Quotes, Miscellany

Epilogue

I would attempt this backpacking trip again, knowing now what I need to do.

Looking back, it's been a year since I decided to tackle all these trips -- across the continental United States, the Great Smoky Mountain, national parks in southern Utah, Southeast Asia, Hawaii, etc.

And last month's backpacking trip was nothing short of spectacular. There are few occasions in one's life in which there's an experience that captivates moment of awareness, and that instance happened to be on the second day of the trip, when we decided whether to pursue the loop.

Choosing to forgo the loop brought a sense of relief. At the same time, there was disappointment. I was glad to not endure the physical strain of of lugging 50 pounds on my back across rugged terrain. But I felt that not accomplishing this goal exhibited my physical and mental limitation.

Safely ensconced in the confines of my apartment, and having experienced the fringes of extreme, hard-core canyoneering I realize that I could actually continue that trek on the loop. So, what seemed so difficult and physically demanding for the first time seems achievable in retrospect.

With more experience and a bit more nerves of steel, I know I can complete that loop. I asked Daniel after we emerged from the canyon whether he would have attempted the descent and climb to Monkey Face with so much weight on his back, he said he would. And I have to agree with him.

It's a matter of pushing one's limits and going even further than that. After that, everything else seems relatively easy. All of these experiences help to build character. Life is all about taking chances, typically not knowing what will happen, just as this backpacking trip in which I scaled slopes with unfamiliar inclines. But I did it.

Sometimes we pursue paths that are neither conventional nor common to the typical person. And in many cases, it's important to not give up.

Day Six -- Return to Sundance Trailhead

We awoke at around 7:30 a.m. to a view of a cloudy day. It seemed as if a massive storm front were making its way to the canyon. And we needed to to mobilize ourselves quickly because we had to work our out of the canyon and toward the parking area. That meant climbing Appalling Face, for total vertical gain of about 1,500 feet.

We skipped breakfast, packed all of our gear and made our way from base camp at about 8:30 a.m.

Within half an hour I made it to the base of Appalling Face. Jason an Daniel were already ahead of me. I was apprehensive about climbing the steep face, which supposedly had a grade of 50 percent, or about 30 degrees. But it sure seemed steeper than that.

Finding the trail itself wasn't always so easy because of the slope's steep angle, or maybe because I'm just short. With 40 pounds on my back, I took it slowly, because one slip on the slope could be disastrous.

Day Five -- Dark Canyon

Weather was cool, around 50 to 60 degrees Fahrenheit. Clear blue sky. last night Daniel asked me to look out and check out the starry night. I couldn't open the tent, otherwise the noise would wake up Jason.

Woke up around 8:30 a.m.

Jason made pancakes -- 3 each. Left Lean-To Canyon around noontime for Dark Canyon. Luckily, with no rain we easily traversed the ledge. One portion of the trail had worn away because of a rock slide, according to Jason.

Day Four -- Stay at Lean-To Canyon

Jason woke us up at 7:40 a.m., for an oatmeal breakfast. The weather had cleared, so we saw some spectacular rays of sunshine

Day Three -- Lean-To Canyon

We departed base camp, which was about 5,000 feet. Jason had pegged this campsite among his Top Five favorite sites, which is pretty astounding considering the many backpacking trips he's done including scaling 52 of 55 peaks in Colorado at more than 14,000 feet.

The weather turned cloudy, compared to sunshine of the previous two days, and it looked as if rain were imminent. We had to return to the area near the first day's base camp and head back toward the area where we had started just two days ago. Our goal was to reach Lean-To Canyon since we weren't going to make it on the loop. I had feared returning to the same trail that brought us to yesterday's base camp. The path seemed narrow, plus we had to descent through the gulley and slope that we trudged through yesterday.

(The night before, Daniel had snapped the fastener of his backpack's waist strap. Being the engineer that he is, he got rid of the plastic fasteners devised a way to use a couple of the carabiners that were for our harnesses into an improvised belt strap.)

We broke camp and departed at around 9:45 a.m.

Jason prepared hot sausages and eggs.

The first step down the trail was going through the ledge, which was easy. Second step was the short gulley, which was not so easy. Because it was so steep, an almost vertical descent, I let Jason bring down my pack, which was the first and only time he assisted me. He also took pictures and made sure that my footing was secure. In circumstances such as this, words of comfort are most welcome.

My thoughts race in my mind, most of which is to make sure I come out of this alive. Scrapes on my hand and legs are truly indicative of me being alive. Sometimes my hand would grasp the needles of cacti, to which I would grimace in pain. But I do not flinch because I might lose my balance. Sometimes it's better to take the pain and move on. Typically, my hands show the tales of scrapes, form an assortment of sources: jagged rock so sharp that a deep press with my fingertips would cause blood to ooze almost immediately, more needle-like plants that leave spines so thin imbedded in skin that you might need a microscope or magnifying glass to assure yourself that they're in your skin. But if you can't see it, you definitely feel it.

Jason helped to navigate me through some of the rocky terrain. My initial plan was to move high, almost on equal level as the ledge from the base of the gulley, and move across quite a way before heading downward. That worked and I continued my pace onto a group of rocks that formed almost into a ravine.

Once I arrived at the bottom of the slope, we continued back toward the way we got here. I had dreaded traveling this way, but it actually seemed less scary from two days before, probably because the view from my current perspective was of the canyon wall rather than the canyon itself.

We made it through, but along a third of the way we missed the cairn leading the trail higher so we had to backtrack.

Jason and Daniel moved way ahead of me. My movement was slowed by the fierce headwind through the canyon. I could feel the backpack sway a bit, and I took great care to stabilize myself along the narrow path.

I made my way through the end of the trail in the lower canyon, where it was cut off by the 10-foot ledge by the stream. Jason grabbed onto the edge to get my backpack. But it seemed as if he had misjudged the handling and the backpack hung precariously on one arm as the other hand grabbed onto the ledge. Below was a 15-foot drop to the stream. I looked on his face, an expression of concern and bewilderment as he managed to bring the backpack down to the floor of the lower canyon.

Jason later remarked, "I was thinking, "Is this it?' "

We hiked along the stream to the foot of the trailhead that led to Lean-To Canyon. Our ascent would eventually be about 500 feet, through winding trail that opened into a small opening amid canyon walls.

We had started from the trailhead at around 1:30 p.m. By 2 or 2:30 p.m. rain fell upon us. Daniel led while Jason stayed behind to make sure that I was on the right path. He made sure that I avoided slick rock, made wet by the downpour. And there were stretches along the trail that looked scary to pass. One section indicated it had been the scene of a recent runoff, or rock slide, so dirt and rock can be loose. It's always safe to move slowly. With a bit of tailwind, my movement was more cautious, taking one small step after another. The trail was close to the canyon's edge, so it's no joke to act irrationally.

We eventually made camp by an area that probably had been a waterfall many years ago. We took our rain gear out, if we didn't have them on already, and pitched the tent.

We would be eating and sleeping here for the night. Jason cooked spaghetti with tangy tomato sauce by the side of the tent as we huddled inside. After a long day's hike and with rain in the afternoon, that hot meal enlivened us.

Day Two - Make or Break Day

Today's route was either make or break. It would test whether we had the ability to travel over very difficult terrain in a given period of time, because the next day would be one of the most difficult ever.

First, we had to make a short trip (about a mile) to the mighty Colorado River. We left at around 11 a.m., along the stream that led to the Colorado. We criss-crossed the stream from base camp, where Jason prepared a batch of pancakes for us. Before the night, I barely slept either because I was pumped up by adrenaline or because I kept thinking about the rough terrain ahead of us. I also had to pee, which made it difficult. Eventually I pissed in an empty Pepsi bottle. The night also was made difficult by the stream, which Jason identified as wonderful sound of white noise. That same white noise is used to comfort my older brother's children to make them fall asleep. But such natural effect was useless on me.

The trip to the Colorado was an interesting prelude to our hike up the slope. The Colorado itself was pretty cool.

Upon returning to base camp, we immediately drank and refilled our water bottles before ascending the rocky slope, which brought us 500 feet higher. I have to tell you -- carrying a 50-pound backpack is no joke, especially on rocky terrain with loose soil. I sometimes think it;s crazy and foolish carrying a load about a third of my body weight.

Each time I grasp onto a piece of rock on this slope, I tell myself to be patient and hold. Every piece, every foothold, every grasp of my hand on rock must be secure.

The way down from this slope will also be equally difficult, if not tougher. This hike is no joke. I have scrapes and bruises to prove my case.

Jason went first to scope routes and Daniel followed. In no time, Jason reached the top just prior to the gulley, to which Daniel and I looked on in amazement.

We set out at about 1:30 p.m.

The view from the camp looked daunting. Loose rock, sand and dirt awaited us. traversing and climbing. That's what we did. In the shadow of the canyon wall, we climbed and traversed, slowly. I had to make sure my grasp was tight. It took about an hour to reach the base of the gulley (which was an almost truly vertical ascent) and 20 to 30 minutes to reach the top. There, we had to decide whether to attempt the climb for base camp at Monkey Face.

For me, I was approaching my limit. Descending about 500 feet and then ascending 500 feet onto a steeper slope with dirt and rock so loose that an attempt with 50 pounds on my back would be death defying.

Daniel was keen on going. But it was Jason's decision. Eventually, we decided not to go because judging from the planned Day Three hike, this hike to Monkey Face base camp with a full pack on second day seemed too ambitious.

I felt I was at my limit, more mentally than physically. Scrambling up that rocky and loose-soil slope looked daunting. I asked Jason to have him and Daniel pursue the loop and I would head back to the car, but he didn't want any of that because we function as a team, and on principle, he wouldn't allow that.

Still, Jason and Daniel continued on track without their packs, while I stayed behind. In about an hour's time Jason reached Monkey Face, while Daniel followed behind from afar. They were directly across me in the canyon, and I took photos, their profiles dwarfed by the enormity of the canyon wall.

Upon their return, Daniel remarked that he wouldn't have been able to complete the hike with a backpack fully loaded as it is.