Grand Canyon Trip - Part One

I first saw the Grand Canyon when I was twelve. It was a broad expanse of plateau and gorge painted in sunlight and shadow. It was breathtaking, beautiful, and beyond comprehension. And that was from the rim. Our stop at the Grand Canyon was part of a summer-long roadtrip around the country, and my youngest brother was only five, so we didn't venture down into the Canyon. But I knew then that I would one day be back.

Years later I saw a documentary that said there were three ways to get down into the Canyon: hike, ride a mule, or raft. The choice was obvious to me. I'd raft. It was clearly the best way to see the most and to have an adventure while doing it. So for years, rafting the Grand Canyon sat on my list of things I'd like to do. When my friends Megan and Bryan moved to Arizona last year, I started thinking about going to visit them at some point and then realized that this was my chance to get down into the Canyon. So after determining a general date range and type of trip, talking to the various outfitters that run trips, and scouring the Internet for reviews, I booked us on a 6-day oar powered rafting trip of the Upper Grand Canyon with Moki Mac. This was back in December, and the trip seemed to be a long way off. But as usual, time flew, and on Friday, August 25, Jeff and I found ourselves in an 18 foot raft floating down the mighty Colorado.

Day 1
Our group, fifteen people ranging in age from eighteen to mid-sixties with a skew toward the older side, met the night before we took off for an orientation session at Marble Canyon. We packed our gear into watertight bags, picked up last minute items, and spent out last night above the rim. We started day one at 8am with a trip down to Lee's Ferry, where the voyage was to begin. There were six boats total: four 18 foot rafts that could hold four passengers each, one baggage raft, and one dory (small wooden boat that could hold 3 passengers). By 9:30 we'd loaded all the rafts, filled up all our water bottles, used a flush toilet for the last time, gotten into our life jackets, picked a boat, and set off. For about a mile, the water was clear. Then a creek flowed in bringing the Colorado to its naturally muddy state. Jeff and I rode with Grant, the oldest of the boatman at mid-60. He'd run the whole length of the Colorado nearly sixty-five times, both on commercial and private trips, and he knew it like the back of his hand. We covered 19 miles that first day. Along the way we saw a couple of baby big horn sheep, rode through many small rapids, and went through one rapid big enough to elicit a wild "yahoo" from Grant. The water, in the mid-50s, was freezing. The sun, with temperatures near 100, was searing. It balanced out for a pleasant ride, although the cold of the water was always shocking. The amusing thing was that it seemed everyone's reaction to being completely washed over by freezing cold waves was to laugh. It was exhilirating.

By mid-afternoon, we'd stopped to set up camp. Night comes early down in the Canyon, so you don't want to be caught out on the water as the sun sneaks behind the canyon walls. Tents went up, sleeping bags were arranged, and we all gathered near the water as the crew prepared dinner. Hot soup and cheese and crackers first. Then a feast like nothing I expected: steak, corn on the cob, salad, potatoes, and brownies. By seven, it was dark enough that I couldn't see to write in my journal anymore. By eight, the sky was black velvet illuminated by billions of stars. Shooting stars came one after another. Satellites could easily be picked out. It was phenomenal. By nine, we were asleep, lulled by the gentle roar of the rapids that lay ahead.

Day 2
Like night, morning comes early. By five, first light was tickling our eyes. At six, the call for "hot coffee" echoed across the canyon. By seven, we were feasting on eggs, toast, and fruit. Eight o'clock, and we were on the river. Floated down just a few hundred yards before stopping in North Canyon, where we hiked to a beautiful rock formation with natural water slide and pool. The reflection of the striated walls in the perfectly flat water was mesmerizing. Back on the river, it was rapid after rapid as we moved through the "Roaring Twenties". Lunch break lasts about an hour, with sandwiches, fruit, and lots of salty snacks. We rode with Steiner today, a 43 year old who looks about 30. His boat is stocked with maps and books on geology and plant and animal life. There's not a question he can't answer. Made a couple of stops in the afternoon: once to see Anasazi ruins, once to gather cold, clear water from a spring, and once at Red Wall Cavern, which Powell claimed could seat 50,000 people although I think he must have been thinking of leprechauns as it was big but not stadium-sized. Night-time is the same. Set up camp, eat dinner (tonight stir fry, pot stickers, fortune cookies...), chat with fellow boaters and crew, marvel at the stars, sleep. Each day, new layers of rock have appeared and the walls push higher and higher. As the sun plays on them, they glow different shades of red, orange, and yellow. It's so quiet down in the canyon. So peaceful.


--I'll continue throughout the week, and I'll hopefully be able to get some pictures up soon, so check back for more.