Kayaking the Colorado

Throughout our awesome adventure, we’ve noticed a funny thing about Google Maps. Many times it has told us it would take so and so hours to get to where we were going, but then, surprise! It took longer. Maybe it’s because Google doesn’t have an RV setting, and a lot of the roads we’ve driven are not normal roads. For instance, our drive from Sedona to the Grand Canyon was straight up a cliff. Maybe a car could have done what Google said we could do? Jess speculated this was where the phrase “as the crow flies” came from.  Pretty easy for a crow to do that. Wouldn’t take long for them to get there. Us? Who knows. Not Google. 

Besides, for most of our drive from Grand Canyon to Lee’s Ferry, Arizona, we had no cell service , so we weren’t sure how much longer we had left anyway. Lee’s Ferry is just below the Glen Canyon Dam on the Colorado River, and it marks the point that serious rapids begin. We had booked a half-day kayak trip that would be really more of a float, as we started close to the dam and drifted with the river’s current back to Lee’s Ferry. First, we’d be shuttled upriver on a boat with our kayaks to the drop-off. Our shuttle boat left Lee’s Ferry at noon, so we were a little nervous about the almost three hour drive to get there. 

That drive through mostly Navajo lands was beautiful and barren, and it seemed even more so due to how hard the nation had been hit by Covid. Normally, many places along the road would be lined with stalls selling Navajo goods, but we saw only a few of these operating. As we got closer to Lee’s Ferry, it seemed as if we would be just about right on time. Awesome! It would still be a scramble once we arrived, because we needed to eat lunch, change into kayaking clothes, and figure out what exactly we could and should not bring. This would be the first water adventure on our trip, and we weren’t used to dealing with things like dry bags.

Lee’s Ferry is a popular day-trip destination for river recreation, and many outfits take multi-day trips down the Colorado for rafting, kayaking, and camping. ⛺️ We don’t need to tell you the parking lot was packed. We had our little predictable scramble, equal parts RV parking, dry bag packing, and food scarfing plus commensurate tension and a little mask forgetting. The best part of the race to the shuttle was discovering that there was another couple in the lot next to us who were also scrambling to get to our boat. Thankfully, we made it and didn’t have to wait until the next one at 3. 

The ride upriver was stunning, as we wound through the sheer red-walled canyon. Our guide, Bobby, was a man of few words. At times during the ride, he slowed to point out landmarks, like the giant sandy “beach” which was actually a small mountain that would let us know we were 30 minutes from the boat ramp, or share useful info, like that it was better to stay along the low grassy banks and not the sheer cliff walls. Not as easy to execute a kayak rescue along cliff walls, I guess. Also, be mindful that the wind could pick up in the afternoon, but don’t worry, it usually came in short 15 minute bursts, and we could hunker down on said sandy beach to wait them out. Just before he dropped us off, he also pointed out a place where we could find some ancient petroglyphs. 

Our family and the couple with us clambered out of the boat into the shallow freezing cold water and unloaded our gear and the kayaks. Bobby asked us if we had any last questions, and the woman in the couple said she would take any tips he had, as she hadn’t canoed much. Bobby had not tips, but Cramer told her rule number one of kayaking was to not call it a canoe. The joke did not land, and as we watched Bobby boat back downriver and disappear around a curve, we shoved off. 

Did we mention the kayak trip was supposed to last three hours? That would be how long we sang the Gilligan’s Island theme song. Luckily, we did have some kayaking experience, but this didn’t prevent power struggles from breaking out in our two inflatable double kayaks. Once we figured out the correct crew configuration for each kayak, it was mostly smooth sailing. Kayaking. But it did seem to be a little more effort than simply floating down stream. 

Our first stop was at the petroglyphs. After beaching our kayaks, it was a short hike to the soaring cliff face that was the Descending Sheep Petroglyph Panel. The petroglyphs are estimated to be between 3,000 and 6,000 years old. Sadly, in 2010, the panel was defaced when some horse’s ass carved his dumb name on this precious cultural treasure. The man was fined $10,000, which was only slightly more than it cost to mitigate the damage he caused. Despite the shock of still being able to see evidence of graffiti on the panel, the experience of seeing these ancient markings in such a remote area was still impressive.

We continued down the river, laughing at ourselves as each bend had us oohing and aaahing at yet another new and stunning view. Doing our best to follow Bobby’s advice, we stuck to the low sandy banks and avoided the cliffs, lines of fisherman, and motor boats. When our tummies grumbled, we pulled up onto the biggest sandy beach we’d seen so far, right in the curve of the famous Horseshoe Bend. Our first clue as to where we were was when we glanced up at the distant cliff edge above us and saw tiny specks that were people looking back down at us. 

Back in the our kayaks, we forged on. Again noticing that we were working harder than we thought we’d have to, we were all just grateful that the wind Bobby had warned us of had not materialized. That’s when the sun went behind the clouds, and the wind picked up. No question we all felt a little colder despite the effort we were putting into paddling, but we didn’t yet feel the need to shelter. We did, however, feel the need to see the giant sandy beach that would indicate we were getting close to being back inside Franklin. The sun peeked out, and the wind picked up enough for us to retreat to a sandy for a snack. 

Bobby’s advice that the wind would come in 15 minute bursts proved to be mistaken this time, and the wind never really died down again. But it wasn’t long after we got back in our kayaks that we spotted the sandy beach. We also spotted some white horses grazing along the banks of the river. With grim determination we paddled on, counting down the 30 minutes till we could change into warmers drier clothes. Finally, the boat ramp appeared, and after maneuvering through the crown of fishing boats waiting in line to be hauled out, we pulled our kayaks up onto the grassy bank, and Henry literally kissed the ground. He said he was joking, but I don’t think he was. As soon as we were in clean, dry clothes, the kids said they couldn’t wait to do it again. Maybe this time a longer trip, with rapids and camping. 

Our next camp at Lake Powell was an hour+ drive away, and on the way there, we knew that we could access the Horseshoe Bend overlook where we saw those tiny specks of humans. We had to traverse a pretty steep mountain pass to get there, and somehow Cramer upset a semi driver in the process. The driver blared his horn and performed an offensive gesture as we turned into the overlook parking area. The sun was now setting, and the busy quarter-mile hike out to the overlook indicated it was a real hot spot on that Friday evening. We discovered why as we reached the overlook and peered over the edge down at the beach where we had eaten our lunch just a few hours ago. We’re not going to bother trying to describe what we saw with words, and we’ll let a few accompanying photos try to do that work for us. The railing along the cliff edge was not extensive, and competing for our amazement with the view were the surprising number of apparently fearless people clambering perilously close to the drop-off for golden hour photo ops. We snapped a few pics of our own while standing safely next to the railing, then headed out to try to make our Lake Powell camp site before dark.