And cool off we did. Even though the canyon is near-100 degrees most days in July, the water stays super cold year round. The electrical turbines that generate electricity at the dam are powered by water coming from the bottom of Lake Powell. So the water we were swimming in was most recently in the pitch black depths 600 feet under the surface and was biting cold.
Needless to say, we didn't spend much time frolicking around.
At various points along our journey, Ted pointed out unique geological features of the canyon.
It's a geologists paradise, and I'll relay some of the tidbits that I found interesting. But for now, just take a look at the top layer of rock. Navajo sandstone is the classic Northern Arizona red rocks that the region is known for. It's also a good landmark for river rafters to see how deep the water carves into the earth. It's consistently at the same level, and will eventually be 2,600 feet above our heads.
We floated past an oar trip, and at that point in the journey (our first day, likely their second), there were smiles all around. But those trips are a bit more ardous, and take about three weeks to cover the ground we'll cover in a week. So groups we passed later in the trip looked a bit more weary, and were asking us for ice like prisoners ask for cigarettes.
Interestingly, the diferrence in trip length between oar and motor trips isn't really from boat speed. The river is impressively (slightly terrifyingly) swift, and moves the boats along at quite a clip, motor or not. Our boats only had tiny 25 horsepower motors that were primarily used to steer the boat. But because our guides can navigate their boats a bit more easily, we can power through the middle of most rapids, where the oar trips might have to take the slower side channels. And sometimes they just need to tie up the boats and wait to pass certain rapids until the next morning (Glen Canyon water releases are tied to electricity demand across the Southwest. The oar trips also need to make camp a little earlier in the day to not risk pulling in to a campsite that is already taken, and have to push forward as the sun is going down. Night navigating is extremely dangerous for any boat on the Colorado, but especially so for the flip-prone oar rigs. It would take a hell of a rapid to flip one of these rigs.
But it does happen occasionally. Flood conditions, shifting under-surface boulders, bad angles on big rapids, and sometimes just bad luck can all flip a boat, regardless of size. It's extremely rare, but just common enough to add a bit more excitement to some of the bigger rapids.
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| Photo by Greg Bryan |
Our first stop that day was Redwall Cavern, a sprawling expanse carved into the canyon wall.
Before the dam was built, extreme storm surges likely over came the beach and carved deeper into the rock as they turned the corner to continue downstream. But these days, it's a much more tranquil place to stop for some frisbee, music, child-free yoga, and second breakfast.
The next stop was a few miles downriver. Ted asked if anyone wanted to cliff jump. Not a lot of hands went up. Actually no hands went up. But then Dean said something along the lines of, "Oh hell, guys, come on." And we cheered him on and lied that we would be right behind him.
Nice form, good entry.
After we saw that Dean survived, the rest of the group surprised themselves (and our guides) by slowly trickling up to the cliff to take their turn.
Unsurprisingly, Aimee was far more graceful at it than I was.
We spent nearly an hour at that spot, and by the time we left, almost everybody on the trip (ages 10 to early-70s) had jumped into the river at least once.
Ted told us that he's never had a trip where so many people wanted to cliff jump. This was starting off quite nicely.
