Rafting the Grand Canyon: A Different Kind of Adventure

Early August: 7 Day Motorized Rafting of the Grand Canyon with Arizona River Runners.

Day 2: Hike to granaries; camp seen in bottom right.

Thoughts, Surprises, & Take-Aways:

Rhythm: We've never done a trip like this before. Where you just show up and someone else takes the reigns, telling you when to get up, when to eat, where to go, what you can't do, how to go to the bathroom, etc. On one hand it was a great introduction to the world of multi-day rafting, with great guides who were incredibly patient, informative, and helpful. At the same time, it's a different mindset relative to our standard trip where we are driving everything ourselves.

Most noticeable was the pace. While this is partly a function of having 27 clients to guide, I also think it's likely just the way of the river. The rhythm of a rafting trip is deeply engrained into the rafting lifestyle and mentality. To be a river guide is to relinquish control to the river and canyon. The calm patience of the flatwater, knowing ahead are rapids that demand your full, complete, and rapid-response attention. Similar to downhill mtn biking or snowboarding, the adrenaline of the down preceded by the quiet of the lift ride. Repeating this pattern for years and years as a guide I would imagine limits the types of people who can find success in this way of being. It was refreshing to be voluntarily forced into this rhythm, even if just for a few days.

Heat: Our biggest point of nervousness, flying from the Midwest's humid summer days and damp cool nights and into the desert southwest's hot and dry air, was how our MN acclimated bodies would manage the heat. From the moment we arrived at Lee's Ferry on Day 1 to the heli ride out of the canyon on Day 7, we were outside. The only escape from the heat, from the intense rays of the sun or the radiating warm of the ground roasting your back while lying in the cot, was to tap the into the frigid waters of the Colorado. With no indoors to escape to, necessity forced a fast adaptation of patterns, behaviors, and expectations... which was probably the best way to go about it.

Move slowly and deliberately; keep your internal body temp down. Seek shade without question. Wear shoes; the ground is hot. Keep your skin protected from the sun's rays; don't worry about that ever-present threat of the MN sweat mark... that doesn't exist here. Feeling hot? Wade into the river and wait till the shivers come, or douse your sarong, hat, buff into the water and let evaporative cooling do it's magic. Drink more than you can imagine, and eat to replace those electrolytes. Lie still at night and don't think about the discomfort of the heat; notice how you can cool yourself by keeping your heart calm and slow; or dunk your sarong or bedsheet into the river and drape it over you, ignoring the discomfort of the wet and enjoying the coolness. Or sleep on top of the wet layer, letting it block the heat radiating from the ground below you.

A humbling thought that occurred as we floated past relics of past ages, from remnants of flourishing Native settlements to crashed boats of early American explorers now memorialized with named rapids or desert-preserved artifacts resting surprisingly high above the waters, indicative of the potential chaos that can quickly morph the river from a calm sliver of green to a raging, life taking monster of energetic, foamy whitewater... humans have been surviving and even thriving in this heat for thousands of years. If they could do it, manage and live with the heat, then we, with our fancy technologically advanced fabrics, sure as heck could manage it, too.

On-River Notes:

The Unexpected:

• The hot, dry wind: nothing like it in MN.

• The cold water: MN rivers aren't that cold, at least in August. May, sure, but not August.

• Temp differences on the boat: How is it possible that you can be shivering uncontrollably while wearing multiple layers when sitting in the front of the boat getting soaked, and 12 feet back in the "Princess Seat" you're dying of the heat while wearing the least amount of clothing possible to protect you from the sun's rays? Where is the happy medium? There isn't one.

• Heat rash is a real deal. Calamine lotion helps. What? Why?! I don't know but it did. About half our group had pretty gnarly heat rash. The guide's didn't.

• There aren't mosquitos, and you can just sleep out in the open. This would be a death-wish in MN. Here, it's the best way to not die of heat.

• Having the Belknap Waterproof Grand Canyon River Guide to reference throughout the trip was really great. There are no signs, mile markers, or interpretive displays, and its easy to lose yourself in the flow of the river's time. Being able to conceptualize the river's path and our progress along it, matching landmarks and fascinating stories and natural history context to our travels enhanced the overall experience.

The Musts: These are mandatory:

• Cots: Camping with cots always inspired me to call people weak pansies. I take it back. There is not flat ground. The beaches and camp areas change each year as the river shapes and changes them through the seasons; their shape and topography and surface features ever changing. And the heat radiating up from the ground is the real deal. The guides sleep on the boats, and they have the best sleeping arrangement of us all. The closer to the water you can sleep, the cooler it will be.

• Pants: I don't even like pants. But by Day 3 I was wearing pants. The sun is stupidly intense, the wind constantly blowing, and your skin just takes a beating when its exposed. Pants are smart. And they keep you warmer even when wet if you're sitting at the front of the boat.

• Chapstick: With SPF. Again, the sun is truly trying to turn you into beef jerky... chapstick keeps you moist like an uncooked hot dog (sorry you just read that). Problem: it melts. Solution: Keep it in your water bottle. And bring extras so you don't cry when you lose one.

• Socks: Even with sandals. You might look dumb, but the ever-wet straps on your feet take a real toll and the chaffing is legit. Socks, like pants, solve so many problems.

• Lotion: Again with the sun trying to kill you. We lotioned up every night, trying to keep our dry, ashy skin from morphing us into zombies. The guides, doing this over and over, just used straight vaseline, applying it in the morning and again in the evening.

• Sunscreen: Bring lots. More than you'd think is reasonable. Make sure everyone has their own bottle.

• Long-sleeve sun shirt: Why the hecks would you wear a long-sleeve shirt?! Beef jerky. Thats why. The sun hates you, don't let it steal your body fluids and turn you into Mr. Slim Jim arms.

• Hat: I bought one of those ridiculous sun hats that only White middle-aged men wear. It was great. I think I would have died without it. But a viable alternative is a baseball cap and a sunshirt with a hood... just as effective and not as ridiculous looking.

• Sarong: I didn't believe the companies advice that this was the most valuable item one could bring when it comes to keeping cool and protecting yourself from the sun. Turns out they weren't lying. I think each of us would have started crying if we'd lost our sarong. The simplicity of the sarong to be used in so many ways, combined with its evaporative cooling powers, is what makes it so usefull. Hot? Dunk your sarong in the river and drape it over your legs, head, shoulders, wrap it around your face like a mask... whatever works cause it all works!

Quick Day-By-Day Rundown:

Day 1 – Escaping Vegas into the Canyon

Vegas -> Lees Ferry -> 20 Mile Camp

The trip kicked off with an early 4:00 AM shuttle to the airport. After a quick, beautiful flight in a tiny plane over Lake Powell and the Grand Canyon—complete with views of smoke from North Rim fires—we hopped another shuttle to Lee’s Ferry, making a pit stop at a gas station for last-minute snacks and alcohol.

At Lee's Ferry, we met our four guides, packed our gear into dry bags, and listened to an orientation that had most everyone grinning wide—apparently, a few folks hadn’t read the prep materials and were in for some surprises.

Once on the river, the world got quiet: towering canyon walls, the hum of the motor, and not much else. Lunch was a make-your-own sandwich bar on the beach, followed by our first swim in the surprisingly icy Colorado River.

Landing at our beach for the night, we scrambled to claim a camp spot, set up our cots, and enjoyed the welcome shade of the cliffs. Dinner was salmon (the kids were unimpressed), and as night fell, the smoke from the fires dulled the stars but made for a surreal, quiet evening filled with swooping bats.

Day 2 – Rapids and Red Walls

20 Mile Camp -> Main Nankoweap Camp @ mile 53

Breakfast was hash browns, eggs, yogurt, fruit, and decent coffee—the fuel we needed for a full day. We launched in rain gear as we tackled the Roaring 20s rapids. Our girls, Norah and Hazel, braved the front of the boat and came out soaked and shivering in the shady stretches.

We stopped for a quick hike to petroglyphs, then floated through long flat sections of river before finding a shaded spot tucked deep into a beautiful red cliff. Frisbee, swimming, and just enjoying the shade filled the lunch break.

After arriving at camp and setting up, we hiked up to see historic granaries and scored one of the best photo ops of the entire trip. Dinner was lasagna and cake, which won over the kids, followed by a refreshing river bath. Bugs appeared that night but nothing biting—just lots of bats swooping overhead.

Day 3 – The Little Colorado

Main Nankoweap Camp @ mile 53 -> Cardenas Camp @ mile 71

French toast and coffee started the morning with dead bugs coating the boats. After a 1.5-hour float, we reached the Little Colorado River, where its milky-blue waters contrasted beautifully with the green Colorado. Life jackets turned into “diapers” for floating, and we joined other groups to make a 36-person conga line down the playful rapids—pure fun and a good reminder that drowning would be a horrible way to go.

After lunch (and a minor, ridiculous debacle of dealing with a kid’s foot that got stuck in the riverbed), we drifted down to Furnace Flats. True to its name, it was scorching hot with little shade. Most of us sat in the river, reading or chatting while trying to stay cool.

Dinner was stir-fry and strawberry shortcake, eaten family-style in a big circle as the group started to really bond. That night brought clear skies, shooting stars, and a glowing moon that lit the land as bright as day it seemed, plus a rattlesnake sighting by Norah. It didn’t cool off until early morning; sleeping was hard.

Day 4 – Big Rapids Past Quiet Phantom Ranch

Cardenas Camp @ mile 71 -> Bass Camp @ mile 109

Breakfast featured sausage, eggs, guac, and English muffins, and Norah and I claimed the icy front seats for the morning’s big rapids. We entered the Super Group rock layers, the canyon walls growing more dramatic with every mile.

Phantom Ranch, the infamous crossing of the Rim-To-Rim Trail, was eerily empty, closed due to the fires. Helicopters buzzed overhead, ferrying supplies for repairs and improvements to the water infrastructure for the national park facilities.

The day’s highlights were two legendary rapids:

• Hermit Rapid, a rollercoaster ride Tyler called “the one rafters run forever in heaven.”

• Crystal Rapid, a 10/10 thrill where Norah and I nearly got thrown off the raft.

We made camp at Bass (mile 109) in the shade, finding a location that helped us corral Hazel, who'd been participating in sleepwalking adventures the first few nights.

Day 5 – Waterfalls, Green Oasis', and Heat Rash

Bass Camp @ mile 109 -> Football Field Camp @ mile 137

The morning started with a hike to a cool waterfall and tunnel at Shinumo Creek—an oasis before another scorching day of alternating freezing rapids and oven-hot stretches of sun.

Lunch at Stone Creek Falls turned memorable (and slightly traumatic) thanks to a sudden diarrhea episode that meant breaking out the dreaded wag bag.

The afternoon hike at Deer Creek Falls was unforgettable: a lush slot canyon, shaded trails, and a beautiful cascade surrounded by cottonwoods.

That night, we camped at Football Camp and used wet sarongs as cooling blankets. Hazel developed a gnarly heat rash, and many in the group were dabbing on calamine lotion, looking like pink and white warriors. Thankfully, the night cooled off and we slept well.

Day 6 – The Best Day

Football Field Camp @ mile 137 -> 184.4 Mile Camp

We packed bag lunches for a long day and entered Icebox Alley, a shaded, rapid-filled section of river. Norah and I bundled up for the icy front seats while Sarah and Hazel baked in the sunny back.

Pulling off at Havasu Canyon was a highlight of the trip. We hiked through a series of turquoise pools and cascades, surrounded by cottonwoods and soft sand. It felt like paradise—cool water, quiet spaces, and plenty of time to just relax.

The day continued with cliff jumping, then a long push downriver. Running Lava Rapids (another 10/10) was a rush, handled smoothly by Katie. Camp that night was among the Basalt Flows, with unique volcanic rock and starry skies just two miles above the helicopter takeout.

Day 7 – The Heli Out

184.4 Mile Camp -> Whitmore Helipad -> Bar 10 Ranch -> Vegas -> Mpls

The final morning came early. We packed, floated a short stretch, and waited our turn as helicopters buzzed in, ferrying us out. The lift-off from the river was surreal—floating above the canyon walls and watching the river disappear below.

At the remote lodge, we were greeted with green grass and clean people, a stark contrast to our week on the river. After a short wait, we boarded a plane back to Las Vegas, grabbed our stored bags from the hotel, and made a beeline for Panda Express before heading to the airport to fly home.

From the bottom of the Grand Canyon to home in under 20 hours—a grand transition, but better than lingering in the chaos of the Vegas Strip.