your phone.

While hiking to scout Pistol Rapid, we came across a Boy Scout group with a raft impressively pinned in the river. It was entertaining to watch and remains somewhat perplexing as to how they got themselves into that particular situation.

Then it was our turn.

My run through Pistol was on line. I shipped my left oar to avoid hitting the wall, but when I reached the bottom of the rapid, some crazy hydraulics sucked my right oar down.

It popped out of the oarlock.

Snapped the oar leash.

And disappeared straight into the depths of the pool below.

Bye-bye, oar.

And that is why you bring a spare. Or two.

Six Weeks of Sleeping Under the Stars

I was lucky enough to spend a full six weeks on river trips this summer, and every single night, I slept outside on the boat under the stars.

I didn’t set up a tent once.

Were there a few nights when I probably should have? Absolutely.

Did that stop me? Absolutely not.

There’s something hard to beat about falling asleep looking up at the stars and waking up with the river right beside you.

Even if occasionally you wake up slightly damper than you would have preferred.

The River Uniform

Most days were spent in swim shorts and sun hoodies, although on the really splashy sections we learned that nothing dries faster than skin.

When things cooled down, the Allover Overalls came out.

They were great in the light rain, kept me warm and dried quickly once the sun returned. The stretch was especially nice when climbing in and out of rafts, loading and unloading gear and putting your body into all sorts of questionable positions while trying to move things around a boat.

They also became perfect campfire attire when the evenings cooled down.

And yes, I may have slept in them after a particularly long day, a delicious meal and a few wobble pops.

At that point, changing clothes felt unnecessarily ambitious. By the end of the trip, the condition of the overalls could best be described as: Questionable. As they should be.

It Takes a Crew

Being this far into the wilderness also means help is a long way away.

You look out for each other.

From chopping wood and setting up camp to scouting rapids, running lines, watching for hazards and trying to prevent bad situations before they happen, river trips require a group-first mentality.

Every morning, you tear camp down. Every afternoon, you build it again.

Boats get loaded. Boats get unloaded. Meals get cooked. Gear breaks. Gear gets fixed.

When you have a crew of people who are always willing to jump in and help, everything gets easier.

Special shoutout to Erin, our trip MVP, who somehow kept camp running smoothly and was always there whenever anyone needed anything.

Every river crew needs an Erin.

And Then Come the Sunday Scaries

The hardest part of the Middle Fork wasn't Pistol Rapid.

It wasn't the rain.

It wasn't even watching my oar disappear into the abyss.

It was the last few miles before the takeout. That’s when the river version of the Sunday scaries starts to hit.

You know civilization is waiting for you.

Emails. Messages. To-do lists. Responsibilities. Notifications. Traffic. All the things you've successfully forgotten exist for the last seven days.

After a week of waking up to canyon wrens, drinking coffee by the river, rowing downstream and falling asleep under the stars, returning to normal life feels... aggressive.

Luckily, I wouldn't be away for long.

My next trip takes me straight back to Idaho to continue the journey down the Main Salmon in September. The Middle Fork eventually joins the Salmon, so we'll essentially put in where we just took out.

Back to river time.

Back to sleeping under the stars.

And hopefully back with the same number of oars we started with.

River Rapid Fire

River drink of choice: Gin & tonic. Gin is timeless.

Camp snack you couldn't stop eating: Cowboy Candy—cream cheese, diced jalapeños and honey served with pretzel chips.

Favorite piece of gear: Brooks Range Down Quilt.

Most-used item: Sunglasses with Croakies or something similar. And a backup pair. Always.

Best campsite: They all have their pros and cons.

Best swim: Scott getting bucked out after hitting the meat of Cramer Rapid... just half a mile from the takeout.

Trip MVP: Erin. Camp-running extraordinaire and always there when someone needs a hand.

One thing you forgot: If you don't have it, you don't need it.

Overalls condition by the end: Definitely questionable.