An Adventure of the Grandest Sort

**Warning: This entry is extremely long due to my procrastination and combination of multiple days into one big entry. ***

Sorry it’s been so long.  My access to internet and my desire to sit down and use my computer have been limited in the past week and a half.  The last time I wrote, I was in Fairhope, Alabama, and had been convinced by my fellow friends and instructors to stay an extra day, which I did.  It was nice getting to have some extra time with these people that I’m usually missing due to our crazy, mismatched schedules that never let us be off at the same time.

So, that Friday morning, I hopped in my car and started driving away from Fairhope at 7:45am to Allen, Texas, a suburb of Dallas, where I would spend the night with a childhood friend from Texas, Melissa.  It was about a 10.5 hour drive from Fairhope to Allen, but the time went by pretty quickly as I listened to the audio version of the book Bossypants by Tina Fey (it’s worth a listen!  Thank you Alex and Kristin for sharing with me!). 

I got to Melissa’s around 7:00pm.  Well, truthfully, it was more like 6:30pm, but she lives in this crazy shopping complex place and it took me a good while to find a place to park.  I met Melissa downstairs at her apartment, after confusingly riding an elevator up in the completely wrong building, and we headed upstairs to make some dinner and catch up on life. 

You know those friends that you have that you haven’t seen or really talked to in years, but the minute you’re together, it just seems really natural and familiar?  That’s how it was with Melissa.  We quickly updated each other on our lives, the ups and downs of being our age, the drama of relationships, and the most recent books and movies we had read or seen.  The hours passed by, and before we knew it, it was 11:00pm and time for bed.

My watch alarm beeped at 7:32am the next morning, and it was definitely hard to roll out of bed.  Part of me just wanted to head north from Dallas and go home for the remainder of my break, but another part of me knew that if I didn’t go on this adventure, I would regret it later down the road.

I jumped in the shower (and no, Mom and Dad, I did not hurt myself) and got dressed and ready to go before 8:00am.  Melissa helped me operate the intricate coffee machine downstairs, and I was soon on my way to Albuquerque.

I filled my time in the car finishing my audio book and singing along to the radio.  The stretch from Dallas to the New Mexico border isn’t much to look or talk about, and that part of the drive seemed to take forever.  Once I reached New Mexico, though, the colors began to change, and my interest was piqued since I had never been to this state before.

I drove into Albuquerque as the sun was setting, so I didn’t get a chance to see much of the city in the daylight.  After almost another 10 hours in the car, I was eager for some physical activity, so I used my GPS to try and find a YMCA in the area.  Unfortunately, after three failed attempts at finding one (and landing at a dead end where there were absolutely no buildings), I decided to head to my hosts’ house, Maggie Price and Bill Cartwright.

Maggie and Bill are artists that have done workshops for the company my mom currently works for, Jack Richeson & Co.  They travel all over the country, and the world, for the majority of the year, but I just so happened to catch them on the one week they were home.  They told my mom they would be happy to have me for the night.

I rang the doorbell and was greeted by Maggie, who showed me my room and offered me some homemade green chile soup and blue cornbread (the cornmeal was blue).  It was wonderful to have a home cooked meal after so many days of eating base and course food.  I sat and chatted with Bill and Maggie after I finished eating.  They were going to Massachusetts that Monday to see their daughter and grandchildren for Thanksgiving.  They had just returned home earlier in the week from a workshop in Georgia (which they had driven to and back from) and had been trying to keep their bodies accustomed to east coast time rather than making the switch back to mountain time.  So, by 8:30pm, they were ready to head to bed.  I won’t lie, I was, too.  It had been a long two days of driving, and I was tired.  I read for a bit before shutting off my light at 9:00pm, the earliest I had been to bed in who knows how long.

The next morning I was up around 6:30am.  I told Bill and Maggie that I probably wouldn’t be up at the early hour of 5:00am that they got up at.  I asked if there were any good places to run nearby, and they pointed me in the direction of a great little trail right across the street from their house that snaked it’s way through backyards and down a small foothill that Bill and Maggie’s neighborhood was situated on.

I took off in the brisk morning (it was in the 40’s) in shorts and a long-sleeved shirt and t-shirt.  The other people out walking must have thought I was crazy, as they all were bundled in their winter jackets, mittens, hats, and scarves.  I wore a t-shirt that said WISCONSIN in big bold print on the front, so hopefully they saw that and attributed my scantily clad self to the fact that I was from the Midwest.

My run didn’t last too long, as I’m never good at making it far without food in my stomach.  But, it was enough to stretch my legs before getting back in the car.  I returned to Bill and Maggies, ate a bowl of oatmeal with fresh raspberries, and loaded up my car for the next leg of my journey: the Grand Canyon.

For some reason, the Grand Canyon has always fascinated me, and I spent a lot of time as a kid daydreaming about visiting the monolith and hiking its trails down to the mighty Colorado River below.  I pictured the mules going up and down the steep, narrow trails, accidentally kicking rocks over the side from time to time.  I know that the mules are sure-footed, but after going to the Canyon, I don’t think they would ever be my first choice of mode of transportation.

To say I was ecstatic to finally be going to the Grand Canyon would be an understatement (if that’s even possible).  So many people praised it’s size and the wonder and awe it inspired, but I couldn’t fathom how this natural wonder had such a profound effect on people. 

The last 40 or so miles to get to the Canyon seemed to take forever.  My anticipation kept growing as the miles became less and less.  I think what initially shocked me the most was the little town right outside the entrance to the park that had not only multiple hotels but a McDonalds, Wendy’s, and Pizza Hut.  Seriously?  I thought I was going into the wilderness.  The commercialization of today’s national parks is quite sad.  To me, a national park is a place to go to get away from all the technology and craziness of everyday life.  It’s a place for solitude and reflection; a place to appreciate nature and creation.  But I guess the people in charge see it otherwise.  My hope is that, though, like Edward Abbey said, if you do go to a national park, at least “get out of your damned car” while you’re there.  You’re not actually seeing or experiencing the park until you do.

After dealing with the formalities of entering the park (got an annual pass for all of the national parks for $80…not bad), I drove to the visitor center parking lot and parked my car just as a family of mule deer began making their way toward me.  Left alone for so long, the deer were not shy of humans, since their only real predator in the park was cars.  One was a male and had a huge head of horns, which I, of course, had to take a picture of for my dad.  Unfortunately, my camera likes to act up whenever I try to take pictures of animals, so the quality isn’t the best.

Following the photo shoot, I finally made my way to the South Rim of the Canyon.  It was spectacular.  The clouds gave the enormous canyon a depth and perspective that wasn’t there on a perfectly sunny day.  There were crowds of people all taking in this breathtaking wonder.  I took picture after picture, knowing that no photo would ever do it justice.  I sent a picture message to family and friends, hoping that the tiny photo would at least convey 1/16^th of the majesty that was there before me.

I wandered along the rim of the canyon, stopping here and there to take in the sight below me.  A woman offered to take my picture for me, and I stood as if I were on the top of the world.  As the sun began to set, I wandered back towards the visitor center and stopped to read about the numerous trails that were available to hike on at the Canyon.  As I looked at the information for the South Kaibab trail, I overheard a dad talking to his daughter about the time he hiked into the Canyon.  I asked him a few questions about his experience and made up my mind after our conversation to attempt to get a backcountry permit the following morning to hike and camp down in the Canyon.

That night, I camped out at Mather Campground.  Luckily, the rate had been reduced to $10 a night that day as the late fall/winter season went into effect.  I set up my little camp, cooked myself some dinner, and snuggled down into my sleeping bag to read before drifting off to sleep.

The next morning I awoke early and was out of camp by 7:30am to make it over to the Backcountry office in order to be one of the first people in line for a permit, when the office windows opened at 8:00am.  I was 5^th in line, and as I stood there, I kept thinking, “What the hell am I doing?!?  This is crazy, Stephanie!  You can’t hike down into the canyon alone!  Just go on some day hikes.  Don’t do this.”  But then that stubborn part of me shot the Negative Nancy down, “You can do this.  You know you want to.  Think of what a story this will be!  You’ll regret it if you don’t.”  Before I could argue this part of me down, my number was called and the deed was done. 

I think I was shaking a bit when I walked out of the office, or at least, my heart was beating faster than it normally did.  I couldn’t believe what I had just done: two nights camping down in the Canyon.  However, at the same time the shock set in, a sense of exhilaration did, too.  I was going to hike the Grand Canyon.  And, I was going to do it on my own.

I spent the rest of the morning hiking along the South Rim trail before returning to my campsite to start packing and inventorying some of my gear.  Sadly, I had not been able to acquire a one-man tent before my sojourn west, and so my bulky three-person tent would have to suffice (Looking back now, I would’ve just slept under the stars if I could be guaranteed the weather would be as amazing as it was).  After getting some things packed, I headed back to the rim of the canyon where I found a nice spot on a rock in the sun to read my book for an hour or so.  Around 2:00pm, I made my way back to my car and changed into running clothes before hopping on the shuttle bus that headed out towards Hermit’s Rest on the west end of the park.  No private/personal vehicles could go out that way, only shuttle buses.

I rode the shuttle out about 4.5 miles to the Mohave Point lookout before disembarking and running the rim trail back to my car.  Mumford & Sons played in my ear as I picked my way carefully along the trail overlooking the Canyon.  I’d have to say it was quite an experience, one that I doubt too many people can say they’ve had.

By the time I got back to my car, it was close to 4:30pm.  I made my way back to camp and ate a cold dinner before venturing off in search of hot chocolate.  The pansy that I am spent the majority of the rest of the evening in my running car in the parking lot of the General Store drinking hot chocolate and reading.  For a girl not used to the luxury of having a heated space at her fingertips, this was heaven.  Plus, the temperature was supposed to drop down in the teens that night and that’s cold no matter where you’re from.

This is what I wrote in my journal on Tuesday afternoon:

I am currently sitting in the campsite at the Bright Angel Campground IN THE GRAND CANYON!  Yes, it’s true.  Yours truly got up at about 6:20am this morning, took down my tent (which was covered with frost), rescued a dog that had gotten loose from its owners (which were my friendly neighbors from Texas, who called me an angel upon the return of their dog), drove to the Backcountry Office, hopped on the Hiker’s Express shuttle to the South Kaibab trailhead, and started hiking down into the Canyon at about 8:30am. 

Literally, five minutes into my hike, I thought to myself, “What in God’s green earth am I doing?  I should’ve just done day hikes.  I should really turn around.”  But no sooner had that thought crossed my mind when Kristina and Tom, a couple my mom and dad’s age from Vermont, came bounding down the trail and took me under their wings.  They offered to take pictures for me, which I gladly did for them in return.  They were on vacation while their two kids, Lexi (16) and Tek (14), were at training camps for the boarding school they attended for skiing.  Both kids are aspiring Olympians, so if I ever see their names during the winter games, I can brag to everyone that I hiked down into the Grand Canyon with their parents.

We kept going back and forth along the trail with each other, sometimes I was in front, sometimes they were, sometimes we hiked together.  Towards the end, they fell behind taking pictures, so I soldiered on alone.  At one point, I had to get off the trail for a mule train to pass.  They stopped just as they passed me, and after a minute of admiring the animals, I kept going along the trail and around the switchback they had just come up.  The two rangers/mule guides were talking to each other, and I mistakenly thought they were talking to me, so I hollered up at them to ask them to repeat what they had said.  They laughed and apologized, but then offered to talk since they knew how lonely it could be hiking down alone with no one to talk to.  I chatted with them for a few minutes and was laughingly called a Cheesehead when I told them I was from Wisconsin.  We parted ways shortly, and I kept pushing on to the Colorado River, which I eventually reached 3.5 hours after leaving the trailhead.

I went and stuck my hand in the river after crossing the suspension bridge to get to the Bright Angel Campground.  I felt an overwhelming sense of success in what I had done.  I was so proud of myself and rode that high throughout the rest of the day and into the next.

I found myself a nice campsite in the sun and quickly set up my camp before eating lunch and laying down in the sun to read my book.  My rainfly was still covered in ice/frost from the night before, so I had to hang that up to dry out before putting it on my tent.

After reading and getting my rainfly on, I headed out to explore a bit more, getting on the 1.7 mile River Trail loop and walking around Phantom Ranch (it has dorms, cabins, bathrooms, and a canteen/store).  Now, I'm back at my campsite.

I've been taking a lot of pictures and have been having a lot of fun with the self-timer and making video diaries of my adventures.  It's beautiful down here in the Canyon and very surreal.  To think I'm at the bottom of the Grand Canyon is unbelievable.  And the weather was absolutely gorgeous today -- not a cloud in the sky.  Thankfully it's a lot warmer down in the canyon than up on the rim.  Last night, I think it got down in the teens -- hence the frost on my tent. 

After a day like today, with everything falling into place, I always wonder how people can not think there is not some higher power up there.  I said "thank you" a lot today.  I only wish my mom and dad and brother could have been here with me to share in this incredible experience.  Hopefully, we'll be able to go on another trip this upcoming spring/summer -- maybe to Yellowstone or the Great Smoky Mountains.  I want to just keep exploring all the national parks out here.  I wish it were September so that it wouldn't be too cold and there wouldn't be snow yet so that I could without freezing.

While I was hiking today, I felt like I was in a Lord of the Rings movie with the Canyon looming above me.  My legs would tremble quite a bit whenever I would stop, and my back definitely hurts/is sore.  Lots of ibuprofen tonight and tomorrow.  Supposedly, you can have your stuff sent down on a mule to have waiting for you at the bottom.  While it would be nice, what fun would that be!?!  It totally takes away from the experience.  I'll be curious to see how I feel tomorrow.  The hike down took me about 3.5 hours, and your hike out is supposed to take you about twice as long.  I'm trying to decide if I should hike all the way out tomorrow or just go to the next campground about 4.5 miles away like I had planned.  Guess I'll see how I'm feeling when I get there.  It's nice to have that safety net if I want it.

[Journal entry ends here]

Read my next entry to find out what happens next on my western journey!  Thanks for keeping up with my travels!  I'll be sure to continue my story of KLF196, too!  Love to all from Provo, Utah!