Do you remember the last time you did something that truly scared you but you knew you had to do it anyway? That moment when fear and excitement collide and something inside you says go.
That’s how I felt leading up to my 7-day journey rafting through the Grand Canyon. As with many things in life, facing my fear on the river led to something far greater on the other side.
Conquering Fear: 7 Days in the Grand Canyon
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When your friend (who trekked across England to celebrate your 50th Birthday) says, “I want to celebrate my 50th rafting the Grand Canyon,” there’s really only one answer: absolutely yes.
No overthinking. No “let me check my calendar.” Just yes, because you already know it’s going to be one of those trips.
But for me, it wasn’t just about celebrating Sarah. It was also a little personal.
Almost 30 years ago, I had a pretty scary near-drowning experience on a rafting trip, and even though I’ve done plenty of hiking and adventuring since, that fear never fully went away. So saying yes to this trip was me deciding it was finally time to deal with it.
And honestly . . . I couldn’t have picked a better way to do it.
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The Crew
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Sarah pulled together an amazing group, including some of our Wine Hiking crew (Allie, Lindsay, Audra, and Shari), and the six of us soon hooked up with a whole cast of fellow river lovers who somehow felt like friends by day two.
By the end of the week, we were sharing snacks, sunscreen, inside jokes (“Can I get a YB!”), and that weird, instant bond that only happens when you’re living outside together for a week.
Also, we had the best guides: Blake, Tim, and Tanner. Truly. Equal parts river experts, chefs, comedians, and early-morning magicians.
Life on the River
We spent 7 days floating, laughing, getting absolutely rocked by rapids, and settling into this simple rhythm:
Coffee.
Boat.
Rapids.
Side canyon hikes.
More snacks than should be allowed.
Repeat.
Somewhere along the way, you stop thinking about your phone, your inbox, your to-do list . . . and you just exist. It’s kind of wild how fast that happens.
The Canyon (because it deserves its own moment)
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Floating through the Grand Canyon is like drifting through a living timeline.
You’re literally looking at billions of years of Earth’s history stacked above you. One minute it’s red rock walls, the next it’s these dark, twisted ancient layers down near the river that feel almost unreal.
Our guides casually dropped things like, “Oh yeah, there’s about a billion years missing right here,” (hello, Great Unconformity) and somehow made geology fascinating. Who knew?
A Few Moments I’ll Never Forget
The whole trip was amazing, but there were definitely some parts that I won’t soon forget:
- Exploring the Redwall Cavern – massive, echoey, and makes you feel very small in the best way
- Floating the bright blue water of the Little Colorado River like a bunch of happy kids
- Hidden waterfalls at Elves Chasm that feel straight out of a movie
- The unreal turquoise of Havasu Creek (how is that color even real?)
- Standing at Deer Creek Falls just getting absolutely soaked and loving it
And then there were the rapids . . .
Some were fun. Some were big. Some made me question my life choices for a second and then immediately want to do them again.
The Rapids (aka where I faced my fear)
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I won’t pretend I wasn’t nervous. There were definitely moments where my brain was like, Remember that one time . . .
And honestly, that “one time” wasn’t small.
As I mentioned early, almost 30 years ago, I went rafting with a group of amateur rafters (friends), mostly because I didn’t know any better. I was young and a little naive and assumed that if we were out there, someone knew what they were doing. Someone handed me a life jacket, and I didn’t question anything. Why would I?
At the put-in, a ranger warned us about a rapid called Skull Rapid and specifically told us not to run it. At the time, no one in our group really knew that section of the river, where it was, or how to avoid it.
When we came around a bend and saw it, we knew immediately that we were approaching the rapid. The one we were told not to touch. But by then, it felt like we were committed. No real plan, no real control. We went for it anyway.
The raft flipped.
I got tossed into the river and did what you’re supposed to do: float feet up, facing downstream. Within seconds, I was pulled under. Not just under but into something stronger. A whirlpool.
I remember the force of it. The feeling of not being able to get back to the surface. The realization that this wasn’t just a quick swim through a rapid. This was something else.
Our raft, and most of the group, got pulled into it too. Somehow, one of the guys in our group who was holding onto the flipped raft looked down, saw my hair in the water, and reached in and pulled me up.
Maybe I would have come up on my own. Maybe not. That’s one of those things you don’t really know.
We eventually had to drag the raft up and over a hill just to get out of the current because it was too strong to paddle back into the river. By pure luck, there were two rangers on the other side finishing lunch. They had just seen us come through and helped guide us around safely.
When we regrouped, it was obvious, from downstream, how we should have avoided the rapid entirely. But at that point, I was done, shaken and scared in a way that sticks with you.
The rangers took one look at my life jacket, handed me a better one, and let me ride out the rest of the river with them.
So yeah, it took way longer than it should have for me to face my fear and take a chance. Seems crazy, right?
But, this trip was different.
The guides knew the river inside and out. The gear was solid. Every rapid was approached with intention, experience, and calmness. And little by little, with each wave, each drop, each surge of adrenaline, that old fear started to loosen its grip.
By the time we hit the big ones, like Lava Falls, I wasn’t stuck in the past anymore.
I was present, fully in it and laughing, holding on, and trusting the boat, the guides, and even myself.
River Life is Elite
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Can we talk about the food for a second?
Because HOW were they making pancakes, steak dinners, tacos, omelets, and dessert . . . on a river?? Every meal felt like a surprise.
And yes, there were always peanut M&M’s. Priorities!!!!
Also:
- Sleeping under the stars > any hotel
- Waking up to the sunlight hitting the canyon walls = unreal
- That mix of exhaustion + happiness at the end of the day? Unmatched
The Ending We Didn’t Want
Day 7 came way too fast.
We took a helicopter out (which was incredible . . . and also a little emotional). None of us were quite ready to leave. The canyon kind of gets into your bones like that.
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The Real Takeaway
This trip was for Sarah’s 50th birthday, but it gave all of us something.
For me, it was facing a fear I’d been carrying around for way too long.
For all of us, it was connection, laughter, and that reminder that life is meant to be lived a little wildly sometimes.
Say yes to the trip.
Say yes to the scary thing.
Say yes to celebrating your people in big ways.
Because somehow those are always the trips that end up meaning the most.
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And, I can’t wrap this up without giving a big shoutout to Grand Canyon Whitewater.
From the moment we pushed off the shore to that bittersweet helicopter ride out, they made the entire experience seamless and fun. We felt incredibly well taken care of. The guides, the food, the energy, the attention to detail all mattered, and it showed.
If a Grand Canyon rafting trip is even remotely on your bucket list, this is your sign. Go.
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