Like Another Life

I was laying in bed last night thinking about how this place feels like home to me now. I had thought it was going to be so hard to leave behind my college existence and become an "adult." It had taken me hours to officially leave my college apartment, thinking I would never again feel a place as homey to me as this.

But the Grand Canyon is home now. How strange is that to say? I know all the roads, the good places to hike to avoid tourists, how to get in and out without waiting in line at the gates. When I drive here, it's second-nature now. No more maps, no more anxiety about finding where I'm going.

Of course, at my other home(s), you rarely hear about French tourists falling off the edge of your backyard and needing rangers to repel down to get you. Which was exactly what happened to an 18-year-old French boy who was taking pictures too close to the ledge. He's in the hospital with neck, wrist and other injuries. Was that picture really worth it?

It happens all the time here. People go "oh hey, lets go right up to the edge of this massively giant hole in the ground... whoops!" It's for this reason I never leave the trail... for anything. Ever. I think because the distance down (a vertical mile) is so great, people can't wrap their brains around what it means to stand on the edge... or fall. There are some places you can fall anywhere from 200 feet to oh, 2,000 feet. That's about two Eiffel towers stacked on top of each other.

Would you like to fall the distance of the Empire State Building? All 1,472 feet of it? No? Try telling that to the tourists who stand on the edge of The Abyss and pose for awkward pictures. I'd rather have still good, acceptable pictures behind a railing and you know, live, than tempt fate by crawling out on the ledge.

And I don't think people understand what the rangers here go through trying to save people who do stupid things. They have to put their own lives on the line and dangle above that huge drop to come and get you. Or be fixed on a rope tied to a helicopter. Or run up a trail in the heat of summer to carry you out.

Some people who collapse are in very, very poor physical condition and end up having to be carried somewhere--even up and out. Imagine trying to help carry a 200-lb woman in a basket up a narrow and extremely steep, crowded trail with 100 degree heat baring down on you. Cause that is what these people do.

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.