Day Four - THE CANYON (July 30, 2013)

A Date Which Will Live in Infamy - no, not Pearl Harbor, but rather...

The Day I Hiked The Canyon

We woke up and prepared.  No make up.  Hat.  Sunglasses.  Cool clothing (or so I thought).  Hiking shoes.  Two pair of socks.  Trail mix.  More trail mix.  Even more trail mix.  Water in my Camelback.  Gatorade.   Camera.  iPhone.  First aid kit.  Water, more water, even more water.   And maybe even some more water.  iPod to listen to stuff.  Sunscreen.  Bible (no, not the Bible, but looking back...)

Happy confident trio ready to risk life and limb on the trail.

Anyway,  I was all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and raring to go.  Boy was I whacked.   Okay, watches synchronized.  Fitbit on. 

And we're off!

Altitude at the rim - 6860 ft.  Temperature?  Probably around 85.  Comfortable.

The Bright Angel Trailhead is located right next to the Kolb Studio which is RIGHT on the rim.  See pic.  This would be the thing that we saw on the way down and the thing that we would see on our way back up.  If we made it.  Up.  Or from the door of the helicopter as it ferried our battered, dehydrated bodies up from the canyon floor.

Trail starts behind this place

Impressions:  The trail is steep.  It's rocky.  It has "steps" fashioned from logs in places.  Not all the way, and in no particular pattern so you had to keep your wits about you.  The trail isn't exactly RIGHT on the edge, but if you tripped you could definitely fall and kill yourself.  So there was that.

And it was downhill.  On a slant.  The ENTIRE WAY.  You think you've hiked around San Francisco and you're an expert on hills?  HAH!  I say.  HAH HAH HAH!  I've been to S.F.  Yes, there are hills.  But they don't go on for 4.6 miles CONSTANTLY DOWNHILL. San Francisco is equivalent the Bonneville Salt Flats next to this downhill trek!

Jacob's Ladder on Bright Angel Trail

So down, down, down we went.  Serpentine trails sprinkled throughout.  Some were long and some short switch-backing (yes, I made that up) without any rhyme or reason.  There is an area called Jacob's Ladder on the trail past the Three Mile Resthouse where the trail descends even more steeply (is that possible?). At this point I'm told the grade is at 14.85%. Not the steepest grade on the trail, but one of the longest.  It went on FOREVER.  Not only is the grade steep and unrelenting, but it's often in full sun which equates this to the Bataan death march. Keep in the back of your mind that this was on the way down.  I didn't even consider what it would be like on the way back up.  Survival for me at this point was just getting to the bottom.  

He IS on his Hoveround!  You just can't
see it under all the layers of squirrel fat.

At the first rest stop my legs were already shaking from the steep grade of the constant downhill walking.  We stopped here and took our necessary rest.  Both in the room of the same name and in the covered sitting area that had benches for the weary hikers.  So by this time it was probably 9:30 or 10 am.  We spent maybe 15 or 20 minutes resting up, getting water, feeding the squirrels.  Yes, we did, dammit.  I don't care that there were signs not to.  I don't care that the National Park system has declared feeding squirrels to be a horror equivalent to hunting humans in the canyon.  I don't care that the squirrels are so fat that they are on Hoverounds in order to move.  They are cute.  They are furry.  They are basically tame, and I wanted a close-up picture of them.  After all, it's all about me.  At least on this day when my imminent death was staring me in the face.  I wanted my last memory on this earth to be of joy and happiness. What is happier than an obese squirrel-- cheeks bloated with handfuls of trail mix, spittle flying as he greedily shoves more in?  Nothing!

My shoes

Product placement ad:  I have to stop here and compliment Reebok.  On my hike I was wearing my new pair of Reebok One Cushion shoe.  I bought them specifically for the trip and I had broken them in on various walks I'd taken over the weeks before the trip trying to acclimatize me to the heat we would be experiencing in the canyon (yeah, that part was a joke).  But the shoes?  They were a miracle.  Firm and cushioned in the heel keeping the back of my foot stable, and a cooling web in the front of the foot that let air in and didn't squeeze my toes.  And in a snappy little color to boot. They were absolutely amazing.  So much so that when I got home I wrote a review of them on Reebok.  Nary a blister or a sore spot on either foot after my 9.2 mile trek.  Oh, everywhere else on my body was a total MESS, mind you, but my feet were perfect.  LOVE THESE SHOES!

Back to our regularly scheduled hike.  We passed some National Park Service workers on the trail near the Three Mile Rest stop with their mules which are used to haul equipment up and down.  They were working on the trail (the men not the mules).  Yes, we were STILL on the downhill and it was STILL steep.  My calves were now begging me to put them of their misery. No such luck. I would need them on the return trip.  If I could muster up the energy for it.  More freakin' trail mix, anyone?

We are now beyond the second rest stop and there is nothing but downhill switchbacks until we get to Indian Gardens.  Steve kept promising that we were almost to the flat part. We weren't.  You see THERE IS NO FLAT PART.  Not until you get to Indian Gardens and the grove of cottonwood trees.  NO FLAT.  NONE.  It is a constant downhill barrage of pain and anguish.  Of overwhelming thirst.  Of stomachs filled with acid and sloshing water.  Of hips hot and tender to the touch.  Of calves bleeding internally from shredded muscles.  

Newly updated warning sign for the Grand Canyon circa July 2013

Altitude at bottom:  2480 ft.  We've descended 4,380 feet.  Temperature:  Well over 100 in the full sun.

Indian Gardens!  What an oasis to behold!!  We made it!  Okay, I MADE IT!  There was no doubt that Steve and Michael would make it, but I MADE IT!  Huzzah!  Saints be praised!  I plunked down onto a bench and decided that I would stay until I felt rested and ready to go!  Seeing as how I'm not still there, this did not happen.  We stayed for about 50 minutes at the bottom of the canyon to rest.  I was so exhausted I couldn't get up the energy to use the rest room (yeah, like I had any liquid left in my body).  I shoved some more trail mix down my gullet and chased it with some water.  And then some more water.  I was tired, hot, achy, thirsty, and I think my kidneys had already shut down.  At this point to combat the heat I started pouring water over my head and neck.  It was THAT hot.  I didn't give a crap what I looked like.  Obviously.  See image below.

At Indian Gardens--after the hike down.  If anyone wanted that water bottle
I was holding they were going to have to pry it out of my hot, dead hands.

My eyes were glazing over as Steve gently suggested that perhaps we needed to start back.  It was about 1:00 in the afternoon and the heat of the day was in full throttle.  The thermometer at the canyon bottom read 95 BUT the sign next to it said that temperatures were usually up to twenty degrees hotter than what the thermometer was registering.  In other words, it was Africa hot.

I looked at him as if he'd suggested that it was time for me to pull out my revolver and shoot myself in the head.  Actually that might've been what he did say.  I'm just not sure.  Or truly, what he was saying to me was EQUIVALENT to saying just pull out a gun and shoot yourself.  Leave the canyon floor?  To do what?  Die on the trail next to some morbidly obese squirrel who'd frisk me for my trail mix?

I wasn't ready.  But then again, even if I'd waited two more weeks I don't think I would've been ready to move.  Oh p.s. for God's sake, don't wear JEAN shorts when you hike the canyon (Mistake #4).  Who does that?  Besides me?  JEANS??  Shorts or not, they are FREAKING hot.  I should've worn less dense fabric shorts.  But now was not the time to rethink my fashion choice.  What's done was done.  

And so we start the long trudge back to civilization.  By the time we get to the three mile stop (meaning from the top, so we've gone about 1.6 miles uphill) I'm searching my gear for the cyanide tablets I'm sure will be in the first aid kit.  My legs were shaking like jello.  My stomach was hurting.  Water didn't seem to be helping me.  There was no shade anywhere.  The next 1.1 miles to the first rest stop I may have been delirious.  All I can remember is saying to myself, "I can't do it.  I can't do it.  I can't do it."  As I trudged on step by step.  By the time we reached the first rest stop, I was in full denial.  I couldn't eat.  I couldn't use the rest room.  I drank and splashed water on myself.  All thoughts were on survival now.  I searched the faces of the other hikers at the shelter.  Who could I take out?  What weapons did they have?  Who had food?  Who had the plans to defuse the bomb?  I told you I was delirious.  Steve looked at me strangely and said, "Are you okay?"  Who was this guy?  Who's the tall kid with him?  Do I know them?  Why are they talking to me?

From the top looking down on the trail

1.9 miles to go.  One foot gets planted.  The other is dragged painfully forward.  Plant.  Shift weight, drag foot, plant, shift weight, repeat--for another 10,000 steps.  Michael and Steve were way ahead.  Every now and again they would stop and sit, waiting for me to catch up.  As soon as I did they would get up and start moving again.  I realize that they were just helping to keep me moving, but you will also notice that they got a lot more rests than I did.  I just kept moving, like a shark, or a snail.  Leaving a foot-dragging trail behind me.

The switchbacks were downright cruel.  Every time you'd head for the end, you thought maybe you were almost there when the trail would switchback again in the opposite direction.  It was grueling.

I could recount each dragging step along the way, making you feel as hopeless and helpless as I felt, but why extend the misery I experienced with my readers?  Suffice to say, it was a VERY LONG four hour trek back to the top.  There was only one moment when I contemplated a felonious assault.  About 1 1/2 miles from the top, as I as huffing and puffing my way towards paradise like the Little Engine that Maybe Could But Maybe Not Depending On Whether or Not Her Water Holds Out, this stick-like praying mantis of a creature comes strutting by DOWNHILL and says, "Wow!  Tough hike, huh?"  I just looked at her standing there glistening in the sun, all Barbie-fied.  I dismissed her but then I figured maybe I could use her for information so I said, "How much farther?"  She smirked and said, "Oh you've got a LONG way to go!"

I ask you.  If I had grabbed a hunk of her blonde hair and dragged her over the edge of the canyon and you were on the jury, would you have acquitted me?  Yeah, I thought so.  So shoulda done it.

After the hike.  At the top. 

TRUMPETS BLARE!  FANFARE ABOUNDS!!  TICKER TAPE PARADE!!  I see Kolb Studio and the trailhead just above us.  I have never in my life been so relieved.  Just seeing that building gave me the incentive to put some much needed spring in my step to get me to the top.  Well, maybe not spring, but a little less dragging.  I know I could not have gone any farther.  Not one step.  My legs were reduced from jello to consomme.  Just pure liquid encased in skin.  Why there wasn't a parade and a general announcement when we made it back I'll never know.  That's how you feel when you make it back.  You think the New York Times should be interviewing you about your harrowing journey.  But no, other people are coming and going.  Tourists are walking along the rim taking pictures.  You just want to shout, DO YOU KNOW WHAT I JUST DID??  But you don't.  You collect yourself, brush off the red dust from the canyon, and limp back to your hotel room, head held high in the knowledge that you, YOU BEAT THE CANYON.  It did NOT beat you.

Stats from my Fitbit:

253 flights of stairs climbed (it measures altitute)
2797 calories burned (we had milkshakes afterwards)
31,622 steps taken
13.4 miles walked(total for the day)

Two more things to report from today.  We saw elk on the lawn in front of our hotel room.  They are NASTY creatures.  If you made eye contact they would charge you.  One woman ran screaming as she passed them and they came after her.  The Park Ranger was yelling at people to stay away from them.  She was pretty pissed that people weren't taking her or them seriously. Those freaking things are as big as horses!  

Nasty elk

The star-gazing here is ridiculous.  By that I mean, it is AMAZING.  But the number of stars you can see is just RIDICULOUS!  I was in awe.  I could've watched for hours, but one of those damn elk showed up and Steve and I ran!  They are not to be messed with, nasty stinkers.

Bed time.  Thank God.  Oh, yeah, and thanks God for not letting me die in the Canyon.  Very swell of you.