Kayakers call it the SRG — the Salmon River Gorge. A place that roars with the thunder of nearly a dozen waterfalls. A place so steep, treacherous and inaccessible that no trails lead there.
The only way in is by boat. And the only way out is down.
Kayaker plunges over a 20+ foot falls in the Salmon River Gorge.
Keel Brightman Photography
70-foot Final Falls is considered too dangerous to run by most kayakers. At this point in the gorge, boaters have to rappel or jump - there is no other way out.
Luke Spencer
There are no official records, but Luke Spencer says it's likely that fewer than a hundred kayakers have descended the Salmon River Gorge since it was first successfully run in 2001.
Luke Spencer
Ryan Scott rappels alongside 80-foot Final Falls, the last big drop before boaters exit the Salmon River Gorge.
Keel Brightman Photography
Vanishing Falls. After dropping over this tricky, dangerous falls, Matt King got sucked into the turbulent whitewater at the base. He escaped after what he called "the worst swim of my life."
Luke Spencer
Kayakers often make a move called a "boof" - using a small ledge or rock as a launchpad to propel themselves into a safe position for the ride down.
Luke Spencer
Waterfalls in the Salmon River Gorge come in many shapes and sizes. This one is a horsetail or fan waterfall.
Luke Spencer
A "recovery pool" at the base of one of many falls in the Salmon River Gorge.
Luke Spencer
The Shangri-La of Oregon Kayaking
What kind of person would boat down a river so dangerous that it was considered un-runnable as recently as the 1990s? Luke Spencer, for one. He says the excitement and beauty of the place combine to make it, as he puts it, "the Shangri-La of Oregon kayaking." "When I got into it I'm like, 'Sweet, I'm kayaking, it's thrill seeking' ... but there's so much more to it than that."
Kayakers carry their boats for miles to reach the goat path that will take them to an access point upriver of the Salmon River Gorge.
Ed Jahn
The world inside the Salmon River Gorge is not unlike that of the Columbia River Gorge. Water pours in from every direction and moss dangles from basalt protrusions hundreds of feet above the river. It's a photographers' delight. But seeing it requires kayaking, and kayaking the Salmon River Gorge is a class V-VI adventure with life-and-death consequences.
That no one has died here speaks only to the fact that the run remains something of a secret among expert boaters. While not the first to run the Salmon River Gorge, the regulars — people like Luke Spencer, Ryan Scott, Keel Brightman — each spend upwards of 200 days a year running some of the toughest whitewater in the Northwest.
And, like surfers, they keep the keys to this kingdom close at hand. The faint, unmarked game trail used to access the river remains a well-guarded secret.
Since the run was first pioneered in the early 2000s, Spencer says probably no more than a few hundred kayakers have successfully run the mile-long gorge and its more than half-dozen waterfalls ranging from 10 feet to 80 feet high. But as thrilling as the adventure may be, the 35-year-old Spencer says the experience is as much about being in a place as seeking a thrill.
"The inaccessibility of the canyon itself — part of its beauty is that people can't get in there ... unless you're a kayaker, you will never see the innards of that canyon."
So Close and Yet So Far
The Salmon River Gorge is only an hour from Portland and its existence is by no means a secret. Hikers, though, can only get so close.
Locations of key points within the Salmon River Gorge.
Jason Bernert
The popular Salmon River Trail closely follows the river through the Salmon-Huckleberry wilderness for miles before it ascends steeply, veering away from the water and up into the dense cover of forest. From the trail, the part of the gorge that contains the densest cluster of waterfalls looks to be little more than a dark, distant crease framed by basalt cliffs plunging into blackness.
To break away from the trail to get a closer look requires goatlike footwork across unconsolidated rock and loose moss that gets progressively steeper, and progressively more treacherous, until there is no going further. Obstructed views of two of the falls can be seen from one difficult to reach off-trail meander, but the meager and uninspiring vantage is not worth the effort.
Producer - Ed Jahn
Editor/Videographer - Michael Bendixen
Videographer - Todd Sonflieth
Post Audio Engineering - Steven Vaughn Kray
Rigger - Sean O'Connor
Porter - Leif Erik Smith
Additional Video - Sean O'Connor, Ryan Scott, Keel Brightman, Matt King, Willie Illingworth
Pilot - Ned McCall