My husband has been building a cedar-strip canoe, and it is a thing of beauty. So beautiful, in fact, that I sometimes get a little jealous when he starts talking about her “lines” and “curves.” But mostly I’m just happy that his new hobby means we will soon be waterborne. To prepare, we are scouting out places we could take the canoe once it’s done, so I suggested Redfish Lake.

In my quest to visit the alphabet of Idaho sights across the state, I’ll admit that some letters just felt too easy, and “R” ended up being one of them. From the start, I was hoping for a trip to Redfish Lake, a quintessential Idaho spot if ever there was one.

I feel like I’m preaching to the choir by recommending this particular body of water to Idahoans, because even if you haven’t been there, you’ve probably at least heard of it. It’s iconic, encompassing some of the greatest aspects of our state — water, mountains, trails, salmon and an off-the-grid feel. (Well, sort of.)

If you aren’t very familiar with it, Redfish Lake is located in the heart of the Sawtooth National Recreation Area. The town of Stanley is just a few miles away, possessing a unique mountain resort town feel in the summer.

So I guess we shouldn’t have been surprised by the hectic crowds we encountered when we visited on a Saturday in late August. This is why I said it “sort of” feels off-the-grid. Cell coverage is spotty at best, but with hordes of people surrounding us it didn’t feel like we were far from civilization at all.

We made our way to Redfish Lake Lodge and circled for a while searching for a parking place. The lodge, which has been around for almost a century, is a vortex of activity. It’s where you can find a place to stay, a bite to eat and a boat to rent.

We enjoyed fish tacos and fries at a table near the beach, and it was pleasant enough … until the wind picked up. At that point I was nearly impaled by not one, but two beach umbrellas that took flight. We wrapped up quickly and decided to get away from the crowds and aggressive beach umbrellas.

The Redfish Lake Visitor Center is worth a stop, especially if, like me, you don’t know much about the lake. I had honestly never given much thought as to why it’s called Redfish Lake, but duh, it’s all about the salmon! Of course it is!

Redfish Lake is at the headwaters of the Salmon River. The sockeye salmon that swim home to spawn in Redfish Lake have the longest journey and gain the most elevation (over 6,000 feet) of any sockeye salmon in the world. They travel over 900 miles from the Pacific Ocean, along the Columbia River to the Snake River, then the Salmon River and finally home.

At the visitor center, I learned how years ago, there were so many sockeye salmon returning to the lake — we’re talking tens of thousands of fish — that the lake would be a shimmery red color.

Because of damming of the rivers years ago, the sockeye salmon numbers have dwindled to, well, almost nothing. In 1992, it was recorded that only one single fish, named Lonesome Larry, returned to Redfish Lake. How depressing was that?

Efforts have been made to bring the salmon back, with the National Marine Fisheries Service establishing a local hatchery to restock the lake and preserve this endangered species.

The numbers are slowly starting to tick up. If I remember correctly, one of the workers at the visitor center said that last year 207 salmon returned. No more Lonesome Larry! 

So Redfish Lake is pretty special in regard to salmon. But it’s also in an absolutely stunning part of the state. After our visit to the visitor center, David and I decided to leave the crowds behind and go for a hike to take in some of the beauty. It was a hot day, and our hike on Fish Hook Creek Trail didn’t give us much shade, but the view at the end was so worth it — a lush meadow surrounded by the jagged peaks of the Sawtooths.

After our hike we decided we needed to experience Redfish Lake as the salmon do. So in honor of Lonesome Larry, we ran down to the lake and jumped right in. It was a refreshing end to our visit to one of Idaho’s most majestic places.

Natalie Holsten can be contacted at nampanatalie@gmail.com.