A single photo from an old Belknap guidebook is responsible for securing my determination of rafting through the Uinta Basin. To be sure, most river runners look elsewhere on the Green River to spend their days floating. There’s no whitewater on this section, no slot canyon side-hikes, no escape from the hot sun or roaming wind. In fact, the Uinta can be characterized in many ways by what it lacks. There’s no permit required, no established river campsites and virtually no competition for space along the corridors of cottonwoods. If anything is in abundance down this forsaken stretch of the Green, it’s the vastness, the broad and full land. What else can be found down 103 miles of outcast river? Well…
The Uinta Basin covers nearly 15,000 square miles, an area considerably larger than Vermont, of clay soil and scrub desert. It rests below the mountains of the Uinta range to the north and the gradual rise of the Tavaputs plateau to the south. One thing the Uinta Basin is known for is energy. One third of the world’s oil shale deposits are here, organic remnants of ancient lake. Thousands of people frequent the region to visit the iconic river sections of Dinosaur National Monument and Desolation Canyon but very few realize the opportunity the Uinta Basin presents: next to no one does it. A prized quality of modern recreation.
River recreation has grown into a major economic force from it’s origins, but it’s also part of our Western heritage. While the experience has advanced from survival to pleasure, today a person can still have a similar experience as those who did it 100 years ago. The intimidation and excitement from large rapids, getting rained on, getting hungry. Gaining a sense of rhythm from the raw nature of Earth. These rivers of the Colorado Basin have become an intrinsic part of our identity and the opportunity to see and travel hundreds of contiguous miles downstream is a learning experience without equal. One that should be recognized and protected. The next generation of river runners need not only look to the Grand Canyon for that expedition feel, but also to the Green for that special kind of adventure only found on rivers.
A day boating through the Uinta can stretch into no concept of time. Soon after the sun begins to climb the open sky, heat pours over the day. Rounding a bend, the river can reveal miles of cottonwoods parading down the banks. These jungles broadcast layers upon layers of bird song that rise and fall. The river of many wings. Beyond the trees is the drone and clamor of industry, often seen and heard but not oppressive, yet. Camp is best found on a clean mid-channel sandbar. No need to unload much more than a table and toilet, perhaps a chair to sit and enjoy the cool, sacred evening light. In that moment it might occur that here, in the Uinta, the Green River takes on new character, a nature all its own, a wilderness of sorts. Perhaps brought on by the absurd notion, that it’s just not worth doing.
In 1968, arguing for the passage of the Wild and Scenic Rivers Act, Idaho senator Frank Church said, “Although often measureless in commercial terms, the values and heritage of America’s rivers must be preserved to guarantee some semblance of indigenous beauty”. Somehow, surrounded by development and fallen from public view, the Green River in the Uinta Basin has held it’s own ground in this regard. A trip down here feels more “on your own”, more removed and remote, the world left a bigger place.
One day, not far from where the White river joins the Green, a familiar landmark suddenly appeared, I didn’t bother to get out my old Belknap guidebook and compare. I know the image by heart. If your like me, you dream of days on the river. You celebrate the release of winter snow and seeing the action of time at work. It’s one of the many cycles that attach us to the places we call home. It’s our heritage and what better thing to pass on.
What can be found beyond the boat ramp of the Uinta? Big views my friends, big views.
