The Green River flows through Desolation Canyon in Utah. I had the pleasure of rafting down that river  with twelve other women and five guides and even got to run the rapids in a kayak! Let me tell you about it.

Page Lambert organized the trip with Sheri Griffith Expeditions, now owned by Jose Tejada. I knew Page from her Landscape and Literature of the Horse events I have attended three times in Wyoming at the Vee Bar Ranch, so this looked like another adventure I needed to take. I made the 615 mile drive to Moab on  August 23. The twelve river rafters met with Page and Crystal, the office manager, to be briefed for the trip.

We were up bright and early the next morning for our plane ride to the river. Here we are at Canyonlands Regional Airport waiting for our planes to take us to the river. Standing, left to right: Ailani Swentzell from New Mexico, Maggie Hudson from Colorado, Eileen Masterson from Colorado, Page, our fearless leader, from Colorado, Roxanne Swentzell from New Mexico, Mylo Schaff from California, Dea Jacobson from Colorado. Standing behind them are Cindy Findling from Colorado, and Veronica Villhard from Oregon, and kneeling in front are Lila Wrubel from Colorado and Karin Hoal from Colorado. JIll Plevell from Arizona met us at the river.  I, of course, was taking the picture and was the only one from Texas. And later, I was complimented on my Texas accent, so I guess I gave myself away. Who knew ?

It took two Cessnas to get us to the Put-in, they call it, at Sand Wash on the river.

We flew over Book Cliffs, Roan Cliffs, Tavaputs Plateau, all of which, according to the Internet, is the most desolate place in the U.S.

And eventually, the Green River runs through it, carving out Desolation Canyon. It was just miles and miles and miles of the same bare rock, scrub trees, and finally, the river.

We  landed on the plateau  which was not much of a landing strip for airplanes bringing people to raft the river. In fact, it was just a flat area that happened to be close to the hike that has to be taken down to the river. At least that’s the way it looked to me. Maybe sometime in the past they got out there and moved rocks and things to make it usable. But it was pretty bumpy.

I stayed behind to ask the pilot questions, so I was behind the group  as they hiked down to the river. I am always the last one on the hike anyway, so here you go.

This flat part was fast, but it quickly got steep and covered with scree, loose small rocks and gravel, that made it hard for  me to navigate.

Being the cactus person I am, I was looking for examples the whole time. This was my first sighting as we hiked down to the river, a clump of prickly pear. I saw some prickly pear after this, few and far between, but there it is. I don’t know what variety it is,but no doubt native to Utah.

We made it down to the river, were given a regulation life jacket we wore from then on anytime we were on in the raft and on the river. More instruction on how to be safe on the raft, and Roxanne, who is Native American, Santa Clara Pueblo,  talked to us about the river in their culture and led us through a symbolic ceremony asking the river’s permission to be there. This seemed fitting since Page envisioned coming to the river as a time-honored tradition for women. She said, “Since ancient times, women have gathered at the water’s edge to greet the  morning sun, to pray, to bathe our children, to wash our bodies, our clothes, to fill our water vessels and cooking pots. The rivers of the earth form the lifeblood of the world. Perhaps now, more than ever, it is important to return to this lifeblood and to reconnect with the vision we want for ourselves, for our communities, and for the world. The river is where we have traditionally cleansed and purified ourselves., where we have gone to tell our stories and share our dreams, where we have gathered to create a hopeful vision for the future. Thus, this  year’s trip: The River of Hope.

And then, we were off.

The rafts were tied together as we started out, and one of our guides, Zhana, had a motor on her raft, and used her motor to get us down the river a bit faster on this first day. Most of the time our guides Zhana, Allie, Lindsey, and Brenda rowed us down the river.

This is Page Lambert, who put this trip all together.

To save a bit more time, we also had what they called a float bloat, as the guides prepared lunch on the raft. Tortilla wraps were easy to put together as we went down the river, and they were filling.

Later, we did stop for a potty break and everyone went down to the edge of the water to relieve themselves. We were told it was acceptable to pee in the river because the volume of running water automatically diluted the urine. If you go on the shore or in the dirt, the urine lasts for a while, can smell and changes the microclimates that affects animals and plants. And speaking of animals, we saw great blue herons, wild horses, turkeys, a bald eagle, bighorn sheep, and a cow! The Ute Nation whose reservation is on the left side of the river do run cattle, but they are few and far between. Not sure if this was a steer or a bull, but he was fat and calm. Right after we saw him, a hummingbird flew right up into Page’s face and shared her drink with her.

The cottonwood trees were showy all along the river. I took too many pictures of them, but here is one of the first. Their broad flat leaves reflected the sun and were always bright and green against the cliffs and rocks.

It rained on us today, just enough to pull out the rain gear, but the sun came out and by the end of the day, I had bright red feet! Didn’t stop to consider those feet never see the light of day since they are always in socks and tennis shoes. I finally wised up the next day and tried sunscreen and covering them with the sarong everyone said I needed. Well, I didn’t use it as a sarong, but it did serve as protection for my feet and a warm wrap at night.

When we would come to white water, if it wasn’t churning, the guides would just call it a ripple.

It rained again as we pulled up to shore for camp that night. With help of guide Lindsey, I managed to get my tent put up, and then we all got the groover talk. The groover, we found out, is the river version of a port-a-potty, so the rest of this paragraph is sort of PG-rated, but I think a fun story from the river.  The groover  got its name from back in the day when river rafting was young and probably mostly done by men who, let’s face it, aren’t as worried about toilet facilities as women might be. In the early days, a bucket was for the pee and something like a metal box was used when you had to do your business, but it had no real seat, just narrow metal sides to sit on that left, well, grooves in your bottom after sitting on it. So, it came to be known by all as the groover. Now, the five gallon pee bucket has a round plastic seat on it  for women, and the groover actually has a toilet seat with a lid so there are no telltale marks left after use. The pee bucket is emptied in the river, and the groover container is collected every morning, stored somewhere, and then disposed of correctly in town after the trip is over. A handwashing station is set up a distance from the groover, and the key is an ammo box with toilet paper in it. You take the key with you to the groover, which lets the next person know it is being used, and then you bring it back when you are through, set it down for the next person, wash your hands, and then be on your way.

While dinner was being prepared, we visited and Roxanne, who is a sculptress when she is not on the river, fashioned what I would call a sun face in the sand.

After dinner of shrimp alfredo, asparagus, fruit, and lemon bars for dessert, we circled up and shared where we were from and some of our background, and called it a night.

Monday morning Lindsey helped me take down the tent, we had breakfast, and a group discussion before heading out on the water again. I rode on LIndsey’s raft,  and she shared geology of the region and stories of the river as she rowed the raft and we enjoyed the scenery.

We stopped for a short hike to see some petroglyphs, cave drawings, if you will, left by the Ancestral Pueblo People long ago. Roxanne gave some background on what some of the figures were all about. The drawings weren’t really in a cave, but were protected by a large rock overhanging the wall where they were.

On this hike I found one more cactus variety, an Echinocereus coccineus native to the area. I did go on to see both this and the prickly pear a couple of other times, but no other kinds of cactus. Perhaps there are other varieties, but we didn’t spot any.

We loaded up and went a bit further before going to shore again for another short hike to see an old cabin built by a family that had bought some ranch land near the river. Look closely and you can see the native rocks that were hand cut were skillfully put in place to build the wall. Look again at another part of the wall and you can see those weren’t so carefully placed!

Just another shot of the trees and cliffs on our way back to the rafts from the hike.

Today Mylo wanted to ride the single person kayak, and she did a good job. You can see Jill in her blue raft. She chose to bring her own raft and float along with us.

We stopped today on a big open beach with deep loose sand. Gray clouds came up, and we could see rain down the river. So they called for the fireline-more about that later-trying to beat the rain. Mylo helped me with my tent this time, and I helped her with hers. Then, as we were looking for decent sized rocks to put in the tents to hold them down, a big gust of wind blew mine down the way! Lindsey magically appeared and caught the tent. Rocks were gathered and put in the corners of the tents along with our dry bags and paco pads, and the tents were secure. Paco pads were yoga-size mats that went under the sleeping bags for more comfort on the ground.

By the time we had the tents up and secure, the rain hit. I was glad to have my tent to stay dry. The guides set up some other tents for us and for them to cook under. We had hamburgers, stewed potatoes, corn on the cob, fruit, and cookies, after which Page told us about activities tomorrow. Tomorrow will be what they called a down day, and we will not go down the river, but will stay here and do some other things.

The thunder and lightning came back along with more rain. But the tent was comfy and dry.

And considering that this is getting long, and you might get tired of reading, I think I will stop here and tell you about the rest of the trip in another couple of stories.  Next up is what went on Tuesday and Wednesday, then Thursday and Friday. And I will run the rapids!

Stay tuned.