An Ode to Boulder Creek

“Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing—absolutely nothing—half so much worth doing as simply messing around in boats.” - Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows I first read those words when I was young, much too young to comprehend their whimsicality. Wind in the Willows was a staple in my family, but the river life was not. Drawn more to mountains and dirt, we were not raised as “water people.” But there they were, these famous words, scrawled inside my old and distorted journal. I had hastily added them two years prior, before my first trip through the Grand Canyon, down the Colorado River. And now, as we slept on the banks of the river at the Lee’s Ferry put-in after a long day of rigging rafts, toying with oar rights, and making last-minute beer runs, I flipped through my entries from my first trip down the abyss. On the eve of such an anticipated return to the river—a few of us even had a “redemption rapid” or two that we were eager to conquer more smoothly on a second go-round—the water was calm, the sky was clear, and the cold front was settling in. Not long after dark, the November frost had already begun to gather on our strewn out sleeping bags, foreboding for a cold three weeks. Peaceful mornings along the Colorado River. Brian Bates But no one cared about the cold. Because, simply said, there is nothing better than messing around in boats. If one is to spend three weeks confined to a single landscape, it’s tough to find one that’s better than the Grand Canyon. Camp life is slow and loose when pressed so close against a water so quick and untiring. Juniper smolders in the stoked light of the fire as the eddy lines dance and the river boils swirl and bubble nearby. There is a stillness to this canyon that is unrivaled; it is not a cathedral but a monastery; not remote, but entirely removed; and nothing seems colored, only forcefully stained. And rarely does anything on the Colorado River ever dry. The skin on your hands will painfully crack, you will find sand in your hair for months after your trip, and you will be forced to test your restraint and discipline as you ration both your supply of dry socks and of beer. But they will be the most perfect days of your life. The Gear Boats in a row. Brian Bates Obviously, gear is dependent on the season. The warmer, summer seasons, require a little less foresight. You will spend little time (if any) wrapped in a puffy down coat, and a pair of chacos and hiking shoes might be all you need. But in the winter, a dry suit is the most important piece of gear you can bring. Of the 21 days we spent on the river, perhaps only a small handful were spent on the boats without our drysuits worn. Even on the more relaxing days, it is best to start the day with the suit halfway on, tied around your waist, just in case you need to fully don the protection in a non-threatening yet substantially splashy rapid. Realistically, the average Colorado River Grand Canyon permit recipient does not own the large and seemingly endless assortment of essential gear, or at least enough of said gear for an entire group. That is where outfitters, such as our go-to company Moenkopi Riverworks, prove invaluable. For reasonable prices, outfitters can supply a group with rentals of anything and everything: from rafts to entire kitchen set-ups, groovers (toilets) to coolers, dry bags, and any small piece of equipment a boat could need. For an extra price, most outfitters will go as far as planning and packing every meal, organized by day with easy-to-follow instructions and menus. While experienced trippers may opt to pack their own food, we can vouch that not having the stress of planning, purchasing, and packing group food for three weeks is well worth it. The Rapids Scouting rapids along the Colorado River. Brian Bates They say a good run in Lava Rapid, perhaps the most destructive and terribly fantastic rapid in the canyon stretch, only takes twenty seconds. Similarly, it is a rough estimate that rapids only make up 10% of your time on the river, if that. But they are without a doubt at the front of everyone’s mind every morning at coffee and every night at the fire. Other large rapids, such as Granite (mile 94), Hermit (mile 95.5), and Crystal (mile 99) are separated by short moments of both relief looking backwards and anxiety looking forward, if all goes well. Big-water days, however, are the magnetism of the river. There are unlimited reasons to journey down the Grand Canyon, but it is undeniable that the hydraulics in this stretch are unrivaled by any other river in the American West. You can plan, study, and scout as much as you want, but once you dip your oars into the current and pull out of the eddy, anything can happen. The Roaring Twenties whip you into shape in just the second day. Hance Rapid can have you pinballing down the endless stretch of waves. A failure to get far enough right in Bedrock will either pin you to rock mid-rapid, or send you through the washing machine on the left. Horn Creek Rapid can quickly turn into a ride on a rollercoaster-gone-wrong, and not straddling the gap properly between the wall and crashing holes in Upset will...well...it’s in the name. But the best stretch of big-water is the aforementioned Granite/Hermit/Crystal stretch: three of the five toughest rapids, all in a 5 mile stretch: you better wake up rowdy. Which is exactly how it went. Without scouting, simply relying on a brash cocktail of memory, a last-ditch guide book examination, and frantic shouting from boat to boat over the roar of the rapid, we hit the Granite/Hermit/Crystal stretch with full force. Bunched tightly in single-file order, each oarsman would periodically pop quickly to their feet and strain their neck: ground hogs on rubber boats peering down a smooth tongue into the chaos. Without warning, each raft would surge ahead of the group as it suddenly caught the top of the rapid and accelerate into the mess, either rowing furiously to follow the line or squaring up to the crashing waves. The boaters behind, in their natural state, would pop up to their feet again, watch their buddy navigate the rapid, make mental notes, and then find themselves swept into the wave train. No other day, and no other rapids—save for Lava—have such power to remind us that, while this river may be restrained upstream by the famous Glen Canyon Dam, it is still a surging, pounding, untameable beast. The Layover Days Descending into the abyss. Brian Bates And so while much is made—and rightly so—of the messing around in boats, it is the days off of the boats and removed from the river that make a Grand Canyon river trip remarkable. Just as you would not venture down the river without a guidebook to the rapids, it is equally worth it to invest in a thick guide book to all of the hiking and slot canyon rappelling to be found on dry land along the way. Three (or even four) weeks is an awfully long time to enjoy the Grand Canyon, and there is plenty of exploration to be found, shore-side naps to be snoozed, and books to be enjoyed while the world outside the canyon hurls on at a much faster clip, unnoticed and unminded to the boaters at the bottom. For climbers, there is an astounding amount of slot-canyons to explore and rappel. A favorite is the canyon at mile 44, President Harding Camp. The wash, while looking unmanageable from below, includes 7 rappels totalling over 650 feet of combined drop on the rope. Never explore a slot canyon without consulting the guidebook first, and never commit to dropping down even short rappels without the right gear and time to assume you won’t be able to retrace your steps backwards. One of the many extraordinary hikes is found while camping at either Racetrack Camp (around mile 134) or directly beneath the ensuing rapid. Start early and plan on a long trek with lots of uphill: once you start venturing up Tapeats Creek, you won’t want to turn back. Eventually you can veer left and follow Thunder River, up to Thunder River Springs, where the waterfall flows directly from a spring hidden deep inside the towering canyon walls. Turn around, or complete the loop through Surprise Valley and enjoy the famous “Patio” above Deer Creek. It is this writer’s belief to push for early mornings and longer efforts on the river. The more mileage you row on flat water days, the more layover days you are allowed at camp. More layover days means a more complete immersion into the river, the canyon, and the treasured life that defines this slow escape down the rabbit hole. Messing Around in Boats Rest day exploration along the Colorado River. Brian Bates With the ever-looming threat of development in the Grand Canyon and along the Colorado River, one of the most unspoiled stretches of the American West grows more and more treasured with age. Such wilderness is hard to find nowadays, and the raw immersion into a completely self-sufficient wilderness should be preserved (visit American Rivers to learn more). Because the experience is not just in the simple sight seeing of the canyon and river, it is in the actual doing of the thing: the actual rowing of the oars a couple hundred miles, the waking up at 6:30 for coffee and the falling asleep under the stars when it is dark at 8, the transformation of putting yourself out there where few others have been, where there are no crowds, where places are hard to get to. Because messing around in boats in these places is worth doing. Written by Brian Bates for RootsRated.

There is a string of mountains in Colorado I hold near and dear to my heart, where green high-alpine valleys dotted with wildflowers like confetti meet dizzying rock spires, and steep, grassy hillsides tumble into the shimmering waters of untouched lakes. The effort to reach this pristine wilderness is not for the faint of heart: Getting there often involves steep elevation gains, poorly maintained trails, or sometimes, no trail at all. It took me four years to find these spots, and I could spend a lifetime discovering every valley, ridgeline, and high alpine creek among them. This glorious sense of discovering something new is at the heart of exploring the wilderness, but it’s getting harder and harder to do these days. People are getting outdoors in record numbers, which is generally a positive, but one downside is the increasing difficulty of finding that "secret" spot that no one knows about. But it’s these very places that keep the adventure alive. Here, a few tricks to finding your secret wilderness spot. Start Training You’ll need to get in good fighting shape to conquer the necessary terrain in finding most secluded spots. Meg Atteberry Generally speaking, the more secret the spot, the more shape you’ll need to be in to find it. So before starting your quest to discover your wilderness hideaway, you’ll want to be prepared for longer distances and tougher terrain. As unromantic as it sounds, finding a great hideaway is a numbers game in many ways. If you’re able to hike longer, tougher trails, you’ll open up more terrain. Furthermore, you can outhike the crowds that plague many of the easier routes. Starting a training regimen can often feel tougher than the hike itself. Whatever method you choose (running, the gym, swimming), be sure to include plenty of hiking in the mix. Load up a heavy pack and hit the trail or treadmill. If you are confined to a treadmill, be sure to put the incline as high as possible to simulate those tough hills in the wilderness. Integrate this technique into your weekly training routine, and you’ll start seeing results in four to six weeks. Explore Often You aren’t going to find your wilderness Shangri-La from the confines of the couch. The more you explore a wilderness areas, the more apt you are to find that perfect camping nook or undiscovered mountain vista. A good place to start is an area that has a lot of hiking trails, such as a National Forest. Try creating your own custom route by connecting various trails. Investigate the road less traveled by hiking lesser-trafficked trails. This doesn’t always pay off, as some trails simply suck. However, you may discover a gateway to an idyllic perch or a secret fishing spot. Scouting trails not only helps you get a lay of the land, but it lets you keep tabs on a particular area. For example, my favorite wilderness area is well-known for its brutal elevation gains and downed trees. But those obstacles also work in my favor a bit by deterring less determined hikers. It also means I can count on a bit of suffering to explore new trails. Hone a Keen Eye for Clues You aren’t going to find pristine wilderness on a local Facebook group—these idyllic nooks and crannies are everyone’s private stock and they aren’t about to shout it over the internet. So you’ll have to do your own homework, starting with a good old-fashioned pen and paper. While you are out and about, keep tabs on backcountry campsites you find. Jot down important notes such as mileage, difficulty, and a description of each site. If you travel with a digital GPS, you can mark your position on a map. Keep your eyes peeled in unlikely places, such as Jeep roads and remote destinations. Sometimes a great camping spot is right near the road, but you have to walk in for a bit. Instead of passing an area by, get out of your vehicle and sniff around. With a little practice, you’ll learn how to spot a potential site by using your instinct. Don’t be afraid of using a topo map. Topo maps give valuable insight into terrain and navigation. When you’re planning your trip, be sure to spend plenty of time examining terrain using tools such as CalTopo and Google Earth. The Best Spot May Be Around the Next Bend A little bit of persistence can make a big difference in finding your secret spot. Meg Atteberry I’ve found beautifully secluded peaks right in plain sight. Sometimes, all you need to do to find them is be willing to keep going. For example, after you set up camp, do a little exploring around your campsite. You may be sharing that gorgeous high-alpine lake, but you just might be the only one climbing that steep ridge for the better view. With a little extra effort, you discover stunning landscapes that everyone else is missing, right under their nose. Get Off the Trail Sometimes, the best spots aren’t near a trail at all. With a little compass know-how and navigation expertise, you can explore virtually any point on the map. Use your navigation skills to plan a cross-country or off-trail route to discover truly unspoiled terrain. This technique requires a healthy bit of backcountry know-how and plenty of safety preparation. Always leave your planned route, with a GPX file if possible, with someone you trust. Be sure to let them know where you are going, what you are doing, when you plan on being back, and what to do if something goes wrong. You can also try starting with an area you are extremely familiar with. Plan your route in an easy-to-navigate area, such as a place with a predominant land marker so you can orient yourself quickly. Wherever You Go, Leave No Trace Wherever you find your secret spot, be sure to treat it with respect and follow LNT principles. Meg Atteberry Remember, always follow Leave No Trace principles when traveling over backcountry terrain. Don’t disrupt the environment and be sure to camp on durable surfaces, such as dirt patches, rock, sand, and gravel. Avoid stomping or camping on vegetation. If you are in an area with lichen or other bio soils, be sure to not tramp or camp on them. Lastly, if you are in a larger group, fan out over delicate terrain in order to avoid tamping down a trail. With a some effort and a sense of adventure you can uncover your perfect wilderness hideaway. Get out and start exploring—you never know what you’ll discover, and where. Written by Meg Atteberry for RootsRated.

No season in North America packs a punch like winter, which means no season inspires such verging-on-religious gratitude like spring. As the equinox approaches, outdoor lovers can savor the vernal unfolding by spotlighting a few noteworthy natural harbingers. Of course, some of the best-known signs of the season include deafening spring-peeper choruses out East, desert superblooms in the Southwest, and early-flowering trilliums all over, to name a few. But what about some of the lesser-known phenomena those hitting the spring trails or waterways might come across—the swarthy swamp-cabbage, for example, or even a snake or two? Here, nature’s extra-special ways of signaling that spring is on the way. The Magic of Snowmelt How cold would you guess that water is? Anita Ritenour So snowmelt may seem an overly obvious sign of spring, but many outdoor enthusiasts don’t really pay it much mind, focusing instead on flashier symptoms of the season like flower petals and singing birds. But melting snow creates its own beautiful spectacles—and stark hazards—so backcountry ramblers should keep a respectful eye on the snowmelt. Wandering a thawing-out snowscape is tough and wet work, but it’s cool to see up-close: meltwater channels among (and within) the drifts; frigid pools and rills at snowfield rims; gleaming firnspiegel ("snow mirror") expanses where an icy lid overlays a melting subsurface. Snowmelt also behaves differently around trees, with those iconic “thaw circles” of bare ground around their bases. They’re formed because tree trunks absorb more solar radiation than the reflective snowpack and cause the snow around them to change directly to water vapor, or sublimate, which creates pits and then thaw circles. (In deciduous woods, they may be important green-up sites for early spring ephemeral wildflowers.) There’s peril, too, amid this ongoing, often stop-and-start thaw. Statistically speaking, this is the most dangerous avalanche season, given springtime’s lengthening days, freeze-thaw cycles, and percolating, destabilizing meltwater—not to mention the burgeoning numbers of backcountry users. Of course, snowmelt time also means high-volume, supercharged rivers that are hazardous—often impossible—to cross. But as long you’re steering clear of them via sensible safety practices, you can appreciate the temporary scars of those wet slab avalanches on the slopes and the roar of the barreling meltwater rivers as evidence of a landscape waking up. The Buzz of Bumblebees It’s not all about chirping birds: Buzzing bees make themselves heard in spring, too. manyamoon Their large size, heavy coat of bristles, and ability to shiver to warm up flight muscles mean bumblebees kick off the pollinating season early—you may even spot them careening around on a warm late winter’s day. In leafless woods that are still mostly clad in winter gray or brown, a big bumblebee makes a highly conspicuous harbinger of spring on its noisy, drunken-looking flightpath. The Curious Skunk Cabbage in Bloom It’s not quite as cheerful as wildflowers, but the flowering of the skunk-cabbage is nevertheless a harbinger of spring. Aaron Carlson Whether in a sodden hollow in the eastern backwoods or a red cedar swamp in the Pacific Northwest, spring comes early, bold, and almost unsettling with the flowering of the giant wetland herb called skunk cabbage. A bit of botanical background on this stinky plant: The eastern and western versions aren’t closely related, though both brandish huge, tropical-style leaves. In addition, the flower structures that often precede the glossy foliage—some of the first blooms of spring—differ. Eastern skunk cabbage shields its flower stalk within an infernal-looking hood—technically speaking, a spathe—of mottled purple; the western skunk cabbage’s spathe is a comparatively cheerful banana-yellow. The namesake skunky odor of these plants when blooming attracts flies and beetles, adding a distinct seasonal scent to the bottomlands. The Flutter of Spring Wings Once you know how to spot an osprey, you’ll be able to see them much more easily—especially during the springtime. Stephanie Pluscht Birds epitomize springtime like nothing else for many people: the pulses of migrants large and small through backyards and local wetlands, the riotous symphonies of love-crazy songbirds. Birders, naturally, love this time of year. But even outdoorsy types who don’t know a wren from a warbler can key into the vernal onset by watching for some of the big high-flying raptors clocking back to their breeding grounds. A slew of hawks appear in the Lower 48 this time of year, including a handful of relatively easily distinguishable species just about anybody can learn to recognize—two of them found across most of the conterminous U.S. and an exotic third one outdoors folks in the Southeast may luck out and see. Keep your eyes out for ospreys, those hook-footed "fish hawks" (or “seahawks,” for all you 12s out there) that winter in the Neotropics and far southern U.S. but start returning to North American waterways in spring to reoccupy or build their massive stick nests. Ospreys are easy to identify with a little practice: They’re big and slender, boldly black-and-white plumaged, and flap a lot in a jouncy, almost bat-like sort of flight. Watch one long enough and you’ll probably see its steep fishing dive. One unexpected winged sign of spring is that dark, tottering, low-angled V up in the sky made by a recently returned turkey vulture. These sharp-nosed "buzzards"—which evacuate much of the central and northern U.S. in winter, but often return on the early end of things—get a bad rap. But in addition to performing essential scavenger duties across their vast range, they give daily master classes in the art of soaring with minimal effort. Meanwhile, if you’re down in the Everglades or elsewhere in the Florida wilds in February and March, you may luck out with a glimpse of arguably the handsomest raptor in the Americas, if not the world: the swallow-tailed kite. These impossibly graceful black-and-white tropical birds, named for their extravagant scissored tailfeathers, return to the Sunshine State from South America this time of year to nest, and it’s always a thrill to see one looping over the jungle hammocks and pinelands. Serpent Emergence Watch where you sss-tep. Brian Greer Many species of snakes in middle and higher latitudes spend the winter in communal hibernacula, which are essentially snake dens. It’s not unusual for overwintering membership to run into the hundreds, and for multiple species of snakes—garter snakes, bullsnakes, racers, rattlesnakes—to share the same hibernaculum. In spring, snakes gradually emerge from these winter refuges, often situated in outcrops, talus, rock piles, or caves, and spend a few days or weeks basking on sunny warm afternoons before retreating back inside at night. While you’re out on an early spring hike, you might spot such lethargic serpents, possibly in intimidating quantity. Appreciate them from a distance, leave them alone, and they’ll do the same. Emergence from hibernacula tends to roll right into romance. You may also see "breeding balls" of snakes this time of year, made up of multiple males coiled around an impressively stoic female. Written by Ethan Shaw for RootsRated.

In the midst of February in the Pacific Northwest, summer can feel like a vague and distant memory. But keep your head up, and you'll notice the days are getting longer and the forecast sunnier. Which means it’s time to start thinking ahead for how to make the most of Seattle’s best season, so you can hit the ground running once it arrives. The importance of planning ahead is especially true for some of the most popular summer adventures in the state. Backcountry permits have just opened for The Enchantments and climbing Mount St. Helens, and will soon open for backpacking in Mount Rainier National Park. Here, our tips for how to apply and how to increase your odds of actually snagging some of the most popular Washington backcountry permits. Because, really, summer is just around the corner—and these are epic adventures you won’t want to miss. The Enchantments With scenery like this, it's easy to see why visiting The Enchantments is so popular. Nate B With dazzling alpine lakes and impressive granite peaks,The Enchantments is one of the most iconic wilderness areas in Washington. It’s also one of the most notoriously difficult places to get a summer backpacking permit for. This year, the U.S. Forest Service extended the timeframe for which a permit to camp in The Enchantments is required by six weeks, so you now need one if you plan to camp there anytime between May 15 and October 31. Seventy-five percent of the permits are divvied out via a lottery system, which opened this year on February 15 and closes on March 2. When you log on to the site, you’ll need to set up an account and pay a non-refundable $6 application fee (if you win a permit, it costs an additional $5 per person per day for up to eight people). You will also be asked to choose which zone area you would like a permit for: Snow Zone, Colchuck Zone, Core Enchantment Zone, Stuart Zone, or the Eightmile/Caroline Zone. The most popular zones to apply for are the Core Enchantments, Snow Lakes, and Colchuck Lakes Zones—so if you want to increase your odds of winning the lotto, try for one of the others. You’ll also have a better chance if you have the flexibility to apply for weekdays instead of weekend trips. If you’re not one of the lucky ones to win a permit, take heart: Day hikes do not require a permit, and 25 percent of the overnight permits are given out in-person at the Leavenworth Ranger Station. Mount St. Helens Summiting Mount St. Helens is a once in a lifetime kind of adventure. gfpeck The 8,328-foot Mount St. Helens is famous for having blown its top in 1980, but those who dare to visit today find it is a spectacular peak. And if you're keen to climb Washington's volcanoes, hiking to St. Helens' summit crater is a great one to start with as; unlike Mount Rainier or Baker, it's not a technical climb. But it is still a big day: a 10-mile round-trip trek that ascends 4,500 feet, over which you may have to navigate ice, pumice boulder fields, and scree. And during the high season a permit is still required to tackle it. Permits to climb between April 1 and October 31 went on sale on the Mount St. Helens Institute website on February 1—and they’re going fast. They are available on a first-come, first-served basis for $22 per person. To increase your odds, look for weekdays in June or September (July and August are the most popular months to go). If your preferred dates are already sold out, check out the options on purmit.com (this is also the best place to sell your permit if you bought one you later realize you won’t be able to use). Mount Rainier Wilderness Mount Rainier National Park's Wonderland Trail is one of the best backpacking trips in the state. Loren Kerns Mount Rainier National Park is another sublime spot for a summer backpacking trip, and a similarly competitive place for getting a permit. 70 percent of the permits can be reserved ahead of time. Your best bet is to put in a request between March 15 and March 31: all requests received during this window will start to be processed on April 1, with any leftover permits awarded in the order requests are received. To make a reservation request, you will need to fax or mail a form printed from this page, or visit the Longmire Wilderness Information Center in person (it may seem old school, but they don’t take online requests or phone calls). There is a $20 reservation fee per party of up to 12 people. While the popular Wonderland Trail, the beautiful 93-mile trail circling Mount Rainier, might be a top choice, you’ll increase your chances of getting a permit if you are flexible about where in the park you want to camp and preferred dates (the wider range of start dates you can provide, the better). As August is the park's busiest month, June, July, or September can offer better odds. After you’ve put in your request, hang tight: it can take up to six weeks for the rangers to process all the applications. If you are awarded a reservation remember to actually pick it up from a ranger station. They will give your permit away if you don’t show up by 10am on the first day of your trip! If you aren’t awarded a reservation, similar to The Enchantments, you still have a good shot at getting one of the day-of permits that are awarded on a first-come, first-served basis. Show up early, be prepared—and may the odds be ever in your favor! Written by Samantha Larson for RootsRated.