Four years ago we embarked on what is still the best trip of our lives.
In what we now clearly recognize as a prelude to our current travels, in July 2008 we set out for a seven-day, six-night Grand Canyon rafting excursion. Before that trip, we had never pitched a tent under the stars; never rafted; and certainly never experienced whitewater of any kind. Yet there we were, flying off to confront some of the biggest whitewater in the country, on a trip that once started had to be seen through to its end. The only way out of the Canyon for us would be by medical helicopter.
That assumed we made it into the canyon in the first place. We almost didn’t.
Everywhere Once 