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I’m frustrated by the lack of internet. Things are piling up.

But in the big picture – not even that much bigger – I know it doesn’t matter, especially after a day like today.

My alarm went off at 5.45. Ouch. But not that much ouch as I know what’s in wait, and it’s one of the highlights of my trip. After a quick but substantial breakfast in my ‘kitchenette’, I head to the meeting point. We are briefed, we are loaded on to what looks just like a prison bus, and we are transported to the Glen Dam. We have to have all our stuff in clear plastic bags as the area is under Homeland Security (it never used to be. The local kids used to use the tunnel we head down to get to the river). We head into (bracketed) said tunnel and we go down and down and down. It’s so dark the full beams have trouble penetrating. At last – light. We arrive at the base of Glen Dam. It looms up over us like some kind of monolith. It’s breathtaking. There’s enough concrete to build an 8 lane highway, 4 inches thick, from here to Chicago. That’s quite a lot. We are loaded on to rafts, and off we set. I should point out this isn’t rafting in the sense that most people think of it. This is flat water floating down the river. It was serene and beautiful, not rough and adrenaline pumping.

We glide gently down the river, getting sore necks from looking up.

Birds – eagles, herons and Ospreys – soar above and around us. The scale is absolutely impossible to grasp. We slip by sheer walls of up to over a kilometre high, but they look as if they’re just a few hundred metres. It’s impossible to imagine. A bit like when you first visit the Grand Canyon – it’s so big you can’t comprehend it. I still can’t.

We push on past fishermen and women, pulling rainbow trout like there’s no tomorrow. It’s really quite chilly in the shadows. There’s a cool wind as we come around corners, but as the sun peeks over the top, we’re warmed and as I gaze into the river I’m tempted to just roll overboard. We hit a beach, and check out some ancient carvings on the wall. No one knows what they mean but they’re lovely. The water is just 8 degrees centigrade, but someone jumps in and then gets back out. We load back up and head on to what I was looking forward to – Horseshoe Bend. I saw the bend from the top last year. It’s just incredibly beautiful. Just as much so from the river.

I speak to an English woman whose sister was here last year. She saw an Osprey swoop down and pluck a fish from the river, only to be attacked mid-air by a Bald Eagle. The fish fell to the river and the birds continued to fight. We didn’t see that.  

Due to a road collapse (that’s the 89) we can’t go the usual route down to Lee’s Ferry (the drive back back would take 4 hours instead of the 45 minutes on the 89), so just after the bend, we turn around and I get to see it all over again. Fine by me. We cruise past it and I stare and stare and stare. I ask our guide how many accidents happen – there are no fences at the top of the gigantic wall that looks down over the river. He’s been working on the river for 14 years and was born and raised in Page, but only recalls two. Not bad. Maybe people aren’t so daft.

The news is on in the background now, and there’s a warning of a dust storm in Prescott. That would have been pretty cool to see. There’s also some footage of a trial. That’s just weird.

Anyway. We arrive back, load back on to the prison bus, and head back. A quick lunch (all provided by Colorado River Discovery and really quite good!), and I find directions in my named lunch bag for the next part of the day. I hit home first to butter myself in factor 30 and then head out to Hidden Canyon Kayaks. Some total dudes welcome me and I sign, as I seem to be doing a lot, forms saying that if I die, it’s no one’s fault but my own.

We head out to Lake Powell and get in our canoes. Not kayaks. I’m terrified I’ll burn to death and continue to plaster factor 30 all over myself. We set out to Lone Rock. A big rock – I mean big, America big – in the middle of the lake. Then we move on to a small canyon where we get out. The boys jump off rocks, I climb them. The view is beyond belief. How is there so much space? How do places like this exist? I’m flabbergasted by nature.

We pile back in and set out for another canyon. The water makes amazingly odd holes in the wall. I can only think of the insides of bones. I chat to a guide about waves on the lake. They can get huge – 6 feet. He and the other guide have had to be rescued. Twice. The weather here is fickle.

We head back to the beach, it’s a long slog back, but thankfully there is cloud on the horizon. A man announces he’s renouncing his Atheism when the clouds finally cover the sun. I join him.

We hit the cars, I hit a food mart, I hit the beer section. I get home, I sit outside and realise that I was quite paranoid about burning but it’s nothing but a good thing. I crack a beer (Odell Brewing IPA, really very good) and sit outside, planning my next few days.

Tomorrow night is my last booked night. I’ve had to be in certain places at certain times but that ends after tomorrow. I’m looking forward to that – it’s when things really open up. I think I’ll head to the Four Corners and stand in Arizona, New Mexico, Utah and Colorado at the same time. I’ll head to New Mexico to revisit White Sands. I might get a bit lost.

Right now, I’m heading out to Slackers. I had the best burger of my life there last year, and I’m going back for another one. Here’s hoping I won’t be disappointed.

Here’s to redundancy. Cheers.