I wake up and feel sand against my skin, trapped in every nook of my sleeping bag despite multiple attempts to shake it out. The skin on the tops of my hands and thighs chafe against the grit, so burnt from a week making miles along the Colorado River. Itʻs still night, the stars blazing bright above the canyon walls, stark against an inky sky. The air has cooled a bit, the breeze sweeping river-chilled air over my sunburnt face and I feel happier and more at home than I have in a long time. I roll over and sleep soundly the rest of the night.
My friend Allison turned 50 this year and in her normal fashion, chose to throw the best party ever - a 7-day Grand Canyon rafting trip with 25 of her friends from different eras of her life (and her amazing daughter E) and I happened to be invited.
A polished and poised lady, Allison runs a successful event planning business, dresses beautifully, elevates any occasion from holiday dinners to her kidsʻ birthday parties, walks confidently into any room and elevates that too. Sheʻs also the first to cannonball into the fancy resort pool. Allison herself had been a Grand Canyon river guide for over a decade in her 20s and early 30s, a fact that Iʻll admit surprised and delighted me. I loved the idea of this perfect-postured, pearl-wearing powerhouse captaining a raft down roaring rapids. If thatʻs not "tombomb," I donʻt know what is.
I RSVPd "yes" almost immediately and I have a feeling I wasnʻt the only one. I had always dreamed of seeing the Grand Canyon from the inside (what I would come to learn is called the "inner world"). 
Knowing only a few people going on the trip didn't worry me - if these were Allisonʻs people and they said "yes" to this kind of trip, I liked them already. That proved true beyond measure - the group of soon-to-be river rats consisted of trailblazers, entrepreneurs, artists, writers, athletes, professionals, river guides, moms, aunties, and even a mama-to-be. Some may not have considered themselves "outdoorsy" when we first met in the Vegas hotel lobby, but most everyone proved to be "outdoorsy" enough when we got dropped back off.
The trip unfolded into a collection of moments - full moon rise over the canyon walls, fancy champagne in camp mugs, the Princess seat, sparkly capes and crowns, disco balls and blended margaritas, unicorn and flamingo floaties running the Little Colorado rapid, evening gowns in camp chairs, poetry in the morning, Georgie night (in honor of Georgie White, the leopard-print wearing, whitewater rafting pioneer). And sometimes less glamorous but just as unifying ones; pee buckets, the groover, sun rash, sand in everything, a rattlesnake on the groover path. I imagine Iʻm not alone in having loved every part of it.
Best. Party. Ever.
6 comments
Loved this.