Wednesday, November 27, 2013

The Grandest of the Canyons: July 1st.

[SIDENOTE: I had been to the Grand Canyon once before, taking the only long road trip of my childhood with my family when I was 7. It was February and the path at the top of the canyon was blanketed in a thick sheet of ice. My Father walked with me, holding my hand and being sure to keep me on the side of him where I was less likely to fall into the canyon to my certain death. My memory of childhood is quite patchy, it only leaves me with select scenes and images from specific occasions. One of these is of my Father in a long winter coat (in Arizona) and Russian style winter cap, looking quite uncomfortable on that canyon path. I remember feeling his discomfort and nervousness, and I was quite cold myself. In my recollection, it was bloody freezing. See your breath and all that. My body has such an extreme aversion to cold weather, it really is a wonder I still live in the Midwest this frigid 6 months out of the year. I turned to him at 7 and said, "I'm cold." He stopped suddenly, as if he had finally found the answer he'd been waiting for. He said to the rest of the family ahead of us: "We'll be waiting in the van. Claire is cold." And we quickly walked back up the narrow path, which I fear we barely went down at all. The next image in my memory (the only real "images" to be honest are of holding my Pa's hand in that coat and being aware of switching sides to stay against the cliff wall. I don't remember seeing the family ahead of us or anything much from the trip other than an image of the walk itself. Then:) My Pa and I in the van, heat at full blast. The image is of my Father blowing with vigor into his hands and rubbing them together passionately. He was grateful for our shared distaste for the experience. It was a bonding moment. In later years, I became slightly disappointed I wasn't able to conquer the canyon at all under those circumstances. This most recent trip, over 17 years later, was my second chance. My adult opportunity to take it on. In the summer. It will undoubtedly go better. I will, in my own way, conquer it and should certainly be proud of accomplishing this task the second go around! Yes? Well. You tell me!]

The drive to the free campsite near the big hole from Albuquerque was a long one. About 12 hours. When we got to Flagstaff, we must have come through the wrong side of the tracks -- throughout the rest of the journey, we seemed to meet so many people that had nothing but rave reviews on spending a few days in Flagstaff... it surprised me mostly based on the "vibe" I got. We did no real exploration so I certainly can't give an opinion on the place as a whole or what spending a vacation there would be like -- if you set up a vacation somewhere and are looking to enjoy yourself, no doubt there are many ways in Flagstaff. That's what it's for, I'm told. However, driving through a neighborhood searching for a place with wifi I got "where are these fools from?" Glares from every turn. Every face we passed looked frightening, angry, mistrustful of our arrival. A lot of them, to put it plainly, looked like meth heads or some other sort of addict. I couldn't find crazy stats on drugs in Flagstaff, but wherever we were must be where they live. The starbucks we followed The Phone to happened to be in a grocery store. Failure. Then there was a subway with a free wifi sign in the complex, so we stopped in there. Couldn't get the wifi to work. Failure. Let's just leave this place. So we continued on, hoping our vague directions to the free camping forest would get us there without further research.


When we finally arrived, it was a WONDERFUL spot. So private, so free. We couldn't see much that night, however -- what with there being no lights anywhere near and it being pitch black upon our arrival. It was wooded with sparse beautiful tall trees and what a view of the night sky. Although we were nervous about our Grand Canyon experience due to the heat wave just coming through (113 in the canyon the day before our arrival) the temperature that night was going to below 40. Plus we were planning to awake at 5AM (so very unlike us) to watch the sun rise on our hike and beat the heat. So without worrying about setting up the tent, we curled up in the back of our VanHome and settled in.

KG's phone alarm went off and it felt impossible. Simply impossible. It certainly wasn't morning. It wasn't a hair lighter than it had been when we lay down for the night. This feeling of dread we both awoke with was a recipe for a rough morning, only the next day would we fully understand why.

We decided we would need some salty, fatty food and coffee to start our hike with full stomachs and less ornery morning grumps. We stopped at the obviously convenient McDonald's outside of the park... and I was horrified to pay $15 for McDonald's for 2. Be careful buying things near the biggest hole around. They're more expensive.

Our free camp spot was in the woods only a couple miles outside of the south end of the park. It was crazy to me that it was free and as close and nice as it was -- all the campgrounds, even the ones with outdoor toilet and no shower, cost more than they are worth due to proximity.

We were glad we'd get to use our national park pass (remember the one we bought at Carlsbad Canyon for $80? Which we said would be worth it if we went to GC, Yosemite, Yellowstone and more?) WELL. We arrive, it's still pitch black, and there is only one lane with the gate open.... and NO ONE WORKING THE BOOTH. So... free entry? There were a couple of cars behind us who went right through as well. We were confused. There went $25 worth of the card being unnecessary. We tried following the signs for where there were trails, parking anything.... the signs were few and far between and they never listed trails, only campgrounds. We got quite turned around and I hadn't had my coffee yet. It was still dark and all was confusing and miserable. We finally found the visitor center. It was not yet open. We drove around the park in circles searching for a sign that offered useful information. None of them seemed to. We briefly perked up when we had our first wildlife viewing of the morning:

We wanted to find trail access and park our beast before it started getting lighter and hotter. Finally, we did! We parked and found a very discreet trail access point to the Bright Angel trail head. KG took on the manly job of carrying the giant glass water container re-filler, and was quite miserable with the weight. We had planned to get a camel-back before the occasion arrived, but somehow had let it escape our minds. The signs all around the trail head informed of people who died from heat, exhaustion and dehydration by trying to do more of the trail than they'd properly prepared for. They even had a young girl asking each hiker how far down they planned to go and informed people of the danger of unpreparedness. As though she knew our history and ensured we were using our heads. We began the descending into the canyon, as the sun quickly rose high and hot.






















Before we'd gone a mile down, we lost the jackets and started sweating. We were sure to chug as much water as we could handle on the journey... I bet you can guess what that led to. It was still early enough there weren't too many hikers, and when K could take no more he found a rock to crouch behind and moisten. This made my inconvenient modest female nature almost explode with jealous need and knowledge I would have no such opportunity. There was a bathroom and rest break area a little under 2 miles down. I made it. We filled our heavy glass jug with water there and had a snack and a rest. We waited for the other resting group of humans to continue on their journey before we meekly discussed turning back. As much as it feels like the place you finally get to and should conquer as much as possible when you're there... it was HOT. We were TIRED. And we wanted more trails. So we figured that would have to be it for this journey. We sat on a beautifully placed plateau of rock until someone else arrived and lingered beyond, looking jealous.

We turned back and gave the spot away to the loomers.
Going up is far more exhausting than down, although down was no "walk in the park" as they say. That sun wasn't kidding around, and I felt guilty for K's heavy backpack burden. Let it be known I offered to take it at some point. But that would have made less sense, and we all know it.











The picture above is of one of the mule tour groups... it was actually incredibly disconcerting to walk behind this line of mules on the narrow path (which we had to do soon after I snapped this shot), our frail bodies inches away from their rear ends and hind legs. Everything worked out fine, obviously.

After "completing" that trail (the smallest percentage imaginable) we had big plans. To sit. In the shade. Eat more. Drink more. Plan our next trail... on leveler terrain. Though we only went a total of 1.7 miles down and back, it took us longer than we should probably admit. On our way to a resting spot, we passed two Southern Californians (and boy did they look it. That'll play into the story. Not in a mean way, don't get too sensitive now.) It was a man and woman -- both incredibly tan with astoundingly white, straight teeth, gorgeous complexions, both of the general well groomed attractive variety of human.
The man (shoulder length surfer locks and sun shades) said to me:
"Hey! Have you been there? Cambodia?" Referring to my shirt.
Me: "Uh, yeah actually... we went backpacking through Southeast Asia a couple of years ago."
Him: "I went there too... what an incredible part of the world, dude." (That may be what I wish he had said, but it was certainly something to that effect.)
We all exchanged travel stories and the like, briefly interrupting our conversation when our Dude Friend pointed to a Condor, flying quite close overhead above the canyon we still looked out on.
We discussed with them our dilemma between San Diego and Joshua Tree park, as we were about to choose one or the other on our way to Los Angeles. They (being FROM San Diego) recommended both but would put their city above the park. While discussing Southern California, KG made a joke about how his impression of LA area (without ever having been there) was mostly of far too much highway driving. You'd be taking the 5 to the 11 to the 24 to the 73, hahaha. Our Dude Friend said:
"Hey that's funny! There was an SNL sketch about that, and about LA stereotypes. What are southern California stereotypes you guys have? You guys talk about what southern California people are like where you're from?"
Um. Yes. They're like you. Just like you. They say dude. Eat local and organic. Do yoga. All things you have said you do. Generally put forth more effort into their appearance than we do.
We didn't put it to them like that, but answered: "Yeah, mostly that you guys are more health conscious and look young and fit and like to relax and are liberal?"
They seemed all right with that. Turned out our vegan Dude Friend is in his 50s. He looks 25. The girl IS around 25, and looks 25. That sounds unkind, but she looks quite well don't get me wrong.
We shoot back: "How about us? What do Southern Californians think of Midwesterners? Lay it on us."
They exchanged looks of great puzzlement. "Midwest? Have you ever heard anyone say anything about the Midwest?" ".... No, I really haven't. I can honestly say I've never heard a stereotype about a Midwesterner."
Harumph. Nothing? Not about Chicago-ans? Michiganders? There are many! We've got great manners! We aren't healthy! We eat fast food! We eat corn! We love cheese! We love potatoes! We have farms! Any of those would have been sufficient and far less complimentary than what we gave them, but would have been far more satisfactory than never being spoken of across the country at all. [Sidenote: we continued to ask southern Californians if they had heard any Midwestern stereotypes and the answer was always a furrowed brow, look of confusion followed by a head shake. Well. We spread our Midwestern stereotypes around to those unknowing west side Americans, hopefully they'll be talking all about us soon enough. I even added one to the mix I had never thought of before traveling the country... Us FlatLanders are afraid of driving on big hills! Spread THAT!]

After jotting down each others information and some suggestions they had for our journey ahead, we parted ways and went to cook up high sodium high fat high protein content lunch. Velveeta shells and cheese and.... wait for it.... black beans. I know.

We then decided to do the tour of the rim... we thought we could do the scenic drive ourselves but apparently during the "ON" season you have to take a bus. A very crowded bus. And hop off and back on whenever you want to hike a trail or see an outlook. This was a long journey with many hop offs and waiting for hop ons. We were hot, sweaty, and surrounded by beautiful nature as well as an incredible number of other people crowding the bus and the views. We were starting to feel the toll of our morning, but Just Look At The Pictures:






























By the time we'd hopped off and on and off and on what seemed an incredible amount, we were about spent. It was the hottest time of day and we'd been out in it since earlier than we'd even thought (we'll get to that realization in a minute.) We needed more sustenance (those darn granola bars and nuts simply weren't doing the trick anymore) and a rest in some air conditioning. We went to the lodge and got one of the least delicious yet most satisfying meals of the entire 4 month journey. I was quite aware it was horrible food (and not cheap) but MAN did we NEED it. We ate it all up right quick. Then we sat for a good long while. We decided (since it was already after 5) we would wait around a few more hours and catch the sunset. On our walk to catch the bus, we caught this elk crossing the railroad tracks just in front of us.


We hopped back on that bus a bit before 8 and hopped off at one of the more scenic outlooks, hopping to be blown away by the sight. It was nice, but not nice enough to blow our minds in our current state.
 By the following morning we had realized the trouble: Remember how it felt impossible to be time to wake up when we awoke at 5AM (which is already difficult and crazy enough for our untrained bodies and minds)? WELL. ARIZONA DOESN'T OBSERVE DST. SO IT WAS 4. 4, I TELL YOU. WE WOKE UP AT 4. AND HIKED ALL DAY IN 110 DEGREE HEAT. It was something, guys. Really something. We turned into weak shells of humans by the time we rolled out of the park at 9:30pm. That's 17 hours, folks.

We set up our tent and showered with our solar shower in the pitch black wilderness with only the lantern as our guide. It was cold and clumsy, but I was sure glad to feel somewhat cleaner than I'd been for a while. We fell asleep after a good amount of star gazing. That was some sky.

Our final day at our campsite was the first we'd seen it in the sun. It was quite a free camp site - perfect for relaxing alone with the outdoors.

We played guitar, made coffee, snacked and sang songs until the sun told us it was time to move on. 
Before we left, I stumbled upon this discovery. It seemed some other creature had been snacking at our camp site recently....

 The sun told us it would be wise to get a move on. So we did. Moved on. To. Sedona!