into the great beyond. Into the great canyon, a gaping hole, the biggest wound on the face of the earth. From over 8800 feet down into 4000 in a matter of hours. Six to be precise. A bone jarring decent into a steaming hot canyon that feels like a decent into hell, a parched land of gashes and wounds, of ridged stone and devil red walls. Who would be sane enough to do it? I certainly questioned mine and my husband's as my legs turned into jello down on the twentieth or so switchback as loose rock and red soil threatened to throw me off the trail with my 30 pound pack and down the rocky cliff below. I watched my husband up ahead carrying our 28 pound son, an extra pack and a trekking pole. Yes, our son will not soon forget this!
We had a late start due to a delay in obtaining a backcountry permit. So, in the heat of the day we began our decent into the canyon. But the gods were thankfully on our side as creeping cloud cover prevented the sun from baking us into useless piles of limbs and bones. The canyon is fierce and unforgiving, looking down on feeble human beings attempting a foolish walk through its ravines and ridges; getting the best of them when they become low on water and have exhausted all their bodies' fuel. If a hundred things could go wrong with the human body, this is the place where it will all happen simultaneously.
But after a few hours, the secenery changes and the decent is no longer too steep. Millions of years of evolution will show through from Kaibab and Muav limestone to Bright Angel Shale to Vishnu Schist , you will find fossils of living things and blue-green algae along the way. The pines and aspen of 8000 feet will soon give way to more desert shrub and grasses, and soon as you come up on Roaring Springs, the roar of the river will actually ease the aches in your body and signal 3 more easy-going miles to the campsite.
Another hour into the hike, you begin to wonder if it was indeed only 3 more miles, because it feels like we'd been walking forever, the canyon stretching on and on into the distance, without an end in sight. We gain momentary relief at a water stop by the gushing river. An old artist inhabits the small dwelling in the clearing of the water faucet, where he maintains a garden of sorts and a set of steps down to the river's edge. As we imbibe and cool off with water on bandans, hats and neck scarfs, a woman emerges from the steps. She says hello and vanishes as fast as she had appeared. We get ready to set off for another mile and a half or so. We cross a short foot bridge and are brought to the other side of the river, the river now on our right. My husband behind me, and suddenly yelling indescernable words to me as the wind mangles his voice. I stop and ask for clarity. Apparently the woman was swimming naked in the river in plain view. Of course, my husband didn't miss a thing!
Trudge as feet ache and blisters form. The heat now beating down, unbearable and oppressive. The clouds have gone. The sky is big, open, wide and loud. The end seems distant as we struggle on. Then up ahead I see a red landing flag. It signals "rescue", "chopper", "safety", "get us out of this place before I die". I know it means something significant, and hope against hope, the end of our 7 mile journey. I didn't want to ask for fear of a let-down, but I did anyway. To the lone camper setting up his tent, "Are we there yet?" He answers back, not with good news, but with another question, "Depends, where you headed?" "Cottonwood!" I yell back. "You're here," he smiles. "Best news I've heard all day!" So we find the rest of our party, I drop down to the ground like I'm about to die, kick of my killer boots and assuage my dying feet. Dylan begins his exploration of the place and takes up the entertainment for the evening, commenting on people's farts ("Ewwee, fart!"), kicking his imaginary ball to the moon and stars, and showing everyone where his head, eyes, nose, mouth, hands and feet are. The quarter moon appears in the dusky sky and Dylan begins to yell, "BOON! Boon!". Then the twinkling stars start to light up, a single one, the in twos, in threes and then a cresendo of white sparkles in the vast night sky. Dylan yells, "Ohhhh, stars!" As the sky becomes black, the Milky Way appears, smearing accross the canyon sky. I hadn't seen the Milky Way in years, not since I left African skies behind. So Dylan and I lay on the dusty ground with eyes upward counting the endless lights and saying goodnight to every last one.
8:02 AM | |
