Exploring the Yellowstone River: 126-mile in 13:30 Hours – An Unassisted Solo SUP from Gardiner to Reed Point, Montana

I have been planning something big enough, for me at least, that I first needed to take just a bite of it before knowing if I could muster the appetite for the whole thing. This was the first bite of the proverbial Old ‘96er, for fans of John Candy or Dan Akroyd’s The Great Outdoors, and I plan to treat discussion of it in this article as such. Many paddlers out there are fitter and have gone further, faster, and on flatter and slower water than I was on. Alone it was an exploratory solo adventure that I hope to describe without flattery but in rich detail. Maybe someday I can take the real goal all the way to the gristle and only then might we have cause to crack open the Mezcal.

The Gauge.

I knew some other paddlers’ records on the river, but this trip wasn’t planned with a number of miles in mind, the number was simply more. Instead, it was about solving the logistical riddle of how far someone could make it on the Yellowstone River starting from its legal mountainous and turbulent headwaters at the National Park’s boundary in Gardiner and taking it into the ‘big flat’ of plains and ranches of south-central Montana in a day. In fact, I am not sure I even accomplished that - putting in 45 minutes late and taking out before it was completely dark.

Regardless, this trip takes some timing, and this season was an odd one to time. I spent almost every morning checking the gauges as my first course of action. Our lack of snow accumulation in the traditionally banger months of Dec-March left we worried at first but then the rebound of precipitation and snow in higher elevations in April-early June had me living like a felon with my go-bag at the door ready to flea (hopefully after first kissing the wife and kids goodbye).

I was waiting for 15,000 CFS on the Corwin Springs gauge of the Yellowstone, too much more than that distracts the river from a linear trajectory in the flatter sections, squeezing the laminar flow with boils. Less than that would make navigating around the lower Yellowstone’s barely covered islands, with their rocks ready to break a fin, much more difficult. I can say this confidently after unexpectedly running into a few fin snags at max speed only to see the GPS showing me above a flooded river island rather than the main current.

So when 15 k showed up on the gauge on June, 8th, 2024, I was gone, driving 80 mph at 4 am across SW Montana towards the park, with an 12’ 6” Inflatable race board hanging out my short truck bed.

The Craft

At first glance, even if you aren’t a water sports enthusiast of any sort, the answer to this logistical riddle seems simple, paddle. And you would be right, that was in fact the key component to my distance, not stopping paddling for 13:30 hours, but the more restrictive part of the problem is the craft.

Solving the craft question for this river is akin to solving a bike selection for a race that has burly mountain riding for the first section but then ends with a 100 miles of road racing. Absurd, I know. Therefore, something in between the two disciplines would be ideal but still requires competency in both to succeed.

A whitewater board could handle the first 20 miles with ease even at the current crunchy river levels of 15,000 CFS but would go nowhere fast when the gradient dropped and speed became a focus. Conversely the same could be said with a carbon race board but the opposite way, with some gnarly whitewater being the issue.

I chose my best board for the job, an inflatable race/tour board (Hala Nass Tour Ex) but due to it being much more race leaning than whitewater in nature, I knew it would feel like I was standing on a basketball through the hard stuff. As a whitewater paddleboarder, the thrill of taking on the rivers’ two major whitewater sections at highwater on race board was palpable. 

The Why

In short, the mileage goal alone meant and still means little to me knowing that someone could come put in under the worst of the whitewater at Point of Rocks with a carbon board and crush my record. In fact, I could do that and crush my own record so long as the board doesn’t break on the innumerable gravel bar, trees, and rocks hiding 6-12” below the muddy ripples in some places. No, instead, there was something about starting where the river starts that appealed to me and although a true source-to-confluence run of the Yellowstone River would be illegal, starting in Gardiner is the closest I could get and jumping in the 50f river alone at 5:45 am and dealing with 7ft tall wave trains on an inflatable race board felt right.

The largest accomplishment of the day is what I learned and how I can improve. This was preparation for a much larger goal (x6) that I’m excited to share with everyone sometime soon and only told me that it’s possible with some intentional time put in this off season.

I hope you enjoy the musings through the miles.

The Paddle

Gardiner to Yankee Jim Canyon (13 miles)

It all begins in Gardiner, a small town at the northern entrance to Yellowstone National Park with a rich whitewater community surrounded by views of the Absaroka-Beartooth Wilderness. At 5:30 am I began walking down the gravel ramp from the boat access parking to the put in. The sage brush hadn’t been touched directly by the sun but the glow from its more eastern reaches illuminated the hills to a proper shooting light. I set the board down urgently in the water just below the Gardiner River confluence, took in the curling waves that characterize the Town Stretch under the bridge and set off.

The river here flows through a landscape framed by rugged mountains and thermal activity of the Yellowstone Caldera and of these 13 miles, the first two are the most exhilarating. Town was still quiet except for the yips of a fox patrolling me from the shoreline as I entered the Class II/III rapids.

Yankee Jim Canyon to Emigrant in Paradise Valley (18 miles)

Yankee Jim Canyon, located just north of Gardiner, Montana, holds a rich history that dates to the late 19th century. The canyon is named after James George, known as "Yankee Jim," a notorious figure known to fight bears, wolves, and maybe the occasional mountain lion to protect his homestead. James, established a toll road through the canyon in the 1880s, charging travelers, including early tourists heading to Yellowstone National Park, for passage and was visited by the likes of Teddy Roosevelt and others due to his notoriety.

While Yankee Jim and his toll is long gone, the restriction to passage that he set forth lives on after his death in that high water makes the canyon occasionally difficult even for some worthwhile raft captains with three named rapids, all present at this flow, ready to flip crafts not pointed right into their meat (The Pinch, Boat Eater, and Box Car Wave.)

Standing all of these on whitewater board is an accomplishment we as a collective crew of paddlers in MT have worked at and now relish with laps on hot summer days; however, on a race board it felt more like rolling the dice and a challenge that I will continue to attempt to progress in. I managed to make it through the main drops standing but was thrown into the water in the Boat Eater when the careening flows halted in standstill boils. It was then that I saw my first onlookers from the road, and I wouldn’t be the slightest bit surprised if they considered setting of a SAR alarm at the sight of someone paddleboarding the canyon alone before sunlight. The best of the three, the Box Car Wave, was in great form at these flows and although I tried to punch through it, retained me in place, surfing me backwards until spitting me out.

From a gradient perspective, the worst of the obstacles was behind me, that was what I thought at least.

Emigrant to Paradise Valley to Livingston (31 miles)

Beyond Yankee Jim Canyon, the river enters the expansive Paradise Valley. This stretch of the river offers a serene paddling experience with panoramic views of the Absaroka’s on the right and Gallatin mountain range on the left. The valley's name is well-deserved, as verdant meadows stretch out on either side of the river, dotted with ranches and fields. The sky here seems endless, often filled with the soaring silhouettes of eagles and other birds of prey.

Deer and elk are often spotted grazing near the river, especially in the early morning and late evening. Black bears, though more elusive, can occasionally be seen foraging in the shoreline forests. Beavers and river otters are residents of the river, their presence marked by the lodges and dams they construct in the less active braids of the river. The presence of these mammals always adds to the richness of the paddling experience, offering glimpses into the lives of the fascinating creatures we share the waterways with.

Running low on water I stopped at two of the tributaries that enter the Yellowstone in Paradise Valley, Mill Creek and Pine Creek, quickly filling my hydro flask from the crystal-clear snow melt rather than Yellowstone’s current agricultural runoff.

Livingston to Springdale (21.5 miles)

The most hazardous section of this trip by far was the Highway 89 Bridge and while I am not an engineer of any sort, my philosophical brain wonders what the logic was in creating what can only be described by human and history as a death trap.

Here the river makes a 90 degree right turn followed by an immediate 90 degree left turn. Smack dab in the middle of this hydrological conundrum is the bridge. If you can envision it, I did a good job describing it, if not, I am sorry but a quick google search would paint the picture better. Nevertheless, what this double banking does at high water is send the predominant flow diagonally into and through the two set of bridge pilons rather than safely between them. I think I unclipped my leash, my memory says I did and paddled like hell 45 degrees against the flow knowing if I fell me and my board were going to be sucked into a horrible hydrological feature. I didn’t know the story of Angie and James Anderson’s passing away there due to a pinned raft but I have since told many casual boaters to beware and consider putting in below this hazard. My thoughts go out to all those effected.

Below Highway 89 the river flattens and widens out, cutting through layers of volcanic and sedimentary rock on its left bank, revealing millions of years of geological processes. You can see the history in the shoreline with cliffs and outcrops that tell a story of ancient geological activity, tectonic shifts, and the relentless force of erosion.

Additionally, this same process can also be observed in the water features with significant surf waves and wave trains appearing where the high current gets forced up and over rock benches in the river floor. While Springdale wave holds the cake for wave access and size on the Yellowstone, this section of river had one mega wave I hadn’t seen before that could give it a run for its money.

Springdale to Reed Point (43 miles)

I passed one more great surf wave at Greycliff, throwing the river “Brown Claw” at the lineup. I soaked in their cheers knowing I was close to the end, my end that is. Nowhere really close to the end.

Here I said goodbye to entire mountain ranges that I had greeted earlier in the day. The Absaroka, the Bridgers, and even the Crazy mountains were now starting to leave my company and the light was beginning to soften but not yet glow. It was here that the sky above me filled with an almost rush hour like traffic of the winged sort.

The Yellowstone River corridor is a bird haven, especially in this section with ancient cottonwoods acting as watchtowers for eagle convocations. The river's riparian zones provide essential habitats for these birds, making it a vibrant and lively ecosystem. I saw countless Bald eagles, Golden eagles, cormorants, and ospreys in the next hours, their nests perched high in the trees along the riverbank. Great blue herons, sandhill cranes, and a variety of ducks and waterfowl also frequented me as a paddled into the growing stillness.  

Reed Point: The Journey's End

As you approach Reed Point, the landscape begins to change once again. The river meanders through rolling hills and wide-open plains. Reed Point, a small community known for its annual "Sheep Drive" event, marked the conclusion of this paddling adventure for me. Here, the river's influence on local life is evident in the agricultural fields and the strong sense of community among its residents.

I pulled up to the shoreline just above a fisherman wetting his spin reel in a big eddy. He remarked I was the only paddleboarder on the Yellowstone, and while I knew that wasn’t true, part of it spoke to me having spent 126 miles alone. Paddler or not, most of the day felt like I was the last person on earth until I ran into him.

The Conclusion

Paddling the Yellowstone River from Gardiner to Reed Point was not just a journey through Montana's stunning landscapes; it was a voyage through time and nature. From the towering cliffs of Yankee Jim Canyon to the tranquil meadows of Paradise Valley, from encounters with wildlife to sites of historical significance, these stretches of the longest free flowing river in the lower 48 offers paddlers an experience that captivates the senses and enriches the soul whether they are linked or not.

I am excited to see what is around the corner I left unturned and hope to come back just as fulfilled as I did from this adventure.