38.) Still Ascending....Ranger Babysitters....Suck It Aorta..

Water IS life and you can see it here in Indian Garden.  Just a few miles in, add a little water and you have everything you need to survive.  The Indians grew crops here, hence the name.  It’s amazing what a little water can do.  

   I lounge in the shade of the Garden and eat another brat and the last of the bacon.  I fight off squirrels for a few handfuls of trail mix and put some duct tape on a few hot spots on my feet where my boots are rubbing me the wrong way.  No blisters yet, but I feel them being conceived…..gross.

Leaving Indian Village

It was 4.7 miles from my campsite to Indian Garden. It’s 4.6 miles to the Canyon's rim. I’m more than half way and I’m feeling good, staying positive about my progress.  After topping off my water supply I head out of Indian Garden and it’s only 9:30am.  A mile and a half to the next water supply sounds doable, but the trail gets steeper from here on out.  It’s 4.6 LATERAL miles, but also about 4,000 vertical feet to go.  

I’m quickly out of the lush greenery of the Garden and back to rocks, cliffs, and sand. I crest a hill just in time to witness a helicopter taking off from a flat spot not 200 yards in front of me. My first thought is that it’s probably evacuating an injured hiker. Warning signs are everywhere in the National Park. Up on the rim, in the visitor center exhibits, at the trail head there’s another; and then I hike down a bit and another ranger is there to question you.  “Where are you headed? How far are you going? Do you have enough water?” It makes it scarier than it has to be but watching the helicopter take off reenforces my thought that there’s a whole lot of stupid out there.

I’m beginning to feel it at this point. My legs are a bit heavier, my progress a bit slower.  The sun has found the canyon floor, blazing down on me, so every time I find a little shade I exploit it.  I’m still thinking I’m going to make it no problem, just take my time.  I’m tired, but I’m not light headed, or dizzy, or vomitting….all good signs.  

My GPS seems to be a bit off because while I’m calculating my distance to the next rest/water stop it pops up in front and above me on the next ridge line.  Sweet! I’m farther than I thought, just 3 miles from the rim now. I take a good 45 minuet break at this one.  Eat another cliff bar, douse my head under the water spigot, and dropping my pack is bordering on the orgasmic.  

I feel the heat of the day really setting in now, and before I head out I remove my long sleeve and continue in my t shirt.  The air is still cool down here but the sun is fully awake now and it beats down like it’s mad at me.  From all my pack weight and the constant up hill, I’m sweating profusely but in the shade I’m almost cold because I’m soaking wet.  It’s a nice break for the constant baking but I can feel it zapping my energy.  

On the upslopes there are logs dug into the trail to create crude stairs.  It’s another pro walking-stick argument, I think to myself as I use mine to pull myself up another set.  One of the things I never really worried about was my legs. A decade of midwestern ice hockey, coupled with my Polish ancestry has given me the physique of a fire hydrant.  Not much to look at but I’m really tough to knock over.  But now even my legs are beginning to complain.

As I reach the final water stop which is a mere mile and a half from the rim, I turn and look behind me.  I see the trail I took, slithering its way back down into the canyon.  Zigzagging to hug the canyon walls.  It’s a long way and I’m slightly impressed with myself. A rare occurrence.  This last section, the last mile an a half, I hiked earlier in the week. It wasn't too bad and I think I’m home free, but with my pack this time, and 7 miles already behind me today, plus the 7 I did yesterday hiking in from the rim….I’m starting to fade.

The last mile and a half is by far the toughest.  I feel so close I want to rush to the top but my body won’t allow it.  It’s incredibly frustrating.  When I’m resting, I’m wishing I was walking. When I'm walking I’m wishing I was resting.  And I have to stop to rest much more often now.  

I can see the rim of the canyon, the finish line…within sight!….The excitement is short lived after another 40 mins of hiking and it doesn't look like I’m any closer at all.  It’s demoralizing and I’d rather not be able to see it.  

While my pack and I are resting against a rock wall, breathing heavily and dripping sweat, a passing girl with a French accent asks if I have enough food and water and I’m immediately offended. Like she thinks I'm an idiot, so I answer curtly “Yes, I Do”……and let them pass. When they’re out of ear shot I decide she may be right so I eat my last cliff bar.  It helps, quite a bit actually. New life…3rd or 4th wind, who knows.  My legs are a bit lighter and I’m much less irritable already .  And this is back before “hangry” was a thing…..hash tag missed opportunities.

I ride the high of my last cliff bar all the way thru to the top.  No screaming fans or topless supermodels there to greet me.  It’s remarkably anti-climatic to tell you the truth. With my fists raised in a victory stance and a loud “Woo Hoo!”,  I high five an old lady that’s taking pictures from the trailhead.  “Congrats” she says.  Not quite the welcome I pictured in my head but I’m a bit delirious at this point so I thank her and immediately collapse into a bus seat…exhausted. But…a bit proud of myself…which is rare.  Now, without a doubt, this aortic dissection can suck it.  The entire Grand Canyon hike, for me, from the rim to the bottom and back plus what ever wanderings I did along the way, topped out right around 19 miles. My Grand Total (HA!) for the trip as a whole is now north of 160 miles.  I’m feeling good.