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!