West Water

Fear might have been the overriding tone going into the trip down the West Water stretch of the Colorado River this past weekend. The water flow was in the "terrible teens," at about 16,000 cubic feet per second. Katie backed out of her spot on the trip mid-week, which was a very wise call and an eye-opener for the reality of parenthood. I stayed on, either because of confidence or over-confidence, I still don't know. The call to adventure mixed with the scarey stories we heard all week from people who had braved West Water during the "terrible teens" solidified my spot on the boat.

Katie and I left to rendezvous with Bryan, Nina, Andrew, and Patrick as well as two other raft crews - Scott on a cataraft from Gunnison, and Jeff "Cap'n Olhab" from Durango, and Brent from Golden - at the take out at Fish Ford in eastern Utah a short way from Cisco (try to find that on a map!). We left following a 100 mile relay race fund raiser for the Academy. I had to chaperone and helped organize kids all day as well as riding my road bike on a stretch of dangerous highway. I ended up riding about 34 miles and getting a pretty sweet sun burn on my arms. There was a lot of sun to be had this weekend.


We were originally supposed to find the camp ground at Fish Ford on our own, but ended up in Grand Junction at the same time as Bryan and his crew, who had run the Shashone earlier in the day, and met up at the City Market in Fruita. So we followed them out to the river. The sun set as we made our way into the desert. Our campground was under a huge cottonwood tree along the bank of the Colorado.

The camping was superb, but I once again managed to set the door to our tent facing the sun rise and caught the first beams of the new day right in my face. It was easier to rally the crew than I had expected. There was a lot of beer swilling by the crews as well as a bottle of Patron passed around the camp fire the night before, but it was diluted by the numbers (16 humans, two dogs) and everyone was anxious about the trip.

The Colorado was swollen and brown, filled with swirling currents and bobbing drift wood. We filled our rafts and lashed down all our gear at the put in. The place was buzzing with activity. Rangers checking each boat for appropriate pfd's, patch kits, pumps, and permits. Katie came with us to help out and bring Patrick's truck back down to take-out. She was sad to be left behind, but was a part of the comradre and excitement. When we cast off and the current started to pull us away she warned Bryan not to leave her baby fatherless. I said I love you as we drifted down river, taking a mental snapshot of Katie and her quickly growing belly and reminded myself to get back to her in one piece.

Then the theme song started playing in my mind. "Death or Glory" by the Clash. Mind you, I was not espousing the ideal the words may invoke, it just happened to be the song that was on replay through the adventure. Irony?

The feeling was light and happy, with undertones of seriousness. Talk moved from trips past to what to expect ahead. The green banks whisked past, with the desert rolling away beyond. As the river got tighter the walls got steeper and the scenery more dramatic. Huge birds of prey drifted against the tall red walls of the canyon, their shadows dancing on the walls. The steep walls along the river were dark and smooth, the second teir was taller and higher and red and orange with veins and streaks of black. The sky was clear and the air hot and getting hotter as the day went on.

Bryan was a little more subdued than usual - a clear sign that his brain was engaged in the task at hand and a good sign for me. We negotiated "Little D" rapids smoothly, all hands working in good rhythm. Patrick and I were up front, Nina and Andrew behind us, and Bryan at the helm. The canyon and river grew tighter and more alive. The water swirled into whirlpools and eddy lines became very powerful - always trying to spin us around or suck us into their control. Boils bubbled from unseen currents below. The power of the river was palpable.

Almost all the fearful stories of this stretch of river stem from the Skull rapid and the infamous ROOM OF DOOM (please say this with the most ominous voice you can muster). These features take place on a steep, tight, 90 degree lefthand turn section of the river. The Skull feature is a drop into a wave train that flows left around the corner - unless you are unfortunate enough to catch the current that sucks you right into Shock Rock - a vertical wall with a bubbling cauldron of whitewater forever smashing into its face with the capacity to suck debris, livestock, humans into the rock and then under the water which flows down into the depths and under the rock. The ROOM OF DOOM is a recirculating wave in a tight little canyon to the river right. In the Terrible Teens, it is impossible to break out of the ROOM OF DOOM. Horror stories circulate like the current about seeing cow and sheep trapped in there mooing and bleeting until they are too weak and they sink into Davey Jones Locker. There are stories of whole crews needing to be evacuated by helicopter. One of my co-workers got caught in the ROOM OF DOOM and quit rafting because the experience was so horrifying - the look on his face while he retold his story was a little unnerving.


So when we took out for lunch at a cool little cave they called Billy the Kid's Hideout, the tone was more focused. I mean there were still a lot of beers passed around and a lot of laughter, but Bryan was passing on the buzz. Brent was giving him a lot of shit, but he took it well and appeared confident and level headed - thus increasing his crews confidence. We ate and relaxed in the sun, knowing we were about to enter the krux of the river - the corner where two boats flipped and crews swam one year ago, most of whom were on our crews. Bryan wanted to nail it this time. Cap'n Olhab had cleaned it before and was going in with confidence. All the crews were stacked with strong, athletic people and good drivers - Bryan was the least experienced but has been working hard to build his skills. He caught a lot of heat from the more experienced boaters, but since he is one of the most gifted shit-givers I know, most of it rolled off him easily.

When we put back in there were a couple turns, but we were more or less going right into Skull. Scott and the cataraft and Randy and Brent in Kayaks went first and hit it clean. They posted up as our safety boats. We followed Olhab at a safe distance. Safe enough to watch as they botched the line before Skull and then again at Skull. We watched as Matt and Pancho (dog) were pitched from the boat and Katie (Olhab's girlfriend) and Ed were thrown overboard - but hung on to the boat. I saw Olhab's yellow boat in the ROOM OF DOOM with two people still onboard. We had commited to our line into Skull. Bryan had us lined up well but we hit the first wave hard none the less. I looked over my shoulder just in time to see Andrew rolling ass over tea kettle past Bryan and into the river. We hit the waves going into the corners and kept paddling. Once we got to the corner, we got stalled out on the eddy line and tetered between getting sucked into Shock Rock and the safety of the eddy on the inside corner of the rapids. I looked down river and saw Andrew being pulled onto Scott's boat and, on our boat, Patrick staring at the action. I shouted to dig in and we got to work getting us into the eddy.

Bryan told me to grab the bow line and get onto the rocks and secure us to the shore. It is hard to look back and see the thing I should have known to do automatically, but Bryan was the captain and he did his job well. We got our throw lines out and posted up on the rocks on river left to help if we could.

The next few minutes were the scariest of the whole trip. As Olhab's crew was pulled back onto his boat and they got to a wall of the ROOM OF DOOM where they could secure the boad and climb on to the rocks, Katie was clearly stressing out. We could not hear what they were saying to us over the roar of the river, but we could see Katie's concern as she pointed at Shock Rock. We eventually figured she was saying Matt. Oh shit!

Through a series of relays; us to Brent, Brent to Scott, and Scott to Randy, then back up the river, we were able to ascertain that both Pancho and Matt were safe down river. It took a little while because of the nature of our placement on the river, and that was a stressful time, but it was handled well. Brent was a key player and did everything by the books. Once we were able to start thinking about the next problem - the yellow boat being trapped in the ROOM OF DOOM - it was clear that our boat was helpless. Our throw lines would not reach across the river to pull them out, so we had to wait and see what they would come up with. Oly climbed up the canyon wall above the ROOM and stared down, stroking his beard and contemplating the problem. We stared across the roar of the river at our friends and at the surges and ebbs, waves and chaotic water between us.

Sitting against the rocks on the sunny bank of the river, we took turns drinking the water that was cooking up in our boat and scrambling around the rocks trying to get a better view to understand our situation. It didn't feel futile, but it was a pretty helpless situation. The sun got hotter and the escape scenario was no more clear. Several times Olhab got back into the boat with his paddle ready to go only to change his mind and get back to the rocks.

Over the power of the river we heard a whistle from above. Brent and Scott had hiked between vertical cliff bands to see if they could help. They made their way to the opposite side of the ROOM and climbed down to a landing that was hidden from us behind Shock Rock. We could see that Oly and his crew could communicate with Brent and Scott and a plan was coming together. Eventually the yellow boat crew loaded back into the boat and ferried across the ROOM OF DOOM and pulled the boat onto the shelf with Brent and Scott.

The crew pulled all the gear from the boat and carried it to the top of the cliff, about sixty feet above the river. Next they threw a 60 foot line off the cliff towards the river. We watched in amazement as, after much movement on their side of the river, Oly rappelled down the face of the cliff to a ledge 15 feet above the water. The crew on top of the cliff positioned the raft, with two paddles lashed to one of the thwarts, to be lowered down the face of the rock. They lowered the bow line to Oly and one of the boys on the top of the cliff took the stern line as they lowered the boat down the wall. It was ingenuity and resolve at their finest.


Once they got the boat in the water, Louie rappelled down to the ledge with Oly. Oly got back on the line that lowered the boat and rappelled into it. It was bobbing against the cliff wall with the rhythm of the flowing river. He prepped the boat, stowing the stern line and getting the paddles ready. Lou lowered himself into the boat and stowed the bow line, when he unclipped the line attaching the boat to the crew on top of the cliff, Oly held out his paddle for him. They drifted into the flow of the river and R2ed (two paddlers) it into the eddy where Katie was already making her way with the first load of gear from the yellow boat. Brent, Scott, and Ed made their way over with the rest of the gear.

Our crew cast off back into the flow and made our way down to the eddy with Scott's boat, Matt, Andrew, Randy, and Rio (dog). They had some drama and ended up skipping eddies and leaving Chandra and Pancho on a ledge above the river before getting their boat into the next eddy. So it took a while longer to get Olhab's crew and gear back together and ferry Scott down to us as well as Chandra and Pancho hiking up and around the cliff seperating our eddies. But we did rondezvous and we did have all the people and dogs we started with. Katie looked a bit traumatized and everyone was a bit shakey, but we were all healthy and ready for the next two rapids sitting right below us.

And then it was over. The white water at least. The towering canyon walls got lower and lower and the river got wider and wider. The chocolate milk river still swirled with strange and powerful currents, but our floatilla was in gentle water. We connected our rafts and floated down river as one - laughing and recalling the adventure through everyone's eyes. It was later in the day than we had planned for and I knew Katie would be nervous. There was a lot of river to float before we got back to Fish Ford, too, so I just laid back and enjoyed the ride. The clouds, shadows, texture of the water, birds, and colors of the desert all played together with the days events filling in the spaces between conversation. A deer, barely visible in the tall vegetation flicked its ears as we floated past.

We dropped Matt off at the main take out then put Scott's Briggs and Stratton 5 hp outboard motor on the transom of his cataraft and motored the last five miles to Fish Ford with a raft attached to either side. It was surreal with the sun setting and air cooling off. Food and drinks were passed around and everyone shared the contentment.

All day I had been very focused on taking care of my camera - putting it in its pelican box (waterproof container) and then into a dry bag as well. That is until we got so close to take out that I figured putting it in my pocket was safe. We motored past the camp ground hooting and hollaring. Katie poked her head out of the lush vegetation and hooted back. Scott spun the outboard to get us into the appropriate angle for landing on the shore. Unfortunately, we didn't get the angle right and drifted past the landing and into the reeds on the shore. Scott shouted for somebody to jump out and hang on. Since I was in good position I did. Then it dawned on me that my camera was still in the pocket. D'oh!

The mission isn't over until its over, so I just kept on working on getting the boats ashore after I passed the camera off to Patrick. Katie drove Patrick's truck over to us (we were a couple hundred yards from camp) and informed me that she had just locked our keys in our truck and the lights were on. So, the mission ended up not being complete until after one A.M. After we had run back to get Scott's truck we shuttled up in earlier, called for road side assistance, waited until it arrived from Moab - a dude with his one year old son in a loud pickup he wouldn't turn off and took one hour to get the door unlocked - and then let the XTerra run for an hour to recharge the battery. Then it was over. One for the story books, as they say.