But first things first: an AM hike up 'Better-than-Matkat-Canyon'. The weather was dry and perfect despite my concern a few threatening clouds
that came and went overnight.Tuck-Up Canyon was a boulder strewn hike into a slot that started with an impressive rockfall. Is it better than Matkat? I have no idea (and I didn't ask Cathy) but it was definitely cool. Word was that recent flash flooding had filled many areas of the canyon bottom with gravel making it easier to hike. Still, there was lots and lots of scrambling.
Eventually we came to a 20 ft waterfall where Josh and Ben rigged up a rope to aid the gravitationally-challenged (myself included) in making the climb. With coaching and sometimes just a push, everyone who attempted the shimmy up the waterfall made it.Above the falls the slot continued in-and-out of waist deep pools where the choice was wading or attempting to scale the side walls. Graham went high pausing at points for 'the dodgy bits' while I generally plowed right through the bottom.
Above a flattened patio area we came to a second high rock scramble which only a few folks managed climb up. Jim went so I figured I'd give it a try and got about 8 feet up straddling the wall before slipping and falling with a resounding splash into the pool below. It sounded bad but the landing was actually quite soft.The High Road and the Low Road in Tuck-up Canyon
On our way down canyon a large bighorn sheep nonchalantly skipped down 
the canyon wall directly in front of us, jumped over the stream in the bottom and then quickly scaled the other side before disappearing around a rocky outcropping. Incredible. But I'm in a hurry to get going. Lava Falls calls.
the canyon wall directly in front of us, jumped over the stream in the bottom and then quickly scaled the other side before disappearing around a rocky outcropping. Incredible. But I'm in a hurry to get going. Lava Falls calls.Bighorn Making it Look Easy
Back to camp and everyone packs up. There is a long flat paddle in front of us. Lava Lake as it is affectionately known. It is a beautiful paddle under deep blue skies. Miles of relatively flat water backed up above one giant rapid. Time slips by. In this calm, slow water a strong headwind picks up bringing progress to a crawl - especially for the rafts. There is lots of time to talk and to think about what lies ahead. A few more practice rolls - left, right, backdeck.... The sun is shining but the breeze makes being wet chilly. Larry announces that we have to reach Lava by 4pm if we're going to paddle it today. I paddle hard. I'd love to rest my arms but there is way too much anticipation to wait another night. One mile above Lava Falls we float by Vulcan's Anvil, a huge midriver basalt plug
that rises ominously from the deep brown water. It's 3pm. It's tradition for boaters to touch or kiss the Anvil, or to leave an offering f0r good luck. One of the Native American tribes in the canyon announced that they would prefer that boaters not muck with the Anvil, a place they consider sacred, so other than taking a few pictures I chose to keep my distance. Something I'll later regret.Vulcan's Anvil - I should have kissed it.
We pull out on river right to scout Lava Falls. From above you can see a horizon line and spray kicking up in the distance and feel the low resonant roar of the crashing waves in the pit of your stomach. After a short walk we peer at the seething mass of water below. It's mesmerizing. I've see this rapid in photos and on video a hundred times before and so in a weird way, it seems familiar. Every nerve ending tingles. The sun was starting to sink on the horizon creating a viscous glare through the wall of spray. At this water level there isn't really a route choice to be made. The left line isn't an option and nobody wants to tangle with the Ledge Hole. The line is right working left - punching directly through the V-wave and the surging boiling water behind it. On Larry's orders, rafts run first. Damn. Too much time scouting. Way too much time. While we watched and cheered and tried to organize the butterflies in our stomaches, the rafts ran. Larry began, hit the maelstrom above the V-wave and got pushed right. He bounced off the pillow of water billowing off Cheesegrater rock and back into the main current. Boat upright and passengers intact. Jesse ran next and ran the best line of all, punching the V-wave and rolling straight down the middle. Maybe it's because she kissed the Anvil. The paddle raft and all the rest of the rafters ran clean.
Skirt on , helmet buckled, paddle in hand...? Check check and check. There is nothing to do but go. We start on the bubble line as planned. The river is deceptive in its speed and time slows and then accelerates as we approach the crest. Such confused and capricious water. As I pass a marker rock on the right river bank, a 15 foot wide boil appears out of nowhere and surfs me towards river center. Not wanting to visit the infamous Ledge Hole I paddle hard to the right before swiveling back to the left. Too far? It's hard to say. At water level landmarks blur. I see Don hit a wall of water and disappear. Then Pam, a good 10 feet farther left.
And then I'm alone with Lava.
I barely clip the edge of Ledge Hole and straighten for the mixmaster wave below. A blinding wall of white water stops me momentarily then cleanly through it, I drop into the V-wave in an aggressive brace. I emerge seconds later, with water roaring in my ears, upright but backwards and way too far right. Shit. In an instant I can see downhill to the eddy on river left but I can't get there. I'm being battered by laterals and holes off the right bank. Amidst the cacophony of water everything moves in slow motion except the pounding waves of adrenaline. I turn hard to the left and paddle up the shoulder of a wave but make no progress. Each stroke pulling against the the inexorable force of the river. The sound of my pulse beating in my ears. What is below me? I see Matt setting safety down below on Avocado rock - a slimy mossy rock jutting from the right bank just above Cheesegrater. Not where I want to be. As I get closer, Matt puts down Pam's camera and picks up a throwbag. A signal that I'm officially screwed. There are several places I don't want to be but most of all I don't want to end up in the eddy and strainer by Cheesegrater. I can't go in sideways so I turn to face it and splat my boat squarely onto Avocado Rock vertical at Matt's feet. He looks right down at me. It would have been a nifty move had I been elsewhere on the river. Anywhere else. And then in slow motion I peel off and my stern hits the water jetting past Cheesegrater. My brace is no match. I fall over clipping Cheesegrater with my paddle and starting an airborne corkscrew over the tongue of water rushing across its back. Then down into a churning roar of black. A first roll attempt in the boiling swirls fails miserably. Then the second. The boat spins and the water sucks the paddle and me away from the surface. Another attempt. I didn't even break the surface. I feel the boat rock back into a wave train. I decide to just 'carp' to catch a breath. No luck. I don't know how many times I try to roll but none are successful and I am out of time and out of air. In the murky water I hesitate and then reach for my skirt yank and just like that I'm swimming.
Breathing is good, a sweet relief and Jim is right beside me to drag my boat to shore. But the disappointment. Out of breath, cold and tired and I want to go back up and run it again. A mulligan. But it 's too late and the light is fading. Besides, I how could I say for certain I'd avoid getting pushed right again and this time without safety set on the rock? So, after watching Graham drop repeatedly into the maw of the largest exploding surf wave on the river, we bail. Camp is right around the corner just below Son-of-Lava Rapid. Tequila Beach.
Everyone else ran well and the mood is jubilant. Just as it should be. I felt sick. For so much time I've had THIS rapid in my mind and I've waited for the post-run celebration. And I can't bring myself to do it. It's foolish and illogical and I know it but I feel as though I've lost something.
And then I'm alone with Lava.
I barely clip the edge of Ledge Hole and straighten for the mixmaster wave below. A blinding wall of white water stops me momentarily then cleanly through it, I drop into the V-wave in an aggressive brace. I emerge seconds later, with water roaring in my ears, upright but backwards and way too far right. Shit. In an instant I can see downhill to the eddy on river left but I can't get there. I'm being battered by laterals and holes off the right bank. Amidst the cacophony of water everything moves in slow motion except the pounding waves of adrenaline. I turn hard to the left and paddle up the shoulder of a wave but make no progress. Each stroke pulling against the the inexorable force of the river. The sound of my pulse beating in my ears. What is below me? I see Matt setting safety down below on Avocado rock - a slimy mossy rock jutting from the right bank just above Cheesegrater. Not where I want to be. As I get closer, Matt puts down Pam's camera and picks up a throwbag. A signal that I'm officially screwed. There are several places I don't want to be but most of all I don't want to end up in the eddy and strainer by Cheesegrater. I can't go in sideways so I turn to face it and splat my boat squarely onto Avocado Rock vertical at Matt's feet. He looks right down at me. It would have been a nifty move had I been elsewhere on the river. Anywhere else. And then in slow motion I peel off and my stern hits the water jetting past Cheesegrater. My brace is no match. I fall over clipping Cheesegrater with my paddle and starting an airborne corkscrew over the tongue of water rushing across its back. Then down into a churning roar of black. A first roll attempt in the boiling swirls fails miserably. Then the second. The boat spins and the water sucks the paddle and me away from the surface. Another attempt. I didn't even break the surface. I feel the boat rock back into a wave train. I decide to just 'carp' to catch a breath. No luck. I don't know how many times I try to roll but none are successful and I am out of time and out of air. In the murky water I hesitate and then reach for my skirt yank and just like that I'm swimming.
Breathing is good, a sweet relief and Jim is right beside me to drag my boat to shore. But the disappointment. Out of breath, cold and tired and I want to go back up and run it again. A mulligan. But it 's too late and the light is fading. Besides, I how could I say for certain I'd avoid getting pushed right again and this time without safety set on the rock? So, after watching Graham drop repeatedly into the maw of the largest exploding surf wave on the river, we bail. Camp is right around the corner just below Son-of-Lava Rapid. Tequila Beach.
Everyone else ran well and the mood is jubilant. Just as it should be. I felt sick. For so much time I've had THIS rapid in my mind and I've waited for the post-run celebration. And I can't bring myself to do it. It's foolish and illogical and I know it but I feel as though I've lost something.
As good friends will do, everyone tries to cheer me up. Mike came over with a bottle of Dickle in his fist and a beer and pronounced me a proud member of the Lava Swim Team. Jim and Hank both praised my paddling. Pam, whose Lava run after all her earlier struggles was beautiful, cried and said she wished she could give me her run. Giants dutch ovens full of lasagna and loaves of garlic bread were demolished for dinner. A discussion on whose feet had the best arches ensued (apparently mine are pretty good - Don has some weird foot fascination thing). The alcohol flowed freely. Alive Below Lava.
Jim worked out with Larry a chance for a second early morning Lava run but I didn't want to cut peoples celebration short and I knew that if anyone got injured I'd feel terrible. Most importantly, running clean in the morning wouldn't change anything. So I called it off and tried to let it go. I watched as folks around the campfire slowly listed over from ample spirit consumption before being prodded into a second wind and another round of shots. That night, sleeping with Lava just upstream thudding in my ears I ran over the blown line and blown rolls again and again. Why didn't I just change to an offside roll? Or try once more? Was I really really out of breath? 10 more seconds might have done it. 'We are all between swims' the saying goes. When I come back to the G.C. again I will take another crack at Lava but I will never have my first run again. It is a paddling dilemma... for all those who can find pure joy in a perfect line - the flip side. It was less than a minute of time in a two week trip. You can't explain it because it just isn't logical but there is something intensely personal and fulfulling about running a rapid right and the clarity and glow that follows. If you've never done it you'll just have to take my word. Perhaps when I do run it again, upright next time, it will be twice as sweet.
Jim worked out with Larry a chance for a second early morning Lava run but I didn't want to cut peoples celebration short and I knew that if anyone got injured I'd feel terrible. Most importantly, running clean in the morning wouldn't change anything. So I called it off and tried to let it go. I watched as folks around the campfire slowly listed over from ample spirit consumption before being prodded into a second wind and another round of shots. That night, sleeping with Lava just upstream thudding in my ears I ran over the blown line and blown rolls again and again. Why didn't I just change to an offside roll? Or try once more? Was I really really out of breath? 10 more seconds might have done it. 'We are all between swims' the saying goes. When I come back to the G.C. again I will take another crack at Lava but I will never have my first run again. It is a paddling dilemma... for all those who can find pure joy in a perfect line - the flip side. It was less than a minute of time in a two week trip. You can't explain it because it just isn't logical but there is something intensely personal and fulfulling about running a rapid right and the clarity and glow that follows. If you've never done it you'll just have to take my word. Perhaps when I do run it again, upright next time, it will be twice as sweet.
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