Verily, Hells Canyon Itself

I continued on, and left the Scenic Byway for a detour down to the Hells Canyon Dam, figuring this was my only chance to actually get down in the canyon.  The road winds along the Snake River on the Idaho side, and involves a lot of careful maneuvering around many grapefruit-sized rocks which have plummeted from the canyon walls.  You know how you always see those Falling Rocks signs and you think, “yeah yeah”? Well, on this road I was truly concerned for my safety.  Hells Canyon Dam was the last of three dams built by Idaho Power in the 50’s and 60’s, and is squeezed in one of the narrowest sections of the canyon.  Before the dams were built, the river level was much lower.  The old highway was submerged when the waters backed up behind Hells Canyon Dam, and at one point along the present-day road, a sign indicates that a tunnel for the old highway is now filled with water somewhere below where you drive today.

In geologic history, the Owyhee Mountains formed a natural dam between the Snake River and the Columbia.  About a million years ago, the Snake River finally breached the mountains and surged northward.  Meanwhile, the vast and terminal Lake Bonneville covered most of Utah and parts of Idaho.  About 14,500 years ago, Lake Bonneville rose to the elevation of Red Rock Pass in Idaho, suddenly draining much of the Great Basin into the Snake River.  Scientists believe the flood lasted about a year, and this event alone made the Snake River Canyon about 500 feet deeper than before.  Eventually the lake stabilized, and over time shrank to approximately 1/12th of its original size, leaving what today we know as the Great Salt Lake.  As the Snake River continued to flow, it formed what we now call Hells Canyon, the deepest canyon in North America.  Although the erosive power of the Snake River is mostly responsible for the canyon, plate uplifts also played a part, as they pushed up the Seven Devils and Eagle Cap Mountains.  The canyon walls show a section through time to the trained eye, revealing relatively recent basalt flows, limestone once formed on the ocean floor, ancient lavas, alluvial deposits, and remains of primeval swamps once on the surface of the Blue Mountain Islands.  Depths in the canyon vary from 1480 feet to 7913 feet, with an average of about 5500 feet over a 40-mile section of the total 100 miles.

The name Hells Canyon first appeared around 1895.  Prior to that, locals referred to the area as Box Canyon or the Grand Canyon of the Snake.  Shoshone and Nez Perce tribes once populated the area, and according to their traditions, Coyote dug the canyon to protect people on the west side from a band of evil spirits living in the mountains on the east side (hence Seven Devils Mountains).  Popular accounts hold that in 1895, a cargo ship pilot named Haller built Norma, a boat to haul copper ore downstream from mines near Oxbow, Oregon.  During Norma’s first and only trip through the canyon, Haller was nearly overwhelmed by the intense rapids.  Here the story becomes uncertain, but the name seems to be derived either from what Haller said as he attempted to navigate the river, or an inaccurate repetition of “Haller’s Canyon”.  In any event, the name came into use and slowly gained in popularity, though it was not until almost the 1950’s that the canyon was officially named Hells Canyon.

Despite all the manmade dams, the Snake River is still impressively powerful.  Downstream where it converges with the Salmon River, the flow averages 35,000 cubic feet per second, and can reach over 100,000 when the Salmon is high.  Rapids in the canyon are usually in the Class III to IV range.

Hummingbirds

Below the dam is the Hells Canyon National Recreation Area Visitors Center (what a mouthful).  After taking a couple more photos of the canyon, I walked around the visitor center building, and noted three hummingbird feeders on one side.  I didn’t see any activity, so I walked on.  But then I heard some unusual staccato chirping sounds.  I looked back, and to my delight, there were eight to ten hummingbirds around the feeders.  I rushed to get my other camera with 400 speed film.  They move so fast, it’s a real hit-or-miss affair trying to photograph them.