Grand Canyon: The Adventure Interrupted

It is 4:28am Saturday morning, the sun still 45 minutes from rising behind me as I stand at the rim of the Grand Canyon. The glow of civil twilight over the south rim is a magical moment and yet I stand on that wonderful precipice with great emotional distress and not a little bit of physical discomfort as I bid farewell to fifteen friends as they run past me.  When we all ate dinner just eight hours earlier, if someone had said I would be too sick to hike in the morning, the table would have erupted in laughter.

Yet there I stood, the taste of fresh vomit in my mouth and the rumbling in my stomach telling me there is still more to come. Around 10pm Friday night my stomach started to feel queasy. By 11:30pm a trip to the bathroom confirmed undigested dinner in my stomach. Then as if I didn't believe the results my body reconfirmed the message every thirty minutes for the next  several hours. I started getting text's from the group around 2am, people too excited to sleep already up and goosing the rest of us to be ready to leave at 3:15am. I sent a reply to one, 'puking and the other all night. See you in the lobby'.

For those that know me well enough, know there is no error in that message. I live by the illness code of, 'It's better to show up and be sent home, than to not show up at all.' Besides, in the pitch dark, I was the only one who knew how to drive to the hiker shuttle from the hotel and I took my logistical responsibilities for the trip seriously. I had planned the entire trip from booking and paying for the hotel, to parking passes, to maps, to dinner reservations. I mentored most of them for hours in the months prior on training for heat and proper gear. 

When I activated my Polar heart monitor at 3am and the readout showed 105, I wanted to believe it was adrenaline but deep down I knew had to be one more symptom of why I should reconsider this hike. I even took it off and reset it, hoping it would show a more realistic number, which it did not. My roommate announced  my onset at the lobby meet up and there was righteous concern but no absolute barriers to my attempt. An hour later as the shuttle bounced along in the dark, my HR now only in the 90's and my stomach flipping,  I compromised with myself that I would only go down a couple miles to see how I feel.

You know when your in an audience and you clap just a few seconds too long and people stare at you? Or a group laughs at a joke and you laugh way to loud and show way to much enthusiasm and it makes everyone uncomfortable? Yeah that was me when by the clarity of a half dozen headlamps in absolute darkness, the air filled with joyous excitement for a Grand Canyon adventure, I vomited next to a tree.

My business partner walks over to me and tells me he won't let me go any further. I need to go to bed and stay there. He reminds me of the two years it took to recover from my last heat injury and with temperatures promising to be over 110 degree on a 26 mile hike, I had gone as far as he would allow. Honestly I was relieved. As the group moved past, most of them gave me respect for the effort of even getting dressed and making it to the trail head. They offered sympathies and thanked me for making the trip possible for them.

Needless to say, just laying in bed I got worse as the day wore on. A round trip to the ice machine exhausted me. I suffered a hot shower with goosebumps. I met air conditioning with sweat. Classic miserable flu like symptoms. I don't even want to imagine what would have happened if I had gone down that trail for that distance in that heat. I heard later a Ranger announced 130 degrees at our turn around point.

By Saturday night I was still too weak to join the dinner I had set up downstairs. As they ate steak and celebrated their triumph, it took me two hours to eat a bagel with peanut butter. By Sunday morning I was weak and dehydrated but felt like a human again.  A breakfast buffet reminded me of the energy I would need to drive home so I forced down a small plate. I was shortly joined by friends walking in on tight legs and aching knees more concerned for my well being than their own immediate state. 

My final experience at the Grand Canyon, listening to those stories of perseverance and victory, at least ended my stay on a good note. I didn't get the weekend I wanted but plenty of others did and that actually made me feel good.  As for me, I'll be back to finish the trip in my own time.