Day 15 - Parashant to Three Mile Springs and River Mile 222

It was genuinely cold this morning- a brisk twinge of winter in the air. Jackets and hats appeared out of everyones' bags for breakfast while we waited for the sun to warm the beach.
Cold Morning at Parashant
Breakfast, as usual, was a hearty affair. Enough food for an army - fuel for the day. As the end of the trip approaches, I've stopped digging out my mug for morning drinks in favor of using any available bowl. No fuss, no muss and no wet mug in my gear. The recipe for how much milk or coffee gets mixed into my hot chocolate is based on a theory I got from Kelsey. I just keep adding until the liquid in the cup looks like the color of the river - a Colorado River Latte Grande.

The kayakers posed for a group shot before hopping back into kayaks for another day of river miles - our last full day in the Grand.


Even with the largest rapids safely behind us, a few spots lay ahead with reputations for giving a lazy kayaker or raft trouble. "Rapid 205 will eat you alive" is a popular saying. Luckily, our 'Surf King' competitors were still vying for the lead and looking for any opportunity to gain points. Accordingly, Don's role as kayak guide shifted from getting us all down in one piece to pointing out each spot where the brazen could possibly catch a surf. There were ample opportunities for self-induced carnage including a rapid called "Little Bastard", a drop with a not-so-little pourover. Around river Mile 209, we passed a spot unofficially called 'Hamburger Hole' which Don described as "a mandatory thrashing". Sounds good right? Rob managed to briefly surf it with a triumphant whoop while Graham was spanked quite thoroughly.

Pumpkin Springs

The kayakers then made a brief stop at Pumpkin Springs. It's a strange travertine rock formation that looks like a giant pumpkin filled with alarmingly green water. It's a little warm and little scary. A microbiotic cesspool. Interesting but not a place I'd like to swim. As we were leaving Pumpkin Springs, a private group showed up on the beach and we chatted. We asked where they were from and how their trip was going. They asked what we were having for lunch today and what we'd had for dinner the night before. Did we have any more ice? Any beer? Apparently they had neither and were close to mutiny after several days of eating 'the same old thing'. We've had it good.
Lunch was at Three Springs Canyon whose landing required a 15 foot vertical scramble to get the kayaks out of the water. Part of the group headed upstream for a hike (to the three springs). Several of us chose to stay at a beautiful spot down by the river. On a rock overhang above a small clear creek there were a few pictographs. I lazed about with Bear and took a nap on a warm flat rock. Jim meanwhile occupied himself 'cleaning rocks' out of the small creek bed. The morning chill was completely gone and it was blissful.
Me and Bear Lounging at Three Springs

Me and Hank

Just a other members of the group began to arrive we motivated ourselves to walk 30 feet upstream to the base of a large boulder which hung a few feet over the creek.

Water Creatures (Hank, Jim and Graham)

By the time the hikers returned, the sun was baking hot. While everyone shed the extra layers they'd donned this morning, Graham went a step further and immersed himself completely in the creek. As we gathered gear and got ready to go, an enormous orange/gold dragonfly landed on Rob and stayed. After a few photos the dragonfly moved to Kathy's turquoise baseball hat where it remained for a good ways downriver as a proud raft mascot. Our very own Dragon Lady.

Dragonfly Mascot

Jesse on Her Raft

The scenery, as usual, was breathtaking. Various folks, including Hank took turns manning the oars of the rafts while we drifted downstream. The trick to maintaining any kind of forward progress is to stay out of the eddies in the flat. Easier said than done for a novice rafter. Not having the energy for big surf, I busied myself trying to pirouette my boat in every swirly eddy whirlpool I could find.

Bob and Hank as Raft Captains...

Late in the day, with the sun dipping behind the canyon walls, we passed by a beautiful camp on river right. The campsite had a gently sloped sandy beach, trees for shade and looked out across the river at several small rock islands. I add it to the my mental 'list' of places to visit next time. The private group, all perched around a camp table , cocktails in hand sat blissfully in their folding chair and watched our group pass. It looked as though they'd been ensconced for a while. Days maybe. One of their boats was a beautiful old wooden dory. Jim and Graham stopped to chat about the Dory but ended up talking about the video camera Jim's helmet instead. I could have sworn we took some nice pictures of both the camp and the dory but they seem to have disappeared. Damn that pesky technology.

Small Rock Islands Across from Beautiful Camp

By the time we reached our own camp at mile 221 I was freezing. FREEZING. I made only a half-hearted attempt to leave the beach before stripping down and putting on dry clothes. Modesty is completely out the window at this point. As I write this journal entry I think I am wearing every warm, dry thing I own. Larry broke his usual pattern of obfuscation to give a blow-by-blow description of the events for tomorrow morning. Our last night. I can't believe it. After 15 days in the Canyon talk of roads and school buses and hotels seems strange. I'm cold and dirty, blistered and peeling and achy in most of my joints. Still, if you gave me the option of a shower, a massage and a warm feather bed or another week in the Grand I'd grin, put my dirty hair under my hat and climb back in my boat. No contest.

It is in the compelling zest of high adventure and of victory, and in creative action, that man finds his supreme joys. - Antoine de Saint-Exupery

The night stretched late with everyone breaking out the remnants of their alcohol stash. Hanks' personal chocolate and peanut butter also made an appearance and was greedily inhaled. There were back massages all around and finally to deal with a painful, stubborn knot - a little back country medicine.

Drinking, singing, guitar and flute and a campfire that burned down to the last glowing embers. We have to do this again.