Photo Friday: The Grand Canyon, Part 8

The final chapter! Days 14-16

The previous posts:

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7

Day 14
After the fun splash ride through Lava Falls rapid, it was kind of nice to have a mostly calm drift down the river in the morning.

A note on footwear: while bare feet in sandals is probably the most practical on the river, I didn't want to get sunburned. The Sealskinz socks I borrowed proved a good compromise, as they didn't get sodden and stretched out of shape the way normal socks would. They helped some with my cold feet, but I suspect bare feet would have been warmer, as having some hope of drying.

As mentioned in Part 7, just above Lava Falls we entered the volcanic portion of the canyon. That made for some great geology, between the intrusions of lava and some beautiful columnar basalt. For those who aren't geology geeks, that's the postpiles of Devil's Postpile, or the pavers of the Giant's Causeway. The columns are formed as the lava cools and shrinks.

A close-up of the columns, which in this case seem to have from four to six sides.

In the middle of this volcanic theme park, we stopped for a hike, to be followed by lunch. The Whitmore Trail leads up to the North Rim, or at least to a spot below the rim where the land is broken enough for a road to lead down to within 1000' of the river. The climb was hot, but as always, worth the effort.

Heading up. Note the general sense that the canyon walls aren't as steep now. This is not an impression that holds while you are climbing the trail, which gains 1000' in a mile.

As always, climbing rapidly puts the river in perspective.

Looking back at our boats. We waded the channel between the sandbar and the shore before starting our climb.

Finally close enough for a photo of the ocatillo

Partway up, we passed under an overhang that proved to be the underside of some of the columns.

Although in a way I was sorry to do this hike--it brought the outside world back to us, both with the sight of the road (and the jeeps camping at the end of the road) and in the form of day-hikers, an alien species after two weeks on the river--the views were not to be missed.

Ocatillo, looking upstream

Basalt flows and the Hurricane Fault both run through here.

Back down at the base of the cliff, before wading over to lunch, I detoured to check out some prehistoric pictographs.

Then on down the river, to camp below Parashant Wash at Mile 199.

There was a lot of drying going on. The map suggested none of our rapids was very big, but we got wet anyway. Size of rapids does not necessarily correlate to how wet you are.

Day 15
A 20-mile river day, we didn't make any significant stops on this final full day of the trip.

Our camp at 220 Mile Canyon did permit a rare free-hiking opportunity. I waited as late in the afternoon as I could to dodge some of the heat but still have time to explore before dinner. To my delight, the ramble up the wash revealed far and away the best flower garden of the trip.

Up the wash.

It was another of those canyons that could go on all the way to the rim and beyond, but I resisted the urge to continue beyond the end of the narrow gulch.

Rock nettle. Never saw so many and so lush.

Close-up of the rock nettle flower.

Globe mallow

 
The cocktail hour (i.e., waiting for dinner) brought out the spirit of fun in everyone, and we indulged in games of balance and agility. I was okay at the egg-and-spoon race, but skipped the single-leg no-hands stick collection game.

Mostly the guides could do this.

Planking was more the mode for some of us.

Day 16
Our final day on the river, and we were in no hurry to leave. We had only six miles to float, and a target take-out time of 9:30--no problem for this seasoned crew!

Shoving off

Arrival at our take-out meant a flurry of activity, de-rigging the boats and loading the truck. Passengers were encouraged to help. Because the take-out is on Havasupai land, we masked up as soon as we landed, and stayed that way all the way back to Flagstaff.

Cleaning the boats gave some an opportunity they couldn't pass up to give some splashes back to the crew.

Loading the dory on the trailer.

The rafts got piled up and deflated. That was our signal to flop on the squishy stack and take a break. That's me in the foreground; my brother-in-law Tom Dempsey of Photoseek.com took the picture.

Back on the bus! The trip to town starts with ten miles up Diamond Creek, which takes an hour in the bus. The road is very rough in places, though nothing I wouldn't take the Prius down... In the wash, we spotted some of the feral donkeys made famous by Marguerite Henry's Brighty of the Grand Canyon, but I didn't get any photos.

Our lunch stop in Seligman meant we were on the famous Route 66 for a time.

It was sad to finish the trip, though no denying that a hot shower felt wonderful. I can't say too much how fantastic the whole thing was for me.

One final image to close with: some socks you just don't want to put in your washer, and ones that have hiked the side canyons and waded the streams are at the top of the list!

Hope you've enjoyed the trip!

 ©Rebecca M. Douglass, 2021

 As always, please ask permission to use any photos or text. Link-backs appreciated.

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Photo Saturday: Rafting the Grand Canyon, Part 2

Okay, so I guess I've just accepted that for some reason I can't ever do my Friday posts on Friday. Maybe because days of the week have lost all meaning? Whatever. I'm back with Part 2 of the great Grand Canyon rafting adventure, Days 3 & 4. (This is taking too long, but there are so many photos! Even two days at a time it's hard to pick a reasonable number!)

Before I get started--just a reminder that Death By Donut is out tomorrow! More info here.

Day 3

Morning is chilly, as most of them turn out to be. I'm camped close enough to the kitchen to hear when the day's unlucky guide gets up to start the coffee. By 8 a.m. we're just about ready to launch.

Passengers wait for orders from the guides to bring more things to strap to the rafts.

It's a beautiful morning on the river.

Guide Jed relaxes while assistant Bekah--an experienced CA river guide learning the Colorado--takes a turn at the oars.

We stop for camp before lunch, in order to do our first hiking. A 500' climb above the river provides our first "perspective" views.

The view downstream from Nankoweap.

 

The view isn't all we've come for. Ancestral Puebloan people used Nankoweap Canyon as a summer farming area, with easy access to the North Rim up the side canyon (easy by GC terms, anyway). We visited their granaries high up the cliff.

Doorways are about half human high--just big enough to duck through.

Some of us also wander a ways up Nankoweap Canyon, just to see what's there. Not much is blooming this early in such a dry spring, but brittlebush is always reliable.

Up the canyon. There was a part of me that wanted to hike every one of these up to the rim, though in fact it was very hot and mostly I wanted to go jump in the river.

Every afternoon before dinner saw most of us in the river, getting clean and cool. I realize, looking at photos from other trips, that we were very lucky in that there was no rain, and no run-off--so the river remained clear and free of mud.

Back on the river in the morning

Day 4 was another shortish river day, as we had a major stop to make and a bit of a hike from camp.

The big excitement was a short hike and some fun up the Little Colorado River. I am still not sure about what we did--the LCR is sacred to the Navajo people, and I don't know how they feel about us swimming and playing in the creek. But there's no denying we had fun, and enjoyed the beauty at the same time.

Looking downstream towards the Colorado River--the cliffs are on the other side of the river.

 

The high mineral content of the LCR water--as it comes from the spring upstream that keeps this end of the river flowing constantly, even as the waters from the mountains dry up--causes travertine deposits along the water.

Having fun "swimming" the "rapids"

From our camp at Chuar rapid, we had a couple of hours to explore Lava Canyon--another route that could lead to the rim. There was water in the creek, and cottonwood trees.

"Ghost leaves": cottonwood leaves with all the color and most of the substance washed out of them.

 

Despite the creek and leaves, this was mainly a geology hike! The rocks were beautiful, largely (entirely?) Bright Angel Shale.

How many millennia are represented by these narrow layers?

 

When we encountered this bank we'd reached our destination. Since none of us had been up there before, we didn't know this was what we were hiking to until we got there.

Bright Angel shale, tilted and eroded with another layer deposited on top.

Cottonwoods against the red rocks of the canyons remain a special sight for me.

We made it back down to camp in time for a quick wash before dinner, beside (but not in) the rapids.

At this camp I learned my lesson about camping far from the kitchen. It was lovely and private (after everyone was back from the hike and the bathing). But I knew I'd never hear the call for morning coffee!

At least it was a sheltered campsite, and comparatively free of sand!

 ©Rebecca M. Douglass, 2021

 As always, please ask permission to use any photos or text. Link-backs appreciated.

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Home again, and a Friday Flash

I'm home from the Grand Canyon with thousands of photos to edit, and a single piece of flash fiction to share.

I wrote this story for our rafting group, and specifically for Ben Whitaker, one of our 7 amazing crew. Why Ben? Because one day, after repeated drenchings, I told him I was going to take him up a dry wash and leave him there. And so I did. Of course, I could as easily have treated any of the guides the same way--repeated washings in Colorado River water is a part of running the Canyon. Ben just got first dibs.

The story is, I hope, comprehensible to those not on the trip, but is especially meant for those who were; forgive the hint of an inside joke. For the non-Canyon folks, a few notes: my trip was with Arizona Raft Adventures, aka AZRA. The "groover" is the toilet. And the food was fantastic and abundant, with no gumbo in sight (not that there's anything wrong with gumbo), and none of our guides dodged the cooking!

Without further ado, I present:

River Revenge

“Where’s Ben?”

The question ran through camp like wind-blown sand, and no one had an answer. Few heard John’s added question, “and where’s the bag of gorp?” It didn’t matter. The intrepid, though sodden, river guide had vanished. It was his night to cook dinner, too. Rumblings of dismay echoed from the canyon walls.

Dodging campers dripping and irate over the repeated drenchings he had given them and ungrateful for the skill with which he’d kept them from unplanned swims, Ben had fled. Last seen wandering aimlessly toward the north end of camp, a bag of something tucked casually under one arm, he had vanished no one knew where.

When Rebecca commented on seeing Ben sneaking off with the gorp, everyone relaxed. “Gone off to recharge his social batteries,” most agreed.

“Gone off to gorge on snacks,” John muttered. “He hates gumbo night.”

Ben did hate gumbo night. He was also tired of being wet, and of taking the blame when the Colorado River got pissed off at all the boats bouncing so lightly over its surface, or of people speaking lightly of the big rapids. He was worn out with explaining the difference between rowing the rapids well and staying dry.

Plus, he liked gorp.

Now, a long time later, he was thoroughly dry. The gorp was gone and he was thinking fond thoughts even of gumbo. It was time to go back.

Unfortunately, Ben had no idea where he was, or where “back” was. When he turned to follow his tracks to camp, the ceaselessly blowing wind had eradicated all trace of his passage.

#

Meanwhile, with the dinner hour looming and the cook AWOL, Trip Leader Lorna had efficiently organized her crew. Bekah remained to fix the meal single-handed, in a whirlwind of chopping and cooking. Several campers tried to offer help, but were blown out of the kitchen by the gale-force slipstream of her activity. Lorna led the rest of the guides in the rescue mission, Jon and John muttering about gorp thieves while Jed worried he’d miss the bat count and Matt worried he’d miss dinner.

Not over-fond of gumbo herself, Rebecca chose to follow the searchers, announcing it was a perfect opportunity to gather material for her books. She didn’t mention that she’d seen someone follow Ben. Was that hooded and dripping figure headed for the groover—or for revenge?

Behind Rebecca, unnoticed by the highly focused seeker of stories, several more campers chose to eschew gumbo in favor of glory. Mike, Jen, and Amanda, their duel of wits drawn to a truce for the time being, found the first clue. One dropped peanut, not yet snagged by mouse or raven, suggested to them that Lorna & Co. were searching up the wrong gully. They turned right at the confluence of two dry washes.

Rebecca glanced back in time to see the Alaskans turn off, and decided to climb the ridge between the washes and watch both parties for hints on how to construct a search.

#

Far up the right wash, Ben had received a revelation in his time of need. Only one way led to the river: down. Turning to follow through on this excellent insight, he wondered if he had the strength for the return trip. So far from the river he felt himself desiccated and thinned, like the cast-off skin of a bored snake.

Suddenly, as he staggered with hunger and thirst, he found himself confronted by a figure in shades and an AZRA hoodie.

“Who? What?” Ben couldn’t form the words, his lips drained of all moisture by the salty gorp. His knees gave way.

The unknown figure pulled a high caliber weapon from behind its back, took aim, and fired.

A heavy stream of water caught Ben in the face as he fell. He opened his mouth, the life-saving liquid rehydrating his parched river-rat skin, and felt life returning as he knelt, lapping the water that ran down his face.

The weapon empty, the unknown assailant turned, still silent, and bounded down the gully.

Only Rebecca saw the hooded figure mix with the other campers enjoying happy hour. She watched Ben stagger into the arms of Jed and Matt (who reminded him he was supposed to be on KP). And she saw the three Alaskans, stymied by a pour-off even they couldn’t climb, slink back into camp seconds before Bekah called for dinner. Only then did she, too, slip back into camp, notebook in hand.

Taking stock of the dire situation, Lorna breached her secret stash of good Scotch and began pouring. A half hour later, everyone loved Bekah’s gumbo. And no one, not even Ben, cared who had pursued him with a vengeful super-soaker.

But John cut off Ben’s access to the snacks, forcing him to subsist merely on three massive meals a day for the rest of the trip.

And Rebecca slipped Beth a bag of warm bath water with a whispered “thank you” for a revenge well executed, as she reconverted the high-power watergun into an innocent pair of telescoping trekking poles.
 

###

My photos haven't been edited yet, but I've got a couple to illustrate the story.

Up a dry wash...

And down the wet rapids.

 ©Rebecca M. Douglass, 2021

 As always, please ask permission to use any photos or text. Link-backs appreciated.