After travelling and living in my van full time for 8 months, the fatigue was creeping up on me. A summer of adventure in the Canadian Rockies, a dreary cold wet fall in British Columbia, and a sunshine laden winter in Southern California, my exhaustion started to take a toll. I had met many different people. People who had walked different paths of life. I had experienced things I had only hoped to dream about. Learned harsh lessons on the way. I desperately yearned for an end to my adventure. Though I did not know this then yet, I came to know of a hunger; truthfully I was starving for rest. But in the frozen February, I took to challenge the Grand Canyon. I was hoping this would sate the feeling of emptiness in my core. I aimed to fill my stomach with adventure.
Flagstaff Arizona is where this journey starts. Where my van suffered its first crash with another van lifer in a Little America parking lot. Where I met a man who called me his brother and shared with me a story about his healing heart where the image of a life with his partner crumbled as they grew distant and parted ways. Flagstaff Arizona did not leave much of an impression on me, it had all the things I needed but not the things I wanted. It has grocery stores, a place to sleep, a gas station; but just an hour away lies the grandest of the grand canyons. A post card. A sacred place. An enigma. A place where I hoped to fill my hunger.
On a late afternoon, I took to the highways and headed straight to the Southern Rim of the Grand Canyon. I arrived late, just after sunset. So despite my excited state, I decided to set up camp in a national forest nearby and wait for the grand reveal of the canyon tomorrow. Here I rested and bid my time. Here I made my usual salad. Here I left my yellow mark on the snow. Here in the middle of the dark forest; not a single soul nearby, I slept in -20C. Here, my van got stuck in the mud and ice. Here the noise is not chatter between people or the goings of cars. Here the silent veil of winter had taken its grip and loosens for noone but the cold biteful wind.
As my 5:00 am alarm promptly woke me up, I was up and running in no time. My gears was set, my camp was made, and my tires were rolling. The middle of the forest in pitch black 5:30 in the morning amidst freezing temperatures, it felt like Christmas. It felt like I was a child waking up to presents stacked under a tree. It felt like I didn’t sleep a single wink last night hoping to hear and catch a mystical man dropping off his presents. It felt like I was finally getting the present I’ve always wanted in my life. It felt like a thrill. Needless to say, I was excited.
The view inside
Adventure loomed ever closer, and my levels of excitement was reaching heights even I found hard to handle. I’ve learned to control this exhilaration. This exhilaration in the past has fueled me to do things way beyond my limits, get out of my comfort zone, and helped me learned of my greater potential. This made me who I am today. This same exact feeling however has also lead me to blunders in the Canadian Rockies where I almost succumbed to heat strokes and dehydration. This exact same feeling had also gotten me pulled over in Vancouver where I could have easily been arrested. It has lead me to panic attacks in the middle of mountain hikes deep in the back country lost and afraid. It has lead me to hiking Mt. Whiteface in the middle of a winter blizzard with no suitable equipment. I have almost drowned in a Gatineau Quebec lake from this feeling. Needless to say, my experience told me to be wary of this feeling despite its promises of limitless existence. We are mortal.
Knowing all this, I packed a humble lunch. A classic peanut butter sandwich, some UBE otap crackers, an apple, and water. I packed humble gear. I was not planning to stay a night in the grand canyon nor was I planning a rock climbing trek or a kayaking venture. I decided to go on a short, easy hike to take in the first views of the Grand Canyon. I was going to be grounded. I was going to take this first day very chill.
Novelty is an interesting idea to me. The first impressions in the mind sticks like nothing else. At the very first look, we form an idea of what we are looking at. The senses comes after to paint the rest of the picture. From our experience a judgement is made in the mind and supplies us a feeling. The feeling comes afterwards. With all this combined, a memory is made. My memory of my first look of the Grand Canyon was incomprehensible. I could not comprehend how big it was just from looking at it. My mind could not imagine just how deep it truly goes. But its beauty and its grandeur is unforgettable.
The canyon with its countless layers, stretches in front of you in hues of orange, red, brown, black, yellow, gray, green; a mix of this, a mix of that, and everything and anything in between. You can see in the very far distance a large amount of plateaus where they always seemed to be overshadowed by great giant rock statues, depthless cracks, great crevices, ravished ravines and of course, more plateaus. You look below you, below the great vertical walls that serves as a separation from the lover and the beauty they can only admire from a distance. Its a wall. and great big wall at that. But to many others it is also a call. A call for adventure and to seek. To explore the unknown. On that day, I answered the call.
The hiking starts where it always ends, the parking lot. Here I took to the Bright Angel trail and descended to its countless switchbacks perched on a near vertical wall of the canyon. It was in the dead of winter February at 6 am so I was left on my own and the upper elevations were still caked in ice and I opted to use my crampons. With my gear in tow and my lunch secure I worked my way down. Every step I did not want to take, as all I wanted to do was sit there and stare in awe of whats in front of me. But the hunger nudges me on. The grand canyon and its tall beings projected vast valleys of shadows deep within. The shadows dances in front of me as the sun rose from its quiet slumber. Every step I take I am taken closer. Every step I take in this lonely canyon echoes within the walls. The moment my shoe makes contact with the ground. Every stake I make with my hiking poles. All of the ice crunching beneath the weight of my thrill. As I dive deeper, the canyon enthralls me with a choir of solitude and a performance to show how little we truly all are.
Going down these walls I still reflect on this day as one of the most beautiful moments I have ever had in nature.
My beautiful, peaceful, life-filling, otherworldly, entrancing, unbelievable, and terrific start of my morning hike was interrupted abruptly by this sign you see here. At first, I took this sign as a warm welcome. A “Welcome to the Grand Canyon dear hiker!” on behalf of the park that takes care of this marvel. I took note of it, read it, understood it, and went on my merry way. I was on my way of getting my gait back before the interruption; the gait of a hiker that is brimming with energy. The instant coffee is hitting. The views are nice. The sounds are deafening in a great way. The company is lovely.
Then I see the exact same sign again disrupting my mojo. I gandered at it. Took a quick peak to make sure no additional useful information was given. Then I stomped my way ahead. This must be just the governing body of the National parks making sure every hiker is able to see the sign for everyone’s safety sake. Fair.
The sign is informative and covers the parks’ bases. The responsibility is mine and mine alone. The message is clear.
In a measly span of three switchbacks, no more than probably 5 minutes between the last one. I see the EXACT same sign. Protruding in the middle of the trail. Obscuring the view. Disrupting the show the Grand Canyon offers with this cartoon picture of a man vomiting his guts out for all to see. Needless to say, I hated this sign. I saw this sign another 3 times all the way to the bottom. A harsh reminder. A foreboding warning to hikers. To amateurs. To silly goosies and inexperienced daisies. The naive nancies.
“If you think you have the fitness and expertise to attempt this extremely strenuous hike, please seek advice….“
This was a challenge. A call to action. They are mocking me. I was grumpy Ill be honest. And I was naïve. And I was rash. And I was prideful. And I was keen for a challenge. And I was arrogant. And I was short sighted. And I was angry. And I was blinded. And I was stupid. But I was passionate. I was determined. I was passionate and determined to beat this challenge that has appeared before me. The idea could not be shaken from my mind. I was insulted. I was mocked. My very being needed to do this. The feeling I had been keeping at bay drowned me. Overwhelmed me. It drove me. It drove me to insanity. To go the insane lengths that this absolute horrific sign warned me EXACTLY not to do. I was gonna go take a dip in the Colorado River.
The first to go was my phone. At the halfway point of the first vertical wall I had been happily taking pictures and videos. I had took a recording of the ice crunching beneath my feet as it echoed within the walls of this small insignificant portion of the canyon. It was just the start. A scratch of the surface. By the time I got to the bottom of the first wall, my phone had died. Battery at 5%. I was absolutely surprised. I hadn’t taken it out or used it in the past 2 hours of my descent. My past experiences with hiking alone taught me that a cellphone could be a life saver and in the direst of times of need, a comfort. A comfort that you existed. All the pictures, the videos, the laughs, and the cries. I made one fatal mistake. I did not put it on airplane mode during my descent.
(1)Tip Hiking 101 – When going deep into the back country, whether it is deep in the mountains, deep in the jungle, deep in the whatever isolated out of the way from human civilization you’ve crawled into, do not forget to put your phone on airplane mode. As the phone is constantly looking for a signal and looking for a way to communicate with the outside world, it unfortunately simply drains its lifeforce. It does it without your knowledge or alerting you. It simply hums on doing what its made to do.
The next to go was my hatred. My spite of the sign. I no longer even thought of it. Something that fired me into action, that blew the embers of adventure within me into a raging storm; something that stoked my furious spirit in a great fire was now nothing but a distant memory not important enough to remember in my present undertaking of this heinous challenge. I was committed. The novelty of the Grand Canyon has worn off. Now I am nothing but a man tasked with one simple thing to do. Hungry to reach the bottom.
Travellers Pursuits 