In winter, Aspen icon Klaus Obermeyer is fond of pointing out that every powder day a skier doesn’t ski is an opportunity lost, a snow day that, once squandered, you will never get back.
But river rats know that’s not entirely true. Come spring, the powder returns in its liquid form and the rush is equally gripping.
The prevailing theory when it comes to Colorado whitewater is that the river peaks only once a year. It’s sort of like knowing there’s going to be one snowstorm that’s bigger than all the rest at your local slope, and if you’re paying close enough attention, you can time it just right to claim it as your own.
Or at least that’s the way it works most years. This year is clearly something special.
So far in 2008, the U.S. Geological Survey’s gauging station graphs for virtually every major river drainage in the state have read like a roller coaster of peaks and valleys. Now big winter snow, a lengthy spring and, finally, an extended warm spell marking the start of summer in the mountains have conspired to extend the high-water river recreation season into uncharted territory.
No, the colossal gusher that many were predicting never really materialized upstream of Cataract Canyon on the Colorado River. Instead, most major drainages have seen three distinct bumps in volume, this last one potentially lingering from summer solstice all the way through the busy Fourth of July holiday weekend — a rare treat for high-country boaters and rafting outfitters.
For all but a few dam-regulated rivers, this is likely the last hurrah for big flows (although the Elk Mountain drainages near Aspen and Crested Butte still seem to be holding strong), which means the window is rapidly getting smaller for folks who have yet to sample the big-water sensation.
And as a guy who has spent a significant portion of his spring savoring said sensation, I’d say that’s a lot of you. Aside from crowds at the occasional river festival, area waterways have been vacant, for the most part.
I know what you’re thinking, but water doesn’t have to be deadly, or even dangerous. Midwestern flooding and early-season mishaps by the overconfident and underprepared tend to make chilling headlines, most recently about a man from Las Vegas who thought it a good idea to take his new kayak out on a fishing float down the Colorado River west of Glenwood Springs while the water was sluicing through South Canyon at more than 13,000 cubic feet per second.
Try to imagine 13,000 basketballs full of water all passing through a specific spot at the same time every second, and you’ll get a pretty good impression of how much liquid that is. And hopefully you’ll recognize that spot is no place to test-drive a new toy.
But while inexperience and bachelor party revelry can lead to sticky situations out there on the river, proper preparation and deference to those with knowledge and skills can lead to the thrill of a lifetime.
Go to the river. But go first with a trained, accredited outfitter, not with your buddy who just bought a new boat. Take a swiftwater rescue course or a multiday kayaking class to learn the real hazards on the rivers and how to handle them. Consider training as a raft guide yourself. The key is learning to understand and respect your environment, not fear it.
Soon enough you’ll be studying the graphs, gauging your skills and deciding for yourself where to set your limits. As your ability grows along with the rivers, you’re bound to succumb to the singularity of purpose that leads to a new season of strained muscles, joints, bank accounts and relationships as you join the dedicated legion of river runners trying to squeeze every last drop riding out that predicted peak like a ski bum in search of endless winter.
The difference is that going into snow season, it’s anyone’s guess how much will fall. With whitewater, you know exactly how much is there, and while you never know how fast it’s going to come down, you can still take Obermeyer’s words to heart. Because nothing lasts forever. And once it’s gone, you can rest assured that it won’t be coming back.
