DEEP WINTER IN THE GRAND CANYONBy Jake MyhreI awoke to the first drops of rain bouncing off my eyeli

DEEP WINTER IN THE GRAND CANYONBy Jake MyhreI awoke to the first drops of rain bouncing off my eyelids. How long would it last? I was two weeks away from any house, laundromat or anywhere to dry my sleeping bags. Better pitch the tent.We’d been rafting for two weeks already. We’d maxed out the time on our Grand Canyon permit at 27 days. It was wonderful. But at this particular moment, laying on my raft trying to decide if I should trust my synthetic sleeping bag’s warmth retention, it was cold. I grabbed a tarp out my dry sack, stuck a paddle in between me and a cooler, and pulled the tarp over. It wasn’t much, but I was able to stay dry on my raft and doze for another hour.It was the trip of a lifetime. Floating down the Grand Canyon we drifted past almost countless layers of history, ancient eons of sandstone and limestone and granite. Great Blue Herons would chase our rafts downstream. Crashing against waves we would laugh our way through rapids. Every night we’d pull out onto a makeshift beach and set up camp. It wasn’t much — just a four burner stove, the blaster, and the dish station. After dinner everyone would wander off to find a place to pitch their tents among the rocks and small patches of sand. There was sixteen of us and aside from the novelty it was usually easier for me to stay on my raft. So I’d sleep there, on my raft. Almost every night. Drifting idly back and forth in the current, watching the stars as they slowly rotated above me. Looking up, up toward the top of the canyon, up toward civilization, to the first hints of a coming storm. _____Jake Myhre is a nomadic photographer, and you can usually find him biking, hiking, camping, rafting, climbing, skiing or doing just about anything outside. Or find him online at jakemyhre.net and on Instagram @jake.myhre -- source link

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