Shower Bath Camp
to Whispering Spring Camp
Day 3 – Monday, May 9, 2016
9:30 am – 5:15 pm
4 miles
Elevation Loss: 1,200
At breakfast we discuss whether to stay and spend our rest day at Shower Bath Camp instead of hiking down to Whispering Spring Camp. But it won’t really be a rest day because we will hike the 4 miles down to Whispering Spring Camp and 4 miles back using day packs. I can tell by the look on her face that Haley wants to press on. Nancy tells me Haley really wants to keep going and Nancy says she feels like she’s able to do it. I feel ambivalent and embarrassed – I’m still very sore and tired, but am feeling a bit better. The idea of doing an 8 mile hike with lighter packs today versus 4 miles with a heavy pack isn’t appealing. I feel like I have the strength to do 4 hard miles, but not 8 hard miles with a lighter pack. I say I think I can do the 4 mile hike.
For the first mile I enjoy walking through water from mid-boot to mid-chest and scrambling over boulders. My legs are sore but I feel like I have enough energy and motivation to maintain a decent pace. Then WHAM, during the second mile, I start to crash. My legs give out and the muscle pain and weakness tears me apart. Nancy encourages me the best she can. I have not felt this tired in many years and the mental stamina needed to keep myself from falling into an emotional space that can result in complete surrender feels more than I can summon on this day. Not only do I have to make my body continue to hike, I have to force my mind to somehow feel positive about where I am, how I feel, how I interact with people, and what I am doing. An onerous task.
I stay with it. Each time I think I can go no farther, I find a way to push a little harder against my body and my heart. Nancy sees my distress, and talks to me, encourages me, tells me I can do it, that I am doing it. What a blessing to have Nancy with me, someone who has seen me at my lowest ebb and never stopped loving me.
We’re doing about a mile an hour pace, including breaks, according to Stefan. We try to break after an hour and 15 minutes to get the most out of the time and distance. Nancy is wicked tired and I am relieved when I get a second wind so I can support her for a while.
It rains pretty heavily (though briefly) during the hike and I did not put on my rain jacket at our last break spot, so I get soaked. I have to push hard to stay warm. An hour or two later, my clothes are dry and on we slog. And on and on…
I fall several times today. As tired as I am and despite using trekking poles, I sometimes lose the constant focus needed to be aware of where I put my boots. Once I lose my balance, fall and zing the inside of my wrist. A little blood, tingling nerve pain, but no harm. I fall again while we are scrambling over an obstacle. I’m waiting for Haley to find her way through the rock maze and I lose patience with standing there waiting so I move my foot closer to the rock she’s standing on and in a split second my boot slips and I falls heavily into the water, putting out my arms at the last second to prevent myself from doing a face-plant on a big rock rising out of the water next to me. I’m lucky: no bruises, no lacerations and no contusions, but the suddenness of the fall scares me and the adrenaline rush is intense. The resulting shivers and weakness as it fades leaves me even more exhausted. It’s hard to feel good about the weak and painful state of my body, and I continue to struggle to keep up with Nancy. In order to keep a bit of an eye on me, Nancy asks me to hike in front of her. I use all the positive mental attitude I can muster to stay focused and keep moving.
Maybe hiking last and having to wait for Haley and Nancy to cross each obstacle, anticipating how I’m going to cross the obstacle – the trepidation I feel when I sit down on a boulder the size of a house and scoot my way to the edge – the pain in my quads screaming as I lower my pack-heavy body to a sitting position – is simply too much. The very act of sitting down takes a while and I need Stefan’s help on every obstacle after the first 2 – 3 hours of hiking. I can no longer get over the obstacles using my own strength.
We arrive at the Whispering Spring Camp around 5:15 pm and see a couple of backpacks sitting on a rock in the middle of the camp site. Stefan looks for a note, but when he doesn’t find one or see any evidence that the owners are planning on spending the night there, he tells us to set up camp. When they return, if they’re staying, there are other comfortable places to camp nearby that they can use. Nancy really doesn’t like that and I have trouble with his casual disdain. I keep imagining how I would feel after a long day, getting back to “camp” and finding four people have taken over the spot. When the young couple finally return, they are polite and generous, say they will find another place, and speak to Stefan – when they find out he’s a guide – about water and camping sources in the surrounding slot canyons and in Kanab Creek. Eventually they take their packs and set up camp close to us but out of sight, hidden by some low trees and scrub.
Our camp site is on a beach, next to a loud waterfall that fills the air with sound. Straight ahead from camp, there’s a slot canyon where, ½ a mile up, is Whispering Spring, our source for clean water. To hike a mile for water is more than I can do, more than any of us, except Stefan, can do. While he goes for water, we set up our tents, change into dry clothes, hang out all the wet stuff and sit, waiting for him to get back to start dinner. We’re hungry and tired of eating “snacks”. We want real food.
Dinner, as I recall, is a chicken and rice stew…must have had freeze-dried veggies or beans in it; I can’t remember. I do know it tastes great and I go back for seconds. We sit together and talk about this and that while we drink our hot drink and the blue of the sky gradually turns a deeper shade of purple, then finally to the black of night. By headlamp we brush our teeth, use the facilities (not), and crawl into our tents to finally, finally lie down. I spew a huge sigh of relief when I finally am able to let go of the tension I have held all day – the stress of hiking, sitting on rocks while eating, and of course the emotional struggle I experience this day. Lying down and talking softly with Nancy is bliss.
We don’t slept well on this trip and tonight is no different. Although I’m able to fall asleep quickly this night, I am gradually awakened when I feel a mist of water droplets falling intermittently on my face. It’s raining! Not hard but enough and we don’t know if it will rain for 10 minutes or two hours. Nancy gets up, and without using her headlamp, gets the tent fly out of her pack and starts putting it over the tent. In the darkness she’s stubbing her toes on rocks, stepping on things, cursing quietly, and fighting the breeze that has come up. I turn on my headlamp and shine it through the mesh screen to give her some light. It’s almost funny – as soon as she puts one side over the tent, the other side blows off. Nancy is cranky, and decides to hold it down with rocks. That seems to work for a while. But when a corner blows up, I get up and clip the fly onto the support poles. I have to pee anyway. The rain stops maybe 10 minutes later. All that effort…