It was the early Fall of ’84 the phone was ringing and my buddy Don was on the other end. Don and I met in ‘82 and became fast friends the minute he invited me to go woodchuck hunting with him. Well, this call wasn’t about hunting. This call was about another serious adventure! I remember he was excited and needed an answer right away. He said, “a buddy and I are whitewater rafting the Grand Canyon, are you in or out?” Back in those days I didn’t need much prompting for any outdoor adventures. I remember saying, “I’m in.” I started to ask, “when?” But Don interrupted and said, “I’ll call you right back!” Click!
Two days later Don calls me back, he says, “I got two questions for you, the lady wants to know if we want to rent burros and how many tents do we want to rent?” I said, “Don when is this trip?” He says, “May, 1985.” I said “Don that’s nine months from now!” Do I really have to book a fffing donkey nine months in advance; and what do I need a donkey for anyway? Don says, “well, the seven day rafting trip leaves you off in the bottom of the canyon and we have to either ride burros out, or walk out from there.” I said, “Don how far a walk are we talking about?” I remember him saying, “it’s just a couple of miles, I really don’t think we need them!” BAM – mistake number 1!!! I said, “what’s the story with the tent?” He said, “well, you are the odd man out, me and Bob are getting a 2-man tent just in case” I said, “well what is the weather like in Arizona in May?” He said, “it’s hot during the day but the nights cool off nicely, so bring a sleeping bag!” “If anything happens you can squeeze in with us!” BAM – mistake number 2!!!
Nine months flew bye. The next thing I knew I was on a 9-seater jet going from Vegas to Flagstaff, Arizona. The lady across the 15-inch wide aisle from me filled her barf bag in the first 10 minutes of the flight. Her bag was full and now she was elbowing me across the aisle to give her my bag, as she wasn’t finished yet. That was the longest 40-minute flight on record. I think I held my breath the last 20 minutes of that flight. Let it be known, when you fly around the Grand Canyon there is a lot of turbulence!
Our group consisted of 16 adventurers from all over the country, 5 guides, and 5 rafts. These people formed a diverse group from all over the country. There were two brothers from Cleveland, a couple from the Midwest, three elderly folks in their upper sixties from California and a few people from the Southeast. One raft was filled with food and equipment and navigated by one of the guides. Don, Bob, myself, and a rotating guide were in one raft, the others decided that they would enjoy being in different rafts with different people every day. We were explained some simple rules of the river:
Hang on tight!
If we were dislodged from the raft keep your feet in front of you and keep your head up!
After that short speech we had no idea what to expect. What we were told was that it was May, the water was high, fast and cold from the melting snow in the mountains above. Bathing, was to be done in the heat of the day and no one could stay in the water for more than a few seconds at a time, as hypothermia could set in rather quickly from the bone-chilling water. Open campfires were not permitted in the canyon, so warming up meant jumping jacks till your blood started to flow again. As best I can remember the actual water temperature was 37 degrees.
We started off slow, the water was not that deep and the first ½ hour on the water was peaceful and serene. The scenery is incredible! For seven days all you do (besides holding on for dear life) is gawk at the splendor and majesty of nature. I know I took over 400 pictures that week and only that few, because I never thought I would need more than 20 rolls of film. If I had a digital camera back then, I probably would still be out there!
It wasn’t long until you hit the first set of rapids. That is when you start to get a feel for what is about to happen. By the third day you really have your sea legs. Those rafts get bounced so high and so hard one can only try to equate it to being inside a very deadly pinball machine. One second the back of the raft is 12 feet off the water and the next second you are plummeting towards jagged rocks at a speed so alarming you don’t have time to be scared. A minute later you are casting a spinner bait into a placid pool. That’s how it is all day! You go from immeasurable adrenaline rushes to tranquil landscapes; all just around the next bend in the river!
At night, the guides would pull off the water and we would all help set up camp. In many places along the canyon there are huge open caves carved from the base of the canyon that provide perfect shelter from the elements. We had no idea what to expect as far as the food. I know I expected nothing more than freeze-dried or hydrogenated meals. It was to my great surprise when the guides pulled out a propane cook stove and whipped up hot gourmet meals. I am talking filet mignon and fresh vegetables. Every night was a different surprise! The pi`ece de resistance were the boxes of wine! Granted, these were not fine cabernets, but the novelty of enjoying a simple pleasure after an incredible day on the water made them taste oh-so-good!
It wasn’t until the third night that we camped along the river under open sky. It was a perfect night. The stars were so luminous that you did not need a flashlight for that walk to that evening’s designated latrine area. Don and Bob pitched their tent, I dug a shallow crevasse in the warm sand and layered the bottom with a small tarp. I figured between the warmth of the sand and my sleeping bag I was going to sleep like a baby! When my eyes closed there was not a cloud in the sky, 3 hours later the first drops of rain hit my face. It started to come down pretty good. So I went over to the tent and unzipped the flap. That tent was so small I would not have fit in it even if I had a crowbar to wedge between Don and Bob. I returned to my now half-filled with water gully and crawled into that wet sleeping bag and I cursed Don for a long time.
I awoke as the sun rose, I was a frozen Popsicle of a man! I cursed Don a few more times! It seems that I have done that a lot over the course of our lifetime afield together!
Day six on the river means Powell’s Falls. These are the biggest and baddest falls in America. You don’t play around in these waters, you hold on and pray! The guides pull off the river to scout the falls and then decide who is going first while the other rafters sit and watch from a higher vantage. The purpose is twofold:
1) to give the guides an idea where they want to be at certain points in the falls and
2) to kick-start an adrenaline rush the likes of which you may never have again in your life!
Just watching is incredible, never mind the reality that you will be in “it” in a few minutes. Let me point out that there is no turning back. There is no way out other than the water; unless you are willing to charter a very expensive helicopter ride. I don’t remember that being offered as a viable option. We were all there to make our mark; to chalk up a life experience that few others ever enjoy!
Next week the thrilling conclusion to THAT GREAT GRAND CANYON RESCUE EPISODE!
Until then, take a minute to view the website below. It is a fine depiction of what you can expect in the canyon. Keep in mind though, that this portrayal was done in August many years after ours and the water just by the nature of the time of year was much slower and warmer then when we undertook our journey!
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