A Yule Creek Epic

After a quick pit-stop for breakfast burritos, Nick, Xavier, Ben and I drove to the town of Marble where the infamous Yule Creek was told to be. We made it to Beaver Lake, and looking across, were greeted with an impressive view of a chasm that split the mountain range; an inferno of falling water—this was what we were looking for. We loaded up on one car and drove to the top of the creek. After a conversation with a gun-slinging cowboy about a 60 footer that killed one person and maimed two others, we started to hike down past an unrunnable section looking for a reasonable put-in.

The river was fairly gorged out, and after angeling through several rapids, we all skidded into eddies above an intimidating horizon line. Xavier was in the lead and routed straight off the lip, deciding to boof at the last minute, which turned out to be the line. The drop started with a 3 foot folding ledge with a killer seam, followed by a 30ish foot drop. Halfway down the flow is broken up by a ledge with a landing pad in the middle and a pile of rocks on either side—a must-make boof. I shimmied out of my boat and peeked over the lip where I could see Xavier in the pool below. He was fine and signaled boof and transition onto rocks, so I turned to Nick who was barely hanging in an eddy at the lip. “Boof this ledge, then boof a 20 footer.” I relayed, not wanting to freak him out. “Boof hard.” I added as he peeled out and disappeared over the horizon line.

What ensued was one of the most stressful moments of any of our lives. Nick missed the boof, and rather than transitioning smoothly, pitoned the ledge, bouncing onto the rock pile upside-down before landing in the pool. We all froze, petrified with the possibility of what may have just happened. It couldn’t have been more than a second, but it felt like time was standing still until Nick busted a quick roll and made his way to shore, yelling in pain. As the adrenaline wore off he realized he could not move his left arm. After trying to reduce what appeared to be a dislocated shoulder, Nick and Xavier began hiking back up the trail on river right to a bridge that led to the car. I took his fully loaded boat and bushwhacked a nearly half mile straight vertical to the road and stashed his boat while Ben took a look at what lay downstream.

Nick's Drop from below.
DISCLAIMER: we had some camera issues so the pictures of this run really don't do it justice.

Nick was fine to drive, so he decided to take himself to the hospital. Reassured that he would be alright, the remaining three of us hiked back into the canyon to continue the run. Our day had barely started and already we were one man down. We portaged a few not-so-clean ledges, then put on with shadow of what had just happened on all of our minds. From here we ran through some “warm up slides” that we looked at on the drive up. On any other run these drops alone could be the main attraction, but on Yule they hardly deserved a second look.

Its easy to tell when you’ve come to the big four. After a half mile of read and run class four, the canyon will open into an exposed V shape and the river will fall off the edge of the world. Although the sides of the canyon are at about a 60 degree angle, on the right they are entirely covered in bits of shale that you can scramble over for relatively easy yet heart-pounding scouting. We had a good crew for this run. Although there was a moment of “What have we gotten ourselves into?” as we caught our first glimpse of the big boys, after a minute of going over possible lines we were all ready and fired up to go.

Professor X getting Nervous

The first pair of drops is a 30-footer stacked on top of a huge slide which careens 90 degrees to the right, smashing into the left wall at the bottom. I lost rock paper scissors, so I worked to get a good photo angle of the drop while Xavier ane Ben ran it with good lines. At Lower flows there is a pool to eddy out in between the two drops, yet at this level nearly all the outflow from aptly-named Nervous Falls pushed straight off the lip of Wall Check.

Ben Dropping In...

...And Wall-Checking like a boss

It was now my turn. I hopped in my boat and paddle through the lead-in. The lip of this drop is truly surreal. All you can see when approaching the 30 footer is the lake in the distance at the take-out, about a mile away and what seems like a mile down. I busted right which looked like the cleanest line at this level, and as I went overt the lip the entire sequence appeared before me, almost out of thin air—a view that will literally take your breath away. I tucked up at the last second and hit the pool hard with an explosion of pain in my left ear. I suddenly remembered hurting my ear earlier in the week, but managed to push the stars out of my mind with the mental image of what I was floating towards upside-down. Just in time, I rolled practically as I was going over the lip. Fortunately I was lined up perfectly where I wanted to be and blasted down the slick rock, riding high up the left wall until it fell away and I flew over the hole into the pool below. This is probably the coolest drop I’ve ever run, the shape of the rock along with the direction of the water creates an incredibly dynamic line. Ben and Xavier were waiting on the rocks below so I hopped out to join them and scout Oriental Massage, the biggest of the run.

This drop is basically just a huge straight slide with several rooster tails and flakes to deal with. Wary of the right side where a piton had broken a paddle and helmet the day before, we took a few minutes talking about where we wanted to be setting up for this cascade. I went first, entered center with slight left angle and hit the first rooster tail perfectly. After a moment of weightlessness, I skidded down the second half of the slide and sailed off a kicker into the pool at the bottom. Ben and Xavier followed with similar lines and we all dropped the last waterfall, a 5-foot vertical tongue onto a 20 foot auto-boof flake, stoked but relieved to be at the bottom unscathed. Elated, we paddled out to the lake where a car was waiting, picked up Nick’s boat and went to meet him in Glenwood.

Me preparing for an Oriental Massage. The final drop is visible far right.

This run reminded me of a New England creek done Colorado style. There was a manky lead-in, complete with rock-filled landings, pitons and the occasional railroad tie pinned in a rapid. The paddle out had some wood in it, but in between are some of the biggest, sickest slides you could imagine. For me, this run truly lived up to all the hype.

According to the doctor, Nick escaped with just a broken collarbone, not bad considering what could have happened. We’re now driving back to the northeast where I’ll be flying home from. Although this incident put an end to our plans for another month in California, it opened other opportunities. Nick will take classes this summer and have next winter available for a trip to Ecuador, while I should be able to get on some Washington classics before they drop out. It was cut off early, but at least the road trip went out with a bang.

A Week in Colorado's Front Range

We arrived in Fort Collins at 5 AM after two days and two nights of driving. Here we were staying at alum Xavier Engle’s house. After some confusion with his roommate (who apparently almost shot us), we crashed for the night and woke up ready to paddle.

Xavier took us out to their local bread and butter run the Poudre at 4.5 feet that afternoon where we lapped the narrows and ran through the marathon stretch. This was stomping high and it was fun to be back on some technical big water after scraping down rocks during the New England creeking season.

The crux move of the Lower 'Gnarrows.'
Hard to get perspective without paddlers but this hole is actually huge

The next day we woke up and rallied early to run Joe Right and Spencer Heights, two sections of the Poudre further upstream which have a creekier feel, are more technical and slightly more demanding than the lower runs.

Nick Entering Carnito on Joe Wright

Me Boofing the Carnito Flake. Photos courtesy Evan Stafford,
check out his full report at Poudre Rock Report.

From there we drove to Idaho Springs where we stayed with our boy Brandon Gonski and his fellow raft guides at the Surf Shack. After a fun night out, we enjoyed a mellow day in true raft guide fashion, played some Frisbee golf, then ran Black Rock canyon in the evening with Chris. This was a fun, continuous big-water class 4 section with a few 5’s mixed in.

We stayed another night with the crew at the Surf Shack, then headed back towards Boulder for some front range creeks that were apparently going off. We stopped and scouted high water Eldo on our way up, and decided it was a pile of mank that definitely goes, but would most likely leave you with a broken boat and a bruised tailbone. Props to some local folks who ran this as part of the Sick Bird Loop the next day, a challenge which involves 5-11 B trad climbing, biking over a pass, then running South Boulder Creek all the way through Eldo all in a day. We opted for the mellower Boulder Creek, but put in a few miles above the normal run for more exitement and a few bigger drops.

Eldo, some classic Colorado Mank

Bombing through this run was awesome, we only caught a few eddies in the upper section above horizons that looked like they might land on rocks. It was a nice change of pace after all the pushy technical big water we’d been running. At the takeout we met up with Ellen and Laura, two other Ledyardites who had just arrived in CO on their way to Fibark. We had a little gypsy party on a dirt pullout across from the takeout where we fired up the grill and made dinner. At this point we were truly getting into the swing of the dirtbag lifestyle.

A rapid above the put-in on Boulder

Gypsy Style

We spent the night at ’08 Clara’s house and woke up early to drive to Lyons where we met up with Xavier and a crew of Front-range paddlers to run the North Saint Vrain. After driving along a hiking trail to the put-in, there was a 45 minute trek to the river which avoided an upstream portagefest and got us straight to the goods. After an eventful lead-in, things began going smoothly once we got to the meat of the run. This run is fairly short and the crux is a half-mile long stacked boulder garden. Another steep 45-minute hike out boats loaded with wet gear was just what we needed for a little bit of “Cali Training.” From here the plan was to either head to Fibark for the night or run Gore Canyon at high water then hit Crested Butte and OBJ, but we were all pretty beat and decided to rest up for the next day. Luckily for us, we heard Yule Creek was running on the high side of good. Yule is one of those runs that has been a long-term goal for me, something I’d set my sights on ever since the days I was a little webelo paddler, watching kayaking videos until the VCR ate the tape. With this gem in sight, Nick, Xav and I made the trek to Glenwood where we spent the night and met up with Ben Luck.

Blind Waterfalls and Broken Collarbones

Well, after a week boating every day on some cool stuff in CO, I broke my collarbone running a ~37 foot waterfall blind. Moral of story -- if you drop into a tiny pool flowing straight off a big horizon line and there is an eddy right at the lip from which you can neither scout nor portage...just run the damn thing, because you're going to run it blind either way and you're probably better off with some momentum through the ledge right at the lip. Also, when you're putting on a creek that's super steep -- try to find the normal putin before putting on above a gorged out section that "looks pretty flat."

The waterfall that broke me. Picture coming in far right off the lip, no speed, not boofing, realizing the waterfall is way bigger than you thought, tucking for impact and then hitting that rock most of the way down, getting kicked upside down and landing flat upside down on the shelf on river right. Then rolling up in the pool, paddling over to shore, and thinking you might be ok enough to keep paddling for about a minute.

More to come on the rest of our time in Colorado, and on the actual run of Yule Creek...I hear it was sweet. Anyway, look for my next post in 2+ months when I can kayak again.

Hornbecks Creek and Drive Part I

Sunday was Dartmouth’s graduation, so after a late night, Nick and I woke up early and finished loading up for our month long cross country road trip. Our first stop was in Connecticut where we dropped off Jackie, Nick’s dog and A-side backseat driver.

From there our plan was to make the 35 hour drive to Fort Collins, CO in one haul but it would appear there was something else in store for us. Nick called local paddling guru Jeff Sharpe after an hour and a half of driving through the pouring rain to ask for beta on nearby runs, who informed us that the gauges hadn’t budged. We pulled out the guidebook and decided Hornbeck looked too good to pass up, so we went a little out of our way to try to get a visual on the level. Frustrated at a lack of road signs, we ended up looking at three creeks that we thought were Hornbecks before deciding they were too low and to get the hell out of Pennsylvania.

Just as we were headed back to the highway, we saw our first road sign and realized we had finally found put-in road. The run’s only a little over 2 miles with all the good drops in the first mile so we decided to hike up from the bottom and take a look at the last and biggest drop on the run. It looked good to go so we hiked back out and drove to the put-in.

This run flashes and is supposed to be good at 200 cfs so we decided to go for it despite the fact that it looked like it had about as much flow as the AD basement. After barely any sleep and a day of driving, we were putting on a class V run neither of us had ever done at 6pm with no shuttle. At this point we realized we might not make it straight to Fort Collins, but it looked too good so Nick threw a headlamp in his drybag and we seal launched in.

The first drop landed straight on a rock shelf and didn’t look like it had enough water so we portaged, starting to worry the run was too low. After some read and run we came to a mini gorge with a couple pretty big twisting slides.

Nick about to ride the pillow on Twist and Shout

After some more fun ledges we portaged Goliath, a drop that has only been run twice because it has an auto-boof flake onto a rock slab. Next was a second canyon that started out with a fun 15-foot ledge that partially landed on rocks. Following some boogie, we were at the biggest horizon line yet. David’s Falls starts out with a 20 footer that lands on rocks on the left. I ran right which was super chunky yet surprisingly smooth. This flows directly off a diagonal lip that drops onto a steep 40 foot slide with a kicker about a third of the way down.

Preparing for lift-off

I hit the lip where I wanted to be, but got a funny bounce off the kicker. I corkscrewed 90 degrees midair and landed tucked up on my side. The hit was pretty hard because the pool isn’t really aerated but I rolled up fine and we rallied back up to the put in racing daylight. All in all this run was super fun thought it would have gotten a lot cleaner with more water. It was nice having a trail right along the river and we were happy, if a little surprised to make it back to the car before dark. Then it was time to hit the road and make up for lost time.

The "oh shit" moment

We drove straight through the night and made it to Chicago where some brake noises caused us to stop. Turns out all four rotors had to be replaced but thanks to the Lube Pro’s we should be on our way to Colorado and more creeking soon.

Taureau and Batiscan

Quinn Connell and I left for Quebec at 9pm last Friday, met up with Jake and Matt Risch, and camped at the takeout for the Taureau section of the Jacques-Cartier river. After 3 hours sleep, we rallied, all crammed into my car, and drove the 100 kilometer shuttle (most of it on dirt roads) to the put in. Level was ~1" below the rock, the low side of medium. It took us about 5 hours, with all of us first timers except Jake who'd done it once the weekend before. The river is everything it's cracked up to be -- 15 miles, probably 10 of solid IV/V whitewater, and way out there. If you got hurt it'd probably be days before you got help. We all walked the waterfall (from what I hear it's a boat breaker) and only I ran the sieve drop. We all had relatively clean lines through Coming Home Muhammad (the last drop; has a big hole) and then crashed, pretty much just floating down the miles of flatwater runout. Got to the takeout, enjoyed some well deserved tall boys, and drove the 100km shuttle...again.

Next we headed over to the 5$ Chutes section of the Batiscan and camped. A late morning lead to us scouting the few drops on the stretch and deciding to drive a ways downstream to the Parc section. Quinn park and hucked one drop on the 5$ Chutes section and got a solid second or two of downtime by melting a seem while the rest of us stayed warm and dry:

The Parc section was neat. A couple class IV ledge drops and slides and a flatwater paddle out at the end. Meanwhile, I haven't yet figured out how to shoot with a DSLR, so these photos are all grainy:

We also found this sign in the Batiscan Parc:
More photos