It began in Sun Valley, not on the river, but in the air.

We boarded two Cessna Caravans and soared deeper into Idaho’s backcountry, the mountain ridgelines growing wilder beneath us. After touching down on a remote landing strip, we piled into a classic yellow school bus for a two-hour, dusty, winding journey to our “put in” location. They say the longer the journey, the better the destination and by the time we glimpsed the glint of the Salmon River curling through pine-thick canyons, we knew we were somewhere extraordinary.

The Main Stem of the Salmon, also called the River of No Return, is one of the last wild, undammed rivers in the United States, 85 miles of pure, free-running water, winding through the Frank Church Wilderness in deep, meandering defiance of modern civilization. It’s a place of staggering remoteness and beauty, where mountains rise a mile above the riverbanks and bald eagles soar through the air. Where the only cell service is birdsong and the rush of river over rock. For six days, we let go of time, signal, and structure, surrendering instead to the flow of Idaho’s legendary Salmon River.

We were a group of fifteen celebrating a 60th birthday, guided by the exceptional team from Momentum River Expeditions, with three deeply seasoned river guides and a crew of four staff who rafted ahead daily to set up camp, chill the drinks, and set up camp. Including the infamous groover - the most scenic loo that I have experienced.

Each day brought fresh adventure: churning Class III and IV rapids that roared like applause beneath our boats; kayaking solo or bobbing along in life jackets through calmer waters. Fly rods were cast, natural hot springs soaked in, and endless sunscreen was reapplied.

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And then there was camp; a nightly transformation of raw riverbank into something unexpectedly elegant. Chairs circled in soft sand, margaritas shaken and served, and the kind of dinners you don’t expect in the middle of nowhere: seared salmon with fennel, Thai curry with jasmine rice, sunrise breakfasts with pour-over coffee. Dietary requirements? Not a problem! Everything was catered to.

It didn’t take long to ditch our perfectly pitched tents (complete with bedside table and wildflowers), in favour of sleeping outside. We dragged our camp beds out onto the sand to sleep under a wide-open sky streaked with stars. Woolly hats were tucked beside our pillows, ready for the chill of dawn. We came to savor the cadence of the temperature: brisk mornings followed by searing, dry heat in the day. There was a rhythm to it all; wake, paddle, swim, rest, repeat, that felt timeless and deeply grounding.

Momentum calls it “river luxury”,  and it’s not just about comfort, but care. From dry bags perfectly labeled to the unspoken choreography of setting up tents and tucking in gear, the crew’s attention to detail meant we had only one real responsibility: to be present.

They call it the River of No Return. But as our boats finally reached the takeout point, I understood the name differently. We were returning, yes but something had shifted. The real world felt distant, softened by the clarity that only time in the wilderness can bring.

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