Secret Springs

It was somewhere around river mile 200, or maybe 220 by then. We had been on the Colorado River for nineteen or twenty days, and the passing of both time and distance was becoming blurry. There had been no one around us for fifty miles in any direction for three weeks, except our group of sixteen. A hodge-podge of friends and friends-of-friends from all corners of the country, we had met at Lee’s Ferry just before the New Year to descend into the depths of the Grand Canyon.

We were fully into the rhythms of river life by then. Breakfast crew would send out the coffee call around seven, sometimes with a mock rooster crow, and once with a long Irish ballad sung loud enough to echo off the canyon walls. More than once, it was by sounds of a wooden flute, with melodies that seemed to be born of this place. Every morning was much the same: eggs to order with hot sausage on the side, clean up the ashes of last night’s fire, filter water from the river, and everyone carries everything back to the boats, where the boatmen are waiting, rigging the gear in and reviewing maps for the day. It’s a process. After pulling on my dry suit and picking the cold wet sand from the zippers of my life jacket (because the sand is everywhere), I finish my personal morning routine, slightly different from the rest of the crew. I make sure my tablet is in a dry bag that will stay with me throughout the day, and I try to adjust the solar charger on deck in hopes that we will get more than an hour of sunlight that day. Though the sun has been shining almost every day of the trip, it only reaches the river for a short time around noon, so deep are the canyon walls.

The highlights of this trip have been on side hikes, where our destination is almost invariably a waterfall or a creek, all of which are spring-fed. This is not just true of our trip because it is a particular interest of mine, it is true of all recreational trips below the rim in the Grand Canyon. Every river trip makes these sojourns up side canyons for many reasons. Springs support riparian ecosystems, which are essentially oases in the desert. They are lush, gorgeous, areas that provide respite from the heat, and, as critical habitat and hotspots of biodiversity, they are opportunities for wildlife viewing. Backpackers seek springs because their life depends on it. Springs provide the only drinking water (other than the river, which is usually not accessible for hikers) once you are below the rim of the canyon. And the outdoorsmen and women of today are not the first to visit these special places. Humans have been frequenting springs in the canyon for the last 12,000 years, and many of them have great cultural significance as sacred sites in stories of emergence, and the passing of souls into the afterworld.

Yet, as important as these sites are, studying them has proved difficult. The Grand Canyon is a vast and remote landscape, with exceptionally rugged and inaccessible terrain. Remote “trailheads” (access points) can be a day’s drive from the closest town, water sources are unknown or unreliable, and the only access to emergency services would be if you were carrying your own satellite phone. Even then, there are no guarantees. At this time, more people have walked on the moon than have walked the length of the North side. I knew that the resources of the research organization working with springs didn’t have the resources to map and verify all of these springs. It could take a lifetime, even with crews in the field constantly. I also knew that the community I was a part of, the community of guides, were in the canyon all the time, both for work and for pleasure, exploring all sorts of remote corners, and most wanted to give back to this place that they loved. The research organization needed hands on...