Green River
Recently my girlfriend’s family invited me on a weeklong rafting trip down the Green River in Colorado and Utah. I’ve been scheming to break into the family for a while now, so this was a welcomed stride toward that covert objective. Ultimately, as part of the master plan, I’ll sneak my way into family photos and holiday traditions. The invasion will be subtle enough that no one will see it coming. Imagine remote family members reviewing the most recent christmas card, only to be caught off-guard by a mysterious fellow in the back. “Who’s that, the one with his eyes closed?” they ask. Upon which, my girlfriend will hopefully say, “That’s Jackson. He’s with me.”
The entire trip was planned by Maddie’s younger brother, a self-proclaimed river-rat and class five guide. For reference (not including class six) class five is the most dangerous category of river rapids. The wikipedia page on river difficulty uses words such as violent, complex, and dangerous to describe class five - basically the same descriptors you’d use for a 9-to-5 desk job. I’ve never planned a five day rafting trip before, for seven people, so far deep into the wilderness that we had to bring a gps radio in the event of an emergency, where we responsibly packed in and packed out everything we needed to survive, including food, shelter, beer, clothing, and the groover - but I can appreciate the effort, especially since the rafts took several hours to pump, prep, and pack.
When I tell people I went on a rafting trip, they envision an adrenaline-packed, whitewater excursion down a narrow gorge. That’s exactly what I experienced, minus the whitewater, substituting the adrenaline for peaceful vibes, and changing the narrow gorge for a wide canyon. (Fun fact for the day, a gorge is taller than it is wide; whereas a canyon is wider than it is tall. #RiverKnowledge) Feel free to picture an adventurous version of myself, but in reality, I spent a good portion of the trip sprawled out on a paddle board, towed behind one of the rafts, reading Animal Farm. If you’ve ever seen a cat laying out in the sun, while purring, that’s essentially how I felt.
When we weren’t rowing, or being towed behind the people who were, we camped on the riverbank beaches. We’d beached the 18-foot raft, 16-foot raft, and two kayaks before sundown, then set up our campsites, which included four tents, a table-kitchen, sometimes a fun game (badminton or kubb), the notorious groover (more on that later), and most importantly - fire. It’s amazing that for as much technological progress that mankind has made, sometimes the most peaceful and relaxing experiences are pushing all the technologies aside and returning to a warm fire. It was very therapeutic to detox from technology.
Speaking of clearing your body of unnecessary substances, this next paragraph is about poop. (In grade school they taught me that the last sentence of your prior paragraph should relate to the first sentence of your current paragraph. This was my poor attempt to write good.) When’s the last time you did something for the first time? Have you ever used a groover? When I say that we packed everything out, I mean everything - both the un-eaten and processed food. Picture a rectangular box about the size of two mailboxes, but instead of storing packages from Amazon, it stored packages from fajita-, brot-, and chilli- based dinners; in any other postal system, it’d be hate mail. Unfortunately for Maddie and I, we pulled the short straw for cleaning duty: day four, the day after spicy chilli night. Incredibly fortunate though, without request, Maddie’s dad took the burden upon himself, a true act of self-sacrificial kindness. We’re forever thankful.
The trip was a once in a lifetime experience and incredibly fun. By the time we finished, and unrigged and deflated the rafts, we were fully relaxed (in only a way a multi-day nature trip can provide) and fully homeless (in only a way riverfolk can relate). Our first reintegration into society, we drove to Moab and ate Burgers.
***
I would write more about the trip - I missed a lot of the memorable details, including the night geese, hikes, scenery, and wild cows - but I’m about to board a plane back to Idaho for Thanksgiving. I doubt I’ll have time to write over the next few days (I’ll be busy eating and tending to my food baby) so I’m scheduling this before I go. In a clique homage to Thanksgiving traditions, I’ll finish by saying I’m thankful for family, both my family and Maddie’s family.
