DEVILS CANYON
The first few miles of day three were some of the most enjoyable class IV rapids I can remember. There were many great boof drops of low difficulty with the usual recovery pools interspersed between. However, after a great hour-long warm up, the river tightened again through a narrow limestone-walled canyon. Around mile 28 the Middle Fork entered dramatic Devil’s Canyon and massive granite walls rose abruptly from the river. The gradient was “only” 80 feet per mile here, with most of the major rapids formed by huge chunks of granite that had broken off the walls and dropped into the river. Side streams had now significantly increased the river’s flow, adding a new element to this final stretch.
As the granite walls once again closed in, we soon were faced with our first unportageable drop. There were sheer cliffs on either side and a portage would be time consuming and possibly dangerous. We gave it a quick scout and an obvious line presented itself down the left side. Most of the water went river left at the entrance, and then turned 45 degrees to river center. There was a small hole to punch at the top of the line, a large rock on the right side of the chute where the river turned to the center, a lot of diagonal currents, and finally, a flush of whitewater at the bottom. The line seemed fairly straight forward. I picked out the nuances of my line carefully, looking for the most gentle currents that would take me down and around the corner. However, we really just had to paddle into the white maw of water and hope for the best.
We watched Ben go first. Ben punched the left edge of the top hole, braced on a frothy diagonal wave on the left, executed a few more strokes and cleared the boulder on his right. He then negotiated the rest of the flume and was through. It was a clean line. I attempted a similar line, but punched the top hole more towards the center. Even so, I was doing okay until a diagonal wave pushed me farther right than I wanted to be. Halfway down, just above and left of the big boulder, I was sucked into a boiling, frothy eddy. I was only in it for half a second, but that was long enough to capsize me. When I flipped I was washed back into the main current and down the remaining flume of whitewater. I tucked close to my boat to avoid hitting any rocks on my way down, but a rock still managed to graze the back of my helmet. I rolled up in the pool below. Chad came down next taking a similar line. He must have seen my mistake and stayed farther left. Once we were all through we paddled 100 feet or so to our next scout.
We were again faced with another horizon line with boulders lining the top. I floated up to the side of one of the boulders and peered over the edge. It looked like a straight shot down a six-foot-wide rush of water on the right side. However, I couldn’t see all of the rapid, so I got out of my boat (again) to scout. The pillow of water at the end of the drop looked quite a bit meatier from this vantage point. The water thundered down with great speed into a large boulder that deflected the water into the center. It looked like we could shoot down the spout, with a slight river center angle and brace off the foamy pile and into the pool below. Ben didn’t like the fury of the hole that the spout made and suggested we opt for a shallow eight-foot huck off the left ledge and into the pool below. That suited us fine so Ben and I made the move while Chad shot photos.
The most obvious portage we were looking for was called Granite Dome (mile 29). I had read about the arduous and steep portage of Granite Dome in guidebooks and seen pictures on the internet. A mile into Devils Canyon we came to a big pool where the river bended right and a huge granite dome towered over the left bank. We paddled slowly across the pool assessing the severity of the falls below. The portage was .3 mile and could be longer if one chose to put-in further down and not run a steep drop only 50 yards below the class VI falls. We were convinced that walking this rapid was mandatory and our feelings were confirmed once we climbed high enough to see Granite Dome in its entirety. Granite Dome Falls consisted of a staircase of class V drops that climaxed in a lethal jumble of boulders.
The air temperature was brutally hot and we began sweating even as we shouldered our boats for the walk. Chad immediately stripped down to nothing but shorts. I left my gear on. The trouble of taking everything off only to put it right back on again seemed like too much work for me.
There was a well-used “trail” that led up and to the right. On the trail, some places were so thick with foliage, a tree trunk provided a well-received footbridge over it. Towards the end of our hike, we climbed down a blocky rock slope, passing our boats down one at a time, fire-line style, to a rocky protrusion 15 feet over the river. We were downstream of the worst of the falls now. We walked out onto the rock overlooking the river and examined the deep pool below. I placed my kayak on the lip of the rocky shelf, got in my boat, and seal-launched myself over the edge. Ben and Chad followed with whoops and cheers.
We had paddled barely 50 yards when we came to another very steep drop. Initially, we wondered if we had completed all of the portage. Luckily, however, this just turned out to be a runnable class V below Granite Dome. A few paddle strokes took us up to the lip of the drop. One by one, we cruised over the falls, almost having to boof the far river right wall. The landing seemed deep enough, but we each grazed a rock that was slightly submerged.
The river was unrelenting in its consistency. Another 50-yard paddle took us to yet another horizon line and scout. Many of the rapids blur together in my memory save the largest ones. By now, it was well into the afternoon and I was becoming both physical and mentally tired. We scouted from atop a high boulder on river right. From our high perch we spied some very large boulders with a powerful flume going through just left of center. Back in our boats. Again, clean lines had by all.
Towards the end of the final day we came to Milsap Bar Bridge and our take out. With mixed emotions, the last day wasn’t really that long. We were only on the water for six hours, but the back-to-back class IV and V made it seem like we had just completed a major expedition. Rounding a final bend in the river we spied Kristen, our faithful shuttle bunny, who lay sunning herself on the rocky bank waiting our return. Aside from driving the monstrous shuttle for us, she had spent the last three days painting and other artistic endeavors. A big thanks to her for the logistical support. Greetings and celebrations ensued, and then we were off to Oroville, CA for a well-earned celebration dinner.
The first few miles of day three were some of the most enjoyable class IV rapids I can remember. There were many great boof drops of low difficulty with the usual recovery pools interspersed between. However, after a great hour-long warm up, the river tightened again through a narrow limestone-walled canyon. Around mile 28 the Middle Fork entered dramatic Devil’s Canyon and massive granite walls rose abruptly from the river. The gradient was “only” 80 feet per mile here, with most of the major rapids formed by huge chunks of granite that had broken off the walls and dropped into the river. Side streams had now significantly increased the river’s flow, adding a new element to this final stretch.
As the granite walls once again closed in, we soon were faced with our first unportageable drop. There were sheer cliffs on either side and a portage would be time consuming and possibly dangerous. We gave it a quick scout and an obvious line presented itself down the left side. Most of the water went river left at the entrance, and then turned 45 degrees to river center. There was a small hole to punch at the top of the line, a large rock on the right side of the chute where the river turned to the center, a lot of diagonal currents, and finally, a flush of whitewater at the bottom. The line seemed fairly straight forward. I picked out the nuances of my line carefully, looking for the most gentle currents that would take me down and around the corner. However, we really just had to paddle into the white maw of water and hope for the best.
We watched Ben go first. Ben punched the left edge of the top hole, braced on a frothy diagonal wave on the left, executed a few more strokes and cleared the boulder on his right. He then negotiated the rest of the flume and was through. It was a clean line. I attempted a similar line, but punched the top hole more towards the center. Even so, I was doing okay until a diagonal wave pushed me farther right than I wanted to be. Halfway down, just above and left of the big boulder, I was sucked into a boiling, frothy eddy. I was only in it for half a second, but that was long enough to capsize me. When I flipped I was washed back into the main current and down the remaining flume of whitewater. I tucked close to my boat to avoid hitting any rocks on my way down, but a rock still managed to graze the back of my helmet. I rolled up in the pool below. Chad came down next taking a similar line. He must have seen my mistake and stayed farther left. Once we were all through we paddled 100 feet or so to our next scout.
We were again faced with another horizon line with boulders lining the top. I floated up to the side of one of the boulders and peered over the edge. It looked like a straight shot down a six-foot-wide rush of water on the right side. However, I couldn’t see all of the rapid, so I got out of my boat (again) to scout. The pillow of water at the end of the drop looked quite a bit meatier from this vantage point. The water thundered down with great speed into a large boulder that deflected the water into the center. It looked like we could shoot down the spout, with a slight river center angle and brace off the foamy pile and into the pool below. Ben didn’t like the fury of the hole that the spout made and suggested we opt for a shallow eight-foot huck off the left ledge and into the pool below. That suited us fine so Ben and I made the move while Chad shot photos.
The most obvious portage we were looking for was called Granite Dome (mile 29). I had read about the arduous and steep portage of Granite Dome in guidebooks and seen pictures on the internet. A mile into Devils Canyon we came to a big pool where the river bended right and a huge granite dome towered over the left bank. We paddled slowly across the pool assessing the severity of the falls below. The portage was .3 mile and could be longer if one chose to put-in further down and not run a steep drop only 50 yards below the class VI falls. We were convinced that walking this rapid was mandatory and our feelings were confirmed once we climbed high enough to see Granite Dome in its entirety. Granite Dome Falls consisted of a staircase of class V drops that climaxed in a lethal jumble of boulders.
The air temperature was brutally hot and we began sweating even as we shouldered our boats for the walk. Chad immediately stripped down to nothing but shorts. I left my gear on. The trouble of taking everything off only to put it right back on again seemed like too much work for me.
There was a well-used “trail” that led up and to the right. On the trail, some places were so thick with foliage, a tree trunk provided a well-received footbridge over it. Towards the end of our hike, we climbed down a blocky rock slope, passing our boats down one at a time, fire-line style, to a rocky protrusion 15 feet over the river. We were downstream of the worst of the falls now. We walked out onto the rock overlooking the river and examined the deep pool below. I placed my kayak on the lip of the rocky shelf, got in my boat, and seal-launched myself over the edge. Ben and Chad followed with whoops and cheers.
We had paddled barely 50 yards when we came to another very steep drop. Initially, we wondered if we had completed all of the portage. Luckily, however, this just turned out to be a runnable class V below Granite Dome. A few paddle strokes took us up to the lip of the drop. One by one, we cruised over the falls, almost having to boof the far river right wall. The landing seemed deep enough, but we each grazed a rock that was slightly submerged.
The river was unrelenting in its consistency. Another 50-yard paddle took us to yet another horizon line and scout. Many of the rapids blur together in my memory save the largest ones. By now, it was well into the afternoon and I was becoming both physical and mentally tired. We scouted from atop a high boulder on river right. From our high perch we spied some very large boulders with a powerful flume going through just left of center. Back in our boats. Again, clean lines had by all.
Towards the end of the final day we came to Milsap Bar Bridge and our take out. With mixed emotions, the last day wasn’t really that long. We were only on the water for six hours, but the back-to-back class IV and V made it seem like we had just completed a major expedition. Rounding a final bend in the river we spied Kristen, our faithful shuttle bunny, who lay sunning herself on the rocky bank waiting our return. Aside from driving the monstrous shuttle for us, she had spent the last three days painting and other artistic endeavors. A big thanks to her for the logistical support. Greetings and celebrations ensued, and then we were off to Oroville, CA for a well-earned celebration dinner.
Random videos of Brad kayaking in WA:
Wind River: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dL3uIrrLj40
Tieton River: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qb7I7A9Q2No
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