Holidays in the Grand Canyon

A Journey of Powering Off into a Simple Life

By Lucia Stewart, 12-29-07

	Photo courtesy of Grand Canyon National Park.

My down coat and flip-flops are packed. I placed my toothbrush in a plastic bag and an 11-book, 2-map library into a waterproof container. I’ve sorted and organized food and my daily life for a departure and descent into the Grand Canyon for a 23-day river trip over Christmas and New Years.

My fear and excitement both stem from the same place: turning the power button to “Off” for 23 days. For someone who reads the newspaper religiously every morning, it’s a challenge to tune-out for such an extended period of time. But also thrilling to tune-in to nature’s pace, which I especially appreciate after working as an Outward Bound instructor spending three-seasons a year in the wilderness.

I just need to remind myself that my steaming morning coffee will be spent reading the geologic history eroded into the canyon walls — and the world will still be turning when I return.

It’s my first time down the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon. My only expectation: it’s going to be breathtakingly beautiful, my heart will be racing as I drop into thumping rapids and it’s going to be damn chilly at times.

But I’m not totally unfamiliar with the Southwest.

My years working as an Outward Bound instructor in the Moab-area have weathered the desert sand into my cracked hands and worn the knowledge of the landscape into my body. Yet, I’ve never laid eyes on the Grand Canyon.

As a kayaker and rafter, I know of the history of the Bureau of Reclamation and their harnessing of the Colorado River in a series of dams as part of the economic expansion after WWII and movement into the arid American West.

I know historians view the Echo Park Dam controversy in Dinosaur National Monument as the birth of the word “environmental” into the American vocabulary and signaling the start of an era that includes major conservationist political successes such as the Wilderness Act and the Wild and Scenic Rivers Act.

I know Glen Canyon Dam was constructed in exchange for Echo Park Dam, an agreement that David Brower of the Sierra Club says was the biggest regret of his life. In turn, the dam drowned Glen Canyon and changed the entire ecology of the Grand Canyon as now 44-degree, clear water flows from the bottom of the dam instead of a sun-warmed, silt-laden river.

My travel friend and raft partner, Mike Golins, provides an interesting dichotomy between outdoor folk’s perceived need for gear. I finally purchased a plush Paco pad, a 2-inch-thick, plastic coated sleeping pad that rolls up. Mike doesn’t even have a tent. I borrowed my friend Shannon’s pink dry suit so that I could swim laps in the river and stay dry. Mike’s not-so-dry bag has a broken buckle and is duct-taped in spots. I have a library, journal and watercolor pencils. Mike brought his guitar.

We both have what we need to survive and live well for 23-days days out of an 18-foot by 7-foot raft. We will both enjoy the place to the fullest, in our own ways. And we both agree the “stuff” we left behind is mostly just an extension of our mass in this world, except our family and friends.

There are 12 people on this trip, two of which will be hiking in at Phantom Ranch, about 1/3 the way down the canyon. From end to end, Lee’s Ferry to Lake Mead, it will be 297 miles.

Most folks live in the Flagstaff area and are Grand Canyon river guides. I guess it says something about a place when people who work there almost every day are still lured back on their time off.

The weather may be fickle, unpredictable, harsh and forgiving. So will the river.

In the middle of winter there are no motorized J-rigs hauling 25 tourists on a quick seven-day river trip. It will just be the sound of five rafts slipping through the water, laughter and rumbles of whitewater.

As I left my boyfriend to the powder of Montana, I look forward to my new down coat, evening fires and a shot of whiskey to keep me warm. I am going to miss my family and the warming holiday season with friends, but a trip like this is also a good reminder of what’s real in life, what I really need. And it’s OK to turn the power button off sometimes.

Like this story? Get more! Sign up for our free newsletters.