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Volume CXXXI, Number 21 |
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Not an ordinary BOC adventure
GEORGE HUBBARD
CONTRIBUTOR
The Las Vegas airport: the perfect place to begin a trip
that is centered around getting in touch with nature. Constant images
of white tigers, blue men, and exotic women and men got the twelve intrepid
members of the Bowdoin Outing Club's first Grand Canyon trip ready to
experience the untamed wilds of Arizona.
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| Members of the Bowdoin Outing Club made their way through the Grand Canyon and came out with a story to tell. (Courtesy Cecily Upton) |
After collecting the baggage and Bill, the group ventured
down the strip, across the Hoover Dam and over to the Grand Canyon itself.
Just like good campers, the BOC settled down in an illegal parking lot
covered in snow for a well deserved good night's rest.
Before the sun rose, the Las Vegas Twelve were awoken by
the rapid attacks of wild coyotes. Mike "The Head" Ritter successfully
beat off the wild beasts, and the group packed up for their descent into
the canyon. It was a tearful goodbye when the group split up into their
respective groups of six to continue the rest of the journey.
From now on we will refer to the two groups as Team "Thunder
From Down Under" (lead by Meg "The Tyrant" Tierny and Mike
"The Head" Ritter) and Team "Dominade™" ( lead
by Cecily "Touchy Feely" Upton and George "The Narrator"
Hubbard). Team Dominade consisted of Luigi Taylor, Chewy Connolly, Jeff
"The Chef" Cook, and Erin "Smells Like Cabbage" Carney.
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| One of the many majestic views that BOC members met during their trek through the Grand Canyon. (Courtesy Cecily Upton) |
Since the narrator was not present on Team Thunder From
Down Under's venture, their details will be carelessly left out unless
they directly pertain to Team Dominade™'s progress.
After the first day, which brought Team D. 5,000 feet under
the canyon rim, they set up camp on a beautiful sand dune on the bank
of the mighty Colorado River. Much to the chagrin of T.D., it turned out
that Team Thunder had stolen a set of tent poles and a frying pan from
our protagonist travelers. So, T.D. set up the one working tent (which
promptly blew into the Colorado) and a rain tarp (which immediately became
shelter for deadly scorpions and rabid mice). Despite these set backs,
the group pressed on.
With only three miles to cover on the second day, T.D. got a leisurely
start at eleven o'clock. Little did T.D. realize that these three miles
were going to be the most treacherous of their trip.
The group soon discovered that the official Grand Canyon
map was the biggest psych that anyone had ever been a part of. The supposedly
flat trail actually scaled cliffs which summed up to hundreds of vertical
feet. Using superb team work and the harness rigging skills of one Jeff
"The Chef" Cook, the team was able to ascend the rock walls
and rope packs.
After teetering on the brink of hundred foot cliffs?and insanity for that
matter?leaders Cecily and George claimed "Boy, did we pick the wrong
time to quit sniffing glue."
After a grueling day, the group laid down to sleep-only
to be attacked by flesh eating ravens and persistent Canucks.
Now knowing what the treacherous canyon had to offer, our
daring travelers got up at the crack of dawn and began forging a trail
along the canyon walls. To lighten the somber mood, due to the elk carrion
which was passed early in the morning, Chewy Connolly impressed the group
with her amazing skill of fitting as many granola bars into her stomach
at one time as humanly possible.
Right as the tirade of stupid human tricks ended, Team Thunder
From Down Under came 'round the bend. The Thunder were in bad shape. It
seems as though the extra weight of the previously mentioned stolen items
had taken its toll on the unprepared thieves. Serves them right. Feeling
sorry for their lesser peers, T.D. did their part to lighten the load
of Team Thunder and sent them packing. The rest of the day was perfectly
lovely.
Day four was ridiculous. Only one mile to go, and if the
team made it that far, they had a day of rest waiting for them tomorrow.
Whoever put the permits together was a "real joker." T.D. decided
to sprint the first half mile (being jacked from their previous days)
and take a break in the shade of a precarious cliff. The laziness of the
day swept over our sojourners like the swift Colorado River below.
The second half of the mile was sprinted backwards. The
team set up camp in the thicket of a briar patch to keep out of the raging
sand storm (they're the BOC, and the BOC does that sort of thing). Luigi
Taylor declared this day "The biggest psych of your life."
The next day was also filled with unbelievable amounts of
laze. Waking up late lead to a slow breakfast of pancakes over a Whisperlite®
stove. When they say Whisperlite they mean it. I could have breathed on
the pancakes and they would have cooked faster.
Anyway, using Erin's nimble fingers, some chewing gum, two
rolls of duct tape, and some special "Green Tea", the team was
able to create a more powerful stove. To celebrate, calzones were made
for dinner.
The final day: T.D. woke up early and turned their gazes
to the looming 5,000 foot canyon wall. A feeling of electricity was in
the air, one could almost see sparks fly between the voyagers. After all
of the static electricity had been shaken out of the fleeces, the travelers
were on their way.
Cecily cracked the whip and brought the group up to a five
minute mile pace. At the lunch break, the team stopped to take many promotional
photos of themselves for their sponsor, Domino Sugar™. Feeling rather
frisky, the team upped their pace to four minutes per mile and summited
the rim by 2 in the afternoon. A brand new Montero was waiting for T.D.
at the trailhead. If you have the means I highly recommend picking one
up. It's so choice. At the successful reunion of the split group, stories
were traded, music was made, and all lived happily ever after.
The fine print: Details of this story may have been exaggerated for narrative purpose. Other details may have been exaggerated for no reason what so ever. For more information contact Frank Orgetit at forgetit@bowdoin.edu