…was what I was expecting when booking a white water rafting trip down the Grand Canyon…I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Starting in Page, Arizona, I headed for the local bar where ‘Time For A Cool Change’ by Little River Band was playing (this trip has cleared my mind to allow me to actually listen to the music around me) to meet the team.  It was a cool change from my first boat experience as they were professional, thorough, and funny…it was already to be one of the highlights of An Endless Summer.

We left the next morning and I was with a couple from the US, one woman from Utah (who I couldn’t resist calling ‘Utah’ at every moment in tribute to a character from a favourite movie of mine – Point Break), a couple from England, two guides – one from New Zealand and a local.  We were all friends within moments and the laughter never stopped…I still think of them often and hope we can all meet again.

The sheer scale of the canyon is only matched by the sheer thrill of going through the rapids and enjoying the world’s best white water experience…all created by Mother Nature.  We would be wet from head to toe, only to dry out in the warm wind, only to do it again…with the screams getting louder each time to match the increasing rapids.  See a short video below…

Nights were spent sleeping under the stars with no tent, and for one of my nights under a scorpion and frog.  Did one help the other cross the river?  I never found out as my instant reflex ended any such question for the scorpion…the friggen frog was faster if that helps the riddle.  The entire sky was covered in stars and for a few hours the moon appeared…combined these with the sand and rocks under foot, would give the feeling of actually being on the moon.  Peaceful and with the flow of the river…mesmerising.

The last night brought remarkable lightening then of course pouring rain just at bedtime, tents were found and quickly erected…but with the huge wind little comfort was achieved.  It mattered not as we were all asleep within moments, the river having sapped our energy.

Walking out of the canyon was very rewarding…my companions and I had become friends only days ago, but in fact had been the best of friends for years through our similar values, goals and desire to support each other.  It was Australian mateship at its best, and I was the only Australian.  If you don’t have this on your list to do with your kids or mates you are the one who is the hick.

“One of the best ways to leave the canyon is via the old steam train” seemed a common review…it was straight from the South Rim where I was staying…another feat of fantastic planning by the U S of A.

Feat of planning is where it stops, as I am on the hunt for whoever wrote the glowing reviews on the website as they need to experience the journey everyday for a year as punishment!

It was not a relaxing scenic train journey as I thought it would be, it was in fact an interactive outback torture test, cheesier than most American salads.  When all the guests started singing ‘Roll Out The Barrel’ I wanted to roll out the canon…it was inbred tourism at its worst.  All I could think was Harry Potter wouldn’t have dealt with this shite.

When the train got robbed by men on horses with ‘guns’ I hoped something bad would happen and I would be shot in the cross-fire…I survived, well at least my body did…some grief counsellor somewhere is going to get a holiday house out of getting me to understand those few hours.

On I went to the ninth wonder of the world…Las Vegas…as after a few days there all I can do is wonder: WHY?!