The Glory Years
(Draft 1.0, still needing comments from former colleagues)
Of course Mom and Dad love their children equally, but they usually have a favorite or two. That’s the way it is with me and the 300(?) Outdoor Idaho programs produced over 40 years. There are a handful of programs that I’m particularly fond of, where things just seemed to click, where the writing worked, the video was exceptional, serendipity was on our side, equipment problems were held at bay, and the editing made it all flow seamlessly.
Often the reason I’m fond of a show is because I remember the amount of work that went into its creation. For me that immediately brings to mind hour-long programs like “50 Years of Wilderness,” “Land of the Lost River Range,” "Beyond the White Clouds," “Idaho Geology: A Convergence of Wonders,” "The River of No Return," "Sawtooths on My Mind,” “Into the Pioneers,” "Pend Oreille Country," "Designing Idaho," "Spud Country," “35th Anniversary Special.”
These are just a few of the shows I'm glad are still in the station's statewide on-air rotation, and still on the Outdoor Idaho website. I will occasionally run across one of these shows, and I'll find myself saying, to no one in particular, Hey, we didn't do too badly on that one.
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I'm especially fond of those shows where several of my colleagues shared in their creation. They always brought something special to the mix that I would not have considered. To make these collaborations work required a gameplan that was upfront and agreed upon in advance, just so we weren't stepping on each other's lines. Unfortunately, as we began the process, I couldn't promise anyone what the length of each segment would be. There was too much that could go wrong -- or right -- since serendipity often threw us a curveball.
One collaboration that springs immediately to mind is "Idaho Headwaters." The concept of the show was straightforward enough. We travel to the farthest reaches of some of Idaho's favorite rivers, like the Snake and the Selway, the Salmon and the Boise, the Owyhee and the St. Joe.
The beginnings of rivers are some of the West's sacred places, usually located in the most beautiful, forgotten regions of the State. They can remind us what is worth protecting in this world of ours. Luckily, most of these headwaters are protected, which for us meant a long multi-day journey into seldom-visited country.
Helping with "Idaho Headwaters" were producers John Crancer and Sauni Symonds. Videographer duties were shared by Jay Krajic primarily, with assistance from Aaron Kunz, Peter Morrill, Pat Metzler, and Chuck Cathcart. Pat also handled the herculean job of editing it all together into a watchable hour program.
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While searching for the headwaters of the Snake River -- Idaho's longest river -- John Crancer and Jay Krajic found themselves lost after two days on horseback. More accurately, the Guide they employed was lost. John was not happy, but apparently it's easy to get lost in the wild part of Yellowstone National Park. One can argue that determining a single source of a complex river is a matter of hydrological debate. But the Outdoor Idaho crew did make it to the iconic Two Ocean Pass -- and they have the video to prove it -- where the waters of the Snake flow in two directions, east to the Missouri River and the Atlantic Ocean, and west to the Columbia River and the Pacific Ocean. Two Ocean Pass is more than 9,000 feet above sea level. (maybe John will add 2 or 3 sentences to this.)
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For "Idaho Headwaters" I tackled the search for the source of the fabled Selway River, located deep in the Frank Church River of No Return Wildereness. The Selway was the only river in America to receive immediate entree into the National Wilderness and the Wild and Scenic Rivers System.
Videographer Jay Krajic and I joined outfitter Steve Burson and his two guides on a ten hour trek to Steve's base camp. Also joining us was Dave Campbell and his wife ___. Dave was a retired Forest Service District Ranger who was willing to support the Forest Service's "Let it Burn" policy. Steve thought it was a travesty. The narrow dusty trail snaked through a black, barren landscape for the entire ten miles we were on the back of a mule. The large burn was definitely not a pretty sight, and not what anyone imagined back in 1980, when people optimistically declared this land official Wilderness.
I was never so happy to see an outfitter's basecamp, with lush trees and a tiny creek running through it. As I was walking off the backside pain from the ten mile mule ride, the wife of the District Ranger whispered to me that she would rather die than get back on that mule. I could feel her pain, but we still had ten miles on the mules to get back to civilization.
The pain was worth it, however, when Outfitter Steve Burson and Ranger Dave Campbell reached down with their metal cups to toast the clear cold water of the tiny trickle. "It comes right out of the rocks, with very little ground above it," said Outfitter Steve, "So I do believe this is the official headwater. I think we're here." Ranger Dave commented, "It's an ecosystem that has all of the components. Here's to the Selway, the crown jewel of wild rivers in the Lower 48." At least that was one thing the two men could agree on.
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Another multi-day journey was to the headwaters of the Boise River, deep in the Sawtooth Mountains. The hazardous washboard road into the 1860's mining village of Atlanta would be enough for most people. But from there we faced a 16 mile hike to Spangle Lakes, the headwaters of the Middle Fork of the Boise. No wonder we didn't meet other hikers on the trail. It was all uphill!
At one point on the trail, Outfitter Darl Allred had to very carefully maneuver his packhorses through a swamp filled with downed trees everywhere. I had called the Forest Service office before the trip and was assured we wouldn't have any signifiant problems. But that day, after a lengthy scout, Darl determined there was no way to avoid the knee-deep water. Luckily, he was an expert horseman, and the animals seemed comfortable jumping over the slippery, submerged logs. Afterwards, Darl commented to me that he was worried his horses might break a leg. "For most people it would have been over here," pointing to the bog. "Every year here in the Sawtooths there's a horse or two that goes down."
We decided to camp nearby off the trail and tackle the rest of the journey to Spangle Lake in the morning. We all realized we had dodged a serious setback. Darl Allred definitely earned a place in the show.
I had visited Spangle Lake when I was a12-year old. But that 50 mile hike started in Grandjean instead of Atlanta. I was wondering how much I would remember of that 1962 journey. Would I recognize the giant rock and the pool beneath it, where I hooked a dozen brook trout on grasshoppers caught at 10 Lake Basin, before we climbed up to Spangle Lake? I certainly carried an image of that time in my mind.
But funny thing, this time that giant rock had somehow managed to shrink to half its size. It's amazing what time can do to your memories.
The water, however was still as crystal clear as I remembered it to be, and the fish were still biting. The good things hadn't changed at all.
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Collaboration is Multiplication, and that’s especially true in the world of television. It’s really the only way you can keep something going for four decades.
In that spirit I invited some of my colleagues to share their favorite shows, and to tell us what made those programs special to them.
---unfinished---
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