Captivated Me

“We craft love from heartbreak,
Compassion from shame,
Grace from disappointment,
Courage from failure.

Showing up is our power.
Story is our way home.
Truth is our song.
We are the brave and brokenhearted.
We are rising strong.”

– Brené Brown

There is something so exciting about the prospect of hiking the Bright Angel Trail. I first heard about this adventure when I lived with a sweet family in Northern California for a year after college. The parents had hiked from rim to river at the Grand Canyon while they were dating; a journey to test their compatibility. I loved their love story. And I loved their sense of adventure. And at the same time, it sounded like an activity I would probably never do.

Fast forward ten years, and here I am. I got into hiking, camping, and backpacking over the past two to three years as life transitioned from one of full-time schoolwork to entering the workforce, practicing medicine, and establishing healthier balance in my life. Years worth of unresolved trauma surfaced in this same time frame, and being in nature has been a precious way to heal well, have fun, spend time with God, and find a sweet midpoint between embracing solitude and cultivating enduring friendships. I have progressive damage in one knee which was first injured in high school and has worsened over the past five years, and hiking has also kept me active. This will be one of my final hikes before my knee is surgically repaired next week; the same iconic trail I first heard about years ago. I am grateful, and excited to get after it!

It is 7AM, around 25 degrees Fahrenheit at the South Rim, and I am daunted but energized. I also find myself layered to marshmallow status, anticipating wind and cold as I descend. My trekking poles (aka – life-savers) are ready to go. The sun is rising behind the rim across a nearly cloudless sky, and I am ready to take on the trail. I hear it is moderate-difficulty, steep in some places. And of course, they say “the descent is optional, the ascent thereafter is mandatory, and the latter is the most difficult part”. A couple of other hikers have started ahead of me; I can see them becoming smaller and smaller as they weave on the switchbacks below. What a perfect morning for an adventure.

The first mile is relatively level, just a subtle, switch-backing descent. The air is more calm and still than the past two days, much less wind; cool, but refreshing. As I hike, a small bird jumps happily, little by little, along the path ahead of me for around a tenth of a mile. Two short, rocky tunnels arch beautifully over the path within the first mile of trail. I stop to take pictures, and allow a foursome behind me to pass by. We exchange hellos and they continue on. Little did we know we’d develop a sweet trail family by the end of the day.

I take in the canyon from where I stand below the rim. The sun hasn’t yet risen over the rim’s edge, but it is spilling light over the desert-land that I am descending toward. The walls of the canyon to my left are imposing. I crane my neck to see the edge above. These sights are other-worldly. I think about how awe-inspiring this vast space of creation is. I think about how awe-inspiring the heart of our Creator is. With the canyon walls surrounding and enveloping me, this hike feels like a hug directly from above.

I hike on, pausing every few minutes to stand in awe. I pass the group of four again as they pause for a break along the path, and we share another hello. We discover we are aiming for the same destination today – Plateau Point, 6.1 miles from the rim. I learn their names – Caroline, Daniel, Nicholas, and Courtney. I hope I will remember their names; we are sure to encounter each other again on this sweet journey! I hike on, then meet two men, one from Phoenix and one from England, who are on their way to the river (around a 9 mile hike from the rim to the campgrounds). The three of us hike together a ways, joking and sharing stories, then part ways as they pause to watch for famed bighorn sheep along the canyon wall. I hike on.

There are blessed rest stops at approximate 1.5-mile intervals along Bright Angel Trail. I pass the first, determined to stay in rhythm. At this point, hikers who had camped at the river during days prior are making their way up canyon. Everyone is kind. Everyone is supportive and encouraging. Everyone appreciates and respects this nature space so deeply. What a sweet gift it is to take part in this community.

I stop briefly at the 3-mile rest stop, taking in the views, and removing some layers. It has warmed by about 25 degrees at this point, and feels even warmer still given the pace so far this morning. As the journey continues, I find myself intermittently falling behind and then venturing ahead of my fellow hikers that morning, laughing and saying hello or exchanging a joke with each passing by. More photos, and on I go, reaching Indian Gardens – the 4.5-mile point – at around 9:00 AM.

Indian Gardens is a sanctuary of trees, streams, and tranquility that represents a vastly different ecosystem from the rim above. I hear the trickling streams that descend like a thread from the canyon north. I close my eyes, take in the sound, and open them again. A deer is refreshing itself by the water, peaceful and at ease. The density of cacti, wildflowers, and deciduous trees is heightened in this sweet garden retreat. It is set up with benches, potable water, and a campsite for those who take multi-day journeys into and out of the canyon. From here, the trail forks, the left leading to Plateau Point, the right weaving toward the Colorado River and Bright Angel Campground. I veer left toward the sign indicating “Plateau Point”, and within minutes I find the trail to be relatively flat. My knees are grateful.

The climate has changed completely from where I began on the rim in the morning. I am on a flatland at around 3800 feet of elevation, compared to the approximate 6800 feet of elevation that I came from just a couple of short hours ago. The weather is warm, in the mid to high 60s, and I am now in a tank top, having removed my long-sleeved wool baselayer, fleece button up, and puffy coat. I see orange sand and spiky flora interspersed with bright yellow flowers all around on the ground. Tiny, agile, terra cotta-colored geckos cross the path at interim, scurrying about their day. Ahead of me, rising, rusted peaks appear to grow in size as I work my way toward them. The canyon walls behind me shrink smaller in kind. I cannot believe I am here.

After another 1.5 mile hike, I see a short descent to an overlook. I inch carefully forward along an edge and am taken aback by what I see. Layered rocks give way to a drop-off, the base of which contains the coursing, surging, strikingly teal Colorado River. I can hear the rapids from where I stand, just under 1500 feet above the river surface. I am one of two travelers here at this moment in time. A man stands on the overlook, photographing the incredible scene. We exchange pleasantries, introduce ourselves, and I learn that Luke from Hawaii used to work in this very park. He shares about his travels this year, his time working in the Grand Canyon as a younger man, and his favorite trails and memories from the park. Soon after, the friendly foursome I had encountered earlier in the morning (who also had encountered Luke along the way) arrive. They are from Tennessee and have been road-tripping from Denver through multiple National Parks in Utah and now the Grand Canyon before returning back to Denver for their ride home. We space out on the giant boulders overlooking the river and share a meal, excited and delighted to have reached the day’s destination. Refueling will be important for the return journey – We’ve got what feel like mountains to climb. Emboldened squirrels inch toward us in attempts to sneak our food, and I learn that squirrel bites are among the most commonly reported injuries in the park. I close and stow my trail mix, giggling as I watch the squirrels jump to and fro between us. I am grateful to share these moments, even with strangers, who quickly feel like friends.

We take our time and take photos of the stunning vista. The complementary red-orange tones of the canyon are stunning against the bright blue sky above and the teal river below. I stare. I breathe. This place is unbelievable. It feels like a dream. My Hawaii and Tennessee friends start the return journey ahead of me. I linger and put away my phone, etching this special scene into my brain. I want so much to remember these precious moments.

With a final deep breath and a final glance at the river, I turn to face the rim, invigorated. Retracing my steps to Indian Gardens, I see Caroline, Daniel, Nicholas, Courtney, and Luke once again. The men from Phoenix and England have rested here as well and are ready to continue their journey to the river; we wish them well. We visit more and snap a photo together to commemorate our day-hike family. Then collectively we look up at the path ahead of us and begin the climb.

I hike some of the way with Caroline, Daniel, and Luke. Eventually, Luke moves ahead of the three of us. A little later on, I climb ahead and weather the path on my own for a ways. I encounter a man from Florida who had hiked as far as the 1.5-mile rest stop, and we hike upward from there together, sharing about our homes and what we are doing at the canyon. We visit, and then he moves ahead with a friendly “Good luck finishing your hike, Minnesota! You’re almost to the top!” I manage a “Thank you; likewise Florida!”, despite being very out of breath at this point. The tunnels along the path come into view, a welcome sight, as I heave for air and put every mental and physical effort into keeping my arms and legs moving. I am still in my tank top, dripping sweat despite the return to approximate freezing temperatures. Where a small bird flitted ahead of me this morning, a squirrel meets me on the path and hikes a distance with me. The remaining 0.2 miles of trail I traverse on my own. A sense of gratitude and completion takes over. My legs hurt, my knee is rather angry, and my heart is beating a mile a minute. But it feels amazing.

I layer back up and walk slowly, gingerly back to my motel. I change into fresh clothes, check in with my energy and my body, and discover I have more adventure in the tank today. I pack some food (I ended up grocery shopping before my trip and just bringing all my food with me in my checked luggage) and make my way to the Red Route shuttle bus stop, which is back near where the Bright Angel Trailhead is situated. I take the bus west from the village, stopping at overlooks along the southwest rim of the park, similar to how I journeyed along the easternmost overlooks yesterday. I get off the shuttle at Trailview Overlook, Powell Point, Mohave Point, Pima Point, and finally at Hermit’s Rest where I am met by two sweet elk. I wander along this westmost stop along the South Rim and see a salient psalm imprinted on a plaque overlooking the canyon: Sing to God, Sing praises to His name; Lift up a song to Him. Psalm 68:4. That is all my heart can do – Sing. And I thank Him again and again for reviving this heart-song that was once extinguished.

Revive. This is the word that was on my heart as I flew to Phoenix three nights ago. I didn’t know why at the time. But I understand a little better now. This retreat is serving as a celebration of just that – of revival. A heart that was once battered seemingly beyond repair being restored to wholeness by God’s healing hands. A spirit that was once weak and weary that now has new breath and life coursing through it. A mind that was once paralyzed by fear, now confronting and facing fear with defiant joy and faith in big and little moments every day. I have nothing but gratitude to God for this. To truly live. To awaken back to life. What a gift. What a miracle.

I shuttle back toward my motel home, shower the day’s aches from my body, play a game of Solitaire and watch some football. I journal today’s key moments and snuggle into bed at around 8PM with plans for another distant adventure tomorrow.