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| Contemplating her new world |
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| Snuggled up like big sister |
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| I remember all of these diapers (nappies)! |
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| Hanging out with Papa |
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| Big sister in action |
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| Little sister in action |
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| Getting the garden beds ready for another bumper year of veges. |
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| Fruit on Paloma's plum tree - hooray! |
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The upstream-most portion of the Dirty Devil River as it flows through Hanksville, UT on a cold late February morning as we head to the put-in.
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We managed to pack all our sampling and camping gear into our small rafts, canoes, and kayaks. "Corbicula "(The Brandenburdett vessel) became one of the sampling boats and primary gear hauler, as it could carry heavier loads.
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| The first day was long as the river channel was wide, braided and shallow. we drug our rafts almost as much as we rowed them. We camped that evening downstream of Hells Hole Canyon. The clouds began to build as night fell. |
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| The surrounding desert looked a little different in the morning. |
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| The snow fell heavy though out the day, however, it was so calm that the snow flakes slowly drifted down from the sky. |
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| A second wave of snow approaching from upstream. |
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| We saw more sun the following day as we rowed our rafts through deeper canyons. |
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| As Ayesha says "there is enough blue in the sky to make Jack a pair of trousers"! |
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| An evening hike revealed the vast desert that surrounded us. The Dirty Devil River flows through some of the most remote areas in Utah. |
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| The desert had signs of deer, big horn sheep, and mountain lion. Along the rivers edge is our camp (lower center) and folks huddled around the camp fire keeping warm and cooking. |
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| In the morning we woke to another blanket of snow. The temperatures we so low overnight that everything froze solid. I ended up urinating on my wader boots that morning so I could get them over my waders. |
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| There were plenty of interesting rock formations along the river, however most of the time it was all too big for a camera to capture. |
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| A view of Saw Tooth Ridge. The river flowed on either side of this towering rock formation. |
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| The junctions of large canyons made one wonder which course the river would take. |
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| The days went on, paddling down river... |
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| ...and stopping to capture fishes (although the sun was shining it never really got warm, as is evident from the garb). |
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| I found the first signs of spring up No Mans Canyon, a little patch of grass growing against the Sand stone cliffs. |
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| A typical evening, huddling around a campfire. In the morning it was a circle of wader boots around the campfire, a more sanitary option I suppose. |
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| The river continued to become more and more channelized as we moved downstream, punctuated by small rapids. |
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| Most were run successfully... |
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| ...and some were not. |
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| The best evening hike of the trip was up Happy Canyon. |
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| The slot canyon carved it way through the sandstone. Whole trees washed down by floods were wedged up in the cliffs, 50 feet above our heads |
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| Darkness and a desire to eat more dehydrated food sent us back to camp (note Mike for scale). |
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| The influence of Lake Powell slowed the current, although dragging rafts were still a daily occurrence. |
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| Although tens of thousands of meters were seined on the Dirty Devil River less than 100 fish were collected during our survey, some of the species captured included flannelmouth sucker, Catostomus latipinnis... |
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| ...and introduced sand shiner, Notropis stramineus. |
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| It was a stunning, vast, and reflective country that the Dirty Devil River flowed through. Next time I do it, I hope to be with my Brandenburdett clan. No work, more exploring, and Paloma and Imogen can do the boat dragging while Ayesha and I snap more pictures! |
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| The bun is cooked! |
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| Papa is smitten (again) |
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| First cuddles from her big sister |
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| Paloma is quite intrigued... |
