Why Do I Exist?
“Long distance runner, what you standing there for? Get up, get on, get out of the door.” - The Grateful Dead
Running in the Canyon…It’s kind of like hitting the “accept the risk” button on the out of date browser.
This past weekend, me and three friends thought it would be a good idea to run 30 miles in the Grand Canyon during an excessive heat warning (100 degrees F at the Colorado River)…and it was a good idea, sort of.
We did end up altering our plans a bit to adjust to the heat. Our plan…start down Bright Angel Trail to the Tonto Trail West, and up Hermit’s Trail. The climb down Bright Angel was magnificent, in the deep shade of the canyon walls. We were cruising and feeling fine, not thinking about the heat that would almost kill us by late afternoon.
Once we got down to Havasupai Gardens, we refilled our water from a bubbler (that's how we say it in Wisconsin), talked to a few hikers and got some carbs and calories down. This is where we picked up the Tonto Trail (and the sun for the first time) and left the hundreds of other hikers in the dust, literally. This was new trail to all of us. Uncharted trail, our feet have never trod. Let the exploration begin.
Our first canyon crossing came a few miles later at Horn Creek. The walls were so high here we found some shade again. Horn and Salt Creek are a no go for water, as several water samples taken by scientists have shown high levels of Uranium. That didn't stop us from dipping our cooling towels in the water though (Look Ma, I'm glowing!). Turning the corner moving west from Horn Creek, we got some of the best views of the Inner Canyon and the Colorado River I have ever seen. Words can't describe it, they don’t need to. This is where Kevin started to become existential…”Why do I exist? WHO AM I? I am so small!” This became the theme of our run, a type of existentialism we could all relate to in the moment.
Salt Creek was nothing but a toxic trickle, mere puddles of water. It was at this point, about 11am, that we started to feel the heat. As Stephen rolled down the trail, he first started showing signs of heat exhaustion, minor and subtle. Not drinking water and a slight headache. Just a few more miles to go until Monument Creek, where we could filter water and relax in the shade of the creek for a minute. This proved crucial, as it gave us a second wind and a renewal of hope. As a group, we decided to take the 1.5 mile hike down to the Colorado River by Granite Rapids. The rocks were starting to radiate heat now, and Monument Creek went in and out of the ground at various spots. At this point, it was around 100 degrees F. A literal oven, and us, the main course, heating up. It may not have been 100, it’s only a estimated guess, but it sounds a hell of a lot more dramatic than the boys band from the 90’s.
We could hear it before we saw it, a rushing sound much like a wind storm in spring, or a freight train with no brakes. A sweet sound of relentless water. An ancient sound, millions of years old. And there it was, sudden and dramatic. The mighty Colorado. We finally hit our “low point”, and in it, we were replenished.
In the calmer pools of the river, we dipped our feet and dunked our heads. Our feet and our minds really appreciated this. It felt like we came to some sort of profound discovery here, maybe an answer, maybe just more questions. These things circled in our brains as we decided to turn our backs to the river and head up, and up, and UP! 10ish miles and 6,000 feet of vertical gain ahead. There was no going back from here, though we were going backwards, for a bit.
As we turned the corner on Monument Creek, Stephen was lagging behind. We noticed this and took a break so he could catch up. First words out of his mouth…”I have a headache and my water's warm.” Not good words to echo in the canyon. I dug into my pack and found some Ibuprofen (vitamin i), and made him take them. He didn't argue. From here on out, the run quickly become a jaunt, and then a walk (and later a crawl for survival). We all hit a wall at this point, but there was only one option. May our feet get us the hell out of here. At about mile 21, we took the left turn onto Hermit's Trail. I have to admit that the first mile up was awful. Steep switchbacks and straight sunlight. I kept drinking my warm water and constantly looking up ahead to a shady spot in the rocks. It felt like it took forever to get there, but I made it, we all did. The temporary shade and the cooling breeze helped us immensely. We rested here for a while, soaking in the views and trying to decipher our anguish.
^the shade we so desperately sought.
By this time, the Ibuprofen had cured the headache, but the trail ahead wasn't going to get any easier. Though we did start to hit more canyon wall shade, and as we slowly ascended, the temperature slowly dropped and thin wispy clouds appeared, dampening the sun like some dried up piece of sponge. We started to feel better, maybe?
It was headed up Hermit's Trail I heard Kevin say to me, “I'm not so existential anymore, I found my purpose in life now…to get out!!!”. The canyon loomed as silent as ever. Kevin finally found his purpose and reason. I was delighted by this. And soon after uttering those words, he laid down and said, “I am going to go fetal for a minute” and he did, cradled by the eroded walls of the canyon.
Each new step a grimace, each new view a grinning smile. A few miles left, and a surprise water stop. A godsent oasis. Shade and a rusty tank of water, listed on the map as Santa Maria Spring. Thank the sweet and sinless saints! We refilled, soaked, and Stephen took a power nap, well actually two, totaling about 10 minutes. We weren't planning on water being here, which made it even the more sweeter.
As the sun sank lower on the horizon, and the breeze began to cool my skin, the finish line appeared like a mythical horse with a horn. Upon crossing this unseen threshold, I instantly took off my pack and laid down in the dirt, waiting for the others. As I laid there, exhausted, I thought about the Grateful Dead lyrics…“You gave all you had, why you want to give more? The more that you give, the more it will take, to the thin line beyond which, you really can’t fake.” I couldn't help but feel emotional. I cried maybe for a second or two, instantly got chilled, and then wiped those precious tears away from my eyes and onto my salt stained cheeks, like the famous Monet paintings of lilies in spring. The others arrived and we hugged and took a couple photos, then waddled our way to the bus stop for the ride back. I won't name names, but someone was about as close as I've ever seen to throwing up on a bus filled with tourists from all over the world. With all the might left in his body, he managed to hold it back. This was by far the most courageous feat of the day. That is, until we got off the bus. I wonder how many times the bushes near the rim of the Grand Canyon Rim have been puked on? I am guessing quite a few…
Originally published: https://runningwildaf.substack.com/p/why-do-i-exist?utm_medium=android&triedRedirect=true
