Catch and Release

And there I was on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. Less then 4 hours ago I shoved some dry raisin bran in my mouth in an attempt to get calories in my body before I commenced in the suffer fest of trail running. I paced back and forth in the narrow spotlight of my headlamp just before dawn. Placing the last few items in drybags and figuring out what I could take with me. The river was slow and slack here. No hissing white water for the next few miles. Every foot step I took was amplified by the vertical granite gorge walls that climbed up right from my camp. The dark walls of the vishnu group. The preserver in Hinduism. This place is old. The rocks that crowd out the stars are measured in billions of years. The canyon bottom was narrow here, black walls rising out of the earth. We were at Cremation camp. Just around the bend was the Gauging station. The Black Canyon suspension bridge and the ribbon of trail that connects both rims, my way up and out of here. I should of thought more about my calorie intake that morning. Because I bonked hard the last couple miles. Moose coined the term, "Vision Quest." Perfect term. Gu really does have a purpose, I learned the hard way that morning. Not enough calories coming in, electrolytes getting low, exhaustion and you'll start to see things. When the volunteer park ranger hiking down stopped me and asked if I needed some electrolytes, I knew I was looking pretty rough. She was a mile below the top when I saw her. I still knew where I was and who I was, and which direction was up. I figured I wasn't going to pass out. My bearings were straight -Told her I had some, I was fine, and was going to make it. She continued on, talking with a few other hikers going down. I hit the next switchback and she was gone.

I stepped off the boat that morning, said my goodbyes to my friends I had left down there and headed up Bright Angel. With a few of my prized possessions in a small pack, I had hopes of trail running back out to the top with Moose. I left everything else strapped to the front of an 18' SOAR boat to keep the load to a minimum. Just under four hours and sixteen miles later I was at the top.

There was an irony in all this. While in the haze of exhaustion, I realized it. I was running from a place that I revered. I kept finding myself looking back. Perhaps looking to see if someone else was right behind me, wanting to pass me. There was no one. IT was early. The masses weren't this far down canyon yet. I didn't really want to run outta here. A few times I convinced myself to stop and, "Catch my breath" for a few moments. I'd touch the canyon walls. My heart beats would become amplified with the absence of noise around me. The coarse sifted gravel beneath my shoes would crush and grind as I shifted position and looked around. I'd look back down to the void below me, the river was out of view from here. Gone. A small breeze would funnel through the pines and break the silence. I'm nearing the precipice of two worlds. There is a whole another world up there that begins on the rim. I've never thought about it, nor realized the juxtaposition before. I was running out from this world and into the next. What a dilemma.

Places have gravity. The Grand was pulling on me.

I've dragged my body out of this canyon a few times now. Sure, I have looked down in awe of what I had just hiked out of, but this time I felt a pull from it. My lizard brain was conversing with my rational side...

I'd think I should turn around and go back down there, throw my phone away and disappear. My rational side would come back and say no, this is fleeting, you'll come crawling back to reality in a few days. This place is hostile. They don't have gummy snacks down there. You have a life waiting for you on the top.

I wanted to the last few days to keep repeating itself for eternity.

It was at Tatahatso.

Some dry monsoons were moving across the desert above the rim, just out of view. You could see flashing of lights dance across the sky. The night sky was a sheet of black construction paper with table salt scattered all across it. I laid there on my pad looking up at it all. Late in the summer the Milky Way was still visible. The waning moon had just appeared the last few days as a narrow sliver accenting the night sky. I watched the earth move that night. The stars slowly turning against the towering canyon walls above me. The curvature of the sky seemed visible.

I have a motif of wanting to feel small and insignificant. That night was pure ecstasy as I melted into the sandy beach beneath me.

The canyon laughed at me.

Told me i'll never know all its secrets.

Said to keep trying though.

Keep coming back.

Touch its walls.

Feel its power

Try to go back and live your life.

After flowing through its heart.

And not get this feeling that....

It was all just a dream.

I woke up that morning and floated down a calm and peaceful section of river. We stopped a few times and explored side canyons. It was quiet out. The morning light painted the canyon walls with a red glow. The sky was blue, the water still clear.

Occasional I would look down and watch my paddle dip into the cold clear water and see fish swimming out from an eddy and be swallowed back into its depths. Waiting to see if the fish would return, I'd see boulders skim by at times, water still clear enough the boulders could look up and see where they once stood. Nobody was in a hurry today. Our necks hurt from constantly looking up. We stopped at times, let the oars rest, and let the current spin us around as it pleased.

We moved down canyon watching the walls like paintings hanging in a hallway of some museum.
Writing about this months later, I'm questioning if it was a dream. I want to go back and prove myself wrong.

And that's my problem. I wanted to keep this experience forever. This trip is burned into my memory. It will be the upmost trip I may ever experience here. I've ganderd from its rims, walked on its benches and sat along its banks. This was the first time I flowed through it. I have to think of big superlatives to describe it all. I want to go on some Craig Child's poetic rant about the pull this place had on me. My head hurts and my eyes were blinded by it. A brief moment of silence that is outnumbered by times of static. I caught a hold of it and marveled while in its presence. I enjoyed what it offered me. I'm thankful for it. As much as I don't want that moment to slip through my fingers, I had to let it go. It's still out there waiting to be caught again. Held onto for a few brief moments and let go for another time.

I have a few words to say, a handful of photos and memories tucked away to keep me sane until I can give into that fissure in the Earth and sink back into its depths. I want to catch this feeling again.

So many more secrets to see.

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