Whispering Springs
to Shower Bath Camp
Day 5 – Wednesday, May 11, 2016
8:30 am – 3:30 pm
4 miles
Elevation Gain: 400 feet
During the night I wake up because I hear what sounds like a little girl saying, “Help me…” over and over, very softly. It’s Nancy and she’s dreaming. I don’t want to startle her so I put my hand on her hip and gently rock her until she quiets. An eerie, intense moment – a little child scared and crying for help.
This morning we have pancakes for breakfast and plan to head out between 8:00 am and 8:30 am. I am relieved to feel that my legs are feeling better. The muscle soreness is not screaming quite so loudly, but my right knee is stiff and sore.
Nancy and I are ready first so we start up Kanab Creek ahead of Stefan and Haley. Immediately I begin feeling the stiffness in my right knee, but my energy is good and my legs are holding their own. I am relieved not to have that debilitating muscle pain I experience the last two days. I try to ignore all discomfort and not let it seep into my good mood.
When Stefan and Haley catch up to us I become aware that I have let my slow pace and the stiffness in my knee seep in. I start feeling down, and fall farther and farther behind. I tell Nancy that I am feeling pretty badly, that my knee is bothering me, and I’m feeling lonely and not doing well dealing with it. She encourages me, listens to me, sees me. She also suggests I tell Stefan about my knee and ask him if he has an ace bandage. The extra support might help. At our next break, I ask for the bandage but don’t tell him what it’s for. I’m so clumsy trying to wrap my knee that Nancy takes over.
Now here’s the strange part – when I get up and start walking again I actually feel better! Suddenly I’m able to keep up with Nancy. That feels so good.
The obstacles going upstream are as challenging as they were when we hiked downstream on Day 3. Feeling like I want to redeem myself after such a poor hiking performance the past 4 days, I try to get over and across the first couple of obstacles by myself, without help from Stefan. I’m able to cross both of them, mostly on my own – ungainly and not at all pretty, but I get over them. When we reach the third one, I realize that I’m exhausted, that maybe I have used up my energy reserve trying to do these obstacles on my own and now have little left for the rest of the hike. With help from Stefan, I finally roll my body over the top of the rock and onto a large boulder that’s slightly slanted. I still have my pack on and I ‘m sitting with my knees bunched up in front of me, feet on the rock and try to get up. Nothing doing; I can’t stand up. I try squatting, but my quads won’t lift me to a standing position, not with the extra weight of my pack. Stefan offers me a hand, but I still can’t stand. I concentrate on making my leg muscles work but nothing is firing. Finally I got to my hands and knees and back my way up to a standing position.
In hindsight, I could have saved some energy by accepting Stefan’s help at the first obstacle, but I choose to be hard headed and do it alone. I choose to try and conquer them on my own. I have always wanted to accomplish physical things by myself. But today, trying to do them alone trashes me in a big way.
It’s very difficult to express how startled and all out bad I feel finding myself unable to accomplish a physical feat. Who am I if I no longer can climb or pull myself up? I think for the first time I finally let it in that I am aging and my strength is not what it was when I was 20 or 30 or even 50. A hard moment as I stand on that boulder, leaning on my trekking poles looking at my boots.
I am simply not as strong as I was ten years ago, even five years ago, and I need to find other ways besides my physical strength to feel my self-worth. I need to know my limits and I need to learn how to accept help gracefully.
On the bright side, the day is sunny and warm. The creek is cool and we spend a lot of time wading through different depths of water, at times moving slowly over slick, algae covered rocks and then through clear, cold water. As we hike, I see so much around me that’s ancient. It’s like walking through the bowels of the earth. So much history, so cruel and unforgiving, so beautiful, the creek bed spattered with small delicate wildflowers growing up between the rocks. How do they survive the heat and flash floods? One version destroyed and a new one grows in its place.
Close to the end of the hike, when Stefan and Haley are ahead and out of sight, I step onto a slight gravel-covered incline and the rocks give out from under me. I go down – hard – bruising my left hand and buttock. I yell from the pain – it’s sudden, sharp and unforgiving. It takes my breath away. By the time Stefan shows up with the first aid kit, I’m standing up and tell him I’m okay. Nothing to be done about it except keep walking. Five minutes later I can walk without feeling that initial sharp pain. My butt is numb now.
On and on and on we walk, arriving at Shower Bath Camp at 3:30 pm. Getting to camp is a huge relief but Nancy’s sleeping bag that has been wrapped in a plastic bag Stefan had found on the trail is wet again. The bag has a hole in it.
Shower Bath really is a beautiful spot, but having nothing comfortable to sit on distresses me. Now, after my fall, my rear end is doubly sensitive. Tomorrow will be a very long 9-mile day. I really need to get a decent night’s sleep tonight.
When we arrive at camp and have our tent set up, we’re talking and Nancy tells me that this morning, before leaving Whispering Spring Camp, she was feeling very emotional about the dream she had had. I remember rubbing her back and thanking her for sharing her feelings – tears…
But five minutes later, according to Nancy, I blurted out, “I’m ready, if you’re ready.” Nancy was still deep in an emotional space with her dream and she said she was hurt that I was so insensitive. She also said that she and I are so different – she had forgotten how different. I like to be alone more than she does. She said she was hurt when she went for her walk up to Whispering Spring yesterday and I chose not to go with her. I knew it would be a bad idea to do any kind of walking that required putting on my boots. I needed rest, time for my quads to heal. I was not rude or mean when I said no – just honest. Still, I understand her sadness.
I accept her words and realize I have been so preoccupied with myself, my anxiety, my lack of confidence: Am I going to make it out of the canyon, are my legs going to get me through this tough 4-mile day? I look at her sadly and apologize. I had not meant to be insensitive.
For dinner we have a Mexican-flavored rice, beans, and green chili stew that is delicious, but it comes back to haunt us in the middle of the night and early the next morning. Frustrating after I have finally gotten my bowels back in order. As a result, I have another hard and restless night.
I wish for a breeze. Every muscle hurts – back, neck, shoulders, triceps, wrists, feet, legs, knees and toes. It feels so good to be lying down in the tent, off my feet and off my butt.