TALES FROM THE CANYON - Day 1

TALES FROM THE CANYON

August 17 – 24, 2022

Thursday, August 18 – Day 1

“Oars up! Oars out!” Orrrr. . . maybe not

After a fitful sleep, I was rudely awakened by my alarm at 6:00am. We were not meeting up with the Hatch group until 8:30, but since I am not a morning person, I need at least 20 to 30 minutes to un-fog my brain, so I can even utter a coherent sentence. I wanted plenty of time to ensure that all my bags and equipment were in order.

Donna and I each downed a cup of the atrocity that substituted for coffee from the small coffee maker in our room, and ate the two slices of poppy seed bread she brought from home. After we dressed and got ourselves organized, we walked over to the office to find out where exactly we were supposed to meet the rafting group.

Three years ago, Donna had spent time in this part of the country when she volunteered at the Best Friends Animal Sanctuary in Kanab, Utah, so she was familiar with the area. However, since it was pitch dark when we rolled in the previous night, I had no idea what the surrounding topography looked like. When I stepped out of our room, I was met with a landscape reminiscent of old Western films. Directly behind the entire lodge was a wall of red cliffs that stretched for miles. I knew this was nothing compared to what we were about to see in the coming days, but it was pretty stunning, nonetheless. And already the temperature was very warm. Yikes. The potentially high three-digit temperatures down in the canyon were my main source of trepidation about this trip because I overheat easily. My husband, Bob, often says, “You never would have made it if you had stayed in El Salvador.” Yup. I guess God knew that, so that’s why I ended up here.

We found a young gal in the office/gift shop who told us that we needed to drive about 20 minutes down to Lees Ferry and that’s where we would find the rest of our group. Say what?! Donna and I were under the impression that we were all meeting at this lodge, and thought it was terribly confusing and irresponsible of Hatch to not communicate clearly with us. At this point it was around 7:40am, so we had plenty of time, but still. Jeeez.

“It’s a good thing we asked!” said Donna.

“Yeah, no kidding.” I replied. “But we’re gonna have to complain to someone about the miscommunication and confusion.”

In a slight panic, we headed back to our room to gather all our stuff and pack up the car to head out. Before we were about to drive onto the main road, Donna decided to check one more time about our meeting location. I parked directly in front of the office open door, with the passenger window down, so I could hear their conversation. A different woman was there, and she asked, “Are you guys with Hatch?”

“Yes,” Donna replied.

“Oh, you guys will meet right here in front of the office at 8:30.” (??????) “Just leave your car over in that lot by the warehouse, bring all the things you’ll be taking on the raft, and at 8:30 someone from Hatch will give you an orientation.”

“That’s what we were originally told, but someone said that we had to drive to Lees Ferry,” Donna explained.

“Who told you that?” The woman asked. Donna pointed to the young gal who had just appeared behind the other woman.

The young gal smiled sheepishly at us and said, “Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought you guys were with the kayaking group.”

Good grief.

So with another disaster averted, we parked the car in a spot I hoped would be safe from getting washed away during a flash flood. Since we had some time to kill, I went shopping and bought myself a new hat. Around 8:15 we hauled our stuff from my car and brought it in front of the entrance to the office, where other people were already gathering. We made introductions, announced where we were all from, and waited to find out what to do next.

Eight of the fifteen in our group were from Texas, and they knew each other because they all worked together. Several of them were physicians. One OBGYN, two pediatricians, one urologist, a pulmonologist, and an orthopedic specialist. The other two from the Texas group were the spouse of the pulmonologist and the son of the OBGYN and orthopedist. It was quite reassuring having so many doctors. The remainder of the group comprised of three guys from the Pacific Northwest, and two women, one from the Midwest and the other from Ireland, who met while working in Nepal. Then, there was the two of us. Donna, a dance instructor and former professional Broadway dancer. And me, a performer, writer, and former elementary school teacher. An interesting mix. I spent the next few minutes observing everyone.

In every group, no matter where you are, be it work, school, a club, class, or the cast of a show, it invariably represents a microcosm of society and contains stereotypical archetypes in the personalities of the people who make up that group. For example, there are the leaders and the diplomats/peacemakers. There is usually someone who is the “class clown,” the talkative one, the quiet one, the “scapegoat” or the person who always gets teased or made fun of (hopefully in a fun way and not a bullying way). And unfortunately, there is also the person who is. . . “The problem.” We’re all familiar with that person, right? They’re extremely high maintenance and difficult. They’re often the complainer, the whiner, the angry or argumentative one. They basically jack up the vibe of the group, and, if allowed, can make the entire experience miserable.

One of the reasons why Men On Boats (The play I was in back in February, which was based on John Wesley Powell's expedition of the Color River through the Grand Canyon, and all ten male roles were played by women) was such a wonderful theatrical experience for me was because our cast of ten was so cohesive and every single person was an absolute gem! The same thing can said for the entire crew and staff. Jenni, who played “Bradley” kept saying, “You know, in every show there’s that one person who is just an asshole. I keep waiting to see who that person is in this group, but there isn’t anyone like that!” To which, our director, Lee Ann replied, “That’s because I don’t cast those people.” Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for this real “Men On Boats” experience we were about to have. More on that later.

A couple of vans showed up and a woman from Hatch gave us a very laid back orientation. I’ve been on two one-day rafting trips before, and the spiel we get beforehand always had me asking myself, “Why am I doing this?! This sounds dangerous. We could all die!” But I figured that speech was yet to come once we got to the raft. After we were assigned our dry bags and given our souvenir Hatch water bottles, we got into the vans and headed down to Lees Ferry.

At Lees Ferry, we met our guides, Sean and Natalia. Before embarking on the raft, Sean gave us our instructions. As he spoke, I noticed how large the tubes or air-filled “doughnut” was around the raft, and wasn’t sure how we were supposed to sit on them while rowing. I also looked around at all the stuff already on the raft and notice some things were missing. I grew suspicious. Finally, after all the directions were given, we put on our life preservers and climbed onboard.

Since I wanted to evaluate the situation before getting my feet wet, so to speak, I opted to sit in the “Tea Room.” It’s the area in the middle towards the back of the raft, just in front of the captain’s seat, and Sean explained that it’s usually the driest spot.

After a couple of minutes, I whispered to Donna, “Where are the oars?”

“There are no oars,” she laughed. “We’re not rowing.”

Hmmm. . .

Okay, so here’s the thing. Donna was great in doing all the research for this trip, which I soooo appreciated because I felt overwhelmed with all the stuff going on in my life at the time and completely trusted her judgement in finding the kind of trip that would work for us. But I swear that somewhere along the way I heard the term “hybrid raft,” which meant that even though it had a motor, we would also be rowing a bit. Turns out that was never the case. Who knew? No wonder we never got the “Chances are good that you might die” speech.

For the first half mile the water was clean and clear, but Sean said that was about to change abruptly once we passed the spot where the Paria River came in, depositing all the sediment let loose by the recent monsoon rains. Before the Glen Canyon Dam was built, creating Lake Powell, the muddy chocolate milk appearance of the Colorado River was its typical state of being. But the dam put a stop to that, as well as changing the entire ecosystem of the river, and only after the rains does the river revert back to its original form. Throughout the week we would become intimately acquainted with that chocolate milk.

We hit our first few rapids through the Paria Riffle as we headed under the Navajo Bridges, and the people sitting in the front of the raft in the “bathtub” got pretty wet. As the day wore on, they also got pretty cold because the clouds kept the sun from frying us, which made the temperature perfect. Unless you were wet. Later in the week we would take turns sitting in different areas of the raft, but on this first day we all stayed put in our initial spots for some reason.

Our travels took us through Badger Creek, Soap Creek, House Rock, and North Canyon. All rapids. At mile 21, we made our first pit stop. Sean had explained earlier about river rafting pee and poop protocols. Basically, we were expected to pee directly into the river. Eeeesh. I never got used to this because it is in complete opposition to what you’re supposed to do when camping and backpacking anywhere. And since you’re either squatting or standing directly in the river, there is no place to hide. Funny how by the end of the week, this became kind of “normal.” The reason for this is because the camp sites are few and with the amount of people that travel down the canyon each year, if everyone pees in the same bushes, it will eventually become really nasty. And the amount of water that flows down the canyon mitigates the amount of liquid produced by humans. At least that’s the theory.

It was also our first experience of the mud! Since the river is made of chocolate milk, you can’t see where you’re stepping, and pretty soon you’re sinking into some goo that sucks you in like quick sand. One of the guys, Mark (our group’s “scapegoat”) got stuck and his sports sandals broke when he tried to dislodge himself. First day, and already one broken pair of shoes.

The poop protocol, I’ll explain later.

Sean announced that this spot was usually where we would set up for our first night of camp, but asked us if we would like to stay or continue on for a bit. Since it was only 2 o’clock in the afternoon, I was the first to declare my preference, which was to continue. Others agreed, and so we moseyed on. This proved to almost be a grave mistake because so many of the usual camp site beaches were washed out by the recent flash floods. Sean was cursing himself for not following his gut and stopping at mile 21 as planned, but eventually we found a beach after passing through Georgie and Tiger Wash Rapids in plenty of time before it got dark.

Everyone helped unload the raft. Donna and I found a spot furthest away from the “kitchen” so we could have some privacy, especially when having to pee. Every camp site choice became about, “Where’s the best place to pee?” After some struggles, we figured out how to assemble our cots and tent with the hope that we would not need the tent, but it was close by just in case.

The entire group helped to assemble all the folding chairs in a circle close to the kitchen and had our first beers and happy hour at the bottom of the canyon.

Sean and Natalia prepared what was to be the first of so many amazing and deliciously extravagant meals throughout the week. (I gained about 5 pounds!) Dinner consisted of steak, mashed potatoes, sautéed mushrooms and onions, veggies, and salad. For dessert: a delicious chocolate cake that Sean baked in a Dutch oven. Wow.

As we lay on our cots that evening, Donna and I marveled at where we were. It felt like a dream. Pretty soon, Donna grew quiet, and I looked over to see that she had fallen asleep wearing her glasses. I should have taken a picture.