| When
Dennis Weaver saw the new sign, his heart sank: "Sheep
Falls-4 Miles." His favorite picnic spot, one of
the most scenic places in eastern Idaho, had been discovered.
Would the road be thronged with SUVs? Would the falls
be crowded with campers and picnickers? Dennis headed
down the little dirt track with trepidation, and came
back with this report. |
 |
|
 |
|
View
of the Falls River from the picnic spot |
|
 |
|
 |
|
Continued from Page
1
The river
At the bottom of the hill, the road breaks suddenly
upon the river. It's a beautiful river, clear and shallow,
churning through the rocks. It's a big river for such a high
altitude-four car lanes wide-not a little creek like you usually
find in the mountains. The river bends back and forth through
the trees in gentle arcs, and the road follows it as it slips
downstream to the falls. There are some spectacular primitive
camping sites along the river; only the old fire rings and
logs set out for benches tell you that others have camped
there before you.
When we reached the river, we realized that we
had seen no vehicles on the way in. Nor had we seen any campers
or trucks along the road, even though it was a Saturday. So
much for the crowds that concerned us.
We parked our SUVs on a giant rock platform 20
feet from the edge of the falls. The roar of the water shocked
our ears as we stepped from the vehicles. It was still early
enough in the day that a gentle breeze drifted up the canyon,
and mist from the falls hung on the breeze making it lightly
damp and refreshing in the July sun. We held little Lily's
hand tightly as we walked to the edge of the cliff to look
down on the falls.
At the falls, the river forks. Two-thirds of
the river flows to the right toward where we stood; it then
slips across a giant deck of a rock, and then falls over a
ledge into a mass of roaring foam. For two years, there has
been a weathered pine snag lodged in the rocks on the brink
of the falls. The other third of the river slips across the
hard rock deck to fall off another 50 yards downstream.
We watched the water for a while, enchanted by
the motion, the power, the depth and the swirling pools. We
talked about coming in on snow machines in the winter so that
we could see the falls encrusted in ice. After a while, we
slipped through a crevice in the hard rock deck that leads
down to the river. A giant boulder is lodged in this crevice
and we got down on hands and knees and crawled under it to
a ledge that runs along the water's edge. In the perpetual
moistness, the grass and tiny shrubs clinging on the ledge
are a verdant green. We walked along the ledge, wading in
water a few inches deep, until we could reach out and touch
the falls. The intimacy and beauty awed us even though we
had been there often. After a while, we climbed back up the
crevice.
In the shade of a couple of gnarled trees at
the top of the rock deck, Merri Ann and I sat with Lily and
the baby and watched Debbie maneuver to take pictures. We
were hungry and as soon as Debbie was through with her camera,
we piled back in the cars and headed up the road. A quarter-mile
above the falls, we drove through a patch of pines to the
edge of the river and an old fire ring. We dug tinder from
the bottom of a spruce and picked up wrist-sized sticks and
soon had a fire going. Later in the summer, when the grasses
were completely dry, the Forest Service imposed fire restrictions
here, but now we enjoyed the fire. Lily roasted marshmallows
and we roasted brats.
Ben and I pulled folding chairs to the top of
the bank and watched the water, talking quietly. We wondered
how many fish there were in this stretch, guessing that there
were not many clinging to a living in the rushing water. Along
the edge of the river, stonefly cases clung to the rocks,
most of them belonging to golden stoneflies not the giant
black ones that you find down in the valley. When we stepped
to the river's edge, we saw an adult stonefly clinging to
rock, the last of the season's hatch. I carefully picked it
from the rock and flung it into the river. It floated about
10 feet and then a silver flash lashed across the current
and grabbed the floating bug-so fast that it was startling.
It seems fish were hiding in that rushing water after all.
We talked about the time, the year before, when
we hiked down the ridge and dropped down into the canyon a
mile or so below the falls. That time we were serious about
fishing, carrying all the gear. Here we found a transformed
river with beautiful pools flowing tightly against chalky,
sand-colored cliffs. The canyon was still and quiet. On small
dry flies, we caught eager trout-none over 12 inches-until
we tired of it. We switched to nymphs, twisted lead onto our
leaders, and pounded the bottom looking for bigger trout.
We found none but there were 15-inch whitefish in the deep
water, heavy enough to give a more substantial battle. We
released all the fish.
Now the shadows were getting long and we loaded
our gear back into the vehicles. On the way out, we would
watch for deer along the edges, hoping they would come to
browse in the cooler evening air. Our vehicles whined as they
climbed slowly out of the canyon. There is one spot where
we usually spin out against the rocks and this time was no
different. Again, we dropped back, gave a little gas to build
momentum, and climbed over the rocks. Soon we were out of
the canyon.
Yes, we did see some deer on the way out. And
yes, we were pleased that there were no crowds.
If you go
This is our favorite picnic spot. Please respect
the wilderness. Don't litter and don't drive your vehicle
off established trails. Make sure your fires are dead out,
drenched in water until there is not a hint of remaining heat.
This is bear country. You are on the edge of
one of the most remote wilderness areas left in the contiguous
United States. Grizzlies wander from Yellowstone National
Park through the adjacent Jedediah Smith Wilderness Area and
into Teton National Park. Keep coolers and food in the vehicles
where the bears can't get to them. Be alert and don't surprise
them and they will be unlikely to bother you.
The drive from Ashton to the falls will take
you about an hour. Take the second road to the left after
crossing the plank bridge. Don't try driving down into the
canyon without a four-wheel-drive vehicle with clearance equal
to a Nissan Xterra. If you don't have a suitable vehicle,
park and hike that last mile and a half.
Enjoy the falls. Just leave it as you found it.
Map
The
Caribou-Targhee National Forest with down-loadable maps
Dennis Weaver
9/23/07
