This is some parts of Chris Canning’s memories from the Green River family rafting trip. He traveled with Sheri Griffith Expeditions 10 years ago as a 14 year old.
During the evenings, after making a fire line to move our supplies from the boats to shore, each family would set up their tent while the guides began to prepare our meal. Sitting in the “living room”, where we all congregated to eat together, we got to indulge in conversation with the other folks on the trip. We were surrounded by a pretty interesting group of families…a dean and his family from Princeton, folks from Colorado, and a few other families from the east coast.
Green River Magic!
Our five-day river rafting journey began with a breathtaking 40-minute flight to the boat launch on the Green River. We were floating above the rugged landscape within the buzzing confines of the small six person aircraft, and I was the co-pilot! After landing safely, we hiked down to the boat launch. As I wrote in my journal, “It was the most scenic, beautiful hike I have ever been on. I’ve never seen anything like it. The sun was rising and there were so many canyons.” The only sounds to be heard were the crunches of footsteps and the soft voices that evaporated into the air. “It was so quite that my ears hurt when I stopped alone, ahead of the group.”
We made it down to the boats where we were greeted by a ranger. He briefed us on the wilderness basics—all that I wrote in my journal is that we were not supposed to poop in the wilderness, however, I still carry with me today the information given to us about microtrash.
I cannot remember whether it was the ranger or one of our guides who spoke to us about microtrash, but I still remember the message to this day. For those of you who don’t know, microtrash is all the small bits and pieces that we leave behind. It could be small pieces of plastic that have fallen off our shoes, small crumbs of food that have dropped off our table, or a broken zipper. Managing microtrash is a big deal on the Green River. Not only did it preserve the integrity of the land on which we were visiting, but it also kept critters, big and small, from frequenting the popular camping sites. It was a matter of respecting the land ethic and safety.
As an intern for the New York City Department of Parks and Recreation this summer running a youth program to help keep the parks clean, I talk to my teens about microtrash quite a bit, often smiling to myself as I think about the Green River.
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Our guides—Kaylen, Brenda, Morgan, Paul, and Erin—were spectacular. I wrote that, “The boat people were very nice”—the highest complement from a 14-year-old. Day one on the river consisted of reading, swimming, peeing in the river, a hike, good food, and bocce. I remember my parents saying how much they liked this kind of family vacation…no cars and no cooking. I didn’t quite understand at the time, but now have a deep appreciation for those sentiments.
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Our guides—Kaylen, Brenda, Morgan, Paul, and Erin—were spectacular. I wrote that, “The boat people were very nice”—the highest complement from a 14-year-old. Day one on the river consisted of reading, swimming, peeing in the river, a hike, good food, and bocce. I remember my parents saying how much they liked this kind of family vacation…no cars and no cooking. I didn’t quite understand at the time, but now have a deep appreciation for those sentiments.
During the evenings, after making a fire line to move our supplies from the boats to shore, each family would set up their tent while the guides began to prepare our meal. Sitting in the “living room”, where we all congregated to eat together, we got to indulge in conversation with the other folks on the trip. We were surrounded by a pretty interesting group of families…a dean and his family from Princeton, folks from Colorado, and a few other families from the east coast.
At the end of the first day after watching several people drop their strawberry shortcakes in the sand, I was ready for my first groover experience.
The groover is the river-rafting version of a toilet. Carrying out what we carried in meant that we also had to bring back our own waste. The groover intrigued all of us first time rafters—I was certainly a little nervous, but at least I didn’t have to worry about clogging the toilet!
Blue go through, black stay back. That was the signal used to indicate that someone was using the groover. I flipped the top of the can so that the black side was facing up and proceeded into the reeds to find the throne. Now, we were told that the groover got its name from the two long grooves that would be indented on one’s rump as a result of sitting on the little black box. Fortunately for us, we had a toilet seat make things a bit more comfortable. Regardless, this groover business was a big deal—especially for those of us new to this kind of camping.
I remember hearing some nervous chatter among the families once we learned about the groover. Well, all those fears, insecurities, and disgusts disappeared shortly after sitting down on the can and lifting my head. Bam!?! It was like I could see for the first time. Maybe it was because I was an energetic teen and had not taken a second to just sit and observe my surroundings yet on the trip. Being forced to sit—even for just a few minutes—I was finally able to appreciate the environment through which we were traveling. The soft light glowing on the red canyon walls, the sounds of the water whooshing by, the cool, granular sand between my toes…a true connection to nature. An unfamiliar sounding thud brought me back to reality replacing the telltale splash. Mission accomplished.
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Now, many people probably associate river-rafting trips with the conquest of raging, rockin’, rapids…whooping, and perhaps an almost-falling-out-of-the-boat story to tell everyone at the end of the run. Well, that ain’t the Green River. In fact, I would classify its rapids as giddily gurgling on a good day. This made reading, sun bathing, good conversations, and relaxation very easy. This gentle river was also conducive to water wars.
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Now, many people probably associate river-rafting trips with the conquest of raging, rockin’, rapids…whooping, and perhaps an almost-falling-out-of-the-boat story to tell everyone at the end of the run. Well, that ain’t the Green River. In fact, I would classify its rapids as giddily gurgling on a good day. This made reading, sun bathing, good conversations, and relaxation very easy. This gentle river was also conducive to water wars.
It would begin with a harmless splash—a mere cooling off, sometimes seemingly accidental. Occasionally, a retaliatory splash would be sent back, often hitting unintended targets along with the original instigator. These battles were a highlight of my days on the Green River. In the midst of a particularly involved water fight, I found myself alone manning a raft! All my fellows had abandoned ship and I was left to defend myself with a large bucket. Kaylen clawed his way back on to my raft—someone else clinging to his body—but not before I had extinguished him with several large buckets full of Green River water.
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All told, our trip down the Green River was magical. Although physically exhausted and sorely needing a shower by the end, my family felt mentally and spiritually uplifted by our journey. We were sad to have our trip end. It had been a novel experience floating down the Green River together—a trip we still reminisce about ten years later.
Chris Canning
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All told, our trip down the Green River was magical. Although physically exhausted and sorely needing a shower by the end, my family felt mentally and spiritually uplifted by our journey. We were sad to have our trip end. It had been a novel experience floating down the Green River together—a trip we still reminisce about ten years later.
Chris Canning
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