The Selway River is the Sasquatch of permitted rivers, mysterious and elusive, lurking in the background waiting for a chance encounter. I happened to catch a sighting last May on a four-day self-support kayaking trip.

With only 62 permits doled out a year between May 15 and July 31, a lucky few boat this 47.9-mile river within season. Even if you pull a permit, the snowpack and spring weather create variable flows for the numerous Class III-IV+ rapids, which can further thin the number of successful launches depending on the launch date, the group’s crafts of choice and skill level.

The Selway is nestled in the beautiful north-central Idaho Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness, one of the original wilderness areas put aside in 1964. It eventually meets the mighty Lochsa and flows into the Clearwater River.

Within the rugged wilderness, the Selway is further designated a Wild & Scenic River, which is a federal protection enacted by Congress that recognizes a river stretch for certain ‘Outstanding and Remarkable Values’ (ORV), preserving its free-flowing status. In this case, the Selway’s ORVs are numerous and include fish, history, recreation, scenery, wildlife, botany, Native American traditional use, and water quality.

For example, the Nez Perce have lived in the Clearwater basin including the Selway for at least 10,000 years, using it as a trade route between the Columbia River basin and the Northern Plains. Nowadays, the Selway River is managed with these ORVs in mind. As opposed to many unprotected rivers whose landscapes can change quickly depending on use, the beautiful cold, clear water and lack of new development highlighted these wild and scenic characteristics throughout my descent.

This trip was doubly special for me because not only was this first Selway river experience (no surprise there), but also my first kayak self-support. While I have embarked on numerous day trips and kayaking car tours, I come from a multiday raft tradition where ‘minimalist’ and ‘river trip’ don’t usually enter the same sentence. The questions snowballed. Do I need special gear? How do you best load and distribute weight in a kayak? Can I bring anything fun?

When we arrived at the Paradise Launch Site, my heart sank when my sleeping bag filled up almost the entire Futa Float Bag. But my mood improved when I realized I could fit a unicorn onesie on the other side. That being said, I found that modular was better. Having a few big drybags is important, but being able to stuff smaller bags around you and into the bow helps distribute the weight so you aren’t doing a wheelie down the river. I also moved my seat up a notch to counterbalance the reality of putting a lot of stuff in the stern.

Finally, we divvied up group gear—breakdown paddles, first aid kits, water filters, and an inReach—and pushed off.

My first eddy catch felt sluggish. I was as maneuverable as a semi-truck on ice. But soon I began to appreciate the weight. I went straight through holes and easily set angles to track downstream. I needed to anticipate and account for the changes in momentum to remain nimble and prevent catching an eddy too low or too hot. But it only took a few miles to adjust and be confident enough to lift my head and enjoy the scenery.

The Selway’s landscape blends the Lochsa’s lush rainforest feel with the rocky, old-growth coniferous pine forests and bluffs you see on the Middle Fork Salmon. Numerous caves cropped out over the first day as we rolled through small but entertaining rapids.

As a baker’s dozen of kayakers, we tried to maintain good timing through the rapids, balancing spacing with line of sight for safety. Of course, all of that went out the window as soon as someone found a good wave to surf or a fun eddy to catch. All of a sudden, 12 other kayak noses simultaneously changed angles and tractor-beamed toward the same spots like synchronized swimmers. It was fun to watch and fun to click into a group flow down the river. This group had put together a kayak expedition every spring for the last four years. I felt lucky to be part of the budding tradition and that we all wanted to take the time to play.

At lunch, I learned one of the advantages of a self-support kayak trip compared to rafts is the flexibility with time. Kayaks are much faster overall than rafts, which makes mileage less stressful. While we did our research on suitable areas for the group (no need for camp assignments on this river), a quick lunch check-in was enough to adapt a proposed camp time and spot to any cramped legs or rapid scouts.

Once we reached a quorum for the specific spot, bivies, tents, and tarps scattered the beach and grass. I had opted for a ground cloth, backpacking pad, warm sleeping bag, and tarp given the favorable weather and lighter setup. For dinner, people brought out everything from the classic dehydrated meals to fancy ramen (my choice) to sushi (seaweed sheets, instant rice, avocado, and sardines). It was funny to watch someone produce an entire party size bag of chips and guac when space was supposedly such a premium. Too bad he lost a float bag to appetizers!

The long summer light and easy river miles gave us time for a small hike even after our dinner hodgepodge. Like the Middle Fork Salmon, many trails run adjacent to the Selway and crisscross the river via beautiful log suspension bridges that span hundreds of feet. The trails then branch off to other interesting side creeks and climbs. Many of them service homesteads, horse packing operations or airstrips. On our second day we would notice an airstrip for a historic United States Forest Service Guard Station. But on this first evening, we hiked amid blooming wildflowers and took notice of the lingering snow on the closest peaks. A few small, blue tributaries trickled along the trail bringing additional CFS to the river.

While the Selway markedly increases in flow between the top and the bottom from the many creeks that feed this stretch, we didn’t reach the largest tributary, Moose Creek, until we put on for our second day. The Moose adds a lot of juice to the river and gives it a distinct southern bend. We reached the confluence on our second day, where the ‘Moose Juice’ nearly doubled the flow. While the previous day’s whitewater section including rapids like Goat Creek Rapid were fun little mazes, the next few rapids were noticeably bigger and delivered more of a punch. It was exciting to paddle through Double Drop and Wa-Poots, which had near river-wide holes and fantastic rolling haystacks.

The most famous rapid in this stretch, Ladle, is marked by humongous boulders scattered along a large horizon line. It’s a good one to scout, as it requires a few moves to make, a few places to avoid, and many potential lines for kayaks that aren’t noticeable from the boat. With 13 kayakers and 13 different perspectives, we ran almost as many different lines through the rapid—all successfully. Throughout the day, we continued to enjoy the various Class IVs, whirlpools, and boofs until we pulled out to camp at mile 38.

Trees were sparse at our second camp but abundant and impressive cliff views made up for the lack of shade. I staked out a sandy spot and used a stick on one side and a tree on the other to prop up my shelter, doubling some of the lines to dry my wet clothes. Camp meals that night impressed me more than before, especially when someone pulled out an entire raw steak they had carefully wrapped and insulated in a dry bag to cook over the fire. (I thought I was doing well with a salmon and cucumber salad.) Instead of a hike, we hunted down rounded river rocks to play bocce ball. While this classic and simple river game is a must-pack for raft trips, it would be way too heavy to bring in the kayak. I appreciated the makeshift approach.

We had saved the final big rapid for our last day, camping just upstream from Wolf Creek. As we packed our boats in the morning, we scouted our lines on the side trail on river right. Threading the needle between a few holes first thing in the morning energized me more than any cup of coffee ever has. It was equally nice to have a lighter boat after lugging around all my food the two days before.

In the rapid’s washout, I leaned back to bask in the mellow relief when we started to get bombarded from the air.

A caddisfly hatch had begun. Hundreds of thousands of small insects the size of a dime flew at us from downstream. At times, there were so many I had to paddle with my eyes closed. I could catch one just by reaching out and clutching at the air. It was special to see such abundance at a time when so many insect species are in decline. I imagine the steelhead, bull trout, and maybe even a few reintroduced chinook salmon were having a feast. I had never dealt with an upstream breeze quite like that before.

Seeing the Race Creek Campground takeout was bittersweet. The upside was that de-rigging a kayak self-support was the easiest post-trip reorganization I had ever done. Plus, we could hold off on the river goodbyes until we pulled over to ‘scout’ Selway Falls, a Class V-VI rapid just downstream of the takeout. Most deem this steep, technical rapid unrunnable, though a few brave boaters have tested a line. I was glad I could admire it without a loaded boat on my shoulder—or the weight of considering which line to take.

The Selway cuts into a wild landscape and has all the right ingredients for a good multiday trip (kayak or raft): fun rapids, rugged scenery, clear water. And like all river trips, it can bring together good friends. But beyond the place, I also appreciated the opportunity to do a self-support and discover that I could easily do one again. While part of the fun of rafting is that you can bring an entire set of bocce balls without blinking an eye, the creativity that self-supports bring out in meals, games, and on-river play would not have occurred otherwise.

I would still personally prefer to do some rivers with large flatwater stretches like Grand Canyon with rafts, having the confidence to run multiday kayak expeditions and handle boats with weight broadens the number and seasonality of potential rivers I can run. River trips that require hike-ins or big portages, or ones where the water levels can drastically vary or have a very short seasonal window are now on the table. Just like it’s recommended to do class II before class III, it felt important to do a small self-support like this before jumping into something more committing. At first, the limitations of kayak self-supports intimidated me, but I see now that they actually open the door to even more experiences on other elusive and mysterious rivers just like the Selway.

***

Guest contributor Ellie Friedmann loves kayaking, rowing, dumb cow jokes, skiing, quilling, and spending time with new and old friends on multi-day river trips. Originally from New Mexico, she’s currently getting her PhD studying river streamflow and water quality using satellites.