COLORADO RIVER Tail Wind on the Colorado 4 of 6

The three hardest things for a 74-year old with dysfunctional knees: Getting out of 1. The canoe; 2. The tent; 3. The canvas chairs.

Best thing: Not having to look in the mirror for five days; and the quietness; the calmness, the peace, the beauty of the cliffs and rock formations; the dark nights and bright stars; the mysterious Indian granaries; the Petroglyphs. The only sound was the pounding in my ear that is always with me. In our group, I met my soulmate who had an Acoustic Neuroma (except my tumor is outside the ear canal instead of inside and is called an intravestibular schwannoma); she is also deaf in her right ear and has lost her balance on the right side. The only difference is, she is 20 years younger, and her tumor was larger. She went to the same doctor I go to. She was scheduled for surgery when they decided to check out radiation. Less risk; no pain, higher success rate; less time; no recovery. Her tumor is gone. They were thrilled. From the information Brent sent me, I already knew I wouldn’t have surgery without checking out radiation but now I know the exact doctor to go to at the Huntsman Cancer Center, if necessary.

And another connection, her boss owns a house in Orderville and spends nearly every weekend there. He’s an Atmospheric Science professor at the University of Utah.

She was one of the few Utahns diagnosed with West Nile virus. Fortunately, I didn’t follow her there.

Most valuable personal equipment: 1. Headlamp that Verda gave me for my birthday; wherever you go, there is light! 2. Goggles Amy gave me that kept out the sand and had soft foam around eyes and nose. They were so comfortable I didn’t even know I had them on. Tied for 3^rd: a. Amy’s water bottles; b. my desert cap that shielded my neck as well as my face. Oh, yes, and c. Amy’s canoe chair.

Most mystifying encounter: We both thought we were heading for a sandbar and had no time to turn. It’s the only time Amy slightly panicked. “We are in big trouble.” We braced for the collision. Nothing. It was a mirage, as real as any sandbar on the river, leaving us feeling peculiar and perplexed. Whew.

Unlike Lake Powell with multiple signs, markers, and buoys, there was only one sign the entire distance: Entering Canyonlands National Park, United States Department of the Interior.

How long has it been since I’ve been pampered? Since I didn’t have to feed someone else before I could eat myself? Amy treated me like a queen. She set up the tent; laid out the pads and sleeping bags; she cooked all the scrumptious gourmet meals. I cleaned the Dutch ovens the first couple of nights and then she asked if anyone would like to learn how to clean Dutch ovens. Jessie fell for it and we worked on them together after that. Amy insisted I use her canoe chair that Brent and Jan gave her many years ago. She went without for the entire trip. I think she might have regretted it a couple of times but she would never take it back. When one pair of goggles broke, she went without. She took the tent down, stuffed the sleeping bags, pads, and chairs, loaded everything into the dry bags and loaded and unloaded the canoes. She tried to teach me canoe skills, finally aborting that effort (although even she had to admit I’m a strong paddler). She was a dynamo.