Grand Canyon Rafting
Knoxville News

Easing into camp life

Primitive Comfortable in Utah
By Linda Lange - News-Sentinel Travel Writer

WESTWATER CANYON, Utah - When I spot the maraschino cherry atop my grapefruit, I can't help wondering, "When did camping get so comfortable?"

Here I am a million miles from nowhere, and the breakfast buffet overflows with French toast, blueberry syrup, crisp bacon, ice-cold orange juice and garnished grapefruit.

Evening meals are scrumptious. Tender steaks sizzle on the grill. Rice, Mexican corn and fresh salad are side dishes. A freshly baked chocolate cake honors the honeymooners in our group.

The next day our guides, like magicians, pull surprises out of ice chests-fresh shrimp cocktail and cold watermelon. We dine on marinated chicken breasts, seasoned green bean salad and caramel flambé with vanilla ice cream. Sandwiches, fresh fruit, salads and cookies are luncheon fare. They concoct root beer using dry ice and a "down-home" recipe.

Camping in Utah's Westwater Canyon is the other half of this Colorado River rafting trip. Stephanie Perry, 24, a five-year veteran with Western River Expeditions, has traveled this remote stretch at least 60 times.

Dressed in Chaco sandals, shorts and T-shirt, she keeps an easy pace on this warm day in late May. "It kind of takes a while for people to absorb it all," Perry says. She dallies at her favorite vista, Fisher Towers. "This is the only spot in the whole world where you are going to see formations like this. It never gets old for me."

She picks Coyote Hollow campsite the first night, and Onion Creek across from Fisher Towers the next night. The boat crew swings into action once the four rafts are tethered at shore.

"Fire lines" are set up to speed unloading. Crew and guests pass cooking utensils, Dutch oven tents, cots and other gear down the line from boats to beach in a short time. A giddy energy emerges as the guides set up stoves and prepare dinner. The vacationers disperse to find their own camping spot among the cottonwoods. Tents are available, but most people sleep on cots under the moon's glow. The primitive campsites lack piped water and electricity but offer steady breezes. Nighttime temperatures are in the 50's and 60's.

As the sun slips to the horizon, people search through duffel bags for clean clothing and shampoo. Some take a snooze or stretch their legs in the outlying area. A few men swig beers and smoke cigars.

We eat dinner under whorled lavender skies and swap stories and jokes as darkness sets in. The group is an interesting one. We have an environmentalist from the Chesapeake Bay, a woman from Miami in the tropical fish import and export business, a retired book editor, a dentist, a health and fitness writer, an employment counselor, a Texas medical student and a photographer from Winnipeg, Manitoba. The Canadian has kayaking experience, but the rest of us aren't skilled outdoorsmen. The Floridian thinks the water and nights are too cold, but by the second day, this seems to matter little.

On talent night we are told "to dress" for dinner. Guide Traci Childs of Bountiful, Utah, switches from shorts and halter-top to a black knit mini dress. Michael Eyre of Salt Lake City, a summer raft guide and winter ski instructor, wears striped shirt, tie and pleated slacks. Rick Tolman, formerly of Hawaii but now hailing from Wyoming, wears a Polynesian-style wrap. He tells us his mother belongs to the Maori people of New Zealand, and before long, he teaches us a Maori ceremonial dance in the light of the campfire.

Later, coyotes howl in the wind. This breaks the solitude, the stillness of the desert. A blanket of stars illuminates the colossal boulders and rock palisades.

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