Rest Day –
Whispering Spring Camp
Day 4 – Tuesday, May 10, 2016
When I get up on Day 4 I realize my legs feel a bit better in terms of overall soreness but are still painful and shaky. Quads, IT band, calves, back… Bruises, scrapes, stiff neck, bruised back, to say nothing of the need to take a shit at any and all hours. Four times yesterday I had to move my bowels. Cleanup is a mess and urination unsanitary (and smelly) as well. I’m grossing myself out.
Strange to suddenly be so attuned to my body: feeling or seeing every scratch, every bruise, every muscle, every discomfort, every blemish, every unsightly hair, the dirt under my fingernails. Hard to love this body that has met so many challenges and watch it struggle so hard to meet this one.
Stefan and Haley decide to do the 8-mile optional hike down to the Colorado River and back. I know I’m not up to the task, and Nancy, despite her deep love for the river, also decides to stay in camp. They take off, saying they will return mid-afternoon.
Nancy and I take advantage of the down time and wash our hair. We know we can’t get soap suds in the creek water so we get a big pot, fill it with water, and pour it over our heads while standing in the creek. Then we walk to shore, put some Castille soap on our heads, scrub like crazy, and rinse ourselves up on the beach. It’s impossible for me to describe how good it feels to be partly clean and have clean hair for the first time in 3 days. The simple pleasures stand out to me on this trip…and there haven’t been many.
The rest of the morning is all about trying to find a comfortable place to sit. At half past 12, the sun has been shining on the campsite for over 2 hours. I put on sunscreen and a long sleeved shirt. I don’t need to add sun poisoning to my list of woes. I pull my Thermarest out of the tent and sit on that with my back leaning against a rock but cushioned at butt and back. Aaahhh… I feel guilty using it against coarse rock as the fabric can be punctured, but decide to do it anyway since I need this comfort.
We lie in the shade of an overhang on this hot and mostly sunny rest day. The exhaustion in my legs is intense. I haven’t even done anything physical today except sit and walk maybe a total of a hundred yards.
After a “lunch” of more snacks, Nancy puts on her boots and hikes up toward the spring. I would have loved to go exploring but every step I take saps the precious energy I have garnered from this rest day. I’m not sleepy, even though I have my Thermarest spread out on the sand across the creek, under a ledge. The sun is brutal. I know I haven’t drunk enough today, but I’ve been pretty inactive so…
The beauty of the ancient stone rising above me on all sides is awe inspiring.
I am afraid that today’s healing time isn’t going to be enough to get me back to the rim. And I am running out of Tang. That causes anxiety. Drinking that flavored orange water is one of the simple pleasures on this trip. And having to pee four times in the night is a real drag: unzipping the tent right next to Nancy’s sleeping head, putting on my headlamp, then stumbling down the path to try and find a patch of earth to pee on.
Knowing the hard hiking that lies ahead of me is frightening. I’ve lost a lot of self-confidence on this trip. I can’t afford to think about not making it out. I HAVE to make it out or…
My hands start going numb from putting so much pressure on my trekking poles. Let’s hope it will be easier climbing up.
I miss my home, my job, my spouse and my dogs – as much as I am drawn to and astounded by the Grand Canyon, I love my home and my spouse and my dogs and my job even more. I wish I didn’t feel like all I want is to get the next three days over with and go home.
Can I do it? Can I get myself out of here? I just stepped down off a rock and my legs are still sore and wobbly. At least the next two days, while strenuous, don’t have more than 1,600 feet of elevation gain. The last day? 2,200 feet – shit – one step at a time.
A blessing: my pack will be lighter. Another blessing – and each step I take will take me closer to home.
The emotional and physical intensity of this experience has already started to erase some of my memories of the past couple of days. I remember broken bits. I have moments of remembering how I felt, but nothing that flows in time. On Day 3 I felt like I was truly close to bonking, not as badly as the woman doing the Ironman Triathlon who crawled across the finish line on legs that would no longer bear her weight. But I was closer to that state than I have ever been. I can’t believe how badly the past three days have trashed me. I wonder if our slow pace bothers Stefan. He is always way ahead, either with Haley or alone. Sometimes I lose sight of him and have to figure out the direction he has taken to cross the creek or walk on the side to bypass obstacles. I try to find my way by following the wet boot prints and streaks of red clay he and Haley left on the rocks. That keeps my mind occupied, helps me get through the pain.
Stefan and Haley arrive back in camp by 2:15 pm. Holy shit! Amazing! Eight hiking miles and an hour and a half sitting by the river watching the boats navigate the rapids and they are back by 2:15!
With their return we all sit in the sand and tell stories. Nancy is in rare form and has us rolling with laughter. Stefan looks comfortable and relaxed leaning against a rock. I am tired of being uncomfortable when I sit… Even sitting on my camp pillow doesn’t take away all of the discomfort. My legs still hurt and feel weak. Still I laugh and enjoy listening to their stories.
I’m scared about tomorrow’s 4-mile hike – back up Kanab Creek and over obstacles that require us to take off our packs to get beyond them. We are getting an early start tomorrow so we can rest more often than we did on the way down. Stefan is probably doing the early start for me since I bonked so badly on the way down. I’ll probably need it.
We hear a canyon tree frog doing its mating call. Lots of bats last night zooming around the darkening sky, scooping insects out of the air in mid-flight. And the stars – so beautiful and so many. I see the big dipper and then a different view every time I wake up.