Dana Kopf and Brad Higgenbotham had a pretty good idea of what they were getting into when they carried their rolled-up raft uphill for an hour-and-a-half to the put-in of Vallecito Creek and pumped it full of air.
Higgenbotham, a kayaker from Cortez, had been through the narrow, twisting mile-long gorge outside of Durango on multiple occasions. Kopf, who runs 4-Corners Whitewater Rafting in Durango, had never paddled the creek often described by elite-level kayakers as “the best mile of boating in the state,” but he had done his research, gathering information about the best water levels and safest lines to take through the continuous series of rapids earning a Class V+ rating as the river plummets 245 vertical feet between overhanging granite walls. He had begun scouting the gorge a year before, even climbing in to cut out log jams in an effort to create a passage wide enough for a two-man raft.
Never mind that no one had attempted paddling anything but a kayak down the treacherous creek before. Never mind that an expert kayaker would vanish in the rocky rapids only two weeks later. Never mind that no one ever really knows for sure.
To Kopf and Higgenbotham, the idea of launching the first raft descent down Vallecito still sounded pretty good. And on May 13, with the optimal water flow of about 350 cubic feet per second (cfs), they did it.
“I probably won’t do it again,” Kopf said afterward. “I don’t know. I think we just kind of thought it could be done and wanted to see for sure.”
Such is the allure of the “first descent” – the test of skills, the thrill of the unknown, the consummate dare.
For Kopf and Higgenbotham, the challenge was met when they nailed their line at 18-foot Entrance Falls. But both men took some licks when they were separated briefly from their vessel in big rapids downstream, managing to get back in the boat just before it capsized. After righting the raft, they finished the run without incident.
It takes a great deal of confidence to attempt a first descent, or a first anything, for that matter. There’s no place for superstition or aligning of planets, no ritual, charm or incantation that will safely see you through something that never has been achieved before. Even when the core components of faith, courage, wisdom, strength and skill all come together in perfect harmonic convergence, there’s no guarantee of success. But without them, well, you’re pretty much only left with luck.
I doubt I’ll ever be credited with a first descent. I’ve had opportunities, even tagged along on a couple second descents with my friend John Miller, who pioneered most of the whitewater kayaking runs in Panama only a few years ago. Although Miller had claimed the first runs down the rivers a few months prior, it was all new to me. And the thrill was on par with being the first to ever see it.
“I just think the lack of beta is more exciting,” said Joe Carberry, an editor at Steamboat-based Paddler magazine who was part of a group that recently paddled three never-kayaked-before creeks in Routt County. “You’re in this secluded canyon, dealing with the river as it comes, putting together little pieces of the puzzle. I just think it’s natural curiosity.”
Carberry notes that his ideal first descent isn’t a series of hair-raising rapids or perilous plummets over death-defying waterfalls. Rather, he’s hoping to find the undiscovered classic, the hidden gem that offers an appropriate mix of thrills and challenge that others might enjoy. And for many, the PFD – or personal first descent – can often satisfy the same curiosity, much like hopping on an airplane and visiting a foreign land for the first time.
Of course, not everyone wants to fly to Kansas, or even Panama. For some, it’s not enough unless they land in the wilds of Alaska or attempt to bridge the Darien Gap to Colombia. And for them, well, there’s always another river that has never been run. Just do yourself a favor and call Kopf first.
“(Vallecito) was definitely the pinnacle of my career as a rafter. It’s the steepest run I’ve ever done,” said Kopf, who began rafting in 1989. “My thoughts are that it could have gone better, but it could have gone a lot worse.”
Staff writer Scott Willoughby can be reached at 303-820-1993 or swilloughby@denverpost.com.
