Picture a remote packrafting expedition deep in the heart of one of the lower 48’s last true wild places. Six men. Four packrafts—two Caribous, two Foragers. A journey that involved bush planes, pack animals, and a 19.2-mile hike just to reach the river. Then more than fifty miles of paddling through total isolation. No roads. No signal. Only wilderness.
This is the story of our passage through the Bob Marshall.
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Entering the Untamed
Spanning more than 1.5 million acres of northwestern Montana, the Bob Marshall Wilderness remains a place ruled entirely by nature. The air stays crisp even in July. The water never warms. Grizzly bears roam unchecked. Three forks carve the Flathead River through its core—one chaotic, one calm, and one caught perfectly between the two. We chose the South Fork for its balance of moving water, solitude, and legendary trout fishing.
This trip had been years in the making—and twice canceled by the pandemic. When the window finally opened in 2024, we didn’t hesitate.
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Planes, Weight & the Long Way In
Our route carried us from Denver to Kalispell, and then by bush plane to Benchmark, Montana. Red Eagle Aviation—one of the only operators authorized to fly over Glacier National Park—shuttled us in under strict weight limits: three passengers and roughly 300 pounds of gear per aircraft.
Somewhere along the way, we made one key miscalculation: 150 pounds of food for five days. Let’s just say we didn’t come home any lighter.
Our first plane landed without issue. The second—ours—failed to clear the mountains due to accidental over-fueling and dense summer air. We were grounded for the night.
At dawn, we tried again. The next morning delivered one of the most beautiful flights of our lives—forty-five minutes over jagged peaks, endless tundra, and the massive limestone escarpment known as the Chinese Wall.
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Arrival & Pack-In
At the airstrip, the crew from Benchmark Wilderness Ranch loaded nearly 500 pounds of our supplies onto pack animals and pointed us toward the Continental Divide Trail. With the horses carrying the weight, our 20-mile hike moved easily—through dense pines, creek crossings, and wide meadows glowing with wildflowers.
By late afternoon, we reached the river.
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Danaher Creek & the First Bear
Our chosen put-in, Danaher Creek, delivered a four-mile introduction before reaching the South Fork proper. Low flow meant shallow water, constant dragging, and fallen trees that forced awkward portages with loaded boats on our shoulders.
Just as we reached the confluence, a shout cut through the silence: “Bear.”
Fifty yards ahead, a brown bear sprinted across the river and vanished into the timber. Welcome to day one.
We found camp, strung a food hang, and started fishing. Back in Benchmark, Darwin—the outfitter—had told us, “If you guys don’t catch fish, you’ll be the first ones.”
Understatement of the year.
Dinner became fire-roasted trout, salt, pepper, lemon, and a bed of goulash beneath a ceiling of stars.
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Day 2 — South Fork Magic
Morning revealed water so clear it felt like we were floating on air. Sunlight cut straight through the current, illuminating smooth stones far below the surface. This was nothing like the silty rivers of Utah—this was pristine.
We drifted twelve effortless miles, fishing from the boats and stopping only to explore a footbridge lined with wild green onions and to demolish smoked salmon, avocado, and cheese bagels on the riverbank.
That evening we landed at the best campsite of the trip—wide open sky, calm water, and a sunset that refused to quit.
“Is that all you got, Montana?” someone yelled into the fading light.
Big Sky Country finally made sense.
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Day 3 — The Sweet Lung
Cold clouds moved in overnight. Fishing stayed excellent.
Mid-morning, one member of the group accidentally inhaled a gummy bear mid-laugh. A few chaotic seconds followed, then a well-timed Heimlich cleared the airway. Crisis over.
By afternoon, we entered the prettiest stretch of the trip—long bends framed by cottonwood and cliff. That night, the fire burned low, stories ran long, and the river whispered past camp.
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Day 4 — Whitewater & Weather
Rain arrived during the night, and with it, faster water.
Day four delivered the most technical paddling of the trip. The South Fork tightened into clean tongues of current and playful Class III wave trains. Every bend demanded attention. Between rapids, the fishing remained absurd.
By late afternoon, the river widened again and released us into slower water. We slid into camp soaked and wired. Rain softened to mist. Steam rose from wet gear. Whiskey calmed hands still buzzing from adrenaline.
The wilderness felt very close that night.
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Day 5 — The Long Goodbye
Our final morning arrived quietly. The river eased into long, gentle miles. No one spoke much. We drifted more than we paddled.
Take-out appeared with no ceremony—just a gravel bank and the soft realization that it was over.
With empty food barrels and lighter packs, we shouldered our boats for the final three-mile carry back to the ranch. No rush. No shortcuts. Just the steady crunch of boots on trail.
That night, greasy burgers hit the table. Phones powered on. Messages poured in. The modern world snapped back into focus.
But something stayed upriver.
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The Aftermath
The Bob Marshall doesn’t soften itself for visitors. It doesn’t perform. It simply exists—cold, massive, and alive—and allows passage on its own terms.
We left with full memory cards, tired bodies, and the rare privilege of having moved, even briefly, at wilderness speed.
Somewhere out there, the South Fork keeps flowing.
And we're already thinking about how to return.
Lightstack's Andres Aguilar had the privilege of helping capture and edit this electric session—entirely produced and curated by Hear Here Presents, the Milwaukee-based live music video collective behind the series, with Neal Francis and his band, as always, in peak form.
The following is a direct excerpt from Hear Here Presents' original session write-up:
"Chicago's Neal Francis and his band rolled through Hear Here studio riding a groovy cloud of momentum, fresh off the heels of their latest release, In Plain Sight.
Drummer Collin O'Brien recalls the restless trek to Milwaukee that made it all possible: 'We had driven through the night to make the session, but it proved to be worth it! The vibe they curate at Hear Here Presents is welcoming and friendly, and we loved the experience.'
Neal and his band serenaded the art-clad studio's intimate crowd with selections from the new record, opening with a tight and jammy rendition of 'Alameda Apartments.'
Next came the retro-groover, 'Say Your Prayers,' featuring a driving Motown-inspired rhythm section courtesy of Mike Starr (bass) and Collin O'Brien (drums), spacey psychedelic riffs from guitarist Kellen Boersma, and effortless flourishes on the baby grand from Neal himself.
Neal and the band closed the session with a melt-in-your-ears rendition of fan favorite 'You Can't Stop the Rain,' before playing a packed show at the Colectivo Backroom later that evening."
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Production Credits
Host & Production — Hear Here Presents
Executive Producer — Ryan Holman
Producer — Madda Udvari-Solner
Audio Engineer — Cheston Vanhuss
Assistant Engineers — Mark Sullivan, Joe Samara
Audio Mix — Jesse Lauter
Director of Photography — Randy Lorenz
Video Editor + Graphics — Andres Aguilar (Lightstack)
Cameras — Randy Lorenz, Andres Aguilar (Lightstack), Kenny Jusino
Grip — Ken Guyette
Poly Art — Ryan Holman
Photographer — Dan Ojeda
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