My metal dreamboat bobs to the current that is spun and swirled out of the Hoover Dam as my canoeing partner, Kate Huey, and I are fire lining gear into a boat wide tetris game-In hopes to save enough room to sprawl out.
As other boats begin to launch, I jump into my canoe almost, capsizing my mighty vessel, but quickly finding the rocking fun and encouraging my canoe to tip side to side, almost scooping the Colorado current into my canoe. I look behind me to see an armada of sun tanned yellow sea kayaks, shiny forest green wooden canoes, rustic metal cannons and an OVS owned raft,Mo Diggy, take to the water.
Starting off strong my paddle dips and pulls, dips and pulls the transparent blue water propelling us forward. My strong start lasted all of ten minutes, now my arms feel like noodles slowly being boiled to wobbly perfection.
I spot Mr.Byars pull into the first campsite, he is soon followed by our river anthem-metal canoe bottoms scraping and grinding against awkwardly shaped river rocks. After putting nails on a chalkboard to shame, our canoes are tucked and tied for the night on the rocky cove.
Tents spring up and adventures to the nearby hot spring commence. I search the cove in hopes to find skipping rocks as a pair of mallards give me the side eye. Dinner was an exciting time, due to the life sucking city of Los Vegas drawing power from the Hoover Dam around 7 o’clock a surge of water swept down the river, and in the process began to sweep our armada away. After rescuing the boats and picking up the entire kitchen and moving it 8 feet up the beach, we began to devour our “add water” camping meals. Reviews were given in positive nods or unsatisfied grunts, personally the Pad Thi was especially tasty.
I decide that I am going to fish off the side of my canoe today, my tackle box of shiny lures makes it almost impossible for me to pick one to use-i choose a shiny yellow and orange lure. I dropped it into the middle of the river-in hope to catch the trout that hide out deep in the chilled water. I watch it sink and reflect little specks of yellow light until I click my bail in satisfaction and secure my rod so that it can troll.
While our crew float down the river laughter follows from games and conversations. The giggles and excitement bounces off of the canyon walls followed by the bumping sound of Rhianna and Beyonce. Brody Moller brought a portable speaker and was limited to his downloaded music so we all paddle to This is What You Came For by Beyonce.
I see the tonight campsite after a day on the water. This campsite is paradise, I thought. No ways to get here besides boat. Everyone
digested their thriller of a day with snacks and a sluggish camp set up.
I took a leisurely nap and played cards with my river mates before eating dinner with my friends on foldable kayak chairs. I felt a feeling of normalcy for the first time in a year and a half. In our urbanized world, human world pandemics take precedence over our lives but out here the sun sets a rise no matter what is happening, the river flows no matter how tightly we lock our world down.
Dusk is my favorite time. The Colorado River sinks my toes into the bank of swaying river rocks while the icy water licks my bare feet as I say goodbye to my new found friend-enemy the sun. All day I hid from the blistering Arizona sun under my floppy brimmed fishing hat, but now as she begins to dip behind the canyon ridge, leaving me chilled in the sandstone stacked valley, I reach up to feel the last rays on my dry hands. My heels pull out of the river, the water gently tugs at my balance, as the sun leaves the tips of my fingers.
Darkness falls over our camp like a freshly squeezed lemonade poured over newly dispensed ice.
As the chill sets in we are relieved with fire smelted cookies. Charred bottoms give a delicious crunch while the gooey center and chocolate bubbled top melts into my mouth.
I challenged Mr.Byars to a game of speed yesterday, and now was the time to show him I am not all talk. The cards are laid out on a grey tub labeled “staples” while we pull up foldable kayak seats. I suffered a grueling defeat just to be defeated again by sophomore Ella Schutte, my pupil who I had taught this game to two nights ago. It got heated- the river rattled with victorious cries and my stomping away from the game table of a lifetime, a loser.
Were told that the gametable is needed elsewhere, loading pans and things. I pick up my seat to join the other land kayakers surrounding the campfire. That night every instrument that floated down the river emerged to breathe air. Guitar, ukulele and mandolin strumming beamed up to the stars as we all sang, emmercing us even further into the canyon.
Sleep came heavy and swift, I set my head on the pillow and from there memory is minimal even though I was supposedly in a late night sleeping bag conversation.
Packing the boats and launching has become that’s what we did mosey all the way down the river. Naps were taken, poetry was written and we were all soaked in individualized solitude as we were swept together down the river.