40.) Fatal Heights.....Epic Reveals......Dorky Drifters....

    The most famous arch in Arches National Park, the one you've probably seen in photographs….that’s Delicate Arch. It’s what drew me here in the first place and the hike to see it is just over 4 miles round trip. So with the La Sal Mountains as a backdrop, I hike out into the desert, and eventually up a solid rock slope. Up and around a huge rock wall.  The ledge I’m to follow isn’t very wide to begin with…It’s a nearly vertical rock wall to my right.  And to my left, well, I’m not great with eyeballing distances, but to my left is a drop off that’s large enough where a fall would most likely be fatal….so like….pretty far…right? 

Anyway, the trail ahead curves to the right as it follows along the rock wall. It continues to narrow, which is hair raising enough, but I can’t really see where I’m headed. The ledge hugs the rock wall so tightly that it quickly disappears around the bend in front of me.  

I plod along, both my palms flat on the rock face when all of a sudden, bam. I reach the end, a strong desert wind hits me in the face as I turn the corner and there it is….Delicate Arch…almost right on top of me.  I like the dramatics of the reveal. But there it is, 45 feet tall. That’s a four story building.  Alone out here in the desert. it sits on top of this huge rock bowl.  It’s hard to describe, I'm not a geologist…but it’s awe inspiring nonetheless.  I’ve found myself saying this a lot, but I’ve never seen anything like it….truely….And then I figure if this trip has any real point, it’s to see things I've never seen before.  So if i’m saying it a lot then the trip is being effective.

It really is a hard thing to describe. Just the result of billions of years of wind and rain whittling away at an enormous rock out in the middle of desert.  Like I said, the arch sits on top of a bowl of sorts, all solid rock. Small scraggly bushes cling to life in the bottom of the bowl. I image it fills with water after a good rain. “Water is life” I think again and hike up to the highest point on the bowl's rim.  My thought is reaffirmed by the view across the rocky angry desert to the lush green of a nearby river valley.  The change is abrupt.  You have the desolation of the desert where jagged rocks protrude from sandy earth, and those scraggily bushes again, sparse, but still making their presence known. Then almost immediately when downslope of the valley begins, thick, lush vegetation all the way down to the river below.  Nature left alone for millennia and this is what you get.  The feeling I get standing there, taking it all in, is one I recommend to all.  

I spend an hour or so running around the bowl and arch like a dork; taking pictures from different angles so I can reconstruct the place later. Try to capture the feeling of the place, the essence of it but again pictures fall short of that feeling you get when you’re actually there, in it, surrounded by it. It’s one of my favorites.

On my way back down the path I climb up to another window like arch in the rock wall.  Through it, i can look back and see Delicate Arch and the La Sal Mountains looming hazily on the horizon. One last look at one of the top things on my bucket list.  I’ve always wanted to see that, and now I have.  Feeling good on my hike back through the desert to the Jeep. My drive out of the park takes me past Balanced Rock so I hop out and hike a quick loop around it. Another crazy rock formation that looks just how it sounds. A fat bulbous boulder balanced on a tall thin pedestal, it’s another sight to see but I can’t stay long. The wind is picking up, the temperature has already begun to drop, and I can see a solid line of grey clouds drifting my way. I hop back in the Jeep and cruise back into Moab. I find a spot way in the back of the Holiday Inn parking lot and crash out in the Jeep. 

39.) A Substantial "Thing".....Horseshoe Inspiration......Wiley Coyotes...

    I’m not as sore as I thought I’d be the next morning and I feel myself settling into a groove.  Really getting the feel for the trip now.  I’ve been onthe road for just over 2 months and it feels….legitimate….like it wasn't just a whim, it’s an actual substantial 'Thing'.  The thought excites me, then I realize I’ve been at the Grand Canyon for nearly two weeks now, exploring the ridges and valleys; and now I’m free to go somewhere completely new, somewhere different, and get that experienceall over again.  With this thought I head out of the park, pass a sign that says “Moran Point”, consider taking a picture of myself pointing underneath it, giggle, and continue on my way.  Right before the park’s exit is a stop called The Watch Tower. It’s one last tourist trap to suck you in right before you escape. It’s got a little gift shop and more killer views. ProTip: The winding staircase is a poor choice the day after a hike out, but the view is worth it.  I snap a few pictures, take one last deep breath while staring into one of the natural wonders of the world and shake my head in beautiful disbelief….Goodbye…..and Thanks…

    Later that night after driving for a bit I find a Denny’s where I maul a burger, fries and vanilla shake like a jungle animal. It tastes like magic and is cheap as shit. I find an out of the way spot in the desert near the town of Page and crash for the night. 

In the morning I discover Horseshoe Bend isn’t terribly far my current location.  Every time I’ve seen a picture of that place it’s always caught my eye;  like “man, I’d like to see that,”  so off I go and once again nature does not disappoint.  Horseshoe Bend is the famous 270 degree meander in the Colorado River. I’m sure you've seen it, maybe in an inspirational calendar at your office?

  I’m glad I stopped. Not only is the view unspeakable, I see people on the beaches down inside the canyon, camping, boating, water skiing. If feels like summer has officially arrived. I don’t think about it until now but last night I was able to sleep in a t-shirt and shorts. It's preferable to nights spent cowering in my sleeping bag. Around lunchtime I find a sports bar to watch the Hawks win and then drive for the rest of the day. Just after dark I hit the Utah state line.  New state, and a time change…it’s all very exciting, and I'm flying high, even before I even mention Arches National Park.  

Arches has been right near the top of places I wanted to visit for a long time.  I’ve never experienced anything like it.  Upon entering the park, (Free again for me again, thanks to my season pass! $80 bucks! Still the best investment of the trip.) one of the first little parking areas I come to is actually the trailhead for the Park Avenue Trial.  Named as such for the massive sandstone fins, that loom like New York skyscrapers.  Taking in the red rock fins, against a cartoon blue sky, conjures thoughts of the roadrunner leading Wile E. Coyote thru a fake tunnel. It’s 2 miles round trip and when I’m through I head into downtown Moab, UT.

 

My first day in a new place I like to get the lay of the land.  So I wander the main strip for a while and it’s easy to see Moab is another little desert town built on tourism.  Jeep rentals, dune buggies, mountain bikes, they’re peppered all over town.  But it’s a tried and true fact if I've ever heard one that tourism is always closely followed by alcohol. And I see a few dive bars that look promising. Less snooty/yuppie than Sedona, and they have PBR on tap for $2.50. I’ll do just fine here. 

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.

37.) Ascent....Devil's Corkscrew.....Squirrel Mob.....

     It was definitely a cut to black, not a fade.  It was sudden, abrupt, and I didn't stand a chance.  Out like a light, as they say.  Whoever they are.  

The next morning I’m up around 4:30 am to maximize my daylight hours for the hike out.  It’s the most intense one I’ve tried yet. Probably the most intense hike I’ve ever tried and I plan to take my time. Don't wanna hurt myself, but I also don’t wanna hike in the dark.  I’m nervous about this one. The hike to the bottom of the canyon was easier than anticipated but that does nothing to calm my nerves.  I’m stiff and sore after yesterday’s hike, and I don't know how my body is going to handle doing it all  ver again the very next day…and this time it’s up hill…all of it.  

To fuel up, for breakfast I have another brat and the rest of my bacon I saved from yesterday.  It’s good, and I’ll need it. By 6am camp is broke, my pack is full, and hoisted onto my shoulders.  “Here we go”, I think to myself as I head out of the campground and towards the Bright Angle Trail.  

The South Kaibab Trail, which I took INTO the canyon is bout 7 miles.  I’m climbing out via the Bright Angel Trail which is about 9 miles long, but not as steep and has 3 or 4 water stations along its length.  That’s why I chose it for my route back up, thinking longer but less steep will be easier if I just take my time.  It’s seems logical enough as a set out, hoping I’m right.  

The trailhead leads me over another suspension bridge spanning the Colorado River. I'm across and at the first rest stop (roughly a mile and a half from the campground, with no significant change in elevation) in about 40 minuets. I’m elated. I sit down to eat a cliff bar while thinking “maybe it won’t be so bad, off to a good start anyhow.”  

A quick consultation of my map shows me the next section of trail is named “The Devil’s Corkscrew.” An ominous sounding set of steep switchbacks isolated from the rest of the canyon by vertical cliff walls. This is where the real hiking begins, and I push onward to see what the trail will throw at me with more than a few butterflies in my belly.  

Not long after I start this section I have to remove my sweatshirt. I’ve survived the early morning chill, and now I'm starting to sweat.  When my head emerges from my hoodie, I see another group of hikers has caught up to me.  In there midst is an old Irishman who points up to the cliff's edge that marks the top of the Devils Corkscrew.  I crane my neck to follow the end of his knobby finger toward 2 enormous birds perched high above us.  “Condors,” he says, and as he does they leap from the rim, and into the canyon. Diving down, wings tucked tight too their sides, reaching unimaginable speeds.  Then silently they spread their wings, continue their decent, and then with the slightest change in wing angle they swoop and soar back up, eyes always in search of their next meal.  During this entire display the condors never once flap their wings.  It’s all angles and updrafts, and it’s amazing to watch.

After the condor show, I rest often on my climb up the corkscrew.  I try not to be discouraged when other hikers pass me but it’s difficult. I sooth myself with the fact that this is the steepest section of the whole trail.  Inside the corkscrew sheer cliff walls are high and tight…..almost imposing…a bit claustrophobic.  Small streams and waterfalls abound, running down cliff faces and spreading out across the hardpan flats. I use stepping stones on a few occasions to cross these streams and keep my socks dry.  It’s a pro-walking stick argument and I'm glad I have one.  

The top of the corkscrew is also the top of the bottom most canyon section which seems encouraging so I find a shady spot and rest for 30 minuets or so and take in the new view.  When the walls were so close I could tell I was making progress.  Now that they've pulled away, I feel like I've lost ground.  I can see what I think is the rim now… and I have to squint to make it out….

It’s just over 3 miles to Indian Village and roughly the half way point of my hike out.  This is the longest section of trail with nothing on it.  That makes me nervous at first but soon it’s flattened out quite bit and I can hear the whispering babble of a brook.  Hiking on, things get greener.  The whole hike up to this point has been pretty beige.  Some reddish pink rocks around but nothing in the way of vegitation.  But now I'm seeing grasses, bushes.  A lizard scurries across the trail in front of me and into the tall grass at the creeks edge. I hear birdsongs as I trudge further and come upon fully grown trees as I enter Indian Village. I’m accosted....by squirrels. They’ve definitely figured out that people have food, and when you don’t give it to them, they have no qualms about taking it from you the second your attention wanes.  Now, I can’t prove it, but I have reason to believe that some of them are working together. Distracting me to look one way while others behind me rifled thru my bag for anything they could find. It's like a mob hit, or a military operation....Squirrel Team Six?

36.) My Decent....Goldilocks and the Lack of Solitude.....

     I'm up at 5:30 the next morning cooking more bacon and eggs to fuel up for my hike.  After breakfast I pack up and make my way to the trailhead. I set out on the South Kaibab trail by 10am with Goldilocks style weather. The sun is warn, the morning air still cool….it’s perfect and I've got 7 horizontal miles and 6,000 vertical feet between me and the canyon floor via the South Kaibab Trail. There's no water available anywhere along the way, so I have just over 2 liters of water and a 32 ounce powerade that should be more than enough to sustain me on my trek down.  I plan to hike back out via the Bright Angel Trail that has several water stops along its length and I can refill as needed.  I learned my lesson on my first hike and my pack weight is much more manageable this time around.  

The first mile of the South Kaibab trail offers 360 degree views of the canyon.  It's totally exposed and in some places it follows a ridge line that isn't much wider than the trail itself.  I’m grateful for the beautiful weather and I’m feeling good as I pass Ooh Aah Point at the 1 mile mark, Cedar Ridge at 1.5 miles, and I arrive at Skeleton Point, the 3 mile mark after about an hour of hiking.  I surprised by my progress. I thought I’d be moving much slower but I remind myself that it’s because it all downhill. The real test will be the hike out.

At Skeleton Point I sit, remove my pack, and take my first real break.  There's a group of port-a-potties here, and that draws a crowd.  Once again a quiet hike of self-reflection and deep thought is not possible at the Grand Canyon. I’m annoyed at first, then figure it’s probably for the best on a hike of this magnitude.  I subdue my agitation with a cliff bar and chat with a some of my fellow hikers.  There are a few families on vacation with younger kids, one or two pairs of what appear to be twenty-somethings, but what really surprises me is all the old people!  The majority of hikers are grey haired and well weathered.  One guy is going to turn 76 later this month!
I’m thrown for a second but after I think about it for a bit it makes sense. The Grand Canyon and other parks like it are things you do in your retirement.  After you’ve put in your time dealing with all the bullshit that comes with funding your existence, you seek tranquility….to slow down.  It’s a great place to be when you have no places to be, no obligations or pressing matters. These are the people who are looking AROUND, I realize. After 30 or 40 years of tunnel vision, they finally have the TIME to look around. "Good for them,” I think to my self, I’m glad I’m doing it sooner rather than later. Maybe a quiet hike of self-reflection isn’t in the cards for the Grand Canyon but a minor realization is better than nothing and with that I’m ready to hike on.

The next section of trail is colorfully named Cardiac Hill, a steep set of switchback that I'm grateful I don’t have to climb.  Trudging on, I eventually get my first good view of the Colorado River.  I could see a tiny piece of it from Skeleton Point but it's more real this time, and it’s BIG. You have no idea how big when gazing from the rim.  But from here, I can hear it…almost feel it.  A flame of excitement relights inside my chest as I descend further.  My body is holding up nicely thus far.  My back feels alright, my pack gets marginally lighter as I drink more water.  I don’t feel any blisters on my feet but my toes are beginning to complain. Hiking downhill for 4 straight hours has forced my feet into the toes of my boots causing some pinching discomfort and I get a bit antsy as I near the bottom.  

On the final stretch I reach a tunnel straight thru the solid rock outcropping and emerge on the silver suspension bridge that spans the Colorado River and ushers me to the canyon floor. I’ve made it.  

The opposite end of the bridge leads me to a beautiful arch of beach that follows the outside curve of the river.  I drop my pack and sit in the sun warmed sand to remove my boots and socks.  
    The water is freezing! So cold in fact that after roughly 30 seconds of wading my feet actually hurt and I’m forced back to the beach.  While stumbling around the sands I run into Ryan and Julie, a couple from Colorado.  It’s 80 degrees here on the canyon floor, and they were snowboarding earlier in the week.  Hell, it was in the mid 50’s on the rim this morning when I started my hike.  Elevation is a hell of a thing.  

 




 Bright Angel Campground is just passed the beach and a bit further into a side canyon.  I chose an empty campsite right on Bright Angel Creek. Once pitched, my tent is about 3 steps away from the creeks edge.  After camp is set I eat a brat while soaking my feet in it’s icy waters.  I was right about no blisters but I do feel a few hot spots that will need some attention before I hike out.  I was riding the high of making it to where I actually am right now, the floor of the Grand Canyon!  I was feeling great wandering the beach and setting up camp, but now that I've stopped, the day is catching up with me.  Once I finish my snack, I stand back up with a groan and explore the camp in the day's waning light on slow wobbly legs.  Phantom Ranch is a few hundred yards deeper into the canyon and that flame of excitement lights again when I see the beer advertised in the window of the lodge.  It’s quickly smothered when I realize I didn't bring my wallet or cash of any kind, and the indifference emerges when I tug on the front door and it’s locked up tight, the whole place is closed.  With a shrug and an about-face, I head back towards the beach.  

I pack up my one hitter a few times and run into a group of kids laying on the beach.  Turns out they made it all the way down here but don’t have a permit to camp.  It’s getting dark and they don't know what to do.  They eventually decide to try and hide in the bushes the best they can until morning. I wish them luck and that’s the last I see of them.  I wonder if they make it out alright.

     I crawl into my tent and turn onto my back with the intention of reading for a bit but I don’t make it.  Sore and bone tired I quickly pass out while laughing to myself, “Tomorrow is gonna be a rough one.” Cut to black….