Some 22,000 people run the Colorado River each year, and they’re not all hard-core adventures. Don your lifejacket for the adventure of a lifetime
I have two options.
A: Leap out of bed and retrieve the tarpaulin sheet from my dry bag – it’s drizzling and I ignored advice to sleep with it under my sleeping bag.
B: Stay put and hope it’s a fleeting shower (and avoid that scorpion seen scooting in my direction).
By the time I’ve convinced myself the scorpion’s huddled under a rock, the drizzle’s escalated to a storm, my sleeping bag’s drenched and rain is pooling between my knees.
Next comes the thunder. I’m soggy and shivering and possibly at risk of electrocution, but all I can do… is giggle.
This time last week, I was sat at my desk dealing with mundane admin tasks.
Now, inside the Grand Canyon, on the banks of the Colorado River, miles from civilisation, I’m lying under the stars – and with a 3in rain puddle for a pillow.
It’s night three of my seven-day adventure with Grand Canyon Whitewater, who offer guided rafting trips covering 187 river miles.
Their rafts are motorised, which means there’s no paddling.
Incredibly, their bellies manage to carry enough grub to keep us well-fed for the week – we feast on fajitas, steaks and chilli – cots for all of us, drinking water, first-aid kits and ‘Oscar’ (the chemical toilet).
There are 25 others in my group. A few days earlier, we’d assembled outside Marble Canyon Lodge, a motel in a corner of the northern Arizona Desert, giddy with excitement and clutching our rucksacks.
Ranging in age from 13 (twins Bryan and Evan) to 80-something (their grandpa Fred), we are students, teachers, office workers, a marine biologist and even a brain doctor (Gary).
We are team-mates, and we’ve spent the last two days arm-to-arm on rafts for around seven hours a day, squealing as we crash through rapids, working to unload/load supplies and set up camp, and washing and peeing together in the river.
Apart from me and two other Brits, a father and son, everybody’s American and it’s mainly families. This isn’t the sort of trip you book lightly. It’s a long-dreamed-of cross off that bucket list option, the marker of a major milestone.
The moment we’d set off from our river starting point, Lees Ferry – after donning lifejackets, packing our stuff into dry bags and a brief but thorough safety orientation – all those things had started to drift from our minds.
There were other things to concentrate on, like not falling off the raft, and keeping our eyes peeled for bobcats and desert bighorn sheep (there are rattlesnakes but they’re seldom seen).
Each day follows a similar pattern: couple of hours on the river, hit the shore for lunch and a hike, and then back on the raft until we find a spot to set up camp. The guides take turns to cook and we all chip in with clearing and packing up.
Much of our time on the water is spent cruising, our guides keeping us entertained with tales of the early explorers and geology lessons.
There are plenty of rapids too, ranging from fun teasers to full-on, grade nine to 10 monsters. Hermit and Zoroaster are two of my favourites, but the biggest, Lava, comes on the last full day.
Talk of this bubbling beast, and how it fills even the bravest captains with dread, thrills us all week. The height of my fear hits on day six. We pull up for a hike where we’re promised we’ll be rewarded with a beautiful oasis.
Getting there, however, involves a trek through a narrow gorge, with a 40ft drop. I’m not good with heights. The ledge slowly begins to narrow. Suddenly, for about two metres, it’s just inches wide, with overhanging rock at about chest-height, which means I’ll have to traverse, leaning outwards over that drop.
I’m petrified. Every cell in my body screams that this is a terrible idea.
It’s handy that Gary is behind me. His calm encouragement unlocks my frozen limbs and I begin to edge along.
I make it – and yes, the oasis is spectacular – but all I can think about is I have to tackle that ledge on the way back. So while everybody else frolics in the natural spring, I sit down and do some deep-breathing exercises.
I survive the way back then burst into tears. The relief! I am not somebody who cries often, but that day, my eyeballs give the river a run for their money.
People say you can’t come to the Grand Canyon without being affected. I’d sobbed the day before too, during a hike at mile 75 (I’d been overwhelmed by how beautiful the rock was).
Lava is so ferocious, its roar echoes through the canyon for miles. When we get near, we pull up on the banks and the guides hop out to do a recce.
When we begin our approach, we are filled with excited terror again. We’re a bunch of regular Joes whose lives are suddenly in the hands of Mother Nature – and it feels amazing.
TRAVEL FACTS
Abi Jackson was a guest of the Arizona Tourist Board. Visit www.visitarizona.com
A seven-day full canyon motor rafting adventure with Grand Canyon Whitewater (www.grandcanyonwhitewater.com) costs from $2,535 per person (approx £1,624), based on 2015 departure dates. Includes helicopter ride out of the Canyon and flight back to Marble Canyon at end of the tour.
Rooms at Marble Canyon Lodge (www.marblecanyoncompany.com), where it’s advised you stay the night before, from approx £45 per night.
British Airways (www.britishairways.com) offers return direct flights from London Heathrow to Phoenix from £743 per person.