Winter whitewater rafting isn’t for the faint of heart—it’s for those who find
beauty in the struggle, who cherish the solitude of snow-draped riverbanks,
and who don’t mind frostbitten fingers chasing steelhead and big rainbow
trout. For me, it’s a passion that takes me from the icy waters of Alaska to the
rugged coastlines of Oregon and Washington, and back home to the rivers of
Idaho. There’s a wildness to this season, a craziness that calls me back year
after year.

One of my favorite parts of winter rafting is solitude. On these frozen
waterways, it feels like the world shrinks down to just me, the river, and the
promise of steelhead lurking below. The mornings are quiet except for the
crunch of boots on snow and the soft whistle of the river. There are no
crowds, no competing voices—just the occasional call of a bird or the crackle
of a frozen branch. The stillness is a sharp contrast to the rush of the rapids, a
reminder of nature’s duality.

Then, there’s the challenge—pushing myself to embrace what others might
call suffering. Driving for hours over icy roads, launching a raft while my
hands freeze, and watching the eyes on my fly rod ice over mid-cast—it’s all
part of the experience. But here’s the thing: I’ve learned to find joy in it.
There’s a strange satisfaction in getting a grab of a steelhead from the icy
depths after days or even weeks of persistence and the inevitable doubt that
creeps into your head. It’s a battle against the elements and myself, and every
success feels like a hard-won victory.

I’ve also done many of the overnight whitewater trips in the coldest of late
fall/winter/early spring. Being prepared and having proper gear is a necessity
not only for your well-being but for your sanity “something many say I don’t
have much of left in me” Although I love the solitude, I drag my friends out
from time to time. I love to torture them; it brings me this weird sadistic joy
inside that’s hard to explain. I should probably talk to a professional about
this but let’s face it, ain’t nobody got time for that. “Sweet Brown” reference.

What keeps me coming back is the mix of craziness and peace. The days are
long and exhausting, but they’re also deeply rewarding. Winter rafting offers
a kind of reset—a way to strip life down to its essentials. Out there, it’s just
me, the raft, the river, the rapids and the fish. And maybe that’s why I’ve
learned to embrace the suck and savor the suffering. After all, it’s the
contrast—the icy challenges and the quiet triumphs—that makes winter
whitewater rafting an experience unlike any other.

Joe Anthony is a Mortgage loan officer, Fly fishing guide, elk hunting guide, runs Whitewater Nonstop and owns an outfitter Liberty River and Skies right here in Meridian Idaho