Old abandoned stock trails and mining trails have always had their allure for me. For the last few years I’d been considering an old stock trail that stretches across the Book Cliffs and the Tavaputs. Particularly I was interested in one of the original trails into Range Creek- starting at Woodside, following the Price River, ascending to Joe Spring, down Turtle Canyon, and into Range Creek. From Range Creek the trail continues up and over the Last Chance Benches down into Desolation Canyon, traveling upstream to Steer Ridge, and finally climbing up the ridge to the Tavaputs. A July trip into Range Creek gave me a prime opportunity to scout part of the route and assess the difficulty.
At the Wilcox Ranch I spent a bunch of time talking to Corinne who had ridden the trail over and into Deso several time. Her report: beautiful country, but hot, dry, and desolate.
Perfect.
The next morning I set off- my goal: Wire Fence Rapid on the Green- only seven or eight miles distant. As soon as I left I knew I wasn’t carrying enough water, but I stubbornly refused to hike the short distance back for another water bottle. Instead I carried on down the road passing the crumbling Wing(?) cabin and the deer fly infested, weed swept, fields. I hopped across the river and started the climb up to the Last Chance Benches.
The climb out of Range took longer than I’d expected as I zig-zagged my way up steep slopes hoping to catch an earthen mention of the old trail. Nothing. Cresting the hill I found a historic can (on the right track?) and a gradual descent into increasingly fascinating country. I did my best to follow the logical path and the USGS plot- hugging ridgeline toes and round the tops of deep draws. Eventually my work paid off and I caught a section of clearly worked trail- trail that Corrine reports was built by heavy equipment doing seismic work in the 80’s.
The next mile of largely constructed trail was still rough but passed quickly. I caught an old fenceline that Corinne figured was about a halfway mark and checked my water- finding plenty and feeling secure as the hard part was over. Or so I thought. Distance made the descent into Wire Fence look sublime- rolling grass fields interspersed with PJ- I might even run it. But instead, the next few miles into Wire Fence Canyon were difficult- no longer following a constructed trail I found myself descending and climbing side-draws, skirting pour-offs, and shirking the increasing heat. An hour later, and just under three hours in, I got off-track and found a fantastic perch above the Three Fords Rapid to watch the boats being drawn downstream…. but no boats came… and I decided to crank out the final round-about mile to Wire Fence.
Finally I scrawled my way down Wire Fence Canyon and onto the shore of the mighty Green, flowing with the passionate results of a deep winter and warming summer. The river seemed to groan with its own weight, depressing the surrounding landscape, overflowing its bounds. I crashed beside a scouting boulder beside Wire Fence Rapid and cooled my feet in the river. Temps in the triple digits, feet in the cool river. I lounged, waiting for a boat to pass. Instead I heard a rustle behind me, spied a rafter out to scout the rapid, gave a wave and sunk back into the river. I’m sure I was an odd sight- no boat, no comrades, just lazing beside the river. He disappeared and fifteen minutes later I watched as a quick parade of boats poked through the rapid. One boat waved and suddenly I wished I’d begged a ride or at least a bottle of water.
I checked my water again- a quart left was all. I filled an extra bottle with river water and moved back to the desert- feeling like I was turning my back on the river and life itself. The climb back out of Wire Fence Canyon was hot, dry, and a bit disconcerting with my slow progress. Three miles in I decided to drop into Three Fords Canyon in hopes of better walking. The area was stunningly beautiful and I was surprised to find running water but declined to drink in fear of bugs. A mile further I climbed back out, regained the incoming trail and found my way back to the mid-point fence. Long since waterless I considered my options- string it out or drink the river water. A half quart later I felt better and found myself back on the bulldozer cut trail and hopes of a speedy return. A dry and dusty hour later I surfaced back in Range Creek near the Wing cabin, quickly submerging myself in the creek where I remained as my body temperature finally dropped.
Overall it was a great hike- easily the most remote I’ve felt in a long time. I saw some fascinating country, saw the Green at near its peak, and crossed a stock trail that has rarely been traveled in the last 40 years and even more rarely (if ever) on foot. The hike reconfirmed my dormant love for the Tavaputs and Desolation Canyon areas and I can’t wait to string the entire hike together.
