Welcome To Limbo

I'm in a kind of funk today and I'm not really sure why that is. I have a project to be working on, there are people to talk to, but for some reason I just can't shake this feeling like what I really should be doing is reading a book, curled up at home in bed. With my box of Teddy Grahams.

It could be the fact that it is raining and I forgot my raincoat. Also, I biked to work this morning. It could be that I'm terrified the plan I'm working on gets slapped down as "stupid" by the higher ups when I present it. Perhaps it's this lurking feeling that I'm going to be dropped on my ass in two months without so much as a goodbye.

I think it's also due to my epic failure of a morning. Allow me to explain: I have this pair of jeans I bought when I lost some weight last summer. They're from American Eagle, size 12 (I am not ashamed! Much!), and have strategic rips in them to make me look all bohemian-cool. I wore them all through the summer, all through the winter, and then come spring they no longer could button without that awesome muffin-top we women get sometimes. What had happened?! I could barely squeeze my legs into them anymore, let alone button them!

On Saturday, randomly, I got the urge to try again. I'd been living at 7,000 feet, biking to and from work, watching my diet, and hiking. Surely, it wasn't just the mind-warp of feeling fit because I live at Grand Canyon National Park.

I slid the jeans on, zipped the zipper, and viola they fit again. So in my head, I was once again "in shape" or something to that effect. I got overly-confident in my abilities and decided to try a run this morning. I made it about one lap on the greenway (read: didn't finish the 0.6m lap) around my neighborhood. Total run distance? Half a mile. Since when can I only run half a mile?! High school, that's when. I power-walked another lap and then went home to shower off the stench of shame and defeat.

My goal is to leave here a size 10. Yes, I know, still a double-digit, but I have wide hips, dammit!

They Call It Bright Angel For A Reason

Aside from being melodramatic, another hobby of mine is hiking. Last Saturday, I decided to go down Bright Angel Trail, by far THE most popular trail here at the Grand Canyon. It's not that it's easier (the first lookout is about 1,131 feet down), it's just accessible because it's right between the Village and the bus stops out to Hermit's Rest and the Market Plaza.



I began my descent at 5:00 am, right as the sun was coming up in the eastern part of the Canyon. Being in the western part of the Canyon has its benefits, such as the sun not hitting you or getting in your eyes as you climb down. That's the way back up.



There was just me and one other person going down the trail this early in the morning, a drastic contrast to my hike down South Kaibab (read: dude peeing on the trail in front of me). It was both a blessing and a curse. I loved not having to cater my pace to other people, but the harsh mountain lion warnings my roommate gave me were swirling in my head, "They like to hang out by the first and second tunnels."



To fight the mountain lions, I have two tools at my disposal. Neither of which are my physical abilities, so running would be out. I have my massive knife that I would not be able to pull out of my pack should I be confronted with the snarling jaws of a hungry mountain lion. I also have a boat whistle a fellow trainee brought us in training in Prince William Forest Park. The significance of the whistle? I read that you're supposed to make noise and hardly anything is half so annoying as a boat whistle.

So as I passed through the tunnel, my heart rate sped up, my palms became clammy, I took my boat whistle and stuck in in my mouth just in case. In my head, this is proper preparation.



I passed a group from North Carolina when I was about halfway down the trail, as they were on their way up from Mile and a Half Rest House. My guess is they wanted to see the sun come up from inside the Canyon. The long stream of hikers came past, with one girl struggling in the back. I looked at her face, heard her labored breathing and knew I was in deep shit when I turned around to hike back out.

But I'd come too far to turn back now, so onward I pushed. I knew I had a limited amount of time before the crowd set in. Around me the Canyon was changing. It smelled like... well, like a garden. And there were birds singing. I'd hiked so far down there was green and life all around me, with a huge rock wall just dauntingly sitting in the background.



At 6:00 am, I walked up the stairs to the rest house, set my pack on the ledge, and enjoyed my granola bar (I'm noticing a trend here of my victory being celebrated with granola bars. This can't be healthy).





At around 6:20 it was getting too crowded in the tiny little open-air rest house, so I packed my bags, refilled my water and started the way up. Twenty minutes later I was undoing the pant-short zipper on my hiking pants just below the knee because it was getting too hot. Then went the hood, the sleeves, and even the sunglasses. I stopped every ten minutes, whether I wanted to or not because you'd forget to drink water otherwise. Also, because in came the crowds. From every country, and every continent, they flooded down with their poor hiking etiquette, flip-flops, and 8oz water bottles. I could tell PSAR was going to have a hell of a day.

I caught and passed that girl from North Carolina (the one who'd passed me right before the rest house) before we'd reached the trailhead. Reaching the top made me feel like I could really do anything, it had only taken me about an hour to surmount 1,131 feet. And also at the top? Mules and cowboys!

What A Grand... Bait And Switch!

So after I quit my job(s), let go of my apartment, moved out (mostly on my own) in a hurry, shipped my car and blew a ton of money settling into my six-month job, I got a mysterious email.

The mystery wasn't so much in the content, because that was crystal clear, but who decided it and sent it to me without so much as a warning it could happen.

You see, I've been cut from six months to three. The importance of this? I get paid less as a 11-week intern, money I was counting on. It's a difference of over $150 a pay period. Housing for six months would have been nice, as well. I turned down my Dow Jones position because it was only 10 weeks, and this was six months. And who turns down Dow Jones? It's like taking the SATs and getting into Harvard and deciding not to go. Nowhere in the documents I signed was there a notice that the term could change... one week after I began working.

It should be noted though, that it wouldn't be the end of things for me. It's just the end of what I thought would be an amazing adventure. I could always somehow be extended to six months, or be placed in another park. Which, of course, would still require some traveling and cost. Nothing is ever written in stone, which is something I tell myself daily.

I guess this is what I get for trying to make my life an adventure. We always hear stories of how taking risks is the only way to get ahead; what people don't tell you is sometimes the risks don't work out. I find myself wondering more and more lately if I made the right decision in giving up the life I was supposed to have (ie, journalism) for a life of... well, I'm not really sure what this is, exactly.

In all great adventure stories, there comes a point where the hero/heroine faces a complication so great it's doubtful whether or not he/she is going to be able to pull it out in time. Inevitably, they always do. Sometimes I find myself staring up at a cliff face, tired beyond belief, wondering if I'll ever make it to the top again. Literally.

There are things you forget that you need when you find yourself so isolated. I think that because I'm so used to being on my own and doing things by myself it took two weeks to really hit me. Friends, being the first. Don't underestimate the value of just having another body sitting in a room with you watching television. It really can make all the difference. Security, another. In August, I face the greatest adventure to date: putting my life back into my car and.... well, that's about as far as I got in planning.

People keep telling me that life has its own way of working things out. Well, they must not have read my autobiography. You can't keep looking at everything as some sort of lesson or stepping stone to the Next Big Thing, the Real Thing, the Best Thing. Because at some point you'll be sitting alone in an office, staring down 22, and wondering where the hell your life went. Wondering where exactly you're going to pinpoint the best years of your life when someone asks you.

I've been running the race simply because someone told me, once upon a time, that I had to. How does that make sense?

Adventures...From The Office.

It's true what they say about the isolating factors of the Grand Canyon. Especially for my job. People kept telling me how summer is "primetime" for kids my age (22ish) to be hanging around here. Really? And they would be where exactly?

I work in an office with two other people, one other person on Fridays. My housemate works long hours at the gates, so I see her every other day-ish at about 5 or 6 in the morning. She's been here two years and is looking for bigger and better things away from here. I'm the new freshman eager to get in, and she's the jaded senior eager to get out. And it's just the two of us in that big house.

Every so often, though, one of these big guys like to come around, piss off the neighborhood dogs (all named Cujo, what are the odds?), and poop all over the place behind my fence:


My thoughts keep turning to my impending birthday, two weeks away on July 8th. I turn 22. I keep wondering what I'll do that day, if I should even celebrate it by myself. I was thinking about going in to Flagstaff to see a certain movie and laugh at all the high school fangirls. That always seems to cheer me up.

On a slightly more positive note, at least I'm starting to actually do things for my internship. I've been getting out more lately to just go observe. Yesterday I did some work out at the South Rim, really just watching people and taking some pictures. I finally made it out to Kolb Studios.



The Kolb Brothers are infamous around here: their studio/movie theater house sits on the ledge right over Bright Angel Trail. Back in the day, they got their start simply taking pics of mule riders and selling them. Later in their careers, they expanded to panoramas of the Canyon: these daredevils would be hanging off things, perched atop dangerous peaks, and generally doing things sane people would not do to get pictures. Eventually, the brothers were the first to film what it was like going down the Colorado River. This movie would be shown in their own studio for many, many years. Even today they have the projector still sitting up in its room so you can go look at it. The studio has to be one of my favorite places, and the Kolb Brothers some of my favorite people of Grand Canyon history.



I was glad to get out of my office and walk around, even if it was one of the hottest days since I've been here. I've been drawn more and more to take pictures of the vegetation on the ledge, I don't know why it interests me so much.


Although the office is mostly boring I did have an encounter yesterday morning. As I sat at my desk typing, I kept hearing rustling noises from somewhere I thought in my office. But every time I turned around, it stopped. I knew I was hearing something IN my office, but then thought that since everything echoes around here it could be someone else behind the wall or outside my door doing something.

And so I kept on typing, peering around at noises that didn't seem to have an origin. But then I saw it. Yes, my trashcan was mostly definitely shaking on its own. I slowly crept over to the can and used a stick to poke the bag around (gently) and there it was: a little furry body at the bottom of my trashcan. I'll admit I'm horrible at taking out garbage so this mouse was enjoying old apple cores, tissues, and granola. I didn't want to admit my folly, so I waited for four hours, masking the noise of the mouse in the can as best I could, until lunch.

At lunch, I took the can out, tipped it on its side and slid the bag out with a stick. But the mouse did not want to leave. I rolled the can a little. Nothing. "Get out of there!" I said, clearly unaware that library patrons were now giving me a wide berth as I screamed into a little metal trashcan outside my office doors.

And I wonder why I don't get visitors in the safety office.

Internet, Glorious Internet!

A quick update while I have the time: I'm currently sitting in my office waiting for my supervisor and coworkers to get out of their meeting so I can run some aspects of my project by her before I start collecting data.

I feel like mostly all I do is sit and wait so far, but now that I have a direction I just need to get some approval and then I'm good to go.

Having the internet at my desk is such a rare occurrence, I have to treasure it when it comes about. I feel like I'm living such a pure life out here. When I go home at night, I cook myself dinner (no delivery here!), wash my dishes, and either watch part of a movie or read until I'm tired. Without cable or internet, and with a limited supply of DVDs, activities are somewhat limited. To get internet I have to either leave the office and go around back to the library or sit in the back of the office by the wall.

To aid in this pure life, I bought myself a brand new, shiny bicycle to get around here. The way to work is mostly downhill, which means by 4:30-5:00 when I'm exhausted, it's mostly uphill home. One of these days, I'm going to move somewhere flat!


Yesterday, without other options to occupy my time I took my bike on over to the post office (how small town is that?), came home and read my book, then was asleep by 9PM.

I was worried for a while that because I was going to sleep at 9PM (sometimes earlier), I had aged way beyond my years. Turns out the elevation does that to you. It basically turns you into an old person overnight--you sleep earlier, get less hungry, wake up at the crack of dawn, get winded after five minutes of walking... but I'm not complaining.

I've definitely felt changes since I've been here. The first is living in a national park just makes you feel healthier. Imagine air so clear you don't choke on pollution, can see the full spectrum during sunrise and sunset, and the stars are so bright you don't need a flashlight. Not to mention, you can pretty much always see the moon during the day here.

There is one thing here that pollutes the air, though:


At first, walking around was a chore. And ok, it still is. But when I wake up--on my own, no alarm clock!--at 6:30 in the morning, I feel fitter. I'm hoping biking and hiking at 7,000 feet actually makes me fitter instead of just doing a mind-warp on me to make me feel fit.

Is That What I Think It Is?

On the recommendation of a coworker and my housemate, I decided to do a 5am hike down South Kaibab Trail. I really wanted to hike down Bright Angel, but my housemate told me about increased mountain lion sightings and South Kaibab is the way to go. So at 4:00, I rolled out of bed and instantly froze. You wouldn't think it's so cold here, but in the mornings it sure feels like State College, PA.

My housemate was already up and advised me to drive out and park by the trailhead, but I had no idea where the trail was so I decided to drive to the visitors center and take the shuttle bus. I arrived there, in Jurassic Park as I like to call it, at 4:45. I call it Jurassic Park because the design of it and all the signs are in the same fonts and colors. I half-expected to see a T-Rex out on the distant horizon behind the complex.

The bus didn't roll in until about 5:15. So much for the "hiker's express" bus that supposedly runs through there. By the time the bus rolled up, there were two French tourists, a family of Americans and some picture-taking stragglers waiting with me. To my surprise, the bus was already full of people from the previous two stops.



Once at the trailhead, the real fun started. It took less than five minutes before a tourist (American) went to the side and peed. Really? There were bathrooms at the top! Fifty yards! I thought this whole men-stopping-right-in-font-of-me-to-pee thing was long in my college past. Nope.


(It's not even like it's a wide trail!)

The Canyon was perfect in the early morning to hike, because the trail dips between two outstretched cliffs, providing shade for most of the morning. Even so, dehydration is still a factor. Your mouth gets dry, lips get chapped and you begin to pant.


The thing about this trail I knew I'd hate on the way back up? The stairs. Nearly the entire trail were some form of stairs. Wide stairs, steep stairs, stone stairs. Everyone knows how much I love stairs.




(This is Ooh Ahh Point from afar... I zoomed in a bit)

I followed the French couple, leapfrogging with them at different times because we both stopped to take pictures. The hike was enjoyable on the way down, mostly. Going down steps is never the problem. I knew with every step I took that there would be two torturous ones in its place on the way back up.

My original plan was to go to Cedar Ridge--which would have been about 3 miles with an elevation change of 1,400 feet. In case you don't know, 1,400 feet is enough to make you cry if you're out of shape. That hike of 3 miles is about 3 hours to do, on average.

I only made it to Ooh Ahh Point, a simple 1.8 (ish) mile trek with an elevation change of 800 feet. Trust me when I say 800 is enough. The way back up sucked, as I knew it would, but after a while it wasn't so bad. I stopped to rest every 100 feet or so to drink because there's nothing worse than puking in public (which is what happens here a lot). For the most part, it was empty on the trail on the way back to the trailhead. I guess all the hikers decided to start when I did at 5:30.

But I got to see something not a lot of people do, the sun coming up over the Canyon.


(These are views of the Eastern Canyon at around 6AM from Ooh Ahh Point)



I reached the trailhead at 6:33 and sat down to enjoy my granola bar in victory for having conquering 800 feet of stairway.



As I was waiting for the shuttle to take me back, I glanced up and see this massive golden body slinking across the road to my left. At first, I thought "hey someone left their dog out." But then, it dawned on me... we're so far to the east there's nothing here but the mules and the trailhead. As in, there's no one around to let their giant dog wander.

Plus dogs don't walk like that, either. There was a definite cat-like gait to the animal and I could see its muscular shoulders from where I was sitting.

That, my friend, was a mountain lion. So much for choosing a trail based on sightings.

A Real Adventure From The Ledge

Yesterday was a half day at the safety office, meaning I came in and read a study I borrowed from the Backcountry Office a few days ago and sent some emails. Then at noon, I was released to go exploring. Despite the elevation still messing with me (shortness of breath, decreased appetite, extreme thirst, and yes, the nose that won't stop bleeding), I decided to do a nice, easy seven miles along the rim trail out to Hermit's Rest. It's the only trail here that only varies by a few hundred feet (as opposed to a few thousand feet).

I parked my car over at my office, which is located by the main area of the village where El Tovar and the bus stops are. I discovered the rim trail doesn't start here, however. It starts just past the bus stop where a bunch of covered-up, straw-hat toting tourists sat fanning themselves under a covered waiting area.

The trail begins as a paved walkway just big enough for two people to walk side by side, as long as no one is passing from the other direction. It had its twists and turns close to the edge, but was far enough away I wasn't nervous... yet.


Here's the first part of the trail. This pavement lasts about 1-2 miles. Of 7.


(The view of Bright Angel Trail--I'm attempting that later on because the elevation change is too much for someone who hasn't acclimated yet.)

There were tourists everywhere in the first few miles and observation points. I even witnessed this: two people who decided they could get a better picture down below.


And just for perspective, here's where the guard rail was in comparison to where they climbed out:


After about two miles, the pathway went from paved to actual trail, dirt and all. And then slowly, the pathway got closer and closer to the edge. It's hard to make out from my pictures, but I was literally walking on the edge of the cliff face below the road, though it looks like there might be some land there, it's a steep incline downwards. One misstep on this narrow trail and that would be it for you.


I noticed a drop in people after about four miles into the trail. People would walk from bus stop to bus stop, if they were close together. After a while, I was the only one on this trail, on the ledge, staring out (and down) into vast openness.


It was about that four-mile mark where I started to feel the exhaustion. Hiking seven miles at 7,000 feet is no easy feat for an East Coaster who basically hiked to class and back. The heat here is so dry, I hardly sweat (which if you know me is kind of amazing). It's hard to gauge the sun exposure here because there's wind and you don't pour sweat, it just dries on you. I kept applying sunscreen although I am allergic because altitude+little shade=badness. The one thing I was smart about was wearing lightweight cotton, shorts, hiking boots (oh man, when I hit the rough part of the trail they saved my life), sunglasses, sunscreen and bringing two liters of water. Trust me, that water was gone when I hit mile 7. I was down one liter by mile 4.

(To see my clip of the rim trail, it's www.youtube.com/watch?v=oQx09fGOpBk)

Every so often I would see something like this sticking out of the ground:

And here's the close up


There were moments on the trail that just completely took my breath away. Usually because I was so close to the ledge I physically couldn't breathe. Mostly though, it was because the view was fantastic. I kept having to look up from the trail and stop to remind myself that this was all real, I was really walking the lip of a cliff over the Grand Canyon.





And I was never really alone, these little guys were everywhere:


There were also these random benches off the trail in some places:

The view from the bench, in case you were wondering:



The whole ordeal took about three and a half hours. I kept telling myself, just walk to the next bus stop and reassess. So I did. And I kept going, one more mile and I can get the bus back. Ok, I feel ok, just 1.7 miles and I can take the bus back. When I finally rolled in to Hermit's Rest at around 5:30, I sat for a minute in the shade, realized I was starving, hopped a bus back to the village (a 35 minute ride).

The day came to a close as I walked the wrong way off the bus and added another mile and a half to the hike trying to find my car.

Life On Top Of The World

Or so it feels like at 7,000 feet. I didn't think too much of elevation change until yesterday when a fellow member of the safety office took me on a grand tour of the Grand Canyon. We took a detour down a little trail out East called "Tanner Trail" and I was done. Doing simple things like running up a flight of stairs here takes way more effort than I'm used to. I was so embarrassed to be huffing and puffing after not even a quarter of a mile up a trail! It's important to note that this trail was literally on a cliff face facing out toward the East side of the Canyon by Desert View and had no signage on the trailhead because it's for "experts only." I never hit the expert part.


(the view from the trail right before it steeply descends down into the canyon)


(the steeply descending part)

We went all over in our government vehicle, place where codes were needed to open gates only our vehicles and shuttle buses could enter. Yes, I now hold government secrets! The code to open the gate at Hermit's Road! Speaking of Hermit's Road (which leads to Hermit's rest), we took quite a few detours on the way out to get some good views of the canyon's west side.

(You can see Bright Angel Trail here, just one of the trails I'll be hiking in the canyon)




(You would never even know the canyon was there from the road, it's obscured half the time by these trees)

We spent all morning on the South Rim doing tourist-y type things. At Hermit's Rest--the end of an 8-mile hike/walk on the rim trail--there's bathrooms, a gift shop, and yes, food. We walked around here for a while, taking in the sights and the tourist activity. Before we left, we went down to the Hermit Trail--strictly for advanced hikers because it has steep rocky trails and no water.


Hermit's Rest! Aka the end of the Road


You can sort of make out the "you are here" label


The rest used to be a bare-bones rest stop and they maintain the fireplace there still

It's strange to think I'm living here. On the ledge of a giant hole in the desert. I'm still adjusting to the elevation here, and on a side note my nose has been bleeding for about three days now. That can't be healthy. Today, I am going to attempt some form of a hike. I'm saving Bright Angel Trail for tomorrow morning because peak hours with tourists are horrible. I have also been informed I'll be doing a week down at Phantom Ranch (totally awesome), however getting back up from there (oh, say 10 or 11 miles) is going to suck. Big time. So today I think I'll attempt the south rim corridor trails out to hermit's rest. It'll be about 16 miles roundtrip right on the edge, but it's relatively flat.

Here are some more pictures from my tour day:

Colorado River--rapid and all


You do not know how far in I had to zoom to get these Colorado River shots!


Home, Vast, Home.

Last night I was laying in bed, looking up through the slats in my blinds at the sky. (My bed is up against a window.) With my glasses off, I thought that there were a ton of planes up there so I had to get a better look. I put on my glasses and lifted the blinds. They weren't planes, they were stars. Huge, bright stars like I have never seen before. So every night when I go to sleep and don't put my blinds down, it's under an amazing view you could only get here, 7000 feet up.

Adventure 1: Housing

I arrived at the entrance to the park around 12:30 yesterday afternoon. I did not enter the park until a little after 1. The lines here for anything are ridiculous. Even the park employee "by-pass" lane is backed-up for a mile. Once in the park, however, the real adventure started.

I pulled into a backlot right off the main road and up to an inconspicuous brown building behind a library (whose internet I am currently stealing). Inside was the safety office staff: two people. I was expecting a room full of cubicles and people running in and out, but no: the safety office is 2.5 people. (I'm the .5) After meeting my supervisors, we went for a ride on over to get my housing set up. We met the housing coordinator who assigned me to a house with two girls already living in it. So on we went to the warehouse and got my key.

The house we pulled up to was a two-story with big yard and hammock hanging in the back. Upon entering, though, one is brought back memories of frat houses back in Happy Valley. There was clothes, shoes, and garbage everywhere. But this was my assigned housing so my supervisors and I went looking for the empty room--and found none. Someone was already living (squatting) in my room. The housing coordinator was not happy to hear about this.

So back to housing and the warehouse we went. New house, new key. By this point it's already about 2:30. We pull up to an even nicer house, complete with horse hitching post out front. I went to go in and couldn't quite seem to get the key to fit. Probably because it was the wrong key.

Back to housing we went!

The third key worked and at 4pm I was officially picking out a room. I picked the one upstairs with the windows because the other room up front towards the street looked like it would get hot. I would have been all set except that I bought twin sheets and the bed is queen-sized.



(but I set it up anyways with borrowed sheets although the cover is mine)



(my view of our backyard--on a side note, the elk and deer here roam free and come right up to your house. You can't see the gate in the fence, but every backyard opens to a trail system so you can bike/walk around without going on the roads).





My housemate came home about an hour later and revealed she had just moved in the day before and is a full-time employee at the gates. Also, she runs marathons. I don't know whether to be encouraged or discouraged by this, as I sat there in all my epic flabbiness. She's about my age, though, which is not what I was expecting when they told me I was living with a full-timer.

So we're two twenty-somethings living in this nice, big house. The next adventure: internet!

Also, tomorrow I'll post pictures of today's private tour of the GC. I didn't get to see the canyon last night because 1) I didn't know where it was (I found out today my nice, big office is about a quarter mile from the south rim) and 2) I didn't have a map and was afraid to wander. Nothing like getting lost on your first day!