The Vanderbilts go camping...

As our journey down the Canyon began, I was a little skeptical about the trip. I wondered how my family members would survive a five-day camping trip. I mean these people consider anything less than a four star hotel with a pillow menu, “roughing it.” Yet there we were, my mother, her siblings, my 65-year old grandmother and myself, loading up and ready to spend a week sans running water, electricity, or cell phones. We would be spending the week on a paddleboat, cruising down the Colorado River until we reached the Cataract Canyon rapids.

The night before we had met with our guides for a briefing. One of the guides looked like a crazy guru wild nature man. He was Polynesian, with dark skin and slanted eyes. He had a beard that came down to his chest, single white hairs sprinkled about the black. The other guide was blond and fair skinned. He had blue skinned and an enormous beard also. He looked like the Unabomber. Neither of them had shaved in months, they looked like cool people, but I’m a hippie.

When my aunt saw them, she whispered, “JR, are you sure this is a serious company?” My uncle JR was the one who had planned the trip. He had chosen the same rafting company he had used on a previous trip. He had insisted that we needed a five-day trip, to get the full experience.

Now, I’m used to traveling in comfort. As I mentioned we all are. However, having recently graduated from college, I’ve definitely had to travel on a student budget, requiring some less than stellar accommodations. Also, I was looking forward to getting away from all the craziness that has been my life for the last couple of months.

Still the idea of using a metal box as a community crapper for five days, was a little more than I could handle. Furthermore, I was sure various members of my family would have a meltdown….

(to be continued)