See No Evel

In 1974, working for the Forest Service in Prairie City, Oregon, a friend asked if I would be interested in venturing to Twin Falls, Idaho to watch motorcycle daredevil Evel Knievel leap across the Snake River canyon on a motorcycle. Naturally, I said "yes" and we made plans to go.

Evel Knievel, a daredevil motorcyclist who staged self-promoted events for a living, "is probably the only man in history who has become very wealthy by trying to kill himself" by jumping cars, trucks and other obstacles on his motorcycle, noted Johnny Carson when interviewing Knievel. 

In an era of outrageous characters like Muhammad Ali and Elvis Presley, Evel Knievel stood out. After years of jumping cars and busses, he would now jump the Snake River Canyon, and we would be there to witness the unusual event. So we drove from Prairie City to Twin Falls.

We camped overnight at a designated campsite provided by the Sawtooth National Forest. More rangeland that forest, we awoke the next morning for the big event surrounded by grazing cows. Packing up our camp, turns out we were just a few miles from Jackpot, Nevada.

Heading north to Twin Falls, we encountered a crowd that would rival that of Woodstock or any large concert, and with the whole world watching on television, Evel Knievel was preparing his water-powered rocket cycle to fly across a chasm in his gutsiest attempt to cheat of death yet. 

The first thing we noticed was that the angle of the launch chute seemed too sharp at about 70 degrees. We estimated that he might make it high enough but perhaps not far enough. When the rocket cycle ignited, the chute immediately opened, diminishing ithe speed of the rocket.

Yet Knievel made it across the river. However, the prevailing winds floated the chute down into the ravine, where he practically landed in an awaiting boat. It was then that we spotted the black and white bulls-eye target some daring souls had painted on the north side of the canyon.

Needless to say, we were disappointed at the poor showing by the white-suited, star-spangled banner adrenaline junkie from Butte, Montana. "I'll bet he had that scam all figured out from the beginning," noted my companion with disgust. "What a total butt job."

Afterward, we motored back to Prairie City to spend a few days in the Strawberry Mountain Wilderness, where I was working as a backcountry ranger. That sojourn into the southernmost of the Blue Mountains would turn out to be the highlight of the trip.

Dominating the scenery the head of the John Day River is Strawberry Mountain, elevation 9,044. The wilderness itself varies between 3-5 miles in width and is 18 miles long, and includes such mountains as Pine Creek, Indian Creek Butte, Strawberry and Rabbit Ears.

We approached the wilderness from the back side through the Logan Valley. With five glacial tarns, including High Lake, the ecosystem is extremely diverse and includes five of seven of North America's life zones within its boundaries. The wilderness also includes spectacular views in every direction.

Later that year, I left Prairie City for good. The next season I would be working on the Lake Wenatchee Ranger District on the Wenatchee National Forest in Washington. But we'll always remember that ill-fated attempt by Evel Knievel to jump the Snake River Canyon in Twin Falls, Idaho.