Rainbows of Contemplation

Grand Canyon National Park North Rim, Arizona

You can be certain that we were nearly the first at breakfast as we were uncertain at which point they’d run out of food. Should you wonder why we didn’t head somewhere else for dinner or breakfast, well, “somewhere else” is Jacob Lake, about 45 miles away, which requires an easy hour to drive in each direction.

Grand Canyon National Park North Rim, Arizona

It’s a rare day in a national park that we pull up to the best seats in a lodge to just sit back and watch the weather pass, but that’s what we are embarking on right now. From a still-dark canyon when we first peeked into this fog-filled void prior to our visit to the dining room, the rain comes and goes. Also on the move have been some whisps of clouds forming off the edges of cliffs and nearby outcroppings.

Grand Canyon National Park North Rim, Arizona

In between, the sun pops out and brings golden light to small corners of the vast landscape sprawled before us, while at other fleeting moments, rainbows spring into their ephemeral existence and just as quickly fade away. The canopy floats by or is it hovering over the canyon? Whatever it’s doing or how it might be characterized, it’s beautiful.

Grand Canyon National Park North Rim, Arizona

Sitting here, I think about how, previously, we’ve seen others passing their time at this picture window and thought they were wasting an opportunity when they could have been on the go and capturing so much more outside on the trails. Maybe that was a testament to how much more contemplative those people were as compared to us at the time because here we are today, just like those people, monopolizing the comfy leather couch facing the panorama window.

Rainbow at the Grand Canyon National Park North Rim, Arizona

Just one of the many rainbows we watched come and go.

Grand Canyon National Park North Rim, Arizona

There won’t be a lot of variation in these photos aside from shifting weather and light as our plan to hit the North Kaibab Trail for a few miles of hiking today has been scratched due to the rain and our general satisfaction that not only had we hiked a considerable amount yesterday (about 12 miles), but we have these great seats that seem to be encouraging us to keep them warm (and get some sock knitting done).

Grand Canyon National Park North Rim, Arizona

A funny aside, when people want to step in front of the window we are camping at, they often excuse themselves as though the view was all ours.

Peggy Walker and Caroline Wise at the Grand Canyon National Park North Rim, Arizona

Funnier yet was meeting Larry and Peggy Walker, World Travelers. Larry first tried passing his wife off on me; well, he threatened that she might sit in my lap if I objected to sharing the view. This was followed up by him moving slyly into my spot next to Caroline when I had stood up to snap a photo or two. His smiling face of “Gotcha” was certainly worth a good laugh. It turned out that these two were celebrating their 50th anniversary this week while also accompanying some friends who were renewing their vows in Vegas. Larry and Peggy are just an awesome happy couple and an inspiration to both of us. Hopefully, we, too see our 50th anniversary someday.

Grand Canyon National Park North Rim, Arizona

We sat a bit longer and started to learn that many people want to stop and talk, so contemplative moments are not all that easy to have. With this realization, we consider that it’s time to get moving again, but just then, another weather front is coming in from the east, and I’m curious to watch the canyon disappear again. As we got up after sitting there for close to three hours, we saw that all around us, the trappings that make the lodge a comfy place had been disappearing as the crew, anxious to be finished for the season, had been busy clearing the place out.

Vermilion Cliffs seen from Marble Canyon, Arizona

This must be a record year regarding how many times we’ve passed through the Vermilion Cliffs area, and each encounter is as worthy as any of the other travels through here.

Over the Colorado River on the Navajo Bridge in Marble Canyon, Arizona

I’ve taken countless photos over the years of the Colorado River from the Navajo Bridge but I’m not sure I’ve ever taken one in this kind of light. I took this thought not as yet another iteration of this scene but as an establishing shot of what comes next. First, though, there’s a tiny detail at the top of the cliffside on the right, and while you can’t see it right now, it’ll all become clear in the next photo. Oh, and consider that the bridge we are on is 467 feet (142 meters) over the river below, which should give you some idea about the scale.

Condors at Navajo Bridge in Marble Canyon, Arizona

On the lower right sits an incredibly rare bird, rarer than its parents, above it to the left. That black spot is a fledgling condor born in the wild, one of a small handful. These are just three of the approximately 115 condors that are hopefully still alive in Arizona, and if I had to guess, I’d say that Caroline and I have seen no less than 15 of these giants of the scavenger world or more than 10% of all condors in our state; that’s simultaneously cool and tragic. Think about it: we are barely holding on to the 500 or so California Condors that still exist, although that’s from a low point of just 27 birds left in existence back in 1987. If we are having this difficulty keeping a species of bird with a 10-foot wide wingspan alive, what would make us believe we can keep ourselves going into the future? And if you believe it’s natural selection, the demise of condors was due to humans using lead ammunition for hunting and leaving animals and entrails in the wild where the birds would naturally finish them off. The resulting lead poisoning nearly brought them to extinction.

Rainbow seen over Highway 89 north of Flagstaff, Arizona

Since leaving the remarkable sight of the fledgling, we’ve been hitting intermittent rain, sometimes heavy. Just south of Flagstaff, the intensity of this rainbow demanded we stop. Sadly, the photo does it no justice.

Flagstaff, Arizona

From a distance, we thought we were looking at sun rays shining through the clouds onto the forest that sits on the flank of San Francisco Mountain below Humphry’s Peak, that’s well out of sight. Nope, it wasn’t until we pulled over that we saw the thousands of Aspen trees changing color with the change of season.

Rainbow seen over Highway 17 south of Flagstaff, Arizona

Hmmm, maybe Sedona is the magic place so many believe it is, as here we are at Highway 179, which is the exit for Sedona, and it was double-rainbows all the way.

The Race is on…Or is it?

Caroline Wise in the surf in Santa Monica, California

Back on the weekend of January 7th Caroline and I drove from Phoenix, Arizona to Los Angeles, California as we embarked on the monumental personal challenge of attempting to travel somewhere away from home no less than 25 times this year. This was our first trip that included museums, a botanical garden, the ocean, and dinner on the ocean in San Pedro among other things.

Caroline Wise at Teakettle Junction on the Road to Racetrack Playa in Death Valley National Park, California

On January 21st we returned to California, except this time we were aiming for Death Valley well north of Los Angeles. Caroline is seen here posing at Tea Kettle Junction on our way to Racetrack Playa to see with our own eyes the rocks that sail across a dry lakebed. Now, while this second trip of the year qualified as just that, I’d like to point out that was actually our third consecutive trip following the idea of going somewhere every other week. Over Christmas, we were over in New Mexico at Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge for some birdwatching, 10’s of thousands of birds.

Caroline Wise at the Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

February 4th seemed to come on fast but this time we were staying right here in our own state of Arizona. I’d booked us a couple of nights at Bright Angel Lodge and hoped that we wouldn’t encounter snowy roads on the way up. As you can see, we had great weather, great views, and consequently a great time here at the Grand Canyon.

Caroline Wise at Leslie Canyon National Wildlife Refuge in Cochise Country, Arizona

Maintaining the theme of trying to avoid snow in the wintertime, our travel plans had us going south on the weekend of February 18. We came down this way to revisit a hiking trail we’d visited nearly 17 years prior. Well, we didn’t make it there because we were distracted by news of a mass of sandhill cranes nearby, and even on the way there we got sidetracked by a quick visit and hike to the Leslie Canyon National Wildlife Refuge. So you can better understand just where we were on the map, Douglas, Arizona, is about 250 miles southeast of us right on the border of Mexico and about 20 miles west of New Mexico.

For the 5th trip away from home this year, which is coming up very soon, I’m now scrambling to finish a ton of details that I put off until the last minute. Because we are so familiar with traveling I need not worry too much about getting things perfect too far in advance. I believe Caroline and I have confidence that the flow of our travels, no matter how they unfold, always seem to have been well-planned and fortunate regardless of the situation once we’re there.

So maybe this shouldn’t be considered a race at all but more a marathon because with 21 trips still ahead of us we need to pace nearly everything we do so we don’t burn out by feeling like we’re always on the run. This is where my preparations which occur in the background while Caroline is at the office should allow her a seamless move from working to being transported someplace where a real adventure in exploration, beauty, and fun can be woven together, allowing the high frequency of so many trips to remain exciting and not slip into feeling like chores. Oh yeah, the last thing, where are we going next? Ha, check back soon.

A Great Big Happy Place

Caroline Wise at the Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

A great, big, happy place graced with a sweet, happy face is the kind of starting a day I find agreeable. Add a pot of Belgian hot chocolate, mix in some coffee, and breakfast is off to a great start too. Can you recognize the setting by now? Yep, we are back at the El Tovar, luxuriating in yet more indulgence as if that were even possible.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

Yesterday’s journey on the Rim trail took us west; today, we go east.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

I didn’t share it yesterday, but our walk took us out on the Trail of Time, albeit the part of history that is not visible, such as the beginning of the timeline when the earth formed. Today, the Trail of Time marks spots along our walk that not only explain when particular geological layers were laid down but also what the rocks look like and how they arrived here at this corner of our planet.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

Gneiss, schist, and granite make up the Basement Rock layers of the canyon, and I would have loved to share an image of the Vishnu Schist, but that rock is black and sat in shadow; thus, my photo wasn’t worthy. Again, in my book Stay in the Magic, which chronicles our first-ever whitewater adventure, I wrote about my teary-eyed encounter with the basement. I’d like to recommend you click here to read about that day back in the fall of 2010

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

This is an example of Bass Limestone that is part of the very interesting Supergroup formation that is squeezed into the canyon. While I find the subject fascinating, maybe it’s not the quickest of explanations without diagrams, although the photo of the Trail of Time sign clearly shows the angular intrusion of the Supergroup between the basement and the majority of visible rock layers here in the canyon.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

By now, I wouldn’t blame the casual visitor to my blog for getting a sense that I’m posting many photos that look like others. Maybe you’ve not been to the canyon or studied its geology and history, so you wonder why these somewhat repetitive images are so intriguing to Caroline and me. Well, each photo I share is another work of art painted by the adept hand of Mother Nature.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

This polished section of rock was on the south side of our trail and was unmarked. The named and year-identified rocks are on the north side of the trail. I do wish we knew what this was.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

There’s as much gone from erosion in this photo as there is to be seen. A one-mile layer has been eroded from the north rim, which is visible at the top of this image. That’s where the fossils of dinosaurs and mammals would have been found had weathering not erased that part of history from our continent. To see what’s missing, simply travel north of here into Utah, Wyoming, and Montana, where much of that record still exists.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

The Trail of Time is not a difficult hike into the canyon; it’s a handicapped-accessible path offering all visitors the opportunity to take a nice slow walk on the canyon’s edge while also learning about the history of how the canyon formed. Spoiler alert: this place isn’t only 6,000 years old.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

Things are not always as they seem here in the canyon, such as that age reference made to the religiously devout just above. This Redwall limestone is obviously not red. Back when the science of geology was a nascent endeavor, the people who had a hand in naming canyon features might have played fast and loose with things, as the truth about Redwall limestone is that it appears red due to erosion of the rock layer that lays just above it.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

Manakacha sandstone is a 200-foot thick layer that rests upon the Redwall limestone, and thanks to its erosion, the limestone below it appears to be red. Don’t forget that limestone is formed by the shells of sea creatures, while sandstone is formed from eroded rocks that accumulate on a land basin or underwater. Maybe this all seems normal to most people, but to me, the processes that were at work to create the lands we live on are simply astonishing yet probably mostly taken for granted.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

This sign points out the top layers you’ll see in the following photo, where first there was a river (Hermit Formation), and then on top of that, sand dunes formed (Coconino Sandstone) until a river and a sea started leaving deposits (Toroweap Formation) before another shallow sea formed (Kaibab Formation). Personally, my mind is blown again and again, no matter how many times I read this and see it with my own eyes.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

How many photos that capture minor iterative differences in this scenery are required to be shared? All of them. I look at the spectacles of nature in ways similar to how others listen to their favorite songs. How many people might listen to nearly all 213 songs the Beatles released and never believe they all sound the same? Well, each photo I share here of these views of the Grand Canyon is a song, and each major point in the canyon is a different artist.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

Inspired by our travels, writing these posts to images is the musical composition or aroma of a favorite dish that becomes a classic in the repertoire of references that amplify what would otherwise be fading recollections. In effect, I’m creating a soundtrack that allows us to relive moments as viscerally as a favorite song brings us back to being a teenager or falling in love for the first time.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

Listen closely, and you might pick up on the smell of amazing as you gaze into the deep canvas of the infinite. While you scan the horizon, you are seeing the past, the present, and the future, too, though nothing of you is still left here from previous visits and your next present moment will be elsewhere. Out of that reality, your presence will likely never have been known here, but should any of my writings and photos exist at some later date far from this day, I might be so lucky to remain a part of the places I’ve been just as the sediments and fossils do before they rejoin the flow.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

The flow of time, of rivers, of songs, and stories over the ages all create impressions that leave temporary indelible marks on those things they touch. Carving into youth, imagination, rock, and space, these flows impress character and define the extent of culture that should be boundless but are often constrained by self-imposed and societal boxes that people are unable to escape. The man cave is not the totality of experience, nor are the toys that allow us to distract ourselves; it is the vastness of the Grand Mind and Imagination traversing words and thoughts we ultimately have to use to define where we are in this universe. Not taking the path of going deeper within one’s humanity of language, words, and speech, we risk falling off the cliff and into the void of an abyss. We are not meant to become nothings in a universe that offers us the unbelievable; we, too, must carve a mark upon the life we’ve been offered.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

Well, this is embarrassing as, apparently, I’ve run out of songs. My lyrical content has dried up, and I’m sitting here trying to regain my flow as I move to finish this blog post.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

At least we are at the end of this trail, and I can begin transitioning to our exit of the Grand Canyon. This particular end is near the South Kaibab trailhead, where we’ll get a ride back to Grand Canyon Village, where lunch and our car are to be found.

Caroline Wise at the Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

Of course, mule-powered transport the five miles back would be preferred, but as that would involve stealing a couple of these friendly animals, we’ll defer potential arrest and instead opt for the shuttle bus that stops here.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

Lunch was at the El Tovar because, of course, it was. Thinking we’d get out of the Grand Canyon without another stop at a gift shop was folly because, of course, it too was. While Caroline went hunting for postcards in the Hopi House gift store, I remained vigilant in the great outdoors, waiting for the perfect image to present itself in case another addition to the photos shared here was required because I will never have enough to write about.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

Caroline might insist that this was Moran Point, but I will remain defiant in my insistence that I read Moron Point; I’d then bet a dollar that she’d use that tired reference to the town in Texas that she says is indicative of these moments, it’s called Dumas. [John, you can be such a dumbass – Caroline] [John, did you really just write that fake comment in my name? – Caroline (the real one ^_^)]

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

We both agree that this is Lipan Point and remain astonished that we’d never visited this overlook before. Keeping something unseen to drag us back works again.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

At Lipan Point, we decided to skip the Desert View Watchtower in order to catch this overlook and the next one. But before we leave this view of the Unkar Delta, I need to point out another detail from our river trip that took us down the green band out in the middle of this image called the Colorado River. Just left of center on river left (as seen from the flow of a river, which in this case comes in at the right and flows to the left of the photo) is Cardenas Camp at mile point 71.6. The Unkar Delta area is also known as Furnace Flats; if you are curious about some of the psychedelic rock down in that area, you should take a glance at Day 5 of Stay in the Magic; your mind will be blown.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

Finally, this is the view from Navajo Point, looking north up the Colorado River. If you look closely towards the top right of the image, you can make out a crack in the plateau that branches off the main gorge. This smaller canyon going to the right is the canyon that brings the Little Colorado River in to meet its bigger brother. And with that, we say goodbye to another visit to the Grand Canyon. What an amazing weekend and culmination of the third trip away from home this year.

It’s Oh So Grand

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

We’ve not seen all the sunrises that have ever risen over the Grand Canyon, but we’ve seen every one of them we’ve been present for, and that’s probably more than either of us might have ever expected had we imagined such a thing after our first visit here together. The thought strikes me that we might only be here at the edge a couple of times this year when these first rays of light reawaken the spectacle of this treasure, and while that will be infinitely more than the fraction of less than .01% of humans that will even visit the canyon and even less than that who will wake up here. While we are certainly in a fortunate minority of humanity as measured by those who will greet the first light of day from within a national park, it feels like there’s room for more. Maybe we can…I was going to write, “…add another day this year,” but before I could jot those characters down on my keyboard, I went ahead and looked for availability on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, and there, on the last day of the season, found a cabin that had “Book Me!” written all over it. I obeyed.

El Tovar Hotel at the Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

Of course, breakfast would be had at El Tovar, the home of Belgian hot chocolate, and as far as the Grand Canyon (and maybe all of Arizona), this is the only place to indulge in such a treat. We’ve been lucky enough to spend more than a few days in this famed hotel at the precipice of the canyon, but rooms are now hard to come by and have grown in expense. Rightfully so, considering the likely enormous upkeep of such a historic structure. So, while we may not want to spend so much of our budget on lodging, that doesn’t mean that we won’t attempt to eat every meal we can here.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

From Grand Canyon Village, we head west on foot in the direction of Hermit’s Rest, though the likelihood of getting that far is slim at best. Who cares? We’ll just walk out on that rim trail as far as time allows.

Elk at the Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

About a dozen elk were also heading in our direction, though their stopping to forage meant we were moving a bit faster. While they appeared nervous about us, we were equally nervous about them as they have a big weight advantage over us puny humans. Be that as it may, it is amazing to be in close proximity to such graceful wild animals that appear to daintily nibble at things and walk with a light gait.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

There were light patches of snow still present, though much of the white stuff had iced over. Speaking of ice, there are smatterings of that in shady spots in the Village as well as on the trail. Prior to choosing the rim trail, we’d already read that most entries into the canyon were loaded with enough ice to require crampons and walking sticks just to be safe, and we had brought neither.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

We did bring wide-open eyes, ready for expansive vistas that we’d calculated would communicate directly with our memories and imaginations to remind and inspire us that what we thought we knew would appear new and unique. Searching those previous experiences, we couldn’t find a hint that we’d ever walked this trail as far as we are now, but even if we had, could that familiarity possibly diminish something that looks like this?

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

Right down there in the black rocks known as Vishnu Schist, a.k.a. the Basement, lies the river called Colorado, which is a place we have very minor experience with. Over ten years ago, as I’ve probably shared a thousand times by now, Caroline and I were aboard dories right down exactly there. We were on Day 7 of our journey and had woken up at river mile 84.6 above Clear Creek. We’d run a couple of rapids, one called Zoroaster, that was quite large, before taking out at mile 88.1 for a walk to Phantom Ranch. After an hour or two along Bright Angel Creek, visiting a gift shop, and visiting the first flush toilets in a week, we were again riverside where we’d have lunch before passing right through here to our next camp that was only 6 miles downriver.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

The view from here is one of expanse and the immense flow of time. The gargantuan landscape stretches out in all directions; there doesn’t seem to be a beginning or an end. Down in the canyon, the world is ancient, within grasp, and extremely detailed until you try to reach out and experience it. From our perspective on the canyon rim, it feels like you could reach the other side rather quickly, but that’s an illusion, while on the river, there is no outside world. Infinity is nearly within reach of being understood if you’ve been on the Colorado through the Grand Canyon, but it’s an illusion as the North Rim is only about 14 miles away while the South Rim is under 8 miles via the Bright Angel Trail. Not that those distances really mean anything, as the majority of your time on the river, there is no way out other than straight ahead. Of the other trails in and out of the canyon, many are treacherous and difficult.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

Today’s walk here on the Hermit’s Rest rim trail is one of extraordinary ease, other than the acclimation to the cold and elevation.

Caroline Wise at the Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

The swerve of the trail has the pleasant effect of bringing the canyon below into view again and again.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

Look at the river in the center of the photo, just to its right, and on the opposite shore is Granite Camp, which is next to Monument Creek and just above Granite Rapid at river mile 93.8. On the 28th of October, 2010, we slept right down there. While I’m no hydrological expert, I’d wager that the sandbar you can see is the result of the Class 8 rapid just upstream.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

Framing, shadows, air quality, clouds or lack of them, season, time of day, and intensity of the sun all contribute to how we’ll see the Grand Canyon on any particular visit. Just stop in any of the gift shops and look at the photos on offer: aside from the fact they were taken by people with great cameras, being present at the right moment when conditions are just right plays an important role in what version of the canyon you might witness.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

As the time inches past noon, we spot what looks like a perfect place for lunch right here at Mohave Point.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

Before we set in for a mid-day meal, we spotted this lost necklace that had been placed on a branch awaiting its owner’s return. We are now the owners of this necklace; well, Caroline is. The chances of the person who lost it at some random spot on their walk ever returning to look for something they had no idea of when it fell from their neck is likely zero. So that it might continue to charm someone else who will now associate it with a perfect lunch stop at the Grand Canyon, it seemed only natural that it should continue its journey to other places.

Caroline Wise and John Wise at the Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

It was Caroline’s idea to bring our thermos with us and a couple of bags of Heisse Liebe (Hot Love) tea from Germany. [Heisse Liebe is the name of a popular dessert in Germany, a combination of vanilla ice cream with a hot raspberry compote. Just to give the gentle reader an idea of what the flavors in this tea are – Caroline] After sharing a sandwich we had picked up this morning, we enjoyed a couple of cups of hot love and the smiles that come with that. [And also the memories of our first shared cup of tea from this very thermos in Winter in Yellowstone back in 2010 – Caroline]

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

The perfect dessert feast for the eyes was next up on our mid-day break that included visual culinary delights such as this one.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

The closest either of us was getting to this Mormon tea plant growing on the very edge of the cliffside would be from this photo; while I love most everything about the canyon, standing near areas where a gruesome potential death awaits those of uncertain footing drills into my acrophobia with tensions that extend empathetically to those nearby.

Caroline Wise at the Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

While neither you nor I can see Caroline’s face, I can tell you from experience that her eyes are telling the story of how deep these impressions she’s taking in are resonating within her. If not from nearly imperceptible extra moisture emanating from tear ducts, then the way she’ll smile at me with eyes pleading for my understanding of how monumental the experience and memories that flow through her. My wife, while vitally realistic, is also a romantic who loves indulging those things that plum her wellspring of love and sense of profound awe that we are so lucky to experience such gifts.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

We made it out to the Abyss, but it turns out that we had nothing to fear as, apparently, we’d vanquished the monsters that might have looked into us. Instead, we are happiness personified by looking at an intrinsic beauty contained in the arrangement of rocks, plants, and reflected light that paints these images for all to see.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

The cost to stay at the Bright Angel Lodge is $139 per day, and the price of three meals within the park will set you back between $100 and $200. Transportation to get to the Grand Canyon will depend on where you live, but if you are a mule deer, it’s all free, aside from the risk of being hit by a passing car. If you consider that a mule deer lives an average of about ten years, life in the Grand Canyon would cost us humans over $875,000. The lesson here might be: have cloven hooves instead of hands, and you may not have to toil a lifetime, never being able to afford real luxury.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

I can’t remember a visit with such clear air as we’re enjoying here today. That is Humphreys Peak standing over Flagstaff, meaning we can see 70 miles (112km) south of here.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

Maintaining a snail’s pace in order to allow even more of the canyon to seep into our souls, we required a solid 8 hours to walk 11 miles of rim trail out and back. It would have been 17.5 miles had we made it to Hermits Rest.

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

Returning at sunset, our hunger had grown large, and without a reservation at El Tovar, we could only hope for a table. We could have never guessed that this would be where we’d be sitting for dinner but this is exactly where we were seated and without any wait at all. It was dark as we finished, and the lounge had a waiting line, so a slice of apple pie and an Old Fashioned were not going to happen; instead, we headed to the upstairs part of the lobby to grab a table. I opened the computer to work on photos, Caroline brought out her knitting, and we listened to the piano player arpeggiate pop songs and lounge favorites into a glissando wormhole as big as the canyon just outside.

An encore of starlight for the walk back to our room was provided by an obliging clear sky that allowed us to marvel at a Milky Way that all too frequently is not seen by us city dwellers. Come to think of it, nothing about this time in the Grand Canyon is common to those of us who live in big cities.

Heading Towards a Giant Hole

Highway 64 to the Grand Canyon National Park South Rim, Arizona

Today’s title could allude to a lot of things, such as something financial, emotional, or possibly even intellectual, but the reality is much more mundane, though the gravity of the hole is immense. This hole of immensity is mere hours away from our home, and for those encountering this blog post who have the knowledge that we reside in Arizona, it should be apparent what this reference means. That’s right, we are going to the Grand Canyon National Park, which lies just 217 miles north of us.

I’d love to find an appropriate metaphor to stand in for the destination and relate our adventure to some esoteric thoughts I’ve recently been reading or writing about, but trying to be real, we are going somewhere beautiful and likely extremely cold to go walk with one another because that’s what silly people in love do. Sure, we could walk around Phoenix and save the expense, but our mission to help keep the American economy humming demands that we rent a room on the South Rim for a couple of nights.

Bedrock Campground near Valle, Arizona on Highway 64 on way to the Grand Canyon National Park

The other benefit of this brief excursion is that it will inspire me to photograph things that will force me to write about our experience, so I might offer the appearance that important events happen in our lives other than eating, defecating, and sleeping. But here I am at the coffee shop hunting for wit instead of heading home to finish the last-minute packing and making lunch that would allow us to skip out of town, but as I’m not impossibly feeble (yet) to control things, I’ll add a period to this sentence, call it a paragraph, and get moving.

Grand Canyon National Park South Rim, Arizona

Living only three and a quarter hours from the South Rim of the Grand Canyon allows us to leave at nearly any time, but it was our intention to catch the sunset in the canyon, so leaving at 1:00 p.m. would give us plenty of margin. Sure enough, it’s shortly after 4:00 as we reach the park entrance. There will be no selfie here as we’ve got that photo from a previous visit, maybe more than one. Then again, we likely have many versions of the next image, too.

Caroline Wise and John Wise at the South Rim of Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

A little more than 28  years ago, we made our first visit together to the Grand Canyon. Just a few days before, we’d gotten married in Las Vegas on a trip from Frankfurt, Germany. Back then, we had no idea that one day we’d be living in America; as a matter of fact, it would be the following year, in 1995, that we packed up and headed west. As I sit here at the lounge in El Tovar following dinner trying to write this, I apparently don’t have enough fingers to be able to count how many times we’ve been to this corner of Arizona, but I’d guess we’re approaching a couple of dozen times.

Grand Canyon National Park South Rim, Arizona

Once we arrived at Yavapai Point, we were not interested in chasing the setting sun. We could be happy right here. I could be cynical and say we’ve seen it all before, but that would somehow diminish the intensity of feelings still experienced as maybe the view is no longer new, but the memories we’ve shared with so many friends and family continue to echo out of the depths and crevices that have captured our oohs, aahs, and astonishment.

Caroline Wise at the South Rim of Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

Have you noticed that all three photos are of the same location? Can you tell that Caroline froze to death where she was standing as I asked her to wait one more second until the light was just right? It’s a brisk 32 degrees or a big fat ZERO Celsius for our friends in other countries, and with a bit of breeze, we were slightly, but only slightly, chilly, probably in part because we are wearing those warm, cozy things Caroline has knitted for us just for these occasions.

Grand Canyon National Park South Rim, Arizona

As we were losing available light, it was time to head up the road to the Bright Angel Lodge, where we were spending the next couple of nights. Without dinner reservations, we were hoping to get a table over at the El Tovar, and with luck on our side, we were seated without so much as a 10-second wait. That put us here in the lounge with an after-dinner Old Fashioned for Caroline and a hot chocolate for me. By 9:30, the place is empty, our bill is paid, the stars are certainly out in the millions, and after we bundle up into these many layers of winter clothes, we’ll take the short walk over to our hotel.

Nothing is really as easy as it first sounds when it involves doing something in a timely way when we are in a place of such immense beauty. With the moon out of the picture, the Milky Way screamed out at us for our attention while absolute quiet surrounded us. Where is everyone else who should be out here gawking at the sky? Caroline points out how lucky we are that they are already tucked into their warm rooms and cabins because if they were here stargazing, they’d probably also be chatting up a storm. Instead, it was just us and millions of dots of light as we strained our hearing, certain we’d pick something up of that far-away light that worked so long to reach us.

Stay In The Magic – Day 18

Grand Canyon National Park

“We are soooo lucky!” Rondo’s words no longer need to be spoken; we know them; they are in our dreams. The familiar call of “Coffee’s ready” moves us out of our sleeping bags. Packing up is easy this morning. Caroline runs the nearly overflowing blue bucket to the river, gives it a rinse, and adds it to the other buckets being collected.

The sky is heavy and overcast; it is one of the signals that our time here is done. Bruce and Katrina have prepared us banana walnut pancakes with a side of peaches and yogurt. Dishes are quickly cleaned and stowed, tables collapsed, and put back on rafts. Dry bags land with their familiar thump on the sand before being stacked in the equally familiar pattern used to best distribute their weight on the rafts. Another drop of the toilet seat in the distance indicates that the Unit is about to be free. With most everything packed up, Jeffe announces, “Last call to shit in a can!”

Personal Flotation Device named Zoroaster from OARS in the Grand Canyon

It’s 8:30. Time to go. One more laugh has been saved for us. Rondo is wearing his “Going Home” shirt, the one his wife doesn’t quite appreciate. It is emblazoned with the caption, “Arrgh, Prepare To Be Boarded.”

Caroline Wise on the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon

In our seats, Rondo leads a final cheer of, “Dories, Hooooooo!” We push off. Echoes of the days past follow me down the Canyon. I can still hear the faint song of “Wagon Wheel” sung during our Halloween party. “Do you want to go big?” and “I’m her mom” blur with the sounds of raindrops hitting the tent and the rumble of snoring. “A clean boat is a happy boat,” “keep us level,” and “bail, bail, bail” trail off, and finally, “That was fun.”

The oar slips into the water, and with a gentle pull, we go further. Like all of these days, the dory takes us to the place we know not. For these closing moments, we are still on the Colorado, living the experience of a lifetime. One more stop. The dories and rafts form a circle under a large sound-reflecting cliffside, and Katrina sings us one final song. It is titled “Traveling On” and was written by her friend Rick Meyer on the Lower Rio Grande during a river trip much like this one. Our boats spin slowly on the calm water while we listen to the poignant lyrics. Her voice has me traveling far outside of my emotional comfort zone, and I’m not alone. Many a tear is being added back to the river during Katrina’s heartfelt parting gift.

John Wise on the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon

Mile 224 is behind us, and 225 will come and go as the trucks are spotted on the short beach ahead. They stand ready to make this entire enterprise disappear. Other boaters will soon arrive behind us. The speed with which our evacuation is orchestrated is evidence that we will soon be gone. One more riverside box lunch is prepared, but this one is not to be eaten next to a waterfall; it won’t be enjoyed in the Grand Canyon either. It is for our drive back to Flagstaff. We choose the van that will carry us and our belongings, and for the first time in weeks, we will put ourselves in a vehicle without oars.

There is no last look back up the river. There is no time for sentimentality. There can be no eye contact with anyone; the emotions are running harder than the river we just left.

The road out is bumpy. Dust kicks up, and the Canyon fades.

And of the days that follow?

Those are your days, your story. Make the time to find the magic in your experiences.

It all starts when you fall in love with it all.

–From my book titled: Stay In The Magic – A Voyage Into The Beauty Of The Grand Canyon about our journey down the Colorado back in late 2010.

Stay In The Magic – Day 17

On the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon

We wake late to a 6:30 call telling us, “Coffee’s ready!” After breakfast is done, the gear and bags are packed and loaded, we are ready to go. We’ve been promised a relaxed day, bah humbug. I want intensity, fervor, and another 100 miles tacked on. I’m willing to sacrifice the return home and a hot shower. Instead, we will row downriver toward the exit. Goodbye, mile 209 and Granite Park. Good morning, river.

Here we are once again on the Sam McGee with Jeffe. Caroline and I are upfront, First Light Frank and Sarge in back. There are a few small rapids we’ll maneuver, but nothing of any consequence. The helmets are stowed and won’t be out again. Mile 210 is overtaken as we continue in the quiet of the early day. There’s nothing much to be said between us that hasn’t already been said, or is it the weight of what we are rowing towards that is bearing down on the conversation?

On the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon

What would all of this have been without the boatmen? The short answer would have been a group of people prone to stumble into the occasional mistake that easily could have spelled disaster on a whitewater rafting trip.

What was our trip with professional boatmen on a commercial trip like? A group of strangers came together, becoming a family of close-knit explorers on a journey into fascination. We, lucky travelers, basked in luxury, thanks to the boatmen who made extraordinary efforts to guarantee our safety, showed us a path into the amazing, and fostered a healthy sense of wonderment.

When pushing off at mile zero, one embarks on what will end up for many to be the most memorable trip of their lifetime, regardless of how far they may have traveled the globe. Bring your friends, your family, and people who need to open their eyes to possibilities not yet imagined, but remember that this trip is about more than just spending time with your loved ones. We are also here to grow our memories, learn new stories, and if we are lucky; we will explore the depths of who we are. To some extent, we already know our friends and family; we know many of their stories, but do they truly know the Canyon? The boatman does. They are the table of contents, the forward, and the epilogue to the story. They are the icing, the sprinkles, and the candle that decorate this layer cake of history we slice through.

The boatmen are uniquely different from our own personalities. We are not best friends with them on day one. These people at the oars possess their own set of abilities through their various strengths, curiosities, and quirks of personality. When brought together to guide a river trip, their love of the Canyon and tremendous experience in this environment are what allows them to bring a diverse mix of travelers together to work in concert as a cohesive group.

On the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon

On the days after our boatmen first greeted us, we would gradually get to know Bruce, Jeffe, Rondo, and Kenney – even growing fond of them the more we learned from and of them. On the day we will say goodbye, much water will have passed under our boats, and our sense of family will have been extended. During these weeks, we shared in their enthusiasm, learned from their experiences, delighted in their song, and reveled in their stories.

It is, in part, their story that greatly enriches one’s time here at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. On this river alone, our four boatmen have collectively made 357 descents on the Colorado, totaling more than 80,000 miles. The arms and backs of these people at the oars have rowed the equivalent of more than three circumnavigations around our planet. What stories and experiences would any of us have in our possession with this accumulation of time invested in getting to know a 225-mile-long corridor cut through the surface of the Colorado Plateau?

If the river is what ties boatmen together and collected river miles are the lessons that foster expertise, it is their individuality, combined with the wisdom of those who mentored them, that has given shape to the modern boatman. These are the people of stout nature who have succeeded in the oar strokes of the proto-boatmen found in J.W. Powell’s crew, Martin Litton, and other pioneers of adventure. They are keeping alive the spirit of their fellow river legends, too numerous to mention, who have been traveling these waters for nearly 150 years. What we can learn from this long history of river guides is that they have inherited a legacy that does not rely upon artifice, illusion, or deception. When on the wilds of the Colorado River, these boatmen operate with the intuitive skills given them by those who came before them. They happily shine a light upon the library of knowledge they dip into for sculpting our experience of the Canyon.

Here in the southwest, a rich heritage of Native American history can still be found; we are living on their ancestral lands and find evidence of their long presence throughout these states. It is through this filter I see these men of the oars. Out of the four sacred directions, our boatmen are brought in, each with their own path, each on their own flow of the wind.

Boatman Stephen Winston Kenney in the Grand Canyon

Boatman Stephen Winston Kenney

On the east wind, representing birth and newness, is Stephen Kenney, a compassionate man who is the junior boatman on this trip; he shows respect to his elders, knowing he has much to learn from their old hands. From the south wind comes adolescence in the shape of Rondo Buecheler. This boatman is the perpetual adolescent, a deity of festivity, wine, and party – in all its 1970s raging river fun. Next up, we encounter the west; with it comes adulthood and Jeffe Aronson. This man is the observant and patient parent, tending to his children while trying to teach them some of the important lessons of life. Finally, hailing out of the north, the wind gives us Bruce Keller, the man of wisdom. His quiet knowledge allows him to stand in the background and, when necessary, offer the tribe a nudge that will set us on our path to finding the sage within.

Boatman Bruce Keller in the Grand Canyon

Boatman Bruce Keller

Boatman Jeffe Aronson in the Grand Canyon

Boatman Jeffe Aronson

Boatman Rondo Beucheler in the Grand Canyon

Boatman Rondo Buecheler

Now bring together the four cardinal directions, the four winds, the four boatmen. Bring together the river experience they have earned, the time they have dedicated to exploring this Canyon, the compassion, insight, humor, and expertise, and tie this to the work of moving dories, passengers, food, and everything else that will sustain and carry our flotilla during these days. With all of this, you have the elements that turn a river trip into something that is much more than the component parts it is built from. The layers of experience begin to stack up like so much sediment that collected over millennia to build the Colorado Plateau; the boatmen are the tools that are instrumental in the carving of our personal Grand Canyon of memories.

Caroline Wise and John Wise on the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon

Parents give us life and all of the potential that will carry us into an unknown future of being our own person. Our teachers offer us the skills to define and interpret our environment that may help us survive a world driven by economic realities. Personal growth shouldn’t stop there. It is a tragedy to fall into a routine until reaching retirement, hoping then to reignite a rusty imagination to explore and learn again. Where is the parent, mentor, or figurative boatman who can guide us through our adult years when we might find ourselves drifting oar-less down the river of life? Will we even have open ears and minds to know the value of shared wisdom when we have been taught to see independence and autonomy as the only ways to be free? Wouldn’t we benefit from truly being a community? Why do we not inspire each other to take a seat at the helm and row ourselves into a new future, as our elders did for us when we were children? Are we so well equipped with the knowledge of life in this ever more complex world that we can really go it alone?

How did we become so self-assured and all-knowing on the day when we transitioned from childhood to being an adult, only to enter a holding pattern instead of continuing to explore the big unknowns? How do we chip through the thick skin of modern life and ego to find our inquisitive mind? How do we keep growing?

We find mentors and those special people who can take us on journeys into life, nature, and, in turn, ourselves. Hold on, as once you make this commitment to your own well-being, the river of life and the rapids of experience have much to show you on their bumpy ride. Remember that your travels and learning are never complete; you should strive to explore the story of what is missing from your evolving narrative. The end of our personal book is only found on the last page, and that last page won’t be written until our last day. Take time to find the adventure and inspiration that takes you into your own story of magic.

Hello, mile 211. Don’t mind us; we’re just passing through on our way to your neighbor, mile 212. A mild bump in the flow here and there reminds us of the previous days when wild rapids threatened to upset our intentions to pass over the rage and exit in the calm. Today is so tranquil it could be considered serene. I can’t really complain, though; if someone were to mount a Spirit of Ecstasy on the bow, I could easily believe we were traveling by the Rolls Royce of boats on a glassy highway. This very embodiment of elegance delivers us to mile 213.

Sarge, First Light, and Jeffe on the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon

Then, out of the silence, Jeffe gives us the opportunity to jump into the river and ride a rapid while floating downstream. Instead of inspiring Caroline or me, this offer speaks to our timidity, bringing about our only regret on this trip. We don’t accept his offer, but Sarge does – lucky guy. We are given plenty of notice to psych ourselves up and enough time to change our minds, but we can’t muster the courage. On the approach to mile 215, Sarge takes off his shirt and puts his life jacket back on. Then, with a yell of “SEMPER FI,” he leaps from the dory and cannonballs into the river for a ride through the rapid, floating on his back. We could have been there right next to him.

It must have been that Marine training or the steeled nerves from working as a State Trooper, maybe it was an intense love for where he finds himself. Whatever it was, even in retirement, this man’s display of fortitude, jumping right into the cold waters of the Colorado, put me to shame. His example will always remind me not to pass up an opportunity that may never again present itself.

Jeffe turns the oars over to First Light Frank, who typically is found sitting atop our dry bags on a raft. Frank brings the dory around so Jeffe can help Sarge out of the frigid water and back into the boat to warm up in the sun. I wonder if Sarge had watched someone else jump in years ago, on a previous trip down the Colorado, and had similar thoughts of regret as I am now having. Getting back on board, he tells us how he hadn’t done the swim on his other trip and just had to make it happen this time.

Cactus in the Grand Canyon

Before we know it, mile 216 is moving into the distant memory closet. Mile 217 holds another small rapid and the opportunity for Caroline to crawl up on the bow of the Sam McGee to claim victory that she has taken bow rides on all four dories. She’ll have long ago left the bow when miles 218 and 219 are sailed through. At mile 220, we ready our approach. Like the space shuttle Atlantis connecting to the space station on its final flight, we will make a long, dramatic docking with shore, worth every cent we can earn from the experience. Tomorrow, when we disconnect from camp for our return to Earth, Mission Control will sign out, and the dories will retire for the season.

But the show is not over yet; I’m the fat bearded man, and I’m not yet ready to sing. Following lunch, we depart for one more hike, this time into the teddy bear cholla forest above our camp at mile 221. While heading out I have to ask, “Who turned on the heater?” It is 88 scorching degrees – in November! No matter, intrepid and stout of heart, we can scale escarpments like pedestrians negotiating a busy mid-town sidewalk. Show us your fangs, thorns, broken trails, and cragged surfaces; we have tackled more and haven’t fatigued yet. With all the enthusiasm we entered Soap Creek Canyon with back on day 1, we are now climbing a mountain for one more look up and down this majestic living river.

Gazing upon the Colorado, I see the tears that fell upstream days ago, racing with the current to rejoin the eyes they fell from. We are safe up here; those tears will never make it up the trail we just clambered over. Plus, we have the sun on our side threatening to evaporate any eye moisture, planning on making an appearance this afternoon.

Downriver, less than 6 miles from here, the exit signs are already illuminated with flashing yellow caution lights, signaling us to prepare to merge. I shield my eyes. Those lights are phantasms, and even if they were real, they do not pertain to me. I shift my vision left, as Diamond Peak is pointed out. Oh no, if that is, in fact, Diamond Peak, then behind that must be Diamond Creek, and if that is what I’m starting to believe it is, then, off in the distance, I may be looking right at mile 225.9 or thereabouts. I can feel the tug of the vortex that will soon pick up speed in order to yank me from this perfect sense of being. I quickly look away, but some of those lost tears must have made it ashore, likely stowed away in someone’s water bottle, and have now reached me up here on the burning slope.

Caroline Wise in the Grand Canyon

Not able to run from these emotions, I sit down, look out, and consider what has been accomplished. I am grateful, I am overwhelmed, and I am changed. I am not the same person I was when I entered this Canyon. Out of the abyss, no monsters will follow me home. I am more centered and more unified than at any other time in my life. Okay, I suppose I’m ready to be ejected. I reach for Caroline’s hand, and slowly, together, we return to the river’s edge.

Back in camp, Rondo has unloaded the remaining alcohol. Beer, absinthe, tequila, and everything else that had been nearly lost in the darkest corners of the dories are made available. What is not consumed must be packed out, and upon reaching the pull-out, things must move fast to make room for the next group taking out. The lighter the load, the quicker we are underway. So drink up, eat to your heart’s content, and get ready for No Talent / Talent Night.

Liquid courage to the rescue. Stage fright easily falls away as a sip of this and a sip of that inebriates the crowd. Caroline will be the first performer to display her amateur No Talent / Talent skills, as hers is a recital that must precede a meal. A couple of years ago, my wife became intrigued by the Sanskrit prayer offered by our Gujarati friends when sitting down to eat. Caroline’s idea was to secretly learn the entire prayer by heart and then surprise our friends on a random night when she would join in the recital. When that evening came around, she nervously joined in, her words merging with theirs. I watched each of those ladies open their eyes to confirm what they thought their ears were hearing. Tears flowed down their cheeks, and smiles graced their faces as they watched my wife, who, with eyes closed in concentration, finished the prayer with them.

Geologist Clarence Dutton was apparently also inspired by Indian culture. It was his awareness of the Hindu trinity of Brahma, the creator – Vishnu, the maintainer – Shiva, the destroyer, that would influence his choices back in 1882 while naming some of these towering Canyon spires. Caroline felt it was appropriate to give thanks and ask for blessings in the tongue of these Hindu deities, who likely had never heard these ancient words from below the peaks that bear their names. Tonight, I was brought close to tears from Caroline’s recital, feeling overwhelmed by her sensitivity to other cultures and the joy I feel in knowing her as my best friend for 21 years.

After a supper of barbecue pork loin, baked potato, candied carrots, green beans with mushroom and onion, avocado & tomato salad with garlic, applesauce, and a fresh-baked dessert of chocolate cake with chocolate frosting, our procession of potential No Talents is ready to take the stage and prove that we are all in possession of at least a small amount of talent. It may not be polished or well-practiced, but it will be offered up with honesty and conviction as we try our best.

Next up is the passenger hailing from the great state of Hawaii, Jakki Nelson. Jakki demonstrates her musical talents, playing guitar and singing us a song. Finishing her performance, she nods a bow to the applause that fills the air.

Jerry Hamilton from Washington tells us a story about a novice hunter and an insightful bear whose encounters with one another proved more painful for the man stalking the bear than the other way around. Laughter erupts. Jeffe steps in with another bear story to add to the moment of hilarity.

Then the lights dim, and a spotlight comes up on Sarge, who has appeared out of the dark dressed as a princess, reviving his costume from Halloween. The now bizarre illusion of femininity in the shape of the former Marine / State Trooper ups the ante of laughter as he slithers into the lap of a boatman with a fantastic impersonation of Marilyn Monroe in an oddly lumpy dress. The hoarse princess tells us, and the boatmen, of her admiration, just how much she loves and appreciates them – this got steamy, I tell ya. I feel sorry for whoever tries to follow this and then make a note to send Sarge’s wife the incriminating evidence.

Boatman Ashley sacrifices herself on the feisty crowd that has been warmed up now, offering us a poem about reincarnation. Sorry, but I cannot recall a word of her No Talent / Talents; it will forever be overshadowed by the story she told us earlier in the trip, which involved an Englishman with his thumb up the bum of the largest Bengal tiger in all India.

Up next, Erin, Jerry’s wife, gifts us one of the greatest treasures collected from our days in the Canyon. Turns out that throughout the trip, Erin had been noting the quotes and sounds that would help remind us of much that was heard here in the Canyon. We listen intently as Erin reads from her list, recognizing how ingrained some of these sound bytes have become. Reveling in the fleeting moments, we ponder the heartfelt inspirations of thoughtfulness shared on our journey.

Boatman Andrea and her mom Linda stand up to flaunt their talents and what talents they have. First, you must bring the tune from On Top Of Old Smokey into your head and then sing the following out loud, with gusto:

On top of a big raft
That carries the shit
Is where my poor mother
Is forced to sit!

She sits in the front
and sometimes in back.
She holds on for dear life
when the waves come attack!
We float down the river
to camp, then we dine.
That’s when my dear mother
wants a full cup of wine!

I give her a little;
she asks for some more,
but then my sweet mother
can’t find the tent door!

Hot coffee in the morning
is her first delight
She won’t move a muscle
‘til Frank shouts “First Light!”

When cooks are in the kitchen
the guides are drinking beer.
They tell stories and jokes
I wish my mom couldn’t hear!

My mom is super
My mom is sweet.
Bringing her down ‘the big ditch’
has been quite a treat!

WAIT!

The song is not over.
We wrote a new verse the other day.
It was Lava Falls morning,
when I swam away!!
Super Mom yelled “Get back here,
this is a fight you can’t win!”
She grabbed for the oars
and pulled my sorry butt in!

Those of us nervous orators should have gotten our potentially weak acts out of the way earlier. What is being delivered here at the No Talent / Talent Night is measuring up to be full of talent. I begin to shrink under the pressure.

Joe brings his voice to work for our listening pleasure with a song about Lava Falls set to the tune of “Wild Mountain Thyme.” Throughout our days together, Joe had sung many a time. In addition to the beautiful hymns he shared with us in Blacktail Canyon, he serenaded us one morning before launch with Jakki singing harmony. We delighted in their very own rendition of “Oh, What A Beautiful Morning.” On other days, Joe would offer us a reading from his notebook of observations. Joe is certainly a devout man of many talents.

Boatman Katrina executes a double-jointed body trick that is met with mouths gaping in disbelief and bugged-out eyes. She clasps her hands together and moves her torso through this loop twice. At this point, a few of the drinkers are probably wondering if they had one too many and if the pink elephants are on their way.

Yours truly picked up the next spot reading an homage I had been crafting since early in the trip, titled:

How Can One Thank A Boatman?

You are guides, teachers, storytellers, great cooks, caregivers, bringers of adventure, and a hand when needed. You are life changers, mentors, the knowledgeable ones who brought us back to the tribe. You are river shamans.

You gave us fire, water, earth, and sky. With you, we needed nothing but open eyes, a willingness to participate, and an open heart. You gave it your all.

It is not lost on us how, against the forces of nature, including the sand, river, and wind that cut this Grand Canyon, your backs, hearts, and spirit-guided dories, rafts, passengers, and beer with deft precision and expert skill.

But your task is not simply to supply entertainment to a few lucky souls on this grand adventure. Your gift to us is the sharing of your passion, wisdom, and insight, allowing us to witness this magnificence in ways undreamt of 17 days ago when we were putting in at Lees Ferry.

You alter our imagination, help form profound memories, and better our person. You are changing the lives of your charges like the sand, water, and wind that shape this world that is your second home.

Hugs, handshakes, a shared meal, or a drink can never give enough thanks for how you eroded the calluses of modern life from our hearts and invited us into yours. I can only thank you and let you know that today, I am rich in experience beyond belief because of the boatmen of the Grand Canyon.

Because of all of you, this mighty river will always flow with me. The towering canyons will always stand high above me. Your songs and stories will echo into my future. And your love of your work, your world, what you do, and who each of you are will course through my life like this Colorado River running through the Grand Canyon.

While anyone who knows me will tell you that I can talk, talk, talk some more, and maybe even dominate the conversation, I must admit that public speaking sends butterflies to my midsection. Tonight was no different, but in practicing what I preach, I felt I had no option other than participating. My worst fear was about where my emotions would take me. As I practiced reading my note of gratitude, I found myself close to the water, with the pool of tears maintaining a vigil by my side – so impassioned were my feelings for what I was going to read. A quivering voice, fighting off the impulse to read faster, and with my ears on fire, I got through this – my own personal class 8 rapid.

Physics professor Charlie is handed the proverbial baton and begins to talk about the universe and the stars in the night sky, how there are billions of stars in our galaxy alone, when his wife Mari interrupts what could easily have veered into the overly technical and tells us that they had rehearsed a more lighthearted show of talent. They could hang spoons from their noses. And that is exactly what they did, to our delight.

Quiet, traveling by himself, a man of few words, Phil keeps us guessing as he ‘warms up’ with uncomfortable-looking gulps of air. He explains that he isn’t sure how this will work out, as he hasn’t performed this since his college days. His preparation looks convulsive, and then it begins. Maybe it’s a song, although it could be a poem being presented in a kind of Morse code. Whatever it is, it is definitely the longest sequence of burps any of us will ever hear. I do believe that Phil has offered the strangest displays of No Talent / Talent we are likely to see this evening.

Paul offers us a poem, with the help of Ellen reading the second character’s parts. But it was Ellen’s segue and request to have the brochure rewritten that was the most memorable part of their performance. She made humorous observations about the demands placed on passengers that the brochure did not mention, such as bailing dories that are filled to the rim with ice water. Also glossed over was that we would be pitching tents as though we all knew how. Were outdoor riverside toilets talked about in the literature? She didn’t think so.

Mike Boyles from Oklahoma sings a bawdy song that, even if I had the naughty lyrics, they wouldn’t have found space to be reprinted here without an R rating.

And that is the extent of the passengers’ participation in the No Talent / Talent Night. But it isn’t the end of the storytelling. Bruce takes the floor with a story about a stomach-churning accident with one of the Units. Rondo offers a great tale of his encounter with Secret Service agents during a visit to the river by President Jimmy Carter and a mishap that occurred. Want to know more about this incident? Better find yourself booked on a trip with Rondo before he retires.

Kenney reads another one of his poems, this one about the Ghost Trees. Should you meet him someday on a river, ask him to tell you about the fire he witnessed on the Middle Fork of the Salmon River in Idaho. Ashley, Bruce, and Rondo, as an encore, each tell us a personal story about their mentor, Martin Litton. It should be noted that back in 1955, less than 200 people had run this river. It would be during that year that Litton would have his first encounter on the river within these walls of the Grand Canyon. With that run, he became the 185th person following Powell to have done so. Martin was inspired to work in collaboration with another river pioneer, P.T. ”Pat” Reilly, to modify the dory’s design in an attempt to popularize this mode of travel on the Colorado. By 1962, these two Canyon enthusiasts finalized a blueprint for what would be a four-passenger craft with a boatman at the center. Soon after this achievement, Grand Canyon Dories was born. From our boatmen, there is no lack of love and respect shown to Martin Litton; he is a giant here in the Canyon.

Katrina closes the show with a performance of two a cappella songs. For a night that was supposed to be short on talent, it is wonderful that not one person held back, and all rose to the occasion to offer one another a glimpse into their sense of silliness or the serious.

Caroline and I spend our final night sans tent. The tarp is spread out, sleeping pads put down, and sleeping bags unrolled. Laying there, we look up to the stars, smell the cool night air, listen to the murmur of the river, and with a heavy heart, we acknowledge the sadness that these sights, these nights and days, are about to be over. A hug, a kiss, one more nod in recognition of our shared love; it is time to sleep and not dwell on what our next steps will be. Tomorrow, we will wake, have a coffee, and take our place on a dory that is heading down Colorado, looking for the next adventure.

–From my book titled: Stay In The Magic – A Voyage Into The Beauty Of The Grand Canyon about our journey down Colorado back in late 2010.