To Boldy Duckie...

I have navigated, alone, the entire Grand Canyon, from Lee's Ferry to Pearce Ferry. 279 miles. 70-something named rapids. As many again unnamed rapids and "riffles" that would be considered class three rapids on any other river. I made it through most of them fine, and only portaged once, at Lava Falls, where at low water there was no left line. Enormous waves, man eating holes, jagged rocks, fangs, sucks, and boils. Arizona bark scorpions. I had never done the Grand Canyon before. And I have completed the journey there. My experience was a combination of great joy as well as trepidation, as I cautiously made my way down stream, scouting every marked rapid, and firmly adhering to my own superstitious rituals, as luck was suddenly a thing I was very conscious of. Each night for the fist 180 or so miles I wondered if that dinner would be my last. I thought about people I knew, and I thought deep thoughts that looked into myself. Yes, my vacation. In the morning I'd sleep in late, read my books of literature and geology, enjoy my coffee, and shove off to find out what was around the bend.

My humility, ultimately, was rewarded, as the Canyon allowed me to pass through it, with only six flips...

It is an undertaking to put an experience so intense into words. I knew of course, that what I should have done would be to proceed immediately to Las Vegas, lock myself inside a $30 a night motel room, and proceeded to write madly. But as a man of many weaknesses, I was lured to the Japanese Hibachi restaurant, later to Outback Steakhouse, and still later to the Atomic Testing Museum. Money disappeared quicker than it had in months, and, never missing a step, the security guards found me sleeping in my truck and chased me out of their parking garage at 1 am. I tried to write at a coffee shop, but it was impossible. The music was too loud. The people too numerous and too talkative. The phone was ringing. The cars were speeding by. The Air Conditioning was rattling incessantly. So I found myself coming back to the boathouse a day early, where I had no sooner stepped out of the vehicle than a warm welcome of chores was thrust upon me, before I even had a chance to shower I was painting raft frames, fixing handwash pumps, and hauling rotten plywood to the dump. Aye. It is a good outfitter. But the hyper efficiency so often misses the point...

It is a disturbing thing, to leave the Canyon and return to the civilization as abruptly as I have. In Las Vegas especially, but even in Green River, people are often quite unapologetically horrible to one another. They are rude. They only care about themselves. They say mean things to each other. As we shall see, they do not stop to help, even when an obvious medical emergency is occurring. It makes me very sad to see all of this. And to think, how long I myself have been part of it!

For the past three weeks, I had more people- complete strangers- ask me how I was doing, and if I needed anything, than I have ever had people in my life ask me about before. I was invited to dinner by strangers. I was given two phone numbers by attractive women. I had people say encouraging and flattering things to me. I eloped with a pair of private boaters to float the last section by moonlight. How much time I must have previously wasted in bars, when the folks I was looking to meet were here the whole time!

And then, to leave all that... to go from seeing people at their best, to as beaten down and poisonous as people can be at all, it is enough to leave me running back for the canyon. Next time, I'll lock myself inside and never leave, I think.

For now, I have curled up inside the safest place I know- a four inch mattress that sits on false bottoms in the bed of my pickup truck, the aluminum roof shielding me from the elements, the tires raising me above the ground and burrs and scorpions, with soft things about me and even- if needed- my weapons close at hand. Alone, with my machete, my stuffed animals, my petrified wood and gypsum, my thermos of tea and my books that I will start the process. The story remains to be written. And I will do it properly. And when it is properly done, with all dramatic effect, it will not be published here, at least not initially. It will be properly submitted to proper channels of distribution.

For now, here are some sketches, some tied together pieces of writing that occurred during and after the trip. And of course, the photographs. The complete narrative, we can look forward to. I hope to finish it as soon as possible.

* * *

At Lee's Ferry the journey begins...

I run rapids I do not photograph, and camp on sandbars such as this one

And this one

While continuing further down Marble Canyon

The "Century Plant" lines the canyon walls above the riparian zone. They live for 20-40 years, bloom once, and then die.

Once upon a time, Congress authorized the Bureau of Reclamation to dam the Grand Canyon. Here is some of the preparatory work that was done to probe and test the walls. Thankfully, a stop was put to the madness, as the people woke up and put an end to the plan.

There are more, and less common ways of going down the Grand Canyon of the Colorado

I spent all winter planning the duckie. The profile is smooth and flat. The center of gravity is low. Everything is tied down tight. All straps and rope ends are tucked away. Largely, everything is soft, and the chances of something hard hitting one of the soft parts of your body as you go upside down are greatly lowered. Around the tubes and bottom of the boat I had two flip lines tightly attached, which I was able to use to easily right the boat when it was upside down. Also, I made "thigh straps" out of two 6 foot cam straps. You cinched them down tight and out of the way when they weren't being needed, and then I sat Indian style and had them around my knees to keep me from falling out in larger rapids. They give you a lot more leverage thus for paddling, and you can "high side"- leaning your body far out over the water, to maintain your upright position against something that is trying to turn you upside down. The duckie is rightly rigged to flip.

On the Fifth Day I was able to purify myself in the waters of the Little Colorado River. It was here, according to Hopi legend, that man arrived on earth. After endlessly fighting among himself in two previous worlds, in the desert it was provided that the harshness of the land and the difficulty of survival would promote an ethic of cooperation by necessity. It worked, and today the transient, riparian population of the Grand Canyon is the most cooperative, friendly, and mutually supportive community that exists anywhere within the United States of America. The hungry are fed, the homeless are housed, and, of course, the health care is free.

The desert sheep were plentiful. Often you could float right past them and not notice they were there at all until they moved.

Sooner or later, of course, it was necessary to leave the "Marble" Canyon behind, and enter the first of three Granite Gorges.

"The rapid descent, the increasing magnitude of the colossal piles that blocked the end of the vista, and the corresponding depth and gloom of the gaping chasms into which we were plunging imported an unearthly character to a ways that might have resembled the portals of infernal regions."

In Granite Rapid, I found the only place where a layer of air separated the duckie from the water. This was accomplished by gradient, the great size of the waves, which form a launching platform, and above all, by tremendous speed, as the entire river rapidly descends through its constricted passageway. The wave at the far left is perhaps 10 feet high.

Traveling alone, it was possible to camp on small ledges, and tiny beaches, in coves and gullies where no groups ever attempt to squeeze themselves. As a result I had very little to complain about from ants, mice, ravens, snakes, or ringtail cats, who are trained by humans to build their nests in the medium to large group campsites most frequently used, where a reliable food supply boosts their populations.

The loaded, solo duckie was a rare sight in the Granite Gorge. Velociraptors or pterodactyls, however, would have looked right at home.

"Waterproof" Cameras get blurry pretty easily, and you will loose most of your pictures. The ones you are allowed to keep may be fantastic, and one ought not be unthankful for this sacrifice. In this blurry image, you can still make out that all the water is going right into the big rock in the middle of the river. The place is known as "Bedrock Rapid." The front of the rock has fangs. An aerated, swirly death of holes, wraps, and trauma await the unfortunate boatman who finds himself in front, or to the left side of the rock. The ideal line is a straightforward Center-Left to Right affair, and it was easy to make. Should one miscalculate, and by accident, not make the line, the consequences could involve broken bones, ripped boats, and possible drowning. Bedrock, Lava Falls, and Mile 232 Rapid were the most dangerous from this standpoint. Class 4 runs with class 5 consequences.

The Park Service, at great taxpayer expense, maintains a permanent storm system above the Upper Granite Gorge, where the optimistic and warming rays of the sun are mostly forbidden. However, for approximately 10-15 minutes a day, brief glimpses of sunlight are allowed to reach the bottom of the inner gorge, where it stirs the souls of all creatures toiling therein.

Which brings me to my favorite image of the entire trip:

The Ross Wheeler, not much larger than a duckie, made it here, just below "The Gems" section of Rapids, in 1915. The boat was made of steel, and seems to have taken a bit of a beating, before being dragged up above the high water mark.

Lava Falls at Low water, ~ 7,500 cfs. The closest thing to a natural low head dam on the entire Colorado- Green river system.

Great joy was felt upon my getting below the stuff I was most worried about

I could relax again, and actually enjoy the beauty of The Canyon.

And then suddenly, it ended. The Grand Wash Cliffs appeared, and it was all over for the Colorado Plateau. The river took a turn for the Basin and Range, where jagged ranges and Joshua Trees predominated.

And it was time to worry about where a truck was, how to find it, and get back to the world of electricity, fresh meat and showers. Extreme culture shock, horror, and hilarity ensued...