Swamper's Delights: First Round on the Grand Canyon with AzRA

Adam guiding the paddle raft

This Grand Canyon trip really began a year and a half ago when I met Adam Mills Elliott in Lijiang, China, preparing to set out on the now-dammed Great Bend of the Yangtze. We met then, later falling in love over the seething eddylines and boils of the Salween.

Adam and I at the source of Thunder River

There he told me about the canyon in a way no one has spoke of it before to me.

Charlie soaking up a waterfall in Stone Canyon

I've heard from other kayakers about the river, the hikes, the daily life. But Adam's words spoke of details, true knowledge of a place. The kind of knowledge that develops over time spent living on the river.

And lucky me, he took me along for a couple of rides this summer.

Rinsing off the muddy Colorado in one of the many side streams

I begin by noting that the Grand Canyon is beyond the English language. That being said, I will do my best to fit in nouns, verbs and adjectives to fit the deep canyon and powerful river.

The hike down into Gallaway Canyon from Stone. Just shimmy down that crack in the Tapeats. No biggie.

Swimming in Havasu's fluorescent blue waters

Although days bleed into each other, I believe it was day 4 that I fell into complete silence drifting beneath the tiered and colorful canyon walls growing higher around me. Before this I was impressed, but for some reason something else hit me that day.

Exploring side canyons never gets old.

The highest walls stand back, solid and steep, quietly reminding the rafters of the depth at which they travel. The youngest in the canyon, these walls also must see the action of the river from the greatest distance.

My favorite picture...ever. Hiking down Havasu. Photo by Adam, of course.

Narrowing the canyon slightly, the tall faces of Redwall Limestone appear impenetrable just below. A closer inspection, however, reveals their increased susceptibility to the floating aquifers pushing through the rock layers. Deep caves speckle their aspect, eroded by water slowly dissolving the rock. We pass one such cave at river level several days earlier. Cool sand, hidden from the heat of the inner canyon, our group is hypnotized. Several hours of rest and we move on.

Redwall Canyon break

To a guest, running a commercial trip down the beyond-stimulating Colorado River appears like the coolest job in the world as well as the hardest. They might be right.

Fun group. Everyone loves life.

It is a marathon.

No, it is an ironman triathlon for the amateur adventure enthusiast, run by the professional adventure enthusiasts.

Kitchen on night 1 near Sheerwall

We eat, we pack, we paddle, we hike, we climb, we swim, we run, we eat more, we jump, we float, we unpack, we eat yet again, we sleep.

Sometimes we relax, listening to the nearest rapid crash in the darkness illuminated only by the stars filling in the night sky.

I can't wait to do it again in another 3 days.

Wildwater 2010 National Championships and Inevitable Racing Frustrations

Bursting through a wave on the sprint course. Photo: Adam Elliott

Athletes often quickly fall into a whirlpool of frustration when a competition/race does not go as planned. Ideally, this stage does not last long, especially for those athletes who understand the deeper joys of the river.

When this much boat is out of the water, you know there is power behind your stroke. Photo: Chris Norbury

The amount of disappointment possible after my 3rd and final race at Wildwater National Championships this weekend could very well have been unbearable. Yet, somehow, it didn’t even make it past the finish line with me. Only now as I write do I understand why.

I had swam. Not just through the finish line of my first sprint race the day before, disqualifying me from the sprint class, but also in the middle of my longer, classic race. I swam twice. I also would have been the sprint National Champion had my head been above the water for those last three yards of the race course.

National Women's Champion Tierney O'Sullivan heading into the rapid

As for the Classic race, I felt like I had a good chance for a win. I love longer events, stretching the mental focus and attention required for competition over a longer period of time.

Yet, I’m not upset. Why would I be?

Going into the weekend, I knew that I had spent more time in my kayak over the past 3 months than any previous 3 consecutive months. Just the wrong boat.

Confessing to the other athletes, I spoke of how my creek boat had stolen my attention during the past few months, leaving little time for fun with the Wildwater kayak. I spoke of unexpected rainstorms and an abundance of eager new river friends. I even used the excuse of participating in the Eddyflower Total Vertical Challenge, a competition based on

running the steepest rivers you can find. I almost had to spend that much time in my creek boat.

The championships were also held on an infinitely clear river inside a National Park I might have otherwise never visited.

The North Cascades, in the northwest corner of Washington state, blew me away. Massive trees filled in the jagged mountain views on either side of our vehicle as we wound our way deeper into the wilderness.

Some ladies from the Women's Team giving perspective on boat length. Photo: Adam Elliott

Finally, the race brought in kayakers from all over the country.

Kayakers who revel in the meticulous break-down of the forward stroke.

Kayakers who extensively talk about each micro-wave and eddy line within a rapid.

Kayakers who like to read and run their whitewater faster than any other boater.

Tom Weir, C1 National Champion

I identify with this particular group of kayaks for their dedication to improvement of skill and development of understanding the currents we slice across.

So really, I had no grounds to allow a few silly swims to ruin my experience.

I’ll admit, the frustration visited me momentarily. I secretly hoped that my head had somehow remained above water as I crossed the finish line, pulling my skirt just after. I wondered if I had paddled hard enough after the second swim to make up for the time lost.

But I immediately knew that it is what it is. It just was not my race this year, and I’ve got all winter to look forward to the next. With all of the upsets, I still got a spot on the US National Downriver Team, allowing me to participate in coaching and training for an upcoming Worlds event.

Boo loves her boat.

I also was about to board a plane to do two consecutive trips down the Grand Canyon. Not much can spoil that feeling.