Not much more than one week back from Ecuador and I am back on the banana boat. Well, that is not really true. Rather I am in a raft. Accepting an invitation from a friend in Pagosa, shortly after returning to Pagosa, my friend and I headed to Utah, to join nine others to raft the San Juan River. The San Juan actually starts in the mountains around Pagosa, but travels miles and miles through Colorado, New Mexico, then into Utah. After draining water from several sources, uniting with other rivers and streams, it finally deposits a steady flow of snow melt into Lake Powell, which stretches for miles, enlarged by other rivers, including the Colorado. Reluctantly, or gladly, either way, Lake Powell finally lets loose some of its capture back to the Colorado as it heads through the Grand Canyon.
I suppose the San Juan does not have the notoriety of the Colorado, and is not framed by the canyon walls of the Grand Canyon. However, the San Juan too has its own strength, beauty, contribution, and visual beauty among canyon walls. Thus, it drew the excited interest of the eleven rafters, all except I who had returned to previous enjoyment of the river. All, except I, had several experiences on rivers, for some including rafting in the Grand Canyon.
The trip covered roughly 86 miles, and seven days. We embarked near a small desert town of Bluff, into the fast moving and muddy river. At first the landscape was somewhat routine, not too impressive. But, we got off around noon, and buddied up in twos, except for the most experienced, who went solo. The first day was rather short, and we found a camp site, which was pretty nice for a primitive site. Thereafter, the days travels were generally longer and more eventful. Along the way we stopped at various locations, and added land hikes to our watery highway.
Each hike had its own flavor. The first included visitation to Indian ruins, not only to wonder at the mystery of a missing culture, the architecture, reasons for location and then disappearance, and then to frequent discovery of wall art, petroglyph and pictograph, and the possibilities of interpretation of the images seen.
Other hikes included walks to old miner cabins, or sites. Others were up canyons, washes, gullies. One (name not remembered) provided great relief from the heat, as it linked spring water into many pools as it ran toward the river. All on the trip found their own seclusion in one or more of these pools and taking an initial deep breath, plunged into the coolness, which soon enough was worth the initial shock.
So many avenues to pursue and investigate, departing from the full river to the desert surroundings that began almost immediately from the shore. A certain contrast between the rapid movement of a full river, then to the sand and limestone cliffs that began after the first day. Soon these cliffs were rising over 1,000 feet up, with numerous side canyon intersections along the way. All had degrees of erosion to show, many amazing the onlooker with tremendous ability to balance huge rocks upon edges, smaller rocks, threatening to let go as we rafters raced by, looking upward and hopefully backward, to find all was still intact, though at the same time wishing to be around, at a safe distance, when the grip would finally be released, to observe what would be one heck of a show of force and energy and noise.
The ride on the river was for the most part fairly fast. There were occasional challenges with waves, rocks too close, narrowing entries, and the cliffs on either side. One rapid was sufficiently scary to require a beaching first to observe the energy, contemplate the risk and the challenge, develop a plan, and then finally to try and implement that plan. Despite the initial worry, all, including myself, succeeded without incident. On this particular rapid, I was only a passenger. A wise decision, based upon my display of limited skills with oars on the raft. Granted this was my first experience, but there was a bit of personal disappointment in my limited development over the week. I am not yet decided as to whether I am not all that symmetrical, if I am decidedly stronger on one side, or what the issue may be as to why I could not direct the raft on a straight course. If I rowed backward, the problem was lessened considerably, though not entirely eliminated. Still, it was an experience enjoyed, and if given another opportunity I would indeed do it again.
And, even though not the Colorado, or the Grand Canyon, it was a wild river and a trip through beautiful canyons.
