Trip of a lifetime?
As this was a significant year (of an age beginning with F but not ending in orty), it naturally required marking with a significant trip. Ever since I first started paddling, I’d read much about the Grand Canyon of the Colorado in Arizona and often contemplated taking a trip down it. And now I was finally here!
Here being Lees ferry at mile zero of the Grand Canyon. The Canyon starts 15miles below the Glen Canyon dam which holds back the waters of Lake Powell and runs 280 miles to Lake Mead which in turn is held back by the Hoover dam. We were to paddle 226 miles down to the takeout at Diamond creek, over 16 days, I was paddling with a group from Canyon Explorations based in Flagstaff. The previous evening we had our first get together for an ‘orientation’ meeting and to meet the rest of the group who would be sharing the river for the next 16 days, 2 from Dublin’s fair city, 12 of our American cousins and a fellow kayaker, Marcel from Interlaken in Switzerland. Annie from CanEx gave us our first generalised briefing about how the trip would pan out on a daily basis and addressed any last minute kit requirements, before breaking the news that we would need to be on the move at 6 o’clock the following morning ( like I was not already sleep deprived enough!).
I think the excitement and coffee must have kept me going the following morning and after a 3 hour drive we were at the get on. Here we met up with the raft guides who were loading the rafts up with 16 days worth of food, equipment and peoples personal kit. There were 5 oar rafts carrying people and equipment and one paddle raft which would carry 6 paddlers and a guide, along with 3 kayakers.
The guides were:
Dave, who was our head guide with a cool head and an encyclopaedic knowledge of the Canyon gained on numerous previous descents.
Win, who was not only the master of ’groover’ orientation but also truly master of his own colon (and I suspect ours after a while!).
Jen, who was straight from the ‘go big or go home school of rafting’ who had a penchant for the more extreme lines.
Laurie, well she was what you would kind of describe as the Miley Cyrus of the oar rafting world (it’s a compliment, honest!).
Pauly, our very own ‘man in black’ and also equally importantly he was the man responsible for the (excellent) food supplies for the trip.
Pat, our kayak guide and the man who put the laissez into ‘laissez faire’. Pat knew the rapids like the back of his hand, and along with Dave the previous Autumn had paddled the Canyon on a massive 37000cfs release (we were to have a more modest 7-13000cfs) in 3 days!
And finally;
Susan the paddle raft guide, well the less said about Susan the better!
Dave gave us some further orientation talks, my favourite and the one I will take away with me, being, ‘we river guides have a saying; “if you’re hot you’re stupid!”’ I’ll let you think about that one.
So after some last minute loading and topping up of water bottles we were off. Beautiful crystal clear water was the order of the day, well for about the first 300 metres anyway! Then the Colorado was joined by the Paria river which was laden with silt from recent heavy rains, and turned the river the colour (and texture) of drinking chocolate.
We only encountered a couple of relatively minor class 5 ( the Canyon is graded 1-10 rather than the international 1-6 system) rapids on this first day, Badger and Soap creek , but they were still enough to concern my sleep deprived mind! That night we made our first camp at Tanner Wash, here we had the first of a series of truly memorable al fresco meals before sleeping soundly under beautiful starry skies with an abundance of shooting stars. The following day after breakfast we broke camp, loaded the rafts and we were on our way straight into a class 7 rapid, House rock. This provided a good warm up rapid for the day as we were to paddle the ‘Roaring Twenties’ today a great series of rapids culminating in ‘Tiger Wash’ a relatively newly formed rapid with two enormous crashing standing waves to tackle.
Everybody was starting to get into the swing of river life, and the days started to follow a pattern where we were hiking up some spectacular side canyons once or twice a day (always coupled with insightful historical information from our very knowledgeable guides) and of course paddling in between this. The days started with the blowing of the conch shell announcing coffee, this was followed by hearty cooked breakfast and gallons more coffee, a substantial lunch followed and in the evening we had some truly wonderful meals always followed of course by a great dessert. The use of the Dutch oven to create Brownies, chocolate chip cookies, corn bread (to name but a few) had to be tasted to be believed (note to English readers, this is not to be confused with our version of ‘the Dutch Oven’ which is altogether rather an unsavoury thing!). The evenings were spent reliving the events of the day over a few beers and gazing at the beautiful starry sky through the window of our canyon walls.
Some days into the trip we had made camp and embarked upon a hike up a side canyon led by Susan. This was to be the first of her many interminable, ‘just around the next corner‘ hikes. These hikes were basically a last man standing affair, only to be terminated as the final bodies piled up by the wayside. Earl and myself finally crawled back into the campsite behind Laurie and Susan that evening as dusk fell, to an air of excitement. A King snake had been spotted at the campsite! Dave had advised us in one of his orientation talks that if we came across a snake not to crowd around it, as they just want to make their escape, personally, being no big fan of toxic serpents there would be more chance of me doing a Usain Bolt impression in the opposite direction!
That evening we were fortunate enough to have a fascinating tutorial from Earl, our trip astronomer. With his laser pointer, he set about unravelling the mysteries of the night sky for us, pointing out the various stars and constellations ( I think I can finally identify the North star now!).
The following morning whilst waiting in line for the groover I suddenly felt my pulse quicken and a bead of sweat breaking out, there, just a few meters away was a coiled Rattlesnake! Maureen , upon returning from the groover, reliably informed me she would keep an eye on it whilst I grooved (thanks Mo), not great for the ego having someone your mothers age protecting you, but there you go. The reptile was still there when I returned, then Matt strolled over and decided to lob a stick at it, even after scoring a bulls eye it still didn’t move. But there again, rubber ones are not renowned for having a great turn of pace! This reptilian rascal as it turns out was Wins pet, Rufus, who’d decided to hitch a ride on the trip!!
The rapids the river had to offer paled in comparison compared to that mornings tribulations. The rapids, too numerous to mention them all, seemed to have a general pattern to them in so much as, they required one or two main manoeuvres to miss the major features ( generally large holes and pour overs). Then, having tackled the huge exploding waves head on (hopefully), the river just seemed to open up and all that was left then was to do battle with the ever present hideously boily eddy lines. Granite and Upset rapids ( class 9) were both like this, heart thumping rapids to enter, with the biggest waves I have ever seen and the line not easily obvious from the bank, but get it right and you were at the bottom in a breathless flash. Equally astonishing was how successfully the ’Duckies’ (inflatable kayaks) handled some of the major rapids, or maybe that was down to the operators with Shane, Michael and Andy often leading the way and Earl stepping in now and again to show the young upstarts how it‘s done! Even the occasional dip into the river was no real hardship though, boy was it hot down there, temperatures were up in the 30’s everyday, it makes the Alps feel positively frigid. It’s easy to forget when you are viewing through the window of the inner canyon that you are actually in a hole a up to a mile deep in the middle of a desert, firstly passing through the Moave then the Sonoran deserts.
Day after day we ran some great white water and hiked some beautiful side canyons, finally on day 13 we were to attempt to run the daddy of all the rapids in the canyon, Lava Falls (class 10). I’d read a lot about this rapid over the years and was certainly intrigued to finally see it. To achieve an optimum level to run it (the flow fluctuated significantly due to the dam release, which at the distance we were from the dam was almost running a day behind now) Dave decided to do a small hike first.
Was it my imagination or were the normally imperturbable guides appearing slightly strained, due to the upcoming Lava? Upon returning from the hike our beloved paddle raft guide set about constructing a topographical silt map of Lava Falls on the beach. We were then treated to various scenarios of the how the run should (or could!) play out, complete with exploding silt mounds and accompanying sound effects, mashed up paddlers and silt encrusted kayakers! Bemused? So was I!
Now, being no stranger to what the Americans refer to as BS, it crossed my cynical mind that there was a possible wind up going on here as to the severity (or not) of said Lava. Not being as green as I am cabbage looking I parked this thought as we set off. A mile before you reach Lava you happen across Vulcan’s Anvil, an impressive 40ft high column of Lava rock rising out of the river, not too long after this you hear the roar. Arriving first, while Pat and Marcel scouted river left I scouted right. Even from high above the rapid it looked enormous with an awful lot of raft and kayaking flipping potential. The kayak line itself was clear but the chances of following said line from river level appeared less so. If I still harboured any thoughts of a wind up after seeing the rapid, the expressions on the guides faces as they inspected (they had only inspected a couple of the many rapids before this) put that one to bed, grave they were! This was the big one. Now, Susan had previously shared a story with me about a run on Lava where she had flipped a raft. Afterwards she asked one of the other guides the reason for the flip and his answer was simply, ‘you left the eddy at the wrong time’! Ordinarily this would sound to me one of the flimsiest of flimsy excuses going. But everything on the Canyon is not always what it seems and this was never more apparent than on Lava. As I sat and watched there was an enormous crashing diagonal wave that randomly turned from an impenetrable wall of white, to an enticing green wave. I reasoned that this was the key to a successful run for me, if of course I could make it that far upright. There was little room for error and It was reliant on some fortuitous timing, but I reckoned on having enough good karma in the bank with the river gods. So off we all set after wishing each other a customary ‘good run’.
Well, I’m fairly sure I hit my intended line, but clearly I did not have as much credit in the river gods bank as I thought. It was like setting off on speeded up fairground ride and before I realised it the diagonal smashed me over upstream, quicker than you could say ‘karma’. Fortunately all the years of mid winter play boating at Holme Pierrpont paid off and it was a mercifully brief view of the riverbed before the sky reappeared and I was able to push hard left to ease past the waiting maelstrom of waves and into the eddy below, still as everybody at HCC is well aware ‘ to learn to roll is a success, to use it thereafter is a failure‘. The rafts all came through in fine style, with the paddle raft flirting with the eddy where you really don’t wish to end up, but I’m sure this was deliberate for the entertainment of the punters. Pat then showed me the way to run it upright in a kayak, picking a sweet line through it all (I knew I should have let him go down first!) and emerging with a beaming smile. Maybe I should have been less dismissive of the silt map after all!
All to soon we had completed the penultimate day on the river, leaving us a little over 5 miles to Diamond Creek following morning. Still there was the final night under the stars and some entertainment to enjoy. Before getting to that let me share this with you; if you ever have ’friend’ who has the urge to check out the functioning of their coronary arteries but they do not have the time for a visit to their GP try this. Carry their beer down the river in a Hessian sack, then insert a Rattlesnake (or any poisonous reptile you have to hand) into the sack and tie it back up again. When they undo the sack and insert their hand to reward themselves with a well earned beer, 1 of 2 things will instantly happen. 1, they’ll simply keel over on the spot and commence pushing up the daises, but in truth they probably hadn’t got too long left anyway so at least it’s been mercifully quick! Or 2, their arm will retract like it’s been attached to a bungee cord, enough blood will be pounding through their temples to make their eyes bulge and their heart will leap out of their chest whilst their life flashes before their eyes. On the plus side though they’ve just passed a free medical! This is of course from personal experience. After making camp on the last night I wandered down to the rafts to retrieve my final few beers and chill them down in the river. After undoing the neatly tied reef knot (scouting ocd ) on the bag I reached in to withdraw the final cans, fortunately for me the latter of the 2 options happened. This turned out to be needless worry, because of course, it was only Rufus! It never really occurred to me in the moment of blind panic, that not only, how could a reptile such as this slither into a sack and then tie a knot around the bag , but also manage to tie a reef knot without the benefit of opposable thumbs! Glancing round I noticed the guides were having their end of day debrief on the raft and as such had not noticed the incident. Upon wandering over I was repeatedly asked if I would like to partake in a beer or had I already sampled one?
This was of course accompanied by some very poorly disguised grins (not a poker player amongst the lot of ‘em), and one in particular. If protesting too much is a sign of guilt you wouldn’t need to be Sherlock to track this one down! Revenge will definitely be a dish best served cold for you missy! While dinner was being cooked Dave gave his final talk, this time a ‘disorientation’ talk, this was designed to ensure our smooth re-entry into polite society after the trip, such as not urinating in each and every river we came across, not washing and sanitising our hands thirty times a day and most importantly not starting each day by sitting on an ammo box in our back gardens! This was followed by some more practical advice regarding the de-rigging of the rafts at Diamond Creek the following day.
Following dinner that night we were entertained by Win and his troupe of wandering thespians acting out a scene from the very first Canyon descent back in 1869, with Win effortlessly slipping into the role of the one armed war veteran Major John Wesley Powell, the leader of the trip. Shane the chanteuse rounded off the evening with a couple of delightful tunes (the foreign exchange markets gain is certainly the singing worlds loss) thanks ‘pal’. The following morning we drifted towards the take out observing the traditional CanEx ‘silent float’ from the sighting of Diamond peak to just upstream of Diamond Creek, allegedly even Susan managed to stay quiet for this long, although personally I have my doubts! I for one had a tinge of sadness upon reaching the takeout and popping the spray deck for the final time that day, (although a hot shower and soft bed would be much appreciated!) having totally immersed myself in day to day river life for the last 16 days, still, reality beckons. The de-rigging went like a well oiled machine and soon we were sitting down to a most delicious brunch. A bus ride up through Navajo country and a quick change of transport and we were back at the Hilton Double Tree in Flagstaff where it all began 16 days earlier. After turning my room into something resembling a Chinese laundry and removing silt from parts you wouldn’t believe it could even reach, I headed down into the civilisation of Flagstaff for some beers and a final shindig with my new ‘river family’. Tales and incidents were fondly recalled, and goodbyes were exchanged. During all of this Bill summoned me outside to show me a sign we’d missed on the way into the Brews & Cues pub, it was a ‘No Firearms’ sign! As Bill said in his normal understated way ‘I guess Arizona is a ‘carrying’ state’, well why wouldn’t you? This also goes some way to explaining why every sign I saw even slightly off the main highways looked like it had be used for target practice in a war zone.
So, the trip of a lifetime? Well if you were after a pure adrenalin white water experience, with continuous scary rapids day after day, probably not. If you are after an amazing one off experience in an utterly awesome unique corner of this planet, some great hikes, enormous rapids and the memories of a lifetime. I’d say a unequivocal , Yes!
I was fortunate enough to be down the Canyon with a fantastic group of people which undoubtedly contributes hugely to the success of the trip, so a big thanks for all your company goes to; Maureen and Earl, Michael and Celeste, Bill and Bea, Tara and Richie, Pat and Matt, Andy and Barbara, Terry and Shane (the dads and lads team) and of course my fellow kayaker Marcel. Also all the guides for making it the success it was. And finally Canyon Explorations for their faultlessly smooth arrangements from start to finish.
If the above is of interest and you’d like to know anymore, you could always buy me a beer and I’ll tell you more. If it’s not feel free to buy me a beer anyway!
Canyon Explorations website is, canyon explorations.com.
Mick Taylor.
