TALES FROM THE CANYON Day 3

TALES FROM THE CANYON

August 17 – 24, 2022

Saturday, August 20 – Day 3

“There will be churning, there will be swells” ~ Major John Wesley Powell

(Men On Boats by Jaclyn Backhaus)

This was our first day of the “big rapids.” The canyon is becoming narrower, so the river is getting faster, and the first of the big rapids we hit was an 8 out of a 10, according to Sean. The classification system is not an exact science, and is only a guide for what to expect. Sean informed us that some people use a system that rates the rapids from 1 to 6, while others use 1 to 10. Regardless of which method a river guide uses, the classification is based on difficulty and danger, not the “fun factor.” So, when we asked him how he classified an approaching rapid, Sean would say, “Well, do you want to know tricky it will be for me to navigate it or how crazy and wet it will be for you?”

“Crazy and wet!” ‘Cuz it’s all about us. But we weren’t always complete narcissists, and would sometimes ask him how challenging it was once we were through. And we cheered for him A LOT. So, don’t judge.

But first, we motored down a couple of miles to the spot where the Little Colorado joins the main river. Natalia described how normally the high alkaline content and minerals give the Little Colorado a distinctive turquoise hue. What we saw, however, was chocolate fudge mixing in with the chocolate milk. More mud! Yay!

One of the best things about a trip like this is being off the grid. Seven glorious days free from Wi-Fi, emails, texts, politics, or any news from beyond the canyon. Consequently, we were completely unaware of the continued heavy rains and flash floods occurring throughout the week out in the “rim world,” which was probably the main source of the large quantity of mud being carried by the Little Colorado. I cannot stress enough how fortunate we were in regard to the weather all week.

Today we had clear blue skies without any storm clouds threatening rain, but that also meant that we got a hint of the type of heat I was expecting to experience the entire trip. That’s why getting wet by the rapids is so AWESOME! Donna and I began today’s journey sitting on the right side of the raft and got plenty wet. Later, I switched to the front and got pounded!

Shawn led us on a short hike to see some ancient pictographs and pottery shards left behind by the Native Americans. Again, we had wonderful views that gave us a chance to see the ant-sized rafts of another expedition float down below us.

Not only were our breakfasts and dinners out-of-control good, lunch each day consisted of a generous spread of all kinds of sandwich fixings and always included Sean’s special salad, which was either made with chicken or tuna. Today’s salad special was chicken curry. He would prepare his salad on the raft while Natalia set up the buffet table on whatever beach we stopped for lunch. (Did I mention I gained five pounds?)

And now, a little history about Sean and Natalia: Sean’s great-grandfather was Bus Hatch, who founded this river rafting company. Sean was eight years old the first time he went on a rafting trip. He has been working as a river guide since he was seventeen and is now thirty-one years old. Sean is also a geologist, so his knowledge and expertise truly were the cherry on top of an already scrumptious treat. (See? Sooo much food on the brain as a result of Sean and Natalia’s culinary skills, as if everything else they did wasn’t already enough.) The two of them met five years ago when she was training to become a river guide, and Sean was on Natalia’s second expedition. They hit it off, and have been together ever since. Out in the “rim world” (the term all river guides use) Natalia works as a criminal defense attorney and only joins Sean on a couple of trips each season, so we were fortunate to have both of them. In the winter, Sean works with the Ski Patrol outside of Flagstaff.

After lunch, we passed under the Kaibab and Bright Angel suspension bridges at mile 88, while Sean continued his geological narration of the canyon’s history.

When we arrived at our third campground, Sean warned us that this one would be a bit “intimate” since it was significantly smaller than the two previous ones. While we set up our new home, Sean and Natalia prepared spaghetti with sausage in a ragù sauce. Dessert was raspberry cheesecake, for crying out loud! Oh yeah, and every evening we would also have appetizers during happy hour. Hellooo? Are ya feelin’ me? Five pounds! Tonight’s appetizer was caprese with fresh basil on crackers. The only thing Hatch did not include with all the meals were sodas and alcohol, of course. But we had the opportunity to order beverages from the Cliff Dweller’s Lodge before the trip, and Hatch had them ready to pack onto the raft on launch day.

I had ordered a case of Blue Moon beer for Donna and myself, and when I asked her if she wanted me to bring some wine as well, she said, “No, I don’t think so. I wasn’t even planning on ordering any beer. But if you already went ahead and ordered it, I guess I’m fine with just the beer. I think that wine might be too much. I don’t want to get dehydrated.” To which I responded just to myself, and not out loud to her, “Bah! You do you! I’m bringin’ wine!” And by the way, the red wine I brought went really well with the spaghetti, so there!

In the morning, anyone who wanted their sodas and/or beer chilled placed them inside the drag bags that were hooked onto the back of the raft, with the theory being that the chilly water would keep the drinks nice and cold and ready for imbibing.

And now, a brief moment to check in with our current climate catastrophe: The Colorado River portion that runs through the Grand Canyon is bordered by two man-made lakes - Lake Powell, which is created by the Glen Canyon Dam, and Lake Mead, created by the Hoover Dam. The building of these two dams already changed the ecosystem of the river, but what is happening now as a result of the severe droughts caused by global warming, is truly alarming. Lake Powell is at such an all-time low that the water releasing into the river is coming from what is usually the middle layer of the lake that doesn’t normally escape the confines of the Glen Canyon Dam. This middle layer is much warmer than the top layer that typically enters the river. Consequently, the temperature of the river has risen twenty degrees in only one year! Think about that. The warmer water is killing all the trout, which is not a native fish to this region, but still. Another kind of fish that thrives in this middle layer of the lake is now invading the Colorado River for the first time and eating other species. Once again, humans are drastically changing the delicate ecosystem of this magnificent river.

All of this means that the normally 48 degree river water is now around 65 degrees, so our beer and sodas never got very cold in those drag bags. As soon as we got to our beach, folks would take their cans and stick them in the ice chest while we set up camp, and the drinks would be ready by the time Natalia called out, “Appetizers! Wash your hands!”

However, Donna and I being who we are (there was a very steep learning curve the first three days), would often forget to either put our cans in the drag bags in the first place, or forget to transfer them to the cooler later in the day. We were so fortunate that we could “rely on the kindness of strangers,” and someone always took care of us. Often, Mark would put our beer in the drag bags first thing in the morning when he put his in. And many times he was kind enough to put them in the cooler. This particular evening, the spouse of “The Problem,” (Remember that difficult person I mentioned on Day 1?) went up to Donna and told her that they took the liberty of taking our beer out of the drag bag and placed them in the cooler for us. How sweet! In hindsight, this kind gesture towards us might have been what set off “The Problem” and would later lead to some issues they had with us. Stay tuned. That story is coming the next day.

While we were setting up our camp site, Donna looked up at the clear sky and said, “I don’t think we’ll need our tent tonight. Maybe we don’t need to set it up.”

“If we need it, it’ll be too late. We should always set it up just in case.” So we did. But because this beach was small, one group – the OBGYN, the orthopedist, and their son – opted to forgo their tent. Eeesh. Risky move. The spot they ended up in was tight and barely had room for their cots, so I think they just decided to cross their fingers.

By the time we got in bed, the sky was once again a blanket of clouds, frequently lit up by flashes of lightening somewhere in the far off distance, I hoped, since I could not hear any thunder accompanying the light show. The orthopedist walked swiftly past our cots, heading towards his tentless camp site, muttering, “It’s gonna rain, it’s gonna rain.”

A short distance across from us, was the three-buddy group, Mark, Brian, and Gerard. The tents we were given could accommodate two people, but not three. And certainly not three grown men. Gerard always opted to sleep inside their tent, but Mark and Brian were happy outside, as were most of us, because the nighttime temperatures were quite comfortable, and who doesn’t want to catch a glimpse of the Milky Way? However, with the lightening illuminating the cloud cover, I wondered if the three of them could somehow make it work to squeeze inside one tent. Instead, Mark and Brian had chosen to have their individual tarps (Hatch provided these for us in our dry bags) nearby and ready to pull over themselves if it began to rain.

I could hear Brian snoring when Mark said, “Brian, the clouds are coming.”

I continued to monitor the sky and felt one drop on my arm. . . Then another. Then another. . . Then three drops in quick succession. That’s it! “Let’s go!” I shouted to Donna, and we grabbed our pillows, sheets, sleeping bags, and scattered like cockroaches into our tent. It began raining immediately. Donna was kind enough to go back outside to grab all my laundry that I had set out to dry and bring it inside the tent. We lay with our feet towards the open door flap to allow some air circulation, and watched the rain pour down accompanied by some fierce wind.

From our vantage point, we could see someone else on a cot with a tarp over themselves, and after a few moments he gave up and joined his wife inside their tent. One gal, who was a part of the Texas group, but was traveling alone, had her tent right next to ours, and we heard her ask the family without a tent, “Are you guys okay? Do you want to come inside my tent?” To which came a small and meek reply, “Yes, please.”

The whole thing was quite entertaining.

After a while, Donna asked, “How is anyone supposed to sleep in these tents? I can’t even straighten my legs.”

I couldn’t straighten mine out either, and I’m shorter! “Yeah, what the heck?” I said.

That’s when I realized that the tents were rectangular, not square. Duh. We were lying across it the short direction, but since we had all our crap scattered everywhere inside, we were kind of squished and too lazy to move things, so we couldn’t straighten out in the correct direction.

“Let’s just lie diagonally,” I suggested, thinking we wouldn’t have to be there very long.

The next thing I knew, I woke up feeling hot, my body stiff and cramped from lying diagonally, and I of course I had to pee. I went outside to discover a cloudless starlit sky, nice and cool temperatures after the rain, and moved back outside to my cot for the remainder of the night.