Cedar Mesa Nov 26

We awoke to a frosty morning at 6000ft elevation and once organized, set off for a short hike down the rim trail towards a neat isthmus and island of rock called the The Citadel. I carried ropes and harnesses to give us the possibility of rappelling off of the Citadel and hiking back up the canyon to make a more interesting loop hike and to take in some more ruins. However our first opportunity to peer down to the canyon bottom revealed a near-continuous chain of pools from the recent rains- at best it would be slow going, at worst it would be wet and cold. We quickly decided against the adventure option for a comparatively mellow 4 mile out-and-back trail hike. Along the rim we got excellent panoramic views over the juniper forest of Cedar Mesa to distant snowy features like the Abajo Mountains 36 miles to the north, Carrizo Mountains 55 miles to the southeast, Comb Ridge 10 miles to the east, and the San Juan Mountains over 120 miles to the east. The level trail made for excellent walking through fields of textured cryptobiotic soil and patches of slickrock with pockmarks filled with water. 

When we finally reached the end of the rim and could see the narrow band of rocks stretching out to The Citadel, I got a nice view that confirmed my lidar scouting of a rappel and downclimb route would have worked had we chosen to try it. We followed cairns down through cliff bands and zigzagged down moderate angled slickrock to the flat isthmus connector down to 30ft in width with drops of hundreds of feet on either side. We worked our way across to the resistant sandstone capstone island, and climbed up to its base where the south facing side held the very tidy six-room cliff dwelling of Citadel Ruin. It was every bit as impressive as I remembered and still highlighted the mystery of this minimally accessible, highly defensible, fortress-like ruin. What interesting lives the people that lived here must have led.

Though this area feels thoroughly remote and flying a drone probably should not be allowed, I took advantage of the legality (a wilderness study area in the BLM administered Bears Ears NM) to capture a few interesting airborne shots of the ruins, Citadel, and Road Canyon in the immediate vicinity. 

After enjoying the flight and a snack next to the ruins we walked back to the car and journeyed back out to the highway. 

We took a brief detour with Heather dropping me off at the Natural Bridges NM boundary to walk a half a mile and carry out a drone scouting flight over the White Canyon headwaters for a hopefully future hike while she discarded our wagbags. It turned out this was the first time Heather had driven the stretch of road between Natural Bridges and Hanksville so it was fun to see her reactions crossings the great terrain around the Colorado River, Dirty Devil, and dramatic views of the Henry Mountains. The rest of the day is continued in the following post for the Hanksville area where we spent the next two days.

San Juan River Nov 23-25

 

A rare week to do something together and Heather and I somehow managed to drift back to the call of the Colorado Plateau for Thanksgiving break. Early discussions involved warm and tropical suggestions but somehow we settled into the familiar frigid cold of off-season canyon country like several Thanksgivings before, the lack of people partially offsetting the short days and low temperatures. To help ease the sting we were getting used to getting cozy in the rooftop tent and I invested further this trip in a battery bank and electric blanket. We both were eager to get in some river miles this year and considered the San Juan River to be one of the few reliable options for the time of year. Two years previous we did a slushy pre-New Year's overnight on the Sand Island to Mexican Hat section of the river so we thought we could survive a longer 57 mile two-night trip on the lower San Juan from Mexican Hat to Clay Hills in slightly warmer temperatures. I had seen the middle 26 miles of this stretch of river previously on a Honaker to Grand Gulch packraft trip but the rest would be new to me. To this San Juan River trip I added a few other possible days of excursions including Cedar Mesa, Capitol Reef, Hanksville, and San Rafael Swell areas. We ended up having 900 cfs when we started on the river and peak flows of 1400 cfs, which was great overall.

I convinced Heather to rally for a 5am departure with the hope that there would be just enough daylight left on the end of the day to fly a drone over the San Juan Goosenecks and find a suitable campspot. The drive was long but otherwise without incident. Recent storm puddles in the Mojave, snow in the San Francisco Peaks near Flagstaff, and some sticky muddy mud as we crossed the Navajo Nation. The forecast was calling for rain overnight and in the morning, which was going to be an additional plot complication for us to contend with. I had nice calm conditions at the canyon rim above the Goosenecks and enjoyed flying my drone over this ridiculous stretch of river. We had the whole place to ourselves other than a couple campers. Due to the highly sinuous nature of the river canyon here the river takes about 6.5 miles to end up about 1.5 miles away from where it started. It was even sillier to float through. With concerns over muddy conditions overnight and having a covered shelter to get organized under in the morning rain, we decided to check out the Mexican Hat boat launch, and finding it completely empty, decided it would be the best option for us as we could literally park feet away from the shelter there without having any impact on anyone (key advantage of being off-season). We gassed up, detoured behind the Inn to look at Gypsum Creek Rapid (straightforward, no worries), then drove to the San Juan Cafe with dashed hopes of Navajo tacos (they were closed so it was dehydrated meals on the boat ramp for us). We settled in for the night, cozy, but several times waking to the patter of rain in the morning.

We got up around 7:30am with plans to be ready by 9am when the shuttle driver should have arrived. The rain was more persistent than forecast so the shelters were a godsend for us to hide under and get organized. We were ready at 9am but the shuttle driver did not appear until 9:30am...when the rain was worse. The shuttle driver took the car and we were left trying to decide if we could wait out the river or should jump on the river. We waited fully until 11:15am to push off (shivering with all my warm layers packed away); in hindsight we would have been better off just starting right away as I was warmer paddling on the water despite the rain. Gypsum Rapid was a breeze and we quickly passed the last signs of town into the canyon. We had lots of miles to try to make up for our later start and the weather was not really conducive to side hikes so we largely just carried on other than me needing to stop every 20 minutes to reinflate my seat. With moderate paddling we averaged about 4 miles per hour the first two days. Through several twisty bends we paddled until an overhang provided a nice spot for a quick snack. From here we got our first of many views of the Gooseneck State Park lookout on the canyon's rim as we paddled towards it, then away, then towards, then away, a thoroughly silly way to spend an hour. Along the way we enjoyed ephemeral waterfalls and saw four beavers and a raccoon. 

At Mile 18 I pointed out the Honaker Trail on river right, at first and second glances an impossible set of cliffs but after we could pick out the series of ledges and stacked rocks connecting them that switchbacked from the rim to the river. We never did see the sun but the rain did stop at least. The day was getting on and it was getting clear it would be a hard and unpleasant push to try to make it to Ross Rapids Camp at Mile 26 so Heather managed to convince me to stop at Twin Canyon Camp at Mile 22 at 4pm. Just before was the first little rapid with a dramatic horizonline that made for a engaging read-and-run. This camp had an awkward climb out of the banks at this water level, but after that we had a nice spot to leave our boats and a short distance upward to a nice sandy tent spot. Although this was only about 25 feet vertical above the river, it was many degrees warmer. We got changed into warm dry clothes, pitched the tent, and settled into dinner and canned margaritas. I brought us each a pair of down booties, Heather with plastic overshoes and me with gallon plastic bags and hairties, certainly luxury over fashion. Even before dark the dew was horrendous and moisture began to material on every exposed object. We settled in to watch a show on a phone in the tent and slept warm if not completely comfortable due to a slow leaking air mattress. We paddled 21.7 miles over 4.8 hours, averaging about 4.5 mph.

Day 2 we awoke with every wet that was left out, which slowed us down a bit. The river was up quite noticeably at the banks, now swelling to about 1400 cfs as the result of the passed storm. We hoped for a sunny start but the sun did not appear until 11am. At the first reliable sun I stopped to repair my seat with UV curing AquaSeal, truly a marvel considering the short time it took and that it held for the remainder of the trip. Overall this was the most interesting day of the trip with a couple named rapids and many other riffles. The canyon had more variety and we both enjoyed the riffles that cut tight against a cliff. Ross Rapid was straightforward and overall probably less spicy than some of the unnamed riffles. We both enjoyed the corridors of sun. When we hit the shade again our paddling pace would inevitably increase in search of the next sun patch.

The mouth of Johns Canyon (Mile 32) was a great surprise with a very picturesque freefalling waterfall plunging directly into a grotto on the river. It was too much to pass up so we stopped to walk a loop behind the falls before continuing on. From here on down virtually all the side canyons had flowing water, which was a rare treat. We continued to pass on through patches of sun and shade with turns of the canyon.

Government Rapid at Mile 37 had a quite obvious horizonline that was worth pulling over and scouting. Though there was a clean near-splashless line through it, this was arguably the only notable rapid on the run with some holes to avoid. Heather wasn't feeling it so I got to run it twice. About 2:30pm we reached Slickhorn Canyon, having left the last of the sunlight behind us. The last 4 miles to Grand Gulch the river was particularly slow without riffles, a style and pace that unfortunately persisted for the rest of the trip. 

As we approached the mouth of Grand Gulch at about 3:30pm we could see we weren't alone, a group of three in inflatable kayaks that were the only other people we would see in the three days on the river. We were cold and ready to be done despite having more daylight. Fortunately they were quite friendly and willing to give us a portion of the camp (furthest from the cool air at the mouth of Grand Gulch so no complaints from me). Before setting up camp we walked into the mouth of Grand Gulch which had a series of very nice muddy ledge waterfalls cascading down the canyon right into the river. This was quite different than I had seen Grand Gulch on my last trip and I was particularly glad that we packed sufficient water that we did not need to attempt filtering. Again we got situated and set into our camp routine. Once again the dew was aggressive. Day 2 we paddled 22 miles in 5 active hours for a 4.4 mph average.

Day 3 we awoke to clear skies but sun that would arrive too late to our camp to benefit us. We were both impressed that despite lots of gear the IKs got packed up about 40 minutes earlier than us, sufficient that we would not see them again. Almost immediately downstream of Grand Gulch was the first of many sandbars we would encounter. With the opaque waters we had to take care to not beach ourselves in the shallow waters, looking closely at the ripple patterns on the water to try to identify the deepwater channel. A few times we guessed wrong but generally we were able to feel our way down without having to get out of our boats. We stopped briefly at the mouth of Olijeto Wash for a brief hike. We crossed some deep sticky mud and turned the first corner to enjoy a nice sunny patio as a rumbling falls tumbled. On the way back down my eyes were attracted to some of the cobbles and pebbles at the stream's edge, several of which were identifiable pieces of petrified wood.

From Olijeto the canyon walls began to shrink as the bedrock layers sunk below the river. This section had some nice overhanging sandstone cliffs but avoiding the sandbars remained our key concern. After hours of steady paddling we finally rounded the last turn in the canyon and could see the dramatically different geology of the Clay Hills towering in front of us. The last 3 miles were the longest and straightest stretch of the river. Finally at 1:30pm we reached the takeout, a muddy bank with some gravel more than a boat ramp. The last day our pace definitely slowed as a result of the lower gradient sandbar-ridden river, covering the last 13.5 miles in 3.7 hours for a 3.6 mph.

The sun was feeling mighty so we took the opportunity to go full garage sale in drying gear on the lonely boat ramp. Retrieving the car a few hundred feet up, Heather and I were both impressed to see the extensive mud splatters up to the roof of the car and thick cakes on the wheel wells. We spent close to 1.5 hours cleaning and organizing before starting the drive. The 11 mile long Clay Hills Road had clearly seen a lot of rain recently, leaving us an exciting 45 minutes of wet wash crossings and one deep mud pit I half slid through, spraying mud to the top of the windshield.

When we finally reached the pavement we were short on daylight but decided to detour west a few miles over Clay Hill Pass to check out Castle Ruin, a multi-room cliff dwelling in a near-roadside alcove. It was certainly worth a quick stop. 

We then circumnavigated nearly the entirety of Grand Gulch's canyon network to drive down the spine of Cedar Mesa, then turn off onto Cigarette Springs Road for 7 miles to a Road Canyon trailhead. The road had a few wet spots, ruts, and slickrock crawl sections, but thankfully less intimidating than the Clay Hills Road and easy enough to tackle by headlights. We selected a nice level spot to park and set up our rooftop tent. When it was time we cranked the heated blanket to the max and enjoyed the coziness.

Temecula Gorge Nov 17

 

An unusual mid-November atmospheric river (which ended up setting rainfall records for the day throughout southern California) prompted me to set up a group text with SoCal boaters almost a week in advance to watch for the possibility of the Santa Margarita River coming into boatable range. The loose firehose nature of the storm meant that the forecast was constantly shifting and highly unpredictable but seemed to be converging on boatable flows on Sunday. Gavin attempted to rally folks for a Saturday run but ended up showing up to the put-in solo to find a too low river. Tim and I made arrangements for a 4:20 am check-in of the gauge (higher than we thought and rising!) and so activated for a 7am meeting.  On the drive I realized just how little boating I had done for the year- a measly 12.5 miles of Class II+ on the Hoh River (after 200 miles in 2024 and 500 miles in 2023!)- and was starting to feel ill-equipped to handle this run at the 660 cfs flow the gauge read. Heather kindly offered to handle the shuttle, which meant we got started earlier, meeting straight at the put-in. Tim was nearly ready to go when we arrived and I instantly felt flustered. Adding to the fluster it was cold and drizzly, my packraft seat had a leak that needed to be repaired, I forgot my GoPro mount, and the rubber gaskets on my drysuit were sticky from disuse (also regrettably I should have had a spare breakdown paddle). I said goodbye to Heather and gave her what ended up being a highly inaccurate estimated arrival. Against this backdrop I carried the boat down through the willows to the flooded river's edge (which seemed way too high for 660 cfs!) and strapped in with limited confidence. 

The initial half-mile on Murrieta Creek was as always a welcome warm-up but at the end of this stretch Temecula Creek was pushing in more water than I had ever seen, easily several hundred cfs not being recorded by the gauge. This was going to be a pushy and potentially rough ride. At the confluence we turned the corner and entered Temecula Gorge, the non-stop action beginning immediately.  

I remembered some of the rapid sequences but there was woefully little time to react between obstacles, read-and-running through vegetation and blind exits to rapids. I stopped to scout a couple things, having to inflate my seat each time. I managed to flip and self-rescue a couple times, more confidence draining. We scouted the against-the-wall rapid above the first side creek falls, both deciding to take a sneak route. We also scouted the rapid at the corner past the road crossing, this one having a nice steep chute that launched us past the main hydraulic maw. 

As we approached the prominent double-bend in the canyon, I began anticipating some of the longest and most continuous rapids. Coming onto the first bend was some of the worst vegetation choking we had seen. I could not see a way through and so nearly got ready to eddy out when Tim, ahead of me, decided to plod forward so I followed. By the time I saw Tim (in his low-nosed kayak) barely slide under some branches just above water level with a sweep of his paddle and barely make it through I knew it was too late for me in my packraft. I was committed and gave it my best shot but unsurprisingly got slapped by the wall of vegetation and flipped. This was the top of a frustratingly long and bouldery rapid. For perhaps 200ft I battled to stay above the water, avoid dangerous vegetation, and do my best to hold onto my boat and paddle. My knees slammed into a large submerged boulder prompting me to drop my boat, then at the worst point in the rapid another abrupt bang caused me to let go of my paddle, likely jamming it deep in a hole between two large boulders. I eventually exited but my paddle never did. After 10 minutes of looking for it to appear and walking back up the side of the rapid to see if it was visible, I was hosed, up a fierce creek in a steep-walled gorge without a paddle. I did not have the forethought to added a spare paddle but I did stash a backpack at least. 

After some discussion, Tim would carry on alone and I folded up my boat to hike out, the second time in a row the Santa Margarita spanked me with this. I was a full mile upstream of the last place I hiked out, where an additional 2 miles took 2.2 hours and included poison oak and reinflating my boat to cross the river that would be difficult to try without a paddle. If I could make it upstream back to the road crossing that would only be a half-mile followed by a simple road walk so that seemed to be the best option to try. I set a meeting location with Tim and said goodbye as I started hiking upstream. Tim was instantly out of sight and I was alone to feel shitty about my mistakes and abilities. I made it only 500ft to where I was cliffed out against the river with no option but to climb. I clung to the vegetation as the soft saturated soil frequently gave way underneath my feet. As I climbed I got nice views of the river, but also realized that there was going to be no easy way to return back to the river, and so my only option was to continue climbing. I had a pretty open sage ridge to hike along initially but the more I climbed the more I was wading and jungle-gyming through dense chapparal, sweating up a storm in my drysuit. Brutally I climbed to where I could see a radio tower on a ridge, hoping for a forgiving trail. There was no such luck, just occasional clearings and an oddly placed pole in the middle of nowhere with an Emergency Push button. It was more than slightly tempting to push.

Eventually I gained the high point, 700 feet above the river, and could see a cut-trail across a thick chapparal valley. I had cell reception here and could confirm that if I got to that trail the remaining travel would be smooth. I crashed my way down the hill, my drysuit nearly as much black and brown as yellow by the end of it. 

Once I hit the trail it was better and I breathed some relief, although mostly I just felt deeply deeply discouraged. It took my 2 hours to go 1.7 miles from the river. I met Tim and Heather and the road and stripped out of my suit. I drove back with Heather, tail between my legs and a general feeling of defeat that has persisted for a week if not a month or more. It is hard to shake the feelings of decay- all my gear falling apart (or lost) at once and the decay of my abilities and confidence. The only consolation is that I did enjoy seeing the river from a unique vantage few get to see and the intact native vegetation. This is now two times in a row I have had bad Santa Margarita experiences after many good ones, including solo. I'm still not sure if I am done with this river or am willing to try to break the curse. Thanks to Heather.

Bear Creek Oasis Nov 8

The major grand reopening and ribboncutting ceremony for Lake Cahuilla Veterans Regional Park in the Coachella Valley was yet another opportunity to visit a new-to-me park in my role as county park commissioner. A full day was planned with a fishing derby, swimming lagoon, bounce houses, food trucks, tabling, and even a sunset drone show, but I was only planning to attend the ribboncutting ceremony at 11am. Per my apparent tradition, I sought out an opportunity for a hike or trail run before the event. Though I probably could have been productive with some Martinez Mountain Landslide fieldwork, given the time constraints I decided to check out the trail to Bear Creek Oasis originating in the "cove" behind La Quinta. As I arrived I was impressed at the number of people of all ages out hiking, dog walking, running, and biking before the heat of the day. Really active good vibes with some very nicely maintained trailheads to boot. I packed light with one liter of water and a fanny pack, and set off across the sandy alluvium at about 7:15a, already feeling a little heat brewing. Within minutes I passed the Cove Oasis, a nice collection of palms, palos verde, and shade structures and continued on past the flood control berm into the active wash. The trail hugged the east wall of the wash which provided welcome shade for a half mile before the trail crossed and began to climb the foliated metaplutonic slopes of the detachment fault turtleback. 

As the trail steeply switchbacked I got ever better views over the broad Coachella Valley and eventually the Salton Sea to the southeast. This would be rugged country were it not for the trail. I enjoyed the good variety of desert plants and the contrast between the hangingwall and footwall rock types and terrain. I only passed one solo hiker heading down as I headed up. As I neared 2000ft vertical I was a little careless and managed to kick some loose cholla chunks, forming the only real break as I carefully pried the barbed needles out of my shoes with a small rock. 

Rounding a corner I finally got a view of Bear Creek Oasis and within a few minutes was inside its shade. No surface water and plenty of loose palm fronds coating the ground, it was still a pleasant spot with patches of deep shade. There were probably about 40 palms and with no other people it was a pleasantly isolated spot. I spent a few minutes exploring different photo vantages throughout the oasis as well as up on the slopes above, before readying myself for the journey back down. I had a 17 minute hiking pace on the way up. Given my time constraints I would have to average better on the way back down. 

Despite the heat I was feeling surprisingly rejuvenated and sure-footed running the whole way back down the trail. I was surprised to pass several groups heading up and was glad to be heading downhill as the furnace was nearly pre-heated. Downhill provided me with even more views across the vast tectonic basin.

In all I made it back to the car in about 2.5 hours going 9.2 miles with 2300ft gain. I gave myself just enough time to drive 20 minutes around the hill to Lake Cahuilla, park, change into my park garb, and then participate in the ribboncutting ceremony. It was a nice well organized event with community leaders and veterans. I particularly enjoyed that from the ceremony pavilion I could see across the manmade Lake Cahuilla some of the old shorelines from the true ancestral Lake Cahuilla, which we all would have been just beneath the surface of. Going for the extra credit options I ended with a trunk full of rocks from Whitewater and then a banana date shake from Hadley's. All in all a solid day. 

EF San Gabriel River Oct 5

Looking to spend some time outside without too much driving, we opted to go for a hike up the East Fork of the San Gabriel River to the Bridge to Nowhere. Heather had not been and I was mostly curious to see what the river looked like after the intense scorching from the Bridge Fire and the summer thunderstorms that blasted the burn scar. Despite the government shutdown the trailhead was already filled to the brim by 9am and we parked a little ways down on the side of the road. We made good time hiking up the trail, passing untold numbers of hikers. It seemed like all of Los Angeles was out for a hike and relatedly there was all sorts of crazy people watching for a hiking trail. Giant hoop earrings, designer clothes, purse dogs walking, flip flops and hikers with nothing but a Monster drink in their hands were only the tip of the iceberg and comparing notes afterwards it was clear Heather saw a lot more nonsense than I managed to pay attention to. I was surprised at how low the river was; essentially we could skirt along the shore at many places where we would otherwise have to cross and recross or bypass on a cliff face.

The fire damage was indeed extensive with desolate hillsides giving much more of a desert feel to the canyon than I was accustomed to. Everywhere there was fresh signs of alluviation, half buried trees, and charred hearts of yuccas, many of which managed to cling to life. The greatest changes were at Laurel Gulch where a fresh debris flow fan pushed the river hard to the wall into a particularly narrow log-filled channel, and a short distance further at Allison Gulch where the fan extended 700 ft downcanyon and actually dammed the river. A steep, bouldery 7ft waterfall drop led to a 500ft long temporary lake upstream. Sections of the river remained fairly unchanged (and still runnable at high flows) but the magical conditions I had on my last packraft trip here (5 miles of continuous read-and-run obstacle-free nirvana flows) were gone, perhaps forever.

Allison Gulch's new fan (above) and new boulder rapid (below)

The trail was thin in a couple places with foot-width paths traversing active scree. The old sections of roads were really starting to deteriorate with new stubby toed debris flows covering them at intervals. We arrived at the Bridge to Nowhere a little before noon, the first time I had seen the bungy set-up active with a couple people working and people intermittently stepping up to bungee. I stopped to ask permission to walk down the gorge beneath the bridge to scout changes in the river. This should have been an easy formality but instead I got a lecture from the owner about how it is equivalent to walking under a rollercoaster and how he appreciated me asking so he did not need to arrest me, making a point to show me his handcuffs on his belt. So the answer was a flat no and I came away from the experience with an intense mixture of feelings about people, ownership, lack of curiosity, and "American Wilderness".

We crossed the bridge and ate lunch in the shade down by a nice pool and waterfall with a view downstream from the bridge. I tried to shake off the conversation and enjoy the spot but I struggled and failed. I watched a few people bungee jump feet first. The bridge height is 120ft but the bungee freefall looked to be about 30ft. It looked pathetic and that helped a bit. 

After lunch we recrossed the bridge to head back and the bungee helper stopped us. We had a much more sensible conversation, which I appreciated right up until the end when he tried to convince us to bungee. Fuck no was I giving his boss any of my money I thought while politely declining. The walk back was uneventful other than some more ridiculous people watching and getting behind people that have no sense for trail courtesy. We found a nice deep pool to go for a dip in a little north of Allison Gulch; Heather bravely went all the way into the cold water while I only managed thighs. I finished the hike with the dejection that I sometimes feel after returning to a place and it not being as good as the first time, except now I felt that for what is essentially my only local reliable packraft run. I could now add to the trash and graffiti a self-righteous landowner and a deeply burned landscape that will probably not recover in my lifetime. I'm old, cranky, and a month later when I write this I still live in a country with a shutdown government.