Hells Canyon, it is a dramatic name for a pretty ordinary place.  Well, ordinary, that is, if you live in a place like Idaho, where spectacular scenery seems to be in every direction.  Last week we (John, Todd and I) made our semi-annual trek to the canyon.  I call it semi-annual, but really there is no schedule or reoccurring plan; it’s just that every couple of years or so Todd and I sit indoors during some particularly crappy winter evening and decide that the only place we could really enjoy being outside is Hells Canyon. The reasons for this are various but centered on the existence of a particularly lovely hot springs.  This hot springs, like all semi-mythical destinations, requires a short (but occasionally dangerous- more on that later) boat ride.  It is the existence of the reservoir (serving as a moat)that keeps many riff raff away from the springs.

This year we had several incentives for our hot springs trip.  They are: (1) an RV and (2) a boat that is unlikely to sink.  So with very little advance planning, our intrepid crew set off for the canyon.  It is only a “2 ½ hour drive” (according to Todd), but it always takes longer.  Like any good adventure, we had to deal with little challenges that threatened to derail our plans.  First, the RV was steaming up the windshield, and the defroster was not functioning.  This was fixed by replacing a fuse, ignoring the smell of coolant, and regularly wiping the steamy windshield (heater core failure, maybe-no time to fix, so some ignoring was in order).  The next more pressing issue, was the fact that we had never really figured out how to mount the canoe on the roof of the RV (a 1980ish Minnie Winnie henceforth known as El Chapul, after the stained glass window bearing the image of a cricket and those words on the door).  With some difficulty, we managed to tie the canoe to the roof, in a manner that concerned all of us, particularly when passing under low overpasses.  After bodging those minor fixes (and making some really bad decisions on food at the grocery store), we hit the road for a relatively uneventful trip northwest towards the canyon.  It was a few hours of wiping the windshield, eating fried chicken from the grocery deli, and discussing adventures we’ve had and the ones we haven’t gotten to yet.  John demonstrated his razor sharp reactions with a suicidal skunk on the way into the hamlet of Cambridge and with a fresh load of fuel we descended into the canyon, arriving at our designated camp spot at some time after midnight.

Bright and early (ok, more like 830 am), we woke and fueled ourselves with coffee and bacon for the short boat trip to the hot springs.  Stepping out of El Chapul revealed the true beauty of Hells Canyon this time of year: lots of green and lots of silence.  No other human beings in sight, just the distant sound of the Oxbow Dam spillway and the occasional sound of birds.  Before long, we were at the boat launch and boarding our little boat, a craigslist score Coleman Scanoe.  Dangerously close to the placarded weight limit, we paddled across the glassy smooth waters to the Idaho side of the reservoir, where the hot springs is located.  Tying ashore, we hauled our supplies (towels, sandwiches, beer and more beer) up the muddy track to the springs, finding it in nearly perfect condition for us.  A quick rinse of stream water and the tub was ready to fill.  Former users of the springs had placed several metal bathtubs next to the old concreted tub and installed abs piping to supply hot water and cold water to the tubs, allowing one to perfectly control the temperature.  

Hours of leisure were spent in the hot water, while we discussed previous visits with adventures ranging from helpful boy scouts (helpful, as in they helped Todd out of the tub years ago), to angry hot springs lovers (coitus interruptus), to leaking boats-lots of those.  My personal history with the hot springs goes back 20 years or so when Todd showed me the location for a winter campout.  That first visit to the hot springs was complete with a multi-canoe bottle rocket fight (eye protection recommended), epic.  Later, I was to survey the reservoir for archaeological materials under contract from Idaho Power during which time I spent more than a few hours in the water.  Todd has visited the canyon and the hot springs since the 80’s, and he has a lot of history there.  For John, it was his first trip, and I like to think the first of many.  Todd and I were excited to share the Canyon and its splendor with our friend, hopefully not drowning him in the process.  

After absorbing the hot water until serious prunage started to occur, we dressed and did some exploring.  Todd headed down to the reservoirs edge to examine an area he knew had evidence of the ancient’s use of the area.  John and I ventured up the hillside to the location of a natural pool, which we found full of interesting flora, not at all inviting for a soak.  Spectacular is one word for it; a few others come to mind as well.  After reuniting at the water’s edge, Todd showed John a few ancient artifacts he found lying on the surface and we talked about local geology/archaeology.  Soon, we departed the Idaho shore and paddled back to the Oregon side, where El Chapul awaited us.  The wind had picked up just enough that the low waves caused me some concern and careful coordination of our paddling was necessary.  Shortly enough, we made it across and stashed our canoe in some blackberry bushes so we wouldn’t have to load it until the following day.

The next order of business was to show John a little more of the canyon, so we hopped into El Chapul and drove a few miles north to Oxbow Village, a small community of Idaho Power employees just below Oxbow Dam.  There really isn’t much to see there, no stores, just housing.  We continued north along the Oregon side of the canyon on a gravel road to an old abandoned school site that I remembered from my survey work in the canyon 10 plus years ago.  We were not disappointed by the old school site, and we spent an enjoyable half hour poking around the area before heading back to our campsite of the night before.  On the way, we searched the campsites next to the road for firewood, coming off with a nice bundle for that night…

Back in camp, as the sun set and beautifully illuminated the slopes across the reservoir from us, Todd and I worked on the fire, and on consuming a variety of beer and snacks, while John climbed up the hillside far above us with his camera.  Todd continued to amaze me with the way he could spot wildlife, in this case a herd of elk literally miles away from us up on the west-facing slopes enjoying the last of the evening sun.  Fantastic.  Soon enough, the sun had set, and it was time for dinner (and fireworks).  Because really, is there any better time to set off dangerous, illegal fireworks than in the winter over a body of water, I didn’t think so.  $45 worth of mortar shells went really quickly and so did lots of beer.  A great time was had by all, I think.

The next morning was kind of a replay of the first, with a quick breakfast followed by a boat ride and soak.  This time, we had company at the hot springs in the form of a couple who showed up right as we were getting ready to leave.  Apparently, they learned of the springs from a guidebook, and they had driven over from a Boise suburb to check it out.  We said hi and left them to the tub, fully satisfied with our experience.  The piece de resistance of the trip (for me anyway) was a fine Mexican meal at Los Potrillios in Ontario, Oregon.  Those chili rellanos really hit the spot.  A couple more hours and we were back, ready to unload and plan the next adventure.  Stay tuned.

Epilogue
What is it about Hells Canyon that makes the place compelling to me?  Scenically, it is nice, not spectacular, but nice.  Weather wise, it is ok.  Sometimes you get socked in there with clouds and rain, and that can be a bummer.  Conversely, in the summer it really earns the name with baking, stifling heat (I have seen 117° on our truck thermometer when working in there in the summer).  Maybe it’s the hot springs (although I have been to others I like equally in beautiful settings out here in the west)?  I guess there is just something special about the place, maybe it is because it is one of those places that just feels old, like you are walking in the footsteps of the ancients.  That sounds good, although for me, it is just a place to soak and hang with friends in the winter, and you can’t beat that.  I don’t know, check it out, draw your own conclusions.  Just make sure you have a worthy boat.