Captivated Me

captivate : v. to attract and hold the attention or interest of, as by beauty or excellence; enchant.

Tag: grand canyon national park

October 28, 2020

Day 3: A Day on the Bright Angel.

“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.

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October 27, 2020

Day 2: Sunrise and South Rim Adventures

“There is a sunrise and sunset every day, and you can choose to be there for it. You can put yourself in the way of beauty.” – Bobbi Lambrecht

My alarm again heralds a new day. 5:20 AM. Sunrise is in just over an hour. I have the age-old debate with myself about whether to hit the snooze button or roll out of this warm, cozy bed. I opt for the former.

5:29. And the extra nine minutes of sleep gave me just the jumpstart I needed to get going. I wake up, layer up – readying to brave the 20-ish degree weather – grab my bagel, clementine, and some leftover peach tea from last night, and start the short walk to my car. Happy-hearted and excited to put myself in the way of beauty, I hope to make the quick 10-minute drive to Yaki Point in time to welcome the sun for the new day.

I arrive at the left hand turn for Yaki Point and discover that it is a shuttle-bus-only route, so I park along Desert View Drive and get ready to walk the one-mile road to the overlook. The sky is just beginning to hint at dawn, and the road looks dark. I recently learned that red light rather than white light helps to spare some night vision. I click on my headlamp to the red setting, and find with silly delight that I have enough light to navigate the path before me while still being able to see a slight way into the distance.

My anticipation grows as I walk – In part because I cannot wait to see the canyon come to life as light rises; in part because I hear the eerie sounds of unknown wildlife beyond my field of vision. My senses are awakened. A squawking bird of some kind sounds like it is soaring across the road ahead of me from left to right. It then seems to fly further into the dense woods to my right, the east. I hear the sounds of howling wolves to the east, distant, and some rustling among the foliage to that side of the road. I hear a screeching chaos in that same direction, then silence. I suddenly feel exposed, aware of how alone I am on this adventure. Aware, and certainly activated in fight or flight, but incredibly alive. I breathe deeply and continue along the road.

As I approach Yaki point, I take a moment to stand at the guardrails near the shuttle bus stop which is currently vacant. The canyon vista is still in shadow, but somehow the shadows evoke an amazing smoky blue-grey color. Dense clouds cover most of the sky overhead, releasing small, graceful snowflakes which float quietly to the ground. Another deep breath, then I venture along the cliffs and rocks lining the rim beyond the guardrail. The canyon seems to extend forever. I find a boulder positioned at the edge of the canyon to sit on for breakfast. My thermos is a welcome, warming comfort for my stinging fingers. I sit and I wait as a masterpiece unfolds.

The sun rises over an eastward ridge, still concealed by clouds, but casting bright rays over the vast canyon. The clouds slowly break open, allowing even more light to pour into the shadows. The tippy-tops of each peak are painted with orange and pink, vibrant color that floats along the canyon as the clouds pass over. Birds fly freely and bravely overhead, singing and playing and bringing joy just by existing. This canyon, this deep and wide space of uncertainty and discovery and beauty, feels like a familiar friend. I feel very much at-home.

I eat breakfast slowly, drinking in the views, then stand and continue along the rim, in awe of how the canyon’s appearance changes from minute to minute as the light toys with its walls. I find the most perfect pine cone and place it in the trusty sunglass compartment in my backpack. Thank you God for this beautiful morning!

After two hours of frolicking, I make my way back to the shuttle stop just as a bus arrives. I hop on board the empty bus to warm my hands, visit and joke with the driver for a brief moment, and learn that there is a scenic trail along the rim back to Desert View Drive where my car is parked. I am thankful for the suggestion – I was otherwise going to simply shuttle to my car. We smile at each other with our eyes, masks secured over our faces as a precaution during this pandemic, and say goodbye. I leave the bus to find the trail, which is only a short distance away. My marveling continues as I walk along a golden path, weaving back and forth toward and away from the canyon. Each time I think I should be accustomed to the views, I approach the rim, and my jaw drops anew.

I slowly find my way to my car and return to Maswik Lodge. Entering my unit, I walk toward the balcony, open the sliding door, and meet two new elk friends who are busy snacking on the trees outside. I sit and watch the peaceful two, who look at me gently then go about their day. I soak up the balcony view a while longer, feel the cool air seeping into my bones, and snuggle turtle-style into my jacket. Checking in with my body and my energy, I decide that a nap is in order. Crawling in to the cozy bed, I am asleep in minutes, grateful to not have any reason to set an alarm.

Light seeps in through the window, and I wake up softly around 10:30AM, refreshed and ready for whatever the rest of the day brings.

I walk to the food court at the Lodge and request some hot water for my thermos from one of the cashiers. She is a cheerful woman, about my age, and when I ask how her morning is going, she smiles and says “I woke up this morning to this beautiful day; so my day is going great!”. I thank her for sharing her joy, hop in my car, mix some instant coffee into my hot water, and set course once again along Desert View Drive.

This is an about 25-mile road extending eastward along the rim from Grand Canyon Village. The drive feels like a journey through a Headspace meditation – Tall pines line both sides of the road, and the canyon peeks through on occasion as you go. This particular day, the sky is blue, the sunlight kisses the trees, the breeze is cool, and Ben Howard and friends sing sweet serenades through Spotify as I drive. My mind wanders. I am reminded of the Uber driver who shuttled me to the airport two days ago. A kind man in his 60s, he had recounted to me the story of his family as we drove. He grew up in Southeast Asia and his family had sought asylum in the United States after the Vietnam War, which his father served in. He shared about his love for travel, about how important it is in life to see new places, explore new spaces, meet new people who are different from you. We heartily agree on this. He had tales from the urban center of Abu Dhabi, the forests of southern China, the rushing Niagara Falls, and more. We talked about how no matter what chaos or confusion pervade the news, we are grateful to have a wildly beautiful world to appreciate, learn about, and take care of. We don’t always have to go far – there are beautiful moments and places and spaces in each seemingly ‘ordinary’ day – but what a gift it can be to adventure more broadly every now and again. This entire trip feels like one great, big, unexpected gift.

After a steady, sweet 20-minute drive, I arrive at a cement barricade demarcating the end of the route, as construction is underway along the final few miles. I turn left into a parking lot. Navajo Point. I get out and look around, stunned at the panoramic views of the easternmost point of the national park. A park guide is there with a darling couple, providing context about this particular point in the canyon. From where we stand, we can see the sands of the sacred Navajo Reservation as we look east. Desert View Watchtower, an overlook point along the eastern edge of the national park, is visible in the distance. The serpentine Colorado River and its beautiful rapids weave in and out of view between the canyon depths. A couple on their honeymoon takes photos. We visit joyfully. Cold, gusting winds take aim at all of us, but we stand transfixed on the views.

I am again struck by the vastness of this canyon. And I am reminded of what the Bible says about the big-ness of God’s love for us. How high, how wide, how deep. I catch my breath, grateful. Blown away.

Over the next four hours, I dot my way along the South Rim heading back west from Navajo Point. Lipan Point, Moran Point and Grandview Point follow. Each location with its own flair, its own unique views, its own sense of awe. I let my heart heal bit by bit, as it has been all year. I allow emotion to come, tearing up and smiling like a giddy schoolgirl more than once at the views. I see the same sweet honeymooning couple along the way, say hello again, and congratulate them anew. I think briefly, sadly, on the past. But thank you God for the healing, forgiveness, growth, ease and renewal that have transpired since then. Eyes on the present and the future, I think of how sweet it will be to share moments, fun, play, laughter, and adventures like this with a special someone some day.

After today’s mini-road trip, my heart continues to overflow. Gratitude. Joy. Hope. Love. I cannot keep them inside. I drive, content, back toward the Lodge, encountering sweet families of deer and elk and horses crossing the road along the way. I park just before sunset and start to make my plan for tomorrow, a 12.2 mile roundtrip hike from Bright Angel Trailhead to Plateau Point and back. Excitedly, I discover that my motel is a short four-minute walk from the trailhead. I take the short walk there to get a sense of the trailhead and the path ahead for tomorrow. As I review the map, three other women planning on performing the same hike approach. We visit, share a laugh at stories of our Grand Canyon escapades so far, wish each other luck on the hike, and part ways.

And although it is just after 7PM, it is time for bed. Tomorrow is going to be an early and exciting one!

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