June 29, 2015

June 29, 2015

We are in northern Arizona for a Bucket List item, an adventure raft trip down the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon.  In the hotel parking lot we meet up with our outfitter.  He gives each one of us two dry bags to store our gear; a small one for items we will need during the day and a larger one for everything else.  All the bags look alike so we write the bag numbers on our coffee cup.  We then hop a couple vans for the short ride down the road to the river access at Lee’s Ferry.  There we meet our guides and load all the gear onto two large rubber rafts.  Before long, we are headed downriver. 

Lee’s Ferry, located at the confluence with the Paria River, was historically the only point the Colorado River could be easily accessed from both sides for many hundreds of miles.  It was the most important crossing point until Navajo Bridge was built in 1929. 

Lee’s Ferry is also mile marker 0 of the Grand Canyon National Park.  The Colorado River is not a big river but it is swift.  It drops an average of 8 feet every mile, 25 times more than the Mississippi where I grew up.  That gradient means we have a wild ride ahead of us.  It is not long before we hit the first rapids.  It is a small one but gives a taste of what to expect.  Neither Aimee nor I are big whitewater rafting fans; we are on this trip to see more of our favorite national park, not to get knocked off into a swirling vortex.  I hope we didn’t bite off more than we can handle.

Fortunately the river alternates between calm stretches and rapids, giving us time to enjoy the scenery.  On three occasions we spot Bighorn Sheep.  All were groups of ewes with juveniles looking for a drink of water.

We stopped once for a lunch of deli meat sandwiches and another time to stretch our legs at a large sand cave carved out of the cliff.  Around 3pm we stopped for the day at a sand bar located near mile marker 30.  We formed a fire line to bring our night packs to shore along with all the kitchen gear.  While we each set up our own personal camp space, the crew of three prepared dinner.  They served us hors d'oeuvres followed by a steak and mashed potato dinner, and Aimee’s favorite, brownies.  I would call it Glamping (glamorous camping) except for the potty situation.  Number One is done in the river and Number Two is on portable outhouses (lovingly nicknamed the “Groover”) setup on either end of the camp.  Thirty-two people camping on a mostly barren sandbar doesn’t make for privacy.