 |
| Harriet enjoying the beautiful blue water of the Little Colorado River. I didn't take many pictures on Day 3... I just wanted to get out alive. |
Harriet's alarm went of sometime around 4am and I pretended not to hear it. My body was exhausted, it was still dark outside, and I did not want to get up. Fortunately, the rest of the group understood the urgency in getting an early start because only a few minutes later, a sweet British tone was gently reminding me that I didn't want to die of heat exhaustion... that got my attention.
I stood up outside of the tent and knew it was going to be a slow-going day for me. My body was very tight even though I had stretched before bed. The others worked away in the light of their headlamps, as I followed my light over to my bag to grab my toothbrush and some water. I went to take a pull from my bladder and only a splash of water hit my tongue. That's weird. Took a harder pull this time... nothing. I adjusted my pack as I sucked my mouthpiece when I realized my bladder was completely empty. The same bladder I had just filled at the Colorado the day before was completely dry. How could this be?! I checked my pack and everything in it- it was all dry. I started to panic a little bit. I had the smallest bit of water left in my second bladder but this was the water that was supposed to get me out of the canyon... it was gone.
I didn't really have time to think about how it happened because the clock was ticking. It was nearing 4:30am and we still hadn't left yet. We knew we had until around 10:30am to beat the sun before it came over the canyon walls so I did what I had to do and grabbed my Sawyer water filter. Peter me helped fill a Smart Water bottle with murky LCR water and I attached the filter and squeezed, stopping every few seconds to re-screw to let air back in the bottle before I could squeeze and filter more. We did this until my bladder was full. I wet my toothbrush and took a swig. YUCK. It was salty with a tang to it but thicker than any other water I had tasted (if that even makes sense). It was not tasty but I had no choice.
We finally started heading out around 5am by the light of our headlamps. Having been told the insider scoop from the sweet native man that had been with Jen, we knew that the riverside trail would take us to the helipad and that we didn't have to navigate the sketchy rock trail that we used on day one. There was a lot of bushwhacking involved and the mud pits along the way did us no favors either. It was slow-going and we finally made it to the helipad with just enough sunlight to put our headlamps away.
Luckily, we knew the general route to get back and the markers along the way but that didn't stop us from getting "lost". Apparently, there are spots where the trail forks off and cairns mark both routes. Where we had taken the higher route hiking in, somehow we had found ourselves along a lower route hiking out. Unfortunately for us, this meant scrapping up steep gravel walls to try and find the "real" trail... and, eventually, we did.
Our legs were pretty slow going from the miles of hiking and climbing the few days prior but for whatever reason, the hike out went a hell of a lot faster than the hike in. I think it may have had something to do with the fact that we knew where we were going this time and could recognize markers along the route that told us about how far we were. Once we got to the last .75 miles or so though, things got a little tough.
The last .75 miles, especially the last few hundred feet, is a pretty steep climb up. Pair that with the gravel, loose rocks, pack weight, and the fact that I couldn't lift my head past my pack to see my next point of contact about 60% of the time, I was surely in for a bad time. The only thing that kept me going was the thought of drowning in sweet powerade and pedialyte. That and the fact that I have a family at home... they kind of need me. Anyway, the last bit of the hike out was the hardest. If I ever make this trek again, I'm going to need a smaller pack. Climbing up blind was not fun; thankfully I had help.
When I finally got to the top, I almost cried. I sat at the trailhead looking down at what I just did and almost couldn't believe I was still alive. The past three days were absolutely grueling, yet somehow we managed to complete the hike out before the sun peeked over the canyon walls. Surely, that would have killed me.
Once I got back to the truck, the others had just started taking their packs off. We hugged one another and broke open the pedialyte and passed it around for celebratory swigs. WE DIDN'T DIE! It was almost a miracle.
You might think I'm being dramatic but I assure you, this trek was no joke. If I ever go back, I'm doing two things: getting my pack weight/size down and going when it's cooler. Don't mess with the desert sun, it's not forgiving.
UPDATE: As of July 1, 2018, this trail has been closed due to an influx of unprepared (and unpermitted) visitors resulting in emergency rescues. It is crucial to obtain a permit and to understand that the office may not issue permits during certain times of the year for good reason. Arizona's monsoon season is deadly, as is it's summer heat.
Our legs were pretty slow going from the miles of hiking and climbing the few days prior but for whatever reason, the hike out went a hell of a lot faster than the hike in. I think it may have had something to do with the fact that we knew where we were going this time and could recognize markers along the route that told us about how far we were. Once we got to the last .75 miles or so though, things got a little tough.
The last .75 miles, especially the last few hundred feet, is a pretty steep climb up. Pair that with the gravel, loose rocks, pack weight, and the fact that I couldn't lift my head past my pack to see my next point of contact about 60% of the time, I was surely in for a bad time. The only thing that kept me going was the thought of drowning in sweet powerade and pedialyte. That and the fact that I have a family at home... they kind of need me. Anyway, the last bit of the hike out was the hardest. If I ever make this trek again, I'm going to need a smaller pack. Climbing up blind was not fun; thankfully I had help.
When I finally got to the top, I almost cried. I sat at the trailhead looking down at what I just did and almost couldn't believe I was still alive. The past three days were absolutely grueling, yet somehow we managed to complete the hike out before the sun peeked over the canyon walls. Surely, that would have killed me.
Once I got back to the truck, the others had just started taking their packs off. We hugged one another and broke open the pedialyte and passed it around for celebratory swigs. WE DIDN'T DIE! It was almost a miracle.
You might think I'm being dramatic but I assure you, this trek was no joke. If I ever go back, I'm doing two things: getting my pack weight/size down and going when it's cooler. Don't mess with the desert sun, it's not forgiving.
UPDATE: As of July 1, 2018, this trail has been closed due to an influx of unprepared (and unpermitted) visitors resulting in emergency rescues. It is crucial to obtain a permit and to understand that the office may not issue permits during certain times of the year for good reason. Arizona's monsoon season is deadly, as is it's summer heat.
Comments
Post a Comment