Windwalker's Mountain Post: River: Into the Grand Canyon 5, In Camp

Room for four in the arms of tamarind trees

"BUMP!" shouts Shad as the five tubes of our J-Rig hit the beach. Travis runs forward and vaults to the shore with ropes to tie us up for the night. We all begin to stand, uncurl, and stretch cramped legs and arms. "OK…the kitchen will go right here in front of the bow and the toilet will be up there behind those trees." At least one person from each couple or group hits the beach and begins a search for "the perfect" place to set up for the night. Soon, we are joined by the others carrying day bags and water bottles. Sites are approved or moved, and then, "FIRE LINE!"

Most of us shag on down to the raft and form a line. A few of the guys get up on the tubes and Shad and Travis begin handing down camp essentials: tables, pots, utensils, gas bottle for the kitchen, then, "CHAIRS!" and bags of chairs are passed up the beach, hand-to-hand. "COTS!" and they go up the beach in their bags. "DRY BAGS!" and the big, personal gear bags come off. We grunt, and groan, and curse people whose bags weigh more than the 20 allotted pounds. We praise those whose bags are light, and threaten to drop the really heavy ones overboard in the morning. "Take Five," means that's it and we can begin to carry to our camp spots, shed wet clothes, make clotheslines, and gear up for a bath.

A few stragglers hang around the raft, "Tents?" one calls up. "Tense?" answers Shad. "Nah, I'm never nervous." "No. Tents!" "I'm just not an anxious guy." "I mean TENTS!" "Oh," laughs Shad, throwing a couple of tent bags to the sand. "That's what you want?" Unless it is raining or looks like rain, most of us just put up cots, throw sleeping bags on the cots and flop out on top of the bags with the stars and night sounds as our shelter.

At this point the guides and Judy begin with dinner prep as the rest of us hang clothes, set up cots, and go back into the river to bathe ("Guys go downriver there, women you have the area upstream.") Some of us bathe by taking clothes off in the river, others just apply soap under and over whatever they have on. About the time we arrive back at our camp area, Travis or Shad blows the conch shell and we hear, "hors d'oeuvres are served!" A circle of chairs has magically appeared next to the kitchen. We grab our plate and utensils and drinking mug and claim a chair. Beer drinkers rifle through the drag bags to find their own cold beers, and I scramble through one of the big coolers on board the raft to find our wine. The chardonnay is in boxes, but the boxes disintegrate after the first day and we are left with plastic bladders filled with yellow liquid. Looks like a bladder of pee, but tastes just fine.

On the first night, Shad takes the women aside to have a pee talk. "We know it's tough in the night when you don't want to wade back into the river, so…we have a present for you." He hands out clear plastic containers with Ace Hardware written on the sides. "Just pee in here, cap it, and empty it in the morning. Simple as that." By the third day, Jeanne quietly asks Shad for an extra Ace container, and nonchalantly shows up in the hors d'oeuvre circle sipping from her "Pee Bucket," as we call them. The wine is indeed pee-toned. She is a big hit.

We sit and drink, talk about the day and show off new scrapes and bruises; all the while the guides are chopping, sautéing, and assembling. The conch sounds again and we rise to queue up for dinner. Faced with primitive conditions and limited to what could be carried and kept fresh on a raft for seven days, what did we eat? Chicken, rice, veggies, and salad; steak and a potato bar; fajitas, rice, and beans; hamburgers and brats; and two specialty meals--Italian night, featuring pasta with chicken, and garlic bread with bananas foster for dessert (yes, real ice cream!), and our last evening's meal, the Captain's Dinner--shrimp cocktails for hors d'oeuvres, and trout and potatoes. For dessert, Travis bakes a white cake and adds chocolate frosting.

The third night out, the wind begins to blow during dinner and soon we hear distant thunder and see lightning far down the canyon, so far away that no one seems overly concerned. Armed with headlamps, we straggle down to the river to brush teeth and then settle down to sleep on our cots.

But within thirty minutes, the wind picks up and the thunder is louder, the lightning closer. Then Shad and Travis are running along the beach distributing tents. Fortunately, most of us remember their tent-pitching demonstration, and soon blue tents spring up all over. We move our cots inside just as the first rain begins to patter on the fly. The wind picks up and I turn on my headlamp to find the zipper to close the "windows" in the tent. Super-fine sand is blowing sideways and through the fabric of our tent. We get the windows closed and then fall asleep. Hours later? Minutes? I'm not sure, but our tent is blowing over on top of us. We push back with our hands and the tent rights itself. Rain is pelting down, wind whirls. Water is leaking in from somewhere.

In the morning we learn that Lee and Jeanne's tent completely collapsed during the height of the storm. "All of a sudden it was on top of us. We used our feet to hold it off of us, but then the rain started coming in. Our sleeping bags were getting wet, so we opened up and crawled outside. It was pouring and blowing. Somehow we managed to get the tent poles back into their notches, but one got broken and bent in the wind. We were able to straighten it and jam it together and climb back inside. By then, the wind was backing off a bit, and the rain was stopping. We were wet. Our sleeping bags had big wet patches and we had about an inch of rain on the tent floor," Our first clue to this havoc was Jeanne and Lee hanging everything they owned on the bushes around our tent sites in the morning. What a night!

The guides rise with the sun...about 5:30 a.m. They get water going for cowboy coffee--loose grounds in the huge coffee pot--and tea, and begin to assemble breakfast. As we hear them, we roll from our cots and begin to gather clothes scattered about on bushes and makeshift clothes lines. When the coffee and tea water is ready, we hear the conch shell. Some of us are already in line to use the toilet, others are packing, dressing or tooth brushing and face washing in the 50-degree river. A few others sit in the social circle and drink coffee. Before or after breakfast, we roll sleeping bags, shake out ground tarps and stow them back in the bottom of the big personal bags. Cots are disassembled and bagged, and when all is done, we pile the equipment down by the boat. When the conch blows again, it's breakfast. Before every meal and after using the official toilet, we thoroughly wash our hands in a clever two-bucket system. Then, before dishing up, we rub in hand sanitizer. What did we have for breakfast? During the course of our trip we eat fresh fruit, orange juice, toast or muffins, french toast, breakfast meat, scrambled eggs, eggs Benedict (yes), bagels, cream cheese, assorted jams and jellies and honey. After breakfast and dinner, there is a four-bucket dishwashing system. Each person washes his or her own plate, cup, and utensils then puts them in a zip lock that is stowed in the personal dry bag. We do not use plates or cups at lunch. But lunches are worth mentioning. No plates or utensils because all lunch items can be "handled." Curried chicken or tuna salad we can put in conical wraps (very clever) or on three different kinds of bread, assorted sandwich makings--one day pastrami 'n fixin's, chips, condiments, and cookies.

While we eat, the guides begin to clean and pack up the kitchen while eating their own breakfast. By the time we finish, the kitchen is packed and waiting on the beach to be loaded. Soon, "FIRE LINE!" is called and the usual suspects line up and we begin moving our equipment. "Take Five!" call the guides when all is aboard. They throw giant tarps over all equipment, then strap and tuck and tighten everything. "Last call for the toilet..." the line dwindles to one, then no one and Travis moves in to secure the toilet gear. When all is ready we climb on, push off and give ourselves once again to the river.

As you will see in the pictures, Italian night and the Captain's Dinner were very special. Attire for the Captain's dinner: Gentlemen must wear ties, ladies must wear skirts.