Five-day Float on the Green River: Gates of Lodore to Split Mountain
{Written by Summit Hut Gearhead Emma Harries}
As spring turned to summer, I had the opportunity to spend five of the longest days of the year floating the Green River through the tantalizing Gates of Lodore. If that sounds like an epic fantasy; it sort of is, only the living, pulsing, flowing kind. From inside Lodore Canyon, composed of billion-year-old quartzite, wilderness winds over ever-changing meanders and forest and wildlife sprawl among geologic jaw droppers.
Gates of Lodore is in Dinosaur National Monument, straddling the border of northwestern Colorado and northeast Utah and rides the southeast flank of the Uinta Mountains. Most rivers flow away from mountains, not toward them. But as the Green River’s present course began by carving through softer rocks, it didn’t know it would carve this epic canyon through much more resistant rock in time.
Day 1:
We took off from Gates of Lodore Campground around 11 am after camping there the night before. The morning included a healthy mix of madness and chaos with all five parties wrangling separately packed food and supplies onto the boats. They were messy to start but each day packing the rigs got smoother.
After coasting three miles on smooth water, oars breaking the surface like glass, whitewater was first heard, then seen. Our first rapid, named Winnie’s rapid, where the most noticeable danger is Winnie’s rock. A fallen behemoth block of red rock from the canyon walls above guards the middle of the river. Most of the water flows dead center into the rock, but on a boat, that’s not a good idea. The move here was river right, then eddy out and we were off to hike up Winnie’s grotto. A steep gorge leading to a keyhole view John Wesley Powell and his men saw some 100+ years ago. The grotto afforded sincere acoustics. But nothing yet compared to Echo Park, don’t worry we’ll get there.
Three more miles of floating and we approached what the Powell expedition encountered in June of 1869, the hardest series of rapids yet. After a wooden rowboat missed a landing, it was wrecked in what today is called Disaster Falls. Water was much lower than it was on Powell’s expedition this time around and no disasters were had, fortunately. Camp was set up at Pot Creek, a sandy beach mixed with cobbles, bald eagles flew over the river watching us cast as we fly fished beneath them. We camped under boxelders, cedars and junipers. In the morning, a juvenile plains rat snake slithered past the tent.
Day 2:
A family of bighorn sheep watched as we rolled down river. The two adults guarded their baby with rigor as they ascended up nearly perfect walls. On the water we went three mellow miles until we reached the scout for Triplet Falls rapid. A boulder garden with three large rocks (hence the name triplet) at the final turn of the rapid.
Barely even a half mile after Triplet Falls rapid and we were at Hell’s Half Mile, this one, a real half-mile-long, class three rapid with more rock dodging, and a feature named Lucifer, a large mid-river pour over. A saying goes, “If Hells doesn’t make you smile, you should probably give up boating.
Riverside cliff jumping, backflips off the boats, and swimming occupied the next slow-going mile of rafting before we took out for the night at Rippling Brook 2 campground. This campground had a large sandy beach where the fun continued as we set up a spikeball tournament and slackline. An evening hike took us up to Rippling Brook Falls where a trickle of water flows over and into a hollowed out amphitheater of rock in a side canyon. Steep switchbacks took us up and steps made from sandstone guided us between large detached blocks of rock. On the way down, clouds grew heavy and the wind picked up in the down canyon direction. Canyon weather tells us that typical wind patterns flow upstream, against the way you wish to paddle. A storm is on the front and not very far away when wind starts hurling downstream. Back at the beach, anything we left on the sand was buried and soon to be forgotten. Wind blown sand seasoned our camp dinner stir fry. Trees snapped. In the morning, I looked at the trail we had come from the evening before, a fallen tree completely obstructing the way.
Day 3:
The most geologically exciting day yet. Faults, folds, anticlines, oh my! Leaving the old red rocks of Lodore and entering sandstone cliffs, that are classic ideals of Utah scenery, the Green accepts the confluence with the Yampa river. The Yampa, neither dammed nor controlled, flowed wildly into the Green after a wet winter. The pace picked up tremendously and the water got a little murkier but the rafting was only getting more fun!
At Echo Park, a sandstone monolith stands in watch of passing river rafters. Powell named this feature Echo Rock. The name was changed to Steamboat Rock, I suppose because it looks like a steamboat, but man oh man, if those who’d renamed even tried to yell at this beast and heard it yell back, they wouldn’t have messed with the name. As we rounded the bend out of Echo Park and entered Whirlpool Canyon, the race was on, we’d been in Colorado and were quickly approaching the state line for Utah. And just passed the state line was our camp for the night, Jones Hole 2. A small creek flowed between our camp and another that featured dams constructed by beavers, pools full of fish, lush greenery and waterfalls. It was the spot!
Day 4:
A morning hike up Jones Hole creek led us to an even smaller side stream where a notch in a smoothed sandstone cliff 10 feet high made a lovely waterfall that could be plugged and stopped just by climbing on top and sitting in the notch. We all had a good laugh sitting in the pocket and hearing the silence as water stopped falling over the rock, then stood up and it would roar down again. With only five miles to raft for the day on a much faster river, we took our time getting out of camp. Once on the river there was one set of rapids, no scout required, called Greasy Pliers. This is what they call a “read and run” rapid. Pick a line and go for it! We took turns standing and jumping, riding the front of the boat like a bull, and squealing like hogs when we got splashed.
And just like that, we were off the boat at the next camp. The Cove Campground had very little shade, we’d been spoiled. The afternoon sun was blazing. We put on our suits and played in the water until it was time for dinner. Mosquitos dominated the air so it was an early night, but we set our tents up in a tight circle so we could still get some laughs in.
Day 5:
The summer solstice sun shone brightly the morning of our last day on the river and with 13.2 miles to row it would be our longest distance on the longest day. Having packed up and left camp by 9 am, a record-breaking early start, we flowed downstream faster than water and made it to the take out point in three hours. The six or so major rapids propelled us along so quickly that they all blurred together. The water was swift and choppy. And maybe even the most fun! Waves dropped us what felt like eight feet and sent the sinking feeling into my stomach!
Once off the water at the Split Mountain river access point, it was time to, well, split.
Disconnecting from the busy life of cities and reconnecting with nature, in a canyon, on a river felt innately intimate and natural. Worries disappear, conversation goes deep, and delight is all around. If you’ve been contemplating a river trip, take this as your sign to go! A myriad of outfitting companies guide people on multi-day trips on rivers across the western US or, rent a fully outfitted boat. Opportunity is all around, just get out, and do it!