River rafting-The infamous Day Part 4.

On the sixth day of our journey we broke camp and set off down river. Occasionally, mountain sheep watched, calmly indifferent to our passage. This ram had magnificent horns.
Around noon, we beached at Phantom Ranch. The narrow bridge high above the river is for the mules that bring people down from the south rim of the canyon. I saw a train of them pass overhead to disappear into the cliff face.

At first sight, Phantom Ranch confirmed the worst. Here, the flag flew at half mast. It was here, days after the unprecedented attack upon Americans on American soil, that we numbly listened to the unthinkable, four planes..the twin towers.....the pentagon....thousands dead.......

Heavy of heart, we shoved off, carried downstream by the strong currents of a river that was impervious to our existence. Appropriately, storm clouds rose above the canyon walls, eventually blotting out the sun and casting a shadowy gloom into the canyon.

That night, we sat in a somber circle where each member of the party voiced his or her feelings. The consensus was that we were where-we were, in the middle of this trip with no choice but to continue downstream as planned. We decided, as much as possible, to put our fearful emotions on hold and to allow ourselves the full magical experience of river and canyon.

In the night, it rained, a hard cleansing downpour and the next morning we set off with somewhat renewed spirits. On September 23, 2001 we beached at Diamond Creek to re-enter a world that had changed forever.

Rafting the canyon part 3

Rafting the Colorado through the Grand Canyon is, if nothing else, a way of defining who you are... a way of intuiting some sort of sense of yourself as you exist in the interconnected Universe.

The sheer power of the river and the evidence of it's timeless trajectory is overwhelming, and cannot bring, to a contemplative soul, less than a sense of abject humility coupled with an exultation at simply existing...in this time..in this place..in the now of life.

In a way, the river itself is like life, miles of peaceful meandering existence, broken by turbulent passages that must be traversed with care if one is to emerge unscathed.


Redwall Cavern didn't look like much as we rounded a bend of peaceful, green water, but it has been calculated to hold as many as four thousand people. It can also hold thirty fun loving people.



I love this picture because it illustrates not only the fun of being one of those silhouettes, but the enormity of the relentless passage of the river as it rounds a bend, seeking the most accommodating route to the sea. Oh sure, man has had his way with this river in the last seventy-five (and I'm being generous here) years, but in the eons prior to that, the river ruled. Just look at those canyon walls ...