A thin layer of ice covered the rafts the second morning on the river and by midday the sun held steadily high in the sky above the massive walls of the Grand Canyon. Before approaching the Roaring Twenties, we stopped and tubes of lipstick were exchanged between the rafts, painting our lips in bright colors in honor of Georgie White and the rapid named after her. Kelly, who rowed what we called the sports car raft, chose red while I opted for pink. Maddie, the trip leader, wore deep purple while commanding one of three 18 foot oar rafts, and Abby in the other 18-footer, the lunch boat, wore the same as me. It was her tube of lipstick. Mark, Maddie’s fiancée, also went with purple. Susan, Jabari, and Matt all elected to remain au natural for Georgie’s. No matter, it didn’t hamper any of their excitement as we, a small group of eight on a private trip, floated in four rafts down the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon in March.
It was the trip of a lifetime, and now that I’m home I’m still finding sand from the river and its many expansive beaches where we made camp embedded in my clothes, clinging to the pages of my river journal, and stuck to the spines of the paperbacks I read in my tent at night.
At the start of the year, I received the invitation I couldn’t turn down, although being the parent of two young children I couldn’t do the entire river section, which would mean 21 days on the river. But I was still able to partake in one of the most legendary river journey’s on the planet for nine days, starting at Lee’s Ferry and being dropped off 88 miles later at Phantom Ranch. Myself and three others then hiked from the bottom of the canyon where the river shimmered teal to the sandstone top of the South Rim via the Bright Angel Trail.
I’m not one to turn down any sort of water adventure, especially if it’s a river trip and there was also the kismet timing of the trip coinciding with my fortieth year. The Colorado River isn’t too shabby of a locale to celebrate any milestone, and exactly one month after my birthday, my river friends surprised me with a Dutch-oven made birthday cake and candles after dinner at our camp above a series of rapids around mile 70. I’ve had the great fortune of many wild adventures in my lifetime, but this one takes the cake.
Before traveling south to the Grand Canyon I knew that floating the Colorado River was an extremely rare and special experience. Now that I’m back home, I am beginning to understand the depths of the privilege to do so, especially alongside four people who have tallied many trips on that long river as guides. As I said my goodbyes to my river-forged friendships and to the river itself, but before strapping on my heavy backpack and prepared for a long ascent to the top of the Grand Canyon, I tried to capture the scenery in my heart and mind and that magical sound that is the song of the river. Then, I blew a kiss in honor of all those Colorado River legends like Georgie White and all those who’ve embarked upon such a singular experience at the bottom of Grand Canyon.
Maggie Doherty is the owner of Kalispell Brewing Company on Main Street.