Grand Canyon News

Just when I thought I’d done it all in the Grand Canyon, I am once again priveleged enough to explore yet another amazing part of it.  I’m not kidding when I say that I’ve seen the Grand Canyon in just about every way the Grand Canyon can be seen: I’ve hiked the major corridors, ridden the mules on both the day and overnight trips, flown in the planes and helicopters over not only the Grand Canyon, but Bryce Canyon, Monument VAlley, Lake Powell, Canyon de Chelly….  I’ve done more fun stuff in half a lifetime than most people do in a whole.  All in a day’s work.  Pretty cool, huh? 

Anyway, I just got back from a fabulous Grand Canyon white water rafting trip.  This was actually my second white water trip on the Colorado.  In 1998, I went on an 8-day trip with Wilderness River Adventures.  That expedition covers all of the major rapids of the Colorado River of the Grand Canyon, from Lees Ferry to Whitmore Wash – these are the biggies, the ones rated not on a scale of 1 to 5, but on a scale of 1 to 10, including Lava Falls, the one that sometimes goes all the way up to 11.   How was it?  The ultimate of course.  I saw my life flash before my eyes a couple of times on that river.  And I also experienced moments of profound beauty and inner peace.  Life affirming?  To say the least.  Would I recommend it?  Wholeheartedly. 

I really and truly thought that that incredible trip was my final adventure in the Grand Canyon.  I’d saved the best for last.  Well, guess what - by some twist of fate, I found myself on the great river again, this time on a one day trip conducted by Hualapai River Runners.  It was an adventure – and then some! 

We had started our day in Williams, where we’d stayed at the Howard Johnson’s the night prior.  Ritz Carlton?  Nope – BUT I have to credit them for this: they had their continental breakfast up at 5:30.  Basic stuff: cereal, coffee, OJ, donuts..   Usually they put it out at 6:00, so I wondered if the desk clerk had heard me saying that we’d be hitting the road before then.  If so – thanks, you guys!  

We hit the road a little after six, heading West on Interstate 40.  Soon, I was driving my Ford Explorer down a stretch of road I’d yet to travel in all my years here: the remnants of Route 66.  Route 66, of course, was known as the Mother Road until it was bypassed by Interstate 40 in the ’70’s.  Some of those kitschy old mom and pop shops are still operating.  Kinda cool.  

We pulled into Peach Springs on the Hualapai Indian Reservation in plenty of time to begin our adventure.  We check in at Hualapai Lodge - a neat place, with a coffee shop, gft shop, and it actually has a salt water spa.  Hmmmmmmmm.. something to partake in next time perhaps…  Our hosts inform us right off the bat that this day could get interesting, and they were right!! 

We boarded an old school bus (yes – school bus!) and began our descent into the Grand Canyon.  Contrary to popular belief, there is actually a place where you can drive to the bottom of the Grand CAnyon.  BUT before you get into your Toyota hybrid and head off, be warned: It is a rough road, and you need big clearance big time!!  That bus shook and rattled, but plowed like a tank through the washboards and creek beds and crept over the boulders and ruts.   

But what a beautiful drive – about 20 miles – filled with blooming desert flora like ocotillo, prickly pear, greasewood, etc.  Halfway down the road, we encounter a small herd of wild burros who come up to the bus and look as cute as could be, hoping for a treat certainly.  I’m sure they’re well trained, wink wink…  They are the descendants of the beasts of burden brought by miners over a hundred years ago.  These miners sought fortune from everything from gold to bat poop (aka guano).  When they realized that there was more gold to be gleaned from tourism than from the stuff in the ground, they left their four-legged sherpas where they had plenty to eat and drink.  They were fruitful and multiplied and have since learned to pose for their pictures right on cue. 

We stop for another photo op over a rise with a spectacular view of the rising canyon walls.  After about an hour of bouncing around (we would do a lot of bouncing around that day!) we land at Diamond Bar.  There we meet our guide, Emmett, a self-described “Pimapai” (half Pima, half Hualapai), put on our rain gear (we will need it) and get our life jackets on.  We stash our cameras, moisturizer and money in plastic bags and transfer them to ammo cans.  We deposit the rest of our stuff like dry clothes, extra socks, etc., in a large vinyle sack called a “wet bag.”  We are told to get ready.  We will waste no time getting wet. 

The gang boards an 8-passenger pontoon raft with a Yamaha motor on back, and it’s sit down, shut up and hang on.  Well, the shutting up part didn’t work actually: in seconds we plunge into a big rolling rapid and get splashed by water that’s 45 degrees every bleepin’ day of the year.  Much happy hooting and hollering.  The nose of our boat plunges into wave after wave for about 40 yards, the boom-splash boom-splash putting our fortitude and muscles to the test, preparing us, as we found out for what awaited us at the end of the trip. 

We rollercoaster through four sets of rapids.  This part of the river is rated on the normal scale for most rivers (1 through 5).  These rapids are Class II’s and III’s.  But if anyone thinks that’s wimpy or the least bit boring, they would be wrong wrong wrong!!!  It’s all a matter of proportion.  Hualapai River Runners don’t use those big “sausage boats” as river captains call the neoprene rubber monsters that plow through the rapids of the upper Colorado River.   

The boat I rode on in 1998 probably weighed as much as 5 tons fully loaded, and trust me, you’d appreciate that when you’re looking up at a  30′ wave about to drench the entire raft from stem to stern.  Even in the big rapids, you are hard-pressed to flip these boats.   The Hualapai boats, though smaller, also have a very low rate of flippage, but still, you really feel these rapids. 

By the second set, our rain gear is basically useless.  I was glad to have had it for that first initial shock of water, but now I’m used to it.  I doff the poncho and Emmit stashes it under a bungee cord next to the wet bag.  By this time, you’d better be resigned to the fact that you’re gonna be soaking wet for a good while. 

We pull over to the left bank of the river for a break and a hike.  Here we find a side canyon where a creek forms a waterfall inside a travertine cave.  It’s a bit of a climb on some slippery rocks, but ropes and ladders are provided to assist.  I actually surpirsed myself here when I was able to haul my 42 year old overweight self up there, but hey, if I can do it… well, you know!   

After leaving the waterfall, we run two more sets of rapids, including a Class III.  These rapids sure seem to come fast and furious on this 20 mile stretch of water!!  In the upper Grand Canyon, many rapids are separated by long stretches of smooth water, then of course there’s the 15 miles of smooth water from the base of the Glen Canyon Dam to Lees Ferry where hundreds of people every week run the famous half-day float trip.  That part of the river is totally calm, no rapids at all; this part of the river is non-stop excitement for about 2 hours. 

Lunchtime comes just in time.  At this point we’re majorly hungry and get excited when Emmitt whips out Ziploc bags filled with HUGE submarine sandwiches.  We’re all pleasantly surprised to dig in to a really good club sandwich.  I notice it has bacon in it and silently hope the two Hindu ladies on the trip made arrangements for something different.  The accompaniments are pretty basic, chips, carrots, soda, water, etc.  It’s not fancy, but you gotta realize that they have to keep all this stuff dry, so they can’t get too foo-foo with their preparations. 

Here’s where one has to be careful, too: you want to drink water, you HAVE to drink water, BUT you don’t want to overdrink.  Here’s why: you’re gonna go about 2.5 hours on this trip wihtout access to a “proper” bathroom.  There are no facilities the waterfall or lunch beach.  Gotta go before then?  You’ll have to stand in the river and do it.  Moral of the story: don’t overdo the coffee in the morning, and don’t eat too big a breakfast.  Coffee’s a diuretic, which not only dehydreates you, but makes you have to go.  Bad combo in a place like this.  ’nuff said. 

As we enjoy our lunch, Emmitt puts a splash guard on the nose of the boat.  We shove off again and he encourages us to stretch out – it’s smooth sailing from here.    For two hours, the water turns calm again, which is OK ’cause you wouldn’t want to miss the scenery hanigng on for dear life.  We motor down the channel and finally make a bathroom stop at Spencer Canyon.  Signage indicates that an endangered species of flycatcher (bird) has been seen here.  The area is also occupied by hawks, eagles, ravens, big horn sheep, deer and sometimes condors have swung by. 

The canyon walls are still high and colorful.   Even though this area of the river is technically not a part of Grand Canyon National Park, it is merely that: a technicality.  My cohorts and I are silent in the presence of this incredible handiwork of Nature.  We come to a long side canyon on the northern bank of the river where Emmitt points out a small black plaque, and chills run up my spine.  This is Separation Canyon.  This is where three men travelling with the John Wesley Powell Expedition of 1869 decided to abandon the quest to run the theretofore unexplored river.  Beaten, battered, and dehydrated, low on supplies and certain that the journey ahead would be filled with more perilous rapids, the three hike toward the North Rim of the Grand Canyon…and are never seen or heard from again.  Even today, their fate remains uncertain.    

Up to this point, our expedition’s fate had been a bit uncertain, too.  At the end of the run, passengers are usually helicoptered from the riverside to Grand Canyon West, a short but thrilling ride that I’d actually had the pleasure of taking before.  Not today.  The canyon walls seem to melt as the area transitions from high desert to low desert, and the winds pick up dramatically.  By the time we get to the helipad, they’re up around 45 miles an hour.  Emmitt relays the somewhat disappointing news: there would be no airlift this afternoon. 

Plan “B” is put into action.  We will extend our trip another two hours as we gear up to ride to South Cove, near Pearce Ferry, all the way down at Lake Mead.  At this point the water is relatively calm, but Emmitt tells us to get back into rain gear and life jackets anyway.  On days like this, he explaines, the wind has a tendency to come up strong at the drop of a hat in this canyon, and there will be five foot swells on the lake.  We started our trip in white water, and that’s where we’d end it, too. 

We pass by a couple of the other boats in our group and the passengers shoot us a puzzled glance as we notice that they’re not yet in wet gear.  They’d regret it, just as Emmitt predicted, as the waters transitioned from river to lake.  The difference was literally night and day.  It was both visual and tactile.  A line of demarcation separated the merging waters, the Colorado River a dark beige, the lake, an astonishingly beautiful emerald green.   A gust of wind blasted us from the west, spraying us with droplets of water that were mercifuly warm.  We left behind a river and entered what felt like an ocean.  

The boom-splash boom-splash motion we’d felt earlier was back.  The other boats’ passengers are fumbling to get their wet gear on.  We were glad Emmitt had forewarned us when he did.  For the next hour and a half we felt like the Gilligan’s Island crew did when our “tiny ship was tossed”…. up and down up and down.   For two solid hours, we took a heckuva beating, but Emmitt plowed through it like a pro.  By this time my back is screaming, as are my writsts as we all hung onto the grab bars at our sides once again.  We were gonna be hurtin’ units at the end of this little adventure, that was for sure! 

Finally, we round a bend to the South and the end of the line comes into sight.  That ten minutes between the curve in the river and the boat dock at South Cove was probably one of the longest ten minutes of all our lives.  To say it was a rough ride is an understatement, but Emmitt handled that boat beautifully.  We were relieved to be back on solid ground, and to see that familiar old school bus waiting for us. 

We bid Emmitt good-bye and invite him to look us up if he ever made it to Page.  We greet our bus driver once again and take our seats.  Earlier I thought that maybe I’d brought too much.  I’d brought a change of clothes, towel, etc..  About mid-way through the trip I thought, “am I gonna need all that?”  The answer turned out to be HECK YES!  I was never so glad to see a nice cozy towel, a warm pair of socks and some dry clothes in my LIFE.  

The day was far from over.  The drive back to Peach Springs was another two hours.  But that turned out to be another unexpected pleasure as we made our way through a lanscaped filled with Joshua Trees as far as the eye could see.  We stopped at a little market in the town of Meadview, a town poised to boom with the incipient development of Grand Canyon West, and the eventual opening of the incredible Grand Canyon Skywalk on Hualapai Indian Tribal Lands.  A welcome center is under construction there. 

After some time on a soft dirt road, we get back onto pavement and finally pull into the lodge parking lot at about 9:00.  Some of us are sunburnt, most of us are sore, all of us are tired… but all of us know that tomorrow, we’ll look back on this incredible adventure and be so glad we had the chance to do this.     

I remember at the falls, I sat on a rock and just sat still.  I was a bit overwhelmed.  I really had figured that my 8-day river trip was my last trip to the bottom of the Canyon and I was good with that.  But to my utterly pleasant surprise, here I was, back on the bottom for the second time since that incredible week in 1998.  Earlier in the year, I’d come here with Scenic Airlines on the Grand Voyager Tour, now I was here again with Hualapai River Runners. 

Those of us who’d been before all commented on how good it was to be on the river, and how it just made us long for more.  Those in the group with kids commented that as soon as they were old enough (kids have to be at least 8 to take part), they would be back!

So – does this sound like fun to you?  Believe me, it is!  Make reservations today!