Class News

Pat Caviness ’64 recounts his Rio Grande river-running adventure

October 10, 2026

Pat Caviness ’64 offers us his 94-page written narrative of a 1973 river-running adventure with nine friends including classmate Jack Cirie ’64. The narrative, titled The Rio Grande Ten and published in PDF form, tells the story of ten men, a wild river, and five extraordinary days.

Here is the prologue:

In October 1973, ten men from different places and backgrounds headed toward one of the Rio Grande's most isolated stretches to spend a week canoeing almost a hundred river miles through canyons, rapids, and wilderness. Some of them had been friends for years. Others barely knew one another. A few were strangers.

They were lawyers, soldiers, athletes, outdoorsmen, public officials, finance professionals, and adventurers. They came from different backgrounds and had different temperaments. About half of them were natives of Arkansas. Several grew up in the Northeast. They included married men and bachelors.

What they had in common was simple. They were curious and willing to go.

It began quietly. With ten paddlers in five canoes, they felt a stir of apprehension as they gathered early on the first morning to choose partners. There was some awkwardness as they paired up and decided who would take the bow and who the stern. Even that first morning, small barriers began to fall. Then the river took over.

Wilderness has a way of stripping away the usual ways men measure each other. Titles do not matter. Neither do occupations, accomplishments, or social standing.

What matters is the man beside you. On a fast river, you find out quickly. The river demands immediate cooperation and is unforgiving. It leaves little room for anyone to act alone.

It takes two men working together to paddle a canoe through a rapid. If the canoe turns sideways in heavy water, both have to react. If a boat has to be lined through dangerous water, everyone has a job.

If a man goes into the water, somebody reaches for him. When the way ahead is uncertain, you figure it out together.

Trust comes that way. You do what needs to be done because someone else is counting on you.

Nobody talked about teamwork or friendship. We were too busy trying to get five aluminum canoes and ten men through a canyon wilderness that offered very little room for error.

But somewhere along the Rio Grande, a bond formed among the ten of them. We came to respect one another. And we came to respect the river that was testing us.

To read the full account, click on the book cover below.