Santa Monica, CA

One Grand Canyon trip down, two months in Asia yet to come!

Gordon and I have been enjoying some transition time in Southern California with his parents since we got off of the Colorado River on the sixth.  The Grand Canyon was everything that one could image, with things completely unexpected added to it for good fun.  Our trip was a conglomeration of old raft guides who knew the rapid layouts by memory and first timers primed to enjoy the river to it's fullest potential.  To Skip, Hawk, Phil Bob, Eileen, Dan, Gordon, Bob, John A, Lena, John B, Keith, Kat, Suzanne and Neville:  Thank you all for a journeying down the river with me, and giving me the greatest first trip fathomable.  No rips, no flips, always black-side down, and only yours truly a member of the Colorado River Swim Team.  Well Done!  I enjoyed parlaying with all you fly cats, and hope to cop a view of you all soon. : )

The trip itself was beyond the hopes that I had started out with.  The first few weeks were filled with hot days, but due to our group enthusiasm and well led trip, we not only got every camp we set our sites on but enjoyed them with time to spare in the afternoon.  While I love to stay zipped in my sleeping bag as long as the next person, there is something to be said for getting up and on the water everyday before nine.  Hats off to all kitchen crews respectively for keeping us fueled, caffinated, and cleaned up in good time every morning. 

The rapids were more then I expected, to say the least.  My 16' boat was given the taller cooler, which caused some confusion rigging it at Lee's Ferry.  For the first two days neither I nor Gordy could figure out why the damn thing wouldn't move in the green line or stay on the angle we set.   My swim in the roaring twenties threw my confindance for a loop, to add to the frustration I was having.  For those curious about what the GC rapids are really like, when the map said "look for a pourover (large rock with water flowing over it creating a hole) river right, then move to the left"  I looked for a pourover- and when I saw a usual sized pourover for the Arkansas River, I began to move.  I pulled directly into the slot above the actual pourover, which was not only larger then my entire boat- which it surfed for a good ten seconds- but created enough force to punch me out of the boat and spit me out a good way down the river.  Lesson to remember: take your normal size understanding of hydrolics, super size them, add ten, and then you might have an idea of these babies.  Beautiful. 

Long story short, Gordy and I split the rowing of the great boat Bessie (named for the stuffed cow head I rigged onto her bow) for the remainder of the trip.  By split I mean Gordy rowed most of it and I provided entertainment, which in hindsight was a better set up anyway.  My voice is much more pleasant then Gordon's, although he plays a mean "Guess that Animal" after a few beers on the party deck. 

The highlight of the trip for me, if one could be picked, was hiking Tapeats to Thunder River.  An eight mile hike through desert, creek bed and scorching switch-backs takes you up the geological layers until you are standing below a waterfall watching the water shoot straight out from the rock.  Like a fire hydrant, the water from the North Rim Aquifer sprays five feet out before it desends down into Thunder River.   Gordy and I hiked up a little later then the main group, and got to the base of the waterfall around noon.  We had started the hike at around eight thirty, and the temperature in the shade was around 101 F as we hiked.   Finally getting up to the waterfall was wonderful, but the best moment came when Gordy showed me a climbing route up INSIDE the source.  Not a climb for all, especially with the rocks baking in the sun for hours before hand.  The first move saw me grasping one ledge hold with both hands, stretching my legs out over an eighty foot shear drop, and doing a blind hop to the other side.  After that, free climbing the entire way, we made our way up around two hundred feet to the opening.  Above the actual source is another cave, which we chimmied into with our headlamps on.  There I could peer my head around into the darkness, and with my light on I witnessed the water moving towards the first daylight it has seen in years.  To be inside an aquifer, seeing water before it touched the sun, filled me with such appreciation for the incredible journey those drops of water had taken; and for the following days I looked at the water of the Colorado with an odd warmth, knowing that I had seen a part of it born again onto the surface only days before.

The end of the trip came too soon, and I will write more on it later- but oddly enough I haven't stopped moving since we got off the trip. 

Gordy's parents, Gordy and I left Flagstaff for Joshua Tree National Park the day after we were picked up from Diamond Cove.   There we hiked, played Eucher, hung out and mentally seperated ourselves from the GC, to prepare for LA and Southeast Asia.

Now I sit in the Travel Lodge on Pico Boulvard, after spending the day wandering along the beach with my Dad.  He flew in to see me off, and it has been such a sigh of relief to see some family for a change.  I bid you all a goodnight, and I will talk to you from Bangkok!

P.S. photos from the Grand are coming, my camera and I are still coming to an understanding with one another.  Please bear with me.