I’ve come late to touring kayaking. I’d dabbled in whitewater kayaking but didn’t discover touring boats until coming to work at NRS.
It was fun, but camping while boating is my thing, so I started looking for some overnight possibilities. Boat camping on Dworshak Reservoir has always intrigued me. It’s an Army Corps of Engineers project, created by damming the North Fork of the Clearwater River near Orofino, Idaho. The dam backs up water some 60 miles into the Idaho backcountry. Sprinkled along its shores are 121 mini-camps, accessible only by boat. Each has a pit toilet, picnic table and metal fire ring. The touring kayaks would let us easily reach these camps.
Dworshak Reservoir. © Tyler Harris
Tyler and I brought our gear up on Friday morning and dumped it off in the Frameshop, where Company Use gear is stored. Virginia and Matt had graciously agreed to do grocery shopping Thursday evening. We took off work at noon, gathered up gear and loaded it, along with four touring kayaks, two sit-on-tops and a canoe in our 15-passenger van and trailer.
We got on the road around 2:30 and headed south. Halfway down the hill into the LC Valley one of the trailer tires shed its tread. The tire stayed inflated so we limped into Lewiston to a tire shop. A half-hour later and a new tire richer, we continued on. Highway 12 to Orofino, then up the Grangemont Road into the woods. When the road T-ed we turned left towards Headquarters. Had we gone right we’d have passed through Pierce, near where gold was first discovered in Idaho in 1860. Beyond Pierce is the Weippe Prairie, where in 1805 the starving Lewis and Clark Expedition stumbled out of the rugged mountains and were welcomed and fed by the Nez Perce people – an act of kindness that some in the tribe later came to regret.
Headquarters is a shadow of its former self. In the logging heyday, there was quite a community there. Now most of the buildings have been moved or demolished. Not far past Headquarters is a sign on a turn off, “Grandad Bridge – 27 miles”. And that’s 27 slow miles of steep, winding gravel road, that takes about an hour to negotiate.
We gawked a bit and then started unloading our camping gear in preparation for making our evening meal of grilled hamburgers. As the load in the back of the van began to diminish, I wasn’t seeing one important item. Luc had done most of the inside packing, so I asked him where he’d put the green York Pack. “I didn’t load a York Pack,” he said. My heart sank – it was my kitchen box, with a nested cook set, cooking utensils and my personal eating utensils, bowl, cup, etc! How had we missed packing it? I knew it had gotten to NRS; I’d used our Gear Checklists to inventory and load all my gear into the car. And I’d checked to make sure it all got unloaded at the Frameshop and that our gear pile got loaded into the van and trailer. A mystery indeed.
I was pretty bummed, but the rest of the crew counseled against despair. We inventoried what we had and things looked up. Luc had brought a backpacking stove and a small cook pot, Matt had another one-burner stove with two pots and I had a one-burner with two small nested pots. I’d packed the coffee pot separately and had my commuter cup. We could adapt!
We followed the blinking strobes for quite a while. Then they disappeared and we figured they’d rounded the point. Later there were more blinking lights, then red lights and sweeping white lights. We pondered and speculated. Could that be them? What are the red lights? Maybe they’re being abducted by aliens or had an encounter with gunrunners. Just when we were ready to send out the water cavalry, they came gliding up out of the gloom, laughing at the wonder they’d caused. Turned out Luc and Ashley had headlamps with red “nightlight” LEDs!
After the prodigals returned, we retired. Although there was some flash lightning in the distance, I decided not to put up the tent and just tossed the sleeping bag down on my ¾- length backpacking pad, right on the gravel lot. In the night I groggily woke thinking my pad had deflated and the gravel was poking me through it. Then I discovered I’d rolled off the pad and I didn’t even have the deflated pad to soften the gravel.
We reached a mini-camp about four and a half miles above the put-in by early afternoon. There were only a couple of obvious sleeping sites, looked like it might be a bit cramped for our size group. Tyler, of course, was still up for paddling and volunteered to cruise up farther to see if there was a better camp. Casey wanted to go too. The rest of us hung out, some fishing and exploring, some taking it easy. I laid out on my Neo Touring Skirt and Motion Jacket, used my Hustle for a pillow and was soon making up for a lousy night’s sleep. Dave, that dog, pulled out his Double Nest Hammock and snoozed in suspended comfort.
The evening meal was interesting. The main course was to be a one-pot meal, River Paella, from a recipe given us by Associate Terry Feigenbutz. Terry, in addition to his many other talents is a professionally trained chef; everything he fixes is delicious (here’s a link to his recipe). Ah, the rub, we had no pot large enough to make it a one-pot meal. So, we fired up all three stoves and proceeded to make a five-pot meal. Even without the ability to simmer it all together, it was delicious. Raw veggies, bread and cookies, along with the wine that didn’t make it into the paella, rounded out the meal.