Rio Claro

The Rio Claro runs clear and cold, streaming off the flanks of snow covered peaks surrounding the canyon. Perched high in the mountains, away from prying industrialization, the small Parque Radal Siete Tazas protects the precious Claro, and its maze of twisting gorges. The Rio Claro is truly an amazing place, and lived up to everything I had heard. The crystal clear water, and clean drops make for a unique river experience unlike anything I had seen before. With sections suitable to a range of abilities, it was the ideal location for our group to spend several days camping, and enjoying the great weather.

"Oh ****!" The first thought to pass through my brain, as I watch, as if in slow motion, our borrowed Jefe Grande slip from its precarious perch and fall, careening off the cliff, into the pool below. We had been lining boats across at the take-out of the Siete Tazas, and growing careless near the end of the seven boat string, had attempted to stack two boats on top of each other while roping the one remaining across the slick rock. This, as we found out all too soon, was quite a mistake, as the Jefe squirted out from under Frenchy's boat like a stick o' butter. At the far end of the pool was a particularly heinous looking rapid, made up of a six foot ledge dropping into a wall that looked like it could very well work you until another earthquake either dewatered the river once more, or else swallowed you whole and spit you out in China. Without having time think, I buckled my helmet, and followed Orion who was already mid leap off the canyon wall, and into the water below. We managed to snag the boat, and clinging onto the cliff for support, we hacked out a plan. It turned out that Orion had a breakdown paddle stashed in that boat, and with a little finesse, we were able to get it out of the back, drain some of the water from the boat, and I scurried up the stern, and into the seat. With Orion holding on to the stern, and me paddling for dear life, we made it to the opposite shore and pulled the boat into a small nook in the rock. After a few more minutes of sporty free climbing out of the gorge, I made it out, no worse for wear. Much to my surprise, The rest of the group was waiting at the top of the cliff with a triple backed up equalizing anchor in place, and a prussik loop ready to roll onto the 2-1 system they had in place. Talk about being prepared. These guys were A+ dirtbag rescue team. All it took from there was a quick minute of pulling, and Orion, complete with our deviant Jefe were back in action.

We had a relatively juicy flow during our time at the Rio Claro, which made the boofs nice and cushy, without the threat of man-eating holes lurking around every turn.

Nice photo by Orion Meredith of Gabriel styling the second to last drop in the Siete Tazas.

This is the first drop below put-in on the 22 Saltos, and really sets the tone for the run, Just plain FUN. The first day that we paddled this section, we had about 12 people, most of which had never been on the run, and some of whom had never been creeking before. Needless to say, it was a rather sporty day, but without any serious carnage.

Another great photo from Orion Meredith.

Orion Meredith on the silky smooth entrance to the 22 Saltos.

Rosalynn Belden running the first drop of the Siete Tazas.

Orion looking fresher than a spring chicken, and getting ready to cash in some international sky miles.

Rosalynn getting a crash course in boofing.

Here we are, just as happy as can be, at the take-out for Siete Tazas. This is the spot where our unfortunate kayak companion decided to play humpty-dumpty, and take a great fall, prompting a speedy dirtbag rescue.

Ah yes. The token booty beer shot. And not without a good story to back it either. But before we get started on that, I just want to draw attention to the perfect form with which these two are downing their hard earned beverage. Orion's story begins just earlier this same day, after a nice jaunt down through the 22 Saltos with Gabriel and Myself. Gabriel had dropped into the Entre Saltos the day before, and been forced to hike out at the Garganta del Diablo (Twirly Bird Slide) due to the fact that no one had a break down paddle. After that, he was very keen on going back into the gorge, this time prepared for anything. Finding the gate to the take out locked, we had a momentary setback in plans, but decided to drop in anyways, having found another potential exit further downstream. Feeling good after the 22 Saltos, we carried on into the Entre Saltos, made a few quick portages on the shores of the campground that borders the creek, and headed for the goods.

Gabriel, having run the portion above the Twirly Bird the previous day was able to route us into the first rapids without too much trouble, or so we thought. Above a longer looking rapid with a sneaky little entrance, we were informed that this had been the location of a swim the previous day by one of the group. Apparently, the bottom hole was quite retentive, and as Gabriel was struggling to free himself from the boil, Isidro had come swimming past, from somewhere upstream. It had ended without incident, but just the same, Gabriel wanted us to know, so as to be on good form. A few fist bumps later, we were off, Gabriel in the lead, me following, and Orion bringing up the rear.

The beta we had was simple, boof the crack and charge left. Once you got left, keep going left, and get your nose up. I made the move, and ended up high and dry at the bottom of the rapid, which was much larger than expected, and caught the eddy, thinking Orion would be hot on my heels. Looking upstream, we could just see the tips of paddle blades spasming through the air. Pretty soon, I was out of my boat, scrambling upstream as Orion's paddle came cruising into the hole at the bottom, where it wold stay for about 15 minutes, spinning carelessly in the backed up hydraulic. Once I made it to where I could see the top drop, Orion was standing in ankle deep water near shore, looking less than fresh, and his boat was still doing ends in a sort of hole-cave-undercut-boil thing.

Once all was said and done, it took some creative rope work, and feisty little hip belay, and all three of us present to pull the boat out of its gurgling trap. Surprisingly, the boat was not at all damaged, still had its outfitting intact and Orion's camera was safe and dry. Having had enough adventure for one day, we elected to hike back to camp, tails tucked between our legs. Much to our chagrin, it turned out we had not even made it past the furthest downstream camps in the park area, and after a few minutes the girls turned up with the truck, having heard of our misadventure from Gabriel. The booty beers turned into Pisco sours, and by the end of the night we were all laughing around the fire about swims and past carnage.

Meredith Family Portrait. There is still some debate over whether or not Emily can boof bigger than her bro, but it is clear from this instant replay freeze frame, that Orion has the upper hand on the vertical paddle strokes.

Until next time....

Buenas Lineas.