The following is a report on how I spent my birthday in the Grand Canyon. This story actually stretches over 3 days. But looking back, the whole experience just seems like one big long day.

I left the training center Friday afternoon at 2:00. It was about 43degrees in Phoenix, so I was pretty glad I had air conditioning in the car. On the way out of town, I picked up a hitchiker who had apparently been waiting in the heat for two hours. I’m not sure if his bad luck was due to his haggard appearance or because he had chosen to position himself on such a fast stretch of a major expressway. He told me he was about to pass out just as I pulled up, so I jacked up the AC and pulled out a Mountain Dew from the glove compartment. It seemed to rejuvinate him pretty well, so we just carried on instead of seeking futher medical help. He told me that depending on who’s side of the story you hear, he was either fired from, or quit his job with a trucking company, and was on his way back to Illinois. The fact that I was driving through Flagstaff worked out perfectly. Because from there, he could hook up with another trucker and drive all the way back to Chicago on route 66. Our drive together to Flagstaff was fairly uneventful, I mention this incident now, only because it will prove to add a touch of irony to subsequent events.

I stopped and had my last work funded meal in Flagstaff and was offered a free dessert because the waiter forgot my iced tea. From there, I took off for the Grand Canyon. I kept my eye on the sun because it looked like it was going to be tight for me to make it there by sunset. I made it into the park by 8 and was awestruck by the magnitude of the canyon. The view from the lookout blew me away. My only regret was that it was now a bit dark for taking pictures.

There was an interpretive center across the road. I wandered over and checked out the info on the various hikes in the park. While I was hoping to do a fairly major hike that would get me pretty deep into the canyon I was strongly deterred by the numerous warning signs posted everywhere. Some depicted graphic drawings of people hunched over on all fours with vomit spewing from their mouths. The signs warned that hikes to the bottom of the canyon should not be undertaken alone, should not be done in the summer and should always be spread out over a series of days. They also had a convenient grading system, showing how much food and water one should bring along when undertaking any of the posted hikes. The suggested food allowance was shown in simple drawings of 2 litre water bottles and ham sandwiches. All hikes that led into the "Danger Zone" which referred to the bottom quarter of the canyon, were at least 6 water bottle, 8 ham sandwich hikes.

Even though I didn’t have any ham sandwiches, I figured I’d be more than able to tackle one of the 3 water bottle, 4 ham sandwich hikes. So I headed back to the car and drove over to the appropriate trailhead.

I realized earlier in the week that I’d forgotten my sleeping bag. I wasn’t too concerned about it though because night time temperatures in Phoenix were well over 30degrees. It was a bit cooler at 2100m on the top of the canyon, but after pulling down the back seats of the car, and laying out my thermarest, I was pretty comfortable to lie there in my underwear. As the night wore on, I started to get kind of chilly, so with no other long clothing available, I decided to climb into my black business suit that I’d worn for teaching during the week. I imagine anyone who might have caught a glimpse of my sharp dressed corpse poking out of the trunk could have mistaken me for the victim of a mafia hit.

I woke from my fitful sleep at 5:00am. It didn’t take long to get going on the hike because I actually didn’t have any food to eat. I ate my apple and granola bar during the night and was just left with a big Camelback full of water and a can of 7up. So after a quick change out of my business suit I was off to begin my downward decent into the canyon. On the way down, I came across a sign which actually presented a hiking route that lead from the south rim of the canyon all the way to the north rim. The distance was listed at 38km. Immediately, I began to run through some mental calculations. I knew that the nearly one mile drop down to the bottom of the canyon at 720m and the subsequent climb of over a mile to the top of the north rim at 2500m made my comparison of the route to a standard marathon tenuous at best. But it was too late, the adrenaline was already coursing through my veins and I was just too excited not to try the route.

My plan was to jog down most of the way to the bottom of the canyon and then just hike at a relaxed pace back up the other side. I could say more about the incredible scenery I passed through, but I realize this story is already getting to be pretty long winded. I’ve posted some of my photos here at this site. I’m disappointed that I ended up losing my camera which had the majority of my Grand Canyon shots on it. But having seen the few photos from my first roll, I realize that it isn’t a great loss. You simpy can’t take pictures of the Grand Canyon and capture even a fraction of the canyon’s size.

To make a long story at least somewhat less long, I made it to the top of the north rim at about 12:30 in the afternoon. A little tired but actually in much better shape than I feared. I saw a couple deer along the way, tonnes of lizards and a Grand Canyon rattlesnake.

I’m trying to speed things up here a bit, because believe it or not, even though my hike might have been over, this was by no means the end of my adventure.

Although the average distance across the canyon from North to South is only 10 miles as the crow flies, if you want to drive, it takes 5 hours to cover the 215miles by road. I figured there would be a shuttle I could take, but ultimately hoped to hitchike around. It turned out the only shuttle that does this route left that morning at 7:30, so the decision to hitchike was essentially made for me.

I mentioned earlier about having picked up a hitchiker on the way to Flagstaff. Well, if that old adage is true about all your good deeds coming back to you a hundred times over, then when I stepped out to the highway there at the North Rim, I should have expected a large caravan of vehicles pouring out of the parking lot, throwing their doors open and welcoming me into their air-conditioned splendour.

Well, I spent over an hour out there in the heat waiting on a ride. I did get a few minor rides that inched me closer to the park exit but progress was definitely slow. At one point, an Austrian guy passed by me and said he’d been walking all the way from the lodge. He was trying to hitch out to his car about 20 miles up the road. When he made it out to his car, he was going to drive to the South Rim, so suggested I wait for him there if I got a ride. Fortunately, I got a ride about 15 minutes later. Although it was a tight squeeze, I was able to coax the family that picked me up to stop for my Austrian friend as well.

My Austrian friend Manfred and I got into his rental car at the next gas station and we started our drive toward the South Rim. An hour later, we stopped at a tiny truck stop to get something to drink. I had noticed the gas guage and was expecting we’d fill up before leaving. When it looked like we were going to leave with a nearly empty tank, I suggested to Manfred that we should maybe fill up. He scoffed at the idea, claiming that we still had a good 50 miles in the tank. Gas would only get cheaper as we go along, he said. Given, the fact that we were in the middle of the desert I thought it was probable, if not likely, that we would not be hitting another town for 50miles. But I kept my concerns to myself.

50 miles later, we were both pretty relieved when we drove into a little cluster of 4 buildings known as "the Gap". Our cost saving stunt had only saved us a penny on the per/gallon price of gas posted outside the station, but we didn’t care. Our relief soon turned to dismay, as we noticed the caution tape all over the pumps. Apparently, the pumps were dry and the next gas station was 30 miles up the road. Our gas guage read empty so it wasn’t with enormous optimism that we set off towards the next gas station 30 miles south. Fortunately, it was more downhill than it was uphill so we took advantage of that wherever possible by cutting the engine on all the downhills and just coasting for as far as we could. Miraculously, we made it to the next gas station and filled up.

From there, we drove into the South Rim and made it to a few of the view points just before sunset. Manfred drove me around to where I’d left my car and we bid farewell.

It was about 9 o’clock when I left the park. I was pretty tired, and I started to take stock of all the things I’d had to eat that day. It wasn’t a very long list. In fact, the only thing I’d eaten all day was an ice cream cone at the North Rim of the park. It’s amazing what a little adrenaline can do to your appetite. (I suppose the 40 degree temperatures might have had something to do with it too).

So I stopped at Denny’s in Flagstaff. This was not only my first chance to eat solid food, but it was also my first chance to change cloths and clean the dust off from the hike. I didn’t realize until then, just how filthy I was.

By about twelve o’clock, I was a little ways south of Flagstaff. I had a ways to go to get to Phoenix, but I was starting to lose it. I pulled into a rest stop on the highway and wasted no time in kicking off my shoes and climbing into the trunk for a nap. At 3am I woke up. A little later than expected, but I figured I still had ample time to make my 6:57 flight out of Phoenix. For the first time since stopping, I openned the car door and was a little surprised to hear this beeping sound. It was a lot like that beeping sound the car makes when you’ve left your lights on…. "Oh rats" I thought, as I noticed the beam from the headlights illuminating the field in front of me. I turned the key to see if the car would still start. But alas, I had already drained too much of the battery. I looked around the desolate rest stop, and found no one that could help me with a boost.

I ended up calling 24 hour roadside assistance. There is a bit of a story there too, but suffice it to say, that it took me until 4:00am to finally get someone on their way. Ultimately, the truck arrived just before 5 and I was back on the highway at 5 sharp, scrambling to make my flight. With 100 miles to go, it didn’t look promising.

Again, luck was on my side and I was in the airline check in by 6:30am.

It turned out that my flight was overbooked. So I offered to give up my seat for a $200 voucher. It wasn’t a hard decision for me, because all they had to do was route me through Dallas and I’d be home only 3 hours later than planned. Plus, they were going to upgrade me to first class the whole way.

So I got to Dallas, and wouldn’t you know it? That flight was over booked too! This time, I volunteered my seat again, but because there was such a need, they ended up increasing the reward to a $500 voucher in order to get all the seats they required .

Okay, if you’re still reading this, you might be wondering when this story is going to end. I’m kind of wondering the same myself. Do I go on to tell you about the 3 hour delay on my flight out of Dallas? Do I talk about the 40 Mexican school kids that joined me on that last leg of the trip? Do I mention the flustered flight attendant’s frequent PA announcements in which she pleaded with the hyperactive kids to take their seats? Do I mention that while I didn’t understand the stewardess' broken Spanish, I understood from her liberal use of the word "muchachos" that she was getting near ready to throttle the little bandidos?

No, I think that’s another story...

De despedida muchachos y muchachas (Farewell boys and girls)