Rafting Lodore Canyon on the Green River, Utah: Upper Disaster Falls, Lower Disaster Falls, Hell's Half Mile.... the names of these Green River rapids were not exactly reassuring me, especially after our flip in Westwater a few days earlier. However, I considered myself very lucky to be launching with Jeff and our group of 6 rafts/4 IKs from the Gates of Lodore. Only 300 permits are issued for this trip each year, and the chance of being drawn in the lottery is only around 5 percent. Through a friend of Jeff's, we were able to fill to 2 open slots on the permit for this 44 mile float through an isolated area in Dinosaur National Monument (DNM). We launched from the Gates of Lodore Ranger Station at the northern end of DNM and floated to the Quarry Visitor Center.
Gates of Lodore was named by
John Wesley Powell in 1869 after the English poem "Cataract of Lodore." Powell led a team of 9 on a three month geographic expedition down the Green and Colorado Rivers in wooden boats. The expedition, which ran from Green River, Wyoming through the Grand Canyon, was carried out to map the Colorado River's course and collect biological and geological information.
Entering the Canyon: Explorers of years past would characterize these red river waters as "Too thick to drink, too thin to plow." According to the
USGS, the Green River transports runoff and sediment from 25,400 square miles in Wyoming, Colorado, and Utah. The river flow is controlled by the Flaming Gorge Dam, which has been in place since 1962. At the time we were there, it was only running between 830 and 1,700 cfs.
Take out on the first day was between Lower Disaster Falls and Harp Falls. The
Powell Expedition actually named the Upper and Lower Disaster Falls this way because they lost one of their gear carrying boats here.
The next day we scouted Harp Falls where there was a recent landslide due to heavy rains. The slide didn't alter the channel much and everyone cleared this rapid with no trouble. Afterwards came Hell's Half Mile, the most notable rapid. Fortunately for me, there is a well-worn path around this. I had enough excitement on Westwater so I decided to walk around. This allowed me to film Jeff and the others as they navigated through the technically difficult stretch. Everyone did a great job and there were no mishaps.
While the views were incredible throughout the trip, I thought the most spectacular were from just below Hell's Half Mile to Echo Park. There were stunning rock formations in striking colors. The vegetation was changing into its fall colors, which added to the beauty.
At Echo Park, the Green River converges with the Yampa River, one of the last free-flowing rivers in the Colorado Basin. The reddish brown sediment-laden waters of the Green River join with the Yampa producing a striking visual contrast.
We walked around Echo Park to check out some of the ancient petroglyph panel in the
Fremont Indian Style. This panel of petroglyphs was created by forming lines with dots drilled into the rock.
Trip was truly a spectacular experience and something I will never forget. I'm so grateful that my husband and friends gave me such a rare opportunity to see this beautiful landscape.
The Cataract of Lodore
by Robert Southey
"How does the water
Come down at Lodore?"
My little boy asked me
Thus, once on a time;
And moreover he tasked me
To tell him in rhyme.
Anon, at the word,
There first came one daughter,
And then came another,
To second and third
The request of their brother,
And to hear how the water
Comes down at Lodore,
With its rush and its roar,
As many a time
They had seen it before.
So I told them in rhyme,
For of rhymes I had store;
And 'twas in my vocation
For their recreation
That so I should sing;
Because I was Laureate
To them and the King.
From its sources which well
In the tarn on the fell;
From its fountains
In the mountains,
Its rills and its gills;
Through moss and through brake,
It runs and it creeps
For a while, till it sleeps
In its own little lake.
And thence at departing,
Awakening and starting,
It runs through the reeds,
And away it proceeds,
Through meadow and glade,
In sun and in shade,
And through the wood-shelter,
Among crags in its flurry,
Helter-skelter,
Hurry-skurry.
Here it comes sparkling,
And there it lies darkling;
Now smoking and frothing
Its tumult and wrath in,
Till, in this rapid race
On which it is bent,
It reaches the place
Of its steep descent.
The cataract strong
Then plunges along,
Striking and raging
As if a war waging
Its caverns and rocks among;
Rising and leaping,
Sinking and creeping,
Swelling and sweeping,
Showering and springing,
Flying and flinging,
Writhing and ringing,
Eddying and whisking,
Spouting and frisking,
Turning and twisting,
Around and around
With endless rebound:
Smiting and fighting,
A sight to delight in;
Confounding, astounding,
Dizzying and deafening the ear with its sound.
Collecting, projecting,
Receding and speeding,
And shocking and rocking,
And darting and parting,
And threading and spreading,
And whizzing and hissing,
And dripping and skipping,
And hitting and splitting,
And shining and twining,
And rattling and battling,
And shaking and quaking,
And pouring and roaring,
And waving and raving,
And tossing and crossing,
And flowing and going,
And running and stunning,
And foaming and roaming,
And dinning and spinning,
And dropping and hopping,
And working and jerking,
And guggling and struggling,
And heaving and cleaving,
And moaning and groaning;
And glittering and frittering,
And gathering and feathering,
And whitening and brightening,
And quivering and shivering,
And hurrying and skurrying,
And thundering and floundering;
Dividing and gliding and sliding,
And falling and brawling and sprawling,
And driving and riving and striving,
And sprinkling and twinkling and wrinkling,
And sounding and bounding and rounding,
And bubbling and troubling and doubling,
And grumbling and rumbling and tumbling,
And clattering and battering and shattering;
Retreating and beating and meeting and sheeting,
Delaying and straying and playing and spraying,
Advancing and prancing and glancing and dancing,
Recoiling, turmoiling and toiling and boiling,
And gleaming and streaming and steaming and beaming,
And rushing and flushing and brushing and gushing,
And flapping and rapping and clapping and slapping,
And curling and whirling and purling and twirling,
And thumping and plumping and bumping and jumping,
And dashing and flashing and splashing and clashing;
And so never ending, but always descending,
Sounds and motions for ever and ever are blending
All at once and all o'er, with a mighty uproar,
And this way the water comes down at Lodore.
