RAFTING THE COLORADO RIVER
24 days, 280 miles, 15 new lifelong pals || October 2019
It has been nearly a month since I got off the river. Still processing its sheer magic, I struggle to find the proper words to describe our 24-day, 280 mile trip down the Grand Canyon. I guess the biggest thing I learned was that nothing really matters. That email you forgot to answer - the other line didn’t even notice. Sitting anxiously in traffic when you know that it’s out of your control. No cell service to meticulously check your social media feed. We are the only ones that care about these mundane everyday stressors. When getting frazzled about work, or running late to open the shop, I often ask myself, “Will this matter in one day; one month; one year?” Most of the time, the answer is no; than what is the sense of stressing? Another important thing I learned is that even though there is a lot of darkness in this world, there is even more light. A quote from my favorite boys, “Once in a while you’ll get shown the light in the strangest of places, if you look at it right,” - Grateful Dead.
The things that I hold onto the most are falling asleep to the stars and waking with the sun and the satisfaction that comes with its warmth after cold mornings in the shade. The growls from coffee-drinkers as we notice that our outfitters forgot our coffee. Again - who cares? We make do with black tea. About three bags per steep will manage for caffeination. Long days spend rowing, sitting, chatting, listening to the sounds of the ripples and voices from friends on nearby boats. Planning our descents of rapids. Scared; we’re all in this together. The only thing that really matters is whether or not you make it through the day. Lives are on the line, and we are responsible for each other. Do we have food? Clean water? Is everybody in good health? What do I need to do right now… rig the boat? Use the groover? Crack a beer? Sure, I’m done with my chores for the day; not that that stopped me from sipping on a PBR at 8 this morning. We are living in the ultimate state of bliss, enjoy yourself. We haven’t seen another human outside of our 14-person crew in a week. A hustling trip floats by as we eat our lunch - quick, mannequin challenge! Slow-motion Baywatch! Moon them! We play cat-and-mouse with an older crew for the 3+ week duration. They become our friends, and we trade mushrooms for coffee, whiskey for salt. These are the days of the Canyon; these are the days of free living.
As satisfying as it is to be independent, it’s even better to be a part of a tribe. That’s how our ancestors grew, and it’s why we crave a sense of community. I will always hold the Colorado River in my heart, and I miss the simplicity of life the most, but am forever thankful to have experienced such an incredible adventure. Until next time…
December 2019
