College of Idaho freshman Levi Armichardy is majoring in environmental studies with a specialization in conservation biology and minoring in history and Spanish. The Marketing and Communications department asked Levi to write an essay about his spring break journey to the Idaho backcountry, and the result is this thoughtful account. If you enjoy this piece, please read Levi’s May 2024 cover story titled “Two Horses, Seven Mules” in Idaho Magazine at this link.
To view Levi’s photos of the spring break Middle Fork journey, please view this gallery on the College’s Flickr page.
11:00 a.m. March 22, 2024. I sit in the back of a small plane at the Cascade Airport as the pilot goes through the final checks at the head of the runway. The twin propellers drone on either side of me. The sound increases and the plane begins moving down the runway. The plane vibrates as we pick up speed. Suddenly, everything smooths out. We’re in the air. We circle twice to gain altitude, then set a course east, out over the mountains. The land below is covered in icy snow. It sparkles and shines in the mid-morning sunlight. We enter a drainage and begin to follow it down. The snow gradually disappears on the southern slopes and thins out on the northern ones. After 20 minutes or so, the drainage enters a canyon - the Middle Fork of the Salmon River. We turn downstream, passing over a ranch. Another 10 minutes, and we pass over an airstrip situated on a sagebrush-covered bench by the river. This is our destination for today, smack dab in the middle of the Frank Church - River of No Return Wilderness, the largest wilderness in the Lower 48. The nearest road is 20 miles away. A steep banking curve puts us in line and we touch down safely. The pilot taxis down to the end of the strip where a group stands waiting. The noise of the propellers dies and the pilot steps out and opens the door for us. I emerge and inhale a deep breath of cool air. The strongest scents are sagebrush and pine trees, but I also catch hints of elk, river and snow.
Thus began our spring break. In the next eight days, I and three other members of The College of Idaho Outdoor Program (two other trip instructors, Tom and Emily, and the coordinator, Gabby) would hike 30-some miles along the Middle Fork of the Salmon River, help rebuild a historic hot spring, meet two dozen new and interesting people, and forget about the outside world. How did this happen? It started with a College of Idaho alum named Bob Beckwith. Ten years ago, Bob got the idea to rebuild one of the many historic hot springs on the Middle Fork. After a decade of planning and lobbying, he gained approval from the powers that be and his idea became reality in March. We were a part of it. Over spring break, we flew in, hiked two days downstream to the work site, spent three days helping there, hiked another two days downstream, and flew out. In doing so, we gained the experience of a lifetime.
Our reasons for the trip varied. Emily saw it as “an opportunity to explore a new part of Idaho while also giving back to my home state.” For Tom, it was about “disconnecting from all of the things competing for my attention every day, and in doing so, reconnecting with myself, others, and the natural world.” My reason was home. I’m a native Idahoan, and I grew up living at backcountry ranches and ranger stations and exploring Central Idaho by foot and horse. My true home is the backcountry, so I take every opportunity to return. Regardless of our individual motivations, the happiness and amazement felt on the first day (and every day after) was universal.
“The trail is littered with bones, scat and left-behind hides. The deer and sheep seem to be its true caretakers. Feels surreal to be hiking a trail established over 150 years ago now.” That’s how Gabby described the Middle Fork Trail, a trail we traveled 32 miles on throughout the trip. The experiences of those 32 miles defy complete explanation by words, but I’ll do my best. First, there was the wildlife: elk, deer, bighorn sheep, mountain bluebirds, meadowlarks, canyon wrens, eagles. Plants too: sagebrush, ponderosa pine, Douglas fir, bunchgrass, buttercups. It was spring, and life was everywhere. We also experienced the history of the area, both ancient and recent. Pictographs and pit houses told of the Tukudeka (Sheepeater) natives, while the homesteads and working ranches we passed showed how more recent inhabitants of the canyon lived and continue to live. And finally, there was the topography: towering canyon walls of granite and gneiss, sagebrush-covered benches, snowy mountains, and forested side canyons, with the river running through it all. In every aspect, we were immersed in our surroundings, and this immersion cultivated a certain mindset of awareness and self-reflection. As Emily put it, “You really have to go with the flow, but the beauty of it is that all you have is yourself and your peers to keep you motivated. There is no cell service, no home comforts, no distractions from your immediate experiences and feelings. In these situations, you have to allow yourself to feel discomfort, to feel your emotions fully, and to have nothing to do but think.” There is a certain kind of mental “enlightenment” in these experiences. Without the worries of the world weighing you down, your mind is free.
The dynamic was different while we were working on the hot spring. Then, we were part of a community of 17 other people, several of whom were College of Idaho alums and all of whom had led interesting lives in the backcountry. Together, we hauled bags of gravel, moved timbers and rocks, packed clay and rope into nooks and crannies, and had a grand old time. We formed bonds over coffee in the morning, hard work in the day, and card games and delicious food at night. For me, the people were one of the highlights of the trip - I feel a kinship with them, for we are all lovers of the backcountry. Tom had a different feeling: “As an international student exploring this land for the very first time, I was able to become a sponge, absorbing the wisdom and enthusiasm of those who have spent decades on the Salmon River and in the Idaho backcountry.” We were all sad to say goodbye.
10:00 a.m. March 30, 2024. We lift off of the airstrip in a single-prop plane, smaller than the one we came in on. The pilot turns the plane and we begin traveling back upriver on our way to Cascade. In 15 minutes, we pass over the hot spring, and we all look out the window nostalgically. In 30 minutes, we pass over the airstrip where we began. Thirty minutes to cover what took us four days to travel on foot; 30 minutes to pass over a week of memories. A familiar sadness wells up in me. Once again, I’m leaving home and asking myself why. Another 30 minutes, and we’re landing at Cascade. We move our gear from the plane to our cars, then we go our separate ways. The trip is over.
But it’s not. The experiences we had stay with us, and now we have to fit them into our “normal” lives. In the following week, we all go into a slump. When somebody asks how the trip was, we usually just say “Great,” internally frustrated by our inability to fully communicate how we feel. In the end, though, we pull each other up. We support each other, as we did on the trail. We laugh with each other at inside jokes, remembering our experiences. Sometimes, we simply share a look. We’ve changed, and our connections are stronger. I think Emily put it best when she said, “I definitely left the Middle Fork with a full heart.”
The College of Idaho has a 133-year-old legacy of excellence. The College is known for its outstanding academic programs, winning athletics tradition, and history of producing successful graduates, including eight Rhodes Scholars, three governors, and countless business leaders and innovators. Its distinctive PEAK Curriculum challenges students to attain competency in the four knowledge peaks of humanities, natural sciences, social sciences, and a professional field—empowering them to earn a major and three minors in four years. The College’s close-knit, residential campus is located in Caldwell, where its proximity both to Boise and to the world-class outdoor activities of southwest Idaho’s mountains and rivers offers unique opportunities for learning beyond the classroom. For more information, visit www.collegeofidaho.edu.