Garrett celebrates his birthday on the river.
Birthday Boy
Day 10 on the river came with an unexpected wake-up call.
I opened my eyes to find Garrett standing above me with a concerned look on his face.
“Where are our coffee mugs?”
Back home, Garrett was always the first one up to make the coffee. I am the lucky recipient of my first cup delivered to me in bed. A man of routine and responsibility, Garrett continued this morning tradition in the Grand Canyon.
The night before, his party-planning committee had snuck our mugs from their usual spot, planning to surprise him with coffee served in bed (sleeping bag). Although I knew Garrett would enjoy the treat, I also knew he'd notice the missing mugs first.
In on the secret, I played dumb and stalled until two steaming cups of coffee arrived.
“Happy Birthday, Garrett!”
He smiled but continued his questioning.
“Did you move the mugs?”
Before I could answer, fellow camper Danny delivered cowboy coffee to the birthday boy. Garrett beamed at the gesture.
Having Garrett’s birthday fall in the middle of our river trip was not the plan. We didn't realize the overlap until much later in our trip planning.
Never one to be the center of attention, I wondered how all this river focus would play out.
A Birthday Hike
Sipping his coffee, Garrett smiled again when he looked down at his wrist.
“I got balloons on my watch!”
Even running off-grid in the middle of the Grand Canyon, Apple intel was still on point.
Breakfast brought another birthday surprise. The Cheez-Its delivery he had teased Sanne about a few days earlier was his gift from the AZRA guides. Wrapped in a repurposed cereal box, Garrett was visibly delighted to score his favorite guilty indulgence from home. He tucked them away for later, promising to share.
It was another sack-lunch prep morning for another big hiking day. Our hike up Kanab Creek would be close to ten miles, with boulders to scale, rising temperatures, and long stretches where our path wasn't a trail at all, but a bed of rocks.
Once again, we were given a choice: go hard or go easy.
The easy group would set their own pace and turn around based on time. The hard group had a destination to reach, a swimming hole beneath a waterfall, and a timeline to get there.
Half our group chose hard.
Garrett was the first to raise his hand. I was right behind him.
We would spend his birthday battling Kanab Creek, just to say we did.
River Poetry
Bec guided us for the day as we joined Celia and Bill for a short river ride to Kanab Creek.
The Colorado River was a beautiful green-blue, typical of early summer before monsoon rains and tributary runoff can turn the water the muddy brown so often seen in photos of the canyon.
Under clear blue skies, Bill asked if we would like to hear some poetry.
Absolutely.
Pulling up a poem saved on his phone, Bill began to read, complete with his best English accent to match the poet. I was once again surprised to discover yet another poetry lover in our group. Day by day, I was learning the poets might actually be the majority.
Farther downriver, Bec pointed out a massive Great Blue Heron nest perched atop a rock in the middle of the river. Great Blue Herons often reuse their nests, adding to them over time. This nest looked enormous, about four feet across, with young herons squawking from inside.
As we floated closer, the scale surprised me. Even the birds did things big in the Grand Canyon.
I snapped photos, hoping our young camp photographer, Owen, would capture what my phone couldn't. So much natural beauty surrounded us that photos rarely did it justice.
Our best shot came through Owen’s eyes and camera.
As we prepared our backpacks for our big hike, we chatted with Celia about her adventure race in Costa Rica. Teams of four took on miles of unfamiliar jungle terrain with only a map and compass.
It sounded both captivating and intense. I wondered how I would fare in this type of adventure.
Probably not well.
Hiking the Kanab
Reaching Mile 143.5, our guides tied up the boats along the muddy, rocky shore of Kanab Creek. Our group split in two.
Bec led the hard hike in her typical style, thoughtfully noticing every interesting rock and plant in her path while somehow gingerly strolling ahead.
I stumbled along behind her, determined to stay close.
Pebbles and rocky terrain remained my nemesis. For me, there was no rhythm to be found, just one foot after another.
Celia stayed close by, offering silent encouragement. While I wore my scrappy determination like a badge of honor, Celia seemed genuinely happy to be getting in a training workout.
We covered beautiful terrain, with a flowing stream of water next to us, intermittent shade, and stellar canyon views. As we neared our halfway turnaround point, I finally let myself fall back while the others eagerly climbed a slimy, moss-covered rock formation to reach our lunch spot.
Taking my best guesses at footholds, I slowly traversed the slippery, narrow incline. The slick green wetness encompassing me, coupled with an exhausted brain, brought an image to mind.
“I feel like we’re going through Jabba the Hutt’s bowels.”
Behind me, Danny heard my strange remark. Always quick with encouragement, he helped me through the final stretch.
“Well... I guess I’ve never thought about Jabba the Hutt’s bowels.”
With one final shove out of the green abyss, we joined the others at the swimming hole.
Trying not to think about the rising temperature, or the rocks and miles still between me and the boats, I ate my sandwich while most of our group played in the cool water.
Although the fuel and the rest helped, I felt spent whereas Garrett was just getting started.
Faster, Sandy, Faster…
When Bec gave us notice to pack up and head back, I made a decision. I would pace myself with the back of the pack rather than trying to keep up with her. I was done trying to be an overachiever.
But the birthday boy had other ideas. Garrett wanted to stay up front with Bec. As much as I tried to convince him to take off without me, he wouldn't have it. He also wouldn't accept being at the end.
“Sandy, can you pick it up? We’re holding the group back.”
I looked behind us. Several fellow campers and half the guides were back there. Some weren't even in sight. But it was his birthday, so I kept trying.
Then my water ran out. Feeling defeated, I just wanted to be done. At that point, how strongly I finished didn't matter to me. But it still mattered to Garrett.
Having another year under his belt fueled his motivation to finish strong. Garrett has always worked hard to stay fit. A difficult hike in the Grand Canyon was a welcomed test of his 61-year-old fitness level. Although I was flattered that he wanted me by his side, I wasn't equally motivated.
At Bec's next check-in, I decided on a new strategy.
“Bec, am I slowing the group down if I join the people behind us? Or do you need us all to stay together?”
She explained the guides' accordion strategy. Some stayed toward the front while others swept from behind, keeping everyone moving at the pace they needed. As long as I stayed ahead of the trailing guides, I was fine.
Whew.
Garrett continued moving at record pace. I settled into the middle as a compromise, enjoying the slower pace. When we finally reached the boats, I collapsed into my dory seat and searched for drinking water. Garrett jumped directly into the river to cool off. It was mid-afternoon, the sun was relentless, and temperatures had climbed to around 105 degrees.
I once again sang the praises of my multi-use sarong, soaking it in the river and pouring the cold water over my head like a shipwreck survivor.
Party Time
After nearly ten miles on foot, we would spend less than five miles on the river, taking on one major rapid before pulling into camp and immediately seeking shade. As we unpacked, the guides warned us that this would likely be the hottest night of the trip.
Warning taken. We drank plenty of water while cooling ourselves, and our beers, in the 60-degree river.
To my complete surprise, Garrett loved all the birthday attention. During happy hour, Garrett broke open his birthday Cheez-Its and passed around their ultra-processed goodness, while sharing stories and soaking in the final hours of his special day. A day that would have typically passed as ordinary became his favorite, burned into memory against the backdrop of a Grand Canyon sunset.
After dinner, Andy gave a history talk on women river guides, including more great intel on river icon Georgie White and callouts to our amazing women guide leaders. Then someone decided we needed a new game for the remainder of the trip.
It was a variation of Clue, played out in real life with campers and guides as the targets. The goal was to eliminate your fellow campers and guides until only you remained.
We were all in. We fashioned cards from ripped pieces of paper and wrote on them in pen. We drew our assignments, vowed ourselves to secrecy, and waited for the killing to begin in the morning.
Everyone secretly drew the name of a person to “kill,” along with a location and murder weapon. I drew Ben as my assassination target. I needed to kill him at the handwashing station with a spatula. If I successfully killed Ben, he would then pass on the name, location, and weapon he had drawn for my next murder.
As we plotted how to win our first murder round, Garrett was asked to stand at the front of our group, where he was presented with a crown. It was cut from a cereal box, covered in aluminum foil, and decorated with Sharpie drawings and birthday messages. Garrett got the royal river treatment
With crown intact, Garrett was presented with a chocolate lava cake and the AZRA birthday tradition of pounding on the table while singing “Happy Birthday.” Andrew made him a handmade birthday card with watercolors. Even more impressive… he made this creation while on a boat on the river in the Grand Canyon. Everyone signed it.
This was the best birthday planning committee Garrett had ever had.
I took notes.
Camp King Garrett
Once the light faded and the lava cake was finished off, it was time to prepare for the forewarned hot night. Garrett and I went through our now-established hot-night-in-the-desert survival routine:
Pour water on our sleeping area. Check.
Take a moonlight dip in the river. Check.
Soak a sarong to use as a sheet. Check.
Then Garrett carefully placed our coffee mugs on a nearby rock, ready for morning.
But then he did something I didn't expect. Garrett laid his crown on a rock, next to our water bottles. Surely he would pack it safely away in the bottom of his dry bag with the card.
“What are you doing with your crown?”
Without hesitation, Garrett made his proclamation.
“I’m wearing it tomorrow!”
Of course he was.
Long live the king.
