We moved camp again on day twenty three, taking a quick breakfast of cold cereal and apples before pushing off at 9:30. The night had been warm and clear with no wind so we slept out.
On the water we floated down to Spring Canyon at mile 204. We filled our six gallon jug in the clear side stream there and commenced a hike up the canyon.
The first quarter mile of Spring Canyon is a jungle of willows and bramble infested with snakes that come to feed on the abundant rodents living in the brush. It is slow going and weeds out all but the most curious boaters. Past the water source things open up and the vegetation returns to its usual desert flora. We hiked a ways and stopped to rest, eating what snacks were left in Lee’s day pack. We had not consciously taken any food thinking that the whole hike would be two hours or less. We kept thinking we would go just a little farther to see what was around the next bend and things looked so good that we would decide to go a little more. It began eating up the whole day. Below are some of the small wonders we ran into.

About the time we thought we would turn around we came to a fork in the canyon and just had to see what was up the right side. Almost imedeately we entered into some very nice narrows in the Bright Angel Formation. It was a wonderland. I still can’t get over how beautiful it was. We had not expected anything this sweet up Spring Canyon so there was that sense of discovery again.

Back at the boat we ran Mile 205 and had a late floating lunch as we drifted toward 209. We had planned to stop at 209 (Granite Park) but there was a group there so we floated down to 210 and made camp. Our bed was very near this Sand Verbena and the smell was heavenly as we bedded down under the stars again.
Day twenty four was Sunday and a layover. We had been affording ourselves the luxury of a Sunday layover all the way along, but with as much slack time as we now had they were becoming more frequent. As mentioned above many trips by this point in the canyon are :smelling the barn” and moving through at a pretty good clip, partly because the trip is winding down and they are focused on home and partly because, at least in the warm weather, it is beginning to be pretty hot that far down the canyon. For us it was finally getting warm enough to really enjoy.
After a grand slam breakfast of eggs, blueberry pancakes, fruit and Spam we held a devotional service of sorts and went for a walk up the side canyon coming in at mile 110.

Looking down there were little wonders like these acacia roots wandering through breaks in the bedrock and the big view if the towering layers above.

Soon after starting up we stopped to sit around in some lovely limestone narrows with nice pools and narrows.

As we moved up through the BA layers we came to a dramatic pour over in the Muav that formed a bowl with amazing acoustics where our exploration terminated. We stayed there for a long time eventually eating a lunch of dried meat, fruit and nuts. We watched the light change as the day flowed by talking, not talking and reading from the Butchart book. It was a very nice way to spend the time in our “fun bank”. Of course naps were in order.

Heading down there was no need to hurry so we lolled around checking out pools from last week’s rain and taking lots of photographs. I was agin impressed by the endless variety in the Bright Angel in this lower end of the canyon.

Endless variety in the jumble of geological decay as the forces of gravity have their way on the material laid down and lifted up over the past…wow, and wow again.

Back in camp we bathed and made two pizzas, one with red sauce and one with caramelized onion and pine nuts. We made sure that there would be enough for the next day’s lunch. Even with Lee’s pizza appetite is the best sauce. Later we read by fire light, burning a piece of pinyon we had been hoarding since the eddy below Badger Creek at mile 8. The stars came out in force and chased us up the hill to bed next to the Sand Verbena.

Beware the Ides of March. Two moments define this day on our river journey: Sitting with Lee in the alcove in Fern Glen Canyon by the waterfall talking about our relationship, where we have been in terms of accomplishments and time, the changes and commitment, where we are going and recommitment; and standing with her at the Lava Falls scout looking down on 8,000 cfs of chaos and violence. I have run that rapid 40 times now. This run was easily the most challenging of them all because we were there alone. There would be no one to spot us, no one to help us if we got into trouble, just the two of us trusting each other and God to pull through. The right side looks pretty good at 8K but the tail waves are HUGE and sharp. Lee offered a short sweet prayer and we shoved off with a kiss for good luck. A couple of minutes later it was over except for the bailing. The actual time from the brink of the falls to the safe zone below the “Black Rock” is 12-15 seconds that feel like a lifetime.
We went intentionally slow that morning not wanting to get to Lava early. The water drops as the day goes on and we felt it would be a better run later in the day at the lower flows. We stopped at Fern Galen and hiked/climbed up into her unique terminus where we just sat at talked and then didn’t talk.

Fern Glen is a world within a world. The silence there is only disturbed by the little water noises and occasional raven’s cries. The only place that compares to it in my mind is Whispering Falls up Kanab Creek. We have a lot of memories stored up from our visits to Fern Glen over the years. With my eyes closed I could almost hear Louisa’s “The Gray Horse” echoing around in the alcove. We stayed along time listening, watching and discussing “us”.
I had a tight gut all day thinking about Lava. I would have felt a lot more relaxed it it had just been me. I could see the anxiety in Lee’s face. I wouldn’t call it out and out fear, just a certain uneasiness. When it was over we both expressed how glad we were that we had done it solo. It meant a lot to us and always will. It certainly was the crux move of this trip, this trip that seems a metaphor for our life. After the run Lee demonstrated her feelings with one of her world class kisses that I have come to look for over the years.
Lee talked about how all of our other trips together and apart in the Grand Canyon have been preparing us for this one. I felt that every other run of Lava over the years has been a rehearsal for this one. It was a text book run. I have had some ugly runs there. I have never tipped a boat over in Lava but we have both taken unscheduled swims there. This one was not ugly at all, it was perfect. Every oar stroke was where it needed to be threading us through the holes and waves. Lee’s prayer was echoing in my mind as we hit the Vee Wave dead in the middle, submerged momentarily in the boiling foam, and ran right of the tail waves almost missing them completely. It was indeed a providential run.

After Lava we took camp on river right below at what some have called “Tequila Beach”. We celebrated with some home grown plum juice from the trees in our back yard. We ate hot dogs and enjoyed a loaf of bread Lee baked in the dutch oven with dough she had been working on since the night before. The light on the rocks and in the sky was as good as it gets. We also broke out some of our supply of pre-March firewood and indulged in a little blaze…atmosphere you know. The stars were amazing and the distant roar of Lava Falls only another night noise.

Day nineteen began before light. We had retired pretty early after our Lava run and woke at at 4:30. We just laid in bed watching the day begin and talking. What excess! As the stars blinked out a pair of wrens trilled back and forth and up the beach we watched a couple of ravens mating. Lee wanted to feed them so that the little ravens would hatch out strong. I assured her that ravens get plenty to eat and that the little guys would be as strong as ravens need to be.

After breakfast of hot oatmeal and grapefruit we decided to venture back up to Lava Falls and watch the water for a while. Every other time we have looked at Lava it has been with the knowledge that in just a few minutes we would be in the middle of it. It seemed good to go back and look at it a little more objectively for a while.

On the way up to look at the falls we came upon a little cavity in the rock that bore witness of human occupation at two very different times both with inscriptions in the rock and evidence of domestic life.

We watched the falls for a long time. It is rather hypnotic, maybe mind bending. As we were leaving to get to the boat and on down the river we saw a group of other boaters pulling in to the scout at Lava. It turned out to be the bunch we had run Bedrock with last week. We decided to stick around and watch the festivities. We were not dissapointed. No one flipped but there were some moments when I wondered. They put on a fine show and made us all the more glad we had worked at hitting Lava the night before at lower water.
As with many groups they scouted for a long time. I hate long scouts. It gives the stomach acid too much time to work. I like to look at it and run. To each his or her own.

After the entertainment we made our way back to Tequila Beach where our friends had pulled over to eat lunch and relive the adventure of Lava Falls. We had a great time catching up, looking at my photos on replay (Isn’t digital fun?) and swapping tales of the happenings since we saw them last at Deubendorf. The invited us to have lunch with them and we hungrily joined in.

I think someone at Glen Canyon Dam has been smoking crack rock. I can make no sense of the flow regimen at this point. The night we spent at Randy’s Rock the water started coming up around 8 pm. When I got up at 5:30 am to check the water had already gone out again. ?????

Camped away from the water it took us a while to get the gear to the boat and ready to launch. We were rigged and launched by 9 am. It was a clear crisp morning. We enjoyed the float down to Specter Rapid. I was able to stay fairly dry in Specter by cutting left through the lateral waves at the top. Below Specter we stopped to look at the waterfall on river right between Specter and Bedrock.

We scouted Bedrock and decided to take a stroll up the creek there. I have always thought I should do that but have never taken the time. As you can see from these pics it is sweet. There is a lot of variety in the rock. She looks good in her Kokatat, eh?

As we were getting back to the boat a party we had not encountered yet came up to scout. They launched on Monday, March 1. The permit holder was a guy named Raven. We scouted with them and asked if we could run with them through Bedrock and Dubendorff. We ran first and had a very clean run staying way right of the rock. My last encounter with BR I ran left and was not keen to do it again. Above is an image from that run. Note how FULL the boat is. We were bailing for a long time. We also ran Dubendorf with the Raven group. My run was good except that when I made it past the Table Rock I got too much into celebrating and almost hung up on the rock below on rive right.

Raven tried to get us to lunch with them at Stone Creek but we prefered to have a floating lunch. We stopped and looked at a nice little ephemeral waterfall on river right above mile 133 Mile Creek. Above Tapeats Creek was saw the group who launched on February 28. They were laid over at Racetrack, a small and miserable camp who’s only virtue is its proximity to Tapeats Creek. In Granite Narrows we stopped to check out some cool rocks and take pictures of the view upstream looking at Powell Plateau.

Though we had planned to mostly only stop and hike places we had not tried before we decided to stop at Deer Creek. It was late in the day and there was no one else there. Having a place like Deer Creek to ourselves was something not to be missed.

The Deer Creek Narrows are sacred to the Southern Paiute peoples. Their belief is that this is where the spirits of the dead come to pass out of this world and into the next. It is the portal. The hand pictographs found here represent the ones who have passed on. Many people visit this beautiful place each year unaware of its significance. Some lower themselves on ropes into the narrows below the foot path. This is offensive to the Paiute. This is their most sacred site. Some rappel out of the narrows down the path of the waterfall. This is illegal and can end in a citation and fine.

How often do you see this? Deer creek is usually a circus. After the stop at deer creek we floated down and made out camp at Poncho’s Kitchen, a lovely over hung beach on river left at mile 137. Poncho’s is special to us. It was Paul Frisby’s favorite camp. Paul passed away in 1998 while preparing for a Grand Canyon trip that he was not able to make.
Dinner was red enchilada casserole in the dutch oven. It was warm so we slept out watching the stars pinwheel around Polaris.

Stephen’s Aisle is named for a Moorish guy named Esteban who traveled with the Spanish who came into the American Southwest. I don’t think he ever got to the Grand Canyon, in fact he was killed by the people at Zuni Pueblo. Conquistador Aisle is similarly misnamed but who cares?
We were not contemplating these ideas as we arose on the day after the cold and rainy day. We had slept somewhat poorly. We went to bed at 8 pm and went right to sleep. We were awakened at 11:30 pm by a strange crashing noise. I scrambled up and ran down to the boat to make sure all was well. I couldn’t find out what made the noise but it set me on edge and I didn’t relax very well after that. We didn’t get on the water until 11:30 am. The weather was improved but not warm and sunny.

Right on the corner where Stephens Aisle turns into Conquistador Aisle Lee spied a cool garden of mosses and saw grass. We pulled over and I spent some time getting shots of the plants for her to paint from at home.

As we floated down Conquistador Aisle the clouds kept pouring down over the Kaibab rim to the west as the sun was trying to make headway in the eastern sky. I was doing my best to keep Lee dry as we worked our way through the small splashy rapids in that section. Years ago she and I were floating through Conquistador Aisle not paying attention when I was bucked out in 122 mile rapid. I had drifted in sideways and rolled right out of the boat, Of course Lee jumped to the oars and handles the boat until I could pull my soggy bottom back into the boat.

We stopped at Randy’s Rock for lunch and decided to make it camp as the sky darkened and snow poured over the rim into the canyon. Randy’s has nice sandstone ledges that overhang the camp and make for a nice sheltered kitchen and sitting area.

Randy’s Rock is one of those pieces of real estate in Grand Canyon that is named for a hapless boatman who messed up there. Here is the story of Randy Breckenridge. The version of this story that I am familiar with was not written by one of Randy’s friends and has Randy handing the oars over to a passenger and then going to sleep as the peop takes the boat left at the infamous rock.

After setting up camp, which was a grunt because of the distance from the boat to the ledges, we had lunch and Lee convinced me to go for a walk up through the Tapeats ledges onto the Tonto platform above. We got some great views up and down stream and I found a like new pair of NorthFace gloves….river booty. By then the snow had pulled back and it was OK for an overcast day.

After the hike Lee made her favorite pasta dish which consists of fresh broccoli with spaghetti, garlic, hard cheese and olive oil. We supplemented the dish with some spicy precooked chicken sausage. This was day thirteen and we were still able to have fresh broccoli without ice. That is one of the nice things about winter trips.

It is always hard for me to want to get up early when it is raining outside the tent. Staying in bed and talking is great morning stuff. Breakfast was cold rice pudding, (The coconut milk idea was a good one.) hot cocoa and biscotti. We finally got on the river by about 11 am.
I was proud of my totally dry run of Ruby Rapid and nearly dry run of Serpentine. Serpentine is a big and violent rapid. Our first trip through it in 1992 we were totally clueless and our boatman took us over one of the big ledge pour overs on the upper right side of things. I broke my tail bone in that kerchunk. It took most of the next winter to get right again.

As the day went on the rain got worse. Lee suffered from the cold even with her dry suit on so I put her to rowing so she could generate some warmth. It didn’t work out so well because the rowing was stressing he back so she went back into passenger mode. She didn’t complain at all and kept remarking on how totally beautiful the Canyon is in winter. It truly was one of the most beautiful days either of us have spent in the Canyon. I guess that rain and cold was the price of admission. It reminded us of a day in December 2002 when we floated along from the Little Colorado to Carbon Creek where the rest of our group had gone to set up camp and get warm while we hiked up the south side of the LC. We were spellbound as we watched the snow swirl around us in the eddies. It was magic. A lot of this day was like that. The clouds, heavy with rain and ice, hung low on the ramparts sometimes obscuring them and sometimes revealing them. The lost and found quality of the scenery was wonderful even when we had to row into driving rain laced with sleet. We kept remarking at how lucky we were to get to be there and do it on that day.

This last image is of a rock on river right just above Bass Rapid that Lee describes as her favorite rock in the canyon. It is the one she wants in our back yard.

After a short stop at mile 111 to look at some amazing fluted rocks we ran Hakatai, Waltenberg and Rancid Tuna Rapids as dry as possible on a cold and rainy day. Around the corner at about mile 113-114 I shot these scenes as the light and clouds changed.

The fluting, did I mention the fluting?

It was a day for craning the neck.

After passing Elves Chasm with out stopping we started looking for camp in ernest in Stephens Aisle. There are some ledgy places there and I hoped we would find a sheltered camp big enough for one boat. No luck so we camped at mile 118 which is a big camp with a flat sandy beach. It does have some ledges but not close to the river and we were not excited about humping all our kitchen gear way up under the sandstone so we set up our kitchen right by the boat. By the time we got to camp Lee was in early stages of hypothermia. I set up the tent as quickly as I could and got her into dry long johns and the sleeping bag. Being out of the wind was a big help. I threw together a green chili stew made from a can of green chili with pork chunks and some potatoes and onions. She was very happy with that and cheered up a lot as we ate in the tent. Lee does not complain much about anything but I could tell her back was hurting and she was obviously very cold. I’d have been howling like a baby.
Sitting in the tent together was very nice. It was really nice to have a bomb proof tent. The rain continued through the evening as we journaled and read. It was a truly glorious day despite the weather. We both expressed how great it is to share a place like this with someone who sees it the way you do. Around every bend was another painting or photograph waiting for us. Even if we didn’t make any images the memories will be fresh for a long time.

We were slow leaving our little ledge camp in the schist and granite. It seems that as we went down the river the one-boat camps just kept getting better. Maybe we just got better at spotting them. This one was a jewel.
Granite Falls was our first rapid and happens to be my favorite one to run in the canyon. Our run on day eleven was no exception; big waves and lots of adrenaline.

Looking down stream towards Granite Falls in the morning. Lee enjoying a boat washing ride through Granite Falls with Mike Levitt on our Tour West charter trip in 2008. Do you think this woman likes riding through big water? (photo credit Howard Bennion) Looking back upstream at Granite Falls.

After Granite it was Hermit Rapid which I mostly cheated on the right and Boucher Rapid. We pulled in and scouted Crystal Rapid not wanting to mess up there. We were on weekend water and it was low which usually indicates a left run. I have gotten into trouble a couple of times over on the left and decided to make the center to right momentum run that I usually do. I was concerned about one nasty looking fang rock barely below the surface just upstream and toward the shore from the lower right hole in the rapid. We had a pair of electric bilge pumps mounted in the rear of the boat between the rear drop bag and a beavertail. I executed the pull to the right OK but pulled back a little out of concern about hitting that rock and possibly damaging the pumps. Well, the river shot us right back into the main stream and I could see that we would hit the hole dead center so I straightened out and pushed into it telling Lee to hunker down. The boat tacoed and filled with river. I usually push left of the rock island when running right in the upper rapid. This time, with a boat load of water, I limped along the right side which was pretty bony with the low water. I was more glad than ever for those pumps. I had switched them on going into the rapid. Below Crystal I eddied out and waited for the boat to drain. It took a loooong time.
Below Crystal there is a little break in the action and then it is Tuna Creek, Nixon Rock and the “Gems”. Nixon Rock is named that because it is “a little right of center and crooked”.
The sun was on and off all that day so we staked out a patch of it on river right below Nixon Rock and had a lunch of cottage cheese, canned pineapple and assorted snacks on the boat. The early Gems were uneventful except for the fact that I cheated most of them. (Lee loves that.) Below Turquoise we pulled over and made camp on a tiny beach with a high bedroom at mile 102.5 on river right.

Upstream view from Hermit with snow on the high country. Looking up stream at “Nixon Rock from our lunch spot. In the Gems above Turquoise.

Lee asked me to pull over in the Gems and get some images of this little moss garden she spied.

It was a nice day, excitement at Crystal notwithstanding. I love the granite dikes running in clusters all over the place through this section. The lost and found sun light made for some dramatic scenes.

Our camp at 102.5 was very quiet, a quality Lee favors. If I am with a group I like a noisy rapid so I can retire early and not be kept awake with all the talking. If no one else is around the silence is golden. We had leftover lasagna and the last of our green salad. I whipped up a rice pudding using coconut milk for dessert. We were early to bed as the night chill set in. The stars were brilliant at bed time and I wanted to sleep out under them but Lee won that argument handily. Of course as soon as were settled in the clouds rolled in and it rained all night.

I woke up in the cave watching the stars fading away. Lee was sleeping beside me as I thought about the rock formed 1.7 billion years ago that surrounded us. It was hard to want to get up but I did……eventually.

The schist in the Inner Gorge is the most rugged looking stuff I have ever seen. It is like we had transitioned out of one world and into another. The shapes and orientation of the rock is completely different from the orderly sedimentary layers of the past 80 miles. Between the Tapeats Sandstone and the Vishnu Schist is a gap in the time line of about 950,000,000 years called “The Great Unconformity” . That is a lot of missing data and, as I said, it looks like another world, a gothic world.

About six months after our first Grand Canyon river trip in 1992 Lee began painting images of that trip. I think it took her that long to process the experience. All the way through that trip she and another woman on the trip who was also a mother kept comparing the experience to the only other really big life changing thing they had done, giving birth. Above is a painting Lee calls “Woman in the River: Baptism”. Set in the schist of the Inner Gorge it depicts the emotional experience of being worn down to bedrock and then reborn in the river. It was a life altering experience. I am beginning to see this trip in the same way.
We were rigged and on the water by 10:15 after a breakfast of muffin, sausage, egg and cheese sandwiches. We ran Sockdolager and Grapevine without incident. It was cold and a little windy. Clouds were beginning to darken the sky. The good news is that the wind was blowing down canyon, always a blessing. We ate lunch on the boat after running 85 mile rapid while we floated toward Phantom Ranch. The schist provided an amazing floor show for our repast.
At PR we walked up to the cantina where Lee posted dozens of messages she had written to friends about the trip. There was a fat letter there from our oldest, Louisa, who lives in France and has been traveling in Ireland for a couple of months. Louisa works on the river with me sometimes and knows how nice letters at Phantom are. I called Zina to let her know we were alright, checked in with our house sitter and talked with our friend Christa about the rapids and camps. It was getting late (4 pm) by the time we were back on the water.
Below Pipe Creek there was a group camped on a cobble bar. They invited us to bunk in with them but we declined. I wanted to run Horn Creek on afternoon water. In the morning the water would be lower and I always prefer Horn at higher water. At Horn Creek I did something I have not done in years. I got out of the boat and scouted it. It looked to me like the run could be done between the horns or from right to left. I thought about it and as I pushed off decided to do the momentum run from right to left. It was fine. Either way you get rather wet in that one.

Below Horn Creek we began thinking about camp. We had been talking about Trinity Creek or Salt Creek but decided instead on a little granite landing on river right below Trinity and above Salt. I doubt anyone has ever used it as camp. There was one small place up in the boulders where we could pitch a tent and enough of a ledge by the shore for a kitchen. It was a lovely camp, one we will remember. The next day was Sunday so we decided to layover and rest. I love running with other people, even on commercial trips, but I liked very much being with someone who also liked to take one day in seven off and watch the river go by and think about its Creator. On that Sunday we read from Genesis as we sat on rocks as old as any I have visited. Being the son of a geologist who was also a church man I have never had much problem reconciling the story of Genesis with science. I find them both rather exciting.

This was one of our most visually rich camps, but we seemed to say that about most of them. The granite and schist are amazing. Just upstream of our camp was a little stream coming into the river with beautiful pools and flora.

The rain started up around 9:30 pm and drummed on most of the night driven by hard wind. We were already asleep and were awakened when it started. We were very glad we had buttoned everything down in the kitchen and had the rain fly on the tent. It was nice and cozy in there. We were awake until about 11:30 talking and reading until we got sleepy again.
The cold, wind and rain continued the next day. We were glad to be laying over. We both went exploring in different directions. I found some cool jetsam at the traditional high water line, very old plywood, bottles and cans that also had some antiquity. Lee spent some time when it wasn’t too rainy drawing. Around 11:30 the group from up Pipe Creek way came by. They had spent most of the day before waiting for a hiker who was coming in to join their group. Don’t ask me why I hate exchanges. They mean you have to hit Phantom on a certain day and if the hiker isn’t there you have to wait. No thanks. They also told us of their flip in Horn Creek Rapid just minutes before. What a rotten day to have an unscheduled swim. As the day went on and the storm persisted we thought of them running the gorge and heading into the Gems.
During one of the rainy spells we took shelter under a house rock and listened to some podcasts and read the fat letter from France. It was nice and cozy once again. In our spiritual tradition it is customary to fast on the first Sunday of the month so we observed that. Our fast was dedicated to gratitude. We feel so lucky to get to do this with just the two of us. We sat in the shelter of our rock and listed the things that we are grateful for. It was a long list. Lucky us.
Later we put up the rain fly over our kitchen area and built a small warming fire from our drift wood stores. We got some Mozart going on the iPod and Lee baked a lasagna and some biscuits. Later we made strawberry shortcake using the biscuits, home made strawberry freezer jam and canned whipped cream. This all went down very nicely on our empty stomachs. We sat up for a while after dark watching the fire die and talking.

The canyon around mile 70 is wide open so the sun was on us early. The light was just as stunning as the night before. We wanted to get out early so we could possibly catch Mike Glassgow’s group to run the gorge. Breakfast was quick and simple, oatmeal. We were on the water by 8:30 and found Mike’s group holed up at Cardenas Creek a half mile below us on river left. They were OK with us running with them so we went ahead with the plan of waiting for them above Hance Rapid. We ran Unkar and Nevills with no incident and pulled off the water on a nice beach below Nevills on river right. I napped while Lee went for a walk. after about 45 minutes the other group showed up. They scouted and ran left. Being a creature of habit (and thinking the water was way too low for the left run) we scouted from the right bank. They ran in two groups. Mike lead off making a pretty neat run on the right. Some of his followers seemed to bump and grind a bit. We ran after their first group and made the right entry pulling into the “duck pond”, pivoting and pushing hard to the left. There was enough water that I exited the duck pond by dropping over the pour over formed by the rocks on the down stream side. I was able to reach over and touch the “Whale Rock” with my left oar. In other words the run went as I had hoped. I have had some adventures at Hance like getting stuck in the eddy behind the large pink rock on the left run with two first time teenaged boatmen coming down on me from behind and running over the rock that divides the right tongue twice. It was nice to have it go well especially with an audience.
We headed downstream ahead of the others planning to run with them until were were all past Sockdolager and Grapevine. At about 11:30 Lee spied a nice little beach on river right about mile 78. She suggested we pull over and make it a lunch spot. I figured that running those other rapids without backup would be OK so we did. As Lee explored the spot she announced that it was camp. Above the little beach that was big enough to support our kitchen set up was a small cave with a flat sandy bottom. The sun =was on the spot and it felt like a great place for a half over.

It was such a perfect little camp we decided to call it Booh Booh Camp in honor of our spoiled rotten little wiener dog who sometimes goes by that name. Sometimes I tell Booh he is “the very best one”. This camp was easily the very best one we found. Booh (his real name is Andy) came into our lives sort of by way of the Grand Canyon. IN 2002 I drew a permit to run the Canyon for thirty days starting December 13. I wanted Lee to come along. She wouldn’t go for that long and leave our youngest daughter Adah. Adah said she was not about to take on such a death defying river trip in the winter. She had been asking for a wiener dog for a while. I bargained with her to get the dog if she would come with us. Half way through that trip someone asked her what was the best thing about the trip to which she responded,” I got the dog and the trip”. I told her I thought she would make someone a great wife.
The afternoon was warm and sunny. The black schist of the Granite Gorge gathers and radiates the warmth. We bathed, did laundry and generally lazed around, writing and reading. I heard Lee say, “This is a perfect day”. She is right. I have to wonder why it is that we get to do this. When we got home we had to hit the ground running but for that day we just had to deal with another lousy day in paradise.

This the day we have taken to calling “the very windy day.” Morning broke with up canyon wind and dark clouds moving fast and high, not a good sign. After a breakfast of pancakes and sausage we suited up for a cold ride and began rigging. I have an old Patagonia sailing suit made of goretex that works well enough. It is a one piece affair that is warm and at least splash proof. I have used it for the past decade on off season trips. Lee purchased a used dry suit for this trip from Kayak Academy. It was a very good investment given the importance of keeping her as warm as possible. I wore my sailing suit a few days while Lee wore her dry suit a lot. She has low blood pressure and needs all the help she can get. Between rowing most of the time and just being warm blooded I wear less on the river than she does.
I pushed into the wind all day. It wasn’t the worst wind I have seen in the Grand Canyon but certainly the worst on this trip. It was by no means a miserable day. I enjoy the workout and being with Lee. She was warm so I was OK. At the Little Colorado we opted to not even pull in. It was running muddy, there was another group already there (Sunday’s Launch) and the wind was ferocious by then. The Little Colorado with its normally bright blue water is a top attraction for most trips floating the river. We have many wonderful memories tied up with that place. On our first trip in 1992 we were still rather shell shocked from our traumatic flip in Badger Rapid when we pulled in at the LC. Lee and I began visiting with a very friendly AZRA guide we met there. Little did we know that Bob Melville would become a dear friend over the next decade. Bob recognized our need and took us under wing encouraging us to be of good courage. He marked up my copy of Larry Stevens guide book with notes on most of the rapids. I still carry that copy and remember Bob’s kindness fondly.
The wind actually got worse below the confluence. That section between the LC and about Carbon Creek can be a real nightmare in the wind. It is very swirly with huge double eddies around the area of the Hopi Salt Mines. In this reach we began over taking Mike Glassgow’s group, the Saturday launch. Mike, a powerful oarsman, was way out ahead. Their plans were to make it to Rattlesnake Camp, mile 74. We were planning on 75 mile Camp above Nevills Rapid because of its shelter from wind and rain. Neither of us made our goal.
At about mile 70 mile I realized I was out of gas and began to look seriously for any camp-able spot. When I asked Lee what she thought about pulling in at 3 pm she said “Heck yes!” I pulled over to a spot I am quite sure no one has ever camped unless they were as desperate as we were. I parked the boat on some rocks at the foot of an eddy and found a very small clear spot up the bank a few yards that I could pitch a tent on. I set up a very hasty and small camp consisting of our tent, two chairs a milk crate and a one burner emergency stove. Of course as soon as I got the tent up the wind died and the sun began coming out. By the time I had busted out or “knock off” dinner of canned chili and bread it was quite pleasant with almost no clouds in sight. We had cocoa with biscotti for dessert.

After our repast Lee lay in the tent nursing her back while I went hog wild with my camera. The light was very nice for over an hour.



Soon the wind began to howl again so we went in the tent read and write. We read Charles Frazier’s “Thirteen Moons” together during the first three weeks of the trip; OK historical fiction.

Duck n Quack is such a nice quiet camp. I can’t believe I have never used it. I suppose that its proximity to the very popular hike and camps of Saddle Canyon has made it easy to bypass. From the river it looks like nothing, just a narrow break in the dense tamarisk choked shore with a trail heading steeply up. If the camp had not been noted in Dwayne Whitis and Tom Martin’s excellent guide book I would have never guessed that there was such a nice camp in there.
Our breakfast on this morning was simple fare; cracked nine grain cereal and grapefruit with my famous cocoa noir. Lee was able to help a lot more with rigging this day and we set a record by being on the water by 10:30. This is a quote from my journal for that day:
“Every day at least once Lee gives me a hug and tells me how much she loves this trip. How can I argue with that? I must be doing something right. Lee seems as alive as I have ever seen her. It reminds me of our early trips down here especially the first one. Though we were with a group on all of those trips we were running pretty close to the river with people who knew little about it. We were not so sure we would make it OK through all the rapids and challenges. It drew us together in ways that our familiar routine at home usually doesn’t.
The past few years of working commercial trips with me have been hard for her. The work is just too much. People we take down here appreciate us but really have no clue how much we have to put out to keep them safe and comfortable and make it look easy. I love the commercial work, but I am a bit of an extrovert. Not so with Lee. This trip is very hard work but it is different. There is an ease between us. We don’t have to look good or be impressive for the sake of anyone else who is paying to see this wonder of the world. We are just here together in this place that we, after 18 years, are still in awe of, this place that has become a member of our family of sorts. I guess it is like the rest of our life. We don’t work for anyone or have real jobs but the work is really hard. What makes it good and even easy is that it is our work whether we are working in our separate studios or in our orchard, garden or the house we share. This trip is ours, no one else’s.We have been a unit for so long that we just know how to be together. There are a lot of questions that were answered decades ago. We are adept at over looking irritation and enjoying the places where the fit is right.
We are starting to hit our stride on this trip. The camp chores seem to have settled into his and hers. There are some things that we both do and some that we may alternate on but there are many that one or the other always does, just like at home.”

We didn’t bother to stop at Saddle Canyon. It has a lovely hike to a little waterfall in tight narrows abounding with ferns, monkey flowers and columbine. The first time we went there we were alone. The rest of the group stayed in camp sleeping. We went up early in the pre-dawn light to see where the trail we had noticed coming into camp went. There was a wonderful sense of discovery about it that built as we ascended to the terminus. About the time we got to the narrows we were overtaken by Art Vawter and Jude Irwin, two of the others in the group. Art and Jude, who have since married and have a lovely family, had met at Lee’s Ferry four days earlier and were fast falling in love. We were likewise falling in love with them as a couple so it was right that they were there to share this discovery with us. It is different when someone else, even a guide book writer takes you to a sweet little place like this one. Discovery has its own feeling that is hard to duplicate. Add to that sharing it with the one you would most like to run home and tell about it and you have a peak experience.
My first experience with Whispering Falls in Kanab Creek was like that. I was hiking with my daughter Louisa. We had turned up a side canyon coming in from the right about 2.5 miles up the canyon. She was scrambling up ahead of my older plod and came back to where I was and said, “Take off your shoes Dad, it is one of those places.” I knew just what she meant and complied. Those of you who have been there will know. In my mind Saddle Canyon will always belong to me and Lee and Whispering Fall to me and Louisa. That is what discovery does.

Below Saddle Canyon we drifted on still water until we came to the head of Nankoweep Rapid. Looking up there was the snow on Nankoweep Mesa. We pulled into the upper Nanko camp around mid-day. We chose that camp because neither of us have used it before and it is the least popular of the three camps there. We didn’t want take a camp that other parties were gunning for. Sure enough before we were even through unpacking the group we had seen at Redwall Cavern two days before floated by and took the middle camp. Later we saw that the lower camp was occupied by Mike Glasgow’s group who we had met at Lee’s Ferry and who launched the day after us.

After a quick lunch we set off for an afternoon hike up into Nankoweep Valley. It was a very pleasant hike. We were in no particular hurry. I had hoped to get up into the valley and perhaps hike up to the saddle between Nankoweep and Kwagunt but that was not to be. Lee had to go slow and by the time our turn around time had come we were still short of the valley. It was just the same a very pleasant afternoon together. We could see the upper elevations of Nankoweep Valley and it looked like a ski resort. I have never seen that much snow in GC.

Nankoweep is one of the most beautiful places on this earth. The canyon walls are massive and colored in warm hues from the Kaibab down to the Bright Angel formation. The camp we chose has about the best wall paper in the canyon. We sat on our private beach eating more 1/2 lb cheese burgers with home made fries and watching the light change on the wall in front of us. Once again we concluded that this was the best day and the best place we had yet had.