A long walk

I was looking for something in my old e-mails this morning, and I stumbled across the following, which I sent to Jack a couple years ago when he asked for a report on my hike down the Grand Canyon. No reason to post it here, except it brings back nice memories.

I hiked down the South Kaibab Trail, spent the night on the canyon floor at Phantom Ranch, and hiked out the next day on Bright Angel Trail. (Google tells me that "kaibab" is an Indian word that means "upside down mountain.") The canyon floor is a mile below the rim, but the trails, of course, are much longer. The trip down South Kaibab to the ranch was about 7 miles and took 5 hours; the trip up Bright Angel was about 10 miles and took 7 hours. Both of those times, I think, are about average, maybe a little better--I understand that most people average about 1 mile per hour.

I'd thought for at least a year, probably much longer, that it would be really cool to see the nighttime sky from the bottom of the canyon. When we arrived at the canyon (Tuesday the 4th), however, I had second thoughts. The thing, of course, is enormous. And at our first view of it, I spotted a hiker way off in the distance headed down South Kaibab--he was just a speck that I could barely pick out with my binoculars and he was slowly advancing on a path carved in the side of the cliff. Well, I says to myself, I says, Dan, my boy, maybe we should rethink this plan; sitting at the hotel bar looks like a lot safer way to spend the next couple days.

We spent Wednesday just walking on the rim enjoying the views, trying not to get too close to the edge (apparently they haven't heard about railings in Arizona), and reading a couple posters, which were very prominently displayed:

"Missing: Jim Wilson, age 34, last seen while camping at Indian Gardens [halfway between the rim and the floor]."
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"Can you run a marathon? Michelle Johnson could. A 25-year-old who finished the Boston Marathon in a little more than 3 hours, Michelle died while hiking down to the canyon floor."
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"Approximately 400 hikers a year require medical assistance."

Yikes! The chances for a 61-year-old who never hiked before didn't look all that hot, and the idea of sitting at a bar was looking better and better. Nevertheless, I asked anyone I could find about what the hike would be like. Some conversations:

Dan: "Any tips?"

Obviously experienced hiker who just arrived at the top: "Spend 2 nights at the bottom, not 1."

Dan: "But I was only able to get a reservation at the ranch for 1 night."

Obviously experienced hiker who just arrived at the top: "Oh. Well, you'll be OK. Probably."
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Dan: "I'm trying to decide what to wear. It's cold and windy up here, but warm and still on the floor. Where does the change occur?"

Experienced hiker: "As soon as you get below the rim."

Park ranger #1: "Halfway down, at the plateau."

Park ranger #2: "The change is very gradual; it begins at the rim and doesn't end until you reach the floor."
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Dan: "I've heard that hiking down can be even harder than hiking up. What in the world can be hard about hiking down?"

Park ranger: "You use muscles that you don't usually use. People get cramps deep in their thighs that are just excruciating, and they have to be carried out."
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Dan: "What's harder, going down or coming up?"

Experienced hiker: "Coming up. When I did the hike 10 years ago, my heart pounded so hard that I thought it was going to explode."
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Dan; "How wide are the trails?"

Park ranger: "Pretty wide. I guess they're generally 3 to 6 feet wide."

Dan: "That sounds pretty wide for a sidewalk where the curb is only 4 inches high, but we're talking about a trail along a cliff, where the drop is a whole hell of a lot more than 4 inches. People don't fall off do they?"

Park ranger: "Sometimes. There's a lot of rubble on the trails, and if you let yourself get caught up in the beauty of the scenery, it's easy enough to take a tumble."

Dan: "That would be some 'tumble.'"

By Wednesday evening, I was pretty anxious about the whole endeavor. We had dinner with some friends, and I don't think I said a dozen words the whole night.

Next morning, I headed out at about quarter to 6, bought a couple sandwiches at a cafeteria, and hopped the "hikers' express" shuttle bus to the South Kaibab trailhead. I was well equipped. I had bought hiking boots at the beginning of the summer and had broken them in pretty well on the sidewalks of Vienna. I have a backpack, a "hydration bladder" [a big water bottle with a hose attached], an adjustable walking stick, and all sorts of other good things. I had enough power bars and peanut butter crackers crammed into my backpack to supply several Everest expeditions.

Despite all my anxieties, I felt cautiously optimistic. I really thought that if I could just keep putting one foot in front of the other, I'd make it all the way down and all the way back up. So I would probably be OK. Of course, 'probably' still left plenty of room in my mind for thoughts that I really didn't want to entertain.

In the event, I didn't have any troubles. The trek was not nearly so treacherous nor so strenuous as I expected: No cramps, no "tumbles," no twisted ankles or broken legs or heart attacks. I did develop a blister or two on the way down, but fortunately I had bandaids and "moleskin" and "second skin" and other stuff that friends had advised me to take along, and the blisters were not a serious problem.

When I reached the ranch, I signed in, drank a beer (what a great ranch!), and then sat soaking my feet in Bright Angel Creek at the bottom of Grand Canyon for an hour. How cool is that?

Supper at the ranch was beef stew. Back up a bit. I started trying to make a reservation at the ranch back in January, but it was fully booked. (Several people I met on my hike had made their reservations 2 years before!) I phoned every month or so and at the end of August I got lucky--there had been a cancellation. I could have that guy's spot, but I'd also get his supper, and unfortunately, he was not a vegetarian. I ate meat for a week or two before our trip to make sure my system wouldn't rebel when I shoveled some beef into it at the bottom of the canyon. No problems at all, and the beef stew at the ranch was as good as any I ever had.

Sleeping was in bunk beds, 10 people to a cabin. (There were 4 cabins like this, some other smaller cabins, and about 50 campsites nearby.) I turned in around 8:30 and slept like a baby. A ranger woke us with "Good morning. It's 4:30. First breakfast is in half an hour."

I wasn't in much of a mood to eat anything. I was feeling queasy remembering how high those cliffs looked the previous afternoon, and I just wanted to get an early start. A complication: It was now Friday, and Mary Ellen would be checking out of our lodge up on the rim at 11:00; after I came up, we would have to drive 4 hours to Sottsdale. I told her I didn't know when I might make it to the top, but my best guess was maybe around 4 pm. If I made it by that time, I could rest for a couple hours while she drove until it got dark and then I could drive the rest of the way. However, if I didn't make it up until, say, 6:00, we'd have to get right into the car and I'd have to drive the whole way because Mary Ellen can't see in the dark. I don't know if we ever would have made it if I had tried to do all that driving after such a long hike. Fortunately, it didn't take me nearly so long to come up. I reached the top at 1:00, we found each other at 1:30, and Mary Ellen drove us all the way to Scottsdale.