Welcome To Bah-stan, Pt. 2

So on Saturday, it was time to really relax and hang out. I'd spent about two months previous to this in the company of strangers or by myself with very few interactions in between (like when the CDC people came out or I meet with my supervisor). Sitting out by the pool with my family was a welcome change to all that.

I think that's about when I started considering what it is I'd gotten myself into. I take my internship very seriously, but there's a downside to that. A person cannot exist on work alone, as I'm finding out.



My parent's house happens to be across the street from Boxford State Park & Wildlife Preserve. Naturally, I decided to go for a hike. I wasn't fully prepared for the drastic change of scenery, though. Here there were no mountain lions, but the ticks are everywhere. I think I'm more afraid of ticks than anything else I've encountered (or could encounter) in the woods. There's also a nasty creature called a Fisher Cat my mother has grown obsessed with. I might have to go get her a Fisher Cat knife like the mountain lion knife my brother got me.



The trails were overgrown and unmaintained, sometimes nearly impossible to spot because of the long grass. In some places, water had reclaimed the soil and I was not about to cross this green bog for anything. Think about what lives in the marsh to turn it green!

I ended up following my little traced map (I drew a general sketch of the trails on a post-it note from the internet) and managed to steer myself the way I wanted to go, even after the watery detour. I kept hearing noises out in the woods, but paid no attention to them. Right up until a blue heron flew directly over my head. Who knew there were giant birds out there??



The problem with my post-it map? The internet was not drawn right and therefore, neither was my post it. When I left the woods (btw, there was not a scale on the trail map), according to my post-it, my street was only a short walk to the left. Twenty minutes later and well past the park, I found myself wondering where the hell the street was. I had to call home for someone to mapquest me. Turns out the street, from my exit, was a short walk. To the right, that is.

By the time I got home I was sticky and gross, but luckily I had a nice pool (with dogs in it) to cool down.



It was nice to sit in a lived-in house with a tivo and other people in it. It made me really think ahead to after this work is done in December. One thing I wasn't used to was how close everything is when you get up north. My mom and I drove 25 minutes and hit Salem.



The main attraction is the Witch Museum, which was a little hokier than I thought it would be. Thank you, Park Service, for ruining my standards on exhibits. My mom and I sat on a bench in a darkened room, listened to narration and looked at wax scenes that illuminated when talked about. It was interesting, if just a tad bit subjective.



This town is a tribute to all things magical, which is confusing in a way. The town's history is morbid and scarred with the deaths of innocents and torture to a town in mass hysteria. And now, you're more likely to see the Harry Potter/B'Witched kind of magic themes here than the true view of "magic" that gave the town its name.



There were still some historic places preserved and not done up for the tourists. One thing I noticed in northern Mass is that every home is historic (except the one my parents live in). You'll see preserved houses along Salem's Derby Wharf and all throughout the town. There'll be little plaques telling you when it was built and who lived there. Even in our neighborhood you see these attached by the front doors.

I tried to imagine my life in Boston when I moved back. I told myself if I didn't land a job by then, I'd go to grad school. Of course, at the time, there was nothing I could see myself going back to school for. I've literally spent months online, looking at all different kinds of programs--law school, psychology, school counseling. Could I see myself as an occupational therapist? Sure I could. How about a guidance counselor? Why not. I pretty much resigned to the fact I could do something, but just be mildly content doing it.

Journalism is dying and psych degrees get handed out like candy nowadays. I kept looking for something different, something I could really see myself doing--and being happy doing. I could be happy being a park ranger--for all of about two years. My problem is that I need a challenge. I have always had a job (or three) because I can't stand to sit still. I need days that change and don't repeat (a la Groundhog's Day). Most people know that my ideal job is working for the Rodale Corp (magazines, book publishers), but I need to be able to be a medical writer and break down medical literature for a different audience. The degree I'm looking at getting now gives me that skill.

People keep saying this came out of nowhere, that it's all of a sudden I want to do this. The sad fact of the matter is that this is always what I wanted to do, I just didn't know people actually did it. With this masters, I can be a medical writer. I can go into marketing. I can help implement programs. Publish. All the things I like to do, just with a specific focus--something I'm already obsessed with anyways.

Welcome To Bah-stan, Pt. 1

After five weeks of isolation in the Grand Canyon, I was beginning to feel it. I missed normal things--like air conditioning, television, internet... family, friends, wal-mart. This internship is amazing, don't get me wrong, but imagine being on your own pretty much all of the time, without social media to fall back on. I can't even get my Women's Health magazine here!

So with the walls of the canyon closing in on me, I opted for a break before my study really commenced and I wouldn't have the time to go.

My parents had just moved to Boxford, Mass (outside of Boston) and I hadn't seen the new place. Also, I hadn't been "home" since, oh, spring break of last semester. It was time to go.

And since I was going to Boston, I thought, hell, let's throw in some college trips too. I emailed Boston University and Tufts University and set up meetings. Of course, to do this, I needed a nice outfit and as anyone living here knows, this can't be found in Flagstaff. The solution: the day before my flight I went to Phoenix and found a mall. A REAL mall, not the Flagstaff's excuse for a mall.

I arrived in Boston Thursday night, glad to escape the blistering Phoenix heat and daily grind of the canyon life. Here there were people, Americans(!), not shoving past you blinded by maps. Regular, everyday people sitting around in Boston Commons talking about nothing. Oh, the life I've been missing. We met up with my uncle's family (in visiting as well), and I had the first Italian food I've had in months. In a restaurant!

Friday morning I decided to go for a run before we had to meet (Tufts at 10, Boston U at 3:30), but managed to get myself locked out of the house, but locked into the yard with my dog. Thanks for not explaining how the driveway gate works, family. Subsequently, I had to wait until my dad let the other dogs out to get in the house and do a speed dress/makeup/shower session. I'd been stuck out in the yard from 6:30 to 8:00 and decided to just jump in the pool and wait.

Tufts, I was pleased to discover, was right in the middle of both Chinatown and the Theater District. Downside? No parking. The school of public health is small and classes are shared spaced in the medical building. Technically, their program is in the medical school. The woman I met with was enthusiastic and explained to my skeptical father what public health degrees were. I could almost see the cogs in his brain doing the math on my future education. Public health? Who goes in to public health?

People like me, of course. The journalist/psych hybrid who loves health and marketing and wants to help people. Not in the "holier-than-thou-I-went-to-med-school-to-save-lives" kind of way, but the "i'm-frustrated-no-one-understands-what-they're-doing-to-society-with-bad-lifestyles" way. Take a look around! We are now in the first generation of people who will not outlive their parents! Health in the US is declining and no one seems to care.

I really think you need some kind of weird personality quirk to want to do something like this. To study biostatistics and package it in a way to change behaviors. Even just typing that makes me excited for grad school. Personality quirk right there. Also, my brain functions more like a rolodex than a social human's. My hobby? Sitting around and searching for information online. Over the past five or six years, I've taken a real interest in public health, I just didn't know what it was called. When I found out that people did this, as a career, it changed my whole outlook on my personal life choices.

So as I was sitting there in Tufts, hearing the woman talking about the programs, I heard all the things I've already been doing and actively seeking out (in pieces) throughout college. If I could have added nutrition as a third major, I would have.

I was impressed by the atmosphere at Tufts. It was very informal, very personal. I could tell the people who went there got one-on-one attention, and were comfortable there. The program only had about 50 people in it, 48 of whom are women.

Boston University was the complete opposite. It had a separate campus and the school of public health is in this old, ivy-covered castle-looking historic building, completely out of place in the modern medical compound surrounding it. There were facilities, student activities, and far more people in the program. While Tufts was intimate, Boston U was everything else but that.

Both schools were amazing, and are highly rated for public health. The choice is between Tufts (good education, great location, personal attention) and Boston U (good education, more social life, out-of-the-way campus). Luckily, I don't have to choose right away. And I may not get in, so there's always that.

I take the GREs in September and have given myself a long time to consider my options. I want to go to grad school, but I don't need to rush into 60 grand of debt!

(In part 2: hiking adventures, pictures and Salem!)

Don't Be Your Own Statistic

I started my weekend by going to Flagstaff and finally getting a haircut. There is very little in this world that can make you feel as shiny and new as simply getting your hair done. I walked in a scraggly mess, having lived in a desert for five weeks, and walked out a new woman. I was feeling so good, in fact, I decided to go buy some new pants because the ones I wear to work everyday are getting pretty beat.

So I went to American Eagle, where I buy all my pants, and went in search of the 12s. The problem with this? Everyone is a size 12. Disheartened I could only find booty shorts in 12s (read: the LAST thing a 12 wants are booty shorts!), I picked up the 14s in the khakis I wanted and 12s in the jean shorts I wanted and shlepped myself into the fitting room.

The 14s were far too big, so there went all the khakis I liked. I went to put on the 12 and realized that it too was too big for me. Adventurously, I had the woman bring me 10s. I put them on and zipped them up. It would have been great had they not been low-risers. I don't know who designs pants to have the legs shorten and crotch shrink when all you need is a smaller waist size. So, even though 12s are now too big, I still can't buy 10s because while my waist is smaller, these rhino legs of mine are going nowhere.



Having this slow-paced "whatever" weekend, I opted for a mostly-flat 8+ mile walk out to Hermits Rest. You all might remember this as the very first walk I did the weekend after I got here. I wanted to see if I'd changed in five weeks.

Only this time, I left at noon on one of the hottest days of the month so far. I wanted to really experience the heat, especially since I'd be going down into the canyon and so far I'd really stuck to morning hikes. Out I went into the sun armed with government-issued sunscreen and my camera.

Already a difference: there were now signs to tell me just how far there was left to go on the trail! Improvement.



The best sight of the day? A Swedish (?) man and his friend biking. The heavier friend was yelling in some language and grunting up the hill. His fit friend decides to help him out and literally, while still biking, pushes the other man up the hill. That's true friendship right there.



People tend to love the paved trails here, but I hate them. Not only are they uncomfortable to walk on them, but they kick back up the heat from the sun. Not only do you have the sun mercilessly on top of you, you have waves from heated tar coming back up from below you. When I hit the actual trail after the initial 2 miles of pavement, I always feel cooler. Which is ironic because this is the point where you're on exposed rock cliff and the heat from the canyon is now battering you from the side.

I kept reapplying sunscreen and taking water breaks while other, ambitiously uninformed hikers plowed right past me. I would later see them, drenched in sweat, sitting in the shade waiting for the bus. I enjoy the solitude and hate when some tourist, completely unprepared, interferes with my Sunday stroll.

Take for instance the woman wearing improper shoes who, instead of letting me (the uphill) pass her, she came barreling down the inside of the trail (me on the outside, drop of, oh, 2,000 feet) and slipped. She slipped right in front of me, her legs almost kicking mine out, but missing by two inches. All it would have taken was being off balance to fall over the ledge because some stupid person decided she could handle this twisting, loose gravel and dirt trail. But having worked in the park for five weeks, I was prepared. Honestly, she probably would have fallen and I would have just landed on my face. And so she, embarrassed, got up and on her way and I continued on mine.

If there's one thing you learn here it's Don't Be A Statistic. Especially your own.

(Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DhIIVQi1uAU)

The heat was almost unbearable towards the end. When you hit the greenway (where bikes and people are allowed to mingle away from the road), you have a hilly paved monstrosity soaking up heat and throwing it back at you on this five-foot wide opening devoid of shade. It is literally the only point I felt as if the heat was too much.



But, right when I thought I'd have to go find a tree or bush to crawl under for some shade, it becomes steadily cooler. I can no longer feel the sun burning my exposed skin, a welcome relief. I looked up into the sky and this is what I saw:



The shape of two hands?

I finally made it to Hermits Rest, sat down, and waited for the next bus. I'm sure the guy who sat next to me was so thrilled; I probably smelled awesome at that point.

And As The Sun Sets On This Week

I thought it would be a good wrap-up to the week to end on a positive note. After three deaths this week, one begins to wonder what it is about the canyon that draws people in to the potential death-trap. I found myself wondering this after a long, hard week, where my body finally rebelled against my new lifestyle and had what a coworker described as an "altitude crash." Meaning, essentially, that every once in a while you get tired, lethargic, and progress backwards in your acclimation to being at 7,000 feet.

And I picked one hell of a time to overwork myself physically: the week the CDC study was here! So not only was I exhausted all week, but I've been pretty much eating whatever I find in the pantry. Overall, not the best week here in the Grand Canyon.

It was with this overall lackluster that I went out to meet the CDC team for a BBQ and s'mores out at some point towards Desert View. Thanks to a lack of knowledge of the eastern canyon and a cell phone that is best used as a paperweight here, I drove around mindlessly for about an hour looking for signs of cars or people that I could recognize.

As I was looking to the left, a tourist two cars in front of me decided to turn in to a lookout at the last second, causing the car in front of me to slam on their breaks, and thus, when I looked back right at the last possible second, I too slammed on my breaks and took a full-on header into my steering wheel. I managed to avoid the SUV ahead of me, by inches. I can only wonder what I've done to my breaks and tires.

Eventually, though, I did find the road, walked about 20 minutes up a blocked pathway and found the team already in BBQ mode. We were at Shoshoni point, a lesser known area where there are grills to use and an amazing view of the canyon at sunset.


(a condor flying into the sunset)



It was truly amazing to be sitting at a picnic table shooting the breeze with a large drop off just fifteen yards to your right. To add to this experience, there's a rock outcropping here you can crawl out to--only if you have good balance! Do not attempt in flip flops! The way out is loose rock!





We hung out, made s'mores (ok, I sat and someone else made me a s'more), and it really reminded me that yes, there is life outside of the park. It was the first time in a long time that I felt like a real human person--out and interacting and laughing. And thanks to this visit, I now have really begun thinking about continuing on with this project and getting my masters.

And so as the sun sets on this week, I once again feel like I have a purpose, a direction.

Sometimes Things Are Worse Than They Seem

Yesterday, during one of the many meetings the CDC study folks have had, I finally got the full story of the mystery helicopter. As it turns out the park has had three fatalities in one week--all of which were preventable. I had really hoped that the mystery person down by three-mile rest house had gotten out ok, since the details were sparse.

It was a man hiking while on a business trip. He'd spent the day meandering on down to Phantom Ranch (bottom of the canyon. temp? close to oh, 105 degrees if not more) where he and a few coworkers and/or friends had a lemonade and hung out.

Phantom Ranch, from what I hear, is absolutely beautiful with a "canteen" to get food and drink and a pool to cool off. The man decided to hike back out in the early afternoon. The sun at 2:00 (ish) in the afternoon is directly overhead and beats down relentlessly on anyone who dares to be out in it. Your skin sizzles and your brain boils in such temperatures, especially because it's not just the sun--the canyon itself exudes heat, if you happen to be hiking by a rock wall, expect to literally bake. Like in an oven.

Dispatch began getting calls a few hours later by bystanders who witnessed a man stumbling with a bloody leg. It's hypothesized the man, suffering from heat-related illness, had stumbled along the trail. A short time later, the fatality was called.

What makes this all the more tragic is that his companions said the man had seen all the safety information, had actually been treated by a well-equipped ranger in Indian Gardens, who told the man to wait it out until it cooled off, and still decided to hike during peak heat hours up a 10-mile trail.

Why?

The man probably stood at the bottom of the canyon and looked at those massive rock walls, as we all do, and thought "wow, I really did it." He didn't plan on only making it 5 or 6 miles back up the trail--the rest of his life. So, why? Why did he think the information didn't apply to him? Why does a woman now no longer have a husband? And better yet... how? How can we change the signs around here to actually impact these people before something like this happens?

Another fatality happened two days ago. A man fell off the rim. It was another case of people crossing barriers to "get a better look." Ironically, they get a "look" that very, very few people ever see. It also happens to be the last thing they ever see.

I think maybe I should have picked a park with simpler problems... like road signs or bear problems.

Even in the shadow of all this, I went down that same fateful trail the businessman died on. One of the Washo folks decided to come on a hike with me down Bright Angel.

There's nothing quite like hiking with a professional athlete. I was pouring sweat, panting and in mild abdominal discomfort. She was breathing normally, and able to keep a conversation without the raspy "oh... yeah... this one... time..." effect. I both envied her and silently cursed myself. Why hadn't I tried harder to get in better shape before they came out here?! Sure, I've lost about 10 lbs since June, but I'm no athlete, that's for sure.

We did the easy 1.5 mile rest house hike and then walked up the rim trail a ways. She then decided to go on the Jr. Ranger Adventure Hike down Hermit Trail. Her total mileage today? More than six miles and 4,000 feet of elevation. Unreal.

Things Aren't Always How They Seem

So it's been a few days now and no word of this "death" has emerged past what happened in my last post. I'm not really sure what happened, but there's no record of someone actually dying. And if someone did, perhaps it's just taking a while to get the details. It actually puts my mind at ease to think that whoever it was, whatever kind of episode happened, that the person was able to walk away from it. That's usually not the case here.

The CDC study arrived here yesterday and I've been following them around the park. It's interesting to see the response that they get here--much, much different from the response I personally got. It's strange to be sitting in these meetings with these high-ranking officials, look down at my stained volunteer uniform (someone else stained it before I got it) and think "yes, yes I am sitting in a room, two months after graduation, discussing a CDC study in Grand Canyon National Park." And not, "I am sitting in my cubicle writing another freakin' blurb about the local high school's football team." Or even "I'm in my parents basement, again, eating chips and thinking about how fat I'm getting. Now, where did I leave that box of cookies?"

It's moments like this that I really have to stop myself and realize how differently my life turned out. Sure, I could always go back to school or into publishing. But no one told me that there was a life out there besides the one I told myself I had to have. Wouldn't that have been a good thing to figure out, oh, say four years and two degrees ago?

A Tragic Reminder Of Why I'm Here

We all remember the hike I did last week? The one to 3-mile rest house on Bright Angel Trail? (Down Is Optional...)

Well, yesterday my roommate and I were sitting in our living room when we heard a chopper fly out. This is not an uncommon occurrence for a helicopter to fly overhead, but to hear one so low was. I, in passing, asked my roommate if that was a search and rescue chopper.

About an hour later, 7:00pm, my roommate comes back in the house from an errand she was running and announced that it was, in fact, a SAR helicopter. Her friend had called her from being called in on it to tell her a woman had died on Bright Angel Trail, down at 3-mile rest house.

The woman had died doing that hike I did last saturday. It's the first person to die on the South Rim since I've been here and it's hard for me to wrap my head around. I know there's a reason why I'm here and to look at the safety messages in the park, but it doesn't really sink in that these things happen here. No one comes to the park to die, or have the last memory of someone they love crumpled in a heap and disoriented from heat stroke. It's incredibly tragic.

The park really does all it can to stop these things from happening, even sending out PSAR (preventative search and rescue) teams to talk to people before something bad happens. They have Hike Smart and signs at the trailheads. And yet, people don't listen, nor do they read anything. It's the sad truth of the world we live in that people die unnecessarily just for the sake of either a good time or convenience, or both.

It was with this thought that I went out to hike Hermit Trail, by far the rockiest, steepest trail I've attempted here. The trail in some places is literally just rock faces. Rock shelves laid out on other rock shelves. The trail also has no water sources, so my pack was extra heavy from carrying 4 liters of water (extra water is used to wet my two bandanas when the sun comes out). I started at 7:00 am this time, instead of 4 or 5, because it was raining when I got up and the dark + rain=bad hiking conditions.

I had no idea where the trail would turn in places, mainly because it's hard to see a blazed foot trail when there's no footprints to follow. That's the one issue I had with the rock-trail, I couldn't tell where I was or which way I was going. But the trail is located in the western canyon, so I still had plenty of time in the shade to hike in and out before the sun made it harder.



I made it down to the trail split off point and decided to turn around there. I'd probably gone about 1,200-1,400 vertical feet in maybe 1-2 miles. It was difficult to tell--neither the park maps nor the trailhead gives any detailed trail information.



I climbed back about 400 feet in 10 minutes and took a break. Afterwards, I noticed, I really didn't need one. I did about 1,000 vertical feet up rocky, steep slopes (and I thought the Kaibab trail's stairs were bad...) and barely felt the need to slow down.



I took Hermit Trail with far greater ease than I knew was in me. Surely, this is a sign that I am getting fitter. It wasn't hiking so much as rock climbing at points, and yet, my legs didn't burn with effort, my breathing was fairly regular (still huffing and puffing, but manageably), and my arms weren't tired from planting poles.

I cracked a huge smile when I reached the trailhead. Today was a milestone day.

Here's a video from my break (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=opKURQKraBk)

Why am I doing this to myself? I'm in training of course. In two weeks I'm going to be doing a solo rim-to-rim hike over the span of 5 days. The distance? 8,000 feet down North Kaibab and 6,000 feet back up Bright Angel. It's about 25 miles in total.

This may be a national park, but it's still an unforgiving inverted mountain in the desert in Arizona. I have to do everything in my power to be ready for the demands of the inner canyon.

How I Spent My Summer, Birthday That Is.

(This pic is from the rim trail's Walk of Time...)

Happy Birthday to me... 22 years and still keeping with tradition. I went down South Kaibab again today. As you remember, this is the first hike I attempted (trying for Cedar Ridge) my first weekend here. I made it not even halfway. It was windy in the shade with sun in your face around each corner. This morning was a different situation, now that we're firmly into monsoon season.


(Yes, this is rain over the canyon)

It's a welcome relief sometimes to have the sun hiding behind clouds. Especially today, where it qualifies as humid (more than the 3% we're used to).



There were only two other people (and one maintenance worker) on the trail when I went out. Which was a nice change from the bus loads that roll in at 7:00 and clog the trail. No one visiting the park for the day cares much about other people on the trail, especially when all they want to do is go down to the river and back--a death sentence on summer days. Literally.

The trail on South Kaibab is perhaps one of the steepest I've ever encountered. While Bright Angel has long, slightly sloping switchbacks, Kaibab has short, steep, stair-like slopes that sometimes are on top of a ridge and lined with rocks on both sides. This is both an amazing view and a startling realization as you're hiking on it and tourists are attempting to blow past you, as if the 2,500 ft drop isn't there.



I had yet to hike on a day like this, where it was raining just above you but evaporating right before it hit your head. The views were spectacular in a Tim Burton-surrealism sort of way. To be mostly alone, hiking on a ridge down to a plateau is an amazing feeling. It's not like hiking a populated slight slope, wide enough to pass and sheltered on one side by a high canyon wall. No, here was the true canyon.



When I got down to Cedar Ridge, I took a good look around. It was just this plateau, a randomly flat part of land on an outcropping you have to hike a ridge to get to. If you didn't know any better (read: that there was a 2,500 foot drop awaiting you on the edges), you could easily mistake this for flat land, like a field at home. It just looked so out of place.





I found myself a nice, big rock in the middle of the plateau and stared up at the now-clearing sky and wished I had carried my book down. It was a cool day and the rock was slanted like a beach chair. What a crazy place to be just hanging out, staring up at the sky. On a plateau in the Grand Canyon, far away from the population and 1,140 feet down from the rim.


(Just for perspective, I was on the very bottom left hand corner of this picture where there's that flat red land)


(me, on the rock, looking up at the canyon walls)

The hike up was steep and I poured sweat like I was back in Texas running a marathon. My shirt was soaked, my bandana pretty much useless because it too was soaked. People parted for me as I came up because I'm sure I looked like something you didn't want to get too close to. I had to stop and rest back at Ooh Ahh point because I was so uncomfortable in my now wet clothing. I took off my pack, sat down, and ate my granola bar. I gained about 500 feet of elevation in less than half a mile.

The trail was getting crowded now, and I seemed to be the only person hiking up and out. Families came running down the trail and I had no energy left to tell them uphill (read: my fat, sweaty ass) has the right of way. So I just used my hiking poles and thundered right through them.

By the time I could see the trailhead, I could also see the Interp-lead tourist hike. They'd be going where I'd just been, but at a much slower pace. What took me 2 hours to do will take them 5. This also meant the trail was completely clogged from the ranger standing there talking and no one paying attention to the other hikers on the trail. I waited a few minutes and then just went through. Manners be damned, I just climbed 1,130 vertical feet with 10 left to go. I could see the top and I just wanted to get there.

Taking off my pack and cooling off by the trailhead was momentarily enjoyable, until the wind kicked up the smell of the mules twenty yards off through the woods.

All in all, not a bad hike. 3 miles, 2 hours, 1,140 vertical feet. Perfect for a day when you have to be in at work by noon. I was such a bum when I got home that I didn't even shower. I threw my hair into a side ponytail, put on my SCA hat, my uniform and went to the office.

Welcome home, Wilderness Woman.

A Quick Realization

So I mark my three-week anniversary today. Three weeks of bumbling around Grand Canyon National Park wondering what it is exactly my boss wants from me. It's hard to tell, seeing as how we meet maybe once a week. I'm done with background, for the most part, because it's really all I've done since I got here. Where's my adventure? My trips into the canyon? River running?

This office is getting stuffy. I really need some direction here.

Obviously, I'm taking tomorrow morning off to "celebrate" my birthday. Irony: I hike every year on my birthday (except my 21st, where the hiking was home from the bars), and that's exactly what I'm going to do this year. I have a conference call tomorrow at noon, though, so it's not like I can go anywhere else. I'm planning a hike about 1,140 vertical feet down, 3 miles, probably about 2 hours total. My plan is to go down to Cedar Ridge on South Kaibab--considered the most scenic route in the Canyon, and highly ranked in the US as well.

I think I woke up this morning realizing that, yes, in fact, this is just an internship. Maybe I don't need to be so involved like I've been. Instead of working all the time, I want to go out and experience the canyon. Five months from now when I'm out on my ass, I want to say I really lived the Grand Canyon.

It's funny because my life has completely changed since I've been here. When you enter my home, there's a kilo of Vitalyte electrolyte mix on the counter by my four water bottles. You have to shove my hiking poles out of the way where they sit next to my two packs: one a Kelty pack for overnighters over a few nights, the other an Osprey for my day hikes into the canyon (the hydration system I put in it separately, like a camelback). The Osprey was my birthday gift from my parents--whether they knew it or not. I have my sunglasses always sitting in my helmet, because I bike to and from work (and home and back at lunch). There's usually a trail of dirt and dust from my Merrell hiking shoes.

Who is this girl? The one too lazy to walk up the hill to class when she only lived at 1,000 feet. And here at 7,000 all of a sudden, biking and hiking are ok. But I think this is always what I really wanted. I just realized it a little too late. Journalism was great, but I like to write without the hard-news format being imposed. I could see myself freelancing, but my heart has always been outside of the cubicle walls.

A life lived in an office? What is that?

Down Is Optional, Up Is Mandatory

The moon has been so bright lately, it's been waking me up at 3 or 4 every morning now. The first night, I didn't know what the hell was so bright and flashing in my window. The coyotes in my backyard howling gave me a pretty good idea, though. I've never had the moon cast so much light on me before, it was enough to see without a flashlight.

This is what I experienced as I set out for my normal weekend hike. This time, I told myself, I was only going to go about two miles down and come up. I'd miss 3-mile rest house by one mile and call it a day. I wanted to go a little farther than 1.5-mile rest house, but I knew that it was going to take me a very, very long time. It's important to note that 3-mile rest house is just barely above the canyon's base and is just barely two miles out from Indian Gardens (campground).



So I set off my usual time, the smell of bacon wafting down and reminding me of civilization just above my head. There's something comforting about the smell of bacon in the morning. Somehow it signifies home and safety. If you can smell bacon, you're going to be ok. And this is coming from a vegetarian.



I plodded down slowly, much more slowly than the other people on the trail would have liked. But I hike at my own pace, I don't let people rush me. I made it to the first rest house at about 6:00am. You could tell it was going to be a hot day because by 6, I'd already shed my outer layers.



The rest house where I always sit on the ledge above the box there and just observe. A lot of people miss the house because it's up off the trail via a narrow staircase.


As I'm sitting there watching the tourists with mild interest, this strange alien-like figure appears around a bend down below and just trods on up. I'd never seen a bighorn sheep before, and neither had the tourists who were standing there debating what the hell it was. "It's some sort of weird goat-thing," was one guess.



Everyone stared in awe as the sheep moved by the trail to the restrooms, as if to say: Nobody poops on my watch!



"It's a bighorn sheep," I said as I finally left my lofted resting place and came down to the crowd. An Australian rounded on me, "That is not what sheep look like!" After some shocked debate, she agreed that it could be a sheep, but not like the ones she was used to.

This same Australian would later get herself stuck up on a perch when she went off-trail.



The further down I went, the hotter it got. And the higher the canyon walls rose. It's really something strange to be standing in the canyon and looking way up at the rim trail you know is up there, but it's so hard to imagine anything being up there. Then, of course, you realize that that's the distance you need to cover to get home again.



There was this great little sign down at 3-mile rest house that said "going down is optional, going up is mandatory." I stood there for a second, ate my granola, and turned around. I knew I'd already gone too far.

The way up is brutal. We're talking steep inclines, those stupid stairs that are all over the trails here, mule poop, sun beating down on you, chapped lips you can't seem to put enough chapstick on, and the dry mouth coated with dust. Everything gets coated in dust, your clothes, hair, mouth, legs. You'll often see people with strange orange streaks on them--sweat + dust=gross orange streaks all over you.

Along the way, some strange photographer flagged me down.

"Give me your bandana." He said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to ask.
"It's all sweaty, what do you need it for?"
"I'm going to wet it for you."
"Uhh, I don't think you want to touch it, it's all sweaty."
"I was in the reserves, I can handle it."
"Ok..." I handed it over.
"Looks like you got it good and wet already! Or is that sweat?..."
"Its sweat."
"Oh."

He was a nice guy though, just one of many people I happened upon along the trail. I advised a hiking trio at 1.5-mile rest house (after I reached it once again, only going uphill this time) to turn back. They later told me that I may have saved their lives. It's so hard not to keep going without thinking of the return trip because walking downhill, it's easy.



I continued up again, this time it was around 8:15-8:30. The sun was nearly in full-force and I was feeling it. I kept running in to the same nice two old guys and we would sit a while and drink and talk, they would take off, I'd give them a head start, and we'd meet up again ten minutes later.


(the cause of the horrible smell on the trail in places)

From start to finish, it took 5 hours, 2,112 vertical feet, and 6.2 miles. The biggest lesson I learned was the need for a good day pack. I use my backpack, but it doesn't have good support so now I can barely talk or swallow and my shoulders/neck are all crunched up and painful. Breathing is also an issue. This is the importance of a good pack!

Leap Of Faith

So I spoke with my supervisor this morning. No, I didn't get to present my idea, that will be Tuesday. I got my term extended back out!! I have no idea if it'll be for a few extra months or the full six. A huge weight has been lifted, I hate being in limbo. Although, I'll admit, the thought of moving somewhere new did sound somewhat appealing. There was actually an internship I was looking at that was 40 minutes from my parent's house in Mass.

I applied for that internship, but it starts in march of 2011. That's the backup plan. Hopefully, after working six months in the Grand Canyon, I'll be able to get a job. I did say that about college, though. Four years and two degrees, hopefully I'll be able to get a job. I'm not sure what it takes nowadays to actually get employment. A few gray hairs and a PhD?

So it's Friday, July 4th weekend, and I live in Grand Canyon National Park. Perhaps, this one time, my leap of faith actually was the right thing to do. Ironic, isn't it? A leap of faith, both metaphorically and literally. For those of you who don't know, Faith is my middle name, and yes, this was a gigantic leap.

Maybe if my parents had known those 21 years, 51 weeks ago that I would end up like this, perhaps they wouldn't have named me what they did.

And in one week, I turn 22. I felt like this was a good time to add to my bucket list.

Addition: Hike to and camp at Havasu Falls! All I need is a cohort willing to hike 10 miles down into the Canyon, rough it for two nights, and hike back out. Anyone up for an adventure?

Just Another Day At Work

Today I went out to gather more information for the project I'm pitching to my boss tomorrow afternoon. I'm really excited about it, which makes me all the more nervous about going public with it. I think of all the things I've done, this has the most potential for a real impact. I won't bore you with the details until tomorrow, if it gets approval. If not, back to square one and two months to go.

When I say "gather information," I really mean "put on my Penn State tank top and jean shorts and go out and pretend to be a tourist while secretly observing other tourists." Subsequently, I always get some good exercise and pictures. This job is like nothing I've ever done before, and sometimes I have to stop a moment, gaze out into the canyon and realize that yes, yes this is my life. And I'm really here. Walking the rim of the Grand Canyon.



I have a few places I like to go when I set myself loose on the park, one of those places being the rim trail. Once you get out of the village, it gets quieter. I like hiking along the rim in the morning and people-watching while I eat my granola bar and drink my electrolyte mix.



I like to go sit on the benches on the Rim Trail out by Yavapai Observation Station and just take in the view. Plus I run in to more people this way.

Remember how I told you that you could always see the moon here? Well, here it is:



Here's a view of South Kaibab, the trail where I saw a mountain lion... you can see how steep it is. That flat area is about 2-3 m down... I hiked about 1/4th of the way down this as my first hike in the Canyon.



I wonder if this lady knows you can get the plague from squirrels? I see this kind of stuff all the time. Part of my job? Making it stop.



Days like today when it's hot and windy, crowded but perfect, that I really love being here. I get to walk around the rim of the Grand Canyon on a daily basis. Who gets to say that? Sure I have no friends here, no internet or cable at home, and very limited supplies (groceries/laundromat is an hour + away), but living a life where you wake up excited each morning and go to sleep tired but accomplished at night... this is the way people were supposed to live.

I always wondered how a world would be without facebook, internet, or the Jonas Brothers. I imagined happy people, mostly, outside doing active things. I've found that place, but ironically, now I need the internet more than ever. If only to remind myself that I have an identity outside this park. Friends, family, a real life that I came here to escape.

People tell me constantly what an "adventure" this is, or how "brave" I am for doing it, and I just laugh. No, in fact I'm quite cowardly. I was looking for a life that didn't feel like... well, real life. And then I discovered that I could really do this. Not the internship, exactly, but the Park Service.

I want to wake up in the mornings and breathe clean air. I want to bike on the greenways to work and pass wildlife. I want to hike every weekend in my backyard.

This internship is really just that--an internship. Sometimes I forget, get stressed out and treat it like it's a job. I have to remind myself that my time here is limited and to go out and have fun. Go hike if the urge strikes, because tomorrow I'll be back in the snow. Go bike if you feel like it, cause too soon those knees won't be able to handle it anymore.

Here's a video of Bright Angel Trail from where I was this morning... (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RospmSKJKsE) It shows you where I hiked and where I'm going this weekend.