The
Inner Gorge of the Grand Canyon is dark metamorphic rock. It's
really old. This is covered over by layer upon layer of sandstone,
shale, limestone, and other sedimentary rocks. The rocks of the
inner gorge are hard so there aren't too many side canyons and so there
are no alluvial fans to create big eddy's and nice campsites.
That's part of the reason Shanytown was so tight. But the hard
rock makes for a pretty narrow canyon and that compression of the
river causes rapids from time to time. This section of the river
gave John Wesley Powell a lot of trouble.
The 5 days of raining had given us much:
the red colored river, the driftwood debris, and waterfalls. To
the right you can see one of the waterfalls. We felt very lucky to see
it.
I'm
not sure when this picture (to the left) was taken but I think it's in
the inner gorge. But to me it seems to represent or encapsulate my
feelings about rafting. You have the land, the river and the
raft. There is very little else in your world. The river is
strong and carries you without any notice. It flows on, steady and
powerful. There are moments of solitude and splendor. It
resets your soul. It leave you feeling serene and grounded.
You begin to forget those things that you thought were important.
You forget you have a phone, forget email, forget bills, forget TV,
forget your house or even why you thought you needed it in the first
place. This is your world, river, sky, canyon and raft.
In
the picture to the right, you can see Dave and Steve. Steve was
the paddle raft guide. He was extraordinary. He had a way of
keeping the boat in the current, even when the current swept back and
forth across the river. He bested Angie and I in a paddle off
contest where Angie and I tried to paddle the boat one way and he the
other. I felt privileged to be in the boat with Steve. He
inspired confidence. We ran a rapid called Hermit because we all
trusted Steve. Hermit has a big wave that forms in it that rises
up and up and up and then crashes upriver. I looked at it and
thought, I'd have a 50/50 chance on making this in my raft, and I think
I was being optimistic. Steve looked at it for a while and then
came back to the raft. He asked us, "Well, what do you
think?" We all thought there was a good likelihood of being
flipped. He said "75% chance of making it." We all
smiled, our sphincters tightened, guts filled with butterflies.
"Let's do it." Out into the river we went into the first
wave, then the second, and then up the big mother and up and up and it
was just starting to crash up river. Water jammed over us and the
boat stayed straight, crested and passed down the other side. A
few more waves after that. Pride. Pride and thankfulness to
the river for letting us go on. It may seem sappy but there are
times when you thank the river for being kind. We thanked
it. I remember thanking Steve with the same reverence I had for
the river. "Thanks Steve." He did the usual
captain thing and said it was the crew. Yeah, but I knew. I
knew it was his skill.
The
Inner Gorge of the Grand Canyon is dark metamorphic rock. It's
really old. This is covered over by layer upon layer of sandstone,
shale, limestone, and other sedimentary rocks. The rocks of the
inner gorge are hard so there aren't too many side canyons and so there
are no alluvial fans to create big eddy's and nice campsites.
That's part of the reason Shanytown was so tight. But the hard
rock makes for a pretty narrow canyon and that compression of the
river causes rapids from time to time. This section of the river
gave John Wesley Powell a lot of trouble.
