Water

The hour is nigh for a holy ghost sighting. Gaia is sighing and not with pleasure I’ll bet. It is time for a secular baptism. Time for a flood of love. It is time to get down deep with Mother Earth, to move in her fine folds and ebony curls. We have worn her out, and I with my little eye, little lone observer I have worn myself out. So I have opted for change, thrown my hat in the stream of evolution.

The wildest things happen when you surrender to change. Things such as this.

In a delightful and surprising turn of events after my foreshortened Pacific Crest Trail hike, I was invited in November to embark in two months time on an epic journey. Most must plan a decade in advance to undertake said journey if they ever dream big enough to do it at all. Yes, even in an era when it seems no stone has been left unturned on Planet Earth, rafting the 300 miles through the Grand Canyon will still doubtless prove a profound and perhaps life-altering odyssey for this author and career adventurer.

And the journey has already begun.

From my reunion with Appalachian Trail amiga Coyote and new friends Huff and Georgi in the Bay Area day before last, it began. It began with a missed turn south of Bakersfield that slung us far south and into the vortex and loving arms of Terri and Joe Anderson, trails angels who live where the Pacific Crest Trail grazes Los Angeles just south and east of the Grapevine.

It continued to begin last night in a below freezing night cowboy camped and covered in frost beneath the stars in Zion National Park. Today saw a hike up Angel’s Landing and a drive the final miles to our rendez vous with alpha team leader Boo Boo in Page, Arizona, the closest big little town to our launch site of Lee’s Ferry two days from now. Brian "Boo Boo" Garcia is another friend and alumnus of the Appalachian Thruhike Class of 2004. He and his girlfriend Meredith won the private party rafting permit in the National Park System lottery, and it is no small prize. Nor is it a small privilege to have been invited to join their team.

Less than 48 hours now to our launch. There will be no posting from the canyon. There will be no cell service. A satellite phone packed along for emergencies will, in the canyon’s narrow wedge of sky, give us five minutes an hour of service. For me, there will be no typing for that matter, as my usual smart phone & blue tooth keyboard system will also be rendered fairly useless with limited solar exposure off-boat and the need for all equipment to be stowed while on the river lest water damaged or destroyed. So it’s back to paper and pen. We’ll see what if anything comes out of it in the end.

But here I go. After two months of training mostly alone and at night in a kayak on the industrial urban sluice that is the Oakland channel, I now row into the grand unknown with fourteen companions, into that great and ancient awesome chasm that some say wasn’t carved over milennia by water but rather forged in one scarcely imaginable blast by electrostatic energy at the close passing of another planet-sized celestial body.

I rather prefer this latter version. Much more exciting!

Twenty-three days in the Grand Canyon. Wow.

See you on the other side.

-RSM

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