September '09 Newsletter - Trip #2

Desolation & Gray Canyon Raft (8/7/09-8/14/09):

Mike met us at the icehouse early on the day before we left for Utah. Our plan was to ice the coolers and turn Susan loose in Phoenix to shop the perishables. The Iceman's block machine had unexpectedly broken down and we realized we were going to be icing coolers again in Moab. Bob and Mike returned to Black Canyon City and began loading his truck and our trailer.

With bum knees, neither of the guys was excited about carrying heavy objects down a flight of stairs. Unfortunately, we'd stored rocket boxed food for two trips in our kitchen to keep the non-perishables cool, so the first order of business was to arrange a webbing drop line out of one of our second story windows. This easily allowed them to skid the Lake Powell boxes down the extension ladder into Mike's truck to be eventually stored with Tex's Riverways in Moab while we were rafting. After more fargling around loading river gear in the oppressive heat, they gave it up and had lunch. Upon Susan's arrival, they backed the trailer underneath the window and dropped ten more boxes for the Desolation and Gray canyons raft trip before assisting her with the perishables. We packed the rest of the rocket boxes and speedily put the coolers and freezer together. Exhausted, we crashed early and prepared to get on the road at 6:00 AM the next morning. The following day was going to be a long one as we were facing a 10 hour drive to Green River and would likely spend a couple of hours in Moab repacking.

The drive was uneventful and we arrived in Moab early in the afternoon. As expected, City Market had high quality block ice, so parked under huge shade trees we went to work repacking the freezer and two coolers. A couple of hours later we were on our way to Green River State Park and our reserved campsites. We arrived to find most of the group had set up their gear and were on their way to Ray's (the local boatmen's bar) for dinner. Since we were pretty tired we stayed in camp to watch the gear. Always up for a party, Mike caught a ride to Ray's with Ted and Mary. By bedtime, all but Scott McCollough had arrived.

Early the next morning Bob led the drivers out to the Swaseys rapid take-out, where they left our extra vehicles and gear. The road is entirely paved, so they finished the job quickly and were back at the campground by 8:30 AM. We loaded all of the gear onto two trailers and one truck and finally thirteen of us were on our way to the Sand Wash put-in. After leaving the highway at Wellington, we drove over the 7000' pass into 9-mile Canyon, stopping along the way to check out a couple of interesting petroglyph sites. The Wrinkle Road portion of this shorter route is slow and meanders along a bench trapped by cliffs on one side and the river on the other. Unfortunately, it is notorious for flat tires. With about 15 miles to go, we began to hear intermittent hissing noises coming from the left rear of our Toyota. We changed the tire as a group and headed on with no further problems but with some concern about returning without a spare.

We rigged gear for several hours on a pleasantly cool afternoon before the shuttle drivers drove back to Green River airport to await their next morning air shuttle. While it had taken 4-5 hours to reach the put-in with heavily loaded vehicles and a bit of sightseeing, it took only 3 hours to drive back. By 8:00 PM the shuttle drivers were sitting in Ray's chomping burgers and quaffing designer draft beer. Later, they drove to the airport and the three of them wrapped up in not quite enough bedding on pretty uncomfortable trailer or truck floors. The plane arrived at 6:30 AM the next morning and the drivers enjoyed a beautiful flight back to the mesa landing strip above Sand Wash. With no nasty winds and no cows on the strip, the landing was smooth and after a short hike our group was back together and ready for launch.

Back at the put-in, our campers had a rough night when a rowdy group of young rafters pulled in around 11:00 PM and partied until the wee hours of the morning. We dubbed them the "Loud Crowd" and running the same schedule, had the joy of repeatedly interacting with them. Famous for its vicious mosquito population, Sand Wash was almost bug-free, a first in our experience. The cricket crescendo in the kitchen at dusk was quite a symphony. A lone deer was observed drinking near the boats. Susan's short sleep didn't get any better after a quick rollover slid her pillow into the river. More certain than ever, she abhors sleeping on rafts.

We were the first group to launch and along the way noticed quite a number of horses on the ridges. Surely they were Ute ponies but we preferred to think of them as wild mustangs. We had lunch on one of the many sandbars and stopped to view an abandoned dory near Gold Hole. As we pulled away from the dory site, three female and two baby bighorn sheep appeared. It turned out to be a long, flatwater-rowing day but luckily the upstream wind was mild and we even had a bit of downstream. We planned to stay at the Rock House campsite but it was too brushy to reach the site under the trees. Exhausted when we reached our camp across from Stampede Flat, the paddle raft folks were unhappy with all the work involved. Bob was also unhappy about rowing their kayak down as a wind sail on the back of his raft.

Twenty-three years ago at this camp, the two of us began tenting together, so it has special significance for us. Scott Marley hadn't run the Green since that trip, when he was dubbed "the night orphan". That year our group did the same float on higher water and spent most of the evening climbing what came to be known as Dickel Rock (before attempting the climb, one had to take a swig of this fine Tennessee Whisky, Scott was only 15 so he had an exemption). The campsite was alive with mosquitoes that year, as was the put-in. It was especially nice to have our daughter-in-law Tennille along on this year's trip. The "Loud Crowd" passed at dusk with boom box blaring. Thankfully, the next camp was around a bend in the river and far enough downstream to guarantee a peaceful evening.

A beaver swam to and fro across the river while we had our morning coffee and came all of the way out of the water for a few minutes on the opposite bank. Our second river day was a fairly easy and short one to Cedar Ridge camp. The river gradient increased providing quicker water and some minor rapids. Brian and Trevor hauled kayaks upstream and played in the riffle above camp. Wildlife across the river consisted of a small herd of Ute Indian cows. A commercial group that had motored down from the put-in came by in the late afternoon. They unhooked their rafts, stowed their motor, and ran down to the camp below ours. Everyone loved this campsite under the shade of mature cottonwood trees. Settling into river mode, things seemed to be going smoother. The daily routine of setting up and taking down camp went quickly.

Hoping to camp at Rock Creek, Scott Marley filled our water jugs at the mouth while the rest of us continued to the campsite. Five more bighorn quenched their thirst across from the creek as we floated by. A solo boater who launched the same day we did was in our usual campsite we so we switched to one a bit lower, which turned out to have more shade. Most of the group took a hike up to the ranch and up Rock Creek a ways, where they saw a buck in full velvet and prints from bear and mountain lion. The "Loud Crowd" passed by and chided us about illegal camping, though the regulations allow camping ½ mile above or below Rock Creek and we were well beyond that boundary, approximately a mile downstream.

Mid-morning we stopped at Chandler Creek to peruse the D. Julian and Powell party inscriptions. We lunched on the beautiful unused beach (a Ute Indian permit is required to camp on their side of the river) before continuing on to the McPherson Ranch where we filled water jugs and examined the old ranch. The "Loud Crowd" holed their dory at Cow Swim rapid, where a debris flow recently pinched the river off driving it even more into the left wall. When we arrived, two groups that launched the same day as us were scouting this new rapid that was supposed to have Hermit Rapid (Grand Canyon) sized waves. Perhaps that's so over 10,000 cfs but not expecting anything quite that exciting, Bob elected to read and run, as did everyone else in our party, except the inflatable kayakers. After Mary's baptismal birthday swim at Trail Canyon rapid, she was more than happy to look this one over prior to running. Our next camp at Wire Fence was very similar to the one at Cedar Ridge, a big comfortable camp with shady cottonwoods. We baked Mary a carrot cake and sang the birthday song, then watched for the Perseid meteor shower. A few were seen but apparently the best of this year's show happened in the wee hours of the morning. Trevor arrived at dusk after fraternizing with a hottie from the "Loud Crowd".

Our river day to Range Creek campsite was a short one. We chased multitudes of Blue Herons down the river and arrived at the great, shaded campsite just in time for lunch. After hearing about our previous "Golden Stairs" hikes and summit climbs behind camp, Dave decided to attempt the hike. It was hot and the rest of our group was lazy, so he had the top to himself. Most of us played dominos or Polish horseshoes that afternoon. The Marleys (Scott and Bob) challenged the Aubins (Brian and Don) a couple of times but either luck or skill made it no contest. Wanting to spend more time with his new female kayaker friend, Trevor decided to boat with the "Loud Crowd". He camped at Rattlesnake Canyon with them that night. On the previous couple of group trips we came into contact with bears in the Range Creek camp but managed to scare them off before dark. We were delighted that they didn't visit us this time.

Upstream winds and slow water made for a long, hard day to our last night's camp at Sand Knoll. After what seemed like days of bellyaching about how hard it was to paddle the 12' raft, Brian and Thuy left early that morning and led us downstream. Along the way they pointed out a wonderful bighorn ram and his cohort of ewes. We arrived in camp late that afternoon, just in time for a ferocious rainstorm. It was trying to be a hailstorm but the huge droplets just couldn't freeze. We unloaded the rafts but most of us did not have time to find raincoats. Bob donned his, while others took shelter under the paddle raft turned on edge or under tables; others simply got wet. Susan was exhausted after rowing downriver into the wind while having a heart episode (atrial fibrillation). Scott McCollough's help was much appreciated. This alone would leave her totally out of energy but add adverse rowing conditions and she just squatted under the table until we could get the tent up for her to collapse into. Eventually the rain ended as all intense desert storms do and the rest of the evening was uneventful.

Early the next morning, Susan and three drivers launched quickly so they could take Dave's rental car to recover the three vehicles and trailers we'd left at the airport. Realizing all the gear would all be coming off in a couple of miles, we haphazardly threw everything on the remaining rafts. By the time we had derigged and had the boats drying, our drivers returned with the trailers and loading proceeded efficiently. When Trevor could not find one of his duffle bags in Brian's vehicle, Brian realized his vehicle had been broken into. Unfortunately, he had neglected to lock the tailgate on his pick-up. Nothing else was missing and even more mysteriously, this kinder and gentler burglar was able to get his truck back together with the camper latches still locked. Then Mike declared his bag of clean clothes missing. Again his vehicle was locked up and a thousand dollars or more of gear had not been touched.

By noon we had everything packed and our trailer full of rafting gear coupled to the back of Mike's truck. In the midst of all this confusion about gear for the raft trip, gear for the houseboat trip, and missing/stolen personal gear, we managed to find all of our stuff, including a couple of hundred dollars worth of lifevests and straps that an overzealous friend threw into the dumpster as trash. Susan has a mind like a steel trap when it comes to gear, she noticed it missing, and went dumpster diving to retrieve it.

We had a great trip. The 3000 cfs water level made for interesting rapids, especially Three Fords. Both day and night temperatures were at least 20 heavenly degrees cooler than what we had in Black Canyon City. Though it was at times difficult fighting upstream winds and slow currents, we've seen much worse on other trips. The Green through Desolation and Gray canyons is an excellent stretch of river for Huck Finn boaters like ourselves.

Participants: Brian Aubin, Donald Aubin, Mary & Ted Bruning, Mike Coltrin, Dave Kehs, Susan & Bob Marley, Scott & Tennille Marley, Scott McCollough, Thuy Nguyen, and Trevor Stewart

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