Thomas Creek
Many folks across the United States chose to celebrate the Fourth of July this year by taking their picnic baskets to a local park to watch a fireworks display. My husband and I chose instead to fly in our small airplane to an Idaho backcountry airstrip to camp and marvel at the stars in celebration of our nation's founding. If you can pilot a small aircraft, adventures like ours await you.
At the beginning of this summer, some good friends of ours convinced us that we needed to learn how to fly fish. We jumped at the suggestion, and soon had enough equipment gathered together to begin our lessons. Our friends, who are accomplished in the sport, decided that the Middle Fork of the Salmon River in Idaho was a good place to begin (wide riverbanks with a minimum of brush waiting to ensnare a fisherman's flies). The only ways to get there are by boat, horseback, or small airplane. By coincidence, we both have the latter means of transportation available to us. Our friends operate a charter backcountry air service, and we have flown in to many of the same airstrips on our own.
On July 3, we were ready to depart from our local airport by mid-morning, and were soon winging our way across the 10,000 foot Bitterroot Mountains toward our destination. The weather was perfect, with smooth air and sunshine in abundance. Our friends shortly left us behind, as their airplane travels faster than does ours, but we didn't mind, as there is always such beautiful scenery to admire along the way.
On El Capitan, the second-highest peak in the Bitterroot chain, snow still sparkled in the cirques above turquoise lakes. Our little plane seemed as insignificant as a mosquito as we flew by below the massive pyramid-shaped mountain, whose summit towered above us. The engine hummed in contentment with nary a burp, though, and we felt quite comfortable with our mode of travel.
Once past the Bitterroot Mountains, we entered the Frank Church River of No Return Wilderness. For the next 90 miles or so westward, there are no signs of civilization. The rugged mountains of Idaho are a maze of canyons and crags. Navigation duties require constant attention by those who are entering the wilderness for the first time by airplane. I had flown to this particular airstrip several times, however, and knew the route well. My husband held an aircraft sectional chart (map made specifically for use by pilots) on his lap to follow along through the twists and turns of the canyons. We listened to radio chatter from other pilots who were flying in the same area, though we never saw another airplane in the sky.
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