The Grand Canyon is one of the most timeless places on earth. The spectacle of the sunrise over the mile-deep, 18-mile-wide chasm is as mesmerizing as watching ocean waves. But just as you can’t grasp the size of the swells without swimming, you can’t comprehend the depth of the canyon without descending. The best way to see it is looking up at the massive walls from a raft while journeying down the Colorado River.
Millions travel to stand on the edge of the Grand Canyon, gaze across the expanse, and peer into the abyss. “It’s more than the wide-angle shot of the canyon from above,” landscape photographer Willie Holdman pointed out. “It’s the graphic nature of rock patterns adorning the walls. It’s the trickle of water dripping from the moss in a deep side canyon with golden reflected light. It’s the scarlet pincushion buds on a cactus, or perhaps the turquoise water flowing over travertine ledges with red monkey flowers in the many tributaries.”
Our weeklong, 188-mile river adventure ran the gamut from peaceful moments floating on calm water to the adrenaline rush of turbulent rapids; hikes over sunbaked, barren terrain to frolics in pristine pools created by plunging waterfalls; surreal sunsets and starlit nights to a whipping windstorm and bleary-eyed sunrise.
Centrum Silver Safety
On the first day, my wife, Maria, and I mingled with two dozen other passengers at the starting point, Lee’s Ferry, about 15 miles downriver from Page, Arizona. A disparate group from across the United States, ranging in age from early 30s to mid-70s, we stood staring at the twin 37-foot rafts and assortment of large, clearly numbered, waterproof bags—containing our cameras and clothing—that were strung out across the sandy beach. Gear was strapped onto the crafts in a tight packing system: giant coolers of food and water; folding tables and chairs; cans of fuel, pots and pans; a tidy toilet system; plus beer and soft drinks.Designed by Western River Expeditions’ founder, the 35-horsepower J-rigs are stable, and ride and flex over the waves. The half dozen wives on our 12-passenger craft christened their retired husbands the Centrum Silver Six. We frequently sat at the front, straddling the rubber pontoons, where the river’s powerful current time and again drenched us on the so-called “thrill” seats.
Centrum Silver Jim Wisner, 65, a member of the U.S. Coast Guard Auxiliary in Galveston, Texas, said, “I am very, very impressed by Western’s focus on safety. This is clear from the organization of the trip, the well-trained and experienced crews, and the attention to detail in planning for every contingency. Such preparation comes from being a very seasoned and professional operator on the river.”
Guide Quartet
Trip leader Ben Bressler, 46; veteran boatman Joe Clark, 39; and swampers Bill Frothingham, 32, and Shelby Wolfe, 24, who all live in nearby Southern Utah, maintain Western River Expeditions as their second home. “The people I work with are my family,” Clark, a 19-year river runner, said. “It’s a small company; we all know each other, we spend time away from work with each other, we support each other, we love each other, and we share a common passion for the river life.”Tennesseans Tyler and Margaret Beard, who wanted to celebrate their 10th wedding anniversary “doing something adventurous outside of our comfort zone,” applauded the company’s front office for being “unbelievably responsive” in answering their many questions. Beard described the four river guides as “fantastic!” They were, in her words, “patient and amusing, and super knowledgeable about the geology of the canyon and the history of the river.”
“Our guides have an altruistic orientation to the work they do,” said Cindy Sibley, from Santa Fe, New Mexico. “It’s more than a job and pay to them. It has to do with their connection with nature, with a fragile environment, and with their love of connecting with people.”
Harmony and Camaraderie
They settled us into a rhythm with the river and created a feeling of harmony and camaraderie. Everyone helped load the boats each morning and unload them each evening. When the nights grew warmer, we slept on cots immersed in the majesty of the Milky Way. “Sleeping underneath a canvas of stars framed with deep canyon walls makes you a companion with the spirit of the canyon,” Holdman said.One night, we camped across the river from a statuesque waterfall; another, within foreboding earshot of the next raging rapid; and the last, hearing the sound of singing and the strumming of Clark’s acoustic guitar. Each morning, Bressler’s whacky trumpet call at 5:30 signaled coffee was ready. A half hour later, we were served hearty breakfast variations of fried or scrambled eggs, bacon or sausage, fluffy pancakes or thick French toast, and cereal and fresh fruit.
It’s the ultimate 24/7 experience. Rafting or hiking much of the day, you’re eating, bathing, and sleeping together. While there are ample chances for meditative moments, it’s a communal endeavor. “Once you start the Grand Canyon river trip, you’re committed to it,” Bressler said during his 198th trip over 23 years. “There’s no getting out; you’ve got to see it through.”
Raging Rapids
When we first shoved off, the Colorado River was a gentle float punctuated by infrequent riffles and minor rapids. About 60 miles downstream, at the confluence with the Little Colorado, the Grand Canyon’s walls widened to reveal a broad breadth of sky. Then, just as suddenly as they opened, they narrowed. The rapids grew in size and intensity, dancing on the horizon, tossing waves into the air like confetti.Our raft careened through the gorge in a rollicking, roller coaster ride that evoked screams and laughter with the heart-racing thrill of it. One moment, we were plunging into surging and collapsing Volkswagen Beetle-sized waves; the next, we were awash as the raft shot up and over curling crests. When the sun was hidden by dark clouds or by the shadow of sheer cliffs, we shivered between the white-knuckled, bouncing bouts. These cold-water dousings are refreshing when summer temperatures soar to 115 degrees F, and the river is teeming with guided outfits. In mid-April, the river and shivers belonged to us.
Tranquil Interludes
The white-water ferocity plays against stretches of glassy serenity. Reflective silence is broken only by the sounds of wind and wildlife. We heard a red-tailed hawk’s plaintive cry, watched a falcon’s acrobatic flight in pursuit of prey, craned our necks to follow soaring California condors with 9-foot wingspans, and observed sure-footed bighorn sheep scale steep cliffs.Legendary River Runners
In the summer of 1869, retired Union Maj. John Wesley Powell, a professor of geology who lost his right arm at the Battle of Shiloh, loaded four wooden boats with a crew of nine and set out on the first exploration of the Grand Canyon. From an armchair lashed onto a boat deck, Powell could see farther ahead and spot the rapids. But the crafts leaked, voracious mosquitoes bit the men, it either rained or baked, and the oars splintered in the swift current. After 14 grueling weeks, Powell and five of his men completed the treacherous odyssey, arriving at the mouth of the Virgin River near Lake Mead.In 1952, audacious Georgie White strapped three enormous sausage-shaped pontoons together, attached a motor, and inaugurated large-scale commercial Colorado River trips through the Grand Canyon. Featured in Life and Sports Illustrated magazines, the sinewy celebrity with turquoise eyes and a platinum pageboy was the canyon’s first female river outfitter, and its longest-running river guide. She captained her rig while sporting a leopard-print leotard, and unnervingly holding a Coors in one hand and a Camel in the other. Asked what happened in Crystal Rapid when the passengers were hurled off her craft in June 1983, White shrugged and dismissively retorted, “I told ’em to hang on. They don’t make passengers the way they used to.” All survived.
Castles and Cathedrals
We marveled from the river at the mystifying and chameleonic canyon walls. Sometimes, they looked like Egyptian pyramids with chiseled faces of pharaohs wearing headdresses. Other times, the soaring spires and imposing buttes looked like medieval cathedrals reaching to the heavens and Camelot castles crowning the canyon. The palisades portrayed a painter’s palette. At first light, they appeared pink and lavender. By noon, they had turned plum and russet, and in late afternoon, they took on a vermilion hue. When the sun dipped, they glowed burnished copper, and in the moonlight, they shown silver.The 2.5-billion-year-old sandstone that appears solid from a distance, in actuality, is riven with deep caves and narrow slot canyons. Ridges cut by hanging valleys become cascading cataracts during monsoon downpours. Tucked away are natural and cultural treasures: cavernous amphitheaters, animal and plant fossils, and Native American sites.
