The Bridge
From "Haven in the Wilderness, The Story of Frances Zaunmiller Wisner of Campbell’s Ferry, Idaho" by Carol Furey-Werhan
Crossing the Salmon River in high water was for the most part impossible, in winter treacherous, and at all times dangerous. Frances had dreamed of a permanent bridge across the river-one that would be safe for both people and pack animals. She realized a bridge would open the trails to year round travel and she would no longer be living in a remote part of the world. Although she did not want to see her front yard crowded with people, she knew that a bridge could mean the difference between life and death in an emergency.
By 1952 the ferry boat wood was rotting and it was no longer safe to load up to eight mules at a time on the ferry as they once had. Water leaked in and was knee deep inside the boat when it got to the other side. One or two horses with their riders were all that Joe felt was safe. Frances held her breath each time she watched the ferry cross. Frances felt that Joe, now in his sixties, was getting too old to be making the crossing. "Joe, I don't want you to use that ferry boat anymore. It's an accident waiting to happen," said Frances. "We're going to get a bridge." True to form, once she made up her mind about something, the course was set. Readers of her weekly column in the Idaho County Free Press were made aware of the need for a pack bridge across the Salmon at Campbell's Ferry. A column she wrote in 1954 had the following:
A Note to Mr. Chaney:
Sir: If you had ever started across the Salmon in the ferry and had the "dead man" pull out and finished the crossing with the big cable in the water - I had less than half a sack of Bull Durham and only two matches. Not much smoking for the run to Riggins. I was a very happy girl when I landed, and Joe talked like a husband. In fact he bawled me out in fine fashion. Since then we have pulled the "deadman" three times, each at a lower stage of water.
My personal belief-to make successful crossings on the Salmon when the river is high, the boatman must be (1) at least as high as the river, or (2) a grade A idiot. To combine the 1 and 2 should make a perfect boatman for high water boating.
Frances also started a letter writing campaign, mailing letters to anyone she thought might have any "pull" at all. Her letters to members of congress were unceasing. The river needed a good bridge and the old pack trail needed repairs. The Forest Service needed funding to provide these essentials.
In 1954 she wrote to Senator Henry Dworshak of Idaho, to explain the need for a safe river crossing. Typical of her many letters, it was long and full of details: the history of the old ferry, the dangers of high water and winter crossings, the danger of having "deadmen" pull out while crossing, and the reasons to be able to cross the river in case of fire or to fight a fire.
Her copies of letters, printed in the Idaho County Free Press, spurred others to write. Frances became a heroine to many who, perhaps caught up in the American "rat race," read her column and dreamed of life in the back country. She convinced many of her readers that there was indeed a need for a safe pack bridge. The letter campaign produced the pressure needed to get the job done.
In the summer of 1955 bridge building became a reality. Parts for the bridge, perhaps one hundred tons or more, were floated down the river from the end of the Mallard Creek road to the bridge site. The main cable was heavy steel and impossible to boat down because they could not coil it into anything smaller than about sixteen feet. Instead, they packed it down the old trail using a mule train with a mule placed about every 20 feet with the cable tied on for the trek.
Frances and Joe inspected the old ferry that April. While it still was able to float, water was always knee deep inside.
"I think it's time to retire the ferry permanently, Joe," said Frances.
"Yeah, but I want to keep some of these pulleys and cables-might come in handy sometime," replied Joe. They worked most of that day and into the next dismantling the ferry system. In the evening, Joe and Frances cut the old ferry boat loose, and, pushing and shoving with long poles to get it into the current they watched it float downstream. It either smashed on boulders downstream and ended up as firewood at someone's river campsite or it filled with more water and sunk to the bottom of the Salmon River. Joe and Frances would "make-do" until the bridge was completed.
During construction Frances watched as men working ten hour days strung steel cables across the river. When she saw the concrete pilings set in place, it was a thrilling feeling. Steel beams crossed at the entrances on either side, and guard rails were bolted in place. The bridge was wide enough, for horses to cross-two at a time if needed. To Frances, it was the most beautiful bridge in the world, and she shared all the ongoing construction events with her readers.
"That's my bridge," Frances told Joe. "It will always be my bridge. I'm so happy to see it coming in."
Work continued throughout that year and into the next during good weather. The bridge was officially completed on April 7, 1956. Frances tied a silver ribbon across her side of the bridge on the Payette National Forest, for a "ribbon cutting" ceremony. The other side of the bridge is on the Nez Perce National Forest, therefore it pleased Frances to realize the bridge celebration spanned two National Forests. Frances told her readers:
the Campbell's Ferry bridge is finished. Since November the crew has been working. Thursday they finished doing even the last little chore that makes a bridge a thing of beauty and service.
Early Friday morning the bridge warming party started. It was quite a party. Chet Olsen, the Regional Forester, came from Ogden and Cecil Stowel represented the office at McCall. A lot of talking went on, tho' I don't remember any speeches. Pictures were taken. Mr. Olsen cut the silver ribbon that a mouse had tied across the end of the bridge. Dickerson, the superintendent who built it, was presented with a silver bell that had decorated the bridge.
That afternoon, Frances, Joe, Avon Hill, who was working on the clean up, and Lady, the Appaloosa mare, went to her bridge. Joe and Frances took turns riding the mare across and then walking across the bridge, while Avon recorded the event in photographs. Travel across the river by Campbell's Ferry boat was over, and Frances had no regrets.
"Frances' bridge" was officially named the Campbell's Ferry Pack Bridge and later the Frances Zaunmiller Memorial Pack Bridge.
The U.S. Forest Service built an airstrip on the field above the orchard and a road to the bridge site to haul in people and other supplies during construction. It has been a private airstrip ever since.
