Your first time floating through the Grand Canyon can never be beat. Until, perhaps, you go again, shedding the comfort and ease of rafts and stuffing your home for 13 days into a kayak. 

The first question I get asked...how do you fit a groover in a kayak?    

Well, you ditch the bulky metal box and imagine a capsule that will stay absolutely, 100%, undoubtedly, undeniably, securely closed.  This capsule, made of PVC tube, can be short and stocky or long and skinny.  

For the sleek and slender Green Boat, the skinny "Rocketship" model fits right in.  

I cut away a long chunk of my rear pillar (who needs a rear pillar anyway, honestly) and slid the poop tube right in.  Voila.

Easily accessed and uniquely stored.  

Two summers ago I joined Adam Elliott (my wonderful boyfriend) down two back-to-back commercial trips down in the big ditch with Arizona Raft Adventures, AzRA, the company he has guided with for the past 22 (?) years.

We carried big cotton sleeping bags, large bottles of juicy lotion, and extravagant food concoctions for every meal.  I lazily read my copy of "Whitewater Philosophy" on the front of the raft (I was an assistant and therefore not rowing my own boat), floating down the flatwater entranced by the canyon walls.

I basked in the August sun, hiked in my bikini, and slept in...well...nothing.

This time, things will be different.  

For one, my ultimate tour guide, my favorite boating partner, will not be there.  Second, it is November in the northern hemisphere which means less light and chilly temperatures.  Third, I have to pack everything I need into my kayak on this 13 day self-support multi-day kayak trip down the Grand Canyon.

It may seem silly and illogical, but I couldn't be more excited (except for not having my tour guide).  Carrying everything you need right in your own kayak is liberating and exciting.  

It's a "less is more" kinda thing I guess.

Now for the quintessential "how am I going to fit all of this into my kayak" shots.

 I spy glowsticks, a frisbee, neon sunglasses, and a pair of jeggings.  Essentials only.  

Only a fraction.