- "There will always be one more river, not
to cross, but to follow.
-
- The journey goes on forever, and we are fellow
voyagers on our
-
- little living ship of stone and soil and water
and vapor-on this
-
- delicate little planet circling round the sun,
which human kind call Earth."
-
- --Edward Abbey
-
-
-
- An anxious thrill surged through my body as if an avalanche
threatened to bury me alive! But, in this case, a mountain of angry whitewater
rumbled toward me-seething with power and deadly intensity. It possessed
the force of a herd of stampeding buffalo thundering down on me.
-
- One mistake and our raft could flip, and all of us would
become pin-balls in nature's merciless game of rolling thunder.
-
- In seconds, we dropped down the cool calm of the 'tongue'
toward the rapid. But the closer we sped to the first 'roller', my eyes
grew to resemble two fried eggs on a hot skillet. It towered above us
ten feet high! What my eyes saw translated into excitement-which shot
adrenaline throughout my body. But there I was, a rookie captain of the
raft and in charge of taking us through 1.7 billion years of erosion-on
the raging Colorado River in the middle of one of nature's prettiest creations:
the Grand Canyon.
-
- Moments earlier, Gary said, "Why don't you captain
the boat?"
-
- "You don't have to ask me twice," I said, jumping
up to seize the oars.
-
- I grabbed the big, heavy wooden oars on Gary's raft.
Ahead, the quiet canyon grew into a loud roar as we neared Badger Rapid.
-
- "Make sure you bring the boat in sideways in the
middle of the tongue," he said. "As you head into it, be sure
to turn the boat down river and stay in the middle of the rapidswatch for
signs of disturbed water where the big boulders are hidden. Rocks are
bad for the boat. Try to dive directly into the rollers head first."
-
- "Got it," I said, eagerly.
-
- "For every rapid," Gary continued. "Stand
up and see what you have to navigate. You really need to see where the
tongue is located and if any laterals are coming in from the sides. The
big key is to watch for big rocks that could hang us up or dump us."
-
- "Okay," I said.
-
- Receiving instructions and doing it proved a challenge.
There's a knack to being a boatman on a wild ride down the Colorado River
in the Grand Canyon. I followed Gary's mentoring. I angled the boat
sideways down the tongue of Badger Rapid. It's amazing how the raft floated
on quiet, still, peaceful water until we headed into the tempest. I cranked
on the boney oars and spun the 16-foot raft headfirst. For a moment, the
bow of the boat shot skyward like the lead car on a roller coaster. In
those few seconds, Gary and his lady, Julie, crouching in front and hanging
on to the ropes, watched a wall of water slam over the top of the raft
and shatter like a plate glass window in the movies-all over them. Instantly,
they nose-dived over the top of the wave and I shot skyward with both oars
out of the water-looking like a dragon fly's wings out of control.
-
- We plunged downward into the maw of hell. Only ten feet
behind them in the back of the raft, I followed with the reluctance of
a lamb being led to the shearing shed. The raft bent in front as it hit
the bottom of the second roller. Shooting skyward, like the Challenger
launching off the pad at Cape Canaveral, the raft bolted into the vacant
blue sky above us. Water engulfed our raft in a million crystals of liquid
excitement. Julie screamed with delight. Gary, ever the veteran rafter,
hung on with sheer pleasure.
-
- Water drenched us. No matter! We floated within the
belly of the beast and I worked the oars to keep from tipping over. I
dug the blades into the raging, boiling white water to keep the raft bow
down river. We shot through several more six-foot rollers and quickly
glided toward calmer waters.
-
- "Yahoo!" I yelled. "What a rush!"
-
- "I'd give you a-B," Gary said.
-
- "We lived, didn't we?!" I answered.
-
- So began one of the greatest adventures of my life-running
the roiling, heart pounding waters of the Colorado River through the magic
of the Grand Canyon. At no time have I been more thrilled through fear
and excitement than when I sat as a passenger or commanded the raft on
one of the world's greatest adventures.
-
- Brenda, a long-time friend, called me months ahead, telling
me that she had won a permit to raft the Grand Canyon. She invited me.
I have rafted many rivers around the world, so I thought it wasn't THAT
much of a big deal. I accompanied her on the Green and Yampa years before.
My rafting experiences included Europe, Australia, New Zealand, Alaska,
and South America. I told her I would get back with her. Gary called
a day later, and told me to say "Yes," before she asked someone
else to go. He said it was the greatest raft trip in the world. I wouldn't
have too many more chances because the waiting time to obtain a permit
exceeded 10 years.
-
- "I'm going," I told Brenda on the phone.
-
- "Great," she said. "Good to have you in
our group."
-
- Driving out to Page, Arizona creates a sense of barren
nothingness in the mind.
-
- "Who would want to live here?" I asked Gary.
-
- "Someone who likes it hot and desolate," he
said.
-
- It's odd to imagine a town jumping out of the desert
on the edge of the Colorado River. The landscape might as well have been
on the moon. Red and tan soil along with sandstone rock dominated as mountains
rose in the distance. The river couldn't be seen except where it backs
up behind Glen Canyon Dam.
-
- A golf course, replete with lush green fairways presented
an unusual contrast as it butted up against rust colored rolling desert
sands.
-
- We stopped at the Powell Museum inside the city. There,
we saw a replica of John Wesley Powell's boat, the Emma Dean, which in
1869 carried him on the greatest river adventure known in the world at
that time. Powell, a veteran Army officer, lost his right arm in the Civil
War. He faced danger not only from the deadly river, but also from disease,
starvation, hostile Indians, and desertion by his own men. Each day presented
him with new challenges.
-
- He wrote on July 11th, "A short distance below camp
we ran a rapid, and in doing so, broke an oar, and then lost another, both
belonging to the Emma Dean. We soon approached another rapid. Standing
on the deck, I thought it could be run, and on we went. Coming nearer,
I saw that at the foot it was a short turn to the left, where the waters
piled up against the cliff. We tried to land, but discovered that, being
in swift water above the fall, we couldn't reach shore, crippled as we
were by the loss of two oars; so the bow of the boat was turned down stream.
We shot past a big rock; a reflex wave rolled over our little boat and
filled it with water. I saw that the place was dangerous and signaled to
the other boats to land where they could. Another wave hit my boat and
threw me into the water. I soon found that swimming was easy. When
a breaker rolled over me, I closed my mouth and was carried through it.
As soon as we reached quiet water, we swam to one side and turned over
the boat. At last, we reached a huge pile of driftwood. Our rolls of
blankets, two guns, and a barometer were in the open compartment of the
boat and when it went over, these were thrown out. The guns and barometer
were lost, but I managed to catch one of the blankets as it drifted down,
but the other two were lost, and hereafter, we may sleep cold."
-
- Gary and I toured the museum with great interest. Many
men and women lived and died plying the tempestuous waters of that ancient
river that cut through the canyon for millions of years.
-
- "We're going to put-in at Lee's Ferry and float
225 miles to the Diamond Creek take-out right here," Gary said, pointing
to the map.
-
- "Looks good to me," I said, not really knowing
what I was getting myself into.
-
- "You're going to love the scenery," he said.
"Some of the walls are a mile high and we'll be floating through
1.7 billion years of erosion. Nature creates a lot of magic in a billion
years. We'll be seeing a lot of geological creativity."
-
- After eating lunch and buying a few last minute supplies
for the trip, we headed the truck and all our gear down to Lee's Ferry.
We dropped down into the Grand Canyon along a deep narrow cliff face,
the color of a slice of baked ham, and made our way along the river. At
one point, we crossed over a bridge high above the Colorado. We drove
along red clay rocks and sand. Sparse bushes grew along the route, and
above us, blue sky garnished colorful tan-bronze canyon walls.
-
- At Lee's Ferry, we reached the put-in late in the day.
The rest of our five rafts, twelve-person crew busied themselves rigging
their rafts on the shoreline. The Colorado River rolled past us as placid
and quiet as a dog sleeping on the front porch on a hot day.
-
- Gary introduced me to Badger, Wocnis, Strat (three brothers),
Steve, Cindy and Rick (married), Brenda, Ivan (significant others), and
Sally (with Strat). I already knew Gary and Julie. All were in their forties
or fifties. Everyone enjoyed being veteran river runners. Most loved
the outdoors and the 'primordial' aspect of wild living. Three proved
five star hotel types, but they would 'endure' the lack of amenities for
a short time. Several like me could live 'wild' for months at a time and
revel in the visceral aspect of the wilderness. Those are my kind of people-relishing
the "savage" in themselves.
-
- Another rafter Robert Service said, "The summer-no
sweeter was ever; The sunshiny woods all athrill; The grayling aleap in
the river, The bighorn sheep on the hill. The strong life that never knows
harness; The wilds where the caribou call; The freshness, the freedom,
the farness-O God! How I'm stuck on it all."
-
- It's interesting when I meet a group of people. At first
they are faces and bodies; next, they become voices; soon, they become
personalities; next comes characters with their passions, problems and
dimensions; and finally, they become friends, or simply acquaintances in
the grand parade of people who march through my life. They either become
attracted to me and me to them or we simply share the moment and later,
go about our lives.
-
- Many years ago, I read a book about human perfection
and how to accomplish it, but when the perfection manifested, humanity
found itself bored with comfort. One man broke out of the 'perfect' living
paradigm and crossed into the wilderness. He became a savage. Most people
don't know it, but Hollywood, Wocnis, Badger, Strat, Steve, and maybe the
quiet one, Ivan were like me, 'savages', who loved their moments in washing,
no, DRENCHING themselves in the waters of the wilderness. We appreciated
the bite of a mosquito, the zipping up of our bag as we slept under a starlit
sky, and a campfire with a boiling pot of stew cooking over the coals and
ready for our 'ravenous' bellies. We don't care if we're freezing to
death or sweating our guts out in 120-degree heat. We came for the adventure!
Yeah, we burp, fart, pee and love our lives in the woods. Because, in
the woods, uncertainty thrives!
-
- Heck, I've been face to face with grizzly bears,
and, at the moment didn't know if tomorrow would be an option. I nearly
frozen to death at 18,000 feet in the Andes and welcomed death, but I didn't
die. It's all a random deal. Still, I'd do it again.
-
- My friend John Muir said it better, "No healthy
man who delivers himself into the hands of nature can possibly doubt the
doubleness of his life. Soul and body receive separate nourishment and
separate exercise, and speedily reach a stage of development where-in each
is easily known apart from the other. Living artificially in town, we
are sickly, and never come to know ourselves. Our torpid souls are hopelessly
entangled with our torpid bodies, and not only is there a confused mingling
of our own souls with our own bodies, but we hardly possess a separate
existence from our neighbors."
-
- It's when a person relinquishes his/her attachment to
the known by stepping into the unknown of nature that the world opens up
endless possibilities. So few take the chance! Because it's safer in
the known even if it's boring and continues for years. That's why people
keep the same jobs. They might heed the Buddha when he said, "Find
a job you like and you won't have to work a day for the rest of your life."
If a person engages life-life opens its magic, wonder, exhilaration and
fullness.
-
- Nonetheless, I always walk away learning something from
everyone on such a journey. Every single person on this trip taught me
a lesson whether they knew it or not. Some of the lessons proved positive
and some turned out otherwise. All proved valuable. For each lesson,
I am thankful the person provided it. I only hope I helped them on their
life journey as they enlightened me. It all depends on whether or not
they were listening, watching or interested in learning. If not, I've
learned to enjoy without attachment. I've learned that everyone becomes
what he or she has chosen to be.
-
- After introductions, everyone busily prepared their rafts
for the next day. Gary backed his truck down to the river. We unloaded
the raft and gear. Soon, we too, spread our equipment along the shoreline
like a big garage sale. We prepared the raft. We set up with a
foot pump and stomped on it hundreds of times until the raft took shape.
>From there, we lashed the aluminum frame to the raft and began placing
the cooler, drinks, 16 days of food supplies, seats, bags and straps onto
the raft. Slowly, Gary's "River Slug" as he affectionately named
it, took shape. The extra oars locked onto the sides of the raft. We
filled the drink bag and tossed it into the 47 degree water to keep it
cool. We piloted a self-contained, 16 feet long, and seven feet wide,
gray with red/black trim lines-river running adventure craft. One sobering
item-it wasn't a self-bailer. That meant the person in front bailed when
the rapid dropped countless gallons of water inboard.
-
- We embarked from Lee's Ferry. Prospectors and travelers
crossed at that point on the river in the 1850s through to 1929. John
D. Lee operated a large flat boat. Horses, Indians and cowboys crossed
for mere pennies per trip. In 1912, a steamer named the Charles H. Spencer
hauled coal to Lee's Ferry, but sank on the third trip. It's still sunk
in the bottom of the river.
-
- Next to us, a group of twenty-somethings rigged their
boats and talked loudly. Before our eyes, they unloaded 102 cases of beer.
-
- "Are you going to drink all that beer on this trip?"
I asked.
-
- "You got that right," one of them said.
-
- "We used to drink that much, too," Brenda said.
"But our crew has high blood pressure, high cholesterol, prostate
problems, weak livers and one heart attack."
-
- "That's TOO funny!" one of the younger women
shot back.
-
- "It's not if you're the one with the heart attack,"
Badger said.
-
- "Right on!" one of the twenty-somethings said.
-
- "Ah," I said. "As the writer Emerson
commented, "Youth! It's wasted on the young."
-
- Later, we set up our tents in the tree line by the river.
The ranger drove down to give us notice that he would return in the morning
to present an orientation on rafting the Grand Canyon. The guy's size
rivaled one of those balloon floats at a Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade.
-
- We ate dinner at a restaurant near Lee's Ferry. It catered
to river runners with pictures on the walls of white water rafts splashing
through the rapids and being upended. The pictures looked wild, but still,
I didn't have a clue.
-
- Back at camp on the river, Julie arrived with Sally.
Rick picked them up at the airport. Our group congealed! I walked around
the ruins that had been a small town, complete with post office. Miners
in the 1850s tried to ore gold from the hills, but failed. As I walked
back, I read a sign from the park service, "Down the river lies heart
pounding adventure."
-
- Above me, the sky glowed with golden hues along with
streamers flying across the heavens from wispy clouds skittering on their
indolent journey to places around the globe. They floated on a sojourn,
too, and probably just as important to them. As I stood there, watching
my new friends talk and work-the last light of the sun shown like burning
torches lighting up the canyon walls in burnished browns, reds and tan.
Happy voices! Hands gesturing! Laughter! Great expectations! All
felt good in the world-at least, our part of it.
-
- I walked over to my tent. Once inside my bag, I sat
up and took one last look at the river. A quiet, black sheet of glass
spread before me. I placed my life into its hands for the next 16 days.
-
- "Heart pounding adventure," I muttered to myself.
"Works for me!"
-
- Sleep came quickly in the wilderness. Better than a
five star hotel!
-
-
- ___________________
-
-
- Excerpt from: RAFTING THE ROLLING THUNDER: JOURNEY THROUGH
THE GRAND CANYON by Frosty Wooldridge, copies available at 1 888 280 7715
when it publishes April 1, 2010.
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