Waking from a fitful night we were more than a little relieved about the absence of rain. Our minuscule camp was just inches above river level.


   Putting on we were back in the standard Piaxtla puzzle. Tough portages and often dubious rapids. Over the next hour we expended a lot of effort to get out of the canyon, and were glad to relax in a large pool below the gorge. Hoping to have the last gorge behind us, the Piaxtla opens up and teases us with an ideal campsite.


Every time the river opened up just a little we assumed we'd made it past the gorges, but the following bend in the river would contain another surprising gorge.




   The largess of the river bed and low water gave us space to move under the rocks. An easy ferry through a sieve, no big deal. On the other hand a class V rapid leading into a navigational sieve was more than unique, it was slightly terrifying. Thankfully we were numbed by the past weeks experience in the canyons of the Piaxtla and it didn't seem too bad.


   Past the sieve rapids the river started to meander through the deep canyon. Looks like the excitement is over and we can start on the long paddle out through what should be class II-III.




   Once again the river plunged over several boulder strewn cataracts into a vertical walled gorge. We were too short on food to attempt an all day portage, as if that was even an option. The high canyon walls were cliffed out and a river level attack was the only choice.


   The canyon looked menacing to say the least, and we took a long break while the inexhaustible Mr Stookesberry scouted high on the canyon walls. Even with extensive scrambling and climbing he was able to ascertain nothing about the gorge, and had nothing positive to say about portage options. Rapids led into the gorge, and we decided to space out our team as we dropped in. In this manner we would be able to, with some creative rope work, pull out every team member if the gorge was impossible. 


   From his vantage Ben signaled that the rapid was a portage and could be walked on the right. I paddled down to him and talked over a plan. He was now at the last point of self recovery, and I would portage and ferry across to hopefully ascertain what happened in the gorge as it turned a corner. From his position he would be able to extract me if necessary.



   I could only see a little further into the gorge, where the river turned right beyond my view. I would be able to extract one person from downstream, and Rocky Contos volunteered to probe around the corner.


   Personal apprehension peaked. Knowing we had no portage option, and the whole gorge entrance was filled with rock chocked sieve piles, I was worried we be forced to running something we'd never ordinarily contemplate. As Rocky paddled around the corner we all held our breath. Minutes passed like an eternity, until he returned to view and gave the classic okay signal, a pat on the head.



   Past the "Gates of the Piaxtla" we made a few more portages around sieves and then finally started making good time. Exhausted physically and emotionally by the turmoil of such a journey, we setup a nice camp in the afternoon before a sudden wind picked up and blew in the first storm of our trip. As rain pummeled down we were thankful that the river and weather had graced us with fortuitous circumstances and let us pass through unscathed. 



   In the morning we packed up camp and made the final, twenty odd kilometer push to town, where we'd begin our prolonged journey home.