When we saw their camp there were hot girls in swimsuits setting up tents. I like to imagine it was Robin.
Eat that, Ansel Adams
It is an understatement to call the Grand Canyon deep. It's a grand understatement to call that an understatement. It's easy to lose scope of the sheer size of the place in the same way you lose track of altitude in an airplane. The Grand Canyon is deep in exactly the same way that Nebraska isn't.
Don't believe me? Find the thirty-seven foot raft carrying fourteen people in this picture.
See?
So there's a lot of rock hanging out on these cliffs. And, as it turns out, very old rock tends to be very weak, not very strong. So every once in a while, a big storm or flood or an extra gust of gravity or a foolish rock climber will come along and dump a bunch of the superfluous rock into the river below. This actually happened not too far from our camp the last night of the trip. I woke with a start absolutely certain the ski patrol was triggering avalanches with a howitzer. No. Just a big damn rock falling into a giant river. Go back to sleep.
When enough of these sloughed-off slabs and boulders collect in one place, usually at the mouth of a side canyon, a rough patch in the river is formed. A rapid. Some are nothing more than gentle ripples that subtly remind you of the movement of the river like rumble strips in the center of the highways in places where they don't use snowplows. Other rapids along the Colorado qualify, geologically speaking, as waterfalls. Seriously. Waterfalls.
If you choose to go from one end of the canyon to the other, as we had, there is no alternate route. You cannot simply decide to take another river around the rapids. It is while charging headlong into these rapids that you learn just exactly how much force it takes to erode a trench a mile deep. A lot, as it turns out.
It was during just such a rapid, one aptly named Dubendorf, where the thrashing of the boat and my own incompetence brought me face-to-face with the giant metal box right in front of the swamper's seat. I turned to watch Claire lift the motor from the water as he said, "Shit, hold on!" When I woke up a few seconds later, I was in Texas, I think. My sunglasses were pressed into my face and I had the distinct feeling that I had been punched by someone I hadn't seen standing there. That someone was Dubendorf.
When I wasn't getting my face mashed into an unforgiving motor box, carrying toilet boxes to and from the boat or being talked down to because I wasn't mixing the oatmeal to the right consistency, there was actually some time for acting like a tourist. We made casual stops along the way for hikes to some of the most scenic places on earth. We'd just pull over and tie up then, oh, paradise? Yeah, it's right here. Stay and play a while.
Damn nice of the park service to install a waterpark, don't you think?
Another notable point about the river is how much life it attracts in the middle of such a vast desert of nothing. Cactus crop up from solid rock, taking root in the tiniest crevice of moisture.
A years-long drought has driven the big-horn sheep down to the river. Normally browsers in the high cliffs, these guys were out in numbers, eating the grass along the banks.
These next two pictures are for the purpose of compare and contrast. Ladies, Pastor Mark.
Even his hat is sexier than mine.
But enough about my completely heterosexual man-crush on the nice Presbyterian man...
On our seventh day on the river, we pulled around a bend expecting to find a big, empty camp site for our fairly large group. Instead we found a couple of row boats and a handful of people pulled into the site setting up camp. Claire knew the riverman guiding the group and stopped to give the guy a hard time for taking such a large site for such a small group.
"What the hell kind of VIP's you have in this group anyway, Brian? More government Scientists?"
Brian, hummed and hahed about it just being some private group he was leading and never gave Claire a very straight answer. After a little more hazing, we went on our way to find a suitable spot to put in for the night before it got dark.
A while later, as we were nearly done setting up for dinner, Brian chugged down the river and into the shallow bay where our boats were beached. He was in a small metal motorboat with a small canopy for shade. In the front of the boat were a couple of passengers.
"Hey, do you think you could spare some charcoal?" Brian asked Claire as he pulled along side where we were standing on the back of our boat.
"Oh sure, steal our camp site then come bum our supplies. Can we get you some beer too?"
As the two men chatted, Claire had me fetch an extra bag of charcoal from our other boat. As I returned with the coals and some cold beers from the drag bag, I recognized one of the passengers.
Sean Penn.
Now... in this instant I could have said any number of clever, polite or insightful things. I could also have chosen to say nothing at all. Instead, I said, "Hey, look who it is!" As if everyone was wondering and, thank God I showed up to figure it out. "We should talk", I said, "I actually make part of my living acting."
He was clearly underwhelmed. Even more than he should have been.
Naturally, Pastor Mark knew exactly what to say. "Is it cool with you guys if I take a picture?" He always knows the right thing to say.
After regaining my celebrity confidence I tried my next angle. "Hey", because that's how you address movie stars, "you guys need some homemade beer?"
Then he spoke to me...
"No... we're good."
I guess we weren't going to hang out then, I figured. Too bad, we would be BEST friends.
Oh.. the other guy in the picture? Eddie Vedder. I bet he feels like a serious Dubendorf for not being recognizable enough for me to say something like, "Hey, what the hell are you doing with a wakeboard on the freaking Colorado River in a fifteen horsepower boat?"
Filed under - Entertainment | Photos | TravelWhen we saw their camp there were hot girls in swimsuits setting up tents. I like to imagine it was Robin.
Pete, finally SEAN PENN! Yeah! But it could have been worse. If I'd been there I'd have started talking like Spicoli. I'm sure THAT would have went over even better. Take heart.
Sean looks pretty good! I wouldn't know Eddie Vedder if he walked by me on the street (though I know who he is of course).
Cool stuff.
Hey ... that is really huge. Maybe if the picture had a higher resolution it would be easier to enlarge. But with the bear eye i can't find that raft.
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What in the hell are Sean Penn and Eddie Vedder doing hanging out together in the middle of the Grand Canyon?? I've never seen anything so random.
I wonder who was in the rest of their group back at their campsite. So strange...