In the morning Hot Head and his family were the last ones to break camp and get on the rafts. This would become a recurring event. Every day we would all sit on the rafts waiting for them. I never could figure out what they were doing that made them late.
We started down the river and after a while spotted some researchers with their scientific gear camped on a beach, doing research on the effects of the flood. The TV crew wanted to interview them and so did we. Winger turned our raft toward the shore.
As we got closer I got a better look at our “scientist.” He looked like a serial killer. Shoulder length hair, a madman’s beard, a tie-dyed t-shirt. “I don’t like the looks of this group,” Winger said. As if to confirm his suspicions, the “scientist” walked up to the riverbank, boldly unbuttoned his pants, and began urinating directly in our direction. We decided not to stop.
The day was filled with intermittent rapids. After one series, I notice the California women are putting on lipstick. Not Chapstick or Carmex to protect their lips, but ruby red lipstick. They even have a little round mirror to stare into.
Another habit that I’m noticing is that of the men on my raft. After every rapid they come back to the middle of the boat, getting into their ammo cans and pulling out a camera or putting it back in. Hot Head would get soaking wet on the front of the boat and then come to the back of the raft and comb his hair before going back up to the front to get wet again.
One guy was always too slow to get back up front when the rapids came, and kept blocking our shots of the rapids. Winger had a big squirt gun that he wouldn’t hesitate to use if you blocked his vision. I leaned back and said, “Next time you use that squirt gun, just tap me on the shoulder so I can get a shot.”
Seconds later he yells, “Clear the middle!” and a spray of cold water hits the guy. He gets out of the middle quickly. The TV guy says to Winger, “Thanks for getting that goofy bastard out of my way.”
We’re hitting a lot of little rapids today. It’s good practice for the big ones. I’ve got the Nikonos in my right hand while I hold on with my left. We hit President Harding Rapid. It’s another one of those ones that’s supposed to be nothing. Of course, it’s a lot more than nothing. It’s a real bitch. We drop into a huge hole and right into a wall of water. The entire front half of the boat flies back at me. I go airborne, my feet fly above my head, and I’m holding onto the raft with one hand like I’m a bull rider. I manage to get one shot off, fired with no idea of what I’m getting.
I look down and Prince is dragging the TV reporter back into the boat. He flew off the raft when we hit the wall of water but somehow managed to grab hold of a rope on the side.
In the afternoon we reach the spot where the Little Colorado runs into the Colorado. The Little Colorado is pure turquoise water and very warm. We get out and swim some small rapids. The California women want to wash their hair and become upset when they’re told that for environmental reasons they’re not allowed to use shampoo in the Little Colorado.
Swimming in the warm water with the Nikonos, I end up missing the real show. Getting off the raft, the TV reporter slips off a seat, bounces on the front tubes and flies off the boat, landing on his stomach in three inches of water. Not missing a beat, he looks up and says, “What did the German judge give me?” All his cameraman, could say was, “I wish I would have gotten that on tape.”
