Grand Canyon Raft Trip (8/19/03-9/4/03):
In late July we had the good fortune to be invited to fill a last minute spot on an August Grand Canyon raft trip. The rest of the group was from Colorado and had either boated together frequently or knew each other from membership in their local rafting club. A friend of Dave Sample, Dave Wimmer, who we met on the May Grand Canyon trip, suggested that we be included and we were delighted to sign on. The group size was purposely kept small, 12 in total, with 6 rafts. Susan would have liked to row but Bob needed a bailer and you know how that goes. We shopped our three days worth of meals (that we would also cook), packed up with a minimum of fuss, and were off to the Ferry.
Members of the group started arriving at 8:00 AM and we were the latest at about 2:00 PM. Unknowingly, we followed the trip leaders north from Cameron, where they joined US 89A after meeting some family and touring the South Rim. It was hot at the Ferry but we were blessed with overcast, which made the rigging quite pleasant. We finished long before dark and moved most of the boats to the boaters' camp. The majority of the group went to Marble Canyon Lodge for dinner and rooms, while a few of us hung out with the gear. Jethro and Terra finally gave up rigging at midnight and returned to their room for a short night's sleep. This was the first Canyon trip for them and their boat, so they had quite a few logistical and loading nightmares to resolve.
Ranger Dave tried to get us off the beach early but it was still around 11:00 AM before we departed. We had crystalline green water until we reached Paria riffle. Fortunately we had almost no upstream wind for the entire trip and were able to make it to our Mile 18 camp while it was still daylight. We all had good runs at Badger and Houserock, some a little more exciting than others. Dave and Pat (in his apron) prepared a delicious Italian dinner and everyone retired early. We were informed that this group had a rule that no one could actually go to sleep before 8:00 PM and as the trip progressed we could see the necessity for this edict. Several of our coffee klatch were up before the birds, firing up the blaster to get life's blood flowing. We were delighted to travel with a group that rose early, got breakfast going quickly, and were frequently off the beach by 8:00 AM. Well, Bob and Bill may have been less than delighted a few days when they might have liked to sleep past 6:00, but it worked out well in terms of getting desirable camps and missing afternoon winds.
Our second day out we were in camp at Silver Grotto before lunch. Most of us took the hike up into the grotto. Several slid off into the pool while attempting to climb into the polished mouth. Then Susan arrived and climbed the cliff nose with a rope, which she and Irene threw down to our polished granite climbers. As soon as a few of them were up the face, they secured a throw line and the rest of the group was easily able to follow. Just short of reaching the highest pool, the sky went dark and it became obvious a storm was brewing. Everyone exited the slot canyon as quickly as possible. Checking the next morning, we found that it hadn't flashed but considering the rainstorm we had, we were better safe than sorry. With the overcast skies, cloudbursts, and cooler weather, we found that many wildflowers were in bloom. That night we had a field of yellow primrose that opened after dark near our tent. There was a large moth pollinating blossom to blossom. Even with the afternoon storms, the skies were clearing off at night affording crystal clear views of the planet Mars. Many made a point to watch for it but others just got lucky during their nightly pee sojourns.
The twelve people in our group were divided into 5 groups of two and three, who shopped and cooked together. All of the food was good; some of it was fabulous. Irene and Bill brought a hand-cranked blender to make breakfast smoothies. Susan was delighted to find that soymilk made a common appearance at breakfast. Irene generally made coffee cake each evening before her breakfasts. Christina pre-baked some delicious banana and lemon breads. Jethro, a former chef, treated us to several scrumptious Elk dishes. Pat and Dave made a great team, Pat orchestrating most of the dinners, while Dave did the breakfasts.
Most of us made the usual popular stops at South Canyon, Redwall Cavern, Nautiloid Canyon, and Saddle Canyon. Since the water was low when we passed, we stopped at a limestone cavern above Tiger Wash and a few of us climbed into an upper chamber. The two of us skipped the hike to Indiana Jones Cave at South so that we could fill water jugs at Vasey's before regrouping at Redwall. Even with the daily showers, Vasey's was running a tenth of the water we had seen in May. Quite a number of our group hiked into Buckfarm Canyon from our camp there. The next day Jethro unexpectedly had a prolonged visit in the large hole behind President Harding Rock. He and Terra spent 10 minutes or so trying to row their heavily burdened 19' raft out of it. They would try to row away from the rock downstream and almost make it but then the hole would reach out and pull them back. They finally had to face the right bank and double row towards the shore. This allowed them to catch the eddy fence and get spun out downstream.
We were quite surprised to get the main camp at Nankoweap Creek. Another private was just ahead of us but elected to pull into Little Nankoweap for a layover day. Oars / dories pulled in later at the downstream camp for a layover day also. We were happy with just the one night there. We had planned to camp at Kwagunt Rapid but the afternoon wind and pelting rain made Nankoweap look pretty darn good. We erected the tarp and sat a spell before most climbed at least partway to the granaries. The Gotcha Game had begun primarily between Ed and Denny. Ed didn't seem to really understand the rules but some of his gotchas were legitimate. Denny was an accomplished master player. We stopped briefly at the Little C but didn't linger since it was running grayish brown. Within a day or two it would run big and flush a bunch of debris into the main channel.
Dave, sometimes accompanied by Denny, made quite a few long hikes from our various camps. Most of the rest of us were content with a short hike, if any, or bathing and reading. Clear Creek was one of the short hikes that most of the group made. The force of the shower shredded Uncle Bill's favorite hat.
Running the Inner Granite Gorge was uneventful and we spent a few hours at Phantom topping off the water, making phone calls, and mailing postcards. Horn looked as ugly as we've seen it in awhile with water almost burying the horns but we all ran well. There were motor rigs in both the 91-mile and Trinity camps so we camped at a hardship camp on river left that we hadn't used since the mid 80's. We scouted Granite, Hermit, and of course Crystal. Nerves ran high but the runs were good. Terra and Jethro ran last at Hermit and Granite to take video of the other boats. After a quick look at Upper Bass camp and photographing the herd of five bighorn grazing there, we continued down stream to the Ross Wheeler Camp. We hadn't camped there for several years and it seems like it's grown a bit larger. After dinner, Christina orchestrated a Grand Canyon trivia game that she had been preparing since day one. The two best players, nominated by their peers, received what she called semi-valuable prizes. Early on Denny started referring to them as semi-precious gifts. Dave and Susan won a black light pen and a water bottle in a sling. So that no one would go away unrewarded for their efforts, Christina also passed around tiny carabineers for each of us. Bill and Irene's niece Louisa won the first prize at Nautiloid by being the first to locate one. Those of us who had been to Nautiloid Canyon before weren't allowed to participate or hint but Louisa had an edge on the others since she is studying for her PhD in Geology.
Shinumo Creek was running brown but we stopped briefly for those who had not yet seen the small falls there. The group spent a couple of hours at Elves Chasm before floating down to a shady beach for lunch. Blacktail Canyon was a must see for our geologist and most of the group made the short hike to see the Great Unconformity. After a pleasant evening at Mile 122 Camp, we made brief stops at Fossil Canyon to hunt for fossils and at the Dollhouse while scouting Bedrock. With good runs at Dubie, we continued down to Tapeats Racetrack, where Susan and Dave hoofed up and over the top to see if the main camp was occupied. A Hatch boat was just leaving after lunch, so we pulled in and set up camp. The sky was ominous but the storm raged around us and passed us by. As we lounged over lunch a collared lizard had his of a preying mantis.
Dave, Denny, Jethro, and Terra got an early start on their Thunder River, Surprise Valley, and Deer Creek loop. The rest of us took a more leisurely start. A yellow bark scorpion marched across the beach as we were loading. Bob rowed the Orange Julius, Jethro's overloaded 19' scow, Susan rowed Bob's boat with Louisa for her bailer, and Irene rowed Dave's boat. Upon leaving, a little confusion momentarily pinned both Pat and Bill's catarafts on the rocks in the mouth of Tapeats but they were soon free and we continued downstream. We considered staying across from Deer Creek Falls but elected to visit for several hours and then continue down to Pancho's. Several motorized groups pulled into the football field and the back eddy camps downstream. Irene went over to chat with them and ascertain where they were staying the following nights and whether they would be in Matkatamiba in the morning. It sounded like they would be long gone by the time we rowed to Mat. They were congenial and donated some good coffee to our dwindling supply.
We had been seeing bighorn frequently, and even a few deer, but between Fishtail and Kanab we saw 9 sheep on both sides of the river. Butt dams in Matkatamiba were popular as always. Uncle Bill encountered the dreaded Velcro plant (White Bracted Stick Leaf) on his way back to the boat and probably had to trash his socks upon return to civilization. Bob wrenched his bad knee a few feet from the boat and spent the next couple of days in pain and with little sleep. We had to break out his walking stick at our Ledges camp. Everyone was great about delivering things to him and helping Susan set up and tear down camp that night.
Since Bob was not going to be doing any hiking at Havasu, the two of us stayed behind at Ledges when the rest left. We read in the shade for several hours before floating down past the mouth of Havasu. We could see Dave sorting ropes and preparing to depart as we went by. We rowed for a while and then stopped for a bath to let them catch up. Reunited, we continued down to the upper camp at National, where some of us read while others escaped into the recesses of the shady canyon. Jethro and Terra having stayed late in Havasu, pulled into camp just before dark. We heard them coming about a mile away as they were making Margaritas in their two-speed, weed-whacker blender. At first we thought maybe the blender doubled as a motor to propel their raft.
After a good night's sleep at National, we rose early, ate quickly, and were on our way for a long day that included a planned Lava run about noon and a camp near Whitmore Wash. As we left, three or four condors circled high overhead. A few of our group had seen them our first day on the river but the rest of us were elated to have a second chance. The weather was gorgeous and the river was running high making the possibility of a left side run likely. The dory trip camped below us left early so Bob powered downstream with hopes of photographing some of their Lava runs.
One always has some premonitions above Lava however nothing but Bob's right knee seemed particularly out of whack. Having run Lava about 30 times he wasn't particularly nervous but the possibility of a bad result there always exists. He had been blown off his boat in the right side v-wave at high water on his second Grand Canyon trip and hadn't enjoyed that prolonged swim. That and a particularly stupid low water Crystal flip more than 10 years ago were still his worst boating experiences in close to 25 years of rafting the rivers of the west at all flow levels. Since Bob was gimpy, Susan offered to scout and row but Bob immediately vetoed that idea.
When we rounded the bend above Lava there were several commercial groups scouting. The dory trips (GCE and Oars) were on the left side and a canoe trip with Tour West motorized support was on the right. We quickly pulled in left and while Susan tied up the raft Bob hobbled down to a good place to photograph and started taking pictures of the many dory runs. All were entering along the left side of the ledge hole, getting thrashed on a lateral wave, and continuing downriver with high degrees of success. Some oars were flailing in the air but none of the dories flipped. The run didn't seem particularly difficult and Bob commented that the Horn Creek run had looked worse.
After a time the rest of our group turned up and we were faced with a choice. Should we stay and photograph or run as a group? Considering group safety we elected to run as a group with Bob second following Dave. The 37' drop in a quarter of a mile is so significant that it's difficult to orient until you start down into the mayhem. Apparently neither of us got our markers straight as we were discussing whether Dave was too far left when we dropped into the middle of the infamous Lava ledge hole.
With no motor to power us through, as Georgie used to try to do, the best we could attempt was to hit it square and pray. Our prayers for continuing through went unanswered but we found ourselves rather stable in the hole facing the right bank with absolutely no water in the bucket raft. The raft was rocking and swaying as it tried to get up and over the downstream wave. Oars were flying through the air and both of us ended up cowering on the downstream side of the raft. All was quiet for 10-15 seconds before the raft made a final heroic attempt to leave the hole on the downstream side. Of course it failed and when the downstream edge of the raft went past vertical both of us were plunged into the water, fortunately with nothing on the raft hitting our upper bodies (both of us took hits on the legs that left some bruises). Susan plunged deep, immediately leaving the hole and headed downstream. After surfing the enormous tail waves, she washed out on the right, recovered and swam to shore above Son of Lava.
Bob was not quite so lucky. He was ejected directly into the falling wave on the upstream side. It drove him down a long way and he didn't flush out under the downstream wave the first time. He popped up near the surface and was recirculated down for a second spin cycle. He soon realized that the missing air thingee was going to be a severe problem so he made himself as irregular as possible and tried to escape the hole low. His luck finally returned as he popped to the surface just a bit below the river-right v-wave in the calm that precedes those previously mentioned humongous tail waves. Bobbing along for a few seconds he was able to get some air (really more like mist) and prepare for the nasty ride he had experienced without a wetsuit 21 years ago. He loved the extra floatation his suit provided and was never cold. At first it seems possible to ride up and over that first gigantic tail wave but it never happens. It crashed down on him and it got dark and airless again. Seconds passed and he reached air in a trough of one of the several smaller tail waves that followed.
Exhausted by now he was riding it out, spitting water and trying to get some air. Since he emerged on the left side he was drifting towards Warm Springs but was sapped for energy. He also had a dilemma. If he swam to the left and wasn't rescued by Dave's waiting raft, he was going to make a wall run through Son of Lava Rapid. If he stayed where he was or even better swam to the right he might get a softer run and eddy out as he had in 1982. Having had about enough of swimming, if that's what you call it, he decided to attempt to reach Dave. There was just enough time to get a throw rope to him and pull him in the raft before Dave's raft made a Son of Lava wall run. Irene valiantly, and successfully, rowed the raft until Dave could get free of his rescue duties.
The next couple of hours were spent reuniting us, trying to find a place to right our raft, and rerigging it. A Grand Canyon Expeditions motorized raft collected both of our dry bags and returned them to us. Tied in the front of our raft with two 1" NRS cam straps, the forces of the Lava hole had broken both and sent the bags on their own downstream runs. When Bill first got the raft to shore it was impossible to flip because the bank was too steep, the water was fast moving, and a lot of gear was dangling below it. Dave and Bob eventually hopped on the bottom and rode it downstream until they found a sandy beach about a mile later. Bill and Pat helped push and pull the over-turned raft to shore. After removing all of the oars, one of which was busted mid-shaft, the twelve of us were able to flip the raft upright and the rerigging began. The frame was somewhat tweaked but all of the other straps held and everything was attached even though the load looked like something from a garbage dumpster. Unfortunately Bob's daypack zippers came undone and his raincoat, a few clothing items, a monocular, and a compass had gone into the river somewhere along the way. The monocular and compass, in a Ziploc bag turned up in the back eddy while we were rerigging but the bag wasn't watertight and both were a loss.
After hand feeding us lunch while we worked the rest of the group proceeded downstream to camp while we went through the boxes. We were pleased to find that the camera box hadn't taken a drop of water and the ammo can with our MP3 player and music had taken so little water that the Ziploc bags had protected the contents. Some water was found in our other rocket and radio boxes, not unexpected after a couple of hours of submersion. We dried those out and everything was pretty much back to normal except for a couple of hundred dollars of broken or missing gear.
What happened? It seems that when one is younger one always needs someone or something to blame. The plain and simple truth is Bob screwed up, for whatever reason he didn't adequately keep track of his position at the head of the rapid, even following someone who did. Distracted, overconfident, nervous, or just plain stupid, who knows? His last flip was at Upset rapid in April of 1994. He claims to have learned something from that flip but the only thing he learned this year is shit happens and it will probably happen again sometime in the future. He's planning to sign up for swimming and breathing classes this fall, since it is unlikely that he will become a better boatman.
It was a tired night at our Whitmore Wash camp. The dishes had to be rewashed prior to dinner, as they had been upside-down on our boat for a little too much time. The two of us laid out a variety of stuff to dry, while the rest of the group nurtured us with treats and moral support. Fortunately we were on our way downstream before the helicopter evacuations of commercial passengers who don't want to see the rest of the Grand Canyon began. A long day to Granite Park was planned but with the early start we were still in camp in time for a slightly late lunch. It was getting much hotter so most of us spent the afternoon reading or napping in the shade. That night there was a fairly heavy rain. The tarp and cot sleepers were up before dawn, changing clothes and wringing out their belongings. Jethro forgot his S'more Cobbler on the coals, but fortunately the rain quenched them and we were able to eat a slightly dried out version with a delectable breakfast.
On the way to Mile 220 Pat, Bill, and Louisa got Dave good by faking that they had each found a Coors Lite in the eddies, while he was out of beer and had found none on the entire trip. Those with alcohol remaining broke it out and it seemed like some were trying to finish off everything before the take-out. Christina led a final round of her Grand Canyon trivia game. Susan and Dave were the lifelines and sometimes not much help. They eventually declared Louisa and Bill the winners, while Denny received a prize for missing the most questions and begging for a semi-precious gift.
The Hualapai currently don't allow rafters to be on the ramp before 10:00 AM, so we slept late and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast on the last day. Arriving at the ramp right at 10:00 we were pleased to find no one but us derigging. The Hualapai trips had already launched and no other parties were taking out. Donnie Dove of Canyon REO arrived 20-30 minutes later, very concerned because storms had been blowing out the Diamond Creek and Peach Springs Wash roads. He suggested we hop to it and get his big truck loaded so we could all get our butts out of there. Apparently a week or so earlier a group was derigged but REO could not reach them because the road washed out. They walked them up the creek bed, bused them out, and recovered their gear a couple of days later (the gear had to be shipped to them). Within an hour or so our unwashed gear was in the truck and we were on our way to Peach Springs and civilization.
This was an excellent trip put together by a competent permit holder and his organizationally oriented wife with lots of quality people along. We were very fortunate that the skill levels were so high in this group. We still have bad dreams about what might have happened if we had wallowed in the ledge hole and the third raft had not corrected for our mistake. Having a second raft plunge in on top of us would not have been good.
