I worked for 37 years as an educator in the Bureau of Indian Affairs. I retired in 2006 and am now experiencing the world of international travel. NOTE: Clicking on any picture will allow you to view the a larger picture.

Grand Canyon River Trip 2011

July, 2011
Bob arrived about 3pm after a mix up with Map Quest. At 6p we went to our mandatory meeting at a nearby hotel. There we got our rather large rubberized dry bags, we were shown how to secure them, and told to return at 6am the next morning. We made it and hopped on a shuttle to Lee’s Ferry. Upon arrival our crew was waiting. There were four inflatable rafts for passengers, one for food and other sundries, and a small wooden boat, the Sandra. This was a ‘non-motorized’ trip, so once we pulled out, there was no turning back.

This was Bob’s xn river trip and I was a river virgin. We quickly learned there were five of us doing the full trip—Lee’s Ferry to Diamond Point, some 230 river miles away. The rest of the group was going to Phantom Ranch and hiking out of the canyon. There we would pick up another group doing the lower river ride after hiking in to Phantom Ranch area.
Our oarsmen and oarswomen were from a variety of backgrounds with at least one thing in common, the love of the river and all it provides. John was our trip leader and the manager of Canyoneers. He was a little officious the first day or two but turned out to be a great guy who came to Flag at 18 and worked on the river almost 20 years. Cliff was a constant reader. Every time we stopped, he would have a book in his hand. He also shared some great readings with us. His dad has written two great books about the Grand Canyon. Kate claimed to be the oldest oarsperson. She had lived in Flag, but moved to Delores CO so she and her boyfriend could pursue a dream of making dory boats. Turns out she is a great published photographer. Amity was with her boyfriend, Omar, for the first half of the trip. He is an avid hiker and climbed out with our first group. Rachel and husband were on the food boat. Finally was Greg, whose grandfather had started the first commercial trips on the river, back in the 30’s. The Sandra was one of his restored boats which was very popular with all of the guests. Isaac and Tom joined us at Phantom ranch to oar the food boat.

As a newcomer, I thought of what ol’ John Wesley Powell must have experienced as his expedition was the first explorer to travel down the Colorado from Wyoming to the end of the canyon. Thankfully our guides knew where all the rapids were, where there were good stops, where there were good hikes over rocks to beautiful waterfalls, ponds, Anasazi ruins, and slot canyons. Powell and his group didn’t have anyone with knowledge like that, except for maps made from the rim.

After a few minutes on the river, we passed under Navajo Bridge[s] and entered Grand Canyon National Park. While still in Marble Canyon we hit our first rapids. The series had drops of 8’ to 2’. The first one was a perceived ‘huge’ rapid but after Lava Falls, they were really not that large. I got wet is ice cold water many times that first day. It was about 100° and that cool water felt good. I still don’t know why I had so many quick drying clothes—I could have stayed cooler and wetter with cotton. We were constantly reminded to drink at least 2 gallons of water every day and to eat the salty snacks. On a couple of really hot days [108°] I added Nutrilite powder—much like Gatorade—to replace nutrients my body was sweating out. On that first day we learned about bailing and hand pumping to get the water out of the boat. We would continue this new skill throughout the trip…even when I heard that several days had been called ‘No Bail Days’. Most of the time I thought the 1” of water was nice to keep me cool, but even that small amount really weighed the boat down and made it hard to row, to control, and did not prepare us for upcoming whitewater.

We soon realized that the only sky we would be seeing on the trip was a wide slit directly above us. This was great because we some shade much of the day. I still don’t know why but the sky was the deepest blue I had ever seen anywhere. I figure it was because the contrast with the canyons. There were also no clouds most of the time in that slit until the end of the trip.

We pulled into camp about 4p to end our first day on the river. First item was to find a place to put the kitchen, then individual campsites, and then assist in unloading the boats. It was easy to find a kitchen spot—as close to the boats as possible. Campsites were fairly easy too for the first few days. Then all this became routine and not always ‘exciting’. Bob and I slept very well with each having one night that was a struggle. We laid out our pads, and the sleeping bag. I opened my sleeping bag, laid on one half and covered myself with a light sheet. Each night about 4a, I would awaken and cover myself with the other half of the sleeping bag for the last 90 minutes of sleep. I was never cold…never kept awake by bugs. On our first night the full moon awakened all of us and most of us thought the sun was coming up. The canyon rocks were dark, the sky was dark, and there was just this huge ball of white light.

We were told to pee in the river and crap in the ‘Duke’…much easier for men than women. The Duke was a self contained solid waste disposal bucket with chemicals and a nice seat. Actually there were about 8 Dukes for the whole trip. My grandfather had taught me, after a few swats that you never, ever pee in the river. I’m sure he was turning over in his grave every time I got rid of the 2+ gallons of water I was drinking every day. As an old-er guy, it was hard to get up in the middle of the night, walk to the river and pee. Fortunately, it was not a nightly occurrence. At home the call is usually around 5:30 or 6am that I get up, so since we were up by then, no problemo.

Some of our guides were mostly river people—enjoying just being on the river. Others were mostly canyon people—enjoying the geology of the canyon. Others were archeologist people—enjoying the ruins and the story they told. I was a river person. I really liked being on the river, both the rapids and the quiet portions. I have hiked to many ruins in my life—including two great trips to Keet Seel, taking visitors to Walnut Canyon, and many other places on the Rez. I did take some hikes to ruins on this trip, but they were easy walks. With bifocals and prisms, my eyes had a hard time focusing on the rocks I was walking over and seeing the beauty of the canyon on the walks. Even though I took several hikes, I did not take the ones that included ‘jumping’ or ‘holding the wall’ so as not to fall 100’ down. I left those to the younger folk, and to those who have never seen the beauty of Northern Arizona. It did not distract from the trip and it gave me some time to ‘become part of the canyon’ in a peaceful way.

One thing that struck me on this journey was that all the rapids, all the major rock formations, all the incoming creeks, everything was named by non-Natives. There was a story of how major rapids were named. There were stories of early explorer’s adventures near a spot. At times I wished we had a Native on board to tell us the Native story of this great canyon. While most people have heard of John Wesley Powell’s expedition I learned that it was actually J C Sumner—another Civil War Vet—who was responsible for making the expedition a success. He pulled Powell out of the water at least twice and was responsible for saving the boats numerous times. JC was not into publicity and fame, so he let Powell tell the stories and get the fame. Then there was Georgie White Clark who ran large commercial trips on the river throughout the 1950’s. She was quite a character who was known for her ‘leather skin’ her leopard pattern leotards and her no nonsense—don’t mess with me—attitude. She hated inflatable rafts and always took her trips in dories—sometimes lashing them together for better stability. On one trip several dories flipped, sending gear and passengers into the river. As she looked around at the devastation her only comment was ‘They don’t make passengers like they used to.’ Norm Neville took his first commercial trip down the river in 1938 in ‘new’ boats that seem to attack the rapids backwards—with the wide part of the boat going in first. He and his wife continued the trips until they were killed in a plane crash in 1949. Their company, now owned by Gaylord Stavely, is now called Canyoneers.

Our first wildlife sighting was three Condors around Navajo Bridge. They are magnificent in flight. While they circled above us, I could only hope that they were not thinking we would soon be dinner. Throughout the trip we saw a couple more. We had a great view of a red-tailed hawk on a shelf above us. It went into flight, just as we passed. Several times we saw blue heron on the shore line, standing on rocks right at the river. We saw big horn sheep of all ages. They were on cliffs, they were eating in a small meadow, they were drinking at the river, or they were simply meandering along the river bank. Cliff says he saw a fox, but he was the only one to see it and it was really hot—so it might have been a hallucination? Most campsites had deer tracks, sheep tracks, and one had a paw print that might have been a bobcat. I saw a very fast snake on the rocks during one hike—non-poisonous, and at the end of the hike others were greeted by a 5’ rattler, who felt they were a little close so coiled and rattled. Ravens were at all campsites—looking for food. Our trip leader John was very strict about leaving the camp cleaner than when we arrived. He made sure that no one dropped even crumbs and that we left nothing behind. At first it was a pain, but soon became routine. Seeing the number of visitors on the river, all of his ‘rules’ make a lot of sense. We were not the first, nor the last visitors. This is the least the canyon deserves.

I spent two days on the Sandra. The first day I was on the front, the second day in the back. We did some great rapids on both days. Sitting on the front of the boat has you right at river level. When I approached a rapid, I was told to ‘fish-eye’. That means lying on my stomach with my head right at the front edge of the boat. Your head, your body, and the boat go down into a small hole, then you hit the rapid and so up out of the water pretty high, then crash down into the next hole, ready for the next wave. You get really wet, slammed fairly hard, and keep the boat upright. The fish-eye-er has to use body weight to keep the boat from overturning and to bring the boat back down in the wave so it doesn’t do a back flip. Sitting in the back means bailing, getting very wet, and using body weight to keep the boat from overturning. Both days were a totally awesome experience.

‘High siding’ was essential to the larger rapids as was ‘scouting’. ‘Scouting’ simply meant that we pulled off the river, climbed up on the rocks and observed the rapids. I only did it the first time. The oarsmen and women would get up there, adrenalin would be running high, they would watch, then point, then wave their hands in various directions, and discuss how to attack the rapid. They used river vocabulary and this was not the time for a vocabulary lesson. I certainly got the importance of this exercise; I just had a hard time understanding the final decision. ‘High siding’ takes place in rapids. As the boat rises, you move your weight to the high side of the boat—to prevent flipping. Many times gravity is pushing you into the low side of the boat. Omar did several body slams high siding at the front of our boat in Taner Rapid.  I was never that adventurous, but did get pretty good, according to the guides, at high siding.

There was never a dull moment the entire 13 days. No matter what boat I was on, there were always stories about the canyon. I had heard the many sides to Glen Canyon Dam when I first came to AZ back in 1971, while the river was forming Lake Powell. The Natives were happy for the jobs and saddened by the loss of the beauty and history of Glen Canyon. The Dept of Reclamation was busy making movies and a very accessible dam to let the public know that so many more visitors would be able to see parts of Glen Canyon. The environmentalists were talking about the ruin of the canyon and the eventual silt build up that would make the dam inoperable. What I didn’t know was the Reclamation plan to put a series on dams IN the Grand Canyon. We stopped at the Marble Canyon Dam site, where work began on the dam before it was stopped. There are still remnants of the plan, including the holds for the proposed tram and a huge cave that goes several hundred yards into the canyon. That cave was drilled to help anchor the dam. Some of us walked back into the cave which was about 10’ wide and 12’ high. It went back for what seemed like forever. We only walked a hundred yards before turning back. Thanks to everyone who had the foresight to stop the building of that dam and several others in the canyon.

Lava Falls as one of the highlights. Bob and I went through them with Cliff. There was the mandatory scouting. Everyone was always serious after a scouting trip. When we got back on the raft, Cliff looked at us and said to get ready. Then in the most serious tone he had ever used, he told us that we were to stay in the boat, watch the boat behind us, and if anyone fell out to keep our eye on them—no matter what, and to yell and point to the person in the river. “Don’t take your eyes off the person, no matter what.” I usually a pretty good multi-tasker but this seemed like more than I could do. My goal was to simply stay in the boat. The rapids did not take any of us. The ride was thrilling, better than any e-ticket at Disneyland. We were tossed and turned, raised and lowered, and our raft was filled with water. We all survived and I was ready for a re-ride. I asked Cliff to do it again. He looked at me, shook his head, and said ‘on your next trip’. I am ready.

On the last night it looked like rain and we all pitched tents. No sooner had we gotten things set up than the rain started. It cooled things off quickly and was really pleasant as long as we were in the tent. Neither Bob nor I expected a dinner in the downpour. They simply put up umbrellas and cooked a very nice enchilada meal. We stood under the umbrellas and ate. Linda Lou and I had helped with dinner a couple of nights before, but neither of us was out there working in the rain. It rained most of the night, but by dawn, it was another great day. We worked our way down to Diamond Point where we would be picked up. We had to wait about an hour on a great beach as the Hualapai control the exit point and they had motorized day boats to launch. This is where we saw a rather large rattler, who felt being coiled and rattling was a good choice. We moved on. The ride out of the canyon was about 23 miles of dirt to get to Peach Springs. The road had suffered from the previous day’s storm and there was a grader on the road, doing what he could to make it easier. We had to drop off some people at the South Rim then on to Flagstaff. Our adventure had come to an end.

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I retired in '06--at the ripe old age of 57. I enjoy blogging, photography, traveling, and living life to it's fullest.