The Colorado Plateau was calling and I couldn't resist despite the nontrivial drive. Jeff and Nija were all lined up to packraft the Dirty Devil so all I had to do was get there. The drive across California, Nevada, Arizona and Utah was long, but familiar. I pulled into Mystic Hot Springs in the sleepy Mormon town of Monroe a little before sunset and had a relaxing evening after the long drive. The remaining 2hr drive to Hanksville was easily surmounted the following morning. I was surprised to find more snow around at high elevations than I was expecting. I waited at the agreed upon mile marker and only waited briefly until I saw Jeff's car pulling off the road to meet me. He had the front bumper of his abused Civic strapped to the roof like some great kill from a hunt. I immediately knew that one way or another this would be a memorable trip.
Packing at the Angel trailhead took much longer than anticipated which removed several critical hours from the first day of the trip. It was almost noon by the time we had carefully made our selections for the trip. Knowing the Dirty Devil couldn't really be classified as a water source, I opted to carry all my water (~6L) in while Jeff and Nija elected to find Angel Spring, the only water source around. We made quick work hiking down the slickrock to the river. The first glimpse of the river was anticlimatic- a braided muddy river which already appeared more than half gone and overtaken by sandbars. The view didn't bode well for a speedy water-fueled run down the river. Once at the river Jeff realized that Angel Spring wasn't along the Angel trail but actually almost a mile upstream. Jeff and Nija collected water while I inflated boats for the rest of us. Another critical hour or so was wasted. Finally around 1:30p we finally pushed off...only to find a very shallow river.
During our trip the river level was at 90-100cfs. We were told anything above 65 cfs was fine but we were quickly bemoaning that suggestion. A couple hundred more cfs would have been a dream. I might as well paint the setting. The river is perfectly opaque, a 40m-wide braided, low gradient river with a 100% sand bedload and typically one narrow channel of a couple meters width that is a paddling depth. All of the above factors meant the river was almost impossible to read. I would be paddling down what I thought was the main channel only to abruptly slam into a sand bar. In some cases the middle of the channel had bedforms tall enough to halt progress. Countless times we either had to flail around with our paddles or get out and walk the boat to the channel. This wasn't the pleasant float we were all promised and there were murmurs of mutiny from the first paddle strokes. If the paddling wasn't insult enough, we were frequently bombarded by upcanyon winds which negated our forward momentum.
We endured the paddle/scoot/drag/wind blast for two whole hours as we paddled past Navajo Sandstone, Kayenta Formation and Wingate Sandstone- at least the views were nice. We past a group of canoeists/lawn chair beer enthusiasts and asked the question that was on all of our minds: "Soooo...it gets better right?" They gave a casual, yeah right sort of response that was to be yet another nail in the coffin for our trip. After only another hour of paddling (still with plenty of daylight) the other two called it a day, and I dragged by boat back upriver to our camp where there was much discussion of what level of mutiny was appropriate. In 3hrs we had only gone 6mi, with something like 30 more river miles to go to Poison Springs Canyon where our shuttled car was waiting. It wasn't the best situation to be in. Again if we had another 1-3hrs on the river that first day I think we would have gone far enough that there would be no discussion of turning back. After dinner Jeff found us a nice alcove to camp under, partially protected from the wind.
In the morning Jeff and Nija had decided their fate: to hike back up alongside the Dirty Devil to the Angel Trail and back up to the car. I had hiked about 5 miles of the Dirty Devil while on the Hayduke Trail and it was a traumatic experience I intended to overwrite with pleasant memories of paddling the river instead. Jeff estimated they could regain the cars in less time than it took to reach this point of the river, optimism which I couldn't believe for a second. I had drove 9.5hrs to get here, for this trip and there was already a car at the takeout. I had to hope the river would improve downstream, otherwise it would be a huge amount of effort on my part to make it out of this devil of a river. I packed and pushed off just before 8am. For four more hours I verbally cursed the river's deceptions as I paddled downstream, fueled by regret at my decision. I past through the base of the Wingate and into the Chinle with no change in the river. It was looking like it would be a marathon to make it out in two days.
I had an odd experience in mid-morning. I stopped mid-river to pull off my spray jacket as the temperature was finally warming and there was no spray in sight. My struggle
forced my feet to settle in quicksand. With my head in the jacket (I could
see nothing) and my arms too, I lost my balance and fell over into the
river with me feet still attached (and arms/face pinned inside the
jacket). I managed to work through it but I probably could have drowned
if I did it wrong. I laughed to myself- of all the ways to die.
Around noon I heard a new sound: the sound of water dropping over rocks. To my surprise I finally found a gravel bar, through which the river dropped about a foot or so. After this was a ninety degree turn in the river and...halleluiah, a single confined river channel! The river had finally changed! Never again did I have to get out of my boat to surmount a sandbar, though I still ran into them and had to push myself off with the paddle.
Redemption! My curses turned to whistles, songs and occasionally echoing yells as I enjoyed the solitude and muscle-burning exercise. I now floated and paddled from one sweeping bend to the next in excellent time. After about an hour it became obvious that the change in the river was permanent and I had certainly made the right choice to stick it out (I paddled about 5/6 of the run by the time Jeff and Nija reached the cars around 5p). I could have relaxed at this point and dropped back down to a floating pace but I was desperate for challenge and turned to more ambitious plans. I had planned to paddle to Happy Canyon (a side canyon detour) by the middle of the third day to catch the good canyon light, but realized if I pushed through with my paddling pace I could visit it before the sun dropped beneath the cliffs.
I pulled into the mouth of Happy Canyon just before 4pm, and greeted the small group of inflatable kayakers. They all looked at me with a certain bit of awe, a stealthy solo venturer appearing out of thin air and disappearing just as discretely. They said they thought they were packed light- tents, chairs, coolers, 30lb boats- until they saw me with my 15lb kit. I took a few essentials and run-hiked up the fabled White Rim slot canyon of Happy Canyon- an appropriate name to contrast the Dirty Devil. With no one else around to determine my pace, I worked myself up into a photography-fueled frenzy. Each turn in the canyon yielded a different combination of light and sculpted rock. To say that it was perhaps the best slot canyon in the world (as has been suggested by others) was overly generous, but it was a very nice slot anyway. I chased the last of the good canyon light 2 miles up to where the top
of the White Rim is buried beneath a wash, and so too does the slot end. I had
a good rockhopping sprint down the canyon as well, deciding I could
still make many more miles with the couple hours of daylight left.
Back on the river I was delighted that the next stretch of river presented the first of several real riffles with drops. They were a little boney at the present water level but I could see they would have some fun in them at higher water. I was making excellent time and the temptation to push on through to the car was palpable. Just on dusk I noticed a nice stately alcove above the river on river left (and how tired I had been after 12hrs of going flat out) and decided it was a worthy campsite. It ended up being a great place to spend the night with a nice slickrock kitchen area next to a soft sand sleeping area. This spot was amazingly warm- I comfortably ate dinner and sat around without a shirt. I had a relatively sheltered night while Jeff and Nija apparently got abused by wind far up on the rim. I eventually slipped into my sleeping bag, satisfied at the end of a long day. I had paddled over 20 miles all by my lonesome.
After a good sleep and a quick breakfast, I aimed for an early start on the river. The Dirty Devil continued to be a pleasant mixture of steady current and amusing little riffles. I stopped to check out one more slot that was too enticing to pass up, then paddled on past several excellent huecoed walls. All too soon (after only 1hr) I saw the water gauge clinging to the side of the cliff and then immediately after the shuttled vehicle at the take-out. I had made amazing time, almost a day earlier than anticipated while still allowing time for the Happy Canyon detour I had hoped for. It seemed a shame I wasn't paddling the rest of the way to the lake as I was sure I could make it out by the end of the day.
A long but satisfying drive up Poison Springs Canyon (another Hayduke misadventure) found me at the planned car swap location by 10am...only with no car to swap. Due to the lack of cell service this put me in an awkward position- were they still on the river? were the cars still parked at the Angel Cove trailhead? were they in town trying to get Jeff's car fixed? did Jeff change his mind about the car shuttle? Suddenly I realized I wasn't going to be making it home today as I begun a multi-hour scavenger hunt. I dropped a couple Hayduke hikers, Nick and Ethan, off in Hanksville and had a nice nostalgic/jealous chat with them about the trail. Then I drove all the way out to Angel Cove trailhead to find the cars absent (so they had at least made it out from the Dirty Devil. Then I drove back to the meeting place (still no car). Then I parked and waited at the Poison Springs Road turnoff. Fortunately by this point I wasn't waiting too much longer by the time Jeff and Nija showed up surprised to see me. We had a feed in Hanksville together before I finally had to succumb to the drive. We swapped stories.
So it was kind of a strange trip. Lots of driving. I'm so glad I stuck it out- I would have been kicking myself if I went through all that effort just to bail on the river and spend a whole day bushwhacking my way back out. The scenery was great but the Escalante made a much better packraft trip in my opinion- many more fun little drops and positioning required. It'd probably float the river again, but only at much higher flows and all the way to the lake. Thanks a lot to Jeff and Nija.
