Getting from Camp Verde to Beasley Flats was a slog. A large part of the problem was the beer barge I’d created out of a once svelte backcountry craft. With several day’s food and enough barley pops to reach Rocky Point, my overloaded raft plowed a bow wake that threatened to wash away my friend’s boats, patiently awaiting my arrival at Beasley.

Lisa brought me a Prijon T-Slalom…circa 1985? We would both be paddling these absolute beasts of kayaking’s past for the duration—Lisa to Horseshoe Reservoir, me to the Salt. Bill and Melanie brought their inflatable kayaks.

I’d paddled the Verde at 7,000, 3,000, all the way down to 250, but I’d never paddled it at 139 cfs. Until now. The falls didn’t have a line, but most everything else did. Below Fossil Creek, we were on a juicy 190 cfs. Most troubling wasn’t the lack of water, but the proliferation of plants. Phragmites, a semi-invasive, clogs the channel in many places, creating some of the most exhilarating and terrifying class III whitewater I’ve ever experienced. Often, the lead boat plunged into a wall of green, leaving the rest of us to reluctantly follow the sound of snapping branches.

The breezy Horseshoe Reservoir had us wondering if the Sheep Bridge take-out was a better choice. I saw my old friend Judd Simmons there, taking out with his Prescott crew. Bone-jarring four-wheel-drive road or windswept flat-water, either choice keeps out the riff-raff.

Still, the wilderness Verde (Beasley Flats to Horseshoe Reservoir) is a fantastic trip. This was my fourth run in 30 years. Time to pick-up the pace.