We just got back from a spectacular weekend kayak camping in Flaming Gorge, about 2.5 hours from Salt Lake City. This of course has nothing to do with skiing, but you all know that I often post trip reports with photos of other outdoor adventures in the off-season.
Tele Jon and I wanted to repeat our adventure from two years ago, so some of the scenes in these photos may look familiar to long time forum members. This time Dale, Pat and Amy wanted to come along. Amy, however, was stuck working in Sacramento until Friday night. Pat, meanwhile, is recovering from shoulder surgery a couple of weeks ago to repair a torn rotator cuff and ripped bicep muscle injured in a fall this spring on Dogleg Chute at Alta. So Dale rented a tandem kayak and paddled Pat around for the weekend.
Just like two years ago, we set out around 6 p.m. on Friday night to camp in the badlands of southwestern Wyoming. This gives a good head start to get on the lake early on Saturday morning. We pulled off in Evanston, Wyo. for gas and a bite to eat (in that order!), arriving at our chosen dead-end dirt road on BLM land just after dark but under a full moon. We pitched camp, had a beer and went to bed.
It was a chilly night, and in the morning Dale was bemoaning his choice of a 40ºF-rated sleeping bag for the weekend. We brewed coffee, had a bit of breakfast, then broke camp and headed the final 30 miles or so through Manila, Utah to the boat launch at Sheep Creek Bay.
We paddled out the bay and into the main body of the lake into a slight headwind. With his straw hat and long hair, I started referring to Jon as "Kid Rock." We had an ideal campsite in mind on a protected bay just north of the Narrows, near Horseshoe Canyon, but I was concerned when I spotted tents on the north shore in less than ideal locations. As Tele Jon held back to keep an eye on Dale and Pat, I therefore sprinted ahead and was pleased to find our preferred location absolutely empty.
We pitched camp. Jon and Dale erected traditional tents, while I felt that the site was ideal for my Hennessey Hammock, which I affectionately refer to as the "Bear Burrito."
We ate lunch as the weather alternated between sunshine, welcome cloud cover, and occasional sprinkles. After lunch we returned to the boats, now unburdened by a weekend's worth of gear, and headed out into Horseshoe Canyon in between passing thunderstorms.
Horseshoe Canyon is absolutely spectacular. It's a loop in the lake, carved by the main channel of the Green River behind an anticline that results in stunning sandstone cliffs reaching down to the lake level and below. Tele Jon and I paddled in amongst the folds of the cliffs, while Dale with a far less maneuverable boat stuck to a straighter line, yet hugging the cliff walls.
By the time we were headed west again, the thunderstorms had passed but in their place we turned into a ferocious headwind gusting 20-25 knots or so by my guess. Paddling became more laborious and less productive. Jon and I pressed on to complete our intended route, while Dale and Pat turned back to return the way we came, hoping for more sheltered water for their boat which in addition to its larger size, had a very bouyant bow and was thus far more affected by the wind. About an hour after Jon and I made camp, Dale and Pat arrived, and Dale was exhausted.
The evening was filled with charcoal grilled rib eye steaks, roasted red potatoes, red and white wine, vodka, bourbon, beer, gummi bears and more. The stiff wind continued until just after sunset, so we had to move our cooking area to behind some thick juniper trees. A brilliant campfire blazed into the night as we sat around it trading stories, eventually retiring for the night.
Our morning plans had been for pancakes and bacon, but I forgot the bacon in the freezer at home and Jon's griddle didn't play nicely with my stove for making pancakes. Discouraged, we moved on to Plan B -- oatmeal and coffee -- before breaking camp, packing the boats and heading out of our beloved cove.
We were returning via a different route: Kingfisher Canyon, home to more of the spectacular geography that graces Horseshoe Canyon.
Kingfisher eventually opens into Hideout Canyon, and upon entering we pulled into the Hideout Campground, accessible only by boat, for a civilized lunch at a picnic table under a pavillion.
We were now in the final stretch, back into Kingfisher Canyon to head west back toward Sheep Creek Bay.
Playing amongst the cliffs on the south shore, I was suddenly alerted by an osprey that I was too close to her nest. She was one pissed-off bird! I got as a close as I dared before rejoining the others out through Kingfisher and into Sheep Creek Bay back toward the boat launch, arriving 17.5 miles after starting Saturday morning.
Another fine, fine weekend in the Utah outdoors.
Tele Jon and I wanted to repeat our adventure from two years ago, so some of the scenes in these photos may look familiar to long time forum members. This time Dale, Pat and Amy wanted to come along. Amy, however, was stuck working in Sacramento until Friday night. Pat, meanwhile, is recovering from shoulder surgery a couple of weeks ago to repair a torn rotator cuff and ripped bicep muscle injured in a fall this spring on Dogleg Chute at Alta. So Dale rented a tandem kayak and paddled Pat around for the weekend.
Just like two years ago, we set out around 6 p.m. on Friday night to camp in the badlands of southwestern Wyoming. This gives a good head start to get on the lake early on Saturday morning. We pulled off in Evanston, Wyo. for gas and a bite to eat (in that order!), arriving at our chosen dead-end dirt road on BLM land just after dark but under a full moon. We pitched camp, had a beer and went to bed.
It was a chilly night, and in the morning Dale was bemoaning his choice of a 40ºF-rated sleeping bag for the weekend. We brewed coffee, had a bit of breakfast, then broke camp and headed the final 30 miles or so through Manila, Utah to the boat launch at Sheep Creek Bay.
We paddled out the bay and into the main body of the lake into a slight headwind. With his straw hat and long hair, I started referring to Jon as "Kid Rock." We had an ideal campsite in mind on a protected bay just north of the Narrows, near Horseshoe Canyon, but I was concerned when I spotted tents on the north shore in less than ideal locations. As Tele Jon held back to keep an eye on Dale and Pat, I therefore sprinted ahead and was pleased to find our preferred location absolutely empty.
We pitched camp. Jon and Dale erected traditional tents, while I felt that the site was ideal for my Hennessey Hammock, which I affectionately refer to as the "Bear Burrito."
We ate lunch as the weather alternated between sunshine, welcome cloud cover, and occasional sprinkles. After lunch we returned to the boats, now unburdened by a weekend's worth of gear, and headed out into Horseshoe Canyon in between passing thunderstorms.
Horseshoe Canyon is absolutely spectacular. It's a loop in the lake, carved by the main channel of the Green River behind an anticline that results in stunning sandstone cliffs reaching down to the lake level and below. Tele Jon and I paddled in amongst the folds of the cliffs, while Dale with a far less maneuverable boat stuck to a straighter line, yet hugging the cliff walls.
By the time we were headed west again, the thunderstorms had passed but in their place we turned into a ferocious headwind gusting 20-25 knots or so by my guess. Paddling became more laborious and less productive. Jon and I pressed on to complete our intended route, while Dale and Pat turned back to return the way we came, hoping for more sheltered water for their boat which in addition to its larger size, had a very bouyant bow and was thus far more affected by the wind. About an hour after Jon and I made camp, Dale and Pat arrived, and Dale was exhausted.
The evening was filled with charcoal grilled rib eye steaks, roasted red potatoes, red and white wine, vodka, bourbon, beer, gummi bears and more. The stiff wind continued until just after sunset, so we had to move our cooking area to behind some thick juniper trees. A brilliant campfire blazed into the night as we sat around it trading stories, eventually retiring for the night.
Our morning plans had been for pancakes and bacon, but I forgot the bacon in the freezer at home and Jon's griddle didn't play nicely with my stove for making pancakes. Discouraged, we moved on to Plan B -- oatmeal and coffee -- before breaking camp, packing the boats and heading out of our beloved cove.
We were returning via a different route: Kingfisher Canyon, home to more of the spectacular geography that graces Horseshoe Canyon.
Kingfisher eventually opens into Hideout Canyon, and upon entering we pulled into the Hideout Campground, accessible only by boat, for a civilized lunch at a picnic table under a pavillion.
We were now in the final stretch, back into Kingfisher Canyon to head west back toward Sheep Creek Bay.
Playing amongst the cliffs on the south shore, I was suddenly alerted by an osprey that I was too close to her nest. She was one pissed-off bird! I got as a close as I dared before rejoining the others out through Kingfisher and into Sheep Creek Bay back toward the boat launch, arriving 17.5 miles after starting Saturday morning.
Another fine, fine weekend in the Utah outdoors.
