LOCALadk Magazine

42 Summer 2015 LOCALadk Magazine LOCALadk Chapter 1: Take Me to the River Our crew of 16, mostly Lake Placid locals and a few Rochestarians, safely made it to Vegas and then to Flagstaff where we met PRO, the company who outfitted us with all of of our rafts, gear and food. They shuttled us to the put-in at Lee's Ferry, where we spent the afternoon rigging our boats for the first time. Beth, who worked for PRO stood on the ramp at the bow of each raft as we penciled in diagrams denoting everything onboard. Based on the menu that we'd built, they had strategically stocked and layered our coolers to give us a fair shot at unspoiled meat and cheese by day 16. The bones of our boats were largely made up of kitchen equipment. At each camp, we would de-rig and then pull boxes, hatches and tables out to set up. I had imagined before this trip, all of the times I'd eaten straight from a mountain house bag in the backcountry. What freeze dried meals lacked in taste they made up for in simplicity. Eating, cooking and cleaning in the Grand Canyon could not at all be described as simple. We had one ammo can designated just for spices, another for "utes" or utensils and a third for sponges and dish soap. There were four tables - three for cooking, and one for dish washing. The cleaning station had three buckets. One with hot, soapy water, and then two more for rinsing - all of which required a cap full of bleach. A yellow mesh sack hung from the washing table for dish drying. This sack, we learned, once filled with 16 peoples' dinner plates, dutch ovens and pots and pans, was more than enough one-sided weight to bring the entire table down. We also had a fire pan, a hand-washing station, tarps to line the ground beneath the tables, garbages, a four-burner stove, coffee pots and a wa- ter blaster, which was essentially just a roofing torch modified to stand upright and rapidly boil giant pots of water. Our portable Grand Canyon kitchen rivaled that of any restaurant in downtown Lake Placid. It became evident as we rigged, that despite the list of "must-haves" - satellite phone, med kit, oars, oar locks - the real lifelines of our trip were the cam straps. They secured our frame to our raft, our hatches to the frame, and our gear to the hatches. Big water days would mean rigging to flip and rigging to flip would mean tightening and then re-tightening every single strap. This, we'd find out, was a necessary skill to be honed. Chapter Two: Groovin' on Launch Day The next morning, we all fumbled around our camp kitchen as Beth briefed us one last time on river regulations, wildlife encounters, safety procedures and proper waste management. "Let's talk about the groover." She paused for a moment. "You do not need to hide your deposit. Conserve toilet paper - no catcher's mitts! Use what you need and move on. You do not want to go re-opening cans look- ing for space on day 13." The groover was a 20 millimeter ammo can with a toilet seat attachment. We had five of them to fill. Only feces, toilet paper and curious canyon flies could enter. Urine had to go in an entirely separate bucket, which was dumped in the river daily by whomever was on "groover duty". For the ladies that meant developing a fine-tuned mid-bathrooming two bucket shuffle. A good shuffle required balance, timing and in general, a healthy amount of humility. Setting up the Groover was one of the first to-do's when arriving at a camp, and there was an ongoing unspoken competition to find the best toileting view. If you didn't take care of business in the morning, there were two options; 1.) Wait until the next camp, or 2.) Use the day groover. The Day groover was a smaller ammo can with supplies to include hand sanitizer and rubber gloves. A day groover user would need to find a pri- vate-ish spot on shore, "build a nest" on the ground and then bag the whole mess to be disposed of later. Despite a running bet and countless fireside conversations about what a proper "nest" might look like, no one was desperate enough to need to build one. A kayak paddle served as the "key" to enter the groover so as not to disrupt someone else's groovin'. In the mornings after coffee, the key seemed to hold a permanent position of "in use", so we often had a ver- bal running order. "I"m after Petey and then Bagel is after me!"

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