We bed down under the stars, interrupted only once by a wandering burro. Another feast for breakfast. We all agree the trip is worth it for the food alone. Then we're off to the canyon's cathedral walls and devilish whitewater. Many of the rapids we encounter are formed when the river and the canyon make a sharp bend.
Water rushes toward sheer rock, then veers away abruptly.
The sensation of hurtling toward the wall, then rushing away at the last minute robs you of breath and makes your heart race. Each time the canoe seems destined to collide with the cliffs until, magically, it gets flushed sideways to safety. Mid-morning, we hear a roar like a distant train. The sound grows louder, filling the canyon. Rounding the bend, we see our nemesis ahead.