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RAOC Gazette - page 166

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Transcription EXPEDITION DcV GULCH
(GRAND CANYON ARIZONA)
BY CAPTAIN I\\ O. H. DE FOUBERT
IT all began after an excellent guest night in the now defunct
5 Airportable Brigade Officers Mess, when the after dinner dis-
cussion turned to where we would like to spend our Summer
holidays. That was with the proviso that we could, of course,
afford it! Having discussed deserted Caribbean islands and
Pacific retreats and even degenerated to discussing Indian
Ocean backwaters, adventure holidays became the topic. Then
in a blinding flash it came to us maybe—yes just maybe, Her
Majesty's minions in the MOD might be persuaded to pay for
our Summer holiday—abroad!
It didn't take long to realise that our horizons were limited
to RAF routes and as the frequency of flights to the West
surpassed those to the East, it was decided to aim for America.
The next step was to decide on the type of activity and area of
operations. It was a pure coincidence that the author received
a series of Time /Life books for Christmas which depicted
many worthwhile areas such as Outer Mongolia, Siberia, the
deserts of Africa, jungles of Borneo and many other hazardous
possibilities. However, of all the options open to us it was
decided to aim for the Grand Canyon in Arizona in the United
States of America.
Our aim we still had to decide upon, but after several
letters to various American Governmental departments and
several hundredweights of info in return, we decided to cross
the Grand Canyon from East to West and North to South, the
expedition would be called Dry Gulch!
Having completed the Adventurous Training Expeditions
Annex and, for good measure, an Operation Order and an Ad-
ministrative Order, we submitted our scheme for consideration.
I do not think anyone could have been more surprised than
we were when a few weeks later back came the Annex stamped
'Authorised' and showing an increase to the maximum financial
assistance available!
Now that authority had been received the serious aspect of
picking a team, training, arranging visits to various branches of
the MOD to sort out rations, flights, kit and medical assistance
and PR cover all began. This was an interesting period during
which we received an enormous amount of assistance and
various agencies went to no end of trouble to sort out even
the smallest of problems.
As our departure date approached, anxieties set in as to
what calamity might prevent us going and sure enough one did
arise. The Guatamalians began making noises about invading
Belize and of course our Government began a major airlift of
troops into the area. All was not completely lost however,
we were offered seats to Calgary in Canada, only two thousand
five hundred miles from the Canyon! Fortunately, at the last
minute, our flight details from Brize Norton to Dulles airport,
outside Washington DC t were signalled through. It was ' all
systems go* at last, and with a final check of wallets, kit,
documents, maps and most important of all our contacts and
telephone numbers, we set off for Brize Norton.
We left UK at mid-day and arrived at Dulles International
airport at 1615, where we were met by a representative of the
British Defence Staff from Washington who briefed us on one
or two matters such as routes, hire of vehicles, bus tickets and
further emergency phone numbers. Three of the group left us
at the Airport for Washington where they picked up a Trans-
Continental Trailways bus, similar to the Greyhound bus
system, and the remaining five proceeded to pack our gear into
our hired 5.1 litre, nine seater Plymouth estate. Having succeeded
in packing our kit into the car, and reducing the seating capacity
to barely five, and on trying to close the rear door, we en-
countered our first major problem, the window shattered and the
door buckled! Messrs Avis car hire, having been convinced it
was not our fault, exchanged the car immediately and so we
began to unload and repack.
The humidity at Dulles was well into the eighties, so it
was with extreme relief, when having finished packing, we all
climbed in, shut the windows and enjoyed the station wagon's
air conditioning. That Friday night we camped at Hagersrown
in Virginia, a staunch Yankee area where great historical
emphasis is placed upon the various battles fought during the
American Civil War.
Three days later having driven through such famous cities
as Indianapolis, St Louis, Springfield, Tulsa, Oklahoma City,
Amarillo, Tucumcari, Sante Fe and Alburquerque and many
well known states such as - Pennsylvania, Illinois, Missouri,
Arkansas, Texas and New Mexico and Arizona, we arrived in
Flagstaff sixty miles from the Canyon, where we met up with
our three bussers. In those three days we had travelled two
thousand eight hundred and thirty five miles and apart from
three ' blowouts,' our second station wagon had gone remark-
ably welL The following day was spent re-sorting our gear,
checking rations and water and a short recce. The following
day after several final checks we set off apprehensively for the
Canyon. Originally we had intended splitting into two groups.
I was to lead one and Colin Robinson the other but as it turned
out, the Area Rangers had closed one of our routes due to
lack of water and so both parties headed off into the Canyon
along the Grandview trail.
It was about 10 am when we found the trail-leading over
the edge from the plateau into the Canyon. It was an awesome
sight, a grand view for a tourist but a rather horrifying sight
When one had to contemplate the near vertical corkscrew,
sparrow track leading nigh on straight
down. After one or two
4
ribald jokes about ' volunteering,' whose bright idea it was/
and ' an Irishman's holiday* we set off dawn at about 1030 am.
It was extremely hot, the sun directly overhead, soon to pass its
zenith and shine directly onto the trail,
Three hours later we reached Horseshoe Mesa, a bare
plateau about halfway down into the Canyon. We were now
really feeling the effects of the sun, the strain of the deep descent,
the lack of an acclimatization period, and the weight of our
rucksacks and water (approximately forty pounds). Our water con-
sumption rate during the past three hours was extremely high
and so we decided to drink and eat heartily and then, whfle
the majority rested, two would search for water on the Eastern
side of the Mesa (the 4 only known water source on the trail).
Four hours after the picking of straws' ceremony Captains de
Foubert and Robinson re-appeared, the former picking cactus
needles from various parts of his body and the latter limping
badly from an injury sustained whilst trying to kick a--caetus
bush out of the way—the result, impaling his shin bone on
the bush!
The temperature in the Canyon, where the prevailing winds
do not reach and the reflected heat from the rocks combine to
form a very dense, dull, heat, reached 100°F. However, our
water bottles now full and the rest of the party being regaled
by the officers' stories of filling those bottles whilst standing
shivering under cascades of ice-cold water (if the truth be
known it was a muddy insect ridden foul smelling water hole),
the party set off once more into the Canyon. Darkness began to
fall quite early so after a further hour we camped on an un-
protected edge of a buttress affording us some of the most
spectacular views all around. We did not sleep very well that
night, our insect repellant (civilian type) far from repelling
seemed to attract all sorts of nasties, which when added to the
aches of our limbs combined to ensure a sleep-free night.
Reveille next morning was at 0445, there was just sufficient
light for me to cook breakfast, appropriately, Rise and Shine,
Alpen, tea, biscuits and jam (all specially prepared and packed
for us by ' our man ' at DGST(N).
Our early start was twofold, firstly to get on as fast as
possible before the sun reached into the Canyon, and secondly
to try and make up for lost time incurred by the ' water-hunt *
the previous day. We descended into Cottonwood Creek,
ascended and crossed Lylle Butte and for the first time had a
clear view of the Colorado river and grapevine rapids about
one thousand five hundred feet below.
Following the Tonto trail, or rather what we assumed to be
a trail (it was very indistinct with the general surroundings), to
Boulder Creek, we rested from 11.30 to 14.30, sleeping fitfully
and eating until the sun had passed through its zenith. We
then headed for Newton Butte, the track having now completely
disappeared we were dependant upon compasses, maps and
back-bearings to fix our position. Lance Corporals Goodeve
and Jones were always ready with their wit to capitalise upon
— 372 —
Book number R0246a