The Trip of a Lifetime

The Grand Canyon is just what it implies, “Grand!” For many folks their experience of one of the most visited National Parks in America is a scenic drive through the park, a short hike to one of the many viewpoints, a trip to the visitor center, dinner at the lodge and hitting a shop or two for souvenirs.

Would you trade that classic trip for one that turns your long silky hair into a muddy mess of dreadlocks? How about sleeping on the ground for weeks or taking a bath in forty-five degree water which is cold enough to give you “brain freeze”. How about never getting up early enough to beat the early risers to even one hot cup of coffee?

Sound like fun? If you said no, then you have not been on a boat through the Grand Canyon! Floating through the enormous gorge is the trip of a lifetime! The exhilaration of roaring world-class rapids turns the stomach of some and completely excites others into a wild frenzy of whooping and hollering. After successfully running a rapid, the excitement and fear fades into concern for others as the trailing vessels pass through the churning turmoil, tossed about by the enormous power of water with passengers screaming in either delight or fear. Between the violent chaos there is the placidity of still water. This is the time to soak in the intense beauty and the remarkable geology of the canyon. Magnificent towering walls held the waters course as we relaxed and enjoyed the serenity of the canyon.

On our journey we were fortunate enough to be on the river with trip-leader Monte and the most experienced group of “river rats” that one would ever imagine. We set out on this trip in early spring when the weather was unpredictable, but fortunately it was warm and prevented hypothermia from setting in as massive waves broke over the top of us, dousing us in frigid water. Each day we would pull into a sandy beach before night-fall and quickly set up camp before daylight dwindled. As soon as the boats were docked the first task was an organized process that was always accomplished in short order. From an elaborate kitchen, dishwashing table, fire pan to a concealed latrine with an incredible view of the river, everything had its place. Each of us had the opportunity to be chef during our trip and fishing lines were cast in hope of a fresh fish dinner.

The best part of the trip was after the sun had set, and chilly air drew us into a tight circle around the fire where river adventures of the past were told by gifted storytellers and seasoned river runners O.C and Jack. These men were delightful Grand Canyon veterans with white beards, soft- spoken words and jolly personalities. Images from their yarns seemed to dance in the firelight as they would spin their tales as only a master of stories can.

Around the campfire camaraderie grew as Jimmy and both Tommy’s sang to us and kept the laughter flowing. As eyelids finally grew heavy we made our way to our nightly accommodations where we laid quietly looking up at the dark sky, spilt over with brilliant stars. The magical sound of the river cradled our tired bodies to sleep each night. In the morning we always awoke to the cackling of Tommy’s laugh and the warmth of his roaring fire.

After breakfast we packed the gear back onto our fleet of seven watercrafts and began another day. We would often camp where we could see other groups run the rapids. It sent fear through the group as we watched as a man was thrown from the back of the boat, hit the oarsman on the top of the head and then bounced out of the boat and fortunately, quickly fished out of the frigid and turbulent waves of emerald green water he had fallen into. Both authors had our own close calls as well.

Prior to the stretch of river known as Deubendorff, the rapids had not been really intimidating to me, in fact, the rowers were hitting them so smooth it was like a gentle roller coaster ride. I would get wet of course, but it seemed quite safe on the big raft and in the hands of experienced rowers. Perhaps I was getting lax and not holding on tight enough, or maybe no matter how tight I held on it would not have mattered. In the end the giant wave that engulfed me won the battle. I never knew what hit me until my body was draped over the boat and my face was almost in the water. Luckily before I plunged into the depths of the Colorado River, my boat mate, Bill, pulled me back into the floor of the raft where another massive wave heaved water on top of me, leaving me gasping for air. I struggled to get back on my seat, eyes wide with fear as I noticed massive boulders jutting out of the water everywhere as we dropped into a capacious swirl of recirculating whitewater! We hit every “hole” in Deubendorff!

Having watched Tanya almost swim the notorious Deubendorff rapid, I should have had more sense than to try my hand at paddling an inflatable kayak through rough water. It seemed to me that the maneuverability of my borrowed “duckie” would be a trump card and keep me out of harms way, which was the case through the Havasu rapid and a few small riffles. The noise was deafening as I watched the 18’ raft ahead of me drop off into plumes of spray and boiling waters, indicating that the next stretch of water might be serious business for me in my tiny inflatable. They had just made it past the “standing wave” when I saw them pointing and hollering “go right”! I realized I wasn’t going to make it just before a lateral wave pounded me from the side and left me clinging to my paddle and gasping for air as I rode the rest of the savage and unforgiving water underneath my overturned kayak. I was only in the freezing water a short time before I was able to clamber back into the safety of my kayak, but the cold was shocking! Once on shore even the intense rays of the sun and dry clothes could not dim the chill that permeated throughout my body.

As exciting as it was to run the river, still there was fantastic hiking to be done through the many side canyons and towering temples, such as Dox Castle down to Shinumo Creek or up Galloway Canyon and down Stone Creek. Hiking to the desert waterfalls of Thunder River, Deer Creek, Elves Chasm, Havasu and many others are a hikers dream.

As we neared 180 miles on the river, a menacing rumble grew louder, demanding everyone’s attention. The time had come to face the most violent and savage stretch of water on the river - Lava Falls. The infamous rapid is nestled below Toroweap Overlook on the North Rim where boulders have formed enormous waves and “holes” that could gobble up even the largest craft that floats the river. Duffy’s experience showed as he led the way and served as the safety boat. Then O.C’s wooden dory plummeted into the swirling water and broke unscathed through the tempestuous torrent of commotion. One by one, each oarsman pulled into the current, adrenaline rushing through their veins, the beauty of Toroweap ignored as minds focused on the task immediately ahead. They crashed through the splashing bedlam of violence engulfing the boats. Tonight there will be chilling stories of one of the canyon’s biggest rapids and the mishaps that have occurred over the years.

It’s hard to keep track of days on the river but landmarks announce it’s time for our departure. Just two short days after Lava Falls we bid our new friends and our wonderful hosts Jack and Monte farewell as they continue on to Lake Mead. For a while we watched as the fleet slowly drifted south and we pushed our way up the rim of the canyon to our awaiting vehicle. It was a bittersweet day, but the memories will live on forever.