Irritated. I usually put a lot of thought and planning in to my adventures to help things go smoothly, but every once in a while I mess up. I messed up big time on my sister's and my adventure in Grand Canyon National Park this last May when I didn't route plan correctly and ended up making us walk about nine miles more than necessary on our four day trek along the Grand Canyon. I was just so eager to hike in the canyon that I didn't put much thought into our beginning and ending points, I just knew what we would be hiking once we dipped below the rim, including our camping areas and available water.
As a result, I only realized after we had our permits in hand that our point-to-point trail began at one trail overlook and ended at another - nine miles apart. This little lapse in planning would force us to take the park's shuttle as far as it would go up the road, where we then had to shoulder our forty pound packs and walk the rest of the way to our starting point along the park highway. The morning of the beginning of our hike we got up way too early and parked at the backcountry parking lot along with dozens of other cars, caught the earliest shuttle we could, and began a four day adventure that would test everything about our mental and physical tolerance. (I wish that were an exaggeration...)
Alisha said she wasn't mad at me, but I was beyond angry with myself. We had discussed the problem and decided it was best to walk the extra miles at the beginning of our adventure instead of at the end when we were sure to be exhausted and sore, but that didn't make the miles any easier. Our packs were at the heaviest they would be for the entire trip, full of food and water and our entire lives for the next four days. We talked at first in the cool grey mists of dawn, where herds of elk kept us company along the sides of the road. We were both excited to begin our journey, talking about the challenges and beauty of what we were likely to encounter. We got quieter and quieter as the morning wore on, eventually only dully calling out "car" when one was coming up behind us.
We took short rests whenever there was an overlook or a rock or anything that would make a comfy seat to someone who was carrying a quarter of their weight on their backs, but struggled on shortly after stopping. We knew that we had to keep going because we hadn't even entered the canyon yet, and had a further five miles to hike down to our first campsite of the night once we got to the rim and the true beginning of the trail. My pack was rubbing raw spots into my hips and my feet and ankles already hurt, though I kept telling myself it was because of the road and that things would get better once we were inside the canyon. I almost believed my own lies. We finally reached Grandview Point, the overlook and trailhead we were to take down into the Grand Canyon, and it was freezing. The wind was bitter and we only stopped long enough to snack a bit and use the pit toilet, the last true toilet we would see for four days, before shouldering our packs again and preparing to take our first steps into the canyon. I thought I knew what to expect of the coming adventure, but I was very wrong. Our journey was beyond imagining.
What I'm listening to: Big Love Adagio by Bond
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