With so much of the focus on the fuckedom of the lake we thought we’d try and get some more context.
There are good people out here doing serious work. With all the focus on the state of the rivers - what about the places beyond the shoreline?
We cross the lake by pool toy - a humbling experience even with no traffic nor wind…..the yawning channel a place I’d prefer to not linger in these small boats.
One of the (temporary) positives of our changing climate…..you can get weeks of still, 60 degree weather in southern Utah in February. Exploring under the acute winter sun. Nothing better.
A slickrock ramp is our entrance to the high country. We stash boats and begin our ascent.
Micro navigation begins to get tricky - but for the macro we take a heading off the Henry’s and Little Rockies.
Eventually we find a flat perch to throw packs down and watch the desert burn itself out.
In the morning, first light detonates on the fold. We take our time to soak in the February sun
After some start and stop route finding we finally lock into our route across the fold.
One other splendor of walking this time a year. A week prior this area had been covered by snow. As a result crystal clear water could be found everywhere making for comfortable packs.
Atop the fold we take a heading off of Naatsisʼáán on the horizon and begin arcing back to the south
We rample up to the pollywog and take a moment at one of the large canyons cutting west towards the Escalante River, Fiftymile Bench covered in snow on the horizon
Eventually we come to our drop in spot via an old horse ladder. The wood gate is closed making us laugh. I wonder to myself how long ago was it placed here?
Once down on firm ground we drop packs and head up canyon to investigate a series of large caves.
Each cave is unique - the pictographs are stunning.
After lunch we shoulder our packs and head downcanyon
Until we spy the kayenta bench which will take us high above the lake and round the corner to another canyon.
The route above the stagnant water is generally good. As someone who doesn’t love heights I opt to scramble up to a higher perch while Chad who doesn’t take notice of the monkey on his back that is the yawning abyss chooses to walk the slick-rock lip.
After a few miles we head the dryfall and follow a faint trail above the canyon floor until a very brushy drop allows us to touch down.
A big day! We decide to call it.
In the morning we continue up canyon until we spot a break on the east rim and begin ascending.
The route out is sublime. Chopped wood, carved steps and a few scattered single rock cairns - all evidence that it has been in use for some time.
Now the navigation gets exceedingly tricky as we head an unending number of drainages big and small in order to cross back over the fold.
In a few spots we scramble up onto slickrock fins and hope for the best. The landscape is generous and our guesses are generally rewarded.
A quick note about how disorienting previously known landmarks on the horizon are from this orientation.
After a few hours we’re back on a southward tack. We come to the head of what we assumed would be a very trick portion of the route to navigate. In the end it was pretty seamless and straightforward.
In and out of gardens like those found at Arches the walking here is just incredible, the landscape so varied.
Eventually we come to a massive sloping plug of kayenta - what friends call “The Ramp” as we begin a long and knee busting descent.
At the base of the ramp we make camp.
In the morning I arise and look back up what we had descended the previous afternoon. It would be quite the workout to go the other direction from the lake!
Waxing poetic here - as we begin moving back to the north we pass the southerly head of a canyon which spills right into the lake.
We drop packs and take off to investigate. Lured by its siren call.
In these little pockets, places that were never erased by full pool or even touched by the lake at all there is an energy that remains. I’ve felt it in other vestiges of Glen Canyon just outside the reservoir demarcation. It’s a faint pulse of something grand and it always leaves me feeling vs just thinking how this place must have looked before the dam……
But alas - that world is gone and not for me to see. We take a second of silence and then re-shoulder our packs
One last reliable spot of water we tank of before we spill out into the open.
The February sun is nearly too hot as the lake comes into view. For all the talk about dead pool and the water crises…..things are not going anywhere anytime soon. This much becomes clear from out vantage on the rim.
Our last night, just a few miles from stashed boats. We reflect on things as light slips out of the canyon. I think about places I/we have become attached to in the last few years. Places like Cathedral in the Desert, Gregory Natural Bridge, the San Juan below clay hills, and all the liminal spaces where Glen Canyon becomes Lake Powell.
A huge snowpack in 2023 has made it so many of us who identify with this place in a way other than lake based recreation have re-lost remnants of a geography that we gazed on with awe. This reality is new to me, the yo-yo effect of places being uncovered only to be lost again hurts. I’m not sure what it means but I do wonder if some in the power boat crowd feel a pang of sadness about losing some of those places. What does it mean? Could it be time for a different conversation about how to manage this place?
Regardless where you might fall on that slipperiest of slopes (one man’s “full pool” may be another man’s “dead pool”) I am planting a flag and stating that just beyond the lake is the best the Colorado Plateau has to offer.
In the morning we return to the boats. All is still and we have about as enjoyable of a lake crossing in a single air chamber piece of plastic as you could hope for.
A great week out. The band back together with my desert rat friend. Not a lot of issues outside a few spots of tricky navigation. Just a plain ole childlike fun-as-hell week out.
Now that I have a general sense of what is going on out here and with its proximity so close to home I look forward to returning.
