With the nearest dam hundreds of miles upriver, the character of the river here is rather untamed. In the refuge, a huge cottonwood forest was flooded under a couple of feet of water. I use the word "forest" loosely, the Spanish "bosque" is probably more appropriate. Even a big cottonwood bosque anywhere out west is only going to be a few hundred yards wide and a couple of miles long.

The flooding and the number of trees felled by beaver made most of the Refuge almost impenetrable. We didn't even attempt to go ashore, just sitting quietly and gazing at one of the biggest cottonwood forests I've ever seen. (The only one in my experience that compares is on the upper Gila, at the start of the run below Cliff, NM.) It was a stark and melancholy reminder of how much we've lost through dams, flood control, and water extractions. To a farmer, rancher, logger, or urban water user there's probably nothing more worthless than a cottonwood forest. The trees have absolutely no commercial value and soak up a lot of water. Nothing about them benefits civilization. Yet this gives them a sort of aloofness. They have no use for us, any more than we have use for them. And they certainly have lovely leaves, sparkling in the sunlight when they are green, then flashing with gold in the fall. To me, cottonwoods are the indicator of a healthy southwestern river so seeing this many really cheered me.