Rafting

Tanner Rapid stretched wide across the river, a sprawling maze of waves and channels that demanded our full attention as we approached. The river fanned out over a broad gravel bar, with scattered rocks breaking the surface and creating multiple tongues of swift current threading through the shallows. We lined up the dory toward a clean chute on the left side, where the water gathered speed and built into a series of fast-moving standing waves. As we dropped in, the bow lifted and fell rhythmically over the waves, each trough sending a cool splash across the deck.

The confluence of the Little Colorado River was a striking meeting of waters, where the deep green of the Colorado mingled with the surreal turquoise-blue flow of the Little Colorado. As we rowed toward the junction, the canyon seemed to open slightly, revealing soft, sculpted limestone ledges and a broad, shallow channel where the lighter water shimmered vividly against the darker current. We pulled the dory to shore and stepped out onto warm, smooth rocks, the air thick with the sound of rushing water and the gentle rustle of wind through tamarisk and willow along the banks.

Nankoweap Camp unfolded on a broad, inviting stretch of beach with sweeping views both up and down the canyon. As we eased the dory onto the shore, the expansive sandbar gave us plenty of space to spread out and settle in, with the towering cliffs of Nankoweap Canyon standing sentinel just upstream. The afternoon light poured down the wide corridor, lighting up the crimson and cream layers of rock and casting sharp shadows along the cliff faces. A gentle breeze stirred across the camp, carrying the faint scent of sage and warming sand.

Saddle Canyon Camp welcomed us with a wide, sandy bench tucked beneath towering canyon walls, a perfect place to pause and settle in after a full day on the river. As we pulled the dory onto the shore, the afternoon light warmed the soft sand underfoot and cast a golden glow across the layered cliffs rising steeply behind the camp. A clear stream from Saddle Canyon trickled nearby, its cool, fresh water winding through polished stones and feeding a thin line of bright green vegetation that stood out against the red rock.

Riding along with Roger Dale is like riding with an encyclopedia for hours on end. This was aboard the Santa Ana as we powered through Marble Canyon on the way to Nankoweap.

Peacefully floating down the Colorado River marveling at the canyon, the colors, and the random tree on the top of this rock. This was aboard the Santa Ana with Roger Dale.

Cave Springs Rapid greeted us with a playful burst of whitewater tucked into a bend of the canyon that felt secluded and intimate. As we approached, the river curled gently to the right, where a clear spring trickled from the canyon wall and merged into the flow. The rapid itself formed a short but energetic wave train that bounced across the current with quick, choppy waves. The dory slipped smoothly into the run, lifting over the first set of waves before dropping neatly into the troughs, the hull flexing with each punch of water beneath us.

Stepping out of the dory and into Redwall Cavern felt like entering a vast, hidden cathedral carved by the river itself. The cavern stretched wide and deep, its vaulted ceiling arching high above us, casting cool shade that wrapped around the soft sandy floor. Our footsteps fell quietly on the fine, pale sand, muffled by the cavern’s immense stillness. Light filtered in from the river’s edge, throwing soft golden hues against the curved limestone walls and making the textures of the rock glow gently.

The approach to Redwall Cavern was one of those stretches where the river seemed to slow just enough to let the canyon’s scale fully settle in. Morning light poured gently over the rim, casting long shadows across the burnished cliffs and illuminating the deep reds and ochres of the canyon walls. As we rowed downstream, the dory glided smoothly across glassy water that mirrored the towering rock above, every stroke of the oars rippling through reflections of stone and sky. The air was still and cool, carrying the faint scent of river silt and sun-warmed rock.

29 Mile Rapid arrived as a broad, surging wave train that stretched across the width of the river and invited us to open up the dory’s speed. The current quickened noticeably, funneling us into a long series of rolling waves that rose steadily from the green water ahead. As we entered, the bow climbed each smooth crest and dropped cleanly into the deep troughs, the boat flexing with the rhythm of the river.