Even though there were still some formidable rapids ahead, the mood had changed mostly due to the fact that all but Loren and I have only one day left on the trip.

Much of the discussions revolved around logistics such as what people and gear are going out with which vehicles, exchanging addresses to share photos, etc.

While I heard no one say it out loud, I felt sad to know our parting was eminent. You can probably imagine how personalities can clash when put in such close contact while facing obstacles, decisions and unexpected circumstances every day. Such clashes are fodder for river-runners’ tales, and I have witnessed some doozies over the years.

Unless I was the cause and was never told so, there were no such conflicts among those in our group.

We shoved off just after 8 am; for some unknown reason Steve still trusted my questionable rowing skills and we had a great time in the many rapids during the day’s eighteen miles.

Particularly memorable was our ride through 205 mile rapid where we went through a large hole that pushed us to the right where we got caught in a huge eddy. After trying once to row sideways out of it, we realized the only way was to float all the way to the top of it and then push out, which we finally did.

During the afternoon we stopped at Pumpkin Springs, a hot spring that creates its own pool by depositing minerals. The pool sits on the river’s left bank and bears an uncanny resemblance to a large pumpkin.

Less than a mile farther down some of the less mature of the group (you can guess who) had a blast jumping off a rock about 30 feet above the river on its right shore. It was a welcome respite from the heat and direct sun.

Soon after, Loren was lucky (charming?) enough to talk one of the commercial trips out of a block of ice, a precious commodity we hadn’t seen for many days.

Even though the canyon is widening, it is still stunning. Among the multi-colored rock layers, many black lava flows from the volcano many miles upstream are still visible.

Our nemesis the wind reared its ugly head in mid-afternoon and, after about an hour of trying to fight it with our usual bags of tricks, we camped on the right side across from a place called three springs canyon.

It is one of the nicest camps yet, and Mason wasted no time in locating the “Master Suite” for a well-deserved nap.

The Park Service folks we had met earlier stopped on the other side to collect more scientific data, and we watched them as we sipped ice-cold drinks.

Adding to our entertainment, at about 6 pm our friends in the other private trip who started with us at Lee’s floated by us; among other things we yelled encouragement. We have come to know them as “The Rastas” for their attractive attire and attitude.