June '08 Newsletter

We'd hardly returned from our Baja travels when we were immediately involved in a Grand Canyon raft trip. After returning from that trip in mid-April, it was nice to have a month to enjoy a temporate spring in Black Canyon City. Below normal temperatures (global cooling?) and the heavy December rains resulted in a picturesque desert wildflower season. We've enjoyed some great springs during the time we've lived in the deserts but this one was certainly one of the best ever.

New blooms came in waves every few weeks. Initially there were fields of poppies, blue hyacinth, phacelia, fiddleneck, loco weed, and owl's clover. This was followed by a riot of yellow brittlebush all over the state it seems, as the Grand Canyon slopes were also draped in yellow. On that trip one of the participants suggested that if I got up there amongst the brittle bush with my yellow raincoat, I would never be found. Unfortunately both of us found we are allergic to brittlebush pollen so we had ankle and arm rashes for a while. Another problem was that after the intense growth spurt they dry out becoming an extreme fire hazard. In May the cactus began to bloom. Our state flower is the Saguaro bloom and they were much in evidence this year. The smaller native cactus treated us to a profusion of yellows, some magenta, and brilliant red blooms.

The end of wildflower season left us with close to an acre covered with very dry vegetation about 3-foot high all over our property, right up to the deck and house. Summer is always fire season so some of our downtime in BCC became weed clean-up time. The new weed whip was put to good use and when the days were calm we torched the debris in our fire pit. We now have a fire safety zone around our home again. With the weeds out of the way, preparations for the Canyonlands mountain biking trip proceeded in earnest.

The one unpleasant happening during May was a birthday trip to the Algodones dentist. Bob needed a couple of teeth crowned and Susan had a problem tooth that had been crowned many times to deal with. All the necessary work had been deferred due to the ridiculous costs of dentistry in this county. On the advice of many local friends, we decided to take a chance on Mexico. We found an acceptable dentistry office where Susan had her tooth pulled and Bob had a filling, a crown, and a sharp spot on a previously crowned tooth filed down. The price and service is so good it seems like everyone in Yuma uses the Mexican dentists but with the high price of gas, the costs of repeated 200+ mile trips from BCC makes this an expensive solution also. Susan is considering making two trips back down to have two teeth crowned and a permanent bridge installed in the space created by her missing tooth. She may have to bite the bullet and pay our local dentist a small fortune to do it.

We returned from Mexico to find Darla's four-wheel SUV beside our house. On the way to the Dolores River, she had left it so we could pull our trailer up to Moab and around the White Rim. She would join us in Moab after her raft trip. Our neighbors were immediately over when strangers pulled up beside our house but once they determined stuff was being left rather than taken everything calmed down. One of the many advantages of living in a small town is folks look after each other and it is pretty easy to tell when someone doesn't fit in. Within a few days Susan had the non-perishable food purchased, everything was loaded in the trailer and SUV, and we were off to Moab and another adventure.

The rest of this year is going to be a bit strange. We have no group travel plans until 2009. The two of us are going to spend some time with our sea kayaks on local lakes and eventually Lake Powell for a week or so. We plan to spend a couple of weeks in Minnesota visiting family in late July and will probably do a solo boat Green River to Hite raft trip through Cataract Canyon in late August or early September.

This is an election year so we are reserving September to Election Day in November for local politics. Bob isn't running for the Water District Board as his term doesn't expire for another two years but three other Board members will be running and he intends to support those who supported him two years ago. After the election, we may travel to Australia for 4-6 weeks. Susan is not crazy about the idea of leaving for November and December as it is a busy time for her volunteer work, so we may put that trip off until late January.

2008 Trip Reports:

Grand Canyon Raft (4/1/08-4/16/08):
(Edited from the extensive notes provided by Ernie Hildner)

A few days before launch day we all piled into the Marleys' at beautiful Black Canyon City, Arizona. We kept busy pulling and sorting gear into appropriate piles. After which, Bob led a hike through the wilds behind his house. Yellow brittlebush flowers carpeted the desert, leaving yellow pollen trails on our legs. The next day, the garage floor was taped off into squares labeled for each day of the trip; cans, boxes and bags of food, distributed under Susan's watchful eye, were sorted by breakfast, lunch, or dinner, and labeled appropriately. Late in the day, one square at a time, the food was packed into rocket boxes that were labeled for the day the contents would be eaten. A day later some drove to Phoenix to pick up the van that would haul us to Lees Ferry. Others bought ice and dry ice for the coolers, and shopped for perishable food to fill them. Then back to BCC to pack the coolers, load and strap down the trailer.

Up early on April Fools Day, we had a quick breakfast and threw ourselves into the van, headed for Flagstaff to pick up the Canyon REO sixteen foot raft rented for Susan. At Lees, the usual Chinese fire drill ensued - unloading the trailer, blowing up boats, rigging frames, stowing impossible piles of stuff, etc. Ranger Dave Chapman arrived; our life jackets and the mandatory bits of equipment passed his inspection. Between rigging a rental raft and Bob's brand new sixteen foot NRS raft, it was late in the day when we finally threw the gear on and drifted down to the boater's camp, cooked dinner and fell asleep. We had the camp to ourselves as the other private group, outfitted by PRO, had dinner and spent the night at Marble Canyon Lodge.

At 9:00 AM the next morning Ranger Dave returned to check ID's and give us "the lecture". He warned that water releases would cause daily river fluctuation between 7K and 14K cfs at Lees; the Little Colorado was contributing another 2K cfs. The Paria was running just a bit. To estimate cycle times downriver, we could expect a flow between 4 and 5 mph. He also said that there are now 67 condors in and around the Park. We saw them soaring in the distance maybe half of the days but never had one close by. Underway in our three rafts and one kayak at 11:30 AM, we stopped three hours later at Soap Creek to camp. Some hiked up the drainage to a pouroff and enjoyed dripping water, blooming redbud trees, and rock formations.

Our second day on the river featured a five hour float to Silver Grotto to camp, with no scouting except at House Rock. The Roaring 20s lived up to their name. Mike bounced out of his rowing seat in Mile 24, but recovered nicely. About Mile 27, while Mike was enjoying the scenery and a Tecate, the boat parked on a barely covered sleeper rock, where it pirouetted and pinned, in the middle of the placid river. No amount of jerking or pulling or moving around on board freed it, so eventually Ernie put one of his long legs on the rock and - along with Mike's mighty heaves on the oars - successfully pushed off. No one went up into the grotto as we had all been there before and wading pools in the cool temps was unappealing.

A stop at Redwall Cavern convinced Kay to sing a bit. Another stop at Nautiloid Canyon gave Bob, Ernie, Sandy, and Brian the opportunity to carry buckets of water up the sketchy climb and around into the floor of the side canyon to see the numerous Nautiloid fossils weathering out of limestone. As we floated by, we noted the exploratory shafts for the two proposed dam sites and the Bridge of Sighs. We were again impressed by the treacherous location of the Anasazi Bridge. In camp at Eminence, folks compared their cracked finger tips and Susan began what became an almost nightly application of Crazy Glue. Brian walked around in his sandals that evening and by bed time had no skin on his feet. The rest of the trip he shifted immediately from kayak booties to hiking boots to protect his feet from the sand.

Since none of us wanted to hike to the Nankoweap granaries, we pulled in for lunch at the lower beach and then pressed on to the nice Awatubi camp. The wind varied from strong upstream gusts to periods of calm with occasional downstream wafts. It was gusty on the beach, blowing sand in a ground blizzard that quit by bedtime. Tamarisks provided very welcome wind shelter and shade. Ernie and Sandy hiked up Awatubi to a big pouroff, where there was a nice roof and blooming redbuds.

Off early, we skipped by the chocolate brown Little Colorado, envisioning it instead beautiful "Caribbean" blue and white. The rest of the trip we were in brown water, though the clarity improved daily. We saw backpackers at the upper end of Tanner Bar and below the Escalante Hilltop Ruin. Above Unkar, we encountered a private party of 8 kayaks with their 5 support rafts. Brian, our only kayaker, made friends and chatted them up. We camped early at the lower Nevill's Rapid camp. A first time Grand Canyon backpacker doing a Hance to Tanner loop joined us for lunch. Ernie, Sandy, Kay, Brian, and Thuy hiked up 75 Mile Canyon for a little over an hour, getting above the interesting Tapeats narrows. After it opened out, they could see lovely buttes and spires, and the rim. Alkali mobilized by the flush flow wrought havoc on our skin, our hands cracking badly as the trip progressed. We lathered our hands and feet with lotion or Vaseline at night and some slept in gloves. Most of us came home without fingerprints, no ridges on slick, smooth finger pads. It probably didn't help that the Little Colorado added lots of grit.

Furious winds and blowing sand made it impossible to cook dinner. So hunkered down on the boats, we imbibed in liquid refreshments and snacked. Ernie and Sandy's tent - with paco pads and half the contents of their river bags - pulled all of its pegs, upended, and threatened to take off in a gust. With everyone's help, the tent was relocated to a more sheltered site and tied off to vegetation. The gusts were so strong, one could hear them coming ten seconds before they hit. The recent four-day 40,000 cfs flush had deposited powdery new sand on many of the beaches. It was easily moved by even light wind and blew grit into everything, from food to tent zippers to orifices to clothes to dry bags.

Morning dawned windy enough that we had a cold breakfast. Susan was in extreme abdominal pain and hadn't slept all night, so we pushed off for the infirmary at Phantom Ranch. Ernie rowed Susan's boat against stiff winds, while Susan rode with Bob and Thuy, a nurse in real life. We scouted only Hance, where all the left side runs were adequate, although maybe not pretty. In the tail waves near the bottom of Grapevine, Bob hit a hole slightly crooked and went for a swim. Susan nearly joined him but Thuy pulled her back at a crucial moment. Susan jumped to the oars and after about a minute, they pulled a shivering Bob back aboard. After a few minutes rest Bob resumed rowing.

At Phantom, Bob and Susan immediately set off for the infirmary. Though Susan was feeling a little better, she was still considering leaving the trip. Della, the Phantom Ranger, proposed that we camp at the boat beach overnight. Susan could then decide whether evacuation by helicopter (a flight was scheduled the next day) or downriver by raft was best. Susan rested the remainder of the day, while the rest of the group enjoyed the Ranch lemonade or beer. We strolled and admired the amazingly clean people wandering the grounds. They must have showered after riding the mules down, because they sure didn't look like river runners or backpackers. The ever helpful Della came at dark and again in the gray dawn of the following morning to check on Susan.

Tired, but without pain, Susan decided to proceed downriver. Della assured her she could be lifted from a beach in the lower Canyon almost as easily as from Phantom. We hung around waiting for high water to make Horn Creek easier to run and before long there were 12 boats parked on the beach. Susan rowed from Phantom, through Horn and a bit beyond. Then Ernie rowed her boat while she rested. We lunched below Hermit at Schist Camp. More energetic as the day went on, Susan rowed until we stopped for the day at the upper Crystal camp. The recent flush flow left a steep bank of soft sand, ending in a two foot vertical sand cliff down to water level. After many trips up and down with gear, we eventually beat a diagonal trail across it.

The next day, there was a spit of worrisome rain as we finished breakfast and packed but it didn't develop into anything. After scouting again at the new water level, everyone had a great run. After Tuna, Mike gave Ernie the oars to run the "jewels", and all happily splashed through with "yippee!"s. Ernie underestimated the power of Serpentine and felt a bit thrashed there. We saw the old "Ross Wheeler" boat and Bass's cable crossing at South Bass. There was a little wind occasionally, but all in all it was delightful boating. We finished the day at Mile 110, which featured a delightfully easy exit from boats and a level carry to the kitchen. Threatening clouds drove us all to our tents after lunch, where the nap fairy found easy prey. It was a bit cooler with 50% cloud cover until the sun overcame the clouds in the late afternoon. The camp was littered with driftwood and since we were in fire season, we took advantage of the opportunity.

It was too cold to swim and we didn't have time to climb, so we floated past Elves Chasm without stopping. All agreed to run far right at Bedrock, to avoid being pushed to the wrong, left side of the "bedrock" that splits the flow. Bob went first, with Ernie; he chose such a shallow line that he bumped over some rocks, slowed momentarily, but then slid off into deeper water and continued. Susan must have been six inches farther right, because she encountered a rock which held the boat. Mike, coming down the same line with Kay, rammed Susan and pushed her more firmly onto her rock, possibly involving other rocks. Mike pivoted off Susan into deeper water and had no further trouble. Bob and Mike eddied out and while Kay held the boats, the guys walked back to the scene.

By the time they got there, Sandy and Thuy had scrambled to the back of the boat trying to ease it off the rock, as Susan flailed with her oars. Though the direction of pull would probably have been ineffective, Brian still heaved a throw line toward the boat, but it fell short. Next, the ladies tried hanging on the riverward side of the boat, holding onto straps and such while trying to get the maximum weight outboard. This didn't work, but after a number of pumps, and with Susan's strong exertions at the oars, the raft grudgingly shifted. As the ineffectual folks on shore cheered and crossed their fingers, it moved a bit more on the next pump by the crew. Gradually rotating out into the current, it ultimately slid free, right side up, with all passengers aboard, and no damage. Dubbed the "Bedrock Babes", the threesome was delighted to be afloat once more. The rest of the day was uneventful, though we got to watch a condor lazily make ascending orbits on a thermal until it broke off and headed up canyon perhaps 600 feet above us. Brian said he saw two more shortly thereafter. Since we could see a large group in the Galloway campsite and were unsure what might be at the out of sight Stone Creek below Dubendorff, we camped on the small beach at Mile 131.

Fair weather and light wind enhanced the Deubendorff scout and two of us successfully ran it just left of the picket fence while Mike pulled the big ride as he drifted further left. We filled our water jugs at Tapeats Creek and stopped at Deer Creek for lunch. The falls were running strongly, but we didn't hike into the narrows. We had planned to camp just below Kanab that evening, but Mike and crew didn't notice Ernie on the bank signaling them and sailed by. We didn't stop, but the pull-in pocket at Matkat seemed much smaller this year and possibly difficult to place many rafts into. It appears a debris flow may have filled it with gravel and rocks. We continued to Matkat Hotel, a much better camp than the one we missed.

We scouted Upset Rapid and tried to run right, as close to the rocks as possible. Bob and Ernie were kicked out by the current into the middle but hit the hole squarely. The 16 ft boat easily bridged across it and they were away into the tail waves. Susan touched a rock at the entry and spun out towards the middle, hitting the hole at a different angle. Her boat rolled up and ejected Kay, who couldn't quite reach the raft as Susan tried to row to her. Kay floated and stroked on her back, reaching shore as Susan, Mike and Thuy slid into a lower eddy. Brian paddled to Kay and towed her to Susan, where she reboarded. Adrenaline initially masked that Kay's left leg had been twisted or banged during the swim. It pained her to walk uphill for several days. The most humorous aspect of the swim was that Kay had been depantsed and didn't realize it until about a half hour afterwards. She entered the rapid wearing light blue splash pants over her wetsuit. During the swim they disappeared without a trace and without sensation.

Mike stopped briefly just above Havasu at what Tom Martin calls "Paradise", so Thuy and Ernie could walk up into a hanging glen with running water, about 100 ft above river level. There were lots of pretty flowers and rushes. Thuy saw a hummingbird in a tree by the water. They spooked a bighorn ram, driving it ahead of them. It was aggravated and making noises as it climbed the wall at the back of the glen. It appeared possible to continue, but they returned to Mike and his raft. Joining the group at Havasu, we snacked and some hiked a little upstream while others hung out in the sun or shade. The little cove at the outlet of clear flowing Havasu Creek was gorgeous, and there were some big (two foot long) fish visible swimming over the yellow bottom. We lunched downstream on a rock ledge, eventually continuing down to the lower National campsite. We had targeted upper National, but the recent flush denuded it of sand, leaving an unfriendly boulder field instead of a beach. It was warm enough now that we sought shade rather than sunshine during shore breaks and in camp.

We packed up and left camp in what Kay later described as "subdued" spirits, knowing that Lava Falls lay ahead. Aided by a slight tail breeze, we arrived at the scout before noon and formed a consensus on the line to follow. Bob and Sandy led and initially appeared to be on his chosen line but then Ernie saw one of Bob's famous white oars pointing vertically and waving, then vanishing. Mike, from his higher boatman's seat, reported the flip. Sandy was visible and Susan was heading toward the site of Bob's mishap, about to get thrashed. About that time Mike and Ernie got very busy on their boat and reports ceased as they skirted the ledge hole, went down the tongue sliding further left, blasted through a couple of serious waves, and enjoyed a super clean run.

Sandy swam strongly out to river right; Mike saw Bob near the overturned boat with Brian in hot pursuit. Mike pulled river right to pick up Sandy. Susan and Kay were okay, drifting downstream, but unable to reach Bob and the overturned boat before Son of Lava. Brian asked Bob to swim to the closest bank on river left, but Bob knew he was past Warm Springs and he was going to swim the next rapid no matter what. Son of Lava Rapid occurs because the river runs into, and is bent rightward by, an undercut wall which has much violence along it. One definitely would not want to be between a raft and the unforgiving wall, should the raft contact it. It was unsafe for Brian to run along side the overturned boat, so swimmer and raft continued through the rapid on their own. Brian chased down Bob's raft and tried to nudge it into an eddy several times, but it repeatedly drifted back into the current. After a mile or so of this, Susan and Kay got Bob onto her raft and made sure her raft remained downstream of his upended raft, no runaway boats allowed. Eventually Brian pushed the upended raft into another eddy on river right. This time it stayed but unfortunately its boatman was eddied out below on river left.

Passing "Tequila Beach", a big group was seen removing wetsuits and celebrating ABL (Alive Below Lava). They yelled, "Are there more bodies in the water?" "No", we yelled back and got a thumbs up. Astonishingly, by the time Mike got his raft tied to shore, the other party's seven boats were swarming the scene. Since they were 35-40 yr old, very fit Utah firefighters, accustomed to responding to emergencies and joyous at having an opportunity to right the boat, Mike decided they're were probably better at this than we were and told Ernie to "sit down, shut up, watch, and wait for orders." Brian - knowing better what was going on - was able to be of assistance. Once upright, Ernie hopped aboard and nothing appeared to be missing or broken. Water was later discovered in a couple of the boxes, Kay's river bag and one of the Marley paco pads. There was a little dampness in a Marley river bag, but both Bob's and Sandy's expensive cameras escaped unscathed. An oar tower had rotated a few degrees on aluminum tubing, which was easily fixed with an Allen wrench.

As the high-spirited firefighters gathered their gear, we thanked them profusely and were astonished when they thanked us. They had a layover day planned the next day and one of the activities scheduled was to practice flipping an overturned boat, which they had gotten out of the way. Mike and Ernie rowed the two boats, and Brian paddled, down to the opposite shore, where Bob had been pacing anxiously. Exactly two hours after arriving at the scout, we were having lunch, telling tales from various perspectives, and being exceedingly grateful that we got off so lightly. So much intensity compressed into so little time.

Amazingly, although Bob and Sandy rolled at the v-wave, hitting the right lateral wave and tilting up enough that the opposing, bigger left lateral caught the other tube and carried it under to instantly flip the boat, Bob didn't even lose his baseball cap or glasses. Susan, following Bob's line, but a little further left, hit the same lateral waves but apparently at a better angle. She was violently shaken, but the black side of the boat stayed down. Days later, it appeared that Bob wrenched his right knee and Susan took a hard whack in the back above her hip during this Lava melee. Sandy fared very well, and now she can brag that she swam Lava, a boast not many want to make.

At lunch we found a curvy piece of driftwood almost four feet long that another party had painted eyes and a lipsticked mouth on, emphasizing its coquettish form. Mike named her Agnes and took a great fancy to her, strapping her into a place of honor on his boat, taking her into his sleeping quarters at night, and eventually home to his wife Sue Ellen. Agnes was the inspiration for many low jokes during the rest of the trip. [Mike says that Sue Ellen greeted Agnes cordially enough, but soon banished her to the boat shed. We don't know if Mike is banned from conjugal visitation with Agnes.

After a warm night, we enjoyed still, gentle rafting. We stopped for lunch at a beach where a beaver had explored the back of the sand along the tammies, then crossed the beach and reentered the water, leaving interesting tracks. We repeatedly flushed three snowy egrets ahead of us as we floated. In early afternoon, the upstream wind suddenly hit hard, so we camped at Lower 202, a tamarisk-protected site. The wind picked up to gale force, scouring the beach of new sand. Sandy and Ernie were unsuccessful until Mike came up in his yellow Crocs and spotted the pictographs for them. They were nothing to write home about. The tamarisk wind break was a blessing as it blew all night. In the morning, a rocket box left near the water stood on a narrow three inch high pedestal, the sand not compacted by the box's weight having been scoured away by the wind. Brian's kayak, lying perpendicular to the wind, had windward and leeward dunes six inches high, with deep scour under bow and stern. The new sand was in most areas being reformed rapidly by the daily flow regime and the environmental effects of the flush, above water at least, are likely to be transient as the river reclaims its sand.

This day was a killer as we had to make the miles and the upstream wind never quit, only gusted more heavily occasionally. After 209 Rapid, Bob found himself caught by two large eddies. Susan caught up, then Ernie rowing Mike's boat caught up and the three of us played bumper boats, trying to get enough separation to row. Continually pushed into one or the other upstream eddies, the wind canceled any downstream flow. After a couple of feints, lucky Susan escaped. Ernie probed his options three more times before the addition of some of Mike's power helped them escape. Ernie and Susan hovered on a downstream bank, waiting 15 minutes for Bob, who eventually broke free when he and Brian took a line ashore and struggled through boulders, tugging the raft to downstream flow.

The gale pushed every raft off the wave-obscured current line, forcing the boatman to expend extra energy to get out of eddies. It often required "weathervaning" the rafts, pointing and pulling in a direction different from the desired downriver course or even the current. Brian couldn't read the eddy lines from river level, a real threat to his stability. He was concerned that if he was capsized by the wind, he might not roll up against it, and trying to roll with it, he would be blown down again. Worse yet, no raft might be able to reach him if he had to wet exit. It was an exhausting day for him both muscularly and psychologically. He finally took to paddling vigorously ahead, then waiting for us with one paddle firmly planted on the bank for support.

Stopping to regroup, we opted for snacks over lunch as we were working too hard to endure full stomachs. On a little sand bar, we saw about 20 beautiful avocets, hunkered down facing the gale. We planned to stop at 220 Mile Camp, but the highly favored upper camp was occupied. So, after struggling in the eddy above the island opposite the lower 220 Mile Camp (where we saw seven sheep including one little lamb grazing), we continued pulling downstream to 221 Mile Camp. Everyone was so glad to stop for the night. Susan literally lay in the boat apologizing for not being able to do anything for a few moments, not even to inspect the four new dime-sized blisters on her hands. The rowers and kayaker concurred a break from manual labor was needed for a while. The wonderful passengers, witnesses to the rowing and paddling effort expended all day, jumped to unload gear, carried it to camp, and quickly prepared a delicious dinner, bless them all. Bob later characterized it as "the hardest day I've ever spent on a river". All but Kay slept without tents - mostly too exhausted to set them up.

It was a beautiful and still last morning. Everyone was reluctant to dip their oars in the water and hasten the end of a wonderful trip. We reached Diamond, to find the Hualapai launching a big trip so we couldn't takeout early. Eventually with Susan schmoozing them, they let us onto the ramp about 15 minutes after our shuttle had arrived. The takeout was as usual a frenetic zoo of derigging, keeping gear separate, loading the trailer, strapping it all down, changing clothes and quickly departing. We started up the road before noon, thanking our lucky stars that we had been able to carry stuff off the boats directly onto a trailer parked at the river's edge.

The drive out of Diamond Creek was uneventful; we returned the rental raft to Canyon REO early and reached Black Canyon City in the late afternoon. Another hour and a half energetic flurry saw the trailer unloaded, Mike's frame disassembled and his gear loaded on his truck, the poop boxes dumped and washed, the food boxes washed and drying, and big piles gradually becoming smaller. Unexpectedly, most of the work was done and Mike was ready to go, so he and Agnes bugged out for home instead of staying overnight. The rest showered and went out to the Rock for dinner and some of the famous pie offerings.

The next morning, we worked a bit more on cleaning, sorting, and stowing gear. Brian and Thuy returned the rental van on their way to the airport and Kay drove off to visit with friends in Phoenix. Ernie and Sandy waited through lunch for tire balancing on their van before taking off for home, leaving the Marleys finally alone.

Overall the trip was too short, which made it more arduous. We needed to make miles, and with a party of 8 to complete all of the chores, we ate like horses, lost weight and gained muscle. The weather was excellent; with sun every day and only a couple threats of rain. Considering the season - the wind was not the problem it could have been, except one evening and that ridiculously windy next to the last day.

Participants:

Brian Aubin, Mike Coltrin, Ernie Hildner, Sandy Hildner, Bob Marley, Susan Marley, Thuy Nguyen, and Kay Threlkeld.

White Rim Mountain Bike (5/18/08-5/24/08):
Darla's SUV awaited us in the driveway upon our return from Mexico. The neighbors decided they wouldn't have to shoot her since she was leaving something rather than taking it away. She was off to raft the Dolores and planned to meet us in Moab for the bike trip. Since she has 4 wheel and we don't, she left her SUV so we could attach the trailer, fill it with gear, and drive up to Moab. Scott and Kay also planned to support the group with their 4-wheel vehicles.

Our drive north to Moab was enjoyable. We stopped for dinner at the historic Nevill's hotel in Mexican Hat to make a Navajo Taco comparison test. Our favorite remains the one offered at Cameron Trading Post but the Mexican Hat fry bread itself tasted better to Suz. On our next dinner time pass through Mexican Hat, we plan to sample their Cowboy stew with two pieces of fry bread. That looked delicious. We camped that night at our favorite haunt the Devil's Canyon Campground north of Blanding. The camp has seen a lot of improvements in the past few years but continues to be under filled and quiet most of the time.

Up early and coffee'd up in Monticello, we saw several pronghorn antelope grazing along the highway and soon found ourselves in Moab at the City Market. We only had to shop the breads and fresh fruits / veggies, so we were done in a couple of hours and had the coolers packed shortly thereafter. We secured a shaded spot in a nearby campground and went off to search for the rest of the gang. It was toasty in Moab and a dip in the campground pool was a welcome relief. We spent a quiet evening there and retired early. Big trucks on the main drag awaken us frequently but we at least were rested and ready to go the next morning.

The new foot / bike bridge that spans the Colorado had recently opened at the Lions Park and was teaming with walkers and bikers. Locals and tourists were itching to check it out. We filled water jugs while awaiting the arrival of the various segments of our group. The enormous pile of gear in the parking area turned out to be Darla's. Fortunately, she left some of it in the vehicles that didn't accompany us on the trip. Otherwise we might have had to rent an extra trailer.

While Suz and most of the gang went up to the Canyonlands Visitor Center to secure the permit and place the extra vehicles, Bob and Darla took the Potash Road out to our first campsite, Shafer. Pulling a trailer down the Shafer Trail was neither necessary or wise. While the bikers started down the Shafer Trail, Carol, Kay, and Suz took pictures of them from the overlook, expecting to catch up with them on the way down. This was not to be of course as the bikes always move faster than the vehicles and in addition, the vehicles had to pull over for uphill traffic on numerous occasions.

Suz got a message from one of the uphill bound people that one of our bikers had done a somersault over the handle bars and was no longer in possession of all of his teeth. She immediately assumed that no one had warned Minnesota Mike not to try to keep up with Carl, but later found out that it was Carl who had cratered. On the flats, while reaching for his bike bottle, he hit a small rock and over he went. When Suz and Kay arrived in camp, he was ready to leave for some needed Emergency Room treatment. Kay drove to Moab with Carol and Carl's sister Susan accompanying him. The ER doc wasn't able to do anything about the teeth problems but put a couple of stitches in his nose and suggested he not return to camp at least until the next morning. Susan, a dental oncologist, was able to realign a loose tooth, adding a great deal to his comfort. Gassed up, water jugs refilled, and bellies filled with Subway chow, they returned to camp before dark. Carl wore a bandana over his face for a few days to keep the dust out; Susan and Carol kept his wounds clean. He was on a yogurt / pudding diet initially but about half way through the trip was back to his normal energetic self. A lessor man would have gone home to comfort and a skilled dentist!

Under Ernie's tutelage and encouragement, Suz finally made it up the first hill out of camp. He made a few adjustments to her bike at the first overlook, which greatly improved her performance. We made a brief stop at Musselman Arch, where we chatted with a ranger and his lovely blond sister. They were patrolling on bikes pulling a small trailer. Unfortunately, a few miles before camp Suz biffed in a pothole and picked up some road rash. Once at camp, the gloves came off and it looked like she had a dislocated finger. Icing for the rest of the day showed simply bad bruising and she was back in the saddle the next morning. It was in the mid-nineties and shade was definitely at a premium. We rigged the tarp in between two vehicles and found other little shady spots to lounge in. Not much hiking occurred from our Airport camp unless you count trips to the outhouse, which was about a city block away. Kay loaded up a crowd for a journey down Lathrop to the river but deep sand forced them to turn back. Carl and John made it to the river on bikes and took a dip. We're not sure that they smelled any better after biking back out but they claimed they felt cleaner.

Bob had hoped to sleep in and enjoy the cools, biking later in the day but was outvoted. Up early and on the road, we enjoyed good views of Washer Woman Arch and reached our Gooseberry camp in time for lunch. The dense juniper forest Bob remembered was only one fairly large tree, so up went the tarp and our new screen canopy. Gooseberry is a pretty camp with great views along the Rim and a trail that leads to Grandview Point Overlook. While some relaxed in the shade, others ambled along the Rim, and the most ambitious of the group hiked up to the top with at least one making it over to the Overlook. The wind came up in the late afternoon and we had to drop our shade shelters. Fortunately it calmed and we were able to cook dinner with no rain.

Utah had a lot of moisture this year as was evidenced by the profusion and variety of blossoms along our entire route. During the ride to our next camp at White Crack most of the bikers saw a bighorn ram with a full curl rack. After leaving the main road, the last mile and a half can be a challenge since the sand is deeper and it is easy to lose control and momentum. We all eventually got there. The wind increased and the rain hit in the late afternoon. We had a short reprieve that was long enough to cook dinner but elected to wash dishes in the morning.

It rained and poured on and off during the night and some of us woke up with a lake in or under our tent, not to mention mud flats outside. A crack cook team rustled up a Mexican breakfast. The Ranger who issued our permit stopped in with his lovely young, blond assistant for a visit. We're beginning to wonder if a lovely, blond assistant is one of the perks of a Canyonlands National Park job since she was the second one we'd run across. The two of them had come from Murphy Hogback and though they had put chains on for the mud, it hadn't seemed necessary. They warned that the prior afternoon a jeep had accidentally backed off the edge of the hill at Murphy Hogback and that it would be several days and several thousand dollars before it would be recovered. Luckily, it jammed against a rock and didn't roll, so no one was injured.

There are a number of tough hills between White Crack and Murphy Hogback. A few of our better bikers made it to the top of some of them but most of us ended up pushing our bikes for some distance. Char had an extra low gear added to her bike and was amazing to watch grinding up the hills. She could bike slower than we could walk with her tree climber rear gear. Views of the Green River, Turk's Head, and Candlestick were appreciated by all. Running out of Gatorade was no longer a concern as our ninety degree weather had plummeted overnight and we were more concerned about the hot chocolate supplies. The individual packets had disappeared and were never recovered. Suz suspects stealthy ravens or an accidental trip to the trash.

Bob loaded his bike on Scott's rack and took the wheel from Darla to drive up the Hogback but the road was actually in the best shape we've ever seen it. Scott and Kay drove their own vehicles up. With all of the rain, there had been plenty of pothole water to be dipped for the solar showers at White Crack. We were in camp early enough to take advantage of the opportunity for showers. Some of our party took hikes along the rim and a few hiked to the top of the Murphy Point Trail for the views. We were briefly sleeted/snowed on during dinner prep but it cleared quickly. Many of us hiked over to look at the next morning's hill and inspect the jeep off the side. It was tied in to some large boulders and the keys were still in the ignition. It wasn't going anywhere without a lot of help so the driver probably wasn't too concerned about someone driving it away.

Clouds returned during the night, so we slept warmer and the rainfall was minimal. Darla left camp on her bike but returned almost immediately. She was not "feeling it" so elected to ride with Kay while Bob drove her truck down the Hogback and over to the infamous Hardscrabble Hill. After pushing mightily up Hardscrabble and then descending through the sand to river level, Suz missed the turn back to our Hardscrabble Camp and continued on towards Mineral Bottom. John, Susan, Mike G. and Sandy mistakenly assumed Suz knew where she was going and followed her for an extra couple of miles before Scott overtook them in his truck and suggested they might want to turn around. That extra 4 miles of sand slogging took its toll on each of them as they limped into camp. Suz was apologetic and they elected not to flog her too much but it was rather embarrassing since this was her fourth time to camp there.

The weather remained temperate (folks from Phoenix would say chilly) for the remainder of the trip. The last day about half our group biked from the Hardscrabble camp to the base of the Mineral Bottom hill, where we loaded up the bikes and gear. At the intersection with the paved visitor center road, Kay returned the drivers to the unused vehicles, while the rest of us made our way back to the Lions Park. By the time we were reunited our stomachs were rumbling and we shared a bean salad lunch before saying our goodbyes and heading for home. A good trip was had by all!

Participants:

Darla Ekbom, Mike Gasser, Ernie Hildner, Sandy Hildner, Bob Marley, Susan Marley, Scott McCollough, Carl Muller, Carol Muller, Susan Muller, John Stenton, Mike Stromberg, Char Taylor, Jon Trahan and Kay Threlkeld.

Future Trip Information:

As most of you realize, our group travel plans for 2009 are pretty fluid in June. We are definitely doing a Lake Powell Sea Kayaking trip (houseboat supported for 3-4 days of a 7-10 day trip in late July or early August) and a North Rim of the Grand Canyon mountain biking trip (June or September). We are looking into arranging a fully catered two to three week China trip that would include most of the highlights plus 3-4 days on the Yangtze River houseboating (May or early June). Both of us are still interested in Mediterranian travel and the wonderful Greco-Roman sites to be seen there. We definitely want to return to Turkey and are also looking into a month long Australian trip for two late this fall or early next spring. As soon as our group plans for next year firm up, we will contact everyone on our mailing list.

If some great travel opportunity presents itself and you are looking for company, please remember that we're willing to join others' trips as well as organize them.

General Trip Information:

We must receive your deposit and a completed Q/AR form, for you to be considered for inclusion on one of our trips. If a trip is popular enough to require a waitlist, we use trip deposit dates and Q/AR postmark dates to establish one.

We continue to send information to travel friends using email. If you want to be the first to know what's happening, be sure to send us your email address and don't forget to keep it current. We'll also continue to communicate unique travel opportunities by 'special mailings' to those who travel with us frequently.

Best of luck in your adventures, whatever they are, and wherever they may be. We look forward to traveling with you sometime soon.

Susan & Bob

Updated on Saturday, May 31, 2008 @ 3:30 MST © 1995-2008 by Robert R. Marley