It looked like this past weekend was going to be pretty sedentary, but at the last minute I got invited to join a group of people who were hiking to Humphrey’s Peak on Saturday and down to Plateau Point in the Grand Canyon on Sunday. I decided to do some last minute packing, since that’s how I pack anyway, and join them. As it turns out, there were a couple of other people in the group that I knew besides the one who invited me. Small world.
We camped in the lower parking lot at Snowbowl Friday night and got up early the next morning to finish the hike before the “monsoon” storms rolled in. We made it to the top of Humphrey’s at 12,633 ft in good time, just as the clouds were beginning to roll in. I was surprised to see them that early since it was only about 10:00AM. As we were all hanging around the peak, resting, eating, etc. I made the comment that we were “the highest people in Arizona, next to Stevie Nicks.” This analogy is somewhat outdated, I know. One kid, a 22 year-old, who fits the stereotype of “new-grad-engineer-who-thinks-he’s-hot-shit-and-better-than-everyone-else-because-he-just-graduated-college-and-got-an-engineering-job,” made the the comment that he doesn’t “even know who Stevie Nicks is.” Can you believe that? I replied that she used to sing for Fleetwood Mac before doing the solo thing for a while, although he probably doesn’t know who Fleetwood Mac is either, now that I think about it. After enjoying a not-so-spectacular-view-because-there-were-too-many-clouds, we started down just in time to catch just a few sprinkles of rain. The trail got sunnier as we progressed downward, though. When we got back to the car we had: one guy (the new-grad kid) with a migraine headache (probably altitude sickness), one guy with a stress-fracture(?), cramp(?), something wrong with his foot, and a third guy who was sick. The worst thing I experienced was a nasty sunburn resulting from the fact that I’m a pasty-white boy who was too stupid to put on sunscreen that morning.
The survivors proceeded to the Grand Canyon. We camped out that night at Mather Campground. It rained like hell. I quickly learned that it would be a very good idea to apply sealant to the seams of my rain fly before my next camping trip. I made it through the night relatively dry, however (can’t say the same for the rest of the things in my tent) and bounded out of my sleeping bag with unbridled enthusiasm in anticipation of the hike into the canyon. OK, so it wasn’t quite like that. Anyway, I eventually managed to get up and prepare for the hike, remembering to put on my sunscreen this time. After we were ready, we drove to the trailhead and started down. About 1 mile into the hike, I realized that I had overhydrated. This isn’t a major problem if there are some trees to hop behind, but there’s nowhere to hide in the canyon. After about 15 minutes of thinking that I would just have to suffer until I got to Indian Gardens 4.5 miles from the trailhead (or die trying), I saw the 1.5 Mile station, which, thank God, has restroom facilities. Eventually we made it to Indian Gardens where we rested and ate. I had lasagna. No, actually it was a peanut butter sandwich on a bagel. Next we continued another 1.5 miles to Plateau Point, where we enjoyed a spectacular view of the Colorado River and a bottom-up view of the canyon. After "ooh"ing and "ahh"ing for a while, we hiked back to the Indian Gardens and waited for rest of the trail to disappear in the shade. After deciding that it was going to take too damn long for this to happen, we embarked on our trek out of the canyon. If the 1.5 Mile and 3 Mile rest stations hadn’t been there, I would have more seriously considered waiting until later. I stopped and rested in the shade at both of them.
Once we got to the top, we said our good-byes and headed home. As usual, for at least the past five years anyway, I had to take a detour at I-17 and Northern Ave. because of road construction. Five years?? Is ADOT spanking its collective monkey, or what?? Five years – JEE-zus. While detouring, I noticed a horse trailer in front of me that said “Hole in One Ranch/Miniature Horses/Gilbert, AZ.” After I read it, I couldn’t help but think, if they raise miniature horses, then why do they have a full-sized horse trailer? Anyway, I got through the traffic and made it home in one piece. I unpacked everything from the truck like a good boy and proceeded to take a shower, during which I washed my hair three times. I’m a little sore today, but not too bad. I had a great time and made some new friends while I was at it.
I’ve noticed that I mention Gilbert, AZ enough to where it sounds like there’s actually something significant here. There isn’t, though – just me, the crappy water, the UFOs, and the miniature horses.
Wow, that got long.
For outstanding performance in an outdoor activity, I hereby award you a coon-skin cap.