Wandering from Home - Part 2

Sometimes we begin a journey expecting an outcome so different than what we actually experience. Part of this gap can be accounted for through a lack of preparation (guilty) or chalked up to the fact that it is a totally novel adventure (guilty again). But sometimes we gain something far greater than any of our expectations and we are changed forever.

Day 2 - Saturday, April 10, 2010

As suggested by my brother, Wendy and I should have gotten up and left for the canyon by 4:00 AM; it was a two hour drive to the trailhead from Kingman. Well it just so happens that my brother wasn't with us and wasn't going on the hike with us, so we didn't heed his advice... na na na na naaaaa

We awoke after 6:00, didn't get on the road till nearly 7:00 and finally made it to the Hualapai Hilltop parking lot around 9:00. Another wonderful day of setting our very own schedule... no deadlines, no urgencies, no have-to-be-somewhere-right-now, and NO ONE complaining because we were late. This alone brought a freedom and peace that was unknown to both of us. Perhaps we should have just turned around and headed back home at that point... I mean why mess with something so perfect?

Upon stepping from the car, I got my first glance at the awe inspiring magnificence of the Grand Canyon. It was sooooo big, sooooo deep.... sooooo woooooweeee wow wow!

Then I noticed the switchback, stair-stepped trail creeping down the canyon wall... Holy Crap-oly! It seemed to never end... and look at those people way down there where the trail finally starts to flatten out and head off into the distance, they look sooooo small and far away! And they were!!! We looked at one another and wondered what the H-E-Double Toothpicks had we got ourselves into?!?!


At some point either the night before or on the drive up, my sister-in-law and I discussed the option of having our supplies--65 pounds of crap--taken down for us by mule. Instead of struggling to carry it on our backs for 12 miles, we would let the donkeys do the work for us and we could just hike.

Though the parking lot was full of cars, there were no people. A few mules were tied to a post near a stack of bags that were possibly awaiting transport to the bottom, but no human beings. The sign nearby reading "Reservations Must be Made in Advance for Pack Mule Baggage Transportation" worried us that we were too late.

At 9:40 we decided that if a mule train did not return by 10:00, we would head out on our own wearing our packs as originally planned. To kill time, we took a few pictures and watched the helicopter come and go three or four times about a quarter of a mile east of us.

Eventually we did find a local, who we pressed for more information. Avoiding direct eye contact with us, he mulled it over and again, finally telling us that it was about $85. (Turns out it was actually $93.50 for up to four bags... one way!) Didn't matter either way, at 10:00 no mule train had come back to the hilltop, so we decided we needed to get started.

Now the reality is that I was freaking out a bit. Even though I consider myself to be in fairly descent shape, and the way in was all downhill... those damn backpacks was F-ing heavy! Heavy to the point that once you put it on, it took you where it wanted.

Right after we began our descent, I actually wobbled trying to gain my balance amid the rocky trail. I was a bit too close to the edge, and I really thought the weight of the pack was going to take me over with it. It felt as if I was just barely able to shift my weight back in time before teetering over.

Wendy was freaking out as she watched this happen... because I heard here suck the air out of the universe behind me. It's probably a good thing she was not within arms reach to try and grab onto me, or I might have taken both of us over the edge. She begged me to walk in the middle of the path... I shakily and willingly complied.

And what an edge it was.... the trail was carved right into the side of the canyon wall... when you looked down, you were right on top of the next switchback. If you did topple, you might manage to avoid bone-breaking jagged boulders assuming you were the luckiest person alive. But missing a ruff and tumble smack down with the rocks, meant you would have to go up against some mean looking prickly pears. Ooooouuuucccchhhh... no matter how you looked at it.

Now please note that on our way to the bottom of the canyon, not one, not two, not three, but FOUR mule trains came up the trail. Timing is everything i guess. And if you don't get the heck out of the way, well being driven into the ground by 40 pounding hooves then kicked into the sharp boulders and prickly pear... NOT pretty.

When we finally made it to the floor of the canyon an hour later, we were feeling pretty proud of ourselves. It went something like this... “That was the hardest part.” “Yeah, if we can do that, we can handle the rest of the hike.” “That wasn’t so bad.” “My pack doesn’t even really seem that heavy.”

Now did we believe the lies we were exchanging? At the time, I guess we did or at least we wanted to. But I will tell you that the worst was yet to come and it was still way out in front of us. We had suffered nothing to this point, but we would. Such naive silly girls.

There was a clue that we should have picked up on right away...but we were slow. Every time we came upon another hiker (usually stopped having a snack or water break) two things occurred. First, 90 percent of the other hikers were only carrying small day packs with water and snacks; not their tent, sleeping bag, clothes, food... not 35 pounds of crap.

Secondly, these other hikers were amazed that we were packing in all our own stuff. They praised us for being so strong and dedicated. They were in awe of our commitment and physical abilities. I am sure as soon as we passed, they were actually taking bets on whether we were going to make it...

The rest of the trail was constantly changing from packed dirt or riverbed gravel to boulders or fine sandy silt. Generally the grade was not steep, and we took a few breaks along the way to take pictures, climb the rocks and explore. I had left my iPod in the car (not discovered until it was too late to hike back) which turned out to be a blessing because we were able chat the hike away, as only girls can do and enjoy.

After four hours of hiking, we were starting to feel the wear and tear. My knees were feeling it with every step and Wendy’s feet were aching. Truthfully, Wendy’s feet had been bothering her for almost the entire hike... but by the forth hour, her description of the pain was quite vivid, “Each step is like stomping barefoot on broken glass.”

Though I offered to stop so she could rest, Wendy was a trooper, claiming it hurt more to stop and start again. You know what they say, 'everything hurts' and so she just pushed through and tried to ignore her ever growing blisters.

Now since this was our first time in Havasu Canyon, it was difficult for us to gage our progress. After the first few hours when we passed hikers heading to the top, we asked them about much further we had to go until reaching Supai... in miles or time.

That turned out to be an embittering experience that lead to our distrust of the entire deceitful human race. Why?!?!?... Well because everyone we passed from that point kept telling us that, you don’t have far to go, the end is close now, it is only a couple more miles, you are almost there...

What a line of total crap! Finally we realized that this was some form of morbid torture unbeknownst to us. Perhaps a sickness that had run ramped in the camp before our arrival... a toxin in the water...

We weren’t close.... NOT even! Because after six hours of hiking, we had yet to reach the village. And we knew the campground was two miles past that. Every bend we went around, every hill we descended just brought us to another, and another and yet another.

We vowed that the next person who told us we were almost there was going to suffer a death of a thousand sharp teeth. We stopped asking any questions, instead we glared into the eyes of by passers, daring them to give us a reason to end their existence... Our pain and exhaustion was putting a little cramp on our happy.

 

Around 3:00 we FINALLY arrived in the small Indian settlement of Supai where we picked up our camping permit. We didn’t dawdle along the dirt path leading through town or among the slight houses. Primarily because we just wanted to get to camp and be done. But there was also an unwelcome-ness about the village. The division was made clear between those who lived there and those who were just passing through... and we knew without explanation where we stood.

It felt like we had stepped into another country. Unconsciously we started applying our western-capitalist slant on things, before we reminded ourselves that this was a world apart, where they took what they wanted from ours, leaving the rest, including the need to be all chummy with the tourists.

Only two miles left but it was beginning to feel like an eternal treadmill... we were aching at every joint and sooooo dead-dog tired. Thank goodness the final stretch of the walk gave us our first glimpse of the amazing waterfalls in the canyon. A mile down the trail, we spied the New Navajo Falls, which were created during the flood in 2008.

And right before we got to the camp ground we discovered Havasu Falls, magnificent, breathtaking, like nothing I had ever witnessed... but that was to be topped.

Mooney Falls, one mile past the campground turned out to be even taller and more spectacular. The best part of Mooney Falls though (this is the thrill-seeker in me coming out) was how you got to the base of the falls.

A series of dark Claustrophobic tunnels and moisture slickened steps carved into the canyon wall had to be traversed by carefully clinging to a succession of chains anchored into the rock. The final descent to the ground was achieved by cautiously clambering down a slippery metal ladder bolted into the stone wall. But it was all worth it.

A pool of crystal blue at the base drew me in, where I waded toward the roaring mist of the tumbling falls; as I got closer, the force of rushing water and air pushed me back. I must have taken a hundred pictures from every angle possible... I fell head over heals in love.


The hike to and from Mooney Falls rejuvenated us and relieved some of the aches and pains of our day, but left us utterly famished. After setting up our tent, we eat a freeze dried dinner of lasagna, chicken and rice and raspberry crumble. They are these really light weight plastic bags that you just add hot water to and then let them set. Viola!

Believe it or not, they were actually really yummy! But some how we only manage to bring one spoon, so I ate with a stick that I wiped off. The wipe-off was a superfluous act that took place only because I had to wait while the food was prepared. I assure you a little dirt was of no consequence to my ravenously appetite.

As soon as we had stuffed ourselves, we collapsed into our sleeping bags and snuggled our beaten bodies up to the hard ground. Before being lulled to sleep by the sounds of Havasu Creek, I realized that Wendy wasn't my sister-in-law anymore, she was my Sister. There was absolutely no one I would have rather made this miraculous journey with.

To be continued...

Wandering from Home - Part 1