Chasing The Dirty Devil

Chasing The Dirty Devil - by Ross Bernards

For years I’d been trying to paddle the Dirty Devil River—one of the most elusive rivers in the Utah desert. Tucked deep in canyon country, the Dirty Devil only flows for a brief window in early spring, usually no more than a month if it runs at all. Every year, something got in the way: work trips, no water, bad weather. It started to feel like my Moby Dick.

This spring looked like more of the same. But then a small weather window opened, and with flows around 130 CFS, we realized the lower 12 miles might just be runnable—as a day trip. Living in Fruita, Colorado meant we could theoretically drive three hours down, float the river, and drive three hours home. Ambitious? Absolutely. But doable.

So we went for it. My wife Lauren, our roommate Peter, and I hit the road in the dark, long before sunrise. By mid-morning we were scouting our takeout, pushing through tamarisk and assessing whether we could haul boats back up the steep, slickrock ledge above the river. After picking our way through a maze of thorny branches, I found a line down to the beach. We gave it the green light.

At the put-in, Lauren and I rigged the Nirvana Spraydecks while Peter dropped the car and biked back. We knew afternoon winds could make a long day feel endless, so our goal was to launch by noon. We pushed off at 11:45. Classic.

Right away, it was worth every bit of effort. The river coiled through the desert, framed by towering canyon walls on one side and high sand berms—left behind by the long-retreated waters of Lake Powell—on the other. Massive undercuts carved into the sandstone offered rare patches of shade, and in other places, the walls plunged hundreds of feet straight into the water. Spires, alcoves, red rock cathedrals—it was a dream.

And true to its name, the Dirty Devil lived up to the mess. Every time we stopped for lunch, to adjust gear, or just to stretch, we sank ankle-deep into sticky, sucking mud. I nearly lost my Crocs more than once. We had to communicate constantly, scanning the muddy shallows for hidden sandbars that could leave us high-centered and scooting our way back to deep water with an impromptu core workout.

After several hours of paddling, we spotted the Yellow Canyon Bridge towering 120 feet above the river—a signal we were nearing the final stretch. This section marks the beginning of the infamous mud chutes: deep, winding cuts through soft banks that, in some years, become nearly impassable. Fortunately, we didn’t need to go all the way through them, but we still had to be eagle-eyed. Tall vertical banks lined most of the stretch, with only a few small beaches offering any chance of escape. We scanned the shoreline closely and managed to spot our takeout just in time, landing clean and hauling up without issue.

The trip went off without a hitch. It was proof that with the right gear, some solid planning, and a little grit, even a big adventure like the Dirty Devil can be tackled in a day. You don’t always need weeks or perfect conditions—just the willingness to bite off a smaller piece. And sure, I’m still hungry for the full Dirty Devil experience. But for now, this one-day desert river mission was more than enough.

For more adventures from Ross follow him along his journeys on Instragram.