Early river-runner's diaries are a fun read

Whitewater tourism was unknown before its promotion by Utah's Norman D. Nevills, who may be the father of commercial river tourism. This book focuses on the diaries of Nevills, a relatively unknown boating pioneer who helped make river running a widespread commercial activity in the West.

Roy Webb, river historian, has created an excellent account of Nevills' adventures running the Colorado, Green, San Juan, Salmon and Snake rivers when it had only been done before for scientific expeditions.

Starting with a boat reputed to have been created from an old horse trough, Nevills, of Mexican Hat, San Juan County, rowed his new bride, Doris, down the San Juan River in late 1933. Just over four years later and he was river running as a tour operator, learning as we went.

Even the deepest portions of the Grand Canyon were his territory — long before Lake Powell or any dams in that region. In fact, one of his biggest claims to fame is being the first person to float the Grand Canyon more than twice. (He did at least seven such trips and earned the nickname of "Fast Water Man.")

He never flipped a boat or lost a passenger, taking women and children along on some trips.

Another love of his was flying. However, his aerial hobby caused his and his wife's deaths with a tragic plane crash in September 1949.

Well-written, the book not only publishes Nevills' own diaries for the first time but also includes dozens of black-and-white photographs that help capture this pioneer river-running era.

Webb provides an overall look at Nevills' life in the beginning of the book and then lets Nevills' own diaries tell the story. While Webb makes it clear that Nevills at times renamed natural features and/or improperly took credit for naming them, he otherwise comes across as a very down-to-earth and likable fellow.

He had a smoking addiction but shunned alcohol and did not allow it on his boats.

Nevills knew that dams on his favorite rivers were coming. "I hate to see dams go in, as it will spoil a lot of things for a lot of people . . . . One at Lee's Ferry won't hurt us too much tho it will make easier travel in that area and see some tin can tourists on the resulting lake," he write in 1948.

He not only survived the biggest rapids the Colorado had to offer in the pre-dam era but had unexpected adventures too.