When a neighbor suggested an interest in climbing Picacho Peak in southeastern California it sparked thoughts of how to make it into a weekend with camping, hikes, and potentially a packraft float down the lazy brush-walled Colorado River there. I threw out a wild card suggestion of perhaps going to Black Canyon for an overnight river trip. After sifting through options, an overnight in Black Canyon in which we backpacked down Gold Strike Canyon and had a company shuttle our vehicle to the Willow Beach takeout won out. I was excited to get out of town with Heather for the last opportunity in a while and to introduce Paul and Vanessa to packrafting. Only later did I realize my last trip to Black Canyon was in 2017, the better part of a decade ago. We had a 5am departure from Riverside that gave us surprisingly good time of arriving to Gold Strike around 8:30am. The trailhead lot was already filled to capacity so we had to park further down the spur road. By 9am we were packed and set off down the steady grade of the gravel floored canyon. My hopes were not the highest with the sheer number of vehicles and sure enough the canyon had more graffiti, trash, and trashy people (Bluetooth speakers blaring) than ever before. Powerlines and freeway bridges overhead, eventually we got to the deeper and wilder portion of the canyon. We all were impressed at how green things were.
We worked our way down the many boulder scrambles and dryfall downclimbs, passing packs a few times. I was surprised to see that the uppermost springs and one of my favorite middle springs with a cave alcove were completely dry and filled in with sediment. The upper spring was much as I remembered it with a shallow source pool and a deeper soaking pool hidden behind boulders that most people probably walk past. From here on we enjoyed the ribbon of hot water and greenery it brought with it. The main middle pool was looking a little shallow and had a group of teenagers in it so we carried on. The weeping overhanging wall of springs just beyond was as good as I remembered it, an amazing hanging garden of hot water trickles, maidenhair ferns, and biothem cave formations. The lower springs below were much more different than I had seen previous and were currently the clear standout for soaking and scenery. A large sandbag dammed pool led into two sub-pools at its back, one a pleasant depth pool with a perfect (hot!) soaking temperature and the other a smaller but more photogenic pool at the base of a cascading waterfall. This was too good to pass up and we all enjoyed a good soak having the pools more or less to ourselves.
After our soak we shouldered our packs for the last 300ft to the Colorado River. The river was clearly on the low side compared to most other times I had seen it. The meager beach here was bustling with activity with many people swimming in the cold river (maybe brain eating amoebas successfully discouraged people from soaking in the hot springs?). In front of the crowd we unpacked all our gear for the transition to packrafts. To get us all down the river we had to rely on Heather and my Gnarwhals to stow all the gear, the maiden voyage of my barebones Scout, and my downright silly 1.5lb pool toy Supai. I drew the short straw to start but Paul helped a lot by trading off with me.
We started off by paddling upriver 1200ft to briefly check out Sauna Cave, a hundred foot-long mine shaft related to dam construction tests of rock strength. It has a concrete dam at the mouth making for a pleasant warm water wade into it. As soon as we took two steps into the passage we were blasted by the sauna-like hot humid air and felt like we were instantly transported to summer in the tropics. No pictures due to the instant camera fogging, but we worked our way to the back where a hundred years of calcite growth made for some nice white curtains and flowstone formations. Back at the mouth, we portaged our boats over the only gravel bar of the whole trip and paddled upstream against the current about 2000ft to catch a partial glimpse of Hoover Dam.
Now floating and paddling with the current, we stopped at nearly every side canyon the next two miles. First was a brief stop in Secret Canyon, nearly opposite the mouth of Gold Strike. On only one trip I found a perfect hot pool hidden in the shadows here. This time that spot was filled in and all I found was a small knee-deep pool of scalding water, too hot to soak.
Next I was excited to stop at the base of the Lone Palm waterfall to try to find the route up to its pool at the top. Sure enough there was a footprinted trail exactly where I expected that led us into a mini-palm oasis. A short awkward climb allowed us to gain the rocky slope and to find trails that worked their way into the canyon. Right at the top of the waterfall we found the wonderful infinity-style pool of Lone Palm Hot Spring comfortably in the shadows with a framed view of the blue-green waters of the Colorado. The pool was a little on the cool side but tops for scenery and I was glad to finally visit this one I had paddled past several times before. We enjoyed a nice soak (and I frantically took pictures) before heading back. It is a unique spot with its mini palm grove looking out over blue-green waters.
I pulled in briefly to climb up a side canyon looking for Lost Man Hot Spring. I found only a trickle and so returned to paddle across the current to the mouth of Boy Scout Canyon. Here we tied off our boats to a bolt for a longer hike up this classic canyon. This one had a pleasant little hot stream to walk up the whole way, with some nice sweeping bends in the canyon and corridors of towering canyon walls. Soon we got to the narrows where there were a series of ropes to assist in climbing up the hot waterfalls- always a novelty. The main slot canyon hallway with three cascading wall-to-wall pools looked much as I had remembered it except instead of being the perfect soaking temperature it was scalding hot, barely alright to walk through and no place to linger. At the next trickier rope climb after this, Paul and I continued for a quick jaunt up five more rope climbs to the base of the enormous amphitheater with its 340 foot-tall dryfall. After testing the acoustics, we retreated back down the scenic canyon and joined the other two soaking in a pool.
Returning to our boats we found that the waters had risen at least a foot. Unfortunately we were running out of daylight and so passed on the opportunity to hike up to the Devil's Canyon Hot Spring which usually has a great pool at the base of a waterfall. Instead we paddled straight on to the beach for Arizona Hot Springs to see what mayhem our camping situation might be. We passed some haphazard campsites along the river including a tent city with some tents below the high water mark and others tilted at bizarre angles, which had us worried about the prospects. We managed to find two tucked away spots to camp a hundred feet up the beach which served us well. There were several other large groups that must have totaled at least a hundred people around, almost all clearly backpackers that had hiked down from the road for an overnight. We quickly set up tents to claim or spots and then opted to check out the hot springs with the last light of day before dinner. We followed a group of about a dozen people up the watery narrows. The rusty old primitive ladder had been replaced by a modern steel one with a much more generous slant that was much easier to climb than the old one. Once up we dipped into the first of the three pools dammed in the twisty section of slot canyon. It was crowded and a bit noisy but the soaking temperatures were perfect. It remains a pretty special place unlike many other hot springs in the world. Looking up I could see bats swirling around in the narrow confines of the canyon.
Back at our camp I retrieved the four pack of canned margaritas from the river to pass out alongside our dinner. The temperature was pleasant enough I could lay shirtless on the ground resting on a lifejacket. I put in earplugs and slept well enough in my 40F bag, but it was obvious the groups of teenage backpackers were loud and poorly behaved until the very early morning. We hiked 2.8 miles in Gold Strike, 1.6 miles in Boy Scout, and paddled about 4.3 miles.
In the morning Heather and I rallied for a quick morning soak in the hot springs, walking through camps that looked like disaster zones on the way. We resisted the urge to steal all their shoes and collapse their tents. Thankfully the early morning soakers were quiet and respectful and the waters were nice and clear. After a half hour or so noisy dayhikers began appearing from upcanyon which we took as our cue to return to camp. We packed up at pushed off the beach around 8:30am, knowing we would have a long slog of 8 miles of flatwater paddling ahead of us. I enjoyed the calm and cool shadows of the canyon until we reached Bighorn Canyon, after which we had sun the rest of the day. I missed it but the others saw a group of four or so bighorn sheep. Paul and I traded off in the Supai, calculating that it took about twice as many paddle strokes as the other packrafts for the same amount of progress. It was discouraging progress but at least it was not scolding hot out and the scenery was great.
We stopped for a quick snack and leg stretch at the river right beach 0.7 miles above Crane's Wash where there were over a dozen large ?carp hanging out in the warm shallows. Our peace was broken when we reached Emerald Cave where at least 50 tourist kayakers were waiting their turn to go into the modest alcove one by one with no deference given to us by the tour guides. We were not going to wait for that nonsense but Paul and I did pull ashore for a quick jaunt up to the old catwalk cantilevered over the cliff. Good views at least, better than the same old rock-framed photo of green waters underneath us. On the way back Heather spotted a chunky chuckwalla which I briefly pursued for some photos.
From here it was just the final two mile slog to Willow Beach, passing a whole armada of kayak tours like I hadn't seen before. I spent a good long while searching for my car considering it could be anywhere in one of five parking lots. I was about to admit defeat and return to the others on the beach when I spotted it out of the way in a parking lot all by itself. We made good time packing up, largely throwing stuff in the car as the stinky dumpsters nearby encouraged rapidity.
Across the bridge back into Nevada and then more driving to reach California. Initial drive estimates had us reaching Riverside at 5pm but these shifted brutally with Cajon Pass accidents to the point that we actually went up and over the San Bernardino Mountains through Crestline to side step it. The marathon drive instead had us back into Riverside at 6:30pm. All in all it was a great trip with healthy doses of relaxation, exercise, and scenery. It was certainly marred somewhat by careless overuse and a noticeable degradation since my last visit, but Black Canyon remains a special place. Thanks to Heather, Paul, and Vanessa.
