Simply Grand: Rafting the Grand Canyon

Executive Traveler, April-May 2005

Copyright 2005, Dale Leatherman

After traveling nearly 200 miles down the Colorado River on a raft, I realized that the word “grand” is barely adequate to describe one of the world’s most spectacular canyons -- or the way it makes you feel when you’re a mile below the rim.  

 By Dale Leatherman

Photos by Donnelle Oxley 

I’m sitting just inside the lobby of Las Vegas’ Paris Hotel to escape the sweltering heat that seems to radiate from the sidewalks and buildings as well as the sun. I would like to cover my ears to block out the sounds of slot machines, sirens, traffic, and raised voices. I feel as if I’ve just arrived from the moon. A glance at my photographer’s face tells me she’s also in sensory overload – with a highly unusual lack of desire to capture anything on film.

Nine days earlier we were in the Las Vegas Airport, awaiting our charter flight to Page, Arizona, and the start of an eight-day rafting trip through the Grand Canyon with Wilderness River Expeditions.  We met the Bresnicks of Los Angeles there -- Scott and his daughters Jocelyn, 15, and Nicole, 14.

“Are you looking forward to a week on the Colorado River?” I asked the two teenagers.

“No way!” they chorused, stabbing fingers in the direction of an innocent-looking fellow with graying hair and a kind face. “He made us come.”

Scott, the father/villain in question, shrugged and grinned at me. I figured he would have a lot more gray hair before this was over.  Perhaps we all would.

At the river put-in we met the 27 other rafters and six guides with whom we would share the 188-mile journey from Lees Ferry to Whitmore Wash. Our vessels: two 15- by 37-foot rafts with 25-horsepower motors. Mounded in the center of the rafts and secured with heavy netting were dry bags with our clothes, sleeping bags and tents. We perched along the sides, our feet propped on two huge pontoons that give the rafts flexibility and stability. We began taking turns in the “bathtub,” two front seats that guaranteed the best views of upcoming rapids and frequent battering by 55-degree waves of water.

Before the day was out, a 20-foot-high wall of water in House Rapid (ranked a 9 on a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being the most difficult) had swept away Scott's prescription bifocal glasses, leaving him with no visual backup. Jocelyn screamed and Nicole cried through the rapids, but I caught a hint of a smile more than once. We began calling them "the princesses," which they took with good humor. 

Before the day was out, spunky Red Barber, 81 ½ years old, the senior member of our new tribe, had endeared himself to everyone. His daughter, Sherisue, had arranged the trip, which would become the ultimate father /daughter bonding experience.

Before the day was out, Annette and Don Parker, who recently eschewed their high-pressure corporate jobs, realized that the trip was a great first leap into freedom. Further down the river Annette would remark “We’ve decided this is the single most wonderful vacation we’ve ever had. We’ve had the luxury of kicking back and enjoying ourselves, nature and our fellow rafters.”

Before the first day was out, our guides -- Brett, Breck, Nate and Jodi -- had regaled us with river stories and poetry, and spoiled us with meals worthy of a fine resort, with fresh fruit and salads, and great meat dishes. Our menu for the trip would range from Mexican to fish, steaks and prime rib. As that day faded into rosy twilight, everyone realized we were in for a special experience.

The days that followed were filled with sun-splashed hours spent   drifting along on the river, exploring side canyons and ancient Anasazi sites, watching bighorn sheep and other canyon critters, and cavorting under waterfalls warmed by the sun. Each afternoon we set up camp among the cottonwoods on sandy beaches that sometimes bore faint footprints of the previous occupants, but nothing else. No litter. No burned-out campfires. No damaged rocks or vegetation. More than 27,000 people raft the Colorado each year, but the only other humans we saw were a. . . .