Bright Angel Trail - Grand Canyon, AZ

And so begins the post that is unlikely to even begin to do justice to this magnificent piece of earth.  I may lag a bit on adding this hike to the page section; however, I wanted to write a bit about the experience while it was still fresh in my mind. 

I haven't done much hiking outside of the tiny chunk of Virginia and North Carolina nearest to where I live and go to school.  Don't get me wrong - there's a sort of splendor about green trees, dense forests, trickling streams, and the sound of leaves crunching from underneath a pair of hiking boots.  But I was ready to try something new, see something new, and go on a marvelous adventure with only the best boyfriend in the world.  And so we called up Casey's cousin, begged him to take us down the canyon for our first (and his fifth) time, and booked ourselves a set of flights to Phoenix, AZ.  We arrived in Phoenix feeling fresh and sprightly at 10 AM their time and I was introduced to the extended family.  The canyon wasn't far away.  We were stoked. 

Actually, if I want to speak with all honesty, I should say Casey was stoked.  I was teetering on the edge of a superb sense of excitement and an ever growing fear of falling off a cliff into the abyss, dying of heat stroke, getting mauled by a rabid, plague carrying squirrel, and otherwise finding myself carried out of the canyon on a gurney.  But by god, I am a sucker, and I really do love to hike, and so I agreed to wake up at the painful hour of 2 AM (5 AM Virginia time - hallelujah!) to embark on a drive from Phoenix, AZ to the south rim of the grand canyon.  Steven, Casey's cousin, managed to shave an hour and a half off of the GPS's initial predicted arrival time which leads me to wonder if I should have been more terrified about the prospect of even making it to the canyon alive.  As it went, though, we did arrive alive and upon stepping out of the car wondered how the hell the temperature could be expected to quite literally double within the next 12 hours.  Shivering, we donned our packs.  Mine felt a bit like a baby gorilla. 

Before we started downward, we were pleased to be able to see the sun rise over the grand canyon (a sight which my crappy point and shoot camera sadly didn't even attempt to capture well) and get a good look at an entirely too tame elk grazing on the lawn beside the lodge.  The beginning of the trip down wasn't bad at all.  The views were truly awe inspiring and the trail was clearly constructed with safety and visitor comfort in mind.  For the first 4.5 miles of the 9.5 mile journey to the campground at the bottom, there was a water station and toilet every 1.5 miles.  Each station also had an emergency phone, which settled my mind a bit. It was also more than impossible to get lost.  There was one trail in one direction - down/up.



with a couple from the Netherlands that we met on the way

As the sun rose, the heat came with it.  Fortunately, with a fairly early start, by the time we reached the halfway point, it was still only 80 something degrees outside, which feels quite pleasant in such a dry climate.  We continued.  By the time we neared the river, the heat seemed to be increasing exponentially and my left heel was begging for mercy from my boots.  I am convinced that my feet must be two different sizes, because while I am still sporting some sexy blisters on my left heel, my right foot remained entirely unscathed throughout the whole ordeal.  Never-the-less, I pressed through the blisters and as the true heat of the day caught up with us, we dipped our hands into the

Colorado river.  Down on my knees, with my hands and forearms pressed flat to the edge of the constant ebb and flow of the river water, I must've looked like I was praying to some deity.  In reality, I worshipped the cool water against my wrists.

The last mile or so from the river to the campground was the hardest.  By now, it was nearing noon and the sun was overhead and I was feeling the effects of the pack and the mileage.  Seeing the tiny buildings that signified the finale of the day's travel was a relief.  We walked across a little bridge over the river with a sense of fatigued pride and picked out a campsite where we dunked our heads under the cold drinking water pipe (probably not technically allowed) before setting up camp.  With the temperatures hovering around 100 F now, we spent the rest of the day sitting on rocks in the brown creek with our ankles submerged, playing cards, and ordering ice filled drinks from the tiny general mart at Phantom ranch.  I also bought myself two postcards - one for keeps and one which was carried out of the canyon by mule and should be arriving to my parents any day now.

Near the end of the first day, we attempted to make ourselves some dinner by rehydrating some simple freeze dried meals.  This should have been a simple process.  Boil water.  Remove little oxygen pack from bag.  Add water to bag.  Stir.  Wait.  Eat.  Of course, we managed to screw it up.  Oh no, not once - but three times.  The worst was when Steven decided to ditch the directions and add the mix and water together into the pot.  Let's just say that backpacking stoves are not the sturdiest of things and when the pot was accidentally bumped, our campsite was instantly filled with hot, half cooked macaroni and a variety of animals trying to get their chance at the food.  We cleaned up the macaroni into a trash bag, fended off the (also all too tame) squirrel at the edge of our campsite with a shoe, and let the flies and ants do their thing.  Of course, now we were left with a wet, macaroni and gravel filled bag and the prospect of carrying the thing 5000+ feet back up the canyon.  Miraculously, and thanks to some very kind rangers, we were able to leave the bag with the staff at the bottom to be taken up in the mule train the following day.

We headed to bed shortly after our dinner fiasco with alarms set for 2:45 AM and a leave time of 4:00 AM.  Upon leaving the campground, we stopped atop the bridge, this time to view the night sky from the bottom of the grand canyon.  It was nothing short of amazing.



me on the way up

I won't bore you with the trip back up.  Picture the trip down, but in reverse, with bruised hips, pre-blistered feet, and a certain haste with the promise of sleeping in a comfy bed upon arrival back to civilization.  We played leapfrog with a few hiking groups, sang sing-alongs, drank huge amounts of water, peed huge amounts of water, and continuously remarked about the magnitude and grandeur of the area.  And finally - finally after 7 hours of uphill climbing with a 20+ lb pack on my back.  I made it out of the canyon.  Three energetic people entered.  Three very tired people exited.  And you know what?  It was one of the most fantastic hikes of my life even if I walked like a penguin for the next three days.