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Published: September 13th 2008
We hired a two-man canoe and after a minimal briefing from Dave (the driver - who enjoys a good fig) we paddled off on the 31 mile canoe trip through Escalante and Dominguez Canyons.
Part of the enjoyment of adventure is not knowing who or where your decisions will lead. This is what I was thinking when Dave waved us off without any safety briefing, and just the vague arrangement of picking us up from the side of the river bank in two days time.
The next 3 days we spent paddling down stream and parking up where we fancied, taking breaks by tying the canoe up to a rock and listening to the lapping of the current whilst lying back and watching the clouds above. There was the usual; "Your side! Paddle your side"; "mind the rocks"; "Quick! Watch out for the bank" but overall we were a pretty awesome duo, making a lot of headway on the first day and setting up camp in
the most beautiful camping spot I have ever camped in. It was great to be left to set up camp in hand picked spots along the way.
After eating on the fire
More your side
The metal thing resting between my legs was the porta loo - it never got used!we chilled out to the sounds of the river lapping the shore and went to sleep staring at the stars.
We woke up the next morning ready for a hike into the canyon. Our walk took us along rope bridges, down an active railway line and over a stream to the rocks which were adorned with ancient Indian petroglyphs. The weather was fitting for the dry, red sand canyon - very hot - just how us Brits like it.
We left camp 1 late that afternoon, perhaps a little too confident that we could paddle hard down the river to cover the distance needed to get to a suitable camp 2.
We traversed the river, went through some rapids and kept looking for suitable places to bed for the night. But nothing was quite right - either too reedy, the banks too steep, or too rocky. There was an unspoken tension in the air. Both of us knew we had to find somewhere but neither of us wanted to add more stress to the situation. It got to about 8pm and the light was beginning to fade and all the places Rich went to explore were still
proving unsuitable. I wondered if he was being too fussy, but trusted his experience in these matters. I just stayed with the canoe clinging onto reeds hoping I wouldn't be swept Rich-less down the river.
Eventually Rich came back from the bushes saying "yes, this could do". Great! But from the canoe, I couldn't actually see anything that could possibly be camp like. In fact, the thick covering of bushes on the bank meant I couldn't see anything. Rich told me to stay in the canoe until he had hacked a "path" with his machette. Once done, I unpacked the essentials (everything) from the canoe and set about choosing the best spot to put up the tent. First choice: too many ants. Second choice: too hard and rocky. Third choice: ants, rocks and windy - sod it.
That night after dinner on the fire, we climbed up the hill to look at the reflection of the full moon on the river.
What an adventure being alive is.
I worry sometimes that I am too restless, that I am too tempted by adventure and perhaps each new adventure fuels the next and means you become more and
Camp one
An idyllic campsite, overlooking the river which we had to ourselves. more unsettled.
But for me, what keeps me eager for the next adventure can sometimes be wanting to know what sustains me from the inside when everything isn't there to protect me. It is a test of the self, to see how you will be, if you will shrink back or stand up? Isn't that a test worth taking?
Roll on the next adventure...
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