fretwater

A Grogg of the Ages

2011-11-29T21:18:00.001-07:00

On Thanksgiving morning Mike and I wrestled an old cider press out into the driveway to dust it off. It's been a few years since the old beast saw the light of day. My dad says it's well over a hundred years old and has been a part of our family's orchard for most of that time. It's built of cast iron and oak and is as heavy as it sounds. It required careful handling, but still looked good. We picked some Newtown and Spitzenburg apples that were left hanging in the trees after harvest. The apples are a variety cultivated by my grandfather, over 100 years ago. The Spitz tree is probably as old as the cider press. The Newtown was Thomas Jefferson's favorite. It's too bad that it's become so rare to see these classics for sale anymore in the produce departments. A couple good freezes in the fall makes the hanging apples extra sweet, and good for cider pressing at Thanksgiving. Amazingly, nobody was maimed by the old machine during our endeavor. Lisa and Rochelle helped to crank the cogwheel, and various other participants helped with quality control taste tests. We pressed about 5 gallons of cider then set a big pot of it on the stove top to warm with some cinnamon sticks for added spice, while Mike and I went to work cleaning and oiling the old machine.
Mike and Molly brought some rum back from their St. Lucia honeymoon this fall. Mike suggested we fix up the cider a little with some rum. Later on, Mike and I had an Oregon apple cider cocktail salut, then proceeded to destroy half of a Texas pecan pie while the girls weren't looking.

Backpacking Robbers Roost

2011-10-26T08:05:00.420-06:00

The Dirty Devil River country must be one of the most wild places in the contiguous U.S. Even more amazing is that it's still like that today, having survived all these years, without any protection other than it's impossibly ridiculous access. One of the most inaccessible parts of this canyon system is now known as Robbers Roost. A hundred years ago Butch Cassidy and his rambunctious crew would commit acts of Robinhood-esque, corporate thievery, such as the hold up of the Castle Gate payroll. In this case, they cut the telegraph wire, snatched the loot, and rode like hell for the wild deep of Robbers Roost, where they made quick work of losing the posse.
I don't think it's possible to do much wandering around in Utah without stumbling into some intriguing history. Lisa and I wanted to do an end of season backpacking trip, so we met in Price, gassed up the old '77 blazer and rode for Robbers Roost, at a slightly slower pace than Butch Cassidy. We planned on going to the Angel Point trail head on the east side of the river, but we only made it out by the Flat Tops, on the road to the Maze district of Canyonlands Nat'l Park. We stopped to sleep at a random place off the main road where a coyote was waiting for us. He wasn't happy about us showing up without a burger from Ray's Tavern. He wanted nothing of my offer of a cold beer so he took his attitude, and beady eyes, and sauntered off into the night. The next morning we arrived at the Angel Point trail head and packed our gear for a few days. We shouldered heavy packs, thanks to two liters of red wine, among other things, and walked over to the rim of the Dirty Devil to look at a dizzy sight of slickrock that the map said we were supposed to somehow navigate. We walked off the rim with a slow progress, setting a relaxed pace that permeated the next 5 days of wandering in and around the Robbers Roost.

It took a little over an hour to walk the 2 miles to the river. We dropped packs and explored around a little, then headed up river another mile or two, to the mouth of Robbers Roost Canyon where we were met by beautiful October cottonwoods, and ancient pictographs on a wall of several hundred feet.

As soon as we entered Robbers Roost Canyon I was surprised to see how easy the walking was. It wasn't the jungle that is the overwhelming character of the Escalante. The beautiful open walking on the canyon floor continued for the entire trip, without even much cheat grass. The corridor trails were established more by deer than by hikers. As we walked quietly up canyon we came face to face with a big doe, running straight at us, without knowing we were there. She was was spooked about something. She stopped to look at us with her big confused ears, then headed off, apparently late for the next adventure. A few minutes later a coyote ran across our path, missing us by 20 feet, also late for some adventure.
Not far into Robbers Roost we started looking for a campsite that would work for a two night camp. We found a few places that would've worked, with water close by, but ended up going into the South Fork of Robbers Roost where we found a nice spot near an alcove with water running out of 190 million years of Navajo Sandstone. Usually while backpacking in the arid desert I don't like to camp too close to watering holes because of the stress my presence may bring wildlife that are trying to get a drink of water. In this case the canyon bottom was very wet and water was virtually everywhere. We guessed that this year's unusually frequent moisture was the reason why, so we weren't too concerned about getting in the way of watering bighorn sheep. We set up camp under cottonwood trees that must've watched the wild bunch ride through, then walked to the spring source where we filtered the pre-historic water. We sipped red wine and wondered how it would've been to see the wild bunch come riding hell-bent-for-leather around the bend. The next day we did a day-hike several miles up the South Fork of Robbers Roost, then returned to camp in the same spot again.

Most people that come here do so for the technical canyoneering opportunities that exist in the higher reaches of these canyons. They park on the flats above, rappel into a canyon, exit at the first opportunity, then walk back to the car. To each their own, but my purpose for being here is different. I want to be out in the wonderful, wild nature of October's soft light. I'm in no hurry to exit, and don't mind carrying a heavy backpack to accommodate a few days out yonder. On this particular trip I felt isolation and stillness like I haven't experienced before. To elaborate on the internet what this feeling is like has been attempted by writers greater than I, so I'll leave it to the experts, and won't try writing about it. Edward Abbey said it well when he said what I'll try to paraphrase: you gotta get out of the goddamn car and walk until you can't anymore, then your going to have to crawl on hands and knees until your bloody, then you may understand, probably not, but maybe.
The main Robbers Roost Canyon continued with several miles of open walking, lots of water, and big big walls of classic Utah red rock. The native species of the riparian corridor were healthy and dominate. We stopped to camp near the forks of the White Roost, where the canyon splits several ways.

Looking into the mouth of the White Roost Fork.

...and looking into the mouth of the North Fork and Middle Forks of Robbers Roost.

The afternoon that we hiked out of the canyons we camped on the rim above the South Fork that we spent walking a few days prior. We couldn't see the bottom of the abyss, but we could see a hundred miles distant. We spent the afternoon looking over the maps and planning future routes into and around the canyons of the Dirty Devil. As you can imagine deep canyons don't host much in the way of sunset vistas, so after being several days in a deep chasm in southern Utah it's particularly enjoyable to watch a beautiful sunset. The sunset and stars from Angel Point were as spectacular as the sunrise.

Detour to Panamint Dunes

2011-10-06T08:07:00.081-06:00

Lisa and I had every good intention of hiking to the top of Telescope Peak in Death Valley Nat'l Park on the way home from Southern California. Something was intriguing about the idea of standing at over 11,000 feet and peering into the lowest elevation in North America, Badwater Basin at -282 feet. We camped at Stovepipe Wells and headed for the trailhead the next morning. We guessed that trying for an 11,000ft. peak in October was a bit of a long shot, but we were hoping for the best. Sure enough, on the drive to the trailhead we discovered the summit was covered with fresh snow. Neither of us were prepared for a snow adventure, and the idea of freezing to death wasn't immediately appealing to us. We got out the ol' brochure and came up with the idea of hiking out to the Panamint Dunes. The brochure said something about remote, and the least visited place in the park, so that made the thought of slogging 8 miles through deep sand sound pretty good. At least it would be warm.
It was fascinating and fun to experience the tricks of distance in the desert. It was dramatically further out to the dunes than it looked when we started. The desert was beautiful in October's soft light. It felt nice to walk, and breathe the clear air after the long drive, and past couple days in Southern California.

Who's in charge around here?

2011-10-01T09:55:00.002-06:00

Notch Peak

2011-09-15T14:10:00.187-06:00

Now I'll be the first to admit that I'm a sucker for big views and big country. I've lived and traveled in the west all my life, and if there's anywhere that I can think of where I can see one hell of a long ways, it's in the Basin and Range. Barry Lopez once said that the West is in true westerners like their DNA...and that they can't just remove themselves from it and think that everything will be alright. I was once divorced, due in part, to refusing to move to the East. (it was a bad deal anyway) Thank goodness I read that quote in time, or who knows what would've happened.
I don't remember the first time I saw Notch Peak in the House Range in Western Utah, but I do remember almost driving off the road, out into the sagebrush, from trying to look at it. Maybe because the dominating west face is the second highest vertical wall in the U.S., behind El Capitan. Anyway, it became one of those places that I had to visit, and couldn't guess why,...but the why never does seem to matter too much. That was several years ago, probably in 2001 on my way back from bagging Wheeler. Since then I've stumbled around out in the West Desert from time to time, but as the dusty trail would tell, I wasn't to arrive on the summit of Notch until this summer.

Lisa and I were planning to go bag Mt. Moriah in Nevada, which as it turned out, wasn't to happen because of some wild weather. We got a pretty late start leaving home, but planned on camping somewhere out in the desert west of Delta. My friend Ray suggested a dry playa that I'll leave un-named. We followed Rays directions until about mid-night when we arrived at a beautiful white playa, the surface of which was illuminated by a big huge desert moon. The long day of travel and logistics that always mark the beginning of our days off made us both sleep real good, despite the hard ground. In the morning we woke to the yawning expanse of Basin, with Notch Peak, and the House Range on the horizon.

We got all packed up after a leisurely morning of coffee in the sunshine, and breakfast, then headed for the trailhead in Sawtooth Canyon on the east side of the peak. I was amused by the way the WSA was signed by BLM.

The trail in the dry wash up Sawtooth Canyon fizzled out after a while, and the guide book description of the route was pretty annoying. It was obvious enough what needed to be done, so up we went, with the book stashed in the pack, not to be seen again. We pretty much just followed Sawtooth up until it ended at the saddle right under the summit. We were both feeling kinda wasted and unmotivated from staying up most of the night driving. Although there was nothing particularly difficult about the route the lack of motivation made it a bit of a slog until we reached the saddle where the scene was breath taking to say the least.

On the summit 20 minutes later was the feeling of elation that only a summit could give, with no hint of the days earlier lethargy.

Most popular summits have a register where people can sign in, much of the time leaving an inspirational quote. I find these summit registers to be entertaining to look through especially when I find the entry of someone I know. As I perused the beat up Notch Peak register book I found a quote from a friend that wrote "I'm not sure how I ended up here from N.Korea" signed -Arie Leeflang. Lisa and I both laughed and thought Arie must've been hi on the altitude. I tried for a bit to think of something wise-assed to say. I couldn't think of anything so I signed my own silliness.

It took less than than two hours to get back to the truck to a much anticipated icy cold beer, which we sat down to drink just as the first reports of an afternoon thunderstorm were heard up near the summit. By the time we got back out to the highway the sky wasn't looking friendly. As we commonly say to each other.... the wild nature took care of us again.

Last Chance Trail

2011-09-02T12:40:00.002-06:00

The Last Chance Trail crosses, what else, the Last Chance Benches. The trail runs beneath the dramatic red Roan cliffs at the portal of Desolation Canyon. It's a historic cattle trail between the river at Three Fords, and the ranch in Range Creek. It's not that much of a secret since the USGS has it plotted on the 7.5 minute topo map. However, it does cross some private land and eventually enters the Research Ranch in Range Creek, both of which require permission before stumbling into.
This hike has been on my list of things to do for a good many seasons. I knew it was going to be a doozy of a walk. Until now I've never really had the right company along to do it. Mostly I needed company to get me in so I didn't get both my feet chopped off by Corrine for trespassing, but I also needed someone that wouldn't pass out. This time I happened to have the splendid company of my girlfriend along who spent a couple seasons working for the field school, and knew Corrine well enough to save our feet. Besides, she's tough as a bucket of nails (sorry Lisa). We planned a full day for the walk and it was a good thing because this is definitely one of the tougher hikes that I've ever stepped into.
Most of the supposed trail has long since been obliterated by time immortal. When a USGS quad shows a trail plotted it's usually no more than a passable piece of terrain. In this case cows haven't been grazed on Last Chance for a bunch of years, and since there's no trail crew working to keep the trail looking like a trail it gets over grown and washed out and, as they say, reclaimed by the wild nature.
Sometimes I like to just put my head down and stomp out the miles, on a nice trail, but such novelties don't really exist within 50, or so, miles of Deso. The Last Chance is a fun exercise in 14 miles of route finding across big open country, with attention on the map.

One of the sightings that surprised me was seeing a collared lizard. I've never seen a collared lizard in Deso before.

...and a cute little Elko corner notch.

We arrived back at the beach at Wirefence about a half hour before dark. Just in time for a cold dip in the river, some dinner, and icy cold beverages out of the bottom of the cooler.

Ya know how when your watching an IMAX film and the camera starts on a specific point, like a guy fishing, then slowly pans out until the screen is showing 30 or 40 square miles of country? Well that's how I felt out in the middle of the Last Chance Benches.

Ben Lomond Peak

2011-08-07T21:44:00.034-06:00

Amazingly we had a summer day to kill in town, so we made a dash to go bag the most dominate peak around Ogden. Beautiful weather, wild flowers, and lots of people were on the trail from North Ogden Divide, but we had the summit all to ourselves.
It's been at least 10 years since I have been on Ben Lomonds summit, but I certainly don't remember the pathetic trail register box on the summit. Whoever put it up there please go get it, and take it to the recyclers. The lid is sprung and the box is full of water.

Heart Lake

2011-07-30T18:27:00.242-06:00

I guess if your gonna get an urge to go walk yer guts out then Yellowstone Nat'l Park is a darn good place to go. I don't even know how many miles of trails exist here, but on looking at a map, it's a bunch. The Yellowstone backcountry trail map is a good time to look at and contemplate. On talking about the trip Lisa and I decided that our goals would be to see a grizzly, and a wolf in the wild. We started looking into going a little too late to apply for a backcountry permit. We figured we would just go to the South Entrance Backcountry Office and take our chances. It was a little bit complicated, but we got a permit for a three day trip into Heart Lake. The ranger at the B/C office gave us a warning of a regular grizzly hanging around at Heart Lake. Heart Lake sounded like a rad place, without much extra driving to the trail head, so we got the permit and made sure we had all the safety stuff. Cordage for hanging packs, a bear canister, pepper spray, and a good educational video in the NPS office.
We hadn't heard of the grizzly bear mauling of hikers that had happened just a few days prior to our arrival, that was apparently widely broadcast on the news. I'm not very good at listening to the news during summer because most of the time it's a big fat drag to listen to anyway.
The permit wouldn't let us start the hike until the next day so we had most of a day to kill. Yellowstone is so big that it's pretty easy to kill a bunch of time driving. We already drove from Utah and didn't feel too keen on more driving, but we did anyway just to see the torrent of spring run-off going over Yellowstone Falls.

We also did the tour to Old Faithful and were lucky enough to be in the company of about 6,000 other people to see it go off. On the way back to our campground, in the waning hours of a beautiful summer day, we had the distinct pleasure of seeing a big bison bull swim the Yellowstone river. He got across the swift current, and with the swagger that only a bison could sport, came up into the middle of the road, and shook the water out of his fur, all over the front of a Prius.

We continued to our campground at Lewis Lake passing endless scenes of visionary enchantment (to steal a phrase from Lewis and Clark). The next day we had only a short distance to drive to the Heart Lake trail head where the bear warnings were again posted.

We made a first day goal of making it 14 miles to a campsite on the far end of Heart Lake. It was a beautiful sunny day all the way there.
The first several miles of the trail to Heart Lake Ranger Station was heavily used. We saw quite a few people going to and from the popular Heart lake.

Beyond the Ranger Station, for the next 5 miles or so, we saw nobody the rest of the day, nor the next day. The trail was also much more primitive and lightly used. We kept our eyes alert for signs of recent bear activity, and saw nothing recent. As we walked along the north shore of the lake we heard coyotes back in the woods yipping. It was the first time I'd ever heard coyotes during the day. The mosquitoes?....well, my dear mother told me, before she left this shitty world, that if I haven't anything nice to say then don't say anything, so i won't bitch about the Yellowstone mosquitoes. The same moisture that was making the mosquitoes go crazy was also making the wild flowers go crazy, so it was a beautiful misery of sorts. We arrived at our campsite that was recommended by the back country ranger we met on the trail, on the way in. She called in and changed our campsite saying this one was much better, and it was beautiful. We sat by a smoky fire cooking dinner, and sipping red wine out of a nalgene, and talked of the distinct difference between the Yellowstone of Old Faithful with 6000 people, and the much preferred Yellowstone that we currently had all to ourselves.

The next morning we got up, completed our routine, packed up, and got ready to head out. As we departed the campsite there was a big, and I mean big, pile of fresh grizzly bear shit right on top of our tracks in the trail, on the edge of the camp. We continued to follow fresh grizzly tracks and sign for 5 or 6 miles all the way back to where the trail goes along the shoreline of Heart Lake. By this time there were rangers staffing the cabin so we told them about our past 36 hours or so. They said there had been a big grizzly pass through early that morning following the trail. They seemed pleased to hear what the bears behavior was in our campsite, and that is exactly how it's supposed to happen. Backpackers must be able to live with bears by keeping food and scents contained and away from the bears. Anyway, it was plenty exciting even though we didn't see it.
After making our report to the ranger station we hung around on the gravel lake shore for a few hours because there was a beautiful breeze coming off the lake that was just enough to keep the mosquitoes away. We did some foot fixing, filtered some water, ate some lunch, and just lazed around in the warm sun doing typical beach activities.

Later on we walked out the next few miles to our camp for the night on the west shore of the lake. It was also a nice camp, but I thought the first nights camp was better. We again went through the strict routine of hanging our packs and generally "bear proofing" the campsite. Even our daytime clothes were hung with the packs. All our tent related stuff was in Lisa's pack, and all the food related stuff was in mine so we wouldn't make any sleeping gear smell like food.

The next day we woke to an overcast sky. We made coffee and some hot cereal over a fire, and made a vow to come back. We took our time getting packed and filtering water, but were ready to leave because of the mosquitoes. We couldn't wait to come back to Yellowstone to hopefully see a grizzly next time. Maybe a trip in Lamar valley, we speculated, would increase the chances of seeing a wolf too. We started to step out the 11 miles back to the car in a warm light rain with no breeze. The ranger crew at the station was also packing up to switch out crews. On our way out we met the same ranger from a few days ago and complimented her on the wonderful suggestion of the camp on the east shore, and told her of our grizzly excitement.

Lewis Peak

2011-07-28T09:18:00.003-06:00

We had a half a day in town before flying to Seattle for a wedding. It was way too pretty to spend in town so we got out the handy little Ogden trail guide that Weber Pathways has put together. Peaks are always nice and neither of us had been on Lewis peak so we thought we'd give it a try. The trail guide said the distance was 2.5 miles one-way, so we thought it'd be a quick hike. It was 5, or so, miles one-way from the North Ogden Divide, but who cares. It was a sweaty workout to the top of the switchbacks, then easy walking across the high and sunny open ridges of wild flowers and grasses. It's always beautiful to be high in the Wasatch on a summer day. I love that it's so close to town, and easy to go at a moments notice. We still had time to get home for a shower, and head to the airport.

Grande Ronde River

2011-07-20T22:16:00.383-06:00

This trip has been on my list of things to do for years. I called the BLM in Baker, Oregon and ordered the permit info and river guide map in 2009 or so, then came really close to doing the trip in 2010, but the river became de-watered as it often does in mid summer. This year the stars finally aligned enough for a Grande Ronde float. To make it all the better I had Cody, my kid, and Erick, my brother along. This year we had about 4,000cfs registering on the USGS gauge at Troy. That was enough water so the trip was on, despite my ex almost calling the sheriff on me for kidnapping. We met in Lewiston at Wal-Mart so we could get groceries, and some other junk like bug spray. I did a quick repair to my 31 year old GMC, and we were off to drop Ericks truck at Heller Bar. The road and the rugged country from Asotin to Enterprise was a scenic wonder. We speculated how this road ever got here in the first place, and couldn't come up with a good answer so we just let the mystery be.

We made a stop in enterprise for a state required watercraft certification that says my boat is free of invasive species, such as quagga mussels. Such exotics have been devastating waters in the west for several years now and are getting worse. We got some dinner, and drove until well past dark to get to Minam State Park. When we woke in the morning it appeared that other people had the same idea that we did. It's always exciting to arrive somewhere new after dark and wake to the surprise in the morning. Although there were a few people it all worked out and no one was in each others way.

This float segment begins at Minam, Oregon with 9 miles of the Wallowa River, then joins the Grande Ronde. The upper river from Minam to Troy is the more popular segment to float. It's steep walled, forested, and terribly rugged. A large segment of the Grande Ronde is federally designated Wild & Scenic. The camp sites on this segment are open, forested, flat, and some of the most beautiful I've ever seen. It's certainly understandable why this is a popular segment.

The rapids on the upper river were not too difficult, but it was a fun current that was fast, constant boat handling being necessary. My boat is more designed for the high volume rivers of the southwest, but it was still pretty easy to navigate the channel without hitting rocks.
We rowed into Troy, Oregon on the third day and tied up in the water running out of the Wenaha River. It was a neat little town accessed by dirt road. I was surprised to see that main street sported a Shilo Inn. The sign was even in the same font as the big fancy Shilos throughout the Northwest. We thought someone was joking, but sure enough, it's owned by the same owner. We got our ice, skipped the burger and beer, and went back to the boat for lunch, and to watch some folks from the Tri-cities jump off the bridge.

The character of the river changed from forest to desert pretty quickly as we left Troy. Farms and roads on both sides of the river signaled the end of the wild and scenic designated section. There were lots of little river access spots from the road where people were hanging out, camping and fishing. Despite the road we saw bighorn sheep the one time out of the trip above the road and below Troy.'

The Lower river was characterized by still beautiful camp sites, but not as numerous. The river was wider below Troy, making navigating the shallows an extra challenge.

We tied up the raft under the Hwy 129 bridge at Boggans Oasis. We sat in the shade, ate some lunch, and walked up to the cafe to re-supply our drinking water. I found out later that this bridge is on the Nat'l Register of Historic Places.

The next day would come the long anticipated Narrows Rapid. The night before the Narrows, our last night on the river, we had a bit of a problem finding a campsite. After several unsuccessful landings and scouts we just rat-holed into a cobble beach. It looked a little like a long shot when we first checked it out, but it was late, and we were tired, so one way or the other, this was home for the night. These kind of camps always end up being kind of an interesting novelty. It takes a bit of creativity and resourcefulness to settle into such a place so when you done it produces a bit of satisfaction.

The water looked really low when we got to the scout for The Narrows. The rattlesnake on the scout trail was way more of a hazard than the rapid was. I said the hell with scouting it and walked back to the boat. That snake was as big around as a beer can and who knows how long it was, but it was big enough. It was a pretty straight forward entry, and very interesting geologically.

After running The Narrows we had only about 4 miles to go before the take-out at Heller Bar. We quietly floated the last few miles in the soft light of morning.

The river guide map that i mentioned at the beginning of this write up was put together by BLM and I think they did a pretty good job of it. All the map pages are titled with letters (eg. Map A, map B, etc) After a couple days afloat Cody and Erick and I started goofing around and naming all the map pages. So the index below is how we chose to name our map pages with an accompanying short story of how the respective names came to be.

Map A: Aquatic permit in Enterprise
Map B: Bear Canyon 3 times? (because there are 3 bear canyons entering the Grande Ronde on the trip)
Map C: Cody
Map D: Drove for 2 days to get to the river
Map E: Erick
Map F: Filth
Map G:
Map H: Home on night one (1st night camp on this map page)
Map I: Idiots and their McMansions (because of the McMansion perched on the hill above the river)
Map J: Jeep trail of death (ridiculously steep jeep trail coming down to the river)
Map K: Krussow (3 of us)
Map L: Luigi (named after the plates Cody and I picked up at the thrift store in Lewiston since we forgot to bring plates. They had a picture on the surface of a chubby Italian guy flipping burgers so we named him, and the plates Luigi.)
Map M: Mick
Map N: No fish sauce (we forgot the fish sauce for the red curry recipe)
Map O: Only one named Island
Map P: Plenty O' Planted Pines (lots of pine trees planted recently in and around campsites)
Map Q:
Map R: Riley cookies (Erick brought a bunch of cookies from Hood River that Riley (my niece) made for our trip)
Map S: Shoulda brought fishin' poles (lots of fish all over in the river, they would've made good dinner)
Map T: Trolley wire rope swing (somebody set up a rope swing not from a tree, but from an abandoned cable across the river)
Map U:
Map V: Vineyard mansion (huge vineyard ranch)
Map W:

Map W was the last map page of the river guide.

Highwater

2011-06-16T21:27:00.004-06:00

When a river swells with highwater in the spring it is usually due to snowmelt running out of the mountains. This melt water, hurried along by gravity, soon turns to a torrent gathering what ever is in it's way. Trees, trash, cows, houses, everything, tearing downhill like a wild beast, "out of control" as the damn builders would say. This is the way it's supposed to happen, but all too often in our day and age this annual wildness of the rivers is tamed by the placement of dams.
The Flaming Gorge dam on the Green River is a long ways upstream of Desolation Canyon. Far enough, actually, that the Green has a good chance of gathering it's steam again, with some help, before it flows into Desolation Canyon. The "help" of which I speak is that of the Yampa river. The Yampa is not dammed, or damned, however you choose to look at it, therefore, the wildness of the Yampa's water is intact, and tearing downhill like a wild beast, when it collides with the Green at Echo Park.
The wildness that the Yampa gives the water in the Green is a very special thing about the Green River in Desolation Canyon. The river water is wilderness.

I launched a trip on the Green River through Desolation Canyon on 6-9-11 at ~40,000cfs and took out on 6-14 at ~52,000cfs at Swaseys boatramp north of Green River, Utah. Those numbers are adjusted to make up for the irrigation diversion that occurs a few miles upstream of the USGS gauge at Green River. The diversion includes a diversion canal on river right near Tushar Wash, and a new project on river left that was completed in 2009. The project on river left diverts water to new irrigation projects, and to the recently relocated uranium tailings project near Thompson Springs, Utah. The numbers that I have come up with are arbitrary, but they are based on my observations of the past ten seasons in Desolation Canyon where I have rowed river flows between 650cfs in 2002 to over 50,000cfs this year, and lots of different river levels in between.
People have been rowing boats down the river, through Deso, for the fun of it for a long time. Never in that history have they rowed boats on a river flow quite this high and fast. It was close in '83 and '84 with flows around 44,000cfs.

I thought I'd post some photos and videos of campsites and rapids with the estimated flows to hopefully show the character of the river during this unusual period of highwater. I have tried to include boats or something for scale, but as always, the camera just doesn't do justice. Particularly to the fascination that I felt during this last trip, but I'll try anyway. You may click on any photo to make it extra big.

Sandwash @ ~40,000cfs.

ICP Island ~40,000cfs:

Skiff Site: ~40,000cfs: Flooded in about 2 feet of water. Webbing bowline tied to prow. Half full of water and floating.

Turtle Camp ~43,000cfs:

Jack Creek ~43,000cfs:

Cedar Ridge @ ~43,000cfs

Steer Ridge @ ~45,000cfs

Log Cabin @ ~45,000cfs

Three Canyon @ ~50,000cfs

Lion Hollow @ ~50,000cfs

Chandler Creek (above the rapid) @ ~50,000cfs

Cowswim @ ~50,000cfs

Range Creek @ ~50,000cfs

Rabbit Valley @ ~50,000cfs

Coal Creek @ ~50,000cfs

Swaseys Boatramp @ ~50,000cfs

I thought the character of the river was fascinating in several ways. The current was very fast and nearly from bank to bank. When there were eddies they were nothing I wanted to place my boat into. Most had aggressive eddy fences and were full of the surging weight of 50' drift logs. There was wilderness in the water, and it scared me, but it made me smile. There were eddies within eddies that made trying to read the water a full time chore. Inevitably, I would still occasionally get an oar violently ripped out of my hand. Some of the eddy fences, like at Dripping Springs, were 6 or 8 feet high and easily big enough to flip a raft. I didn't think things were washed out, as I've heard in the past the river gets at high water. Waves were not as numerous, but when they were there they were big ocean looking swells followed by building and breaking wave trains, with awful eddies full of debris on each side. Some of the biggest rocks in the river corridor such as at Moonwater, Joe Hutch Creek, Wirefence, and Jacks Rock, were under fascinating amounts of water, creating terrible looking hydraulic holes as big as a greyhound bus lying on it's side. I noticed that while camping below rapids, and watching the river, it appeared that the water piled up in the middle of the river, below the rapid, like there was too much of it to flow downstream at one time.
As I spend my years in Desolation Canyon it has begun to occur to me that my relationship with Deso is reciprocal. The river and the canyon brings me much joy. This trip, while I slept on it's shore, I could feel the vibration of the river, through the earth. It seemed to me that the river was having fun; like it was experiencing much joy. It was in full regalia, and proud of it's splendid majesty, and I was proud of the river.

In a way that took some imagination I felt like John Wesley Powell floating downstream at the speed of galloping horses, knowing not what lay around the next bend.

The Boatshed

2011-03-21T13:02:00.600-06:00

I have wanted a boatshed for years. In those years I have wasted more money than I care to acknowledge on the rental of a storage unit. I just paid the rent and figured it was going to be a way of life for an untold future. In order to save a little cash I have always tried to pay it by the year. This year, I was particularly troubled by the notion of dropping another $1000 on rent. I figured I could apply the rent cash to a storage of my own. To raise the money I sold my toyota, a bunch of toyota parts, a raft trailer, and some other things, also trying to downsize the amount of stuff I had to store away, but i wasn't to part with any of my boats. I used part of the liquidation cash and the next years rent money to set about building a boatshed in my backyard. Why not just buy a tuff-shed? Mostly because it costs more, but in part because I find a certain satisfaction in building of every square inch of it with my own hands, including the bleeding on it and cussing it. Besides, what I was going to build was going to be bigger, more sturdy, and simply more bad assed than a tuff-shed could ever be. The following is a story of the education, accompanied by the toil, pain, and joy of building the long awaited "Boatshed".

I pretty much decided I'd do this when I bought my house in 2008. Part of searching for a house was that it needed a boatshed, or a yard big enough to build one. I would occasionally sketch my vision on a notepad while drinking coffee early in the morning. I decided to build a pole barn style shed that would be right at 200 square feet. I talked to Ogden City about a building permit for a larger project. I was already on the fence about building it bigger anyway because of the extra expense. A meeting with the city helped me make up my mind to keep it under 200 square feet, avoiding the need for a building permit. I also talked to an engineer that wanted $2,000 to draw up the plans that would be required by the city. He was very resistant to the idea of a pole barn at all. He said they wouldn't last very long. He was obviously biased and just wasn't the right guy for me to spend much time talking to anyway. There are pole barns on ranches all over the west that've been standing for 60 years or more, and plenty of so called "engineered" houses that've fallen down in half that time. I set about with my own engineering plan that pretty much consisted of good strong coffee early in the morning, a notepad, and an observation of about 60 or more years of western ranching history.

As anyone that has ever done anything like this will probably agree it all started honestly enough. A sketch, pounding in some stakes, tying some strings, calling the utility locate service, digging a test post hole, etc. After I sold my toyota is probably when I committed to doing it this spring. I made a few trips to the familiar Home Depot to price materials, and I called to price concrete, and trusses. I thought I could do it for roughly $2000. It ended up costing about $2,600, but still was probably half the cost of an equivalent pre-made shed. I had to special order the treated 6x6 "poles" that'd be the main part of the structure. A couple days later I took my old 1980 GMC 1 ton to make the first haul of building materials.

Then came some shovel work because I was too damn cheap to rent an auger, besides it was a good workout. The resulting blisters reminded me of when I was a teenager, and my brothers and I would have to hand dig 50 or 60 holes every spring to plant pear trees on our family orchard.

My good ol' friend Jim came over to help with some terrible work. Lord knows we've done some awful work together before, but I had my doubts on this one. When we put the first post in the hole I was almost immediately intimidated and overwhelmed. We stayed after the job with intestinal fortitude and eventually overcame the difficult task that I couldn't begin to sufficiently explain. After all of the first afternoon and part of the evening we got all six posts up and bolted together with the 2x6tx skirt boards. We were within 1/2" of being perfectly square. We quit for the day and put some pork chops and veggies on the grill to cook. We sat at the picnic table drinking beer and marveling at what geniuses we were.

The next day rain was in the forecast, which worried me because I needed to fill the post holes with concrete. If I didn't the rain water would make everything a muddy mess and much more difficult. Jim and I got all the 2x12 header boards up by about 1:00. We checked and rechecked all our measurements then went for concrete. When we arrived we had about 20 minutes to spare before they quit mixing for the weekend. I put my old GMC to work again and pulled a 9,000lb trailer full of ready mix home from U-cart in Ogden. I shuttled wheelbarrows full of concrete to the post holes and Jim tamped it in. We finished and rechecked everything to make sure it was all still plumb and level.

With high temps in the 50's it would take a few days or more for the concrete to cure. The next thing I wanted to do was start on the roof, but I wanted to make sure the concrete was good and set before I did. It was 2 weeks since I'd last seen my sweetie and we were planning a birthday backpack trip to Escalante so that would be the perfect time to take a break from the boatshed. Before leaving town I ordered the trusses at a 3-12 pitch. I got them through Precision Structures in Hooper, Ut. They patiently answered all my novice DIY questions, and were almost $100 cheaper than Automated in Ogden. Automated was only about a mile from my house, yet they wanted $100 to deliver them, while Precision offered delivery for $40. A savings of ~$160. I also ordered the Carribean Blue steel roofing panels from Home Depot. Roy assured me the color was ugly. I assured Roy that he wouldn't be able to see my roof from his house.

Before the trusses arrived I built what would be a loft. I would use this 11' x 6' platform to stand on to wrestle the 35 pound trusses 12 feet up to the headers. It ended up being a big help and the job wasn't nearly as difficult as I thought it'd be to do alone. I ended up doing the entire roof alone and none of it was particularly difficult to do. Just intimidating, and a bit scary.

In the morning I went to Home Depot and picked up 31 roof purlins, Simpson Strong Ties, and a bunch of galvanized nails. The trusses arrived around noon and I had them all put up by 4 or 5. Later that evening I received the call that the roofing had arrived. The next day I put up the rest of the purlins then went back to Home Depot for the bright blue roofing panels. I was pleased when I saw how brilliant and pastel the color was. I was shocked when I saw how heavy a stack of these sheets were. I had to get a little creative when it came to installing the roof by myself. I got a good workout by swinging from the trusses, climbing the ladder a million times, and trying not to fall off the damn thing.
I built the roof eaves so I would have an even 21 feet of length because the roofing panels come in 3' widths. That way I wouldn't have to cut the steel. Each slope of the roof was 7'9". I also ordered the steel to fit the length so I wouldn't have to cut it. I set one of my ladders and rested the sheets of roofing against it then lifted them, one at a time, to rest on the purlins. I arranged 7 sheets into position and was very impressed with myself to be working with a perfectly square roof. I thought back to before I even began digging the post holes and was so glad I took the time to make everything as square and plumb as possible. A light drizzle of rain began and made things a bit slick, but I couldn't leave anything undone in case a wind came up. The $1 rubberized gloves from Harbor Freight were the trick since they stuck to the wet roofing quite well. The rain quit, and things dried out pretty fast. I nearly finished the roofing, but discovered the ridge cap they sent me was a few inches short. It was almost 7pm anyway so I quit for the day, and my girl and I made a delicious red curry with rice for dinner.
The next morning I went early to get more ridge cap, came home, and completed the roof in another hour.

From early in this project I was perplexed with how I was going to get down from the roof once I got it done. My ladder wasn't tall enough, and a new extension ladder was ridiculously expensive. Even to rent one was almost $40 for a half day. It was obviously time for the heretofore mentioned cowboy engineering to come into play. At some point in history someone had conveniently placed a 6' tall chain link fence right next to my boatshed. So using some good sturdy boat straps I secured the feet of my tall ladder to the fence about 4 feet up and rested the top of the ladder on the roofing eaves. Then I used the short ladder to access the bottom of the tall ladder. Now, I guess I should admit that I wouldn't recommend doing what I did, but it worked slick as a whistle for me to get on and off the roof 3 different times, and I can think of plenty of times in my life that I've been scared worse. I'd also venture a guess that such behavior may not be permissible in the building engineers handbook they keep in their desk.

I started on the siding today. Smashed my finger with a hammer so hard it popped like a grape and got blood all over the ladder and everything else. Got the gables done, but it looks a little like a swamp cottage on stilts. The roof looks high. I'm really glad to be done working on it and I'm glad I didn't fall off of it. I'll make some 8 x 8 barn doors tomorrow. Maybe get some new gloves that aren't all blood crusted.

I finished one barn door. It took more material than I thought it would so I need to go back for another hinge, 2x4's and 1x4's to finish the other one. Standing the door up and attaching the hinges was another solo challenge that wasn't as hard as I thought it'd be. I made a block of boards that I stood the door up on. The block elevated it to the correct height then it was just balancing it into position while I drilled the holes and drove the lag screws.

Finished the other door and was halted by some winter coming back. It piled some wet snow on the roof which gave me a chance to inspect it for leakage. Everything proved to be good and dry.

I had a bunch of days of bad weather. During the weather I worked under the cover and built the little back door. Other than that I didn't get much done. Yesterday and Sunday were good weather so I got to work and tried to get as much as possible done. I now have less than a week before I go back to work so I need to get movin'. My sweetie came out to help on Sunday, which was a fun change of pace. We talked about making a climbing wall gym out of the tall walls. I'm not much of a climber so Lisa and her climbing friends can be in charge of how that goes together.
I finished the back wall, and awning. Under the awning is where the chicken house will go. I also got almost a full wall of siding done.

Definitely had the feeling of pounding the last nail with the recent completion of the siding. I'm sure it's not the last nail, but it has a tangible feel right now. I'm actually surprised I did almost all of it by myself. I was picking up debris when I saw pieces that were from when I first started working on it. My mind flashed through all the stages, very glad to nearly be done.

After the siding and trim was done I hauled a load of gravel to cover the dirt floor (a bunch of work). Also built a shelf, and finished moving out of the old shed.

My neighbor across the street gave me $50 for the old shed. I'll be glad to get rid of it. I may miss the fake window designs, but maybe not.

...and a little red stained trim.

Total cost: $2649.39

Still to do:
-yellow painting to complete the, arguable, festivity of the color repertoire.
-climbing wall
-electrical
-concrete floor slab w/apron
-gutters w/downspouts and rain collection barrels

What I have so far learned:
-Although I knew from previous experience that hitting my thumb with a hammer hurts bad, I have been sufficiently reminded of it.
-Time saving tools and techniques are worthless when your unemployed.
-Not to build a boatshed before rowing season, because not using time saving tools and techniques causes tendinitis.
-a toolbelt is my best purchase of the whole project.

Nicaragua to Panama

2011-02-20T13:41:01.547-07:00

I'm excited to say I finally made a trip to Central America. I've been wanting to do this for at least 12 years and just never did for one reason or another. My girlfriend, Lisa, and I flew into Managua, Nicaragua and took two (albeit too) quick weeks to travel through Nicaragua, Costa Rica, and Panama, then flew out of Panama City, Panama.
We left Las Vegas at 11pm and arrived in Managua about 2:30pm. The skies were sunny and warm. We cleared customs and got outside the airport where the chaos of the crowds enveloped us in a challenging and fun sort of way. Before arriving we read that Managua wasn't really a good place to hang around for a few reasons. We price haggled a little with a taxi driver for the trip to Granada then settled on $30 for the two of us. Nicaragua is the 3rd poorest country in Latin America, nevertheless, we were both a little surprised at the dramatic scene of poverty on leaving Managua. Air thick with pollution, skinny little horses pulling carriages, dogs too weak to get out of the way, smoking buses, tattered bicycles, most everyone barefooted, 4x4 toyota pickup trucks loaded to the max with pineapples and bananas, ramshackle buildings and huts, proudly painted bright colors.

At an intersection there was some guy offering to wash windows, but our driver declined. He resorted to blowing Lisa a few kisses. Her pretty smile probably made him feel like the richest man in Managua for a few minutes.

Granada, Nicaragua
It took about an hour to reach colonial Granada where the scene was much more relaxed. We found a room about a half block off the main square. For $20 each it included two nights and the use of the kitchen and breakfast. Seems the main activity to do in Granada is go out drinking in the evening. There were lots of locals and tourists alike that would do the same. We walked and explored, ate dinner, and I took a bunch of photos of doorways and stuff.

We lost track of time and the tour company closed that we wanted to talk to about the Volcano Mombacho south of Granada. We had a few mojitos with fresh mint leaf, at 70 cents a piece, then went to our room and sacked out, finally ending a long day of travel.

Volcan Mombacho, Nicaragua
In the morning we found the tour company open and signed up for a guided tour to climb the volcano. We also opted for a zipline canopy tour. The company we went with was Mombotour. They were recommended by Lonely Planet and very justifiably so, they run a really good operation. The guides have at least 6 months of unpaid training before they can take a tour out. They obviously are heavily vested in their profession, and love what they do and where they live. The guide crew picked us up in Granada in a toyota land cruiser.

We drove an hour or so, up a very steep grade, to a mountain top, cloud forest, coffee plantation. It was a wonderfully beautiful place in the clear mountain air with unusual views all the way to the pacific coast. The company had a pot of delicious coffee, next to a prehistoric metate that the ancients supposedly used to grind coffee beans.

We did the zipline tour first. The cables ran between huge trees, high above the ground, and over the tops of the coffee trees growing in the shade of the forest canopy. I was a bit nervous about the safety of the zip lines, but the systems were very safe looking, apparently set up by a Canadian tramway company that also installs ziplines in Costa Rica. They even took measures to protect the trees from damage by the anchor systems.

After the ziplines the guides said to hang out on the porch, and they'd see about getting lunch ready. It took a couple hours, but we didn't mind because the views were amazing, and the coffee was delicious. When they brought lunch I was amazed. The meal would've cost $15 in the states. After lunch we sat around, and drank more coffee, then they again made sure we wanted to do the long hike that was famous for it's 5000 stairs. The hike we wanted to do was longer and the government required a guide. We saw white faced monkies, howler monkies, and sloths. A couple different kinds of orchids, and a bunch of stairs because the terrain was too steep for a trail. One of the volcanos had steam coming out of the crater, but apparently nobody thought much of it. There was even a small coffee farm in the crater.

The guide was very familiar with, and passionate about his jungle world. He lived his entire life at the foot of the Mombacho Volcano, and had no desire to ever leave his beloved Nicaragua. He taught himself to speak very good english, and realizes the opportunity that exists in Nicaraguan tourism. He said that last year Nicaragua had about 1,000,000 tourists. That number is up from 500,000 from the prior year. I told him that I was impressed with his company and Nicaragua for doing business in as environmentally friendly a way as was possible. He was very aware that tourists come for the natural beauty, and it is important to preserve it. His pride of place, and love of life impressed me deeply.
After hiking we caught a ride down the mountain with the guide crew, and back to Granada. The driver dropped our guide at his volcano home surrounded by banana trees. Then he dropped us at the market in Granada.

We purchased food to cook dinner then walked through the busy evening marketplace to our hostel. We made dinner then went to the drinking street for some chillin' out at a place our guide recommended. There were plenty of street festivities, mostly improvisational kids who would do some sort of performance then solicit the crowd for donations.

The place the guide recommended was full of locals sitting at street tables, drinking the national beer so we followed suit.

We discussed where we were going next, which we decided was going to be Isla de Ometepe in the Lago de Nicaragua to check out some petroglyphs, then drank a little too much beer.
The next day we walked backed through Granada to the bus stop where we boarded a chicken bus for Rivas. The ride took a while because the driver would stop every several hundred meters to pickup or drop off someone. Although the bus was crowded and slow it was a fun experience. The driver had his music playing through the bus, people were talking, and I thought it was a rich cultural experience close to the way of local Nicaraguan life.

Once in Rivas we unloaded at a chaotic bus terminal. There were the ever-entrepreneurial taxi drivers trying their best for an extra dime. We found our way to the public toilets in the adjacent market, the ATM machine, and the central square where we chilled out in the shade for a bit. We negotiated a taxi ride to San Jorge for about half the cost of what the taxis wanted at the bus terminal. San Jorge is the main departure port for the one hour ferry crossing to Isla de Ometepe. The Lonely Planet book said that most people just roll through en route to the Isla, so I took it as a que that it may be a good place to hang around. It had a beautiful water front beach with an amazing view of the Isla volcanos. We got a room, dropped our packs, and walked down the beach to a little place where we got more seafood than we could eat for less than $10. Lisa said shes not too hip for seafood, but that this was delicious

The day before there were stiff winds blowing, which I guessed would have the lake stirred up a bit. The winds also played a part in our decision to stay in San Jorge. Because of this I made sure we were signing up for the ferry, and not a smaller launcha, which I thought would've, at least, been an adventure in sea-sickness, besides I didn't trust look of the smaller boats being able to handle big stormy water.

Isla de Ometepe, Nicaragua
We wanted to make a quick trip out of the Isla, specifically to see the petroglyphs. Because we wanted to do it fast we knew it'd cost a bit more, so we agreed to pay for a taxi to El Porvenir where there were petroglyphs scattered around a working ranch on the side of Volcano Maderas. They built little structures to shelter the petroglyphs. Many of them were very weathered and difficult to see. I thought one particular was interesting depicting what looked like a Mayan calendar. I also liked the smiley faced dude with two foreheads. The ranch was beautiful and it would've been wonderful to stay and spend a few days hiking, but we decided to ration our time in favor of more beach time later.

We returned to the port town of Moyogalpa so we could be ready for an early start to a long day of travel to Costa Rica. The afternoon and evening in Moyogalpa we explored the town and sat around at the waterfront watching kids, and fisherman, and being lazy in the hammock on the porch of the room we rented for $15.

Our goal for a travel day was to get from Isla de Ometepe to San Jose, Costa Rica. It was an ambitious goal since it was on a Sunday, and it involved a border crossing. We read that it's a good idea to buy international bus tickets ahead of time. We didn't because we felt that so many things can go wrong when traveling; delaying us and possibly missing our schedule, that it was worth it to take our chances. When we arrived at the bus terminal in Rivas we found that no tickets were available on one bus line, but were able to get onto another international bus that ended up being a pretty nice bus for the 8 hour trip to San Jose. The border crossing was easy and facilitated nicely by the bus company.

We made our way through customs without getting our bags inspected at all, but It was a good thing we had proof of onward travel. We were asked for it three times during the trip, first at Costa Rica customs.

The next couple hours on the bus passed listening to terrible classic country music (Conway Twitty I think). One of the locals finally got up and asked the driver to throw that CD out the window. Much to everyone's relief he turned it off, and replaced it with a nice Latin sounding beat. We arrived in San Jose late and were tired so we succumbed to paying too much to a taxi driver who took us to a cool little hostel run by a Turkish guy. The taxi driver wanted more money when we got there, saying something about a different route we took. It was the only time I got a little feisty with any locals when I told him to eat shit. Lisa spent some time writing, and I went downstairs and drank beer with the Turkish owner. The next day we continued our crossing of Costa Rica by bus, to Cahuita, on the Caribbean coast. The highway crossed steep mountains and occasionally emerged from the thick forest to cross big river flood plains. I've always heard of the rivers in Costa Rica, but I was expecting them to be of smaller volume. These rivers must be very impressive during the rainy season.

As we approached Limon we got stuck in a sturdy traffic jam that added a couple hours to our trip. Everyone got off the bus and started walking along the road. When traffic started moving we were picking up our passengers for miles along the highway. Near Limon it was obvious what a large industry bananas are here. Huge banana plantations, and trucks everywhere hauling containers to the port to be loaded on ships.

Cahuita, Costa Rica
On reading about the Caribbean coast of Costa Rica we found that Puerto Viejo de Talamanca was the more touristy place so we opted to check out Cahuita, which was 17 kilometers north of Viejo.
We planned on staying only one night in Cahuita, but we were there 3 nights. It was such a relaxed place that it was hard to leave the dirt streets, with reggae music coming out of every little nook. Not to mention the miles of beautiful beach that are part of Cahuita National Park. We originally planned to camp on the beach of the National Park, but later found out that they no longer allowed it.

We found a room at a place called Spencers right on the beach for $25 a night. We could lay in bed at night and hear the surf pound the beach.

It seems that Spencers is one of a few businesses run by a family native to Cahuita. King runs snorkle surfing and fishing tours with his panga. The family also runs a cafe called Cafe Parquecito, which serves good fresh food really cheap, to a nice reggae beat. The Caribbean coast has a distinctly different feel than that of the other areas we visited, more of an islands, sort of feel. Lots of fresh fruit, mangos, papaya, pineapple, and bananas were all in season. Everywhere we went served fresh fruits for breakfast, dinner, cocktails, everything. In a Panama grocery store I was amused to see big beautiful pineapples selling for .25 cents for two. In the states they're a third the size for 1.50 a pound.

The night we arrived in Cahuita, we met King. He would be our snorkel guide the next day, he was soliciting for tours from his bicycle. We went out in his Panga with about 8 other German travelers, who didn't know each other. He was a big black guy that wore his life well. All the girls were immediately in love. He had my respect for the same reasons that I respected the guide in Nicaragua. He had been in Cahuita his entire life and loved it dearly. He had no ego, just a knowledgeable, gentle style that was very likable; the same qualities that make a good guide anywhere in the world. The water was a bit murky, but we could still see lots of colorful fish and coral. We went to a couple different places to snorkel then King said in his reggae accent "we swim here, then we go to the point and we eat fruit" it made everyone laugh. Some German guy finished chasing a stingray across the ocean and got back in the boat. We went to the point of land that was part of the national park and beached his boat. King got out a couple of huge pineapples and his hand made paddle. He set the paddle across the bow of the panga, sharpened a knife, and using his paddle as a cutting board he made quick work of the pineapple. He then served it up on the paddle blade. The salty sea water on the paddle added to the delicious fruit nicely.

After we ate too much pineapple we parted the company of the tour, and would walk back to town, about 4 kilometers, on the trail through the jungle. Before going back to town we walked a couple kilometers in the opposite direction between the fringe of the jungle, and the beautiful beaches. Along the way we saw a white faced monkey that was very habituated to people and their food. He walked right up to us and jumped up on the pack that Lisa was carrying. It was a good thing Lisa wasn't bitten or scratched, and it was probably a good thing we didn't camp because the habituated monkeys would've been a pain in the ass to deal with. Thats probably the reason the park discontinued camping. We found some neat little palm trees to hang out under for a while, did some more swimming, then started our 6 km. walk back to town.

When we booked a trip of 2 weeks to cross half of Central America we knew we would have to make sacrifices and not see or do some of the things we wanted to do. That's the reason for the quick crossing of Costa Rica. Even if we'd have taken six months to do this trip I think we would've still had to make those decisions.
As much as we loved Cahuita, we knew it was time to go. We would try camping again on the archipelago of Bocas del Toro, Panama. We packed up, and walked to Kings family's cafe. We got a quiet breakfast of eggs, with rice and beans. We sat in the morning shade, drank coffee, and read about the particulars of the Panama border crossing, then walked to the bus stop to wait for the bus to the border town of Sixola, Costa Rica. As we were leaving the cafe we said hello to King who was patrolling the dirt streets on his bicycle looking for his next crew of tourists.

The bus to Sixola made quick time, speeding through massive banana plantations. The border crossing to Panama was easy, and quick. I was really surprised at how fast we moved through. This border crossing is what I'd imagine some of the remote Asian borders are like. The physical border was a broad river with thick jungle on both banks. The bridge was a rickety affair, one narrow lane wide, with thick planks of wood for the driving surface. We shared the bridge with, among others, a Dutch traveler singing "if your going to San Fransisco", and an orange semi truck that wanted us to get out of his way.

checking out of Costa Rica

On the Panama side we quickly cleared customs and got a collectivo style taxi to the little town where the water taxi departs to Bocas del Toro.

Bocas del Toro, Panama
We again made quick connections at the harbor, entering a world of boats, and were on a fast boat to Bocas in no time.

We arrived in Bocas del Toro town about 3:45. We made such good time throughout the day that I thought we could possibly catch a ride to some deserted island and camp that night. With some work we discovered that we'd have to charter a special boat to suit our needs at a rate of anywhere between $90 and $140. That wasn't going to work so we, instead, arranged for a trip the next day for $25 each, round trip. The only thing special about our arrangement is that the boat, already on a tour, would leave us on a deserted island. We'd catch a ride back the next day with the next tour. Leaving the next day, we decided, would work out better because we had a lot to do. We needed to organize our gear, buy food and water, and check on camping permits at the park office. We also needed to book a regional flight to Panama City so we wouldn't be late for our homeward flight. With plans made to meet the boat at 9:30 the next morning, we got a room for the night at the Mondu-Titu in the so called tree house, changed clothes, and got a plate of fish for a late lunch for about $4 each. We went to the local grocery store where I had about the most challenging experience of my life trying to outfit a night of camping. We got some pitiful food for dinner and breakfast, but it would pack well enough. We also got a 1 liter box of red wine, which would prove to come in quite handy for some deserted island, sunset watching.

tree house

I think the night we spent camped on a deserted island (Cayo Zapatilla), off the coast of Panama, was the highlight of the trip. It was an experience straight out of a childhood dream. It was definitely one of my goals for the trip and I couldn't be happier about the way it happened. We were pretty much just lazy for most of two days. We did a bunch of swimming, and got too much sun. I didn't have to look far to my caveman ways, that helped me open a coconut. Behavior that I don't think impressed my sweetie. I wouldn't recommend opening a coconut with a pocket knife. My inner caveman also allowed me to make fire. Since I'm a feign for coffee it was necessary to heat water, since the airlines won't let people pack a stove.

Cayo Zapatilla

We debated for a while about staying another night on the island. We didn't exactly have enough food and we drank all the wine the night before, so it would've been a bit more like Gilligans Island. We thought we could try a surf lesson the next day if we went back to town so thats what we did. As it turned out it was a very, very, good thing we went back to town that night. We got the last room at Hostel Calypso on main street. We dropped our filthy packs, went out for a look around Bocas, and signed up for a surf lesson for the next day.

We got lucky by not really having any rain the whole trip. Even though we traveled during the dry season everyone talked about how wet it was everywhere we went. On looking around it was easy to tell that these people knew how to deal with rainfall. Sometimes the engineering of little gutters and spillways for rain water run off was quite impressive. It seemed that corrugated steel roofing was a popular material that people would use on most buildings. Late that night I woke to a loud pounding on the tin roof. Even though it was loud it was kinda peaceful especially since we weren't still out on that island.
Now I gotta preface this with a little perspective: I grew up in Oregon, I've lived in Georgia and North Carolina, I've seen the rains that cause flash floods in Utah, I know what a good soaking rain looks like, but I can't remember when I've ever seen rain like what came down that day. We got up in the morning and sat on the covered porch, with coffee, looking at the rain, astonished with how lucky we were that we didn't stay another night out there on Cayo Zapatilla. We walked to the store to get a few groceries for breakfast, then came back and made pancakes and eggs.

In the afternoon we went out in the rain for a surf lesson. We didn't get one photo of it. Lisa did well getting up on at least 5 or 6 waves. I pretty much sucked, but it was beautiful being out in the big swells while the rain came down. I was fascinated with the feel of swimming under the big breakers. A lot different than swimming in whitewater rapids, but very fun to feel the power of the surf. The guides took us out to a deep reef break where they said we wouldn't hit anything on the floor of the sea, but Lisa made contact with something that put a good scratch on her foot.

Homeward bound
Little did we know that when we woke the next morning it'd be 42 hours before we slept again. What a shocking way to end such a relaxing experience! We cooked a Valentines Day pancake breakfast then packed up to go to the airport. We purchased air on a regional carrier that was a subsidiary of Tica Air. It was a nice change from the assholes that US airlines have turned into since 9/11. When we were on final approach to the airport in Panama City we had a perfect view of the Bridge of the Americas and the entrance to the Panama Canal.

Panama City, Panama
We flew into the regional airport, but we would depart from the international airport later that night, which was over 20 km., across a town of nearly a million people. We got a taxi from the airport into a part of town called Caledonia. Lisa said it reminded her of NYC. We wanted to check out some artisan markets, do some shopping, get some food, then go to the airport later. We managed to stay out of the occasional downpours. As the afternoon waned the market and streets grew more and more busy. I must say that the chicken buses of Panama City took the title of the best chicken buses I saw during the entire trip. These guys put some pride and festivity into these things. We got some chicken and rice with lentils for about $4 for us both. The food in Panama City was probably the cheapest of the trip.

We waited for a break in the rain then made the half block hike to the bus stop. We caught a chicken bus to the Tocumen airport. It was a pretty miserable experience. It took probably 3 hours and was very hot. It cost us 50 cents each for the ride, but I wouldn't recommend it. If I were to do it again I'd go to the bus terminal at the regional airport and catch a more direct bus. We did it because we had plenty of time so we thought why not. It was definitely an experience that made us very glad to see the airport.

This day was already huge beyond scale and it was still over 24 hours from being done. I was thinking most of the day how I was going to find my sweetie a valentines day present. It was well after dark. We had been about 2 hours on the chicken bus, and were stuck at another piece of big city, traffic gridlock, with horns blaring, and motors revving. One of the passengers had a nice Caribe sounding beat playing on his cell phone. Lisa was sitting, smashed against a wall by some dude. I was standing with our backpacks in the back of the bus in the cargo zone. From my position I could see, through the steamy windows, a guy walking through traffic, carrying a bunch of roses. I didn't really think anything, I just stuck my hairy mug out the window and yelled at him. I gave him $2, he gave me one rose, just as the bus rolled out of his reach. I gave the rose to Lisa and I think I was just as surprised as she was, especially when it earned an applause from inside the bus. It was a grueling day, but it was the best Valentines day ever.

We finally got to the airport and filtered a quart of water in the bathroom, which I proceeded to slam. We went to the airport cafe and ordered some fries and a couple beers. They wanted to close, so we went and found ourselves a spot on the floor to wait until we could check in at midnight. The gate area was full of weird security checks. We left Panama around 3am, arriving in Ft. Lauderdale about 7am. Our next connection didn't leave until 4pm so we took the bus to the beach to spend the day there. It was cold in the morning, but quickly warmed up into a nice day for more beach sittin'. We got into Las Vegas around 11pm. Spirit Air didn't say anything about being late so the person picking us up would know. I wouldn't recommend flying Spirit Air for more reasons than what I'll crow about here.
The trip was fantastic beyond what I could explain here. We weren't ripped off, and never felt unsafe. If I had it to do again, I'd do it just the same, especially the part about the person I got to travel with.

will work for turns...

2011-01-04T18:29:00.004-07:00

There's something about working for my turns that makes skiing down more enjoyable. It's not about just skiing down though. I'm sure anyone that has done it will attest it's darn hard work to hike, on skis, up to the top of a mountain in deep snow. Once my friend and I hiked 8 hours to the top of the Oquirrh range west of SLC. We stood on top for a few minutes then skied about 20 minutes down. That wasn't one of the more enjoyable days I've ever spent in the mountains, but I'm glad I did it, and it was better than standing in lift lines.
I started telemark skiing several years ago because the crowds and competition for the fresh lines started to drive me crazy. Skiing telemark was more of a challenge, and it was also a more soulful way to be in tune with nature. I'd be lying if I didn't admit that at least a little bit of the reason was because telemark is definitely cool. It's also a bitch to learn, and a serious commitment must be made to get through the "school of hard knocks". It's funny to hear people say they'll "give it a try". It's something you either commit to, or not.
Here are a few pictures of some of my trips to the winter backcountry.

Ogden Wasatch:

Salt Lake Wasatch:

Dutch Hollow:

Oquirrh Range:

North Ogden Divide:

Lefty's:

Cutler Ridge:

Campfire Sittin'

2010-11-27T20:09:00.001-07:00

campfire sittin', it's 'bout 5 degrees

the dirty devil desert, thanksgiving eve

sunset was sure purdy, o'er Henry's Range

moon's comin' up from over the Maze

i could be with the family, eatin' till it hurts

but i'd rather just sit out here in the dirt

stoke the little fire, it smokes in my face

coyote he calls, a purple distance away

he howls at the moon, I smile and know

coyote is friend, and not my foe

alone, but not lonely, out here in the cold

contemplate life with the help of some gold

golden and strong, bitter and sweet

bourbon by a campfire, sure's a nice treat.

i move close to the fire, cold is the night

fingers won't hold the pen that won't write.

I think of my gal, I hope this one works out

I've had a few tries, that she looks past with no doubts

a sleeping pad made by paco, and a zero degree bag

that i'll climb inside when the fire does die.

the light of the fire gives way to the night

the wide open of sky, it helps me sleep tight

the dark devil below, the bright stars are above

the piss ants are frozen, the whiskey does buzz

another season is done, i sleep on the rim

somehow it's worked out, season number ten

freeze my ass off, but no where i'd rather be

campfire sittin', on thanksgiving eve

Coyote the Trickster

2010-09-10T21:11:00.018-06:00

I have written about the mindset of a solo trip on numerous occasions. A solo trip is such a different way of experiencing the wilderness that I've never been able to relate the mindset sufficiently, either in writing, or otherwise. What follows tries to speak to the same thing, but in as bazaar a way as I've ever experienced. I've never considered myself a superstitious person, but this is the closest brush with the supernatural that I've experienced. I would hope that my story doesn't quite carry the same meaning as coming off a solo trip claiming that Bigfoot is real. Arguably, the level of crazy is pretty close, but I assure you the following is as true as gravity.
This year I have completed three, week long, solo ranger patrols through Deso. Before a solo trip there is a measurable level of anxiety. If a mistake is made during a solo endeavor the likelihood of the mistake becoming disastrous is pretty high. I felt pretty good about this particular trip. I just finished a trip that I was pretty complacent in preparing for so my attention was focused on not making a mistake again. The pre-trip went well and I didn't forget anything. After a couple days on the river I saw my first group of floaters at Cedar Ridge. We spent a half-hour or so chatting about various things. During our talk I suggested they stop at the museum in Price. I asked them which way they were going home. I was referring to when they finished the river trip. They thought I was referring to the float so they naturally looked confused and said downriver. We had a laugh about the not so elegant miscommunication, and the possibility of going upriver, then parted company.
I went downstream about a mile to just above what I call the 3rd of July camp. It looked good for a solo camp so I unloaded the boat and set up. Later in the evening I decided there wasn't really a reason to set up a tent so I would sleep on the bare ground with no shelter. During the night I woke to weird dreams, and to Cassiopeia looking down on me from her chair. When I woke in the morning I opened my eyes without moving my body and could see the raft. I was glad to see the boat, and thought about the strange dreams I had during the night. I lay still for several minutes, in futile effort, trying to recall the dreams. I got up, made coffee, and sat in my chair, when I noticed some tracks on top of my tracks from the night before. I stood up to investigate. With a quick look around I discovered that a coyote had visited me during the night. It's tracks indicated that it came from upstream, fully investigated my camp arrangement, circled my sleeping position within inches of me, and continued downstream. I returned to my chair to drink coffee and contemplate what this visit meant. The first thing I thought about was the western Native American legend that coyote is either the trickster or the creator. It occurred to me that Coyote visiting me during the night was the reason for the strange dreams. My mind immediately went into overdrive with questions. Why did he visit me instead of going onto the bench behind where I was? Did he have a message for me? If so, was the message contained in the dreams that I couldn't recall? Did he see the patrol boat and feel like his authority was being challenged? Was he just playing a trick on me, trying to freak me out? Did Cassiopeia know the answer? If so, I knew her vain arrogance would never let her tell me. As I thought of these things a poem came to me, which I copied into my journal.

Coyote of Deso
steps over my bed
Cassiopeia watches
and says "go ahead"
go ahead haunt the dreams
of the ranger on shore
tell him Coyote
is really whos in charge
Cassiopeia and how she must gleam
when Coyote the trickster
makes the river flow
upstream

After I wrote about it I felt better and continued on with the day. After breakfast I went for a short hike then loaded the boat and floated away. Part of a ranger patrol is to visit most of the campsites to do, at least, a quick monitoring stop. When I stopped into the next campsite I noticed the tracks of a single coyote, in the sand, going downstream. Again and again, day after day, I noticed the same tracking in almost all the campsites I stopped into leading me downstream. I started to become haunted by Coyote; I knew I had to figure out the meaning of his visit.

A few weeks prior to this trip I completed a solo patrol at a similar low water flow of around 2500cfs. When I rowed Cowswim rapid I thought it was getting to the point that it could be run without scouting it. Cowswim has gained infamy over the past couple years, becoming known as a terrible rapid as a result of a big debris flow that carried huge boulders into the river in August of 2008. It certainly is a respectable place that without complete attention could result in disaster at any water level. With low water it becomes very different and arguably, easier to run. I had never run it without scouting it since the debris flow of 2008.
As I approached Cowswim I wanted to row it without a scout, but I started to chicken out. I sat still on the raft in the slow placid water above the rapid in the heat of the afternoon. I could hear the base vibrato of Cowswim getting more pronounced as I drifted closer. I let my mind cover all the bases of why I shouldn't do it. I told myself that maybe I should let my first un-scouted running of this devil be on a later trip with someone else along. I decided that running it without a scout was perfectly legitimate, and the reason I was starting to chicken out was because I was scared of Coyotes trick. I told myself that I was freaking out; I was being superstitious. About 100 yards above the entrance to Cowswim the answer, and reason for Coyotes visit came to me as clear as a bell. I decided the reason for Coyotes visit was to challenge my superstition and my stability in solitude. He wanted to know if, when presented with superstition, I would freak out while on the river by myself; sort of a test of bravery. If I were brave, and wise Coyote would be proud of my judgment and be my friend. If I were unwise or not brave then I would succumb to Coyotes trick and not be a reliable decision maker when in the wilderness by myself. Coyote would be indifferent to how I made my decision, but he would willingly be my friend or my foe.
I pushed hard on the oars and moved the patrol boat into the fast water leading into Cowswim. I discovered that Coyote was my friend, and not my foe. I never did see Coyote.
I camped on Swaseys beach the final night of that trip. I set up the firepan, started some coals, and cooked a dinner of sausages, onions, and zucchini. After the food was cooked I put a few sticks of pinon pine on the coals. The wood immediately smoked, caught fire, and filled my senses with its wonderful aroma. I watched the last of the orange glow of another summer sun set behind Gunnison Butte. Coyote and I sat up until late in the night by the little fire watching the moon and stars. I got drunk as seven Indians. Coyote laughed at me. Cassiopeia said nothing.

Peak Baggery

2010-09-02T12:15:00.000-06:00

My sweetie and I did some peak bagging this summer. Here are a few of the trips.

Mt. Ogden (9570') from the Beus Cyn. trail:
A dayhike to the summit above Ogden. It was a hot day, nearly 100 degrees. The Ogden pioneer days rodeo was the night before, so I was a bit hungover. I did get an ass-kickin outta that day. We saw one other person at the summit that said "jeez, i thought you guys would never get here". We asked how he made the approach - he rode the Snowbasin tram.

Great Basin Nat'l Park, Wheeler Peak (13,063'), and the ancient Bristlecone Pines in Nevada.

Ruby Mountains Wilderness in Nevada:
We originally planned to camp at Liberty Lake (pic below). When we arrived we found plenty of other people camped there so we took a break for a map check. We decided to keep going past Liberty Lake into the next basin to Favre Lake, then leave the trail for a steep, but short climb to Castle Lake, where we camped. We had Castle Lake all to ourselves.

The High Uintas Wilderness and Kings Peak (13,528')
We approached from the Henrys Fork trailhead along with a zillion other people. Kings Peak is the highest point in Utah and that's pretty much the only reason we did it. This was my first trip to the Uintas. The High Uintas are a vast place and we had no problem getting away from most of the people except for right on the summit. The weather was amazing and pretty warm. The very next weekend the peaks were capped with snow so we did the trip just in time.

The List

2010-08-18T22:07:00.004-06:00

At risk of great humiliation I post this story! What the hell, I'm unabashed.

It seems to me that with experience and routine comes an unfortunate time of complacency. Complacency, almost always, breeds mishap. When this mishap strikes it's ironic that the same experience can, but not always, keep the mishap from becoming disaster.

We loaded the truck in Price the day before and drove out to Sandwash Ranger Station, following the routine of nearly every week during the summer for the past several years. Theres a gear checklist hanging on the fridge in the boatshed that I meticulously created to try to avoid forgetting something important in town.

Despite the list, it seems somebody always forgets to bring something; paper towels for the kitchen box, a can opener, a chair, a sleeping pad, etc. Usually with a little creativity these mishaps can easily be overcome. I was once distraught about having forgotten a chair. I used my sleeping pad that trip as a backpacker style chair, which I folded and leaned against a tree or rock, making a quite comfortable spot to sit for hours at a time. Once I even forgot tent stakes and poles, making my tent pretty much useless. I was lucky it didn't rain that trip. I created the above-mentioned list after forgetting to bring coffee on a trip a couple years ago. I was so pissed-off at myself! We were camped at the ICP island on a May trip, first one of the season. I woke the first morning and set about making coffee. After putting water on the stove I discovered, much to my astonishment, that the coffee simply wasn't on the boat, at all. Luckily for me I was the only coffee drinker of this particular trip.

Anyone that knows the story of the John Wesley Powell Expedition knows how terribly impoverished the men were upon exiting the Grand Wash Cliffs. The men were blackened by the sun, they'd been eating moldy flour for weeks, they had not even the shelter of clothing at night but, by god, they had coffee in the morning. I'm convinced that if not for this coffee the men of Powells Colorado River Exploring Expedition would have surely perished.

August 11th; my fourth ranger patrol trip of the season on the Green River through Desolation Canyon in eastern Utah. There is always a little anxiety before a solo trip because the smallest mishap could lead to ultimate disaster when there is no one else around to go for help. The level of anxiety before this trip was unlike what I've experienced on any of about 20 solo trips over the past nine years. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I knew something wasn't the way it should be. Nevertheless, I needed to get moving downriver so I pushed the patrol boat into the current about 3pm.

I rowed for an hour or so, with no shirt on, enjoying the windless calm of the afternoon and the warm sun. As I let my mind settle into the unique place that it goes during a solo trip, I felt the anxiety fall away. I decided I better cover some miles before dark so I fired up the outboard Honda. I moved downstream at about half-throttle thinking that I should be wearing my life jacket while running the outboard. I didn't quite finish that thought when I hit the kill button on the motor realizing that I'd forgotten my lifejacket in Price. I thought about motoring back upstream, and even tried it for a few minutes, to get a spare life jacket out of the ranger station. After a few minutes I realized that the 5hp outboard would move the boat at about half the speed that I could walk, besides it was illegal to motor upstream. I found a spot to tie the boat, where I felt good about being able to find it in the dark, roughly across the river from Duches Hole,. It had rained earlier in the afternoon and the tamarisk bushes were still wet and swarming with mosquitoes. I didn't bring any bug spray so I got into my rain gear for mosquito protection. I forced myself to sit still on the boat while I collected my thoughts, and went over my plan. I thought about the old saying "mishap breeds disaster" and I knew I needed to be very careful so I didn't further exacerbate the situation. I would walk back upstream behind the Serengeti Plain campsite where I could pickup an old two track road. The road comes off of Horse Bench, fords Ninemile Creek, heads False Ninemile, and connects with the Sandwash Airstrip. I knew this route was necessary to go around the cliffs upstream of Ninemile and that it'd put me on the benches above the river and away from the mosquitoes. I knew I'd return from Sandwash under the darkness of a new moon, but figured it wasn't a big deal since my route followed a road. I guessed the route to be about 12 miles round-trip.

I filled my water jug, slung it over my shoulder with a boat strap, and started walking about 4:30. I was sweating bad in my rain gear before I was even off the boat. The mud in the Serengeti Plain saltgrass stuck to my shoes and made my feet heavy. I thought about all the hiking I'd been doing this year and how it had put me in pretty good physical condition for such a hike. I picked up the road and followed it past the old Nutter ranch where I stopped to check out all the now historic brands and signatures on the inside of the cabin. I crossed the creek and by the time I started up the dugway out of Ninemile bottom I had already passed about 40 piles of bear scat, since I left the boat. I thought how exciting that would be to walk back through in the dark. Once I got above the riparian bottom and out of the vegetation I left the mosquitoes behind, and was finally able to get out of my raingear to such a welcome relief. I continued to pass bear sign as I proceeded up the road to the airstrip. At the airstrip I was able to take a break and text my sweetie, which I always look forward to. I made it to the ranger station about 7:30pm. I filled my water jug, grabbed the spare lifejacket, and a zip-loc of mixed nuts and headed back out before the sweat dried. Back at the airstrip I took another break to text, and eat some salty nuts. I sat on the rim and watched the last light of the sunset on the hills across the river give way to night. As I started down from the airstrip I memorized the route thinking of anything that would trip me up on the way back. When I got back into Ninemile bottom it was dark and the mosquitoes were really going off. It actually felt good to get back into my raingear and out of the bugs. As I passed through the thickets of greasewood and tamarisk I slapped on my water jug and shouted so I wouldn't surprise a bear. Soon the road fizzled out and I was again crossing the Serengeti Plain, only this time in complete darkness. The distinct musty smell of the Plain made me smile at the wildness of the landscape and the situation that I was near to pulling off. I made it back to the boat with the ease I had planned for when I tied the boat where I did. I un-tied from the tammies and pushed the boat out trying to hurry and get away from the swarming mosquitoes.

I was hoping to relax and row, free from the bugs for a while, and watch the stars. The cussed bugs followed me out onto the river so I started the outboard and followed the river channel as I remembered it. The darkness was intense making driving the boat very slow and difficult. I was planning on making it to the big mid-river beach at mile 89 to camp because I knew it was likely to be bug-free, and it would be in the shade in the morning so I could laze around. I made it to mile 89 around midnight without running into the riverbank, or a sandbar. Much to my relief the bugs were gone when I started unloading. I set up everything to accommodate some serious relaxation; chair, beer, chips, salsa, and dry clothes. I oriented my chair to be able to see the largest swath of sky, as the stars were brilliant in the moonless sky. As if the physical act of sitting on my ass wasn't enough of a pleasure, I was treated with a shooting star that thoroughly ripped the sky in half! I then remembered that the persius meteor shower was occurring. I proceeded to drink my beer and eat my snacks as the meteor shower displayed at least 50 shooting stars over the hour or so that I watched.

When I arrived at Three Canyon, four days later, I saw Scott Mosiman and another Moki-Mac guide. I saw no one else the remainder of the trip. I wouldn't have wanted to be on that trip without a life jacket. Truly a trip to remember, a lesson well learned, and thankful that an honest mishap didn't turn into the ultimate disaster.

Nefertiti Rescue

2010-07-18T21:57:00.006-06:00

Following is an excerpt of a report i wrote of a rescue we performed at Nefertiti at about 24,000cfs.

My patrol/CPAA trip of 16 people was camped at the lower end of Nefertiti Beach on the evening of June 6th.

The C. Kxxxxx group, permit xxxx, 12 people, was camped at the upper end of the same beach with all participants in camp and boats secured.

The A. Axxxx group, permit xxxx, 22 people, with 3 rafts, 7 canoes, and 1 IK, approached Nefertiti rapid from upstream.

About 7pm I was working on cooking dinner while other trip participants were relaxing on the beach. I heard someone say something about an upside down canoe in the river. I immediately dropped what I was doing and started walking toward the river as I observed an upside down canoe coming through the tailwaves of Nefertiti rapid with two swimmers close by. The canoe was closely followed by a second upside down canoe with no swimmers in sight. As I grabbed my life jacket, Bob, a member of my trip, instructed nearby people to untie his boat from a sandstake. I pushed Bobs 14' Avon raft into the eddy current and jumped on as his passenger. As Bob rowed to intercept the canoes I dragged his bowline, now untied and in the river, into the raft. I again scanned the surface of the river trying to account for 4 swimmers. I noticed an upright canoe with two paddlers that had come through the rapid successfully. On the far side of the upright canoe were the two missing swimmers. One of which, Matt, was floating low in the water due a rain coat over his lifejacket, and heavy cotton clothing, including jeans. As we arrived at the first swimmers I asked paddlers in the upright canoe if all the swimmers were accounted for. They responded that nobody was missing and instructed me to grab Matt first. I tried to make eye contact with Matt who appeared to have aspirated river water and was visibly shaken. I pulled Matt into Bobs raft and checked his mental status with a couple quick questions, such as where he was, and the general time of day, as Bob rowed us to the next swimmer. Matt responded to questions well enough that I thought his condition was not currently critical. One of the canoes caught the upstream eddy current and one swimmer where it floated to within range of other people on the beach that secured the canoe and swimmer. I pulled two other swimmers into Bobs raft and secured the swamped canoe to the raft. Bob was trying to row a now very heavy raft while towing a swamped canoe. I instructed one of the rescued swimmers to keep talking to Matt, while one of the other rescued swimmers and I bailed water from the canoe. Once Conner and I bailed most of the water from the canoe Bob made good progress getting us nearly 150' across the quite strong eddy current to the beach.

I made sure that everyone was ok before they walked upstream to where they were camped. The next morning I went to check on the group again where we had a river safety talk including the wearing of rain jackets over life vests. The group blamed the accident on a mis-communication that resulted in under-experienced paddlers in the canoes.

100 mph geology

2010-07-15T13:02:00.002-06:00

Have you ever looked at the geology of southern Utah and wondered at the ages that have made the strange formations, canyons, and river rapids the way they are? This year while on a float I witnessed the geology speed up to ~100mph in a really close call. A huge boulder broke off of a cliff band high above the river and rolled towards my friends Dennis and Terry who were rowing a boat through Rabbit Valley rapids. I stood across the river watching in dis-belief. Terry recounts the story very well in the following link.

http://www.sunad.com/index.php?tier=1&article_id=19086

Station Solstice

2010-06-30T21:24:00.001-06:00

This piece makes a lot more sense to someone that knows life at Sandwash ranger Station, but it turned out to my satisfaction so I thought I'd post it.

Station Solstice 2009

sunrise at Sandwash around six-fifteen

i sit in the chair, the coffee wakes me

a boater or six, around seven or eight

what’s that new rapid? do the bugs go away?

bughuts reserved, then call for the flow

maybe some breakfast, or just more joe

walk back to the ramp, but first spray with deet

outhouses on the way to make sure they smell sweet

shuttle drivers are here, and can’t find the keys

they're ready to push a car in the river it seems

back to the house for coffee number three

an orange boat tag, first wash off the deet

coffee number three or has it been ten

a little NPR is the same as it’s been

more boaters at noon, then it’s just me

a little bit of lunch, then finally some peace!

a nap on the couch, shut off the radio first

i'll awake to the wind, instead of Roses verse

hike to the airstrip, to feel myself breathe

sit on the edge, look down on a dream

down on a dream, at a pot full of gold

here at the end of Desos rainbow

the cattleguard will announce when boaters arrive

signals the end of a long long drive.

hundred miles or so, 70 is dirt

even if walked would still be the worth

vibrato of high season and the deer flies it brings

makes me think of October at Dripping Springs

the pulse of the day reads one hundred-thirteen

silent and heavy, the mosquitoes even dream

the station at solstice, the seasons it’s been

the hours on the ramp, a beer with a friend

another shift at Sandwash will be ending, all right.

when they bring towns pace on Tuesday night.

Quotes

2010-05-15T18:44:00.015-06:00

I've always had a good time collecting quotes from wherever I see them. I thought I'd share some of them here. I have found inspiration and perspective in quotes, hopefully you will too.

Fortunately we are a happy go lucky set of fellows and look more to our present comfort than our future danger.

-George Bradley 8-8-1869

"No servant brought them meals. No traffic cop whistled them off the hidden rock in the next rapids. No friendly roof kept them dry when they misguessed weather or not to pitch the tent. No guide showed them which camping spots offered a night long breeze and which a nightlong misery of mosquitoes; which firewood made clear coals and which would only smoke. The elemental simplicities of wilderness travel were thrills because they represented complete freedom to make mistakes. The wilderness gave those rewards and penalties for wise and foolish acts against which civilization had built a thousand buffers.

-Aldo Leopold (1887-1948)

Let us cross over the river and rest under the shade of the trees.

-Stonewall Jacksons last words

In my book a pioneer is a man who turned all the grass upside down, strung barbed wire over the dust that was left, poisoned the water, cut down all the trees, killed the Indian who owned the land, and called it progress. If I had my way, the land here would be like God made it and none of you sons-of-bitches would be here at all.

-Charles Russell 1920’s

With some eagerness and some anxiety and some misgiving we enter the canyon below.

-John Wesley Powell 8-13-1869

Say that I starved; that I was burned and blinded by the desert sun; footsore, thirsty, sick with strange disease; lonely and cold, but that I kept my dream.

-Everett Ruess

And the world cannot be discovered by a journey of miles, no matter how long, but only by a spiritual journey, a journey of one inch, very arduous and humbling, and joyful, by which we arrive at the ground, at our feet, and learn to be home.

-Wendell Berry

Gaze not too long into the abyss, lest the abyss gaze into thee.

-Fredrich Nietzsche

It is not the mountain we conquer, but ourselves.

-Sir Edmund Hillary

Speak to the earth and it shall teach thee.

-Job 12:8

When one is open to learning from hidden teachers the world awakens to completion.

-unknown

You cannot find a peril so great that the reward will not be greater.

-Prince Henry the Navigator of Portugal circa. 1419

May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous; leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds.

-Edward Abbey

After dinner we pass through a region of the wildest desolation. The canyon is very tortuous, the river very rapid, and many lateral canyons enter on either side…Piles of broken rock lie against these walls; crags and tower shaped peaks are seen everywhere, and away above them, long lines of broken cliffs; and above and beyond the cliffs are pine forests, of which we obtain occasional glimpses as we look up through a vista of rocks. The walls are almost without vegetation; a few dwarf bushes are seen here and there clinging to the rocks, and cedars grow from the crevices- not like the cedars of a land refreshed with rains…but ugly clumps, like war clubs beset with spines.

We are minded to call this the Canyon of Desolation.

-John Wesley Powell, 7-8-1869

I am lookin I am searchin I have found, near the ground, my soul, myself beneath this trail. Theres no place I’d rather be can’t you see me out here walkin in the rain and hail. A purpose in life seems to me is not to take yourself too seriously. I wouldn’t want to be an old man sittin in an office somewhere far away, worry on my face. You can take my car, my stereo, my little money leave me with nothing but my true family take my dress of clothes, my cheap cologne, my college loans, I don’t mind, no I don’t mind. If that tax man comes lookin for me I’ll be at 10,000 feet cookin up some oatmeal or some rice and beans. Find some ground, lace up your boots and start walkin, you’ll find reason, enough reason to believe. You can drop your worries in the parkin lot, or way down in the city where the sun burns hot. Although civilization is a nice place to visit, I wouldn’t want to live there. Don’t burn yourself out, be zion. It’s not enough to fight for the land, it’s more important to enjoy it while you can while it’s still there. So git out there and hunt and fish and mess around, ramble out yonder, explore the woods, encounter the griz, climb the mountains, bag the peaks, run the rivers, breathe deep that yet sweet lucid air. Sit quiet for a while, contemplate that precious stillness of mystery and awesome space. Enjoy yourself, keep your brain in your head, your head attached to your body, your body active and alive. I promise you this much, I promise this one sweet victory over our enemies. Over those desk bound people with their hearts in a box and their eyes hypnotized by calculators. I promise this one sweet victory. You’ll out live the bastards.

-Lyrics of a song by a group called the Tabasco Donkies inspired by Edward Abbeys speech at a 1987 Earth First rally at the North Rim of the Grand Canyon.

One thing that I’ve learned is how to stay calm in crazy situations. If you want to live you better contain yourself.

-Kirsten Kremer

I aware from previous experiences that a breaking point occurs a few days into such solitary journeys; it is best to proceed through this barrier because on the other side there is some measure of increased tranquility.

-Philipp L. Franklin from Sagebrush Country

Life is a hypocrite if I can’t live the way it moves me.

-Christopher Fry

The tragedy of life is what dies inside a man while he lives.

-Albert Schweitzer

He begins to die, that quits his desires.

-George Herbert

The place where God calls you is the place where your deep gladness and the worlds deep hunger meet.

-Frederick Buechner

The spiritual life cannot be made suburban. It is always frontier, and we who live in it must accept and even rejoice that it remains untamed.

-Howard Macey

If you had permission to do what you really want to do, what would you do? Don’t ask yourself a faithless question like how, that will cut your desire off at the knees…How is Gods department.

-John Eldridge

Don’t ask yourself what the world needs, ask yourself what makes me come alive because what the world needs are men who’ve come alive.

-John Eldridge

Your talent is Gods gift to you, what you do with it is your gift to God.

-Lee Buscaglia

Some people walk in the rain others just get wet.

-Roger Miller

"Your profession is not what brings home your paycheck: it's what you were put on the earth to do with such passion and intensity that it becomes spiritual in your nature or your calling."

- Vincent van Gogh

"So this is a River"

"THE River," corrected the Rat.

"And you really live by the river? ---What a jolly life!"

"By it and with it and on it and in it," said the Rat.

"It's brother and sister to me, and aunts, and company, and food

and drink, and naturally, washing."

"It's my world, and I don't want any other. What it hasn't got is not worth having, and what it doesn't know is not worth knowing. Lord! The times we've had together..."

-From the Wind in the Willows, KennethGrahme

Just because I ain’t got no regrets doesn’t mean I didn’t get it wrong.

-Joe Purdy, Santa Rosa in the Snow

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods

There is a rapture on the lonely shore;

There is society where none intrudes,

By the deep sea and music in it’s roar:

I love not man the less, but nature more…

-Lord Byron

I yanked the colors out of the locker and hoisted them at the bow. We had played our hand out and won against desperate odds! Whether the game was worth the powder or not, I leave to the judgement of others.

-Jack Sumner at the conclusion of the JWP exp. 8-30-1869

“Finally a word of caution. Do not jump into your automobile next June and rush out to the Canyon country hoping to see some of that which I have attempted to evoke in these pages. In the first place you can’t see anything from a car; you’ve got to get out of the goddamned contraption and walk, better yet crawl, on hands and knees, over the sandstone and through the thornbush and cactus. When traces of blood begin to mark your trail you’ll see something, maybe. Probably not. In the second place most of what I write about in this book is already gone or going under fast. This is not a travel guide but an elegy. A memorial ..
-Edward Abbey, Introduction to “Desert Solitaire,” 1968

Do, or Do not, there is no try!

-Yoda in Empire Strikes Back

A man is caught in a flood, and as the water rises he climbs to the roof of his house and waits to be rescued. A guy in a motorboat comes by and says “hop in, I’ll save you”.

“no thanks” the man on the rooftop says “my Lord will save me” and the floodwater keeps rising. A few minutes later a rescue plane flies over and the pilot drops a line. “no thanks” the man says “my Lord will save me” but the floodwaters rise ever higher and finally they overflow the roof and the man drowns.

When he gets to heaven, he confronts God

“my Lord, why didn’t you save me?” he implores

“you idiot”, God says “I sent you a boat, and I sent you a plane”

Let me win, but if I cannot win let me be brave in the attempt

-quoted by roman warriors on entering the coliseum

We said there warn't no home like a raft, after all. Other places do seem so cramped up and smothery, but a raft don't. You feel mighty free and easy and comfortable on a raft.

-Huck Finn

How we spend our days is how we spend our lives.
-Annie Dillard

I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul

- Nelson Mandella

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbour. Catch the trade winds in sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."
-Mark Twain

By Endurance we Conquer
-Sir Ernest Shackleton

The sun does not shine for a few trees and flowers, but for the wide worlds joy
-Henry Ward Beecher

the big 4o in Alaska

2010-04-02T18:05:00.172-06:00

Oh no, I'm gonna be forty, what do I do?
I wasn't really as hung up on it as it sounds, but that was the question that began rolling around my mind about a year ago. I decided I needed to do something fantastic and ring the year in good. I thought about another Grand Canyon trip, but I got the opportunity to go to Alaska to see my friends Hugh and Ali, and there was no way I was going to turn it down.

As it turned out the day of my 40th year went like this: I woke early on the 27th, and stoked the fire in the woodstove. I made some good strong coffee, went for a soak in Tolovana Hotspring, then hiked 11 miles, on my skis, through an Alaskan Black Spruce forest back to the truck. It was the best birthday ever! By the way I must call B.S. on the "over the hill" thing. I feel better now than I did when I was 25.
The trip out of SLC was crystal clear all the way to Seattle. I thought it was kinda rare to come into the Northwest on a day so clear we could see Mt. Hood, Adams, St. Helens, and Rainer. The view made me miss my home stompin'' grounds. After leaving Seattle we quickly found the clouds that cloaked our view of the British Columbia coast line. About an hour from Fairbanks I put down my book and peered out the window to a hazy view that took my breath away. I could not believe the scale of the flow of ice pouring through the mountains at a geologic pace.

Shortly after the cloud cover reformed and lasted until we crossed the Alaska Range. When we landed in Fairbanks Hugh met us with his usual great gusto. He informed us that Jen was in town and that since the evening was so beautiful and clear that we must go flying. I thought it'd be nice to sit still and chill out with a beer or something, but I couldn't turn down an aerial circumnavigation of Denali. So off we went for another three hours or so in Hughs plane, N3654C.

Denali: (aka) "The Big One"
Here again the scale of Denali is something that I couldn't begin to describe in words or pictures. There is just no substitute for seeing it. The Alaska range could be a string of beads hanging around the neck of the monster Denali. "The Big One" simply dwarfs everything else around.

White Mountains NRA; Wolf Run Cabin:
We returned to Fairbanks, had a beer or three, and planned our next chapter; a snowmachine (dare I call it a snowmobile) trip into the White Mountains NRA. We would drive up the Dalton Hwy to where it crosses the Tolovana River and park at the Colorado Creek Trailhead. From there we would ride the snowmachines, towing a sled with gear, 23 miles into the White Mountains.

We'd cross Beaver Creek and spend the night at the Wolf Run Cabin, then come back out the next day. The White Mountains NRA is a BLM area with backcountry cabins that are popular during winter with dog mushers, snowmobilers, and skijoring (being pulled on skis by a dog) folks. That night I again was witness to one of natures phenomenon that I don't know how I've lived this long without. The Aurora Borealis, or the Northern Lights, or as the locals call it simply Aurora. I couldn't believe my eyes; It was as if half the sky was a bowl of green jello, with a light behind it, being jiggled around. Unfortunately, I couldn't make my camera catch it, nor did I spend much time trying to figure it out, for fear of missing something. Oh well, some memories are better kept in my mind, and what a memory it is. I never did hear the wolves howl in the night, but the next day, on our way out, we saw their tracks and sign all over the trail at the river crossing.

World Ice Sculpting Competition:
The night we got back we hurried and put away everything so we could go to the Ice Carving World Championships. The event is held yearly in Fairbanks and these people take it very seriously. There are sculptors from all over the world that come here to participate. This is certainly the most dramatic form of art that I've witnessed.

Jen had to go to the airport and back to Moab and Hugh needed to work so Anja and I went around town and did some shopping. I unloaded too much cash at the map store at the University of Alaska at Fairbanks. I bought maps for the Noatak river trip that came really close to happening in July 2008, until I got a cancer diagnosis in June. We still plan to do the trip and the gusto to do it is as intense as ever before, especially given the flight we took below.

Brooks range:
The next day Hugh went to Flight Service to check on the conditions over the Brooks Range. The news sounded like it'd be marginal but worth a chance so we set about on a trip to go see Hughs friends in Wiseman, Ak. We crossed the big Yukon river and I was again amazed at the the scale that lay below.

When we started getting close to the mountains there was a layer of turbulence between 3 and 5K that we tried to get below, and couldn't without getting beat up, so we said the hell with it and turned around just above Coldfoot,Ak. I was glad because I was getting ready to puke!

After we turned around we decided to wander over for a look at the Arrigetch peaks and the headwaters of the heretofore only dreamed of Noatak River. The coolest thing about the Noatak is the wildness of it. You may say well, it's Alaska, and not only Alaska, but the Brooks Range, why is the wildness of the Noatak special? Everything in the Brooks Range is wild and special. This is true, but what makes the Noatak special is that not only is the river wild from source to sea, but all of it's tributaries are also. The enormity of this wilderness is something I don't ever expect the finite capacity of my humanity to fully grasp, but thats ok because I'll have a blast trying. The afternoon we spent over the Brooks Range in N3654C, is one of the highlights of my life! All these pictures are large and will expand with a click for a better view.

Arrigetch Peaks of the Brooks Range:

Mount Igipak and the Headwaters of the Noatak River:

That day in Hughs plane was almost a 6 hour flight. We ended up pissing in water bottles. Somehow Anja held it, and still maintained a pretty smile, she must be half camel.

We landed with about 20 minutes of fuel left, Hugh said. Despite the trials it was sure worth it. Thanks Hugh!

GCI Open North American Sled Dog Races:
The next day we went to a dogmushing race where Anja took a nice picture of a dog team in action. There was also a fur auction going on, the hides on the left are wolf hides.

Wonder Lake:
I don't remember what happened next, but a couple days later Ali was off work so we took a ride out under Denali where we landed on Wonder Lake and went for a ski.

Denali again:
We flew up close to the mountain and over a couple ridges to check out some big glaciers. It's gets funny to try to describe some of this stuff, it's just not possible. The glaciers are just like the pictures, but not. Anyway, here are more pictures of the icy blue heights. One of them is a picture I took, of the top of Denali, out the top window of the plane. The top of the mountain was nearly twice as high as we were in the plane. I just laughed at the impossibliity.

Tolovana Hotsprings:
We loaded up for Tolovana Hotspring next. It was an 11 mile trail to get there. We'd use the snowmachines and sleds to haul gear, then everyone else would ski. It's a nice little oasis to spend a couple days and I think it's quite popular with the crowd from Fairbanks. We all met at Hugh and Alis house, loaded up, then headed out up the Dalton Highway.

We certainly couldn't forget the dogs. Bailey and I made quick friends. Puck was sad that he couldn't go, but it was probably for the best, as i'm sure some ferocious beast, deep in the forest, would've thought his chubby ass too irresistible.

We made quick work at the trailhead, because the wind was cold and swift. The trail passed through a beautiful Black Spruce forest most of the way.

There were 9 of us total, mostly new friends to me.

The woodstove in the cabin gave the place t-shirt weather in no time, and hotsprings were wonderfully relaxing after the long hike in.

When we left Tolovana we stopped by the local brewery for some beer and food on the way home.

We got back late and started the job of unpacking and cleaning up. Anja and I had to be at the airport early in the morning, and Hugh had to depart for South America at midnight the next night, so there was no time for rest. As Hugh drove us to the airport it didn't even feel like the same airport we spent quite a bit of time at. I was looking forward to the temps in the 60's that I heard about in Salt Lake City, but it was a sad ending to see the big-bird that would take us south.

As we left Fairbanks and approached the Alaska Range the clouds enveloped the mountains and stayed that way until we got to Seattle. I read from my new book by Bob Marshall about his explorations of the Koyokuk, and the Brooks Range. I contemplated a return to Alaska with my boat and a good pair of boots during the summer of 2011 to, as the locals say, go inside.

Toyotaology

2010-03-01T14:32:00.545-07:00

I just got my Toyota back on the road after it sat in the garage for a week with no axle under it. It got me thinkin' that since my truck takes up so much of my time already that I'd write about it, and let it take a up a little more time. Besides I kind of enjoy spending time working on it.
Here are a few pics of what I like to use it for:

Since I refuse to take on car payments I'm pretty much limited to driving an older vehicle. I choose to drive an old Toyota truck because it's easy to work on and I believe that, despite it's age, it can be as dependable as it ever was with proper maintenance and upgrades. Sometimes I like to go for a "walkabout", usually during winter when I work less. These adventures start out innocent enough, but inevitably, at some point during the trip, 4 wheel drive is needed, and I spend a frigid night out in the desert. Not because I get stranded, but because it's just too beautiful to go home. I carry a ton of tools and spare parts with me just in case the harsh desert finds a soft spot in the ol' Toyota reliability that I may have missed.

I've had the truck a couple years and have changed it's look a little and it's function a lot. My main goal has been to not compromise the drive-ability of it while keeping it quite capable offroad. I want to drive my rig a thousand miles to go camping instead of putting it on a trailer and trucking to wherever I want to go. Besides, I seem to be a little short on cash for that kinda business.
I've learned most of what I know from the technical forums online like Pirate 4x4 and others that are similar. Just gotta be careful because a lot of those guys do vehicle modifications that aren't street legal because they're working on strictly offroad vehicles. I don't want to have problems passing inspection so it just takes a little common sense when reading about a potential modification.
Here is what my junkshow looked like when I brought it home. It was desperately ugly and I was a little overwhelmed at first, thinking i may have gotten into a bit more than i bargained for.

...and a couple of what i like to call "during" pictures because it'll probably never be "done".

Engine:
The first thing I had to attend to was the engine, because it had a spun rod bearing. I spent a bunch of time shopping for how I wanted to buy a new 22RE. I looked all over the internet and decided I wanted to buy it locally so if there was a problem I could go somewhere, and look someone in the eye, instead of sending e-mails into cyberspace. I ended up getting a new one from Japan Engine Supply in Layton, Ut. I had the forklift load the new motor into the back of the truck, then I headed for Powder Mountain where I'd spend a weekend getting rid of the old and installing the new. It was definitely an intimidating job mostly because it had to be out of the shop by the end of the weekend.

I set up my work space and took a bunch of pictures of the engine bay, so I would have some wiring and plumbing reference when I put it all back together.

The job went ok and I learned quite a bit about how things under the hood are put together. I have since found that this knowledge is very useful because if I do break down along the road somewhere there is a fair likelihood that I can anticipate what the problem is before I even open the hood.

In the end I like the satisfaction of having an engine that I know. No mystery motor here, or a he said/she said motor that was "gone through" xx,xxx many miles ago.

Engine Bay:
I was surprised at how cobbled together the engine bay was when I picked up the 4runner. I like to say that the only reason that it continued to run was because it's a Toyota. Look at the list below and you'll see what I mean. Most of the broken parts listed below were replaced with parts from the junkyard. I think that in order to get good junkyard parts it's important to keep a relative approach on how you select what you want. For example; if you take a hub apart and the bearing grease is like new then chances are they'll be ok bearings, but maybe not if the truck has super wide tires with a wide off-set wheel on it that would put a heavy load on the bearings. By the way: rear axle bearings are about 150 bucks new for the good Koyo bearings. I have no problems with trying to get another life out of junkyard parts, but it depends
-Fan Shroud was missing, gone!
-Fan had broken blades, probably from when the shroud fell off
-Alternator bracket was broken and was missing a piece that resulted in a lot of vibration
-Crackshaft pulley was bent, which also resulted in vibration
-Engine block negative ground strap was missing
-Fuel filter was funny to see. The fuel filter bolts to the side of the engine block above the starter and is a terrible job to change. Whoever changed it last just zip-tied it to something after hooking the fuel line back up instead of bolting it back to the block.
-Air Conditioning was mostly absent so i obtained parts from a donor junkyard vehicle and new o-rings from 1st toyota parts in Renton, Wa. to put it back in service.
-Windshield washer pump was in-op so it wouldn't pass inspection.
-Power Steering Pump was leaking all over the place. I've found that these pumps are infamous for leaking so I obtained a seal replacement kit from 1st toyota parts I Also replaced the low pressure hose.
-Clutch Master Cylinder was leaking onto the interior floor.
-Clutch Slave Cylinder was leaking, and a bolt was broken off in the bellhousing. The set of easyouts came in handy again.
-Optima battery with slat steel hold down
-New heater hoses. I scored a new set of heater hoses out of the backseat of a toyota truck in the junkyard. Apparently the owner purchased new hoses and never got around to installing them before the truck went to the junkyard. They still even had the Napa part number stickers on them. After getting everything put back together I took the pressure washer to the engine bay, which was a mistake. I ended up frying the alternator somehow so that won't be happening again. Luckily I had a spare. $15 from the junkyard and a trip to Vatozone to test it, and back to life instead of a perfectly good part in the landfill somewhere.
-Valve adjusting screws. I had two of them break and luckily the broken piece didn't go into the timing set, but just settled in a blank spot on top of the head. I took the rest out and threw them away because the set of 'em seem to be of poor quality and I don't want to risk wrecking the engine over a $3 part failing. so I ordered a new set from Toyota.
-Cold Idle didn't work so I set about trying to fix it by replacing the cold start injector, cold start injector time switch, and the cold start air pump.
-Replaced all the vacuum hoses with a blue silicone hose kit from Summit, only to soon discover they didn't like being up against hot surfaces like the intake manifold. They melted, so I put the stock ones back in a couple places.
-Replaced the fuel filter with a OEM Toyota replacement.

Interior:
The Interior should be a book all by itself.
-carpet was missing, replaced with carpet from an 87 SR5 truck
-front seats were trashed, replaced with seats out of the 87 sr5 truck
-gauge cluster replaced with a tachometer dash out of an 87 junkyard truck. This swap is relatively straight forward, just unplug the old one and plug in the new one. Except for one problem; the change in the odometer. I took mine apart and took the odometer out of the old one and installed it into the tach dash. The pictures below show how far i dismantled the old one. It wasn't that hard and i did it on the hood of my truck to boot, since i don't have a workbench.

-grab handles (aka "o-shit" handles) installed on A-pillars (94 4runner)
-rollbar was wrapped with pipe insulation and taped with duct-tape to reduce unintentional skull modifications.
-fire extinguisher secured to rollbar
-rear window switch would roll the window down, but not put it back up. I replaced the switch in the center console and it works like a charm. (86 4runner)
-Ya know the door buzzer that drives ya nuts by buzzing when the door is open and the key is in the ignition? Well heres the deal with that little devil. The little black box, clipped to the steering column, under the dash thats responsible for that noise was unplugged on mine, therefore it didn't buzz. I also had problems with my dome light, which i thought was a completely different beast. The problem was that it didn't come on when i opened the drivers door, but the light otherwise worked fine. I finally figured out that the buzzer and the switch that turns on the light on are wired together, so with the buzzer unplugged the light wouldn't work. I wanted the light but not the buzzer so it was time to do lite surgery on the little black box. The pic below shows how to disengage the little contact to have a buzz free domelight when the door is opened.

Front Bumper:
This was almost the first thing I got rid of. I think this bumper fell out of the top of worlds tallest "ugly tree" and hit every branch on the way down, so i got rid of the Japanese flag looking business from the top and kept the rest.

Rear bumper:
I went through a series of bumpers before I just returned it to stock, which will work until I can build a tire carrier bumper.

I will keep my eyes peeled for a rear tire carrier combo bumper like this, so if you know of one for sale let me know.

Paint job:
The red which had faded to pink also had to go. I didn't want anything fancy that would get sctatched up by brush. A fancy paint job on a 4x4 that gets used is just a pain in the ass to maintain in my opinion, so I made a trip to ACE Hardware. About $50 worth of sandpaper, tackcloths, rubbing alcohol, spray paint and masking tape later I had this.

It does require touch-up paint every six months or so, but what the heck, it adds to the "beater" look.

Other Exterior:

-Radio antenna mast was broken inside the fender causing the mast to flop around. (junkyard 85 toyota 2wd)

-Lund visor from installed (KSL.com)

-Spare tire winch was rusted, bent, and wouldn't work because the chain was bound up. fixed and mounted 33x10.50x15 BFG A/T spare tire (KSL.com)

-Unity spot lights (ksl.com) mounted on A-pillars. Ordered mount kits and replacement parts from Unity

-License plate light fixtures were out because of rust. Replaced black "toyota" trim piece on tailgate. (junkyard 87 4runner)

-rubber door window trim was missing and replaced (various junkyard trucks)

-33x9.50x15 BFG A/T on stock steel wheels (discount tire)

-u-joints oh u-joints how I hate thee, all of 'em

-15x7 white wagon wheels w/4.5" backspace from US Wheel through Summit.

Suspension:

After I got the engine in I made a trip to Willard Peak on a horrendous road, even by 4x4 standards, It about rattled my teeth out, and did rattle the springs loose, but the views were sure worth it.

After the Willard trip I noticed the springs were in terrible shape. One of the rears had a broken leaf, and the rear lift blocks had to go. I went shopping for new springs and shocks. I decided to get four new 2" Old man Emu springs. Went I started tearing it all apart it was obvious that the stock shackles were not going to be re-used. I purchased four new shackles from Downey Offroad who is now disappointingly out of business.

Brakes:
The old toyota brakes are nothing to write home about. Since I roll the Powder Mountain road a lot during the winter I need better brakes. So I basically installed a brake system out of a 94 4runner which is a pretty powerful system for the 85.
-Master cylinder (94 4runner)
-brake booster (94 4runner)
-Large piston calipers (94 4runner)
-vented rotors (83 Landcruiser)
-front stainless braided extended brake lines from EVCO
-10 inch rear drums (94 4runner)
-rear extended flex hose from EVCO
-new steel hard lines on rear axle to drums (vatozone)
-Load Sensing Proportioning Valve out of 93 2wd. The stock LSPV valve gets rusty and becomes inoperable leaving me with virtually no rear brakes.
-Adjustable proportioning valve, and gauge, from Summit to be installed later.

This is taking some creative plumbing and mounting hardware for a couple different reasons.
The Toyota steel brake hardlines are 3/16 Outer Diameter with a metric thread of 10mm by a 1.25 thread pitch or so. The Summit parts are 1/8" NPT fittings. I picked up some 1/8" NPT to 3/16" compression conversion fittings from the hardware store and will install the 3/16 compression hardware on the working end of the hardline after I cut off the metric end with a tubing cutter. I have several odds and ends of this hardline in my spare parts stash so I thought I'd experiment and practice with a flaring tool before working on the real deal. I found that it works well as long as I did through preparatory work, such as filing off all the burrs with a very small file, then by pressing the flare very slowly, maybe even heating it a little as you go. This project left me with a hardline with one metric end and one standard 1/8"NPT end.

The other thing I needed to figure out is where to mount the prop. valve because I didn't want it flopping around wherever I put it. While perusing the junkyard one day I looked under the hood of a toyota celica and found a perfect bracket that mounted between the booster and master cyl. I took it over to a truck with a master/booster like I'm using and it fit perfectly.

Rear Axle:
The 84-85 4runners and trucks were unique years for a bunch of reasons. One of which was the track width of 55". The 86-95 trucks and 4runners were 3" wider in track width, the rear axle tubes were larger in diameter, and the 10" rear drums were native to these guys. Since I wanted to use the larger rear drums anyway I figured why not use the entire axle. I didn't even waste my time trying to fit the 10" drums to the 85 axle shafts. The pic below shows the difference between the 85 (with the drums) and 94 axle with the larger axle tubes.

The 88-95 trucks and 4runners that came with a V6 engine had a much stronger 4 pinon differential commonly referred to as a V6 third member.
I ended up getting a V6 third member set-up with 5:29 ratio gears and an ARB air locker to use in the rearend. Below is a picture of a V6 third member with an ARB, set up at 5:29.

Got it all set up and put together, added an extension hose to the differential breather, and took it for a drive. I found the low gears to be just what I wanted for the hills and acceptable on the freeway. 3000 rpm's come in right at 65 mph which is fine for me. If I wanted to haul-ass on the freeway you can bet I wouldn't put anymore time into a 25 year old Toyota. I would be driving something like this Trans-Am.

Front Axle:
Finally got the front axle rebuilt which is something I've wanted to do, and has needed to be done, since I've had the rig. I must say it's a little bit intimidating to have pieces strewn all over the floor. Here is want I got done.
-5:29 third member with new pinion seal, dust shield, and multi drilled flange installed
-Knuckle rebuild kit from Trailgear , which I noticed too late that the trunion bearings were not the Koyo Toyota bearings. If I were to do this again I'd buy the kit from Marlin to get the Koyo bearings. I also used the heavy duty rock ring felt wiper guards on the knuckles.
-repacked wheel bearings and installed new seals.
-rebuilt the locking hubs.
-extended breather hose with aftermarket breather from Summit placed on the firewall.

On Board Air:
I'm currently working on the OBA using pneumatic parts from a semi truck junkyard. I'll use an in-line air switch out of the dashboard of a Peterbuilt to activate the air locker. Also planning on plumbing in a 2 gallon aluminum air tank out of a Freightliner. I don't really need the tank but i figure if I'm going to the effort of an air system then why not. I have a York A/C compressor, but haven't decided if I want to use it yet, it's going to be a bitch to mount it on the engine block and keep my stock A/C. Just have to figure out how to make sense out of this mess.

Gas Tank:
Also on the list of things to do is replace the 15 gallon tank with a 17 gallon gas tank out of a newer 4runner.

Garage:
Got tired of using the hood of my truck for a workbench so I built this one. I had most of the boards already so I only had to buy the drawer hardware.

There a funny saying I've heard before and that I experience from time to time that makes me think about pushing this whole works off a cliff....

"If it ain't broke......fix it until it is"

I hate to say it, but after all that work I sold it 3-2011

Bryce Canyon and Cedar Breaks

2010-01-31T07:56:00.075-07:00

Since my season in Escalante I have always heard that the best time of year to go to Bryce Canyon is during the winter, so a few friends and I loaded up and headed that way to check it out.

The NOAA weather forecast was for at least one sunny day out of the weekend. Since the huge views are what Bryce is all about we were hoping the weather forecast was correct.

Our plan was to leave Ogden about 3am so we could still get a full day on skis. We'd meet in Panguitch around 9am (which was fogged in) then drive through Red Canyon (also fogged in). I'd heard the skiing could be good in Red Canyon so we thought it'd be worth a look also. Usually before a trip I would fire up the ol' internet and see what people have to say about an area. The funny thing about this trip is that I couldn't really find any info, other than snowshoeing, about where we wanted to go, and as any back-country skier will tell you; snowshoeing is dumb. So I guess we were pioneers in a sense, and the back-country skiers point-of-view is on the ol' interweb now! Trying to score turns in this terrain is something that takes a bit of work in studying the country, maybe a whole trips worth of "work".
Anyway, we stopped in Red Canyon on the roadside for a quick look and decided there was definitely enough snowpack to ski it.

Since it was in the fog we decided to go on up to Bryce, hoping to get above the fog. We stopped into Rubys Inn where Ray had reserved us a room for an unbelievable rate of $117 bucks for four people for two nights. There was even a hot tub complete with Germans! Our room wasn't yet available so we found a dry spot on the back parking lot to change clothes and junkpile all our stuff into Rays car. We then took Angela's car into the park where we were pleased to break above the fog. We had amazing views from the rim to the west and could see down on top of the fog to the north towards Rubys Inn.
We decided to park at Parias View trailhead and tour around the rim to the south, then cross-country about a mile through the ponderosa pine forest to a different rim, where we'd sit in the sun and marvel at the view. We could see all the way to Navajo Mtn. and Fiftymile Mtn.

We spent most of the rest of the day out there then headed back toward the trailhead. We found a few turns on the way back, above the rim of course. Apparently it's illegal for skiers to go below the rim. It would've been quite difficult to drop the rim anyway, and the slide potential was too dangerous, besides we didn't want a ticket.

On the drive from Parias View to Rubys Inn we stopped off at Inspiration Point for, what else, the view. From the parking area we walked up the trail and around the corner, where there before us was the moon rising above Powell Point, with the last of the suns glow on the cliffs below. It was truly an inspiring scene of visionary enchantment, and an amazing ending to the day.

The next day we awoke to the fog so we figured we'd go back into Red Canyon and give it a try. We hiked what we'd named Oak Leaf Canyon because of it's resemblance of such on the topographic map. It is the boxed canyon directly south of the campground. We started up the canyon and immediately knew the snowpack was spooky. On flat ground it would make the distinct "whoomping" sound. We hiked about a mile to the head of the box where everything got steep. We thought we'd test out some different aspects to see if the same dangerous circumstances existed. It did so we decided it was still early enough in the day to try out a different area. We drove to the east side of the park where some interesting terrain revealed itself to us. Ski it we did, getting back at the car as darkness fell. It is always neat feeling to start early and finish late. Makes me feel like I've gotten my money worth out of a day, makes the beer taste good too.

Sunday morning was again fogged in at Ruby's Inn. I felt for the funny Germans at the desk bitching to the clerk about the fog blocking their view off the rim. We moved out early thinking we'd go up through Cedar Breaks on the way home. Just a few miles from Ruby's we broke out of the fog and had clear bluebird skies all the way home. Cedar Breaks access was pretty easy from the plowed road near Brian Head at 10,000 feet. We hiked south a half mile or so where we scoped out some amazing skiing on some steep terrain below the rim. The line we wanted is below the orange cliffs in the center/left of the picture below.

It was a challenging and fun puzzle to figure out how to drop the lines we wanted because of the thick forest and cliff bands that concealed the access. We finally got into the right gulch that gave us access below, and around the cliffs to the left, to the top of the line we wanted. Ray and I traversed out to the top of the line, but found some deep wind deposition below the cliffs on some 40 degree terrain. It was heart-breaking to not ski it, especially after we'd put so much work into figuring it out. We pretty much chickened out; just a gut feeling that was bad. Besides we still had to drive 300 miles home that night.

We left Cedar Breaks and started the long drive. We stopped into Meadow Hotsprings on the way home where the star filled sky was the perfect ending to an amazing weekend trip.

Trash Patrol

2009-09-23T19:20:00.317-06:00

If I were to name one characteristic that brings people back to float through Desolation Canyon year after year, it's gotta be the immaculate cleanliness of the canyon. However, the river corridor naturally collects trash items that come downstream when the water is high with spring run-off. This is mostly the result of people upstream that aren't necessarily thinking about what the consequences may be of depositing trash near the river or just being careless with their trash. When the level of the elevated river flow drops it leaves these items sitting high and dry on beaches, or more often, stuck in driftwood piles, or on a difficult rocky shore. Most of the time the trash is just empty plastic bottles and cans. Stuff that most of the rafters will willingly haul out of the canyon and deposit in the dumpster. Occasionally a large trash item, like a refrigerator, will appear. Understandably, most rafters aren't willing or equipped to pack out such items. Once a year I like to do a trip that is dedicated to the removal of such large trash items. This year it was quite a challenge, not only because of what we needed to get out of the canyon, but also because of the nature of one of the rapids. At higher river flows the rapid at Cow Swim is not safely navigable with a boat rigged the way we needed to rig the junk boat.

The risk to benefit ratio was just not acceptable, so we would wait for low water. Over the course of the season my co-workers and I kept an inventory of all the items that needed to go. We had a 36" television set, a 14' rowboat, a refrigerator, a canoe, 3 oil drums, and several pallets. I knew the job would take some creative thinking and much care to get the junk out of the canyon without injuring someone or damaging a boat. We tried to keep the trip small and tried to keep the junk on one boat so we didn't have to put stinky and rusty stuff on top of, or near to, our personal gear. We started by bringing everything we thought we'd need and then threw in a bunch more stuff like extra straps, rope, webbing, pulleys, come-a-long, generator, saw-zall, extra blades, extension cords, drill, hole-saw kit, tarps, duffel bags, a sheet of plywood, extra paco pads, plus all the usual stuff that goes downstream with us like groceries.

The crew:

Joel: "oh my god! this is the most awesome breakfast sandwich ever!" (a quite fantastic breakfast cook indeed)

Anja: "I wish one of these freaks would let me row" and photgrapher extraordinaire.

Jim: "ho-hum trip number nine-hundred this season" glorified garbageman, and fellow dumbass

Mick: (thats me): "#$%^, you guys are obviously idiots!" dumbass extraordinaire, and glorified garbageman.

Once we got going it was pretty easy business for the first few days. The first chore was going to be removing a canoe at the head of Fretwater Falls, pinned beneath a bunch of driftwood and mud. We decided to leave it there for the sake of river lore, and because it would've been a drag to destroy such a neat looking driftwood pile.

This canoe was stuck where it now rests after a couple knuckleheads snuck on to the river in the middle of the night in early May this year. I guess they decided they were too cool for the permit system that has been in place since the late 1970's. Needless to say, they set out and promptly wrecked here at Fretwater. All too often people that act like idiots never get what they got comin'. I'd say this canoe marks an occasion when an arrogant act was met with just what they deserved. Anyway, thankfully nobody was hurt. The pair managed to walk downstream a ways where they sat on the beach. Bedraggled, they were met by a commercial river company that assisted them in getting the remaining 45 miles out of the canyon.

In this photo you can see just a sliver of green and black canoe

We made our decision, then proceeded downstream to where a 14' aluminum rowboat has laid in wreckage below Steer Ridge Rapid since last spring. The particulars of this one are not so clear, but we decided that it needed to go to the recyclers.

There were a ton of sharp edges and lots of potential for damaging an inflatable boat by hauling it out. This is where the full sheet of plywood came in handy. We slid the plywood way out onto the ends of the pontoon tubes. The edges of the plywood were padded with ethafoam because they sat close to the inflation valve and a sudden slip of the loaded plywood would likely cause damage to the halkey-roberts valve. Using the circle saw we cut holes in the plywood to route the straps over the aluminum boat and tied directly to the raft frame on the aft and the around the tubes on the front.

For the next 5 days and almost forty-something miles we became quite practiced at unloading and loading that old rowboat. Each night we would plan our campsite where we knew there would be shallow enough water to walk along the side of the raft to safely deal with our prize. Actually, we came to endear our rowboat not so much as a prize, but more with awful language that probably shouldn't be repeated. It was a terrible amount of work, especially while trying to row into an upstream breeze. I about died when the recycling facility in Ogden gave me $18 for the thing!

The next stop was our camp for the night at Surprise Rapid. We had work to do there the next day so we couldn't float past. We set up the firepan and burned a pallet found on a rocky beach earlier in the day. The next morning we put the charcoal and nails into a waterproof military rocket box to further incinerate the next night on the fire, probably with another pallet. We made food and drank cold beer, and enjoyed the glow of evening light on the craggy heights above.

The work to be done the next day was staggering at first glance. "We're gonna pull that refrigerator out of the driftwood and then haul it 40 miles out of here???" The job turned out to be much easier than we expected. Most of the internals were gone, and the debris the fridge was stuck in wasn't wet or particularly heavy.

Once we got it out of the driftwood we folded and rolled it up then packed it into big military duffel bags. We used the foam from the walls of the freezer to pad the inside of the duffel from the sharp edges.

We then used the duffels to further pad the rowboat.

A few miles downstream at Log Cabin Beach was a 36" television set that some commercial guides pulled out of the river earlier in the season. On the screen someone wrote with a wax marker "i hope your life is as long as a roll of toilet paper, but with a better ending" Funny boaters anyway!

We knew about the TV set long in advance since it'd been sitting on that beach all summer. How to deal with it gave me more concern than any of the other items. I figured that if it made it all those miles downriver, from wherever it came, without breaking, that it'd probably make it out of the canyon in one piece. The plastic cabinet was broken all the way off and was just hanging there by the wires. With the cabinet held in place it would sort of stand up, but without it would fall over backward. We used the rest of our duct-tape wrapping the cabinet so it would stay put behind the picture tube, then precariously loaded it onto the boat to sit on the aluminum floor between the inflatable tubes. The loading was especially precarious because of the deep water only a few feet out from shore, making it impossible to walk along the sides of the boat, and it would've sucked to fall in the river with a TV. With the help of a paco pad sleeping mattress we moved the TV incrementally along the top of the pontoon. I'm sure Jack would've bought us all cases of beer if he'd have seen this stunt that his product of genius helped us to pull off.

Once we loaded the TV we were pretty much to capacity and then some, but were home free. Just one more barrel.

Maybe another pallet or two for the fire, and a tire stashed under the rowboat.

We still had time left over for a couple hikes

Did some running of rapids, with nothing ripping loose.

Did some beach sittin'

...and some campfire sittin', albeit a pallet fire.

Then the inevitable trip to town with our haul.