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.