After dinner and cleanup, Lynn gathered us around. She spoke passionately and eloquently of the river, of the millenia of preserved strata looming over our heads. After reading us a poem by Edward Abbey, she pulled out her guitar. The songs she sang were alternately sweet and raunchy, but all revolved around the Canyon and the River. With one last self-penned song, she handed the guitar off to Tom, who mercifully did not sing, but played a few more songs. That's when things started to get exciting.

The soft-focus mood of the evening suddenly lurched into high gear when Lynn and the rest of the crew strolled over to Sam, who was lying quietly nearby listening to the music. Sam, she said. We need to ask you something. Without another word, they all piled onto him. In the ensuing tangle, Caden emerged, proclaiming himself the alpha male. The atmosphere in the camp became positively giddy. Lynn started scrabbling around on all fours making squeaky noises while Caden strutted around camp making gorilla-type charges at other would-be alpha males. Alvin pinned him down at one point, causing Caden to walk around with his head hanging low in shame.

John produced a boombox from somewhere, and started playing a mix tape which started off with the Chumbawumba I-get-knocked-down song. We leapt and danced and laughed for hours, it seemed. In the silvery chimeric light of the rising moon, the old became new, and the new was used to ancient purposes. Beating drums became a boombox, and flickering fires became flashlights. Eyes and teeth flashed in the light, and hips and limbs flailed into the night.

In a theatre with a whispering river as audience, the sheer walls of the Canyon became our backdrop. With a spotlight, we projected huge shadows on the sandstone and schists, and acted out silly and macabre skits. Laughing, we delighted at our towering images. On a canvas that stretched across the ages, our brief and flickering imprints were cast. On an immense tabula rasa, we were heroes and ghosts, and for a moment we were everything and anything we wanted to be.

Earlier in the trip, we'd attempted to explain to a dumb-founded Martha what a rave was. After this night, we had a shared language. Oh, she laughed. We've been doing this for years!