Another interesting name is attached to a campsite on the Lower Salmon. The guides with my company call it “Screamer Beach.” In the middle of the night, we were all jolted out of our sleep by a blood-curdling scream. Like most guides, I was not using a tent, so I was up instantly, shining my light around to find the wild beast that I knew must be attacking one of the guests. Immediately, I could see evidence of thrashing around in one of the guest tents, which was occupied by a couple in their 30s. I heard the zipper open, and the young lady came bursting out, wearing nothing but a t-shirt.
“Don’t you ever do that again!” she exclaimed loudly.
Discretion prompted me to turn off my flashlight and pretend that I hadn’t seen or heard a thing. The next day, all of the other guides related similar stories, but none of us ever found out what had actually happened.
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