Monday, October 1, 2018

Strength Within Pain: Finding Aloha in H2H

4:30 pm, day 3.  "We need to talk."  I make my way down from another one of many false summits on top of Mt. Humphrey.  Hiking with 2 others, we had made it to what we thought was the summit, only to realize we had at least another 3/4 mile and another false summit to go before the peak.  The sun was sinking low in the sky, and we had less than 2 hours remaining before blackness set in.  We needed to be below the saddle, and currently we were standing precariously on a ridge 1.25 miles above it.  After months of preparation, and 44 hours on the trail thus far, it came down to this moment.  (mile 92.25)

*****

11:35 pm, day 1.  We cross the Black Bridge and traipse down the steps onto the sandy trail that will take us to the Boat Beach.  Where our journey will officially begin.  I stop cold in my tracks.  "Oh! Wow."  I am rendered speechless by the million diamonds sparkling on the surface of the Colorado River under the full moon.  We stop and turn off our headlamps and just stand there for a moment taking it all in.

We continue down the path and follow the signs to the Boat Beach, which requires a little bit of bushwhacking.  I secretly hope that H is not allergic to any of these plants as there's no way to NOT touch them.  Safely onto the wet sand, I glance at my watch.  11:45 pm.  We left the rim 3 hours ago and are already in a sleep deprived haze.  We sit down and again flip off our headlamps allowing our eyes to adjust to the darkness.  As our eyes adapt, the stars become visible in the dark sky overhead and we tilt our heads back to take in the view.  I close my eyes and breathe in the enormity of it all.  The grueling task ahead.  The miles.  The climbs.  The hours upon hours of training that have been completed in preparation for this one moment.  The uncertainty.  The water continues its course, rippling across the rocks, carrying away our anxiety and anticipation.

Dipping our poles in the Colorado River.

11:55 pm, day 1.  Unceremoniously, we stand.  With the tips of our poles together in the water, I snap a photo.  Proof that we made it to the river.  We take a deep breath, flip on our lights, and head back up the trail the way we came.  (mile 7)

*****

8:30 pm, day 1.  It started with a text message.  "I have this idea..."

Of course, I was instantly on board because the crazier the idea, the more I seem to like it.  My best friend had heard of this thing called Hole to Hump (H2H).  An underground adventure of sorts.  A hike from the bottom of the Grand Canyon to the top of Mt. Humphrey.  100 miles roughly, depending on the route you took.  There was no guidebook, no official race, no support... you have to just make it up as you go along.  No medals, no aid stations.  Just you and whatever support crew you manage to scrap together.

Almost a year later we found ourselves standing at the South Kaibab Trailhead ready to head into the depths of the canyon in the dark of night.  Months and months of preparation.  Scouting the route, documenting forest roads and trails and figuring out where you could drive a vehicle in to meet for support.  Miles upon miles walked and run in training.  Nutrition prep... trial and error and figuring out what works to fuel someone for 48 hours while moving through the high desert.   They say the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.  I guess this is the beginning of that journey.  (mile 0)

*****

4:45 am, day 2:  One hour faster than our recon adventure, we exited the canyon via South Kaibab and continued down the paved road toward the picnic area where the crew would be waiting.  The full moon continued to shine brightly overhead and with sunrise still hours away, we walked along the solid yellow line in the center of the road with no aid from our headlamps.  We beat our crew to the picnic area and I blanketed H in my puffy jacket, gloves and hat to avoid getting overly chilled as we waited.  Once they arrived H quickly changed clothes and shoes and trotted off down the road toward the first forest road.  I would head back to the hotel to shower and change and meet for the next crew exchange.  (mile 8)

*****

4:40 pm, day 3.  We take a moment on the ridge and let H cry.  There is no other way to respond to this.  44 hours into this adventure and it comes down to 3/4 of a mile.  Do we keep going, knowing full well that we won't be below the saddle before dark?  Or do we call it a day, and turn back with enough time to make it safely below the treeline?  Every summit expedition has a hard turn around time, and we've reached mine.  H is very shaky now, and navigating above the saddle has proven very challenging.  The rocks are loose and with every step gravel is sent cascading off the ridge to an unknown resting spot far below.  (mile 92.25)

Descending from our false summit.


*****

7:07 am, day 2.  I pick up Kevin, and Bruce takes over sherpa duties on the mountain bike, with Tracy leapfrogging in the car for nutrition support.  We zipped back to the village where we ate breakfast and packed up the hotel room.  We had a break now for most of the day and would meet the crew at the intersection of the AZT.  Sean and Rachel would be on course around lunchtime to feed H and take over sherpa duties.  (mile 24)

Rachel pacing with H in the heat of the day.

3:46 pm, day 2.  It heated up quickly and it was difficult to find rest in the car as the sun beat down overhead and flies buzzed in and out of our open windows.  At some point as the sun began dropping lower in the sky we decided to back track and find the crew on the forest road.  We gave a little moral support, and warmed up some broth for hydration.  We gauged how long it would take her to cover the remaining miles to where the car would be parked.  And as night fell, I set up the air mattress on the ground outside the car and snuggled into my sleeping bag.  At some point in my sleepy haze I hear my best friend say something about spooning as she crawls into a sleeping bag of her own and joins me on the mattress for a brief nap.  (mile 54-63)

Cooling off!


*****

11 pm, day 2.  Kevin and Jan take over for the second night shift.  A 13 mile stretch along the Arizona Trail.  The rest of the crew did some quick rearrangements and we divided into 2 groups- one group would leap ahead and sleep in a cabin at the base of Mt. Humphrey.  The second group would leap ahead to a forest road that intersects the AZT and try to catch some sleep before the next pacing section. (mile 63)

2:30 am, day 3.  I was in the group heading to the AZT.  We slept, uncomfortably, in the car off and on for several hours.  Eventually my alarm went off and I got up to get my gear ready for the next shift.  Once ready, I tossed a camping mat onto the ground outside the car and climbed into my sleeping bag and fell into a heavy sleep.  I gasped a couple of hours later when Jan startled me awake.  In my hazy fog I tried to process where I was and get my wits about me for the upcoming stretch. (mile 76)

Brief 20 min nap.


*****

12 pm, day 3.  We were 4.5 hours behind schedule when we left mile 75, and we lost another hour by the time we reached the parking lot at SnowBowl.  The stretch along the AZT was strikingly beautiful.  Aspen trees.  Evergreens.  Wildflowers.  Pristine single track trail.  I was more than happy to spend a day hiking these trails, but I worried as we neared the base of the climb what was ahead.  Kevin had already expressed his concern about her making the climb in her sleep deprived state.  Her feet were in bad shape and she was exhausted.

Fresh blood in the way of new team members met us in the parking lot.  Three men who were prepared to take H the rest of the way.  I gave her less than 45 minutes to take care of blisters, eat a real meal, rest, and roll out tight muscles.  (mile 87)

Foot care.


*****

1 pm, day 3.  After a quick group photo, the crew is on the final ascent of Mt. Humphrey.  I decide to hang back and help clean up camp before hitting the trail to catch them.  I figure I can easily give them 30-45 minutes lead and still catch them well before the saddle.  The cars are a mess.  Gear and clothing and trash strewn everywhere.  I help Rachel gather up the trash and sort out which gear needs to go where to make room for everyone to ride back to Sedona when we're finished.  It's going to be dark when we get back so I'd rather have it all set up now while we can see.

Ready for the final climb.


1:30 pm, day 3.  I take off up the trail.  Power hiking at an 18 min per mile pace.  A quick pace that wakes me up and get the blood moving through my body.  By mile 2 I can hear the group ahead of me, above me on the switchbacks.  I catch them by mile 2.25 and snag some video of H as she traipses past me, over half way to the saddle.  She's smiling and looks remarkably good for this point in the journey.  (mile 89.25)

*****

5:45 pm, day 3.  We stop on the saddle and take photos.  It's not for nothing.  H raised over $5000 for the 100 Club, for Fallen Officers.  And when the day is finished she will have hiked nearly 100 miles.  Nearly isn't what we came for.  And we know that.  The mood is somber, but hopeful.  You don't endure something like this and not come away a different person.  Each of us learned something about ourselves.  About the limits of human endurance.  About the human spirit.  We are bonded together, with stories and memories that won't be understood by outsiders.  (mile 93.5)

This was meant for the summit:  Tribute to fallen officers.


*****

8:05 pm, day 3.  Karl and I step out of the woods into the meadow.  Our headlamps reflect the eyes of a dozen deer grazing nearby.  We had scooted off the saddle into the woods and in a matter of minutes we were a mile down the trail.  Karl's intuition brought us to a halt and we waited for Kevin, Bruce and H to catch up.  They had stopped to wrap her ankle as she was having trouble managing the boulder scrambling and rock jumping that define the lower trail.  Once we were certain she was OK, we practically ran down the trail the final 3 miles.  We chatted the time away waiting for the trees to give way to open sky.  When we reached the car, I looked at my watch and said, "they'll be here in 90 minutes.  It was 815 pm.  We shared a beer and wrapped ourselves in blankets waiting for everyone else to appear.

9:45 pm, day 3.  Headlamps appear in the distance.  "That's them," I proclaim.  They make their way across the meadow and H collapses into the camp chair we have waiting.  We pull her shoes off.  After only a few moments we load her into the front seat of the Xterra and head down the mountain toward Flagstaff, toward the highway, toward home.  It's over.  With as little fanfare as when it all began 50 hours ago.  (mile 97.5)

*****

3:24 pm, day 6 post.  "I'll never tell B, but I want to try again."  And just like that, the journey begins again.... (mile 0)








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