GUIDE OF THE MONTH: DAVE HANDY

Interviewed by Sena Strenge

Photographs Courtesy of Dave & Linda Handy

Thank you to Dave's wife Linda Handy for joining the interview as well!

Name: Dave Handy

Hometown: Stanley, ID

Current Location: Challis, ID

Guide Title: Hunting Guide and River Guide

Employers Including:
The Flying B, Middle Fork Lodge, The Farrs, Ron Ens (Middle Fork Outfitters), Travis Bullock (Mile High Outfitters), Jerry Meyers, Eldon Handy (Dave’s Father), Bob Smith, Bill Bernt (Aggipah River Trips), Steve Lentz (Far and Away Adventures) … and many others.

As a kid, you started working for your dad’s river company on the Middle Fork of the Salmon, right?

Dave: Yes. He got the last one [MF river permit] for $15 before they put a moratorium on them, not going to give no more out. So then he thought maybe he ought to get two of them. There’s a local guy, Cliff Hansen, a rancher here, that was an old friend of my dad’s. He told me the other day, was telling me that my dad had told him, says ‘Hey, you ought to go down get one of these permits, they’re only $15. They’re gonna be worth somethin’ someday.’ And Cliff said that he told my dad there’s no way in heck anybody will ever pay you to take them down a river they could just go do it themselves.

When did you start hunt guiding?

Dave: 1972?

Who were you guiding for?

Dave: Flying B. And that's where I met Linda [Dave’s wife]. Beats school any day.

Linda: That's where we met. He was probably 17, I was 22.

Dave: Talk about hitting the lottery. Getting flown in, get to do the hunting guide deal, drink like a pig, drunken women all over the place...

Linda: [laughing] And you get the head cook.

So you’d work summers for your dad on the river and then hunting camps in the fall.

Dave: Yup. I got burned out on the hunting deal. I got burned out on the river deal. As I got older in life I just can't believe I get another chance to be a kid again. And so now I feel blessed to do it. And actually make a living at it. Second chance.

Why did you leave Idaho?

Dave: After my dad died things kind of fell apart. We tried to run it, Linda and I, for a couple years, but we just didn’t have the skills or discipline.

Linda: We were too young and irresponsible.

Dave: Without my dad there… he was the draw. He was why people were coming.

Linda: He was a pretty special guy to a lot of people.

[Dave was 25 when his dad died while running a sweep boat through Haystack rapid. Two years later Dave, Linda, and their growing family moved to Susanville, California. Dave spent the next 18 years working for a large cattle outfit.]

Dave: Went to work for one of these big cow outfits to see what it's really like. They had 10,000 head of mother cows, scattered all over the state. If I'd never went to California I'd still be in the ice age on my horsemanship. Not that I'm that far ahead, all I've learned is how little I really know. In California you really get exposed to some stuff, the real cowboys, people that are half horse themselves.

Why'd you come back to Idaho?

Dave: Because it's Idaho. Same reason you come back.

Where did you live before Challis?

Dave: We were at the B year round. Before that we were at Loon. And then before that we we had our own dream spot in Hagerman. Before that we lived in California.

Linda: Off and on we have fifteen years at the Flying B.

Do you like hunt guiding?

Dave: I do, but you've got to make a living doing something! I guess I'm just blessed to be able to make a living doing this. Lucky. You know, by the end of the river season hunting season looks really good. By the end of hunting season, river season sure looks good. I sure like being around the horse deal, and using that skill.

I was told to ask you about the time you had to shoot a horse and it rolled into the trail.

Dave: [Chuckles] That son of a gun. It was my own horse even. And he got even with me in the end. He'd been bucking me off. Beautiful horse too, just beautiful. Cow eating machine. But he's bucking me off. So that's the end of this. We were at the Root Ranch and I put him down. Usually you leave the halter on them when you tie them up, in case things go wrong. In case you miss. God knows, all kinds of things can happen. But you get your halter all bloody. So he's just standing there by my horse, so I just slipped the halter off, and did it, and down he went. Just 'Bam'. And then he started going…

[Dave slow motion imitates the horse starting to roll. Over and over, down the hill.]

Dave: He ended up right in the Forest Service trail. Right in the bottom.

[Imitates the dead horse, legs stiff and straight up in the air.]

Dave: People were getting bucked off because of it. I just left it. Even in his death he's still bucking people off. And he almost got me bucked off one day, again, off another horse! So I gotta go do something, it's on our main trail hunting out of there. So my brother came in to help me. I said, we got a nasty job to do. It's like ten days into the deal, so he's pretty bloated up. We pulled him apart a piece at a time and got him out of there and got him hid. But even for a couple years after that the horses were silly about that spot.

Hunting outfitters spend a lot of time and money clearing trails each year. What are your thoughts on trails?

Dave: I think there’s trails that will never ever get opened again. They're just gone. It was so much different thirty, forty years ago, before everything started burning. If there was a trail on the map, it was usable. And now, if somebody didn't go down it last week, you're a little iffy on it. The Forest Service had a huge trail clearing crew. They kept them cleared. But, you know in any defense of the Forest Service, who knew that half the trees in Idaho were going to die, either from beetle kill or from fire. Nobody really knew that the workload was going to get so deep on this trail deal. And they've cut their trail budget. But these outfitters have a budget too. 

[Medium to large downed trees pose an especially difficult obstacle to pack strings. A re-route has to be made or the log must be cut, which, in the wilderness takes time with a cross-cut saw. Packing horses and mules is an old skill, one that has mostly died out to modern technology. However, many commercial hunting outfits in Idaho still utilize pack strings to access remote territory, as do some Forest Service crews.]
 
Packing mules is an artform. Who do you look up to as a packer?

Dave: Ron’s a good packer [Ron Ens]. He would lay in bed at night trying to figure out how to do this packing thing. He's one of the best I've ever worked with at it. He would take it as a challenge if someone told him you can't pack that thing down that trail. ‘Hell yeah I can, watch this.’ I really learned a lot from Ron on the packing end of things. I just kinda get by, just don't sore the stock and I’m good. I was a better packer after I’d been around Ron for a couple years.

Do you have a least favorite aspect of guiding?

Dave: Too many people. And being away from my wife. But you know it's our job. It's a people job. It's sure fun to be out there without guests.

Who's been most inspiring to you?

Dave: My dad. And also Bill Burnt. I really look up to him. I've worked for him a lot. He's a classic. Just for entertainment sit and watch him for a while, watch what he might be up to.

Who'd you hunt guide for this fall?

Dave: Travis Bullock. I worked with some really good fellas this fall. Everything is run very efficiently. One of the reasons is because of his wife [Brenda]. She's on it. On the food end, and the money end, and the people end. And Travis is such a unique person himself. And they've been at it for 25 years.

Linda: We saw him packing off from the Flying B, in a blizzard, with his little kids. Those were tough little boots.

Dave: He was putting them in the pack bags that morning. They were just little guys, 3 and 5 maybe. And they're going, ‘Dad! Dad! You know we hate these pack bags! You know we hate them! I don't want to look at him all day long!’ So Travis says, ‘Ok ok ok you can ride.’ They've got all kinds of saddles and stock, everybody’s going home. And so [Travis] went over and put him on a mule and he goes ‘Dad, you know this mule bucks me off every time!’ 'Ok ok ok', so he puts him on another one, and then they were happy.

Do you have any advice for aspiring guides?

Dave: Go back to school. That's what my son did. He came and helped me in a hunting camp one year, and he's back to getting his degree. Yeah, it’s a lot of work and you don’t really get much money. You know, to make this happen and get the opportunity to do this… You’ve had to make this happen on your own. I didn’t. I was born into it. Whatever. But for people like you that’ve had to make this happen on your own, it’s an accomplishment. Just to do it. Just to get your foot in the door someplace and tough it out long enough to where you actually make some money at it. Then tough it out long enough that you’re a desired employee. Other people don't get a chance to do this kind of stuff. They go to college, get a job, get married, have kids.

Linda: Depends on what kind of life you want to have.

Dave: Yeah. Well, I don't want to be in an office. I like being outside, which is why a lot of us keep doing this. I'm so fortunate, I've never had a real job. I wouldn't have been able to have the blessed life I've had if I didn't have the wife that I have, that would allow me to go do that stuff, take care of all the stuff while I'm gone, not being really needy and needing the big house on top of the hill.

Thanks to Dave and Linda for this interview. May we all ride happily into the New Year without getting bucked off!

A RIVER OF RESILIENCY

Words by Madeline Friend

For those of us who spend the sweaty summer months on the water and the blustery winter ones dreaming about it, river metaphors are nothing new. We know to go with the flow. We know to follow the path of least resistance. We know we never step in the same river twice.

As guides, we come to the river for many reasons: for camaraderie, for pleasure, for challenge, for love, for the ability to work and live in places we connect to viscerally. We lean into intentional community because we thrive on the water, and this is where those communities happen for us. Learning from the river is unavoidable. Every eddy, every camp, every hole is a new opportunity to understand the deeper forces guiding both the river and ourselves.  

A river’s resiliency is not its most alluring aspect, nor its most visible. Glassy waves and big water often overshadow the river’s staunchness. It is steadfast. Dam or not, the river still runs downstream. As much as we try to bend it to our whim, in the long term, we never can. Through the ages before us and those after, the river teaches us passively. It does not beg for attention, nor does it force understanding. The river’s very being is its testament: it is here.

Because the river exists, we can be here. We appreciate where we are because we know where we have been. We have been on the water, in the water, with the water. Each droplet tells a story: peaks where it was birthed, sediments it carried, dams it crashed against, logs it swept along, boaters it gleefully played with. The story of water cultivates ours.

When we can’t find our way home, when home is no more and no less than four wheels and a paco pad, when our eyes are bleary and our ears prickle at the coffee call: we wade in.

Resiliency finds us again.

The river is tenacious. The river is elastic. The river is resilient. The river is us.

The river never rejects us. Yes, it challenges: physically, mentally, emotionally, and through the unnamed parameters, we can only access when we drop into that wave train, pull across current, and answer once again (as best we can, maybe with a hint of grin or grimace) just how deep the water is here. In its unmistakable style, both rough and smooth, the river always welcomes us and shows us our own resiliency is as deep as our favorite cliffside pool across from camp.

We make coffee, cook meals, inflate duckies, check buckles on PFDs, do dishes, set up the toilet, tear down the toilet, do more dishes, encourage guests to drink more water, do dishes, and oh, would you like some sunscreen? We lift heavy boxes, filter water, lead hikes, do more dishes, tell stories, sing songs, and oh yes, we row.

Oh, how we row. These magical hours on the water are where we learn, teach, and relish the river.

Though sometimes the camp scene devolves to be everything all together at once right now, darting from dish to fire to kitchen to finally zonking out on your boat, the resilient river reminds us of simple and subtle truths. We are here. Wild places matter. And the river always, always runs downstream.  

We can come back to the river and to ourselves. Maybe it’s back to another season, maybe it’s back to a winter gig, and maybe it’s back to a whole new frontier: one of eddies and pour overs, wave trains and endless flatwater, and the ever-elusive downstream wind. This time, we come back with the resiliency of the river, especially when the winter dark seems to shove us down.

The river reminds us of the streams of resiliency within ourselves always, even when physically removed from her presence. As we move from guiding life into winter jobs, school stresses, and seasonal changes, we remember how we are also ever moving downstream, able to swell with snowmelt and trickle in the summer heat.

GUIDE OF THE MONTH: QUINCY BECKER, FLY FISHING GUIDE

Interviewed by Emerald LaFortune

Name: Quincy Becker

Hometown: Jackson Hole, WY

Current Location: Victor, ID

Guiding Job Title: Fly Fishing Guide

Tell me about your career as a fly fishing guide.

I grew up fishing in the greater Yellowstone ecosystem. My father was a guide for the original Jack Dennis in the Jackson Hole, Wyoming. My father had a special eye beyond just the fish, it was the whole ecosystem that he taught me about. I started guiding one summer when I was home from college. After college, I continued to guide in the area expanding to the Green, South Fork, Henry's Fork, Teton, and every little stream in the area I could hike or ride into. I was very lucky to be able to guide in Argentina before they started not allowing guides from the states to guide down there. Once they started limiting the amount of US guides in Argentina I moved onto Chile.

How and when did you begin hunting/fishing?

I started fishing as soon as I could walk, and rowing. I didn’t start hunting until my 20's when my peer group was into hunting.

What makes a good guide?

I think a great guide is made by compassion and the ability to adjust to all circumstances, personalities, and needs.

How do you balance your work as a guide with your non-profit work?

I have always tried to be part of the larger community within which I have guided in and have volunteered on the local board of Trout Unlimited, our local land trust, and the fisheries department.  The offseason is a great time to volunteer, through volunteering I have even ended up working in the winter for a couple of these organizations.  I actually can’t believe that more guides don’t support the non-profits that support their livelihood, I have always tried to educate and advocate for these practices.  It also gives you great conversational topics with clients.

What’s the most rewarding part of guiding?

Helping someone catch the first fish of their life through verbal communication. Amazing.

Who inspires you as a guide?

The people who have inspired me most as a guide are the ones who shaped my own guiding practices. Initially it was my father and his larger view of the intrinsic nature of our environment. Then moving on, my friend Kim Keeley is a woman in the profession who shaped my guiding practices encouraged me, and believed in my guiding skills. Ramon Aranguran showed me the rivers of Argentina and Patty Riley who arranged for me to guide in Argentina.

What inspires you as a guide?

Every day on the river inspires me to guide, it’s the environment of being out there.  I’m inspired by the ability to show people something that is new and hopefully cultivating a love of nature through fishing. I hope that people will make saving and preserving our natural environments a huge priority in their lives.

What’s special about your corner of Idaho?

The most special part of my area of Idaho (and really I believe all parts of Idaho!) is the solitude, vistas, and the wildlife.

Can you describe a major transition point in your guiding? How did you navigate that?

A major point of navigation in my guiding would have been this last season when I took the year off after 17 years. I wanted to gain an appreciation of the profession again. You reach a point where you feel like every person who gets into your boat is just interested in catching the most, biggest and best fish on the river with no or limited experience in the practice of fishing.  They pay they should be able to catch!  I had also moved onto managing a guide operation, fly-fishing shop and continued to guide. My husband had left me and I was searching for my new me. I have realized that I am a guide and once a guide always a guide but I am working new ways and different venues to expose people to guiding. I am also taking classes for additional experience from our local fire and EMS services.

Any memorable guiding moments that stand out?

The most amazing guiding experiences on the river, the ones that have brought tears to my eyes are people with disabilities and veterans. The hardship that they have overcome is humbling. If I could guide people with disabilities for the rest of my life I would in a second.

Any fun facts/personality quirks your fly fishing guests wouldn’t expect from you?

Fun facts and personal quirks, I am full of them! I like classical music and gangster rap. I am redneck who hunts but conservation is at the core of my soul. I enjoy travel and yoga. I read Instyle Magazine and Fur-Fish-Game!

What advice would you give an aspiring fishing guide?

The advice I would give to an aspiring guide is to be good to yourself and your body. Cultivate friendships with your clients and they will become your larger family and can open so many doors for you outside fishing.

How do you take care of yourself during the guiding season?

Taking care of yourself during a guide season is paramount for the health of your guiding career.  Eat well, sleep and exercise outside of guiding. I tend to do a lot of yoga outside of guiding. It’s not as intense of cardio as rowing all day, but you need the addition of stretching. Take turmeric for your joints, wear protective clothing, and plenty of sunblock. Drink water and appreciate your profession. The second you walk into the shop to pick up your clients and you cringe at the thought, it may be time to take a break - you are not doing yourself or your clients any favor guiding in that state. Try to always learn new things about your profession, learning is life.

Thanks, Quincy, good luck with your upcoming guiding season!

AVOIDING SEXUAL HARASSMENT IN OUR RIVER WORKPLACE

By: Lenore Perconti

Way back in February, I heard on the radio a short news blurb about sexual harassment complaints against members of the National Park Service boat patrol in Grand Canyon National Park. Although not commercial river guides per se, I still couldn’t believe it--river running professionals on NPR? I didn’t waste any time finding out more. Sure enough, there it was, the Investigative Report of Misconduct at the Grand Canyon River District, and the national scale media attention this had already generated.

The report details the findings of a federal investigation into sexual harassment complaints
against the Grand Canyon National Park’s River Program. Interviews and investigations found ten to fifteen years of incidents and a pervasive culture of sexual discrimination and harassment. I won’t summarize it here because you have probably already heard of it. If not, a quick Google search will generate a host of popular news articles that will refresh your memory (and see link to official report above). 

Given the often typical "locker room" culture among river guides, it doesn’t take any great mental gymnastics to imagine the situations outlined in the report becoming a reality in our own world. Since February the commercial river community has been forced to face the unfortunate reality that river guides can engage in or be subject to sexual harassment. 

Often times, we as guides become caught up in the illusion of isolation. We work in deep canyons and in the far reaches of the wilderness, away from the ‘civilized’ world. Whether consciously or unconsciously, we allow ourselves to think this remoteness implies we are not subject to the same state and federal laws that govern office workers in cubicles. At one time or another, we are all likely guilty of thinking that our work culture is special: that if a guide can’t handle a little sexualized banter every once and a while, then they should find another job. But obviously for the NPS River District employees, what happened on the river did not stay on the river. We should learn from this incident as a cautionary tale of how not to let the little things slide trip after trip, year after year.

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So just how do river guides prevent sexual harassment at their workplace? You may be thinking to yourself, “I don’t want this to happen to me.” The good news is there are steps you can take to protect yourself as a guide and employee, and you don't have to get a law degree to understand what sexual harassment is. There are a few easy things to keep in mind that will help you discern whether something is sexual harassment or not.

Whether you are reflecting on your river season or already looking forward to next summer, here is what you need to know going forward:

Sexual harassment is any conduct of a sexual nature that implicitly or explicitly affects the workplace. If someone’s ability to do their job is affected, the behavior can be considered harassment.
A person’s gender is a protected class. Back in the 1960’s, the Civil Rights Act was established, which guarantees individuals protection from discrimination in the workplace.
Sexual harassment is a form of gender discrimination, just like harassment based on skin color is racial discrimination. Start to think of sex and race as interchangeable. The law treats both situations as discrimination against a protected class.
Perception matters, not intent. If someone finds the actions offensive, it can be considered harassment. An example of perception vs intention from the GC investigation is the boatman who claimed that he only made sexual advances on women when he “sensed a mutual attraction.” Even though this boatman intended for his actions to be non offensive, his actions were perceived as hostile.

To determining if an action is harassment, it has to meet one or more of these three criteria:
1) pervasive, meaning the behavior is picked up and continued by other guides or co-workers and that offensive action now becomes a part of the culture;
2) severe, meaning the behavior is considered severe by a reasonable person (think:
jury); or
3) contributes to a hostile work environment, meaning one action may lead to an isolating or discriminatory culture in that workplace.

Harassment doesn’t have to occur on the river or at the warehouse. If it affects the workplace, it can be considered sexual harassment. The classic example is when a guide or company employee makes unwanted advances towards a co-worker at a bar after a trip.
Sexual Harassment can occur between two people not romantically involved. Two examples: A guide feels that the sexualized images of women taped to the inside of the kitchen box creates a hostile work environment. A guide feels that their employer isn’t doing enough to protect him or her from being sexually objectified by clients.
You are protected from sexual harassment that comes from clients, too. Your employer is legally obliged to do everything within their power to prevent their employees from being discriminated against or harassed at the workplace. No, it is not a part of your job to be subject to sexual harassment from clients.
Victims of sexual harassment are not legally obliged to confront their offender. One
common reaction I hear from guides is, “No one said anything, so what’s the problem?” The law is designed to protect the victim, and for good reason. In a perfect world, we will all be up front and honest with each other and be comfortable in saying to our co-workers, “Hey, I’m not OK with that. Please stop.” But there are almost always other factors getting in the way of speaking up. Maybe a new guide feels if they say something they won’t be accepted into the group. Maybe a guide is worried they won’t get scheduled for as many trips as they want if they object to offensive behavior by a Trip Leader. The take-away here is don’t assume everyone is OK with someone’s actions just because no one is speaking up.

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The Sexual Harassment Litmus Test:
Here are three simple questions you can apply to any situation you may encounter this summer or winter. If you can answer yes to any of these three questions, then what you are witnessing, experiencing, or participating in could be considered sexual harassment:
1) Is his/her ability to do their job affected?
2) Is enduring this a condition of anyone’s job?
3) If this continues, can it be considered a hostile environment?

Before you start next season or even your winter job, find out what your company’s sexual harassment policy is and what resources are available to you as a guide. Does your company clearly outline it’s expectations? Who should you talk to if you have a concern or complaint? Does your company have a policy regarding romantic relationships? Answering these questions will help you handle situations as they arise.

Finally, support is key. Being supportive of your fellow guides by having considerate and constructive discussions about the workplace environment. Having these conversations will strengthen the team and improve the trips. Being comfortable saying, “This isn’t OK right now” or “I don’t feel comfortable with this” can help stop offensive behavior before it becomes a big deal. Be supportive of your team when they bring up their discomforts and help coach other guides compassionately about what is and isn’t appropriate. In the end, the power is with us, as a community of guides, to create a culture that does not allow incidents like those in Grand Canyon River District to affect our companies, our crews, and our rivers. 

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About the author: 

Lenore Perconti has been a river guide with ROW Adventures since 2008. Starting as an 18 year old swamper in Hells Canyon who knew nothing about multi-day river trips, Lenore quickly fell in love with river life. She learned to guide rafts on the Moyie, St. Joe and Clark Fork Rivers. She has since worked as a guide on the Middle Fork of the Salmon, Lower Salmon, Snake River through Hells Canyon, and Upper Missouri Rivers. For the past three years, Lenore has worked mainly on the Rogue River in Oregon, but gets her Idaho fix every year with ROW or on private trips. During the 2013/2014 winter season, she discovered her passion for human resources and employee services while serving as a Human Resources Coordinator at Stevens Pass Mountain Resort. Lenore now winters in Hood River, OR, working for Mt. Hood Meadows as a Recruiter and Employee Onboarding Specialist. Lenore continues to pursue a career in Human Resources, specializing her professional interests in employee/employer relations in the outdoor recreation and tourism industry. 

GUIDE OF THE MONTH: MIKE GEHRMAN, SOLITUDE RIVER TRIPS

Interview and photos by Kat Cannell

Name: Mike Gehrman

Hometown: Parkdale, OR

Job Title: River Guide

Off-season jobs/passions: Certified classroom teacher, owns a business that provides school field trips, past ski patrol and now volunteer ski patrol, local fire department emergency first responder, and boat builder.

Tell us a little more about the canoe you built:

I built a 51’ canoe that can hold a whole classroom (capacity 36), half-day and full-day field trips on the Willamette and Columbia Rivers.  It’s a regular school day with classes like math and science, but all out on the river.  Gives them a perspective that a lot of them need.

How long have you been guiding?

Got my first license in 1968 (47 years ago). Middle Fork License Number is 2203 , but didn’t get a MF license until 1978.

How many Middle Fork trips have you done?

Couldn’t tell you. Averaged as few as 4 and as many as 9-10 in a year.  But also guided on other rivers.

So close to 500 Middle Fork trips?

Probably not that many because I had a hiatus during the Lewis and Clark bicentennial. We floated the last 18 miles of Lewis and Clark’s trip with my big canoe so I wasn’t over here then.

How long have you worked for Solitude?

Before it was Solitude, it was River Adventure Float Trips out of Grants Pass, OR.  Started with him in 1978 and started with Al in 1990 when he bought the business from River Adventure Float Trips.

So cool you have been with this permit for 3 owners.

Describe your path to becoming a river guide.

Probably several things happened, but I would say when I was 11 or 12 years old, growing up on the McKenzie River, I caught a 22” rainbow trout.  This guy comes by on a drift boat, I held up my fish and the guy told me how good it looked.  I asked him, “how many have you got?” He showed me his fish box and he had 4 or 5 bigger than mine.  It was Prince Helfrich who was kind of a pioneer of river guiding.  Prince used to own timber and my father was a forester.  My father was at a meeting and the two of them got to talking and turns out my dad says, “do you know who you saw on the river?” I asked him who and he said, “oh that’s Prince Helfrich – he takes people fishing and they pay him.” And I said, “oh really you can get paid to go fishing?!” So that’s probably really where it started.

What is the most rewarding part of guiding?

Having someone who’s never caught a fish or never seen something really spectacular outside and just get excited about it.  Just because you’re exposing them to it.

What is the most frustrating part of guiding?

That’s a pretty tough question.  When you get tired, you can get frustrated with stuff that doesn’t happen how it should.  But it’s so good most of the time you don’t have to worry about that.

What makes guiding on the Middle Fork special?

It’s a dynamic river. You always have to be looking because it is always changing.  No electronics and no roads.  You can just be real for a change.

Have you ever thought about moving on from guiding and why did or didn’t you?

The best way to answer that is something my father told me - he said, “do something you like to do because you’ll always do your best.” So... I like this.

Who inspires you as a guide?

Over the years lots of different people.  Guides and customers.  That’s the neat thing about it.  People will have one job like an accountant and they see their accounting friends and accounting customers. But we see a cross section of everybody so you get ideas and introduced to stuff every trip.

How do you take care of yourself during the guiding season?

I don’t stay up as late as some of the guys.

Do you have any memorable big lines?

Middle Fork at 8’8” is pretty exciting.  That trip we had a guy who had an affliction that if he got excited, he fainted.  We were heading into Redside rapid and someone had to hold on to him because he fainted.  If he would’ve fallen out of the boat we would have lost him.  He woke up later and we put him on the sweep boat and told him he couldn’t ride in a raft again.

Do you have a memorable rewarding moment as a guide?

We had Sandra Day O’Connor on a trip.  She would ride on different boats and for the first three days of the trip she hadn’t caught any fish when everyone else had.  She gets in my boat the last morning and catches several. She said, “Now Mike, don’t worry, it doesn’t matter if we don’t catch anything.”  But... she did. 

What other well known people have you taken down the river?

Tim Robbins and Susan Sarandon.  I was invited to take the president down the Rogue, but had to turn it down because I had someone else scheduled.

What’s your favorite rapid?

I like Velvet Falls.  Especially at high water because you have to be on it.  In a drift boat at least.

Tell us about your drift boat.

It’s a McKenzie River Drift Boat – built for flyfishing. 

Did you build your boat?
Yes.  Both the drift boat and canoe.

What advice would you give an aspiring guide?

Don’t get over confident.

Being a boater from Oregon, why do you choose to spend your summers on the Middle Fork of the Salmon in Idaho?

Lot of the rivers in Oregon have dams on them and this one doesn’t so as the snow melt goes, the river changes.  That’s what is fun about it.

Thanks Mike and have a great rest of your season!

GUIDE OF THE MONTH: SITA VAUGHAN, WHITE CLOUD

Guide of the Month, Interview

Interviewed by Brian Chaffin

Name: Sita Vaughan

Hometown: Gainesville, FL

Job Title at White Cloud: River Guide

Off-Season Passions/Career/Jobs:
My most recent new passion is kiteboarding. I also enjoy snowboarding, rock climbing, fly fishing, hiking, biking... Really, I'm up for any adventure. I usually work 8 months of the year and travel and visit friends and family the remaining months. In the winter I serve tables in high-end restaurants and teach snowboarding on the side.

Years Guiding:
This year is my thirteenth year.

Describe your path to becoming a river guide.
I was working a corporate job. I had my paid vacation each year, but I think two weeks just wasn't enough. I decided to try to model my life around jobs that were a little more exciting and I moved to Stanley, Idaho.

What’s the most rewarding part of your work?
I like watching my clients transform during the trip. Nervous children on the brink of tears opening up and riding the bull; over cautious mothers sitting back and wearing a relaxed smile...I feel the joy through my guests. Oh - and watching my whole paddle boat get swallowed in a hole. I like that too.

The most frustrating or challenging?
Some people are very hard to please. I take it as a challenge. That can be the most rewarding.

Have you ever thought of moving on from guiding? Why did/didn’t you?
I did take the last two summers off to work somewhere else and made a ton of money doing it. But the joy was draining from my heart and both years I came back to Idaho in the fall to get one Middle Fork or Main Salmon in. I had to come back. Happiness is more important to me than money. I am sure of that.

Who inspires you as a guide?
Oh, tons of guides have played a role in building me. It is hard to name a few. I don't want to make anyone feel left out. I will say I am very thankful that I had the opportunity to work on the Payette. That helped in my training immensely. Thank you Sean and Ginger for taking me in that year.

What inspires you as a guide?                                                                                                I remember guest guiding with Idaho Whitewater Unlimited. They took a line through Gateway Rapid I had never seen or even imagined. I still look at it every time I run the rapid.                                                    

How do you take care of yourself during the guiding season?
Cocoa butter, coconut oil, stretching, and the occasional happy hour.

Tell us the story of your first commercial run.
I wish I could remember it.

Any memorable big lines?
It took me 7 years of trying, but I finally dump trucked in surprise rapid. They were my friends, not paying guests. And they were all good sports and down for a swim. I would never take people through that line if I didn't think they could handle it.

What advice would you give an aspiring river guide?
Be brave and confident. Your guests can smell fear.

Why Idaho?
When I was becoming a guide, I chose Idaho because I had an aunt living in Ketchum. I was encouraged to stay near family in case I injured myself. My aunt has since moved, and my new family is the community. I feel so much love from everyone when I come to Idaho.

Thanks Sita and have a great season!

Know an Idaho guide that goes above and beyond? Nominate them for Redside Guide of the Month by e-mailing media@redsidefoundation.org. GOTM scores Redside and Chacos Footwear swag...and every guide needs another pair of sandals and a trucker hat!

PACKING FOR THE MIDDLE FORK

From the upcoming river tales sequel to Halfway to Halfway.

Words by Bob Volpert

What’s so damn hard about packing for a Middle Fork trip? It's no more than six days and five nights. What could that possibly amount to? Five clean shirts for camp, four or five tee shirts to wear on the boat, a couple pair of shorts, a baseball cap, a toothbrush, sunscreen, and maybe a cheap rain poncho. I’m only going for the first two days of our trip.  I won’t need anywhere close to all the crap that Idaho River Journeys suggests guests bring, and besides, I’ve done this enough times to pack in my sleep.  No list for me, and certainly no reason to pay attention to the admonitions from my wife, Mary. Although I pretend to listen, I give her words no merit.

Even after packing the essentials and adding a towel, a couple of packs of beef-jerky, two Snickers bars and an extra set of flashlight batteries, my stuff is impressively compact. Nothing speaks to experience and competence like packing for a river trip and filling less than half a dry-bag.

When Mary and I check in at the Mountain Village Lodge in Stanley the afternoon of our pre-trip meeting, one of the lodge managers off-handedly mentions that colder temps are in the forecast. Big deal, I think to myself. How cold can it get?

Early the next morning our guests with all of their waterproof bags and assorted gear, board an assortment of craft and enthusiastically head downstream on the Middle Fork. It’s an exhilarating day. Spectacular scenery, breathtaking whitewater, sunny skies, and a spirited group of friendly people. We get to camp around 4:30. Folks find tents and change out of wet clothing, and we spend the late afternoon visiting with each other, enjoying a glass of wine, playing cards, and relishing just being at a beautiful place. The guides serve dinner and before dessert build a campfire which nearly the entire group of guests and guides encircle.

I haven’t changed clothes since we landed at camp and I am still wearing my river attire, shorts, tee shirt, and sandals. As the sun begins to descend I feel a hint of a chill in the air. Should have brought a long pair of pants, but I didn’t. My shorts and tee shirt are a still a little damp, and the thought of slipping on a dry capilene or fleece top is appealing. But I didn’t bring one. I’ve got a cotton sweater in my bag and I fetch that. It handles the dipping sun and related descending air temperature fine – for a while. Scooting closer and closer to the campfire also helps to address my creeping discomfort. My feet are cold. I wish I could slip on a pair of warm, wool socks. But I didn’t bring those either.

Borrowing some warm gear from one of the guides, among whom is my son Skip, would offer a simple and quick solution to my thermal needs.  But I’m hesitant to do that. I’m weighing the benefit of warmth versus the embarrassment of my “experience counts when packing” rants. I endure my shivering as long as possible before I feign fatigue and slink away towards the tent I’m sharing with Skip. It’s early June and the hills are lightly illuminated. In an hour or so the cloudless sky will be star-studded. We’re camped at over 5,000 feet at the northern end of the Rocky Mountains. The setting is exquisite, but the clear sky portends steadily dropping temperatures.  

Back at the tent, I dump my waterproof bag on one of the sleeping pads and rummage through the contents. Must be more stuff in there. So I shake the bag again but nothing emerges. I know it’s here somewhere, likely under the clothing I’ve piled on the pad. But it isn’t. No sleeping bag. My personal warmth crisis has taken an ominous turn. The only sleeping bag in the tent is Skip’s. For now I use it like a shawl and drape it over myself. The warmth gives me an opportunity to think through my options. Embarrassment is becoming less important, and is being overshadowed by this new dilemma.

An option comes to mind but I reject it.  Skip isn’t going to share his sleeping bag with me, so there is little sense in pursuing that one. The next solution seems ridiculous in hindsight. Our sleeping pads are thick and provide good ground insulation. I might be able to use one as intended, and the other as a cover. I drag both of the pads from the tent and try out my idea. The pads are so firm that the top one won’t stay in place and just slides off my body. I lie on my back and realize that if someone were to see me they would mistake me for an ice-cream sandwich.

The stars are starting to pop out. I watch a satellite streak near the horizon before returning the pads to the tent. Just like in one of those crime novels where the clue that solves the mystery comes out of left field, my sitting in the tent on a pad and looking up at the top of the tent sparks a solution. I’ll take the rain-fly off the tent, spread it on the ground and wrap myself in it by lying on a far corner flap and rolling to the opposite end. I figure that the multiple rolls that it will take to get to the other side should create enough insulation to stay warm. But I’ll be wrapped like a burrito and unable to move. If I have to get up in the night, I’ll never be able to re-encapsulate myself. I’m running out of ideas when I spot a flashlight heading in my direction. Skip arrives at our abode.

“We have a problem,” I say.  I proceed to explain that it appears that I don’t have a sleeping bag. “We have a problem?” Skip responds, and mutters some comment about my packing skills. The solution we come up with isn’t as draconian as I envisioned. We unzip Skip’s bag and spread it out like a quilt. It doesn’t fully cover either of us, but for one night it will be okay.   
 
It’s a chilly uncomfortable night.  I finally sleep soundly from around 5 to 6:30 and awaken to an empty tent and the early light of day. I wrap the sleeping bag around me and manage another half-hour of warm dozing. There is a Patagonia jacket near the tent door, left for me by my son. I put it on and head towards the camp kitchen where our crew is prepping breakfast. I expect to hear a full ration of deserved sarcasm about my packing skills, but the crew says nothing. Rachael hands me a cup of coffee. We all exchange good mornings and I join the few guests who are up, sitting near the morning fire. Everyone is talking about it being chilly. But no one so much as hints about my trip prep or bedding arrangement. I realize that they don’t know about it.

After breakfast, the guests carry their bags and tents to our gear boat and Skip secures everything to the sweep rig. I’ll be leaving the group at Indian Creek, a landing strip ten or so miles downstream. I hop on Skip’s rig for the ride. The sun is rising, the air is warm, and it’s going to be another spectacular day. We depart camp ahead of the group and make it to Indian Creek in less than three hours.  Skip never mentions my packing misadventure or our sleeping arrangements. When we get to Indian Creek, I jump off the boat as Skip unties my bag and tosses it to me. I wave goodbye and head to the waiting plane for the short flight back to Stanley.

As many dads will tell you, there is a never-ending game of one-upmanship between father and son. My youngest has kept quiet about my packing fiasco but he has silently stored the details for future retrieval. In the past day a chip has changed hands. I know that my leaving the group at Indian Creek will not be the end of the story.

Guides - have a campfire story, river anecdote, ode to a river friend or tall tale to share? Submit your story to bobvolpert [at] gmail [dot] com. Upon selection authors will be awarded $100 and a place in river libraries for decades to come.

GUIDE OF THE MONTH: MAT MCGRATH, ZOOTOWN SURFERS

Interviewed by Emerald LaFortune

Name: Mat McGrath

Hometown: Missoula, MT

Job Title at Zootown Surfers: Lead Guide

Job Title during NOT Lochsa Season: Bicycle mechanic and nordic ski technician at Open Road Bicycle and Nordic Equipment

What got you started on the Lochsa?

I first fell in love with the Lochsa in 2005 when a good friend offered up a cheap trip to a crew of mutual friends.  I remember hearing the "safety talk" on the side of the river and thinking to myself "what have I gotten myself into".  Of course our raft along with a couple others quickly turned over in the falls and the yard sale started.  As I crawled out onto shore with 3 paddles in hand all I could think about was how much fun it was and I couldn't wait to try it again.  I continued to show up and paddle for small group trips whenever they needed the bodies.  I was hooked.  I showed up every weekend with high hopes of getting on the water, I slowly learned the names of all the rapids and all the lines, by the time I was asked to officially work the spring of 2008 I knew I was hooked on the Lochsa and would never miss a day.

What was your first commercial run on the Lochsa?

I had a pretty memorable first run.  We were up top at White Pine for the 30 mile epic trip and I was super nervous. It was a high water day and I knew it was gonna be a big day.  We were doing great having a blast knocking off the river miles when it was time to tighten the PFD straps and run Castle Rock and Triple Hole. As we successfully made our way around the giant rock at the bottom the crew started to celebrate, the boat hit the eddy line and rocked sharply to the left.  A young lady was smashed out of the boat and into the "champagne" water by her boyfriend sitting opposite her. I quickly reached out to pull her in and when she looked up she had gotten her front tooth broken out. We pulled the trip over and began patching her up best we could.  She was an allstar and never complained once, rafted 20 more miles, ate lunch as best as she could and continued to show back up for 3 or so years with a bigger and bigger crew. Her name was Wendy and I'll never forget that trip.

Do you guide on other rivers besides the Lochsa?

I do some guiding on the Alberton Gorge after the Lochsa has tapered off but mostly look forward to some private trips with my wife and friends. After a good Lochsa season I'm usually ready to hang up the drysuit for some board shorts and single day whitewater trips turn into long multi days and sandy beaches. 

How is the Lochsa different to guide than other rivers?

I think the Lochsa is so special to me because of the "fun" factor that can't be found on other rivers. Big waves and crushing holes followed by good swims and large pools to pick things up in. You get the beauty of the Selway Wilderness on one side with pristine clear creeks running in and the safety of the road on the other side. While the wild side of the river can attract the person looking to go big and swim it also provides a scenic side that is great for the family. There isn't a bad level on the Lochsa either, from 3000 CFS in the preseason in April, to the 20,000 CFS in May/ June and everything in between. There is always a good run to be had out there.

Who inspires you as a guide?

I have had many inspirations as a guide over the years from my good friend and former boss Justin Walsh, who taught me many life lessons on and off the river. Jason Shreder from Zootown surfers and his passion to be out on the water and share his love for it with anyone and everyone. So many names come to mind of people I have met along the way that have shared the same love of rivers and passion for adventure. 

Favorite Lochsa Falls memory?

One of my favorite Lochsa falls memory happened a while back. It was another high water day out there and we had 4 or 5 rafts on the water. As we worked our way down the river we had begun to collect quite the road crew following us and watching the show from the road. As we approached the falls we began to come up on another large group but they were working towards the left side "sneak" and the road crew was letting them know there disapproval with loud boos and screams. The Zootown Crew not missing a beat, lined up and began dropping into the "meat" of the falls one by one knowing we all had each others backs. As we passed by the other group the road crowd erupted into cheers hooting and hollering with approval. It was a moment of great pride for every guide working that day!

Does conflict ever arise between you and your coworkers? If so, about what? How do you approach/mitigate it?

I think conflict is going to arise all the time out on river trips. You have to be flexible out there and realize its not always gonna go the way you wanted it to. We at Zootown strive to always maintain the good attitude on the river and just kind of deal with whatever happens to arise at the time. Once back at the headquarters as we slosh gear through the wash cycle we can break down what happened out on the water and talk through the days problems in a way that is productive and understanding. We aren't trying to finger point or be little any person we just try and get everyone back on the same line and work towards being even better on the next trip out. I think that amount of time where everyone can talk face to face and no one is a boss or underneath anyone in the totem pole really gives us an opportunity to learn from our own and others mistakes.

What advice would you give to someone who wanted to become a Lochsa guide?

My best words of advice to a new guide is to show up ready to do anything. Always stay busy and never ask if there is something to do. There is ALWAYS something to do.  Other than that having a team attitude and a good set of rain gear always helps.

Have you ever thought of moving on from guiding? Why did/didn’t you?

I think at some point everyone has to move on from the guiding lifestyle.  I think the lifestyle can add strain to relationships and you miss out on a lot of other river opportunities being committed to a single river during prime runoff. The body can take a serious beating and sometimes its hard to make it through a season staying healthy and injury free.  I don't think I will ever lose my love for the Lochsa itself but when you lose the passion to share it I think its time to move on. 

Why Idaho?

Idaho...the whitewater state, beautiful hot springs, amazing trail access and pristine wilderness. What's not to love?

Anything else I should know about your work, guiding, Idaho, etc? 

Our mission is simple at ZooTown Surfers:  We want to share our passion for spending time on the rivers by creating experiences and opportunities that will bring out the best in you.  Any day on the water is a good day.

Thanks Mat and have a great season!

SHOW THE WAY, MAKE A DECISION: A KEYNOTE ADDRESS ON GUIDING AND CONSERVATION IN IDAHO BY RICK JOHNSON

Rick Johnson, the Executive Director of the Idaho Conservation League, addressed a group of over 30 guides and Idaho river professionals during the 4th Annual Idaho River Rendezvous in Stanley Idaho last weekend. Rick has been a tireless conservation professional in Idaho for over twenty years. Rick has helped grow the size, impact, and credibility of the Idaho Conservation League and has helped reshape the practice of conservation in Idaho and beyond.  He is a recognized leader in conservation strategy and organizational development and has worked across party lines to help pass Idaho's last two wilderness bills in the Boulder White Clouds and Owyhees. You can contact Rick or the Idaho Conservation League here.

Rick's political standing is his own. Here at Redside we resonated with his ability to communicate the way guides can care for their backcountry "offices" and engage with Idaho as a state.

Rick's keynote address is reprinted below.I thought I’d start with something from a book I keep in my drybox. It’s the beginning of a poem by Jim Harrison, from "Theory and Practice of Rivers".

The rivers of my life: moving looms of light, anchored beneath the log at night I can see the moon up through the water

as shattered milk, the nudge
of fishes, belly and back
in turn grating against log
and bottom; and letting go, the current lifts me up and out

into the dark, gathering morning, drifting into an eddy
with a sideways swirl,
the sandbar cooler than the air: to speak it clearly,

how the water goes
is how the earth is shaped.

I often get introduced as representing Idaho’s leading voice for conservation. There is truth to that. But as a look around the room, I think of who you are.

You are staff for one of the most important conservation voices in the nation.

You are interpreters, bringing sense to the language of the river.
You are ambassadors of the wilderness for the United Nations.
You’re a magician, able to take piles of gear and inflated rubber, and make that into a tight, safe and sound boat.
You are a shaman: you bring life to the scenery.
You bring intimacy to the great expanse.
You bring comfort and warmth.
You are a chef, firing up the stove and making sense of the coolers.
You are a storyteller, around a fire, on sites occupied by people for millennia.
You are a weaver, threading a line over Velvet, over and through Ladle, over Salmon Falls.
You are a coach and help bring competence to people visiting the outdoors.

You are a guide. You are a guide. Think about the word.

As a noun, guide has two definitions: You show the way. And you help someone make a decision.

The first one is easy. Of course you show the way. But in doing all the things you do as part of that process, you also inform a thought process, and guide an experience to a logical conclusion.

A conclusion that wild rivers matter.
That clean water matters.
That public land matters. That this is what makes Idaho, Idaho. This is what makes America, America
Under a blanket of stars, fire sparks rising up into the infinity, with the soundtrack of the flowing river, you help lead people to a conclusion that all this matters.
That wilderness matters. That Idaho matters.

The Idaho Conservation League was founded on that theme over 40 years ago. To keep Idaho, Idaho.

I’ve been a guide too. I’m confident in the wilderness. It is that confidence and competence in the wildest parts of Idaho that got me into this work. I love the Idaho Wilderness.

But where I’ve been a guide is in the scariest wilderness of all: Washington, DC.

But before I was a guide, perhaps like you, I was in water over my head. I was swimming through rapids. I was energized by the idealism of the naïve and the energy of the clueless. Kind of like some private trips I’ve passed by...

Back then I was a volunteer. I carried a stack of large photographs and I was trying to talk to Congress about Idaho wilderness. I was in my early 20s.

We all have our epiphanies, these moments of life where you say to yourself: this is it. Sometimes you know it in the moment, a little god light comes down from the sky. Chamber music. Or maybe some Bob Marley. But in those singular moments, you know you are in the right place and that this moment, this very moment, is going to matter forever.

It was on one of those first trips to DC, not unlike seeing my first grizzly or my first wild salmon, that I had my epiphany.

It was after a week in Washington, DC, where after 5 days wearing my feet raw, I sat in a conference room in the Sierra Club’s old office on Pennsylvania Ave. I was in the Alaska Room. Tim Mahoney threw me a beer. Tim ran the Sierra Club’s public lands program.

Do you remember that first beer given to you by a professional you admire? Nothing tastes better.

I was in the very room that three short years before, amazing things had happened. This was the room where the coalition met to create and pass the Alaska Lands Act. Idaho’s own Cecil Andrus steered much of this process, as Secretary of the Interior, and Tim told me stories of those meetings, just a couple years before.

This was also the room, in far-off DC, where the conservation community gathered to pass the bill to protect the Middle Fork and Main Salmon, where the River of No Return bill was strategized, organized and then passed. Frank Church steered that process, and again, one of Idaho’s own.

Those two bills both passed in the same year. 1980. Amazing accomplishments, and led by Idaho leaders, Idaho conservationists who loved the rivers where you all work, who helped save the rivers you all work.

Hearing those stories, being in that room, drinking what became more beers... That’s when I really learned that conservation could be a vocation, a job, a career. That was my epiphany. I knew right then my life was changed. I had found my work.

In the last summer of the 1970s, I took my first walk in the White Cloud Mountains. Into the 80’s I spent countless nights in the Boulder and White Cloud Mountain Ranges. I was part of a 10-day ski traverse in 1985. The pictures of that trip are funny today. Leather boots, Rottefella bindings with a Volee plate and rag wool socks.

Back then all across Idaho the talk was about wilderness. There were wilderness bills all across the West. In 1984 there were bills in every Western state. But nothing passed in Idaho. Nothing passed for two reasons: Frank Church was gone, and our team had gotten too extreme, certainly too extreme for the conservative politics that came forward in the Reagan era.

After that epiphany in Washington DC, I managed to work my way into a job with the Idaho Conservation League. But not long after, I got another job, with the Sierra Club. It was then, as a professional, that I became skilled at what I do. I learned to read the water rather than focus on the rocks, how to ship my oars when things got tight and how to bring along others.

Conservation is an art. Just like what you do, what I do is a craft, practiced over time. You learn this work, like any other, by learning from others, by watching, and by getting wet.

21 years ago I came back to Idaho. Wilderness work had, for all practical purposes, died out. Politics had become more extreme and polarized—on both sides—and this was particularly true in Idaho. And it was my job to start making conservation progress again.

When you’re on a river, you don’t get to look at a wave train or set of boulders and wish it was different. You have to deal with it. That’s the same for me. In politics, you can hope it was better, or you deal with what you’ve got.

I wanted to protect the White Clouds and to do so we began working with Rep. Mike Simpson, a conservative Republican from Idaho. We met many times. I took him on a flight right out of here, in Stanley, over those mountains. I introduced him to places and to people.

We began to craft a path forward. This was 15 years ago. It was a path based on compromise. Everyone had to give a little. This wasn’t easy in an era where no one speaks of compromise any more. Simpson said many times, if we succeeded at this the two of us would so anger our bases that we’d both need new jobs.

So I’m trying to save wilderness and I’m working with a Republican. Some thought this crazy. I knew I had to meet Bethine Church, Frank Church’s widow. She was both an inspirational conservationist, she was also a powerful Democrat. I was sure she’d be mad. We talked a long time, first over iced tea, and then with something stronger.

“I have only one thing to say to you,” she said, leaning forward with those steady warm eyes. “I’m disappointed it took so long to figure this out.”

We created a compromise based on collaboration. We bridged the divide between the right and the left, and as a wilderness movement we met in the center. But we’d entered one of the most dysfunctional and polarized periods in Congressional history. The center, there was no one else there.

Simpson introduced 10 versions of his bill over 15 years. First, we were stopped by the left. Then, we were stopped by the right. Over and over we tried, one legislative strategy after another.

A couple years ago I got a call from Cecil Andrus. Cecil was elected governor four times. He was Secretary of Interior for Jimmy Carter, and was the architect for the Alaska Lands Act, which protected over 100 million acres of Alaska parks and wilderness, the greatest wilderness bill of all time. Andrus had helped many times in our work with Simpson. He’d provided advice and opened a few doors. But this time he said, Congress has failed. We’ve tried everything, and while we both have the highest respect for Simpson, it’s time to use the tool we used in Alaska. It’s time to use the Antiquities Act.

And so we moved away from Congress and created a National Monument campaign. This was very controversial. A monument can be created by presidential proclamation, and this president is not too popular in Idaho.

For two years we built that campaign. How a bunch of Idaho folks created one of the most high-profile monument campaigns in the nation is it’s own story. We did a very good job. We’d created a very serious national effort.

Obama has designated 22 monuments so far. I think he’ll soon do another in Maine. President Barack Obama has now created more national monuments than any president in American history.

Last year we knew one of two things would happen. Either we’d successfully create a national monument, or we’d create sufficient new pressure here in Idaho to get interest groups who’d opposed Simpson to regroup, and help us pass Simpson’s wilderness bill.

Few believed either would work. I knew one would and so did Mike Simpson. Simpson knew the time was now, and we had to throw everything at it. He wanted to pass his wilderness bill, to be sure, but he supported our effort to create leverage and if he failed, to create the monument. And it worked.

On a Thursday in late July, after 15 years, Rep. Simpson’s bill passed the US House without a single objection.

On the following Tuesday, it passed the US Senate.

And then on Wednesday, I got a call from the White House inviting me to the bill signing.I flew to Washington, DC, on Thursday, one week after it had passed the House, and Friday, with Mike Simpson was in the West Wing of the White House. As we prepared to walk into the Oval Office, I asked Mike Simpson what he thought. So much work, suddenly drawing to close.

“You know, it’s not real yet,” he told me, “It’s all happened so fast.”

A few moments later President Barack Obama opened the door to the Oval Office and invited the group in. And Simpson told me, “It’s getting more real now.”

Next weekend, a short way from here at Redfish Lake, we’ll have our annual conference. Rep. Simpson will be there. I hear he’s bringing champagne.

Let’s bring this back around. Back to you. Back to the river. Back to you being a guide.

Make sure to tell the stories. Wilderness is protected by real people who busted their ass to get these things done. Regular Idaho people. The Selway was designated in 1964, and people like Doris Milner and Mort Brigham made it so. Frank Church carried that bill, as part of the original wilderness act in 1964. Imagine the original wilderness act, which created the strongest level of protection our nation has, was carried through the Senate by a politician from Idaho.

In 1968, Frank Church carried the National Wild and Scenic Rivers Act through Congress.

In 1980, he passed the bill to protect the Middle Fork and Main. Frank Church’s name is on this wilderness because he carried that one over the line. Cecil Andrus was in on that one too as Sec of Interior. But it was saved because of citizens, regular people, like Ernie Day, Ted Trueblood, Nelle Tobias, and so many more.

These are special places. Sacred places. Special people saved them. And today, many of them are gone. Now you carry their spirit, you and now are the guides. You kindle the fire, rekindle the fire, it’s up to you to know and share the spirit.

Howard Zahniser helped write the original Wilderness Act. He wrote it in iambic pentameter to ensure it flowed as it should, not like a law, but like literature.

“We are engaged in an effort,” he wrote, “that may well be expected to continue until its right consummation, by our successors if it need be. Working to preserve in perpetuity is a great inspiration. We are not fighting progress we are making it. We are not fighting a rear guard action, we are facing a frontier. We are not slowing down a force that inevitably will destroy all wilderness there is. We are generating another force, never to be wholly spent, that, renewed generation after generation, will always be effective in preserving wilderness. We are not fighting progress. We are making it. We are not dealing with a vanishing wilderness. We are working for a wilderness forever.”

There is a mine proposed up Big Creek above the Middle Fork. There are others upstream from the Main Salmon. Even more crazy, there are serious proposals in Idaho for our public lands, lands held in trust for all Americans, to be handed over to the state, much of which would be sold.

Climate Change. A leading climate thinker says that climate will impact the next generation--that would be yours--more than the internet has impacted mine. In the face of climate change, our wilderness is some of the most resilient habitat on planet earth. Scientists call it a ‘climate shield.’ We have some of the highest elevation salmon habitat on the planet, the most resilient.

And about those salmon in the river. What more amazing story is that? Salmon, born in Idaho, who travel all the way to the ocean, life a full life, and then swim all the way back. All the way back to Idaho. To spawn and to die. Those big trees, ever wonder how those big ponderosas grow so tall on the Middle Fork? Growing so tall from sand? The nutrients brought in from the sea by the life cycle of salmon.

You may be guiding the last American citizens who could see wild salmon in the Salmon River. These are all stories to tell.

You are a guide. You are a guide, not just showing the way, but helping guide your people to conclusions. That wilderness matters. That people can do great things.

Frank Church took President Jimmy Carter down the Middle Fork. You don’t know who is on your trips. It may be a kid who’ll row rivers. It may be someone who saves them. Make the most of it. Step up. Be an evangelist for wilderness and for the spirit that draws you to the river, and to me to helping save those rivers.

Wallace Stegner, a great writer, called where we are, the American West, the “native home of hope.” He also said we’d know we’d succeeded when we “create a society to match the scenery.”

Together we love these places.
Together we will float the wild rivers.
Guides interpret the songs of the river, the language of pines.
Anybody can go there. It takes special people to keep us there.
To keep us there.
To keep the rivers alive.
To keep what’s out there in here, in our hearts. This is the work of guides. You and me.

I always walk into a room and look around, trying to sense what matters to the group. Today, I read something on one of your arms, a tattoo. It said, “20 years from now you’ll be more disappointed by what you didn’t do than by what you did.”

Go big. Reach our into the wild heart of Idaho and share it. Interpret it. Love it, shape it, and give that to your guests. Change their lives. It’s how we make our lives worth living.

DREAMING OF SUMMER ON THE SALMON RIVER

by Seth Dahl, Big Cedar Media

Originally posted on Go Idaho.

During the grey and cold days of winter, I find myself sitting in my apartment daydreaming about a place and a people I’ve grown to love. This deep admiration started ten years ago when I first experienced a six-day river trip down Idaho’s Middle Fork of the Salmon River. I soon traveled from Montana seasonally to work this stunning stretch of water and for eight years now I have accumulated many fond memories.

The Middle Fork flows wild and free for 100 miles through the heart of the Frank Church-River of No Return Wilderness. It drops almost 3,000 feet during its trip, crashing through numerous rapids with names like “Pistol Creek” and “Devil’s Tooth.” Its scenery changes from high alpine forest to mountain desert and finishes with a bang as it cuts through a steep rocky gorge named the “Impassable Canyon.” It is a unique trip and a natural treasure.

I often think about those warm sweep boat days bathed in golden light. The sun drops low in the sky and the craft is pulled by a free current. The flying insects are illuminated amongst the tall grass and the pine and fir trees cast shadows across the river. The birds sing with the sounds of the river and water laps the floor of the sweep. Together, their voices became harmony to my ears and in that moment I feel truly alive!

I think about the guides around me. They seem to complete this place with their smiling faces and wild eyes. They are strong, genuine, and friendly. Their lives, in many ways, reflect the wild and scenic river they work. As the season turns to spring they emulate the Chinook salmon and make their way back to the river, year after year.

These men and women come from many backgrounds and range in age and experience. They are the river’s ambassadors sharing its history and stories. Some are artists and musicians and others study the plants and animals of the area. These people are backcountry medics and Dutch oven masters. As river guides they are skilled boatman and they are a crafty and resilient bunch. They are Idahoans.

I think about the coming river season. Soon we will move downriver and gather around a campfire. There will be stories and good food. At night I will sleep under the stars and be filled with gratitude, forever thankful, for a community, and a wild river that has carved its course through my life.

9 WAYS A GUIDE COULD SPEND THEIR TAX RETURN

Written by Emerald LaFortune

Luckily, tax return season and April (often a lean time of year for those who work a summer season) overlap. The IRS did that on purpose, right? If a chunk of change is coming your way this spring, consider investing it in your summer season in these nine ways.

1. A storage unit. Likely, you’ve just rounded up all your gear, kitchen utensils and books from various friend’s basements and Mom’s garage. You’ll never see that favorite flannel shirt again and your dry top gaskets look suspiciously stretched out by wrists not your own. You’ve got a blender but no lid and that cardboard box of books smells suspiciously like cat pee. What if there was a system where you could just rent a garage and not a full house? It could be a big metal box with a sliding door and no stairs…oh wait - this exists. A storage unit can be your only house rather than your overflow house. A storage unit is a worthy summer investment for those who’d prefer not to store their life in Rubbermaid bins behind their car at the guide house.

2. An oil change. For many guides, our wheels are home sweet home. Often the rural places we guide from aren’t known for their superb auto mechanic resources. Give your rig TLC now to avoid the “stranded between McCall and Stanley with a busted head gasket the night before a six day trip” event we’ve all come close to.

3. A PO box. Did you laugh when your friend complained about filing their taxes? And you explained that you’ve worked for 5 different companies in 4 different states AND contracted out as a small business? A PO box can go a long way to helping you keep bank statements, birthday cards from Grandma and all those W-2s in one place.

4. Gear repair. Re-strapping your Chacos, pressure testing your dry suit, 303ing dry bags, oiling your hiking boots, checking over your safety gear… spring is the time for a thorough gear assessment. Dealing with gear issues now lets you take advantage of sweet pro deals and warranties rather than making panicked visits to the expensive gear store twenty minutes before put in.

5. Doctors appointments. Ughhhhhhhh. I know, I know. This one. Long days physically and emotionally as a guide mean extra wear and tear on both your body and your brain. As a guide you have to take care of yourself to take care of others. Go to the dentist, get that STI screening, have the mole on the back of your hand looked at, check in with a mental health professional. We know that the cost of doctor appointment can quickly outstrip tax return income. If the idea of deciphering insurance or being in town long enough to schedule an appointment is too overwhelming, stop by the Redside sponsored health fair at this year's Idaho River Rendezvous.

6. A gift for your significant other. Being in the field all season can be hard on relationships. Whether or not your loved one is a guide, a thoughtful gift or handwritten letter saying “thanks for putting up with my crazy job” can go a long way. If your significant other is a dog, this still applies.

7. Dinner with that guide that has their sh&@* together. We have a lot of career guides in Idaho - the type that have a mortgage, take their kids to soccer practice, and return home after a trip to a shower not infested with weird foot fungus. Spend some of your tax return on a bottle of wine and make a dinner date with them and their family. It’s important to remember that guiding doesn’t necessarily need to be synonymous with complete life upheaval once a year. Continue to explore all the different ways “guide life” can manifest.

8. A fall investment. Whether it’s a class, a deposit on an apartment, a plane ticket to see friends or an hour-long massage, scheduling something to look forward to in the fall can help alleviate the post-season blues. You’ll be too exhausted come August to make the effort then. Schedule it in now - you’ll be glad you did.

9. An adventure. You spend all summer helping others have the adventure of a life time. You do work that helps connect families, inspires people to protect wild landscapes and teaches guests to trust their own abilities. Whether it’s a day on the water with friends, a climbing trip to the desert, or skiing the last spring corn of spring, take some time to give yourself an adventure too. Connect to your family, inspire yourself in the wild landscape you love and remember the extent of your abilities. It’s sure to be tax return well invested into a busy upcoming season.

How do you spend your tax return before guiding season? Leave us a comment!

GUIDE OF THE MONTH: SARA LUNDY, SAWTOOTH MOUNTAIN GUIDES

hotography by Tanner Haskins & Scott Knickerbocker

Interviewed by Emerald LaFortune

Name:  Sara Lundy
Hometown:  New Meadows, Idaho
Current Location:  Stanley, Idaho
Job Title at Sawtooth Mountain Guides (SMG): Co-Owner and Guide
Years Guiding: 15 years

How did you become an SMG guide?

After attending the College of Idaho, I had been working in Stanley during the summers and decided to try a winter season.  I lived at Papa Brunees and made pizza a couple of nights a week. I met Kirk Bachman, the founder of SMG, and started to help haul loads up to the Williams Peak Hut. I became the hut keeper, hut cook, and assistant guide. By 2003 I had enough experience and training to get my first ski guides license.

You have been a river guide as well?  

I got my first Idaho guides license in 2001 as a river guide for Sawtooth Adventure Company on the day stretch of the Salmon near Stanley.  I had only ever done a few private trips (mostly with Telly!) but Jared Hopkinson took a chance and put me on the stick. I ended up working 4 years on the day stretch and 9 years full time on the Middle Fork. I still run a few Middle Fork trips every year with Jared at Rocky Mountain River Tours.

What’s the most rewarding part of your work?

Introducing people to wilderness experiences that they wouldn't have had otherwise. I love the mountains and rivers and wilderness! Time spent in the wild fixes most things - it's meditative and rejuvenating, it untangles my brain and refills my reserves.  And at the same time it's challenging in all the right ways - physically, mentally and often emotionally. The wilderness experience is a core necessity for me so it's extremely satisfying to share that with others. It's really rewarding to help a first time camper set up a tent and witness them enjoy the simplest camp stove dinner like it's a 3-star michelin experience. And it's just as rewarding to belay a long-time skier into the 50 degree couloir she'd been eyeing for years but needed a little technical help to enter.

The most frustrating?  

As with any profession, the frustrations change over time. I remember early on trying to piece together enough work to survive and now as a business owner there's not enough time for the work.

Have you ever thought of moving on from guiding? Why did/didn’t you?  

My husband Chris and I had worked on the Middle Fork for an incredible family for many years.  When they decided to sell we thought it might be a good time for us to move on. We didn't want to be the old guides saying, "That's not how we do it around here."  But even before the next season we realized that we weren't ready to be done. It was a good reminder to not get burned out, stay flexible and open to new ideas, reevaluate often.  Also, before we decided to build a little house in Stanley and buy into SMG we did some serious soul searching and exploratory traveling. One hard thing about guiding is that we realize we might not be able to do it forever.  My body will get tired and I won't want to be out on big physical days, day after day.  I feel lucky to now be a part of the business side of guiding. But what about our guides? I don't know the answer but I'm excited that the Redside Foundation is around to be a part of those kinds of discussions.

Photo: Tanner Haskins

Who inspires you as a guide?  

Kirk Bachman, who founded SMG in 1985 and whose dedication and character provide a solid, timeless inspiration. All of SMG's guides, past and present, who work so hard, are constantly striving to be even better guides and who go above and beyond for every client. Kurt and Gayle Selisch, who always believed in me and loved me, and make me want to be the best guide I can be and inspire that in others.

What inspires you as a guide?  

The mountains and rivers and sunsets and sunrises.

How do you support your fellow guides and how do they support you?  

As a business owner we have the responsibility of providing certain support for our guides.  We believe it's our responsibility to pay well, have a fair hierarchy for scheduling, have a pay scale based on experience and training (increase in pay for every additional training), provide training, morning and evening meetings to check in on the day of guiding and also guide concerns, try to keep everything as transparent as possible and support our guides doing what they need to do to make the guiding profession work.  And our guides in return work so hard and make sacrifices in their lives to support SMG and provide the best service for our clients.  Our guides are amazing!  On a more personal level, I think most all guides are watching out for each other.

How do you take care of yourself during the guiding season?  

Usually not well enough!  The seasonal work means that when the season is on it's gogogo.  Eat as much as you can, sleep as much as you can, find a day to go ski for fun if you can. I actually tore my meniscus this season and had repair surgery that has put me out for the rest of the ski season. One thing that I'm realizing is that we go a little too hard!  This forced downtime reminds me that an occasional break is so important. I really respect the guides who take a week off midseason. I see how important it is now for so many reasons...physically, mentally, for friendships and in order to be the best you can be and come back strong and healthy.

What advice would you give an aspiring backcountry skiing/climbing guide?  

Figure out how to get as much personal experience as you can. Ski and climb and explore and love it. Then get training. The American Mountain Guide Association offers training that is becoming the standard.  And then get guiding experience. Sounds so easy, huh!?  I know it's not, but it's possible if it's what you really want and you're willing to get creative, be patient and humble and not give up on it.

Why Idaho?  

After college I traveled around quite a bit, spending a chunk of time in Bend, Missoula, and even NYC for a few months.  I was always drawn back to Idaho and Stanley in particular maybe because it has the perfect amount of wild for me. I figured that where my dog was happiest, so was I. She preferred Stanley.

You knew Telly Evans (the guide and friend that the Redside Foundation was started in memorial of) - any favorite memories of your times with him?  

So many!  And they all include his big laugh and crinkly-eyed smile. One early-season private trip on the Main Salmon I was running my own boat for the first time. I came around the corner at Big Mallard and see Telly on the right bank dancing around and pointing left, left, left! The Big Mallard rock was out and Telly, being the strong, amazing boater that he was, thought he'd try going right. He ended up plastered on the rock and swears the only reason they didn't flip was he had two big farm boys wedged under the table up front. They peeled off and he made it to shore in time to point everybody following him to the left.  He was an incredible leader for many reasons but one big one was his ability to make mistakes, share them and make you feel fine about making your own mistakes. I think of him every time I sneak between those big Big Mallard rocks. And lots of other times too.  

What’s your favorite yurt meal?

Mexi! Pork carnitas, rice and beans, slaw, and Yurtaritas

Scott Knickerbocker

Thanks Sara, we'll see you on the slopes and on the water!

THE PRIDE OF BEING A GUIDE

 by Emerald LaFortune

A serious nine-year-old boy is perched on the front of my boat. In one hand he grips a spinning rod, his other hand is clenched on a blue cam strap. We’ve just passed the confluence of the Snake River and the Salmon River. It feels like a symbolic spot, Idaho’s wildest river and it's most domesticated meeting to shake hands. I almost speak up, ask this kid what he thinks these two rivers are trying to tell us. Then I remember he is nine and keep quiet. As the surging rapids of the confluence turn to glassy flat water, he turns to look me in the eye.

“What’s your favorite animal, Emerald?” he questions.

“Probably a river otter?” I reply, caught off guard.

He studies me for a second.

“That is a water animal. What is your favorite land animal?”

“Um. Elephant.” I say. It’s the end of a long day and it’s the first that comes to mind.

He turns around and sends his lure splashing into the eddy line on our left.

“What’s your favorite water animal?” I ask, liking the way kids don’t expect much continuity in their conversations.

“Salmon,” he states without hesitation, slowly reeling his lure back into the boat.

“Good one,” I reply. Want to know something cool about salmon?”

He nods, gaze on his line skittering through the deep, green water.

So as the wooden oars and my tired back muscles propel us through the still water, I tell him about the itty bitty creeks that salmon are born in. I turn the raft around and row backward, explaining how the salmon are flushed to the ocean, just like we are now, facing upstream. We talk about how the salmon grow big and strong in the ocean, just like he is growing big and strong right now. We imagine how much work it must take to jump up fish ladders and the rapids we have just boated through. We speculate on how totally cool it would be to catch a salmon on his spinning rod.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, the conversation has moved on to trail mix and if it’s time to swim yet.

When I decided to work as a whitewater guide again post-university graduation, I felt a bit sheepish. Four years of college education and a degree to land a job I was qualified for without it? When I told family and friends my post-grad plan I would explain how “it was a break year” and how I’d land a “real job” soon.

But as the boy swims alongside my boat, practicing his salmon technique (lots of flopping), I think about what it means to be a guide. The West is covered in us – from mountaineering guides to fishing guides to hiking guides to rafting guides to climbing guides. The community is stereotyped, occasionally accurately, as a collection of young adults dirtbagging around, making ends meet from season to season, living out of vehicles, thriving on adrenaline and PBR, and otherwise avoiding the real world with it’s bank accounts and office desks. Many of us started guiding not because we love managing stranger’s vacations, but because we love the places we guide in. When the place you love is a permitted river, or 10,000 ft peak, or boat-only access fishing hole, you get creative.

When I applied for my summer job in February of 2013, it was for the sole purpose of spending as much time as I possibly could on the rivers in Idaho. Yet as the summer progressed, I found myself enjoying the people as much as the place. Not just the vibrant, laughing river guides, but the guests as well.

As I haul the boy back into the boat by the lapels of his personal flotation device (even salmon have to get out of the water and eat trail mix on occasion), I think about my undergraduate degree. Environmental Studies students are taught to translate and communicate complicated policy and science in ways that is worthwhile and meaningful. I wonder, if a picture is worth 1,000 words, what is an experience? I think of the Floridian investment banker who sat in awe in a dory, as guides laughed and played music around him, the Idaho sky exploding in stars. “I haven’t seen the stars like this in sixteen years,” he said quietly. “This trip is changing my life.”A guide may not have the traditionally well-built resume of a campaign organizer, policy changer, or non-profit employee. But helping people to care about a place or issue enough to take action is as much about affecting their heart as it is about appealing to their logic or wallet. And when a guest watches their child open in joy after a big rapid, or eats dinner while the sun set over a pastel pink river, or sleeps out on a sand beach with their loved one, it touches a heart place . When a guest sees how their guide loves their place like they love a limb attached to their body, it touches a heart place too.

Many young adults won’t be guides forever – but most take that heart work and apply it into being some of the most passionate organizers, teachers, office workers, business people, parents, and friends I know.

So now, I say it with strength instead of sheepishness.

I am a guide.