When you say you live in Idaho, most people respond, "Iowa?" So, most Idahoans just say, "Yeah, Iowa. Sure thing." Then, when people finally come around to knowing that there is a state called, "Idaho," that isn't Iowa or Ohio, they conjure up images of flat land, potato farming, Mormon country,  and wolf hating white supremacist crazy people. Again, we all just say "Yeah, Idaho, you got it." While all of those characteristics and problems do exists here in the Gem State, Idaho is a state full of ridiculous juxtapositions.

If you look at a map of Idaho, the bottom portion of the state is boxed in and contains the remnants of the geologic forces from the Yellowstone Hotspot. For the most part, when you're driving through the landscape of Southern Idaho--you are on top of layer upon layer of  volcanic rock and your view in all directions is relatively boring. Sure, there are a few ranges off in the distance, but for the most part--the landscape is flat and full of either corn, cattle, or potatoes. The juxtaposition is that all the good stuff lies below you in the myriad of canyon lands that water has carved over millennia.

One such river system lies in the remote Owyhee mountains. The feeling you have once you've entered the canyons carved by the multiple forks therein feel more akin to Southern Utah: hoodoos, cliff walls, arches, and slot canyons abound for the adventurous soul. If you're willing to study maps, throw yourself into wild whitewater, and hope to come out in one piece at the end of any of the numerous roadless, multiday, stretches of river--dip below the horizon line and give an adventure here a try.

This past Spring, a group of friends and I ran the upper and middle sections of the Owyhee. We launched on April 8th as the forecast called for unseasonably warm temperatures to heat up and melt the snowpack the days we'd be on the river. As we shoved our boats into the water, the hydrology gauge in Rome, Oregon, reported less than 1000 cubic feet/sec; when we took our boats out of the water three days later--it was nearly 7000 cfs. Though we portaged the two class V rapids, the other whitewater packed a punch and got our hearts beating everytime a new horizonline appeared--the whitewater we ran was as intense as the scenery was beautiful.

Here are some images from the adventure....