The Grand Canyon was… well it was… I guess it was actually something like…
What do I say about nearly three weeks rafting down the Grand Canyon? Every day was different, so I guess I should just start at the beginning and see what happens:
(Early morning on the south rim from the Bright Angel Trailhead, Canon 7D, 17-40 f4L, @28mm, ISO 100, f4.0, 1/40th second, handheld)
My father, another member of our trip, and I hiked down into the Canyon via the well-used Bright Angel Trail. It was a long nine miles and 4600 vertical feet down (the soreness from too much weight in my pack lingered for several days afterward). We joined our group at Phantom Ranch, the rest of whom had started ten days earlier at Lee’s Ferry, 80-some miles upstream. We were late arriving and were hustled by my friend and trip leader Hugh Rose to get our stuff transferred to dry bags and get dressed in river-wear for the late afternoon run through Horn Rapid, one of the five major rapids of the trip. Weather was rolling in and though the skies remained bright and sunny, a menacing wind had begun ripping up the canyon and throwing sand from the beach into our faces. Within the hour we were floating down river, through some riffles and small rapids to the scout at Horn. We climbed onto a rocky outcrop above the rapid and stared down at the churning water below. It was my first big water rapid in the Grand and it looked ugly. Smooth water flowed down from river left where two points of rock (the “Horns”) created doming formations of water. The run over the horns, the safest option in high water, looked dangerously shallow. The alternative route to the right of the horns, runs the risk of a slide into the turmoil of huge waves and holes at the bottom of the rapid.
I was passenger in the first boat, rowed by Hugh. We floated in the slow water upstream from the rapid and peered down over the horizon line, unable to make out anything but the occasional plume of spray launched by the waves below our line of sight. Slowly, slowly, we eased down into the current until we were whisked away by the increasing pace of the tumbling water. I could see our line was imperfect, a bit right of where we needed to be. Hugh pulled hard against the oars, but the pressure of the water was too much to overcome and we sped into the mess. Hugh straightened the boat out just as we plowed through the first hole. Water poured over us, and then we were up onto the standing waves. Up and down, spray tumbling until, quite suddenly we were out and Hugh was pulling into the eddy below the rapid. We hollered in celebration and looked up at the rest of the group who were watching from the scout above, all cheering our wild but successful run. One by one the rest of the boats followed, all opting for the safer route between the horns.
Another couple of miles and we pulled into our first camp just above Granite Rapid at the outflow of Monument Creek. With impeccable timing, just after dinner the storm arrived and rain pattered hard on the tent throughout the night as wind tore through the tamarisks around our camp. In the morning, the rain had reduced to a drizzle as the group slowly arose for a lazy layover day.
The storm came and went, and with it, the lovely and rare storm light. Patrick Endres and I scurried about during these interludes, making images when we could. By evening, the sky was clear as the storm yielded to the dry desert air.
(These images, and others are for sale on my stock site HERE as prints and digital downloads, more canyon images are being uploaded daily until they are all processed)
(Clearing storm over the Colorado River near the Confluence with Monument Creek, Canon 7D, 17-40 f4L @29mm, ISO 100, f22, 1/20th second, tripod)
(Granite Rapid and moss-covered wall. Canon 7D, 70-200 f2.8L IS @195mm, ISO 100, f18, 1/8th second, tripod)
(Storm light on the Canyon from Monument Creek, Canon 7D, 17-40 f4L @17mm, ISO 100, f8.0, 1/125th second, tripod)
(Desert brush and the cliffs of the inner gorge, Canon 7D, 17-40f4L @19mm, ISO 100, f11, 1/15th second, tripod)