Moving water is the greatest stress reliever I know. On rivers, life is reduced to its simplest form: your only tasks are to make and break camp, make sure the kids are safe and let the current carry you downstream. Everything else is superfluous.

Phone calls, emails, play dates, deadlines, errands, current events, schedules—none of it matters here. This is partly practical—there’s no cell reception or Internet service—but it’s mostly geological and metaphysical: You’re no longer moving at your own frenzied pace, but the river’s, and you can’t rush a river.

This is the way young children live, naturally, before we program them otherwise: outside, with the sun, meandering along in the present moment without worrying too much about what comes next. Maybe this is why, almost without exception, kids feel so at home on rivers. It’s their natural habitat, just like it used to be ours.

Last summer, we took our girls down the San Juan with two other families. Each family had its own raft, but within an hour of launching, we were playing musical boats, families merging and melding as kids swapped rafts to sit with their new friends and take turns with the adults in the inflatable kayak.

Already the river was working its magic, connecting and unifying us, urging us to slow down, pay attention, take off our watches and forget about clock time. In camp, the kids—six total, six and under—seemed to coalesce into a single, mud-streaked unit, reading to each other, building sandcastles, chasing lizards.

But even as the river erased certain boundaries, it strengthened others: on the last day, as the river grew wider and lazier and more lake-like, our flotilla drifted farther apart, and we once again found ourselves as a family of four on our raft, the girls sprawled out and asleep and the river’s current so slow that, for the first time all week, it was nearly silent.

As we drifted, my husband at the oars, I knew that I’d want to hoard this moment forever: our small family floating quietly downstream, part of something bigger than ourselves, the deepest, purest peace I’ve ever known.

SOMETIMES ALL YOU NEED ARE A FEW PIECES OF GEAR AND A RUGGED LANDSCAPE TO ESCAPE and sometimes all you need is a sea kayak on the open water.  Some of the most beautiful places on Earth are best seen from the quiet solitude of a kayak.  

Whether it’s discovering a hidden cove, a secluded trailhead, or a secret river canyon, exploring by paddle can take you into areas that are often times inaccessible by land, and can offer you a true calmness that one finds only after a few disconnected days in the great outdoors.

Imagine yourself here…

You’ve just flown into some remote part of the world, or perhaps one of the most impressive National Parks known to man.  You packed up everything you’d bring on a backpacking trip, but instead of throwing everything on your back and heading out on foot, you toss the gear into a boat so you can make your mileage by water.  

Day one on the open water is spent unwinding.  Yes, your arms have to work to move you along, but each stroke of the paddle takes you further and further into a meditative place where the burn doesn’t exist.  Your arms quickly become a part of the boat and your mind begins to escape to the place where your body has already arrived. You’re finally away from it all.

By day two, the sunrise is on your mind, not the to-do list you left behind.   As you sip your morning coffee, or maybe tea, and stare out at those pristine waters watching the sun rise, you realize that you’re finally ready to take in everything that this trip has to offer—the spectacular scenery, the quietness, the wildlife.  You’re determined to access that deep place you haven’t been able to get to lately while living on auto-pilot.  You come out of your thoughts for a moment.  Is that a moose off in the distance?  Or perhaps it was a whale?  (Depends on where you are.)

Three days in and your mind is wandering.  You just pulled the kayak onto shore for a hike to a vantage point that very few people experience each year.   When you reach the top, you can see a hundred miles around in every direction.  Now you start to daydream about leaving the rat race and finding your roots again. Remember when you had time on the weekends to go for hikes?  You need that back.  But for now, you need to remember this moment and this amazing vista that you feel lucky to be seeing.  

On day four, you’re feeling like a changed person.  Your body is stronger, and paddling takes little effort.  You could do this forever.  And that’s not all, your head is clear too.  This was exactly what was needed—deep meditation by kayak.  

Unfortunately, it’s time to head back to reality.  But not before seeing a few more rare birds and dipping into one more remote cove.  The past few days will stick with you longer than you can imagine.  And as you unload the kayak, you begin to start thinking about where you’ll head next time.

IF YOU THINK HIKING NINE MILES IN OR OUT OF THE GRAND CANYON IS AS EASY AS WALKING TO THE STORE, AND IF YOU SORTA-KINDA GET IN SHAPE IN BETWEEN GOING TO THE MOVIES AND MAKING DINNER, YOU’LL BE JUST FINE, THINK AGAIN. VETERAN O.A.R.S. GUIDE, JEFFE ARONSON OFFERS INSIGHT INTO WHAT IT TAKES TO HIKE THE LEGENDARY BRIGHT ANGEL TRAIL.

Trust me. More than a few folks have limped their way to and from the boats, missing hikes to waterfalls and swimming holes because they’re too beat up, eating ibuprofen like candy.

But it doesn’t have to be that way. With a little bit of effort before your trip, you will not only enjoy the hike, you’ll have a pair of legs to take you to some mind-blowing places downstream.
Honest.

As for hiking out, the unprepared hallucinate through an eternity of suffering; the fit have a really cool desert trail experience. Your call.

So, having gotten that bit of tough love out of the way, what to do?

The Bright Angel Trail follows an old Native American route into the Grand Canyon from the South Rim. It follows a fault line through otherwise impenetrable cliffs for thousands of vertical feet, like pretty much every other route into “The Big Ditch.” Comfortably on the rim, you’re seeing the canyon, but not really getting it. Yet. If you’ve come down the river with us and are hiking out, you get it, for sure. You’ve also been training on all those short river hikes we’ve been taking you on.

You take 300 steps down below the rim, and the universe changes into a wilderness. All of a sudden you get this feeling of vastness. An immensity of rock and desert. And that zig-zaggy thing that goes way down there with the little bugs moving along it until it disappears in the far blue haze? That’s where you’re headed, amigo.

Before you go, take the recommendations in your O.A.R.S. pre-trip package seriously. Take daily walks, in the park, on the beach, or to the market instead of driving. You know the drill. That’s D.A.I.L.Y.

Start slow, a half-hour or so at a time. Build into an hour. Surely you can afford an hour a day for the trip of a lifetime? It can make all the difference. Pain sucks. Trust me.

Ideally you’ll be training on hills (or, on the Stairmaster if you live in the Midwest). That’s where the knees come in. And the aerobics. It’s critical to work your heart and knees and hips for the pounding they’re in for. Up and down, down and up. So start several months out, get some good music on your iPod, NPR on podcast, and enjoy the day. It’s a good excuse, anyway.

OK, you’re fit. Now what? In summer, when it’s about a thousand degrees and the sun is baking your brains out, you’ll want a large-brimmed hat, sunglasses with UV protection, a lightweight long-sleeved shirt and the same in pants, and a good pair of tennies (or light-weight hiking boots if your ankles are like mine), with some cushioning in the sole.

Of course, a water bottle is a must, though two liters is sufficient since on the “BA” there are plenty of watering holes where you can refill your bottle. I use a bandana as well, dunking it into the water fountains or creeks (upstream of the mule manure) at every chance. Getting wet and staying wet is the difference between heaven and hell. It takes getting used to being wet like that. But it’s like having a palm-frond fan and being fed grapes, watching all those poor heathens sweat—good desert trick to know.

During spring and fall, you just might encounter snow up on the rim. If you’re hiking you’ll probably stay warm, but not in a T-shirt. Synthetic or wool undies, a fleece for when you stop to snack or pee (and you will stop to snack and pee), and a wool cap. If you’re prepared, it’s stunning.

Did I say snacks? Your car doesn’t run without fuel, and neither do you. Fuel up, don’t get bloated, snack regularly: some carbs for instant energy, a little fat for later, and a bit of protein for the long-haul.

If you take my advice, you will absolutely love the most popular trail in the Grand Canyon. If you stuff this in the “I’ll-get-a-round-to-it” pile, you will be thinking of me somewhere along your personal trail of tears.

Did I say trust me?

This essay was originally created for the 2012 O.A.R.S. catalog. For more compelling stories from other renowned writers, click here to request your copy today!

THE FIRST TIME I VISITED PATAGONIA I WAS TOLD TO TRY A LOCAL BERRY CALLED CALAFATE. ONCE I SWALLOWED IT, MY FRIEND AND HOST KAROLINA SMILED AND INFORMED ME THAT I WOULD FOREVER BE TIED TO PATAGONIA AND WOULD ALWAYS RETURN.  

That was over 10 years ago—since then many North American winters have been spent with friends and guests on the banks of the Futaleufu River.  During the last 10 years I have been watching as the politics of water have been playing out on two rivers to the south of  the Futaleufu.  The Rio Baker and Rio Pascua have slowly been going through environmental reviews and planning for the HidroAysén project—the largest power project in the history of Chile—which would flood 5,900 hectares of  some of the world’s last wilderness and include a 3,000-kilometer long power transmission line heading north past my second home, the Futaleufu.  The overwhelming response of Chilean citizens who are affected by this project is negative, with protests and marches demanding a stop to it: “Sin Represas de Patagonia!”  All are concerned because it may not stop with the Rio Baker and Rio Pascua.

The friends and guests who have paddled with me down the mighty Futa have been quietly worrying that this project will not just include the Baker and Pascua for the simple reason that the 3,000-kilometer powerline will pass right by our favorite river.  The discreet surveys done by the Chilean and Spanish engineers through the Futaleufu valley concern all of us: A little more juice to add to one of the world’s longest transmission lines, through some of the rarest and most beautiful wilderness left on the planet!  

And what worries me most is not the loss of habitat, or the end of generations of farming by local families, or the destruction of the world’s best whitewater. What worries me is that we are losing the places that allow us to visit and experience the rawness and uniqueness of our planet.  Places where we can remind ourselves that there is something bigger than our cities: that we are part of a larger ecosystem.  Something that has a circulation system, a cycle that rejuvenates and sustains us.  

The project will affect six mapuche communities and impact six national parks, 11 national reserves, 26 conservation priority sites, 16 wetlands and 32 private protected areas.  Meanwhile, Chile is one of the most active tectonic spots on the planet, and the town of Chaiten—where I used to get the world’s best seafood stew—was destroyed by the local Chaiten Volcano after being dormant for 9,500 years. There are a few more volcanos along the proposed transmission line—42 at last count. There have also been a couple of earthquakes there as well.

Chileans have publicly denounced the project: recognizing that Patagonia is a resource, an area that is unique on this planet of ours, somewhere that is worth protecting.  As a way of life!  There is nothing like Patagonia!

I have worked on many rivers around the world.  I have already lost rivers to dams, I have heard the stories and seen the tears of  guides and guests who tell me of rivers once free.  I wonder when we will stop our alterations to landscapes? I wonder when we will move past technologies and techniques centuries old?  I wonder when, or even if, my children will get to see the places that have sustained me and where I have lived my life.

Berberis microphylla—a small Patagonian shrub that produces a berry I ate one morning in 2001. A legend that I have become part of. The Futaleufu River, a place that I call home.  I wonder if they decide to drown it, to bury it, will the Calafate berry still taste the same.

This essay was originally created for the 2012 O.A.R.S. catalog. For more compelling stories from other renowned writers, click here to request your copy today!

In July 2011, we sent 15-year-old Sarah Faller down the Snake River through Hells Canyon with a challenge to describe, in her own words, an O.A.R.S. rafting trip. (Sarah is no stranger to the river life—or to O.A.R.S.  —having rafted the Main Salmon River with us in 2010.)

Here is her story…
 

I WAKE UP TO THE SOUND OF WATER CAREENING OVER ROCKS AND THE SONGS OF BIRDS FLYING THROUGH THE CANYON.

I open my eyes and see the sun kissing the upper ridge of the cliffs towering over camp. My face is chilled by the bite of the cool, morning air, but my toes are toasty in my sleeping bag. Shaking the dew off of my sleeping bag as I sit up, I reach for my coffee mug that’s sitting in the sand next to me. I can smell fresh, rich coffee float through the air and already I’m awake. As I get up to stretch, the realization floods over me that this is just the start of another awesome day on the river.

The coffee sure doesn’t make itself; the guides get up around 5 o’clock in the morning to first prepare coffee and then breakfast a little later. All the meals that the guides prepare are always delicious and healthy. Upon trying the food, you would never imagine that it was made out in the middle of nowhere, miles and miles from civilization. The guides are what pull the river trip together and are some of the most unforgettable people that I have ever met. You really get to know each other right off the bat and find out more about each other as the days go on. Not only do they contribute to the majority of fun on the trip, they are always there to make sure that you’re having a good time. With these guides, there is never a time that you ever feel not taken care of. The knowledge that they share with the group makes them even more enjoyable to be around, that is, along with their positive attitudes. I’ve connected almost immediately with the guides that I’ve met on these river trips and I’ve always felt how down-to-earth they are. Their passion for the outdoors and love for Mother Nature is so refreshing and makes me want to be around them all the time. They definitely become a close-knit family to me that I will most absolutely never forget.

The guides are definitely not the only people that you meet on the river. The guests that join you on the trip always add another fun factor. Whether it’s sharing interests and hobbies, chatting by the fire, fishing, or just laying back and relaxing with a cold drink in your hand, there is constantly a way to spend time with the guests on the trip. I’ve made many connections with other guests and learned many things from them also. I always find it fascinating to find out more about people’s jobs, activities, hobbies, and other subjects that make up their personalities. After every single trip that I have ever walked away from, I have always had tears running down my face and a new outlook on life. If it wasn’t for the people on the trip, that would never happen.

Along with the people that you meet, the trip would be nothing without the absolutely breathtaking scenery. On the river, everyone lives a totally different lifestyle that requires an open mind and the willingness to try new things. The mind-blowing, untouched piece of land that lies before me always makes me realize how simple living can be without modern-day technology. Along with all the remarkable wildlife and amazing earth surrounding you, the river is the biggest aspect of the trip that always brings me to tears when having to leave it. While on one of these trips, the river becomes my whole life; it’s like a mother to me. I’m touching, feeling, smelling, watching, hearing and submerging myself in it. It’s my transportation, and it’s keeping me alive, while trying to take me down at the same time. The river is my water source, for swimming and for drinking. The unpredictability of the waves and the thunderous rumbling ignites a spark inside of me and adrenaline begins to surge through my veins like the river water being forced between the canyon walls. The rushing of the water reminds me of how silent and still Mother Nature can be, and also how loud she can be with her plethora of exquisite sounds. The fresh and crisp smell of the chill spray on my skin revives me in a way that I feel as though I’ve become a new person.

The river is what makes the whole trip exhilarating and it opens up a whole new world of discovery, adventure and curiosity.

This essay was originally created for the 2012 O.A.R.S. catalog. For more compelling stories from other renowned writers, click here to request your copy today!

This is Lewis & Clark country as this river canyon turned them away from attempting to canoe down the canyon and they turned and went into Montana. There are many historic sites commemorating this event on the drive to the edge of the wilderness. This is the Frank Church – River of No Return – Wilderness which is adjacent to the Bob Marshall Wilderness in Montana.  Together they form the largest wilderness area in the lower 48 states. Outfitters put into the river at Corn Creek which is where the road ends and you enter the magnificent river canyon.

The Salmon River Canyon is a deep mountain canyon carved by millennia of water flow from snow melt in the nearby mountains and fed by natural springs on the canyon walls. There are dozens of side streams that feed into the river channel; some a small trickle, some waterfalls and some raging when full. They make for good trout fishing if you take the opportunity.

In the 1800's explorers and homesteaders came to Idaho to set up their homes; the adventurous decided to venture into the canyon.  The laws for "proving-up" a homestead in the Canyon required that plant fruit orchards. The cabins and caves of the people are falling down; their fruit trees and bushes remain productive and provide food for the wildlife.

Speaking of wildlife – this Canyon is home to black bear, elk, moose,deer, bobcats,river otters, bald eagles, bighorn sheep, many species of birds and fish and wolves were released at Corn Creek on the same day they were reintroduced to much press coverage into Yellowstone National Park.  They are thriving now to complete the original ecosystem.

When the Canyon was designated a Wilderness there remained private ranches, hunting and fishing lodges and homes along the river corridor. They were allowed to remain under grandfather clauses in that law. Today many of them invite guests to spend a night or a week while floating the river and offer a unique look at their operations. Several historic sites also provide a great hike and look back at an earlier time.

What brings me back to the Salmon River Canyon year after year is hard to define – it's become a magical place for me.  In places the Canyon is deeper than the Grand Canyon; there is so much history – both Native American Lewis & Clark, early western settler and, gold miners; wide, sandy beaches that are great for camping; plentiful wildlife, side streams that provide good fishing, hiking trails for an outing after spending a day in your raft.  And, the river is just a great big fun river to play in.  It's the greatest combination of always-moving water punctuated by great rapids to run and challenge you.  The night sky is studded with a million stars and sunrise comes over the canyon walls to illuminate your campsite with its fingers of light providing welcome warmth from the cool night air just before dawn.  Waking to the smell of coffee brewing and bacon cooking on the grill is one of life's great pleasures.

The people who live in the Canyon are special as well – Hans and Barbara who own Buckskin Bill’s place are a great couple who came to the US from Germany.  Their vegetable garden is a work of art and Barbara always lets me enter to check out how everything is doing this year.  The owners of Whitewater Ranch, Doug & Phyllis Timms who have purchased Campbell’s Ferry and provide a history lesson to anyone who stops by; Mike and Lynn who are the resident managers at Shepp Ranch, have all become friends over the years and it’s great to see them on each trip to say hello or spend the night.  There is a culture to the river people whether they are other outfitters, fellow guests or canyon dwellers – everyone is friendly and helpful and just great folks and that’s really what makes a trip to the Salmon River Canyon so special to me.

I’ve rafted several other rivers – the Middle Fork of the Salmon; the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon, Westwater and Cataract Canyon in Utah, the Snake in Wyoming, the Arkansas in Colorado, the Pacuare in Costa Rica, the New and Gauley in WV and I love the Main Salmon best.

My years of experience as a professional river guide have shown me that the trips I remember and learn from the most have been those with a purpose. Trips like these accomplish a therapeutic value from the overall experience of being in nature, and floating down a river.  For me, the Green River’s, Gates of Lodore river trip was an opportunity to observe this therapeutic value through the eyes of veterans coping with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). The thirteen veterans who participated in this trip were from various wartime operations, which included Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan, and Central America.

For those who suffer from PTSD, being on a river trip enables them to have new experiences and at the same time create a sense of normalcy. One Veteran summarized, “Most vets that are in these programs have lost their self-respect to the point where they feel they cannot contribute to anything anymore, so a lot of this may seem minute to some people…It is a big deal to the vets…it gives us a feeling that we can start over and still be useful”. The veterans were introduced to an oar raft, a paddle raft, and an inflatable kayak through rapids, slept in tents, and hiked up side canyons to waterfalls.  All these new experiences added to the rivers ability to recharge them and build self-efficacy.

The veterans took on the challenge of the one and two man, inflatable kayaks and the paddle boats navigated rapids with instructions from the guides.  I could see in their eyes, at the bottom of the rapid, they were so proud at their moment of success.  The positive experience of being in a rapid, in the moment, maneuvering a craft, uplifted them and gave them self-confidence. A veteran describes,  “It especially happened when I was in the solo kayak.  It was a spiritual experience for me.  I felt connected to my Higher Power through the river. This is the best time I’ve had in many years.  I’m going to tell my friends and family all about it.  I haven’t had this level of fun in a very long time.  I feel motivated to make some good changes in my life that I always just talk about.”

At night, around the campfire or in the ring of chairs for dinner, the veterans would exchange their stories from the day. They would talk amongst themselves about what was important to them, and the challenges they faced. A veteran wrote in his journal, “the best thing about rafting down the river for four days is that it gives you time to get to know people…everyone has their own story, yet sometimes we are so alike.  It’s great being able to talk to other vets; we speak a different language sometimes”.  Because a river trip is a shared experience, the veterans were more likely to share something about themselves in the process.  It was powerful for me to observe the growing camaraderie and to listen to the veterans express the difficulties upon their return from war.

“At home I usually take anxiety pills and sleeping pills at night.  Out here, I haven’t had to take either one.  The music around the campfire was enough to lull me right to sleep.  And we are so active during the day with rafting and hiking and such that I have no trouble going to sleep at night.  That makes me very happy.”  Many of the veterans expressed delight in not having to take their medications for anxiety or help them to sleep.  They described their excitement for the silence of cell phones and no interruptions in their enjoyment of the trip.  The observation for me that was most fundamental was the ability of the natural environment to keep them present, in the moment.  For the veterans, this kept them focused on what was happening now, not in the past.  Enabling the new experiences to count towards the future. “That makes us think maybe things can get better…gives us motivation to say hey, I did that, maybe I can do…it doesn’t matter what it is as long as it is positive.”

Being present in nature has the power to influence a person, which allows for the opportunity to heal.  The journey’s value is priceless for anyone who joins a river trip.  I learned of one avenue of treatment for these veterans who suffer from PTSD, which is to bring them into the natural environment, and let that environment enhance their therapy and awaken their renewal.

“The boat slid down the Boundary Creek ramp…” – or some variation can begin the tale.

Each river has a point of reference, which triggers memories grown dim with the distractions of daily living. Around the Grand Canyon, a mention of Lee’s Ferry can make a normally reserved acquaintance into a raconteur. In the Salmon River country, referring to the Boundary Creek put-in ramp could lead to such an earful of adventures from a Middle Fork veteran that you may decide to disappear from ‘civilization’ long enough to gather a few stories of your own.

With the river’s music as background, in an after-dinner circle, the stories may begin. Bronco might describe the time he and the other guides were floating the upper part at high water, ‘deadheading’ without passengers, when Murph’s Hole flipped him, then sent his raft into an eddy while he got caught in the main flow. He’ll mention then that his was the lead boat, and might note that it can be several miles before there is a place to eddy out in that stretch of river. Codye can tell of looking at Jack Creek Rapid, (“eyes big as saucers” is how I remember her putting it), and then steering down the wave train between boat-flipping holes and hoping the boat in front had a good line. Listening to tales of boat flips and close calls, you may wonder why they keep coming back to run this river at all levels. But if you ask about favorite parts of the Middle Fork, some guides will describe the technical moves of the upper river and the beauty of Impassable Canyon; and Zack will tell of the river gathering its flow from a meeting of two continental plates (then he’ll say his favorite is, “Definitely Impassable – or the upper.”). All this should make you want to dip into the river’s power.

Let’s say the Middle Fork is at low water, on a late summer afternoon. You’re in the paddle raft, stroking deep as you enter the S-turn of Pistol Creek Rapid. When all six paddlers synchronize, the guide can steer into each wave on an angle that sets up for the next one. Camilo likes to bump and turn off the rocks at low water, and has told you already that he loves Impassable Canyon best at high water, so you know he’ll be looking for the biggest splashy waves. Look up as you paddle, and you’ll see that the rocks above the waves mirror the river’s path. Imagining the river at high water, you may understand how river and rock shape each other. This will make the next rapids easier to read, and raise your desire to run the river at all water levels.

Some grew up on this river, and can recite the run through each rapid like a recipe for a much loved delicacy. When asked, Dan will name Jump Off as a favorite rapid for its ‘sneak route’ just to the right of a big rock that can wrap a raft around itself if you don’t get quite far enough right. Watch this young veteran’s short oar strokes as he pushes off a wall, using the current’s cushioning effect to keep his boat from scraping rocks as it slips through the narrow slot left of a low water run.

Around a campfire one night, a Salmon country veteran named Nick may tell of hiking up the Middle Fork from Loon Creek camp on a late summer run, checking on smoke he’d spotted from the river earlier that afternoon, and then of racing down the trail ahead of a wildfire that had topped a ridge and was running directly toward camp. He’ll make you see the billowing clouds of smoke, and he may tell of another group rowing downriver, all their gear piled in mounds on the rafts, and of the look in their eyes as they passed him, seeming to say, “We’re so sorry, but you’re going to die!” This story has a happy ending though, as four groups share a camp that is below the fire’s reach, but Nick is the one to tell it best.

Sometime later, when Nick says that his favorite stretch, at all levels, is just a little below Boundary Creek at Hell’s Half Mile, you’ll want to run the river with all these stories fresh in mind, but this season is at an end. Next year though, the Middle Fork will rise again. After you’ve helped ease a raft down the Boundary Creek ramp, the paddle guide will climb in and ask you to let go. When boat hits water, another tale has begun, to eventually be re-told around the circle.

Writer’s note: On a recent O.A.R.S. trip down the Middle Fork, I collected these stories from the guides I named above. Each one put up with my questions, and their answers helped me feel the intensity of this river’s highs and lows. Paddling through Hancock Rapid at low water, looking downstream at the top of a certain boulder, you may see a scooped out hole full of river water. Without breaking the paddling rhythm that makes steering a raft seem easy, look for smaller rocks trapped in the pool. At high water this boulder is underwater, shaping the river as these smaller rocks swirl around the pool, wearing it away. High and wild, low and scenic is another way to start a Middle Fork story.

When it comes to hopping on a plane for a rafting trip in Fiji, a sea kayaking expedition in the Galapagos, or any other big adventure outside of the U.S., thoughtful planning and packing is critical.  We’ve compiled a list of expert advice ranging from clothing to what to have for worst case scenario peace of mind.  Keep this list handy the next time you’re gearing up for a big trip. It could save you a headache, or your life.

Before you go. Make a copy of your passport, email a PDF version to yourself and if you’re traveling with a smartphone, take a photo of it.  Yes, you’ve heard this one a hundred times, but it’s so easy to forget.

Do your homework. Check the U.S. State Department Website for travel alerts and exit/entry requirements, such as a travel visa.  

Visit the CDC website and consult your physician for any recommended immunizations.

Take time to learn a few essential phrases in the native language. What are the local customs where you’re headed?  For example, giving the A-ok sign in some parts of South America is a big no-no.  In Fiji, the locals dress very conservatively.  If you are in a town or village, it’s respectful to cover your shoulders and knees. Good to know.

If you plan to bring a camera, phone or other electronic device, consider your options for recharging your gadgets.  If you anticipate having access to power, check to see if you’ll need an international travel plug adapter.  Alternatively, you may want to pack a portable solar charger.

Money matters. It helps to know about the monetary issues of any country where you plan to travel. Be sure to investigate the currency where you’re going, commonly accepted methods of payment, ATM availability, currency conversion (so that you’re using the latest exchange rates when planning your trip), tipping guidelines, etc.

Pack like a pro. If you prefer a roller for convenience, consider one that converts into a backpack such as the Eagle Creek Switchback™ Max. Made from 100% recycled fabrics and backed by Eagle Creek’s No Matter What™ warranty, this durable bag includes a zip-off laptop backpack, ideal for day trips.

Think lightweight, quick-drying layers.  Regardless of where you’re headed, weather can change quickly, sometimes bringing in storms or crazy temperature swings.   Make sure to research weather patterns ahead of time and pack accordingly.  As a rule of thumb, always plan to wear various layers throughout the day and shed or add on accordingly.  If prolonged sun exposure is likely, strongly consider a long-sleeve, nylon shirt with a UPF fabric rating for UV protection.

Buy 2½-gallon freezer bags with zippers.  Stay organized by packing similar items together.  Then, roll all the air out of each bag to vacuum pack your clothes and save space (bonus!).  

Just in case. If you’re going somewhere remote, make sure to have a decent first aid kit with you.  Must-have items include Steri-strips which can hold you together if you can’t get stitches right away, Neosporin and waterproof Band-Aids/blister cushions.

Consider asking your doctor to write you a prescription for Cipro—or a similar antibiotic to treat bacterial infections—before you go. If you eat or drink something you regret, you’ll be good to go in no time.

Got cell service?  Sure, you can bring your phone along, but just like the backcountry in the U.S., most adventure travel is done in remote areas and chances are your cell won’t be of much help.  If you’re going with an outfitter, check to see what type of communication devices they will have on hand and whether or not a Spot device or personal locator beacon might be worth bringing along.

And last, but definitely not least, buy yourself travel and evacuation insurance.  Whether it’s a glitch in the travel plans or worst case scenario, this is the smartest thing you can do to be prepared and protected.  Broader coverage that includes trip cancellation, trip interruption, baggage loss and medical protection is also highly recommended.  O.A.R.S. is partnered with USI Travel Insurance but there are many other providers who offer similar plans.  

Safe and happy travels!

These tips were originally created for the 2012 O.A.R.S. catalog. For compelling stories from other renowned writers, click here to request your copy today!

When I was 17-years-old, I packed up my parent's minivan and headed west with three girlfriends, determined to see what was beyond Wisconsin.  We found our way through the National Park icons like Yellowstone and Yosemite and eventually made our way to Utah.  To this day, Zion still holds a special place in my heart.  And by the end of that two-week road trip, I had fallen in love with Utah.  But life takes you in many directions and eventually Utah, with its red rocks, meandering rivers and deep canyons, fell to the back of my mind.

Fast forward a few years (too many to share) and I’m back, flying over the Colorado River in a six-seater Cessna, staring down at Canyonlands National Park and Cataract Canyon where I’ve just spent the last week exploring.  I think I spot the entrance to Dark Canyon and make out what has to be Big Drop II. I see the Doll House to my left and the stretch of river that was bypassed when we hopped on land to hike the Loop.  I’m smiling.  I’m a Californian now, but I just fell in love with Utah all over again.

A week earlier I had arrived in Moab, a Mecca for all things outdoorsy, in the southeastern corner of the state. I came specifically for the rafting and hiking and hooked up with O.A.R.S., which promised both in one trip.  I was excited about rafting 96 miles of the Colorado River and accessing remote trails along the way, typically hard to reach by any other means.

The trip began with our guides rowing the group, 23 of us all together, through peaceful Meander Canyon, rich with geological features that make you scratch your head in wonder.  Early on we passed into Canyonlands National Park, but Cataract Canyon doesn’t officially start until 50 miles into the trip. Having already heard about some of the hikes that lay ahead, I was eager to get further down the river.

At lunch on the second day, we reached Lathrop Ruins, our first hike.  A 15-minute jaunt through the bright green, weedy Tamarisk trees lead to Anasazi ruins, including pictographs and an abandoned granary, which an ancient community created to store their surplus of crops and grains.  

Day three began with the Loop hike, an approximately one-mile, moderate trail that goes straight up about 500 feet with great views at the top, then straight down with some tricky foot maneuvering.  While we hiked, the boats kept rowing to pick us up on the other side.  We bypassed four miles of the river, but it was well worth it for the chance to peer down into the layered canyon walls we were living among for the week.

We then headed off to the confluence of the Colorado and Green Rivers where you reach a sign-in box for groups to write-in the various camps they’ll be staying at throughout the trip. Sign-up is voluntary, but also an unspoken rule of the river. We all had our fingers crossed for plan A and were thrilled when the guides came back and shouted, “Winning!”—our motto for the rest of the trip.   We were now set up perfectly to hike the Doll House, as well as Dark Canyon.

Day four was going to be epic.  Not only were we hiking the six-mile Doll House trail into the remote Maze District of Canyonlands, we were also running a good chunk of the trip’s Class III-IV rapids.  

About half of us woke up early to beat the heat and take on the grueling 1,300-foot ascent that takes you to the playful rock formations that make up the Doll House.  After a 45-minute Stairmaster climb you get to the top, and are rewarded with an awe-inspiring, 360-degree panoramic view. In one direction sits the colorful spires of the Needles and Island in the Sky Districts of Canyonlands.  There’s an Anasazi granary to discover, and an area called the Refrigerator that offers a slot canyon experience with relief from the heat.  We could have spent the entire day up here, but after an hour of exploring we had to get back for lunch and gear up for the rapids ahead, including some big plunges, literally called Big Drop I, II and III.  

The following day brought more rapids, which I took on in a ducky after successfully kayaking the first day’s rapids.  Lower Imperial got the best of me and my paddle partner and we took our first official “swim.”  Luckily, we made it through laughing and unscathed.  But I wasn’t as excited about the rapids on day five as I was about Dark Canyon, a hike that hasn’t been accessible for at least eight years due to low water levels and impassable debris.  

On a perfect day Dark Canyon offers approximately two miles (or more if you’re adventurous) of hiking and bouldering between its steep, narrow red walls alongside a pristine stream.  When we arrived to clay-red water it was obvious a flash flood had come through the day before.  Nonetheless, we took advantage of the many swim holes, waterfalls and prime cliff jumping spots that are hidden away in this remote paradise.  It was a magic moment to be wandering among canyon walls that glowed like a flame and towered 3,000 feet above you.  The wait had been worth it.  

As we pulled up to the boat take out the next day a sadness came over me like I was saying good bye to an old friend.  Planes arrived to take us out of the canyon and, as we flew over the Colorado River back to Moab, I couldn’t help but think about all the people out there who haven’t gotten a chance to see any of this yet—to fall in love with Utah.

This essay was originally created for the 2012 O.A.R.S. catalog. For more compelling stories from other renowned writers, click here to request your copy today!