We stood at the vantage point on the ledge above Lava Falls, scouting the largest and most chaotic Class 5 river rapid I’ve ever seen. Our guide Max pointed out the line through this monstrosity, starting down the tongue on river right to dodge a tractor trailer sized mega-hole on the top left. From there we had to paddle hard through the left wall of the opening V-wave, which would position us to build the momentum we needed to slam through the triple hit at the Big Kahuna wave near the bottom. If we couldn’t manage that then there would be consequences.
I played through the scenarios of a capsize in that turbulent water multiple times in my head the night before. But as we approached the horrifying, deafening roar of the Colorado’s largest and least forgiving river rapid, it became clear that I was at the river’s mercy, no matter the games. We charged together into the top V-wave as I looked on into oblivion.
The Grand Canyon is famous the world over – not just for its sweeping, gorgeous panoramas of the canyon itself, but for its world-class river rapids of the mighty Colorado, which charges its way along the bottom of the Inner Gorge. I had first learned about it from packrafting videos from about ten years ago on YouTube with footage of guys running their small inflatable watercraft through bigwater hits like Horn Creek, Granite, and Lava. It quickly became a life goal to get down there and shred the bigwater for myself.
Normally, kayaking permits are issued based on a lottery system, but it would require more preparation, supplies, practice, a solid background in swiftwater safety – and for that matter a newer, top of the line packraft – for me to go on a self-supported trip down the river. It would also likely mean I would need to paddle the whole canyon, which runs for hundreds of miles from Lee’s Ferry to Pearce.
Or, I could take one of the guided rafting trips with a company like Crate which offers options for people to hike in or out from the rim at Grand Canyon Village. Most of the classic rapids I had my eye on were just downstream from the Bright Angel Trail, so along with the fact that I was already curious about that area’s trail system anyway (and still am), it made for the perfect option to hike from the Rim to River, meet the guides at the bottom, and start paddling into the Lower Canyon of the Colorado.
Day 0: The South Rim
Leaving from a shitty casino hotel in Las Vegas at 5am, I sat on a tour bus bound for the Grand Canyon South Rim. Tomorrow, I would hike the Bright Angel Trail from the South Rim Lodge to the boat launch and rafting guides. They had already been paddling for a week from the Lee’s Ferry Access upstream.
But before checking in at the hotel I at least wanted to get an idea of what I would be dealing with on the hike itself. The bus dropped me off a few miles east of the headquarters and I spent a couple hours hiking along the rim in view of the canyon’s magnificent panorama. This is the first time I’ve ever seen it, and it was a truly incredible view of so many cliffs, rock layers, shelves, the inner canyon far below, and the north rim, some ten miles in the distance.
I got to the edge of the rim facing the Bright Angel Trail and saw how it went steeply down the switchbacks along the canyon wall. This area got washed out in a flash flood only a week before, wiping out some of the buildings and infrastructure. My parents were obviously concerned, and my boss tried to talk me out of going. But despite the hostile conditions, the rafting trip itself remained unaffected, and the rafts were able to stay clear of any potential flooding in the slot canyons.
So, on the list of things to worry about so far, there were: Electrolyte depletion, dangerous river hazards, and the occasional flash flood in the monsoon season. Well, time to get to my hotel.
The bus dropped me off in the nearby town of Tusayan, where I got dinner and one last supply run, notably for whiskey. I wasn’t exactly sure what I would need in the desert climate, especially in the hotter inner canyon. The gear list took a number of iterations, starting at the REI in Chicago a week before. But I got to my hotel, packed and repacked my gear, electrolytes, water, whiskey, salty snacks, a waterproof case for my passport, my GoPro gear, and everything else that I could barely fit into my pack. The leisure of decision making had passed, and after months of buildup it was time to face a lot of unknowns in that hostile desert wilderness.
We ride at dawn.
Day 1: Bright Angel
About six of us met the guides at the hotel lobby at daybreak. After a quick orientation and reminder to stay hydrated, we loaded up our packs in their cars and made for the Village and Bright Angel Trailhead.
I got out and looked out at the lavender morning sky to the east. The far rim of the canyon slowly changed in shades of purple as we started down the trail. The switchbacks made their way steeply down the side of the wall as continued downward. Ridges and contours of the north rim lit up in orange an hour or so later as the sunlight appeared. It would be a few more hours before its punishing heat would reach us, which was the point of our hauling ass in that early hour.
Halfway down was the Havasupai Gardens, a creekside oasis offering water and shade as the sun neared the tops of the ridges to our right.
But it was the inner canyon that truly felt otherworldly, and not in a good way. We got out of the shade and protection of the Garden Creek section at late morning and went straight into the exposed walls and curves of the Inner Gorge, that all seemed to close in around me. The sun was at a hard angle in the late morning sky, baking the canyon walls in unforgiving heat.
They’ll tell you that it’s not just the sun that gets to you. It’s the ground and walls emanating heat from every angle like the inside of a furnace. These conditions have killed people, usually because of depleted electrolytes. But fortunately I brought two Gatorade bottles in addition to my water. I was exhausted, maybe, but hydrated and alert as we got to the canyon floor and made for the river.
Finally we reached the river launch where I saw the paddle boat and five oar frame rafts stocked with supplies. The rafting guides were there waiting for us along with the rafters who started last week in Lee’s Ferry. We had lunch and the trip leader and top riverman Abel got us oriented with trip logistics, the “Leave No Trace” ethos, and the overall plan for the day. If all goes well, we would paddle a couple hours downstream, navigate Horn Creek Rapid, and camp somewhere after.
We launched into the muddy brown waters of the Colorado. I was on the paddle boat with five other rafters and our guide Max. We floated over riffles as Max explained how to paddle on command as a group.
Soon we were closing in on Horn Creek, the first big rapid after Bright Angel. The flatwater above was calm as I could hear the roar of the breaking waves growing with each passing second, dancing above the horizon line in the shade of the late day.
Max explained the line to us, which was impossible for me to remember in the moment. First was Plan A, then Plan B, which was Plan A’s contingency. Then if B fails, it’s Plan C, which is to charge as hard as we can and stay clear of God knows what.
Starting in the top middle, the raging water was deafening. Max quickly steered us to an eddy just after the top left rock. From there, we got into a straight current and went backwards through the rest of the rapid, passing some nasty wave-holes in river center. The team made it through with Plan A.
A few miles later was Granite, a bigger powerhouse of continuous standing waves that can be fun as long as you stay away from all of the ugly shit along the right wall.
But we wouldn’t be running it today. Instead, we shored in at Granite Camp right next to the rapid, and the guides started setting up the tables and preparing dinner while the rest of us got our cots and set up our campsites. Then I sat on one of the folding chairs with my new friends and opened my whiskey bottle, looking out at the river as the sun left the steep ridges above us. Before long, the sky darkened and stars appeared – so many more than I’ve ever seen in my years of city life.
Day 2: Granite, Hermit, Crystal, Gemstone Alley
Today was the biggest day of big hit rapids back to back, starting with Granite, the huge rapid that we camped next to all night. As luck would have it, we would run it first thing, then the giant standing waves at Hermit, then the technical and precarious line through Crystal, and then the series of smaller but still noteworthy “Gemstones” after it. All in one day.
But first, we had to eat. The guides prepared breakfast, then we spent an hour breaking down camp and helping them load the rafts. Abel called the group together and told us the plan for the day, notably how today would have the biggest concentration of high grade rapids in the entire trip.
We got in our rafts and slowly made our way to the top of Granite, or what I called “Mother Nature’s Alarm Clock”. It was absolutely huge. Alex steered us on the center left as we charged through one powerful wave after another. After we slammed through one final hit at the bottom, we paddle high-fived, 2 for 2.
An hour later was Hermit, a colossal wave train. No scouting needed here, you just read and run it right through the meat. I read somewhere that it has standing waves easily reaching twelve feet. I have no idea how big they actually were – certainly bigger than they look in my footage.
At midday the guides pulled out to scout the line through Crystal. As I understood it, this wasn’t really even a rapid until a big landslide happened years ago, causing the river to constrict with all kinds of boulders and ugly hazards on the left. It was obvious that the right side line was the only way, but even that had two large wave holes at the bottom to navigate around. The guides spent about twenty minutes scouting and planning the line.
We started down the right side and Max had us turn to avoid the holes at the bottom. We all got through without incident.
For the rest of the afternoon we paddled through the Gemstones – not a single one I can specifically remember, only that the were each named something like Sapphire, Emerald, Turquoise, Ruby, and more. They were very similar, more or less like big Class III+ rollercoasters, often with lateral waves on the main channel to keep you focused. Somewhere at the end of them we shored in and set up camp for the night.
(And yet, none of this was like what was coming. The devastatingly massive Lava Falls was days away and never really left my mind…)
Day 3-5: It’s All a Blur
The days blended together as we formed our routine. In the mornings the guides started preparing breakfast at daybreak. We would get coffee, pack up our campsites, eat, help the guides load up the rafts, and launch into the river.
There were still rapids about every twenty minutes or so, but were usually smaller and less intimidating, maybe with standing waves of six feet instead of twelve. On Saturday afternoon we barreled through the notable Dubendorff Rapid, and on Sunday we charged through the powerhouse of bigwater hits at Upset Rapid, easily some of the most fun I had out there.
And other times we floated on serene flatwater around the sheer cliff walls and river bends at places like Granite Narrows, where the canyon walls closed in at 76 feet as clouds slowly floated above the calm water. Occasionally, I could look high above and get a glimpse of the outer canyon rim and the edge of civilization.
There were Slot Canyons all along the river with spring (or storm) fed creeks that continuously flow into the main branch. We stopped once or twice a day to check them out, often to see waterfalls and clear flatwater pools.
I was coming back from one of them when I heard what sounded like someone tuning a guitar as the noise echoed through the canyon walls. Just around the corner, Abel started playing outlaw country music as we all sat and quietly watched from the facing wall. Then Max took the guitar and played his style of indie country. For a few moments, we all felt like the worries of our lives outside of that tiny canyon didn’t exist.
The sun was strong and high in the sky for most days – all except for Sunday afternoon when a rainstorm rolled across the landscape. Cracks of thunder echoed through the canyon walls as we paddled into a full downpour.
At first I didn’t care for it. But soon the heavens opened up above us, and we started to see waterfalls forming over the cliffs high above. We paddled into gusts of hard rain, cheering as one bridal veil after another started pouring over the canyon walls. There’s another one! And another one! Look up there!
There was magic in that ancient wilderness, and I was lucky enough to see it for a few moments. When I think about how free we were – paddling into the refreshing afternoon rain with waterfalls appearing everywhere around us – I wonder if Louis Armstrong felt the same way when he sang the words “And I think to myself, What a Wonderful World.”
(But even in moments like those, a foreboding terror slowly formed in the back of my mind like a dark cloud: A major Class V rapid that we had yet to run was closing in with each passing mile. I quickly put it out of my mind…)
The nights were always clear with the Milky Way Galaxy slowly rotating above us as we slept on our cots under the stars. I forgot most of them, but I remembered how I could name every constellation in the northern hemisphere when I was a kid. And every ten minutes or so I would see a meteor silently burn out across the desert sky.
So there I was, laying wide awake on Sunday night, staring at a million stars in the sky – all too nervous to sleep and wandering what comes next. Tomorrow was the last full day of the trip. So much has happened over the week, but there was one river-wide elephant in the room that I could no longer ignore.
Day 6: LAVA FALLS!!!!!!!
It was Monday morning and Abel called us together to brief us about Lava Falls. It is the largest and most serious rapid on the entire Colorado River – a huge Class V monstrosity with multiple wave-holes of tremendous size and power. All night long, I was terrified because we were hours away from running it.
I was torn. Because I could either go on the paddle raft, which is what I originally wanted to do, or I could sit safely on one of the oar frame boats and let one of the guides worry about it. The latter would be easier, safer, and certainly have a very small likelihood of a capsize and swim.
But rafting was why I picked this trip. For ten years I dreamed of running the classic Grand Canyon rapids with my own power and muscle. To take each bigwater rapid by the throat and come out clean in the end in a raft with cheering people.
But I was scared. Beyond terrified. I had no idea what Lava Falls would be like, and remembered laying on my cot last night, staring at the stars and going through my head over and over of what would happen if I got tossed into that chaotic clusterfuck of turbulent currents – hopefully not to get tumbled around in a recirculating hole or slash my leg on the fucking “Cheese Grater”.
I kept it in the back of my mind for most of the trip, but now it was time to make a choice. I could face my fears and paddle through it, or I could safely ride an oar boat and let the rivermen do the work.
But over and over, this monkey fight in my head brought me back to the same horrifying conclusion: My desire to paddle that rapid was greater than my fear of it.
And so we were off. Max put me on the front right of the raft, I’m guessing because he noticed me paddling hard when it counted. Two of the oar frame rafts went ahead and waited in safety positions at the bottom. Then we started down the V-Wave. Max yelled at us to paddle hard and we went for the left wall of the tongue, passing the raging Ledge Hole to our left.
The one that can flip a loaded 18 footer.
We slammed through the side of V-Wave and came out clean in river center. Holy shit! It’s working! Max yelled again to keep going. Rafters behind me repeated it like we were told. Seconds later, we closed in on Big Kahuna, by far the scariest looking breaking wave I have ever faced in my years as a river rat. OH MY FUCKING GOD!!!!!
We slammed through the crashing wall of foam at the top and to my amazement were still in position, paddling down the other side together. We cleared one more big swell and washed into calming tailwaves. HOLY SHIT! WE FUCKING DID IT!!!!
Max eddied us out and yelled “Paddles up real quick, that was awesome!” And he was right. I’ve never run anything with stakes that high and payoff even higher. And according to Max, the line was an A+.
But I wouldn’t go so far as to say that we kicked its ass, or “crushed it” or anything like that. It is, after all, Lava Falls, the apex of the Colorado. And at the end of the day, she let us pass.
Just downstream, the river channeled into Son of Lava, a pretty Class III-ish wave train that goes along the left wall. Still glowing from everything that just happened, we laughed as the boat went over each wave. At that point, I could have fallen out and I wouldn’t have cared.
Then we pulled out at a flat area around the corner for lunch and a couple hours of rest in the shade. Continuing on in the late day, we paddled into a harsh sun and headwind for what felt like forever before finally shoring in near the helipad at Whitmore Wash.
Day 7: Get to the Choppa!
We got up early for breakfast one last time and packed up our gear for the flight out of the canyon, with one final goodbye to Abel and the crew at Crate, who were all very professional and experienced at guiding us through the remote wilderness. I heard the faint whipping of the helicopter starting to fade in from the north. It slowly landed on the pad and six people filed out to start their own adventure with the Crate team over the next week.
I boarded the chopper, and just like that the river and canyon quickly disappeared behind me as we flew over the Arizona desert.
We touched down at a lodge in the middle of the desert with a food hall, small gift shop, and best of all, hot showers. It appeared to be a rendezvous point for tour groups going in and out of the canyon. Then we boarded a small charter plane westbound for the land of cheap hotels and tacky casinos, where we all would part ways and go back to our normal lives.
I sat on the left side of the plane facing south and looked out at the remaining miles of the west canyon and the brown ribbon of the Colorado at the bottom. The Pearce Ferry takeout was far below, where Abel and the team would get to in about a week.
The Grand Canyon is a true wonder of the world, and one of the most special places of our public lands. It is my hope that it remains that way for many ages.
Thanks again to Colorado River & Trail Expeditions for the river trip of a lifetime!
