Late Summer in Deso-Grey

The theme of the summer's trips definitely seems to be "after years of"... So... After years of floating the green river daily and wondering what lie upstream, we finally snagged a deso-grey permit this year and got to pack raft through it!

No week long trip can start it seems without some drama... Leading into the trip solidly we had a few drop out last minute and most of the rest of the crew seemed threatening to drop out, myself included. Seems like work is universally consuming everyone right now, so feeling wholly unready for a week of travel thru the remote regions of Utah, but also wholly needing it, I set off for green river to start our complicated shuttle logistics. Andrew and I met up in green River to drop a car and start the trek to the put in, I had planned to come from the north per so many recommendations online but, as luck would have it, udot closed the highway thru Indian canyon, joy, we would get to try wrinkles road which has a reputation, with no info as the sun was setting! It turns out the road was fine, in better shape actually than the road in from Myton to the north, it even had occasional cell service due to an unexpected oil and gas chemicals plant. 

Sand Wash at night as intermittent electical storms move through

A collection of moments

Day 1:

A ranger loosely resembling a young and more river-rat esque Zach galafanakis checked out permits 

Flat. So flat that even Lindsay went for a bit of a swim in the murky water. It was sandy bottomed but i was surprised at the fish life in these waters, we did not expeience anywhere near this number of jumps or other signs further downstream, that is heartening in a world where it seems like so much is on the decline.

The Desolation Canyon put in seems remote, i mean its 30+ miles down a dirt road regardless of how you get there, but rounding the corner above Tabyago riffle, we are greeted with a white Tacoma, presumably someone from the Ute Reservation. I cant help but wonder what they are doing here, maybe just here to enjoy the river? I sure would if i lived closer. 

A moment of peace at our first camp

We make it to camp, which is set back amongst the trees and shrubs. It seems we humans are drawn to corridors among the shrubs as this camp ends up ranking high amongst the group, though i prefer open beach camps. We enjoyed dinner under the cottonwoods and took a brief walk to a large rock outcropping behind camp to see a small petroglyph panel.

Day 2:

I woke up shortly after dawn and made my way back down to the river while half the group was sleeping. A beaver was already at work in the river, swimming in the eddy next to camp taking advantage of the waning summer days.  

After a short time on the river we pull over to try and find a turtle shell print in the rock. We all get out and fan out, scouring the cliffbands looking for a layer that seems like it would hold fossils. We all overlook the obvious and after 15 minutes of looking, we glance over to the opbvious boulder at the base of the cliffs holding a perfect turtle shell imprint on its top. 

The rapids begin, though haltingly. We ran through rock house rapid which was nothing much to talk of. The river picks up pace a bit but remains largely flat. Somewhere around lunchtime we have made it to mushroom rock and we take a quick detour to see the petroglyphs. On the way back I did a quick V-tree scramble traverse of a funky old cottonwood.

The crew examining mushroom rock

We eventually find camp, a beautiful beach in an Eddy between two drops with steep canyon walls above, with a first class site overlooking the river. We are around our makeshift dining table, a giant triangular slab, complete with evening entertainment of a herd of big horns navigating their way to the rim as the sun fell.

Everyone gathered around the dinner table for some desert, worms and dirt!

Day 3:

Shortly after setting off, I spot two massive birds circling the right canyon wall, as we get closer one lands. I bearly catch a glimpse, it's two giant golden eagles gorging themselves on a breakfast catch.

Desolation, peaceful in the morning light

We have some stout winds to look forward to today, or so the forecast says, never the less we take a quick detour to see the flat canyon petroglyph panel and wonder what those who came before us were trying to convey. 

Back on the water we are met with the occasional stout gust but things are mostly workable. Just after Dripping Spring, though, a gust catches Hannah as she is broadside to it and flips her, the first and only unexpected swim of the trip. Luckily, after years of trips, the crew is dialed, with some going to grab Hannah, and others immediately fetching gear before the wind and canyon claim it. The wind continues and so do we, we want to make miles so we can wait out the worst of the gusts while hiking, or that's the plan at least. As we round the bend above steer ridge, we discuss waiting for a break in the gusts as this should be a class 3 and this more complex than most of what we have run so far. The wind seems to die down and I commit to going first. Just as I hit the first of the drop, one of the strongest gusts we have seen hits, blowing me back up the rapid. What would have been a relatively straightforward class 2 at this flow becomes more of a hazard because we are being tossed around at the whim of the wind. The group is noticably shaken so we circle up at steer ridge camp and discuss. The group quickly comes to a consensus to continue and try to make our hike, Hannah, however, still shows signs of concern, and as the newest member of the group it seems she doesn't want to speak up. We start over and discuss again, this time with Hannah leading off about her concerns, amplified by her swim. The group is decided again, this time we wait it out, wait for the wind to die. When paddling especially, I am a big believer of respecting every veto and not going forward unless everyone is in agreement as accidents can quickly turn deadly with whitewater involved.

We are marooned on a beach, continuously getting sand blasted by the highway speed gusts. Some try to sleep. Lindsay sets up a hammock and appears to be going for quite a ride. A few windblown hours later I had had enough of our marooned beach and was getting restless. It seems the others were not excited about the prospect of overnighting at the beach either. A few whistle blasts gets the crew to circle up as some had wandered off. In short order it is decided, we brave the wind and continue; the worst of the gusts have subsided. 

The girls during the nightly bath ritual

Little more than an hour later we make it to camp at Snap Canyon, bypassing the ope of hiking up rock creek, that will have to wait for the next time we go through deso-grey. At Snap, everyone gets in the water to "bathe" and clean off some sand that has found its way everywhere.

Sunset at Snap Canyon Camp

Day 4: 

A long day. The Goal? Range creek which should have clean water for us to pump. We also have 3 of the 4 big rapids today to run through. 

Cotton Candy Sunrise at Snap Canyon as mixed thunderstorms move through

A little more than an hour into our float we run down a side channel with the hope of finding a mid-channel spring to draw water from. Not knowing anything about this spring other than that there is an island and this spring should be at the downstream end. We fan out scouring the island, then notice a black looking pit on far river left next to the island. Thats it! In the middle of the desert, in the bottom of the river channel is a spring of perfectly clear and cold water, a little oasis of clean water in the midst of this murky river. 

Taking advantage of an oasis in the water, a spring in the water channel coming out clear and cold.

Joe Hutch Creek Rapid is much ado about nothing, we stop and scout nonetheless. Joe Hutch Canyon is our first proper Class 3, Andrew and i run boats through while others go around. On the beach downstream we see our first "outsider", Kevin, a retired ranger who is going solo down the canyon in his canoe. We are just to late to help him portage, but chat a bit before we head back up to run the remainder of the boats. Shortly after Joe Hutch we officially leave Desolation Canyon behind, a bit bittersweet as i thoroughly enjoyed seeing this stretch of the earth for the first time.

Leaving Desolation canyon and the Roan Cliffs behind

Wire Fence Looks nasty but turns out to be some fun waves on bedrock. We run boats through and head down to three fords. I opt to river scout the first drop, the rest of the crew pulls over early and walks the whole rapid. After the first drop there is a hard left, and just beyond things get difficult. At this point the boys are feeling good and we run through Three Fords, some huge fun waves and probably my favorite of the trip. Instead of running boats through we go back and help portage the remaining boats. 

What we assume are fire hardened ground wasp/bee nests exposed by the fire at Range Creek

We get to range creek close to sunset. As we round the bend, i remember that this area was ravaged by a fire last year and the beautiful beaches and cottonwood groves i had been looking forward to were a thing of the past. Instead, we see countless scarred bones of old cottonwoods. We look for range creek, eventually finding it in a shallow box ravine, not nearly as clear as i had hoped. We dam up a small section with the hopes of pumping in the morning.

Walking through a forrest of bones. This grove will likely never recover.

Day 5: 

The sky is angry. Dawn never really comes, the world slowly gets brighter but everything is still varying shades of dark grey. A light rain begins to fall. Around 8:30 during a break in the rain i make the run over to the "circus tent", our communal tent that Andrew was using during rainy periods on this trip. A short while later things really open up, pea to grape sized hail falls amidst rain that is causing flooding. The teepee style tent has no floor and water beginds to intrude so we dig channels to divert around the center to keep us dry. In watching the river is ee that things are beginning to come up fast. Andrew and i make a mad dash to pull all boats and gear further up the beach to ensure we dont loose anything to the flood. In the end, the river came up about 2 feet and tripled in voloume. 

Range Creek, a now boatable torrent. 

After breakfast things start to calm a bit. We take a group excursion to Range creek which i can tell has flashed because the river is a well divided red in the main channel and grey close to our beach. Range creek, which was a few feet wide and an inch or so deep last night is now a torrent that has filled its low box ravine, 10-15 feet wide and probably 5 feet deep. It looks like a great, if short, paddle but no one can be convinced to sieze this moment. 

By the time we put in, the river has gone back down a foot but is still noticably higher, and now has large mats of debis filling every eddy. 

At Coal Creek, the last "Large" rapid of the trip, we get out and scout alongside Kevin, who we have met up with again. We pass the remains of an effort to dam this river; I am glad we didnt, although there is a need for some water storage, it si becoming increasingly apparent that our water system in the west is broken and we have lost more than enough beautiful spots to the whims of "progress" during the golden age of dam building in the west 70 years ago. 
Coal creek looks big, but not outrageous. The problem, a ginat pit of a hole at the bottom, something that would suck you in if you so much as looked at it. The waves are powerful, rejuvinated by the morning's flood. The boys opt to shuttle boats through, but we decide to first run everything over to the opposite side of the river as this will set us up better to avoid that pit of dispair. 
On the way over, Davis isnt feeling it anymore and drops out, respect every veto. Andrew and i discuss, we both still feel good and we will have a few people watching for safety. There are a few must make moves but otherwise things dont look crazy. We commit to the rust colored water and what looked menacing turns out to be more relaxed, less pushy, but still with sizable waves. We return and run the remaining 4 boats through once the line is found. 

Just as we near camp at School Section canyon, the sky clears up and the world seems bright and happy, as if to give us one last night of beautiful stars before we have to return to every day life, work, and the stresses of society. We spend our last night admiring the millions of stars, watching the Milky Way slowly rotate overhead.

Day 6: 

Although we are in somehwat of a hurry, several people need to be back in society for jobs the following day, we have enough time to explore up School Section canyon. A few hundred yards out from camp i spot bear tracks in the wet sand, we must have had a friend come through the night before. We become childeren, allowing some short exploration, wondering what will be beyond the next bend in the canyon for a short while. 

Some bear tracks just out of camp in the wet wash sand

Much too quickly, we have made it to the boat ramp and back into Green River for some late lunch at the Taco Truck. Here we part ways, Hannah back south to New Mexico, Davis and Lindsay back to Salt Lake for work, Andrew, Jennifer and I back to the put in to grab our vehicles before we go on as well. Driving through 9 Mile canyon, we allow a diverson to see a few of the rock art panels that 9 mile canyon is famous for, as we are here in the daylight this time and know the road ahead is not at all similar to its reputation. 
One Final challenge. A few miles out from a paved road, on the windspept and now cold north slope of the Tavaputs, set amongst the many oil derricks, Andrew suddenly pulls over. He has lost his clutch. We have cell service, luckily, as we have been out of service for most of this 60 mile journey on dirt roads. Like the engineers we are, we dive in, looking at hydraulic systems, vacuum pumps, everything seems to be in order. Andrew decides to "do the stupid thing" and just look at the pedal... Sure enough the pedal linkage had rattled its way out and was now disconnected. A quick remedy and we carry on, making it back to Salt Lake around 10:30, Andrew stopping just outside Montecello around the same time to rest before his final leg back to Pheonix.

Owl Panel in 9 Mile Canyon

Another successful trip, one that rejuvinates the soul. So much has been said of Deso-Grey, much of it seemingly diminishing, as this permit is "easier" to get and the rapids are not as legendary as other stretches nearby, but i found the trip wholly enjoyable and hope someday to return and see some of what we missed. This is the kind of place that you could spend a lifetime in and still not see everything. 

Packrafting the forks of the Blacks Fork River + Provo Woodland

Every spring the show rushes out of the mountains and river people everywhere rush to try and hop in while flows allow, and i am no different. I try and hit a handful of runs coming out of the Uintas every year, in part for the exploration because there is almost no info on many of the rivers and creeks flowing out of the Uintas. 

Provo Woodland

Lindsay and I have aborted on this section a few times prior to this year, kept away by the multitude of no trespassing signs and private land nightmares (victory ranch, at the bottom of this stretch, is notorious for it's lawsuits to keep people off "their river" unless you pay for access).

This year I did a bit more research and found two public access points we could use as well as a bit of info about dams on the stretch. We put in at a small turn off right next to the river, seemingly a popular riverside spot just below the upper bench creek road bridge. When we ran this section, the river was at about 850CFS on the woodland gauge and seemed to hit a low point sometime after noon in the diurnal cycle. In general, i thought it was a great run, fast and bumpy/splashy class 2 all the way to just upstream from Jordanelle at a public access point on the lower end of Victory Ranch. Many reports mention that the lower half f the run has an extremely braided river, but our experience was that things were plenty boatable the entire way and the whole run was a great time. There are a handful of major Diversion dams to navigate though. 

Some info on the drops: The first one came within ~2 miles of our put in, it is a river wide drop but was easily run hard left, there was wood in the center of the dam and right looked very bushy. The Second dam was best run down the center or taking the left up high (the left channel has very little of the flow compared to the right). The diversion is around a left blind corner and is hard to scout, be aware of the diversion gate on the right at the apex of the bend. These two structures are in the upper portion of the run somewhat close together. The final two dams are somewhat close together towards the end of the run. The third dam is easily noted by a structure to control the diversion river left at the drop. This one is best run just right of center, a big CL3 hole with a few waves. Easily portaged on the right. The final dam in at a rightward bend after a long straight, there is a massive house on the hill above it. This was the most complicated drop of the run, 3+ at this flow and best run far right. Left had a lot of exposed wood and rocks. This one was a steeper drop into a series of holes. It took ~3 hours with a few longer breaks, average speed of the water was around 8 mph.

After a fast and somewhat stressful day on the Woodland section of the Provo with Lindsay, instead of trying the east fork of the Bear which has been on my mind for a few years, but is supposedly very wood choked and CL3+, we set out for the Blacks Fork River, another zone i have been thinking about for quite a while now. We set up camp on te shores of Meeks Cabin Reservoir, where we would take out for at least one of the forks which we would take all the way into the reservoir. 

East Fork of Blacks Fork River

 

Looking Downstream at the bridge put in on the East Fork 

the morning of, lindsay and i decided to try the east fork first on a whim, so we went east at the branch in the road and took it to the end and the east fork of the blacks fork river campground. I suspect one could likely take this another ~ mile or so upstream by hiking, but likely not much further as it was a fairly small river at this point already and splits into two major branches at that point. From the day use/trailhead parking area, its a quick walk to the east fork trail bridge where we put in. I would estimate we had about 300CFS to float on.

The east fork starts fast and splashy, busy but only moving about 6 mph. At 300cfs many of the rocks are barely under the surface and, although things are definitely boatable, there was a lot of rock dodging and the occasional bump and grind which continued for about the first 1.5 miles. In 2025, at about 1.5 miles from the east fork trail bridge, there was a barely visible barbed wire fence across the entire river that required portage, then between 1.8 and 2.8 miles from the bridge there were 3 significant log jams that required portage and significantly slowed progress. From that point, though, things are clear for the rest of the river. Shortly after the last log jam  you pass into an open meadow and things slow for a few miles. As you approach the confluence with the west fork, the river picks back up to a fast and fun CL2. We didn't have any problems with braiding near the confluence but the guidebook mentions this as a possibility. The best take out, if you're not wanting to run the main stem, is the Hewinta Guard Station bridge. Just after passing underneath the bridge there is a great take out/beach on the right. We left camp set up next to the reservoir, though, so Lindsay and i continued down instead. Downstream of the Hewinta is much the same as upstream, however when a large house comes into view on the left, be on the lookout for a river wide wire (bridge remains?). For us it was passable on the right but definitely wouldn't want to be caught off guard with that lovely feature. Downstream, the class 2 water continued right until we hit the reservoir our half mile paddle back to camp. If you want to hit the section below Hewinta, some reservoir miles are required as there are no other take out options higher. For us it was perfect because it put us back at camp so Lindsay could rest while I biked back to the car.

West Fork of the Blacks Fork River

This one definitely goes for many miles upstream of where we put in but that will be left for another trip another year. 

With skies that were beginning to darken and give concern, we drove up the West fork road, which was much rougher than I remember it being every time I went out to dead horse lake. A few miles downstream from the usual trailhead river forge there is an open meadow with a (likely private) bridge. We pulled off here which seemed as good a spot as any to start and shortened the day a bit since this was already the second of the day. 

 

Floating through the meadows in the middle of the West Fork Blacks Fork run 

The upper bit of this stretch goes in and out of beautiful meandering meadows, prime beaver territory but with a distinctly Uintas feel. From where we put in, we had about 3.25 miles of flat but swift meadow meandering. This changed abruptly at a site that seemed to be an old washed out bridge, where the bridge was sitting on the left bank. Here the character quickly went to the usual Uintas fast and fun CL2 bump and grind. For the most part the channel was clear and we did not need to portage anything, however, just after passing under the east fork road bridge, the channel braids into oblivion. We kept going left thinking that we would need to end up that direction anyway, and found ourselves on an ever smaller creek which quickly became little more than a stream barely a packraft wide. Somehow the channel was always clear, however improbable it seemed, and for the last few hundred feet we were floating through the forest in the most literal sense, going right between trees whose trunks came right out of the water. In a strange turn of fate, i was more worried about wood on the west fork but it turned out to be the clearer of the two. All in all the float only took about 2 hours and we were quickly back at the Hewinta bridge. Unfortunately for me, my bike tire had gone flat and i got to alternate between riding on the rim and walking the bike for the entire return. All in all, these are two great Uintas runs that probably deserve a bit more traffic. I need to come back now and float the upper stretch of the west fork, as well as main stem below the reservoir!

NZland

 This summer, after so many years of wanting to make it down to the land that inspired the Lord of the Rings films to be created, Lindsay and i made the trip down south. For me, this was an inevitibility just like arctic Alaska; New Zealand was a place i had never been to but i knew it was a place that, once i visited, i would not be able to leave easily and i would long to return to, and I think for Lindsay it was the same. Its been more than month since we got on a plane to leave, Bali bound at the time, and we both cant help but think, almost daily, about picking up and moving South. 

The trip was a bit of a whirlwind, we had 2 weeks to travel both islands. Not nearly enough time, however i dont know that i would ever have enough time to go everywhere and do everthing i wanted to. 

A lonely beach at sunrise

We did get to experience a few wild slivers of New Zealand, though.

On a solo mission that Lindsay graciously volunteered to shuttle for, I got to run the Tongariro Alpine Crossing, supposedly one of the best treks in the world, or so the signs said. The signs also were adamant that I was doing the route backwards, but that's ok. An hour before dawn (which is nice and late in midwinter at 830 or so) I set off from the northern trailhead, off into the dark forest that immediately made me think I was more in Jurassic Park than Lord of the Rings; I was constantly looking back over my shoulder to make sure there wasn't a velocirapter hot on my tail. Luckily, the islands have no large natural predators and I had nothing to fear. 

Sunrise Looking north over the High Lakes region just north of Tongariro National Park, North Island

At dawn I emerged from the thick primordial forest into the alpine. The alpine zone in New Zealand, though, starts at like 2-3.5k feet above sea level, a bit of an oddity for me coming from the States where we have conifers that can better withstand the weather (fun fact, NZ doesn't have any native alpine zone pine/conifer trees outside of a juniper and a cedar). Looking uphill, I had a few thousand feet of climbing where I would gradually leave the tundra behind for raw volcanic rock. Looking off in the distance, however, there was a seemingly endless series of smaller forested mountains and lakes I was rising above. On the ascent, I passed some bathrooms, clearly a testament to how popular the route is, as they would have to be serviced by helicopter. The route itself is largely manufactured, in that it has a graded and stabilized surface, very unlike the rocky terrain we frequent here in Utah. Apparently at one time there was a mountain hut on my ascent, about an hour and a half out from the parking lot, but during an eruption in 2012 it was taken out by some flying debris, wild. Before long I had entered the true alpine zone, devoid of vegetation and covered lightly in snow. In the alpine zone there are a few beautiful lakes, some active hot springs and fumaroles, and a lot of loose volcanic sand, and views seemingly to the end of the earth (at least, to the end of the north Island, I could see other volcanoes off in the distance). 

Emerald Pools and Fumaroles on the Apline Crossing

Up and over the crest of the alpine crossing, as I was running on the slopes of mt Doom (My Ngauruhoe was used as mt Doom for any shots showing the mountain in it's entirety) I finally came across the beginning of the crowds that flock to this trail, all, conveniently, going the "correct direction". Funnily enough, because I was wearing my standard winter running gear, shorts and a sun hoody with some backup warm clothes in a pack, one of the trekking guides mistook me for another kiwi! Before long I had come to the end of the standard trail, however I had intended to connect for another 7 miles to the next volcano to the south where I would hopefully meet Lindsay on the trail so we could check out some waterfalls. The back 7 running was, well, subterranean. I am not sure I have ever seen a trail more washed out, and I understand why there was so much extensive work done to stabilize the popular section now. In this lesser used section of trail, I was often in a trench up to 20 feet deep and constantly navigating loose unstable mud slopes as I went the out the many drainages I needed to traverse to get to the whakapapa trailhead. Checking the map, Lindsay decided on a self care napping day instead of a walk, so, once I got to my final choice, head up to a waterfall and make my intended loop or head south to the trailhead, I cut it short to just 18 miles, I was behind schedule anyway and Lindsay and I had things to do! All in all it was a nice trail for the alpine crossing section, somewhat unique, but it just goes to underscore the beauty that Lindsay and I live in here in the intermountain west!

Crossing the Apex of the Tongariro Alpine Crossing

Mt Fuji? or Mt Doom? looking back at Mt Ngauruhoe

The following day, we set out from a campsite just west of where the alpine crossing was set, with out sites on the Tongariro River instead of the national Park. The river generally is boatable year round, according to some prior research, at least for packrafts. I had planned for Lindsay and I to float the access 14 section, sandwiched between two basalt gorges that both hold class 5 water. The run we were looking at should top out at a low and boney class 3 but had a (short and flat) basalt slot canyon of its own, plus the water! It was supposed to be one of the cleanest rivers in the world and home to a whio (blue duck) population, which is apparently relatively rare. The access 13 section did not disappoint. Also, while camping the night before, we were graced with kiwi presence, or, at least, a kiwi screaming somewhere near by in the forest.

A quick moment of Calm on the Tongariro Access 13 stretch

After a 4 mile or so hike through the forest at sunrise, we made our way down to the river just downstream of the tree trunk gorge, apparently the site of a few boater deaths due to narrowness,. hydraulics and the possibility for wedged trees. Right off the bat, the water stood out for us Colorado plateau boaters used water thicker than chocolate milk. The river was definitely lowwww. It had decent flow but the bed was chocked with a lot of large ish boulders which allowed just enough room to maneuver around. Coincidentally this was our first trip with our new refuges which paddle a fair bit smaller than the expeditions we are used to. That combined with the new continent shock plus the fact that we were paddling north (into the sun and Lindsay forgot her sunglasses) meant that Lindsay was on edge and way in her head about the float. 

a Whio or Blue Duck

Passing through the Pillars of Hercules

In general the water was somewhat unremarkable, just fun and consistent steep ish boulders dodging drops with short pools between, not too dissimilar to a lot of the muddy rivers we paddle in Utah. Lindsay ended up bottoming out a few times and getting stuck, and decided to walk a few rapids that she wasn't feeling. About a mile and a half in, we saw a blue duck (whio)! Apparently there are only about 3000 left so seeing one was definitely a treat. Then, we saw another, and another, then a pair sitting on a rock! All in all we saw maybe 6 of these good looking ducks. After a few more boulder bar drops (the last one was pretty steep! At least where I dropped it) we found ourselves at the pillars of Hercules, the short basalt slot that marked the start of the gorge section. It's really hard to describe how beautiful the water here was, it had maybe a slight blue-green to it but was just so clear! After a while longer of some interesting pool and drop rapids, we passed under the electric transmission lines, an obvious sign to get out lest we need to send it over the waterfall in the gorge below. Before packing up the boats, I convinced Lindsay to jump in with me to celebrate the beauty of the river! The hike out was exciting. Almost like a 5.2 climb with packs,  but climbing on holds made of dirt and tree roots, ascending a hidden stair that took us out of the he gorge and back to the road a short walk from our site. I ran off to grab the car and we set off for Wellington and the south Island.

Walking over to the low water channel on the Makarora

To give a quick review of the south Island, it was everything I thought it would be and we didn't have nearly enough time. I shifted some of our plans around a fair bit due to weather and water conditions, originally thinking about floating in the whitewater hotspot of Murchison, then moving on to try the hāwea (which was at highest floor stage) until we finally settled on driving into the southern alps to run an all to short section of the Makarora. This was where we first met the new Zealand biting black fly, that, although it was winter, was still very much so active. The views were so worth it though, and the water here had all the clarity (and tons of huge trout) that the Tongariro had, but with more of a sapphire hue. A fair bit easier, the Makarora is a short 3 miles of class 2 boating. Conveniently, the main attraction in the area, the blue pools, were closed to foot traffic because the bridges were out of service. Luckily, with boats, we could still access them, and just wow, the color and clarity is just something else. The pools seem like they should be at a tropical beach, not the near-alpine in New Zealand with near freezing water temps. All too quickly we saw our white behemoth on the side of the highway indicating our take out and just about the end of our New Zealand trip.

About to take out on the Makarora

We did get a day of mediocre skiing in at the remarkables (maybe they are more remarkable with more snow) before moving on to Bali and a wedding followed by sickness that soured the end of the trip. I can't wait to go back and get more into the mountains and backcountry of the south island which definitely lived up to the hype. 

Salt

 Years ago, long before i had touched a packraft, back when the idea of getting a raft was a faint glimmer on my horizon and i was instead looking at getting specialized packrafts specifically for canyoneering in the grand canyon, i would look upcanyon from the highway 288 bridge on my way up to the Sierra Ancha range wondering what mysteries were upstream. 

I looked into the float briefly after i bought my first packraft but was quickly deterred by the class 4 rapids in the stretch and the aura that remained around quartzite falls which is currently a mere shadow of its former self. It has long been in the back of my mind as something i wanted to work up to, another in the line of progression of permitted western rivers that Andrew, Lindsay and i had slowly been working through. In fact, this year i decided to start upping my permit game and had applied for both a Deso and a Yampa permit, but only managed to pick up a yampa once things were openly released.

 In February of this year, a friend of a friend put out the call, the salt had enough flow to be boatable and a permit had been drawn, plus several that were going on the trip had run it a few times before. A last minute flight was booked and before we knew it, we were in the van driving out to the Salt River canyon!

Looking downstream at the put in. What mysteries lie around that bend?

The crew for this trip was a bit more of a hodge podge than our usual, with a dedicated core and a few newcomers. Instead, we had a collection of those that could make the short timeline work, thanks to the lottery for incentivizing this over longer term planning.

After a late night arrival and 4 hours of sleep, Andrew and i were picked up by our shuttle vehicle early on Feb 29th and we set out. Its been a few years since i have been out to the Salt River canyon, but just like last year when Andrew and i were heading out towards the Gila region, Queen Creek canyon was in rare form, full of water from recent rains, misty and foggy and popping with wildflowers. Before long we found ourselves at the bottom of the salt river canyon. While quite as grand and colofrul as the Grand Canyon, this place with its more subdued scenery is quintessential arizona, a harsh desert cut through by water. In short order andrew sarah and i were rigged and ready to go, the rest of the crew, however, would still be a while. An hour or so later, the remaining members of the crew arrived, coming from other locations, including one from flag who conviniently grabbed our tribal permits. just after noon, we finally set out.

The rapids come in quick succession- Kiss and tell, then bump and grind, a river wide gravel bar pourover. We were just talking about how someone always has a problem at Bump and Grind, when, conviniently, i ran into a rock... After getting through the rapid i noticed i was loosing air fairly quickly. Luckily, after so many repairs in Alaska, i have become adept at fixes and we wer back on the water in 5 minutes. Maytag, Overboard, Grumman, and mother rock all passed without issue, and around 3 we got to Exhibition, one of our first bigger rapids. At this level, the Salt was a weird combination of low water and big hydraulics- in  a weird way though where some of the big hydraulics were just rocks, others were water... Exhibition ended up being a long run through big waves and holes. Right after, Erik, one of the party, had to exit as he did not have time to complete the full trip. Cibecue came in on river right with some stellar rock scenery. I never managed to get up to Cibeque falls before it became instagram famous, so i am not sure i will ever get the chance but i can imagine it is a beautiful quintessential Arizona sight. Cibecue and Raft Ripper rapids both past without issue. At Mescal Falls, a hard river right against a wall with some interesting waves and a big hole, several members went for a swim. Luckily there is a decent pool to recover in right downstream. Right around the corner at mescal falls, the Saguaro first made their appearance! 

Cibeque Canyon and the Daily section takeout.

Salt banks came in on river right shortly after the salt banks rapid. The travertine fallys were awesome. Apparently the small drips that fall into the Salt here ad a substantial portion of the salt in the river, pretty crazy that such a small flow can have such a large effect. Just after Litle Boat eater, we pulled over to stay for the evening (at 11.4 camp, one of many beautiful camps) with som enice cliffs downstream and a giant boulder in the middle of the river that just beggged to be climbed (unfortunately we didnt have a whole ton of lesiure time so i never got out to it).

The Fabled Salt Banks dumping salt into the river. 

First night's Camp

Day 2 started abruptly wih rock garden. Shortly thereafter we had the first rapid with decent complexity- Rat Trap. Most of the rapids until now just required proper set up which was fairly easy. Rat trap was a horizon line that you had to choose the right entry into otherwise you got flipped. Luckily i made it thru by entering a bit high compared to others. Andrew, on the other hand, entered the pourover a bit farther in and got fliped. Twice. In the same spot when he walked around to try again. The cheese went off without incident, and then we dropped into the granite gorge i had been looking forard to at white rock. The Granite gorge section, while not the most action packed, was probably my favorite. I love the multi-colored Ruin Granite that you can find throughout this part of Arizona (and that we had seen a few weeks before while on the Tonto). At canyon creek we stopped for lunch, perched on a small granite boulder. For whatever reason, huge spiders love to be around both the granite and water- i have seen these "zelda" spiders as i call them, they kind of look like the spiders from the game, only in other granite riperian zones like Salome, interesting. 

Lunch as Canyon Creek enters the Salt

Canyon Creek itself came in clear and warm after making the long treck down to the Salt from the Mogollon Rim area. It looks like, given proper flow, it could be a fun side run! After lunch we were met with Granite Rapid, where Sarah got flipped over backwards on a sleeper hole at the end of the rapid. The granite gorge was all too short, and soon we were emerging from the Salt River Canyon area into Gleason Flat. A few years ago this was the site of a large flashflood that pushed the river into a new channel and mostly blocked flow requiring a long portage. Luckily, high flows from the previous year and small boats meant we were able to pick our way through the braids without needing to portage anything. After a few miles of open floating i was glad that the walls came in close again. Devils Pendejo was next, a rapid that is almost an exact copy of Mescal Falls, a hard right at a wall. Then came Eye fo the needle, a nice choke point that was fairly exiting. Just upstream, Ross flipped on a rock and the bulk of the crew ran through the rapid while i stopped with Ross, helping him get ready before dropping in. Shortly after came the first CL4 of the trip, Black Rock. This was a step up in terms of what we had seen thusfar, a decent pouroff with a moderately sticky hole. I wasnt feeling it so most of us portaged just upstream of the rapid on the left, only requring a boat cary of about 200 feet. Guzy  and Becca decided to give it a shot. After setting spotters and safety, Becca ran thru and made it through the drop but flipped trying to navigate the hard right on a wall just down from the pouroff. Guzy chose a different strategy and just rammed righ into the wall after the drop, and after rebounding was able to easily paddle away, interesting strategy that i havent really seen before. At this point it was getting late in the day and we paused at upper corral canyon, debating whether to stop or not. The site looked less than stellar though, and because we still had another hour and a half of daylight we moved on. If i have learned anything in my time on the water, its that most issues happen late in the day. Sure enough, at Upper corral Rapid, Sarah flipped and went for a pretty long swim. Luckily, as sweep, i was able to get her paddle and boat to the side and she didnt have to bushwhack too far to get down to her boat. Taking this as a sign, we pulled over at Yankee Joe, which was probably my favorite site, both beautiful and open while also having decent tree coverage. With nerves running high about the Cl4 rapids we would have to confront the following evening, Sarah decided to join us at out sleep site (usually we all dispersed fairly well) for some company. We had a bonfire and closed out the night.

Water dissapears; Yanke Joe Canyon

The next morning, we all packed up and explored as we saw fit (Sarah and i both walked a fair way up Yankee Joe Canyon, a cool side canyon with flow that came up and went back down within a few hundred feet). Just upstream of camp there was also a great perch that andrew and i used as our business spot, definitely one of the better spots i have had in a while.

Because anxiety was high, we stopped to scout the first rapid we came to on day 3, Lower Corral Rapid, which turned out to be pretty straight forward. In quick succession we hit Pinball, and then the Maze, supposidly our first class 4 of the trip that we would all run. In reality both were just boulder gardens with a moderate amount of manuvarability needed but generally without any major difficulty. 

This river is very geologically interesting, and after the Maze were-emerged out of the basalt back into the brown and white quartzite, a sign that bigger things were coming. Quartzite, which used to be the monster of the run (a 15 foot CL6 fall) but in the 90's was blasted to become a much more mild drop.  We stopped well before (maybe too far before) quartzsite and hiked up a few hundered feet on the bend before the falls to scout (this is suggested by the guide). While this might be good at high water and in big boats, we quickly found that this was a bit absurd (but gave great views of the area!) We instead chose to scout in ernest on a gravel bar just upstream of the rapid on the right. At this level (~700 CFS) Quartzite was a two stage drop, both fairly straightforward (CL3 at best at this level) with a large pool below. 

A Proper desert crown found on the Quartzite Scout

The upper part of Quartzite, reduced from its former glory to a bolder garden

Just below Quartzite was Corkscrew, probably the most complex rapid we saw, a somewhat doubledrop that falls right then left with some interesting laterals and holes and one large hole at the bottom. Portage would be difficult and potentially dangerous (required moving across flow that would sweep you right into the rapid then navigating some large slick boulders). After some discussion we arrived on the strategy that each of us would prefer to try. Many of us would try to sneak in on the far right, then ferry hard left to avoid the large hole. Becca ran first and chose to come in on the left instead, and immediately flipped. Guzy ran next and flipped on the bottom hole after not making the ferry, as did Ross, Sarah committed to going right around the bottom hole and made it! Andrew managed to mostly get to the left of the bottom hole and also made it! Finally, i dropped and stayed hard right and went mostly around the bottom hole, clipping the right side. Definitely it was a step up for me but not so much so that it felt uncomfortable. Quickly we ran through Sleeper (guzy was still swimming) and we were through! Only a few easier rapids remained. Just around the bend we pulled over to back in our success and have lunch, what an eventful morning it had been. 

A pool with spring leaves emerging on Cherry Creek

I tried to savour the remaining wilderness stretch as much as possible, with some rugged walls and cacti. Cliffhanger went without difficulty and Soon we were at Cherry creek, a beautiful clearwater stream flowing off the Sierra Ancha from the north with some decently sized trout in pools. We filled up on wanter and set off.  Just as we emerged into horshoe bend the wind started to pick up. At the apex of the horshe, a large group was having a party down by the river and gave us a bunch of hoots, stoked to see that we were on the water (even a couple of girls flashing us too! They flashed the ladies in the lead tho, probably thinking we were all just a bunch of dudes). A bit farther down i saw what might be the most Arizonan thing i have seen- a prickly pear growing insdie the crown of a Saguaro, shocked by the sight (that no one else saw) i missed my opportunity to grab a picture. We camped at Coon creek, a beautiful site set amongs Arizona Sycamore and Cottonwoods with a nice creek running through it. Andrew and i took some beers and walked up stream a ways to enjoy sometime away from the rest of the crew. Larger groups can be fun but i found myself longing for the simplicity of trips with just andrew, lindsay and myself. Some river rangers stopped by when we got back to camp, first run of the season for them. I would have loved to have some time with the older ranger, he had apparently been patroling this stretch for a few decades and i am sure had much to tell. Our final night had the group swapping stories as we had finally gotten to the point that the group was coalescing. 

Columns of Basalt and Saguaro

Andrew with an Ancient Sycamore

Morning of day 4 started slow again, which gave more time for us to enjoy the fresh spring leaves at sunrise. We stopped at dry creek, which, contrary to its name, had a lovely waterfall that we walked back to. Andrew, Guzy and i opted not to put on dry suites as we didnt have any major rapids left per the map. Of course we still had quite a few riffles, some fairly large that might even have been CL2, one of which Guzy flipped on. All too quickly we got to Pinal creek and the final granitic gorge of the canyon, the portal that i had looked upstream towards so many times before. I am a bit sad that i no longer have that mystery but so glad that i was able to finally experience this section of arizona, and i am sure i will be back with Lindsay someday. We closed out the trip at a mexican food restaurant just outside of globe. With a second trip in AZ now in the bag, my mind cant help but wander to all of the other possibilities the arid state has to offer. 

"Dry Creek" Falls

Nearing the End

The Rocky portal that i had looked up so many times, now seen from upstream. 

Lower San Juan Friendsgiving

Far from the busy river of alte spring and early summer when it is running high, the San Juan on the cusp of winter is a quiet place. 

After the constant pressure and business of getting married (Yay! but also Yay it is over!) Lindsay and i wanted to get away for a long weekend. Thanksgiving was the obvious choice. We called in a small collection of friends and family to join and before we knew it we had ourselves a proper friendsgiving weekend getaway! Unfortunately, this time of year weather can be fickle in the desert. Throw in the fact that we would be in boats and that complicated things. Several days before we set out, weather models changed and suggested that a major storm would be cruising through right when we would be in the thick of things in the canyon. Things were surely going to get exciting.

Another Stellar Sunrise at Sandthrax camp

We set off from Salt Lake wendesday after work, a contingent from phoenix did the same. We camped, as we often do when heading to this part of the state late after work, at the Sandthrax site, which seems to be getting busier every year and, even with below freezing temps and a storm in the forecast, there were several others already there when we arrived. A short and cold night ended with a beautiful sunrise and we were off continuing south. The drive south of Hanksville to Cedar mesa has to be one of my favorite in the state, the views are spectacular and it is an area that still seems to have a semblance of solitude. After a quick drop of a car at the clay hills crossing ramp, we went back around to Mexican hat. 3 years earlier we finished a winter float of the san juan in mexican hat; it was nice to return and i (and i am sure andrew and lindsay as well) was eager to see what lay down river. 

Under grey  skies, we set off on the river and within minutes came to gypsum creek, our first rapid. At the water levels we saw, all rapids we encountered were no more than class 2 and were all short and straight forward. At gypsum creek we scouted on the left, walking across the drying bed of gypsum creek proper which was telling the story of this land. The drying but not fully dried clay does an excellent job of capturing footprints in amazing detail.

The Desert has a story to tell

As we left town, the canyon walls gradually rose around us; i was having flashbacks to the section just upstream 3 years earlier as they were remarkably similar. The lower san juan quickly enters entrenched meanders, at the far end of the first of these, the mendenhall loop, we took a quick warm up break to hike up to the mendenhall cabin. What a place that would have been to try and eek out a living! We stopped for the day a few miles further at the Tabernacle and set up for our feast. Feast we did! After getting the fire going we warmed our turkey in the coals, and enjoyed a proper thanksgiving with our small group of friends and family taking in tangerine sunset. 

Preparing for a Thanksgiving Feast under the Tangerine Sky

Thanksgiving Turkey warming up

Black friday was expected to be a dark and dismal day for us. Rain and/or snow was in the forecast, and not just a little of it. When we awoke, thoguh, we were greated to broken skies and the occasional blue patches! Down river, we had our first and only wildlife sighting, a big horn sheep that was running up on a broken ledge alongside us as we went down river. Around our lunch break the weather changed and a driving rain came in intermixed with heavy up and down canyon winds. After pushing through the rain and wind for 4 hours, we finally called it for the day at Ross rapid camp. Coincidentally, things cleared up and the blue sky and sun grazed us to close out the day. At Ross camp the chert and jasper intrusions are particularly prevelant. We explored a bit, finding the memorial to Mr Ross himself, as well as a small structure, likely a somewhat recently constructed hunting blind made when newcomers began to mine the area. As the sun set, the moon rose to perfectly clear skies, painting a scene on the canyon walls and seemingly hinting at better weather to come. 

The locals letting us hang out in the water as they watch from above

Clear Skies and fast water make a happy Lindsay

Exploring (and maybe yelling at the sun to sun more?)

A look up and down river at Ross Camp

Moonrise at Ross

Although winter canyons can be amazing for the solitude they allow, the deep walls, now ~1000 feet above us, and the east-west nature of the canyon meant that sunlight was a rarity, and on the occasion that we got to glimpse some, all would stop and bask in it as long as possible. Leaving Ross camp, we had just come into the sun and the temps had peaked above freezing again, but once on the water we were immediately back in the icebox. Even with the cold and a now constant upwind draft, the clarity in the desert post rainstorm was on full display and the canyon seemed so vibrant. At around 2 we arrived at the fabled Government Rapid, supposidly the "big one". Being potentially overly cautious, we stopped well above the rapid and walked the canyon down to scout. What was supposed to be a somewhat long and difficult Class 3 really was just two drops in quick succession, no more than 2+ at this flow, a straightforeward run down the middle or maybe a slightly more interesting run on the left. We had been leapfrogging another party that had put in shortly before us on thanksgiving, and we managed to catch them just as we were finishing up running all of the boats through government. At Slickhorn B we pulled over for the night. I doubted that we would actually see much sign of the oil exploration that had happened in the area other than some old equipment, but at times the smell of fuel oil was strong hinting that some of the natural seeps were still active. 

Old Man Beer Belly Spire reflected off interesting pools in Slickhorn

Early Morning Calm at slickhorn

Pancakes in bed, a river trip special

The crew getting ready as andrew plays his brain bongo

Tristan, ready to own another day of paddling on his first river trip in his packraft

At Slickhorn the water gets continuously slower. It was tough leacing the pace of this bend in the river in the morning, especially since we had the pleasure of frozen shoes to look foreward to. An hour or so after setting off, we made a stop at Grand Gulch to get out and get some blood flowing. The lower bits of grand gulch hold some pretty amazing pools sheltered under ledges. Some day we will come back and pack out grand gulch, the trip i had initially hoped to do but we didnt have time for. After Grand Gulch the effects of the Dam are particularly apparent. The river channel is 30+ feet above where it used to be, and as a result slowly meanders back and forth covering the entire bottom of the canyon causing consistent frustration. At Oljeto Wash we stopped again to go for a walk. This canyon was probably my favorite of all of the side canyons we explored but was guarded by a fair but of muck and quicksand/mud. We found petrified wood, interesting sand flows, and even some formed smokey quartz from an age long past in the canyon bottom.

Walking along the ledge that used to be a waterfall down to the river, Grand Gulch

Pools in the lower reaches of Grand Gulch

Walking under the overhang, Oljeto wash

Lindsay, the strong and independant woman that she is, singlehandedly holding the world up, you can thank her for not letting it fall over everyone. 

At Steer Gulch we stopped for our final evening. I had heard that there was a horrendous mud flat to walk across at Steer Gulch to access camping, but the upper entrance wasnt too bad. Andrew had committed a little too far down river and ended up breaking a paddle blade off trying to get back to the camp, but in the process found the preferred entrance among the tamarisk with some good flow to immediately step into. Steer Gulch was also my favorite camp, very close and intimate with the Wingate walls keeping close company. That night we had a ceremony for andrews fallen friend and granted him first ever use of our spare paddle that had come on so many rivers without ever seeing action. As the fire raged and our shadows danced on the walls, the night grew deep and cold and we eventually retired to sleeping bags under the open sky.

A raging ceremonial fire on our last night

Lindsays and shadows dancing in tandem

Morning on our final day greeted us with sunlight and a lack of wind that we had battled the prior few days. We slowly left behind the canyon walls and emerged back at Clay Hills where we were the only car in the lot, leaving the river behind to have some time to itself before hustle of the next runoff season.

Is it a river or is it a lake? The lower San Juan as we approach the takeout, most of the water is less than an inch deep with a channel in there somewhere...

Leeaving the Canyon Behind

Back at Clay Hills after a lovely long weekend