Where the river flows I too must go

Here I’d find scenery that melted my soul while being nestled within canyon walls billions of years old.

Stories a new would be created while others had been shared a plethora of times as ancestors of the ancient pictographs & petroglyphs leave behind a trace, woven are their lives into this ever changing river bank. 

#AdventurewithKal

Did you know that there are eleven federally recognized tribes that are traditionally associated with Grand Canyon National Park?  As we navigated the river we’d acknowledge each one of these Native tribes ancestral homelands.

• Havasupai Tribe – AZ 
• Hopi Tribe – AZ 
• Hualapai Tribe – AZ  
• Kaibab Band of Paiute Indians – AZ  
• Navajo Nation – AZ  
• San Juan Southern Paiute Tribe – AZ  
• Yavapai-Apache Nation – AZ 
• Las Vegas Band of Paiute Indians – NV 
• Moapa Band of Paiute Indians – NV 
• The Pueblo of Zuni – NM  
• Paiute Indian Tribe of Utah – UT

An afternoon ashore we went seeking stories from the past.

Pictographs were constructed using a pigment made from plants. The pigment was used as paint and applied to the surface of rock. 

Any ideas? Our universe?  

Petroglyphs are rock caving or etchings. They are produced by chipping away dark desert varnish to expose the lighter rock beneath.

Desert varnish, of which we saw in abundance on this trip is the thin red-to-black coating found on exposed rock surfaces in arid regions. Varnish is composed of clay minerals, oxides and hydroxides of manganese and/or iron, as well as other particles such as sand grains and trace elements. The most distinctive elements are manganese (Mn) and iron (Fe).

Bacteria take manganese out of the environment, oxidize it, and cement it onto rock surfaces. In the process, clay and other particles also become cemented onto the rock. These bacteria microorganisms live on most rock surfaces.

The sources for desert varnish components come from outside the rock, most likely from atmospheric dust and surface runoff. Streaks of black varnish often occur where water cascades over cliffs. No major varnish characteristics are caused by wind.

Ruins of people who made this wild & rugged river canyon their home

The challenge we face today is trying to decipher the code, the stories once told.  Perhaps, is it completely acceptable for each of us to draw our own interpretation of what the creator was sharing in this ancient rock art.

Water leaches through Tapeats Sandstone, as it evaporates a mineral deposit, composed prominently of salt, is left behind clinging to the canyon walls

One of our river guides shared that it would have been a rite of passage for a Hopi male to make the long dangerous spiritual journey down into the Little Colorado River Gorge, into Grand Canyon, to obtain salt from the salt mines and then bring it back for their female relatives. 

To some Native American tribes, the confluence of the Little Colorado and Colorado Rivers is sacred ground, a literal place of emergence into this world.  Learning this, having my own ongoing draw to this area, I completely agree.

The Little Colorado River (LCR) begins in the White Mountains of eastern Arizona flowing 107 miles before joining the main Colorado River within the steep walls of Grand Canyon. When not muddied by runoff, the waters of the LCR shine a baby-blue hue

The Grand Canyon, a place I’ve come to visit many times. This journey of mine is but a mere dot along the evolutionary timeline.  Its grandeur always impacts me profoundly; sometimes simply reminding me how small I really am.

 

Eminance Break a rugged but scenic hike with significant elevation gain 

from the rivers edge that shouldn't be underestimated.

Marble Canyon - Navajo Indian Reservation

The burdens I carried into the raft I chose freely to let loose albeit some taking strength like migrating monarchs I’d see a flutter along the river on their voyage to their winter home; it’s a long journey little buddies, may the winds be favorable and look out for the bats.  This landscape, a quilt of diversity supporting creatures in this harshest of native lands. We witnessed big horn sheep standing their ground on a tiny plateau as it’s within their nature to be head strong while seeking out seniority.

Our river guide, John, kept us in the current to watch these two Big Horn Sheep standoff; ending with the classic big ol' headbutt

Immeasurable importance is the water of the Colorado River, each drop scrutinized, each holding undisputable value, a resource continually at risk.  The level always changing, never the same.  Beaches washed away, others reshaped, and some newly exposed as the river ebbs & flows.

Simply put, I just really like this picture of the canyon wall against the winding river

My gaze sweeps an ongoing mosaic of colors between where the granite and river meet as an unwelcome shiver finds its way in.  Glowing warmth of the September setting sun, daylight greets twilight, is it that time to rumble you and the old me?

A shadow of the old me

A warrior’s call I answered as eventually I’d paddled left back, all forward, digging my paddle deep.  Right back, RIGHT BACK!  All forward, a successful paddle high five, momentary victory claimed over many of this rivers rapids… we’ll get to that eventually.

Our rafts resting on the river’s edge while we scamper on solid ground to play

This, a journey on a river with peeps I did not know, all but one; soon we’d all share where this river flows.

Day one and mile zero would soon finally be upon us, my flight into Flagstaff was a swirl of upwind memories as I peered out the window on approach, sights that rekindled emotions of adventures long ago.  Schnebly Hill once upon a time we could drive in our K5, skiing was the absolute best with fluffy powder heavenly snow on the western slope of Mount Humphreys aka Snowbowl, slide rock shenanigans, Sunset Creator exploring (especially at sunset) and Quinn's first hiking steps on the Alpine Forest Trail. 

 

Our first night in Flagstaff we gathered for an introductory meeting, logistics, and revisit plans of the upcoming expedition.  Earlier that day, I'd found a few hours to myself so I ventured out on a solo hike into town for my river beverages that had me crossing over the Arizona Trail.  When I'm back in AZ this winter, I'm planning an overnight hike across from Four Peaks to Lake Roosevelt that'll require a sliver of logistics, and friends willing to drop-off & pick-up.  

A fun little mid-afternoon river beverage scavenger hunt (1.2 miles each way)

Staying up a bit late, excitement keeping me awake, I packed my carefully selected quick dry gear, a snuggly nighttime setup, campsite hang-out attire, and Minus33 for when it was chilly; all into two dry bags.  The early morning alarm sounded, the finality as we loaded the bus to Lee’s Ferry where our river chariots await.

Before the sun was fully awake we left our hotel (Little America); my last shower for over two weeks in the rear view mirror.  Watching the rays of sun illuminate the sky I was pinching myself internally for on this day, a trip I've dreamed of for nearly thirty years was about to become my reality.  

But first ... the bus made a stop.

A walk across the Navajo Bridge, an unexpected treat, as we not only gazed down at our flowing river home below but there were CONDORS sitting on the cliff walls with their wings spread wide catching warmth from the early morning sun.

Navajo Bridge

View of the Navajo Bridge in Marble Canyon from my raft with Leonard as my first guide.

The walls, left & right, host the Condors until they take flight.

In 1996, the first batch of six captivity-bred condors were released 30 miles from the Grand Canyon in Arizona. The release meant wild condors were flying over the Grand Canyon for the first time in 70 years. Since the initial release, approximately 70 condors now inhabit parts of Arizona and Utah. Today, I had eyes on a total count of nine.

One took flight, flying gracefully under my feet as I stood motionless on the bridge.  With a little extra pep in my step, I bid adieu to this beauty as I headed back to our bus thinking maybe I’ll see one of you when I visit the Tapeats Creek area later in my trip for some fishing fun as I learned Condors were sighted nesting there years past.

 

Condor flying over Colorado River & under my feet

A young California condor near Grand Canyon Village on the South Rim of Grand Canyon National Park. NPS / Mark Lellouch

With some trepidation seeping out of me, or was it simply beads of sweat, I offloaded the bus eyeing our fleet of boats afloat.  Our river guides eagerly scampered over, introductions were quickly done; there's a lot more time for chatter with each on the river in our days ahead.

My anticipation only grew standing alone for a moment at the shore.  "Can everyone head over to the pavilion please", I heard.  We needed to bang out a few more important details, like safety protocols of pointing positive and lifejackets that’ll pretty much always be worn.  With our gear bags strapped in I randomly picked my vessel for the day.  Sliding off the back of the raft, intentionally, I had to do it.  A quick cool dip into the Colorado River I insisted, my own baptism of sorts wondering if I’d be the same ever again as I climbed back aboard.  

A dream come true to raft the Colorado River!

Bathing is infrequent within the river canyon walls. It’s more of a cool rinse to take away sweat and those tiny grits of sand holding tight revealing geological history within each grain I’d find.

At last, the moment to shove off… 

It's time, YEA!, to shove off and head down river facing the unknown.

The raft guides brought to our trip not only oodles of years of rowing and paddling experience but with each of them knowledge of the land we are in-between as well as each of their own stories of expeditions they'd happily share.  Our guides were armed with a treasure-trove of historical events back to Powel, Hance, the Kolb’s, Elzada Clover & Louis Jotter (the first women through), and this famous Amos who ran the river in the first inflatable boat.

The water above the Little Colorado River (LCR) was clear and nearly a light blue-greenish hue but we were told that as monsoon season hammered the upper lands that this clarity wouldn’t last long.  We’d soon see it first hand when the LCR joined us all of the climate change intense weather event rage.

 

Little Colorado River (LCR) bleeding into the Colorado River

Our first night on the river was met with another brief meeting to reiterate our health is of the upmost concern.  Several hand washing stations are strategically placed, no one is to ever go near food, coffee, drinking water, snacks and an absolute necessity after you got groovy in the groover.

Speaking of pooh… this gal has been in some epic remote spots with spectacular views and I’d have to say that a few of these I’d sit my behind along the Colorado River bank rank high in my favorite list “pooh with a view”.

 

Gettin' Groovy on the Groover aka "Pooh with a View"

Groover at The Ledges 

Wash, wash, wash and wash some more!

Let’s talk about food now because that’s super important too.

Having eaten an array of truck snacks last winter during our seven months on the road of the dehydrated kind along with my own camp stove vittles I'd quickly find that these river guides are also secretly culinary chefs when the oars and paddles are stowed for the night.  They have mastered the dutch oven creating concoctions of the get into my belly kind.  

Everything a chef needs in this kitchen setup

There was no shortage of fresh fruit or vegetables, cheese or dips, steak and sweet taters, shrimp and enchiladas (yum, a favorite dish), sauces with attitude over pasta and fresh avocados galore, meats so tender butter knifes were just fine and all of this paired nicely with my wine.

Dinner with my river peeps

When darkness spread across our campsite the air was often filled with a sweet smell infused with an abundance of chatter and laughter.  These amazing guides, with no shortage of tricks up there sleeves, also perfected dessert dishes each evening leaving us for nothing to want.  Well, all but perhaps seconds and that was typically fulfilled as it was a hard no to leftovers, simply not allowed.  Happy to oblige knowing I'd paddle this river for miles and miles; "sustenance" I'd use as my excuse "just a little more". 

David & Leonard, river crew who create delish dishes too

Sun setting on another beautiful day on the river while the aroma of dinner wafts my way

Somewhere on a beach ... well river shore we stuffed our faces galore with tasty nibbles but only after washing our, filthy paws

Lunch spot on the chocolate milk colored river

While lunch was being prepared one afternoon I scampered 

up high to see what was for dessert

RAPIDS but of course!

Dishes aren’t of the disposable kind as we all practice carry in errr rather raft in and carry out.  Each pot, pan, plate, knife, fork and spoon are all washed after breakfast and dinner by helping hands.  We’d gather at the four metal pans that held scrubbers, sanitizer, and rinse water.  It was a communal event where laughter stirred and comingled heated arguments of who has done too many, never just a few.

 

Jessie & Theresa enjoying the process of doing dishes

  

Our routine each day was simple.  We’d rise to a guide, a partner on this trip, who drew the short early morning straw.  That unmistakable sound torched the airwaves of intense flame heating water and into cowboy coffee it became.  That our alarm to start packing gear for the river is calling us back. A voice would break the morning calm gently exclaiming “GOOD MORNING GRAND CANYON … COFFEEEEEEEE”.  This would be followed by footsteps in the sand for this tasty hot cup o’ joe.

If you were lucky you'd pass over where someone slept, the sand snuggly warm to the step.

Soon it’d be time for a breakfast of fresh fruit, pancakes, french toast, oatmeal, bacon, ham, yogurt and eggs made to your choosing; a magic trick it would seem as out of our rafts endless food would appear..

Who says you can't have your breakfast and fish too!

Water, it was everywhere but lower than normal, the new normal perhaps.  The dam controlling the flow.  It's this gals humble opinion that the simple lack of precipitation isn't the culprit but overuse and misuse of this resource.  I don't want to weigh down this blog with extra heavy weighted conversation but it shouldn't be ignored for trips like this might become of the past, for others never to explore, legends of what once was ... before.

Water, of the drinkable H2O kind, came to from here where the river flows.  

Yup, our caring crew would take the buckets of Colorado River water we'd collected each evening and treat it.  Buckets would sit overnight allowing for the monsoon season infused sediment to settle a bit.  Then they'd add just a few drops of aluminum sulfate and whip it up with a giant wire whisk.  *POOF* more river magic as before my eyes I'd see the separation process begin.  Forgive me a little, my memory might be murky like the chocolate colored water turning into clear potable hydration for was it the drops, whisk, overnight settle or overnight settle, whisk, drops?  Either way, after that it'd go into and out of the filtration system.  The water flowed out of buckets, through the system and into brown storage jugs.  

This!  It's what kept us all hydrated for days upon days in the Arizona desert on the river.  

It's quite impressive for I calculate that over my trip I easily drank over 1,300 ounces of treated Colorado River water.  

We'd gather buckets of river water and set them on shore

Insert giant wire whisk and stir

Aluminum Sulfate drops do the trick

Technology & time H2O Colorado River water became

To be clear, It wasn't just water I had while on the river.  Each evening there were libations that we'd stowed into the bar on one of the river boats.  The rule was simple, be smart with your consumption.  Another rule, we'd only get to retrieve our adult beverages once the boats were all off-loaded.  Admittedly, I was one who didn't hesitate to open that hatch on Leonard's raft passing out our burlap sacks for within one I had cheers in the form of wine, hard cider & beer.

Interesting side-note of notable value the Colorado River has risen in temperature in a dramatic way. Beverages, years in the past, stowed in the bottom of the boat used to stay nice and cool but now they are tepid; boo hiss that simply sucks on so many levels.

My selection of local beverages I'd stow away in the raft bar.

Blue bags, white bags, sleep pads and all of the kitchen gear needed loading each morning.  We’d create an assembly line to the rafts when we’d hear “I’ll take four pads and six sleep kits”.  Moving into swift action the guides strapped into place each item setting the rafts again for our new day.  

Ready to load up for a day on the river

Over and over again we’d load and off-load the gear for down the river each night a new camp.  Funny as it was back then, always that item, not cast away, but one forgotten or misplaced item that we’d search for its owner leaving no trace upon the rivers shore.  A pair of ravens we'd often see searching our campsite as we'd embark seeking adventure or whatever it was the river had up her waves that day.

A new day on the river

Camping on the river is ever changing.  Miles between each site I'd never know what new space where I'd lay myself to rest would look and feel like.  Would it be sandy, probably.  Would it have a view, most likely.  Would I see stars, absolutely.  Would I sleep or stay away ... that more tricky than a rattlesnake.

Each evening, after a day on the river, I'd grab my Minus33 socks, flops & AzRA cup filled with wine then I'd begin the task of setting up my camp spot 

Sunset on my camp spot 

Camp spot nestled within hand selected driftwood & rocks 

A look across the river at our camp spot

Primrose camp spot

Camp spot somewhere along the Colorado River

The one night (morning) a tent saved me from getting soaked but only one other night was the threat enough of a storm to chase me indoors

Speaking of tents - the Dory is totally adorable with a tent

Campsite on The Ledges

Camp spot first night on the river

 

View of our campsite as we hiked up Eminence

At camp we'd find spots to hang our soaking wet gear.   At the Ledges, it was a perfect place for a quick dry for these rocks were toasty warm after being kissed by the sun.

My spot our last night on the river

"Who wants to hike up Bright Angel Trail in the morning?" was the question asked as two of our river companions only were with us for the upper and two new were joining us for the lower.  

"ME!" I said happily raising my hand eager to hike a trail I've been on all those years ago, headed up rather than down (and obviously the reverse again).  

Going on a hike!

Up n' at um early the next morning to scamper switchbacks to say "tootles" and "howdy" I'd spend part of the day with one of our guides,  Boots on trail for while as the rest of the gang leisurely broke down camp and chilled at Phantom Ranch.  

 

Jessie & me on Bright Angel trail - I'm so glad I opted for this adventure

The switchbacks of Bright Angel Trail 

Hold on one sec Jess, I need to hug this beautiful cottonwood tree.  

My arms outstretched wide, only partially around her girth, what a great spot to make roots and grow along Garden Creek

Water, a vital natural resource.  Did you know that most of the Colorado River through Grand Canyon originates in the Rocky Mountain region?  There are perennial streams on both the north and south sides of Grand Canyon.  A few of the more notable are Kanab & Havasu creeks, the Little Colorado River, and the Paria River.  We'd see where some creeks were bone dry while some still shared water, albeit very low as compered to their previous self. 

Freshwater meets the Colorado River

A freshwater creek, or was this a spring, flows very cold into the river luring fish.  This is where I made my stand.  A few promising tugs the evening before had me up bright & early on the shore.  With the bend of the rod I began to reel in a fish, my first Colorado River catch was within my grasp.  Ugh! That didn't pan out as I held the line tight, the fish decided otherwise & spit the barbless hook as I took steps back toward shore.  I was calf deep stomping my feet, like a little kid I was seen throwing a visible tantrum jumping up & down, sending water into the air probably scaring away any other fish near.  

So close I was ... what's that I hear but a river guide, Liam, yelling over to me "that's exactly how you do it, nice release, you didn't even have to touch the fish".   "So, it counts?" I shout back calming my feet.  "You bet your ass it does" he states emphatically.  So as you can imagine this #FishingwithKal gal was just a little bit happy.  I put down my gear and headed for coffee.

One evening, a beautifully shaped piece of driftwood floated towards me as I waded along shore. Reaching, outstretching my hand, I pick it up and after a silent moment admiring its unique coloring I set free, afloat into the river once again.

Another I see, without hesitation I reach for it but holy shit it’s a fish nearing twelve inches swimming directly towards me.  My giddiness and squeal of delight was heard throughout our river camp at this sight.  I stood there chest deep, for in that moment there was a native Flannelmouth Sucker less than six inches away starring directly at me; perhaps a taunt the next morning ... Hmmm, we shall see.

Up early with the torch of glowing under the pot creating cowboy coffee I headed to the river, I was casting for gold, in the form of native fish would be my claim. 

Fishing in her chocolate milky river is a challenge for the fish can't see the lure.  This river edge had a few rocks so I was being careful.  Stick & stuck once or twice then a nibble, a slurp.  Frick!  A fish was on but rocked itself.  My patience was deep as I paced the shore, not once nor twice but seven times I paced back & forth changing my angle to no avail.  Resilient, I love that word, I decided to go into the river, at first just a little, then waist deep.  In up to my chest, that final idea to release this fish from its rocky keep.

#FISHON and free!  Elated I start to reel, gentle, line tight, tip up, inside I squeal with an outward "I've got a fish" sharing my delight as friends started to gather for coffee nearby on shore.  Hugging, yes I hugged my fish, briefly I wrapped my arms around this native Flannelmouth Sucker.  For a moment deep within Grand Canyon, in the Colorado River, I encircled with care, not wanting to touch its protective coat of slime.  Then, just like that my fish decided it was time to go, back to where the river flows.

Barbless hooks a requirement, catch & release is our game. 

 Flannelmouth Sucker, morning pre-coffee hair, & a smile as wide as Grand Canyon

Photo credit Jim - Thank you for taking this picture it adds an element otherwise missing in my Colorado River fishing story.

If you look back sometimes you find the way forward while others prove only a murky past. In the current you want to fight but oftentimes its easier to float for a bit with your chin up, your toes facing the sky, your legs strong ready to brace & keep you safe. Take a moment, that deep breath but be sure its between intense waves.  Hold it.  You'll make it, the shore will be your guide. Be positive, follow the point, with a tap on the head, trust and it'll be alright. 

Exploring camp spots I'd often find something neat

Geological events attached & within rocks and canyon walls

I'd never seen a Hummingbird Caterpillar (Moth) before.  Later, at my sleep spot near some Primrose I'd see a few of the moths zip zapping from flower to flower. 

Waterfalls of anger shedding a deluge of silt, a dark aroma of earth while others cascade clearly trickling down the canyon wall.  All of the spaces, days before, you'd hear one or two of us say "I bet that makes for a great waterfall" as our eyes continued to be amazed by this place. 

 

Your nose was filled with the deep aroma of the earth

Not salty tears you see but just a deluge of thunderous rain easing away years of quiet pain, a burden too heavy to carry any longer, I’m letting it wash away in the torrent of earth moving fast our way.  Mother Nature calls us to behave but we won't, we don't so she has no other action available ... stop being fools this is no hoax.

 

The wind pushed us backwards, the rain drove us off the river, a nearby shore we stopped, taking shelter, until it was safe again to explore.

Lynn & me soaking up the fun

Our paddle boat crew post torrential storm, we couldn't get any wetter!

The Colorado River after a torrential storm that forced us off the river 

while it raged awakening the canyon walls turning them into waterfalls

The canyon wall dripped kisses that evening showering those who chose to do the long haul up, around and over.  For when I sought my camp spot my ears whispered gently the sound of lush rain drops.  With no more rain in the air I knew a delicious waterfall was near.  I grabbed a change of clothing and my Wise Owl quick dry towel.  Like a jackalop with a mountain lion on its fluffy tail I bounded over to see what nature had to offer.  Ahhh.. rewarding was this renewal standing there butt ass naked smack in the middle of nature.  For a long moment I allowed the simplicity of clear rain water a chance to rinse my collection of historical sand partially away.

Eagerly accepting nature’s offer, momentary clarity as I step under; this is just what I needed.  If you look closely you'll see drops of water.  A renewal, standing still looking up at each drop as it splashed on my face.

A note to the reader of delicate importance as no harsh shampoos or soaps are used because their suds aren't natural here and I dare note harm nature; I'm her forever protector even as grimy as I was. 

 

Details, that devil we know, not one left out AzRA covers them all.  Filling our tummies three tasty times a day plus endless raft snacks we’d share, some of us always seeking the raft with those peanut butter pillows.  It was a lot of work that these river guides perform, a shit-ton is my families idiom, always on-duty, always at the ready, never without a smile they'd join our circle, a river family we'd become.  Each of them not only creating but sharing in this wonderful expedition.  What they each wove into the experience far exceeded any of my expectations.

Wes, one of our guides, a man of the river.

Stories and fables, poems of woes, history untold, pictographs and petroglyphs they knew where to find them, slot canyons explored, beaches of knee deep mud, mysteries of people who called the river their home long ago, and those who explored but perished a rapid their forever namesake.  Our river guides were a full part of what we shared.  Each morning we’d gather, our circle not so but into this river family we’d been woven into one.  Birthday’s celebrated, that angel walk so sweet, those whispering words only me and the canyon will ever know, I've stored them away deep, into my keep.

This beautiful photo of "Our Circle of Light" as I've named it was taken by Paula.  

I believe it captures the essence of what we set out to accomplish as a whole. 

One of my favorites was Ode to Slowness that Spencer read to us as we rafted up.

Spencer reading us Ode to Slowness

"... sit and watch the shifting shadows cross the cliff face of sandstone or simply walk parallel with a path of liquid light called the Colorado River ... I'm learning there is no such thing as wasting time ... lonely I had become in the city ... I missed their music, the conversation of birds ... the speed of my 'previous' life was its own form of pathology: drive here, meet there, talk, eat, talk, listen, look at my watch, run to work ... run some errands ... shop, buy, load the car, drive the car, car in traffic, too much traffic, speed, brake ... red light, green light, hurry home ... comfortable in our urban routine ... what if we were only living our half lives ...what if there was something more ... we wanted more, we wanted less ... more time ... time to write, time to breathe, to be more conscious with our lives ... to be closer to wild places ... so we banked the idea of a simpler life away from the city ... what we would lose in income we would gain in sanity ... we saunter more ... rise with the first light ... call this a sacrifice, a momentary stay of madness ... we call it home."

I too want to create my life, my days, as a ceremony around s l o w n e s s.  To fully invest myself in a homage to nature, deliberately walk fast to see the sunset, to trust in silence of critters rustling in the brush or the song of a Woodthrush, to sit still on a waterway until the rapids decide to carry me away.

No paddling today for this gal, an overdue on the beautiful Dory

"I am not so easily seduced by speed as I once was ... to see how much I can get done in a day does not impress me anymore ... I don't think about getting older ... It feels more like honoring the gravity of my own body ... I want my life to be a celebration of slowness ... Time and space ... In the desert there is space ... space is a twin sister of time ... if we have open space we have time to breathe, to dream, to dare, to play, to pray to move freely, so freely in a world our minds have forgotten, but our bodies remember ... In these redrock canyons, time creates space - an arch, an eye, this blue eye of sky ... we remember why we love the desert; its our tactical response to light, to silence, and to stillness.

Hand on stone - patience

Hand on water - music

Hand raised to the wind - is this the birthplace of inspiration?"

Soft against harsh

Each day was unique, rapids we'd hit hard, evade the hole, sometimes pounded by crunchers grabbing at us while other waves crashed over our heads ... all of it so much friggin' fun!  

Invested in each day, limited as they are.  An adventure, a magical opportunity was presented that historically is only ever shared by a mere few.  Its location utterly remote and tucked away where fish dreams are made from.  This chance echoed my name, to say "no thanks" I'd be a fool, I was 100% in!

Ready for some fishing fun

Tapeats Creak is known to hold fish but there was concern of the torrential rain a few days ago that awoke stream & rivers, it might have washed them mostly downstream, into the murky monsoon chocolate milk colored Colorado River.  We held onto hope, a pool or two could still hold a few.

Headed into Tapeats Creek 

A day to fish while others went off on a 10 mile one-way hike.  Yup, you read that right.  I skipped a hike but don't your fret this gal hiked to fish.  Casting into fast moving clear pools this creek didn't want to share any fish.  A picnic lunch, sweeping views, resting while seeking secrets within a canyon river; there was absolute to this adventure, this gal caught a good time! 

Above that fall is a pool that might have FISH!

The gang that hiked had an exceptional day too.  Car-spotting never what we hikers call fun.  Today, we spotted rafts, kinda sorta of a different way.  Two guides hiked in reverse passing the hikers mid-way to come up and over where we'd seen them head out earlier that day.  We spotted rafts that'd all meet up at camp where we swapped stories of our day.

Where Tapeats and the Colorado River meet

Fishing team with Liam - the Dory Master

Thank you for taking us on our fishing adventure!

Susan, aka "mom" it was a treat having you join us too.

Granite Narrows - appropriately named as its a mere 76 feet across at mile 135 (ish) on the Colorado River.  After a day of fishing (ya' know it's called that for a reason right) we headed downriver to meet the rest of our group at camp for the evening.  

Viewing the sunset on the Dory that evening was exquisite!

Waterfall of mystical proportions across from where we'd camped the night before.  Under it a pool of teal green color,  I dove directly into.  OK no diving but rather an insert of quickness, the brisk swim across as the falls hammered down creating winds that made casting not behave. 

Clear water falling into a pool ... here fishy fish fish as this creek lures them up from the Colorado River.  I'd tried my luck at catching a fish here too but alas I got skunked so how about a swim with them.  

Nighttime hours spent starting up into space, the stars of this darkened sky illuminating perfectly.  The moon hasn’t been seen in days, we’re tucked away between tight canyon walls keeping her at bay.  Full she’ll be soon, a spotlight not to be ignored.  She'll take over the river no headlamps needed to explore. Pièce de résistance, a lifetime legacy, asking if I was on the right path or river is this case.  Helping to guide me in these dark skies I let my mind empty, swallowed by this place. 

Miles upon miles still ahead, each evening a new river camp, spots that'll choose me.  Where I place my gear. rest my head, settle my soul, and quiet my heart.  

Hearts, they kept appearing over & over & over & over again.

Anticipation before our rafts turn at some splishy splashy fun 

Prickly cacti hearts

The heart of Grand Canyon 

One of my river peeps has a picture of me holding this stone.

I'll only love you heart forward

On my way to the groover

Love innards 

Love

I think I'll make camp next to these two

A sample I share with you of the hearts that found their way to me - I skipped this one back into the chocolate colored Colorado River 

Placing my paddle into the river each stroke seemed different, sometimes meeting an eddy swirling around or a giant swell between waves where I’d miss the top reaching for its backside as it splashed, crashing all around, and soaking me effortlessly.

Incoming!

That weight I carried onto this raft for I’d bared it way too long, it’s that outside world dragging me down all of that right versus left; here I focus on river right and river left as they offer to share geological mysteries.

Waves before the Little Colorado River with Owen rowing

Splishy Splashy fun on the Dory 

Rafts n' Rapids

A pit-stop, stretching our legs & looking for those peanut butter pillows

Upon leaving this place I swear even more to continue in my quest to preserve nature as a whole; animals, historical people of millions of years ago, their stories now woven into my own. 

Plants & animals along the ever changing shore, the desert is my sweet treat, she hugs me oh so prickly. The canyon is my echo, her smoothness displaced by jutting edges against my very own kallyesque way.

At camp one night I found a spot to be one with the river, the mud, and the canyon.  Here I lay for nearly an hour letting the water wash away thoughts of the outside world that found leaks letting themselves uninvited in. 

A deal, a wish, a hope, I made long long ago …

Persevering over rapids, hitting hard some of her waves, through them we emerge with renewed smiles, no words can express the victory shared upon crashing through those days.

A turn at the oars I requested, an insight into what they'd do for us as, on a flat it was agreed.  We'd often be seen leisurely sitting back chatting about the canyon & her history while our river guides were at work making it look easy... so not the case this insight proved how difficult it is.  With a new reading of the water I handed back the oars thankful for their strength and ease as they strove to keep us safe, in rapid waves our guides were one.  

Trepidation & exhilaration filled my body and mind as we scouted how to paddle Lava Falls.  

Lava Falls is the most famous and most formidable rapid in Grand Canyon National Park. Urban legends are created here as boats navigate the steep drops, technical rapid layout for which are ever changing as the canyon and river flows. 

Lava - directly above the falls 

Scouting Lava Falls

For once you drop over that lip, an eternity it seems as you drift closer to her edge.  We were told that our destiny was predetermined when we left the shore.  The waves changing slightly, the river level low, crunchers waiting for us to make a mistake, fudge that's a big hole.

Scouting the falls I found a heart which I took as an omen of upcoming success (I hoped!)

In unison as we all echoed Margeaux's "ALL BACK" as a giant wave from Lava headed our way, we plunged our paddles in, digging deep, shooting out the back of that wave.  All intact we still were but not yet time for a paddle high five as Lava had more in store.  Crunchers ahead, we paddle hard, chaos, so it seemed, but oh the contrary.  We'd practiced for this, she taught us well on the rapids we've navigated days before.  

Our plan on how to navigate went sideways pretty darn quick but that wasn't our boat thankfully we'd later share on shore.  The worst of position we could find ourselves in, that thankfully it wasn't.  Turned around, ass-end forward, the giant wave of Lava pounded our boat swallowing us whole. Each of us momentarily disappearing in the chocolate milk color stained enormous wave.  

That hollering overheard was out of necessity, as the rivers roars intentionally drowning out our leaders commands.  Making her proud was all of our collective hope.  Our raft, just a few moments ago, so quiet on our approach. "We got this" I said to our team.

Against rocks hidden below, against fear, against fading fun, against crashing splashing waves, we're still upright continuing Lava's fight.

Still all in, bodies in our boat, keep paddling, with all of our combined strength.  Lava is the biggest of them all, we did and we did until we heard Margeaux shouting that four letter word.

"STOP"!

We’d turn our boat, slowing a little, ensuring the rest of our crafts were safe before little Lava took her place.  We watched them bounce and get pounced by Lava's waves.

 

Paddle High-Five

  

Little Lava Falls standing on Tequila Beach after our successful paddle boat run

On Tequila Beach, with all of our boats successfully tied up to shore, everyone gathered giddy yet sad.  The mighty Lava had been conquered each raft with it's own story.  As we stood there together with still some afternoon sun, we shared laughter and a swig celebrating what we've done.  Not only Lava but all those days in our history on and around the Colorado River deep within Grand Canyon.  Nearing the end of our journey it was bittersweet finding my camp spot that evening.  I've come to absolutely love being here, all of the sand, the wet, the harshness, the dry, the critters creeping about, and my new river friends. 

When rafting along the Colorado River at mile 212.9 we stopped to check out a geological oddity.

Pumpkin Spring, an unusual naturally occurring hot spring & wicked cool pumpkin-like formation; the pool a travertine, a form of limestone that nature deposited creating this:

Arsenic Pumpkin 

While it appears inviting on the surface, full of mineral-rich water, it’s actually the exact opposite.  According to testing, 1 liter of water from the Pumpkin Spring contains 1100 milligrams (ppm) of arsenic.  Arizona’s state health standard for safe water recreation is only 50 milligrams of arsenic per liter (mg/L).

The Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) tightened drinking water standards to 10 milligrams per BILLION (ppb/L).  Easier visualization, that’s only few drops in an Olympic-sized swimming pool.

Arsenic is a naturally occurring substance in groundwater, often found in foods like rice. Arsenic can occur both naturally (organic arsenic) or as a byproduct of business & industry (inorganic arsenic).

DO NOT ENTER!  

Organic arsenic can be found in water, air, soil, volcanic rock, plants and animals. The inorganic form of arsenic is used to preserve wood; create, mine or treat metals; and is also added to some paints, dyes & soaps. Arsenic is also known to cause health problems.

Arsenic poisoning is actually darn scary. It will begin with a headache, diarrhea, and lethargy. Then it would lead to vomiting, cramped muscles, hair loss, stomach pain, and urinating with blood. The worst-case scenario is either coma or death.

So…

No, we didn’t soak in the Grand Canyon’s witches pumpkin brew nor gather any drinking H2ewwww.  I’ll pass on the high levels of arsenic, lead, copper other way too high for me concentration of minerals.

Don’t worry though because we found other things to entertain ourselves that may or may not have included a some form of Colorado River AzRA triathlon events.

The Colorado River has seemingly always been a turbulent home I’ve now only begun to know.  I’ve become imprisoned by thoughts of not having this river ever shared with me again. 

Civilization crashes upon the shores as we close in on our last evening. 

These canyon walls & rivers flow aren't ready to let go of me just yet. 

Higher up looking once again over her edge beckoning me back… no, I don’t want to go.

The journey started as a singular event but over the days it transformed into a communal experience woven into my own. 

The food rich in flavor, prepared by our guides as they choose a menu not of simply sustenance but full of flavor, each meal was a continued surprise.

A plethora of chatter these folk I didn’t know before I landed in Flagstaff all those days ago.  A bus to the river, at mile zero I knew barely a sole, but that story didn’t hold.  Our bus trek back post gear breakdown was quiet and bumpy as we headed out of the grasp of the canyon's walls.  My mind holding onto every little detail like those grains of sand tucked within everything.

Bus ride post life on the river

I did on this adventure. What had I’d been afraid of?  Going alone deep into history where something happens to you there.  The canyon is a soul, she caresses us, the river churns us, the stars spin us, the moon peeking around, and camp slows our minds down.

One of the camp spots across from a waterfall 

Honestly, without true adrenaline there is not true relief so yeah let’s “fall from cliffs”, swim the rapids, take a long breath, paddle deep, pop up out of that hole. 

Slot canyon fun

You had to swim in under that rock wedged in the slot

Folks brave enough to enter the canyon after dark will also be treated to a number of hidden night time treats, including wildlife like bats and the elusive ringtail cat.

That nearly midnight visit on my pillow, those teeny tiny critter feet pitter pattering across my tarp gave your stealthy cuteness away.  A slow lift of my head our noses did briefly meet.  You scampered away too quickly I didn’t mean to startle, I only offer a place to snuggle or play as you remind me of my kitty back home.  STELLA!

Camping with Ringtails

One of the most striking encounters a lucky hiker can have is with the sacred datura, a mystical flower that only ever blooms at night, the moon flower.  But the flower is more than just a pretty sight. As its name indicates, sacred datura is a religiously important plant for several groups of Native American people. It is also highly poisonous; if you encounter this plant you may want to touch or smell its delicate leaves and petals, but do be careful to thoroughly clean any part of your body that may come in contact with it so as not to accidentally ingest trace amounts of toxic alkaloids that are present in all parts of the plant.

Stumbling upon sacred datura is a surreal and somewhat otherworldly experience, like spotting a ghost. It’s just one of many strange and wonderful natural gifts that Grand Canyon has to offer.

An amphitheater, a beach, a critter or few call it home

 

What's this?  A new river critter species was spotted on a beach that day.

A few of the critter tracks I found while wandering in their home.

Speaking of critters I came upon these lizards 

This little dude agreed to a close-up

One could spend a lifetime down within these walls and always find something new to explore on the shores or within side canyons.  Send food... I might just stay. 

Some shorelines were firm under our feet while others took them deep into 

the quick as mud grabbed hold

Any nonbelievers out there that the desert used to be an ocean?  Join the group of believers, as the truth is real.  This was found by one on our trip at a slot canyon we explored. 

Interesting find while exploring

Creniod 340 Million (ish) Years - one of our guides knew where this is tucked away with the Redstone Limestone it’s tucked away in.

Creniod 340 Million (ish) Years (other side) 

River shenanigans post big rapid waves - elated to have been successful there was an extra-ordinary amount of play.  Our journey drawing to an end but the river fun seems to only have begun.

Now, at a safe distance ...

... our raft forced to "RETREAT" 

We witnessed others get soaked with buckets o' joy 

If I've already written this I don't care because it's worthy of stating clearly again.  Our guides on this journey, Margeaux, John, Liam, Wes, Spencer, Owen, Leonard, yes David, Jessie and Susan too aren't just the crew.  They give & give, row & row, paddle & steer our boats, navigating the river with caution but yet at ease.  The river is their way of life, they call it home.  Treating these lands with the upmost respect this group of characters, yes they are all unique bringing layers of fun.  Elements of sun, rain, and the "w" word no one wants to say its name don't slow them down, always on their game. There is no other way to express my gratitude for my days with you there but this "THANK YOU!" *insert a hug from me*

John after a wave swallowed us

May 3rd!!

I'd say each day, "I'll paddle if no one else wants to".  I lost count how many I'd spend in Margeaux's boat, a new location to paddle this river a dream come true.  

Her soft spoken command & strong connection with her crew was evident each day, 

someone to look up to.  

It's hard to pick a favorite but the torrential storm with winds raging against our face with a wall of water pounding the river as the canyon's waterfalls came to life will certainly be one.  The day of few rapids where we paddled & paddled, taking turns to keep us moving down the river with slower flow was truly blissful.  

Lava! So friggin' happy I was a part of the group.

Trip breakdown of the physical sort we'd all participate.  The day we arrived those 15 days ago, our rafts completely ready to go.  Today, we'd help de-rig with the crew.  Sad as it was our trip was at and end 226 miles later.  

Each strap that held gear needed to be undone.

Each boat need to be emptied for the air that kept us afloat was set loose.

Each cooler that held all of our vittles hoisted.

Each groover box now holding a pieces of each of us removed.

Each of our dry bags turned back in.

Each burlap sack holding less beverages reclaimed (my Mogollon Monster by AZ Wilderness Brewing Co would be shared back in NH)

All together we'd undue the rafts of fun

A quick rinse with that chocolate milk colored Colorado River water

Our leader, Margeaux, claiming a successful trip victory!

Spending nights alone on the shores of the Colorado River did this gal, her dream, her wish, came true but alas I’m happy to be home.  Oh but wait! Eric and I have already left on our next adventure; we've taken to the truck once again closing the Jack Perch Lodge (JPL) for the season we are free to roam.   

The imprint of this adventure, an expedition as AzRA states, will forever be imprinted within never allowing its escape

Group picture day three into our trip

Our last morning on the Colorado River

My river peeps for which but one I did not know I share these words, loquacious I typically am but in only a few I'll choose for each of you my family of river peeps. 

Macon - you are a hero to me & and our environment agrees.  I sincerely hope to cross paths, continue our banter, while I'm in CO on my road trip.

Jim - I think I spent most of my river hours in the same boat with you; fox hole gal here, thank you for sharing waves & rapids with me. 

Amy - I love your quest, on this river anything is possible, keep being present and I'll do the same. 

George - a legend, you are salt of the earth & a truly kind man.  Thanks for sharing the Angel Walk Birthday.

Theresa - Schenectady of all friggin' places, I'll see you in WI my wild women sista' from the hood.

Jessie - you keep being one bad ass chick, second to Jim we spent a lot of time together, you'll continue to do epic shit and have an amazing life; I'm certain of it.

David - there has to be a pony in there, I'm going to keep shoveling! Thanks for the wisdom.

Terry - you're like a river mom always ensuring everyone was happy, always there helping, always smiling but don't f^ with this gal on a box with a rope!

Maude - you may think you aren't capable but my dear you absolutely are.  Listening to you doubt .. I have no doubt nor should you.  

John - Rangeley isn't that far from this gal and if you & the misses are up for a visit I'd happily scamper that way.

William - I'd love to read what you wrote in your notebook; Thoughts by William in Nature's Place. 

Paula - a beautiful soul & the willingness to say "yes" brought you to all of us; a great journey into paradise we'd sleep under the stars.

Ed - have you seen my lifejacket?  Seriously, there is humor in that embrace your gift & thanks for the raft laughter. 

Lynne - I was sincere when I shared that I wish I'd had a women mentor like you in my life.

Ethan - Continue to cast your own shadow on the world & do only good with it.

Greg - The quiet one of the bunch, caring, your love for family clearly evident. 

Jeannie - You sat, you thought, moments alone I'd see you, I wonder if one of those you knew.

Indigo -  I'll be seeing you & David soon, I'd not miss a chance to spend more together but with a little less sand; although we did find some pretty epic sleep spots.

David - It was a joy to watch you command a raft.  The upside down, right side up; it gave us an opportunity for the "heave ho!" pulling together, combined in our strength.

Marion - I'm glad I had the chance to hike up Bright Angel trail with you after sharing in our rapid story, paddling fun. 

Simon - Ooof, what an introduction you had, not a word I understood in French.  "I'm still waiting for my hug" that I understood a universal language.

Karin - I'm happy in my dry bag I had warm Minus33 to keep you snuggly warm & my beautiful green rain jacket matched your river smile effortlessly. 

Yong - Dude, it wasn't just fishing fun but oodles of paddling we shared.  This river of power you're a guy with immense kindness. 

Dagny - A strong women, strength in words, campaigning for good, I thoroughly enjoyed sharing in river shenanigans.   

Susan - "mom", what joy I saw seeing you & Liam interact, you were one of them and one of us, always busy with your helping hands. 

Liam - you are a master of the Dory, never a shortage of folks fighting to be with you.  Thanks for the fishing tips, adventure & laughter.

Spencer - Ode To Spencer, you have a gift.  Use your voice, continue to share, inflect into the world words that fill the air of stories, make them your own. 

Owen - Your laughter brightened mornings, with ease you told me to go away, not just yet listen for the "COFFEEEEE!"; your trip cut short, thrilled we got time to share. 

John - she did it! they mystery is solved, we know.  River stories not in shortage, your ease, your calm, dam you it's a struggle, the balance to have both.

Wes - inserted into the group it was like you were there on day one, playfully you sunk into the mud.  Quick whit, not of quicksand.

Margeaux - a soul sister, a Taurus, a mighty bull, protector of our group.  Under your guidance they all followed your command, post end of day meetings with your crew, a down load of each day, planning our next.

Gary - these friends or yours, their friends too, spouses, other-half's, the AZRA crew... this gal who traveled to the river alone never once felt it. No words can ever THANK YOU enough, you allowed me to achieve this life-long adventure.

To each of you - it was a hoot sharing river stories & for your patience listening to my own.

The rope that kept talking to me & I'd ask "do you guys hear that" after I shushed everyone in our boat.  Nope, they all said but inquired "what did you eat for lunch?"  

Funny, haha, but again I'd hear it.  

Alas! later in the afternoon the mystery was solved.

It was the drying rope crying out as it craved to be back in water.

I'm going to miss, I do miss, each end of day as we made camp, the unloading & quest.  To find the next spot to lay my head, watching stars illuminate, the moon make her presence known and the walls of Grand Canyon slowly wake up.

How does one stay connected to this place after we leave?  Why, I'm glad you asked.  

A unique way that gives back to the canyon, recommended by those who made our trip absolutely spectacular. Below are a few that are highly recommended Grand Canyon River Guides non profit groups:

Grand Canyon Youth - Grand Canyon Youth offers educational outdoor expeditions that connect  young people to the transformative power of the rivers and canyons of the Southwest.  https://gcyouth.org/

Grand Canyon Trust - Safeguarding the wonders of the Grand Canyon and the Colorado Plateau. https://www.grandcanyontrust.org/ 

The Whale Foundation - Guides are like everyone else - they face challenges in their personal lives and may not know where to turn.  What sets them apart, is the unique lifestyle that may affect their access to supportive services. This is where The Whale Foundation steps in.  https://www.whalefoundation.org/

Thanks for joining me, I hope some of what I shared you enjoyed.

So this is my story, my version of a trip on a river called Colorado.  

The Colorado River will forever be a part of me; I'm still finding her sand.

P.S. I'm sure there may be a few typos but that's ok unlike the red ants who tried to sneak up on me while sleeping all snuggled in within Grand Canyon.   

#AdventurewithKal @dancewithweeds

#Meronoholic #MerinoWool #Minus33 @minus33merinowool 

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#ProtectGrandCanyon #GrandCanyonProtectionAct @GrandcanyonNPS