story by Otis Rubottom www.otisrubottom.com

from TRAVEL OREGON, SPRING/SUMMER 2009

GETTING THERE
On this late spring day, Rome Junction is a long way from anywhere. The last gas station was miles back, and it apparently stopped pumping fuel a long time ago. We pass towns with names like Antelope, Fossil, Burns. We see no cars for hours. None. My wife Naomi and I are on our way to the town of Rome to meet our guides from Momentum River Expeditions for a five-day trip on the lower fork of the Owyhee River, one of Oregon’s most remote stretches of water. Driving by endless fence posts, we see a golden eagle perched on one. Huge and unflinching, he simply tracks our passing with his head. I have never been so close to an eagle.

HOT SPRINGS, PART ONE
Crystal Crane Hot Springs is located exactly where all good hot springs are: roughly in the middle of nowhere. Its large pool is fed by sulfur springs, and the cabin we stay in is cozy and warm, despite the cold night air.

AT THE RIVER
In the morning it’s more endless road, and more amazing horizon—to the right the Malheur National Wildlife Refuge and Steens Mountain, to the left lava fields as far as you can see. Breakfast in Rome (there is only one option) is excellent. We are fueled up for the river. We meet our guides and fellow paddlers at the put-in and get the scoop on loading. Pack our gear into dry bags. Lock up the car. “If everyone could please give me your car keys,” Anthony, one of our guides, says, “I will lock them in the truck. Please don’t bring them with you. They have a nasty habit of escaping bags, and they don’t float.” Good advice.

ON THE RIVER
It’s cold. When the sun goes behind a cloud and the wind picks up, the temperature swings 20 degrees. Our first day is mellow, a lazy float past farmland and open prairie. We set up camp where the canyon begins to open up. Once the sun sets, the temperature plummets. A fire and good company brace us. Add a little bourbon and some excellent food, and we’re ready for bed. The next morning, we wake to frost on the ground. By the time the sun lifts over the ridge, though, the temperature starts to rise. Already we feel the day warming.

A LITTLE HISTORY
The origin of the name Owyhee comes from a different spelling of Hawaii that dates back to 1820, when many of this region’s explorers were from the islands. The river was named for three Hawaiian trappers who were allegedly killed by Indians around 1819.

THE CAST
Our group is a lively bunch, comprised mainly of members of the Oregon Natural Desert Association (ONDA). As such, we’ve got two biologists and an etymologist among us. Add to that a gang of five guides, with over a hundred years of experience between them, and there’s no shortage of knowledge to be shared. From the plants and birds of the area, to the way the river works, we feel lucky to be among such capable, and interesting, hands. Time in the boats is filled with observation and information. Our guides love this river, and they have seen them all: the Grand Canyon’s Colorado, the Snake, New Zealand’s wilds. The Owyhee has magic to it.

GETTING WET
In addition to the oar-driven rafts, our trip has three inflatable kayaks along. We take turns in them, donning wetsuits and booties to stay warm. The first day, the three kayakers have little excitement. The second day, I decide to suit up and try my hand in the boat. The kayaks are remarkably stable, but not particularly agile. I’ve kayaked before, but I’m still a rookie, so the first rapid is a rush. I emerge smoothly, and love the closeness to the water, so different from the height of the rafts. The second rapid is larger. I move well through the first part, but get a little sideways in the second. When I hit the third section, I end up backwards. Before I can orient myself to turn around, I’m out of the boat and into the water. I keep my wits, and my paddle, and quickly move myself back to the kayak and up into it. A chorus of cheers goes up from the rafts. I’m the first to go swimming, but I redeemed myself with a smooth re-entry.

CHALK BASIN
The canyon is beginning to form in earnest. We make camp along a series of small beaches. Behind us, huge chalk-white columns rise like giant dribble castles. They look like something out of a Dr. Seuss book, magical and otherworldly. The day has been much warmer, and we all stay up late talking around the fire and sharing stories.

BIRDS
Southeastern Oregon lies on the path of numerous migratory bird routes, especially between the Malheur National Wildlife Refuge and the Great Salt Lake in Utah. Add to this the remoteness of the Owyhee, and you have a haven for countless bird species. A partial list of our sightings includes: swifts, magpies, chukkars, swallows (multiple species), prairie falcons, kestrels, harriers, kites, Canada geese, herons, and the one golden eagle. Every day, we soak up the beauty of the birds around us.

HOMECOMING
Naomi grew up on this river. Her entire family—brother, sister, aunt and uncle, four cousins—used to drive in above Three Forks and camp. Before the river would drop too low, they’d canoe out to a shuttled car and load up for the various drives home. So, for her, this is a sacred place, though she had not been back for some time. It’s a joy to watch her take it in, to see how deeply she remembers the riverscape, the pace, the light.

PETROGLYPHS
Our guides know there are Native American petroglyph gardens along the river, but it’s difficult to know just where to pull off. With a little trial and error, we find them. It’s hard to describe the feeling of looking at the swirling suns and obvious human figures. How old are they? What do they mean? They are undeniably lovely, both simple and complex, varnished by centuries of sun and wind. Shamefully, people have chipped sections free and taken them away. Fools. Their beauty is only complete here, in context, where they were meant to live.

THE CANYON
The most famous section of the Owyhee comes on our last full day on the river. The walls get taller and taller, and it slowly becomes clear why this passage is referred to as the Grand Canyon of the Owyhee. The light is dappled. The walls tower up, and the shade is welcome now, as the temperature has climbed into the 80s. Families of geese line the shore. It’s hard to believe this is Oregon, my home of almost 20 years, so different is this canyon from anywhere in the state I’ve ever been.

TIME
Everything slows down on a multi-day river trip. The days yield a welcome clarity, and simplicity of purpose: Go down the river. You cannot get off course. You cannot turn around. You simply give in, steer, and when it’s time to make camp, you do. No matter how long we have on this river, it’s not enough. An inner clock starts ticking that does not want to be reset.

HOT SPRINGS, PART TWO
Our last night on the river is also our most impressive campsite: a wide sandy beach, with shade trees and a striking cliff behind us. As a bonus, there’s a pool along the river fed by one of the many underground springs that course below the region’s lava beds. It’s seriously hot, and a trough has been dug from the river to let cool water flow in and moderate the temperature. Watching the shadow of the far ridge creep closer, as the sun sinks behind the mountains, it’s easy to think about just floating on. More days. More rapids. More spectacular vistas. Instead, we’ll allow ourselves a last night soaking up this place, and make a solemn vow to come back again next year.