Another rafter’s family texted that the supermarket shelves in California were bare and urged the group to stock up on rice, beans, dog food and toilet paper. “We’re sitting here trying to piece the world together,” Mr. Thomas said. “What does a toilet paper shortage mean? Why are they out of toilet paper?”

“It was this feeling of disbelief,” Ms. Knaack added. “It’s like, ‘How’d we go from paradise to hoarding rice and beans?’” Another rafter searched Amazon by phone for toilet paper and saw that it wasn’t available. “That was a moment where it felt pretty real,” she said.

The group stopped at an In-N-Out Burger in Kingman, Ariz., and called family members.

“It’s just like this whirlwind of information,” Mr. Edler said. “You’re overwhelmed being in public for the first time and then you have this virus to think about. I’m standing in line for a burger and looking around thinking, ‘So, is it here right now?’”

Huddled in an Arizona hotel Saturday night, the group tried to hang on to the last hours of the vacation. Most didn’t look at the news, hanging out with one another instead. But reality crept in. “The lady at the hotel was like, ‘We have toilet paper; just don’t steal it.’ And the TV was showing some sports game from the ’80s or something and it was this reminder that, ‘Oh, everything’s canceled,’” Ms. Knaack said.

Re-entry has proved surreal for the rafters. When Mr. Edler went to pick up his mail, he discovered that most places besides the post office were closed. The supermarket was mostly out of meat. Since he’s a raft guide and part-time elementary-school teacher, his summer guiding and fall teaching plans are up in the air. Ms. Knaack is preparing to head back into a health care system strained by the epidemic. “I suppose it’s good that I got a vacation in,” she said.

Mr. Thomas, now back in California, continues to worry about the health of his family and an uncertain future. “I’ve tried to stay away from the full fire hose of news,” he told me on Monday evening. “I’ve been texting with Zach and our buddy Stretch about how this has been a total mind-bender. I’d really love to be back in that canyon right now.” (Shortly after our interview, Mr. Thomas texted me with a request: “Forgot to mention this, but my river name is One Chain. If it’s at all appropriate to mention that, that would be tight.”)

Listening to the rafters describe their confusion, I feel almost envious of them. As we’ve prepared for the outbreak, one of the hardest parts has been figuring out how to process what will be our new normal. It’s an endless series of hard choices. How much to pay attention to the news, how much to ignore it. How much to be hopeful. How much to fear. For weeks, the rafters didn’t have to make those choices. And they appear grateful.