The Grand Canyon
is a steep-sided canyon carved by the Colorado River in Arizona, United States. I have visited the Canyon many times on many different modes of transportation. The Helicopter from Las Vegas is the best by far. In 1975, my first lovely wife S and I met B, a college roommate and his lovely wife C at Grand Canyon Village on the South Rim for a two-day hike down to the bottom of the Canyon. There are 2 types of people who hike the Grand Canyon: experienced hikers and fools. We 4 were in the latter category. We were also young. There were sighs all over the park warning of the dangers of hiking in the Canyon. There were large lettered notices stating if the Park Service had to dispatch a rescue ‘copter the cost would be $50 per minute!
We took the Bright Angel Trail. It took 6 hours of walking to reach the bottom. Along the way we met a mule team or 2 and had to wait while they passed us. Sweaty tourists hanging on for dear life. It seems all the mules like to pee at chosen spots because occasionally we’d come across a wet area that smelled of uric acid so bad that I started to LIKE the odor ( I think I was heat stroke). It was 105 degrees F at the bottom. We could have stayed in a cabin at the Phantom Ranch if we had made reservations 18 months ahead of time. Instead we all slept on the ground on sheets we’d borrowed from our hotel rooms back in the real world “up top”. The ranch is located at 36°06′18″N 112°05′40″W.
Next morning we filled our water jugs and started up. About 5 hours later when we were maybe half way up I started to mentally calculate how much cash I had and how many minutes I thought it would take for a helicopter to come to rescue me. Somehow we made it. A shower and clean clothes and the whole ordeal started to become “great vacation story” and not “a terrible nightmare”. To this day though – I still have a fond olfactory memory of uric acid.
B relaxing on a break. KB calculating…..
kongoboken 