For years--no, that would be decades--members of my family have sporadically hiked through the Buckskin, regaled us all with their exploits (both delightful and harrowing, as the case may be), and gently chided me for never being willing to make the time and space in my life to accompany them on such a grand adventure. Seriously, though, any thought of hiking the Buckskin just languished in the background blur of that space in my mind where I imagined all that I thought I wanted to do...until it didn't.
In a text message on my birthday last February, my brother Dan invited me to hike the Buckskin in May with him and members of his extended family. Surprised and pleased and certainly noncommittal, I assumed I'd let the invitation slip away into the oblivion of things and ideas never acted upon. But I didn't. In late March, I officially accepted the invitation. And then I panicked: Could I really walk 22 miles in one day at my age with my body? With a backpack carrying at least a gallon of water? And I would be the oldest one? And I've never ever truly embraced the joy of backpacking in the wilderness?
On May 15--last weekend, in fact--I hiked 22 miles through the Buckskin Gulch, lauded as the longest and deepest slot canyon in the world. It was awesome! And for the last few miles, it was agonizing!
Here, then, is a brief recap of the hike--in photos:
The beginning.
In this group, I am the only newbie. In the second group, the four youngest (my brother's grandsons) are newbies, so the oldest and then the youngest members comprised the first-timers for this hike.
At the trail head we split into two groups because, as one group, we were too big for one permit. So we commenced as two groups who happened to find each other about a mile in and then liked each other well enough to continue on together.
I didn't take this photo--because that's me at the top of the ladder.
We saw two baby rattlers, lizards, a coyote carcass, and several bird carcasses along the way. (We also heard some very loud birds above us on a few occasions--very much alive those birds, by the way.)
Lunchtime, and my nephew christened this duo The 60 Club. Also at this point, what gives you pause is the realization that you have accomplished 9 miles by lunchtime and haven't even made it half-way through the trek.
Group shot--thank you, Jake.
This is the last large group shot of our venture. Here we've officially left the slot canyon and begun the final stretch along the Paria River bed. For the last few miles, the endeavor becomes more individually focused as you plot your own way through the profusion of body aches and fatigue, the heat of the day now largely unshaded, and an abundance of sandy river bottom to traverse.
Yes, the scenery remains spectacular, yet one still yearns for a sighting of the parking lot signaling "the end." Dan, Justin, and the twins--the first ones to reach that parking lot--situated themselves on a small bluff nearby and became the beacon the rest of us strove for as we wearily trudged those last steps. (In my weary state, I failed to photograph them and document their glory.)
And, finally, a parking lot vista.
In between ten and eleven hours of trekking, we all arrived at the parking lot of our desire. The designated shuttle vehicle left in the parking lot the night before held a cooler of frosty drinks and treats for us to refresh ourselves before and during the shuttling of us all back to Kanab.
Confession--while sipping a marvelously chilled chocolate milk (something I never actually drink in my real life but which tasted amazing in the moment), I suddenly felt dizzy and did a wee faint...like maybe 30 seconds worth. First I inform my compadres that I'm feeling dizzy and next thing I'm stretched out on the parking lot pavement with my feet elevated! First time I've fainted since I was 16! For context in this turn of events, I had actually been hanging out in the parking lot for maybe 15 minutes before the opening of the cooler and the subsequent swallows of a cold drink, so I plead body shock due to wild discrepancy in temperatures of me and said drink!
Still, the conclusion of this story of my hike through the Buckskin includes an unexpected twist.
And, I am fine. Nothing that pizza, Diet Coke, and then a good night's sleep couldn't fix
If you don't count two days worth of limping and mincing along in a body wracked with muscles stiff and sore.
