Rafting Cataract Canyon

By Susan Schroer

Rafting is at the top of my “Favorite Things to do in Utah” list.  Whether it’s a thrilling ride on class IV rapids, or a leisurely float through amazing scenery, rafting is a must-do on one’s bucket list.  Cataract Canyon is known for breath-taking scenery, big waves and miles of solitude.  When I first heard of an opportunity to take a late-season trip through “Cat” I thought, ‘Yes! How, when and where do I sign-up?’  Cat would be a new rafting challenge for me, since it’s much more desolate with more technical rapids than what I had previously been through.  There would be new surprises and I couldn’t wait to find out what they would be.

Swimming flat waters of "Cat"

It had been a year since I had last been on the river (I’m spoiled, I know, but a year is a long time for a river rat!) and as I packed my anticipation started to grow.  With all of the essentials gathered into my dry bag, it’s off to meet the rest of the crew.  They seem like a roudy and cheerful bunch that share my enthusiasm for getting on the river.  After a few introductions and cracking open a few PBRs (Poor Boatman’s Refreshments), we start the carpool journey to the Potash put-in just outside of Moab, Utah.  I’ll admit, the carpool ride with 12 other people wasn’t the most pleasant since we didn’t have any air-conditioning, but it was a quick way to get to know the people I’d be spending the next four days with on the river. Some folks were Cat veterans while others had never rafted before and they were trying to figure out which stories were true and which ones were the tall-tales of a river rat. 

The closer we got to Potash, I started to notice a change in the air – the stars appeared to be more abundant, the sounds of other cars seemed to cease to exist and there was a fragrance in the air from the smell of sage brush coming to life after a recent desert rain.  It was past midnight by the time we arrived but no one was tired because we were all too excited about what the next four days had in store for us.  My eagerness for morning to come, much like a kid on Christmas Eve, kept me staring up at the sky.  With everything else around me giving into the night, I finally start to settle down but not before watching a brilliant shooting star blaze across the Milky Way.

View from Dead Horse Point

Morning.   I wake-up in a new world, no longer surrounded by noise, houses or cars but a river, boats and red rock cliffs.  All and any stress and worries I had started to fade with the ripples of the water as my foot lazily hangs off the side of the raft.  Surrounded by sandstone cliffs, each bend in the river offers a new surprise in scenery and rock formations; before long we are meandering through Canyonlands National Park.  At the top of a cliff on our “river right” is Dead Horse Point State Park.  Two years before I was standing at the top of that cliff, looking out at the vast expanse of Canyonlands and gazing down at the Colorado River far below, wishing I was meandering down the water on a raft.  Some dreams come true.

After 28 miles on the river we come to the first campsite.  Dinner is made and we all set-up our camp chairs to face the river.  Great blue herons fly just above the surface of the water as the setting sun casts the sandstone walls from orange to pink to red and finally to purple.  That night it was much easier to fall asleep, once again staring at shooting stars and listening to the Colorado lull me to bed. 

Proposal Cake

The following day is much like the last day, there’s more beautiful scenery and lots of swimming before we arrive at the confluence of the Green and Colorado Rivers. That night, however, was a little different.  As I and a few others were sitting around camp, we started hearing claps and cheers so we turned around to see that another member of our party was down on one knee.  “Big Mike” was proposing to his long-time girlfriend and rafting buddy, Ashley.  Of course she said yes and we celebrated that night by baking them a cake appropriately topped with Bride and Groom rubber duckies (yes, one of the many great things about rafting is that you really can bring just about everything – including a Dutch oven and all needed ingredients to bake a cake).  With the Green and Colorado Rivers meeting behind us, Mike and Ashley also gave a new meaning to confluence.

Day three was an exciting day; it’s the day of all the big rapids.  Not long after leaving camp, we see a sign that reads “Danger.”  The rapids are close.  We all pull-off onto the shore one last time to have a pep and safety talk, re-check all the boats and fasten our personal flotation devices.  There are so many rapids in this section of the river that they are simply numbered rather than named, with the exceptions of Big Drops 1, 2, & 3.  Looking at the river map, there’s an area nick-named mile-long rapid, an area that has a series of rapids and wave trains that feel like they extend for a mile. 

Paddle raft preparing for first small rapids

Rapid One is a great introductory rapid to the next 28 we’ll go through.  We navigate it, almost effortlessly and the confidence as a paddle raft crew grows.  “Let’s hit rapid two!” we cheer.  Some of the rapids get a little bigger and we get a little more excited.  The holes and wave trains are really starting to crash down on us and no matter how hot it is outside, the first cold splash from the Colorado River takes your breath away.

Next we steer into rapid 15 and the area known as mile-long rapid.  To navigate through this one we need to paddle around a huge boulder and then run into the next hole backwards.  We clear the rock but we’re unable to correct the direction of the raft against the strong current and we hit the next rapid a little side-ways.  There’s a jolt when we crash into the rapid and I somersault off the side of the boat.  Down I go into the water but my PFD bobs me back up and my head hits the bottom of the raft, one of my greatest fears come true of being stuck under the boat.  I scramble against the boat and let the current carry me back to the surface.  I gasp for air and the rest of the paddle crew is right beside me to pull me and another boater back into the raft.  It probably all happened in a matter of split-seconds, but when you’re under a boat and in the rapids, it seems much longer. 

We hit two more rapids before we can take a break and all I can do is hold on since I lost my paddle in the spill.  Half-way through the section of rapids, others want to take a try at being on a paddle-raft; drenched and exhausted, I gladly switch spots with someone on an oar-rigged raft.  It’s a good choice as the next rapids we go through are the notorious Big Drops 1, 2, & 3.  Everything I’ve heard about these rapids lived up to the hype of being fast, big, a little scary, very thrilling and each one gets bigger than the last.  Before hitting Big Drop 3, we stop and scout the situation (Legend has it that Major John Wesley Powell ordered his crew to portage around it when they were the first to navigate this canyon). 

Looking back on Big Drop 3

This rapid is huge.  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little scared.  My boat is the first to go through the rapid.  We hit a hole that’s seems at least four times the size of our boat.  I yell as if I’m on a roller-coaster ride.  We make it through unscathed and I yell cheers of conquering the notorious Big Drop 3.  We turn around and cheer on the rest of the boats in our party.  The paddle raft almost flips, sending six people swimming.  After rescuing other crew members, we go through one more rapid that seems like a ripple compared to the Big Drops.        

That night we camp close to the cliffs.  There’s almost a full-moon and as it rises, it casts eerie shadows that are constantly changing along the canyon walls.  Exhausted from the day’s adventures, my sleeping-bag becomes my new best friend.     

Hitting a wave in "Corkscrew" rapid

The next morning we load-up one last time.  We all take our time loading as we all know that the day’s end will mark our time to get off the river and head home.  Reluctantly, we shove off shore one last time.  During late-season trips, the water levels are low enough that the river actually gives way to a few more rapids that are hidden during high-water runs.  We hit “cork-screw” rapid before spilling into the start of Lake Powell.  After all of the excitement and roar of the river, everything is now calm and still.  Hite Marina is off in the distance and so are our modern-day vans to take us back home to much-needed showers.

As we load-up and leave, we’re all tired, sun-burnt, a little stinky and bruised but we all silently look back at the river and lake behind us and know that we’d all jump back onto a raft tomorrow if the opportunity arises.     

Right now, as I sit at my desk and think back on this trip, I gaze up to the mountains.  The rafting season is over, but a new cycle has just begun - snow has started to fall and I pray for a big snow pack this year in hopes of a lot of run-off and day-dream of bigger rapids to come next season.