2012 Sierra Club One Day Hike — 100K

4.29.2012 — Sierra Club One Day Hike

During the Sierra Club One Day Hike — 62.1 miles from Georgetown to Harpers Ferry — in 2011, I often told myself, “There’s no way I’m ever doing this again.” It was that painful, that brutal, that excruciating. It was the most difficult day of my life.

Yet the accomplishment I felt at the end was so great, so like nothing I’d ever felt before — and I’ve gone on my fare share of crazy, physically taxing adventures — that I knew, just days after, that I wouldn’t pass up the chance to do it again, and do it even better.

So there I was on Saturday, April 28, 2012, waking up at 12:30am while most of my friends were either at the bar or heading to the bar or preparing to head to the bar. I took a shower in an attempt to “loosen up,” packed my Camelback, and headed out.

Two and a half hours later, I stood amongst 128 other “crazies” as final instructions were relayed to us. It was maybe 40 degrees outside. The sky was pitch black at the Thompson Boat Center in Georgetown.

I wondered to myself (and these are all internal thoughts): “What the hell am I doing? What did I get myself into … again?”

The following are mostly excerpts of my inner thought process (because I barely said a word to anybody) from my 62.1-mile hike to Harpers Ferry.

Enjoy. And try not to feel the pain.

(All times and miles are approximate)

3:47am, mile 3

Why, why, why? Why am I doing this?

This is, by far, the most mentally challenging part of the hike. I still have 60 miles left. It’s pitch black all around me. The only sound is of cars passing by on Clara Barton Parkway across the canal to my right. My mind wanders. Work. Social life. Basketball. Whatever. It can’t settle on anything. I duck off the trail to take my first of many leaks. I walk back up and pass the same people I passed 12 minutes earlier. I trudge on.

6:13am, mile 13

I have cleared the first hurdle! Having reached the first of seven support stations, I now feel much better about everything. There are no more questioning thoughts. I’m doing this and it’s going to be amazing. It’s light outside, finally, and from here on out, I won’t have to hike more than 10 miles without a rest station. Speaking of that, just 10.5 miles — I know; it really is a damn long way — to breakfast!

8:07am, mile 19

My first 14-minute mile! Starting after the rest stop, when I could actually see every mile marker — which, on the C&O Towpath are short brown, concrete posts on the left side of the trail — I have taken pictures of each marker to gauge my progress. I did mile 19 in 14 minutes, my first recorded sub 15-minute mile. Since doing a mile in 15 minutes is 4MPH, anything better than it is very fast, in my book. I truck on.

9:03am, mile 23

Breakfast! Finally! This is a big spirit-boosting accomplishment. Not only am I feasting on Starbucks coffee, bananas, oranges, trail mix and, yes, half a blueberry muffin (this is one day when I will cheat, just a little, on the gluten), but from this point to Harpers Ferry, I won’t have to trudge more than 8 miles to a rest stop — and after the next leg, that will decrease to 7 miles or less.

How do I feel? Sore. And in a little pain. But nothing I didn’t expect. I have one of the awesome volunteers snap a photo of me, and I head on my way.

10:24am, mile 27

I look down at my hands and still can’t believe how ghastly they look. They’re puffy. They’re red, and maybe even a little purple. Since I took my gloves off at the first rest station, they’ve never warmed or lost this coloration. I don’t think it’s “cold” outside. It’s probably about 50 degrees. But my mitts sure don’t agree. The weather is a far cry from last year, when it was ideal — in the mid to high 60s and sunny the entire walk.

11:15am, mile 31

People. Conversation! With the exception of a few words spoken to the friendly volunteers at the breakfast table, I literally haven’t said more than “How you doin?” “Hey,” “Hello” or “Hi,” to people on the trail for the past eight hours. But now, as we approach the Edwards Ferry support station, I run into a pair of hikers. They ask where I live in DC. I answer. They tell me they live in the same neighborhood. They inform me of a post-hike meal they have planned for Sunday at Big Board, one of my favorite neighborhood restaurants. I say I might be there if I can get out of bed.

We quickly reach the station, where a lively volunteer belts out, “WELCOME TO EDWARDS FERRY!!!!” I gulp down some Gatorade and take two painkillers. This next stretch, I know from experience, could be brutal.

12:21pm, mile 34

Take that, trail! After a mysterious, hard-to-understand 21-minute mile to reach the “Mile 33” stake, I have responded as only I know how. I have pumped my arms up and down, I have moved my feet in my best stay-at-home-mom, neighborhood fast-walk impersonation, and I have achieved my first 13-minute mile of the day! Unlike a year ago, when I could barely move during this stretch, I’m feeling pretty good.

But not, apparently, as good as the first people through Edwards Ferry. It’s worth mentioning that the voluble lady at the support station said they had come through at 8:50am., only about two and a half hours before me! They must have ran the whole damn thing.

1:47pm, mile 40

Yes, that’s a dead black snake in the middle of the trail. This is by far the most bizarre thing I’ve seen all day. I guess when you’re on the trail for so long, you’re bound to see something esoteric.

I march on.

3:18pm, mile 45

Wow, it’s desolate out here. I literally haven’t seen another hiker since the lunch stop at the 35.6-mile mark, some two and a half hours ago. Part of the reason, I think, is that since I’m way ahead of last year’s pace — almost two hours — I have passed all the hikers whom I was passing at this point in 2011. But the hikers ahead of me are the beasts, and I’m starting to wonder if I’ll catch any of them.

Whatever the case, it’s quiet except for my iPod — and the occasional chirping from birds. (A note on the iPod: I wouldn’t be able to do this hike without it. Unlike mountain hikes, the scenery isn’t too interesting, and very repetitive; I already mentioned the lack of conversation on the trail, and everyone’s going at their own pace; and, finally, but most importantly, the iPod is an excellent way to stay motivated from mile to mile. Yes, I’m talking about the Three Song Prong, which means that I try to complete each mile during a set of three songs. Obviously, the length of the songs vary, so some sets are easier than others to achieve this against. Regardless, it gives me a measure of where I am on a given mile, and when that third song is winding down, I know that it’s time to step up my pace!)

4:40pm, mile 50

Now here are all the people! Despite hordes of 50K hikers — they started at 10am, and I’m beginning to catch a great deal of them — I manage to navigate my way to a 13-minute mile on the not-so-wide trail. I keep looking for someone with the white 100K bib number as opposed to the orange 50K bib, but my efforts are fruitless.

That is, until I spot an older gentleman, probably in his late 60s or early 70s, moving at a good pace. Another 100ker. Finally. After 15 miles without seeing one. As it turns out, I won’t see another the rest of the hike. But I’ll see this guy again, when I pass him, again, at the 58-mile mark. He’s so impressive. Such an inspiration.

(Which leads me to a brief tangent. The most respected 100ker is a man, I don’t know his name, who, according to everyone who tells the story, is 73 years old and has done the 100K for 16 consecutive years (the hike has existed since 1974, so this was the 39th edition; the 50K was created for the less ambitious, or less “nutso,” in 2000). Last year, I caught up with the legend around the 42-mile mark when I was at the peak of my struggles and he offered some encouraging words; this year, I passed him around the 25-mile mark.)

6:11pm, mile 56

Ugghh, why did I sit down??

At the final support station, at Brunswick, I thought I deserved a break, which I did. So I sat down in a comfy chair for about 8 minutes with a cup of hot coffee in one cup holder and a cup of chicken noodle broth in the other. Yes, the temperature hadn’t warmed all day. It was probably around 50 degrees and rainy. For the previous hour and a half, a consistent light rain had fallen — not enough to necessitate a break to change cloths or anything, but still rain. I had finally put on the raincoat and gloves for the final stretch.

Then it was time to get up…

And oh, the pain…

Now as I made my way toward mile marker 56, I could feel the agony everywhere. The tops of my feet ached like they hadn’t all day. My left knee was in pain, although that would dissipate within a mile. And my shins/ankles burned. A year earlier, I had felt great down the stretch, having caught a ridiculous second wind that had me doing a few 12- and 11-minute miles at this point.

Not this time around.

7:39pm, mile 61

Oh, the euphoria! I am crossing the bridge into Harpers Ferry. After that, it’s just a long 1-mile uphill climb — nothing! — to the Bolivar Community Center and the end to this epic day. As I shoot footage for my soon-to-be-posted ODH video, I note that with this journey, it’s not about the first 10 miles, or the second 10 miles, or the third 10 miles, or the fourth 10 miles, or the fifth 10 miles, or even the 9 miles after that!! … it’s about this incredible feeling I have right now that erases all thoughts pertaining to the pain I’m in. It’s about the notion that I’m so close to finishing something so incredible, so amazing — something that only 129 people signed up to do (and who knows how many finished).

I descend from the bridge, grab a final Gatorade (I’ve probably consumed 80 ounces of the stuff plus another 120 ounces of water during the day) at a final, makeshift support station (the volunteers are so amazing!) and begin my climb…

8:02pm, mile 62.1 … DONE!

Oh, so close!

My ambitious goal, entering the day — ya know, back at 3am — had been to finish by 8pm. I just missed it. I did my best speed walking uphill I’ve ever done. I ignored the jarring foot pain. I thought I had a chance. But in the end, I came up just short. It should be noted, however, that my stopwatch, which I began at the exact beginning of the day, read 17:00.53. So, technically, I was only 53 tics off my objective, not 2 minutes.

Believe it or not, I didn’t let my failure ruin my night (I know, I know — hard to believe). I entered the building and immediately the comedian hiker showered me with his customary “I’m not worthy, I’m not worthy” bow, which he gave to every finishing 100ker. I then got my picture taken, as I had the year before, next to the ODH flag outside. After that, it was time to get my feet checked out, and amazingly for the second straight year they lacked a single blister. Then I dug into a final meal of the day, thoroughly enjoying the veggie chili, pizza and salad without having to think about that “next leg.” As I waited for the shuttle, I chatted with a nice group of people who had done the 50K. Maybe — or doubtful — I’ll have some company on the trail in 2012.

Yes, I said it. I’m coming back for Year 3.

(Note: As I was walking through the medical room before catching the shuttle back to DC, a man lying down, his feet wrapped in mummy tape, piped up, “Hey, aren’t you the YouTube guy???” It definitely caught me off guard, but he had watched my YouTube video of the hike from the previous year and, I guess, it motivated him to give it a try this time around. I’m glad my crazy ass can serve as inspiration. Just don’t sue me, please!!)

NOTES and NUMBERS from the 2012 Sierra Club One Day Hike

• Miles hiked: 62.1
• Average pace (including 7 support stations): 3.74 mph
• Time of hike: 17 hours, 53 seconds
• Compared to 2011: 83 minutes better
• Probable position: 20-25th (out of 129 who started hike)
• *Won’t know for sure until results released
• Best mile: 13 minutes (a handful of times)
• Worst mile: 21 minutes (Mile 33)
• Support station mileages: 12.2; 22.7; 30.7; 35.6; 42; 48.2; 55
• Best motivational songs: “Sweat” (Bump n Grind); “Somebody That I Used to Know” (Gotye)
• Worst motivational song: “Comfortably Numb” (Peter Gabriel)
• Average number of times each song on Shuffle was listened to: 3
• Number of conversations on trail: 2 (both less than 5 minutes)
• Number of states (and DC) passed through: 3
• Gatorade consumed: Approximately 80 ounces
• Water consumed: Approximately 120 ounces
• Gorp consumed: 2 bags
• Painkillers taken: 4 pills
• Number of 50K hikers: 221
• Number of 50K hikers I passed: 75 (approximately)

Arizona — South Mountain

On my final day in Arizona, I didn’t have to drive far for a final hike before returning to the flatland of Washington, DC. I also didn’t have to drive myself, as Greg, thankfully, doesn’t work on Saturdays and was my willing hiking partner. So after sleeping in a bit, we headed to South Mountain, which has the distinction as the world’s — yes, world’s! — largest city park belonging to Phoenix. There are 55 miles of trail in this city mountain park, and they range in difficult from very easy — read: hill — to very difficult. I think we probably hiked the ones in the middle, because they were moderate but by no means “tough.”

South Mountain is cool because of how close it is to everything in the city. We reached one of the several trailheads after about a 20-minute drive from Tempe and started up the Mormon Trail. From the road, the mountain looks like a long ridge, but after reaching the top of that ridge after a hike of about 15 to 20 minutes, we realized that there was a huge notch in between of where we stood and a similar ridge on the other side.

We had truly discovered the breadth of the park. It was huge and expansive. We could see no ends to it, no perimeter except where we had come from.

As we walked along the ridge, we kept searching for snakes. After all, I hadn’t seen a single one the entire week. Not a single snake! We peered under rocks. We looked for sun-drenched rocks — and there were plenty of them. It was hot. The sun was beating us down. Our water supply was waning quickly, and I hadn’t filled my Camelback all the way up, anticipating a much easier hike than the previous days’ excursions.

No snakes.

As we were walking along peacefully, we heard a loud sound behind us.

Mountain lion? Herd of snakes? Country of lizards?

Nah, just mountain bikers. Yes, while some of the trails we were on were quite rocky, that didn’t stop mountain bikers from taking on the challenge of navigating the trails. I, personally, don’t see the appeal in trying to bounce and glide over all the sharp rocks, but, hey, I guess it’s an adrenaline rush for some.

So for about half the hike, we were constantly aware of and ready for that next mountain biker.

It was, after all, a city hike, but not nearly as crowded as Camelback almost a week earlier and offering several more routes to take. From the ridge, too, we had great views of the entire valley and Camelback and its neighbors to the north.

As far as wildlife, we had to settle for seeing a few lizards.

It would wind up a snake-free trip to Arizona. Go figure.

After a satisfying hike of probably 5 to 6 miles, we drove to the Farm, a really cool outdoor lunch place on a farm that produces all of its own products. We got lunch and sat at a picnic table under pecan trees.

As I sat there, thoroughly enjoying the remnants of Greg’s macaroon ice-cream sandwich, I thought to myself, Man, this trip sure has been incredible and unique. I won’t be forgetting about this for quite awhile.

Even minus the snakes.

Arizona: Mt. Wasson, Tucson's highest peak

Arizona — Desert hike, Wasson Peak, 7.8 miles hiked
After having driven north twice to visit Sedona’s Red Rocks and the Grand Canyon, on Friday, feeling refreshed after a night of margaritas and shark tacos to celebrate the Grand Canyon trip, I headed two hours south to hike Wasson Peak, the tallest mountain in the Tucson area at 4,687 feet. It was a 3.9-mile ascent through the desert.


I have to admit that the first mile or so I was a tad apprehensive. That’s what the desert can do to you, especially when you’re alone. I would hear things in the bushes to my right and my left making noises. Tiny lizards darted across the trail. I saw a couple bunnies hopping around.


It just took me a little bit to get used to hiking in the desert and the sounds that come with it.


And how beautiful it was.


I stopped early and often to take in all the plants that skirted each side of the trail. If I had been there two weeks earlier, according to my hiking book, wildflowers would have been everywhere. As it was, there were still plenty of colorful flowers mixed in with the typical desert fauna — yellow, blue and pink flowers created a very interesting dynamic alongside the usual hedgehog, cholla, pincushion, prickly pear and, most imposing, Saguaro cacti.


The entire hike was a gradual climb, and the biggest challenge was staying hydrated in the 85-degree (estimation) heat. Luckily, my Camelback carries 120 ounces of water, and I drank most of it during the 3-hour trek up and down the mountain. The trail circled around the backside of a ridge, which offered unfiltered views toward the mountain ranges that surround the greater Tucson area — the Santa Catalina and Rincon ranges — and became rockier.


It then circled back to the northeast to gain the rocky summit, which offered completely unobstructed perspectives in all directions. I wasn’t too high up, but felt like I was on top of the world. I shared the summit with a group of mining students from Vancouver who were on an academic trip but were taking the day for an adventure. An older couple also shared my company and told me of a must-hike for my next Arizona trip — the technically challenging, spearheaded Picacho Peak.


I cruised downhill on the descent and was back at the car, well hydrated, in just over 3 hours. Like all of my Arizona hikes, it hadn’t been overly challenging but had presented incredible and unique scenery and an experience I’ll never, ever forget.

Arizona Grand Canyon: Day 2, Dripping Springs

Arizona — The Grand Canyon Day 2, Hermit and Dripping Springs trails, 6 miles hiked

If the first day at the Grand Canyon had been phenomenal, jaw-dropping and mythical, Day 2 was from another planet. While the “awe” factor had worn off a bit, nothing had become dull, and as I knew from plenty of previous hiking experience, each new trail, each fresh hike, brings a different perspective and a whole new inspiration.


First, there was the sunrise. I awoke at 5:45 in the warm lodge room in no way ready for the weather outside. Despite bundling up in a long-sleeved shirt, fleece, windbreaker, winter hat and gloves, I was still cold. It was about 24 degrees. Every time I took my gloves off to snap a picture, my hands froze. It reminded me a bit of my Michigan hiking experience.


But that was Michigan in February. This was Arizona in late March!


About 45 minutes later, I was cold, but I was also once again in awe — this time by the reflections of light on the castles and temples and buttes — as they’re called — down below in the Canyon. It was a beautiful early morning sight as the sun rose.


Despite the frigid temperatures.


The sun, thankfully, wasn’t going anywhere, and by the time we were ready to hit the trail around 8, the gloves and winter hats could be put away — although it was still a bit brisk. We took the red shuttle bus to Hermits Rest, which is the farthest stop on the west end of the South Rim. (Note: During March-October, visitors aren’t allowed to drive on the rim roads — Hermits Rest to the west and Desert View Drive to the east — which I think is a great system, considering the buses run every 15 minutes, are always on time, and make stops at every possible point you could want to get off at.) We took in from the bus the incredible and different views at each of the stops between Grand Canyon Village and our stop. Some of the stops, we were told, had views of the river.


And then, after about 30 minutes, we arrived at our destination and began another 6-mile round trip hike, this one to Dripping Springs. I had read about the hike in my Arizona hiking book and it seemed like a moderate trek that would bring different perspectives from our Day 1 adventure.


That couldn’t have been truer.


As the sun heated up the Canyon, we began a twisting, somewhat steep descent of over 1,000 feet to a campground. We were hiking in a small offshoot from the main basin of the Canyon, which provided an interesting, somewhat narrow view to the north and the wide expanse of buttes, castles and temples. To the southeast, large, towering rock walls provided a backdrop for the hike.


Once we reached the campsite and then an intersection at which the Hermits Rest Trail headed down into the Canyon and we stayed left on the Dripping Springs Trail, we were on a ridge for the majority of the hike.


And what a ridge it was!


As we walked on an extremely photogenic red-clay trail, we skirted the edge of not one but two canyons that dipped precipitously some 2,000 feet directly below us. Imagine hiking a backward 3 with the insides of the numeral those canyons. That’s what we did, and the views were astounding. In the morning light, huge shadows were cast on the ridges of the red rock, providing us with ample photo opportunities to showcase how the puzzles of the canyon fit together or complemented each other.


I’ve done some incredible ridge hikes in New Hampshire. This was right up there with them.


After completing the backward 3, we turned due west and hiked through a desert landscape replete with all kinds of cacti toward this infamous Dripping Springs. The trail seemed to go on forever and we were starving for a hearty lunch, but when we finally reached the spring, tucked underneath a rock wall hundreds of feet tall, it was all worth it.


As I would remark several times in the days after, it was like we were in a movie. Beneath a carved out mini cave in the red rock, an antiquated wooden sign read “Dipping Springs,” and from the overhanging rock 11 feet or so above it dropped a slow, very light cascade of water drops. The sign was surrounded by a small circle of golf course-green grass.


Yes, straight out of Hollywood!


It was the perfect resting spot, the impeccable lunch location, and as we munched on delicious rice cakes topped with sunflower seed butter, we were joined by a butterfly that flapped his or her wings up and down in the sand just in front of us.


The hike back wasn’t the novelty it had been on the way in, but the ridge didn’t lose its awesomeness and we sure weren’t taking our footsteps — one in front of the other! — for granted. The hike back up from the campsite turned out to be a beast of an ascent that seemed to go on forever, as we felt the burn in our calves and stopped often to catch our breath.


When we reached the trailhead, finally, at 6,650 feet, we knew it had been another complete hike full of hidden jewels.


On the bus ride back to the village, we stopped at Mohave Point to take in views of the Colorado River for the first time. It was pretty cool to have a perspective of the winding, narrow river some 4,000-plus feet below us as it wended its way between the massive rock formations throughout the Canyon. I climbed over the guardrail and sat on a rock on rim’s edge overlooking everything.


I could have stayed on that rock for hours, but probably not to sleep … as I tend to roll over.


This trip was just an introduction to the Grand Canyon, a small look into all that it has to offer. From the rim, to the Canyon, from the plants, to the multicolored rock walls, from the views to the precipitous drops, it truly is a treasure that I plan to visit again soon.

Arizona Grand Canyon: Day 1, Bright Angel Trail and sunset

Arizona — The Grand Canyon Day 1, Bright Angel Trail, 6 miles hiked


On Wednesday morning, Kelly and I made the four-hour drive from Phoenix north to the Grand Canyon for, what I figured would be, the extreme highlight of my trip of adventures. The approach to the Canyon is so unique. While I’m used to driving up toward mountains and seeing the peaks rise up above me, creating a mouthwatering sensation, the drive to the lip of one of America’s national treasures was, as you can imagine, a little bit different.


Just miles outside of the park, we were driving through a flat land that resembled Kansas — although I’ve never been — more than anything else. There were no houses, hardly any signs of life, and grass and plants that didn’t have much life themselves.


Where were we?


Even as we entered the park and drove through Grand Canyon Village, there was no tangible evidence that we were so close to one of America’s most majestic and incredible wonders.


Where was this canyon you speak of??


Finally, we found a parking spot and jumped out of the car. We walked at a brisk pace toward, what we assumed, the south rim.


And then, just like that, there it was. I leaned on a railing and tried to take it all in. It was so surreal, so like nothing we had ever seen. Kelly said it looked fake. I couldn’t disagree.


Before us lay the Grand Canyon — a mammoth hole in the ground stretching dozens of miles to the north and, as I knew from reading but couldn’t see, 277 miles river long. We couldn’t see the Colorado River from our perch at 6,850 feet, but we could see the multicolored rock formations that help make the park one-of-a-kind. We could see the path of the Bright Angel Trail, one of a handful that lead all the way from the South Rim down to the river some 8 miles and 4,000-plus feet below us.


It was intimidating. So much to look at. Where to start?


It was just before noon and we couldn’t check into our lodge for the night yet, so we decided to get hiking, because that’s what you do at the Grand Canyon, right??


The Bright Angel Trail is the most popular hike into the Canyon and with the trailhead located about a hundred feet from our lodge, it made for an easy choice of our first hike. The trail begins at 6,850 feet and switchbacks its way down to the river. Everything I read about the Canyon explicitly warned hikers NOT TO ATTEMPT TO HIKE TO THE RIVER AND BACK IN ONE DAY. I had no thoughts of attempting such a feat … at least on this trip.

Hiking down into the Canyon really is a tricky thing to plan because it’s not a difficult task to take the mostly gradual path down and make great time. Hikers forget, though, that, you know, you gotta then hike back up if you’re not camping! And it gets REALLY HOT — at least in the summer. On this late March day, we were treated to mostly mild weather, with the temperature on the rim a bit above 60 and expected to be warmer down in the Canyon.


With all that in mind, we planned to hiked at least down to the 1.5-mile point, designated by bathrooms and, during the popular months — read: not late March — drinking water and then reassess if we wanted to continue to the 3-mile spot.


As soon as we took to the trail, we were in awe. Similar to many of my hikes in Colorado, the biggest challenge was reminding myself that if I stopped to take pictures every 30 seconds, no progress would be made! Within the first quarter mile, we had to step to the side of the trail to let a procession of mules ride by — mule rides in the canyon for visitors are booked 13 months in advance. I had read about the mule riders in the Canyon, but it was still an awesome sight to behold.


We quickly found ourselves hundreds of feet below the rim, staring at towering walls of multicolored rock all around us. Yep, we were in a canyon. For one small section of the trail, we had to proceed slowly over icy, snowy terrain leftover from the 6 to 8 inches that had been dumped on the Canyon just 10 days earlier. The timing of our trip was ideal. A week prior, and we would have needed snowshoes. The rest of the trail was a combination of packed down dirt, red mud, packed down red mud, and rocks, but not ones difficult to navigate.


Pretty easy hiking overall.


We gained the 1.5-mile stop in great time, feeling good, and didn’t think twice about continuing down the winding trail for another mile and a half. That section passed even quicker, but we didn’t consider going farther. We were well aware of the uphill challenge that lay ahead. We enjoyed some cheese and crackers, a staple trail meal, on a rock overlooking Plateau Point, the end of the visible trail below us amidst a flat, verdant, green area that peers over the Colorado River. We didn’t have a view of the river, but could see just about everything else. Especially beautiful to me was the rock wall across the zigzagging trail from us that at its base was green, then a clay red, and finally, at its apex, a granite color. So cool.


Amazingly, we made the trip back up the trail in a shorter time than the descent. It’s probably because the picture-taking had lessened drastically and we didn’t take protracted stops, but we still felt damn accomplished upon gaining the rim in less than an hour and a half.


Wednesday evening, after resting up and checking into our lodge just a hundred feet or so from the rim — no joke — we took a walk along the rim to enjoy the sunset. We didn’t have a clear view of the sun setting, blocked by the rim to the west, but the reflections on the gigantic pointy rock structures rising up in the Canyon made it a spectacle, even so (side note: On the second day, when we took the shuttle bus along the rim to the west, we passed a few stopping points that offered an incredible view to the west; those are definitely the spots to be for future Grand Canyon sunsets).


Later, we were sitting outside, waiting for our name to be called to eat at the Bright Angel Restaurant (side note: The only negative of the trip was waiting 40 minutes to eat after a day of hiking!! Yosemite has a MUCH BETTER system with its buffet option; of course, if everyone ate like me at that buffet, the park would probably be shut down! Still, there should be a buffet at every national park village. Waiting 40 minutes to be seated and then another half an hour for food was brutal!!). We were the only ones outside, as the temperature had dipped down to around 40 degrees, and so we were the lone folks to see a neon green “thing” flash across the dark Canyon sky.


An asteroid entering the atmosphere!!


We couldn’t believe our eyes for several minutes. Had it been a large shooting star?? No way — this thing was huge! If I had had my camera out, I could have taken a picture of its flight, it stayed in the sky so long. It was incredible. Mystical. Magical.


And no one else had seen it.


What a first day at the Canyon it had been.

Arizona hike 2: Sedona

Arizona hike 2 — Sedona, West Fork and Little Horse trails, 8 miles hiked
On Monday, I went on my first solo hike, as Greg, who had started a job the previous week, had to head to the office. He did let me borrow his car, however, which was a huge help the entire week. I can’t thank him and Sarah enough for their generosity in working out travel arrangements that allowed me to put hundreds of miles on G’s ride.


Driving Greg’s Mercury Mountaineer, I made the trip north on US-17. Within just a couple dozen miles of Phoenix, the road began to gain elevation and views of mountain ranges opened up on both sides of the highway. It was difficult to just keep my focus on the road ahead. I stopped at a rest area about 60 miles north of Phoenix called Sunset Point and snapped a few photos.


The drive took longer than I anticipated — well over two hours — but when I finally reached the south side of Sedona, I knew it was worth it. Red rock mountains and buttes loomed in front of me. It’s hard to describe the incredible clay color of these structures without being there, but let’s just say I had a hard time taking my eyes off their intoxicating beauty.


I made the drive through Sedona and its plethora of shops and restaurants and drove about 9 miles on the winding Route 89, which featured a huge dropoff on its right side. The drive rekindled memories of 1999, when I visited the area with my family in April and it was covered by snow (so much snow, in fact, that we had to cancel our trip to the Grand Canyon). Then I finally reached the trailhead for the West Fork trail of Oak Creek Canyon, one of the most popular hikes in the area.


The 2-to-3-mile hike was mostly flat and followed the stream. It was alluring because of the towering canyon walls, some red rock and others more granite-looking, that loomed overhead. I constantly craned my head to take them in. The hike was also interesting because of all the creek crossings — 13 in all! The stream was extremely high because of snow melting — there was still a little snow here and there — and it made for several spots where I had to delicately navigate logs and rocks over the raging water. The water was never very high, maybe two feet max, but a fall still could have been disastrous, especially considering the temperature of the water.


At one spot, there was no log, no rocks to hop on, so I took off my hiking boots and shoes and waded across. As a family approached behind me, I told them that I wouldn’t dare spend more than 1 minute in the water. It was that frigid.


The Oak Creek Canyon hike was enjoyable, but I didn’t feel like it, alone, warranted the five-plus hours of driving the journey would end up being. So on the way back out of town, I stopped at a trailhead, right on the highway, for the Little Horse Trail. It was another easy hike — 1.5 miles each way, little to no elevation gain, but the views were spectacular and inspiring. The trail was mostly packed-down red clay, and each side was flanked by cacti, a huge difference from the pine trees and bushes along the West Fork trail.


As I walked along the path, a row of red rock spires appeared closer and closer. To my left, I noticed a man-made cross that had been built into the side of a cliff. The scenery was simply incredible. I continued along the path until I reached the base of a plateau called Chicken Rock. After a short, circuitous climb, I reached a large, sweeping flat red rock. I dropped my Camelback, looked around and smiled.


As the late-afternoon sun hit me from the West, with the temperature at around 4,000 feet in the 60s with a light wind, I had views in all directions. To the east, I took in several higher mountains of a granite hue. The same view, but much sunnier, was available across the distant highway to the west. Even more alluring, though, were the red rock spires and buttes that rose up directly across the narrow gorge just to the north of me. They struck an imposing presence against the deep blue sky.


I sat down and took it all in before making the easy but beautiful hike back to the Mountaineer. It had been a rather easy 8-mile day of hiking. But the rewards had been out of this world.


What would the rest of the week bring?

Arizona Hike 1: Camelback Mountain

Arizona Hike 1 — Camelback Mountain, 2,706 feet, 2.6 miles hiked

On my second full day in Arizona, I joined my host for the week, high school friend Greg, and Kelly, his MSU friend from Chicago, to hike the Phoenix area’s most popular mountain — Camelback. By the time we hit the trail around 10 a.m., it was already packed. Securing a parking spot in the lot was no easy task. Camelback was about a half-hour drive from Tempe, where Greg lives a little east of downtown Phoenix, and obviously lots of folks didn’t mind making a little drive to reach it.

The mountain stands a little over 2,700 feet and offers two routes to its summit. Naturally, we chose the more difficult one. Within a tenth or two of a mile, we were hiking up a steep rock incline — so steep, in fact, that a metal railing was erected in the middle of the trail for people both ascending and descending to use as leverage.

The trail, as was the case with just about all my Arizona hikes, was in the open and offered expansive, impressive views as soon as we started walking. Within a few minutes, I could see downtown Phoenix and the rest of the valley. I could see the mountain ranges that surround the valley dozens of miles in the distance. This made the hiking easier.

But it was no walk in the park.

Soon, the trail turned and we faced a steep incline up a combination of rock slabs and, more dangerously, loose rocks. This incline reminded me a bit of hiking in New Hampshire’s White Mountains. We pushed upward, breathing pretty hard.

I was a bit surprised by the diversity of people making the difficult climb. There were people in athletic shorts and people in jeans. People with Camelbacks and people with no water. Grandpas and grandmas and 4-year-olds. One mother urged her son to push onward, telling him, “We’re just 9 minutes from the top!”

Seven and a half minutes later, we had survived the steep ascent and joined a crowd of about 50 people on top of the jagged, rocky summit. As is usually the case, I scanned the summit for a rocky outcropping that would make for a cool picture spot and found one. We exchanged turns taking pictures from the outlook, admiring the 360-degree views, and I marveled at how many people had made the hike. It had been no easy thing.