Where on earth do I start....? (Part One)

The last few days have flown by in a haze and even trying to begin to piece together the pieces and put it down in writing is causing me to well up. I have been turned into an emotional wreck! Usually I am so good at keeping my emotions under control but over the past two days I seem to have done nothing but cry!  

I suppose like all stories I should begin at the beginning! And I make no apology for the length of this missive...

Friday 12th September

I am not sure if I felt sick when I woke up due to nerves, sleep deprivation or the sheer unsociable hour.  4am is not my most functional time of the day! A few of us met in the lobby, were herded onto a bus, driven to Las Vegas airport and shuttled by prop plane 45 minutes away to Marble Canyon. Cue emotional outburst number one! As the sun was rising we had managed to glimpse the landscape through the morning haze, rock formations, colour, desert sands, just magical. And then we descended below the cliff line, landed on a small airstrip with nothing (and I really mean nothing) in sight except a road and a Chevron petrol station! We were promptly marched across to the petrol station and told to buy beer, "get double what you think you need!" The rest of our group were already there and after being bused down to Lees Ferry we were given an initial briefing, loaded on to the J-rig and had departed by 8am.

We all thought there would be a gentle learning curve to our trip but within 5 minutes we were wet, and boy was it cold. Perishing. Colder than a winter's day at Shell Beach!

The J-rig was big enough for the 20 of us and the position on the boat affects the intensity of the ride (sometimes, other times it is just as intense regardless of your position)! We had two guides for the week, Corey from Canab, who demanded that I state he is ruggedly handsome, and Steve Wiley, who tended to steer the boat most of the time and keep a low profile until he had a chance to break out his guitar. We would saunter downstream chatting amongst ourselves or receiving a master class in geology or history from Corey until we neared our next rapid, at which point Corey would advise who it was that had died at the spot to name the rapid and then shout "Hang on! Don't die!"

At about 4 or 5pm we would moor up at a sandbank and the evening ritual would begin. Day One was Sand Pile. Steve would tell us to get "the hell off my boat", would detail where the kitchen and toilets would be situated and everyone would scatter looking for the best spot to camp. Then the "fire line shout" would be heard and we would all line up and bring the cots, chairs, tents, bags and kitchen equipment off the boat. We would then set about arranging camp, washing in the river (still cold, and brown with silt) and before we knew it the dinner call would be heard. In the mornings the opposite would happen, wake up, have breakfast, take down camp and fire line everything back onto the boat.

The views from the boat were awe inspiring and immense. The walls of the canyon could be over a 1500 feet high in places, and they closed in and then widened out again in layers of black ore, red sandstone, white limestone, vertical fault lines, lava flows, horizontal layers like pastry. By day two we were seeing alsorts of shapes in the rocks, Asian temples, Egyptian statues, the Sphynx, robins, chickens, and I swear I even saw a rock that looked like Bruce Forsyth! We also passed the Puebloan Granaries. 1000 year old grain stores, high up in the cliff side.

Day two was fairly mellow, we spotted the Desert View Watchtower at the top of the South Rim way off in the distance. It was weird to think that probably about 15 years ago I had been in that tower looking down at the river!

Toilet facilities! We all know that men have the easier deal on this! In camp there was a facility to enable us all to dispose of solid waste, usually hidden behind a rock or a bush, and with flashing lights leading the way for night time. Strict etiquette dictated the process of engaged or empty, by way of the placement of an orange seat cover! A yellow bucket allowed the ladies to wee in privacy! We were also given plastic cups in case the need arose during the night. However when we were on the river it was a case of trying to wee off the back of the boat whilst it was in motion (I never gave in to this option), find a good rock at the edge of the river and pray that there were no other boats heading your way, or by the end of the week (due to the sheer heat) we would just wade into the river and pretend to look for eagles!

Leaving the Carbon campsite on day three we were all rather anxious. We knew it was a day of tough rapids, including Crystal, our first grade 10. The rapids on the Colorado are rated up to 10, and there are two 10's, Crystal and Lava. You would know when a rapid was about to hit because the river would disappear from sight in the distance, as you got closer you would see the white water being tossed around. At the very edge of the rapid the water would be glossy and smooth, then Steve would cut the engine, the boat would slide over the edge and then we would be tossed and slammed and dunked and spat out. It's must be like being on the fast spin cycle of a washing machine! Even the lesser grades could catch you off guard, Victoria was badly hurt on day one by a freak wave, and I was totally side swiped on day three, by my nemesis, Serpentine, and left hanging on with one hand, whilst my legs were all over the place. "Never underestimate the backhand grip!"

Before the rapids though we did jump off the boat to explore Red Wall Cavern. An immense overhang in the rocks.

Tracey and I decided to sit behind the boys at the beginning of the day and take on some 7 and 8's. Trying to "Suck Rubber!" and keep as low as possible. But when we hit Unkar we bailed and moved to the "princess pads" towards the back of the boat. We had lunch at Phantom Ranch and then hit Crystal. Steve shut down the engine first and gave us a briefing. The only option was to hang on and not let go. Considerable hollering and cheering ensued after we got through, and I broke out the Percy Pigs in celebration!

Finally at the end of a tough day of battering and soakings we pitched camp at Bass and went about 200 yards up river to play in the Shinumo waterfall which was hidden up a side creek.