This was my major splurge of the trip. I have come to terms with the fact that I will probably never raft down the Grand Canyon, and this seemed second best. The scenery getting there was fabulous as we drove an hour and a half over the mountains into the interior, but it rained the whole way and the bus didn’t stop, so no pictures.
Eventually we reached the outfitters in Skagafjordurwhere. We changed into wet suits and boots, splash jackets and helmets. There were a couple family groups. No little kids, but teens and a grandmother who was older than I am!
I wore my long underwear and knitted hat under it all. No one had explained ahead of time that a “wet suit” means you get wet underneath and we should have brought dry clothes to change into afterwards.
It stopped raining more or less for part of the trip in the West Glacier River Canyon (about 1.5 hours). We were three rafts. Only five people in our raft plus the guide, Kristi, who pointed out his dad’s land when we slid passed it. He’s a coach at the school and does this when they need an extra raft. Kelly and Dave had done white water rafting before so they took the front seats. Tumelo was in the middle on the left, and Grace and I in the back. Kristi would shout, "Forward!" and we paddled in rhythm with Kelly and Dave. Once he had us back paddle. A couple times he shouted “Get down!” To paddle we were sitting on the sides of the raft with our feet in stirrups to help hang on. “Get down” meant to drop to our knees in the center of the boat with paddles vertical. That order was given when we were about to drop into a trough and be doused with water! We never needed the “life rope” around the side that was pointed out to us before we began. (I don’t think my friend Ferne Weimer would have enjoyed this! We got flipped on a white water rafting trip in Tennessee years ago following a librarians' conference. For me that trip is a fabulous memory. For her, not so much.)
We stopped once where a hot spring poured out of the side of the hill, and the guides pulled out a can of instant cocoa. It wasn’t as hot as I drink my tea, but was fine for chocolate. No hard-boiled eggs.
Another time we stopped where there was a rock you could climb up and jump off, then swim desperately out of the current back to our beached rafts. Kelly and Tumelo both did it. I did not.
The canyon walls were high and black. Volcanic. This was the sort of scenery you pay to see with your effort. No driving in, having a look around and getting back in your car. Unfortunately, I do not have pictures because despite my Otter case, I was not willing to risk my phone. I borrowed this one from the Internet.
Totally awesome!
Oh, yeah. It started raining again half way through, but we were already so wet, it didn’t matter. Everyone was quite exhilarated before we reached the fork with the East Glacier River. Kristi said that was the more difficult trip with stronger rapids. A ways downstream we met our bus and pulled out.
Back at the base (half an hour later) we changed back into whatever was reasonably dry. My top only had wet cuffs, but I stripped off my long underwear and wore my hiking pants home.
The brochure said there would be a chance for a dip in a hot spring. I had brought my suit, but it turned out to be an indoor hot tub. Most of us didn’t bother.
Lunch (at 3 PM) was homemade bread and a bowl of hot lamb and vegetable soup. Delicious. Tasted like Scotch broth. Then an hour and a half back to the ship. Beautiful scenery seen through the rain.
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