The family took our annual summer vacation, the Grand Canyon was this year's destination. We supported the ever so profitable airlines by flying into Phoenix, meeting my aunt and cousin. We jumped into a rental car and headed north to the South Rim. The following day, we double knotted our new hiking boots, pulled on the packs and started downward…for the next 5 hours; arriving at Phantom Ranch in the middle of day, with little water and three sets of burning, exhausted, dusty legs.
Once a cowboy—Always a cowboy. I am leaving a tunnel to cross the bridge that spans the cold, swift, Colorado River.
Once relieving ourselves of 20 pounds of gear we "washed up" in the Bright Angel Creek, near our camp site, enjoyed a canned Tuna lunch and tried to cool off. But when the ground feels like a hot bed of burning coals, even when wear saddles it's difficult to chill out and relax.
Okay, okay, no lie, the thermometer was in the sun. The official temperature, taken in the shade 4ft off the ground, was 109.2 °F.
Luckily we only had to pack snack food as our meals would be provided by the ranch. We enjoyed a stew and salad dinner. Soon after we laid down under stars on our bed rolls and sleeping bags, hoping not to get eaten by mountain lions. After a rocky painful, bug bite filled night we awoke for our 5 o'clock breakfast stuffing ourselves with as many syrup covered pancakes, strips of fatty bacon, and fluffy eggs humanly possible—we left camp fueled, fat, and upbeat. 
After hiking the first 7 of 14 miles of the day up Bright Angel Canyon and only gaining 1,200 feet of elevation, then we began the real hiking and started upwards quicker than a turtle strapped to a bottle rocket. After a couple stops to rest and eat along the way we finally arrived at the North Rim…some 9 backbreaking hours later.
Our arrival was quickly followed by a much needed shower and beer(s). Without any heat strokes, heart attacks, or drunken stupors over the rail we kept from adding our names to the book. The following day my calf's were tighter than a recently tuned piano which gave way to a penguin like waddle mixed with old man stiff legged cane holding walk—I was heckled by other in our party. With a few hours to spare before our departing flight we visited the remarkable, modern, tourist destination of Taliesin West—Frank Lloyd Wright's winter home that now houses half of the Frank Lloyd Wright School of Architecture.
Now it's back on the bike and time to get serious about Collegiate Track Nationals. Ciao.
1 comment:
your similes are so intense. i like it.
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