ZOROASTER

My daughter Sarah and I just finished an eight day raft float through the Grand Canyon. I can report on the two of us with detailed accuracy but to write about the canyon, you really can’t do that. It defies language; anything you say comes out either trite or cliche, inadequate at best, just words. I made the trip in 1992 with a National Science Foundation program at Norther Arizona University so I had some experience but the ride then was as much about collecting research data on the canyon corridor as it was about adventure. I understood the harsh conditions and what the ‘ditch’ can do to your psyche, day after day after day. As we enjoyed the float together all I could do was enjoy and watch Sarah progress through that learning curve. 

We both took lots of photographs and the plan is for me to take her journal notes and assemble a book about our Grand Canyon adventure. In 1997 I told her we would raft the Grand as a graduation present and it’s taken eighteen years to get our calendars and assets aligned but this is the year. There were twenty one people in the party, two boats with giant, inflatable pontoons, three boatmen (gender bias considered, Rachel was considered a boatman) and the head man’s eleven year old son. 

Without falling into the cliche trap I’ll say this; floating the Grand isn’t for everyone but everyone should be so lucky. Conditions are extreme. After the second day you are in a state of combined exhaustion and awe, day after day after day. Righteous believers see God in every bend of the river while heretics see the nature of nature, and they sit together in the splash and the wind and heat and the sand and agree without reservation that it is truly wonderful. Hiking the side canyons and trails involve steep climbs with scrambles over rock formations and tight-roping narrow ledges. At the top you usually have only a few minutes to take in the beauty and catch your breath, then the hike back down is always as difficult as the climb up. The going up burns your thighs while the coming down beats knees and feet into submission. The potential for disaster is in every step you take but you knew that before you started.

I must admit that I am a bit of a thief. In ’92 we all understood that it is against the rules to pick up archeological, geological artifacts but if you are a science educator and plan to use them in your classes, there is a wink-wink, nod-nod and they look the other way. This year I made sure my daughter got a little piece of Zoroaster Granite from the deepest depth of the canyon. Basement rock exposed there is dated at 1.2 billion years, some of the oldest rock on the planet that you can put your hands on. Vishnu Schist is equally old, usually layered on top of the granite. The schist cracks and fractures allowing molten granite to fill the gaps from below. In the deep granite gorges of the canyon you can see lighter colored bands and fingers of granite streaking up out of the water, up the black walls of Vishnu Schist and you try to get your head around the idea of a billion years.

We both have this trip under out belt now, both hoping we can come back again someday. I know that my days for hiking the really, really difficult trails are behind me but I’ve done them and I can live with that. I will be happy to play in the warm run off water pools and take photos of lizards and butterflies. Younger folks can stretch themselves, proving they are equal to the ancient people who made those climbs daily but we know we will never be equal to them. This was their normal and we have a hotel room and a hot shower reserved for the end of the week.