Rafting's Flip Side

"It definitely beats the [bejesus] out of you," says Matt. "I've still got an oar-lock-shaped bruise on my [rearmost body part] from when I was washed out of my boat a couple of weeks ago."

"It's a very harsh environment, it's incredibly rough on the body and it's not a well-paying job" is how Matt sums up guiding.

And he loves it. So do I. When I told people around Moab, Utah -- our departure town -- that I'd bagged a berth as a swamper, they looked at me with envy, not pity. Trust me, on a river that glides through geology like this, a bad day of bejesus-beating is better than a good day of, well, just about anything I can think of.

Load, Launch and Lunch

But before you hit the river, you've got to load the boats. That happens on the day before we launch, in a hangar-like warehouse on the outskirts of Moab. The pros call this an "epic rig," and there is an Imax scale to the undertaking. The huge blue cargo raft -- a converted military inflatable bridge pontoon called a J-Rig -- is already loaded on a flatbed trailer. Our trip leader, Sarah Clinger, scrambles about on top of it like an elephant mahout, strapping down bits of gear as they are passed up to her. At 32, she's a nine-year veteran of the river, small, blond and bronzed, with a surfer girl mien and a drill sergeant's authority.

"Luke, you'll be the lunch boat," she calls down to Luke Kalstad, rigging one of the yellow passenger rafts. "Grab a few more cases of beer and soda. Neely, can you take some more water?"

There are seven of us on the crew: the leader on the J-Rig, four guides on four oar rafts and two swampers. Each guide brings a personal set of nylon straps (straps are to guides what knives are to chefs), and each rigs the various coolers, dry bags and metal boxes according to some personal and persnickety tie-down philosophy.

The other swamper is Ariel Atkins, a Moab 17-year-old who spends as much time on the river as I do on the subway. She and I shuttle armloads of food from the bank of refrigerators, hundreds of pounds of frozen steaks, chicken, fruit, pasta. We pack them in giant coolers lined with solid blocks of ice, enough to keep it Maytag-cool for five days in the desert.

The next morning, a few miles south of Moab, we launch on a concrete ramp into the Colorado. I hold onto the line as the trailer backs into the water. But instead of easing the rafts off one-by-one, the river grabs all three, with me still clinging to 4,500 Mexico-bound pounds. I'm up to my armpits in river before the guides manage to get the whole package tamed and tied.

We rush through the final rigging and form a bucket brigade to pitch the last bags aboard. Ariel is thigh-deep in mud by the time we finish. I try not to grunt pathetically every time I catch a bag.

Sarah arrives with the guests. Our 13 wards pile out of a white van, a few thirtysomethings among a group that is mostly early-retiree types, fit, affluent and anonymous. "You actually get to know people pretty well by the end," Ariel assures me in a whisper. I've been through many a group tour's first day as a guest. There is a difference, I will learn, in being an employee.

We'll follow the Colorado for 96 serpentine river miles, from Moab to the upper tip of Lake Powell. The early stretch is a float trip. We tie all the rafts together in a "five-pack," with Sarah driving the whole kit forward with the J-Rig outboard. Only after a riverside lunch and a short hike up to some Anasazi ruins in a side canyon do we untie the rafts. The four guides unship their oars and begin a long pull downriver. Ariel and I jump onto the J-Rig, and Sarah gives it gas. We leave the passenger rafts behind. This is our chance to get a head start on setting up camp.

There aren't many campsites for 20 along this stretch of river. Sarah has been in shouted consultation with other trip leaders and knows which of the best spots are spoken for. If she pushes on we'll eat up too many of tomorrow's river miles and throw the whole schedule off. So she's heading without enthusiasm for a shade-free beach without any hiking trails.