DINOSAUR NATIONAL MONUMENT — As a storyteller by trade, I find the allure of river exploration nearly as great in the yarns spun off as in the adventure itself.
Rarely does a quest occur that includes no deviation from the predictable. And whether it’s your first lap through Class V Gore Canyon of the Colorado or your 10th trip down Class III Browns Canyon of the Arkansas, there is always a tale to be told afterward — for better or for worse.
Today marks the 80th anniversary of the launch date for The Denver Post’s 1928 expedition of the then-unmapped Yampa River Canyon in northwestern Colorado. And as those who have followed our two-part recollection of that audacious outing may have discerned, the stories that emerged from the two-week ordeal faced by reporter A.G. Birch, photographers Fred Dunham and Charles Mace and University of Colorado student Burt Moritz Jr. are the stuff of legend.
But unless you’ve read through Birch’s accounts republished on our website (www.denverpost.com/extremes), what you’ve seen so far is merely the tip of the iceberg.
It only seems appropriate to use a Titanic metaphor when recounting the hardships these guys faced in their tenderfoot efforts to accomplish what they thought was the first successful boat trip through the canyon. The most compelling image to emerge from that oft-described “disastrous” voyage is one of the smashed hull of the Leakin’ Lena living up to her name.
Yet the loss of the boat and its provisions was only one small, albeit pivotal, chapter in the saga. The part that stuck with me most while researching the story was the men’s decision to push on in spite of their dubious prospects for success.
To put it in modern parlance, these guys were core.
Even accounting for the sensational writing style of the day, the beatings described by Birch were enough to send most men scurrying for the shelter and security of the city they came from with fear, and maybe tears, in their eyes. We’re talking violent falls off bucking broncos before the boats ever hit the water, blows to the head that left one man unconscious in the river, five arduous days of hiking unfamiliar terrain without food and relying on the silted Yampa river itself for drinking water during the two-week ordeal. These kooks didn’t even carry a tent.
Yet when all was said and done, they met their only objective: They lived to tell about it.
While there will always be those who consider such undertakings foolhardy, I give these guys credit for a couple of reasons. For starters, their plan was downright bold, and I can’t help but admire an attitude that willingly accepts risks for a purpose.
But even more significant in my mind is that this crew of four novice and naive adventurers demonstrated to all that hacks with big hearts are ultimately capable of overcoming adversity. Although plenty might have been done to mitigate their troubles beforehand, they played the cards they were dealt, succeeding against the odds in the end.
The fortitude they displayed makes for more than a few good stories in the newspaper. It opened doors to a second generation of adventurers who evolve and even enjoy such adventures, having learned both from their knowledge and mistakes to be confident that they too could survive.
And for those among us who can appreciate them, thankfully, so do the legends.
