Dirty Devil River
March 23-29, 2008
150-120 cfs

Did a solo 7 day trip down the Dirty Devil and I am going to finally put some kind of a Trip Report together here. It was a very personal trip, I could go into great detail about seeing Jason Voorhees, illuminated by the moonlight, standing in the middle of the river with his machete and hockey mask after midnight (black cow w/a white face), the hawk screaming and then diving from on high for a rabbit at Twin Corral, the beaver that I thought was a bear that nearly jumped onto my kayak below Happy Canyon…or the crazy people wasted on acid or mushrooms at Poison Springs. I could wax on for hours about the quicksand I fell into the first day at “come..see… canyon\slot (my name)”, running the “ditch” near the confluence in almost total darkness and other such tales that will probably age like fine wine…but for now I am not going to. In the end I think I will keep all of those gory details and more just for me. The DD is one of the most beautiful places in the world and I feel a great deal of “ownership” when talking about it.

Before the trip I had (re)read Seven Pillars of Wisdom by T. E. Lawrence (Lawrence of Arabia) and like him I punished the hell out of myself both in psyche and body on this trip…he paid someone to actually beat him as he wandered the deserts but I found it easy to do it on my own. Second day I named the new Vanguard kayak Wilson so I could have someone else to talk to and yell at as I “plowed” the sand and silt the first 30+ miles of the DD with an 8′ strap slung across my chest. If you are thinking of going down there contact me through the site by leaving a comment and I will be happy to answer questions about the specifics of running the river.

And…

Take care of that place or I will kick your ass…

Some of the photos from the trip are here in the gallery…having trouble getting everything up but should have it sorted out soon.

San Juan River
Febuary 29th – March 4th
4000-5000 cfs

Shane Rasmussen
Jordan Rasmussen
Logan Rasmussen
Mike Scott

Just finished another fantastic trip down the San Juan with my two boys and Mike Scott. Four of the five days we had great weather with highs in the low 70′s. On March 2nd we had a nasty 16 hour wind storm that started at 4am and didn’t end until about 8pm. We did not make to many stops in the upper section other than River House because my boys had already seen quite a few of the sites on a three day trip we did a couple of years ago. Fun and lazy floating on the first day, Jordan rode in Mike’s kayak for a bit while Logan navigated for me. Got them both throughly soaked in 8 foot Rapid and we camped at Lime Creek for our first night on the river.

On the morning of the second day we all climbed the hill behind Lime Creek camp to reach the suns morning rays and warm up. After packing everything up we headed to Mexican Hat with Jordan in Mikes IK. Watch the video below of Jordan describing Gypsum Creek Rapid in camp later that night, pretty hilarious . Ate at the cafe next to the trading post and after another stop at Mendenhall Loop we were on to our camp at the Honaker Trail. We could tell that the next day was not going to be too nice because it was so warm that night.

At 4am on Sunday I was awakened by a 50mph wind gust that folded my tent over on top of me. Got out of the tent and rearranged it for the first of many times so it wouldn’t blow away. Checked on the boys and they were doing great in the four season tent. When the sun came up Mike and Logan hiked aways up the Honaker Trail but the wind drove them back down…man I HATE the wind! Mike deflated his kayak and we launched at about noon. Tough miles in all that wind but as long as I could keep the boat off shore we made good progress. Shortly before Government Rapid Logan started whimpering, he had gotten his feet wet that morning and he is such a tough little kid that he said nothing. Jordan was a great big brother and consoled him while Mike was able to warm his feet up. Did a cheat run at Government Rapid to try and keep everybody dry and was successful although I did brush over a submerged rock. We camped at Slickhorn C and as soon as he hit the shore Logan was off and running, his misery forgotten.

The next day the sun hit our camp early, Logan set up Lasso Golf and we played that for awhile until the suns rays penetrated Slickhorn Canyon. Around noon Mike and I were packing up and the boys went up the canyon again while we finished. About five minutes later I came to the large pool at the bottom of the canyon to find that Logan had already went for a swim by himself. He said that he wanted to see how deep it was next to the wall where you jump from, when I asked how deep it was he replied that he didn’t know because he couldn’t touch and got scared so he swam back. When Jordan and Mike showed up we all jumped off the rock into the cold pool, Logan did a great superman belly flop and Jordan jumped into the deepest part. After drying off for a bit we launched the boats at about 1:30.

We had planned to spend that last day at either Oljato or Steer but it was such a nice day, neither of those camps get good sun, that we decided to push on to Clay Hills where we spent the night. Packed up and ready to leave the next day by 10:30, plenty of time to make it home before dark. It was a great trip, we didn’t see anybody else on the river and no signs of anybody having been in any of the camps…we felt like the San Juan belonged to us(1)(2).

All the photos from the trip are in the Gallery

Hiked down the Virgin River Narrows with Mike last weekend, photos are located here.

Went down the White Rim Road – Trail this last weekend,

Photos here.

The Sexy Time Grand Canyon Good Karma 2007 Trip
Participants:
Dianna Cort
Gary Scovill
Lorie Erickson
Mike Scott (aka Spider Monkey)
Shane “Shnard” Carter
Shane Rasmussen
Steve Bradley
Tracy Anderson

I just spent 16 days, on the Colorado River, rowing through the Grand Canyon and my small world will never be the same.

But we should start at the beginning,

I had major anxiety for many months leading up to this trip.

Would the rapids or rattlesnakes kill me or the others I felt responsible for?

What about getting everything and everyone there and back?

Would I, my two great old friends and the five other “strangers” (who soon became my tribe) all get along?

What about the food?

I had forgotten my river maps in the truck and my GPS with all the way points had died 30 minutes into the trip, a perfect start to the journey of my life…I have been rowing and kayaking rivers and creeks for more than nine years. My map of Utah is nearly complete having done nearly all sections of the rivers in the state but nothing, not even Cataract or Westwater, had prepared me for the rapids of the Grand Canyon. Rapids on the Grand are rated on a scale of 1-10 instead of the standard I-V classification and I was soon to find out why. Most of the riffles and non named rapids would be considered class II on most rivers. We hit Badger Creek Rapid (5-6) a couple of hours into the first day and it looked huge, one entry slot and then hit the big waves, try to keep forward momentum and the boat straight.

That night we camped above Soap Creek Rapid (5-6) at about mile 11 1/2 and I listened to the roar all night. I don’t know how to describe how I felt at the time, I was elated to be here but at the same time I had serious doubts about my skills and especially my nerve for when the really big stuff came up. We took on Soap the next morning and then it was some nice floating time until the first big test, House Rock Rapid (7-8). Other than the Big Drops in Cataract it was the biggest rapid I had ever scouted. We looked at it from down below, then climbed up higher and looked at it again, the move was like many others to come, pull your ass off and away from the big shit. Most of the current was going to the left, exactly where you did not want to be so the run was to stay as close to the right shore, without hitting the rocks, to get away from the nasty stuff in the main current. It didn’t help my confidence that during the scout Mike kept saying “we are going to die!”, “this rapid can’t be run!” and other encouraging words. Everybody had good runs, Tracy pulled through nicely after being stuck on some rocks at the top for awhile and needing a push off from Shnard and Steve.

Then we were on to North Canyon where I believe we spent the night, the next day would bring the fast and furious roaring twenties where Richards, Hansbrough and Loper had met their end. Nothing was to intimidating (4-6′s), *but*, Tiger (Wall\Wash rated a 5) nearly got me, I thought I would be cute and let the lateral coming off it push me away from the nasty stuff but instead it surged then disappeared under my boat and then came up underneath and pushed me right into where we didn’t want to be. Luckily we were out in short time, had been humbled and spanked throughly. We spent the night at a wonderful beach camp near South Canyon.

The next 40+ miles or so were great, nothing big to write home about until we hit Unkar (6) and Nevills (6) Rapids which were pretty big. Hance Rapid (8-9)was really quite terrifying and a sign of what we could expect on the days ahead. Enter right and pull through the “duck pond” to the left, it didn’t quite go that way for Mike and I. We were going about 20mph when we hit the first big hole on the middle right and it stopped us dead, spun the boat and filled it with water. I was crushed to the bottom of the cockpit, saw an oar, put it on top of the hole\wave, pushed on it with both arms and we broke free…the rest was a blur of white and brown. Had a great run through Sockdolager (7-8) and saw what might have been the biggest waves of the trip (bigger even than Hermit), those following us saw the bottom of my boat but we hardly even got wet. Camped in the eternal shade of Grapevine camp that night and felt like I might actually be able to pull this all off.

The next day was the start of the “big ones”. Don’t remember much about Grapevine Rapid (7) other than we didn’t scout it. Then it was some other “smaller” 4-5′s until we reached Phantom Ranch. Most of us sent post cards, tried to make a few calls, purchased some souvenirs and we were back on the river. Horn Creek Rapid (8-9) was next and we got really lucky with the high water, the left horn was covered and made for a fairly easy run through. We camped that day just above Granite Rapid (8-9) and after we were set up went down to look at it. Laterals, laterals and then a dozen more laterals that were coming from both sides. It ended up being, in my opinion, the second scariest rapid of the trip. After the scout, back in camp, the Canadians showed up (they had a film crew that had shot us in Hance) to look over the rapid. The Trip Leader said they were planning to float down several more miles but after taking a look at Granite he said to me “So…this is a really big camp…”. I told him that they were welcome to share the camp and they did. A few Olympic kayakers were in there group and entertained\scared us as they ran the rapid in the late afternoon catching some serious air time at the top.

The next day we ran Granite at about 8:30AM as the other group watched and filmed us. Steve and I did not want to look at it again so we just ran it, I think I have repressed the memory because other than trying to keep turning my boat into the opposing laterals all I really remember is working my ass off at the bottom to get out of “forever eddy”, that back pull was good preparation for what was to come. Next was Hermit, all I will say about that rapid was that I had a great run…meaning we stayed in the boat. On to Crystal Rapid(9)…Crystal…Crystal…F*!k you Crystal…you have been in my nightmares. This was the rapid that had kept me up late at nights. As we approached, landed and I ran up to the scout I felt myself becoming lightheaded. At the upper scout I stood there looking at it at thought I was going to pass out. Then I realized that I had bee hyperventilating and tried to control my breathing as I joined the others at the lower scout.

Jesus, Allah, Buddha I love you all!
Please don’t put me in those holes where all the current goes.

Perfect runs through Crystal followed with a short break at ABC (Alive Below Crystal) beach below where I shed some tears of relief hidden by my sunglasses. Then we went through the Jewels (5-7) without incident and made camp. I don’t know if I have ever had a better nights sleep in my life.

After Crystal I felt untouchable, Walthenberg (6) was just pure fun as my boat smacked down into the hole. Stops at Shinumo, Elves, and Blacktail will never be forgotten. We camped at Ross Wheeler that night in a small camp that was just big enough. The next morning, less than a half an hour after shoving off we ran into one of the other private trips we had been running into. The Grand Canyon has “tides” based on releases from Glen Canyon Damn and we were now getting the low September flows. The night before we had been waking up every two hours to release the lines and push the boats out, our leap frog private trip had not. Rounding the bend and seeing boats (one was a 33′ rented motor rig) stuck 30′ on shore was quite the site. They blew the air horn and it was time for the Sexy Time Good Karma Grand Canyon ’07 Group to come to the rescue. All boats were back in the water in less than an hour and our rafts were freshly laden with thank you beer when we pushed off.

That day two rapids stand out, Bedrock (7) and Dubendorff (7-8) (F#*K, Dubendorff!!!). Everybody had good runs at Bedrock and made the pull but Steve and I had to eat some meat at Dubendorff. Not so fun but it was followed by lunch and a great hike and shower at Stone Creek. On to to Tapaets (5) where we parted ways with Shnard, Mike, Lorie and Steve while they went on a 5 hour hike to see Thunder River jet out of the canyon walls. Gary, Dianna, Tracy and I continued on to camp at the spot across from Deer Creek Falls, one of my favorite spots in the canyon. After setting up camp I inflated the ducky and pushed across to Deer Creek, I sure wished I had brought my camera after a hottie commercial guide got half her top ripped off so I paddled back to get it. After getting the camera and pushing back across, most of the commercials were shoving off and I had Deer Creek Falls all to myself. The next hour or so was spent trying to swim under the powerful falls wearing nothing but my life jacket, sorry for the disgusting visual but it was one of the best parts of the trip for me.

The next day we missed Matkatambiba Canyon because AZRA boats were taking every available spot to pull in, we were pretty pissed but then they showed us that you could run the big stuff in Upset Rapid (6-7). We had planned a pull and stick to the right shore run but we watched them enter at nearly the center and we followed their line. Turn into the big lateral at the top, turn again into the one on the right and then push hard into the center of the big hole at the bottom. I stalled in the big hole and lost an oar, as I was wishing I had my passenger for weight on the front I looked to my right for the oar and saw him filming me from the bank. It was all worth it when I saw the footage on the 3′ screen later, maybe the best shots of a rapid on the trip. I think we made some pretty good time that day and camped at the second ledges camp, which had a spring shower coming off of the upper ledges, got some good naked photos from my vantage spot on the boat but I am saving those for blackmail purposes.

Next day was Havasu where we parked the boats and some hiked around while others of us swam up the creek with our life jackets. Beautiful water with small falls as far as we walked up, playing in most of them. That night we camped at National, while the others went on a hike Mike and I drank beer as we floated around in the huge eddy. Later, Lorie sneaked up and got some great pics of the Spider Monkey’s butt as he changed while I distracted him with my laughter.

I can honestly say that I was not that scared of\at Lava Falls(9)…by that point I was in the zone and ready for the river to fall off the face of the flat earth. It was big and I now believe the stories about the ledge hole ripping the frames off of boats. I was more concerned about ending up in there and having my life jacket ripped off so it was the only rapid that I put my shortie wet suit on for extra buoyancy. The line you take is a leap of faith, or at least a float of faith, follow the current\bubble line coming off a big bolder on river right, don’t touch your oars and pray. We had a great run, as we hit the first hole at the top I started pushing forward and trying to move to the left to avoid cheese grater rock at the bottom, it worked so well that we hardly even hit the hole at the bottom and barely got wet in the rapid. Good runs for all (no flips or swims PARTY AT TEQUILA BEACH BABY!!! The two commercial groups who had run safety for us at the bottom of the rapid (and probably hoped that their passengers would see a bit of carnage) didn’t seem to be having nearly as much fun at “made in the shade” below, probably because most of them were going to have to leave by helicopter the next day at Whitmore where we stayed at the lower camp that night.

The next day was pretty relaxed and most of the time I was the sweep boat as I was feeling extra lazy and in no particular hurry. Watching Tracy go through Kolb Rapid (6) woke me up though as it looked like a near flip. Rafts don’t usually like to go where cats do so I skirted most of it to the left. Camped just above 209 that night and listed to the whomp of the massive hole that eats unaware boatman all afternoon\night.

Short day on the river and we camped at upper 220, played around in the water to keep cool and drank most of the rest of the beers and then…Last day…very mixed emotions. I was aching for my family but the rest of me wanted to go back up and do a stealth launch at Lee’s after midnight. No real BIG rapids on the way to Diamond but everybody was going for the holes on every run trying to savor our last hours in the canyon. Then we saw it, a cable across the river, then a bus and cars. Damn, we’re back now.

To be continued…

See my photos here
See Mike’s photos here
See Diana’s photos here
See Gary’s photos here
See Lori’s photos here
See Tracy’s photos here

Rochester Creek Pictographs

Pictures here.

Thompson Wash (Sego Canyon)
Feb 2002

Pictures here.

Westwater Canyon
July 20-21
2800cfs

Had another great trip down Westwater Canyon this last weekend. We launched at about noon on Friday and spent a few hours floating to Little Hole campground where we spent the night.

The next morning we launched at 8:30 and quickly ran into Little Dolores Rapid. I was running the sweep boat and at Surprise Rapid we were following Karlee’s boat and watched as she dropped in and got surfed sideways. It was pretty intense to watch as we closed in on them and the passengers hi sided while Kailee cranked hard on an oar with both hands finally spitting them out seconds before we were about to come on top of them.

I had a very interesting run in Skull Rapid. As Bo Christensen explained and demonstrated with sticks and rocks in the sand at camp before we launched the safest way to run it at this level was to make the hard move left just above Razor Rock. Steve Christensen also mentioned that if you miss the move don’t keep trying to get left after razor rock and that Skull Hole was the least powerful on the far right side. As I started to make my move left I didn’t commit enough to it and saw razor rock coming right at us. I didn’t think I could make the move to get behind it so instead I started pushing forward to try to get to the right side of the hole. My right oar was coming up on the wall fast and the hole was right below. As my oar was knocked from my hand by the wall I was able to get one last stroke in with my left one to get us straight for the hole. It was a pretty scary moment as we dropped in but we were quickly spit out and soon we passed the Room of Doom where Brandi and Mica’s boats were at.

We sat in an eddy below and relished in the adrenalin rush for awhile before continuing on. The last three rapids were all pretty big but Bolling Alley second wave was massive. Everybody made it through and we were on to the flat section to the takeout. It was a fantastic trip with a great group of people, big thanks to the Carbon Recreation folks and Steve Christensen for putting it all together. Steve got some really great pictures on the trip, and hopefully will be sending me more. See all the pictures here.

Mike Scott and I went down to the “daily” section of the Green River this weekend for the Carbon County Recreation River Rescue Workshop. Friday night we all met at Rays Tavern and ate dinner before the classroom session that was held at the John Wesley Powell River museum at 7pm. Bo Christensen was the lead instructor for the class.

We started out with introductions and then moved on to the meat of the class. Below is a list of what we discussed:

-decision making, on and off the river

-understanding of group compatibility

-rescue techniques

-safe river travel

-having what you need to work with

-using what you have to work with

-self rescue

-boating attitude and mentality

-statistics

-environmental awareness

-knots

-communication on and off the river

-scenarios

-wrapped raft

-z-drag

-knots

-entrapment

-rope management

-throw bag

-dealing with capsized rafts

-self rescue: don’t wait for someone else to rescue you

-aggressive swimming techniques

-rigging for the possibility of capsizing

-proper introduction for new people on the river

-TL

-signals

-chain of command

-Ability to make a decision and stick to it — make the right decision

-Know what you are capable of and what your group is capable of; more importantly,

-know your limitations

-You must be confident in what you attempt, or don’t attempt it at all

-Self rescue — don’t rely on someone else

-Don’t create a second victim

-Know where you are, what type of environment, weather at the river, physical condition of yourself and others in the group

-Communicate before you launch

-Hand signals

-Whistle signals

Saturday we practiced all of the things we discussed in the classroom section. We launched the boats at Butler Wash and shortly after Bo called on me to help him flip a boat and demonstrate how to right it. This was my first of many swims to come, Bo is like a river super hero and was on top of the capsized boat in an instant helping me on board. We pulled out the flip lines and quickly had it back upright, again Bo was back in and pulled me in. Then it was on to tossing throw bags to swimmers in a rapid, most of us did horribly but after at least a dozen throws I was starting to get the hang of it and started to put the rope where the swimmer needed it.

I think we flipped the boats I was on at least five times on Saturday, the most spectacular one at the big wave at the top of Sand Knolls. Steve had said that if we weren’t all dragging ass by the end of Saturday that they weren’t doing their job, I was dragging halfway through our first trip down on Saturday and we still had to go up and do it all over again!

On the second trip down on Saturday we practiced setting up a z-drag to pull a pinned raft off of a rock at Stone Cabin rapid. This part was really cool, Bo and Mica took a boat out to a rock about 80-90ft off the shore and “pinned” their boat. It was to far to toss a throw bag so we had to figure a way out to get a rope out to them. An attempt in an inflatable kayak failed so then we got Steve out on to a closer rock, threw a rope to him and he tied it onto another throw bag and tossed it onto Bo and Mica. The throw ropes were then attached to the rescue rope and finally attached to the pinned raft. On shore we then rigged up the z-drag and proceeded to try and pull it off the rock, Bo and Mica tried to hold it on and we had a tug of war with them although they didn’t have a chance with the leverage the z-drag gave us. After the days river activities it was off to Rays again for dinner.

Sunday we were not told what scenarios we would be facing. I don’t want to get into details of the scenarios as they will likely be used again in the workshop and you should go into them fresh. Anyways, they were set up really well and could happen on just about any river. After we had finished the last trip down the river we stuck around to help load the boats. I was amazed to learn that this type of class\training is not required for commercial guides, hopefully the commercials provide something similar in house to their trainees but I think an agreed upon format including certification should be mandatory.

It was a great weekend and I am still a bit sore from the workout. I learned a lot, got some really good experience and built my confidence on rescue techniques. Carbon County Recreation puts on a very professional workshop and the lead instructor Bo Christensen is a great teacher. Calm, collected and very knowledgeable. I recommend the class to anybody who rafts rivers, the price is very reasonable and the things taught could prove invaluable.

Westwater Canyon
June 2, 2007
8500+ CFS

Participants:
Steve Christensen
Mica Loveless
Shane Rasmussen
Craft:
2 15.5 Achilles Self Bailers

Finally got my first trip down Westwater Canyon. Drove down after work on Friday night and met Steve and Mica at the Westwater ranger station. Steve was the volunteer Ranger that weekend and had to check everybody out at the ramp before we could launch. Mica and I ran the shuttle to Cisco Saturday morning. A few commercial groups came through and quickly launched and then eventually some private groups started showing up. We launched at about 12:30 in the afternoon.

After several miles the black walls started closing in and the current started to pick up speed as we went through a few class II rapids. We hit Little D and I was amazed at the power of the waters current, both me and Mica almost got stuck in the eddy at the bottom right of the rapid. Most of the other rapids were a blur, they kept coming fast and furious. Funnel Falls gave me some problems, I didn’t have enough momentum on entering and it stopped and spun my boat as I struggled to straighten it out for the rest of the waves. I had a really hard time getting my oars to find purchase in the large rolling waves, luckily I made it through upright although it almost tossed me from the boat.

Skull rapid was just plain huge but Steve told me how to run it by starting out on river right and doing a downstream ferry to river left towards the bottom of the tongue to avoid the hole, rock of shock and room of doom. Mica and I (Steve was on Mica’s boat) both ran it as planned. As we floated by the hole\RoS\RoD I was really glad I didn’t get any closer to them. At Sock it to me I was a little to far left and had to pull hard to stay off the “Magnetic Wall”. BIG, BIG Water! We made it through to the end of the rapid section (2 1/2 miles) in about 30 minutes. The entire 17 miles we covered in about 3 1/2 hours…that is some fast moving water!

Huge thanks to Steve for getting me on this trip and setting me up with the 15.5 Achilles that I will be taking down the Grand Canyon in August. It was really nice to get some miles on that boat and get the feel of it, plus to get in some more big water experience. Mica was just plain awesome, and I followed her lines through most of the rapids which probably saved my butt a few times. Far and away the best singe day trip I have been on. Wish I would have been able to get some photos but I didn’t even take my camera because I felt it would be to distracting to try and snap any pictures.

March 3, 2007

See all the pictures here

First of all, here is a little album from many years ago – Moonshine Canyon. Not much to this, just a few pictures.

Also, I have added a San Rafael Swell folder, which includes three new albums.
The first album is Eardley Canyon, but it isn’t done yet (technical difficulties).
Secondly is SWS May 2005. I provided the shuttle while Rasmussen, his kids, Jay, and Mike rafted the San Rafael . While waiting, I went and found some petroglyphs I had heard about from my uncle, and hiked around a little by swinging bridge.
Finally is SWS August 2005 . These are the pictures that I took with my good camera before and after the Lower Black Box trip. Includes petroglyphs , nice views of Mexican Mountain , and a wild jackass.

Shnard

Here are two more old trips to the San Rafael Swell.

First is Eardley Canyon. This trip was with Mike Nelson in April 1998. The first roll of film from this trip disappeared, so all the pictures are from the last day, going from our camp just upcanyon from the big rincon , up and down cliffs as we try to escape the canyon, and finally ending as we foolishly enter the lower part of the canyon. This was probably the worst experience either Mike or I had during our backpacking adventures. The lower canyon was full of nasty potholes that we had to swim / wade until finally we came to a pouroff. We ended up climbing up the side of the canyon right there at the pouroff, reaching the rim of the canyon just in time for the rain and lightning to start. We hightailed it down the face of the rock, and cruised out to the mouth of Straight Wash, where we were met by Ben.

See all photos here.

Second is the San Rafael Knob. This trip was with Bob (Bobby) Rasmussen in June 2002. We camped the night before on Jutensen Flats, then walked down the steep part of the road, then turned and walked up Devils Canyon. We took a side canyon at random, and it turned out to have a little narrow section, as well as a deep, hidden, incredibly stinky pothole . Came across a deep “crack”, that had actual pine trees as well as a cottonwood growing out of it. We went up the Knob, took a bunch of pictures, then dropped back down, agreeing to meet at a spot by some cliffs to the south of the Knob. I walked down a wide wash, then waited for about an hour for Bobby to try to find a different way off of the Knob. Eventually we met up and took another random canyon 14512> back to the car. It had some little narrows and a couple of big dropoffs.
See all the pictures here.

Shnard and I went hiking in Escalante this weekend. We drove down Friday morning and hiked the Dry Fork Narrows in the late afternoon. As the daylight faded and tents were set up we were treated to a beautiful sunset. The next morning we hiked up Peek-A-Boo, down Spooky and in and out of Brimstone gulches. We then hiked up out of the canyon and along the rim back to the truck, about 7 miles total. Plenty of info on the web about these hikes so I will spare the details, the photos are what the people want to see!

Grove Creek is a crystal clear, spring fed waterway that emerges from the limestone midway down the front side of the majestic Mount Timpanogos. It flows into the city of Pleasant Grove, Utah and is one of the city’s major water sources. Following 500 North, West into the hills will take you to a parking area where the Grove Creek Trail begins.

The Grove Creek trail is one of over two hundred in the trail system of the Timpanogos wilderness area. The elevation at the trailhead is 5200’ and it will climb 2000’ by the time you reach Grove Falls three miles away. The first .8 miles of the trail follow along the swift creek that cuts a small canyon into the mountain. Populated by pine, aspen, cottonwood and wildflowers the scenery is wonderful, especially with the fall colors.

The gradually rising trail suddenly veers steeply to the North and climbs above Grove Creek. After several lung busting switchbacks where the trail narrows to only a few feet wide you will begin to continue up the canyon passing many small waterfalls in the creek below. On the trail you may encounter other hikers, trail runners, mountain bikers and even horses. I was very lucky and did not see anybody after leaving the parking lot.

Upon reaching the falls I was surprised to see a small bench had been erected just off the trail overlooking the falls. Off to the side there was a miniature wrought iron bicycle and a plaque that read: DEDICATED TO THE LOVING MEMORY OF LES CASE AUGUST 1956 – APRIL 2002. I sat my pack down and angrily began to clean up the wrappers, cigarette butts, and even toilet paper that was littered around this wonderful memorial.

Finally, I sat down to enjoy the moment. The sight and sound of the falls, the wind blowing at and dislodging the remaining leaves that drifted into the canyon below. I started to think about Les Case, who was he? How many times had he hiked this trail and felt contentment like I did at that spot. A later search on the internet gave no answers to who Les was but I think his memorial told me everything I needed to know.

A check of the GPS told me that I was 2.83 miles in a straight line to my house and less than 2 to my car. After ten minutes or so I headed back down the trail, covering the three miles that took me nearly two hours to climb back to my truck in less than an hour. As I descended I kept hearing a strange noises that were overiding the peaceful sounds of wind and water I had been enjoing. It was almost like the sound of crashing waves but very irregular. I kept trying to pinpoint the noise, and then I started hearing a voice as well. Wonderful…I had finally crossed over to the far side of crazy.

When I reached the first switchback I realized where the wave sound and voice was coming from, Brigham Young University’s Homecoming football game. The Cougars had 65,000 rabidly loyal fans in the stadium cheering on their home team as the announcer spoke over the loud speakers. As I perched 1200′ above and looked out over the valley below, which contains more than a million people, I again appreciated the couple of hours of solitude, reflection and beauty that I was awarded by taking a short hike on a trail just minutes from my front door.

Shane Rasmussen
All of the photos from this hike are located here

Just finished a trip to Phantom Ranch at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. We took the South Kiabab Trail down and back up to the South Rim. It took us about nine hours total with a good long break at Phantom Ranch. We parked along the road and walked to the trail head making the total trip about 15 miles.

Some photos from the trip are located here.

The four corners area of the United States encompasses Utah, Colorado, New Mexico and Arizona. You have probably seen the photos of people sprawling their bodies to cover the four states at the Four Corners Monument, or maybe you have visited the park yourself. For most people this is a wayside stop on in route to explore the ruins and mystery surrounding the vanished Anasazi culture. The vast majority of these tourists go on to visit Mesa Verde, which attracts over 600,000 visitors per year. The crown jewel of Mesa Verde is Cliff Palace, built around 1200AD in a protected alcove contained over 150 rooms, some four stories high. Tours to the cliff dwelling are scheduled and guided by the National Park Service and you better get reservations early to obtain a viewing, especially in the summer months.

If the cliff dwellings and obviously defensive structures, such as Hovenweep that the Anasazi built towards the tail end of their decline and eventual disappearance interest you then a seldom seen ruin named Keet Seel (Navajo for “Broken Pottery”) is the holy grail of Anasazi architecture. Built around 1250AD and inhabited for less than 40 years it was the last “major” ruin found by the many archeologists and pot hunters scouring the four corners area around the turn of the 20th century. It is extremely remote, situated on the Navajo Reservation (the largest Indian Reservation in the United States) and accessible only by an 18 mile round trip trek requiring a grueling hike with over 2000ft in elevation change. Since becoming a National Monument in 1966 less than 6,400 documented visitors have traveled to the site. Most people stick to the overlooks at the Monument, and some take the guided tour (5-6 miles round trip) to another spectacular ruin, Betatakin.

To visit Keet Seel you need a permit well in advance and must call the Navajo National Monument to obtain one. Being on my own and the fact that it was late in the season (the backcountry hiking permits are only available between Memorial Day and Labor Day) I had no problem calling them up, giving my credit card and receiving a reservation for the hike on a Sunday morning late in August. After a brief slideshow and orientation the night before I was ready to set out with two other hikers, Helmut and Maria from Austria. Early the next morning, just after 7AM as I was preparing to leave my Austrian friends showed up and we started the 17-mile journey at nearly the same time. The hike is long, brutal and hot. For more than half of it you will be wading in a spring fed stream that requires constant crossings. After the long hike I arrived at the Rangers residence, check in and let him know that two others were coming too, we then waited about thirty minutes for Helmut and Maria to arrive.

Words and photos cannot describe Keet Seel, it seems completely untouched and pristine. Only 5% of the ruin has been restored and everything else is as it was 750 years ago when the Anasazi inexplicably abandoned the site. Full pieces of large pottery, bone necklaces, sandals made of yucca and many other artifacts litter the site. After more than an hour and over one hundred photos I started to make my way back on the trail. My pack seemed much lighter and for some reason the hike out seemed easier than the one in. I was and continue to be awestruck by the incredible treasures that litterly reside in my back yard. If you wish to visit Keet Seel, take only pictures and leave only footprints, this is a treasure that we should guard for countless generations to come. All of the photos from my trip are located here:

Navajo National Monument

Canyon de Chelly

Hovenweep

Canyonlands-Stillwater

San Juan River
Sand Island to Mexican Hat
May 27 – 29, 2006
3800cfs
Shane Rasmussen
Jordan Rasmussen
Logan Rasmussen
Mike Scott

We took a short trip down the San Juan River from Sand Island to Mexican Hat over Memorial Weekend. We launched on Saturday and the theme for the day was WIND. We did get lucky in the flow department though and had plenty of current to push downstream. We stopped and hiked to some moki steps, a nice pottery field and the Butler Wash Panel.

Stopped to camp at about 3:30 at a nice spot on river right where my six year old son found some petroglyph’s. Jordan took a nap in the tent and we debated on hiking to River House or just hanging around camp and avoiding the wind. We stuck around camp and cooked up some hot dogs and my boys played war with a deck of cards in the tent until they fell asleep.

At about 3:30 in the morning Logan woke me up.
“Dad…Dad…Dad…Are you awake dad?”
“I am now” I replied, “what’s wrong buddy, what do you need?”
“Listen” he said.
“What is it? I don’t hear anything”
“The wind stopped Dad”

The next morning the wind had stopped and it was about 10 degrees cooler but still a nice temperature, probably in the lower 70′s. We launched the boats a little after 11AM and Logan took a turn riding in Mike’s kayak. After a few small rapids he was wet and cold and Jordan and him switched places. Jordan ran a few rapids with Mike and then we stopped on a small beach and both boys got in the boat with me for the upcoming Eight Foot and Ledge Rapids. Both rapids were pretty washed out, no holes or rocks to avoid but some big waves.

The two spots we had hoped to camp at were occupied so we pushed on the Mexican Hat boat ramp and arrived a little after 5PM. When we showed up nobody was there and we thought we may just camp there for the night and load up and drive home the next morning. After unloading the boats and setting up camp near the picnic tables a few trucks pulled in and started unloading at the boat ramp. What had seemed like a nice place to camp for the night became the standard put-in takeout boat ramp mess with people and gear everywhere. We still had a good time though; we set up a tarp and had a dance off to Thriller. The boys got totally served when Mike broke out the worm. Packed up and on the road by 10AM for the six hour drive, it was a fun trip but I wish it could have been four or five days longer.

Some photos from the trip are located here

Muddy Creek Kayak Trip
Lone Tree Crossing to Hidden Splendor Mine
About 300cfs
May 18-20, 2006

Kayaked Muddy Creek from Lone Tree Crossing to the Hidden Splendor Mine with Kathy. The second night we had one of the best campsites I have ever stayed at. Some nice cottonwoods provided shade in the late afternoon as we sat on the beach, read our books and watched the water flow by. In the morning we were protected from the sun by a 300ft sheer cliff and were still in the shade when we launched at 10:30. Around noon, just as we were about to go for a hike up one of the many side canyons a huge thunderstorm rolled in. We stayed in the boats and were treated to an incredible lightning display with ear splitting thunder. Pouring rain soon followed and pounded us for about 10 minutes, no worries though, it was about 85 degrees, tons of fun. According to my GPS we were very close to Tomsich Butte so we pressed on and pulled into the dirt ramp about 1:30.

We set up camp back in the trees and made some chicken noodle soup to warm us up. Soon after several guys with hard shell kayaks showed up and we shared the ramp while they shared ice cold beer. They packed up and launched by about 3:00 and we were again alone. About an hour later Jeff showed up and we chatted for awhile and agreed to shuttle him and a few friends the next day back to his truck from the Hidden Splendor takeout. A bit later Jeff’s friend Mark showed up with his son Riely and some other nice guys who’s names I have forgoten and I was able to score some more cold beer . After talking for awile beside the fire we decided to run The Chute together and shuttle their drivers back to Tomsich Butte.

The next morning Kathy and I took just one kayak and minimal gear for The Chute and left everything else at camp to be picked up after. It was a good decision, packing the boat and our small amount of gear out at Hidden Splendor was brutal. Hot, dry and up a switchback road. A group of scouts moved the barrier at HS and their leaders drove down to the river. Watching them load up riverside and drive out made our trek out all the more painful. Before long we had the A/C blasting and the six of us were driving back to TB. We said our goodbys to our new friends and headed home, it was a great trip.

All of the photos from this Muddy trip are here.

Muddy Creek Kayak Trip
-Lone Tree Crossing to Little Wild Horse Road (Goblin Valley)
Shane Rasmussen
Mike Scott
David Mendenhall
Mike Francom
Noah Roberts
Isaac (forgot your last name man!)
May 28, 29 2005

We put in at Lone Tree Crossing for a two day trip down the Muddy Creek. We got a late start due to all the shuttling but finally got on the water about two in the afternoon. The water was at about 420cfs and we floated quickly through the tight channel. After a couple of miles it opened up a bit and everyone was able to maneuver more easily. Once we entered the canyon I was relieved to see that tamarisks did not dominate all of the shore and there were plenty of nice campsites.

The next morning we packed up and started down river. Stopped for lunch and did a short hike up a side canyon. We started to hit many small rapids just before entering The Chute. What a beautiful float! But it was over to soon, in what seemed like minutes we were floating under the logjam and out of the Chute.

Within a few miles we were into some nasty rocky rapids and a couple of people took a swim. As the sun sank the water became calmer and we floated through some of the best scenery of the trip.We pulled into the takout at the end of the Little Wild Horse road just as the rest of the daylight was leaving the sky.

I now have everybodys photos up (327!) in the gallery.

“Sometimes luck is with you, and sometimes not, but the important thing is to take the dare. Those who climb mountains or raft rivers understand this.”
- David Brower

Mike “Big Willie” Scott and I kayaked the Virgin River Narrows from Chamberlain Ranch to the Temple of Sinawava in Zion’s National Park this past weekend. We drove down Friday night, camped outside the park and the next morning obtained a backcountry permit when they opened at 8AM and rented a dry suit for Mike. The plan was to kayak the narrows on Saturday and meet my wife and kids who where doing the “tourist thing” in the park that day at the takeout around 7:30PM, things did not go according to the plan.

We put in on the North Fork of the Virgin River a little before 11AM just as another group of hard shell kayakers showed up. The first 5-6 hours were spent mostly dragging the inflatable kayaks, portaging log jams, waterfalls and occasionally floating-paddling. It felt like runing a marathon dragging 50lbs. Finally at around 5PM we met up with the confluence with Deep Creek. I think whomever named the two water ways had a sick sense of humor because Deep Creek had at least six times the water of the Virgin “River”. We strapped all the gear down tight and figured with all the new flow we could still make our planned takeout time.

Until about 6:30 things were going great, cruising fast down the river at what seemed like a sprinters pace with continuous class II rapids and an occasional III-. Then disaster struck. At the top of a curving rapid I hit a rock and was tossed from my kayak. I swam back to it and grabbed on, flipped it over and started struggling to crawl back in. The rapid took another curve and the current was taking me to the left of a big rock on river left and at the last second I saw the fallen tree that stretched from a rock on shore to the rock in the river and was about six inches above the water. I only had half my body back on the kayak so I quickly slipped off, I knew I had to try and duck under that tree so I would not get strained. I am not sure exactly what happened next but I ended up submerged under water with my right arm entangled on something at the elbow. In what seemed like a full minute (probably more like 10-15 seconds) With my left hand I tried to free my knife from my life jacket so I could cut at what ever was holding me. Soon I started to thrash around under water in a panic as I sucked in a lung full of water but then suddenly, I was released from the entanglement.

The other morning I noticed a huge bruise under my tricep on my right arm, I now believe that I must have become entangled by my kayaks tube on the upstream side and the log on the downstream side. When it shifted, and one tube went under the log was when I was likely released.

It took every drop of my remaining adrenalin to reach a rock near the left shore where I proceeded to throw up the water I had just ingested and convulsively shiver from the shock of what had just happened. I clung to the rock for at least a full minute, I could not muster the strength or courage to swim the remaining 5-6ft to the left bank, I was completely exhausted, mentally and physically. A soft voice started tickling around in the back of my brain, “get to shore, you have to get out of this freezing water, get to shore…the water is 39 degrees and you will die if you don’t get out” I tried to ignore it, I wanted to just hold onto that rock. The voice slowly started to rise in volume “Did You Forget What Happened To Mike Nelson?You Have To Let Go Of This Rock And Get To Shore While You Still Have Some Strength…COME ON SHANE! DONT YOU WANT TO LIVE! ARE YOU GOING TO HANG ONTO THIS ROCK UNTIL YOU MISS YOUR LAST CHANCE AND LOSE YOUR GRIP, THEN FLOAT AWAY TO YOUR DEATH!? DONT YOU WANT TO SEE YOUR FAMILY AGAIN?! THEY ARE PRAYING FOR YOU RIGHT NOW! YOU HAVE TO MOVE! DO IT NOW! SWIM TO THE SHORE! NOW! ITS RIGHT THERE! JUST A FEW FEET AWAY! YOU MUST DO IT, IT IS NOTHING COMPARED TO WHAT YOU JUST WENT THROUGH! NOW! GO NOW! THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE! NOW! NOW! NOW! DO IT NOW!

I did it, made it to the shore and crawled a few feet up the steep bank out of the water and collapsed. No thoughts were going through my brain, I was numb all over and felt disconnected from my body. Mike Scott was behind me and had not seen the flip, swim or pin but he did see my kayak strained against the log so he pulled into a small eddy on the right bank directly across from me. We were both at a loss for what to do next, he could not cross the river to where I was and he was nearly as exhausted and just as demoralized as I was. Finally, I was able to get back into action and decided that I had to try and free my kayak and gear from the log. The Rock on shore was steep and I inched my way down to the boat and tried to free it by kicking the log to break it, trying to lift up on it, swearing at it, everything I could think of to no avail. It was a small tree, only about eight inches around and 14ft long but it would not budge. Stretching out a hand and laying my body flat against the rock, praying I would not fall in again I started to deflate the kayaks tubes a little, hoping it would wash under and I could catch it in the area below where I made it to shore. Little by little it started to work it’s way under the log and then it popped free and caught the current before I had a chance to grab it. It was quickly caught in the rapids flow and it floated down the river with all of my emergency gear (Gortex jacket, Eureka EXO tent, med kit, emergency sleepign bag, 6×8 ground cloth, cloths, digital camera, wallet, and lots of food) dashing what remaining hope I had of floating out that night and setting up a terrible scenario of being stuck in the narrows in high water with nothing but what I was wearing.

Mike witnessed all this from the opposite bank and we both threw up our hands wondering what to do next. We could not hear each other over the sound of the rushing water so I despondently signaled him to just go on without me down the river and maybe if he could make it out he could initiate a possible rescue (slim chance in the Narrows). I could not see a way for him to get to the left bank and meet up with me and even if he did what good would it do? We both had NRS Bandit kayaks and they are not meant for two people, especially in these types of water conditions. On my side of the river it was sheer cliff walls and even if he made it to the left bank it would require me to swim down to him, something I did not think I could possibly do. He signaled back that he was going to try and ferry across to a large rock on the left bank downstream. Half a minute later I could hear him shouting for me to come down to him. I had to wade out into the current and once it passed my knees I was swept off my feet and around the rock, there was Mike on shore with a throw rope and he pulled me in. We sat there on shore pondering what to do next, going over every possible solution to our predicament while we shared half a cliff bar from Mike’s dwindling food supply. After about ten minutes we finally decided our only option was to shift things around in his kayak, get back on the river and try and paddle out together in his boat.

The Bandit is a great, tough, light inflatable kayak but like I said it’s no good for two people, weighted down with 400lbs it handles like a slug and does not drain water well. 10-15 minutes later, at about 7:15PM the channel split, we hit another log that was hanging out into the water and were both scraped from Mikes kayak. After a brief swim, I was on the upstream side struggling to hold onto the kayak with one arm and a big rock with my body and the other arm while Mike, out in the main current was clinging to the other side. “Don’t let go!” he yelled, as the boat pendulumed-straightened out, swung around and pushed him towards the island in the center of the river. “You have to let go now and get onto that island!” I screamed back “I can’t hold on much longer!” Just as my grip on the kayak was about to give out he let go and swam to the island, I crawled up onto the rock, still holding the kayak and we all made it onto the island.

The island was about 10ft wide and 20ft long and covered entirely in irregular shaped river smoothened rocks. Both of us were in the early stages of hypothermia and shivering uncontrollably as we jerkily tried to remove our dry suits. Mike dumped out the contents of his dry bag:
A pair of jeans
Sweat Pants
Sweat Shirt
Fleece sleeping bag
Fleece hat
Generously Mike offered me some of the booty and we were dry at last but were still shivering and not warming up at all. “Let’s see if we can build a fire,” I said. “Great idea!” replied Mike. We were in the middle of a rapid on a small rock island but there were some twigs, leaves and drift wood lying about which Mike, the fire master, used to slowly coax a fire to life. It was like that scene from Cast Away where Tom Hanks shouts out “Look what I’ve created. I have made FIRE!” It was amazing how quickly it changed our attitude and warmed both our bodies and spirits. With the light fading we started to try to dry out our sweat soaked thermals that we were wearing under the dry suits and warm our hands and feet. The only food we had left was about four ounces of jerky; for our water we eventually had to drink from the river. We were in for the longest night of our lives. I will spare the details but it was a night of heavy reflection spent trying to get some sleep on the rocks with the life jackets under us for padding and insulation. Time seemed to stand still, I would look at my watch thinking hours had passed and it would only have been thirty minutes. A jet would fly above and I would think it was a flash flood coming to sweep us off our tiny island. For the hundredth time I questioned not if I was going to die, we all do that, but whether I was going to live. Finally the black sky had a tint of gray and the morning slowly came.

We had to self-rescue, we didn’t know if or when help would come and we were less than two hours from making it out. The only way to recover us would have been to rappel down the sheer walls and pull us back up and out. With no food left and limited gear we pushed off at 8:15AM. Within twenty minutes we came to the nastiest rapid I have ever laid my eyes on and we pulled to shore to scout. People have different perspectives on rapid ratings but in our minds, in the state we were in with the equipment we had, this was without a doubt a serious class V and the worst rapid either of us has ever run. I would rather swim Big Drop 2 in Cataract Canyon (again, I did it accidentally once already in 2001) than run this rapid. The walls were straight up with no shore line so a portage was out of the question, after extensively discussing how to run it and thinking it was not possible and that we would likely swim and die we knew we had no choice but to go for it. In my minds eye I can still see the rapid and how we plotted and made the run, we had to go left and miss a boat flipping rock at the top, then go hard right to miss the house sized boulder on the left, then a hard left to get behind the boulder so we did not get sucked into the log jam on the right. After that the rapid quickly continued into another set of huge boulders that constricted the rivers current into a massive vortex just around the bend.

We could not see what was after that vortex but with our experience so far we imagined a dam of logs and we were right. We ran the first half exactly as planned and then set up our line and prepared to meet our fate in the vortex and unknown below. Just as we rounded the first boulder before the vortex I spotted a cheat route on the left and we gave every thing we had and tried to go for it. We didn’t make it, and the current ended up sucking us backwards into the vortex. Just as we had envisioned there was the huge logjam. Most of the current below the vortex was pushing right into it on the right side and going in backwards was the best possible thing that could have happened. Had we gone in face first our momentum would have took us right into it, as it worked out we were able paddle hard forward to get around the backside of the boulder and work our way around and away from the log jam and were then shot out a small channel next to the left bank.

High fives were exchanged multiple times along with screams of joy and for me at least a few tears of relief, my wife was not to be widowed and my young children left fatherless. Shortly after the rapid we passed under a small waterfall and we opened up our mouths to catch some of the liquid. Directly below, on the next bend was my kayak stuck in a log jam. It looked like everything was still in it and the tubes were still partially inflated. We stopped below and tried to figure out a way to extract it or any of the gear but it was not possible unless the water dropped quite a bit. We left it there and launched again, soon we saw Ordervill Canyon on the left shore and I knew we were almost out. At the end of the Narrows trail head we took out the boat at 10:30AM and packed up for the 1-2 mile hike to where the Temple of Sinawava shuttle bus comes in. My incredible, wonderful, beautiful wife had been holding a vigil at the small parking lot next to the river but somehow we missed her and jumped on the shuttle expecting to make contact at the lodge or visitors center. The shuttle driver figured out we were the “missing kayakers” and said that she would call on the radio and have a ranger relay to my wife to meet us at the visitor center.

When we got off the shuttle there were two rangers and a guy named Logan waiting, we were both a bit delirious from the whole experience and I only remember his name because it is the same as our middle child, I think Logan works for the Park Service in some capacity and had run the river before at different levels and was there acting as “translator” for the rangers to get a detailed account of our adventure. They were a great group of people and not angry or chastising at all. From other accounts I gathered, when the level is around 200-400 it is a class II-III run. It turns out that the river flow had gone from a decent and only slightly insane level of 424cfs when we checked in Saturday morning at the backcountry desk to 784cfs by the time we hit Deep Creek due to the weekend warm up and Logan agreed that sections become class IV+ when it gets up to that level. They had thought one or both of us stranded or possibly dead and a rescue-recovery was planned for 1PM if we had not been seen by then. Towards the end of our account to the officials my wife and children appeared beside me, words can not adequately describe the guilt, relief and love that I felt towards them as we embraced.

To sum up, rafting-kayaking-backcountry hiking are extreme hobbies-sports, small problems can become huge obstacles, and this trip went far beyond our comfort levels. Even after this experience I don’t think I could ever give my wilderness trips up though; its what I do, my passion, part of what makes me who I am and I couldn’t live a fulfilled life without them. I have always tried to be cautions and safe, was never an adrenalin junkie or big risk taker. We always have to remember that nature is the one in control and we can do our best to prepare for every conceivable eventuality to no avail. I feel I have been giving a renewed lease on life because things could have turned out disastrously, $1,600 dollars of lost gear; a freezing night spent on a tiny island in the middle of a rapid with no food and only river water to drink was a small price to pay for a refresher course on that lesson.

Shane Rasmsusen
April 24 2006

btw, Mike Scott has a few pictures from the trip that I will post when he develops them, my camera was lost so I have none…and Mike, I Love You Man, but your still not getting my Bud Light!

Finally scanned and posted Mike’s photos, they are located here. Unfortunately most of them are before hitting Deep Creek so you cant get a sense of how much water was pushing through the narrows. Taking photos was the last thing on our mind after the confluence

Did the Upheaval Dome loop hike in Canyonlands National Park with Shnard this weekend. We took the right fork on the Syncline Trail, hiked into the dome and took an exciting exit route. It was around 10 miles total and took about five hours with breaks.

My photos are located here.

Mike and I ran the Price River from Woodside to Swaysey’s yesterday. The flow was around 520cfs and the rapids seemed less numerous and pushy but more technical (rock dodging) than on our trip last year with 650 cfs. The nasty new rapid looked more like a class 5 and we portatged without a thought. Miss the moves at the top and you could quickly end up in a strainer. Very bad upstream wind once we hit the Green. Some pictures from the trip are here.

Price River
May 14 – 15 2005
Around 650cfs

We met Russ Hunt at the Swaysey’s boat ramp and left his truck there. Put in on the river Saturday a little after noon about 4 miles North on the dirt road across from the gas station at Woodside. Floated the river for about an hour as we entered the Book Cliffs, stoped to have a quick lunch of PBJ and snacks.

The river was very swift and rapids blended together. Many were scary because you could not see what was around the corner and it was hard to stop. I fell in twice after I parked my boat on shore and jumped in thinking it was shallow but it ended up being 5ft deep 1ft from shore. Seen some petroglyph’s on river left near Water Canyon.

Stopped to camp about midway between Long and Jenny’s Canyons. We then went on a hike and I took to many pictures of the desert in bloom. It was a very exciting day with one flip and a few swims but nothing was lost and everybody was in bed and asleep by 10pm.

The second day was just as exciting with a few more class III’s and one solid class IV that we dubbed Balls of Steel Rapid (BoS). Soon after was the old ranch house and the confluence with the Green. We kayaked the rest of the way on the GRD (Green River Daily) and took out at Swaysey’s boat ramp, threw the gear in and headed to Ray’s Tavern. What a great trip!

Many photos from the trip are located here.

Just received a couple of movies from Josh Grigg. They were taken using his helmet cam through Wolfe Creek Rapid on the Selway River. He is (hopefully) sending a trip report and photos soon!

Thanks to Kerry Walsh who allowed me to post this trip report and photos. on the site. It was originally posted on the utahrafters yahoo! group.

Logs Suck
or
(How to drain the Testosterone out of 10 men in 3 seconds)
Marsh Creek – May 2005
Kerry Walsh

Standing atop this green, rolling hill on the outskirts of Garden
Valley, Idaho, I couldn’t help but recall the events that had unfolded two days previous while running down Marsh Creek on what was to be day one of an eight day rafting trip. My friend, whitewater stallion Steve White, and I were on our way home to our families. We were a little light on gear, but grateful to be alive.

For several years Steve has rafted with a great group of very experienced whitewater boatmen from around the West. The de facto leader of this group was Mike Holstrom, a northern California boater with an impressive rafting resume. This year Steve tossed my name in the ring and Mike had invited me to join the group on an early season Middle Fork trip.

I had never met Mike. In fact, the only person in the group that I knew going in was Steve. As the trip was organized and things gelled, I’d come to realize that Mike was most likely the single most organized trip leader I had met to date. Mike had a firm and impressive grip on the people, the skills, the gear allocations and the trip itself. Things came together smoothly as we moved toward our launch date of May 20.

Now, standing on this peaceful hilltop, looking across the green valley toward the steep canyon of the South Fork Payette, we were struck with the irony that lying at our feet was the final resting place of Dr. Walter Blackadar. During the 1970’s Walt, as he was known to most folks, became a whitewater legend when, in his mid 40’s he took up the sport of kayaking and, at the ripe old age of 49, made a solo kayak descent through infamous Turnback Canyon on the Alsek River in SE Alaska. As a doctor based in Salmon, Idaho, Walt traveled around serving his patients and used the opportunity to run all that Idaho had to offer and then some.

Walt’s life ended in May of 1978 when he and some friends kayaked the canyon section of the South Fork Payette. About 1/2 mile below “Big Falls”, a mandatory portage even today, he rounded a bend and encountered a log strainer where he was snagged and drowned. Today the rapid is called “Blackadar” or “Walt’s Drop” and is marked by a brass plaque attached to a rock just above the drop. The man now rests in the Garden Valley Pioneer Cemetery beneath a beautiful river rock headstone, facing toward the river that claimed him. The ashes of his wife Shirley are scattered beside him.
Standing there I had a hard time reconciling the fact that just three days had passed since Steve and I, along with Mike Howell, another boater on the trip, had passed through this same valley heading to the Middle Fork. Then as we drove along the Payette canyon, Steve, having recently read the book “Never Turn Back, The Life of Whitewater Pioneer Walt Blackadar” by Ron Watters, recounted some of the stories of the man. We made several stops and looked down on the river, reconstructing the chain of events that ended so tragically. Little did we know that we would soon have our own story to tell.

Leaving the Payette behind we soon arrived at Marsh Creek, a small, meandering stream that winds peacefully through the valley alongside Highway 21 about 19 miles west of Stanley. The tranquility of the put-in is disarming but every boater who chooses to launch at this location should be well aware of what lies ahead.

Marsh Creek serves as an early season put-in when road conditions do not allow access to Boundary Creek, the normal put-in. Many boaters prefer to launch on Marsh Creek if the water levels are present just because it adds another order of magnitude to the already spectacular Middle Fork. Putting on at Marsh Creek also offers one the unique chance to run a river from beginning to end. A little more than seven miles downstream, this little meandering creek, barely wide enough to float a boat, becomes the Middle Fork of the Salmon which, on its journey to the Main Salmon River, becomes the crown jewel of whitewater rivers.

In the days leading up to our launch, trip leader Mike Holstrom had monitored the river and road conditions closely, updating us daily. The Boundary Creek road reports were pretty grim as our date approached. The snow just melting off, thick mud blocked access to all but 4 wheel drive vehicles. Towing a trailer to the put-in was reported as impossible. Since our group had at least one 2 wheel drive rig and several trailers we opted to go for the launch on Marsh and agreed to meet there the day before to rig.

At the put-in, I met some of the team and we quickly turned to rigging boats. I was happily rigging my newly acquired 14’ Sotar cat and was shuffling the gear around on the aluminum Predator frame working toward that perfect arrangement. Looking around I was pleased to see that everyone was taking the run seriously which was a really good sign. Marsh Creek is not to be taken lightly. Despite the disarming put-in the creek is fast, steep, technical and prone to wood. Everyone was carrying 2 spare oars, highly recommended for a normal Middle Fork trip, absolutely required for a Marsh Creek launch. Mike had divided up the group gear among the boats and things looked equitable. With the boats soon rigged and ready, most of us headed into Stanley looking for a warm room, cold beer and a hot shower. Mike stayed behind and camped with the gear.

Among the group were several boaters with multiple Marsh Creek launches under their belts. This trip would be Mike Holstrom’s seventh launch. Another guy had 4, another 3, so there was no shortage of experience. It was my first and I was looking forward to it.
From the put-in Marsh Creek runs approximately 7.5 miles to where it is joined by Bear Valley Creek entering from the left. The confluence of these streams forms the Middle Fork of the Salmon. Depending on what book you read, 10 exciting river miles lay between the confluence and Boundary Creek.

In the morning Mike drove into town where we all met for breakfast and a mandatory pre-launch meeting. High on Mike’s agenda were the safety aspects of running Marsh. His concern was well founded because two years before, almost to the day, two men from different groups had died on Marsh Creek when they failed to negotiate a log spanning the stream. This fact had personal meaning to me since I had been invited to launch on a combined Marsh/Middle Fork/Selway trip that launched the same day as the two men who died. I had opted out as the launch approached due to high river levels. So group safety was a big topic and we all took it seriously. Just before we left for the river Mike called the ranger station and received the current conditions. The flow on the Middle Fork was around 6′ and there were no hazards reported. We were a go!

We drove out to the Marsh Creek put-in; set up our trucks for the shuttle and hit the river around 9:30 AM. We passed the Marsh Creek gauge about 1/2 hour later and noted that the creek was running at 4.55′. Weather conditions were good – dry, cold and overcast. There were patches of snow along the banks and the icy water was running fast and technical. It was definitely creekin’ – tight, twisty and steep. Trees and brush grew right down to the bank and many were leaning out over the stream.

Marsh Creek quickly picks up steam as it pounds its way down. At the flows we were looking at the run is considered class 3-4 with the well known class 5 Dagger Falls thrown in as a bonus near the end, just above Boundary Creek. The first 7.5 miles, the true Marsh Creek, is almost continuous class 2-3. Our plan was to run down to camp at Gardell’s Hole at river mile 2.4, measured from the Boundary put-in. Our only planned scout was at Dagger Falls.

Mike was in the lead and he had designated Steve as sweep. Steve, running his 14′ Achilles round boat, was making too much speed to maintain the sweep spot and he quickly moved up through the line until he was pretty close behind the leader. I ended up assuming the sweep spot when it became obvious that Steve would have to back row the entire trip in order to maintain his position.
At our morning meeting we had planned to maintain spacing to always keep two boats in sight. It was a good plan and we tried hard to follow it but sometimes the creek was so tight it was all you could do to keep one boat in view. We had a system of whistle and visual signals worked out in case anyone ran into difficulty. Things were going smoothly. I was feeling pretty comfortable, even warm, in my new Palm Stikine drysuit.

I was glad Riley at Andy & Bax had talked me into it.
Somewhere around 3 miles in Richard Terry, rowing a 16’ cat, caught a crab and broke an oar. It was good to see the safety plan come into play. Everyone stopped almost immediately. Eddies were slim pickings but there was no shortage of brush to grab onto. Five minutes of messing around and we back under way. Around the next bend Mike and Steve were patiently waiting, alerted to the stop by the whistle signals. It was a good drill.

Around 11 o’clock and about 6 miles down river, we came into an area that Mike later described as “lake-like”. Thinking back on it I recall the creek widening into a sort of pool, not really slow, with a pretty nice eddy and what appeared to be a camp on river right. As I came around the bend into this section I could see all of the boats in our group stretched out in front of me. I was in sweep position with the exception of Rick Hill who was behind me in his hard shell kayak.
I watched as the trip leader at the far end of the “lake” was carefully looking down river around a right hand turn. The word spread boat to boat that this was the location of the fatal log encounter 2 years previous. Even from my sweep perspective I could see that both Mike and Steve were eyeballing the exit from the “lake” pretty closely. I watched as Mike settled back in his seat and pushed forward around the bend. Steve held back a few seconds and followed him around the bend in his red Achilles.

As I drifted closer I watched as each boat rounded the corner. As I made my approach I could see that the exit from the “lake” was a steep, narrow chute that soon, within 100 yards perhaps, made a right hand bend. It was about 30-35′ wide and wall to wall whitewater all the way down. Everything looked OK and I made the move and was on my way.

I was running straight down the middle enjoying the clean, fast run. I came to the bend in the channel and suddenly spotted two blue cat tubes sticking up into the air hard on the left bank below me! A second later, as I was trying to figure out what I was seeing, I spotted Steve’s red Achilles bouncing around in the middle of the river with no one in it! Within a split second I saw a flipped cataraft further downstream! HOLY CRAP! I was in some of the fastest water we had seen all day with no where to go but down river.
THEN I saw the log…

From the time I saw the beast I estimate I had 3 seconds to react. It was an old log – solid, heavy girth, maybe 3’ in diameter on the left side, 12 -15” on the right, no bark – just solid looking, shiny brown wood, sharp broken branch stubs all along the length. It was about half in and out of the water and stretched perfectly perpendicular to the river with each end resting firmly on shore. Waves surged against it and there was NOWHERE to go! What happened next happened very quickly…
I recall pulling hard on the oars in a left ferry attempt. But I was just too close and going too fast. I remember dropping the oars and pushing up from my seat to jump forward ver my cooler and dry box. I would try to jump over the log and take the swim. In my 20 years of boating this was my first encounter with a strainer and I knew that, given a choice, always go over the top! I probably made it one step when I hit the log. I never had a chance.

I believe the boat impacted the log pretty much head on, maybe cocked a bit to the right due to my ferry attempt. My left tube went high and on top of the log. My right tube dove under the log. The boat instantly twisted to the right and the stern was immediately submerged. I was thrown into the river head first. I can recall very clearly what happened next. I entered the water head downstream and on my back. I was instantly swept under the log, passing under it the broken branches flew past inches above my face. The brown log was clearly in view less than 2’ above me. Very quickly I saw the sky above me through the water and knew that I had made it under the log clean. Within seconds I started to hit boulders with my shoulders and back. I rolled over and assumed the classic swim position with my feet at the water line facing down stream (nod to my Swiftwater instructor Jeff Kronser).

I was in a real pickle. Below the log the river widened out, the whitewater grew shallower and seemed to pick up speed. I was taking a pretty good drubbing from the rocks. Looking downstream it didn’t get any better as the river made a hard right and disappeared with no visible let up in speed. I needed to get to shore. A log jam quickly loomed in front of me. It looked like I would miss it to the right so I made for the brushy bar behind the logs. Clawing and scraping I scrambled to shore and crawled out into a pile of logs in the middle of the river.
I looked back upstream and I just knew that there had to be people seriously injured, or worse. There HAD to be! Suddenly Steve’s red Achilles screamed by upside down…. where was Steve? What is happening? Where is everyone?

Looking around I saw a guy climbing up through some brush on river right. There was a guy, no… two guys.. on a stump in the middle of the river upstream of me. There were some guys at the log on river left.

Do a head count…One, two, three…
BAM! My boat slammed into the log jam right in front of me! MY BOAT!
Count heads…. One, two, three, four, five…my boat was coming loose from the logs. I jumped forward, grabbed one of my throw bags and quickly tied it off. Oh crap… it only has one tube. The entire left tube was missing. The left oar was snapped off clean. The frame, a stoutly built Sotar Predator, was snapped along the entire left side. It looked like all of my gear was still there! Yahoo for taking the time to rig it right! There’s my other tube… under the log! YOW! The tube, clearly visible in the water under the log, was getting seriously worked. The broken branches had snagged the rescue rope along the tube and ripped it from the frame!
One, two, three,….eight, nine – Only one man missing. Holy crap! Then I spotted trip leader Mike hoofing quickly up the right bank with a rescue rope in hand. 10 people (thank God!)
Looking around we started to exchange hand signals. It was good to see a whole lotta’ helmet tapping going on! I came to realize that one fellow on the right bank had a badly injured foot. There were 3 men midstream, 4 on the right bank and 3 on the left.
Looking at my own situation I realized I was in pretty good shape. I had 2 good throw bags and a complete set of rescue gear. I was warm and dry (thanks again Riley!) and had all of my personal gear, food and water.

The carnage over, my first train of thought was… “I’m camping here and waiting for help!” That was quickly squelched when I spotted Steve on the left bank climbing through the brush working his way down river obviously intent on doing some rescue work.

Steve stopped abreast the 2 men trapped on the midstream stump. They were directly upstream of my location about 20-25 feet away. While watching Steve set up a rope between the stump and shore I started unloading my gear. The boat, with only one tube, was underwater for the most part but I was able to get my drybags and some smaller things off safely.

The rope established, one at a time the men on the stump carefully walked to shore through swift water. One lost his footing but managed to hang on to the rope and hand over hand himself to shore. With the guys safely ashore Steve turned his attention toward me.The roar of the river eliminated any hope of verbal communication.

Steve came down through the brush immediately to the left of my location and raised his hands in a questioning way. “What do you want to do?” is how I read it. I readied a throw bag and tossed it to him. He caught the toss and I motioned him to move down river. He quickly understood my plan and we soon had a zip line established.

Working with Steve I soon had as much of my gear as possible on the beach. Still on the boat was my cooler, dry box and Big Top outfitter tarp. Since these items were under swift moving water, and rather than lose them to the current, I opted to leave them and my 3 remaining oars on the boat and hope to recover them later if the opportunity arose.

During this exercise kayaker Rick Hill suddenly appeared on my island!
“Hey! Nice zip line!” he said, followed by the obvious “What do you have in mind for getting off of here?” That was a good question! After sending several drybags to shore and watching the beating they took I wasn’t in any mood to use the same method to get myself ashore.

Rick had an idea. He would kayak to shore, hike back upstream and kayak back to the stump where the rope to the left bank was still attached. There, he would throw me a rope and I would walk upstream to him, staying in the “eddy” created by the stump while he belayed me. The immediate danger in this plan was that if I lost my footing I would be directly upstream of a log sieve. Once at the stump I could cross to the left bank using the same rope as the original guys had. Weighing the options (and not seeing any helicopters hovering) it sounded good to me.

Shortly after Rick left in his boat I heard a whistle. Mike Holstrom was on the right bank with a rope. Using hand signals he indicated that he wanted me to tie the rope off to the remains of my boat. His plan was to swing the boat to shore using the rescue rope attached to a tree. It was worth a try but I wasn’t too sure how it would go in the shallow water with just the one tube, and the frame dragging. I tied the boat off to the line from shore and untied my throw rope which was holding the boat to the logs. The guys on the beach started to work on getting the boat moving and I started securing my zip line gear in preparation for my departure.

I heard another whistle and Mike was signaling that they wanted me to move the rope to a downstream position on the frame. I climbed out onto the frame, untied the line and barely had time to jump off as the wrecked boat sailed off down river with no line attached! Oh well…it was worth a try!
About this time Rick appeared on the stump above me, tossed me a line and we made our move. It seems like just a couple of minutes passed and I walked ashore through the brush where Steve was waiting. As I climbed through the brush I realized I was suffering from a serious case of post-traumatic, post-mega-adrenaline rush fatigue and was feeling pretty wiped out. We all were. When I looked back at the stump, Rick had repacked the ropes was getting back in his kayak. Rick is a keeper!

While Rick, Steve and I we were dealing with getting me and my gear off the island, some of the guys had unloaded Mike Howell’s 17′ Aire cat which had been pinned against the log on the left bank, his left tube in the rocks and his right under the log. These were the first tubes I had seen as I rounded the corner a lifetime ago. After unloading the boat the men had pulled it out of harms way, humped it over the log and reloaded it! Not only that, they had also recovered my tube from under the log! There it was, neatly deflated and folded on the boat! Mike’s boat now sat bouncing in the current just downstream of the log, hard on the left bank.

The guys brought me up to date on the situation:
Mike Holstrom, being in front, had come across the log in complete surprise. He tried to warn the other boatmen but there simply wasn’t time. He tried for the right bank but only made it to midstream before he impacted. Somehow his boat surged over the log and landed unscathed on the other side. He eddied out on river right at the first opportunity which was several hundred feet down river and around a bend. He watched anxiously with a throw bag in hand as 5 boats floated past. Seeing no swimmers he quickly hiked back up with rescue gear.

Just seconds behind Mike, Steve crashed into the log and managed to jump out of his boat and onto the log. As he scrambled toward the left bank he kept a tight hold as the log shuddered under the impact of 5 cat boats slamming in, each and every one instantly crushing under the log. He had just made it to the bank and was on the rocks immediately downstream of the log when it suddenly shifted hard, nearly rolling over onto him. Later we figured that it was most likely my boat hitting and my tube getting ripped off that had caused the dramatic movement.

Mike Howell in the 17′ Aire had been running left of center and was against the bank when he impacted the log. Being so close to shore prevented the boat from smashing completely under and his boat suffered minor damage. He was able to quickly scramble for shore Chris Hewitt, our other kayaker, was trying for the left bank but impacted the log sideways. He just managed to grab onto the frame of the pinned Aire and, pulling with what must have been extraordinary strength, he was able to pull himself and his kayak free and to safety.

In his 14’ cat Jim Rolf hit the log and somehow managed to scramble off his boat and onto the log. He was crawling toward the right bank when another boat hit, impacting and breaking his foot. Running on adrenaline Jim made it to shore safely. Even though he was largely out of commission, he still managed to help out with ropes and would play a large role later as we moved downriver. Jim’s son Hamilton, rowing a 14’ cat, Richard Terry and Ken Peters, each rowing 16’ cats, impacted and swam. All were swept under the log. Hamilton and Richard ended up on the stump in the middle of the river and Ken scrambled to shore through the brush on river right.

Only kayaker Rick Hill, running behind me, managed to grab a small eddy and stop himself short of impact with the log.

As we loaded the Aire with my gear, the fellows on the right bank were busy setting up a rescue line to our boat. The plan was to swing over to the right bank using the rope as a pendulum. When the time came for this maneuver we had 6 guys and almost 2 boats worth of gear piled on a 17’ cat! We disconnected from shore and, using a rope brake, swung quickly and cleanly over to the opposite shore. Finally, we were all united once again.

I have to say that I was more than impressed with the way things had progressed to this point. Within minutes of the accident everyone was moving forward with the goal of getting people to safety. No one flipped out; no one made any moves that exacerbated the situation. Everyone moved forward competently and calmly. It was a testament to the value of swift water rescue training and the expertise of the boatmen in the group.

We still had major obstacles in front of us and we wasted no time in getting moving. We had 2 boats, 2 kayaks and 10 people. We needed to get moving downstream. The weather was deteriorating and cooling off. We were all suffering from the shock of the situation but we were still 11 miles from help and the safety of Boundary Creek. Steve, Mike Howell and I piled onto the already overloaded 17′ cat and took off while Mike Holstrom and the others started to hike downstream to Mike’s boat. Immediately around the corner we passed Mike’s cat tied to the right bank. Just downriver we spotted the carcass of my cat stranded midstream with all of the remaining gear still intact. We had no chance of making it to the boat and we blew by it. Maybe Mike would be able to get to it.

Just ahead was a tight left hand turn. There, stuck in a log jam, was Jim’s 14′ cat, right side up. Mike maneuvered in close to it and I jumped aboard as we passed by. They eddied out below me on river right. I looked at the situation and it was pretty grim. Both oars were gone. Both spares were still attached but one was bent. Both oar locks were bent over flat, one inboard, the other outboard. The rowers seat was smashed flat. I was exhausted and needed a nap but I knew that Steve and Mike would take exception to that!So I set to work straightening the boat enough to get the oars in and row it. About then I heard a yell, looked up and saw my boat come sailing around the bend followed by Mike Holstrom and the rest of the gang on his boat. They had managed to ram my boat knocking it loose in the process.

The cooler had come free and was floating away from the boat and directly toward me. The cooler came past within reach and I grabbed for the handle which immediately broke away, the cooler screaming away downstream. The boat floated by and stopped on river left. Steve and Mike Howell ferried over, tied up and scrambled through the brush to get to the boat. Holstrom and the others on his boat continued on down river in search of more gear.

I turned to making repairs. I needed something to act as a fulcrum so I could pry the bent oar locks back into shape. Fortunately the frame was an NRS modular style with set screws so the oar locks had rotated on the pipes rather than being actually bent or broken. I spotted a perfect rock lying ON TOP of a log right next to the boat. It was the only rock within reach and I had to wonder how it came to be there on the outside of a log jam. I used it and one of the oar shafts to pry the oar locks up, grabbed the tractor seat and bent it back into something close to a seat shape. Now I thought I could row the boat but before that was possible I had to get it out of the log jam. The log jam was mostly smaller logs and branches. Being on the outside of a tight turn the water was rushing through the logs. Falling into the river from here would be a very bad thing. To get the boat free I would need to get off the boat and balance on the logs to lift and push the boat clear.
This was a pretty nerve wracking experience. I looked at Steve and Mike for help but they were on the wrong side of the river and, standing in waist deep water, were busy stripping the remains of my boat. Soon enough I had the boat free and was able to get it to shore on the left bank just below Mikes boat. I joined Mike and Steve in hauling gear back to the boats where we loaded up both with even more gear.

Suddenly we had company. 3 men in hard shell kayaks came bombing in to the beach. They were professional guides who had been waiting for people at Boundary Creek and decided to make a day run down Marsh Creek while they waited. They had narrowly avoided the log and managed to stop above it. Now they were rushing to Boundary to get the word out to stop launches at Marsh Creek. We told them the situation with our group and, seeing that we had things well in hand, they moved on down river to catch up with the guys and help out as they could.

Mike’s 17′ was at capacity carrying his gear and most of the gear from my boat. We left my torn and twisted frame in the brush alongside the creek and set off down stream. Steve was rowing Jim’s 14′ that I had recovered and Mike and I were riding on his boat. Rowing the overloaded boat was a real chore and Mike was beginning to show the wear and tear.

It was not long before we passed Bear Valley Creek where the river doubled in size and volume. We soon spotted some of the guys, as well as the new kayakers, on river left working to right a capsized cat. Steve pulled in to help out. Mike and I continued downstream looking for more boats and gear.

We spotted Mike Holstrom’s cat and another boat on shore on river right. People were waving and Mike reached deep and began pulling hard for shore. It didn’t take long to figure out that they were actually waving us off due to some really shallow surface rocks. While trying to maneuver back into deeper water Mike Howell snagged a rock and broke his oar. Somehow he managed to get us into an eddy where we swapped the broken oar for our only option – an oar with no handle. The handle had been broken off in the impact with the log. Holding the slippery, plastic coated oar shaft with gloved hands was not easy. Mike runs with open oarlocks and no Oar Rites to keep the oar in a vertical position. In the heavy water we were running, and with the heavy boat, the oar spun in his hand at almost every stroke. I watched as Mike struggled with it as we moved down river through some pretty heavy, class 4 drops, Mike working hard to stay out of holes and avoid waves.

Suddenly, in the middle of it all, he hit the wall of exhaustion. He jumped forward and I jumped on the oars. The broken handle was really a problem. Holding the fat, slippery plastic shaft with my gloves was next to impossible. I peeled off the glove and it was still a problem. Looking down stream I saw a giant hole directly in front of us. Since fighting to avoid the danger wasn’t working for either of us I pointed us into it and started pushing forward. The big, over loaded cat smashed through the holes and waves like a snow plow. The weather had turned. It was getting colder and to make things worse it had started to sleet and rain. Even in my new drysuit and fleece I was seriously feeling the chill. Mike and I swapped off rowing just to stay warm. We pulled to shore and waited for our guys to catch up. The guide kayakers came by first and gave us the news that everyone was OK and that they would be along shortly. We waited getting colder by the minute. Soon the boats came into view and we pulled out into the stream. All of the boats were accounted for with the exception of Steve’s Achilles. We now were aimed for camp and help.

Moving downstream we approached a braided area. Mike and I followed Mike Holstrom down a tight right side channel only to watch in disbelief as he encountered another log completely spanning the channel! We watched helplessly as he slammed to a stop atop the log with us close behind him! We could do nothing save to avoid hitting his boat as we also swept onto the log. This situation was a lot less dire than our previous encounter, not life threatening anyway. Both boats were stuck but the weight of our boat and the current worked in our favor and we soon slipped free and were on our way. Mike was still stuck but the situation looked manageable as we pulled away. Sure enough he was free and was on his way behind us. This was getting old!

Soon the Dagger Falls scout beach came into view and we all pulled into shore – cold, sore and VERY tired. As the boats came in I did a double take when I spotted my cooler strapped on top of Mike Holstroms gear. Somewhere along the way Mike and Jim had recovered it. Even though it was not secured by any strap it was still full of food and ice, even a bottle of tequila nestled safely in the ice! Several of us walked up into the Dagger campground where we were extremely lucky to find a fellow there on the prowl for firewood. He was packing a fifth of peppermint schnapps which he willingly (lucky for him!) shared. He was camped at Boundary and had driven to Dagger in a big diesel pickup. We loaded the truck with gear and he drove Mike and the injured Jim to Boundary to find help and grab a camp. While they were gone the rest of us started to hump gear up to the trail head in preparation of moving to Boundary.

Several of the boats would not be going any further. My boat was in pieces. Two other cats had severe frame damage and simply could go no further. Jim’s broken foot put him out of commission and his boat was seriously damaged in any case. And we had not found Steve’s Achilles, or any of his gear.

Before long a pickup truck quickly approached. As it pulled up I saw the Utah license plate “SOITGOS”. I had to chuckle when I introduced myself to Steve Christensen, the web master for Utah Whitewater. Being the web master for the NWRA, Steve and I had exchanged many emails and I serve as a moderator on his Utah based email list server. We had never met in person until now. Steve and his son Bo, a friend named Ed Blankman and another young fellow named Kellen Spillman jumped in and started hauling gear up the steep trail from the beach. Steve White used a satellite telephone to call his wife Regina. Steve asked her to immediately post the news of the log to the Idaho Whitewater email list server which is monitored by the Middle Fork rangers and a lot of whitewater boaters. We learned later that another group had intended to launch on Marsh the following morning. Only a last minute email check alerted them to the danger.

During our move to Boundary Steve White asked if anyone had seen a red
Achilles raft sail past. Amazingly Steve Christensen said… “It’s tied up in the eddy below the Boundary put-in!” He told us that the boat had come floating by the Boundary ramp upside down. Someone on the beach rigging a boat jumped in and caught up with it just before it dropped through the first rapid below the put-in. They pulled the boat upstream into an eddy, re flipped the boat and tied it off to the bank!

“But”, Steve warned, “there’s not much left in it.”Once we had unloaded our gear at camp, Steve and I, still in dry suits and PFD’s, walked down to survey the damage to his boat. From the top of the ramp it looked pretty grim. The only gear visible was my River Bank toilet and the spare tank. Everything else was gone – drybags, cooler, kitchen box, ammo cans, rescue gear, oars – gone.
We walked down the trail a hundred yards to get above the boat. Imagine our surprise when we spotted a big pile of gear piled up on the trail. Our saviors had not only recovered the boat, they had humped the heavy gear up an extremely steep and slippery, log strewn slope! There, neatly stacked on the trail, were Steve’s kitchen box, his not so-drybags, his cooler and ammo cans,
There were a lot of things missing – oars, rescue gear and some other things. His frame had taken a serious beating. Some of the gear has since been collected up on Marsh Creek. We joke with Steve now about being the only guy we know to flip a boat and recover gear from 4 separate zip codes.
At camp we all shared our experiences over warm drinks and a camp fire.

It was a strange night, we were a pretty happy but sober bunch. Not a man among us was unaware that he had just had an extremely close call. I think that there was also a measure of pride in the way the situation had played out. We could all be proud of our actions and abilities as we dealt with the aftermath.

…Now, two days later, as Steve and I stood on top of the hill in the Garden Valley Pioneer Cemetery with Walt Blackadar, the quiet moments of reflection were not just spent admiring the view.

Click here to see the photos.

Shnard and I went to south eastern Utah for a few days this past holiday weekend. Our first stop was Moon House where we ate lunch and photographed the ruin for awhile. After that we made our way to Moon Kiva and several other ruins and then continued up the canyon climbed up to the rim and walked back to the truck. We then watched the sunset from Muley Point Overlook
The next day we roamed around Comb Wash until lunch time, looking at petroglyphs pottery sherds and other artifacts. From there it was on to 16 Room House along the San Juan River 12527>. A short drive later we were at the Cajon Group group in Hovenweep which we had not seen on previous trips. North to Montezuma Canyon Montecello and then home.
All photos from the trip are located here

Shnard – Added my pictures from Cedar Mesa (which includes a nice deer, and an axe head, among other things) and pictures from Sixteen (or Seventeen)Room House which on the San Juan just upriver from Bluff. All pictures from the trip are here.

Here are my pictures from last November of Hovenweep and Montezuma Canyon. These are two stops we made on our way home from Cedar Mesa 12396>. The Hovenweep pictures are all from Cajon Pueblo, while the Montezuma pictures show some rock art as well as some ruins. We visited the restored pueblo 14901>, as well as some inaccessible sites.

See all Hovenweep pictures here.

See all Montezuma pictures here.

Sunday we got a permit at the Arches Visitors Center and hiked the Fiery Furnace for several hours.

Photos from the trip are located here

Hiked to the Great Gallery in Horseshoe Canyon on Friday. Pics from my trip are located here

Hiked, crawled, climbed and swam the Lower Black Box on the San Rafael River this weekend. It was quite the workout and I will likely be feeling the effects for some days to come.

There have been several deaths in the Upper and Lower Black Box’s and once inside it was easy to see why. For about four miles there is no way out except down. The river was only flowing at 24cfs but in a half dozen places it is completely constricted by garage sized boulders and log jams requiring you to scamper around and over to find the way through. Some unfortunate souls have been sucked into these obstructions and drowned. Others perished when they decided to throw in the towel and tried to climb out. Even at our low flow the current was quite strong and more than a little scary, I don’t think I would do it anywhere above 50cfs. Shortly after we started we spoted some lost equipment, it was not all that encouraging to say the least.

We made about a mile an hour in the LBB and we were pushing fairly hard, it is an all day hike, plan for at least 10 hours (total trip time) and pack accordingly. I strongly recommend a wetsuit and life jacket, others have used small rafts and tire tubes but I think that would be a major hassle with all the climbing. A broken ankle, hypothermia (you are in the shade and water for most of the trip) or worse is a real possibility so tell people where you are going and don’t go alone.

All photos from the trip are located here

Reached the summit (11,749′)of Mt. Timpanogos yesterday. Timpanogos is the second highest range in the Wasatch Mountains and quite the scenic hike. We started with our backpacks up the Timpooneke Trail Saturday afternoon. The trail was really crowded with most of the traffic heading down. After getting past a few ice bridges and up the big snow slide we made camp.

The next morning we took some water and lunch and headed for the top reaching it at about 1pm. Emerald Lake was still partially covered in snow and iced over, a strong testament to how much water we had this year. After getting some nice pictures we started the race down the mountain, I got my butt soaked by sliding down the upper half of the snow slide. After a couple short breaks and stopping to get our backpacks we made it back to my truck in about 3hrs.

Photos from the trip are located here

Shnard and I hiked to the top of Mount Ellen in the Henry Mountains near Hanksville this weekend. We drove out on Saturday morning and ate lunch at Blondie’s. It looked like a storm was hitting the Henry’s so we drove out to the Burr Point Overlook to wait for it to hopefully blow over and see the view . After an hour or so of hanging out at the view point we headed for the mountain. After taking a wrong road or two we finally found the right one and started heading up.

I was amazed at how green and wet it quickly became as we ascended, thankfully the temp dropped from the mid 90′s to the mid 70′s. We hit Bull Creek Pass (elevation 10,485ft) and started down the West side to our camp 10 minutes away in a small aspen grove . We then broke out the lawn chairs and read our books for awhile. About 5pm it started to get cold and we put our jackets on, thinking that if it was going to be this cold at 5 that we had not come prepared. As the sun started to go down we both took advantage of the light and snapped a few pictures .

The next morning we packed up and headed back to Bull Creek Pass. After getting there and all of our stuff together for the hike Shnard realized that he had forgotten his camera at camp. It only took us about 25 minutes round trip to go back down the steep and rocky road and retrieve the camera. Ready to go now we started up Mount Ellen. While no piece of cake it was an easier hike than I expected. The biggest hazards where the thousands of Mormon Crickets that occupied the trail\saddle. We reached the peak (elevation 11,506) in about an hour. What a view! Looking west you could see the Dirty Devil and many other features that I had not seen from this vantage point. To the east you could look at the Waterpocket Fold and Capitol Reef. After eating lunch and taking some panorama shots we started heading back down. We made the trip back quickly as there was a nasty looking cloud heading our way rumbling thunder and making me think of lighting rods. Luckily we made it down with out incident and started driving down the trail and towards home.

Photos from the trip are locate here

Yampa River
July 4 – 8 2005
3200-4000 cfs

Great five day trip in Dinosaur National Monument down the Yampa River. We did not get started until after noon on Monday the 4th, Ranger James was a busy guy that morning. No problem though as our first camp at Anderson Hole was less than 5 miles downstream from Deerlodge Park. Anderson was a great camp at the bottom of a fun rapid. We checked out the old cabin and hiked around a bit, then we played some horseshoes on the nice beach and swam or kayaked the rapid. Dinner was beer chicken in the dutch oven.

The second day we camped at Big Joe at the top of the rapid. Not many big rapids but lots of small ones that kept us on our toes, Teepee rapid was a far right run. Big Joe was another nice camp with a pretty hike and we watched a commercial group along with some guys from the USFW run the rapid . For dinner we had creamy potato soup with peas and ham. After dinner Noah made a mojo doll of Mike Francom , burned it and stole his mojo.

The third day we stopped and checked out Mantle Cave and kissed tiger wall . We stopped to scout Warm Springs Rapid at about 6pm. After a quick look I was ready to get it over with, the longer I wait at a big rapid like Warm Springs the more rubbery my muscles start to feel. While half the group went down to take pictures Noah and I stuffed the kayak under the deck and took off in the big cataraft riding high on the waves and adrenalin. We hit the hole almost dead on but just as I felt the cat starting to surf we were squirted out. Mike came quickly behind and went just right of the hole . We then made it down through the rock garden to the camp which we had to pull the boats into because of the low water level. Steak and onions for dinner.

The fourth day as we floated to the confluence we ran into a family of white tail deer crossing the river. We hit Echo Park and everybody was wowed by Steamboat Rock . Had lunch at the DJ inscription then it was on to Jones Hole. We made the hike to “butt dam falls ” and spent about an hour getting drenched and drenching people under the falls. We left Jones and headed for our camp at Island Park. As soon as we left the canyon the bugs came out in force. Most of us jumped in the water to avoid them. Camp that night was not so fun, there were so many mosquitoes it was hard to make and eat our dinner of dehydrated vegi burritos.

The next day the bugs had still not let up and kept at us until we made it to the rapids in Split Mountain. The best rapid by far was Moonshine. The hole at the bottom surfed my cat for a couple of seconds before spitting us out. Mike followed behind on the smaller boat, hit the hole and started surfing sideways, we thought for sure they were going to flip but they too were spit out after a few seconds. The rest of the rapids were fun but not to scary and we were out of the canyon and at the boat ramp at about 1pm. We quickly loaded up, went to the Dinosaur Brew Pub in Vernal for lunch then headed home. It was a great trip with fun group of people.

Some photos from the Yampa trip are here

Kayaked the San Rafael this past Saturday with Kathy from Fuller Bottom to the campground. The water was flowing at about 135cfs, about the minimum level you need if you don’t like dragging. I counted four beaver dams above Virgin Springs, the first we portaged, two we ran and another we avoided by taking a small channel around a sand bar. Another dam (we ran it) was about a half mile above the campground. It was a very nice trip, a bit on the cool side when the sun was covered. We did not see anybody else on our eight hours on\near the river.

Some photos from the trip are here.

San Rafael River
May 22, 2005
360cfs

Did another trip down the Little Grand Canyon on the San Rafael Swell this weekend. Somehow we fit 6 people in Kathy’s Highlander with all our gear and camped at Fuller Bottom Saturday night. Although there were quite a few people at Fuller Bottom we did not see anybody on the river. Jay, Mike, Jordan, Logan and I launched our kayaks around 10am the next morning and then Shnard did our shuttle and went hiking. The flow was great and it was easier to avoid the trees and canyon walls than on previous trips. We stopped for lunch at Salt Creek and went hiking up the creek for a couple of hours. It was a very hot day and the boys were getting tired and wanted to go back to the boats. We left the trail and walked back in the creek, the kids really liked this part of the trip.

A bit later, when back on the boat, they both streached out on the tubes and Jordan (10yr old) said “Dad, this is *so much fun, just to float and…um” “RELAX ” finished Logan (5yr old). Back on the river my boys continued their squirt gun assault on Mike , he played along and did not seem to mind getting wet to badly. It was the hottest day I have been on a river this year and I had to keep getting wet myself so I did not overheat, Jay and Mike tried to find shade anyway possible . We were out and packed around 6pm and headed back home with the A/C blasting. Logan and Mike were quickly lulled to sleep , we stopped for cold drinks in Huntington and Dinner at Price before making it home.
All photos here

April 21 – April 24 2005
240 – 105cfs
At about 2:30 a.m. I was awakened by the sound of heavy rain, so I tried to read my book and fall back asleep but the rain did not let up its pounding and I slept very little. At about 6:30 a.m. I had finally been forced out of my tent by the dripping walls and growing pools of water on the floor and the sound of a small, fast river just outside of my vestibule.

As I emerged…No shit, there I was surrounded by towering canyon walls, and a half dozen blood red waterfalls cascading down the slick rock, one right above me was creating a 3ft deep stream several feet in front of my soggy tent. But that happened on the last day of the trip.

The Dirty Devil River has been on my “Must Do Before I Die” list for many years. And although I have planned the trip a few times, forces outside of my control have conspired to make those trips impossible. I was determined to not let anything stop the trip this year.
Waking up at 4:30 a.m. on Thursday morning, I checked the flow. It read 240 cfs. I picked up Shane “Shnard” Carter at 5:10 a.m. from work and we headed for Hanksville and the Dirty Devil River. I dropped Shnard and the gear off at Dry Valley Wash (just outside of Hanksville, near the landfill) and headed to the Dirty Devil Campground\Cataract takeout.

The plan was for me to leave my truck there and hitchhike back to the put in near Hanksville. There was very little traffic and after an hour of unsuccessfully trying to hitch a ride I gave up, went back to my truck and raced to Hanksville.

When I got to town I left a message on my wife’s cell phone telling her my rough plan. We had decided to kayak the Dirty Devil to Glen Canyon, and could she please meet us there on Sunday to shuttle us back to Hanksville, my hitchhiking karma seemed to have expired. We finally launched after noon and my new boat started having problems immediately.

I had removed the crossbars and seats to conserve on weight—great idea in theory but not field tested, and with a crippling flaw. With my weight and that of the gear in the boat, there was nothing to separate the tubes from folding in on me. I eventually solved this major problem with a spare kayak paddle, paco pad, and cam straps.

Day one was like an event in the Eco Challenge race, in many places the water was two inches deep but you would sink up to your knees and beyond in mud while dragging the boat. I had some thoughts about quitting when we got to the lower sand slide, but then would tap into my masochistic streak and desire to see this river and found I could easily keep inspiring myself.

We eventually hacked our way into a camp, exhausted, below Robbers Roost just a mile or two short of our intended site of Angel Cove. We dined on steak and instant potatoes and were in our bags and snoring directly after by 9pm.

In the morning it was pretty obvious that the river had dropped and it was time for more dragging, but only about half as much as the day before and my body\mind had started to harden to the effort. The weather was very strange today, hardly any wind, warm and very hazy.

Just below Angle Cove we ran into two backpackers crossing the river and chatted with them for a minute before heading on. At Larry’s Canyon we saw the boats of another group but none of the people were in sight, and we did not see any sign of them again.

Our second camp (which we also needed to hack into) was a just upstream of Twin Corral Canyon. Before changing into dry clothes, I cleaned the many scrapes and cuts on my legs with wet wipes and felt assured that at least a couple would scar and turn into proud war wounds. I was a bit concerned with my feet though; my Teva’s were starting to rub some portions raw, and they were swelling. Dinner was dehydrated Dahl with tortillas.

The third day dawned bright and warm. We spent an hour or so poking around camp and taking photos of the many wildflowers. Although the river looked even lower, the canyon and channel seems to really tighten up here. This would turn out to be the best day I have ever spent on a river.

After launching, we soon arrived at the first rapid near Sam’s Mesa. That was quickly followed by another >(class II+), and we encountered a total somewhere near a bakers dozen for the third day. These were mostly swift, rocky little class I-II affairs for which you need to pick the right line, be lightly loaded and dodge a few rocks. I captured some nice video of Shnard running a few of them. By noon it was so warm (80+) that I was paddling in my lifejacket and shorts. Around lunch time we were passed by Noah and his dad floating in an inflatable canoe and kayak.

I could not help but think of Mike throughout this day, he would have loved this trip and we would have so enjoyed his company. I felt at times that I might turn and see that he was alongside paddling a kayak, that huge grin covering his face. “Right on! Right on!” he would say and I would laugh and agree. It was a bittersweet feeling; when I would turn he was never there, but it seemed he just might be if I looked hard enough.

We pulled in above Happy Canyon and spent nearly two hours exploring the narrows and escaping the sun’s heat in the shadows. I can’t use words or photos to convey how beautiful this place was. The next time I take this trip I will make sure to spend a full day here. We watched the slow change of colors as the rays of the sun penetrated at different angles, a truly spectacular place.

Not far below Happy Canyon we went through another rapid and I got stuck on a rock at the bottom. I sat there waiting for Shnard to come through, then stepped off my boat to shove off the rock and my feet found nothing solid. It seems that I had found the deepest point on the Dirty Devil right there off that rock, and I got a thorough dunking before being able to climb back onto the boat.

For the next hour and a half prior to making camp, we drifted up against many sheer cliff walls that dwarfed our kayaks. I felt great. We spend so much of our lives doing the things we don’t want to do, so we can afford to do the things we do want to do. But at that time, there was nowhere else I would rather have been, and nothing else I would rather have been doing—pure nirvana.

Our last night on the river, we had Stag Chili in the packets with Torengos (tortilla chips) and tortillas. We had our only fire that night and burned much of our trash, watching the flames turn to embers. While lying on my paco pad, I turned my attention upwards to the darkening sky. It was a little after 9 p.m., and the full moon rising was just a vague gray shape against the black clouds that had suddenly rolled in all around. It was still pleasantly warm, and after we secured our things, we put out the fire and went to bed.

The final day we did not get on the river until after 10 a.m. We spent much of the morning recovering from the storm, cleaning the mud off our things, and the water from our tents. Our spirits were seriously dampened along with everything else. The temperature had dropped into the 50’s, and there was a chill wind. At about 11:30 we reached Poison Springs, talked for awhile, weighed our options and came to a decision.

We did not want to try and kayak the rest of the way to the confluence of the Colorado and the Dirty Devil against the cold upstream winds and risk spending another night on the river. We had plenty of food and could have spent another night, but if I did not show up at the Cataract takeout by that night, my wife would have been needlessly distraught and would likely think the worst. Our first thought was that Shnard was a strong hiker and could (somewhat) easily make the 16 mile walk to the pavement, hitch a ride to Hanksville, grab my truck, try to contact my wife and then come get me and the gear.

There was quite a bit of water coming down the wash, so we agreed that if on the hike out he saw the night’s storm had made sections of the road\wash impassable, he would come back and get me. Then we would stash everything and both hike out, retrieving the boats and other things at a later date. Just as he was about to leave, three people in a Toyota Tacoma pulled in. They asked us about the river trip, we answered their questions and asked one of our own: “How about a ride?” “Of course!” was the answer. They rearranged some things, and made room for me in the truck.

If I had known how bad the road was, I might have changed my mind. After making three trips (one out with my new found friends, one back in again alone, and one more out again with Shnard and the gear) I decided I would have done better to have taken my chances with the river. There were sections where the wash was around 3 ft. deep, and at any moment I expected to hear, then see, a rumbling wall of mud and stones coming down the wash at us, or chasing me in my mirror.

Wade, Micha, and Tim dropped me off right at my truck and I thanked them profusely. I called my wife to tell her I was off the river, and then spent 2 more hours back in the wash feeling like I was in a Toyota Tacoma commercial, and racing another storm that was hitting the Henry Mountains. Retrieving Shnard and the gear, we made it out and to the Dirty Devil Bridge and the Hite overlook to get one last look before heading to Blondie’s and then, home. All photos from the trip are located here.

See all the pictures here