After the tame float of Ruby-Horsethief Keith and I were both ready for a little splashy Class III excitement. Daniel and Calev were equally jazzed. Unfortunately Keith awoke feeling sickly and so our day got off to a slow start. Despite this we still managed to take off at 9a. We heard rumors that sun didn't make it into the canyon this time of year so I dressed extra warm under my drysuit. Thankfully I managed to dress just right for comfort although we had plenty of sun. The first three miles of open canyon brought us to a surprising stretch of Vishnu Schist on river left, then a towering cliff of sandstone on river right. We abruptly crossed a fault and found ourselves in a deepening black rock canyon with towering red walls above. For flatwater the river was moving comfortably which was helping with time. A bald eagle flew low overheard. Everyone was stoked, especially Calev who could barely contain himself.
At the faulted entrance to Westwater Canyon
A few riffles led to a nice stretch of rapids after. We found these all the be read-and-run and to have fun wave trains to bounce over. We pulled into the awkward scouting spot for Skull Rapid just in time to see another group's kayaker blast through. There was a monstrous hole at the bottom of the rapid but very forgiving room to move from the center to the left throughout the rapid. I thought it was actually one of the easier rapids though the highest on consequence.
Skull Rapid
The 200ft deep rock rock gorge within the 400ft deep canyon had a few more rapids but began to lose its height. After Last Chance Rapid the river reverted to flatwater, the slowest on either of the two runs we did. We passed a large rincon on river left and passed through a prominent dogleg gateway in the black rock. The basement then disappeared, lining the river with sandstone once again. The sandstone then disappeared into the river over a distance of about a mile and a half.
We made good time to the Cisco boat landing and packed up in good time. It would have been a great trip at this point but we had the unfortunate complication that Heather's car broke down and she was on her way to meet us with a rental. We spent a while figuring out logistics over burgers at Ray's Tavern in Green River. Keith and I would drive on to arrive back in Riverside at 1:30am while Heather and David would stick around Moab to figure out the car. Thanks again to Keith for sorting out river logistics. It was nice to check out a new 42 mile stretch of the Colorado River.
Lots of driving but I managed to sneak in two new-to-me Colorado River runs in a long weekend. Unusual for this time of year the Colorado here was still flowing at a healthy 4700 cfs. First up was the 25 mile Class I-II Ruby-Horsethief run (which probably should be called the Horsethief-Ruby run since Horsethief Canyon comes first). We drove for broke Thursday, arriving to a dusty roadside camping spot near the UT-CO border at about 2am. Chilly!
We slept as long as we could then drove to the boat launch. We readied ourselves relatively efficiently, the sun a welcome heat source for an otherwise brisk morning. At about 10am we set off, almost immediately having a bald eagle fly low overhead which we took for a good omen. Though even the riffles were very minor the River was consistently moving to our satisfaction such that we easily made the first 3 miles to Rattlesnake Canyon in less than an hour. Being one of the few sidehike options we beaches for a short walk. Keith and I walked about 1.5 miles up to where several forks of the canyon joined while Heather and David lagged behind.
In Rattlesnake Canyon
We continued on, the canyon walls gradually growing skyward. I spotted a group of 18 bighorn sheep and pulled into the eddy in front of them to watch them for 5 minutes before paddling back into the current. Before too much longer riverside railroad tracks joined our run which would stay with us until the end of the run. At a location called Faultline we stopped for lunch on a cobble bar between two impressive outcrops of a ~100m monocline. Paddling on we continued to make good time.
Our camp spot was 15 miles in at a place called Black Rock supposedly because the Vishnu schist is exposed at the river which I found hard to believe. Sure enough another monocline appeared just before camp with just enough buckling to barely expose the basement here. The River cuts through the Mesozoic sandstone and shale stratigraphy of the Morrison, Entrada, Kayenta, Wingate, and Chinle to hit its 2 billion year old basement black Vishnu Schist. The Great Unconformity in the Grand Canyon is actually greater here with closer to 1.5 billion years of time missing.
We pulled into our assigned camp Black Rock 5 with a comfortable amount of daylight left. After unloading my packraft and pitching my tent, Keith and I went for a short hike to try to scramble up the the canyon rim. We picked up a good trail used by people and bighorn sheep alike which got us to the rim in about 20 minutes. We continued along to the prow at the corner of Moore Canyon for a commanding view before heading back down to camp. We ran into the same group of sheep on the way up and down which held us with only mild interest. After an early dinner we all turned in to bed in short order, tired and too cold to have a reason to stay awake.
Looking down from the Moore Canyon prow
Thankfully I slept warmer than the previous night. We had a somewhat leisurely morning, only needing to paddle 10 miles before 2pm on a river that generously kept moving. Within about a mile the river left its window into its black basement and cut back through the sedimentary layers.
Shortly we arrived at McDonald Creek where I had a pictograph side hike marked so we got out of the boats and hiked across slickrock benches to a prominent alcove. The pictographs were about the least impressive I’ve ever seen- a faded red and a faded white figurine next to each other- but the alcove and sandstone detail was quite nice.
Back on the river the canyon began to widen and the walls abated. A few more long sweeping bends and we were at the Westwater put-in/Ruby takeout. Keith hitched a ride to close the first of three shuttle runs. Daniel and Caleb eventually showed up to help complete the other two. I made a long lived fire at our riverside camp. Ruby-Horsethief has some nice scenic moments (especially the geological ones) and it was one of the most steadily moving Class I-II runs I’ve been on which was overall relaxing. Kudos to Keith for arranging the permits.
One of my main motivations for getting into paragliding was to have another way to explore and recreate in my backyard, the Box Springs Mountain Park. I have accumulated 50 flights and so am starting to feel comfortable branching out to where I can evaluate flying sites on my own. I have a great big open field in front of my house that is flat and mowed clear of weeds that makes an excellent and highly convenient landing site for me. The challenge I knew would be finding a good launch site. I needed a large enough space that could be cleared of weeds, not too steep or rocky, and facing the correct way so that I could launch into the wind. I had been scouting all around the hills while out on trail runs over the last several months. I’ve spotted many potential launches but almost all of them had poorly placed boulders in the runout area which I’d be concerned to run into. Also most of these launches were well off trails which meant extra annoyance of wading through sock destroying foxtails. I had a rare weekend day at home with few tasks at hand and so went for a morning run to Table peak. I spotted several potentially good launches along the way but then near the top it appeared, the best launch I had seen yet. It faced the right way, was sizable, would give me 1200’ descent, and seemed to have a good flight path down to the field. As a bonus it had easy trail access. A concern was the abrupt cliff it ended at! I’d need to be committed by the time I got to the edge. Excited, I went about my day with plans to hike up with a rake and gear in the afternoon with the hope that I could clear the launch and the winds would be favorable.
I hiked up to my launch in about 40 minutes. Windy! I killed time taking a nice clearing while I hoped the wind calmed as sunset approached. I raked for a solid hour by which point I thought the wind calmed enough that it was worth attempting a launch. I unfurled and strapped in. I puffed up the wing to create an even wall and then fought the wind a little to keep the wing on the ground. Everything ready, I gave it a slight tug, it leaped overhead, inflated mostly evenly, I turned as the last wing tip cleared, took no more than three steps and was propelled skyward in an abrupt updraft. A smooth launch. Instant joy! After the boost off launch the air was silky smooth. I beelined for the Two Trees trail to make sure I had enough clearance to get to the LZ but ended up maintaining height better than I thought. I followed the trail down it’s ridge to the pointy hill at the end and then switch backed adjacent to the field. On final approach I got a little nervous at my height relative to the low fence separating the two fields and so opted to turn to land in the further field. I had a smooth landing with all smiles. A short walk brought me to my driveway where I could fold my gear back up. It was only about an 8 min flight but was probably the most satisfying flight of the 50 I have logged. And I could certainly see the potential for a longer flight in conditions with more thermals. I’m really hoping to get a local flight in per week. It’s really helped me have a positive outlook knowing I have this in my backyard now.
Just a quick trip to the Kern with Keith. We met up with a Ben, Matt, and Geno to run Miracle to Democrat (12 miles) on the Lower Kern at 850 cfs. Thanks to releases from Lake Isabella there is boating in October! I had run this once before with Keith when we added on the extra Jungle Run. I think flow was a little higher last time. I enjoyed the quick stops at the several riverside hot springs, the few fun rapids, and the water turtles I saw. A bonus was not flipping, even with my surfing attempts. I was tempted to run the Class V Royal Flush but no one else was interested and Geno successfully talked me out of it. The wind picked up at the flatwater at the end, which was a little grueling and got me hungry for dinner. Thanks to Keith for driving. It was good to get out of town for fun after all the work traveling I'd been doing.
In Phoenix for a conference, I was keen to tag on a day or two to do something fun. I had a busy few weeks with very little time off. Insomnia Canyon was top of my list being something new but the latest canyon report I could find was from July and mentioned severe log jams and damage to the bolts for the 320ft rappel- not particularly appealing. Fossil Creek seemed like an easy option I thought Jimmy would also enjoy and I was interested in seeing the upper 5 miles of the blue waters and its spring source. I had previously packrafted from the halfway waterfall to the bridge at the bottom; the verdict was it was extremely pretty but mostly scratchy unglamorous packrafting. Thunderstorms descended on Phoenix the day before and seemed to follow us as we drove to the Fossil Creek turnoff. It was a beautiful drive with dramatic clouds, bursts of rain, bolts of lightning, double rainbows, and golden setting sunlight illuminating cloudbottoms. I dropped off my car in a neighborhood nearby and [in hindsight regrettably absentmindedly] packed in sloppy haste my gear into Jimmy's car. I felt a little unease, like I was forgetting something.
A few minutes later we were at the dirt turnoff to Fossil Creek. Gated! One of the signs beyond mentioned the road closed in poor weather and we figured this must be the case. We looked around a bit. The road was a little tacky but seemed ok just here. We were about to leave in defeat, at least for the night, but then saw a faint headlight down the road working its way towards us. We decided we might as well wait 5 minutes and see if they had the gate key or further insight. It was some young kids in a muddy Jeep, equally surprised as us to be on the wrong side of a locked gate. They thought the road seemed ok for an all-wheel drive vehicle. After a brief chat I noticed a side gate that wasn't locked and was able to let them out, but not before I managed to awkwardly slip between the bars of a cattle guard. Embarrassing. We drove down the washboarded road, initially quite solid but then gradually turning to slide-y peanut butter. Tire treads filled, we boated our way down the road. I could tell Jimmy was gripped with adrenaline and concentration trying to apply the right acceleration and steering to keep us on the road. I felt bad- here I thought I had planned a relaxation camping trip. The drive went on for literal hours with some harrowing moments.
Eventually we made it to Childs, nerves a little raw but relieved. It was quiet. Flashes of lightning still illuminated the southern horizon. It was also late and we were both exhausted but I rallied Jimmy to see if we could hike the mile to camp at Verde Hot Springs. As we hiked the completely opaque and slow moving Verde River was hard to gauge its flood stage. I knew we would have no idea whether it was flooded or crossable until we reached the hot springs. Happily it was crossable with care (low thighs) and we had the hot springs to ourselves! We had a couple relaxing beers in the main pool room, enjoying the intricately collaged walls, the comfortable air temperature, and the last bits of lightning. Particularly cool was the glow-in-the-dark paint which illuminated key drawings and writings. My last visit was only in daylight so it was neat to have this little discovery, pass my headlamp along the walls, and see what messages were revealed. We stayed up longer than I thought we would (past midnight) then unrolled mats and sleeping bags right in front on the concrete deck. I slept exceptionally well.
The morning found me with familiar sights but new to Jimmy. We took our time with another morning soak (giving time for the sun to dry the road a bit seemed intelligent) before packing up, crossing the river, and hiking back to the car.
The road was much much improved and we drove with confidence (plus daylight!) to the roadend parking lot. Amazingly we had this special place to ourselves. We followed the waterfall trail the one mile along Fossil Creek to the 20ft waterfall where I started my packraft on my last visit. This time we hiked onward along an initially good trail that faded after about a half mile. We took our time crossing a deep portion of the creek with packs over our heads and then off-trailed up the ridge to gain the Flume Trail. Happily the vegetation was quite open and the route a good choice. We both marveled at the abrupt transition from a lush Hawaiian style jungle to southwest desert.
I was thankful that the passing storm meant perfect hiking temperatures. The Flume Trail contoured high (and dry) above the creek, occasionally giving us glimpses of emerald green swimming holes below. I also passed time admiring the enormous landslides and as we made it further, the largest travertine deposit I have ever seen above the creek's source- it was nearly a square kilometer in area and had 300 ft high cliffs.
We made good time getting to the old dam site, had a snack, and explored. I quickly found out the pool at the base of the falls was unfortunately too shallow for a full jump but the crystal clarity and abundant fish made up for it. I found a short cave at the back right of the falls that had green light filtering up through the water. The most unique feature of the falls is that about a third of the flow diverts to a breached pothole room, the "punchbowl." I took several attempts to progressively get through from the pool, probing through the bubbles a little further each time before fully committing. It was a neat little dive-through.
I had spotted a particularly deep pool with a dark overhang just below so that was next up. I jumped, swam to the edge of a small fall, and could see the deep pool and overhang looked promising. Jimmy joined and we swam in together. Inside was a stunning travertine cave with golden walls and emerald waters (frontispiece). It was really quite spectacular and a great surprise, the scenic standout of Fossil Creek for me. The mouth of the cave had a fantastically textured 15ft overhang with an equally deep pool beneath. We took turns torturing our fingertips with some deep water soloing. We both managed to top out and then jump back in. Very satisfying!
We gathered our stuff and hiked on the short distance to check out the spring source. It was apparently a number of springs, only a few obviously bubbling up from the streambed. Not overly picturesque or dramatic but interesting nonetheless. We walked the Flume Trail the full 4.5 mi back to the start, detouring just before the parking lot to the nice double falls pool for some more cliff jumping. We escaped the road without incident despite a strange interaction with a local.
And that is where I wished the story ended and I could call it a successful day. My car keys were nowhere to be found. Not at the car, not at the cattle guard, not in Jimmy's car or in any of my stuff. Unfortunately this derailed Jimmy's plans slightly so I bought him dinner and then we camped at the Clear Creek Campground. Fortunately another rainfree night. We drove into a coffee shop in the morning and it took until about 9:30a until I was able to hatch a plan. A locksmith seemed convinced he could get me on the road but wouldn't be free until 3p. Oh well. Jimmy dropped me off at my car and drove on for some epic good Sedona mountain biking. I spent hours at the side of a pond near my car, waiting. I was thankful for the grass and shade and cool weather but it certainly wasn't Walden Pond or the most inviting neighborhood. More complications with the locksmith but a nice and capable enough guy, he was eventually able to get me back on the road by 4p. I drove on home, destined for a midnight arrival into southern California, but the sunset clouds almost made it alright. So I managed to kill another day. Thanks to Jimmy for a great little add-on trip.
My family used to take a vacation yearly to stay in cabins at Silver City and go hiking in Mineral King valley. This would be the first family vacation in about five years where everyone was able to attend. Water in the rivers was too low to kayak unfortunately but at a sporting level for canyoning. My brother and I were both interested in doing something other than the same old hiking trails and so I easily talked him into going down the Lower East Fork of the Kaweah River. I had done this stretch once before a couple years earlier in low flow and so thought it would be a fun and straightforward adventure. As a bonus our mother volunteered to shuttle us, taking care of the biggest logistical concern. We hiked to the river in less than 15 minutes, dodging cowpies and poison oak, and suited up on the polished granite slabs. Despite wetsuits the initial shock of the water temperature caught us off guard but within minutes we had acclimatized and found the temperature perfect.
We swam and ambled along the shore until the river took its bend to the left where it plunged into the gorge. We found several places where we had to avoid hydraulics and choose our routes with care. Fortunately I remembered all the best locations to jump and slide and so we had a great time, taking multiple laps on the best features where possible. It was really nice to see my brother enjoying himself. At one point just before the big waterfall bypass my brother spotted a very healthy looking rattlesnake. In the pool below the waterfall he apparently spotted the biggest trout he had ever seen. I missed it.
We continued on. The slides were in good shape with the high water and were much more fun than I remember them being the last time. There were however two that I wished I passed on. One pinch snagged my leg and another rapid pushed my into an overhanging rock. I was thoroughly bruised and limping after the second mishap.
We took our time lapping the best slides but the high water also meant we had to choose our routes around some of the boulder gardens very carefully. It took us about 4 hours to reach Three Rivers where mom was waiting at the bridge for us. It was a hot midsummer's day and we were both glad to spend over two hours of it in the water. Thanks to mom and Michael.
In 2015 Yosemite National Park enacted the remarkably proactive policy of allowing kayakers on the upper Merced River, specifically the stretch of river in the hanging valleys above Vernal Falls and Nevada Falls. From Merced Lake there is a 7 mile stretch of mostly runnable Class IV-V whitewater. A couple weeks earlier I was invited to join a group of three packrafters on a 3 day trip to hike into the Merced from Tuolumne Meadows. Unfortunately for them the gauge they were using to judge flows was way out of calibration and so they were presented with a committing raging torrent and thus had to portage about 90% of the whitewater. In particular they had to completely portage Echo Gorge. Lucky for me Jeff was keen to have another try and flows had dropped into what he deemed ideal flow to take on the run and he had done it recently enough that he remembered every needed detail to minimize our scouting. I was dying for some excitement and this run promised to deliver so I had a marathon solo drive to Yosemite Valley. Thankfully Jeff was able to secure an overnight wilderness permit and a spot at the backcountry walk-in campsite in the valley. I showed up at 9p, was asleep by 9:30p, and we were up and at it at 6a. We hiked with overnight and boat gear up the Mist Trail, passing countless tourists despite our somewhat weighty packs. There would be one piece of gear I wished I brought: water shoes with grippy rubber instead of only my gripless running shoes. I had all my gear stowed in my pack but Jeff's one piece paddle in his hand was the subject of many quizzical looks and comments from tourists. The sight of Vernal Falls, Nevada Falls and the granite dome of Liberty Cap were as awespiring as I remembered. Once we continued hiking past the top of Nevada Falls it was all new scenery for me. We soon arrived at our campground in Little Yosemite Valley where we happily deposited all our food and overnight gear- the campground fortunately was right at the take out of our run. We continued hiking across the hot, fire ravaged Little Yosemite Valley.
The upper Merced run consists of Class IV-V granite bedrock gorges interspersed with easier/briefier/mankier flat sections. The trail kept most of the run in sight allowing us to scout as we hiked (the advantage of hiking up versus Jeff's previous hike down traversing trip). The water level did seem about right but I was surprised at the amount of impassible boulder sections- we would still be portaging a lot. From the bottom we hiked the long open flats of Little Yosemite Valley, bypassed a short gorge into Lost Valley, bypassed the formidable Bunnell gorge, crossed another little valley portion, took the long bypass around Echo gorge, traversed Echo Valley, then finally hiked alongside the final gorge to the outlet of Merced Lake. It felt like a long way but at least our packs were light and the trail was great. It was after 2p by the time we reached the lake; fortunately we'd have light until about 8p.
Looking into Echo Gorge towards Merced Lake
The first slide on the run
Merced Lake, just above our put-in
A quick snack of a bar and some gulps of water and we started paddling. The water and air temperature were such that I was quite comfortable in some thin neoprene bottoms and a rashguard top. We put in immediately above the first slide which had a nice chute shape making it near impossible to screw up- a fun introduction! I would have happily lapped it multiple times if it weren't for everything we had below to contend with. Next up was about 1000 ft of mazy boulder rapids before things cleaned up at a bedrock gorge.
Here we had a nice series of slide drops. Some were read-and-run but most we chose to scout and have a safety, just in case. We both managed to cleanly run about 10 drops in this section (no portages) until the very last 300 ft long slide, which had too many variables and so we portaged. We made good time through this section and being able to run so many of the drops was a nice confidence boost.
Another 1000 ft of boulder rapids (including some too shallow bottoming out sections) led to a solid mile of mostly flatwater through the scenic Echo Valley. The trail bridge over the river signaled the start of the formidable Echo Gorge. Jeff and Co bypassed this entire section last time. We would commit to ticking off as much as we could and suffer any heinous portages we would need to endure. Portages and lots of scouting seemed guaranteed.
We had to portage an impassible boulder garden just below the bridge. Here I got the first of several appreciations into just how lousy my shoes were on slippery slabs. I was getting worried. We spent a good long time scouting the first picturesque double drop before we both ran it. Another 1000 ft of mostly runnable boulder rapids brought us to another bedrock section.
Scouting at the start of Echo Gorge
The first rapid in the sequence had a narrow pinch at the top, a weird mid-drop roostertail we couldn't make sense of, and a unpleasant hydraulic at its base- too many variables and so we portaged. The next drop looked to be clean other than a strong pothole eddy that we thought might be difficult to break free of. It turned out to be fine for both of us and was one of the cleaner drops on the run. Two more clean slides, one long pool, then yet another 1000 ft of boulders, this time about half of it needed to be portaged.
We had now turned the corner and were staring down the final stretch to the end of the gorge. Four more drops to contend with. Jeff didn't like the look of the hydraulic at the bottom of the first drop. It did not look great but the portage traversing high on wet slab with frictionless shoes turned out to be even more terrifying for me and I had wished I had run it instead. This portage took quite some time and began to kill my enthusiasm for this run. We were having to portage too much for this to be a classic run. The second drop had a funny rock halfway down but ended up being quite a clean rapid- no issues. The third drop looked like nothing special and came shortly on the heels of the final drop (so we skipped it for a less stressful setup), the biggest single drop we would do, a solid 20 ft. Jeff went over sideways but otherwise managed to stick the landing. I zapped myself with adrenaline climbing the borderline slab back up to my boat. I was mentally exhausted by the time I pushed off and knew something bad would happen. Almost immediately the current pulled me off my line and as I tried to compensate I began to spin around backwards. I got in enough strokes to face downstream just in time as I was launched off the steepest leftmost edge of the drop (not where I wanted to be). Impact with the water was rough and it flipped me and pushed me under for two cycles before I was able to clear it. I beached myself on a rock. I had lost my paddle and the boat was stuck in a corner. After about 30 seconds my paddle appeared and I was able to retrieve it. After 5 minutes my boat was still bobbing in its corner. Jeff managed to carefully downclimb into the corner and free the boat. I had one more long slippery slab portage to contend with and we were clear of the gorge. I was a little shaken up and getting to be pretty over this run. About 1200 ft of rocks followed, then two more slides. The first slide sped you right into a terminal rock and so we passed on that one. The second was long but straightforward. We bumper boated down some more rocks and then peeled out onto the trail to bypass the worst of it.
Jeff had one long look at the menacing triple drops of Fear. It looked fun but potentially easy to screw up and hard to protect. Being late in the day was probably also a factor. We portaged this section but both decided to run Bunnell Cascade, a steep 200 ft long slide that starts in a ledgy waterfall and has another halfway down. We push into the slide just below the top drop. Jeff had a clean run and made it look easy. He gave me advice of angling into the flow at the top which I followed. This did not have the affect he suggested and as I picked up speed the flow spun me around backwards as I headed for the ledge drop. Some serious adrenaline kicked in and I managed to get in a couple adjusting strokes to spin around to face forward at the last split second before dropping over the ledge, careening down the rest of the slide, and skimming across the pool at the bottom. That was a little scary! Fun in hindsight but I didn't feel like I needed to lap it to try and screw it up worse!
Looking at Fear
Jeff on Bunnell Cascade (and below)
Almost a mile of shallow boulders, minor drops, and flatwater brought us to the final slide, the one I had been looking forward to. Man this slide looked fun! A wide smooth 300ft long slab of granite that leads you in and then rolls over to a steep finale the last 100 ft. We took time to scout, Jeff pointed out his line just right of the prominent roostertail and had first go. With a tad of adrenaline I lined up, blasted right through the roostertail, and picked up considerable speed; in the last 50 ft I managed to somehow go sideways and recklessly ricocheted across the pool, dramatically flipping. I had fun up until the end and wanted to redeem myself so I lapped the slide again. The second was flawless. And so was the third. This was easily the best slide I've ever done- the sheer speed and steepness of it were unmatched. For all the effort and portaging we had to face on the run above I felt like I could have (and perhaps should have) spent all day just lapping this final slide. The run was OK. This slide was truly world class.
We undoubtedly would have taken several more laps on this slide except it was already 8p and we were losing light fast with 2.5 miles of loggy flatwater to go to reach camp. Logs required a few in-river portages. Several shallow logs made navigating in the low light difficult. I probably made it about a mile before deciding to pull out my headlamp. Paddling in the evening was still remarkably comfortable- I don't recall a single thought concerning temperature crossing my mind. All was still and peaceful. The worst log jam was just before the campground and so we detoured over to the trail and walked the final bit to camp. I was tired, sore, and moving pretty slow but eventually managed to sort gear, eat dinner, and settle into my sleeping bag.
Nevada Falls
Vernal Falls
We woke up about 7a and were soon hiking back down the Mist Trail. Not much to note except now we where hiking against the flow of tourists presenting an extra nuisance. We made it back to the cars in good time. Jeff still had a couple days to kill before his next excursion but I was feeling the pull of work and so said my goodbye and drove on to home. Thanks to Jeff for yet another memorable trip. Thanks to Yosemite for making such stunning whitewater open for low impact boating; hopefully other parks like Yellowstone eventually follow suit.
