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November 2000 Volume XII Issue 5 Abridged Edition |
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Paddling the Rio GrandeClick on the thumbnails to see larger views Also see:
By Tom Todd "Ok, Bruce, I'll get out and drag us over this." Here we are on the Rio Grande on the first riffle 100 feet below the put in and I've grounded us in the shallow muddy water. Just below us Carl and Margie Shepardson along with a few others are waiting in the pool. We're blocking the way for the other canoes. A Mexican woman with her child is washing her clothes in the river a few yards from us. The water pipes and pumps for the defunct Mexican factory on the hill above dip into the river from the steep undercut banks on the Mexican side. We're blocking the route, but we're so heavily loaded down with camping gear and a 7 day, gallon per day, water supply of almost 20 gallons that Bruce also has to get out to drag his green Tripper we're using over the gravel bed and into the next pool. We wait and watch Julia Steed-Mawson and Leslie Hollweg load the last items into Leslie's tripper and launch. Here the river is so shallow that one can walk across barefoot and get little more than their ankles wet. From the pool, I can look upstream to the barricaded bridge that was sealed off when the Mexican factory shut down. As we drove to the put in, the barricades erected by the Border Patrol impressed me; 3 sets of Jersey barriers across the road bed, huge woven wire Cyclone fence with barbed wire overhanging at least 8 feet in all directions, and an additional set of gates at both ends of the bridge. I'm sure it is very effective in keeping people from crossing the bridge with the river being so shallow a set of ankle high boots would keep ones feet dry when walking across the river. This trip started for me with this simple email from Laura Morgan: SUBJECT: Fun in Texas Happy New Year! Would you like to canoe the Rio Grande? Have a wilderness camping experience? Go to where it is warmer? Have some good food and companionship? What: Some friends and I are cooking up a canoe trip for the end of February/beginning of March. We've begun to talk to an outfitter for local transportation needs and access to the river, since you can't get there without paying a "toll" to the local ranchers and getting their permission to cross their property and open their fence gates. That's all the outfitter will do. We'll provide our own food, equipment, itinerary, etc., although I understand that the outfitter has rental canoes for those who fly in. We're thinking in terms of a group of tandem canoes, but there's no absolute reason not to solo. Potential problems with soloing do involve getting a solo canoe to there or at there and having enough room for gear and supplies. We'll have everything we need with us: there are no stores along the way. There won't be any problem with partnering, though. It's a very flexible group. We do not use flotation in the canoes, because there isn't room for it. Where: The canoe part of the trip will be from La Linda to Dryden - starting on the east end of Big Bend Park and going downstream for about 80 miles outside the park. Since La Linda and Dryden are not on my Rand McNally Road Atlas page for Texas, I'm not sure exactly where they are or how they are spelled. I can assure you, however, that they do exist. […] When We are planning to meet the outfitter on Sunday morning, February 27, in Alpine, Texas, for transportation to the river and to put in later that day. We must be off the river to be picked up by the outfitter on Saturday afternoon, March 3. Who: My business partner, Carl Shepardson, and his wife, Marge, are the originators of this trip. They are very experienced "travelers" and did the section of the Rio just upstream from this proposed section a couple of years ago, although much of their canoeing has been long trips in northern Canada. Be aware that we have not had "trip leaders" in the AMC sense in the past, and that Carl and Marge are not participating in that capacity. […] There are currently 6 confirmed participants, plus a couple more very probables. Several other invitations are outstanding. We're hoping for a group of 8 or 10; and we're planning to confer with all on how to proceed if 12 or more commit - primarily because cooking for a group that large hits a new dimension. How to proceed with meal planning will shake out with the group when the group size is established. Why are you getting this message? I've paddled with a few AMC solo paddlers several times, and I'm sending this to all I think I know well enough to think they might be interested. There must be others who might be interested and fun to have along, but you are the ones I think I know well enough. I also realize that I don't know most of you well enough to know if it's "logical" to let you know about this trip. I hope so. I feel a little like I'm playing God, and it's quite scary. I'm very open to receiving suggestions on additional names and hope you will feel free to provide it - I know I forgot someone(s) who should be included. Some Details: We generally plan menus, dehydrate all that we can, and supply ourselves from the grocery store (as opposed to prepackaged dehydrated meals) before the trip. Marge and I are willing to lead the way along these lines, but we'll count on group consensus, verbal input and physical participation from all who are able to help with meal planning and ingredient acquisition. On previous trips we've had simple, good and generous food at meals. Food costs, cooking chores and general campsite work are shared. […] Of the invitees, Julia decided to go, then Leslie, then I, and then I convinced Bruce. Leslie, Bruce, and I decided to drive Leslie's caravan down with Bruce's and Leslie's Trippers. 'Sleep well? We're at the Mason-Dixon line." Being a night owl, I drove the first shift starting at about midnight from Bruce's home in Tewksbury. We stopped in a Cracker Barrel Restaurant for a wake up and to satisfy Bruce's requirement for a substantial breakfast. We had avoided all the New York traffic and managed to make it to Nashville for the first night. The second night we made it to Texas having stopped at each state's welcome center for Leslie to pick up a free state travel map. Near Odessa, we stopped at a supermarket for provisions including water in 2 gallon jugs. The next night we managed to get all the way to Fort Davis, Texas for a late Chinese/Mexican dinner, missing the opportunity star gaze at the University of Texas, McDonald Observatory, which hosts the world's largest mirror telescope (433") telescopes.
The next morning we toured Fort Davis, which defended the Overland Trail in the 1850's and 1860's. Then we headed to Presidio to drive along the Rio Grande upstream of the Big Bend National Park. The river flows along low farm land until the terrain gradually rises to the mountains and deep canyons of the Big Bend area's rugged desert. Our first view of the Rio Grande includes a pair of wild hogs humping on the far side of the river.
We stopped in Lajiitas for lunch and then drove to Terlingua to get a hotel. Afterwards we drove north about 10 miles to a high pass where our "outfitter" has their operations and "campground." One look at the campground with dusty gravel campsites each with a pair of rusty bedsprings and a welded shelter for shade told us we had made the right decision for a hotel. There was 1 outhouse and the only water was trucked in. The desert winds would rip through that treeless notch, I'm sure. The next morning, we arrived early, refreshed from our showers to meet the rest of the gang as they packed up camp and got ready to pile our canoes on the trailer and bags in the van for the 3 hour trip to our put in, at La Lynda, just downstream from Big Bend National Park.
We stopped at Park Headquarters for a pit stop, souvenirs, and a quick look at sunspots through a telescope a park volunteer had set up. Then it was on to La Lynda, a town with only a couple of residents at the end of a long dirt road. The town had seen better days when a factory across the river was running and the bridge across the Rio Grande was open. We stopped to pay our launching fees to the owner and for another pit stop before driving down to the river's edge. Our driver, who talks a mile a minute, was surprised that the gate was open. As we got to the landing, there was a party getting ready to launch, two guys and a gal in two canoes. They didn't talk with us, but just went about their business as we unloaded our canoes, water, equipment, water, paddles, and water. We had gotten a late start and the sun was beating down on us just past the noon hour. We were anxious to get on the river as we organized our stuff and started stowing our gear on the boats.
I couldn't keep myself from quick glances (women define as staring) at the woman in the other party. She was very well endowed with a shirt tightly knotted under her chest. I tried to busy myself with getting our canoe loaded. I couldn't help but notice when she bent over to pick something or other up. I didn't check if the other guys were noticing, but I just couldn't keep myself busy enough not to. She swayed and giggled in a most pleasant manner when she moved quickly. I tried to get it out of my mind … unsuccessfully. They launched and were off. [Please don't criticize me for writing this … I anguished over it and then decided that it was part of the experience We're adults and human and intelligent enough to know that such goes on.] Soon we were ready to launch. The put in was shallow and Bruce and I had to drag the Tripper a considerable way into the river to get it to float.
The river almost immediately starts to enter what is called "The Lower Canyons." The walls start rising, 25 feet, 50 feet, then 100's of feet. The river slows and deepens. Since it was after lunch time, Carl found us a lunch spot only a mile or so downstream from the put in. To get out of our boats, we had to step up a steep slippery mud bank. A number of us got a thorough coating of Rio Grande mud in the process of trying to get out of our canoes. Each of us brought out a few goodies and there was much sharing of cheese, crackers, bread, candies and veggies. Carl finished and decided to explore (or was that, find a private pit stop.) He discovered that behind the wall of cane blocking our little lunch area was a pretty canyon. It had a floor of hard baked mud that cracked into puzzle pieces. Each crack was a canyon several inches wide and a foot or so deep. Very pretty. As we walked a few hundred feet up the canyon floor, we came upon the scat of some red berry eating animal. How it got in there with the steep walls is a mystery.
 Dried mud cracks make a fine tiled walking surface. Lunch finished, we paddled down through the ever more steep and beautiful canyon. Mud swallows flew all around us in a jerky flight path as they interrupted their flight for a mid-air morsel here and there. We had to get past the canyon to find a campsite in the more level terrain beyond. The canyon walls begin to subside and we stop at a grassy area where the high flows from the canyons fan out over flatter land. The grass is so dry in crumples under your feet. The ground surface undulates with the patterns left by running water leaving only a few level campsites. I help Leslie set up the tent and quickly start off to cook dinner. I've elected to go first cooking my pesto tortelini and salmon filet as the sun sets against the canyon walls. We talk for a short while and then off to bed after admiring the clear sky and milky way. I lie awake in my tent listening to the unfamiliar sounds of the desert fauna. I swear one is a foot long toad sitting a foot from my head just outside the tent.
Morning, I'm among the last to rise as Bruce has a fancy breakfast ready. Down with the tents and on to the water before the sun hits the river.
This section of the Rio Grande runs through miles of desert on both the U.S. and Mexican side. With only a few private roads and little water it is a very inhospitable area to attempt to enter the U.S. illegally. This area is only used for range land for the tough longhorn cattle, which we occasionally hear or see along both sides of the river. The cattle are curious and we'll here them crashing through the tall canes along the river, often coming out to peer at us. We stop at a spot for lunch but it smells awful. We quickly locate the reason: the dehydrated carcass of a cow. We quickly move out to find another spot on the Mexican side of the river. Our next campsite is on the US side in the middle off a flat area that looked to me to be occasionally inundated. No chance of that now with the river so low and no rain in sight. Instead we have a dusty sand and dried mud combination which is pot marked with cattle tracks and dried cow flats. The only bushes that seem to survive the onslaught of the cattle have thorns 3/4's of an inch long. I kick aside a few cow flats and set up the tent. The guide book recommends bringing a machete and at the last minute I decided not to bring it. It would have been handy.
The next morning starts out with a tricky route through the shallow river. The water seems to have dropped in the night. We pick one route that seems to have deep water only to have to backtrack as it ends. Cows on the US side of the river get nervous over this turn of events and make a dash across the river to the Mexican side. Were they illegal aliens or just trying to smuggle some of the little grass that is available. The terrain changes often. Sometimes the river flows against steep cliffs hundreds of feet high. Other times the river meanders in wide valleys of flood plane. Bruce Healey writes: "The water level was low but the river was still quite challenging. The water constantly piled up on the outside of every turn where there was either a canyon wall or dense "cane" reed growth that extended out from the banks causing MANY "undercut" fast moving channels of water. Good water reading skills helped avoid a lot of dragging the loaded canoes over shallow gravel banks. We needed to perform several portages although most, if not all, could have been run in boats setup to run white water with no baggage. "The group had several (probably 4 out of the 10) inexperienced paddlers so Tom Todd and I only paddled together the first 2 days. Thereafter we took the weakest paddlers and did the best we could. I swam twice, wrapping a Tripper once!! Very embarrassing …. but then again, my partner of this day had trouble with the difference between a draw and a cross-draw (always performing the opposite called for - first) and when we came down though a shoot where it REALLY mattered … oh well, it wasn't my boat that got wrapped or gear that got wet … just my pride! "The Lower Canyons are very remote and we only briefly saw 2 other groups on the river. "West Texas has had an 8-year drought and there was little chance of rain. Every day started cold … 40 - 50 degrees but quickly rose to 80 - 90. Very bright sun and we all used at least a gallon of water per day - which means each boat was carrying 15 - 20 gallons of water BEFORE you added food, clothing, camping, cooking and various other gear. Since this was a self-guided trip and the first trip for many in the group, we had enough stuff to outfit several parties." Rio Grande River Trip Impressions - Bruce Healey Well I've lots of memories and impressions from our Rio trip but the following are those that danced off my fingers today 1. Laura Morgan made this trip happen. She provided the initiative, communications skills, stayed flexible and provided the "glue" necessary to pull it all together. Thank you and congratulations! 2. Thorns resolutely protect every bush and plant on the riverbanks of the Rio. Sandals are not appropriate footwear. (I hate to admit it, but I thought Tom Todd had the best all-around footwear, which were a low-cut boat shoe that had "quick-drying" nylon uppers with a thick rubber sole that laced up for secure fitting. These shoes appeared to work well for both boating and shore activities) 3. I do not want to know what made up all the suspended matter in the Rio water. 4. I still find it amazing that my canoe left the shore the first day with 18 gallons of liquid. That's 144 pounds BEFORE two people, food and gear. I think Tom and I went 30 feet before we ran aground on a gravel bank. 5. The original plan called for everyone to meet at the outfitter's (Rio Grande Adventures) and camp the first night. However, one look at the outfitter's camp sites, which consisted of a bull-dozed, barren, rocky, open area above the highway with several old rusted and broken metal-spring bed frames strewn about quickly convinced me that a motel room was preferable. 6. Would it have been helpful to have a machete on the trip? [One guidebook I read recommended one for the cane and thorn bushes and I had considered bringing mine -- TT] 7. The extremes of West Texas weather in February - hot days and chilling nights and mornings - made for a lot questions about what and how much clothes to bring. I suspect that combined, we had enough clothes to outfit 20 people. However, upon review of the trip, I can attest that all the clothes needed for a 1-week trip are (packed): 1 and only 1 - long-sleeved cotton shirt; "quick-drying" long pants; heavyweight poly shirt; poly jacket; poly hat; extra ball-cap style hat; lightweight rain/wind breaker jacket; bathing suit; handkerchief; and some underwear - under (very) optional I would add a spare pair of some type of "camp/hiking" shoe; a cotton tee-shirt and a sleep-shirt. Stuff I brought I didn't need: hiking boots (and socks) - small tarp - sun shower - next time, I would also re-think my decision to haul my Old Towne Tripper 6000 miles instead of renting a boat for the week in Texas. 8. We had a diverse group of 10 people in our party with regard to their previous experience, trip expectations and skills for a river trip in a remote wilderness setting with lots of challenging water and distance to make in a week. As is often the case on such trips, the group quickly eliminated or minimized any group weaknesses by bonding together through the unspoken understanding that this was a "group-shared wilderness experience" that only could be enjoyed and successful as a group. Thank you - it was a great "experience". Bruce Rio Grande River Trip Impressions - Margie Shepardson I enjoyed the trip very much. I've done it once before but each time is different - especially with a different group of people. I had a chance to paddle with several different partners and even take the stern for awhile, both rare experiences when I'm on a trip with Carl! It's hard to say what was the best part: the scenery, the warm weather (in February!), the white water, or a soak in the hot spring. The gourmet dinners were good, too. The only negative thing I can think of is the "porta-potty". Of course, the long drive might have been another negative but I got to fly down and meet people there. I'm looking forward to more such trips. Margie Rio Grande Logistics and Trip Information We paddled the "Lower Canyons" which is from La Linda, just below Big Bend National Park, 80 miles to a landing 2 hours of desert dirt roads from Dryden, a highway intersection with 1 house and 2 stores (one is defunct). The drive from Dyden, TX to NH is 2300 miles, approximately 50 hours driving. The most knowledgeable outfitter is Rio Grande Adventures and charged us $280 for the shuttle plus park fees and rentals. Their contact information is: Rio Grande Adventures Grand Canyon Paddling Impressions By Tom Todd [Note: this is a continuation of my commentary on my June 1999 raft supported canoe trip down the Grand Canyon which is on our web site. I have made reservations to going again in June 2002. See the notice elsewhere.] Are you going to run Lava? Lava Rapid is rated an 11 on a river that has a special rating scale of 1 to 10. The answers vary. 'No, not me.' 'Yes, definitely.' 'I'll take a look at it.' I'm in the 'No, not me' category. I've decided that if I can commit now to not running it, then the pressure of trying to run all the rapids is released. I'm not here to prove anything. I'm here to have a good time. Others seem to need to prove that there is nothing too big to tackle. They take the biggest waves, the crazy routes, and don't let anything stop them from doing it bigger and better than anyone else. Well, that is always part of the group dynamics. That is what makes the trip interesting. Paddling the Grand Canyon is much like a Shakespearean play. There is the opening scene of the grandness of the flight or drive into Marble Canyon. There is the anticlimax of Crystal Rapid. There is the subplot of the side canyons, each with its own scene. (Do I sound too much like a high school paper?)
When one looks out onto the canyon from the rim, one sees almost an endless panorama of dry canyons, walls, and colors of sedimentary layers eroded by the water. When one looks at the canyon from the river, one sees a continually varying mural of rocks of all sorts, intricately carved, colored in all the pastel colors of an artist's chalk box. The walls rise hundreds or thousands of feet above you. Sometimes the walls give way to talus slope or in a few places a wide sloping canyon bottom. The erosion forces in the canyon are varied and have many artistic effects on the canyon walls. Obviously the river water is a primary factor, but the effects can be much varied. Here and there the river polishes the rock into almost a mirrored surface, gouging dimples, spouts, and pot holes into the rock. In other places there are horizontal grooves high in the wall where the river must temporarily have been dammed by a rock side and the resulting lake surface lapped against the canyon walls. As the river eroded the dam, the lowering lake surface cut new grooves lower down the canyon wall.
The river would be a deep smooth running river if it were not for the side canyons. The Colorado has had plenty of time to grind away any obstacle in its way with the huge load of silt it carries in suspension. It has even had time to erode almost all the lava from a volcano which flowed its hot lava into the canyon, filling the Canyon for about a hundred miles. That happened about a million years ago and now all that is left are a few deposits of black lava high on the canyon walls, piles of hexagonal pilings falling into the river, and an occasional highly polished block near the river as the silty water works its magic reducing yet another obstacle to more silt. Now the remaining obstacles to the river's smooth laminar flow through the canyon are the occasional boulders that fall down from the canyon walls and the debris washed in by the flash floods coming down the side canyons. These make up the rapids with which we've come to play and challenge. Although I've been attempting, the canyon defies description. The feelings and emotions seem as powerful as the river that created it. It is impossible to compare it to prior experiences, although that is the way the mind works. Always trying to define something in terms of prior experiences.
For me, my mind keeps bringing up pieces of the classical tone painting, "Grand Canyon Suite" by Grofe. The themes keep coming to me as we paddle in the quieter sections of the river. An impending storm reminds me of the "cloudburst" as the rain starts pelting us and the rain starts pelting us and the lightening strikes outcroppings on the rim. Hopefully it will end as quickly as it does in the "Suite." Oops, not paying attention. I'm swimming as an eddy line rolls me over. Too much day dreaming. I climb back into my canoe. Darn. After 3 swims on the first day, I have a clean run for 8 days. Gotta keep watching out. I think my paddling is getting much better. I splash bail with my paddle. I seem to be doing more splash bailing than ever before. The pump does the final clean up. With the rain causing little flash floods on the surrounding plateau, that water quickly starts flowing into the canyon to add to the river. All of a sudden waterfalls form and streams of water slide in waves down the canyon walls. In some places the water shoots out from the cliff as if some gothic mason had installed gargoyles. The rain starts pelting us with hard drops. The hail has melted by the time it gets to us. The droplets slam into my helmet with a plastic pinging sound. This is just a little too much rain to be comfortable. We paddle over to an overhanging boulder and most climb up into the small dry space. I watch them huddling there, a miserable cold mass, tending the bow lines of their canoes drifting against the shore. "Come on in Tom." I finally succumb and crawl up to huddle with the rest. The only person left out in this downpour is Dave, our stalwart guide, stoically sitting on his captain's chair as the rain pelts his bare head and soaks his beard. Slowly the rain subsides, and we crawl out. Many decide to jump in the raft and ride to camp, only a couple of miles downstream. Only 3 or us decide to paddle the rest of the way. That's what I came for and that's what I'll do as this stretch has a bunch of easy interesting rapids that I don't want to miss. As the sky lightens and the last rain drops pass, my mind goes back to the sunburst theme which is in the latter part of Grofe's "Cloudburst." Looking up at the canyon walls I can see the remains of the waterfalls as the remaining rainwater flashes its way down the canyon gullies and over the cliffs to add more silt to the Colorado's mighty flow. I may be imagining this, but the walls seem to have changed from their red and earth tones to hues of brilliant spring greens. The Canyon dries out as quickly as it got soaked. The waterfalls and stream dry up. My clothes dry and the air is only slightly humid. It does smell a little like Spring as the desert plants use those few minutes to soak up precious water. The themes of the Grand Canyon Suite have enchanted me since I was a child and the LP was one of the first my parents bought for their new HiFi, just before the invention of the stereo. During the drive out I can't seem to get them out of my head. The mule train clip clop theme of Grofe's "On The Trail" beats in the background while the oboe melody dances in my head as we float down to the suspension bridge that carries the Kalbab Trail across the river to Phantom Ranch. … That is, until it is drowned out periodically by the heavy lift helicopter flying in tons of logs and material to repair sections of trail that were washed out in flash floods a few days before we got there. We paddle up to our raft, tied up to the river bank just upstream of Phantom Ranch. Off we hurry along the trail to the ranch buildings for some ice creams, ice cold lemonade, and a chance to post our "Packed out by Mule Train" postcards. Civilization for a brief hour, our first in 5 days. The mule trains are now rerouted over the Bright Angel Trail in both up and down directions. Back on the river, we get a brief chance to look up at them as they start their assent back to "the rim." Only a brief chance, because we have just started down one of the longer and most enjoyable rapids on the river, Bright Angel Rapid, a 4 on the 1 - 10 scale. Jerry LaGace, is playing in a hole in his 'Easter Egg' kayak, as Bob Foote paddles by holding up Jerry's PFD … Oops. He had left it on the bank at Phantom Ranch. I'm comfortable paddling this rapid, but I've got to pay attention. No time to ponder the mules ascending the Bright Angel Trail or the admire the construction of the bridge. A quick snapshot or two and we're off paddling down the rapids into more of the wilderness that is the Grand Canyon. The take out is still 7 more days to go … 3 or 4 days until Lava! … yippie.
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