It was a crew of legends, of dirtbags and doctors assembled from across the west. Everyone ready for a 27 day float down the largest white water in America. A mixed group to say the least. We had slack-liners, climbers, and raft guides. There was even a lawyer. Though there surely wasn’t any law down there.
Twenty-seven days is a long time away from civilization. Long enough to forget politics, ambient warmth, and your manners. Just long enough to miss a proper toilet. Long enough to laugh at the outside world. To laugh at all the cell phones and all the 50+ hour work weeks and all the people that have no ambition to see the beauty we were surrounded by.
But it is also a long time to entertain yourself. Especially at the bottom of one of the deepest canyons in the world. Rising up sometimes over 2,000 feet, and only two rafts wide at the narrowest point, the place is dark. The Canyon is so deep some days the sun can’t fight its way to the bottom. The walls reflecting the chill that permeated our dry suits.