When I first started matching old photographs in Grand Canyon during the mid-1980s, people kept telling me I had to go see P.T. Reilly. I finally did, and my life is the better for it. P.T. Reilly took some of the best photographs of Grand Canyon, and he loaned me a considerable number to match. He also convinced me that he was a credible observer of natural conditions along the Colorado River, which eventually led me to talk to other pre-dam river runners, culminating in the Old Timer's Trip in 1994. When I was preparing my book on the Stanton photographs, I asked P.T. to contribute two short pieces on his experiences in Grand Canyon. Because of space limitations, only one, his story of searching for the site of the Hansbrough-Richards drownings, made it into the book. Susie Reilly has graciously allowed me to share the second one with you. It is particularly relevant in this time of experimental floods to read what water level P.T. thought was the best to run in Grand Canyon. — Bob Webb

I was fortunate that much of my river-running career occurred before the building of Glen Canyon Dam. This span, between 1947 and 1964, included the highest flows on the Colorado River since 1927. Rapids change considerably from low to high water and I feel fortunate to have experienced the high water that I did before Glen Canyon Dam provided a low, regulated discharge.
I began rowing for Norman Nevills in 1948, and I led my first party in 1953 and my last in 1964. I made additional trips as a guest in 1982 and 1984; the 1982 trip was my only one on an inflatable raft. During these years I made four runs when the flow exceeded 100,000 cfs — in 1949, 1952, 1957, and 1958. The highest flow since 1927 occurred on June 12, 1957, when the Lee's Ferry gage recorded 126,000 cfs. My party was the only oar-powered one in Marble Canyon when the flood peaked. That night we were camped on the left bank at mile 43.65 and the water came with a rush about 9 P.M. The flow had receded about a foot next morning. These instances cannot be experienced by today's traveler, so I will recall a few observations that are not likely to be repeated in our lifetimes.
Boating on high water in Marble and Grand Canyons was not always pleasant. High water effectively removes the better campsites and often the substitutes were little more than intermediate patches of sand widely scattered among the boulders. There were no beaches. Character change of rapids in exceptionally high water is amazing, but one has to witness the various rapids at such flows to appreciate this fact.
Badger Creek and Soap Creek Rapids are millponds at 118,000 cfs, but Boulder Narrows (mile 18.5) becomes a fearsome place. The huge midstream boulder is covered, but an impressive hole forms on the downstream side. We landed on the left and climbed up on that part of the broken boulder that remained along the left bank after the split. We saw large logs, oil drums, and other objects take the plunge. After an interminable period, some bobbed to the surface about 200 yards downstream, but others were not seen again.
The rapids at mile 24.5 and 24.9 generally hold their character from low to high water, but most of the major rapids become fast-water chutes with no waves. There was only a slick bulge over the midstream rock at President Harding Rapid (mile 43.7). Little Nankoweap and Nankoweap Rapids had a condition that I have never seen duplicated. There was a series of heavy laterals in the center and on the right at Little Nankoweap Rapid (mile 51.8). These rolling waves built up on a cycle of roughly ten seconds, then crashed together in the center. A large, broken lateral about 40 feet long then formed and traveled downstream before breaking to the right. It was accompanied by a whirlpool that could have been described by Edgar Allan Poe. It was the largest I have ever seen, approximately 25 to 30 feet in diameter with twisting, ringed sides. As I rowed furiously to get clear, a log about 8 to 10 inches in diameter by nearly 20 feet long was swept into the whirlpool within 50 feet of my boat It turned on end and the high end was drawn below the surface. I never did see the log surface as the current veered and I was able to land just below the mouth of Little Nankoweap Creek. Until I saw this monster, the largest whirlpool I had seen on the Colorado was 4 to 6 feet deep. The situation at Nankoweap Rapid (mile 52.2) also was strange; close to the right shore was a small rapid traveling upstream at about 15 miles per hour. It was very swift water and I estimated the waves as being about 3 to 4 feet from trough to crest.
There was little change in Kwagunt Rapid (mile 56) between low and high water. The heaviest water consisted of about 1,000 feet of 5-foot waves down the left-hand side. It was a mild ride that I rated a 3 on a scale of 1 to 10. The murky lagoon at the mouth of the Little Colorado River was about 200 feet wide and the island was completely covered. Ben Beamer's cabin was some 10 feet above the lagoon under an overhanging ledge of Tapeats Sandstone.
Lava Canyon Rapid (mile 65.5) was unbelievable. The waves were quite large, breaking from both sides in a great herringbone pattern. Near its head was a large lateral that I guessed was 10 feet high by 40 feet long, breaking parallel to the tongue. I took on two inches of water and rated the rapid at 7-1/2. An even wilder ride was encountered in a heavy rapid that began at mile 67.0 and extended nearly three-quarters of a mile downstream. The waves were about 10 feet high and breaking. As appeared to hold true in this high water, the main stem was weaving back and forth. The boatmen got a good workout as this ride extended from Espejo Creek past Comanche Creek. I looked back for the first time and saw one of the boats “walking on her tail.” I regret not having photographed this scene.

At the old Nevills camp on the left at the head of Tanner Rapid (mile 68.5) there was a minor rapid that I rated a 4. Running Tanner required maneuvering from one side to the other, and at its foot we banged into another rapid of similar intensity. There was little difference between the low- and high-water runs at Unkar Rapid (mile 72.6); all the heavy water was down the left at high water and it was easy to power down the right-hand side. At mile 75, there was a minor rapid that I rated at 4; then we landed on the left at the head of the real 75-Mile Rapid (mile 75.4). This rapid was normal except for some heavy broken water over the boulders on the fan. We ran the rapid with all hands and I rated it 5.
Hance Rapid (mile 76.8) was rough but runable. Both large rocks at the head were completely covered. Sockdologer and Grapevine Rapids were merely smooth, fast chutes. The largest rapid at high water between Hance Rapid and Bright Angel Creek was at mile 87.5 and I rated it a 4. The USGS river gagers were in the cable car taking their daily reading, and they said the river was running 103,200 cfs. We landed at the Bright Angel beach one hour and thirty-two minutes after leaving Hance, perhaps the fastest this leg has ever been covered by oars. It certainly was the fastest that I ever ran it.

Horn Creek, Granite, and Hermit Rapids appear to be major ones at any stage. I rated the first two at 7; Hermit rated an 8. The water at Boucher Rapid (mile 96.7) was running nearly over the fan. Tuna Creek, Agate, Turquoise, Sapphire, Ruby, and Serpentine Rapids were practically continuous. Waltenburg Rapid (mile 112.2) was completely filled in with no waves more than two-feet high, and the large mid-channel bedrock at the head of the rapid was covered, its presence indicated by a large hole and boil. At Royal Arch Creek (mile 116.6), we distinctly heard the rumble of rocks being rolled along the bottom. Specter Rapid (129.0) had a nasty twister that caused me to rate it at 6.
Dubendorff Rapid (mile 131.8) was very impressive at this stage. The water was backed into Galloway Canyon, then it drove diagonally across the fan into the main current. There was a large hole extending 40 feet across the approach with a continually breaking wave. We once again heard the dull rumble of boulders being rolled along the bottom, louder here than at Hermit or Royal Arch Creeks. It was a tough run and fully deserved a rating of 9. Granite Narrows (mile 135), was very impressive. The entire river in flood was compressed into a opening in the granite less than 60 feet wide. Boils and changing cross-currents constantly diffused the pattern and a person running oars had to be ready for anything. We made the passage with bumps and scrapes but without serious incident.
The pool into which Deer Creek Falls (mile 136.1) plunges was completely engulfed by the river and we rowed over the normally dry fan. There was an impressive hole about 10 feet deep by 40 feet long at 138-Mile Rapid that could easily trap an unwary boatman. Upset Rapid (mile 149.7) was only smooth, fast water. I timed us between known mile points to find we were going eight miles per hour.
Lava Falls Rapid (mile 179.3) is not as tough as it was before the 1955 flood poured down Prospect Wash. At that time, tons of black boulders washed from Prospect Creek into the rapid, filled in many holes, and gave the torrent a completely different character. It still is the toughest rapid on the river, but now Lava can be run in 16-foot dories at flows from 28,000 to 45,000 cfs. Below and above this discharge range, the rapid presents a different, ever-changing appearance. I have been fortunate to have seen Lava Falls from less than 10,000 to over 100,000 cfs, and it is difficult to believe it is the same place. After Lava Falls, any river trip seems to go flat.
However, there are a couple of places below Lava Falls that at certain stages of water present real hazards any boatman should avoid. The first is a rocky point projecting into the river at the foot of 205-Mile Rapid. The full force of the river bangs into the point, but an alert boatman can easily avoid it by rowing left. One of my boatmen got trapped here in 1955 and again in 1962. At mile 232.4, the river falls only six feet, yet 232-Mile Rapid has a major hazard for oar-powered boats at flows of less than 30,000 cfs. There is a sharp, snag-like needle into which the current drives right at the foot of the tailwaves. I have seen unwary boatmen driven into this needle, or upon it, at certain stages.
But I also experienced lower flows during the pre-dam days and some of those extremes can be repeated. Boating problems between the extremes are quite different and a capable boatman should be able to handle them all. In my opinion, our 1962 trip provided the best flow for river running that I ever encountered; from June 25 through July 14 we averaged 45,500 cfs per day. This water level was pure pleasure.
On May 12, 1964, my party was in camp below Whitmore Wash (mile 188.3) when an airplane pilot dropped us a note telling us that the gates of Glen Canyon Dam had been closed on May 11, 1964, and the flow had been reduced to 1,000 cfs. This had occurred the previous morning. The thoughtful pilot had added “Lees Ferry runoff this morning 9,000 cfs,” which enabled us to determine how rapidly the river was falling. We broke camp and re-embarked immediately, gaining another 12 miles before we camped and ate a cold supper. Up at daylight, and knowing that a tough day was ahead of us, we ate a good breakfast. On May 13 we rowed 39 miles in 11 hours 15 minutes, and camped at Separation Canyon (mile 239.6). This run included stops amounting to 2 hours 44 minutes, giving us an actual running time of 8 hours 31 minutes. An early start helped us reach Emery Falls (on Lake Mead at mile 274.3) before the search plane spotted us the following morning.

P. T. Reilly