Sunday, May 7, 2016 - Day 2
Day 2
Mountain Sheep Spring Camp to Shower Bath Camp
9 miles
Elevation loss: 1,200

Today we walked through Jump-Up Canyon to the confluence of Kanab Creek and its host canyon. Since it was going to be a very long day, Stefan wanted us up and ready to go by 8 AM. My sleep had been spotty and interrupted by periods of waking (and peeing) through the night, so I was not rested as I began packing up on Day 2. I could feel that my leg muscles - especially quads and calves - were going to blossom into full out pain from the descent we struggled through yesterday. As usual I was lulled into a false state of hope because my legs felt relatively ok when I first woke up. It was later in the day that the real muscle pain set in.

A couple of packets of organic instant oatmeal with cran-raisens and walnuts for breakfast. Instant organic coffee with raw sugar and powdered creamer. It was hot, and that was good, but it tasted…well, it didn't taste like the coffee I make at home. Since it was our first time packing up camp, it took us a while to figure out the best way to repack our monster backpacks. But we made it in time to meet our 8 AM deadline.

Off we went. There was no trail to speak of. We walked on gravel, around boulders, over rocks, even over packed and loose sand. We started out with a bang - a wade through Kanab Creek with water up to my armpits. Nice way to start the day - soaking wet and worried about the stuff in our packs getting wet, especially our sleeping bags. We walked as close to the creek as we could, although we often strayed to one side or another in order to by-pass impassable boulders. Our feet stayed wet all day. The first few miles were long, and as I brought up the rear, I stopped to take a few pictures. It was unreal to be walking through this ancient place, with rock layers having names that I could not remember, only knowing that they were millions of years old. But the hiking pace, in order to get to Shower Bath Camp at a reasonable hour, precluded stopping and looking, seeing and feeling. I usually snapped a quick picture and spent the next few minutes catching up to Nancy.

The elevation loss was much less than we did on Day 1 so that helped, but I was walking on legs that had already gone passed their point of no return in terms of being sore and feeling weak. I kept on and foolishly, pridefully agreed that we should walk another ten-fifteen minutes when Stefan stopped to let us know we had been walking for an hour. I was always tired and ready for a break on the hour, but Stefan used his tone and inflection to make it clear that he would like to keep pressing on for a while longer. And I always said yes. Who was I trying to impress? Me? I wasn't impressed. I just felt stupid.

A 61 year old woman who can't admit she's tired...foolish.

By the time we did stop for a break, I was really tired, legs stiff and muscle soreness beyond making its presence felt. It felt good to take the pack off - that's for sure. Our breaks lasted between 15 - 30 minutes, usually somewhere out of the direct sun, where we ate snacks to keep our energy from drifting away. We stopped at a spring where water oozed from the rock and dripped down into the creek. An overhanging garden with red flowers adorned the cliff where the water oozed. I was too tired to stand in water up to mid-thigh and hold a water bottle under the drips, but Stefan did. I sat and tried to recover.

The canyon walls, once we had turned left down Kanab Creek Canyon, became more and more narrow. I could see and feel how a flash flood up creek would come through this narrow slot with devastating ferocity. We would probably hear the roar of rock and crashing muddy water before being lifted away and pummeled until our lives were taken from us. A morbid thought, but Stefan did take the time to use the satellite phone to contact someone in the office to make sure there was no severe weather up canyon that might cause a flash flood. We were good to go so we kept walking.

As we moved further down the canyon, the sides of the canyon wall turned into a layer of soft, grey stone, as smooth and soft as talcum powder. At one point Stefan reached out both of this trekking poles and was able to touch both sides of the canyon - it was that narrow. Very cool. We walked under a mammoth overhang where the water of past floods had dug a curve as the water surged through the narrow canyon. It was like a huge amphitheater, our voices and footsteps echoing as we walked under it. I can't even guess how high the curved area was but we were able to walk on hard sand which was a relief after miles of boulders.

My energy began to really wane toward the 6th or 7th mile, and I had to work hard internally to remain positive. I could so easily have wallowed in feeling sorry for myself, feeling how sore and tired my legs were, how cramped and uncomfortable my shoulders and neck were from the pack, but knew that going down that rabbit hole only led to despair. Nancy and I encouraged each other when our energy flagged. I am so glad she was there, despite the fact that we weren't able to stop and listen, see and feel this incredible place around us. Her constant, unflagging support helped me pull myself toward a positive mental attitude.

The last mile and a half was miserable... Exhausted, sore, wet and so ready to stop moving and sit down on something comfortable, I could hardly stand it. Finally we moved away from the creek and up a barely visible trail that led us to a camping area surrounded by small trees, long grass, and lavender colored flowers waving in the grass. It was a beautiful spot and the breeze combined with the last warmth of the sun felt fantastic.

Nancy and I picked our tent spot and set up. Then took off soaked clothing and hung it all over tree branches to dry. Nancy's sleeping bag was pretty wet from the dunking it took when we waded through the deepest part of the creek. She draped it over the tent to get the most out of the evening breeze to dry it. It felt so good to change into clean clothes and only have a minimum of tasks to complete before being able to sit and rest.

Sitting on rocks, no matter how flat or smooth, is not comfortable for me. I can sit for maybe half an hour before my butt starts to complain…and when it reaches that point it never shuts up. Even using my camp pillow as a cushion didn't shut up the whining. It was only when Stefan told us that our dinner of chicken fajitas with red and yellow peppers and onions was ready that I was able to think of something else for a while. Yum!

As we ate, Stefan talked about the three types of fun:

• The kind of fun you have in the moment. Playing games, telling stories, laughing with friends.
• Stuff that's considered fun after the fact - like a difficult hike
• Experiences that were awful, but turned humorous with time

It was a struggle to imagine that at some point in the future I would look back on this experience and call it fun. But stranger things have happened. I know how my mind and memory immediately begins to forget about a difficult or painful experience. I never hold onto an extremely emotional or physical experience for long - must be my way of maintaining sanity and preserving my emotions in such a way that I am able to get up the next day and continue to hike with sore muscles and a heavy pack. I only felt desperately miserable in the actual moment - as soon as I took off my pack, sat down, took a break, I started to filter out the memories of the hike and concentrate on how truly sore I was, how exhausted.

I liked Shower Bath Camp, but was too tired to hike down to the spring. Stefan hauled a lot of water on this trip, carrying a six-liter bag back and forth for cooking and hiking water. The three of us were too tired to move.

Still the four of us talked and laughed, told stories, hedged around the truth of how we were feeling, and enjoyed the post-dinner hot drink as the sky became a deeper and deeper blue and stars began to peak out from the night sky. I could see bats swerving in the air above us, on the hunt for insects. The night was never silent - there was always the sound of insects or water or wind through the trees or bird calls. Once we crawled into the tent and laid down, Nancy and I talked some more, and yes, we laughed and made fun of our situation. There was no crying or gnashing of teeth. And it felt good to be able to really tell someone how I felt. Nancy listened and shared how she felt. I felt heard.

I have always perceived myself as a strong person, physically and mentally, but this adventure, embarked upon in my 61st year, was a real comeuppance for me. I am not as strong anymore, not as able to physically do what I was able to do at age 50, no matter how hard I tried. The strength simply wasn't there. There was will but there was absolutely no way. I sat with that knowledge about myself, knowing its truth, admitting it to myself and to Nancy, and trying to figure out who I was if I was not the strong, athletic woman I always considered myself to be. It was like the age door had slammed closed on my fingers. I could not deny the deep, painful throbbing or make it go away.

For the rest of the trip I had to deal with not being able to do something physically, of having to accept help, a hand, a boost, and I have never been good at asking for and receiving help.

Day 3