Recirculating waters have held him close to breathlessness, and Steve has been trashed in the roils and coils of winter froth. He has surfed the waves of opaque bluedom. Steve’s helmet cam videos on YouTube betray a stout courage and prowess on big water. He is a calculated risk taker who executes paddle strokes and body shifts that are aligned for joy in pools and drops and falls.

Growing up in Spokane helped prepare Steve for the outdoor adventures he has launched in the far reaches of our watery planet. Despite a raft of commitments to his family, community, and 25-year career in the fire service, when Steve turned 40, he and his wife agreed: He needed to celebrate in a distinctive way. What follows is a sort of return to that distinctive flow.

Q: Steve, what’s your background as a kayaker?

A: A coworker took me to Liberty Lake to teach me to roll. Then we floated the upper Spokane from Barker to Sullivan. The next day we headed to the Alberton Gorge on Montana’s Clark Fork River, where I swam three times. I got beat up a lot, but just had so much fun.

Soon after, I found out a high school friend was taking a kayak class at EWU. Then a group of four or five of us met up on the Spokane River, got hooked on the sport, and started going every day. Nobody had solid rolls, but we would help each other out with t-rescues and swims. We couldn’t get enough.

At one point I think I was putting down close to 150-180 days a year on the water.

Q: How did the Zambezi show up on your radar?

A: When I started kayaking in the early 2000s, the Zambezi and Nile kept popping up. Guys from that area like Steve Fisher and Corran Addison heavily promoted those rivers in their videos and magazine articles. It was powerful water.

There are different facets of kayaking: you can do big water, steep creeking, freestyle, river running, park-and-play. That big stuff was just so much fun.

In those first few years, I just decided, one of these days I want to go to the Zambezi or the Nile. On the Nile, there was a dam project. Some of the rapids still exist, but a lot are gone.

And the Zambezi is slated to have another dam constructed in the next few years. The rapids are numbered 1-21, and from where the dam construction is planned, it’s going to flood all the way back to No. 5.

So when I turned 40 and my wife asked “What do you want to do for your birthday?”

I said, “I want to run the Zambezi before it’s gone.”

Q: How did you prepare?

A: By the time I flew with my boat to Livingstone, Zambia, I had been kayaking extensively for 18 years. At that point, the skill set was there.

But to prepare for that powerful brand of whitewater, I boated the Kootenai River in Montana. Some refer to it as the Little Zambezi, or the Montana Zambezi.

On days when I couldn’t find other kayakers, my dad would drive the shuttle so I could do 4-5 laps in a day and practice the moves I would need in the Batoka Gorge.

In our area, in addition to the Kootenai, we have the Lochsa River, the Salmon, the Snake, Tumwater Canyon on the Wenatchee—all big-water style. That training on rivers within striking distance of Spokane allowed me the confidence to just jump right on the Zam when I got there.

“The Great River”

This river of Steve’s allure has surged with enough volume to carve 1600 miles into the land from the Central African Plateau to the Indian Ocean. Journeying through six countries of south-central Africa, the Zambezi and its wetlands and tributaries count as one of the continent’s most biodiverse ecosystems; the Z also ranks as Africa’s fourth longest river.

Translated from the name given by the indigenous Tonga people, “Zambezi” means “The Great River.”

Steve had read about the famous rapids of the Batoka Gorge and confronted their surface tension in his mind. Soon, they would meet him in swells and crests. The parched lands above and the sheer basalt walls would be forgotten.

All Steve had visualized before boarding the plane for Africa would be replaced by the bwoosh and crash and hiss of canyon waters. His plan was to put in below Mosi-oa-Tunya National Park, the site of Victoria Falls, a UNESCO World Heritage site. On Steve’s descent, Zambia would be river left, Zimbabwe to the right.

Q: How was your first run on the Zambezi, putting in right below Victoria Falls?

A: For me, it really was how I wanted my first experience on the Zam to be. I was full of excitement to be there and run the big rapids.

My two friends and I met some other kayakers who said they would be willing to show us the lines. The catch was that one of the rafting company photographers had plans to take photos, so we weren’t going to have time to scout. We had to be willing to just run the rapids, top to bottom, based on verbal beta and reading the river as we went.

The first run was pretty cool coming into the top of those because the Zambezi’s pool-to-pool, but with a steep gradient between the pools. So you’d be getting the information on “You need to be just left of center, or moving center,” or, “There’s a big hole over here, another big hole over there…and you don’t want to be there.”

Over the years I have found that I prize not having too much information about a new run. I really value that raw experience of taking what little I know about a river or rapid and putting it together with what I am seeing and feeling as we scout or drop into the action.

Nothing compares to that feeling of the final push off of shore and then eddying out into swift current. That moment of no return and complete focus on what is in front of you.

Q: How challenging were the rapids?

A: My favorite style of whitewater is big water rivers, and the Zambezi definitely lived up to its reputation with fast and steep rapids. Unfortunately, we caught a drought year. The water level hadn’t been that low since sometime back in the late 1990s.

The rapids were still sizable but came with an added difficulty of having more obstacles or hydraulics to avoid. The lower water required making additional moves to navigate the drops. Each had its own dynamic. The trip was over two years ago, but I can still see the line of descent for rapids 1 through 21!

That first lap was about getting to have that raw experience, the second lap was to clean up and memorize all the lines, and all runs after that we focused on playing with different features or perfecting the lines of the more difficult rapids.

The final lap saw us paddling down from the traditional takeout to the site of the proposed dam. We wanted to see and experience the full length of the Zambezi before it was too late.

Q: Back here in Spokane, why do you care if other people are running rivers?

A: As you can tell, kayaking just really grabbed me, and the boater community has been very welcoming. Some of the more experienced paddlers got me involved in supporting the sport.

As I gained experience as a kayaker, it was satisfying to share knowledge on gear, technique, and rivers, to sit in an eddy and give someone a tip that has helped me learn a trick. And then watch them go from flopping over and having to roll, to throwing a big loop or linking a cartwheel. Scouting a big rapid, helping them pick the line, leading them down, and watching the explosion of genuine, happy excitement after nailing the line and catching the bottom eddy.

For people who say, “I always wanted to try that!” if you give them an avenue, they could really respond. Then that’s another person who might later teach somebody else.

The goal is not to get as many people as we can on the river, of course, but we’re trying to encourage the people who truly embrace what’s happening. They in turn help make experiences more enjoyable for other people on a river trip or an afternoon surf session.

Q: How else do you give back to the river running community?

A: I helped establish the new Trailer Park Wave access point and preserve the access at Dead Dog Hole, Barker Bridge, and Sullivan Hole. I was part of the Spokane whitewater park proposal process from the beginning all the way until the project died.

Also, it became clear that whitewater kayaking, rafting, and snowboarding were good ways to help returning veterans. Consequently, I have spent years working with the Spokane Veterans Center and the Veterans Community Response group to help provide for those who can benefit from the services and activities.

Running Back Home and Into the Future

Outdoor adventure travel has motivated Steve Bailey to juggle shifts and finances. He bids goodbye to family and friends with an awareness that objective dangers await.

On the Zambezi, Steve sought a clarity required by Class V whitewater, a boundless sensibility as a visitor to people and places on the edge of survival. He ran 21 rapids (just) in time and came back to the wild waters and community of home with reveries and hallucinations for his next titanic river.

Originally published as “Running Before It’s Gone: Steve Bailey and the Zambezi River” in the March-April 2022 print issue.

John Eliason started kayaking and rafting rivers in 1993. He lives and writes in Spokane, where he teaches in the English Department at Gonzaga University.

For Further Reading

• “Batoka HES Project” from Zambezi River Authority
• Glossary of Basic White Water Kayaking Terms
• “Save The Zambezi group” on Facebook

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With gear in hand and a good teacher or mentor willing to guide your journey into traditional archery, it’s time to shoot. But where? One obvious choice: Evergreen Archery Club. This non-profit dedicated to “the need of archers for an organization to bring people together, in order to foster the Sport of Archery,” has a club range on North Rimrock Drive, near Spokane Falls Community College. For more information, visit the Evergreen Archery Club website and the club’s Facebook page.  

Other resources include the traditional “Bowhunter Magazine,” which offers a useful glossary of archery terms. The “Archer’s Den” on the 3 Rivers Archery blog offers reasons to try going trad. Finally, “USA Archery,” the National Governing Body for the Olympic sport of archery, offers a range of resources, including information on adaptive archery for persons of all abilities.  

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What a thrill when he later gifted me with the “Smoke Creek Special,” an exquisite longbow rendered from Osage orange wood and then backed (laminated) with hickory. Steve’s gesture overwhelmed me. I interpreted this functional art as an invitation to join him on a meditative journey. I accepted and strung the bow. 

Exploring the beauty of traditional archery does not require Steve’s or any other bowyer’s nudge. Anyone seeking the pleasure of loosing arrows at a target can get set up without much cost or complication. Maybe the best first step is to ask, “What are my goals?” Some people strive for membership on a competitive archery team or for a pleasing form of relief at the end of stressful days. How about a step of martial preparation for a zombie apocalypse? Others interested in traditional archery might empathize with Steve’s goal for lone outdoor hunting experiences with bow and arrows in the backcountry. 

Whatever the goals, the equipment needed, at least to start, is remarkably basic. I relish the traditional archer’s challenges and appreciate the absence of the compound bow’s cam systems, cables, parallel limbs, sights, and releases. With a recurve or longbow, the archer engages only with bow, string, and arrow. 

To locate the appropriate gear, contact traditional archers. Most know that neophytes do not need a top shelf archery setup, and they will be generous in sharing their knowledge of bow shops and helpful instructional videos. Veterans of archery can dish on the risks of purchasing anything sight unseen off of the internet. There can be imperfections, twisted limbs, and cracks on bows that would not revealthemselves to the uninitiated. Be sure to elicit the assistance of people who can discern a good deal from a safety nightmare. 

A quick online search will reveal that, wherever you are, professional guidance is not far away. Regional options include Evergreen Archery Club, Spokane Valley Archery, Blue Goose Sporting Goods in St. Maries, and Camo’d Arrow Store and Archery Range near Chewelah. The big box sporting goods stores also carry stick bows for entry-level arrow flingers. 

As with anything, traditional archers can find extraordinarily refined bows and arrows from reputable bowyers. When first starting out, a safe bow and an appropriately sized set of arrows will suffice. Seek help on measuring your draw length, and do not shoot a bow and arrows that have not been matched to your dimensions. 

Originally published as “Coming to Full Draw” in the July-August 2020 issue.

John Eliason started shooting traditional archery in the 1980s and then took a nearly three-decade hiatus. He lives and writes in Spokane, where he teaches in the English Department at Gonzaga University. 

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River travel can be mesmerizing, peaceful, terrifying. Even a half-day commercial float presents a possibility for any of these realities and more. But river runners will gush about how a certain awakening of the senses is unavoidable on a multiday trip down the Selway. Permit applications are often unsuccessful because so many people covet the chance to experience this designated wild river that runs 47 miles through the vast and impressive Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness. The rapids vary in difficulty according to water levels, but no matter the reading on the gauge at the Paradise put-in, the run overall is rated from Class IV at low water to Class IV+ (or above) at higher flows. Got action? Check!

Relentless? Not necessarily. In certain stretches, the river lulls, and swift flatwater teases out my contemplations about time. Daily routines back home have the capacity for dulling our awareness of how many heartbeats have been played and how many might remain. Before a wilderness river trip, I find myself unable to consider a journey without thinking about its ending, or past travels, or how the next one might end too soon. On the Selway, and any multiday affair, river runners will reference a phenomenon called “river time.” Miles of dramatic scenery and whitewater, day after day, tend to settle one’s soul within the currents and geologic introspections. You live in the present tense. Presence. Gifts from nature.

On river time, Mueggler did not believe such reflections so much as he lived them, and then spoke of them with a dual purpose. He convinced everyone at the fire circle of how much this global community shared by people, creatures, plants, and big clear water matters to us all. He also needed to testify for himself that if this system’s perspective was not the path to a land of magic or bliss or salvation, at least it came with tangible effects. No river runner has wondered if the timing was bad. The rocks, wood, and retentive holes dole out lessons in sometimes fatal proportions, and the flow of the water is somehow a hint to us all that we had better pay attention now.

In any adventure — such as life — the one thing to count on is the unanticipated. Mueggler lived just a few short years after that breathtaking Selway trip. He and two other experienced backcountry travelers were buried in a Utah avalanche on January 12, 1997. As Mueggler’s friend Joe Biby wrote in a tribute later that dark winter, “Like the whitewater Mueggler sought to ride in his kayak in an effort to merge with the wild currents, a great turbulent wave of snow took him away.”

When I stood on the river bank in 1993, watching Mueggler surf the powerful Selway wave that kept on giving, nothing right then could be confined to a kayaker’s bag of tricks. What played out before me transcended mere physical achievement and beckoned me to wonder about the river’s aura. How could something be so affirming? Mueggler’s remarkable smile exceeded the waterway and penetrated the amazing mountains of the Selway-Bitterroot. From within a storm of whitewater, Mueggler released a spirit of the wild that I seek and envy to this day.

When a friend invited me to run the Selway in May 2015, I understood it would be a new experience, despite that several of us had been on the trip with Mueggler a startling 22 years prior. It was different, but people still graduated to river time and sustained a community. We talked safety, chased a boatless kayaker in Ladle Rapid, hiked to stunning overlooks, scouted rapids, cooked delightful meals, and thirsted for more than we could consume. Once on the river, we left behind the daily trappings of our hectic lives and lived as the proud unshaven. We had broken through to a point where we could take along the best of each of us, and so Mueggler was there on the Selway this time, too, surfing through story lines and waiting to catch a wave.

Seeking River Time?

Running the Selway and other wilderness rivers requires special permits and preparations. For information on the “Four Rivers Lottery,” which includes the Main Salmon, Middle Fork of the Salmon, Selway, and Snake-Hells Canyon Rivers, visit http://www.fs.usda.gov/detail/bitterroot/home/?cid=STELPRDB5262645. According to the site, permit applications must be submitted online through Recreation.gov, and the application period is December 1 through January 31 each year.

That means it might be difficult to get on a trip this spring or summer unless a permit holder has extended an invitation. The U.S. Forest Service site also notes, however, that “cancelled reservations will be released at a random time within 24 hours beginning on March 16th and continuing throughout the float season.” Careful attention should be paid to river and weather conditions, as well as boaters’ abilities, equipment, and experience. These rivers are the real deal!

For more information on the Selway River and other multiday trips in Idaho, acquire a copy of Greg Moore and Don McClaran’s “Idaho Whitewater” and Grant Amaral’s “Idaho: The Whitewater State.” //

John Eliason lives, paddles, and writes in Spokane, WA

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To be sure, BHA’s primary audience is hunters and anglers. However, the group does stand and advocate for things that many other outdoor recreation enthusiasts care about, including protecting public lands, wildlife habitat and wilderness. Whether you’re a seasoned backcountry hunter or angler looking to connect with a like-minded community or a non-hunting or fishing hiker, backpacker, boater or mountain biker who is interested in learning more about the skill, dedication, and challenge that hunting and fishing in remote, wild country involves, the Rendezvous will have something for you. Here are a few good reasons to check it out.

You want to learn more about backcountry hunting and fishing. The Rendezvous will offer something for everyone. Holly Endersby, immediate past Conservation Director for BHA, emphasized the fine writers, the panel on women and hunting and the Saturday sessions. Topics include backcountry videography and photography as well as archeology and the hunt. The audience will experience a special screening of writer David Peterson’s new film, “The Good Hunt.” The keynote speaker for this year’s Rendezvous is Randy Newberg, host of “Fresh Tracks” on the Sportsman Channel.

You fish and/or hunt and care about protecting backcountry lands. As veteran Northeast Washington member Bart George emphasizes, BHA is one of the few organizations building upon the contributions hunters and anglers have made to preserving wild places in our country. “You don’t hear a wilderness message as much from some of the other hunting and fishing groups,” he says. “And I really appreciate that BHA is explicitly wild habitat-centric.”

George, a wildlife biologist and avid hunter, also pointed out that BHA members typically share values with people who crave wilderness experiences, whether that means trail running, floating backcountry waters, or riding on horseback into remote terrain. “I respect that diverse group of people – including hunters and anglers – who choose to do things the hard way,” he says. “That inclination is certainly going out of style.”

One of George’s goals for BHA’s Washington Chapter is to raise membership: “We need to find a way to get people involved, particularly with habitat restoration projects, wilderness bills, and what’s happening with habitat protection.”

New BHA member Mark Heckert concurs. “I joined specifically because of the organization’s efforts to resist the grab for public land,” he said. “I support BHA in their efforts to resist the ongoing and simmering effort to privatize what belongs to all of us. The preservation of federal land is an existential issue for me, something I identify with as an American citizen,” he says. “BHA can help in this regard by counteracting the special interest groups seeking to wrest lands from the public.”

Beyond the Rendezvous, BHA has chapters in 16 states and British Columbia, and the Washington chapter meetings occur on both sides of the state, so local involvement is possible.

You care about wildlife conservation. Back in the late 1800s and early 1900s, a great number of species were in trouble as a result of rapid resource extraction. Settlers and industrialists took and then took some more. This had startling consequences for wildlife and their habitat. As biologist and writer Jim Posewitz notes in “Beyond Fair Chase,” “The United States observed the first ‘Earth Day’ in 1970. This ‘day’ marked the time when the general public recognized it was time to stop destroying nature. Yet as early as 1871, nearly a century before Earth Day, hunters and anglers were speaking out for nature and the environment.” BHA builds on the legacy of earlier hunter-conservationists with a mission that “seeks to ensure North America’s outdoor heritage of hunting and fishing in a natural setting, through education and work on behalf of wild public lands and waters.”

According to Endersby, the Rendezvous in Spokane and the organization are for anyone interested in conservation. “BHA is not just for hunters and anglers,” she says. “One of our focal points, for example, is to encourage more families to engage in the outdoors.” The idea is that active members can reinforce for children the importance of healthy living and the need to preserve wild places. “But in fact, anybody connected to the outdoors could take something away from the Rendezvous because it builds upon the principle that communal effort is necessary to protect our resources and the legacy we have been given.” Endersby says the people in BHA tend to be thoughtful, even reverential, about hunting and fishing. As such, the group offers non-hunters and anglers a venue for encountering perspectives not always evident in the hunting and fishing community.

You like to drink beer. To add some spirits to the Rendezvous, BHA is hosting its 1st Annual Backcountry Brewfest on Friday, March 6 from 5-9 p.m. This chance to mingle with like-minded hunters, anglers and outdoor adventure enthusiasts from around the country will feature the delights of more than a dozen regional breweries in the Red Lion’s Skyline Ballroom downtown Spokane. Ticket info at www.backcountryhunters.org or call 406-370-4325.

More Info: Register for the BHA Rendezvous at www.backcountryhunters.org. Can’t make the event but want to join BHA? Visit the same website for membership information. //

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One day when I was 12, my dad and I strapped on snowshoes in the pre-dawn light and drew tracks across the forest in our pursuit of elk. Then prints we made joined theirs, and suddenly an opportunity. My father grabbed a tree so I could rest my rifle on his arm. “Steady,” he said. And he was as I squeezed the trigger and ended a life. Elation and a sense of achievement came with killing that elk, but so did melancholy for the death of the animal and a poignant day. The hunt occurred 35 seasons ago, but its terrific intimacy remains in my mind. Near a lone Montana pine: two hunters with a breathless creature, all at rest in light snowfall. I recall a father of pride and a son driven to distraction by a moment dizzying and profound. That free-ranging elk had been taken but not wasted. At nightfall, Mom served tenderloins, and back on the mountain, among shadows and chilly gusts, birds and bears scavenged and gnawed until entrails were replaced by animal desires for more.

How and where we get our sustenance matters. This claim would have sailed past me at age 12. My focus concerned tales of the hunt in Field & Stream, Outdoor Life, and other hook-and-bullet magazines. Stopping then to consider the quality of the meat from that elk I had shot? No. I did always covet the homemade jerky. Wild game stews were delicious. Toasted cheese sandwiches with venison thuringer still rank high on my gastro list. But as an adult, appreciating carnivorous tendencies has grown more complicated. This is largely because my wife and I are committed to helping our children develop meaningful relationships with food. We want the people we love most to appreciate what lands on their dinner plates. Beans are picked and tomatoes harvested right out the back door. Late summer includes time in huckleberry patches. We meander at farmers markets and sojourn to Green Bluff, while steelhead and other trout smoke 25 feet from our house. Out in the garage during the late fall—if a hunter’s luck has somehow aligned with skill and perseverance—my family and friends clutch knives and follow ancestors into the sober tradition of deconstructing beauty.

Butchering at home strips away the veil. Cutting boards and freezer paper fill any chasm between the consumer of meat and the creature that has died. The sharp work to transform hind quarters and back straps into cutlets demands an attention to origins. I figure that if meat eating is a part of my family’s diet, we must know the stakes for the steaks.

Why do I hunt? The question can be answered fairly easily as long as I hover near its surface. That I do so to provide fresh food for my family is accurate but incomplete. The other reasons can appear stereotypical. Hunting is part of my family’s heritage, and tracking and scouting and pursuing tests my physical and mental resolve under a range of conditions. I hunt out of a passionate interest in being aligned rather than distanced from predatory instincts. Being out there with gun or bow in hand sustains a felt connection with the early humans who etched their hunting stories on animal hides and cave walls. With a strong set of ethics and knowledge of natural acts, I believe hunting conditions me for the arbitrariness of life. Nothing predictable. All free range. Pursuit (and checking over one’s shoulder occasionally to avoid becoming the pursued) mandates an intense level of concentration and a genuine giving to the moment. There is life and struggle, isolation and community. Maybe even enlightenment.

Even when I am reminded that people of sophistication do not give in to nostalgia, I cannot help losing my critical edge as I recount the elk adventure with my father, sibling bowhunts in Crazy Mountain fog, and pronghorn escapades with my dear friend Greg. When the folk songs from cassettes we played in his old yellow truck come on the radio these years later, I am transported back to campfires and that little dive bar down the Gallatin. My hunting history flares up with lasting images of high country and iced-up decoys along the Madison. The crazed screams of bull elk in rut will never leave me. More recent memories matter, too. For some I was alone, but many times I have been fortunate to travel with friends who share my reverence and love for animals and the mountains they inhabit. All of these experiences are enhanced by the gravitas that comes with hunting. Other outdoor activities stimulate me, on rivers, in snowy mountains, down singletrack bike trails, but hunting is not a sport or mere adrenaline rush.

My hunting narrative reminds me of grand adventures and trips with clean endings. I am also summoned by regret. Pursuing and killing are serious endeavors. They can (and should) inspire humility and revelations about the fragility of life. I know this, in part, because of a once-magnificent antelope hunt. I had closed the distance on a nice buck bedded several hundred yards away. Crawling for over an hour across windswept grasses brought me to within 100 yards. Undetected, I whistled and the buck stood broadside against rolling hills and Big Sky blue. The shot was smooth, just like that one with the elk when I was 12. It seemed I had prepared well and stalked perfectly. Here we were again in the realm of finality. At the first sonic disruption from my .243, a bright red splotch appeared on the buck’s left side. Mortal wound? Not quite. I triggered more action, but even after the last bullet casing hit the ground near my feet, the buck was still free range. My family and I searched that country for hours with nothing to show. “This happens sometimes, even to the best of hunters,” my dad reminded me. Of course he was right, but many years later, I still wince in remorse for the suffering I caused.

My friend Erik suggested that photography is the ultimate form of hunting. It requires many of the skills hunters must employ but also the proper light at the right time of day. I agree, and so this form of pursuit should suffice. For me, however, I hunger for an interior wild that requires more than images. The kind of wild that compels me to be with deer and elk and to stalk, wait, guess, predict, and, when conditions are right, make a kill. This personal truth comes out when I look in the mirror at canine incisors and see eyes positioned for searching. My place in the lineage honors the way of the bears, cougars, and wolves. I accept my role as predator, even though doing so violates the catch-and-release ethos of photographers and the (questionably) progressive stance of many non-hunting meat eaters. Insightful arguments against hunting exist; I concede that human systems have evolved to the point where people like me do not need to hunt for food. But being a predator keeps me grounded. Hunting reflects a full commitment to variables out of my control, like my own life’s inevitable conclusion. Why I hunt has to do with facing fears and staying honest. The blood on my hands is problematic but also an application for authenticity, a reminder to stay closely connected to the actual in a world increasingly seduced by a virtual everything.

Recommended Reading

Ortega y Gassett, Meditations on Hunting

Aldo Leopold, A Sand County Almanac

David Petersen, A Hunter’s Heart: Honest Essays on Blood Sport

Jim Posewitz, Beyond Fair Chase: The Ethic and Tradition of Hunting

Mary Zeiss Stange, Woman the Hunter

James Swan, The Sacred Art of Hunting: Myths, Legends, and the Modern Mythos

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