One of many
trip reports under the
SilGro home page for Alan Silverstein and Cathie
Grow.
Email me at
ajs@frii.com.
Last update: May 31, 2024
(Previous trip report: 1990_1230_CrystalRiver.htm)
Once upon a time (the previous August in fact), I canoed the Green River in Utah from the town of the same name, around mile 120, to Mineral Bottom at mile 52.5, just north of the Canyonlands NP boundary. When I saw the Colorado Mountain Club (CMC) announcement for another trip picking up where that one left off, I jumped on board ASAP.
Well now the first outing had already filled up but the outfitter, Fred Welsh, had arranged a second party to leave a day later, and I figured that was just as nice. On the face of it this second trip would be much mellower than my first one -- only 55 miles, not 67, in five nights, not three. That's not exactly how it turned out... There was fire, and rain, and wind, and rising water, and more wind carrying tons of dust. It was an adventure.
I expected the canoeing to be easier because the river would be fuller and faster in May than September. Sure enough the Green was up to its banks, but it still meandered at a leisurely pace -- two miles per hour, I was told, unlike the Colorado which ran at about seven. So while we hit fewer sand bars, and the current was more consistent, it was never fast. One of the things I learned is that a river can have fewer rapids when it's fuller, because the small ones get drowned.
Sunday, May 12: I rode to Moab with Nancy Benzing of Longmont. She arranged some relatively luxurious and cheap accommodations at a trailer park motel in town. We shared the mobile home with Frank Soltesz of Denver, who ended up being my canoe partner for the week -- and a most enjoyable buddy he was too.
The three of us found time that evening for a nearly-sunset pilgrimage to Delicate Arch, 30 minutes from Moab and 1.5 miles uphill from the parking lot in Arches NP (which was an NM at the time).
Monday, May 13: The rented trailer sure beat camping out since we had to show up at Tex's Riverways the next morning at 0630. Whereupon I discovered the trip plan was to spend the last two nights at Spanish Bottom, three miles below the Confluence of the Green and Colorado Rivers. Hmmm... More miles per day canoeing than I had hoped. But more time for hiking from the last camp too... Cool.
Our guides, representing both the outfitter and the CMC, were Randy Beam and Barb Sutherland, a wonderfully competent and entertaining pair. All told we had 15 in our group, thus eight canoes. As expected we didn't get out of Tex's until 1000, but with drybagging gear and getting an orientation talk, the time passed surprisingly quickly.
Finally along with several other parties also using Tex for "logistics", we were on our way west in a school bus loaded with equipment, towing a canoe trailer, across the desert to Mineral Bottom. At the top of the tremendous drop off into Labyrinth Canyon we all piled off the bus to walk down the last 2.5 miles. (Lowers the center of gravity ya know.) You'd have to see the switchbacks on this road to believe it. Well they said they drove the bus down and up it almost every day and they hadn't rolled it yet. (Once would be more than enough.)
Much too much later, around 1445, we were finally loaded up and ready to float downstream. Thanks to the late start, and the quick discovery that large groups are hard to accommodate for camping when the river is high, we stopped for the night sooner than hoped, at mile 44.5 (up from the Confluence), on the right bank just above Upheaval Bottom.
Our first night's camp was in a pretty, broad meadow full of rough clumps of grass, under cottonwood trees. Sounds nice, right? Unfortunately it was about a 60 yard carry from the river up a narrow trail through willows and "bamboo" (probably really tamarisk), from a loading area sufficient for only 2-3 canoes at a time.
Tuesday, May 14: Next morning after breakfast I did a bunch of hauling equipment back to the river, then a short solo hike up to a cliff band below a mesa near camp... A worthwhile look at the scenery. It took forever to load the canoes -- everyone still getting the hang of it -- so we didn't depart till around 1000. And guess what... It was windy. And guess what... The wind almost always blew up-river. It was slow going with the large group.
There wasn't time to consider the four-mile-one-way hike to Upheaval Dome. We could see parts of it up the side canyon. We stopped at mile 41.3 for lunch, after making little progress in two hours, on the north side of Fort Bottom.
Some of us did squeeze in a fast hike to see it. There were fascinating old Anasazi ruins -- an adjacent pair of rock cylinders forming a watch tower with an awesome view of miles of the river as it meandered around the Bottom. The ruins sat on a small mesa ringed with a 15' cliff of white sandstone. It was hang-on-to-your-hat windy up there. Below, on the bottom lands, there were ruins of a log cabin built by ranchers and used by Butch Cassidy among others.
After lunch we pushed on downriver, upwind. The White Rim sandstone, a famous Canyonlands formation, appeared suddenly on the left bank, rising out of the river. Likewise the Buttes of the Cross popped into sight much larger and sooner than I expected them from reading John Wesley Powell's account of his 1869 trip down the Green. He must have seen them first from near Fort Bottom.
We found a suitable campsite at mile 33.5 around 1700, all duly tired from the hard paddling. Once again it was on grass clumps a bit of a carry up from the river, but this time not so far. It was at the mouth of Millard Canyon, near a wash arising from a wondrous alcove and dry waterfall just around the corner, at the end of a Jeep road shown on the map, across from Queen Anne Bottom (not Anne's Bottom, grin).
During a steak dinner some Park Service rangers dropped in to visit... Also to lecture us about not having a fire pan, something the outfitter had overlooked. We ran into the same pair of rangers about four more times through the rest of the week. They flitted about in a snazzy white Zodiac with twin engines.
Still digesting a wonderful meal, four of us took off on a voyage of discovery up and out of the river valley southwest toward the Buttes of the Cross. It was a marvelous hike through colorful rock layers, with long, late-day shadows and sunset hues.
It is difficult to do justice with mere words to slickrock canyon country. Suffice to say it was sensorily rich, a wonderland of rock, sand, flowers, and scenery embued with a feeling of peace and eternity. Every rock showed its patient age in its patina of desert varnish or its rough, etched limestone surface.
Wednesday, May 15: Morning dawned overcast and raining... Sigh. Well up and at 'em. Loading went a little more smoothly. Fearless Leaders decided to try making up the missing miles today, so as to reach Spanish Bottom on time. Paddle we did. Past Bonita Bend and Anderson Bottom without even stopping to look for the brush-hidden spring. No problem, we carried about 40 gallons of fresh water.
At this point we left Labyrinth Canyon beyond and entered Stillwater Canyon. As Powell wrote, not much of a noticeable separation between them; an arbitrary dividing line. A bit further along, we gawked at massive stone fingers separated from their mother cliff -- the Sphinx.
It was a beautiful calm day once the clouds burned off. Thirteen miles to lunch at Turks Head, another high butte on a narrow peninsula that pushed the river mercilessly the long way around. We found a spot around mile 20.5 on the right bank, lined with tamarisk -- the non-native invader that grew thickets all along the desert rivers, but that's another story -- at least it didn't have thorns!
Most of us hiked back east, up and down on a narrow footpath between cliff and river, to scramble and crawl a very long way through boulders behind a huge slab of rock. It was cool, wet, and dusty back there. Then a bit further to some small Anasazi granary ruins.
After another filling meal, we paddled another 11 miles to round out the 24 on the day. Soon after Turks Head the nature of the canyon changed. It became narrower, steeper-walled, less identifiable. It meandered gently for about ten miles, past occasional rugged side canyons. Alas, we didn't have time to explore them.
Finally around 1700 we found the only suitable spot for the night. It was on a pair of sand bars on river right, below an overgrowth of tamarisk, at the next little gully past Jasper Canyon (one of the entrances to the Maze District). It was a good two feet above water line, and obviously not drowned for at least a year. Lots of footprints and a left-behind jacket.
We were all tired and hungry. There was nothing else available for 2.5 miles more, said the rangers. Well how much can the river rise overnight, anyway? Answer... About two feet.
Soon after we unloaded, on a whim I stuck a stick in the sand right at the edge of the river. Half an hour later I noticed it was now surrounded by water about half an inch deep. Hmm... "This bears watching" methinks. Later, it's up an inch. Then 2". By 2000, the river is up about 6" in three hours.
I broke off a stick to show the amount, and broke the news to the group. Well, what to do? Pack up dinner implements I guess, but it's only half an hour to sunset.
I resignedly but conservatively took my tent back down (well at least it had dried out) and packed my stuff together, ready for a quick departure. By 2200, in the dark, it was clear the water was still rising at a steady rate. We did a bunch of rearranging food and loading canoes until about midnight. Then everyone sacked out -- mostly out of tents now. It was hard for me to sleep soundly with the water about 8' away and only a foot lower.
Thursday, May 16: I awoke with a shock at about 0230. Well I was still dry, but dang that water was getting close. Lots of commotion from the others; they were up doing more packing. Two thirds of the group was cut off; the sand bars were separated by shallow water. One pair woke to find their tent bottom floating on 3" of water. Later we kidded them about having a "houseboat with a waterbed."
There wasn't any way I was going to sleep more... I was leery of a serious "wet dream". So I muddled awake and helped to do this and that. By about 0430 most of us were ready to go; just hanging around keeping warm and dry on the bit of remaining ground, waiting for dayglow an hour hence. About 0530 we launched our canoes, cold and wet.
I detoured briefly to grab the stick I'd planted the night before. I broke it off to the depth the water had risen: 23.5" in about 12 hours.
Just down the river we saw another early riser, a beaver, swimming along the flooded shoreline. We paddled for warmth, looking for sunlight. Once we reached it about three miles down, we made an eight-canoe barge and participated in a "tobacco ceremony". Very memorable. [2023: No, apparently it wasn't after all, grin.]
Then we spotted a nice breakfast rock below the right side cliffs, just past Water Canyon at around mile 4. We had hoped to hike up it, as it was one of the few gateways into the Maze District, and supposedly quite beautiful too. Alas, it was overlooked in our attention to more immediate concerns.
We'd heard the last stretch to the Confluence was a fast ride. With apprehension and some stroke practice, we proceeded cautiously only to discover the rapids were apparently flooded. Before long we found ourselves at the magical yet mundane Confluence. Hardly any eddies as the two rivers joined, nor even much difference in their color. Strange, the Colorado met the Green from the side where the latter made a bend, almost like an afterthought, though the former was supposed to be swifter and larger.
Not far down from the junction the river narrowed and the current picked up. Whee! We paused at the Cataract Canyon warning sign to chat with the rangers once more about camping below. Then -- down through our first real rapid. All too short, but thrilling.
Frank and I had the honor of leading to Spanish Bottom, and the responsibility for finding the other group a day ahead of us. We came upon the very start of the widening on the right that is the enormous Bottom at around mile 213.5 (now measuring up from Lees Ferry below Lake Powell). There were people milling about -- sure enough, our group.
It was only about noon Thursday, but the end of canoeing, with growing excitement about hiking. The Doll House Rocks, enormous pinnacles above high cliffs along the downstream skyline, beckoned to be reached.
After getting everyone safely set up on shore, and getting to know the other group, some of us walked down the river a couple of miles to view the incredible rapids of Cataract Canyon. There were 28 numbered rapids! I saw only the first couple, but I got the idea.
The canyon was rather broken, not especially narrow, but for some reason the river was constricted and dropped a bunch. The grey-brown water tumbled and roared like a wild beast. I was impressed. Between the first two rapids, on the right, was a remarkable sandy beach, complete with small waves, reminiscent of any ocean.
Thursday evening three of us got brave enough to bathe on the river bank and jump into the rapid, icy, murky water (wearing life vests of course) to float a short way back down to camp. That night I stayed up (too) late discussing the stars and planets... Jupiter, Mars, Venus, the Gemini Twins, and the moon put on a show. I had put up my tent, but finally went to bed outside it.
Friday, May 17: This morning I was a slow starter for an incredible long day hike! Three of us departed south more than an hour and a half after sunrise at 0745. I intended to make a "water-limited hike", starting with two liters plus a can of pop.
First we crossed Spanish Bottom again, about 20 minutes walking on a vast flat, well above the river, surrounded by cliffs, with eerie dead cottonwoods scattered between yellow flowers. Then at the base of the cliff, on the south wall of the Bottom, the Doll House Rocks trail started steeply uphill. It was a rather primitive route, but well traveled.
We gained about 1000' in the growing heat of the day. Toward the top the trail narrowed up a gully and broke over into red and white layers that form the Doll House Rocks. Up river through the cliffs stood the La Sal Mountains in the distance.
After exploring the rocks for awhile, around 0930, we crossed a saddle through them to drop to a grassy flat. Here we picked up a sandy Jeep trail. We made a decision to go northwest about four miles to Chimney Rock and the Maze Overlook, instead of equally far, more to the north, to visit a Confluence overlook point.
The walk uphill on the road was something of a slog. The view of Chimney Rock was astounding -- a remarkably narrow finger, actually a ridge remnant seen edge-on, visible for many miles, slowly growing closer.
But the view from Chimney Rock at 1215 was disappointing. We could see a large portion of Canyonlands, but only the flat top of the White Rim sandstone in the Maze area, plus various buttes and cliffs that stood higher. The Island in the Sky, between the Green and Colorado Rivers, was a broad plateau way in the distance to the northeast.
Well the weather was nice, warm, breezy, and clear, and we had a fair amount of water left. After lunch and resting, I and one other fellow took off at 1345, more or less easterly, to look into the canyons from their rims. We weaved our way up and down, in and out, searching for paths through the microbiotic soil or around it on slickrock. I must admit I got disoriented rather quickly, except for Chimney Rock as a marker. Even with a 15' topo map, I couldn't be sure if we were peering into tributaries of Jasper Canyon or Shot Canyon. Oh well it was quite beautiful in any case.
After an idyllic while, we returned to the Jeep road and slogged back to the Doll House Rocks area. The wind had picked up enough to blow sand at us -- and much worse down below, into our tents, we discovered later. Finally back near the saddle at around 1730, we met some people driving into camp -- the first moving vehicles we'd seen all day -- and bummed some water from them. I thought, gee we're tired, but we have three hours till sunset, and enough water to keep going...
So the two of us (with a third we ran into but who left again soon after) continued south toward Cataract Canyon, hoping to find an overlook point. We had only a rough idea of the distance. Well we didn't get a good view of the river, but it was nonetheless the highlight of the day!
We followed down a wash until it vanished into a sinkhole choked with tumbleweeds. Up from there, to a view of Surprise Valley, a lovely straightaway with a flat, grassy floor and vertical walls. We considered dropping left into it, but instead stayed high on the ridge along it for a while.
Before long we descended to the right and entered a flash flood gully with a sandy bottom and rather steep walls, perhaps 40' deep. And before much longer the floor became a mosaic of polished blue limestone slabs set between the white and orange sand. It was incredible, with overhanging trees. We stair-stepped down several drop-offs -- waterfalls -- 3-8' high, also engraved in polished blue limestone, with orange and red inclusions standing out like gems in a matrix.
Eventually we encountered a narrow, nasty sluice where the water fell perhaps 40' down a nearly technical crevice. Below that point the gully widened to a broad V-shaped canyon, obviously still some way from the Colorado River. Time to head back... But not the same way.
We walked up the steep left bank of the ravine to stand above the top cliffs of the larger downstream canyon. From here... We could see just a tiny bit of the gray Colorado, far below, with no rapids in that stretch. And we had no time to travel further away from camp... Ah, well.
Also from here we had a most sensuous view northeast up Surprise Valley in the other direction to the Doll House Rocks. It was unbelievably, almost painfully, attractive. A swale of emerald grass ran away us between orange cliffs, trending gently down and then up and to the right. At the head of the valley the red, white, and orange rock towers stood defiant in long, late-day sun beams. Small puffy clouds drifted past. It was like seeing a most unexpected and most natural "Emerald City".
Our adventure was not over yet! We crossed back east into the far (now near) end of Surprise Valley. A trail led us down, northeast, back toward the standing rocks. At the low point of the valley, before starting uphill again, I expected to find a narrow water cut to the left, to the parallel(?) gully we'd walked down earlier... Not so. The drainage pattern ended in a huge gash, full of brown tumbleweeds, up against the cliff. Apparently another sinkhole through the limestone.
Somewhat later we crossed the broken ridge of the Doll House area a bit south of the earlier saddle. To our relief we found ourselves back on the main trail... And with about another 15 minutes free to play. So we explored some narrow clefts deep through enormous outcroppings. Finally at 1945, with less than an hour to sunset -- time to leave the playground.
We headed directly down and back to camp with few distractions. Thanks to all the dust in the air, the horizon was hazy and the Colorado River valley was gray. By when we reached the floor of Spanish Bottom it was well past sunset and getting noticeably dark. We made it into camp at 2105, out of water, out of time, out of light, just as the trip leader was starting out to look for us! Talk about timing. Five more minutes and we'd have had to break out flashlights.
What a day! 13 hours, 20 minutes round trip -- in sneakers! How far? I can only guess it was nearly 20 miles.
The other canoe group had left around noontime. It was quieter that evening.
Saturday, May 18: Start going home day; a long anticlimax. Break camp, clean the canoes, and try to stay out of nasty windblown dust... Grit in every orifice. Well we have lots of leftover food... Tex'll probably be late. "Noonish", he said, but there's a headwind. Sure enough; but only an hour behind. It took about three hours to get us and some other parties loaded onto his amazing, custom aluminum jet boat.
By 1600 were were comfortably (but for the continual dust) cruising up the Colorado. Past the Confluence, up through the Slide Rapids (wow), and many miles beyond. We took a couple of short breaks to see scenery, including Dead Horse Point from below, and to empty bladders, for all in all the trip was about three hours. A memorable pause was to look up at the cliff where the movie, "Thelma and Louise", had recently sent a car flying over the edge!
Then a bus ride from Tex's huge concrete ramp at about mile 49.5, another 18 miles into Moab. They trailered the jet boat... Behind a dump truck! What an operation. I was most impressed, also by Tex himself, what a character.
It was fast and easy to unload gear from the jet boat to our cars. Into town with Nancy, showers in the trailer (gawdawful good), a sleepy pizza party with those able to make it.
Sunday, May 19: We slept in and moseyed home.
(Next trip report: 1991_0318_GrandCanyon.htm)