"Dream Vacation"

A week-long rafting trip on the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon - by Joyce Laabs

-- Joyce is sitting in the middle of the picture on the folding chair with pink pants and blue jacket --

Seduced by the 'siren song' of the river by Joyce Laabs / 5.5.2006

Features editor Joyce Laabs (79 years old) recently returned from her "dream vacation" - rafting the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon.

In the first of a three-part series on her adventure, she profiles the members of the crew - the first all-woman crew to pilot one of the 20-passenger rafts on the week-long trip.

My rafting trip on the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon was everything I thought it would be - and more.

Camping left a little - or maybe a lot - to be desired, I'll share those impressions in the weeks to come.

First, a look at the remarkable trio who guided us through the rapids, fed us and watched over us at night - three women whose lives and love are the Grand Canyon and the Colorado River.

Carolyn Forenza

"For many people, the trip down the Colorado River is a life-changing event. They become more humble. I can see them change."

Those were the words of Carolyn Forenza, the pilot and leader of the three-member crew, who has been rafting the Colorado for the Canyoneers, Inc., a Flagstaff, Ariz., company that conducts rafting trips through the Grand Canyon, each summer for the past five years.

Forenza is a transplanted easterner who came to Arizona from New Hampshire. The maverick of her family - three of her siblings work in insurance and the fourth is a corporate secretary - she was the adventurous member of the crew.

"I have always loved horses," she said. "When I was young, I rode hunters and jumpers, which is a big deal in the East."

Working with horses

Although her parents wanted to send her to England to college she chose to follow her first love and work with horses. And, at 19, that's what she did.

"I started out grooming and mucking out stalls at the Suffolk Downs track in Boston for $50 a week," she said. "I lived in a rooming house and paid $15 a week rent."

She met John Rigattieri, a trainer at the track, fell in love and they married.

"In 1983 I decided I would like to try riding in the races at Suffolk Downs. It turned out that I would be the third female to apply for a license to ride.

"I had trouble getting approved and it took a long time. I knew I was tall to be a jockey - 5 feet 4 - and it took me a month and a half to get my weight down to the acceptable level.

"Then I was finally ready to ride. I rode only for my husband. I rode at Suffolk Downs and at Rockingham Park in Salem, N.H.

"I also rode at Saratoga in the summer. I had 105 rides in the year-and-a-half I rode and won 64 races. I found it is a tough business.

A 50-to-1 shot

"My family had supported my career decision. They were there for my first ride, which happened to be on my father's birthday. I came in second on a horse that was a 50-to-1 shot. It was a thrill for us all."

After her career as a jockey ended, Forenza and her husband bought a farm in New Hampshire and raised thoroughbred horses, eventually acquiring 40 of them.

But, in 1992, she heard the first notes of the "siren song" of the river.

"My brother Chris now lived in California and had been after me to come for a visit.

"I had heard of the rafting trips through the Grand Canyon and made arrangements with the Canyoneers to take the trip.

"I fell in love with the river and the canyon that first trip," Forenza continued. "I liked the space, the openness, the inaccessibility and the wilderness.

"You have to be self-sufficient. There is no outside world. I helped the crew with everything on that trip. Then, Canyoneers asked me to come and work for them. Of course I said 'no.'

In 1994, Forenza came back to run the river again. By now she and her husband had three children, and she brought their oldest son, Nicholas, to take the trip with her. Her parents, who owned the farm next to theirs in New Hampshire, took care of the other two children, Michael and Josephine.

"During this trip, Nicholas and I took the side hike in Saddle Canyon and it was there that I made the decision to join Canyoneers and guide river trips one day."

She returned to raft the river again in 1995 and 1996.

"I had worked with horses for 25 years and decided it was time for a career change - and it would be rafting.

Rafts carried 10 people

"I found work with the "Professional River Runners" in Maine, running both day and overnight rafting trips on The Forks in Kennebec, Maine.

"Our rafts carried 10 people and the trips ran from April to October. I had kept in touch with the woman who owned Canyoneers and had worked in Maine for seven years when I received a call from her asking me to guide a trip through the Grand Canyon. I did it, and, afterwards, she asked me to return the next season full time."

It was decision time. Forenza told her husband she wanted to return to the West to live. He resisted, but her "siren song" was too strong to resist. When they were unable to work things out, they divorced, and Forenza headed west in 2002.

She eventually met Nate, an archaeologist and anthropologist, and they built a home together overlooking Arizona's Painted Desert.

"We built the home ourselves. It is 1,700 square feet with two bedrooms and two baths. It is off the grid - all solar."

She has settled into her life in the West, working the river in the summer and teaching skiing at the Snow Bowl in Flagstaff, Ariz., in the winter.

"I still work with horses, although in a different manner. I also work for Arizona Hay & Grain in Flagstaff in the winter. They have 22 horses."

Forenza said she found a career she loves and it was worth the sacrifice. "I have a great life. Although it's hard, physical work it keeps me young at 52. I find I even sleep better in the canyon.

"I needed to follow my heart - and it was to Arizona, the Colorado River and the Grand Canyon."

Bianca Bauch

Hers was the first voice we heard every morning - usually at 6 a.m. Her melodious yell of "Coffee!" wafted over the sleeping campers.

At 21, Bianca Bauch was the youngest of the crew. She was our wag and our nag. Rafters on the boat were required to wear - and keep buckled - their life vests at all times. Bauch could spot an unbuckled clasp from a distance and her call would ring out: "Keep that vest buckled."

Of course, Bauch was adored as she handed out snacks - apples, oranges, crackers, candies, etc. - twice a day.

"My family came to Phoenix when I was two. I camped in Show Low, Ariz., with my family when I was 3 or 4 and saw the Grand Canyon for the first time on a school field trip when I was 9.

"We only looked at it for about five minutes, then had lunch, went into the gift shop and it was back on the bus.

"The view of the canyon was too big to absorb. I thought it was boring.

"It was when Bauch was 16 and thinking about leaving Arizona for college that the rafting trip came up.

"I was dating a guy who went on many science field trips. He told me it was a must that I get on the river before I left Arizona."

First trip at 18

She took her first trip - with Canyoneers - when she was 18, and she, too, heard the "siren's song." She never left.

"I loved the canyon and did lots of hiking and also guided hiking trips through it, but my ultimate goal was to do guide river trips on the Colorado through the canyon."

She joined Canyoneers in 2002, guided eight trips that first year, and has guided every season since.

In the winter she is a "ski bum" - skiing at Crested Butte, Colo., and in Montana and Idaho.

Although her parents now live in Flagstaff, she leases her own five-bedroom home, which has become a second home to river guides in the summer.

Bauch is the only girl among six siblings.

"My mother is Mexican and my father is German. Mother never spoke Spanish to me, and I regret that. I am going to try and go to Guatamala for two months this winter to learn Spanish. I thought I would learn it more quickly if I surrounded myself in the Spanish culture."

Coming back next season

However, she will be back on the Colorado next season.

"I will return to the river to guide each season as long as I can handle the work - and I hope I can handle it until I'm 80 years old.

"However, if I get cranky and no longer appreciate the opportunity to raft in the canyon, then I'm out of here."

Today, however, the "siren's song" still remains loud and clear.

Chelly Kearney

Kearney was the quiet, cerebral member of the crew. It was her second year on the river, and although she earned her degree in geology from Northern Arizona University, she, too, heard the siren's song.

"The first time I was in the canyon was in 1995 when I was on a geological field trip, but I never forgot the experience."

Kearney went to work for the Los Alamos National Lab in 2001, but still felt the pull of the river and knew she had to guide.

"I feel most alive on the river. I like the lifestyle, the challenge and the beauty. I like the people who take our trips; they're great."

Kearney's educational background enables her to provide a lot of geological information for her customers, making the trip not only spectacular but informative.

During the winter, Kearney works part-time for the ski patrol in the Santa Fe, N. M., ski area. She bought a home in Santa Fe, and spends her free time staying in shape.

She is also an EMT and studying nursing, so was the official medic for scratches, bruises and blisters on the trip.

"After I get my nursing degree, I would like to work in the emergency room of a hospital. I like that pace. However, I will return to the river next summer."

*** *** ***

Running the river, adventurers become friends by Joyce Laabs / 5.12.2006

In the second of a three-part series on her recent "dream vacation," rafting the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon,
Features editor Joyce Laabs introduces her fellow adventurers on the week-long trip.

The rubber raft that takes us adventurers down the Colorado River holds 20 passengers and what seems like tons of equipment - i.e. food, dry bags, sleeping mats, tables, "ammo boxes," and more.

The dry bags hold duffel bags and sleeping bags and must be unloaded each night as you make camp and loaded back on the boat each morning.

Passengers have access to their white steel ammo boxes - the size of a shoe box, containing sunscreen, film, medicines and other items needed during the day - on the boat.

Togetherness is an important part of trips like this, and Anne Cleveland, my traveling companion, and I were fortunate to be part of a compatible, diversified group. We all learned from each other on the boat and in camp.

Three of the families were from Cuernevaca, Mexico (40 miles south of Mexico City), although one of those families - Andres Aguirre, his wife, Almudena, and children Amaya and Ainars - had relocated to the Boston area, where he works as an electrical engineering consultant on medical devices. He also has his master's degree in business.

The other families were Fernando and Maribel Gutierrez and their children, Maria, Gerdi and Pablo. Fernando is a biochemical engineer and Maribel is a civil engineer.

Castilian Spanish and English

Miguel Bosch, his wife, Cecilia, and children Lucia, Billy and Pedro, were the third family. Miguel is a biologist and works for a company that sells electrical material and equipment. His wife is a psychologist working with teenagers and adults with various addictions.

Their native language is Castilian Spanish, the language of Spain, they all spoke fluent English.

It was Almudena who gathered all the information on the trip and notified her siblings (11 of them). Only Fernando and their good friend Andres signed on.

We had another engineer on the boat - Tom Fancy and his wife, Bonnie.

Tom is an aerospace engineer with Gulfstream, and we learned lots about these private jets.

"The cost of the plane is $45 million and we build about 75 each year," Tom said. "However, the interiors of the plane can add as much as another $10 million to the cost. Some even have gold faucets."

The planes are built in Savannah, Ga., and that is home base for Tom and Bonnie. Their second home is in Parks, Ariz., about 40 miles outside of Flagstaff. Designed by Bonnie, and recently completed, it sits on five acres. Down the road, this will be their retirement home.

Another trip, 20 years later

Tom had been on this rafting trip 20 years ago and wanted Bonnie to experience the adventure.

"I am always up to seeing something new," Bonnie said. "When Tom travels overseas, I travel with him, and while he works, I tour the country."

Both said they were glad they made the trip this year, before they got any older, because the trip is not for the faint of heart.

We also had a retired career Marine, Joe Sanders, and his wife, Evelyn, aboard. Joe retired as a major and served two tours in Vietnam. After retirement, he joined Evelyn in a teaching career in Norman, Okla., where they make their home.

"When I retired, there were a number of things Evelyn and I wanted to do, and we have done many of them. We took a glider ride in Hawaii and then took a helicopter flight over the lava fields. We took a balloon flight in Arkansas and did some whitewater rafting in Alaska."

They planned for this trip for three years, physically training for it for a year.

Joe impressed the entire group when he appeared each day in a fresh shirt with its creases intact. Most of us were content to throw on whatever we could find in the early morning light.

Joe and Evelyn will celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary in June at a party thrown by their three children. They are looking forward to that, but Joe is especially excited about the 50th reunion of members of the Basic School for Marine Officers which will be held in San Diego later in the year.

The next destinations on their "to-do" list is to see New England in the fall and visit New York City.

This was their first trip to the Grand Canyon and after they saw it from below and were off the river, they jumped in their car and drove to south rim to view it from on top.

All of our raftmates were interesting and enjoyable companions, but Anne and I were particuarly curious to learn more about our new-found friends from south of the border.

'City of eternal spring'

Cuernavaca is a community of about one million people, a popular tourist area where the population can increase by 30 to 40 percent on weekends and holidays.

The main attraction of the city is its climate. Called the "city of eternal spring," it's 1,500 feet above sea level and a refuge from pollution of Mexico City, providing a better quality of life for families who want to live outside the capital but depend on it for a living.

A few years ago, Cuernavaca was said to be the city with the most swimming pools per capita in the world.

"Our kids (those living in Cuernavaca) have studied - at least to the sixth grade, and most to the ninth - in Moilere, a French school," Miguel Bosch said. "They now attend high school in different institutions that offer an emphasis on English.

"Crime in Cuernavaca today is not a big issue. We live in a poor country, so you have to be aware where - and at what time - you transit through certain parts of the city.

"Camping is risky in general terms - it is easy to be robbed.

"Because we in Mexico still have a traditional Latin family life, where women spend most of their time with the children, most married women do not work. Cecilia only works a few hours a week. This is probably one of the reasons families are so close."

Respect for America

Bosch said Mexicans have lots of respect for America, although many believe there are too many laws and lawyers.

The Bosches saw diverse sides of the United States on this trip - "water and oil" - they said. They saw the glamor of Las Vegas, staying at the plush Bellagio Hotel, and they experienced the out-of-doors and camping in the Grand Canyon. It was a formative experience, Bosch said.

It was also a formative experience for me. I was treated with great respect by all - especially the children (probably because I was the elder member of the group). There was always a helping hand at the ready - and volunteers to put up the tent, assist in boarding and leaving the raft. And there was lots of joking.

The children, the most beautifully behaved I have ever met, kept urging me to sit in the front of the raft - much like the first seat on a roller coaster. When I finally agreed, they took turns sitting next to me (I think they thought they could save me if I was washed overboard.).

The children are all focused. Maria Gutierrez is studying genomic science at a college just outside of Cuernavaca. She even brought work along as she was missing some school.

Billy Bosch, 17, was focused on the fact that he was unhappy about having to leave his girl friend during spring break to come on this trip - much like his American counterparts.

Fernando provided lots of humor - constantly looking for the helicopter to come to his rescue and whip him right out of the canyon. It never came. We all had lots of good laughs with everyone as we shared our unique experience.

As they say, our river trip was a "bonding" experience. We shall remain forever friends.

*** *** ***

A 'tenderfoot's' tale of roughing it on the river by Joyce Laabs / 5.19.2006

This is the third in a three-part series by Features Editor Joyce Laabs,  chronicling her "dream vacation"
A week-long rafting trip on the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon.

I'm not sure words exist to describe the incredible beauty of Arizona's Grand Canyon - especially looking up at its magnificence from the Colorado River. Every bend in the river brought a new, breath-taking vista. The river brought a sight that made one catch their breath.

On Easter Sunday, we were on our second day on the river. I can't think of a more spiritual place to be on that day for wherever you looked, you could see God's work.

In fact, once we started down the river, we left the outside world behind. No TV, no radio, no phones - a perfect time to sit back and sort out the priorities in our lives. A perfect time for decisions.

Going back a couple of days, co-worker Anne Cleveland and I arrived in Flagstaff on the preceding Friday. There was a mandatory meeting that evening prior to our departure the next morning.

We were issued dry bags. This was a new item in my life, and I soon came to hate it. The dry bag held a tarp and sleeping bag, and we were to put our duffel bags, filled with a week's worth of clothing and assorted items in it and roll the top securely to make it water-tight.

30 pounds - or 300?

I suspect the bag, fully filled, weighed 30 to 40 pounds. However, by the end of the trip, it felt more like 300 to 400 pounds. This was the bag that had to be hauled out of the boat every evening, unpacked, repacked in the morning and put back on the boat.

It was a merry crowd that jumped into vans and headed from Flagstaff to Lee's Ferry, Ariz., and "Mile One" of the Colorado River's flow through the canyon.

It was the first view of the boat that would be home for the 20 members of our group for the next seven days. It seemed huge, especially climbing in and out, over the big rubber tubes that kept it afloat. But it got a lot smaller as it was filled with all the necessary items for the trip.

We were issued life vests, which became our second skins for the week. The only time they came off was when we were ashore, eating or sleeping.

We were assured that we would experience rapids on day one, and there was eager anticipation. When we hit the first rapids there were squeals, shrieks and yells. The rapids weren't big, but the experience was thrilling to the uninitiated.

Then came the moment of truth. We were approaching a rapids with a rating of 8 (all rapids are rated from 1 to 10, with 10 being the strongest -although we eventually went through a rapids rated above 10).

"In and down"

The motor on the boat idled as Carolyn Forenza, the boat's pilot and leader of the three-woman crew, explained that we were to go "in and down."

This entailed sitting sardine-style on the floor of the boat, alternating heads and feet. This exercise was repeated many, many times during the week, and when the order came, we moved swiftly.

The rapids were the absolute best part of the whole adventure. They were scary, exhilarating, and in the heat of the afternoon, refreshing.

Actually, a strange thing happened. After the first few days of the trip, there weren't as many shrieks as we hit the rapids. By the last day, "in and down" was automatic and conversations continued as we were sprayed. By then we were seasoned rafters.

Only one wave from the rapids really hit me with force. It knocked off my hat and glasses and drenched me from head to toe. The Arizona sunshine had me dry again in a short time.

The question I am most often asked about the trip is what the bathroom facilities were like. The answer, put kindly, is "limited."

Not a porta-potty in sight

Because the canyon floor is maintained in pristine condition, there were no porta-potties along the way. So, after spending years telling my children to "never pee in the pool," we found ourselves with only one place to pee: in the river. Women - skirts up - upstream, and men - pants down - downstream. (A friend of mine in Arizona said that was OK because the water went to California).

Each evening, a chemical toilet was brought ashore and partially hidden behind a bush - sometimes a long trek away so that a modicum of privacy could be provided.

It was called "The Duke," because, as as the story goes, when John Wayne was rafting the river, he resented people calling it "The John," so its name was changed to "The Duke" in his honor.

One of the most thrilling sights was seeing the California condors soaring over the river. Once almost extinct, these magnificent birds with a 10-foot wing span have returned to Arizona and love the seclusion of the canyon.

Herons, hawks, bighorn sheep

We saw herons, bighorn sheep, hawks and other assorted wildlife. I never saw a creepy-crawly creature and, quite frankly, I was too tired at night to worry about snakes and scorpions.

It was an educational trip. We learned of the various rock formations, and heard many stories of the pioneer rafters in the canyon.

The entire time on the river still seems like a dream - it takes time to ease back into reality.

The six nights under the stars had no dreamlike quality. I never realized just how much a camper needs to know.

For instance, when they told me the tents had floors - I assumed wooden slats. Never assume. The floor was a tarp.

When I was told we would sleep on pads, I assumed something inflatable and soft. Never assume. It was a one-inch layer of something.

When I saw my sleeping bag, I assumed I would be snug and cozy. Never assume. It felt more like I imagine a straight-jacket might feel. You couldn't turn over while in it - you had to turn the whole thing over.

A camping pro

When I was told we had to put up our own tents - I assumed they were the "pop-up" variety. Never assume. MIT grads would have loved their intricacies.

Anne, my co-worker, was a camping pro. She popped around the campsite helping people put up their tents while I just waited for someone to see how helpless I was and to do it for me. Fortunately many came to my aid.

By the third night, Anne and I decided we would rather sleep out under the stars than fool around setting up a the tent. Forenza, however, suggested it would be wise to spend one more night in a tent as the winds were picking up and they didn't want to have to dig us out of the sand in the morning.

She was right. The winds howled and sand flew everywhere, including into my hair. A week after we were off the river I could still feel it.

But, once we did move outside, under the stars, it was wonderful - and we didn't have to set up the tent. Then I found that I could unzip the sleeping bag and it became a blanket - perfect. I stuffed some fleece into a pillow case and that became my pillow. Now, I was relatively comfortable and slept like a baby.

Probably the biggest plus was watching the stars pop out in the clear Arizona sky (there was nary a cloud during he entire week) and tracking the satellites as they shot across the sky.

Sit-down (on rocks) dinners

Dining was another challenge. Our guides prepared great meals for us. Unfortunately, there were no chairs - except for three collapsible ones that my friends from Cuernavaca brought because they misunderstood the instructions. So where do you sit to eat?

I learned to spot appropriate rocks as we were bringing the boat in - and immediately headed for the one that I felt would be the most comfortable. I sat on flat rocks - which were few and far between - rounded rocks, slightly jagged rocks and tilty rocks, and eventually mastered them all - sort of. I only fell off a couple of times.

Fortunately, after my second fall, Miguel, one of my fellow rafters, came to my rescue and provided me with his chair at meal time. What a blessing. Probably saved me from permanent disfigurement.

I really felt like a true adventurer. But, strangely enough, the last two days of the trip I found myself dreaming of a soft bed and a hot shower.

The only bathing facilities for the week were in the river, using biodegradable soap. The water was cold. I chose not to bathe during the trip, nor wash my hair. In fact, I didn't see anyone bathing in the river, not even Anne, the experienced camper. Fortunately, there were good winds blowing - circulating the air around us all.

If you wanted a grown-up drink before dinner, you had to bring your own - in plastic bottles. I carefully filled four 3-ounce bottles with my favorite Scotch. More than enough for the trip I assumed. Never assume. I ran out the third night.

Escorted by jet boat

When we reached Lake Mead, into which the Colorado River flows, we were picked up by a jet boat to be taken to the South Cove landing. I thought the National Forest Service employee had the right greeting as he met us:

"I am your recreational therapist," he said.

It only took us an hour-and-a-half for the jet boat to whisk us across Lake Mead. We were met by vans and taken back to our hotel in Flagstaff.

Our adventure was over. We were back to reality.

In retrospect, the trip was awesome. I would love to do the river again if hotel stops could be arranged each evening.

I did, however, learn to appreciate simple things, like soft beds, pillows, showers, bathroom facilities, chairs, etc.

If it had been up to me to cross the Rockies in a covered wagon, the West would still be unsettled.

Those of us who experienced the week on the river have an unbreakable bond born of wondrous sights, hardships (for some) and a love of adventure.

I'm glad I did it before I get too old* - and I'm glad my buddy Anne made the trip. We had a million laughs - no tears - and gathered memories to last a lifetime.

*Joyce had just turned 79 when she made this trip.