Jackson Hole Underground

Last week I was privileged to take part in the “Legends of the Snake” a float trip, a benefit for the Snake River Fund.

The event brought together many of the pioneers of river running and fly fishing in Jackson Hole: Frank Ewing, Dick Barker, Charlie Sands, John Simms, Dave Hansen, Jack Dennis and Paul Bruun. A collection of great guides and storytellers, they are the Jedi Masters of the Snake.

Along with their wives, these men built a thriving industry out of Army surplus gear. They are the namesakes for some of the most popular and longest-running rafting companies, and they have stayed active on the river well into their 60s and early 70s.

We floated eight miles of mostly flat water in the Snake River Canyon, from Pritchard Creek to the Barker-Ewing camp at Pine Creek. Most of the old-timers took at least a turn on the oars.

“Scared?” Ewing said to Barker, as boats were rigged and passengers fitted with life jackets.

Informed that there would be margaritas waiting at camp, Sands, once a notorious party animal, declared, “I’m the designated rower.”

The day had begun with pouring rain, and a gloomy forecast made organizers nervous in the hours leading up to the float. But the river karma was too strong for us to be denied, and the skies cleared as we left the put-in.

Gorgeous sunshine streamed down as Ewing, 72, tugged on the oars with the care and precision for which he is known. Ewing, who began running the Snake in 1957, recalled the first time he and Barker guided a commercial trip down the whitewater rapids of the canyon, in 1972.

The boat flipped in a hole at Lunch Counter, the most fearsome rapid during spring runoff. “It was quite scary to be in the water,” said Ewing. “We had to shut down after the first morning.”

Across from me sat Pat McCoy, who nodded at the recollection. McCoy was one of the first Barker-Ewing boatmen in the canyon and spent 26 years on the river.

As we gently meandered with the current, everyone sat back and relaxed, content, as guest Mickey Babcock said, to “let the water do its magic.”

About two miles into our trip, the aerial show began. Eagles sprung from their perches and spread their wings, soaring back up the canyon.

We saw adults, juveniles, nesting pairs, so many we quickly lost count. On a stretch of river where most floats yield four or five eagle sightings, we marveled at more than a dozen. It was almost as if the majestic raptors took flight to welcome these boatmen back to the river.

About 30 yards in front of our raft, an osprey paused in the air, tucked its wings and dove into the water, emerging with a small fish. It flew overhead, impressive in its own right, but an instant later an eagle swooped in like a fighter pilot, trying to steal the fish. With an evasive maneuver, the osprey managed to hold onto its dinner.

Farther back upstream, Jack Dennis watched from a raft as an eagle skimmed the surface of the river and speared a fish with its talons. The wounded trout flopped around in the water while the eagle made several passes before finally grabbing it.

Dennis, a Jackson Hole native whose grandfather taught him to fish during the 1950s, was still wide-eyed on reaching the shore a short while later. “I have never seen that in all my years on the river,” he proclaimed.

I would have liked to have been in the Sands and Simms boat as it passed the famous eddy known as the “John Simms Money Hole.” While guiding a client on a fishing trip some 20 or 30 years ago, Simms is reputed to have pulled a large sum of bills from the water. How much, I’ve never determined for sure.

As we rounded the great bend in the river at Elbow, we came across Paul Bruun anchored near the bank with a fishing client. Bruun later said he got goose bumps watching the procession. “It was such a thrill,” he said.

The idea was for the old-timers to row a short stretch, but Ewing and Barker guided the whole trip. Sands, who had used a tractor to load his ancient Salmon River raft that morning, quickly relinquished the oars, saying he wanted to “spread it around.”

I’ve worked for Barker and Ewing and spent eight seasons as a boatman on the Snake. It was impressive to watch Ewing navigate the braided twists with such efficiency. He hardly rowed at all, instead relying on subtle strokes to keep the boat positioned in exactly the right place in the current.

We were joined on the river by A.J. DeRosa, who guided for Dave Hansen Whitewater in the early 1970s and today runs tours in elegant wooden boats. On DeRosa’s dory was Elizabeth McCabe, co-publisher of the News&Guide and a legend of the Snake in her own right.

At 96, McCabe still fishes the river often. On this day she was photographing the masters, accompanied by a group of friends. After landing at Pine Creek, she ambled up the stairs and eschewed a ride on an ATV to camp, preferring to walk instead.

It’s a couple hundred yards uphill to reach the camp, and we paused often for Liz to catch her breath. We promised her there would be plenty of wine on reaching the tents. “Good,” she said. “We’ll need it after this.”

The Pine Creek camp, used for breakfast and overnight trips, is a wonderful place to entertain. Set in a glade bordered by the creek, the camp affords a feeling of seclusion. Over the years the Ewings have fine-tuned the operation so that everyone’s needs are met, in comfort and yet with rustic simplicity.

Phil Round and Ted Wells, former bandmates in the bluegrass fusion band Loose Ties, were on hand to perform. Sprinkled among the crowd of 80 or so guests were other river running devotees: Lexey Wauters, Len Carlman and Margaret Creel, Snake River Fund representatives; Heather Ewing, now the boss at Barker-Ewing Whitewater; Dan Carter, the Iditarod musher; Bud Chatham, owner of Dave Hansen Whitewater; Randall Cresswell, a former Lone Eagle guide and veteran kayaker; and Dave Lundquist, the owner of Fancy Plants and former B-E cook whose Zen-like calm made him a legend at Pine Creek.

After fishing the river with Jean Williams, Colorado Gov. Bill Ritter also joined us at camp with his son, August. Later, the governor talked frank politics over a beer, recalling how during his campaign last year he threw out the advice of consultants and pressed ahead with a push for renewable energy and protecting the environment. He also talked about his opposition to the Iraq War. (If only our man in Cheyenne had such courage.)

We had just a half-hour in the open air before the skies darkened to slate grey, and a storm blasted in with a fury. Hail, wind, lightning. Everyone took shelter beneath two large canopies.

Cresswell, known to friends on the river as “Rescue Randall,” came through once again with a legendary batch of margaritas made with lemonade mix. After Dick Barker helped tote the five-gallon cooler down the line of guests, refilling their glasses, no one seemed to mind the rain that much.

The storm only added an element of drama to what was a memorable night on the river. Besides a successful fund-raiser, the trip was a celebration of river running history, and an occasion to honor the elders of our tribe.

There are two more trips in the Snake River Fund’s Summer Float Series: “Gliding by the Oxbow,” a kayak and canoe trip in Grand Teton National Park on Thursday, Aug. 30; and “Brunch with the Eagles,” a float in A.J. DeRosa’s wooden dories on Wednesday, Sept. 12.

Click here for details; for reservations, e-mail snakeriverfund@gmail.com.

This entry was posted on Friday, August 24th, 2007 at 11:37 am and is filed under river running, conservation, fund-raisers, snake river. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.