The Grand Canyon River Expedition (Day 3 of 14: Rafting the Colorado River)
This story is Day 3 of my 14-day series which follows our whitewater rafting trip through 226 miles of the Colorado River (June 5, 2026).Previous Story: Day 2
Next Story: Coming Soon
A New Plan
By day three on the Colorado River, Garrett and I decided not to leave anything to chance.
A river guide plan was hatched. We would rotate through a different guide each day during our first week on the river. There were 7 guides in total, making it a solid strategy.
Garrett’s motivation came from a place of adventure. He wanted different experiences while learning about the Grand Canyon and whitewater from each guide’s unique perspective.
Mine was more selfish.
I wanted to figure out which guide was most capable of getting me through Crystal Rapid. We were starting our day at Mile 32. My nemesis, a rapid made infamous in The Emerald Mile, waited at Mile 98. I wanted plenty of time to make my decision.
Garrett discovered there wasn't a formal reservation system for choosing guides, but we could ask ahead about open seats. He found two spots with Sanne. We were in.
More importantly, this gave me valuable intel for booking my Crystal ride in advance. I just needed to decide which guide I trusted most and ask early.
Another case of the chicken or the egg.
Just a Scorpion Bite
As we boarded Sanne’s dory, I noticed she was walking with a limp on a bandaged foot.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She calmly nodded.
“Oh, I got stung by a scorpion. I’m fine.”
She explained that she'd treated it with a sting pack from the first aid kit and would just keep an eye on it for swelling. With Sanne's trademark coolness, I felt a slight twinge of anxiety. I'd been rather slack about shaking out my clothes and bags each morning to evict any sneaky scorpions or red ants looking for a comfortable new home.
Although Sanne’s misadventure came from walking barefoot on the sand while loading boats, the reminder was added to my list.
Shake out my clothes.
Stay hydrated.
With the same confidence and badass style she’d used to deliver her infamous “everyone shits” speech on the first night, Sanne coolly packed the dory while the rest of us figured out our seating arrangement.
The Runaway Raft
As we lingered over breakfast, soaking in the last few minutes of Grand Canyon morning brilliance, two kayakers appeared on the river. Picturesque against the canyon walls, they seemed like an unusual way to start the day. Up to this point, we'd only seen groups traveling together. It was an unspoken rule of the river.
Jim, our trip leader, walked over to check on them. His instinct was right.
They had a problem.
One of their group's rafts had broken loose during the night and drifted downriver without a captain or passengers.
They were a private rafting group, and the missing boat carried essential gear and provisions. Unlike chartered trips, they didn't have backup supplies waiting in another raft.
As the kayakers continued their search downstream, our guides encouraged them to keep going.
"The boat will be found."
All of this unfolded while we enjoyed our made-to-order breakfast from the camp sidelines.
Long Story Short
Another couple about our age, Peggy and Kevin, had claimed the other two seats in Sanne's dory.
After Sanne mapped out our day with fewer rapids and more exploring than yesterday’s Roaring Twenties, we settled in. Peggy and Kevin in the back. Garrett and me in the front.
With long stretches of calm water and towering canyon walls around us, conversation came naturally. Within an hour, we'd covered childhoods, careers, marriages, and enough family stories to fill the rest of the trip. Tales of genetic testing gone awry (priests may or may not have been involved) would stay with us forever.
After Peggy and Kevin shared the sweet story of how they met back in 1999, Sanne told us about meeting her fiancé, a guide for another rafting company. Then she turned to Garrett and me.
"So...how did you two meet?"
I took the lead in answering.
“I met him online a week before we launched and asked if he wanted to come on this trip with me.”
Silence.
My quick lie earned a long laugh.
Then Garrett told them the real story, beginning back in 2009.
First Explorers are Allowed to Exaggerate
By mid-morning, we felt like old friends on a road trip. Sanne pulled our dory into our first stop of the day, Redwall Canyon, an immense sandy cave and natural amphitheater at Mile 33.
Long before The Emerald Mile was, for me, the story of Crystal Rapid, it first introduced me to John Wesley Powell and his remarkable 1869 expedition through the Grand Canyon. Before rapids had names, Powell and his crew were the first to navigate and map the Colorado River through the canyon.
Captivated by Redwall Canyon, Powell famously claimed it could hold 50,000 people. Although massive and awe-inspiring, the real number would have been closer to 10,000.
I asked Sanne if Powell had a habit of exaggerating elsewhere in the canyon.
She laughed.
"I think we should give him a pass. Imagine being the first person to stumble onto this place."
Fair enough.
We quickly scrambled out of the boats like kids on a field trip.
Within seconds, we scattered across the enormous amphitheater like kids turned loose on the best playground imaginable. Some of us did walking lunges across the cool sand. One guide scrambled up the rock walls. Others raced off to explore every corner of nature's giant sandbox, accessible only by boat from the Colorado River.
A River Community
As we continued downriver, rafts from other outfitters drifted past. Many of the guides waved to Sanne, calling her by name. Originally, I thought those connections came from her fiancé being a guide for another rafting company. Instead, I discovered that many of the guides knew one another from years on the river.
Before long, we spotted the stranded private rafting group camped along the shore, still one raft short. Packed into their remaining boats, they were debating their next move.
"You'll find it," our guides called out. "Keep going."
Not long after, we rounded a bend and spotted the runaway raft securely tied to shore. Bags and gear still strapped in place, it appeared untouched.
From our boats, we erupted in cheers.
Now we just hoped the stranded group hadn't stopped their search early.
Sanne explained that this was simply how the river worked. A raft without occupants rarely stayed adrift for long. Someone would eventually spot it, secure it, and leave it safely tied off for its owners.
As trips passed one another, guides exchanged updates and coordinated campsites for the night. Whether they knew each other personally or not, everyone followed the same unwritten code of courtesy. The river demanded respect, and that respect extended to one another.
The river community was real.
No Dams in the Grand Canyon
Reaching the proposed 1950s Marble Canyon Dam site, we tied up the boats while Andy delivered another of his history talks. Standing where a massive dam might have been built, he explained how public outcry ultimately stopped the project.
Had it been constructed, Redwall Canyon would have disappeared beneath the reservoir.
We wouldn't be on this trip. This amazing wonder of nature would have been gone. Such a sobering thought.
Andy reminded us that the Grand Canyon we were experiencing today existed because enough people cared enough to protect it. Leaving the talk in thoughtful silence, I decided it was finally time to gather some important intel.
I turned to Sanne.
"So...have you ever flipped a dory?"
She looked at me, completely appalled.
"Who asks that??"
After backpedaling on my question (which I thought was perfectly reasonable), I decided I needed to make my decision without an answer.
In the end, I put her on my Crystal Rapid short list. Her exhibited skill, lengthy experience, and complete badass personality outweighed any hesitation in my unanswered question.
Camp Diving Board
Before I could properly defend my invasive question, Sanne pointed high above us toward the canyon wall.
"That's the Diving Board. It’s our hike tomorrow!"
The immense rocky cliff towered over our campsite. I wondered if Sanne was pulling our leg. Perhaps in retribution for my impolite questioning? Was this cliff even hikeable without ropes? It seemed impossible for a group with our level of hiking skill.
Roping our dory to shore, Sanne assured us that 1) yes, we would actually be hiking that cliff in the morning, 2) there was a back way in, and 3) it was an elective activity. Tomorrow was a long way away, so we turned our attention to setting up camp.
Another sandbar campsite welcomed us with fishing poles added to our now-recurring happy hour. Our nightly conversations grew deeper, and our taste for slightly chilled beer somehow improved.
Dinner was another feast before we gathered around Andy for our evening history talk beneath another spectacular Grand Canyon sunset.
Then Sanne took over Andy's spot with a group announcement.
"Listen up. I need to explain our hike in the morning."
You Have Been Warned
In her no-bullshit style, Sanne described tomorrow's hike with phrases like "difficult rock scrambles," "high ascents," and "no fall zones." The Diving Board was not for the faint of heart. If there were any reservations, we should stay back. Sleeping in and enjoying a leisurely breakfast was the alternative.
Wanting clarification, I raised my hand.
"What exactly is a no-fall zone?"
This time, Sanne didn't hesitate.
"There is nothing to stop your fall. You would be seriously injured, or could die, if you fall in these areas."
Well, alrighty then.
After a few more questions about the terrain and athleticism required, Sanne didn't mince words.
"If you aren't 100% comfortable, stay back."
Lying in our tent that night, Garrett and I talked through our go/no-go decision.
We decided Sanne was probably exaggerating to keep questionable hikers off the cliff. Convinced we weren't part of that crowd, we decided to take on the Diving Board. Surely our guides wouldn't put us on a hike that could kill us.
My singular focus on surviving Crystal Rapid at Mile 98 had quietly slipped away. Gazing up at the towering cliff hanging some 3,000 feet above our campsite, I had a new challenge to think about.
I've got this.
Well...at least I hope so.
