Day 8 - Zoroaster Camp to Phantom Changeover to Schist Camp

It was as strange day today from the start. After a very gusty night during which sand found its' way into every last crevice of our bags, tents and gear, we woke early to say goodbye a group of rivermates heading out of the Canyon. Today is 'change-over day'. A group hiking out and another hiking in to join us.

The Upper Canyon Crew

Our musings on how to foil those leaving from actually walking up the hill haven't gotten around the fact that everyone going has a real reason they need to leave. Eileen would officially be A.W.O.L. if she doesn't show up for work. Rumor has it that the Armed Services has little sense of humor around this issue. Mike and Pat need to be home in time for the opening game of the Carolina Hurricanes. As a fellow hockey fan I am obligated to understand the importance of this schedule. As for Mary Lamb, she has clients she is scheduled to see and that she can't contact. Darn all this real world responsibility.
Eileen, Mary Lamb, Pat and Mike Leaving Us
Worst of all, an unexpected departure. Jane slipped last night in the dark attempting a midnight pee in the river and injured her left arm. I looked at it in the morning and despite being neurovascularly intact (which is good), an elephant dose of ibuprofen, ice and a makeshift sarong sling , there is significant swelling over her ulna. It may be broken and it is definitely too painful to continue past Phantom Ranch. We took a group photo on the beach before the 'out-hikers' floated ahead to start their little stroll towards civilization.

Those choosing not to return to the 'land of telephone and toilets' continued right past Phantom to Pipe Creek to await the newcomers. I'd planned to steer clear but headed up to the Ranger Station with Jane to do what little I could to facilitate her evacuation. I can't tell you how sad it made me (and everyone else!) to see her go. She has a rare and amazing presence. Of course, even through her pain and disappointment, she was already scheming how to continue her plans to see a friend in San Francisco rather than return immediately home.

After saying a sad goodbye, I trucked down the trail towards Pipe Creek to catch up with Sandralan who had headed out on her own in the confusion of the morning. I was all the way to Pipe Creek before I realized that my journal was 2.5 miles upstream at the Phantom Ranch Ranger Station. Damn. Jane's departure (which would have to wait 24 hours for the wind to subside before a helicopter could safely carry her to the Rim) got me thinking about 'significant others' and the Canyon. I am lucky enough to be here with Jim. There are so many things about this trip that move people to want to share it. Conversations over the last few days have turned to how so-and-so's wife, husband, child, friend...etc would LOVE this.

The telephone and toilet crew from Phantom returned from their quick visit to the real world and together we waited for a good while at Pipe Creek for the new trip folks to arrive. Larry meanwhile lay prostrate and miserable waiting for 'medical supplies' from the Rim to be brought in with the hikers. All the while, the wind continued to rise and whipped sand up the banks.

The View Upstream Towards Phantom From Pipe Creek

At long last, our new tripmates appeared. Hank arrived as expected with a "Chicks Dig Me" t-shirt. Let me add a disclaimer here : Hank is one of the funniest (most crass) and generally best (deep down) people I know but those folks perturbed by cursing, penis jokes and general irreverence should read no farther. I thinks it's fabulous.

On seeing the size of the bag Hank has lugged down the hill Jim asked him, "What's in the pack Hank?"
"Assless chaps and a cock-ring" he replied.
"It's a big pack, " said Jim.
"It's a big cock ring," Hank shot back.

And there you have it. True Hank form right from the get go.

Along with Hank came Sarah (Matt's girlfriend); Bob, a big lanky gentleman from Texas; Lisa, and a couple (Tom and J.P.) who arrived with way way too much gear. Almost immediately there was consternation from J.P. that they had been convinced to jettison their Cliff Bars up top believing there would be Cliff Bars available on the river. Josh save the day by finding some suitable granola bar alternatives to assuage J.P.'s wrath. After a long hike down with a heavy pack, she was clearly not in 'river time' or for that matter 'river frame of mind' just yet.

Everyone ate lunch and the new folks got a lightning quick intro to packing and river life in general. Stowing her gear in the lee of the cliff wall , Lisa was narrowly missed by a softball-sized hunk of rock which fell from above. Her trip nearly over before it started. Finally, with all said and done, gear stowed, granola bars consumed and crisis averted, the group pushed off to run some of the biggest rapids thus far on the trip. After getting thoroughly swirled by a boorish whirlpool eddy on river left, we all stopped to scout Horn. Quite a whitewater introduction for those just joining us. With the exception of Graham, everyone started in the center and worked quickly left to avoid the biggest of the crashing wave holes on river right. Graham opted to run right down the throat and styled it. Pam was up for the challenge to and although she got knocked over, she rolled right back up and into an eddy.
Rob Gets Left in Horn
Below Horn (and with no scouting fanfare) we ran Granite. Imagine Kennebec Gorge in Maine with twice the water and gradient. Awesome. Very confused water with truly monster laterals cascading off the canyon wall on river left. Flying down the rapid, walls of water would materialize in front of you from unexpected angles, crashing and breaking with jaw dropping force. Again everyone ran well. What a rush. Hands down my favorite rapid thus far.

The wind gusts which had started last night picked up in earnest, sheeting sand from beaches into eyes and ears and sending sprays of water from paddles and waves screaming across the river. For a time, it was difficult to paddle forward in a straight line even in a relatively small, streamlined kayak. Quite an introduction those just joining us struggling to move the paddleboat.
Dark Walls of The Inner Gorge
We continued between the fluted walls of Vishnu Schist of the inner Gorge stopping to surf a beautiful exploding wave at Salt Creek. Rob dropped on and parked himself. Really incredible. He'd been passed by nearly every raft when he finally decided to peel off. If not for his volitional departure, it seems entirely possible that he'd still be sitting on that wave now. In his celebratory exit from the wave, he managed to wedge himself firmly between two rafts in the rapid below forcing an unexpected and unappreciated swim. Frankly, I don't really think that 'counts' as a swim but I gave him a hard time anyway.

Only one more rapid to go before camp and it was a doozy. Hermit. The description is simple: giant giant waves. Sliding up the face and having the wave drop out from under you is the kayaking equivalent of flying. Wheeeeeeeeeee! We'd been warned that the last wave (number 10 or so in the line) frequently broke hard and was likely to result in a dramatic halt of forward progress. I couldn't resist. Like a moth to a flame I paddled squarely into it and as promised, it broke with a thundering crash onto my head, quickly removing my nose plugs and tossing my boat several feet in the direction from which I'd come. Fun. Pam had slightly less luck with this one and after a day of really strong paddling, ended up swimming. I hope she'll brush it off as we have another big day tomorrow.

Below Hermit I found a great eddy line and stern squirted until I was afraid I didn't have the strength to pull off a roll. At the same spot Jim linked a series of 6+ ends together. Nice form.

We arrived at Schist camp (several hours after the camera battery died) and Rob and Graham hit the beach running. Graham sprinted towards a sheltered spot screaming "I claim this rock in the name of the Queen". Despite claiming other territory for England, the two of them actually ended up in a little grotto under a low hanging tree branch. This tiny perch overlooked the kitchen and was, as Graham described it, a good defensive position. I have no idea what that means but is sure looked cozy. Quite a love nest. Graham will tell you if you ask... "Rob likes to spoon."

All settled in with cold beer and a dinner of burgers and 'brauts, we kicked our feet up and relaxed. The evening was great, catching up with Hank and meeting the new folks. Hank with his typical charm was already trying to get Lisa to "Give Big Henry a Kiss". Completely deadpan she shot back "Does that actually work for you?"

Ooooohhh. I like Lisa already.


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