How does the best get any better?

The guidebook implies that the canyon ends near the 14-footer. Sure enough, we reached its end within a few rapids.

By now the relief to worry scale was beginning to balance. The entire run is 9 miles. The first two were scratched and the third was off the scale. That left us with 3 miles of unscouted worry in the middle and 3 miles of scouted relief at the end.

Our worries shifted from canyon depth to water depth. We wondered whether 230cfs would be enough to get us through the remaining boulder gardens. Jason and I recalled a nasty one near the end that we silently agreed to portage but we had no idea as to what was in-between. I was simply thankful to see banks that were less than vertical.

We bombed several Class II-III until we reached a corner that required a scout. It wasn't much but we found two small drops just below there.

We scouted the first drop on the left and almost portaged it due to the pin potential at this low of flow. Josh made a successful probe on the left so Jason and I were obligated to follow.

We scouted the second drop on the right after catching a quick eddy. Jason and I proceeded down the bank while Josh waited for directions. Yep, you guessed it, far left.

If you're wondering why the banks are getting vertical you're not alone. We weren't too concerned as long as we could scout and portage but I about crapped my pants when we rounded the next corner.

I had a feeling there were two canyons. The topo shows two shady spots below the bridge. This was obviously the second and, just like the first, too inviting to turn our backs on and climb out. We eddied out left and did our best to imagine what lied beyond the bend. The entrance had no wood but the rest was left to chance.

Jason went first and caught an eddy on the right just out of view. Josh and I figured he saw a way through so we joined him in the eddy. The entrance was Class IV given the rocks and reversals but the way through was a piece of cake.

Just when you thought you've seen it all. Waterfalls cascade from indiscernible heights. Vertical granite walls… Sparkling green froth… Describing my senses is difficult enough. Describing my feelings is next to impossible.

A helmet camera would have come in handy here but the best we could do was the point-and-shoot in the back of my boat. Fortunately, the eddy was quite friendly and there were no sizeable drops below there. The riverbed next to the wall was only a foot or so deep so I was able to exit by myself (that is where the above photo was taken). I figured that one photo would be enough so the camera was packed and we continued downstream. One might have been enough had I not looked back to witness the most spectacular shower on earth. Unfortunately, the remaining eddies weren't quite as friendly. There was no riverbed so I wasn't able to exit. Instead, I pulled my skirt while Josh and Jason corralled my boat in search of the camera. It took a few tries but I think it was worth the cramps and spills.

Similar effort was spent getting the camera back in my boat. I ended up getting out at the nearest bank to seal it and took a couple more photos while my boat drained. No amount of film is enough but I did my best to capture the essence.

It must have been 2 or 3pm as I recall checking my watch. I could have spent a full day in the remaining canyon but 3 hours of light left us with little time to dillydally. We bombed another mile or so of Class III until we reached the highpoint of our third scout.

We scouted the 3-foot ledge and ran it far left. I took a photo but for some reason my camera decided to stop working.

The next rapid was a funky IV+ that we scouted on the left. I wasn't sure which eddy to take and we were spaced too close. Jason nearly bumped me down the center but we somehow made it to shore. Far right was the only reasonable line at this flow so we ended up having to carry our boats a couple hundred feet upstream to make the ferry. The entrance was tossy but we straightened out in time to punch the riverwide reversal at its base. I continued to shoot photos not knowing that they wouldn't turn out.

The final IV+ was the highlight of the boulder gardens. This is the one that Jason and I thought we might portage. It involved at least 3 moves through congested chutes. Nothing compared with what we had been through but still worth a look. I went first and made it look easy. Jason went next and made it look hard. Josh took photos that didn't turn out. We were all relieved when we reached its base.

This is where Jason and I put in during our third scout. I knew there was a nasty log below here so I reminded everyone to stay left. I caught an eddy just above it while Jason and Josh scraped down further left. We boat scouted the remaining Class IV including a fun 3-foot ledge near the end. There was some mining debris strew about but our minds and bodies were numb to the risk

The final 2 miles of Class II were pure joy. We reached the take-out around 5pm.

Wasted would be an understatement. We hadn't eaten or drank in over 10 hours. None of us were looking forward to the shuttle but we knew what had to be done so we did it.

The ride to the put-in was a riot. The journey was almost over but the tales had just begun. We dropped Josh off near the bridge so he could fetch my rope. It was almost dark so I gave him my flashlight. Jason and I continued to the put-in and by the time we got back to the bridge it was pitch dark. The temperature had dropped significantly and staring aimlessly at the canyon gave me the shivers. It took Josh nearly an hour to recover to rope. We considered it his punishment for not having to scout.

The drive home gave me a chance to reflect on the reward. I slept well that night and I haven't lost a wink of sleep since. I try not to think about the what ifs.

I'm sure there are many Class V boaters who will never run this river due to the consequence of Rick's Slide. For me it was worth the risk. 'Was' being the key word because I'll probably never go back. Some of you may feel we got lucky. I have no reason to argue. It's a minor miracle that I only flipped once and the fact that Josh had no thigh braces could have meant the difference between breath and death.

The best is always yet to come.

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