Rio Grande Road Trip

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fieldandstream-admin — Mon, 29 Nov 2010 15:52:46 -0500

Riding the Rio Grande, Day Ten: Camping with Tarantulas

Online Editors — Fri, 07 Jan 2011 12:05:53 -0500

NM: 10/2, 8:00 AM
Mariscal Canyon, Big Bend National Park, morning light.

We camped last night on a flat sandbank on the Texas side of the river. Tim and I find a trail up a break in the walls that leads to the top of the cliff. We step out onto an overhanging rock on the rim and can see deep into the canyon we ran last night. There are vultures soaring below us, riding updrafts along the cliff walls.

Today we only have a six-mile float from where we’re camped now to the pullout, where we parked Dad’s bike yesterday afternoon. Once we get there we’ll have to run 70 miles of shuttle up and down rough trail to get both bikes and the truck to our camp for the night, but compared to the distances we’ve been covering lately it feels like we get to take it easy.

BM: 8:15 AM
Woke to canyon wren song this morning. Nice.

Tim and Nate waving from rimrock. Love the cactus– prickly pear? -- growing in clumps in different places. The vastness of this desert landscape is amazing -- muted colors, shadings, layers of shadows, layers of geology, of meaning.

Fun to watch Nate goof with Tim. They’re good friends as well as contractor/employer. Mutual respect. Nate’s checking to be sure Tim gets what he needs RE shots, lighting. Be interesting to see how it will all work out in the writing.

NM: 10:00 AM
We start the day’s float. There are big yellow wasps flying everywhere. Not aggressive, but they are drawn to the colors of our gear and crawl into our cups and bottles while we’re eating breakfast. Neat-looking bugs, but Tim hates them. He’s got a thing about bees, can’t help ducking and swatting whenever one flies by. No wonder he gets stung so often. I’m feeling evil, so I tell him I think they’re the kind that stings tarantulas, paralyzing them so that their larvae can live off fresh meat.

NM: 12:00 PM
Drifting, spinning lazy circles down the canyon, leaning back on the boat and staring up at the walls of the canyon. Dad’s only paddling to keep us from scraping the sheer, scoured walls of limestone and basalt.

There are lots of birds down here. Kingbirds, canyon wrens, vultures, and a flock of cinnamon teal we keep jumping as we make our way downstream. Tim spots an audad on the Mexico side – a wild-looking sheep native to Morocco, I think. Must have been released by some game farm or another over there.

We tried to fish last night for a few hours, and then again this morning, early, but couldn’t put much heart in it. The water was so high and so dirty. We were hoping for catfish, but park regs ban natural bait. Tried threading chunks of spam onto our hooks and chumming with bits of Vienna sausage instead. Not even a nibble.

BM: 1:30 PM
It’s getting hotter. We’ve drifted out of the canyon and without the walls’ shade the sun makes clear we’re deep in the desert. Got to keep our eyes peeled for the pullout. We marked it with a rock cairn flagged with a big tuft of reed, but if we miss it it’s another 20 miles, unprovisioned, until the next place to stop.

NM: 2:00 PM
We spotted the pullout a half hour ago and pulled the boats up onto the bank. Tim and Dad start unpacking them while I run the shuttle on Dad’s bike. I left my boots in the truck when we dropped in at the head of the canyon, so I have to ride in sandals. Makes for a sketchy trip, with cactus lining the trial and the front tire throwing out rocks. I stock up on water and take it easy – this is real desert, a bad place to ditch solo in sandals. Spook lots of lizards on the ride, plus a couple of jackrabbits and three big roadrunners that pace me for a few yards before darting off into the thorny scrub.

I get to the truck, leave the bike, then drive back to pick up Tim and Dad, who pile in as soon as I arrive so we can go back again to pick up the bikes. Fortunately, Dad’s riding very well now. He’s stopped looking down at the obstacles he’s crossing and is looking ahead instead, picking out the lines he needs to follow. He pumps his fist every time he crosses a rough spot. Great to see the confidence.

BM: 7:00 PM
Was quite worried about the last leg of the shuttle on the motorcycle this afternoon. Lots of loose sand and gravel – been my nemesis so far and accounts for two or three of my bifffs. But, I think I’m getting better. Made the 17 miles or so without a hitch. Only a couple of truly scary moments, quickly controlled. I was elated and grateful.

Now I’m in my tent listening to Nate and Tim “critter hunting” – they’re looking for tarantulas and scorpions in the dark, scaring each other, giggling like little boys.

NM: 9:00 PM
Dad does the dishes and leaves us a bit of hot water to wash our faces with. Then he goes to bed, or at least spends an hour or so listening to Tim and me hunting bugs in the dark.

Walking through a wild desert with no light but a headlamp gives you a new perspective on the landscape. During the day you’re distracted by the big picture, the scope and the newness of the view. But at night you can’t see anything but what’s in the width of your beam. It makes you pay attention to the little things at your feet.

There’s a lot down there. The sand is pocked with tiny burrows, a spider or a scorpion hiding in all of them. Their eyes sparkle like diamonds in the light.

Tim and I find a huge tarantula in one of them and I tease it out by tapping in front of its hole with a twig. We spend a half hour taking its picture, then another shooting a walking stick and a couple of scorpions before finally turning in for the night.

Tomorrow we go to Amistad. Long day on the road, part one of a two-day ride to get to Falcon Reservoir, where a guide I found on the Internet will take us out for largemouth. Here’s hoping we’ll finally get into fish when we arrive.

Riding the Rio Grande, Day Nine: Rapids in the Dark

Online Editors — Thu, 30 Dec 2010 14:15:09 -0500

NM: 10/1, 6:30 AM
Woke up this morning in another beautiful campsite, just 100 yards from Mexico and 30 miles or so from the western edge of Big Bend National Park. Everyone’s dragging a bit, so we fire up our stoves and brew some java. Tim’s sitting at a picnic table and nursing a cup. “God, coffee. Work!” he says.

Our goal over the next two days is to reach and then paddle a stretch of the Rio Grande that flows through 1800-foot deep Mariscal Canyon, which is supposedly the most beautiful canyon in Big Bend. The float is not very long, only 11 miles, and we’ll be splitting it up over two days, but there’s only one place to camp in the canyon, about halfway through the float. Dropping in at the put-in with enough light left to reach it will be critical.

Our route today takes us clear across the park, then up a 4-wheel-drive trail that follows the river deep into the backcountry. About 12 miles up this trail we’ll hit the pullout for the Mariscal float. The plan is to drop Dad’s bike off there so we can use it as a shuttle vehicle tomorrow. Dad will then hop in the truck with Tim and we’ll continue an additional 17 miles up the trail to the put-in at the head of the canyon. From there we have unload the boats, pack up our gear, then paddle to our campsite before it gets too dark to recognize. If we overshoot we’ll have to keep on going to the pull-out, because there’s nothing but sheer cliff on either side. Should be an interesting day.

BM: 9:30 AM
Fabulous ride this morning from our campsite down TX 170 and into the park. Beautiful winding roads, river and mountain views, great morning light. We passed a Mustang rally – hundreds of them zooming head-on towards us around the curves. I’m finally starting to understand the rush Nate’s been telling me he gets from riding this stuff. Leaning into those turns, trusting the bike to pull you through. Feels like I’m starting to get the hang of this motorcycle thing.

We stop in Terlingua, a tiny tourist town on western edge of the park, and we all have migas for breakfast at the Los Jalapenos café. Funky town, in a western hippie border sort of way. Home of the World Chili Championship. There’s a store attached to the café, and Tim asks the lady at the counter how she wound up there. “Well,” she says, “ I lived in an ambulance for a while, and followed a lot of Greatful Dead shows .…” She trails off, and we leave it at that.

NM: 10:00 AM
Feeling nervous about the float today. We heard reports in Terlingua of very high water levels. Supposed to be one difficult class III near the middle of the canyon called the “Tight Squeeze.” The rafting companies we talk to won’t tell us it’s ok to float it in an open boat, but they won’t tell us not to, either. Probably just covering their asses.

Still, I’m glad Dad’s along on this trip. He used to race kayaks back when he was my age, before I was born. Would travel up and down the east coast on weekends, trying to gain enough rank to make the Olympic qualifiers. I’m a pretty good paddler, but he’s seriously skilled, and I feel a lot more confident with him in the stern.

BM: 4:00 PM
We reach the 4-wheel trail around 2. It’s really hot. Not so much humid, sweaty hot, but downright oven-hot. Got to drink lots. Hitting high 90s, over 100. The trail is gnarly, lots of loose sand and gravel trying to grab at my tires. Riding in the stuff takes it out of you.
It takes us two hours to make it roughly 30 miles up the trail to the put-in. Right now we’re taking a quick breather before packing up the boats and pushing off into the river, but we don’t have much time to rest. The sun is dropping fast.

NM: 5:00 PM
Finally floating the canyon. What an amazing place this is. Dad and I are eddied out at the base of a huge cliff that’s pocked with golfball-sized divots worn into the rock by circling currents of sand. I’ve got my paddle handle wedged into one of them and it’s holding us against the wall while we wait for Tim to catch up.

The river is corking high. Chocolate brown and fast. Not much room for error in these powerful currents. Even Tim is having nervous moments in his little one-man raft. “Those eddies are pushy,” he says after he drifts down to where we’re waiting. “This boat doesn’t have the surface area it takes to fight them. If I leave an oar in the water in the wrong spot this thing will flip in a second.”

It’s also starting to get dark. The canyon is so deep that light leaves the bottom very quickly. There’s still some sun coming down from where its hitting the walls of the canyon above us, so we’ll be able to paddle for a while longer, but we can hear the bats nesting in the cliff chittering, getting ready for their evening feed. Not sure how much further it is to the campsite but we’ll need to push hard to reach it if we’re going to get there before it’s completely black down here.

BM: 8:00 PM
Had to paddle the last half-hour of the float in near pitch dark, with nothing but a gap of sunset at the top of the canyon and the light from our headlamps to pick our way through the darkness at the bottom. We hit the Tight Squeeze with just enough visibility to scout it, then it was pretty much lights out. Fortunately the rapid was not so bad. Straight shot, if a little wet, then stay on the left edge of the current to avoid getting pinned against a cliff. Pretty simple, really -- even in the dark it wasn’t much of a problem. What was more scary was finding the campsite after. But we do, and despite Tim spooking a rattler on the bank as we pull up our boats are able to set up our tents and make dinner without accident.

Now Nate and Tim are heading down to the river to wash the dishes and see if they can catch a fish. Seems a little futile in this high water, so I’m turning in. We’ve got the second half of our float tomorrow, then we have to run the shuttle to pick up the truck and the other bike from the put-in. Gonna need the rest.

Riding the Rio Grande, Days Seven and Eight: Rattlesnake Flats

Online Editors — Thu, 23 Dec 2010 10:00:35 -0500

NM: 9/29, 9:00 AM
We’ve got two days of nothing but riding ahead of us. Going to be our longest stretch to date. Grueling heat, bright sun, not much room in the schedule for rest. Have to reach Big Bend National Park, near the southernmost point along the Texas border, by tomorrow evening. We plan to do another two-day float there in our canoe, and I want to camp close to the put-in so we have time to complete it safely. Don’t want to run any rapids in the dark.

BM: 9/29, 2:00 PM
Stayed last night in a motel in Albuquerque. Much needed rest in a bed. Long day planned. I start out feeling good, but there’s tough traffic on I-25 out of town. Windy, drafty from other vehicles. Red semi on my tail. I admit to flipping him off. The speed limit is 75 and we hit 80 a lot. Passed a big sign earlier, read “Dust Storms Exist.”

My bike skills kind of suck. Hard to work that friction zone to keep from stalling. Need to trust that the bike will follow my head and to look up. It’s the slow speed stuff that’s the killer.

NM: 9/29, 3:30 PM
Dad rides too slowly when entering the highway off the on ramps. When we first hit I-25 in Albuquerque he cut right in front of a massive red semi doing 80 in the slow lane. Driver goes nuts, starts tailgating him. Dad’s oblivious, has no idea why. Flips him off. Yikes. His bike looks really small in front of that rig. I have to remind myself regularly to look at the road ahead. Spending too much time watching him in my mirrors.

BM: 9/29, 4:30 PM
On Route 1, paralleling the highway north of Truth or Consequences. We’re taking a break from the monotony of the Interstate. Nice road. Lots of curves. More stuff to see. Including this huge, 6-plus foot rattlesnake stretched out in the middle of the road. Nate was in front of me, blew by it without slowing down. It struck at him as he went by, but of course he was doing 80 and it missed him by a mile. Which left me with a thoroughly pissed rattler right in my path. I swerved and missed him, somehow. Nate said later he’d thought it was a piece of truck tire.

NM: 9/29, 9:45 PM
We left the highway for good at the town of Hatch. Unusual town. Full of weird statuary, red chiles drying on rooftops, and tons of agriculture – chile farms, pecan groves - fed by irrigation from the river. After riding all day through the high, dry central New Mexico desert the water rising from the fields made the evening air smell and feel wonderful. Wanted to ride with the faceshield open to enjoy it but there were too many bugs hatching from the river and the irrigation canals along the road, stinging my eyes and getting into my teeth.

We pushed southeast out of Hatch through the Rincon Valley as the sun set, hoping to camp in the town of Radium Springs, but by the time we arrived at the campground we’d planned to stay at it was closed for the night. Only other place in town was an RV park nearby, but the old lady who answered the office door took one look at our bikes and told us to take a hike, then let her dog out to reinforce the point. Guess we looked pretty shady after a long day on the highway. We’re crashing now at a hotel in Las Cruces instead. Early start tomorrow – still have a long way to go to get to Big Bend.

BM: 9/30, 9:00 AM
Up at 5:30, on the road by 6:00 at first dawn glow. Launched into heavy traffic which lasted until I-10 split and we headed east toward El Paso and the rising sun. Almost immediately we hit construction. Down to one lane. Still going 60. Suddenly my bike gets squirrely. At first I think it’s the road but almost immediately know that’s not it. I start to ease to the right to get on the shoulder and all hell breaks loose. Rear end skidding one way, then back. I realize the tire is going flat, fast. Still going 40 – I was sure I was about to get crunched. But, somehow, I made it upright to the shoulder, got the bike stopped, and sat there a minute with my hands on my head, just breathing, and being grateful it was breathing I could do.

Tim was right behind me, filming me ride into the sunrise. Thankfully he looked up in time to see the bike kick out and was able to slow and stop. He later said that when he saw me upright he wanted to hug me. I wished he had. Nate asked later how I managed to control the bike and get it stopped after a blowing a tire at 60. I told him it wasn’t me. He asked what I meant and I looked upward. He understood.

NM: 9/30, 9:00 PM
We get Dad’s bike fixed in El Paso at a Kawasaki dealership, then speed off again, riding east and south at 80 mph under a hot, midday Texas sun. Not much room in the schedule for breaks after the lost time, but we take as many as we can to stave off fatigue and to make sure the bikes are fueled up. West Texas is desolation incarnate. Towns are few, and tiny, or abandoned altogether. We stopped in one, Valentine (pop. 217) to wait for Tim, who was photographing some kind of radar blimp the border patrol uses to look for drug smugglers. Only person we saw was an old man in a cowboy shirt wearing a 10-gallon Stetson. He was riding to the post office on his motorized wheel chair.

The border patrol is a massive presence down here. Every third vehicle we pass on the road is full of agents, and we’ve already been stopped at three check stations, where they have dogs sniff your stuff before they let you through. With all the drug cartel craziness going on across the border it’s good to know they’re around.

The closer we get to Big Bend, the more the terrain changes, and by the time we reach Presidio, a border town west of the park, mountains have erupted from the desert sand, like broken molars in an old jaw bone. The sun is setting, but we ride on through the late evening before finally calling it quits 30 miles from the park boundary. We set up our tents just off the road on a sandy flat next to the river. Mexico is 100 yards away.

In the morning we’ll have a 70-mile ride through the park, then another 30 miles on a 4-wheel-drive trail to reach where we’re dropping the boats in the water. I’d hoped to camp closer to that spot tonight, but Dad’s flat put us too far behind schedule, so it’s going to be another long day tomorrow.

You can see more photos from Days Seven and Eight of this expedition (and find new journal updates as they are posted) by clicking here.

Video Recap: Floating Whiterock Canyon

Online Editors — Thu, 23 Dec 2010 09:50:50 -0500

Riding the Rio Grande, Days Seven and Eight (in Photos)

Online Editors — Thu, 23 Dec 2010 09:42:38 -0500

Last fall, Field & Stream Online Editor Nate Matthews and his father, Bruce, spent 15 days fishing the Rio Grande River from its headwaters in Colorado’s Continental Divide all the way to its mouth at the Gulf of Mexico. These excerpts from their journals tell the story of their 2500-mile motorcycle ride along the historic river, taken during momentous times in the lives of both father and son. Photographer/vidographer Tim Romano documented the excursion. Look for the print feature in June 2011.

Riding the Rio Grande, Day Six: Los Alamos Quicksand

Online Editors — Mon, 20 Dec 2010 11:00:24 -0500

BM: 9/29, 8:45
We kicked off this morning by running some rapids that were squirrely enough to want to run empty. We planned our route and as with all things, had to modify when we hit the first big rock eddy. We eddied out, but got lined back up and shot the rest, only taking on a little water. Fun run!

NM: 11:45
It’s panting hot out here. Sun directly overhead. Not a breath of wind. We’re floating slowly down a wide current of red water. More liquid mud than anything. There’s sediment suspended the whole way through the water column. I can barely see the blade of my paddle when it’s under the surface. Makes it hard to tell how deep the water will be, and where the channels cut. We’ve had to get out and drag the boat a number of times over subsurface flats hidden by the dirty water. Mostly solid enough to walk over, but some scary quicksand. Don’t seem to hear much about the stuff anymore. Used to be sort of an action movie cliché. They should mine it more. I can't imagine what it would be like if you were trapped out here in the stuff by yourself.

BM: 2:00
Ran into a crew of scientists from Los Alamos National Lab and another from the New Mexico Department of Energy and Environment. LANL was sampling leachate to see if any of the various contaminant cocktails they’d been dumping for years into the upper canyons were making their way into the tribs and eventually the main river. The NM folks were checking up on them, splitting samples, etc. The guides who were rafting them were surprised to see us. Says said no one else runs the canyon. Interesting – it is so wild and beautiful.

The fishing continues to be awful. The river is full of silt. Tiny, gritty silt. Gets into everything. Hard to imagine that this is better-than-usual conditions. The guides told us there are catfish; if we fished after dark with stinkbait maybe we would catch something.

NM: 4:00
Finally reached the main reservoir. There’s a guy named Richard Smith who will come and tow you from the inlet to the boat launch a few miles away for $50. Distance isn’t too bad in a canoe, but there’s usually a headwind on the lake so it’s tough on rafts. Would be a tough pull for Tim, who’s already had a long day trying to keep up with our boat in the slow, flat water we’ve been paddling.

BM: 7:30
Exhausted at the end of each day. We’re eating ok and drinking lots of water. Sun takes a toll, I think. By the time we get off the river we are all beat, and we still have to unload the Toyota, repack, re-load, and head out for the hour-long drive to our hotel in Albuquerque.

Trip’s been challenging my fatigue attitude. Tough to function well when you are so physically tired. I know it’s been tough on Nate and Tim, too. I think it helps to try to recognize my limitations. But I’ve challenged them as well, especially with the bike.

Tomorrow we ride to Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. Interesting name. Mostly highway riding, from what Nate says, so I should be fine. But it’ll be another long haul, and they’re adding up.

You can see more photos from Day Six of this expedition (and find new journal updates as they are posted) by clicking here.

Riding the Rio Grande, Day Six (in Photos)

Online Editors — Mon, 20 Dec 2010 10:35:24 -0500

Riding the Rio Grande, Day Five: Crashing and Floating

Online Editors — Thu, 16 Dec 2010 12:56:00 -0500

Last fall, Field & Stream Online Editor Nate Matthews and his father, Bruce, spent 15 days fishing the Rio Grande River from its headwaters in Colorado to its mouth at the Gulf of Mexico. These excerpts from their journals tell the story of their 2500-mile motorcycle ride along the historic river. Photographer Tim Romano documented the excursion. You can see more photos from Day Five of this expedition (and find new journal updates as they are posted) by clicking here.

BM: 9/28, 6:30 AM
Today we broke camp and re-organized our gear for the first half of the float Nate’s got planned for us (that's a map of the day's float in the photo above). Up early and moving fast so we can get to the put-in in time to do some fishing. It's apparently a pretty long ride to get reach it. Tried to get all the stuff in the truck within five minutes -- Tim filmed the loading.

But … the Toyota won’t start. Battery’s fully discharged. Somehow in all the data dumping, camera charging, etc., we must have run out of juice.

So, Nate’s off on the bike looking for help. Tim’s calling Triple A. And our schedule is a little screwed.

Video Clip: Loading the Truck

NM: 12:30 PM
Finally on the road. Right now we’re filling up at a gas station in Espanola (home of “The Best Frito Pie in New Mexico,” says one billboard). It’s already past noon, and we’re running late. We’ve got at least an hour-and-a-half to go before we reach the put-in for our float down a stretch of the Rio Grande that flows through Whiterock Canyon, where we were supposed to meet Greg at 10:30. He volunteered to help us shuttle our vehicles to the pull-out on the other side of Cochiti Reservoir, a huge favor that’s saving us at least six hours of riding. I hate to keep him waiting. But it took me over an hour to flag down a jump this morning after Tim’s camera gear drained the truck battery. Only thing we can do is push on as fast as Dad can ride.

I wish we’d had more time for photos during the ride down here. There’s just so much to see, and I worry that I’ve packed too much into the itinerary for us to capture the best of it for the magazine. Tim’s feeling the pressure the most. “Shooting this trip is tough,” he says. “We’re moving so fast it feels kind of frantic. It’s just brrd-d-d-d-d-d, rapid fire, then stamp on the gas.” It doesn't help him that he's trying to get video clips as well. I’m hoping things will slow down for him a little once we get on the water.

Helmet Cam: Crossing the John Dunne Bridge

BM: 7:30 PM
Evening now, and we’re camped part way down our float through the canyon. We think maybe on Los Alamos land – probably illegal to stop here. But, there are other signs of campsites. Cows use it. And there’s a humongous set of bear tracks – fresh – in the mud.

We saw our first rattler this afternoon. I was retrieving a lure for Nate that he’d hung on a brush pile by the bank. Kind of reached up to get it and I started to feel like maybe not a good idea, and right then Nate said “rattler!” It was coiled about six feet from him. Sleepy, likely cold, but very dangerous looking. Like, “what kind of fool would ever want to mess with me?”

We had a fairly long ride this morning from Cebolla Mesa, including a section of highway across the river from Taos where there were literally hundreds of tarantulas crossing the highway. I tried not to run over any but some couldn’t be helped.

There were red pepper stands everywhere. Nate and I stopped at one. “$10 for a foot-long string of them” said the vendor. No place to put that many, of course. Nate asked how much for one, and the guy said nothing and gave us a couple for free. I gave him a couple of bucks anyway.

Nate cut them up and put them in the quesadillas he cooked this evening. Some good!

I wiped out again today, just as we reached the launch site for our float. Sand and my motorcycle don’t mix. I’d already made it through a bunch of sand pits on this really crappy road down to the put-in, but the last one ate me, not 20 yards from the river. Two bad knees now. They hurt. The left from all the issues on yesterday’s hike, the right from the crash. But, I’m in one piece. So is the bike.

The river was pretty much unfishable on the float. Coffee brown, full of silt. Maybe three inches of visibility. Greg said it’s all coming from the Chama River, a tributary that enters upstream. We’d say it was blown out at home. Seems blown out here. We haven’t caught anything.

Ran some fun rapids, and first thing in the morning we have a challenging one. We’re camped now just above it. When we got out to scout it earlier we realized we’d have to unload the boat before attempting it, and since we were beat already, decided that we’d simply wait to hit it until the morning, when we’re fresh and rested. If Nate and I can keep river left we should be fine. Ship a little water, is all.

Video Clip: Scouting Ancho Falls

NM: 8:30 PM
Dad scraped up his leg pretty good when he crashed in the sand, and I think he tweaked his back, too. He was pinned under the bike for a few seconds, as long as it took for me and Tim to sprint over to him. I’m glad he was wearing his riding pants – could have gotten a nasty burn otherwise. Still, he’s pretty battered right now. Says he’s thinking about surgery on his right knee when he gets home. I’ve also noticed how his hands are cramping up from pulling the clutch all day. It’s making him ride the bike more tentatively, and I think that may be part of the reason he crashed. You have to know how to trust your motorcycle when you’re riding in sand.

I’m glad we stopped where we did. He hasn’t complained a bit on this trip, but I know he needs the rest. We’ll hit the rapid in the morning. Hope we don’t wrap the boat on that big rock in the middle.

You can see more photos from Day Five of this expedition (and find new journal updates as they are posted) by clicking here.

Video Recap: Riding the Upper River

Online Editors — Thu, 16 Dec 2010 12:48:42 -0500