My Photos from the trip, https://www.facebook.com/joel.d.bec...0201126569805495.1073741848.1806843843&type=1
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Happy Birthday, Edmond Halley (1656-1742)! ☄️🔭
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Guest
Guest
Conk, I thought about the Di#$head Dude when I was camped at Horse Canyon. I got out a webbing strap and was going to wear it like a bandoleer across my chest, festooned with every knife and weapon I had brought. If his party showed up at Horse I was going to greet them heavily armed at the water’s edge with a cheery “No f-ing room for you”
And then I let it go. Who wants to be in such a magnificent place consumed by anger and hostility? The best revenge would have been a lesson in civility, to greet them with a welcome and invite to camp with me. For all I knew Di#$head Dude and had encountered Raft Mom at Trin Alcove and thought claiming an entire canyon was acceptable behavior.
Despite my constant desire for quiet and solitude I invited everyone I met to share my site. Many did, and I met some fine folk, but for much of the time I was able to rest in peace.
G
Guest
Guest
I'll look at the unfriendly issue this way. Mike encountered many short paddle stroke connections on this trip. The hostile dude likely found none.
The idea (new to me) of combining hiking the canyons and paddling the river sounds magnificent. The waterfalls looked magical.
The idea (new to me) of combining hiking the canyons and paddling the river sounds magnificent. The waterfalls looked magical.
OK... OK... I get it, as the "Fairy of the Canyon" you have to be civil and welcoming... live and let live, and all that... retribution mustn't overtake its redresser. However, a festooned bandoleer across the chest of an avenging Duckhead might sell your story to Hollywood.
G
Guest
Guest
Mike, your trip report is more than a trip report. It's a well-written, entertaining and insightful narrative that should be published somewhere. I'll bet you could put together a book of trip reports that would compare well with such authors as Rob Kesselring.
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Guest
The Confluence, Scorpion Rock and the Jet Boat Take Out.
The Confluence, Scorpion Rock and the Jet Boat Take Out.
The Confluence, Scorpion Rock and the Jet Boat Take Out.
(May 14, and onward and eastward)
Joel had been up on the canyon rim a couple of days earlier, overlooking the confluence of the Green and Colorado. Above Spanish Bottom on the Colorado (one of the usual jet boat pick up sites) there was a section of high water standing waves visible from the rim.
He had also seen Tag-a-Long with their jet boat at a rock on river right (Scorpion Rock), picking up the climbers and New Mexico parties. We’ll head for the rock.
The group of 4 college buddies was camped behind that rock (nice campsite, with cottonwoods and cowboy glyphs from the teens and twenties). They were completely unprepared for the jet boat, with dirty dishes and gear strewn around. Their canoes had not been washed out (Tex’s is also very clear about this – the canoes will be racked over your head on the boat and any dirt, mud, sand or debris will rain down in your face – WASH OUT YOUR BOATS.
Other river friends arrived to join us on the Tex’s jetboat, and eventually we had 10 canoes on the rock (it’s a big rock).
The jetboat routine is much the same as the canoe trailer routine at the start: Listen to what the guys on the jet boat say, hand them gear as they ask for it, and bring a carry-on bag with whatever you might need for a couple hour jet boat ride. At 30mph. Upriver.
That means food and drink and warm clothes. Especially warm clothes – the jet boat ride can get dang chilly.
The jet boat goes to the landing at Potash, 15 river miles south of Moab. The Jet boat goes on a trailer, with boats still racked and gear inside, the dirty, hungry, thirsty paddlers get on a school bus and a few miles later everything shows up at Tex’s in Moab.
Your vehicles will have been moved from Tex’s fenced/locked lot to out front awaiting you, the gear is disgorged from the jet boat to waiting hands and any non-rental boats come off. Quick, efficient and organized. There are other outfitters and shuttle services available. I’ll stick with the pros.
With the truck packed in semi-organized fashion we headed east. By driving 30 miles west, to the town of Green River on I-70. There is not much in Green River except many motels, and a Super 8 or Motel 6 there is $39.95 versus $150+ in Moab.
The first shower after weeks on the river is always a wonder. I could have started a garden with the dirt that came off me in the first shower, and done a few potted plants with the stuff that came off in the second shower (which took place mere seconds after the first).
I-70 in Green River. Joel lives a few miles from I-70. The eastern end of I-70. It’s only 2020 miles, let’s get on it.
And we did, essentially non-stop. Except for a snow storm and traffic back up near the top of the pass (there was still snow on the side of I-70 through the western Colorado plains and into Kansas), a couple of stops for gas/food/driver switch and a stop or two in Colorado to replenish vital supplies. 36 hours later it was time to start unpacking, a process which 4 days later still continues.
It was a helluva trip. Almost 7000 miles and almost 7 weeks, through some of the best the US has to offer.
I’m ready to do it again.
The Confluence, Scorpion Rock and the Jet Boat Take Out.
The Confluence, Scorpion Rock and the Jet Boat Take Out.
(May 14, and onward and eastward)
Joel had been up on the canyon rim a couple of days earlier, overlooking the confluence of the Green and Colorado. Above Spanish Bottom on the Colorado (one of the usual jet boat pick up sites) there was a section of high water standing waves visible from the rim.
He had also seen Tag-a-Long with their jet boat at a rock on river right (Scorpion Rock), picking up the climbers and New Mexico parties. We’ll head for the rock.
The group of 4 college buddies was camped behind that rock (nice campsite, with cottonwoods and cowboy glyphs from the teens and twenties). They were completely unprepared for the jet boat, with dirty dishes and gear strewn around. Their canoes had not been washed out (Tex’s is also very clear about this – the canoes will be racked over your head on the boat and any dirt, mud, sand or debris will rain down in your face – WASH OUT YOUR BOATS.
Other river friends arrived to join us on the Tex’s jetboat, and eventually we had 10 canoes on the rock (it’s a big rock).
The jetboat routine is much the same as the canoe trailer routine at the start: Listen to what the guys on the jet boat say, hand them gear as they ask for it, and bring a carry-on bag with whatever you might need for a couple hour jet boat ride. At 30mph. Upriver.
That means food and drink and warm clothes. Especially warm clothes – the jet boat ride can get dang chilly.
The jet boat goes to the landing at Potash, 15 river miles south of Moab. The Jet boat goes on a trailer, with boats still racked and gear inside, the dirty, hungry, thirsty paddlers get on a school bus and a few miles later everything shows up at Tex’s in Moab.
Your vehicles will have been moved from Tex’s fenced/locked lot to out front awaiting you, the gear is disgorged from the jet boat to waiting hands and any non-rental boats come off. Quick, efficient and organized. There are other outfitters and shuttle services available. I’ll stick with the pros.
With the truck packed in semi-organized fashion we headed east. By driving 30 miles west, to the town of Green River on I-70. There is not much in Green River except many motels, and a Super 8 or Motel 6 there is $39.95 versus $150+ in Moab.
The first shower after weeks on the river is always a wonder. I could have started a garden with the dirt that came off me in the first shower, and done a few potted plants with the stuff that came off in the second shower (which took place mere seconds after the first).
I-70 in Green River. Joel lives a few miles from I-70. The eastern end of I-70. It’s only 2020 miles, let’s get on it.
And we did, essentially non-stop. Except for a snow storm and traffic back up near the top of the pass (there was still snow on the side of I-70 through the western Colorado plains and into Kansas), a couple of stops for gas/food/driver switch and a stop or two in Colorado to replenish vital supplies. 36 hours later it was time to start unpacking, a process which 4 days later still continues.
It was a helluva trip. Almost 7000 miles and almost 7 weeks, through some of the best the US has to offer.
I’m ready to do it again.
G
Guest
Guest
Please forgive me my misspellings, keyboarding errors (I’m pretty sure Bruce had a twinkle in his eye, not a tinkle), missing words and abruptly changing tenses.
I was trying to get it all down while I was still in a western river state of mind, and it’s too much work to edit them all out.
G
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Guest
I know a good proofreader.
G
Guest
Guest
Random notes on Tamarisk, Willows and Cottonwoods
Random notes on Tamarisk, Willows and Cottonwoods
The Tamarisk leaf beetle is doing its thing, and I swear the willows are already making a comeback. A thick comeback, but at least the willows are less likely to poke your eye out.
http://www.discovermoab.com/tamarisk.htm
The border of dead, blackened tammies may be worse than live ones. Park Service volunteers are cutting them out (think Sisyphus and the boulder, except instead of rolling downhill the dead tammies go on forever along the edges of western rivers). They are wisely tackling the Tamarisk occluding good campsites first.
The cottonwood comeback will take longer. Much longer. The NPS has decided that planting cottonwood seedlings presents a possible future liability should, once mature, a tree or limb eventually fall and injure someone.
The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers. (Henry VI, Part II, Scene II, line 73)
Sorry Glenn. And yes, I know it is often misquoted or referenced. It’s Dick the Butcher’s line, and was intended as Shakespeare’s appreciation of justice and order.
Random notes on Tamarisk, Willows and Cottonwoods
The Tamarisk leaf beetle is doing its thing, and I swear the willows are already making a comeback. A thick comeback, but at least the willows are less likely to poke your eye out.
http://www.discovermoab.com/tamarisk.htm
The border of dead, blackened tammies may be worse than live ones. Park Service volunteers are cutting them out (think Sisyphus and the boulder, except instead of rolling downhill the dead tammies go on forever along the edges of western rivers). They are wisely tackling the Tamarisk occluding good campsites first.
The cottonwood comeback will take longer. Much longer. The NPS has decided that planting cottonwood seedlings presents a possible future liability should, once mature, a tree or limb eventually fall and injure someone.
The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers. (Henry VI, Part II, Scene II, line 73)
Sorry Glenn. And yes, I know it is often misquoted or referenced. It’s Dick the Butcher’s line, and was intended as Shakespeare’s appreciation of justice and order.
G
Guest
Guest
Great trip report! Read like a good book!
G
Guest
Guest
What Worked/What Didn’t/What Failed
What Worked/What Didn’t/What Failed
WHAT WORKED:
The Toyota Tacoma as cross-country tripping truck. Even with a gear load that included 2 large storage boxes, a 30L barrel, a 60L barrel, duplicates of everything permit required (spare PFD’s, fire pan, toilet system, etc), a banjo, a guitar, two pressure cookers, a spice kit the size of a hat box, one backpack, three day packs, a partridge and a pear tree, and well, you get the idea. (Imelda Beckwith - uh, I mean my friend Joel - eventually had five pairs of shoes)
The soloized Penobscot with just the front portion of the CCS cover was again perfect. I brought that big boy gear hauler last year, I brought it this year, and I’ll bring it next year unless I soloize a 17 footer. A kayak or decked canoe is a huge PITA to pack or unpack at the difficult-access ledge sites, and with water needs, toilet and odd gear needs required by permit an open canoe load hauler is the way to go.
The parawing. The winds in Horse canyon were as strong as anything I’ve ever had a tarp up in. Set properly there is nothing like a true catenary cut parawing in high winds. I still cannot believe it withstood those winds.
The blue barrel folding tabletop. The idea was hatched on last spring’s Green River trip. Used for breakfast, lunch and dinner every day; never again will I hunker down in the blowing dust and sand to prepare a gritty meal.
Hand lotion (Foot lotion). If you have callused hands or feet the arid desert SW will crack you up. Literally. Painful cracks and crevices. Be a wuss; bring lotion.
The fire-in-a-can. I never used the (required) firepan, but I burned through all of the wax feeder bricks for the FIAC, and then burned that sucker out at the end. Intentionally; I want to make the improved Mark IV version.
The mid-day golf umbrella shade on the wind/sun chair. Shade in the desert is good.
Flocculating silty river water with collapsible sink buckets and alum for silt settling. I settled a 5 gallon bucket of river water nearly every day (a small jar of alum lasted 22 days) and washed clothes (somehow I brought only two pair of socks), myself or camp visitors on a daily basis.
Running a wet sponge along the open tent zippers. Dust and sand falling out during the zipping action is a bad sign. And usually makes a bad noise. The sound changed from GGGZZZKKKKRRRRR to ziiiiiip after running a wet sponge along the open zipper.
Randomly packing foodstuffs. I wouldn’t suggest anyone try this, but blindly yanking stuff off the shelves of the grocery in Moab saw me out of the canyon after 22 days with: my two least favorite freeze dried meals, 4 packs of instant oatmeal and the last of a jar or peanut butter. If I hadn’t been shorted one piece of bread in a package of sandwich rounds (they last for weeks, but it’s supposed to be 8 rounds, not 7 dammit) I’d have had lunch.
Joel’s pressure cooker meals. Joel uses a pressure cooker for, well, everything. His pressure cooked grits are to die for. I think he has spoiled me on any other grits and Waffle House will never be the same. His pressure cooker Ansazi beans and rice are a close second. I just tried to stay upwind when it was Indian food night.
Joel’s hammock. In a surprising number of places.
(Note the hummingbird feeder at his feet. Joel has now been peed upon by more hummingbird species than most people will ever see)
The gravity filter(s). I had one, and a back up system as well. Joel had one even better, with a Sawyer filter cartridge guaranteed for a million gallons, and adapters for every possible reservoir. I need to get some of those adaptors for my Platypus. And maybe a Sawyer filter to carry as a spare.
Arriving in Moab the last day of the Jeep Jamboree. Trust me, you don’t want to be there when it is going on, but getting there the day the town empties of 4-wheelers has advantages.
http://www.rr4w.com/events.cfm
WHAT DIDN’T WORK:
My tool selection for working on the cabin. Most of it bought en route at a Wal-Mart in Demming NM. The last stop for much of anything heading west on I-10 in New Mexico. I need to go back with real tools. And more time.
Trying to eke out the last quarter tank of gas, and passing Wilcox because we vaguely remembering a lonely gas station in San Simon. A lone gas station called, if I remember correctly, “You’re a$$ is ours”. Close to $5 a gallon. Fill up in Wilcox or Lordsburg
My knowledge of the day or date. If I’m going to be out for months at a time I need to get a watch with a day & date function, especially if I’m on a permit or need to catch a shuttle date.
Me reminding Joel to “Soak your beans” every morning. 50% success rate, about my norm. If I forgot it meant Indian food, which should have been incentive to remember.
ATT cell coverage in the SW. Verizon rules out there. Not that I gave a rat’s patootie about cell phones.
Using a tent, any tent, without a full perimeter sod (sand) cloth, in high desert winds. I may have to retrofit my own desert tent design (ie, get someone to sew it for me), but I want a largely mesh tent (for cool and packability), with a full perimeter sod cloth. Something like a 4 inch perimeter encircling strip of deployable fabric attached to the *inside* of the rainfly, so I could let it go on the vestibule walls from inside the tent.
It would be much classier than ringing the tent with cardboard from Pale Ale boxes.
Or, failing that, someone please suggest a good tent for hot weather desert river use that will work in blowing sand. Two doors, two vestibules, easy & intuitive set up, clips (no sleeves). I honestly think it’s an MSR Hubba Hubba (or the old Hubba Hubba HD) with a full perimeter sod cloth to use when needed.
The Gaia map case. I really like that map case for most maps and charts. But the ubiquitous Belknap map books need a case designed specifically for their long narrow profile. 18” x 7” would be perfect to hold an open Belknap book, with the opening on the long side for easy access and flipping to the next page & 25 miles of river.
If no one sells such they should. And if no one sells such I may make one; I wonder if there is such a thing as transparent heat sealable fabric.
How would one go about making a custom map case? I think I’ll be talking Dan Cooke soon. Dan came up repeatedly as a one-paddle-stroke-away guy.
Weather forecasting. I hate electronics when tripping, but, I admit, I love the weather radio on coastal trips. I missed being able to receive a weather forecast during the weeks on the river. A little ferrous-rod AM radio may be in my future. One of my campmates at Horse had a radio, but, being in that place and timelessness I begged him not to tell me what was going on in the world. I really do not want to know.
My left knee. Those youthful motorcycle and car accidents will eventually come back to haunt you. That puppy is going to need work soon, but I was hoping to keep all of my original parts and pieces.
My Black Diamond LED lantern. I’ll like the tent reading light it throws, and I’ve never returned anything to REI, but that POS is going back. 70 hours on 4 AAA batteries my arse. Try 4 hours, and 10-12 with hours using lithiums. I’ll get another, just to see if mine was defective or if their battery life claims are fantasy.
Sunscreen and bug spray. Well, they would have worked, but I did not use either over the course of 7 weeks. There were no bugs, and I wore UV protective clothing (and used a UV protective lap blanket in the canoe), wore a sun drape hat and sought out shade whenever possible. I browned but never burned. Slathering on dust and sand attractant sunscreen is contra-indicated in blowing desert winds, unless I wanted to looks and feel like a strip of flypaper that had been dragged along a dirt road.
My sunglasses. I love my Smiths, but I need a pair of sunglasses with “cheaters” at the bottom to read maps and charts while paddling.
WHAT FAILED:
Gear failures were another recurring theme of this trip. My stuff is old and well worn, Joel’s stuff is old and badly worn (the consequence of guiding and using his gear 300 day a year). What failed:
Joel’s old hiking boots. The soles were worn to bathroom slippers. Replaced at REI in Tucson.
Joel’s fancy schmancy new neon colored trail shoes. Replaced with an even more garish (and more comfortable) pair from the discount rack at Wal-Mart.
The fancy schmancy ones were eye blinding bright red. That’s much better Joel.
Joel’s Big Agnes pad. Leaked, repaired in the shower at the cabin in paradise. At least he said that was the inflatable he had soaped up playing with in the shower.
Joel’s ultra-light Silver Creek 1-man tent. The zippers were non-functional the first time he set it up, but it had died an honorable death on a 3-week solo backpacking trip in Escalante in 2001. Replaced with a 4-man tent at REI in Tucson. Joel kept remarking about the size of his tent. Maybe size does matter, especially when you can sit inside in a chair and play guitar surrounded by everything you brought.
He went from this:
To this:
Joel’s dry bag – Eaten by rodents. Into Tex’s dumpster with the wag bags.
Joel’s waterproof day pack. Also eaten by rodents. To be repaired.
Joel’s backpack. Already torn on the bottom from too much rock scrambling and hauling gear up cliff faces via ropes. To be repaired. Joel needs to take a sewing class.
Joel’s skin-coat Rendezvous. It stress cracked in the 50 mile per hours cross winds on the Great Plains. He happily wore his first one out, and this one’s in my shop awaiting repairs and additional outfitting.
Joel’s headlamp – Little finicky plastic battery door parts fell off and needed new duct tape every night.
Joel’s clothes. Being a guide is freaking tough on gear.
And, so you don’t think the gear failures were all Joel’s, my clothes too. See “The Raggedy Hermit Fairy of the Canyon. I know how hard canyon country is on clothes, and had packed old worn stuff, expecting it to die a filthy canyoneer’s death along the way. Some of it went to rags more quickly than anticipated and ended up in Tex’s dumpster.
My Polar Bear Cooler. Another zipper failure. It started to go in the Chiricahuas and failed completely day 1 on the river. Amazingly I still had cold beer days later, even with a busted zipper. The best soft sided cooler known to man. I hope Polar Bear can replace the zipper.
Probably some other stuff I’ve overlooked. The desert is tough on gear.
What Worked/What Didn’t/What Failed
WHAT WORKED:
The Toyota Tacoma as cross-country tripping truck. Even with a gear load that included 2 large storage boxes, a 30L barrel, a 60L barrel, duplicates of everything permit required (spare PFD’s, fire pan, toilet system, etc), a banjo, a guitar, two pressure cookers, a spice kit the size of a hat box, one backpack, three day packs, a partridge and a pear tree, and well, you get the idea. (Imelda Beckwith - uh, I mean my friend Joel - eventually had five pairs of shoes)
The soloized Penobscot with just the front portion of the CCS cover was again perfect. I brought that big boy gear hauler last year, I brought it this year, and I’ll bring it next year unless I soloize a 17 footer. A kayak or decked canoe is a huge PITA to pack or unpack at the difficult-access ledge sites, and with water needs, toilet and odd gear needs required by permit an open canoe load hauler is the way to go.
The parawing. The winds in Horse canyon were as strong as anything I’ve ever had a tarp up in. Set properly there is nothing like a true catenary cut parawing in high winds. I still cannot believe it withstood those winds.
The blue barrel folding tabletop. The idea was hatched on last spring’s Green River trip. Used for breakfast, lunch and dinner every day; never again will I hunker down in the blowing dust and sand to prepare a gritty meal.
Hand lotion (Foot lotion). If you have callused hands or feet the arid desert SW will crack you up. Literally. Painful cracks and crevices. Be a wuss; bring lotion.
The fire-in-a-can. I never used the (required) firepan, but I burned through all of the wax feeder bricks for the FIAC, and then burned that sucker out at the end. Intentionally; I want to make the improved Mark IV version.
The mid-day golf umbrella shade on the wind/sun chair. Shade in the desert is good.
Flocculating silty river water with collapsible sink buckets and alum for silt settling. I settled a 5 gallon bucket of river water nearly every day (a small jar of alum lasted 22 days) and washed clothes (somehow I brought only two pair of socks), myself or camp visitors on a daily basis.
Running a wet sponge along the open tent zippers. Dust and sand falling out during the zipping action is a bad sign. And usually makes a bad noise. The sound changed from GGGZZZKKKKRRRRR to ziiiiiip after running a wet sponge along the open zipper.
Randomly packing foodstuffs. I wouldn’t suggest anyone try this, but blindly yanking stuff off the shelves of the grocery in Moab saw me out of the canyon after 22 days with: my two least favorite freeze dried meals, 4 packs of instant oatmeal and the last of a jar or peanut butter. If I hadn’t been shorted one piece of bread in a package of sandwich rounds (they last for weeks, but it’s supposed to be 8 rounds, not 7 dammit) I’d have had lunch.
Joel’s pressure cooker meals. Joel uses a pressure cooker for, well, everything. His pressure cooked grits are to die for. I think he has spoiled me on any other grits and Waffle House will never be the same. His pressure cooker Ansazi beans and rice are a close second. I just tried to stay upwind when it was Indian food night.
Joel’s hammock. In a surprising number of places.
(Note the hummingbird feeder at his feet. Joel has now been peed upon by more hummingbird species than most people will ever see)
The gravity filter(s). I had one, and a back up system as well. Joel had one even better, with a Sawyer filter cartridge guaranteed for a million gallons, and adapters for every possible reservoir. I need to get some of those adaptors for my Platypus. And maybe a Sawyer filter to carry as a spare.
Arriving in Moab the last day of the Jeep Jamboree. Trust me, you don’t want to be there when it is going on, but getting there the day the town empties of 4-wheelers has advantages.
http://www.rr4w.com/events.cfm
WHAT DIDN’T WORK:
My tool selection for working on the cabin. Most of it bought en route at a Wal-Mart in Demming NM. The last stop for much of anything heading west on I-10 in New Mexico. I need to go back with real tools. And more time.
Trying to eke out the last quarter tank of gas, and passing Wilcox because we vaguely remembering a lonely gas station in San Simon. A lone gas station called, if I remember correctly, “You’re a$$ is ours”. Close to $5 a gallon. Fill up in Wilcox or Lordsburg
My knowledge of the day or date. If I’m going to be out for months at a time I need to get a watch with a day & date function, especially if I’m on a permit or need to catch a shuttle date.
Me reminding Joel to “Soak your beans” every morning. 50% success rate, about my norm. If I forgot it meant Indian food, which should have been incentive to remember.
ATT cell coverage in the SW. Verizon rules out there. Not that I gave a rat’s patootie about cell phones.
Using a tent, any tent, without a full perimeter sod (sand) cloth, in high desert winds. I may have to retrofit my own desert tent design (ie, get someone to sew it for me), but I want a largely mesh tent (for cool and packability), with a full perimeter sod cloth. Something like a 4 inch perimeter encircling strip of deployable fabric attached to the *inside* of the rainfly, so I could let it go on the vestibule walls from inside the tent.
It would be much classier than ringing the tent with cardboard from Pale Ale boxes.
Or, failing that, someone please suggest a good tent for hot weather desert river use that will work in blowing sand. Two doors, two vestibules, easy & intuitive set up, clips (no sleeves). I honestly think it’s an MSR Hubba Hubba (or the old Hubba Hubba HD) with a full perimeter sod cloth to use when needed.
The Gaia map case. I really like that map case for most maps and charts. But the ubiquitous Belknap map books need a case designed specifically for their long narrow profile. 18” x 7” would be perfect to hold an open Belknap book, with the opening on the long side for easy access and flipping to the next page & 25 miles of river.
If no one sells such they should. And if no one sells such I may make one; I wonder if there is such a thing as transparent heat sealable fabric.
How would one go about making a custom map case? I think I’ll be talking Dan Cooke soon. Dan came up repeatedly as a one-paddle-stroke-away guy.
Weather forecasting. I hate electronics when tripping, but, I admit, I love the weather radio on coastal trips. I missed being able to receive a weather forecast during the weeks on the river. A little ferrous-rod AM radio may be in my future. One of my campmates at Horse had a radio, but, being in that place and timelessness I begged him not to tell me what was going on in the world. I really do not want to know.
My left knee. Those youthful motorcycle and car accidents will eventually come back to haunt you. That puppy is going to need work soon, but I was hoping to keep all of my original parts and pieces.
My Black Diamond LED lantern. I’ll like the tent reading light it throws, and I’ve never returned anything to REI, but that POS is going back. 70 hours on 4 AAA batteries my arse. Try 4 hours, and 10-12 with hours using lithiums. I’ll get another, just to see if mine was defective or if their battery life claims are fantasy.
Sunscreen and bug spray. Well, they would have worked, but I did not use either over the course of 7 weeks. There were no bugs, and I wore UV protective clothing (and used a UV protective lap blanket in the canoe), wore a sun drape hat and sought out shade whenever possible. I browned but never burned. Slathering on dust and sand attractant sunscreen is contra-indicated in blowing desert winds, unless I wanted to looks and feel like a strip of flypaper that had been dragged along a dirt road.
My sunglasses. I love my Smiths, but I need a pair of sunglasses with “cheaters” at the bottom to read maps and charts while paddling.
WHAT FAILED:
Gear failures were another recurring theme of this trip. My stuff is old and well worn, Joel’s stuff is old and badly worn (the consequence of guiding and using his gear 300 day a year). What failed:
Joel’s old hiking boots. The soles were worn to bathroom slippers. Replaced at REI in Tucson.
Joel’s fancy schmancy new neon colored trail shoes. Replaced with an even more garish (and more comfortable) pair from the discount rack at Wal-Mart.
The fancy schmancy ones were eye blinding bright red. That’s much better Joel.
Joel’s Big Agnes pad. Leaked, repaired in the shower at the cabin in paradise. At least he said that was the inflatable he had soaped up playing with in the shower.
Joel’s ultra-light Silver Creek 1-man tent. The zippers were non-functional the first time he set it up, but it had died an honorable death on a 3-week solo backpacking trip in Escalante in 2001. Replaced with a 4-man tent at REI in Tucson. Joel kept remarking about the size of his tent. Maybe size does matter, especially when you can sit inside in a chair and play guitar surrounded by everything you brought.
He went from this:
To this:
Joel’s dry bag – Eaten by rodents. Into Tex’s dumpster with the wag bags.
Joel’s waterproof day pack. Also eaten by rodents. To be repaired.
Joel’s backpack. Already torn on the bottom from too much rock scrambling and hauling gear up cliff faces via ropes. To be repaired. Joel needs to take a sewing class.
Joel’s skin-coat Rendezvous. It stress cracked in the 50 mile per hours cross winds on the Great Plains. He happily wore his first one out, and this one’s in my shop awaiting repairs and additional outfitting.
Joel’s headlamp – Little finicky plastic battery door parts fell off and needed new duct tape every night.
Joel’s clothes. Being a guide is freaking tough on gear.
And, so you don’t think the gear failures were all Joel’s, my clothes too. See “The Raggedy Hermit Fairy of the Canyon. I know how hard canyon country is on clothes, and had packed old worn stuff, expecting it to die a filthy canyoneer’s death along the way. Some of it went to rags more quickly than anticipated and ended up in Tex’s dumpster.
My Polar Bear Cooler. Another zipper failure. It started to go in the Chiricahuas and failed completely day 1 on the river. Amazingly I still had cold beer days later, even with a busted zipper. The best soft sided cooler known to man. I hope Polar Bear can replace the zipper.
Probably some other stuff I’ve overlooked. The desert is tough on gear.
"At least he said that was the inflatable he had soaped up playing with in the shower."
Haha, Actually did LOL, wife wants to know what's so funny with canoes? I hope this thread never ends...excellent!
Haha, Actually did LOL, wife wants to know what's so funny with canoes? I hope this thread never ends...excellent!
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A chance encounter high in the Chiricahuas
A chance encounter high in the Chiricahuas
A chance encounter high in the Chiricahuas
Robin;12307 I hope this thread never ends.[/QUOTE said:
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I've spent a grand total of 1/2 day in an arid place. (Beach vacations, and New Years parties with tea totalling in-laws don't count.)
1) So, why the need for perimeter protection around tent fly?
2) Once you've done the alum thing, does it stay settled out or do you need to decant?
3) Is there any controls placed on numbers of river float trips per day?
4) Is there a high season, off season etc.?
Before this trip report, I had few southwest bucket list places; Monument Valley, Mesa Verde, Yosemite, and Grand Canyon. I have some serious revising to do. Thanks Mike.
1) So, why the need for perimeter protection around tent fly?
2) Once you've done the alum thing, does it stay settled out or do you need to decant?
3) Is there any controls placed on numbers of river float trips per day?
4) Is there a high season, off season etc.?
Before this trip report, I had few southwest bucket list places; Monument Valley, Mesa Verde, Yosemite, and Grand Canyon. I have some serious revising to do. Thanks Mike.
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The blowing dust down in the canyons has the consistency of finely sifted flour. It will be on, and in, everything. Combine that with 35 mph winds on many, many days and without the perimeter protection I was sleeping in filth. Which I did on a couple of nights.
My last gasp remedy was a single bed microfiber sheet, which I could spread on the bottom of the dust covered tent before retiring.
BTW – If you aren’t packing up camp to move along in the morning it pays to stuff the sleeping bag and any other loose stuff – clothing, pillow, even books, lest you find them covered in dust that evening.
It settles out and carries the alum with it, so the bottom 1/8” of bucket is a sludge of silt mud. It’s better to dip the clear water out; tilting the buckets to pour stirs up the sediment on the bottom.
Marginally. You make shuttle reservations with Tex’s or Tag-a-Long first. When you have those you submit the permit applications (BLM, and further downriver, NPS) and are guaranteed a permit.
The on-line permit application process is simple, intuitive and flawless. How could the feds have gotten that so right and health care sign up so wrong? Sorry, let’s not go there.
Sadly I fear the day may be coming when the number of river visitors may need to the capped. We saw 10X the number of boats this spring as we did last. The high, swift water was an issue as well, squeezing folks into the same sites.
Last year the river was at 2400 cfs and dropping when we put on. This year it hit 12,000 cfs while we were paddling. Quite a different river.
Probably April and May – Spring offers higher runoff waters from up Wyoming way, and more filterable water back in the canyons. After that September and October (typically lower and drier). I don’t think I’d care to be there at the height of summer, nor in the depths of winter.
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Thanks for the info Mike. Seriously, this drylands adventure is truly foreign territory for me. But goodness me, it's thrilling. Those waterfalls and high canyon walls are incredible. It looks like a lifetime of learning though, figuring out what works, what doesn't. Is a daily dip in the river doable, to take the dust off? Or maybe swimming in muddy water isn't all that "refreshing". Speaking of which, how cold is the water? The vistas from atop the valley must belittle the ego. I'd love to see those First Nations rock art. Old cowboy graffiti? I never thought of that. History up close.
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A not-so-chance encounter in Tucson
A not-so-chance encounter in Tucson
Paradise to Tucson is only 140 miles. Out west that means “Let’s go into the big city fer the day!”. And so we did, despite my distaste for population density.
We needed to hit an REI for maps and shoes and stove fuel and a replacement tent. This turned out to be especially serendipitous, as we discovered that we had arrived on 4/13, the last day of the spring “Members 20% off sale”. The REI in Tucson is highly recommended; the staff is knowledgeable (something not every REI can boast) and the store large and well stocked.
But we really went to Tucson for another reason. A dark haired beauty of a reason; M’bud Margie lives there.
A friend of almost 40 years, and unseen in near 20. Still vivacious, still artistic, still with a heck of an eye for structure and design. Still driving her early 240Z, but now racing it on the track. Did I mention vivacious?
I was instantly comfortable in her home (I did get lost a couple of times). The presence of Fred the tortoise helped to put me at ease, although I never met his shyer missus.
There were old photos to be shared (dang, I was skinny back in ’75), tales of remembrance told (not to be repeated here) and memories of friends departed and still with us shared.
40 years of history in a few hours. It was wayyyy too short a visit, but if my hopes and dreams (I try to avoid using the word “plans”) turn out I’ll be back in the fall to work on the cabin, and will surely need to travel to the Big City for parts, materials and supplies. And friendship.
A not-so-chance encounter in Tucson
Paradise to Tucson is only 140 miles. Out west that means “Let’s go into the big city fer the day!”. And so we did, despite my distaste for population density.
We needed to hit an REI for maps and shoes and stove fuel and a replacement tent. This turned out to be especially serendipitous, as we discovered that we had arrived on 4/13, the last day of the spring “Members 20% off sale”. The REI in Tucson is highly recommended; the staff is knowledgeable (something not every REI can boast) and the store large and well stocked.
But we really went to Tucson for another reason. A dark haired beauty of a reason; M’bud Margie lives there.
A friend of almost 40 years, and unseen in near 20. Still vivacious, still artistic, still with a heck of an eye for structure and design. Still driving her early 240Z, but now racing it on the track. Did I mention vivacious?
I was instantly comfortable in her home (I did get lost a couple of times). The presence of Fred the tortoise helped to put me at ease, although I never met his shyer missus.
There were old photos to be shared (dang, I was skinny back in ’75), tales of remembrance told (not to be repeated here) and memories of friends departed and still with us shared.
40 years of history in a few hours. It was wayyyy too short a visit, but if my hopes and dreams (I try to avoid using the word “plans”) turn out I’ll be back in the fall to work on the cabin, and will surely need to travel to the Big City for parts, materials and supplies. And friendship.
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Maps, books, history and hiking
Maps, books, history and hiking
The canyons are mind blowing, especially the first time down the river. The waterfalls off the canyon rims were extraordinary. And it doesn’t take a lifetime of learning.
This was only my second trip down the Green, although last year I was accompanied by three friends that guide and a Nat’l Park Service geologist. If the clueless college buddies made it anyone can.
A dip in the river is doable, but the water is cold in the spring (snowpack runoff). Just don’t swim in the clear clean pools back in the canyons. Not only is that potentially someone’s drinking water but there are rare fish species there that don’t need a Dr. Bronner’s bath.
The Kelsey book details hiking trails, geology, archaeology, the location of Ansazi ruins and rock art as well as the location of cowboy glyphs and signatures of early river explorers - think “D. Julien, 1836, 3 Mai” etched deeply into a canyon wall along with the etching of a stylized boat and flying bird.
The Kelsey book also contains a thorough history from early trappers like Julien, turn of the century cowboy explorers, early river runners and more.
A.J. Tadje, an early movie maker filming on the Green in 1914:
http://riverguides.org/Confluence/25/25TadjeKnipmeyer.pdf
I’d love to see that old film.
The Bellknap’s map book (Canyonlands River Guide) and the Kelsey book (River Guide to Canyonlands National Park) are all you need to float and canyon hike the Green.
That is Joel’s bailiwick. He hiked or backpacked dang near every day and probably covered as many miles afoot as we did afloat. Hiking there is no stroll in the park, and at times one misstep is 1000 foot fall. But there are some spectacular areas that can only be accessed by hiking up canyons from the river.
Maps, books, history and hiking
The canyons are mind blowing, especially the first time down the river. The waterfalls off the canyon rims were extraordinary. And it doesn’t take a lifetime of learning.
This was only my second trip down the Green, although last year I was accompanied by three friends that guide and a Nat’l Park Service geologist. If the clueless college buddies made it anyone can.
A dip in the river is doable, but the water is cold in the spring (snowpack runoff). Just don’t swim in the clear clean pools back in the canyons. Not only is that potentially someone’s drinking water but there are rare fish species there that don’t need a Dr. Bronner’s bath.
The Kelsey book details hiking trails, geology, archaeology, the location of Ansazi ruins and rock art as well as the location of cowboy glyphs and signatures of early river explorers - think “D. Julien, 1836, 3 Mai” etched deeply into a canyon wall along with the etching of a stylized boat and flying bird.
The Kelsey book also contains a thorough history from early trappers like Julien, turn of the century cowboy explorers, early river runners and more.
A.J. Tadje, an early movie maker filming on the Green in 1914:
http://riverguides.org/Confluence/25/25TadjeKnipmeyer.pdf
I’d love to see that old film.
The Bellknap’s map book (Canyonlands River Guide) and the Kelsey book (River Guide to Canyonlands National Park) are all you need to float and canyon hike the Green.
That is Joel’s bailiwick. He hiked or backpacked dang near every day and probably covered as many miles afoot as we did afloat. Hiking there is no stroll in the park, and at times one misstep is 1000 foot fall. But there are some spectacular areas that can only be accessed by hiking up canyons from the river.
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As you wish.
Welcome to Horse Canyon D#$khead.
Mike don't need no steenk'n badges!!
