Rafting

205 Mile Rapid came into view as a broad, boulder-strewn drop where the river funneled tightly against the left bank. A long tongue of swift current pulled us in fast, pushing toward a line of exposed rocks and breaking waves along the left shore. We angled right to stay clear of the boulders, driving through a center wave train that rose in steep, choppy steps. Cold water splashed over the rails as we rode through a series of surging laterals that tried to spin the dory broadside. Quick strokes kept us lined up cleanly, the boat flexing as it powered through each wave and boil.

With the plan clear and nerves sharpened, we pushed off into Lava Falls, the most formidable rapid of the trip. The river dropped fast and hard, funneling into a steep tongue that hurled us toward the infamous Ledge Hole on river left, a massive hydraulic capable of swallowing a dory whole. At the oars was Rio, calm and focused, setting us up with deliberate precision. He angled us right of the hole, driving hard to catch the narrow chute that threaded between surging laterals and exploding waves.

We pulled the dory to the shore above Lava Falls, the sound of the river’s roar growing louder as we scouted the chaotic stretch ahead. The canyon walls loomed high, casting long shadows over the rapids below, where massive waves and jagged rocks churned the water into a frothing frenzy. The river here was a beast, and the line was anything but forgiving. As we studied the falls, the power of the water was unmistakable — there was no room for error. Every move would need to be precise, every stroke a calculated choice.

As dusk closed around the canyon, we approached Upset Rapid knowing we had one last, serious challenge before camp. The river dropped sharply into a wide tongue that aimed straight for a towering, crashing wave near river left, with chaotic laterals and surging boils filling the channel. At the oars was Cindell Dale, our captain, calm and steady after a long day on the water. With quiet focus, she lined us up just right of the main wave, threading a line few could hold with such precision.

We spent the late afternoon scouting every bend for a campsite ahead of Upset Rapid, but each sandy bench and ledge we checked was already taken or too narrow to land the dory safely. Light faded fast as shadows stretched across the canyon, and with no good options left, we pushed back into the current for one last run. The river darkened ahead, and we knew Upset waited just downstream, demanding our full focus for an epic evening descent.

Fishtail Rapid appeared as a swift, narrow chute where the river tightened and dropped quickly through a wave train stacked down the center. We lined up just right of the main tongue to avoid a series of jagged rocks lurking along the left shore. The dory accelerated fast, the bow lifting over a steep standing wave before plunging into a deep trough that sent a cold splash over the rails. Quick backstrokes helped us correct as a strong lateral pushed from river left, trying to spin the stern downstream.

Morning light filled the canyon as we lined up for Doris Rapid, the first test of the day. The river funneled into a straight chute with a clean tongue dropping into a series of tightly spaced waves. The dory slipped into the flow smoothly, the bow lifting sharply over the first roller before settling into a fast train of deep troughs and steep crests. Diagonal laterals pushed lightly from river right, requiring a few strong pulls on the oars to stay center. Cool splashes skimmed the deck, but with the sun on our backs, they felt refreshing instead of punishing.

We entered Tapeats Rapid hoping for a dry run. With the dropping temperature and rain beginning to spit from the sky, staying dry meant staying warm. But the river had other plans. As we slipped into the narrow chute, a sharp wave caught the bow and dumped a surge of icy water straight into the front of the dory. It rushed over boots and pooled around our feet, stealing heat fast. We dug hard on the oars to keep the boat steady, working to minimize any more cold hits. The dory flexed as we climbed a few more steep rollers, every splash now biting against chilled skin and soaked layers.

Deubendorff Rapid revealed itself with a long, powerful tongue of water dropping into a broad stretch of surging waves and crashing laterals. The river roared as it funneled between rocky outcrops, the main current driving hard through a maze of boulders scattered across the channel. The sky above had darkened further, thick clouds piling along the canyon rim while a cool, damp wind swept through the corridor. The air carried the sharp, electric edge of an approaching storm as we lined up our entry.

Walthenberg Rapid came into view as a stretch of swift, churning water marked by a series of diagonal waves and surging laterals that swept across the channel from river left. The current pressed hard toward a line of jagged rocks along the shore, making our line clear but demanding precision. Overhead, the sky had begun to shift, with thick clouds gathering along the canyon rim and a cool wind sweeping down the corridor. The temperature dropped noticeably as we pulled hard on the oars to stay center, the dory accelerating smoothly into the push of the main flow.