Trash bags in hand and paddles in the water, hundreds of volunteers hit the Colorado River in Grand Junction for the Annual Grand Valley River Cleanup. It’s not just another Saturday—it’s about cleaning up a lifeline that cuts through the heart of the valley.

Organized this year by the local outdoor gear retailer, the Gear Junction, the event pulled together river lovers, conservationists, and regular folks just trying to make their corner of the world a little cleaner.

Two Decades and Still Flowing Strong

The cleanup isn’t new. It’s been around for over 20 years. But it’s never been just about longevity—it’s about showing up.

And this year, the Gear Junction took the reins. They’re not a nonprofit or a government agency. They sell kayaks, hiking boots, and paddle boards. But they also saw a problem and figured, why not us?

“We’re here to sell goods and services, sure,” said Ethan Ball, Director of Marketing and Communication for the Gear Junction. “But we love the community. We want to see it thrive.”

That love for the outdoors runs deep—literally, right through the city. The Colorado River doesn’t just provide scenery; it’s the source of drinking water, a home to wildlife, and a place people go to clear their heads.

So when trash piles up, it’s not just an eyesore. It’s a threat.

Volunteers Spread Out Along the River

This year’s cleanup stretched across several sections of the Colorado River as it flows through Grand Junction.

Teams gathered early, grabbing gloves, nets, bags, and boats. Then they scattered—some on foot, others by raft or kayak. Each group tackled a specific section, pulling trash from reeds, under bridges, and even deep in the muddy bends of the riverbanks.

One volunteer mentioned pulling out a tire. Another found tangled fishing line wrapped around a stick like a nest. Others spotted soda cans half-buried in the sand.

It wasn’t glamorous. It was messy, sweaty, and oddly satisfying.

At one bend in the river, a middle schooler held up a half-buried flip phone like it was treasure.

And maybe it was.

Why This Cleanup Matters More Than Ever

Ethan Ball made it plain: “A lot of trash ends up in the river, and we want to clean that up so we have safe drinking water, so that ecosystems stay healthy, and—frankly—so it’s nice and pretty when we’re out there.”

Sounds simple, but it hits all the marks:

• Trash can contaminate drinking water sources

• Wildlife often gets entangled in waste or mistakes it for food

• Floating debris discourages outdoor recreation, hurting local tourism

• Community morale takes a hit when natural beauty gets trashed

Plus, in a time when climate issues feel overwhelming, something hands-on like this gives people a sense of purpose. A win you can see.

Community at the Core, Even for a Retailer

The Gear Junction stepping in to lead the charge might seem surprising. But this wasn’t a marketing stunt. Their staff was on the river too—picking up trash, hauling bags, cracking jokes with volunteers, sweating just as much.

“We’re really focused on community development,” Ball said. “Especially when it comes to outdoor recreation and the river community—we’re going to jump at the chance.”

And they’re not alone.

Other local groups pitched in with supplies and logistics, making the whole event feel less like a campaign and more like a neighborhood project that just happened to span a river.

Just How Much Trash Gets Collected?

Each year’s haul is a little different, depending on the weather, runoff, and how much junk gets dumped. While 2025’s total wasn’t final at the time of publishing, last year’s cleanup removed nearly 3,000 pounds of garbage from the water and its edges.

Here’s a look at what’s been pulled from the river in past cleanups:

The numbers speak for themselves. And that’s just the stuff that gets weighed. Countless microplastics, wrappers, and cigarette butts don’t even make the tally.

A New Generation of River Stewards

What’s also changing is who’s showing up. It’s not just the same old faces anymore. There were teens, families with toddlers, couples, seniors.

A dad with his daughter was overheard explaining what runoff meant. A group of high schoolers argued about who had the worst find (a rusted lawn chair won).

This isn’t just cleanup—it’s education on the fly. Real-life science class, minus the whiteboards.

One volunteer said it best, brushing dirt off their jeans: “You don’t really get how connected you are to the river until you’re knee-deep in it, pulling out someone’s forgotten grocery bag.”

That sense of connection is what keeps this going year after year. Not because anyone’s getting paid. But because it matters.