River Day 0 - 9/21/2007 - Arrival at Last

I started crossing days off the calendar more than two months ago. Big black x's. Very satisfying. Nevermind that I didn't manage to mark off a single day during the last week because of being on nearly continuous call. Ugh. Graham once called me the 'Patron Saint of Sleep Deprivation' and it's probably a reasonable description. With this trip looming, I'm exhausted but somehow impervious. I get daily e-mails from Bear with pictures of people running Lava, or a just a note that says '8 more days', '7 more days'.... I drive everyone completely insane making notes and lists of places I'd like to visit. Umpteen trips to REI, mail order gear, packing and repacking. Our living room looks like an outdoor retail store.

Sarongs arrived from California after I spoke to a 'dude' who assured me they would get here in time.
"I really need them for a trip down the Grand Canyon."
"Awesome. Dude. They will totally be there. Definitely."
Awesome. Definitely.

We've got batteries and backup batteries for the cameras. I think we even have back-ups for our back-ups. I'm sure we've forgotten things but I don't care. The boats went out by DHL almost 2 weeks ago. We watched our tracking numbers like a stock ticker. The boats are now in Arizona waiting for us. As long as we have kayak gear, the rest is just details. Speaking of details, they seem to have escaped our local kayak gear supplier Kerry. Bear's new PFD was to be shipped by overnight mail. Whoops. Didn't get around to it. My spare dies an early death in the spin cycle of our neighbors washing machine so Jim drives the 4 hour round-trip to pick it up himself the night before we leave. Nothing will stop us from getting on the water. Certainly not a frayed old PFD.

I've packed all the essentials. Last minutes handfuls of local anesthetic, sutures, needles. I finagled antibiotics from the local pharmacy. Things I'm hoping not to use. The packing list also includes no fewer than 6 paperback books. I have a little reading problem. I'm trying to cut back. A moment of panic in the airport - I'll run out - I buy two more and read them both on the plane. I've also got peanut m&m's. Essentials.

Bear On a Plane

On the plane we use our clever stealth-seat choice trick and get a whole row for the two of us. Sleep and read. Then we land. Pheonix looks like a sun scorched dust bowl from the air and not a whole lot better from the ground. The whole place shimmers with heat. Ugh. It doesn't take long to find our companions. Pam, Graham, Rob and Hoppy meet us with the rental car. We are all going to fit along with our gear. Have to. Very cosy but somehow it works. Jim closes the trunk and dents the car with his ass. Not an inch to spare.

Airport Reunion

We stop for mexican food but can't seem to get chili verde. I end up with the food equivalent of 6 meals. It will be a wonder if we can all squeeze back in the car. Hoppy is last out of the restaurant and we drive through the parking lot yelling for him to jump in the van a la 'little miss sunshine'. Waiting for Hoppy is like waiting for grass to grow. You know it will happen eventually but it's slow.

Dented Rental.

At the hotel in Flag we meet up with Jane. I'm so excited she's decided to come. She's not sure she likes the view from her hotel room but I assure her the view will improve dramatically tomorrow. We have orientation in a room off the lobby and meet the other guests. Everyone introduces themselves, says where they're from and what they are looking forward to on the trip. Some people have been down before. Some have no idea what to expect. Some of us are looking forward to everything. We pick up our gear bags with instructions on how to pack them. I can't envision how the mass of luggage in our room is going to end up in this little duffel. I have questions but mostly I just want to go. We try and pack. Repack. Hoppy discovers that he has somehow managed to leave a bag at the airport containing his kayaking gear. Are you kidding me? Even missing a bag he has more stuff than he can possibly bring with him. Rob and Graham head out to obtain more beer and wine. Then more Mexican food. Cheaper and more reliable than sushi in the middle of the desert.

Ever since I learned to kayak I have wanted to take this trip. I learned in a diversion ditch off of Lock 32 of the Eerie Canal. It seems only right that I finally get to paddle in the biggest ditch of them all.

Auto Surf

I'm exhausted but I can hardly sleep.

-->Go to Day 1 - Lee's Ferry

-->Link to Day 0 Photo Gallery

Day 1 - Lee's Ferry

We're here! We cram gear bags and boats into the hotel elevators to the point of bursting and stow everything we can't fit into hotel storage until we return. A long van ride from Flag full of anticipation. I pass the time talking to Sanderlan who owns a restaurant back home in Tennessee. I learn about one of her specialties - stuffed pork loin. It sounds good. Everyone eats a bag breakfast and passes the time doing high tech modification of water bottles with duct tape straps. At last we drive by the sign marking the entrance to Lee's Ferry, down a long winding hill and to the beach. Lee's Ferry, mile 0 of our 226 mile journey. Everyone piles off the bus dragging yellow gear bags and starts to mill around the rafts and piles of life jackets organized in front of them. Bear and I practically sprint over to our kayaks like kids at Christmas - ripping off the plastic packing material and rearranging the contents.

Larry (our trip leader) introduces himself and lays down the morning plan. Get a life jacket, get gear onto boats, get going. We also meet the other guides - Ben, Mike, Matt, Josh, Jesse, and Kelsey in addition to Don (our kayak man) who we'd met the night before. It takes forever, or at least that's how it feels.

Lee's Ferry Panorama

The sun is shining but I've been warned about the infamous cold water and with respect I've donned fuzzy rubber and a drytop. All my gear sorted , I climb into a ducky for a quick rest and soak in the scene. And then we've started. Just a 100 yards below the put in we pass under a wire that signifies our entrance into the Grand Canyon National Park.

"Hour One on the Colorado: immensity is general, all is a blur of rock and water, sun and sky and anticipation. There's no sign yet of the fabled rapids; we're just drifting, descending lazily past the bright Vermilion Cliffs on our way to the depths of the Grand Canyon. Creatures of wristwatches and leather shoes, we are nothing, reinventing ourselves, crossing over to river time. This is by definition a private process. "
B.J. Bergman 1998

I want to take pictures of everything - Every rock wall, every beach, the water, the sky, the people. We pass a beach where water from the Paria river flows in and our first riffles. If I could cartwheel I would.

Just past 4 Mile Wash we pass under the Navajo Bridges. I peer straight up at people standing above. Wave. Glad to be down where I am. I wonder as they look down at my tiny red boat whether they're jealous or think I'm crazy. Progress is slow. The wind picks up, whips straight upstream and slows the rafts to a crawl.

Navajo Bridges

We continue pass mile 7 and into Badger Rapid. Big waves. Pam heads down in front of me and halfway through flips and swims. We follow downstream retrieving boat, paddle and Pam who sputters over to shore. She's cold, shaken and seriously disappointed. We tell it's no big deal. Nerves. At least it turns out her timing is good as the beach is our camp for the night. Pam stays behind while Jim, Rob, Graham and I drag our boats back up the shore for another shot at surfing waves at the top of Badger Rapid.

Camp is at Jackass Creek. Not an elegant name. The rafts arrive10 minutes behind us and the process of removing gear begins. Bags, tents, kitchen gear everything needs to come off. A bag line makes short work of this taks and then it's time for instructions on camp life. Basically how things work. Tents, handwashing, food, drink and the groover. Yes the groover. Never has so much time and effort been devoted to discussing how to go to the bathroom. Pee in the river, groove in the groover. "Be proud of your deposit" says Larry. "And wash your hands". Larry regales us with horror stories of Norwalk virus reducing whole trips to vomiting, pooping disasters. Serious business.

There is a brief sprinkling of rain that quickly ends. We set up a tent toss our sandy stuff inside and mill down to the beach for hors d'oeuvres. Then dinner after hand washing and more handwashing. Just as we are finishing our food the wind picks up to a howl and fat drops of ran splatter on the tarp over the kitchen. A few drops become a bonafid downpour. Everyone huddles together under the tarp waiting for a break in the deluge. Before long, small rivulets of mud and water are coursing over the beach and under the tents of guides and a few unlucky campers. More scrambling about. Everyone eventually leaves the shelter of the kitchen tarp and heads to their tents in the dark. Jim and I drop our wet gear in the corners of the tent as best we can and climb into sleeping bags. My first night in the GC and I fall asleep with the sounds of a rapid roaring beside me, gusts of wind rattling the tent and pounding rain bouncing off the fly.

-->Go to Day 2 - Jackass Creek Camp to North Canyon

Day 2 - 9/23/2007 - Jackass Creek to North Canyon

Jackass Creek Camp

Jackass Canyon

Awoke at o'dark thirty to find the rain had stopped and the stars had come out. I briefly considered climbing out of the tent to set up a camera and tripod but was just too comfortable to move very far until the low resonant sound of the conch (a GC version of a rooster) echoed up from the beach. When everyone did finally roll out of sleeping bags and stumble towards breakfast, all the gear and tents were wet. Sandy and wet. This made for clammy and painstakingly slow packing and the group didn't slide off of Jackass Beach until after 9am. Last nights rain has turned our previously clear water to chocolate milk.

Graham started his morning with a hike back up to the top of Badger Rapid for another shot at the surf wave at the rapids entrance. Water levels had changed overnight essentially causing the surf spot to disappear and beaching our rafts on the shore. Graham did make friends with an exploding haystack wave in the rapids center which rather dynamically shot his bow 5 feet out of the water straight up in the air before unceremoniously dumping him on his head. Tah dah!

Beached Rafts

Hoppy, as is quickly becoming the norm was the last person off the beach. The quantity of crap he has managed to bring with him could fill a raft. Pam opted not to paddle today after ending yesterday with a swi m and generally feeling less than 100%. Instead she spent most of the day cleopatra style in the front of an oar raft. Meanwhile, both Jane and Mary Lamb have jumped into the action and chosen the paddle boat for the day.

We headed down the river as the sun crept down the canyon walls. At mile ten we passed an enormous mid-river coconino sandstone boulder. Ten mile Rock. It was rather hard to get any paddling done at all with the constant urge to stop and take pictures. This place is photogenic in a '360 degree, anywhere-you-look' kind of way.

Ten Mile Rock

We passed a private group just having breakfast before our first rapid of substance for the day, Soap Creek. At least there is one group slower than us at getting going in the morning. Our second rapid, Sheer Wall started with a beautiful twisted waterfall slipping down the canyon on river left. The rapid itself was essentially a series of giant haystack waves that Don announced could be run 'hey diddle diddle right down the middle". We played our way through the flat water section that followed finding the occasional eddy line whirlpool big enough to bury a boat. On one of these eddy lines, I executed my first G.C. flip and roll. Nice to have it out of the way. Meanwhile Rob busied himself attempting to achieve a flat water loop.

Above House Rock Rapid I pulled over to use the facilities and promptly sunk in thick mud up to my knees. Elephant mud. I managed (barely) to extricate my feet with both booties still in place. I could already build a large sandcastle with the amount of mud and sand in my boat. Nice. We actually got out and scouted House Rock Rapid to eyeball the gnarly and impressive lateral and the giant hole if feeds at the bottom left. Given my propensity for finding holes, I ran far right and had a run so smooth I believe my deck was dry. Hoppy managed to get nearly to the bottom of the rapid before flipping and becoming the trips second swimmer. Graham ended up way left and squarly hit the hole. He disappeared and then magically bubbled to the surface and zipped off the holes right shoulder. We'd have picture evidence to prove it but the battery called it quits before he started his run. Take my word for it. Awesome.

House Rock Rapid

Lunch followed soon after above an epic surf spot at Redneck Rapid. I managed to get on for a short surf while Jim , Graham and Rob began battling for title of 'Surf King'. Graham, in the long blue torpedo boat, managed to attain and get on the first wave in the series which nobody else could stay on. My own surfing efforts were seriously curtailed by the threat of losing the substantial lunch I'd scarfed down moments earlier.


Continuing downstream (well behind the raft flotilla at this point) we pulled over at North Canyon for a short hike. We started up the path past patches of sacred Dartura. These were pointed out to us as useful as medicinal/hallucinogenic and 'poisonous'. Rubbing the leaves smells a bit like peanut butter. Continuing onwards layers of rock sloped downwards and in places looked as though they had melted. Very cool. Up top was a pool of red water with a little trickling falls at the other end. Everyone stopped to relax. After a few minutes of goading and peer pressure Jim waded in to determine exactly how deep the pool was. Rob and Graham followed suit attempting to scale their way across the rock wall befor Graham slipped and submerged himself entirely. By report the canyon above the waterfall was damn cool. I'll have to see the pictures. Climbing back towards the rafts we discovered that we were actually camped for the night. Very sneaky. Our group is anything but fast and we haven't exactly been making a lot of miles.

Relaxing in North Canyon

The beach at lower North Canyon was about as beautiful a spot as one could hope for. Expansive views of the Canyon both upstream and down. Unfortunately, foot travel from the kitchen to the beach was tough as the way was strewn with boulders that looked likely to result in a broken ankle in the dark. As a result, we opted for an intermediate protected spot. Less of a view but private and protected from the wind.

Our second night at camp was much improved. Social, warm and dry under the stars. The moonlight completely bathed the canyon walls. Perfect. I still can't believe I'm here.

Other Notes:

• Rob shat a cactus - see photos for details.

• Graham has adopted a mission of learning to eat eggs. Graham hates eggs. Should be good.

• I've been in the G.C. for less than 48 hours and my hands are already peeling. If I was the type to get manicures, I would desperately need a manicure.

Ouch - Cactus Grooving

Go to Day 3 - North Canyon to Nautiloid Canyon

Link to Photo Gallery Day 2

Day 3 - North Canyon to Nautiloid Canyon

"You cannot see the Grand Canyon in one view, as if it were a changeless
spectacle from which a curtain might be lifted, but to see it you have to toil
from month to month through its labyrinths."

- John Wesley Powell

The group was up early this morning. How early I don't know. I don't have a watch. Larry, our fearless leader lit a fire under our respective assess last night (in the most gentle & unobtrusive way). I'm all for 'river time' but being glacially slow in the face of headwinds won't get us to Diamond Creek. Everyone was up and off the beach close to two hours earlier than the day before. This increase in speed and efficiency did did not occur without several spectacular wipe-outs on the muddy slope at the rivers' edge. Rob in particular managed to go down hard and cake his jacket and left butt cheek. He got a 9.6 on the landing from the Russian Judge.

North Canyon Camp

The 'brown' water of the river took on another degree of opacity this morning. I called it chocolate milk yesterday. Something clearly flashed overnight and the water now frothed like a chunky chocolate milkshake. Even the white water was no longer white.

A last grab of gear off the beach led to the sighting of the trips first scorpion. Scared the bejesus out of me and probably out of it too. I regained my composure quickly enough to grab a camera to photograph the event. Remember to shake out your boots boys and girls.

Morning Friend

The Roaring Twenties today. One of the fastest continuous whitewater stretches we'll see all trip. Good for making up miles and great for the entertainment of the kayakers. Many of the rapids in the Twenties are named by mile marker. Rapid 24.5 was a dogleg to the left. I found the hole in the center and Jim followed right behind me. Amazing. The water collapsed over my head and the lights went out. Great rapids with giant haystacks. There aren't any pictures because I needed both hands to hold on to the paddle.

It seems undignified to call the views as we float through the canyon 'the scenery'. It is spectacular. I don't have any words to describe it's beauty and it's scale. More than that, scenery sounds so passive. The canyon is enveloping.

Downstream Towards Stanton's Cave

We lost Hoppy to a second swim mid-morning and then Pam dumped out of the ducky and required a 4-man assist to regain her seat. It's harder than it looks to climb back into that thing. Jim in this process managed to tweak his formerly broken arm. Nothing that a hefty dose of 'vitamin I' can't fix.

Rob and Graham also continued their 'King of the Surf' competition and there were some truly epic rides on the shoulders of fast, chocolate waves. I have no idea who's winning but it's fun to watch. I particularly enjoy the wave dismounts which are frequently followed by end-over-end unintendos. Worth the price of admission. Even I managed to catch a surf or two.

Who is Surf King?

We had to cruise by Shinumo Wash and Silver Grotto. It was definitely one of the places on my list but not a good option with recent wet weather and slow downstream progress. Oh well, I guess that means I'll have to come back.

We stopped at South Canyon beach just above Stanton's Cave for a quick hike up to some Anasazi ruins and petroglyphs.

Ancient Man and Water

Mary Lamb and Jane at South Canyon

Josh told us a bit about Hopi legends and their belief that we currently live in the 4'th world. The legend included wisdom of the Spider Grandmother and idea that the Hopi people were shown the way from one world to the next by a hummingbird. I'm sure I'm butchering the details.

After seeing the ruins, part of our intrepid group continued to hike briefly up the hill to a small cave which one could wriggle through about ten feet to a steep opening out the other side. I was content to look. Rob, Graham and Jim immediately began discussing whether the climb down was a possibility. Not today. Places to go. Things to see. Lunch to eat.

We headed to back to the beach for lunch before gathering the group once more for a short walk up to Stanton's Cave. Really a very cool place. As you may be able to surmise

from the imposing metal grate over the caves entrance, they do not want people mucking about in there. The cave is absolutely full of stuff. Old stuff. By detailed archeologic reports there are, among other things, 4000+yr old twisted stick figures, bones from creatures ranging from birds and fish to now extinct canyon goats, and scat from all manner of birds and beasts including the woolly mammoth. An incredible wealth of collected natural history. While hearing about this from Larry, a hummingbird flew in through the mouth of the cave and hovered in front of us not once but twice. Showing us the way? I'm not Hopi but it had a nice spiritual resonance for me nonetheless.

Immediately downriver we pass Vasey's Paradise. It's a spring the flows out of the canyon walls and creates a bed of verdant green vegetation that stands in stark contrast to the desert around it. We took the opportunity to collect buckets of clear water while trying to avoid the abundant poison ivy. Not long after, we rounded the bend above Redwall Cavern. Majestic and silent. The enormous carved out amphitheater was full of the softest sand you can imagine. Great for an impromptu game of barefoot catch.

Redwall Cavern

From Redwall Cavern we continued on to mile 34.8 , Nautiloid Canyon. Just above camp there was a fabulous eddy line with whirlpools like 'Brain Douche' rapid on the Ottawa. Perhaps next trip I'll have the energy to park myself for an hour and swirl myself silly. But today I was beat and more onshore adventures awaited. Nautiloid Canyon. What is a Nautiloid you might ask. Well, I once read a Steven King novel that had creatures called "lobstrocities". Nautiloid fossils look a lot like I imagine a lobstrocity would. A weird combination of giant lobster-plankton creatures. Nautiloids. Yummy. The whole canyon above camp is full of these fossils which could best be seen when the rock was wet. The climb up the cliff to get to the fossils was nearly vertical and mildly hair-raising . A strange combination of polished smooth and exquisitely sharp rock that resulted in some mild bloodshed from Jim's hands on the descent.

It was a full day that ended with an incredible dinner of blackened salmon, veggies and peach cobbler and a moonrise so bright you could barely see the stars. I got a post-dinner massage from Pam (the woman has skills!) with a massage oil that made me smell almost clean. Then we were regaled with stories of the Rolling Saloon and poems pining for the destruction of the Damn Dam. Hell yeah. HAYDUKE LIVES! We lingered on the beach well past dark as the sounds of the river mingled with Mike playing the guitar. It doesn't get much better. Then Jim joined in on the flute and it was.

Night and day the river flows. If time is the mind of space, the Colorado is the soul of the desert.
Brave boatmen come, they go, they die, the voyage flows on forever. We are all canyoneers. We
are all passengers on this little living mossy ship, this delicate dory sailing round the sun that
humans call the earth.

Joy, shipmates, joy.

© Edward Abbey

Other Notes:

• Jane took a break from the paddle boat today and climbed aboard an oar raft with Josh. She announced to him that she was going to take a nap so he couldn't talk. He agreed. They proceeded to have an amazing conversation the details of which I don't know, but by report, it meant a lot to them both.
• In the giant eddy at South Canyon Rob found a small, highly polished piece of driftwood. Like a smooth piece of sea glass, all the details of the wood grain were exposed. I thought it was beautiful. Rob insisted it reminded him of a colon. I suppose he's right in that it was smooth and tubular - but that's certainly not the first thing that came to my mind.
  
  Link to Photo Gallery Day 3

-->Go to Day 4 - Nautiloid Canyon to Lower Saddle Canyon