Bigbend Area Paddlers' Network

7/03 The Colorado River from Moab to Potash - and beyond

Adventure #1. The Colorado River from Moab to Potash. It was still dark and very cool when we left our rented cabin in the LaSal mountains about 40 minutes from the put-in near Moab. The plan was to get on the water near first light to avoid the inevitable 100º plus heat of mid afternoon in July. We were met by our shuttle driver who would deliver our car to the take out about 20 miles downriver. For the shuttle we used Roadrunner Shuttles of Moab. I recommend them highly in case you ever do this in your own boats as we did. The first mile or two is a broad marsh and a wildlife refuge full of birds. There were many water birds that any Floridian would recognize and lots of ducks of varieties I didn’t know. An enourmous beaver cruised along right beside us for about a hundred yards repeatedly surfacing and diving with a thunderous slap of his tail as if to warn us that this was his river and we were trespassing. Shortly we entered through a narrow cut in the red stone that characterizes “Abbey’s country”, (Arches and Canyonlands National Parks). We were suddenly surrounded by sheer cliffs 500 feet high on either side of us. Our voices rebounded even when we whispered. The current was surprisingly slow but enough to keep us moving with minimal effort except to avoid sandbars that often seemed to suddenly rise from the river bottom in an attempt to stop our progress. There were occasionally a few ripples but no whitewater on this trip. The further we went downriver, the higher the canyon walls rose. Our first attempt at a rest stop was thwarted when I stepped out of my boat onto the apparently solid sand of the bank. It seemed to support me for a moment then began to suck me in quite rapidly. I was nearly up to my knees before I realized that I was about to dissappear into quicksand. I used my paddle for support to help extract my legs and managed to get safely back into my boat but still had a difficult time of it trying to pull my blade out of the muck. A few minutes later we pulled up onto an exposed sandbar and found more or less solid ground. We had been very recently preceeded by three large predators which, based on their tracks, we took to be Cougars though now it seems that they might have been wolves. Fortunately they had gotten their drink of water and were no longer nearby as far as we could tell although they could certainly have been lurking in the dense willows that line the river, (“nice kitty. . . . . nice doggy”). The scenery was awesome, the morning temperatures cool and we never saw any sign of men or boats. We finished 17 miles and pulled up to the take out just as the mid-day temperatures began to be felt. The considerate shuttle driver had carefully parked our car under the trees. We had seen nobody on the river but evidently that was only because we were the first to put in that morning. There were a half-dozen other cars parked at take out. We were glad we had started so early. Time now to go back to the cabin for a siesta. Adventure #2. El Stupido rides again! I got off to a late start for a solo bike ride in the Canyonlands. It was already very hot. I parked under a lone cottonwood near the trailhead. Darn, I seemed to have left my hat and sunglasses back at the cabin almost an hour away. I would have to do without. I got my two water bottles out of the cooler and put them on the bike, studied the trail map for a few minutes and took off through a sandy wash then up onto the slickrock of the first butte and up up up onto the next and then yet a third. I climbed about 1000 feet in approximately 4 miles. I was soaked in sweat and very tired. I figured I was about half way when I rounded that third butte and started decending - finally! Now I was flying; bouncing over the slickrock at about 20 mph for a mile or so when suddenly my front tire popped. Slickrock isn’t so slick when your body slides across it at 20 mph even well lubricated with perpiration. I got up, dusted off and found some shade under a ledge. After I cooled off a little and had a big swig of water I took out my repair kit and set to work on that tire. Damn! Damn! Damn! I had forgotten to put the pump on the bike. I was at least three miles out in the desert, it was about 110 in the shade, I was already running low on water, I had no hat, no sunglasses and there wasn’t even a jeep trail out there! There was nothing to do but walk pushing the bike along with me. I had reached the end of the slickrock and decended deep into a wash with sand 6 inches deep making it hard to even walk with about 2 1/2 miles to go. Thankfully I saw the sidewinder about 5 feet in front of me before he saw me. It was incredibly hot. Were it not for the fact that there were no politicians or preachers out there I would have been sure that I had died and arrived in hell. I tredged on. Eventually the path joined a jeep trail making the going a bit easier. I heard a car! I could see his dust! He was coming this way! Hurray! There is a god! I am saved! The 4 X 4 roared along the trail approaching very fast. I raised my hand in the air and he zoomed past me continuing along the jeep trail as if I were not even there, much less stranded in the desert, dying of heat prostration, nearly crawling on my hands and knees muttering “water. . . . water. . . .water”. The lousy rotten &%$#@@##*( ! ! Needless to say, I wouldn’t be writing this if I hadn’t survived but it was a close one. At least I got a nice tan. Michael Lampman lampman@newact.com The pictures won't get any bigger if you click on them. Sorry. Michael Lampman lampman@newact.com

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