R2R Rundown 11

Part 11
Indian Garden to the Bright Angel Trailhead.

We had a long rest at Indain Garden. We waited for the sun to get a little lower in the sky, ate more food, and chatted with the other hikers. There were several other people still behind us, including a group that had some heat issues on the corkscrew and had to take an extended break. One of our hike leaders was with them and the situation was under control. The other leader was up at Indian Garden with us.

I announced that the stretch to Indian Garden was much more like 6 million miles than 3.2. He said that the final stretch would seem much, much longer. I was skeptical.

He informed us that final ascent was broken up into three 1.5 mile stretches. The climb was steep and we should expect each leg to take about an hour and a half. He recommended only carrying a liter or two of water at a time, and refilling at each stop to reduce the weight we had to carry uphill. I was not about to do this because I'm paranoid, and wanted to have enough water if say, I broke both my legs and had to slowly drag myself out of the canyon. I stubbornly filled my bladder up all the way.

It is also important to note here that we were rapidly approaching the 20 mile mark.

The 20 mile mark is also known as the bonk point, the point where you are most likely to hit the wall. Bonking is when your body switches from running on a full tank, to running with the low fuel light on. Energy stores are depleted, mental acuity has deteriorated and nothing short of a long, long rest are going to make it better. This is what all my preparation, all my careful planning, slow pace, careful and continuous hydration, and calorie consumption were about. Avoiding the bonk.

(Earlier in the trip, back at dinner at Jacobs Lake, we were eating with a couple of ER doctors that were going on the hike with us. One of them told the story of a drunk and dehydrated girl in the ER who was insistent that she was 'too classy' for a bedpan. We decided at dinner that we were 'too classy' for mile 20. We cackled with joy, were determined to cruise past it without issue.)

At this point, with mile 20 looming ahead of us, we felt damn good. We were in fact, ELATED. We reveled in the joy of having made it to this point without a real issue. I was particularly thrilled to have made it so far without nausea. Nausea is my mortal enemy. Once it begins I am DONE. I cannot function and feel nauseated simultaneously. It is, quite simply, game over for me. Pain and suffering I can handle in spades. One tiny little hint of nausea, and you might as well cut off my arms and legs, because I am well and truly screwed.

I took my shoes off here, but not my socks. I already knew the verdict. Blisters. Lots of them. I had been feeling them since the Devils Corkscrew, but blisters have never really bothered me THAT badly. I know they're there, and sure, they hurt, but I'll take blister pain over headaches or knee pain any day. I didn't need to know how bad they were. I didn't need to think about them during this last stretch. I just needed to focus on the goal and keep moving. I also removed the bandages from my knees, they were feeling much, MUCH better now that we were no longer going downhill.

We packed up and marched onwards, triumphant.



The sun was officially starting to dip behind the canyon walls and the temperature was just about perfect. A creek crossed the path at one point, or rather, ran right down the middle of the path for about 20 feet or so, making for a muddy crossing.



We saw some tadpoles, and a lot of caterpillars.



The view from this point, until the sunset was spectacular. I tried my hardest to capture it, but failed spectacularly. None of my pictures even come close to doing it justice.



Somewhere around this point, we realized that our hike leader was right. These last stretches were going to take forever. We hiked and hiked and hiked and yet the 3 mile rest remained out of our reach. Antoline was starting to notice the elevation change, and our pauses became more frequent. We continually leap-frogged the same three or four groups of people. Over taking them when they stopped for a break, then being over taken by them again when we stopped. It was amusing.

Eventually our hard work was rewarded, and we reached the 3 mile rest house. We had hiked 20.4 miles, we were now at 4,750 ft elevation. The sun was officially setting, and we finally had cellphone service. I excitedly text you and then my dad, and then decided that was insufficient and called Dad to tell him how awesome life was. I was so close! At 7:40 pm we hit the trail again, sun setting over head, and the south rim looming above us.



Our hike leader turned out to be right on both counts. The last stretch of the hike did feel like it was almost endless, and I soon began to regret lugging around 3 liters of water when I clearly only need to carry one. I emptied some of it out, and kept on going.

The last of the sunlight slipped away long before we reached the 1.5 mile resthouse.



We took out our flashlights just before the darkness swallowed us. At this point, I was in full cyborg mode. My legs moved methodically. One and then the other. I watched the glow of the flashlights above us bounce back and forth along the seemingly infinite switchbacks. Where on earth was the final resthouse? How the heck could it possibly take this long to walk 1.5 miles? On and on we went, forever and ever. Several times we asked each other if we could have possibly just missed the resthouse in the darkness. Maybe we just walked past it. Maybe it was magical, like fairies, or unicorns, and we hadn't really believed in its existence, and as such, were not allowed to see it.

It was dark and all the creepy crawlies had come out. We saw bats and kangaroo rats. An impossible number of spiders were crawling along the trail. Caterpillars and scorpions were abundant as well. Antoline was struggling mentally. At one point she started questioning her ability to complete the hike, but we were so close. I promised her it would be okay. That we could totally do this. That we'd come nearly 22 miles, we could totally do two more. I told her I'd carry her up to the top, (on my back like a camel) if I had to. But her feet kept moving. I gave her a power gel and we kept on keeping on.

We finally, after an unimaginably long time, reached the 1.5 mile resthouse. We paused only for a couple of seconds, and then continued the march. The stars were high above us, and there were more of them than I'd ever seen before. It was stunning. The temperature was blissful, I couldn't imagine having to climb up this last stretch of the rim with the sun blaring down on me.

It is hard to describe in words how long this last mile was. It. Was. Long. Longer than I had anticipated. Longer than I could imagine. But then, all of a sudden, we could hear people up on the rim. Drunk people. People that most definitely weren't inside the canyon. We walked and walked and walked. We reached the tunnel, and then, then we could see the lights from the Bright Angel Lodge. Shining like a beacon from the top of the canyon.

Those last switchbacks to the top took the longest, but the end was in sight. I was so high on adrenaline. I'd made it! Just a few more feet.



And then it happened, I stepped off the trail onto the rim, 6,860 feet above sea level. Legs noodle-y with exhaustion. Knees weak with fatigue.



It took 16 hours and 10 minutes.

I'd walked from one side of the Grand Canyon to another.
23.5 miles in all.
My own two feet carrying me all the way.
My knees were resentful, but happy.
It was the coolest feeling ever.

I text Dad to let him know that I made it.
I text you to scream out how awesome it was.
I updated everything I could update with my victory picture.
I have never, ever been so happy, or felt so accomplished.

I cannot wait to do it again.