A rafting trip through the canyon with a geologist resembles a ritual of worship. Our leader (and friend) Professor K has been over 30 times, is writing a three volume book on the path of the Colorado river- including one entire volume on the Grand Canyon, and yet he is still ecstatic at the sight of the place. He described the spectacle before us as a massive graveyard teaming with trillions of tiny graves, that may look inanimate but each is in fact pulsing with energy. He said that they were trying to speak to us, and we should try to listen.
The rocks are about 500 million years old at the start, but as we "descended through time", we saw and touched rocks that were 2 billion years old. That blew me away- 2 damn billion years. Towering above us a mile in the sky are layers upon layers of buried beings that had a life and a death: an extraordinary tapestry of an ordinary life cycle. The mundane can become a symphony when you throw in inconceivable amounts of time.
One of the best parts of the trip was sleeping under the Canyon's shadow, staring up at the stars. I have never done that before and it was as luxurious as anything I have ever done. My first night we slept next to some rapids and the sky was clear and lovely. Thomas went to sleep worrying about my sleep and general mental state, but when I woke in the night and rolled over in my cot, I gave him a thumbs up.
Then I slept on. It was just so exquisite, even I couldn't worry about the scorpions or the toilets.
The worst part was the stupid toilets...the smell, the awkwardness, the lack of control over your own idea of where to go. I never got used to it. In the middle of the night I would often find pee on my own foot and I wanted to cry.
Also dropping a toothbrush in the sand makes you want to die of grief.
We started the trip at Marble Canyon where we met the group at a slightly nervous meeting. Well I was nervous anyway. I just couldn't imagine being held captive at something for the next 8 days- there is nothing I have ever done that I couldn't escape if I wanted to...except plane flights, and that is why I don't like them. When we went around to introduce ourselves, I told everyone that I had never really camped before. This turned out to be a good thing because people checked in on me: asked if I was ok, shared hand cream, complimented me on my fortitude. They gave us a rather grim safety discussion, warning us about rattle snakes and rapids and the Noro virus which apparently is a thing on these camping trips if people do not wash their hands enough in the buckets of chlorinated water they provide.
The second best thing, besides the Canyon itself was the people. It was ecstasy: the highest collective IQ ever assembled on a raft. Here a just a sampling: A German, slightly cross eyed astro physicist; several geologists: one of whom is a specialist in how water moves through rock; archaeologists, a nuclear engineer who also is an astronomer and a light air craft pilot. Also a profane, hilarious jewelry salesperson from Chico who dabbled in friendships with skin heads in his youth and loves essential oils and making his own candy. The spiritual head of the group though was the professor's daughter- a tall leggy blond who had a baby at 18 and figured it all out, had two more with a husband, dumped him and is now a realtor with an excellent boyfriend. She looks 25 but is over 40 and just a ball of crazy joy who it so happens eats like an actual horse. There was not a calorie she did not befriend..it was inspiring. She rode on the side parts of the raft- supposedly the most dangerous, and definitely the most wet. Her divine friend was along - they met on a trip last year, and their laughter was a constant backdrop. Once when we were dirty and tired and unloading the boats (such a bore and we did it twice a day) the two were in hysterics over the work they were doing, and the German cross eyed planetary scientist just started laughing uncontrollably....he lost it. Then he spit out in a very thick German accent: "Zom peeple just have toooo much fan...!!!!!" and he howled into the canyon wall. We observed that if an alien came to earth he would not be able to identify this man and the hot daughter of the professor as the same species (they would not be mating after all). But how it tickled his little left brained heart to hear their song, bouncing off these ancient rocks.
These are my people. I love them and I dare say they love me...if I left one boat for the day, they would come and tell me they missed me. I made them laugh and in turn they answered my questions on biology and geology and whether we thought cave men had anxiety or did anxiety only come when we learned the bible wasn't a literal thing. They gave me their extra chocolate and I gave them my extra wine. We will be friends for life.
In starring roles were the guides- but where to begin...The head guide is a small, sexy man of indeterminable race who knows as much about rocks as a geologist and is clearly a tortured soul. He smokes like a chimney and apparently seduces a woman on almost every trip. He was once engaged to a client - a rich girl from Carmel and the wedding was planned. But there is no way this guy is leaving the river. The Native Americans believe God hangs out in rivers and mountains and seas. And if there is one thing this blog has asserted, it is the truth of that. So a river man can't be "civilized": told to put his cigarettes and make chit chat at the club.
After a childhood on Charlie B's boat in high seas, I am really not concerned by a rapid because rapids end so quickly. Yes they are dangerous, yes they could kill you, but I'll take my chances on a rapid any time over the Bering Sea.
But Oh the excitement of the veteran boatman planning his entrance to a difficult one. Sometimes we would almost be backward it was disconcerting to say the least.
I only wish I had had a photo of him; cigarette dangling, eyes ablaze, fear and ecstasy combined in those thirty seconds. It was awesome.
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| Professor K. at home. Would you ride a rapid with this man? |
More in jiffy...including how the engines went out in the middle of a rapid. xx
