So, if you’ve already read Day 1 and Day 2 of this blog about our trip down the Yampa, you may have noticed that Day 1 had a lot of detail, and Day 2 seemed to be off. The truth of the matter is that Day 1 was written years ago when the trip was still fresh in our minds. Today, it is May 11, 2018, and with four years between that river trip and now, much about what was occurring is lost somewhere in the back of my mind.

I could wax about the feelings that seeing these photos brings back, but as I write here on a one-hundred-degree-hot day at a Starbucks, I’m mostly at a loss to pen anything meaningful. This is tragic to me because, with other blog entries where I’ve captured an abundance of details pertaining to the day, I’ve always enjoyed reminiscing and having impressions come back to me that would have otherwise been lost forever.

And so it will be regarding Day 3 of our Yampa River adventure: many things I would have ended up sharing with you normally will not even be shared between myself and Caroline. I suppose this will have to end up being a photo album entry.

Now, where we could get lucky is if Caroline has memories tucked away where she could bring them out and add to my not-developing meander through this poor excuse. At this point, I might recommend to the reader to just skip the rest of the text that will follow, as it might just be more of the same. Then again, maybe the wife adds some interesting bits.

It’s beautiful, isn’t it?

Spectacular even.

This 180-degree curve in the river is “graced” by the Grand Overhang. These photos are not capable of conveying the scale of this landscape.

That’s Sarge upfront, and Willie (from Scotland) behind him; the other names are lost in time. While most of the rafts on our trip were rowed by guides, there was one paddle raft that could be rowed by guests, and every day, a few volunteers decided to experience the river under their own oar power. There is a guide sitting in the back, steering the craft and giving commands to the rowers as needed (usually when we hit white water).

I’m writing about an equal amount of description as one thinks about much of anything while out on the river, just taking in the incredible moments of being fortunate enough to even be in such an environment.

They say a picture speaks 1000 words.

You don’t have to go far before the landscape shifts again, and this corner looks a bit different than the previous one or the one ahead.

The road ahead is paved with perfection and elegance; you just have to put yourself on that path to find it everywhere.

Mantle Cave

Patterns were meant to be studied. They are how we find our way through ourselves and the universe.

Granary

A change in scenery: we have left the river for a hike before lunch. River rafting is a bit like shampooing your hair: raft, hike, eat, repeat.

Try to find a better view for lunch. If you should be so lucky to have 100 incredible views for your midday meal during the course of your life, I’d think you were doing pretty good.

Knives and mayonnaise on a river trip to make sure we are having the complete experience.

Stomachs full, it was not time for a nap, it was time to get back on the river so we could find another beautiful place for dinner.

This is the Tiger Wall, also known as “Kissing Rock,” and you can bet that all of us got the chance to step up while on our rafts and kiss the largest face we may ever kiss in all our lives.

Shortly thereafter, we encountered “the sporty rapid” here on the Yampa, Warm Springs Rapid. It was formed by a flash flood in the 1960s, and there are many stories about it because there were several trips in the area during that time. For us, the best part of this run for those in our raft was that just after I took this photo we got hung up on a shallow boulder that just kept us in place while raging white water rushed around us. Next, our boatman tried rowing us off our perch, and we tried to help by jumping around in an effort to shift the weight of the raft just enough so we could continue our trip downriver instead of having the water swamp our raft and push us into the churn. After a few tense moments, we successfully escaped our rock in the middle of white water, for which I was incredibly grateful.

This is the second full can of beer Caroline has rescued from a river; what kind of luck is that? Yes, she drank it.

When you see boatmen gathered on rafts in this configuration, it means they are done for the day, almost. Between pulling into camp and making our dinner, they usually take about a half-hour to an hour to chill and evaluate the day, maybe talk about tomorrow’s plans.