Grand Canyon Whitewater

Last month's Glen Canyon trip was an incredible adventure in and of itself. But it was actually a warm up to a much bigger Colorado River journey that we'd be making a month later. For most of the last decade, Aimee and I have been trying to raft the Grand Canyon. It was a major Arizona bucket list item for both of us, but particularly for Aimee ever since she moved here 12 years ago.

This trip was also a bit of marriage therapy, since this wasn't actually my first trip down the Colorado. A couple of years ago, our friend Dean (who works for one of the major Grand Canyon rafting companies) had an extra crew spot to fill on one of the trips he was going on. I happened to be passing through Flagstaff when he found out about it, and I accepted the offer almost before he made it. How could I not?

I've never seen an eyebrow raise so high as when I told Aimee about what Dean and I were planning. I had to crane my neck to keep following it. The short version was, "Yes, you absolutely have to go on this once in a lifetime adventure that I've been trying to do for a decade while I stay home with our newborn daughter. Also, I will never, ever forgive you. But you have to go. 

"Ever. Never, ever, forgive you."

Needless to say, I didn't really play up that trip much when I got home. "It was ok. You didn't miss much. What's that shiny object?"

But between you and me, it was incredible. Most of my "crew" work consisted of chopping up vegetables and handing Dean a camera lens or two in exchange for a free week-long trip down the Colorado.

Dean Knuth

See, it was no vacation. Do you see how much cauliflower we had to chop?

Yet another one of Dean's amazing photos.

Someone had to lay across the boats to keep them from drifting apart. No vacation at all.

So I couldn't have been more excited when Dean mentioned that he was planning a major river trip for Jill's 40th birthday. It was very nice to put that dark episode behind me, and finally be able to openly acknowledge my previous trip. But mostly, I was just really, really excited to get back on the river. That place is magical.

Nineteen months later, the kids were in bed, the grandparents had arrived, and Aimee and I had our backpacks open on the bed. We were doing it! Our trip outfitter, Grand Canyon Whitewater, takes care of the food, boats, cots, and other essential gear. We just needed to pack a couple changes of clothes, a camera, and a week's worth of river beer. With the notable exception of the latter, we really didn't need to bring anything. It was one of our easiest trips to pack for, and we went off to bed with dreams of flowing rapids, good friends, and absolutely no children. This trip already had epic written all over it.

The next morning, we put the kids in daycare, signed some Medical Powers of Attorney forms, and showered Aimee's parents with appreciation. We were off!

Still fully coming to terms with our childless vacation, we stopped in Pinetop for second breakfast. We were maybe thirty minutes from home, but it was time to start this vacation right! We completed entire sentences, chewed our food fully, and went to the bathroom a single, solitary time. And when we wanted to, no less! See, I told you this was going to be epic.

But vacation or not, we still couldn't waste a trip into the big city. So like any reasonable people would do on their first day of vacation, we stopped at the dry cleaners, changed the oil in our car, sat for a haircut, and got Aimee's prescription glasses adjusted. Epic.

Our most important pre-trip errand was a beer run to end all beer runs. Dean had advised us that we would need way, way more beer than we thought we would. And we didn't want to disappoint our friend. I won't tell you how much we spent on booze, but the club card discount alone saved us over $30.

After our stops in Pinetop and Flagstaff (and a comically terrible attempt to find a bite to eat in the Flagstaff Mall), we were back on the road to Marble Canyon.

Man, I still can't get over how bad the food options were in the Flagstaff Mall. Coming from the Apache Reservation, we view Flagstaff as a mecca of culinary delights from all over the world. The mall in general and the Flaming Wok in particular did not get that memo. As hungry as we were, we couldn't bring ourselves to eat the vaguely spaghetti-like noodles covered in cafeteria brown "sauce." We didn't say anything, but both of us just stared at the stainless steel tray under the heat lamp and envisioned ourselves hurling continuously for our first three days on the river. 

I looked at Aimee, "Jack in the Box milkshake?"

"Jack in the Box milkshake" she nodded back. That was a much more vacation-appropriate lunch, anyway.

Where were we? Oh yeah, driving to Marble Canyon. On Dean and Jill's recommendation, we were listening to an incredible audiobook about the history of rafting on the Grand Canyon (Emerald Mile, for anyone who is thinking about making a river trip themselves). That (and the lack of potty breaks) made the five hour drive breeze by. The scenery gradually shifted from Flagstaff's high-elevation fir trees to the sandstone cliffs that we all associate with the Grand Canyon.

We pulled up to Marble Canyon Lodge around dinner time, and joined our friends for a bite to eat and some beers on the patio.

Excited beyond belief, we all still managed to fall asleep around ten or eleven. It would be our last night on a spring mattress for a week. 

Aimee and I woke up early the next morning, and enjoyed a beautiful dawn on the Navajo pedestrian bridge. At 467 feet above the water, it is the ninth highest bridge in the United States, and the only one to span across the Grand Canyon. Plus, it's one of the most stunning and unique views of the Colorado River.

And best of all, it would appear that Aimee finally forgave me.