Twenty miles upriver from Riggins on the Salmon River awaits a stretch of white water known for leaving a bad taste in the mouths of many Jet Boaters. It’s called the Vinegar Creek rapid, which I ran for the first time in 2006 as a novice in a 20’ Custom Weld Cobra with a Marine Power 350 and American Turbine 309 jet pump. The day before my brave but foolish attempt – an oxymoron if there ever was one – I had my one and only look at Vinegar Creek, and to say the least, my first attempt at driving it scared the hell out of me and my passengers. That day gave me a new-found respect for the river and became a valuable learning experience, bad taste and all.
We were participating in the Western Whitewater Association’s annual Salmon River run, and I was a new member with little river running experience. With me that day were my brother David Bettencourt and an old high school friend, Rob Rummer, both of whom I had somehow talked into coming with me, and only by the grace of God continue to speak to me to this day. When we first arrived on Wednesday, two days before the run, we didn’t know anyone in the Association. The Spring Bar campground was pretty much full with other jet boaters going on the run, and as we drove around the campground one man motioned us to stop. With typical WWA hospitality, he invited us to share his camp site, which we gratefully accepted. Unfortunately I don’t remember his name, but do remember he had a 24’ Red Custom Weld Whitewater Special that was pretty new to him at the time. He seemed to have some experience with the river and advised us we might be alright running it in my boat. He then proceeded to explain some of the rapids to us, much of it with a cautionary tone. But “might” was all I needed to hear about our chances, and we were going to run the river despite his skepticism. Thursday morning was the pre-run for the event. We were up early to get the boat in the water, realizing it was a small launch area and having no idea how many boats would be trying to get into the water. It was crowded and slow going getting all the boats wet, but the WWA members worked well together to keep the launches moving, and for the most part, painlessly. The Chair of the run in 2006 was Steve Carlin, a long-time member of the WWA who had been chairing the run since 1995. Once all the boats were in the water he called for the drivers to come together and formed them into appropriate groups. When he asked if there was anyone that was not experienced with the river, I introduced myself, though a bit reluctantly since I feared a forthcoming lecture. Though my boat was already in the water and ready to go, he rightly explained that I could not run with the group without some experience, that it was too dangerous. But again with typical WWA graciousness, he then went above and beyond to find someone for all three of us to ride with that day. Our run up that day was uneventful. The leader of our group was Earl in a 19’ Thunderjet. He expertly led us through the entire run, which extended from Spring Bar to Buckskin Bills 38 miles upriver. When we came to Vinegar Creek rapids Earl passed along clear instructions to the following boats on how to run it: Considering how uneventful the run that day was, I felt ready and confident to run my boat. The following morning we were up early with the boat ready to go. At the drivers’ meeting we were put in line with the same group of boats we had ridden with the day before. We had about seven boats in the group, with several more experienced drivers staggered throughout the line. And once again, Earl would be leading. The run started well, with no serious mishaps and a comfortable run through House Rock and Carrey Falls. We had, however, already lost one boat before this point due to debris in the pump, reducing our number to six. We were following a new 21’ Custom Weld Storm through the Vinegar Creek rapids. As we watched him proceed through I asked my friend Rob, who was sitting up front with me, if he thought the Storm had gone too close to the middle of the rapid based on what we had learned the day before. He wasn’t sure, and neither was I. The problem was that the rapid is about 60 yards long, and from river level the water can be very confusing relative to finding the right line. After the 21’ Storm was clear we began our run up, following the instructions at the bottom by staying in close to the bank, and then moving out around the rocks that were marking well. This is where my screw-up began, by not moving back in close to the bank, but rather, trying to duplicate what the boat in front of me had done. Only I made things worse because I went even further out towards the center. At first I thought we were home free as we came close along the side of the big hole and I moved the boat even closer to the middle to get onto the tongue above the hole. But then something happened as we moved too sharply to the right – we lost momentum and started moving backwards. Two words for that feeling: holy crap! The velocity and immense power of the water rushing into the hole was incredible and quickly overpowered the boat and my ability to manage it. The bow went under the wave as we slipped backwards into the hole, I suddenly understood what the phrase “green room” meant. When the bow went under the rear of the boat momentarily lifted out of the water and then onto the back wave of the hole. As the nose came back up and the rear slammed back down, I hit the throttle full on, pushing the boat forward enough off the back wave that we settled in the trough. At this point things were surreal and all time and motion seemed to stop. We were OK for the moment, with enough throttle to keep the rear from sliding under the wall of water behind me – which would have put the boat on the bottom in a heartbeat, I am sure, with no high deck to help deflect the water off the back – and the nose up enough on top of the forward wave to kind of surf in the hole without it going back under. But now what? We were stuck and had no clue what to do. I actually had enough time sitting there in the trough to ask my brother and friend what they thought we should do, but they were as unsure as I was. I don’t remember my brother’s exact response, but do remember his expression, which was conveying something like, “big brother strikes again. Good going, bro!” Looking around the boat, I saw that we had about a five foot fall of water above the bow to climb, and a three foot wall of water waiting above the back of the boat threatening to sink us if I was not very, very careful with whatever I did next. Obviously those directions were both a no-go. To the left was a steep climb out and one that would not work, it was the very same water that sucked me down in here to begin with. I wasn’t sure what awaited to the right but it seemed the only way to go. So with slow little moves, I started to inch the boat through the trough in that direction, trying to be very careful not to let us slide back.
Uncertainty took over again as we got to the right side of the hole. Though it seemed I could easily finish the climb out of the hole on that side, I did not know if I could pass through above the hole. Were there boulders? Were there more big holes I could find myself in? What was up there? I had only one ride in the back of a boat through the rapid the day before, and I’d never seen this stretch of water from the bank. So I was in virgin water, at least where my learning curve was concerned. It was then that I made up my mind then to turn the boat around. We were out of the deepest part of the trough and sitting on the right-hand edge of the hole. I gave the boat a quick turn with a little more throttle, and then immediately corrected the move to settle back into our previous position, aimed forward on the edge of the hole. I had just wanted to see how the current would want to turn the nose when I did it – nothing like a little on-the-job-training – and to my relief when I executed the move I did feel the current grab the front and want to help us make the turn. I tried the move one more time just to be sure, then quickly reversed the move to set us back where we had been. Good enough, it seemed like it would work. There was not a lot of room, and if we did not make the turn out fast enough the current would push us into the rocky bank. But it seemed the best course of action based on not knowing what the hell I was doing, trying to wing it and just get us the hell out of there. It was time. I thought it would work. All we needed was to get the nose of the boat pointed back downstream and we were home free. So I went for it, first letting off just a bit on the throttle and turning the pump, waiting till I felt the current grab the nose and start turning the boat. Then I gunned it with the steering cranked. We turned – more like a stationary pivot – and shot back down the center wave train of the rapid and then out. Once again: holy crap! As I look back, that is the only thing I can say about it. As fast and high as we were bouncing out of there, it felt like we were in a jet boat race. Only later did I realize it was the thrill of a lifetime. Once my pulse returned to normal I realized I was not even prepared to give it up. I asked Earl if he could come back down the rapid so we could watch him run it again. Unfortunately he picked up a stick on the way down and was unable to do another run. In fact, that stick ended his run for the day. Tom decided to make a go at it in his little 14’ Hamilton, and unfortunately pretty much did an exact repeat of our little adventure. We watched him go into the same trough and then he disappeared. I thought the worst as several seconds ticked by with no visuals on his boat, and then, just as we had done, he shot back down out of the rapid like a bat out of hell. So now we had two failed attempts in a row, and our leader was out of commission but I decided to make another go at it. The second attempt was smooth and easy. This time I was sure to move back into the bank after the swing out to miss the rocks coming off the left hand side, and followed the bank all the way up. Piece of cake if done right, a nightmare if done wrong. Behind me came Tom again, finding his line and also having no problem with the second attempt. Then along came Rod and Gary, also without a hitch. We proceeded to park the boats at the Vinegar Creek launch and wait for Earl, who after some time called on the radio to say he was unable to fix the problem and was heading back to Spring Bar. We were now out two boats, including the most experienced. Tom also decided not to take his boat any further that day, dropping our number to four. The rest of the journey went fairly smoothly, though we did have a couple more “ah oh!” moments, but nothing as intense as Vinegar Creek had been that day. In 2006 there were approximately 50 boats on the WWA Salmon River run, and as I stated I was new to the group and to river running. Having now gained more experience with the club and river running, I realize I took a lot of chances doing the Salmon run that year, not only incurring unnecessary risk to myself, but also becoming a hindrance and liability to the run in general. At the 2007 WWA Salmon River run I chose not to run my boat. Instead, I set up on the cliffs above the rapid to watch and film the boats passing through. This was very educational for me, providing a much better view of the rapid and the chance to learn from the mistakes of other boaters. That stretch of water tested everyone who passed, and as an observer I benefited from watching their mistakes much more than I had from my own the year before. The flow in 2006 was approximately 16,000cfs, and in 2007 it was about 13,000cfs. The size and intensity of this hole does change significantly at the different flows, and it seemed more forgiving at 13,000 than at 16,000, as all the boats that went off line in 2007 were able to pass through on their first attempt, though a couple did cut it close and there were a couple rock hits. From what I understand the rapid starts to wash out around 20,000cfs. At flows below 10,000cfs the rapid is not as big but becomes much more technical to avoid rocks. The routes I have described do change at different flows, and you should talk to someone experienced with this river at the different flows before attempting to run this section of river. It’s a great piece of water and a real challenge, but it requires a learning curve, so be sure to get one before you look it in the eye. |
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