“It’s magical!”

The 50-something lady in the hiking gear and a sensible German haircut trilled into the pre-dawn air. “You’re going for the first time! Magical!”

After a frustrating Tuesday morning with missing our flight we had driven from Flagstaff to the North Rim; leaving our AirBnb at 3 o’clock Wednesday morning. We had intended to camp near the trailhead on Tuesday but abandoned the idea when we arrived in Phoenix instead of Flagstaff the day before, hours behind schedule.

The whole day on Tuesday was not frustrating. The latter half was nice. The flight out to Phoenix was even fun. Since mom died I haven’t enjoyed airplanes. Is that a grief thing? At any rate, I was seated in an exit row with a couple from California who were ideal airplane companions and we spent the flight occasionally chatting about travel and wine, and sometimes reading and watching movies. We got complimentary alcohol from the airline because we were sitting in a Plus row and hosted a little party in Row 9. Mrs. California told me how she had been in seven wine clubs but was now down to something like four. She didn’t seem like a lush and I wasn’t inclined to speculate so I didn’t think on it too much.

The drive up to the North Rim Wednesday morning was sleepy and charming. After a few hours of driving we watched a soft pink sweep the red rocks and sky outside the canyon and succumbed: we stopped a few minutes to watch a desert sunrise.

We arrived at the North Rim at daybreak and unloaded. It was about 40 degrees at the rim, and after 110 in Phoenix the day before it was shocking to the system. The flesh peppered with goose bumps.

It was a unique feeling to spill over into the start of the North Kaibab trail having no idea what this would be like. I had a few stomach lurches the preceding days thinking about how hard it could be but it has been a long time since I did something for which I have zero frame of reference. We had 14 miles to go to Bright Angel campground.

Because the north rim has less sweeping views than the south and isn’t as accessible from Phoenix we saw few other people and those we did see were more serious hikers. The canyon immediately surprised me when I pulled out my camera and registered a double take at the differences in light.

Before long the sun reached us and the forty degree weather at the rim became a distant memory. It was barely 8 o’clock in the morning and already the sun was strong. We were probably 3 or 4 miles in when the stomach lurches of yesterday became the truth of today. I had undertrained. One does not wish to find that out so soon on the trail. It was embarrassing. My knees began to shake (not from fear) and my courage also shook (from fear). We had another 11 miles to go and I don’t tolerate heat. When had I ever walked 14 miles on level ground consecutively? I couldn’t recall. There was Paris, but no, that was 12 miles, and a flat surface along the Seine wearing a cute dress and shoes doesn’t count as hiking, and besides that was chilly April. There was NYC, but again, we sheltered throughout the day and it was 30 degrees.

At around 4-5 miles in we took a little detour to Roaring Springs which was refreshing, though we didn’t get all the way to the main part, and after wetting down there for those of us who wanted to, we headed out for Ribbon Falls.

The advisory for this time of year is to stay off the trail between 10 a.m. and 4 p.m. because of heat but we still had a few miles to go and the clock showed eleven, now twelve o’clock. We had a few more dips in the creek at Manzanita, and I understood the Bible and all its references to water in the desert better. I loved those little dips into the frigid water.

We were impressed with the extremes in the canyon. The temperature changes, light and shadow, the types of rocks, everything seemed able to change in the blink of an eye.

RIBBON FALLS

We reached the signs for Ribbon Falls around 7-8 miles into the hike. It was about 12:30 now and the heat had gotten intense. I didn’t feel well and felt desperate to get into some shade.

We didn’t know where Ribbon Falls was exactly, and knew the bridge was out, so accordingly we wandered in the wilderness for probably about 15-20 minutes before finding our way. I dropped my pack and followed Rachel up to the top where we saw water falling and I still almost cry when I think of the acute relief of being under the pounding water of Ribbon Falls. I knew we still had over halfway to go for the day, but for now I was away from an angry sun and getting cool. The water felt like salvation.

I have always been sensitive to my environment and swung between the extremes that we experienced in the canyon. To be over-heated for hours while coaxing my muscles not to contract and spasm, while getting the balance of salt and electrolytes to water right, to dealing with the mental chatter about how I wasn’t going to make it, to actually putting one step in front of the other. This was with a 28# pack. I believe anyone of moderate fitness can do this hike, but I’m using myself as an example of why you should train better than I did.

We stayed at Ribbon Falls for about four hours, relaxing. Several of the others would have been fine to withstand the heat and keep going but I knew I wasn’t. It was an odd feeling to experience being the weakest one but also to balance what it would be like if I collapsed and they had to deal with that.

I like these people.

ONWARD TO THE BOX CANYON

It was now about 4:30 in the afternoon with approximately 7-8 miles to cover. The area just before the box canyon felt dry as bone and I remembered thinking the Bright Angel creek was well named. If you’re hot and dry and thirsty and you see this beautiful creek you would also likely think of it as a bright angel. It was comforting to have the creek nearby.

The Box Canyon was also well named. Narrow walls rise high and the sun ricochets all the way down to the bottom and back up. You don’t get to see much here. We rounded many corners only to find more walls rising. It was now about 6:30 p.m. and still stuffy. This is the area which hikers are recommended to avoid in the hot part of the day because temperatures soar upwards of 120 and more in summer. It was likely more like 90 or 95 when we passed through.

This all sounds uncomfortable, which is generally true. The canyon is harsh. It’s not like treading a meadow in Sweden at midsummer with sheep bells twinkling in the cool air, and yet I’d like to also convey how much affection I feel for the canyon. Not a home-like kind of affection mind you, but the sort of place where the canyon simply is, and you have to adapt yourself to it and not the other way around. Modern living usually adapts to us and even as I write I wonder if half of my discomfort was the fact that if there was any changing to do it would be from me and not the environment. We contemporaries quickly move on from what we don’t like: friendships, jobs, clothing, hobbies, etc It was good to be in a place where things were boxed in a little more. In a seemingly limitless place of ups and downs, hots and colds, dry desert and cool waterfalls, my own borders were constantly challenged.

We made it to the Bright Angel Campground around 6:30 or 7 “in the twilight, in the gloaming” where we hastened to set up camp before darkness fell. The Bright Angel creek ran through just below the path and oh blessed be there was a bathroom. Not that I needed it physically as much as spiritually. It signaled that here were other people and camping and rest. Besides, I had sweated so much throughout the day that, pardon me for the TMI, I didn’t need to pee for about 24 hours.

With our rest at Ribbon Falls of about four hours we had spent approximately thirteen hours on the trail. Nine hours for 16 miles (with the detours). Not exactly brilliant timing, but it wasn’t a race.

I have such fond memories of the day spent at the bottom of the canyon. There is no cell service there and we amused ourselves by the creek for hours by playing cards, reading, sitting in the creek to cool off, throwing pebbles at targets, talking, exploring (not me thank you, I sat in one place and walked like a very old woman every time I did get up) and then after we had read about an invasive brown trout taking over the ecosystem of the Colorado River, watching as Dom used an old dehydrated food bag to catch and dispense of them. You know, leaving places a little better than when we found them. Speaking of, there were no trash cans in the campground. What you packed in, you packed out.

We sat by the Colorado awhile, watching rafts and talking. Then most of the others went to explore the bridge and environs while Rachel and I sat in as much of the river as we could stand (cold cold cold) and chatted.

There are no photos of meals because frankly dehydrated meals are not picturesque. We did have some enjoyable ones.

Both nights were hot and some of us had trouble sleeping. We left the rain fly’s off the tents and watched stars twinkle and bats swoop overhead. It would take until about 1 o’clock at night for the heat to finally leave the ground and then because of the time difference we didn’t have much trouble waking again near dawn.

We had determined to leave hours before the sunrise on Friday and almost managed it. Thunder and lightning woke us up before 5 o’clock and it was a powerful incentive to get packed up. Carrying soggy things out did not appeal.

THE TREK OUT ON THE SOUTH KAIBAB TRAIL

We crossed the bridge near dawn after stopping for the mule train to come down, packing supplies and being guided by two weathered humans who had probably done this trip twice a day for ten years at least. Fancy having that as a job description. “Mule rider in the Grand Canyon.”

The trail climbs quickly. You would see specks in the distance and ten minutes later, pass those humans on the trail as you became a speck to someone else. I believe the S. Kaibab trail gains approximately 1,200’ per mile. I had previously done a 9 mile hike with perhaps a 3,000’ elevation gain and so to climb closer to double of that in less distance was… ok the toughest thing I’ve ever done. The hike in had challenged me differently. That was mostly downhill and this was mostly uphill.

In my naivety I believed that switchbacks never climb straight up into the air at an acute angle. I have since changed my mind after the intensity of the hike out to the south rim.

But y’all. I have never in my life seen views like this. They are absolutely stunning.

Notice the rapid changes in colors of the rocks. This is partly due to these photos being a collection from all of us, and partly because they really seemed to change in the blink of an eye. One moment the rocks were a wine-inspired red and the next they became a more vivid orange.

As the sun came up fully everything changed again.

The population grew more dense as we climbed with recreational hikers coming a mile or two down. I didn’t think anyone probably felt worse than I did but at least one hiker was climbing and hyperventilating and crying all at once and I felt torn between feeling a little better about myself and bad for her.

The last 1.5 miles were incredibly tough for me. I tried eating to get some energy, pouring water on my head, taking 20 second breaks every 45 seconds (probably not exaggerating) and digging deep to find the dead remains of will power. The feeling of faintness from the hike in the first day intensified about five times on the hike out and I began to keep to the inside of the trail figuring that if I collapsed it might at least help me avoid toppling off the side of a cliff. Pun intended. It was oppressively hot again. We don't exactly know the temperature, but likely pushing past 100- 105 degrees. I don’t know enough about dry heat to know if it was closer to 110 or 115 at points, but it would not surprise me.

I am not exaggerating now as I did about switchbacks going straight up but am quite grave, pun intended again. It is true that the human body can do more than we believe and I probably had miles left in myself both days hiking, but at the time all that was left was one more step. The last mile felt agonizing to me not in a painful way, but in finding energy to keep going. Each step felt like the same energy I have put into a month of cumulative workouts, which tells you why my experience went like it did though in all fairness, I did much better when it was not hot.

In this fashion we attained the summit and I went to the bathroom and tried not to cry. There were salt lines all over my shirt from sweat and I used half a pack of wipes to try to get some dirt off in preparation for a car ride back to Flagstaff. It seemed foolish to waste more salt in crying so I didn’t. If I couldn’t be tough in the canyon, by hook or by crook I’d be tough emotionally.

Climbing out at the south rim was anti-climactic. I wanted to cry but that was not from euphoria but from raw relief. I had made it. In some way I walked straight out and did not look back. I had seen the canyon. There was no need to stand there and look anymore. I’m glad the others got some photos because it’s been enjoyable to look back and realize that God answered my prayer when I wasn’t sure if I’d make it. I told him that I had done something past my strength and needed his and he delivered.

Oh Lord my God. You are good.

I had mentioned a longing for coconut water and my friend remembered and delivered one immediately post hike. I will never forget how that felt; it was icy and perfect.

The shower post-canyon was also a deep pleasure and the bottom of the tub was actually covered in red dirt when I finished. When we were all ready we eased ourselves out to a dinner at a delicious Greek restaurant before driving (oh glory praise be) up the mountain to watch the sunset near Flagstaff.

Em was a star. She did our chauffering to the north rim and picked up a whole lot of sweaty creatures at the south rim. Without her the trip would not have been as fun and it’s also true that I have never been so delighted to see her as I was at the south rim that day. Perhaps for selfish reasons because it meant a shower and food was nearby, but also for unselfish reasons because it was so good to have her as part of the group again.

It’s hard to convey sometimes what people mean to me and to be honest I don’t feel inclined to try now. It feels almost as tricky to express as it was to find the line between honesty over the physical and mental challenge of the trip and yet how it shines like a star in my memory. We probably call some things “trips of a lifetime” that don’t quite deserve one, but this one does and these people are people of a lifetime. Sometimes when I think about missing people, or how life won’t always look like it does now I remember that heaven is coming and not just glimpsed in the flash of these photos.

THINGS I WOULD DO DIFFERENTLY

1. Take less clothes. You are constantly in and out of creeks to cool down anyhow and I could easily have hiked with 1 pair of shorts and 2 shirts.

2. Take less dehydrated food. I mostly wanted the protein snacks and electrolytes anyhow, so I brought half my food back out. I did like the dried fruit and beef jerky options I had for quick snacking and also always buy the RX Bars. My favorite electrolytes were some Rachel brought.

THINGS I WOULD DO THE SAME

1. Buy salt tablets. I found some at REI and popped one of those about every half hour to hour. They kept my salt levels sufficient in the excessive sweating.

2. Hike in Altra’s. I bought the Lone Peak 7 version and loved them. I didn’t have any blisters and was in and out of creeks without bothering to take them off. Highly recommend.

3. Hike with the group pictured above. I will always feel a profound gratitude for their patience with my pace, graciousness, and really just how much fun they were.

   Grand Tetons next?

L. Raine