The Crested Butte News Serving the Gunnison Valley since 1999
Dropping into the Twilight Zone
By Dawne Belloise
Chris Keogh left town on March 1 for a 23-day river trip, mostly down the Grand Canyon, but with a pre-run on Westwater, just over the Utah border. It would be his seventh float trip on the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon so he knew what to expect.
What he couldn’t know at the time was that during his three-and-a-half week adventure, the world would turn upside down, plagued with a pandemic. And with no communication he had no idea of the ensuing quarantine or the intensity and gravity of the situation when he reached the take-out site 23 days later.
Although his float group of 15 had a satellite phone for emergencies, Chris says, “Basically, you’re not in communication.”
For Chris, running the canyon takes on a spiritual quality. “I love it down there. I’ve done a total of 186 days and 2,000 miles total down the canyon. This group trip was 18 days and a total of 226 miles.”
At the end of the group float, Chris had gotten a separate permit to continue solo for an additional 54 miles down to Pearce Ferry, because it was easier from there to head to California, where he planned to visit his 98-year-old grandmother. Besides, he says, “I enjoy floating solo.”
He had left his group and pushed off the beach at 6 a.m. on March 21. “I could have spent another night in the canyon camping. I figured I could make it to the boat ramp at Pearce Ferry before or at dark. I paddled the last 60 miles of the canyon by myself for 25 hours in the dark, keeping track of my miles. I was averaging five miles an hour but I slowed down quite a bit when it got dark.”
Chris arrived at his final take-out at Pearce Ferry on March 22 at 10 p.m. He had arranged to have his vehicle brought to the take-out but when he arrived, it wasn’t there. It was already late and he was exhausted so he set up camp for the night.
The next morning, he walked a quarter mile up the road until he got at least minimal cell reception and could contact the shuttle company. “They had taken it somewhere else by mistake. It was 60 miles back up the river at Peach Springs where the group had taken out.”
The shuttle company would deliver his van later that evening, at 5 p.m. on March 23. Meanwhile, once Chris was within cell range, his phone was flooded with texts. He called his girlfriend, Crested Butte town manager Dara MacDonald, who told him that the world, including Crested Butte, was crazy and in quarantine. He learned that his grandmother had passed away while he was on the river. “I had time for reflection,” he says of the day spent waiting for the shuttle company.
Chris took a deep breath while waiting for his van. “The canyon is a magical experience so the next day you relive the experience. I hiked down to the big rapid, which was like approaching a tornado made of water from the top and I had never seen another rapid like that.” It gave him a bit of solace. He later learned Park Operations had closed the Grand Canyon two days after his group got off the river.
The van was delivered too late in the evening to drive for 12 hours straight to get home, so Chris pulled over in Dolores to sleep in his vehicle. He was back on the road by 8 o’clock the next morning, arriving to a fully locked-down Crested Butte at 1 p.m. on March 24. “I had an idea about what was going on but not the actual full extent of it. On the whole trip back it was just me and semi trucks on the road, driving through little towns where there were no people anywhere and no cars in store parking lots. It was a lot like The Stand. It was freaky.”
Dropping into Crested Butte, Chris felt that it looked a lot like mud season. “It looked like off-season after the mountain is closed, except the porch of the Brick would be full. There was definitely a shock factor. The reentry off the river is usually weird anyway but this reentry was weird to the tenth level, like the Twilight Zone. It’s been slowly sinking in. I came into the full swing of things. I’m physically fine. Mentally, I’m still riding the high from the Grand Canyon,” he says of the lingering effects of wilderness therapy.
“When you’re running the canyon, you’re living isolated with 16 people for up to 25 days and all you’re thinking about is keeping your boat upright and if you have enough food and water—basic survival,” he relays. “You’re not worried about your retirement account or what rumors are going around work about you. Everything just melts away down there.”
Chris says his family, Dara and her nine-year-old daughter Rye, are all healthy. Chris is in charge of Rye’s homeschooling. “Dara’s parents came to help while I was on the river but can’t leave now. They arrived March 2 and were supposed to fly out March 24, so I’m leery of bringing anything back to the house because her parents are high risk.”
Chris is trying to maintain relative normalcy and his Grand Canyon float has been a source of strength. “When you get off the canyon you’re on this amazing high, kind of like floating above everything. I’ve been able to take that to help me to remain calm through all the changes that are going on.”
