Climbing out of the Canyon

I have a Life List. It's a checklist of the things I want to do before I die. I wrote it 20 years ago and the entries have been cairns marking the next adventure or meaningful opportunity along the trail of my life's journey. Some life dreams have been on the list since I first wrote it; like going to the Olympics. Others are more personal: passing my life story on to my children and enjoying my grandchildren (I don't have any yet!). Some things I've taken off the list because they are no longer important to me or no longer possible; like flying first class on the Concord and competing in agility with Rajah, my golden retriever (who is now 12 years old). I've checked off a lot: taking the kids to Niagara Falls, snorkeling Australia's Great Barrier Reef, seeing Old Faithful, cheering at the Rose Bowl Parade, and watching a shuttle go up. The list changes as I change and I add newfound adventures like climbing the 67 4,000 footers in New England, rafting the Futaleufu in Chile and climbing Kilimanjaro?!

So Life List Entry: Rim-to-Rim Hike of the Grand Canyon

Check it off baby! Completed with style and grace on June 19, 2007!

But is life really about a goal-oriented "To Do" list?

No matter what I do, there is someone who does it faster, better, backwards, in winter, on one foot (like the waiter on the last night of our trip who, when we triumphantly announced we'd completed a rim-to-rim, told us he'd done it the day before in 12 hours at night!). So the bragging rights to a Grand Canyon Rim-to-Rim hike aren't really worth much. And who likes to listen to a list of been there's and done that's?

So if a rim-to-rim Grand Canyon hike isn't about bragging rights, what is it about? For me, it's about the experience of being fully alive every second surrounded by the beauty of the Grand Canyon, dependent on my own strength to get me from the top to the bottom and back to the top again. And, beyond the experience, it is about how the experience changes me. It's about who I am today versus who I was before I walked my body and soul 42 miles through the most awesome place on earth. It's not about what I've done; it's about who I've become as a result.

Pat and I set up a few rules before leaving on our trip:

• No saying "I'm sorry."
• Live in the moment.
• No talking about work.

I was able to let work go - I had to or I would have spent the trip in crisis. Letting go of saying "I'm sorry" was tough, but I said fewer and fewer as the trip progressed. It is "living in the moment" that came as a surprise to me.

As Pat and I hike up the Clear Creek Trail on day four of our Grand Canyon adventure, being in the moment seems to manifest itself as a natural awareness of everything around me - the intense heat (120 degrees in the sun), the dry desert, rock cliffs and cactus, and the life-saving, albeit hot, breeze on my face. We are hiking up to the Tonto Plateau, a 1,500-foot elevation gain in 1.5 miles on our "rest day" at Phantom Ranch, the only facility at the bottom of the Canyon.

We're hiking with the "A Team" - Mark, our guide, Jenn, Chris, Pat and me. Bill, the owner of The World Outdoors and our other guide joins us. I am thrilled and surprised to be a member of the A Team, hiking together again after our climb down from the North Rim the day before. We have bonded as a team based on a similar hiking pace and our thrilled-to-be-here attitude. I love Jenn and Chris, parents of three young children, celebrating their 10th wedding anniversary, who have more PMA (Positive Mental Attitude) than most anyone on the planet. For them the glass is not half full - it's just plain full. How lucky their children are to have them as parents!

Being in the moment feels like I have only a screen door on my heart, so that any inner breeze opens my emotions up to the world of the Canyon. When we round a corner on the plateau and look down over the cliff and see the Colorado River with paddleboats beached way below us, I feel my rafting memories awaken, and I take a deep breath. I am flooded with the joy of that 17-day Colorado River rafting experience that changed my life just a year ago. Thankfully, it is so dry and hot that my tears evaporate before being noticed.

As Pat and I carefully make our way out to a rock precipice on the hillside for a photo opp, I feel my body tense, my heart quicken, aware of the risk, yet knowing we've traversed way more difficult spots in the White Mountains. Standing on top of the rock, arms extended in victory, I feel our friendship, my excitement at being there in the immense beauty and grandeur of the Canyon, and the sheer joy of sharing the experience with Pat.

Descending the Clear Creek Trail on our way back to Phantom Ranch, I am amazed how far we have come. I marvel at the lizards, the flowers, the rocks, the dusty, easy-to-follow-trail, my team, my friend Pat and me. Every breath I take opens up a new moment of sensing my immense surroundings and the wonder that I am in the midst of it all.

For me "living in the moment" is clearer when I consider what I'm not thinking about. I am not worried about whether I will make it out of the Canyon on our 9-mile trek the following day. I am not thinking about going home and the "To Do" list that awaits me. I am not kicking myself for getting blisters. And I am not berating myself for weighing more than I want to or that the sun is making my hair redder by the minute. I am free to just be.

I expected living in the moment to be a trying, difficult, almost impossible effort. It isn't. Maybe it is the magic of the Canyon coupled with the physical activity of hiking that makes it easier, but reveling in each second spent in the Canyon is a gift that seems to come naturally.

Lowering my bare feet into the cold creek after the hike is bliss.

I've always thought I had a low threshold of pain. I consider myself a wimp. So when I developed blisters on our 15-mile trek into the Canyon from the North Rim to Phantom Ranch, I knew I was in serious trouble. Actually - that's a lie. I didn't really let the blisters take over my experience. I was aware they were there. They hurt. No doubt about that. I had two pretty big blisters, on the back and side of each heel.

So, the morning of our hike out of the Canyon, Pat puts on the moleskin she cut the night before on my blisters and then Mark wraps my feet with athletic tape and I put on my boots. Wowsers, that hurt! "Holy SHIT! I have a 9.3-mile uphill climb to the rim. Oh my God - how am I going to do this?"

After a pretty hefty Phantom Ranch breakfast at 5 a.m. in the freezing air-conditioned canteen sitting in the most uncomfortable chairs ever made for short people, we assemble at the picnic tables, everyone doing their last minute stuff. The A Team is ready to go but we are waiting for Mark who is helping others with blister wraps. As the minutes stretch, my frustration level rises. Jenn walks over to Mark and gently encourages him to pack up his first-aid kit, hands him his hat and says, "Let's go." We are off at 5:46 a.m.

The first few steps hurt the most. I am walking toes to heel instead of heel to toe like normal. This helps me avoid putting pressure on my heels but slows me down a bit. As we hike across the Silver Bridge over the Colorado River and along the River Trail, I am aware of the pain every step I take. Then, as if by magic, as each moment of beauty unwraps itself before me, I let the blisters go. I can see rapids on the river below us and wonder which rapid it is and try to picture Don and me paddling ferociously through it. The 1,000-foot vertical walls of the inner gorge on either side of me are incredibly beautiful on this hot, cloudless, blue-sky day. In the taking in of the sights, there is just no room for the pain.

A very democratic group, we take turns leading, setting the pace for the A Team. Once we reach Pipe Creek and the Bright Angel Trail starts to climb, we cheer. "All for one and one for all - up, up and away!" and we lift our arms in excitement and anticipation of what lies ahead. We hike through the switchbacks up the Devil's Corkscrew, wetting our bandannas and hats and putting them on our heads to keep cool. We arrive at Indian Garden at 8:16 a.m., a halfway point in distance, but only a third of the way up in elevation, and sit at a picnic table for a snack. The cottonwood trees provide welcome shade from the blistering heat for our rest period. There is drinking water and toilets available; very civilized compared to the White Mountains! A 20-minute break and we are on the trail again. Mark stays back to help others in the group with blister wraps, promising he will catch up. We have no doubt about that. Mark is a 25-year-old quiet, soft-spoken, confident and knowledgeable young man with an easy-going manner that leads the A Team to easily like and trust him. Although he is our guide, he feels more like a member of the team and we miss him as we ascend the canyon walls toward the rim.

Still no blister pain - or at least I'm not thinking about it. The steep really starts just outside of Indian Garden and continues to increase. We climb up the tight switchbacks of Jacob's Ladder through the red wall. The higher we climb, the more amazing and expansive the views. We pass lots of hikers and quite a few mule trains along the way, keeping up a fast pace given the heat and the incline. We meet Tony, a 12-year-old-boy whose pack is almost as big as he is. He likes our pace and we like his attitude and politeness and he walks with us quite a ways before staying back to wait for his family.

We reach the 3-mile-water-house at 10:20 a.m. and are surprised that it is so early. With only 3 miles to go, Jenn sets the goal - lunch on the rim. And when Jenn sets a goal, watch out because nothing is going to stop us from achieving it! I am vaguely aware my feet are hurting, but I am in good spirits, enjoying the climb, the company and the climate. Mark catches up to us and it is great to have him back with the team. We want to summit together.

Another mile under our belts and my left foot starts to bother me. I finally give in to the pain and take my boot off to check the status. I have another blister between my big toe and the toe next to it. Pat puts a bandage on it and we continue on. Chris is leading the team. Now, folks, Jenn, Chris and Pat are tall; I am short. Their legs are long; mine are short. So to keep up I am pushing myself. And, by this time my feet are pretty cooked. At the 1.5 miles-to-go water faucet, I dunk my entire head under the faucet as I admit to myself that my feet are toast! Or as Mark says, "My dogs are barking!" But there is no doubt in my mind that I can do the remaining mile and a half to the rim. Amazingly enough, I stay in the moment and do not get swept up in the anticipation of what is coming. I put my head down, sucking wind in a steady rhythm, and push each aching foot in front of the other...closer and closer to the rim.

Soon we start to see tourists. Ladies in nylons and flats, green capris and pink shirts, children in strollers, men in jeans holding a single water bottle, teens in spaghetti straps, midriffs showing and NO water. They are all people from the South Rim taking a short walk down into the Canyon to check it out.

OK - now, if you are taking a jaunt down into the Grand Canyon and you see five bedraggled hikers coming at you at a relatively fast pace, sweating profusely, breathing hard, with big backpacks on their backs - wouldn't you move over and give them room on the trail to keep moving? These people don't! They kept walking down the center of the trail! There is nothing for us to do but plow our way up the Canyon.

We reach the rim at 11:50 a.m. and erupt in celebration - high-fives, hugs, smiles, tears, overcome with emotion and excitement. We are screaming "rim to rim" as we clap and hug each other. We did it and every tourist who happens to be there knows it. We celebrate with abandon, proud of each other and ourselves. "Rim to Rim baby! We did it! In 6 hours! Yay us!"

We find a shaded area and sit down to eat lunch. I take of my boots ever so gently and after the pain of removing them, I feel the sweet cool sensation of air going through my toes. There is a dirt line on my ankles where my socks ended, the tape around my feet is dirty and rolled in places. Sitting immediately lessons the blister pain, removing the boots makes my feet feel alive, and food going down into my belly is just what I need. Later Pat helps me cut the tape off my feet. The skin on my heels is so dry some of my skin comes off with the tape. One blister popped; the other has grown with fluid and is pretty impressive. And I have two new blisters between my big toes and the toes next to them.

But you know what? It doesn't matter. I made it to the rim with my feet blistered and not only did it not ruin my hike, or slow me down, I learned that I can tolerate more than I ever imagined. I wasn't mad I had them, or disappointed, I just let them be and somehow we learned to co-exist. Who knew?

Here is my greatest most treasured and poignant learning. And it's not a totally new learning for me, but is clearer and more profound this day than ever before in my life. I learn that the greatest joy in my being is helping others see their greatness by celebrating them, and in so doing I celebrate myself.

When we arrive at the rim we have a choice. Mark urges us to continue on to the El Tovar, our hotel for the night, which is just a mere .3 miles further, and he will buy us a cold drink. A cold drink...oh my God! We have been drinking hot water all day, our water bottles warmed by the sun. A cold drink would feel so unbelievably, extraordinarily good. But the choice is clear and incredibly easy for me. I want to wait for the rest of the group to make it to the rim so I can celebrate with them.

Jenn and Chris leave, feeling a bit antsy. They return a half hour later saying our rooms would not be ready until 2 p.m. and they want to greet the rest of the group with us. We are so glad they returned.

We wait hours in the hot sun. Our anticipation is palpable. Waiting doesn't feel hard or hot or agonizing. I only feel the excitement of the celebration to come. After an hour and a half, way below us on one of the switchbacks, we spot Lisa, Buzz and Ann. Ann and Buzz are a beautiful couple from Wisconsin, both teachers, clearly in love, and welcoming and kind to everyone in the group. Ann has the best legs in the group - very buff and fit. Buzz has had major surgery on his knees and we are all hoping the hike was not too painful. Lisa, a courageous passionate very young woman, is celebrating 10 years remission from cancer. When you know the people, the moment of victory becomes even more meaningful. We yell down to them and they turn and wave in triumph. We wait to see them on the last switchback leading to the rim. When we see them, Pat, Jenn, Chris and I start to cheer - loudly - with gusto and feeling and all the passion and excitement a successful rim-to-rim hike generates.

We keep screaming until they reach our outstretched hands for a high-five as they summit the rim. Tears in their eyes, hugs, euphoria, relief, pride, amazement, joy. What an incredible moment for all of us to share in that celebration.

Like the Pied Piper, the celebration crew grows to seven and we wait for the next members of our group. It is about a half an hour before we see Mary and Tom, a couple in their 60s who were kind, gentle and wore their hearts on their sleeves. Mary had had a very painful time getting down into the Canyon because of her knee. She has a beautiful smile on her face as she reaches the rim. Tom's smile and sparkle in his eyes, constant throughout the trip, turns to emotion. Amid our cheers and high fives, their eyes fill with tears as they hike past us onto the rim. They are touched by our welcome. We are touched by their tears. And the cheering squad grows.

Next comes Bonnie, who when she recognizes the cheers are for her, RUNS up the last switchback onto the rim, high-fiving each of us as she jogs past. She is overwhelmed and surprised that the cheers are for her. We are surprised and touched by her energy in return for ours.

The cheering crew reaches 10 and, as we grow, we get louder and more excited waiting for the next member to arrive. We greet Tracee, a strong, valiant single mother of three boys and powerful role model for others, with a standing ovation that brought a beautiful smile to her face and eyes. She had been dealing with huge painful blisters the entire hike up and the relief and joy on her face says it all.

And last comes Brenda, a hero for making it given her boots fell apart on the hike into the Canyon. She reaches the rim with one boot duct-taped together on one foot and Bill's size 13 water sandal and three socks on the other. Bill, our guide, is right behind her, encouraging her the whole way as she raises her arms in victory. The rousing cheer for the final members of our group is exhilarating, momentous, passionate and emotional.

I cry each time we cheer someone to the rim. Each time my chest fills with emotions and my throat clogs with feeling. And in that cheering for them, I also find a love for myself and what I have accomplished that fills me with joy.

Bill couldn't believe we waited over three hours for everyone to arrive. I'm so glad we didn't even consider doing anything else. To me it was a no-brainer. I would do it all again in a heartbeat. It was the highlight of the trip for me.

The cheering changes me, and maybe everyone else forever.

Pat and I hang back on our last day hike; a flat 4-mile hike along the South Rim starting at The Abyss and passing Mohave and Hopi Points winding our way back to the El Tovar Hotel with spectacular views of the canyon the entire length of the trail.

We don't talk much - it seems the silence and slower pace allows me to connect with the Canyon in a more deep and personal way. I am getting ready to say goodbye.

The Grand Canyon gives me perspective. I am insignificant compared to this massive Canyon formed over a billion years. The Canyon is a sacred place for me and when I am there I access a sacred part of myself that is as quiet and grand and deep as the Canyon. The Grand Canyon makes me feel how small and how big I am - all at the same time.

After the hike, we enjoy a picnic lunch with the group and then load ourselves back in the van for the 2.5-hour drive back to Flagstaff. Tears stream down my cheeks as we drive away from the Canyon and our experience. I am alive with an aching heart. It is hard to hide that much emotion sitting in the middle of the middle seat surrounded by all these people I had come to appreciate as they chat about their upcoming trips home. Pat sees my struggle; she is feeling the same way.

I am so grateful for the rim-to-rim experience, for the immense joy I felt being among that incredible expanse of beauty, for the camaraderie of the A Team and the privilege of hiking with such a great group of people. I am thankful for my friendship with Pat that continues to grow and flourish. That we did this together is a true gift. I am amazed at my ability to live in the moment and put pain aside for something greater. But most of all, I am so incredibly blessed by our celebration at the rim. It reminded me who I am at my very core.