21 Days on the River – Rafting the Grand Canyon During the Shutdown

So this one time I spent 21 days with 10 other people river rafting the Grand Canyon and it was epic.

Long story shortish: Due to the 17 day government shutdown all the National Parks were closed and all hikers, visitor center people, bikers and river rafters were not allowed to enter. Those with permits that were already in by 12:01 am on October 1, 2013 got to stay in but day or weekend hikers and campers and hotel stayers were all rounded up and kicked out. The state of Arizona stepped in on October 13^th and paid to reopen parts of the park but river trips were not included, leaving over 21 groups of 15 or so people with $20,000+ of wasted money and 5 times as much time spent preparing for nothing.

Our boats were in the water on September 30^th so we were the LAST group on the river for the 17 days the canyon was closed. This is unheard of in one of the most sought after rivers in the world, especially since we were warned that battling other groups for the best campsites would dominate our trip. We had beautiful waterfalls and pristine stream hikes all to ourselves and we didn’t see a soul other than our group members (and two illegal backpackers) for the last 9 days of the trip. Two days we didn’t even get on our boats at all, choosing to lounge at our campsite and go on a long hike just because there was no rush. It was absolute bliss, and it is crazy to think that a mere matter of hours separated us from the ultimate adventure experience and not having one at all.

I don’t know how to talk about it really. How do you explain a trip that you feel so guilty for being allowed to take but still so grateful for anyway? How do you talk about something that was so incredible and also just another part of your daily life? How do I really want to remember it?

The days got shorter as we went, leaving us with 7am mornings followed by 8pm bed times. We’d get up and mill around the stove sipping coffee until 8 or so and then pack up the tents and kitchen onto our boats. The hours spent on the river varied from large foreboding rapids to lazy floats in the sunshine, often worrying more about tan lines than throw ropes.

Around noon we’d stop for lunch at an appealing beach or overhang, rolling out the table and emptying the dry box and cooler of the planned meal, milling about like birds because taking the chairs off the boats was too much work for a lunch stop. Some days we’d pull over for a waterfall hike or to explore a slot canyon for a few hours, returning to our boats to float another few miles before settling on a camp that looked good.

We usually arrived around 4pm, pulling our 4 boats up next to each other and beginning the process of unloading the boats and setting up the kitchen. By 5pm we usually had cocktails in our hands, facilitating conversation and making the wait for dinner pass quickly. Each trip member was in charge of two nights of dinners and we all rotated with dishes, though inevitably certain people were more proactive than others. Some nights we’d sing songs around the guitar and other nights we’d just watch the stars come out, repeating serene exclamations of wow and holy shit to each other as we drifted off to our tents or cots.

It was a wonderful trip, full of adventure and relaxation, hard work and easy laughter. Our group got along well (mostly – there were about 18 days in the middle where I avoided one guy. Some people just don’t click) and we were lucky not to have any major boat flips or injuries. We couldn’t have asked for a better trip or imagined a more wonderful outcome.

Yesterday, talking to my dad about the adventure, I mentioned that I wasn’t sure I’d want to say yes if I ever got the chance to take this trip again. These circumstances were so unique and perfect and amazing that I wasn’t sure anything would ever compare. It would suck to attempt to recreate an experience and have no chance of coming close.

Instead of answering he told me about his brother’s trip a few years ago and how it had rained so much in the days leading up to it that the water level was twice as high as usual, making rapids that we didn’t even stop to look at much, much more dangerous and exciting. With that story I was reminded that every experience is different and worthwhile; we never seek to recreate the past, only use those moments of familiarity to heighten the present.

This trip was once in a life time for a hundred reasons, but the things I choose to do in the future will be even more unique and wonderful in a hundred other ways. At least I hope so.