Tuesday, November 20th: Tom and I woke up at our campsite, a few miles outside of Red Rocks, anxious to climb after a long break. After preparing and eating our standard breakfast, we made our way towards the park. It was an absolutely beautiful day with full sunshine lighting up the rust, red sandstone. It always takes time to warm up to a new area, and in this case, the rock’s dusty surface was our biggest obstacle. Trusting your feet on smooth, powdery faces was initially disconcerting, but slowly became more comfortable. With the sun starting to set after a complete and successful day of climbing, we packed our things and headed back to the truck. We arranged to have dinner with Linda, Tom’s childhood nanny, before meeting our friends who had driven from Salt Lake City. Josh and Lindsay had been in touch with us about climbing over Thanksgiving then caravanning to the Grand Canyon. The four of us set up camp that night where we would stay until the end of the week.
Wednesday was an exciting day of climbing that included bush-whacking and a few sketchy routes. Josh was leading the charge and even his typical poise was at times ruffled. Fortunately, each of us walked away gratefully unscathed. With our most fearful moments behind us, we drove to the grocery store for Thanksgiving dinner supplies. While there, Lindsay instructed each of us on what supplies to collect for her envisioned feast.
It was strange waking up on Thanksgiving morning to warm weather, so far from home. Although Tom and I missed being with family, it was also an exciting change from our annual norm. It was a day of first’s, including climbing on a holiday and a Thanksgiving dinner without turkey. We started the day with a long hike which eventually led to our intended crag only to find it crawling with other climbers. Not wanting to stand in line, we made our way over to the winter heat wall, which did not hold up to it’s name. Lindsay and I sat shivering while Josh and Tom completed an underwhelming trad route. Afterwards, we climbed a few more routes before ending the day on steep thrills, an aptly named 12a. Getting to the top was a hard fought battle, but each of us did so, some with less finesse than others. We used the last moments of daylight to gather and pack our gear for the hike out. We were at first unnerved about finding our way back in the dark, but were quickly relieved to see the path in front of us illuminated by the soft hue of the moon. For dinner that night, we prepared a bed of coals on which we roasted a stuffed butternut squash and Brussels sprouts. While each of those slowly caramelized, Lindsay and I fixed mashed potatoes, homemade mushroom gravy, a green salad and a maple tahini glaze for the sprouts. To say that the meal was incredible would be an unfortunate understatement. Not only was everything cooked and seasoned to perfection, but our hungry bellies welcomed the delectable nourishment. The combination of eating while sitting around the fire, a unique blend of fresh flavors and a manageable number of dishes made for the best Thanksgiving meal that I’ve ever had.
On Friday, Lindsay stayed back to catch up on paper grading while Tom, Josh and I spent the day on the wall. It was my day to plan out the day’s activities, so I chose Cannibal Crag where I lead a number of interesting and challenging climbs. The final route that I got on had generously spaced bolts that ran left and right rather than in a straight line. At one point I was multiple feet above my last bolt and off to the left. While going up to, what appeared to be a positive hold, I took an unexpected fall. After dropping a significant distance and being spun and disoriented, I hung in place and took a minute to recollect myself. It was apparent from their muteness that Josh and Tom were feeling a similar sense of concern. Instead of risking the same outcome, I used our stick clip to protect myself up to the next bolt. Those moments in climbing are exhilarating, frightening, and ultimately, part of the sport. They are what cultivate the most fear, but are also the anticipated thrill of potential danger. After each of us finished that route, I called it a day while Tom and Josh climbed one more. That night, we caught up with Lindsay and finished off our Thanksgiving leftovers.
I woke up jittery with excitement on Saturday, knowing that Havila would land in the next couple of hours. Our reunion at the airport was expectedly enthusiastic, needing nothing more than the comfort of each other's company. Tom, Havila and I first stopped at the grocery store where we picked up food, snacks and beverages for the weekend. From there, we stopped at a nearby park where we ate breakfast while soaking up the generous sunshine. As if it had been planned, Josh and Lindsay pulled up right as we were finishing. With them on our tail, we drove north of Las Vegas to Valley of Fire. It was a magnificent park where we observed historical petroglyphs and stretched our legs before the remaining 3 hour drive. We pulled up to our campsite that night to find that the ground was covered with snow. All famished, we quickly began preparing a fire and chopping veggies for our hobo dinners. Since those required time to cook, Havi and I jumped in the camper where we began to prep our things for the following day. Thinking through the supplies that we might need, made our future endeavor feel uncomfortably real. With both of our nerves palpably charged, we discussed our floundering expectations. Once our bellies were full, we went to bed, though unsettling emotions and freezing temperatures made for intermittent, unrestful sleep.
I felt a surprising wave of relief when our collective alarm sounded at 645 on Sunday. No longer having to battle my conscious into silence made being awake feel like less work. After a cup of coffee and a bagel smeared with peanut butter, there was little standing in between us and our adventure. Tom kindly drove us to the trailhead while our upbeat soundtrack converted my uneasiness into excitement. The morning that I had trained for and thought endlessly about was finally here and it couldn’t have felt better. Once parked in the North rim lot, Josh and Lindsay’s Prius read 21 degrees for the outdoor temperature, 10 degrees warmer than at sunrise. Havi and I trembled, both from the cold and our nervous anxiety. Delaying the inevitable, we slowly collected our things and used the park bathroom needlessly. Josh took off in order to get a head start while we took a documenting photo and expressed our gratitude to Tom and Lindsay for being our selfless drivers. Then, as if ripping off a bandaid, we started our watches and took off. The first few sunlit miles warmed our bare legs and ignited our giddy excitement. The trail’s beginning was downhill with rugged footing, which demanding our undivided attention and only periodic glances out into the magnificent canyon. We were only a few miles in when Havila and I separated from each other. Her legs had been thoroughly used throughout the week leading up and mine were fresh from multiple days of rest. After agreeing to split up, I went off ahead. My perceived reality from that point until mile 19 was unlike any other running experience I have ever had. Although navigating was, at times, obscure and an instance of negligence at mile 8 resulted in a twisted ankle, not a moment passed when I wasn’t having the absolute time of my life. My body felt well conditioned, the weather was incredible and I was completely surrounded by outstanding scenery. Under the impression that the compete distance was 22.5 miles, at 19.3 I was certain that I would finish without the anticipated struggle that had kept me up at night. Shortly after, and to my dismay, I came upon a sign that read: “4.5 miles to Bright Angel Trailhead”. Never in my life had an addditional mile and a half sounded so daunting. After filling up my water bottles at the last available spigot and forcing down a few mouthfuls of peanut butter, I began the uphill trudge. The remaining miles were spent mentally coaching myself through each switchback, whether running or walking. My legs became increasingly defiant and the dropping temperatures further exhausted my being. With the end in sight, I mustered the necessary strength to run to the finish, expecting to find Tom and Lindsay waiting for my arrival. My expectations met reality as I stood looking around with them nowhere to be seen. I was surrounded by groups of tourists, but isolated in my experience. Although I wanted external recognition, I knew that only I could appreciate what I had just accomplished. With that realization I took a moment to look back over the canyon that had provided such an amazing struggle, grateful for my physical capability and to be safely on the other side. Tom and Lindsay arrived not long after, offering the hug and congratulations that I had awaited. Together, we stood by until Josh and Havila both finished. The 3 of us agreed that the run was a hard fought battle, each relieved to be done. That night, we went out for a celebratory dinner and recapped the day’s events. After splitting ways with Josh and Lindsay, Tom, Havi and I settled nearby in the camper. We laughed, sipped tequila, and were contented at the simple pleasure of being together.
We woke up on Monday after a disruptive night. I was up multiple times feeling ill, unsure of whether water would further aggravate or settle my painful nausea. Fortunately, it did the latter and allowed me to eventually find sleep. I was surprised to have an appetite that morning, one that welcomed a large breakfast and multiple glasses of water. Although our bellies were satiated, Havila and my legs were worse for wear, and struggled to keep us on our feet. Our genuine attempts at walking were humbling and comical. Tom drove us to the Hoover Dam that afternoon where we attempted to run in order to loosen our uncomfortably stiff muscles. We laughed relentlessly during our 30 minute speed-walk across Memorial Bridge, both at ourselves and at the unique brand of tourists. With our dreaded effort behind us, we ate lunch and headed for the airport. We gave Havi plenty of time to get to her gate, knowing that her ability to move at any speed was arduous. Not wanting our time with her to be over, we gave multiple hugs before accepting the unavoidable. That night, Tom and I returned to the area outside of Red Rocks where we had been camping previously. We had made dinner and started a movie on our IPad before a squad car pulled up outside. The officer kindly informed us that camping was not allowed and that we needed to leave. Both sleepy and irritated, we began packing up and searching for other places to spend the night. Not wanting to travel far, we drove to a nearby Walmart, too tired to be bothered by the noise and bright lights.
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