The Other Escalante

The Escalante is one of my very favorite landscapes. The main river canyon, together with its tributaries, slickrock wonderlands, moqui marbles, and verdant riparian plant life, holds an enduring appeal. Of all the backpacking regions in southern Utah, it reigns supreme, at least in my opinion.

There's another Escalante - a famed hiking route deep in the Grand Canyon's inner gorge. To call it 'awe-inspiring' would be an understatement of the first degree.

And there's another, other Escalante, this one much closer to home. The Dominguez-Escalante National Conservation Area protects a stretch of the Gunnison River in western Colorado along with several side canyons. All of these canyons burrow into the Uncompaghre Plateau, a vast uplifted region west of the towns of Montrose and Delta.

With a three-day weekend at my disposal and Steph jonesing for a chill weekend at home. I decided to explore this "other" Escalante by foot and packraft. After all, what could be more pleasant than toting six pounds of boating gear for 50 miles up and down mountains, all for a three hour float at the end? Friends, I think there's something wrong with my brain :) 

Day 1

I left on Friday evening, making the short drive from Montrose down to my starting trailhead. I walked next to some railroad tracks for a couple miles, composing in my head at least three paragraphs' worth of boring train facts, from which I will mercifully spare you, dear reader. I crossed the Gunnison River on an ornate bridge and soon headed up Big Dominguez Canyon.

Camping is prohibited in the lower part of Big Dominguez, so I hiked deep into the gathering dusk to find a legal place to set up. Along the way though, I couldn't help but follow the sound of crashing water to a little waterfall hidden behind a rock outcrop. And I saw plenty of traces of cultures from many centuries ago. The biggest highlight, however, was the night sky. With the moon nearly new, and the humidity hovering around 5%, I was treated to one of the most vivid Milky Way viewings of my life. More than once I wondered how much better the ancients had it, in terms of night skies. It really put context to God's promise to Abraham, that's for sure!

Day 2

As I continued up the canyon the next morning, the pines got taller and taller, interspersing the red rocks of the inner canyon. The trail played peekaboo with the creek and I gratefully drank from it at every opportunity. I saw a single pair of hikers along this stretch. 

Everything changed when I arrived at a campground that marked the upper end of the Big Dominguez trail. On this Memorial weekend, every Side-by-Side, ATV, dirt bike, boombox, barking dog, and slightly-tipsy frat bro in Mesa County had descended upon the ordinarily-quiet campground. I made sure to collect water upstream of the aforementioned frat bros frolicking in the water and stirring up muck, and noped out of there as quick as I could. I climbed onto the Plateau using a Forest Service road and got dusted by all manner of jeeps and four-wheelers for the next six miles. I don't begrudge others for enjoying the outdoors with the aid of internal combustion engines, but I can't say I love the noise, speed, and dust they generate.

The water situation was a complete unknown on the Plateau, so the only prudent course of action was to pack five liters up from Big Dominguez Creek. I ordinarily don't mind uphill, but underneath a load of three days' food, eleven pounds of water, and six pounds of packrafting gear, I was really struggling underneath a heavy load. Shortly before I turned off the main road, I found a decent cow pond. I figured I'd find water at one of the ~10 sources I'd mapped, but which ones - and their quality - was impossible to predict. This first source, it turns out, would be the best.

Finally, the Moto Mayhem mercifully abated as I turned onto an old, somewhat-eroded jeep track. Around the same time, the clouds started to congeal overhead. The searing heat and screaming ATV's were a thing of the past! My next water source was quite green and nasty, but between a double dose of Aquamira, the old bandana-as-water-filter trick, and the well-known antimicrobial properties* of Great Value brand Fruit Punch packets, I managed to put down a liter.

*Professional driver on closed course; do not attempt. 

Soon, my quiet jeep road gave way to a long-abandoned antiquated two-track. On satellite imagery, the way forward appeared relatively clear. On the ground, however, I had to slalom through prickly brush, down a steep, eroded gully where a fenceline once stood. It was a frustrating end to a long day, and I collapsed in the first clearing I found, exhausted after a 20+ mile day that seemed, like your father's walk to school, uphill both ways. One moment of delight as I bedded down - I startled a cow elk, and she bounded away through the brush. What a magnificent sight!

Day 3

The next morning started out with a bang - a completely trail-less descent into a canyon, picking my way through thick brush and cliff bands. I got utterly tangled in some of the spikey bushes in the canyon bottom, floundering for a good five minutes in a mostly useless attempt to get un-stuck. The only thing less dignified than bushwhacking is bushwhacking with a boat and life jacket on your back! 

I emerged from the inner canyon bleeding and sweating, but I'd crossed it! I found a terrific series of elk trails going up the other side, and followed them until I rejoined yesterday's old eroded fence-gully thing. The climb was steep and unrelenting, but not nearly as brushy as I'd feared. I treated myself to breakfast once I finally hit the road I'd been aiming for. It was another quiet jeep track, and a welcome reprieve from the bushwhacking. 

I broiled in the hot sun over the next nine miles on the roads. I found another stock pond with water in it, but surrounded with a moat of mud so thick and loathsome that losing a shoe represented a virtual certainty. I checked out several other possible sources - all dry - as the sun crept higher in the sky. 

And then - a surprise! A source I expected to be dry had water in it - and clear water at that! Whoopee! I pounded 1.5L of water and tanked up. It was going to be a good day after all. Only after another mile, when I stopped in the shade to treat my water, did I realize my mistake: this water carried a pungent odor of sulfur. Horrified, I tried not to think too hard about it. Only three liters of good water remained, and my next source, the Gunnison River, lay 24 hours ahead. Rats.

I tried to limit my water consumption all afternoon as I trudged through the hot sun, but it was useless - there was no getting around the fact that I'd have to consume the Rotten Egg Water. More double-doses of Aquamira. More Great Value fruit punch packets. And yes, there were plenty of sulfury burps on the menu.

I turned off my quiet jeep roads onto a "trail". that led down from the highlands via a sloping prong of land toward the Gunnison River. Like many trails in little-used corners of our public lands, this trail probably hadn't seen a hiker - much less any maintenance - since the Cuban Missile Crisis. Cryptobiotic soil was growing in the treads of the trail itself, and cactus fields covered the entire area - trail and non-trail alike. At one point I lost the trail entirely for about three miles, and just made my way overland, trusting the trail would be there when I needed it most.

As I kept dropping in elevation, the trail became more consistent and apparent. And after two hard days, each 20+ miles with a heavy pack, I was tuckered. I curled up under a juniper, made a calculated gamble that the menacing clouds wouldn't rain on me, and passed out. 

Day 4

For the third day in a row, I was up at the crack of dawn. My foot protested a bit, only deciding to cooperate after about a mile. From above, I spied the thin ribbon of the Gunnison as the sun rose over the West Elk mountains to my east. I dropped steeply to the trailhead and pounded out a couple quick road miles down to the river.

Speaking of the river, it was really ripping! I inflated my boat and set off into the current. Even with a few float breaks, I found myself cruising along at 4 mph. The rapids and riffles along this section were a bit sportier than I'd been led to believe. I stopped a couple times to bail out my boat, and was grateful for the bright sunshine to keep me warm - even as thunderheads metastasized over the surrounding high terrain.

One notorious rock at the mouth of Dominguez Canyon, called 'The Undertaker', demands portaging around. The BLM's website led me to believe that the best way to do that was on a small island. Unfortunately, when I got there, the the water had risen so high (several feet higher than when I'd scouted it from shore on the hike in) that I was forced higher up on the island, and ended up bushwhacking through ten-foot tall reeds while carrying my boat over my head. Once around the rock, I bashed through the reeds to the water's edge and belly-flopped onto my boat, a most undignified-but-functional landing. Next time, I'll take the very nice mainland trail instead. So much for good info from the BLM!

The last couple miles were uneventful. I paddled under that ornate footbridge and arrived at my takeout point. On Friday, there'd been a very nice beach to land on. Now, all of it was several feet underwater. I squelched my way up a short trail to the parking area and my waiting car, just as the rain clouds started to threaten overhead. 

Overall

I hadn't had a true thrasher of a weekend in quite a while. I managed to cover about 66 miles - 52 of them hiking - over the course of two very full days and a couple short ones. Throw in a dash of bushwhacking, plenty of vertical gain, intense heat, and a crappy water situation, and you've got a challenging trip. I loved it. It felt like the adventure of a thru-hike - particularly one on a seldom-traveled route - compressed into a weekend. And best of all, it was less than an hour from home. It may not be the world-class landscape of the "real" Escalante, but I found it beautiful nonetheless. And as always, any time outdoors is time well-spent.