Tonight, we learned of Hunker Down, a game where two people stand on ammo boxes with a long length of rope (60' of rope, maybe?) between them. Each contestent starts holding an end of the rope. On the count of "3... 2... 1... Hunker Dow-wun" (in the strongest Scotish accent, of course), each person gathers as much rope as possible as quickly as possible, then tries to pull or trick the other person of the opposite ammo can.

The first to fall off the can, drop the rope, or run out of rope loses.

Very few of us were willing to play. Clearly we needed more alcohol.

After setting up our campsites, we had lots of time to kill before the sun was sufficiently off the campsite to make it bearable. While we were all moping around, Josh offered Sonia and me a game of Stack, where you stack rocks on top of each other until the pile falls. The last person to successfuly stack a rock wins. Or rather, when the pile tumbles, the person who failed to stack loses.

Sonia and I kept playing smaller and smaller stones on the stock. Josh kept playing bigger and bigger stones.

Eventually, I just wandered away to take macros of rocks.

Josh's stacks were impressive.

Yeah, that's a dead cicada.

So, after we paused at the shady alcove, watched another rafting group (a private one this time) go through Lava Falls Rapids both upside down and without rafts in some cases), we continued down to our campsite with Kris and Andy in the duckies. Our campsite at Whitmore Wash, mile 188, was in full sun, even when we arrived after 4.

After arriving and unloading the boats, I convinced Kris and Andy to try Kim's trick of watering down the tarp area to cool off the site. They were both skeptical of the idea, but willing to try.

Michael commented that the thermarests provided enough insulation from the ground to make the ground cooling beneath us unneeded. I countered with the argument that the ambient heat rises from around the thermarests.

We all agreed that the proper answer was, "We'll see."

Kris and Andy finished the afternoon in the two duckies. I was way nervous about this, spending most of the first part of th epoast lunch, post hour relaxation in the shade, row to the campsite worrying about Kris. The worrying prompted me to comment, "this is why I'd make a bad mother," out loud to Sam and Adam.

My comment prompted a good discussion ("okay to worry, not okay to say no because of said worry") with Sam and Adam about mothering, parenting, jobs, etc. Adam had joined the boat when Kris left.

The camera began to dry out, so I started to get some okay photos, focus wise. Zoom doesn't work yet, as the gears are still full of sand, but at least I can take some pictures.

Sam paddled our boat back up a rapid so that I could take pictures of Kris and Andy running the rapid in the duckies. Just as Kris started his run, the paddle boat in front of him hit a big wave (a standing wave at that). I turned to look, and saw Kent jump from one side tothe other as the boat folded on the wave, and Pat went flying out in a V. "Welcome to the Grand Canyon Swim Club" was the Pat heckle of the day.

Kris, meanwhile, in the beginning of his run, saw Pat go flying, and has to abort his hole run (that's "hole" not "whole", as he was aiming to run the ducky through the rapid's hole.

I did manage to get some unzoomed photos of Kris, but they're not as spectacular as I wanted. I stopped worrying about him and the ducky after that.