I was out of water at the end of mile one. Hub’s theory is that I simply drank it, but I have to call reverse miracle. I am a water girl, but 3 liters before 8:00 am seems pretty implausible. Everything in my pack was dry, so I think that clearly leaves us with reverse miracle.
The kids did so great, It was amazing to see their progress throughout the trip. Initially, one had a hard time going down the switchbacks, . I offered tips and demonstrated my low-center-of-gravity duck walk, but Hub’s method ended up being much more effective at squashing Kid’s analysis paralysis. Go, or get dragged, who knew?
We fell into our roles for the trip, I blazed the trail, setting our pace, pointing out ceaseless buena vistas and offering an unending variety of hiking songs, while Hub picked up the rear, watching, to assure that everybody was safe and accounted for and discerning how each kid was getting along and what they specifically needed.
There is an initial, sort of shock, in my experience, with backpacking, when the idea of backpacking initially collides with the reality. Our kids definitely experienced this phenomenon around the second half of our descent. This can be a time of whining, despondency, hating your parents, or even unrestrained sobbing. Hub took both of the kid’s packs, God Bless ‘im.
As we traversed our final mile from The South Rim to Bright Angel Campground the biblical wails of one of our kiddos rang through the canyon, frightening hikers and woodland creatures alike with the sound of ultimate suffering:(
There is a word that I came across recently, while reading a book called Carry On, Warrior…
I think brutiful is the ideal word for this place. About 5 million visitors make it to the canyon each year. A mere 10% venture beyond the rim and less than 1% land at the bottom. Yes, it’s brutal, but tightly woven in the challenge is monumental, uncommon beauty, that completely swallows those who enter, reminding us that we’re just little tiny things and covering us in awe.