grandcanyon08

Stupid FAF

Blog Written with a loving hand by kitt some time around 14:52 on 27 July 2008

I find the changes in "favorite" phrases of the river guides interesting. Last time I was here, there was a lot of "FAF" talk, where FAF is an acronym from Farting Around Forever (or, of course, the more offensive F word, if you prefer). I think the guides then were concerned about the time, and getting everyone to move along, hurry up, we have a lot of rowing to do today.

This time down the Canyon, though, the key phrase is, "If you're hot, you're stupid." Given we're floating along a river with water not higher than 55° F, and all it takes is a quick splash to cool you down, it doesn't matter much if the outside temperature is 95+° F, there's no reason to be overheated (or even just heated).

Update: I mentioned this to Charly, about the different phrases. He said that, yes FAF is still used. He didn't realize it was an acronym, though.

Hold on!

Blog Instead of being asleep at 16:29 on 27 July 2008, kitt created this:

Today was another big day of rapids. Kris and I were in Matt's boat, after I transferred away from the paddle boat. Sure, I was behind Andy in the paddle boat, a big reason to stay in the boat, sitting behind him, but we were going through rapids today, big rapids, and I really didn't want to paddle through them.

So, I jumped ship, and joined Kris and Pat in Matt's boat. I suspect that two consecutive days in the same guide's boat is a little discouraged, but it worked for us. We knew what to expect, having spent the previous day running a large number of rapids. Well, and Matt knew what to expect when I jumped into the back of the boat, where I enjoyed looking around, taking pictures, and, when the need arose, peeing in a can without effort.

Today's rapids were Forster Rapid (6), Fossil Rapid (6), 128 Rapid (4), Specter Rapid (6), Bedrock Rapid (8) and Dubendorff Rapid (8). The only one of note, of course, was Specter Rapid.

So, here we are, going along down the River. We've had a couple rapids, nothing too spectacular, Kris has ridden the bull on one, which involves sitting at the very front of the boat, feet over the front, holding onto the chicken rope between your legs, and crashing through the rapids chest first. I've spent most of the rapids standing behind Matt, as standing gives me more flexibility: I can shift my weight, I can duck, I can crouch, and I can jump clear over everyone in the appropriate case. Better, if needed, I can take a picture of Kris getting pounded by the water. Best thought ever.

Coming up on Specter, however, Matt started tying down everything on his boat, making sure everything was well secured. He told me that, no, I'd have to sit for this one.

I chose to see in the back right.

So, being my normal worried self, I held on when we entered the rapids.

Rapids in the Grand Canyon often come with wave trains, which are standing waves of water, sometimes breaking, sometimes not, and usually diagonal to the direction we want to go, which is straight down the river. If the wave never breaks, a boat can usually just slide up the front of the wave, and back over the back of it. If the wave is breaking, it will do so either continually (churning white water) or periodically, where it crashes, then smooths, crashes, then smooths.

In these latter crashing-smoothing waves, if the boat has timed the wave so that it enters while the wave is smoothing, the boat will just glide up and over the wave. On the other hand, if the guide times the boat to enter the wave when the wave is crashing, we all get gloriously super soaked.

Sometimes we fall out of the boat when this happens.

Sometimes the boat flips.

Of course, all of this assumes the boat hits the wave head-on. When it hits it sideways, crashing or smooth is irrelevant if the wave is big enough. A big enough wave means the boat is flipping sideways.

So, we enter the wave train of Specter Rapid, Pat and Kris in the front, Matt rowing, my sitting back right.

First wave, perfect entry, no problem.

Second wave hits the boat oddly, and we spin counter clockwise.

I'm watching the next wave, the one in a breaking-smoothing cycle in front of us, and note with detached interest that, hey, I'm the one approaching the wave first. The boat had spun around about 120° and I was closest to the wave. Had I reached out and up about a foot with my right hand, I could have touched the top of the wave, which was above me, as the right side of the boat lifted up, the left side dropping down. Matt pulled in his right oar, we rounded the top of the wave without it breaking on or under us, and Matt pushed out his right oar again to straighten us as the next wave came crashing down on us.

At the end of the rapids, Matt pulled out into an eddy, and we waited for the other boats to come through. Josh pulled up and started heckling Matt for going in sideways.

Turns out, Matt admitted later, that when we were knocked sideways, he thought we were goners and were going to flip on the wave I could have touched. Kris and Pat had also thought we were goners, being much more aware of the angle the boat was in.

Me? I had been concentrating so hard on that wave, that I had no idea how far the boat had tipped. I don't know if my sitting on the high side of the boat had any effect on the outcome of that rapid, but I'd like to think it did.

Camera notes

Blog kitt decided around 18:04 on 27 July 2008 to publish this:

7 days (including today) left. 3 batteries ~ 1500 - 1800 pictures left. So... 200 - 250 a day. might be difficult. May not get so many macro shots. Andy's taken maybe 20-30 to my 600-700. Quality, man.

Journey

Blog kitt decided around 18:05 on 27 July 2008 to publish this:

We stayed tonight at Stone Creek, around mile 132. Turns out, Stone Creek actually has flowing water this time of the year, unlike many other of the side canyons. Not only that, but Stone Creek has a waterfall, too.

After finding a place to pitch the tent, on an peninsula in the lee side of a large stone, Kris, Andy and I walked over to the creek and started walking up it into the side canyon.

After about 50 meters up Stone Creek Canyon, Kris and Andy paused, and noted the creek running down. After this morning's lessons about dams and hydropower, Andy and Kris jumped at the opportunity to build a dam on the creek.

I kept walking up the creek, a little annoyed with the two of them. There was a waterfall to see! And a side canyon to walk up! What were they doing building a dam? I continued up the creek, taking pictures of the sedimentary rock and other interesting rocks along the way, walking farther and farther away from the two of them.

And then I realized, this whole trip wasn't about how fast I could hike up to a waterfall in the Grand Canyon. I was on a once-in-a-decade trip with my husband and with a good friend: the journey with them was far more important than the destination of this walk. If I missed the waterfall (which I didn't) would it matter if I had spent that time building a dam with Kris and Andy?

No.

So, I turned back around, walked back to where they were, and started filling in the cracks of their dam between pictures.

And when we were done, what do you know? The three of us made it to the waterfall just fine.

Cruft

Blog Written with a loving hand by kitt some time around 20:18 on 27 July 2008

I used the word "cruft" to Matt today. He looked at me puzzled.

"Cruft? That's a word? Is that a real word?"

I looked at him puzzled. I'd been using cruft in sentences for over 14 years. How could he not know what the word "cruft" meant?

I explained, in programming terms, it's the extra, outdated code left around that sorta works, sorta doesn't, and needs to be cleaned out. In non-programming terms, it's the extra, crappy stuff, say flotsam and jetsam that get stuck in an eddy, that needs to be cleaned out.

He didn't believe me. He asked Sam if he had heard of the word. Sam hadn't either.

So, because it's in my notes, here's the reference and origin.

Passed out

Blog Posted by kitt at 08:00 on 28 July 2008

I had problems last night staying awake, but not for lack of trying.

After we arrived at the dune beach, and went to the waterfall, Andy, Kris and I looked for flat rocks in the Stone Creek side canyon creek bed. We were looking for the best skipping rock, but were not in agreement on how best to determine said "best". I stated that the only way to know which was best was to control for the thrower, as I was sure I had the best rocks, but by far the worst arm.

I insisted Kris throw my rocks, to check for "best," and was like, "Uh, throw yours, too? Okay!"

My rocks did win.

Of course.

Eventually, we wandered back to our tent, where Andy pulled out the three small discs he had brought with him, and offered a game of disc golf.

I've decided that playing disc golf with Andy has to be entertaining regardless of the environment. Trying to best him on even one hole was difficult. The game? Impossible. Especially when one bad throw puts the disc, the non-floating disc, in the Colorado River, to float out to the bottom of Lake Mead. Yeah. Joy.

Starting at the middle of camp, we used a red rock, a fellow traveller's hanging life jacket, a stick propped up in the sand, another life jacket that was accessible only by throwing a disc through another companion's open tent, a random white rock, the first aid kit and, finally, our own tent for the end.

I tried keeping track of my score based on my score relative to par, but Andy stopped calling out par after a few holes. I then kept track based on my score relative to Andy's score, but that became too depressing. I stopped keeping score.

At one point, I stepped backward into a cactus. Initially I wasn't too worried about the cactus, but after about 6 holes, the place in my ankle where the cactus punctured it, started swelling and stiffening. Krish suggested I take a couple of Benadryl we had brought along. Noting the irony of taking some, I did, then went off to help cook dinner.

Each night at dinner, as we all gathered into one big group, Tracy would recap the day, and tell us the plans for the next day. I had no idea what the plans are for today, as I could barely keep my eyes open to eat dinner. I didn't know what hit me, but it was large and it felt like a sleep stick (or branch, or tree, or truck).

Kris noticed, watched me finish my food, and took my plate, stating he'd clean up, I should go to bed. I stumbed back over to our peninsula camp and pretty much face planted. It was still light out, maybe 7:45, but I was down for the count. I tried to wake when Kris and Andy came back to go to bed, but I couldn't open my eyes. I gave up and slept like a rock until about 1, when heavy winds and some sprinkles suggested I try the tent. Kris came in around 4, but Andy stayed outside all night. He was closest to the stone, which I think helped.

I wish my calves weren't still so sore. I'm tempted to eat meat just for the protein so that they stop hurting.