Green River, Day One—A Wild Beginning

We dipped our oars into the river where the current was gentle. We had lashed the two canoes together using rope and an old paddle. Dave thought it best that we ride side-by-side until we got use to the water.

Jayden and Jordan took the front seats of each canoe, while Wade and I the rear. Tason manned the kayak and Christian the inflatable raft. Dave had the privilege of being the first to ride the stand-up paddleboard.

It was late afternoon when we pushed off, having spent several hours traveling from home and shuttling the pickup truck to Mineral Bottom.

We passed the old truss bridge for the railroad, then glided beneath the freeway. Within ten minutes, all signs of civilization were past.

The old truss bridge near I-70.

The water-flow, as expected, was much higher than normal, moving at 15,900 cubic feet per second. But the high flow didn't seem to affect us. Everyone appeared to have control of their vessel. On the kayak, Tason moved wherever he wished in effortless fashion.

Thick forests of tamarisk and willow, with the occasional Russian Olive tree, grew along the banks, choking out most signs of shore. We were surprised when twice we spotted a deer poking through the salt grass to get a drink.

Beyond the lush banks, hills of cracked gray rock looked as if they could have been on the surface of the moon. They looked perfect for petroglyphs and I wish I could have stopped and explored.

Jayden and Jordan are ready to go.

During our navigation of the wide, muddy river we often encountered islands, and faced the decision of either going to the right, or the left. With a lower water level these islands may have offered soft sandbars, but instead they were enclaves of willow and tamarisk.

We passed old structures that have been long out of use. A cable stretched across the breadth of the river near what appeared to be an old home.

Five miles from our launch point we pulled our boats ashore to explore Crystal Geyser, an interesting geological feature that occasionally shoots water high into the air, but is much less reliable than Old Faithful. The rocks around the dormant geyser are painted orange from mineral deposits. An experimental well was drilled into the ground during the 1930's and if you look down inside the wide conduit you can see bubbling water. Occasionally it erupts, creating the geyser. But today had no such luck.

Tason looks down an exploratory well at Crystal Geyser.

Returning to the water, Christian switched places with Jordan, putting him on the canoe in front of me. The winds had been picking up all evening, making it difficult to row. Gusts blew from the south, creating a headwind. At one time they were so strong that they created white-water over the surface of the river. But we kept plugging along, still able to navigate.

We came to another island and decided to take the left fork. Because of the difficulty of the headwind, we looked for stronger rapids to help pull us along. We aimed for a long string of whitewater and as soon as we hit, the oar that lashed the two canoes together snapped in half.  The two boats folded inward and both capsized! Within a split second, two boys and two men were floundering in the water. Trash bags full of gear floated and began to disperse. A rush of water almost took my glasses off. It was now panic time!

Even though I wore a life jacket, I struggled to breathe with water splashing on my face. The other vessels quickly came and did whatever they could to keep us together.

Luckily, clear minds began to prevail and we all grabbed onto the canoes to help keep them afloat. Both were on their sides and full of water. One canoe had sunk so far into the river that it was vertical, with only the nose poking from the water. Some of my gear, like my little waterproof camera bag, I was sure was gone. Jordan, who was on the inflatable kayak, began plucking bags out of the water and heaving them onto his boat. It was later recalled that he had “superman” strength, showing abilities far beyond that of a fourteen year old. But in spite of his efforts, much of the gear remained in the water, bobbing up and down with the current.

With all our might we grabbed hold of the canoes and pulled as we swam toward shore. We got closer, but the current wouldn't let us completely approach. Once we even started getting further away. The temperature of the water was cold, but bearable.

Although I focused on getting to shore, the prospects of the incident crossed my mind: losing food, water, sleeping bags, and cooking equipment would be devastating to our trip. Either it would be a long, miserable trip without many of our necessities, or else it would be a long hike back into town.

At last we reached a pitiful shore. The banks were steep here and willows choked out any possibility of going further inland. But we were glad to be able to touch the bottom, although my sandals sunk quickly into the thick mud.

Regrouping after swamping the canoes.

We pulled the canoes and all the gear we were able to salvage onto the small bank. With one man on each side we tipped the water out of each canoe, then placed them up-right to float once again on the water. Then we gathered the scattered gear and loaded back up.

By now we were all frazzled (at least us newbies). Christian and I now steered the unlashed canoe, but it felt swirly and unstable. I'm sure our confidence was at an all-time low.

Within a mile we found a cleared bank where we decided to pull ashore and spend the night. Never was I more grateful to be standing on dry land! We traveled a total of seven miles today.

Christian displays the oar that snapped and caused the canoes to overturn.

The miracle of the day was that of all our gear, my ball cap was the only thing lost! Even the dutch oven was intact, with the lid on and full of water! I don't know how that happened. My sleeping bag got a little wet, but my camera bag was found completely dry.

We are camped in a little valley that in the past has served as a farm. There are abandoned structures scattered around, as well as a large pump with an arm extending into the river. In the distance I can see large irrigation sprinklers and even a tractor. Perhaps in some years, this land is used to grow water melons.

Our gear is spread about, everything laid out to dry.

This evening we ate brats for supper. Jordan and Tason each caught catfish while waiting for supper.

There was a lot of drying that had to be done.

Our goal for each evening was to hold a small devotional where we could share spiritual thoughts and uplift one another. For our first night, we had asked Christian to share a thought. Although he had prepared ahead of time, his message blended well with the events of the day.

He shared a scripture in 2 Nephi 4:35 that reads: “Yea, I know that God will give liberally to him that asketh. Yea, my God will give me, if I ask not amiss; therefore I will lift up my voice unto thee; yea, I will cry unto thee, my God, the rock of my righteousness. Behold my voice shall forever ascend up unto thee, my rock and mine everlasting God. Amen.” He then shared his experience as the canoe first capsized. Although he was scared in the beginning, he said a quick prayer and suddenly felt a calm come over him. He also pointed out how the winds died down after our incident, which allowed us to get to shore.

As he shared his feelings, the words in Psalm 46 came to my mind: “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea; Though the waters thereof roar and be troubled, though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof. Selah.”

Tason angling for catfish.

The sun is now down and the wind has picked up again. A half-moon is out, but mostly covered by clouds. There have been several flashes of lightning in the distance. I can hear the flow of water chugging along just down from where we have our sleeping bags. Right now the bugs are loving the light from my headlamp that I use to write.

* * *

As a person who has a passion for history, I can't help but to compare our trip down the Green River with that of John Wesley Powell in 1869. The Powell expedition was the first major party to explore what is now known as the Green and Colorado rivers. They started at present-day Green River, Wyoming, and rowed four boats into unknown territory, all the way to the Grand Canyon and beyond. Many of the landmarks along the way were named by Powell's party.

They began their journey down the river at the exact time of year as we did. After traversing Desolation and Gray canyons, they emerged from the Bookcliff range at the present site of Green River, Utah. This is precisely where we began our journey. The following are excerpts from Powell's journal:

“July 13, 1869⸺This morning, we have an exhilarating ride. The river is swift, and there are many smooth rapids. I stand on the deck, keeping careful watch ahead, and we glide along, mile after mile, plying strokes now on the right, and then on the left, just sufficient to guide our boats past the rocks into smooth water. At noon we emerge from Gray Canyon, as we have named it, and camp, for dinner, under a cottonwood tree, standing on the left bank.

“. . . A long line of cliffs or rock escarpments separate the tablelands, through which Gray Canyon is cut, from the lower plain. The eye can trace these azure beds and cliffs, on either side of the river, in a long line, extending across its course, until they fade away in the perspective. These cliffs are many miles in length, and hundreds of feet high.

“. . . This afternoon, our way is through a valley, with cottonwood groves on either side. The river is deep, broad, and quiet.

“About two hours from noon camp, we discover an Indian crossing, where a number of rafts, rudely constructed of logs and bound together by withes, are floating against the bank. On landing, we see evidences that a party of Indians have crossed within a very few days. This is the place where the lamented Gunnison crossed, in the year 1853, when making an exploration for a railroad route to the Pacific coast. [This is a reference to the Gunnison Massacre.]

“An hour later, we run a long rapid, and stop at its foot to examine some curious rocks, deposited by mineral springs that at one time must have existed here, but which are no longer flowing.” ♠

The Standup Paddleboard
Green River Trip, Day 2
Green River Trip, Day 3
Green River Trip, Day 4
 

I think we looked like this when our canoes overturned!  (Painting by Ethen Allen Reynolds)