No shit, there we were. The Inner Gorge on
4,000–5,000 cfs in late October 1987. Glenn Rink had a rowing snout;
Jon Hirsh was in a Havasu; I was a passenger on probably my fifth Grand
Canyon trip. We had blown out the two rear ports in another Havasu on
the Mace Rock while running right in Horn Creek. After a night of repeated
curses from the boat-repair crew and within sight of Horn Creek's
tail waves, we moved downstream towards all those big rapids. And the
only one the crew was really worried about was Boucher.
That was the first time Boucher Rapid caught my attention, but it has
not been the last. Most guides I know think of Boucher in three terms:
first, you don't want to camp there; second, it usually is a wet
ride; and finally, that eddy on lower left seems to catch everything floating
downstream. What I think about Boucher is its significance in Grand Canyon
as an example of a seemingly benign rapid that once was fairly large,
and how a rapid can affect another upstream.
Common sense wouldn't cause most guides to point at Boucher as being
the site of one of the largest changes in a Grand Canyon rapid (Webb,
1996). After all, the rapid most people see is relatively wide and rocky
with few big waves. It wasn't always so. Boucher was consistently
rated as a reasonably difficult rapid (six–eight on the Grand Canyon
scale; Simmons and Gaskill, 1969) by pre-dam river runners. The drop was
thirteen feet in 1923, making it one of the larger drops in the Inner
Gorge. When Dock Marston polled pre-dam boatmen about the difficulty of
rapids, Boucher scored high on the list.
Boucher Rapid caught someone else's attention in the early 1950s.
Bob Rigg was a young man working for his brother Jim at Mexican Hat Expeditions.
On their annual summer trip through Grand Canyon, they noticed something
different at Boucher, stopped, and found the debris fan to be oozing mud.
They also noticed that the rapid, which already was formidable, was narrower
with a larger drop. We don't know how much narrower or larger because
no one measured it or wrote it down. The memory stuck with Rigg sufficiently
that when I asked him 43 years later about the biggest changes he could
remember in Grand Canyon, Bob remembered Boucher. He thought the year
it changed was either 1951 or 1952 (Melis and others, 1994).
The early 1950s debris flow inundated most of the debris fan, leaving
untouched a boulder terrace downstream from the mouth of the canyon. That
boulder terrace, indicative of a far-larger debris flow, caused my crew
to hike into Boucher Canyon and seek a date for the larger event. We found
a tree branch trapped among very large, slightly weathered boulders upstream
from the mouth. Radiocarbon dated to between ad 1436 and 1638, this debris
flow must have completely changed Boucher. We also noticed that a small
debris flow had occurred in 1984, unnoticed by river runners who had high-water
boating on their minds. All this led to our conclusion that Boucher Canyon
produces frequent debris flows.
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The reason Boucher Rapid scares few people
anymore is that large, nasty rapid downstream: Crystal. When the 1966
debris flow hit Crystal Rapid, it raised the water surface at the head
of the rapid a considerable amount (the drop through Crystal rapid increased
from seventeen to 30 feet), creating Lake Crystal. The head of Lake Crystal
is the toe of Boucher; in other words, the backup created by Crystal Rapid
has drowned out the tail waves of Boucher, reducing its drop and severity.
But this has been known for decades (Simmons and Gaskill, 1969).
What isn't known is what Boucher Rapid did to its nearest neighbor
upstream: Hermit. Other than a small debris flow in 1996 that, among other
things, really strengthened that fifth wave, Hermit hasn't been
changed by debris flows from Hermit Creek. We do know that a prehistoric
debris flow dammed the river here; the evidence is over there on the right
bank. In this sense, Hermit Rapid is in the same class as Lava Falls and
Tanner Creek rapids, all with a large, prehistoric debris flow. Hermit
is also in the same class as Boucher, because the 1951–1952 debris
flow drowned out Hermit's tail waves, making the rapid easier to
run, believe it or not.
In our language, we use the metaphor of a pebble thrown into a lake creating
ripples that extend radially, affecting a larger area. In Grand Canyon,
we should think of debris flows as having ripple effects upstream. So,
you might remind people of Lake Boucher as well as Lake Crystal and tell
the story of young Bob Rigg and the oozing mud on the debris fan. One
more thing: you might have wondered why some large canyons, such as Clear
Creek, do not have significant rapids. Look downstream, and you will see
Zoroaster Rapid, which drowns out “Clear Creek Rapid.” Trust
me, Clear Creek Rapid will rise again. So will Boucher.
Bob WebbMelis, T.S., Webb, R.H., Griffiths, P.G., and Wise, T.J., 1994,
Magnitude and Frequency Data for Historic Debris Flows in Grand Canyon
National Park and Vicinity, Arizona: U.S. Geological Survey Water Resources
Investigations Report 94–4214, 285 p.
Simmons, G.C., and Gaskill, D.L., 1969, River Runners' Guide to
the Canyons of the Green and Colorado Rivers, Volume III, Marble Gorge
and Grand Canyon: Flagstaff, Northland Press, 132 p.
Webb, R.H., 1996, Grand Canyon, a Century of Change: Tucson, University
of Arizona Press, 290 p.
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