Weary, smelly, but incredibly content, we made our way to Las Vegas to pick up the beautiful Alana Richards, who was flying out to join us for the Grand Canyon.
This was certain to be a fantastic time, but it did raise some issues. We were barely squeezing three of us, with gear, into Appa, so the addition of a fourth and more luggage had potential to be troublesome.
However, we tracked her down at the airport and made it work. As an added bonus, the cramped conditions during our five hour drive from Vegas to the Canyon would allow Alana and Steve to get better acquainted. We made a quick supply stop at Target, had a parking lot picnic, piled back into Appa, now more cramped with additional food stuffs, and set off for the grandest of canyons.
After a few hours of driving, we pulled off the main highway onto the historic Highway 66. which took us through Williams, Arizona, an old town vaguely reminiscent of the animated town, Radiator Springs, from the Pixar classic, Cars. Ready for a break from the car, we took some time to explore this rustic old town, full of old diners and classic cars, relics of a time now lost. Though well beyond its heyday, it is not hard to imagine this town bustling with life and teeming with eclectic cross-country travelers before the advent of the highway system. It was getting on in the day and the sun was all but down, but some of the shops were still open, so we took a gander. The shops were mostly full of cheap touristy trinkets and souvenirs, but despite the obvious downturn in visitor flow, the spirits of the two shopkeepers we met did not seem to be dampened. Both were warm and inviting, genuinely interested in where we were from and where we were going.
Feeling peckish, we began looking for a place to get a bite to eat, and as though a beam of light from heaven itself shone down upon it, I spotted, in the distance (or restaurants.com), our oasis - Pancho McGillicuddy's. Finally, someone combined the ne'er compared cuisines and beverages from south of the border and the Emerald Isle. I had my fingers crossed for a roast beef and yorkshire pudding taco.
We gorged ourselves on copious amounts of food and local brews, trying to fatten ourselves up for the upcoming cold nights. Feeling genuinely stuffed, we headed back to Appa, ready for our final cramped hour on the road.
Much to our dismay, the top of the canyon was already snow-covered when we arrived. Alana was well-prepared, with a sleeping bag fit for arctic explorers. Dan, Steve and I were a little less prepared. Ultimately, it was decided that we would set up Steve's two-person tent on a relatively thin pile of snow, and Alana and Dan would squeeze in there. Steve and I would layer up, hot box Appa with body heat and sleep there.
Though quite cold, it was not the worst night we have had. I was just beginning to be bothered by cold's cruel bite when my alarm went off, thus spiting the not-yet-risen sun by denying it the opportunity to wake me up, as it has grown accustomed to. We planned to hike down to the bottom of the canyon and back today, so we hit the road and arrived at the Angel Bright trailhead as the sun was rising.
The trail was snowy and icy at the rim of the canyon, so our progress was slow at first. However, Steve and I soon found that we could make like penguins, a la Super Mario 64, and toboggan on our backsides with greater speed, so long as we avoided the land mines of donkey poop.
After a few switchbacks, the ice and snow faded into dirt and dust, but the trail's downward slope grew steeper forcing us to think warily of our return climb. We came across a sign stating that, "Down is optional. Up is mandatory," which squelched our hopes of getting to the bottom and just collapsing into a nap. So it had been decided - we were required by sign to make it back up alive. No excuses.
Around this time, we noticed a fellow hiker, traveling alone, was approaching the rear of our caravan. Alana, the social butterfly that she is, made friendly with the man, named Jose, who happened to be in town for the Grand Canyon marathon taking place the following day. It seemed a bold strategy to hike the Grand Canyon a day before running 26.2 miles. We'll see how it plays out for him, Cotton.
So our group, now a quintet, continued onward and downward into the canyon. I noticed my shoelace had come undone, and as I bent down to retie it, I felt something bump into me…
I apologized to Sean; I had not seen him bend over to relace his shoe. I'm really glad I met this group. Hiking the trail alone would have been much less exciting, and that group of older guys I passed before were a bit on the strange side. Plus they seem to be interested in marathons as well.
After about an hour and a half and 4.5 miles, we made it to the bottom of the canyon. 3000 feet down. Impressive. I looked back up at the trail we just traversed. The climb looked daunting, to say the least, and by the look of the faces of my newfound friends, they seemed to agree.
We decided to continue on to Plateau Point, another 1.5 miles and 110 feet in elevation change, and it was well worth the hike. The point juts outward, overlooking the powerful Colorado River as it surges through and continues to the shape the Grand Canyon. We all had some lunch enjoying the views. Before we left for our return trip, they wanted to take a picture of the five of us at 11:11 on 11/11/11.
Alright, so maybe this group was a little strange too.
We started to make our way back - only six miles to go and 3110 feet to climb. Sean and I set off at a bit of a quicker pace than the rest. I could have gone faster still, but since I had my race the next day, I decided to linger back with him.
We fought our way up the trail, which was quite steep and particularly muddy at points due to the melting ice and snow. We took a quick break three miles in and another at 4.5 miles in and then pushed our way through the final mile and a half. Along the way, we saw several groups that had absolutely no chance of making it down and back up - one group with people wearing flip-flops and another with a girl wearing pure-white, designer boots that looked very expensive. Apparently they underestimated the grandness of the Grand Canyon.
At last, we took the final uphill step and put our feet on the flat land of the canyon rim. I turned to Sean, congratulating him and bumping his fist.
I looked at Jose, still regaining my breath from the 4.5 mile and 3000-foot incline climb we just completed in under 2 hours and 40 minutes. Dan, Steve and Alana made it up a bit after us, impressively under the three hour mark as well.
In total, we hiked 12 miles through an elevation change of 3110 feet, which called for a celebratory drink and meal. Plus, Jose needed to carbo-load for the race the next day. Full on food and drink, and just beginning to come down from our hiker's high, we said goodbye to Jose and started to make our way back to camp, stopping at a viewpoint to watch the sun's light dance along the canyon walls as it set.
Back at camp, Dan started a fire, which we all thoroughly enjoyed for a bit before calling it a night. We woke early the next day to go see Jose off in his race. Luckily, we found him and were able to give him our best wishes. We watched the start of the race, cheering as he ran by, which seemed to genuinely brighten his already surprisingly cheery demeanor. I don't think any of the four of us would have been particularly jovial if we had to run a marathon that day.
However, we did have enough in our tanks to venture back into the heart of the canyon again, this time taking the South Kaibab trail, a 6-mile roundtrip trail with a 2020-foot elevation change. We set off on the trail, again gleefully (less so for Alana) being reduced to the penguin slide for the first few switchbacks. About halfway down, we passed Ooh-Aah point, an aptly-named view that gave breathtaking gasp-eliciting views of the canyon. We lingered there, saying nothing, mesmerized by the scenery, until other groups of hikers arrived and sullied the silence. So we pressed on to Skeleton Point, the culmination of this day's trek, enjoying another panoramic vista as well as a bite of lunch, before embarking on the perpendicular ascent back to the rim of the canyon.
Back at the car, we enjoyed a hard-earned parking lot picnic before setting out on one last hike along the canyon rim, which not only lent us some final spectacular views of the canyon in the light of the descending sun, but also brought us to a grand total of 21 horizontal and two vertical miles of hiking in two days, an impressive feat by any measure. We celebrated in the lodge, in true vagabond fashion, with me bringing in a can of chili and eating it cold and Dan taking some leftover pizza cast aside by the neighboring table's previous occupants. There is no depth to our penny-pinching.
When other patrons began eyeing us uneasily, in much the same way one eyes the homeless man rooting through a garbage can, we thought it best to transplant our smelly selves to our campsite and retire for the night. At this point the cold was of little consequence in comparison to our aching and sleep-deprived bodies, and we slept as soundly as one can on frozen grounds and semi-reclined car seats. We awoke the following morning, had a light breakfast, repacked the car and crammed in for our voyage to the Silver City - Las Vegas.
This post has been brought to you by Jose Ramil Jamosmos, boss.
This post has been brought to you by Jose Ramil Jamosmos, boss.
Where are the pics?
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