Driving that last couple of miles over the potholed dirt road made me wish I’d had one less cup of java before we began our hour-and-a-half-long drive from Gunnison River Pleasure Park to the canyon rim. The rafts, guides, and essential gear for our three-day float through the Gunnison Gorge were already waiting for us at the river’s edge. All we had to do was pack our personal gear down the 1.1-mile Chukar Trail to the river.

The early-morning sun was already frying the parched landscape. Daytime temperatures had been pushing 100 degrees, but at least there was plenty of water in the Gunnison for our float-more than could be said for many other Colorado rivers after several years of severe Rocky Mountain drought. In fact, the river was running around 700 cubic feet per second on our late-June adventure—a perfect flow for both white-water rafting and fishing.

I had made this trip a few years previous, but when Bill Dvorak, of Dvorak Rafting & Kayaking Expeditions, called with an invitation to fish the Gunnison’s fabled salmonfly (Pteronarcys californica) hatch with him, publisher Steve Cole and I didn’t hesitate to accept the offer. Now we were there, gearing up under the sweltering sun, on the edge of the sparkling Gunnison River, with giant salmonflies clumsily dancing in the morning sun and crashing into anything in their way. I had good vibes.

Altogether there were four rafts in our party, Cole and I were designated to be in Dvorak’s boat, which pleased me, as I recalled a few of the white-knuckle rapids one must negotiate in the course of this float. As a longtime outfitter, Bill has more than 50,000 river miles under his belt. Depending on water flow, there are 17 Class II to ClassIII/IV rapids in the 14 river miles between the Chukar put-in and the exit point at Gunnison River Pleasure Park. Regardless of the fishing, the float alone offers plenty of adventure. But, as any Western fly fisher knows, when the salmonflies are hatching it’s time to hit the water, as even the most cautious of trout show reckless abandon—much like me with my checkbook in a fly shop.

A swift Beginning
With gear stowed, we slipped the rafts into the cold river, took our positions in the boat, and our three-day excursion got underway. Literally seconds after shoving off we were sucked into Chukar Rapids—nothing like jump-starting the adventure with a shot of adrenaline!

The plan was simple. Working our way down-stream, we would cast giant salmonfly imitations to the banks, in-river structure, and current seams. The boat kept a steady pace. We needed to synchronize casts and mends with the rhythm of the river and the strokes of the oarsman. As with most dry-fly fishing, we needed to achieve a drag-free float of the fly or the trout would ignore our imitations. Accurate casts were often rewarded with a rise—not always a take, but a giant swirl is sometimes nearly as exciting.

At first, it was hard to focus on our drifting flies because of the incredible beauty of the canyon unfolding before us. We were torn between just staring in marvel at the panorama into which we were suddenly thrust, and watching our drifting flies like hawks. Needles to say, from the beginning, we missed several fish, simply from lack of concentration on our fishing. But the payoff was worth it. A more spectacular and remote canyon would be hard to imagine, with sheer cliffs rising from the river, and the prospect of surprising mule deer, mountain lions, elk, and a host of other wildlife ever-present. One quickly realizes that catching fish is only part of the package when floating the Gunnison Gorge.

Every now and again, though, we would actually be watching our big Rogue Foam Stones drifting along and observe the rise, set the hook, and play and land a fish—and remember why we were here in the first place.

As the hours passed, and as we drifted deeper into the canyon, we got our rhythm down. Balancing in the raft through the rapids and making quick and precise casts became second nature It seemed a given that one of us would hook into a big fish at the lip of each new rapid, or from the fringes, while bouncing through the white water. Either the fish broke off, or it was hooked and coaxed through the rapid and landed in the calmer water below. More often than not the fish would win.

when bellies started to protest we beached the boats, and the guides made lunch while some of us waded and fished from shore. By lunchtime, though, the heat had intensified in the canyon, and simply finding a small patch of shade and hydrating ourselves seemed to take priority. Lunches were stretched over a couple of hours, with the intent of avoiding the glaring midday sun.

By midafternoon the salmonflies diminished, but the trout still remembered the giant bugs and our dry patterns continued to produce a fish now and then. More productive were the droppers we were using. Small Princes or other nymphs were attached to the bend of the hook on our salmonfly imitations with 2 feet of 4X tippet material and weighted just enough to sink a couple of feet below the floating bug. Although the system occasionally tangled, the rewards were obvious, as the greater percentage of the fish hooked during the heat of the day fell for the sunken fly.

We usually fished this system until the shadows grew long and we arrived at our preassigned campsite. There are 14 boater camps in the canyon. Floaters must register for each night’s stay prior to starting the float. In addition to the boater camps, 11 hiker camps are located along the river, positioned near the four trails leading down into the canyon.

Camp
Due to the steepness of the canyon, every flat area seemed to be one of the designated camps. A wooden post with a white number marks all sites. The rules for these low-impact camps are strictly enforced. Campers must preregister and pay a fee of $10 per person per day; the maximum length of stay in the canyon is two nights; wood fires are not allowed; washable, reusable toilet systems are also required; and all trash must be packed out, including human waste and the ashes from fire pans. As a result of these stringent regulations, when you arrive at camp, you wouldn’t even know it was a camp at all if it weren’t for the numbered post and the leveled tent areas.

Once at camp, we gathered our dry bags containing personal gear and everyone chose their sleeping spot. Some put up tents; others chose to simply throw down a pad and sleeping bag and sleep under the stars. There was no chance of rain, and no mosquitoes to worry about, so this option was favored by at least half of our party.

After we made our nest, most of us hit the water again, wading and fishing until the whistle for hors d’oeuvres and wine came from camp. Then it was time for a hearty meal cooked over charcoal. Evenings were spent with camaraderie and stargazing, until it cooled off enough for the peaceful rhythm of the river to lull all into a deep slumber.

The River
The Gunnison River starts in the small town of Almont, where the Taylor and East rivers merge, about 10 miles north of the town of Gunnison. It flows for approximately 20 miles before spilling into Blue Mesa Reservoir, the largest reservoir in Colorado. The river then flows a short distance to Crystal Reservoir. Known as the upper Gunnison, the stretch from Almont down to the reservoir is the most accessible section of the river. It is also the most heavily fished. Rainbow, brown, cutthroat, and cuttbow trout are found in the upper river, as well as Kokanee salmon that run each fall from Blue Mesa Reservoir to the Roaring Judy fish hatchery on East River.

Below Crystal Reservoir the river drops down into the famous Black Canyon. Access here is limited to a few steep trails from the canyon rim, which towers 2,700 feet above the river in some places. Below the Black Canyon the river enters the Gunnison River Gorge—the section of our float—which extends to the junction with the North Fork of the Gunnison. The river from Blue Mesa Reservoir down to the North Fork is designated as “Gold Medal Water” by the state of Colorado. The entire river from Crystal Reservoir to the confluence with the North Fork is open to the public for fishing.

From the North Fork downstream, the river flows mostly through ranchland, with little access, all the way to its confluence with the Colorado River in the city of Grand Junction. The Gunnison River holds the distinction of being the largest river in Colorado whose entire basin lies within the boundaries of the state.

Fishing the Gorge
There are a few options when fishing the Gunnison Gorge. Taking a guided rafting/fishing excursion with a licensed outfitter, where all you need to be concerned with is your fishing and when the next meal will be placed in front of you, seems the most luxurious yet practical option, due to the canyon’s limited access. All you have to do is show up and hike down to the river. The rafting and camping gear has already been transported down to the river by the guides or by horses.

Private parties can do the float, but if you choose to do so you must transport all of you own gear or hire Larry Franks, a licensed horse packer,(970) 323-0115, to pack your gear in for you. Take-out is at Gunnison River Pleasure Park, just past the confluence with the North Fork. Call Pleasure Park, (970) 872-2525, for shuttles and arrangements if you plan to float the river on your own. You can also hire Leroy Jagodinski, proprietor of Pleasure Park, to run you upstream to the Smith Fork in his jet boat (Jagodinski holds the only license to do this), where you can then either float out in small boat or wade back down to the Pleasure Park.

Nonfloating anglers have a few choices as well. The Gunnison Gorge Trails offer limited access to the river and the hiker campgrounds. The Chukar Trail (1.1 miles), the most heavily used trail, has a 550-foot drop and gives access to a short stretch of river and two hiker camps. The bobcat Trail (1,5 miles) has an 800-foot drop and is steep and loose, but it provides access to 1.6 miles of river and two camps. The Duncan Trail (1.5 miles) has a steep 840-foot drop to the river, with access to three hiker camps. The well-used Ute Trail (4.5 miles) droops 1,200 feet and gives wading anglers access to more than 4 miles of river and four camps. The Smith Fork Trail (4miles), the lowest trail, climbs 200 feet and accesses the lowest 4 miles of the gorge float. To reach the Smith Fork Trail you must first cross the North Fork, near Pleasure Park.

There was a time when rainbow and brown trout were an even mix in the Gunnison Gorge. Over the past several years whirling disease has changed this ratio drastically. Most of the trout caught now are browns. Rainbows are still found in some of the faster water—riffles and rapids—but the numbers are diminished. However, most of the rainbows taken these days are big: more than 20 inches is the norm. The brown trout, which are abundant, run to several pounds. Catch-and-release fishing mandated by the outfitters assures this will remain a healthy fishery.

Tackle, hatches, and Flies
All of the water through the gorge can be fished easily with a 4- to 7-weight system. A weight-forward floating line will cover most of the action. Except during major hatches, the gorge is largely a nymphing show. Hatches include the general Western river selection: BWOs, PMDs, cadisflies, midges, stoneflies, ect. Flies like the Prince, Gold Ribbed hare’s Ear, Pheasant Tail, and other general imitations in sizes 10 to 16 should be included in your arsenal.

Streamers also produce well here, and a popular method while floating is to pound the banks with large rubber-legged creations or sculpin imitations. Casts are punched within inches of the bank, followed by a few quick strips, and the process is repeated. When a big brown shoots from cover to intercept your offering it can be a heart-stopping event.

Gunnison River Pleasure Park is a good source for finding out which flies are hot at the moment. Everyone who floats the gorge stops in, and information flies freely. All of the most productive flies are available in the fly shop, and there is no charge for Leroy’s advice, of which there is plenty.

Out of the Canyon
The second day of our float was a carbon copy of the first: float, fish, eat, catch fish like crazy, admire the surroundings, camp. Our final day began much the same. We were coming to the end of the canyon, but first we had to negotiate a few of the more technical rapids—rapids such as the Squeeze, the Drops, Cable, Jumpin’ Jack Splash, the Gate Keeper, and Grande Finale, whose names conjured up all sorts of visions.

Approaching one of the rapids, we came upon several beach boats and a commotion downstream in the middle of the rapid. A raft was wrapped around a large protruding boulder midstream. The boat’s occupants were standing atop the boulder, and other rafters had a white-water rescue in progress. Lines were attached to the swamped boat, which was then removed from its predicament. Rescue lines were also secured to the stranded rafters, and one by one they were pulled to shore to regroup and continue their float. It was a textbook white-water rescue, which came off without a hitch.

We ran Grande Finale, the last of the rapids on the gorge float, without incident. From that point on, it was a completely different Gunnison River-long, calm flats and gentle riffles replaced the tight squeezes, drops, and white water of the gorge. Below the Smith Fork we began to see hiking and wading anglers fishing this popular stretch of river. We lackadaisically floated along those last couple of miles, half-heartedly casting to only the best water—and still hooking into a fish now and then. But hookups didn’t matter anymore. We were spent. Our casting arms were tired, and our fishing itch was temporarily scratched. All we could think of now was air conditioning, and a cold beer back at Pleasure Park. Leroy was sure to have some on ice!

April, 1992, Senior Edition Colorado newspaper

More and more seniors are all wet, as the number of seniors participating in river expeditions rapidly increases.

Imagine rafting down a river as it carves its way through geological history in an untouched wilderness of tall sandstone cliffs, crags and towering peaks dotted with pine forest. You’ll go home with memories you will never forget.

The length of river trips ranges from half-day to 17 days, to fit just about any schedule. Expedition costs range from about $30 to $1800.

Available activities vary widely. Fishing trips along the calm, pristine banks fo the Dolores, with miles of the river teeming with trout, offer a completely different experience than outrageous whitewater trips on the Colorado River. Many tour companies offer combination trips which may include activities such as horseback riding and mountain biking, as well as instructional trips.

And it’s safer than many people think. Every individual on a river trip is required to wear a personal flotation device approved and used by the U.S. Coast Guard. Many participants can’t swim, but with the flotation device in place, the worst thing that will happen is they’ll get wet – which is half the fun of a river trip!

Jerry Mallet, president of Adventure Travel, consults with companies involved with adventure travel (including rafting), or that want to get into it. “Make sure the company is licensed,” he advises. “That means they have to have a permit, insurance, and meet criteria of guides having first aid or advanced first aid, CPR and a minimum mile requirement of time/miles of the river.”

River travelers are warned to bring clothing to cover up with, as well as sunblock; many guides also carry sunblock.

On longer trips, gaining weight can be a problem, Mallet says, “Because the food is usually so good.” Fresh fruits, vegetables and fresh-baked goods are common. Tell outfitters in advance about any medical considerations, allergies or dietary restrictions.

Day trips cost less and require less preparation – they also are restricted in what you can see and where you can go. Multi-day trips are usually limited to 25 people, to keep the feeling of seclusion and wilderness.

For information on rafting companies in Colorado, contact the Colorado River Outfitters Association, P.O. Box 1662, Buena Vista, CO 81211; (719)-369-4632.

Although it is often called the "Grand Canyon of the North", the Tatshenshini will not show its true grandeur at the put in. As we push the rafts off, the current is strong but not ferocious, and a good arm could hit the other side with a rock. For several miles the river meanders past banks lined with alders and cottonwoods.

As we round a bend the river picks up speed, and the distant mountains are blocked from sight by the walls of the narrow gorge closing in around us. For the next 5 miles we dig hard with the paddles as we bounce, dodge and punch our way through a long series of class III rapids. Shouts fill the air whenever a wave crashes over the front of the boat. Its hard to believe the water will actually get colder as we move down river, closer to the big glaciers! When we emerge safely from the last rapid, the Tatshenshini presents us with a beautiful view. Reddish-purple fireweed lines the banks. The lush green foothills lead up to soft alpine meadows, and above it all are snowcapped peaks of the Alsek range to the north. The outside world has been left far behind on the other side of the gorge, and we have entered a new realm. As we take our first steps in the magic land of the Tat, the bear tracks on the beach let us know we are only visitors.

Light arrives early this far north, and mornings feel leisurely and relaxed. When we continue on in the morning the valley continues to broaden, and we can now see the mountains on both sides. The river twists and turns back on itself, moving lazily along, giving us a chance to admire our surroundings from every angle. That night we make camp at Sediments Creek, where we plan to hike the next day. As we finish dinner, a large grizzly appears on the far bank. Even with a river between us, he is an intimidating sight. Standing on his hind legs and sniffing the air before disappearing into the brush, he is fully the master of this wild land.

In the morning we get out of camp early and follow a steep, winding trail up through the foothills. 3,000 feet later we break out into the alpine zone and crest the last rise to gain the ridge. Walking across the heather, with the river stretched out far below, Veronica Herndon comments, "Its like something out of The Sound of Music, only larger, wilder, more incredible." From a vantage point looking into Sediments Creek we see several mountain goats on the cliffs below, and in the head of the canyon the afternoon sun lights up the first glaciers of the trip. These small pockets of ice on the shoulders of the peaks are only remnants of the giant that carved this drainage, but they give a hint to what lies downriver.

Over the next few days the Tat doubles in size, then doubles again. Each side canyon holds an icy, gray stream that adds to the power of the river.

On the sixth day we camp just above the confluence with the Alsek. The mountains are hidden behind thick clouds and rain drizzles all night against the tents. But when we poke our heads out for breakfast the sun shines through, and we take the opportunity to dry our gear.

Feeling refreshed, we point the boats toward a small tree covered island in the middle of the confluence. A short hike brings us to the smooth rocky summit. The mountains circle us like the tenements of an icy castle, with the great moat of the Tatshenshini-Alsek inside the 5,000 foot walls. Everything around us seems to have sprung from this island, or perhaps everything is being drawn to it. Standing here, either seems possible. Near the top, an ancient petroglyph has been etched in the dark rock by a long forgotten hand. The circle with lines radiating out and a dot in the center seems to say, "you are here, this is the center of it all." The feeling is so strong that many have taken to calling this magical place the 'center of the universe'.

We are reluctant to leave the island, but the Tat holds still more surprises. Now called the Alsek, the river has become unbelievably big. With an average summer flow of 100,000 cubic feet/second, the Alsek is three times the size the Colorado in the Grand Canyon. Our boats that looked big at the put in now feel like toys on a river that is up to 2 miles across and moves at 8 to 10 miles an hour.

The anticipation builds as we near Alsek Lake, the Tat's last ace and the climax of the trip. Pulling over on a small beach, we make our way through a colorful field of Indian paintbrush to a low ridge. As we reach the top jaws drop, and for a moment the only sound is the sharp intake of breathe. Alsek Lake lies before us. A flotilla of icebergs, fantastically shaped and in all sizes, glitters in the sun. Across the lake, the glaciers that spawned this wondrous fleet lead up, up and up to the white peak of Mt. Fairweather, 15,000 feet above us.

The next day we paddle amongst the icebergs. Some are as large as city blocks and dwarf our tiny rafts. The highlight of the day comes when a large chunk of the glacier breaks off as we eat lunch near the toe. A sharp crack and waves spreading out across the lake announce to the world the birth of another burg, but we are the only ones here to welcome it. Joe Tonsmeire has been guiding on the Tatshenshini since 1979 and is still struck by Alsek Lake. "I have been guiding rivers for 30 years and this is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. It is simply beyond words."

The final night of the trip is spent on the shore of the lake. After dinner, we stand around the fire, telling the stories of the past ten days, reluctant to go to sleep. We all want to stay here just a little longer, to hold on to the magic and wonder of this place. The Tatshenshini has surpassed all expectations and proven to be truly the trip of a lifetime.

Wilkins was one of the first to fix the name City of Rocks to what was designated as City of Rocks National Preserve in 1988.