we drove from our homes south - curving up along the smoke lines of 300 or more fires. Settling into meals with old friends and new friends. Winding slowly through passes narrow on hot hot days. No AC - only windows and the breeze.
setting out just after noon we floated the flooding Sandy River from Darby to the lower bridge.
Ashby - Sasha - Kirk
one glorious day after another is how I hope to fill this life.
“Into the great wide open, Under them skies of blue Out in the great wide open, A rebel without a clue” she sings Tom Petty lucidly while the green blur of scenery slides past the windows, interrupted here and there with a little house, a broken down truck or road sign. The cd skips because the optical lens needs cleaning, she makes a mental note to buy one at the next strip mall she passes, the next radio shack or Wal-Mart – maybe even a target would have it. The skipping interrupts her sing- along and frustrates her voice. She slows down a little with the volume turned to off and sees in the distance a burned out trailer, pieces of is are strewn about the green. At some strange hour of the night someone thought it was acceptable to go ahead and leave that trailer there, unhooked from its hitch, license plates ripped off waiting for the young ones to come and torch it, burn it, destroy anything that may have been salvageable about the trailer. She knew there was a difference between her and these towns, and this made her feel privileged and guilty for having to know better than to torch trailers by the side of the road, or to leave them there in the first place. She knew the trailer could have found a home on craigslist or been donated or any number of things. Between her and the trailer stood an almost impossible gap in understanding, in consciousness and plain morals – but these were the morals of a knowledge that she just couldn’t get past.
She turned her hands into the steering wheel so that the backs of her hands where out of the sun. It was something that her mother did, it was so that her hands wouldn’t get sun damaged, she put them back on top again into the sun and just looked out – straight ahead the light was starting to curve in, back to the horizon, some starlings came out of the corn fields, stubbly from agricultures left-overs. The starlings moved in unison, school of fish in the sky flying in no particular direction whirling over the highway wing to wing and at the blink of an eye they disappeared into the field on the other side, the maze of short stalks browning in the sun, getting dry, cracking up and eventually tilled under to make way for next years growth.
Ursula sat in the car, pulling back her long red hair into a halfway-organized bun - as soon as I placed it in park I sprang out and into the parking lot - Japanese women with umbrellas paraded with their grandparents too old for gender distinction towards the viewing point. Over the edge the fuzzy lines of ochre and rust fell downwards like a never-ending stack of pancakes. We're here! I would have liked her to rush towards the edge to cling tightly to the chain-linked fence - but she was preparing herself, I didn't understand then, but it was explained to me later that some people prefer to take a breath before seeing something grand for the first time - it wasn't my first time and so I ran to greet one of my favorite American geological wonders - The Grand Canyon -
I think it was Homer Simpson who said "the Grand Canyon, What A Grand Canyon" that it is, and somehow magically more than that. It draws you in and through - seemingly the same but all the while changing on scales that are innumerable. I can't stay at the edge, I have to go down, I have to see the Colorado, put my feet in the cold green waters (sometimes brown) and stare up, across, and down. It is too much to wait - we pack our daypacks and head down the South Kaibab trail. It seems the most do-able in one day, we were not able to get over night pass, although I found out later that you just need to avoid the rangers if you camp over night without a pass- its not like their going to get a helicopter to pick you up because you want to camp… but they will give you a ticket if they catch you…
But I didn’t know that then- so this was going to be a "see how far we can go without being too stupid" kind of hike.
Ursula is nervous about dehydration, heat exhaustion, and all the warnings that are in the pamphlet - I tell her that the warnings are for people who are really out of shape or extremely egotistical about their abilities but shallow in their judgment - but that we are sensible and in good shape and that it will be difficult but worthwhile. On the way down we pass many families and couples - many obese people having a difficult time - it is not easy, but the truth is that the Grand Canyon is a popular American destination and that the "Percent of non institutionalized adults age 20 years and over who are overweight or obese: 66.3 " it is a sad fact and obesity is an epidemic in this country that I believe needs to be seriously considered...in my opinion...
So we passed many people having a very difficult time - but I was really happy to see so many people out enjoying the canyon and actually looking for a different view other than the viewing turn-offs..
We had left at noon on our adventure. Starting out in jeans and layers of shirts that quickly found their way into our bags or by the side of the trail under some rocks.
Coming to the first viewing point we were passed by a group of young men whose mission was to get all the way to the bottom and back in one day. I thought that perhaps we could do it - we were making good time already at 3pm we were about one mile from the bottom - we had both agreed that we would turn back at 3, but I couldn't handle being only one mile away and turning back. We negotiated and then separated - I chose to make my way as quick and safe as possible - just to touch the river and return. She choose to make her way back - we set a probable time of my arrival back at the car where she would be waiting/sleeping - I was guessing I would make it out of the canyon by 10pm, hiking by the light of the full moon - it was a full moon night.
As I scrambled my way down the trail I passed a few overnight hikers, they commented on my footwear, a simple pair of Toms Shoes. They are a simple shoe, almost like a moccasin, and to me, they are the most comfortable, all-purpose shoe - quite fine in warm weather hikes that have a trail. These are not shoes that I would go for a long run in or hike a snowy pass, but they are wonderful for just about everything else.
Many people commented, "How can you hike in those?" my response was the "native's did it in moccasins" or "you call this a hike?"...many shoes are over engineered, and these days it seems people are constantly over preparing what they have on them for a simple hike - I know that boy scout motto of being prepared for everything and anything - but I say be realistic in what you actually need and what is comfortable to carry - I hate having a heavy backpack or heavy feet it takes away from my agility and balance and in the end hurts me more than helps me.
I made it - at the watering hole I saw a young boy holding the faucet up in complete misunderstanding of the scarcity of drinking water in this area - I waited for him to finish playing and refilled my water bottles, then made my way to the rivers edge where rafters sat charmingly on the sand. I felt like a wild woman, hair up in all directions from sweat and a few days without a good shampoo. I was only wearing shorts and a bikini top taking my shirt off I walked straight into the water - it was cold, really cold but I waded out until I could dive in. A few girls came in after and then pushed their friend down, into the water - shrieking she jumped up and ran after them to get her happy revenge - everyone came alive in that moment in the realization that youth brings and age at times forgets.
I had touched the river and although I would have loved to stay I knew I had to turn and go back - the hardest part was yet to come.
Walking back over the bridge I looked up and down the canyon - the sun was just starting to make the light wane over the cracks and ravines - shadows started to appear that would only grow longer until the whole canyon was just a shadow - I would have to move quickly as I could.
The first part of the climb was interrupted with only a few moments of rest. These moments would later become the rhythm to my newfound mental silence - the silence of mind that only exhaustion and desire brings. After the sun went down the moths and the lizards came out. I saw the moths resting on the cactus flowers that glowed in the moonlight - it was - to be cheesy- a living painting, it felt unreal to be in the state that I was in - in the environment that I had found myself walking. At night the canyon has a different energy, it becomes dark for one, and I had no flashlight, only shorts and a few layers of wool - I took one of my wool sweaters in put my legs through the arms - they made good leggings. At one point I took a brief nap in a composting toilet - I looked at the map and ascertained my proximity to the trailhead. I thought I had so far to go and was worriful about making it - but my brain in the end was mis-calculating. I was counting the miles between the posts and thinking that it was 3 miles from here to there and then another 6 miles to the next post - as it happens it was 6 miles total to the trail head and I knew I would make that.
The wind picks up in the canyon at night - It howls through all the rocks it blows dust and sand. I could only think enough to count the last four or so miles - I would walk ninety paces and rest for thirty breaths then walk another ninety paces and rest for another thirty breaths - hugging into the rocks I could find, huddling down to them to protect me from the wind that gusted to 45mph that night and the cold that got down into the teens the closer to the rim I got.
I had piled up some rocks where I had left my pants - I found the rocks but no pants and kept going - knowing that the trailhead was minutes away or at least under an hour. It wasn't yet 9pm but by the time I greeted the trailhead it was getting close to ten. I howled at the moon at the top, I thanked and thanked the gods that existed within me and within the canyon for strength and for the beautiful experience. It was difficult but beyond words worth it.
Like a coyote I woke Ursula up with little howls - she gave me the hugest hug and then proceeded to let me know how worried she was. At our parting I said to her " I could be responsible or I could be stupid" I am taking this chance knowing full well the consequences and I take responsibility for my stupidity. I am happy to be stupid sometimes - but I know that the payback for stupidity is not always a lesson in the appreciation of life; sometimes it’s the total loss of being able to appreciate life.
I know now what I only thought I knew then.
