Michael O’Neill, Emergency Preparedness Action Committee. Early on in his 1869 exploratory adventure down the Colorado River, John Wesley Powell lost one of his large boats, carrying most of their gear. The first group to systematically map this portion of the frontier America, they had only the most general knowledge of what they were to encounter.

By the time they came to the Grand Canyon and its rapids, they were tired and injured, and some had abandoned the expedition. The dangers and the hunger they encountered were simply too much for four of the ten men to endure. They decided to face the dangers of hiking out of the canyon over the certain hazards of remaining—even though doing so they met their deaths in their escape.

After weeks of struggle, those who remained had yet to face the monster of the rapids, which today we know as Lava Falls. They faced mortal danger, in flimsy wooden boats that had already taken countless beatings, boats that had capsized again and again as the crews learned to navigate the treacherous waters, rapids after rapids.

Fatigued, hungry, exhausted, they were no match for the forces the river was unleashing on them. Yet they miraculously lived to tell the tale, returning with stories, maps, photographs of the splendor the American West. Their adventure ignited the passions of exploration and eventual European settlement of the American continent.

Not long ago Claudia and I were sponsored by the young people in our family on a trip down the Colorado River, through the Grand Canyon. We had a world class cook prepare meals for us, a master river runner prepare the equipment, a team of experienced outdoor adventure people to accompany us. We had the latest in clothing, drybags, sleeping equipment, medical supplies and equipment. And we spent weeks resting in anticipation, stretching, exercising, eating well.

We had the time of our lives. And by the time we reached Lava Falls, our excitement had built to fever pitch. We could hardly wait for the adrenalin flow, the challenge, the sheer joy of confronting our limits, flirting with danger, face to face with catastrophe.

I wonder what the men in the Powell Expedition would have thought of us if they’d been able to see the smiles on our faces, hear the joy in our voices, listen to our shouts of excitement as we cascaded through 15-foot high mountains of liquid ferocity. For us the ride ended altogether too soon, and we still talk about it today, vivid memories still alive.

Same trip, same waters, same rapids.

Same experience. Was it danger, or was it adventure?

I guess it all depends, doesn’t it.