Still in Las Vegas
Everything had gone super smoothly up till this point.
We had headed down to Vegas Thursday evening to avoid an uber early rise to catch our flights. This meant we could have our regularly scheduled 5 am start to the day and still get to the airport on time. And it was actually a leisurely morning as 5 is really our 6.
We awoke on time, showered and packed up. We were out the door before we had planned and made our way through the empty promenade. Our only obstacle there was the cleaning crew who had an intersection closed for power spraying. We skirted the edge and they didn’t care and soon we were out on the street and on our way to the long term parking.
The lot is more or less empty aiding in our locating the 4Runner. We even noticed that we could keep one key and get out of the lot for free. Soon we are cruising on our way to the airport. The cruising doesn’t stop upon arrival. We easily find parking and make our way through security. As per the usual, I’m stopped and checked, but nothing more than a 2nd look at my carry on. We find our gate and having plenty of time, we finally find a place for breakfast and coffee. The coffee is subpar, but gets the job done.
Then we board and get situated. Nothing out of the ordinary. As we sit on the tarmac, I pull out my book and start to read becoming enthralled in the story of the Lost Cyclist. The plane taxis out to the runway and we prepare to take off. The engines come on, the initial jolt of hitting the back of the seat rumbles through our bodies and the jet jumps forward. We start down the runway. Just as the front wheels have left the ground and the nose of the plane is pointed up, we suddenly and abruptly stop, the pilot slamming on the brakes.
Heading to Louisiana
Louisiana is not a place that is on the top of my list to visit. I know precious little about the state other than I’ve heard that the cities are super cool and there’s lot of fun drinking and city things to do. Funny thing is I’m not a city person. Nonetheless, we had purchased tickets, reserved a car and were on our way to Louisiana.
Truth be told, I was excited. I might not enjoy city things, but I do enjoy seeing new things and I was pretty sure that I would be able to experience plenty of things that I had not in said state. And we were heading out to see family. My brother and sister-in-law reside out their with their kids. When they lived in Santa Barbara, we would see them regularly, but they moved back to be closer to his kids several years ago and we had not seen them since. I was excited for that.
Grab the Gear
We’re in and out in about 45 minutes. This includes grabbing all the gear, food and entail we will need for the next three days.
And then we bid farewell to the puppies and puppy sitters staying at our house and hit the road. Our exact plan is unknown, but we are headed into the desert hopefully to float a couple of rivers and do some bike riding. Seeing that most of the Alliance is off in the big ditch, we prepared for a bike shuttle on the rivers and shot a text out to our good friend Dave to see if he wanted to do boat things again, last minute, again. By the time we had left the house, he had said he was interested but had things to button up. We left planning to be self-sufficient.
With boats and bikes and camping gear all stowed in the 4Runner, we headed north. We stopped at the Pub in Cedar for dinner and then began looking for a campsite. Apparently, this is the time of year to camp in Cedar as there were a lot of folks camping. Luckily, we were able to find a spot that, while surrounded by adolescents, was acceptable. We popped the top, had a few beers and passed out after a long day of traveling and going nowhere.
I wake up with the sun and eventually check my phone. Dave has responded at 12:45 am and says he is going to try and make both but would let us know this morning. Promising, but still not much. I respond to let us know and surprisingly hear back from him within about a half hour saying he will meet us at the bridge.
Shit is on!
Back at it
There is rain in the forecast and menacing clouds in the distance. The chance for rain was small calling for a few stray thunderstorms to roll through. While I’m not too concerned about the possibility of a flash flood, I also don’t want it to rain while we are on the river.
Thunder starts to rumble in the distance and the blue skies are quickly disappearing. Floating on snow melt without sun, we start to get a bit chilly. Then the drizzle starts. The thunder and lightning are always just over the ridge, just out of directly affecting us, but close enough to make us worry. A storm alert pops on my watch, the wind picks up and the cold settles in.
We’ve been hauling ass, trying not to stop and paddling more than we normally would, but at some point, you have to get out to tinkle. We eddy out and I jump up on the bank and start to look for a place to piss. My feet are so cold I almost fall down as I can’t feel the earth beneath them. I hear Mama Bear yell about a paddle prompting me to hurry back to the water’s edge. As I near the edge, I see Dave emerging from the river. He did what we’ve all done. The classic one foot on the bank and one on the boat so you can fall in between maneuver. He gathers all of his stuff, luckily not losing his paddle and we finish up the tinkle break.
The calculus of being on the river this day has swung in the wrong direction. The river conditions are still more or less perfect, but the weather is leaving a lot to be desired. It seems like we are always just on the edge of the storm. We have sprinkling rain, wind and lightning. The lack of sun has dropped the temps into the 60s. The water temperature is cold degrees and the wind isn’t helping. Dave is freezing and quiet. I had pulled out my rain jacket and then promptly forgot it, he luckily had his providing some, albeit little, relief.
We are miserably cold. I even ask Dave how well the heater in his truck works.
At the speed we are moving, I know we only have about 1.5 hours of paddling to get to the truck. I’ve always said I can suffer through anything as long as I know there is an end. Mama Bear keeps asking if we want to get out and build a fire. No, no we do not. We want to get it done.
45 minutes of miserable goes by and then the clouds start to part. The wind lessens. We can no longer hear thunder and finally the sun pops out like a smiling toddler who was playing hide and seek. With the sun on our skin, we slowly start to thaw and then warm and then we are no longer miserable. By the time we reach the takeout, we are happily paddling through the few riffles at the end of the river.
Apparently, it was a hell of a storm. As we pull our boats up on the bank, the area around the bridge is full of puddles and is muddy. It had dumped.
Into the Chute
We camped at the takeout to facilitate the shuttle in the morning.
As we are readying in the morning, Crystal pulls up in her Taco and walks up by our camp to check out the takeout. She asks a few questions of beta and then heads back to her truck. Soon she is pulling out a bike and we can see she is getting ready to ride to the put in. There’s some scuttlebutt in our group about offering her a ride, but no one does anything. She starts the ride up the dusty hill.
We finish getting ready and load up Dave’s truck. We catch Crystal about 10 minutes later and this time, we ask if she wants a ride. She vacillates and then concedes. She looks hot and the prospect of paddling solo, while not too concerning for someone of her caliber on this river, is never recommended. Her bike is somewhat broken down to fit in Dave’s Go Fast Camper and soon the four of us are headed to the put in. Funny enough, she had thought about asking for a ride to the put in, but also did nothing with the thought.
Soon we are at the Muddy, blowing up boats and doing get ready things. The put in is crowded but not nearly as much as it was the last time we were here a few years prior. Luckily, this day had scant little rain in the forecast and the clouds aren’t anywhere to be seen. We certainly wouldn’t have been putting in had they still been hanging around.
We quickly find out that Crystal is kind of a bad ass with a claimed 180 days of paddling the year prior. She would be guiding this summer had she not torn her ACL in a small avalanche requiring her to do PT a couple of times a week through the summer. So instead, she’s driving around in her Taco catching rivers and dirtbagging through the state. Soon we are floating on the river, dodging the “rapids” and headed to the Chute.
The Chute is a narrow canyon on the Muddy Creek. It’s a treat stretching through several miles of narrow canyon walls that jut up into the sky. The walls tend to glow as seen above and there are lots of places that just blow your mind. Not only is the scenery spectacular, but the paddling is pretty fun. There’s nothing too big, but there’s almost non-stop rapids. The river turns almost as much as the San Rafael, but more importantly, it drops at a much quicker rate. You certainly have to stay on your toes.
There is one rapid.
The creek is divided by a big boulder. The right is a bony, yet straightforward channel through, the easy was. The left has a nice tongue past the boulder but then is choked by two large boulders. The first is too quick and narrow to catch on the left. The second could easily be caught but then dumps you into more obstacles that you probably won’t fit through. Instead, you drop in on river left and ferry past river right past the boulder and the 2nd chute into the main channel. Or at least that’s the idea.
Crystal dropped in and cleaned it no problem. I was feeling confident and dropped in. The piece I failed to take into account was the amount of force the 2nd chute would have on the back of my boat. Thinking I was past it, I stop paddling to make the left into the main channel only to have the current grab the back of my boat and pull it into the rock. I was caught so off guard I had no chance to do anything other than high side and take the swim.
After my failed attempt, Dave gave it a go and pretty much did the exact same thing I did except when he high sided, he jammed his paddle into the river bracing off the bottom and was able to push himself around the boulder. Well done, Dave.
The swim left me soaked and cold. We hung out at the bottom and dried out as best I could awhile having a good snack before heading back into the narrows. Every time I float this section, I’m always caught off guard by how beautiful and long it is. I always remember the narrows as a short section in an otherwise typical desert river and then float it and realize the Chute is a good chunk of the creek.
We make it to the take out and the hike up to the 4Runner. We have a beer and celebrate another successful float. Crystal, who has to go back to get her bike anyways, offers to drive Dave to his truck. I’m ecstatic about this proposition as it saves me from having to drive down the stupid road again. We say our goodbyes and head toward the freeway.
Moab?
We are now three days into this dirtbagging weekend and Mama Bear and I have one more before I have to be back to work. Our next piece of business is fuel. We’re in the middle of nowhere and are starting to get low. As we near I-70, we enter back into cell coverage and KB checks to see which is closer, Salina or Green River. Turns out Green River is.
Our original plan was to ride the Wedge which we still have not done. Seeing that we were closer to Green River and that Moab is close to Green River and that we really like eating at the Moab Brewery, well, it wasn’t even a question. We headed to Moab.
The Brewery was perfect and after eating way too much food and grabbing some beers for the evening, we found our way to a camp.
The Colorado is quite swollen right now. We found a camp just above its dirty water that had a little shade and quickly set up. And then mosquitoes. I’ve never once experienced mosquito problems in Moab. That evening they were a nuisance but nothing that couldn’t be dealt with. The next morning, they swarmed.
Before even making coffee, I’ve got the tent down and all the gear jammed back into the 4Runner. We run away from the dreadful beasts. We pull into the Amasa Back Trailhead. The only other vehicle is a truck that clearly had slept there that night. We yard sale into the lot and calmly, and without mosquitoes, eat breakfast.
The sun has just risen over the canyon walls as we start pedaling up Hymasa.
And then onto Richfield.
This is another place I have never ridden and I was getting a bit sick of people telling me how rad it was. I’m a bit of a cynic and also pretty particular about how I like my trails. Rarely does the hype live up to my expectations, but I figured we might as well ride something new.
We had grabbed bikes specifically to be able to carry our boats. This meant that we had our hardtails, which is totally normal for me, but Mama Bear only likes to bikepack on hers. Ahab had been a stretch so we figured we would do a hot lap on the blues and greens in Richfield.
The climb up was nothing special. There were a few obstacles, the grade was descent and the trail was wide. The views were pretty good. Once at the top things started to get interesting. We headed down Hyline which was short and a fairly typical blue trail and then we hit Cairnage. While I had to use all my self-discipline to not stop and kick over all their stupid cairns, the trail was a riot. It’s fast, has a few jumps and obstacles to keep you interested and flows. God does it flow. Every down is followed by a berm or a short up, you start out controlling your speed, but then at the end, you realize the trail is doing it all for you.
When life gives you lemons, don’t make lemonade, make margaritas.
The plane comes to a screeching halt.
I put my book down and KB and I give each other a couple of furtive glances. With nothing else to be done, I just keep reading. Ten minutes or so go by before the captain comes on to let us know what has happened. Apparently, one of the engines had overheated as we were taking off. Maintenance was on their way over to check things out. We continue to just sit and wait. Another half hour or so goes by. Maintenance says no and we are taxied back to the gate. With instructions to talk to agents at the gate to arrange a new flight.
There’s over 300 people on this flight. We get in the long line and wait our turn. They tell us that our tickets are staying with that flight and we just need to wait as it will be taking off around noon. I’m calling bull shit and even ask the guy if he thinks it’s going to happen. We walk back to the gate and wait. The flight crew is there waiting as well. We watch as they grow visibly more agitated. Then the flight updates and it’s saying 6 pm. We head back to the counter. They give us standby on a new flight and we wait. No seats for the wicked. The next flight is an hour or so later, we try that one. Same result.
We don’t have a connecting flight in Dallas like most of the other passengers, so we are given less of a priority. What that doesn’t take into account is that we do have a connecting drive. Dallas is not our destination and we have a 3 hour trip from the airport to Louisiana. Once it is obvious that we will not be getting to Dallas until past 9 PM, we pull the plug. There is no way we are driving late into the night and at this point we’ve missed 1/3 of our stay.
As we wait in line to cancel our tickets, I pull my phone out and start checking gauges. Yup, the rivers are flowing. We might not end up in Louisiana this weekend, but we sure is shit are going to have some fun.
Embrace Chaos. Seek Discomfort.
