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May tripping in Utah

 
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RedRoxx44
Queen of the Walkabout




Joined: 15 Jan 2004
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PostPosted: 5/19/2009, 11:25 am    Post subject: May tripping in Utah Reply to topic Reply with quote

Spring Utah 09---
More exploration and completion. I call this my trip of ghosts--- just because of the time I had to think and reflect on people past that had influence on me. I settled some issues I had, and opened new avenues I hope.
I returned to the San Rafael Swell to try to complete a backpack trip I attempted in 04 or 06. I have a webshots album up of this trip. It was a rainy cool October, and the roads muddy and the streams rising. I slogged in in mud and fog and was treated the next day to sun and clouds. The creek was rising so I balked at the trip thru the narrows, and it was cool to cold so I bagged it.
Fast forward a few years. Back to camp near Hidden Splendor Mine, the gorgeous overlook to the multicolored cliffs and hoodoos, and the sinuous gorge of Muddy Creek. I drove to the the trail head, then packed up for a 30 mile loop that would take me on an old 50's uranium mining road to a beautiful canyon, then on up along the cliffs about 700 feet above Muddy Creek. Then I would drop in and come down the creek narrows, including a 4 mile section called the Chute of Muddy Creek, a trek rumored to be similar to the narrows of Vigin River of Zion, but without all the people.
I crossed the small Muddy creek, actually pretty clear with a little pale silt. A couple more turns down the red walled canyon then took the first side canyon to the left and followed it's twisting mud lined walls to the old mining track ascending near it's head. The gentle grade delivers you to a broad ledge that traverses beneath soaring scenic cliffs and by an old mining camp which is a good place to take a break for a snack and explore a bit. On following the old road, eroded and grown in in places, but an easy and mostly level walk. Soon you come to a significant break, it's the huge Chimney Canyon coming in from the left. The road disappears but it is easy to follow a cattle path, use path to the canyon floor, a wide wash.
Up the wash to where Chimney canyon starts to narrow. An old homestead under some cottonwoods still remains, the most intact building the chicken coop. Chimney canyon branches here, and there are springs nearby. The old homestead makes a good base camp. You can then dayhike the branches. I arrived here and set up my pack, then left it to dayhike the forks. It was getting pretty hot so I deployed my umbrella as a shade source. The rocky branches narrow with some cottonwoods and greenery appearing magically in the stony landscape. Erosion makes for wild and fanciful walls. Each turn brings fascination and beauty. You have a little rock scrambling initially in both branches to get past the dry waterfalls at the springs, but it is easy to do. It appears hikers are not camping in the forks and are quite nice, no firerings or much trace or footprints.
I camped here under the tall ledge. Brought the bivy and just slept out.
Up early and hiked out, located the continuation of the old mining track referred to as the "Pasture Track" and kept contouring well above Muddy Creek, invisible in it's narrows and a distance away as the track contoured close to the huge sandstone cliffs. The track deteriorated as it was cut into narrow cliffs as finally Muddy Creek came into sight several hundred feet below. The track goes to cross the creek; but as soon as the verticality let up I left the track and route found down to the river.
It was nice at the water, some cottonwoods, and greenery. I walked along and crossed but soon the walls started to narrow, still low but then I encountered my first pool that was a little deep. I repacked and waterproofed my pack and cameras in boxes.
The most I found was mid thigh deep, but trekking poles helped locate the less deep areas and there were plenty of potential swimmers. The first narrows were short then it opened up again. Finally the walls came again, and rose and tightened. It was the start of the "Chute". Some really good shoe sucking mud was found but I managed to keep my shoes on.
It was quite beautiful as the creek cuts through different strata including the Coconino. Near the end a tight dark area has several logs jammed about 25 feet overhead. Here also the sandstone had some wonderful swirls of colors in the walls. This section water was mostly wall to wall and you have an easy slog.
I camped just outside of the Chute, in an alcove, a wind storm coming though that I dodged in my shelter.
The next day I had about 7 miles or so out, along the mellow creek, passing by a huge cottonwood overhanging the creek with a sand bank that would make a great camp.
As I drove out saw some pronghorn antelope dodging the hunters, then stopped at a pictograph panel that had some nearby campers but I took some telephoto pics.
Now to Hanksville to prepare for the first annual Dirty Devil River Float----more details to follow----
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Arizonaheat
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Joined: 04 Jan 2003
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PostPosted: 5/19/2009, 6:14 pm    Post subject: Reply to topic Reply with quote

Very Happy Very Happy Very Happy Very Happy Very Happy Very Happy Very Happy Very Happy Very Happy Very Happy Very Happy Very Happy Very Happy Very Happy Very Happy Very Happy Very Happy Very Happy Very Happy Very Happy
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RedRoxx44
Queen of the Walkabout




Joined: 15 Jan 2004
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PostPosted: 5/19/2009, 7:30 pm    Post subject: Reply to topic Reply with quote

I had purchased an inflatable kayak, took it for a 30 min spin on the Salt and decided I was ready for this next Utah adventure, floating the usually low and slow Dirty Devil River. I love this place. I have backpacked a lot along this drainage, sees a lot less use than the Escalante and is gorgeous. As you drive along on Hwy 95 and look over at the sage brush and sand rolling hills it looks empty and nothing. But take one of several sandy dirt roads eastward and viola!!! Amazement and beauty await.

Not much on the net about this trip, except it had been done at all levels of water. As I drove north I checked out the planned take out near Hite. The river looked tiny and insignificant in great mud flats just before joining a muddy and debris filled Colorado River at Hite. I located a ledge with a nook I could stash the deflated raft and still get close to with the FJ to get after I hitchhiked back to Hanksville. I was allotting 6 days to this venture, and another day for the hitching, a little more walking and the drive back to get the gear. River miles about 75, but the road miles about 45.
The BLM reported pretty low water, but not as low as I had heard being traveled by raft. I cached a gallon of water in the culvert under the road at Poison Springs Canyon road, the only vehicle accessible bailout point 16 miles from the pavement to the River, the latter part HC and 4wd.
I stayed in Hanksville overnight and got up early to drive out to the river put in about 5 miles out of town at the end of the sandy landfill road. I had packed a backpack, everything drybagged, and had about 4 gallons of fresh water in dromedary bags in case the river was terribly muddy. I had another dry bag for my hiking boots and "town" clothes, clean clothes to hitchhike in. The backpack was in case something went really wrong and I had to hike out.
The start of facing old ghosts. Growing up I spent a lot of time canoeing on every creek and stream middle Tennessee had to offer. I had several high school friends and we continued running these creeks together; and into the community college we all attended. But one day I was to meet some of them at an old dam area to have lunch; couldn't go with the group for the whole day of river running. I was late and got there to emergency equipment everywhere. I saw them recover the bodies of my best friend and my chemistry lab partner, both had drowned after being locked in a hydraulic at the base of the dam; when they tried to shoot a sluice by the dam the canoe turned over and they both were pulled under. Larry was battered and blue and his body distorted and swollen. I was 19 years old. I went home and locked my bedroom door and didn't come out for three days. Never got in a water craft again.
This May of 2009 was bright and beautiful. I placed the little boat in the shallow water, straddled the seat, and pushed off, thinking of a young girl and her friend, and gliding in the waters in Tennessee woods.
The Dirty Devil here is very broad and full of sand bars. So my paddling was limited and interrupted by lots of getting out and guiding the boat across sometimes only a few inches of water to the next deepest spot. I spent a lot of time leading the boat and walking in the water, an easy job on the packed silt. I would try to read where the water would channel next. The travel was slow and I had time to study the sandstone walls as they came closer to the river, sheer and tall, then would stand back with willow filled sandy banks. At times I got to paddle near and under the curved walls, so close to trail my hand along the roughness of the sandstone above water line.
The day faded away. I found a nice sand beach camp across from Angel Spring, a wonderful spring just down from the Robbers Roost canyons and just off the Angel Point trail to the river. I brought the tent to fend off the biting gnats. It was novel to drag the boat up and turn it upside down, drain a little water out.
The next morning I pumped up the boat a little, then repacked and set out. This area of the river was familiar to me, having hiked along it several years ago. Still very little floating and lots of dragging and leading the boat. Following the meanders of the Dirty Devil was slow. I would see the same butte for an hour before the curves of the river led me from it's sight. I thought about the recently recovered Everett Ruess. Had he seen this country??? Anyone could disappear here. Magical side canyons great and small. Nooks here and there. Walking in water is a good workout. And it gives you lots of time to think.
I stepped in some quicksand a couple of times, floundering once and having to pull myself into the boat.
I saw many little birds along the banks, a snake in the grass (literally) and some good sized fish, looked like catfish.
An old man who was of Cherokee descent used to try to teach me a few things about looking and listening when I was growing up. He did some work at times for my father. I was an arrogant smart alecky pre teen. I liked riding my horses, shooting my rifle, and not being messed with. He noticed I liked exploring in the woods and walking in the streams. I liked to catch fish with my hands and snakes, the dreaded water mocassins. He told me to be slow, to open up, to use all my senses to gather information about my surroundings. When my father or my boyfriends family went deer hunting I could sit in the woods for hours near a tree and never move, yet feel relaxed and not cramped at all. The old man died after a couple of years, but I remember his voice and it's nuances, even as his face is faded in my memory.
Now I felt slow, I wanted to be anxious at this slowness, not keeping with my schedule. I relaxed and the flow of the beauty around me came, and I moved less jerkily, more fluid, I had more energy, and less tiredness.
Night two was near the most spectacular sand beach I have seen in a desert setting. It was pristine and wide white and level, fringed with willows, the river making a graceful arc around it, towering buttes embraced it. I explored in the evening several small side canyons of no names, guarded by brilliantly green cottonwoods. I was past where I had been before, so all was new now.
More later--
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PageRob





Joined: 03 Mar 2005
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PostPosted: 5/19/2009, 7:52 pm    Post subject: Reply to topic Reply with quote

Awesome sounding trip. Would love to see pics. Can't wait to read more.
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RedRoxx44
Queen of the Walkabout




Joined: 15 Jan 2004
Posts: 1167

PostPosted: 5/20/2009, 6:03 am    Post subject: Reply to topic Reply with quote

Day three on the river. Magically, as the river bed tightens up the water deepens, and now I am most of the time in the boat. Reluctantly I stop to check out a major side canyon, which will take most of the day just to touch on it. I carefully strand the boat and tie it off on the beach, empty most of my pack and stash it under the boat, and with a daypack head up the brushy, rocky canyon which soon gives me slick rock to walk on, and some boulders to scramble. The Wingate walls vault sheerly skyward, the walls not far apart, the feeling I am in a funnel of sky.
I await some blocking falls, it is awhile but I make it around. I find some rockbound pools, maybe some springs about, subtle in the rock bound world. The rock looks different, at contact between rock layers often water is squeezed out.
Too soon I must return to my boat. I make camp, although not as great as my previous night. I awake to scorpion play, I kill two and am watchful as I break camp.
Day four brings surprises. As I am dipping the paddles in and out and feeling the kayak surge forward, I seek out boulders in the water and practice manuevering around them. Sometimes graceful, sometimes awkward. I hear a strange noise---I look ahead a see a lot of rocks in the river bed. The water I hear is rapids!!!! Ok, more like riffles. I remember to go down the "tongue" of the "V". The kayak shoots though, the skegs catching the edges of the shallow rocks and bumping me about a bit. So now it is paddling, then these rocky interludes. I can stay in the boat for some but some I must get out and guide it through. I fall down several times as the rocks are slimy with thick trailing strands of green moss. Even in this low water the couple of times the boat gets sideways takes a bit of "umph" from me.
I must say the part of the Dirty Devil between Twin Corral box canyon and Happy Canyon some of the most spectacular country I've seen, world class river floating or backpacking. I would love to return with a pack on or a lot more time with more water with my boat.
My fourth night was another lovely beach front by a great wall in a meander past Happy Canyon. I barely recognized the area around Happy Canyon, the rock face had spalled more rocks into the river and there were small rocks everywhere and the bank was severely eroded from the winter/spring flooding.
I love the mornings on the river, I stayed in the shadows a long time of the great walls and was cool, the days were hot but seemed tolerable on the river, even as I was layered in a long sleeved white shirt and full length pants.
I knew I was not far from Poison Springs Canyon and the dirt road crossing that allowed you access to this area of the Maze of Canyonlands ( or the Ranger station at Hans Flat). However the river had it's own schedule, twisting back on itself many times, and very rocky, I was out dragging the kayak a lot. I must say I was impressed with the rafts' toughness, I dragged it over many rocks, stabbed it with brush, glazed rock edges and it shrugged it all off.
I arrived at Poison Springs Canyon early afternoon in high blazing sun. I had a decision to make. It was day 5. There was no way I would make it to Hite in one more day, looking at the map, and not knowing the mind of the river. I beached the kayak, and started unloading. I would deflate and stash it here, and take the backpack out, hiking the 16 miles. I have driven this road a lot, and knew of springs part way along and some good alcoves to get out of the heat. I would then hitchhike into Hanksville, and return down this road to get my gear.
I was not disappointed. I had backpacked down river from here in the past and knew this area, and knew the river would be potentially quite shallow in areas.
My plans changed when I heard a noise and an elderly couple on two quads pulled up to see if I was ok----
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PageRob





Joined: 03 Mar 2005
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PostPosted: 5/20/2009, 6:38 am    Post subject: Reply to topic Reply with quote

An interesting twist! ATVers arrive. That must have been unexpected.
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KIM*





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PostPosted: 5/21/2009, 10:21 pm    Post subject: Reply to topic Reply with quote

Oh Letty, please tell us more.....!!!
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Matt Hoffman





Joined: 18 Feb 2004
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Location: Grantham, NH

PostPosted: 5/22/2009, 5:48 am    Post subject: Reply to topic Reply with quote

Awesome write-up and pics Letty! I like your Sea Eagle kayak. Did it work ok? My wife and I were going to buy a large Sea Eagle raft and outfit it with a motor if we were staying in Ohio. But since we're moving to New Hampshire in a week, our boat plans have changed. We're probably going to get some regular kayaks; something that can handle lakes, calm rivers and the ocean. I'm still going to consider Sea Eagle.
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GeorgAz





Joined: 04 Jan 2003
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Location: Scottsdale

PostPosted: 5/22/2009, 6:36 am    Post subject: Reply to topic Reply with quote

A friend from Salt Lake spends almost all of his time at the Swell..he said it's his "fave" in the state. Thanks for the adventure and pics, Getty. Mr. Green green with envy as usual. You rock!!
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RedRoxx44
Queen of the Walkabout




Joined: 15 Jan 2004
Posts: 1167

PostPosted: 5/23/2009, 5:12 am    Post subject: Reply to topic Reply with quote

The ATV riders were Pat and Paul from Price Utah. Paul had trouble walking in the sand with his cane, he has a new total knee and is an amputee on the other side. They had watched me come down a portion of the river from above but when they didn't see me continue came back down. I had already deflated the boat and was getting ready to get my pack on to go. They readily volunteered to take me to their camp up the road and take me to get my vehicle. It was getting pretty hot at that time so I said ok, thanks etc. They gave me an email address to send pics I haven't been able to get to work, so I am trying to locate them another way,
Woohoo, riding on the back of a big quad!!! Pat drove fast!! I must admit it was fun. They met others of their group; they are part of a riding club out for the weekend. One of the others volunteered to go get and haul my boat back up on his quad which had a small bed on it.
These people were so nice and helpful---goes to show you don't tar all the ATV'ers with one brush. Back at camp food and drink were offered and I was offered a shower etc. I can understand that after 5 days in the same clothes. Pat and Paul had to unhook their truck from the trailer to take me into town. Again, I was very thankful.
Back at the FJ I drove back to their camp and as I drove up the couple arrived with my boat. I loaded up, waved, and took off.
Now I had a little extra time and where to??? Not enough time for Dark Canyon-----what about White Canyon??? So I drove to the turn off for the White Canyon access to Lake Powell drove down that road aways and camped. Rigged my shade tarp off the back of the FJ and laid the boat out to dry.
The next morning early I located a route down into the shallow White Canyon and hiked back toward the Highway 95 bridge. The sandstone walls started rising right away. I soon encountered some stone underfoot, wildly sculptured from waters rushing though and a few potholes with water, one perfectly round, drilled that way from water, and time.
Then came some narrows, easily bypassed with some rock scrambling on canyon right. A fair amount of water in the lovely twists, and I decided if it was pretty hot coming back I was doing some swimming. Parts of this area reminded me of the Black Hole hike. I thought about repeating that but wanted to explore this area also. The narrows tightened up and a few logs were jammed up. Two boulder chokes presented themselves and it was like trying to find a keyhole to get through them. I had no idea if I could get to the bridge or not. Sure enough I rounded the corner and heard a loud noise, a car going over the bridge well over a hundred feet up. I passed under the bridge and had brunch in an alcove near the first greenery, several small trees and bushes, and lots of purplish flower petals on the ground everywhere.
The sun was strong and it was getting hot. I went back from shade area to shade area. At the pools I went in a swam and floated a bit, a little too brisk to stay in long. No waterproof camera so didn't take one with me for that.
The walk back to the car went swiftly, and it was so warm I and my clothes were almost completely dry when I got there.
I turn the FJ south for home. Sad as always to leave the land of spectacular geology that suits me so well. Planning the return, and the other endless things I need to do there.
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BoyNhisDog
The dangerous place where the winds meet




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PostPosted: 5/25/2009, 3:53 pm    Post subject: Reply to topic Reply with quote

One day we might have a head on collision out there on the slickrock Letty. Linda and I were in many of the same places. The White area was on our list as it has summoned us time and time again as we passed through. Got lost in the Swell, a place I swore I'd never to back into. Didn't float the Dirty Devil but got a stunner image when crossing the area near Hite with the lake down and the dried silt leaving a real Deathlands scene.

Love your photography and high energy non-stop ramblings.
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