Continued from part two

Day 6: Phantom Ranch
We elected to get an early start in order to make it to Phantom by mid-afternoon. There were a few bigger rapids beforehand and we wanted to make sure we didn’t miss out on restocking ice due to a flip, so we pushed off before 9 (by far a record). Hance Rapid would be our first grade 8 rapid, and the biggest yet, which we hit around noon. I had been gaining confidence the last few days on the oars, and the day’s rapids went quite well for everyone. At Phantom it was imperative that we restock the ice for some of our coolers — one of the ones that was still sealed was already not looking too good. We literally bought every block of ice they had on hand (a couple dozen at least) and did some cooler rearranging. The coolers had been the last persistent cause of worry for me so it felt great to finally take care of them.

It was a little odd wandering around Phantom with beer in hand while dozens of scruffy backpackers were cooking freeze dried meals on JetBoils. River trips can spoil you. We decided to camp early and celebrate — best day yet of the trip for me.

Day 7: Mega Rapid Day
Most of the pre-trip conversations between boaters revolves around the big rapids of the trip: Oh yeah, I heard you should run Crystal center right to avoid the massive hole in the middle, then do an upstream ferry river right to avoid the wall. Really? I watched a few runs on YouTube and they just hit it dead middle. I dunno man, that hole looks huge!

And yadda yadda yadda, really there’s not much point to such deliberations beforehand. Rapids are highly chaotic — you really have no idea what they’ll look like until you’re 50 yards away scouting them from the bank. You can hit your line perfectly and still have that sneaker wave crest right at the moment you hit it, tossing you end over end. There’s a significant component of luck.

Granite, Hermit, Crystal. If you’re a boater you’ve certainly heard of at least two of the three rapids as well as their stories. Welp, we were about to hit ’em all in a day, for the most exciting day yet on the river. Granite was first, around mid-morning. The other private party that had launched the same day as us happened to be doing a layover day just before Granite, so we chatted with them for a few minutes, exchanging liquid peace offerings in the process. Then came the scout — not gonna lie, it looked pretty intimidating. Granite might have been the most fun rapid of the whole river. At our level, the right run was doable — just a series of huge waves that you could hit while staying just left enough to avoid the wall. We whooped through them with glee and all three boats emerged without incident. This set the tone for the day.

Hermit was pretty straightforward, too — everything funneled towards a few big waves towards the end of the rapid that looked pretty big, however in a 16 foot boat we sailed over them easily. Crystal was the culmination — one of two grade 10s on the river. We scouted it, picked our lines, and I elected to go first. After the last two rapids it didn’t look so bad. Supposedly at other levels it can be terrifying, but we ran it pretty much down the center and didn’t even get that wet. However, while looking back upstream to see how the other boats were doing, I neglected to maneuver the boat either right or left to avoid a rock garden in the middle of the river. I pulled with all my might but just barely couldn’t get around a boulder that would’ve deposited us in the main channel. There was nothing to do at that point but just hang on as we bounced around for awhile before becoming solidly beached on a log braced on either side by a huge boulder.

Well, shit. Cam and Kevin did some jumping and pulling, but we didn’t budge. We tried getting off the raft, bracing against a boulder, and pushing, and managed to move it around the initial boulder, but there were another half dozen or so downstream that were unavoidable. The other boats docked downstream and hiked up til they were adjacent to us, but there was no way they could have gotten a rope to us as we were 50-60 yards away from shore. Eventually we decided the only option was to unload the boat until the reduced weight would allow us to move it. Luckily we were at a spot in the river where we could pile our gear onto a small gravel bed, otherwise it would have been a much more serious situation. After unloading the heaviest items, we could get out and push (again, luckily, the water there was only ankle- to knee-deep), with one person holding the bowline as a sort of belay in case the boat got caught in the current. Once we got really close to being un-beached again, we reloaded the boat (while it was belayed), and did a final push to get unstuck. The whole ordeal took over two hours, and by the time we were free it was only an hour before dusk. On the plus side, Kevin’s GoPro was running the whole time — you can view the video here. (There are some pretty hilarious shenanigans starting at around 3:00 when we attempt to dislodge the boat, check it out.) I am very thankful to have had such a strong crew that day with Kevin and Cam — both proved exceptionally cool, collected and strong in a hairy situation.

To make matters worse, I missed the pull-in for our desired campsite, and had to tie off a few hundred yards downstream from everyone else. It was a pretty terrible evening compared to the exultation of running the rapids (mostly) successfully earlier in the day.

The next morning we awoke to an intense thunderstorm. While cooking breakfast in our large cook tent with the doors open, we witnessed the river change from crystal clear to muddy brown within minutes. It was very dramatic, and a prelude to what was to come further downstream…

Continued in Part Four

Continued from part one

After a stressful two days of preparation, we were finally floating. At this point, as a trip leader, you should really just sit back, crack open a beer, and relax, because there’s really nothing more you can do from a planning perspective. There’s no returning after you pass the “permit required past this point” line.

Day 1: Jubilation
We only floated eleven miles due to our late put in, and they were almost all flat except for a few small rapids to warm up a little bit. Beers were consumed en masse until (and after) Graham whipped up a tasty batch of steaks, and I remember having fairly civil conversation with only a couple people falling out of their chairs. Pacing oneself is an important river skill to learn.

Day 2: Tidal Surprises
We woke up on the beach to find our boats no longer in the water. Oops. We had heard about the “tides” on the Colorado below Glen Canyon Dam, and were now acutely experiencing the side effects. Each day, water is released from the dam in cyclic intervals, with the greatest flows around late afternoon to keep up with hydroelectric demand from the parched cities of the Southwest. 12 hours later, the lowest volumes are released, and this continues in a predictable 24-hour cycle. Our flows were forecast to be 10k – 18k CFS (cubic feet per second), a reasonable flow for midsummer.

So, most mornings we would wake up to the boats either totally marooned on a beach, or floating 15 feet past the waterline. It took about a week to get a feel for the tides, and after that we adjusted the boats accordingly before going to bed.

The first large rapids were right after we put in, which provided some excitement first thing in the morning. I was having a tough time controlling the boat through the first couple 6s (on a 1-10 scale) — Hitting the entry point wasn’t a problem, but I kept getting an oar stuck in the water which tended to spin the boat around uncontrollably. It was not confidence-inspiring for either passenger or rower. It was the first time I had rowed a boat with oarlocks, though, so the learning curve was understandable.

Day 3: Uh-oh
The third day started out well; we were at a spectacular camp (Shinumo Wash) with a large beach right next to a 400-foot cliff and spirits were high. There was a really cool-sounding slot canyon hike just upstream from camp, so we decided to check it out. It was semi-technical, involving fixing a rope for downclimbing a steep ramp into the central slot. Everybody fared well until we ventured up some slick waterslides farther up. Jon was ill-prepared and had to choose between climbing barefoot and with flip-flops and went with the former. This did not bode well as he slipped while climbing the uppermost slide. The ugly sound of skull meeting rock reverberated throughout the slot, and once the blood started gushing it wasn’t quite clear if things were going to be alright. Half the group went down with him to apply medical treatment while the rest of us continued up the slot, which didn’t go for much longer. We carefully climbed hand-over-hand back up the rope and descended to a bummed-out Jon holding a bloody shirt to his wound. After much discussion and waiting for a clot we had applied antiseptic to the wound and covered it in steri-strips while the rest of the group rigged the boats.

Over the next few days we consulted with numerous commercial parties for advice, which varied from immediate helicopter evacuation to staying the course. Kudos to Graham and Shawn for handling the whole situation calmly and professionally. It had stressed me out big time but I elected to step back due to my lack of medical expertise.

What made matters worse was my own medical issue that night — while eating a tasty burrito I had an especially severe esophageal cramp (a recurring condition of mine) which sidelined me for the rest of the night. I couldn’t swallow any food or water as it would just get lodged in my esophagus, and eventually be regurgitated. I suspect it was largely stress-induced, as the last few days were as anxiety-ridden as any in my life, and the condition just exacerbated it. Some good conversation with Shawn and Zac helped a bit (along with everybody’s favorite green pain reliever), and I was feeling better that night. However, it wasn’t until I swallowed a Benadryl the next morning that the dilation cleared and I could finally swallow again. What a relief.

Days 4-5: Rain and the Little Colorado
With the group’s medical problems somewhat relieved, we could focus more on enjoying ourselves. The next couple days didn’t bring any really big rapids, but enough smaller ones for me to get a better handle on controlling the boat. There weren’t any more unexpected 180-degree spins mid-rapid and I was able to keep the boat straight consistently. On the fourth night we had an unexpected rain squall roll in at three in the morning. I woke up to a few people groggily stumbling around setting up the large tent, and soon after I was struggling to erect my own, swearing the whole time. On the bright side, it cooled things off considerably and the next morning was quite pleasant.

On the fifth day we came to the Little Colorado River, an impressive cerulean blue flowing over bright-white, soft limestone deposits. We tied up the boats and hiked a half mile upstream, passing some really fun-looking overhanging conglomerate boulders that I had to play on. Everybody jumped in the refreshingly warm, tropical-feeling waters and butt-floated with our life-jackets most of the way down, shooting through small rapids and giggling like toddlers. It was an absolute blast and the most fun I had had in quite some time.

Next: Phantom Ranch and big rapid day — Hermit, Granite, Crystal!