Segment 3A Summary—2 Days, 39 Miles. From the Flaming Gorge Dam Spillway, Utah, to Crook Campground, Colorado.
Segment 3B Summary—3 Days, 72 Miles. From Split Mountain, Dinosaur National Monument, Utah, to Ouray, Utah.
Overall Summary—20 Days, 347 Miles.
Day 16: Dam! Rapids!—10 miles
Back on the actual Green River as opposed to the reservoir now. I put in at the Flaming Gorge Dam Spillway. It is an impressive dam, size-wise, extending more than 450 feet above the valley below. Kind of makes you feel small to be down in the canyon. Just as impressive in size were the rapids below the Dam for the first eight miles of paddling. Lots of sudden drops and rocks. Class I to Class III rapids. Ideal territory for a raft, not really for an open canoe. I ran most of the rapids successfully, only needing to bail in-between sets. The water finally caught up to me and swamped me after I broadsided a rock, whereupon I took my first involuntary swim in the Green. Aside from the loss of my water bottle and bail bucket, I emerged unscathed. After the dip in the river, being in the dark shadows of Red Canyon grew a little bit chilly. Though the weather had turned cool and rainy in the previous few days, it was still a sunny clear day in the canyon. I called it an early day and dried myself and my gear out in the dwindling sunlight.
Day 17: A Float through the Park—29 miles
Started the morning playing the ‘rain, rain, go away game.’ Off-and-on drizzle had moved in overnight, dampening whatever the river had left dry. No sense in waiting around feeling miserable, so I bundled up to brace the cold and rain. I was past the major rapids, but the river still drops as it leaves Red Canyon, creating many long sections of significant riffles that keeps a canoer on his toes. The needed vigilance was a needed distraction from the cold weather. Past the point where Red Creek runs into the Green River, the river makes a distinct transition in appearance. Red Creek, aptly named, flows with a ruddy silt-laden flow into the Green, transforming the clear Green into its historical chocolate-brown hue. Upstream, the Green is a product of the dam and reservoir system which only releases clear, cold water. The clear cold water is ideal for a trout fishery, but is actually nowhere near what the river was like ecologically before it was tamed. As Red Canyon winds down, the Green enters a flat section called Brown’s Park. It was named a ‘park’ in 1869 by John Wesley Powell, who though the cottonwood flats in the midst of the mountains resembled a park. Once in Brown’s Park, the river flattens and widens out, making it a real float through the park. As a testament to how slow the river flow becomes and how silty the water gets, I constantly got stranded on sandbars I couldn’t see in the lower section of the river. With the water an opaque brown, you can never tell the transition from paddling in feet of water to inches of water. Though Brown’s Park is sparsely populated today, back in the wild west of the late-1800’s, Brown’s Park’s isolation made it a notorious robber’s roost. One well-known resident was the general store owner John Jarvie, whose ranch and store I visited along the river. Jarvie lived on the Green for 29 years before he was shot and killed in a robbery.
Day 18: Where Dinosaurs Roamed—21 Miles
Skipping the Class IV whitewater through the storied Gates of Lodore Canyon saw me launch just downriver at Split Mountain in Dinosaur National Monument. Here, geologic action has uplifted hundreds of millions of years of sedimentary rocks into the mélange of colorful mountains seen in Dinosaur, though the Green River only took a few thousand years to erode its current course through the mountains. Though I couldn’t take the river tour of Dinosaur’s 23 layers of sediment, I could still marvel at the mountains as I launched and paddled directly away from them. But no visit to Dinosaur National Monument would be complete without visiting the quarry that started it all, where a jumble of 149-million year-old dinosaur bones are ensconced in relief against the sandstone they were buried in. Dinosaur National Monument has more to offer than just canyons and dinosaurs, and I spent the morning exploring the pictographs of the ancient Fremont People, and the cabins of a few homesteaders in the park. Exploring the Monument was great, but was partly a delay tactic to avoid the inevitable—launching my canoe in the cold, wind, and rain. As far as paddling weather goes, today was not ideal. Personally, given the situation, I found it hard to believe the ranger when she said this area was a desert that receives less than ten inches of rain per year. All ten inches, it seemed, happened to be falling today. Despite my hopes, the rain never let up. As I passed out of the mountains of Dinosaur, and into the agricultural fields of Jensen, Utah, the constant drizzle kept everything saturated. I eventually pitched a wet camp on a wet sandbar and called it a day.
Day 19: Endurance—26 Miles
A cold rainy day prior led into a cold rainy morning. I delayed getting up as long as I could justify it. Not much fun taking down a wet camp and starting to paddle in the rain again. Looking up at the mountains of Dinosaur, I could see snow in the high peaks. The rain eventually stopped in the morning, and I spent all day trying to chase down the hint of blue skies I could see where the river was flowing—to the south and the west. Unfortunately for me, I would never reach those blue skies. The Green in this section of its flowage—though it has much more volume than upriver—meanders lacksidasically through the flat Uintah Basin. Today the river flowed through such large equestrian features like The Horseshoe and The Stirrup. After paddling many river miles through these features, I was only a few miles as the crow flies from where I started. The river also has innumerable sandbars that come up out of nowhere to strand my canoe. Much like my first few days of paddling, the Green is only inches deep in parts. It is a cold day of paddling that barely makes it to 50 degrees. I pitched camp early and had a warm cup of tea as my tent slowly dried out in the cold breeze. Some days of a journey are more about getting through than prospering.
Day 20: An Autumnal Paddle—25 Miles
If two days of cold and rain were the punishment, then today was the much needed reward. Partly cloudy skies greeted me, and would soon be a bright blue dappled by small cumulus. It is cold, but refreshingly so. The breeze is slight and enlivening. The air smells crisp. Overall, a very pleasant day to paddle. Unlike previous days of travel through the steep-walled canyons, today’s landscape had relatively little topographical relief. And, unlike days of paddling through the arid sagebrush steppe, today’s vegetation featured a nearly continuous wall of mature green and yellow cottonwoods lining the riverbanks. Given the broad, shallow nature of the river, and the wooded setting, today felt almost as if I were paddling a river in northern Wisconsin rather than western Utah. I paddled past hundreds of herons, all which soar off into flight where they see me. They honk loudly and circle the skies above. On the riverbanks, dozens of horses roam free as they wander and graze. The air is crisp. It is a lovely autumn day paddle.
Segment Summary—10 Days, 169 Miles. From La Barge, Wyoming, to the Flaming Gorge Dam, Utah.
Overall Summary—15 Days, 236 Miles.
Day 6: A Mousy Interlude—6 Miles
Much to my mortification upon returning to my vehicle after segment one, a mouse had taken up residence in my car and was happily helping himself to my downriver food provisions (as well as relieving himself on my sheets!). A crazed mouse-hunt on my end ensued, culminating in a 90-mile one-way drive to the town of Green River, Wyoming to buy a mousetrap (apparently, as I was told, the only mousetrap in La Barge had been sold less than an hour before my foray). In my single-minded fury, I loaded my car with six traps, baited them with the little mousy’s favorite Hershey’s Peanuts & Pretzels candy bar, and left it up to fate to see who would get the last laugh in this war (read on to see who won in the end). Nevertheless, with the mouse ordeal weighing on my mind, I was happy to put back on the river if nothing but for the pure distraction from the ordeal. It was late and extremely windy in La Barge when I shoved off (I had to chase down some gear blowing away as I loaded up my canoe!), but I forged on anyway. The stress of the mouse drama melted away as I canoed along the muted pink and orange hues of the buttes along La Barge. There wasn’t much time left for paddling, but I made it to a pleasant cow pasture in time to catch the full moonrise be mostly obscured by clouds (but they were really the first clouds of the trip). I was happy to be back on the river in the midst of a perfect autumn in Wyoming.
Day 7: Favorable Winds and a Long Portage—17 Miles
A few miles of river paddling in the cool of morning before the big task for the day arrived—paddling the Fontenelle Reservoir and portaging the dam. I passed by a couple of historic sites on the river—one being Names Hill, where Oregon Trail pioneers who had just crossed the Green inscribed their names in the soft limestone cliffs (most notably the mountain man Jim Bridger)—and the other being a stockpile of rusted-out vintage cars by the riverside. Okay, so maybe only one is actually a state historical site, but the cars were cool nonetheless. The river soon after entered the 13-mile long Fontenelle Reservoir, and I was faced with a change from river paddling to lake paddling. The Fontenelle Reservoir is small as far as the Colorado River Basin Project’s reservoirs are concerned, but the low rolling sagebrush hills of the Wyoming landscape created a lake that is broad and wide. By noon the winds had picked up tremendously on the reservoir, sweeping, as they so often do, over the arid plains of the sagebrush steppe. Fortunately, most of the reservoir is oriented to the east, and I got more of a tailwind than I perhaps bargained for—finishing the last six miles of reservoir paddling in less than an hour and a half—in the midst of 1 to 2 foot swells splashing over the gunnels as well. After my self-congratulatory swim in the reservoir, I began the longest portage of the trip—1.8 miles from take-out to put-in. And I had to do it alone, in three trips. Though I arrived at the dam by mid-afternoon, I didn’t finish portaging until I was under the light of a nearly-full harvest moon. That moon would be my consolation prize for an exhausting portage.
Day 8: A Ribbon of Green in the High Desert—The Seedskadee—18 Miles
If the day before was unduly strenuous, then today was a cakewalk. I put in below the Fontenelle Dam and let the river do most of the work for me. In contrast to the Green upriver of the reservoir, I was finally paddling in feet of water. It seems like the Green has finally upgraded itself to bona fide river status. The vertical drop in the river seemed to lessen and the river seemed to mellow out through this section too. It was a fairly calm and peaceful paddle, as the Green entered the Seedskadee National Wildlife Refuge soon after the dam. The Seedskadee, (the Shoshone word for the river, meaning ‘River of the Sage Grouse’) is a thin ribbon of oasis in an otherwise arid land. Here, the river meanders through relatively flat, wet grassy marshes that foster ideal habitat for birds and other wildlife. The only significant topographical relief in this stretch are the occasional low bluffs abutting a few bends in the river where the cliff swallows build their nests. It is a wildlife paradise at the watering hole. I see deer, antelope, elk, moose, coyotes, skunks, pelicans, cranes, swans, eagles, and more birds than I could possibly name.
Day 9: Birder’s Paradise—28 Miles
Back for more paddling in the Seedskadee today. At 28 miles traveled, today was easily the longest mileage day of the trip—yet with a flowing current it went by imperceptibly easily. The Seedskadee is so flat that it is not landscape scenery; instead, today I tried my hand at wildlife photography. I saw more pelicans than I could shake a stick at. Also more of every type of avian fauna—ducks, swans, pelicans, cranes, eagles, vultures, hawks, swallows, and some more of the Wildlife Refuge’s over 200 species of birds (but, even though the Seedskadee is named for the Sage Grouse, I have yet to see one from the river). Aside from the ample fishermen I passed today (there seems to be an army of fishermen around every large bend here), humans are notably absent in this stretch. It is not remote at all—dirt roads parallel the river closely on both sides—but the river is tucked away nicely and feels a world removed from civilization. Humans once tried to settle here. I stopped by a few ramshackle homesteads long-since abandoned. Even with land on the river, it is near-impossibly demanding to eke out a human existence in such a dry landscape.
Day 10: Paddling through Metropolis—25 Miles
Woke up in my cottonwood-cow pasture campsite to an unexpectedly mild morning—the mornings have been getting noticeably warmer as I’ve been dropping in elevation. Off to an early start on the river, and what do I see within a minute but a bull moose swimming across the river. It was a great start to what would be a great day. The Green meandered its way ever so slowly towards the city of Green River, Wyoming. At a population of over 12,000 people, Green River is the largest metropolis on the Green. But you wouldn’t be able to tell approaching it by river. Aside from a building here or there, the river is still undeveloped. Here, the river meanders cut through a lot of bluffs to expose platy limestone on the undercuts. This is all limestone material laid down by an inland sea 50 million years ago. And, as a factor that initially sparked my interest in spending time on the Green, the limestone is full of fish fossils. I stopped frequently to poke around for the iconic Knightia eocaena fish fossils of Sweetwater County. For fifty-million years of deposition, you would think there’d have been more fish who died in the sea. But sadly, for all my amateur paleontology, the fossils remained elusive (though I love the hunt!). I crossed a major mark of civilization today—the Interstate 80 Bridge, and was immediately ushered into the town of Green River. The original transcontinental railway passes through town, and this was the initial launching point of Major John Wesley Powell’s 1869 exploratory expedition down the river. The town of Green River exists in a fantastic landscape, tucked between massive red-orange cliffs and buttes—most iconically Tollgate Rock and the Palisades. Upon stopping in Green River for a tourist jaunt, I learned some more about another trip down the Green that left a few weeks ahead of me (read about their anthropological voyage here). I got some whitewater practice in by running the three small dams through the city limits, and gawked at the awkward glances I got from bystanders pondering that wacko in the canoe. I left Green River’s city limits to enter the Flaming Gorge National Recreation Area. And the stars and Milky Way were absolutely amazing at night!
Day 11: A Monumental Landscape…—16 Miles
Today was a transition back into more lake paddling as the Green flowed into the Flaming Gorge Reservoir. Leaving Green River, there are many high buttes, small mountains, and rock outcroppings. It is a monumental landscape. Though fully on the reservoir today, it still very much looked like a river. The current is gone now, and the riverine reservoir has widened so much that paddling anywhere seems to take ages. The morning was still, and it got incredibly hot today (unseasonably hot, is what I’d learn later). Nearing exhaustion from the heat and the stillness, I took what would be the first (of many) dips in the reservoir. The cold water quickly revived me. Though I wasn’t a fan of the dull stillness, I was even less of a fan of the afternoon wind that whipped up and effaced me whichever direction I turned. Though it felt like I didn’t actually paddle anywhere, I still put in 16 miles today.
Day 12: …with Monumental Distance—15 Miles
More lake paddling today. And equally as still as the day before, though this time with some decent cloud cover to break up the heat. Today’s section of the Flaming Gorge Reservoir took me through a wide-open expanse of lake. The Uinta mountains lay far off to the south in the distance, but here it is markedly flat and arid. You keep paddling here, but the distances across the water are so vast you feel like you’re paddling in place for hours. Mind games ensue…
Day 13: Windbound—8 Miles
Days of paddling through calm weather finally caught up to me. In three hours of calm paddling, I made 8 miles before the southerly breeze picked up out of nowhere and soundly blew me back to shore. For the first time on the trip, I had to call it a day early because of the weather. Turbid swells crashed upon my beach for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. I passed the time by reading about John Wesley Powell’s 1869 expedition down this stretch of the Green. I was envious when I learned that just downriver of this point the untamed Green was so swift that the expedition once made twelve miles in an hour. Now that same river is flooded under 400 feet of water, and I’m lucky to even make it twelve miles in a day.
Day 14: Above the Shadow of John Wesley Powell—18 Miles
A welcome start to October. New month, new state—Utah. I awoke early and was on the water well before sunrise to cover the last expanses of open reservoir before the afternoon winds picked up. Turns out I didn’t need to—it was calm and pleasant all day long. As I paddled south in the brightening morning, the Uinta Range, which had been beckoning me for days now, grew ever so much closer. I crossed the Wyoming-Utah border on the water. The change from Wyoming to Utah is drastic, and almost unbelievably immediate. Whereas Wyoming is flat, dry, sagebrush and limestone country, across the border in Utah it is a bright white and red sandstone bedrock, uplifted and contorted by tectonic forces, and dotted with the dark green of Juniper trees. The Green River enters the Uinta mountains almost in a secret passageway. As you paddle closer, you could almost convince yourself that you’re headed to a dead end—and then at the last moment, a passage opens up and you get your first glimpse of the shining red rocks of the namesake Flaming Gorge itself. That moment alone is enough to make up for days of inane paddling on the upper reservoir. As you paddle deeper into the gorge, you’ll pass through the bright white sandstone of Horseshoe Canyon. The deeper in you travel in the gorge, the more spectacular it keeps getting. I camp for the night at the Kingfisher Island Boat Camp. I am the only one in the campground, and I haven’t seen anyone face-to-face since my stop in Green River, though over the past few days I saw the occasional motorboat from a distance. The campsite overlooks a wide red amphitheater of the Flaming Gorge. It is easily the best public campground I have ever stayed at. I can only imagine the flabbergasted awe the Powell expedition must have had felt upon running these canyons, especially when the canyons were 500 feet deeper.
Day 15: The Mountains are Gorges—18 Miles
Crawled out of my tent to be greeted by a moon halo. It was a harbinger of the spectacles to come today. Another calm morning, and I enjoyed the pristine reflections of Kingfisher Canyon. Soon the river-like reservoir entered Red Canyon—steep, rocky, forested and colored a deep red. One more final dip in the cool, rejuvenating waters of the Flaming Gorge Reservoir. The further I paddled, the more in awe of the landscape I became. But it was time enough to call this segment of the river a wrap. Storm clouds began rolling in by early afternoon and the October skies turned ominous. I made it to my take-out at Cedar Springs Marina a few hours before the rains started. A happy ending to a ten-day stretch of river that really couldn’t have gone any better. Except there was one unhappy ending to tell—my mouse pal. Upon entering my car, I smelled the tell-tale sign that I was the victor of the war. But he did mock my success even in death by being nearly melded with the plastic in my trunk. But you take the good with the bad.