BOULDER COUNTY - The small raging river known as South Boulder Creek has carved a spectacular and remote canyon that has somehow managed to partially survive in this over-mechanized world.

This steep and very rugged gorge provides a stunning refuge from the great cities that encroach upon it. And the river that carved it has a very interesting history that is changing at this very moment.

The first Europeans to explore its depths were most likely trappers. The high demand for hats made out of beaver pelts provided a good source of income for these early adventurers. They left very little impact and must have enjoyed the solitude and beauty of this once pristine canyon.

But this precious moment was not to last. Next came the miners, who were trying to escape poverty and dreamed of finding riches in this new mecca. The pristine canyon was defenseless and easily exploited.

The railroads were the first mechanized transport, and the steep canyons provided the easiest path to the newfound riches. Labor was cheap, and the struggling peasants who were desperately trying to survive willingly followed the orders of the elite “gentlemen” and carved a railroad track up the pristine gorge.

They had the knowledge of dynamite in their power, and quickly carved a railroad track without any regard to what was happening to the local stream that had patiently carved this remote ravine.

Most of the canyon was rarely traveled, so the damage done to the stream didn’t really emerge till the 1980s when an adventurous group of paddlers decided to challenge the as-yet unpaddled gorge.

The group consisted of three young men from Boulder. John Jaycox was the brave lad who organized the trip.

John was a proud remnant of the beatnik era, and he was one of the first extreme kayakers on the Front Range. He drove an old Volvo wagon that he personally maintained, and he paddled a fiberglass kayak that he had designed and built.

His paddle was a classic old wooden stick that one of his many West Virginia friends had built. His life jacket, helmet, and jacket completed his unique wardrobe. 

The second member was a classic young renegade named Jim Haywood. He had also built his own boat and was fearless enough to paddle it in the style of a canoe.

The boat that he chose was what is known as  a C-1. The term has evolved from whitewater racing, but the boat is very similar to a kayak. The only real difference is the seat, which has been replaced by a cushion that allows the paddler to kneel.

Most C-1ers have evolved from canoers, so they prefer this stance and use a single-bladed, canoe-style paddle. I personally find this style of boating much less comfortable and more difficult, but they do have the advantage of a better view downstream and a longer paddle stroke. 

The third and final member of the team was a newbie on the Front Range: me. I had been introduced to this motley crew by one of my old Aspen buddies. Birds of a feather flock together, and I quickly adapted to this new terrain.

John had been thinking about this section of river for quite some time but had been patiently waiting for the right crew.  After a few other rivers and some further thought he revealed his plan to Jim and me at a local party.

“Hey guys! There is a very challenging section of river right here in our back yard that has probably never been run. It’s South Boulder Creek above Gross Reservoir, and I’d like to give it a try. I have scouted a bit of it from the tracks, and it looks challenging, but doable. There is a railroad track next to most of it, so it will be possible to escape, if it’s too scary.”

I had just recently moved to the Front Range, and the thought of a new adventure was impossible to turn down.

The end of the intended journey was an ugly man-made storage pond called Gross Reservoir, so the plan was to meet there, and drive one car to Pinecliffe. John and Jim were right on time, and we quickly loaded all the gear onto the trusty old Volvo.

The excitement of a new adventure, and the apprehension of going where no boaters had ever gone, gave us an early rush of adrenaline, so we quickly donned all our gear and headed down the railroad track toward our destiny.

A bit of easy water gave us a chance to warm up, but the first rapid started out with a bang. This rapid was very challenging, and the scrap railroad ties that the railroad company had lazily dropped added an even bigger challenge to the maelstrom. A careful scout revealed a reasonable line with a short portage, and the next section looked a bit easier.

The intensity of the river eased, but only for a bit, and the next horizon line drop found us scurrying back to the shore.  Another careful scout revealed a drop that looked extremely dangerous.

A large chunk of blasted rock was blocking the main channel and looked like an easy place to get pinned. A short portage and some very exciting whitewater allowed us to gain another few hundred yards of stream. That rapid is now known as the Gash, and was the scene of a fatal accident about 20 years ago.

A bit of challenging and somewhat boney Class IV allowed for some fun paddling, but another blind drop found us rushing back to the safe bank. The first bit (now known as S-Turn) almost looked tempting, but what was next kept us on the friendly shore.

“That drop looks horrendous, and I don’t even see a place where I want to put in again,” John exclaimed. 

“That eddie way down there looks friendly enough, and it looks like the next section eases a little bit,” Jim replied, and we all agreed.

The steep scree banks made the portage very arduous, and we were very thankful for the railroad track.

The next section pushed us all to our limits, but we managed to traverse a few hundred more yards of the canyon. The scenery was truly stunning, and it was hard to imagine that we were only a few miles from the sprawling city. The run was steeper than anything we had ever run, and the sharp blasted rocks were a big hazard, but we managed to survive and soon reached the lake.

“Wow! I’m glad this is a short run!” John exclaimed, as the adrenaline-stoked trio celebrated with a cold beer.

New-age teams of highly-skilled boaters with plastic boats soon pushed the limits and have run everything except one horrendous 40-foot drop. The availability of stolen water from the western slope has made it a very popular run, but the hazards of an extreme run with sharp blasted rocks still remain.

One of my best friends met his fate there when he was pinned under water by a large chunk of blasted rocks that was probably a product of the railroad. We can only imagine what a great run that the natural stream bed should have been, and cherish what is left.

The new enlarged dam will shorten the run even further, but the added flow will challenge extreme paddlers even more.