Desert mornings are cool - but on this particular morning there was an underlying current of evil in the sensory form of heat squelching across the skin, causing the eyelids of the unsuspecting gazer to spasm in reluctance as sweat trickled down the brow and assaulted the eyes. There was a thin parchment of dried, crusted, salty perspiration that had encased me through the course of the night and, looking at my perky, sweat-free siblings, I was fairly certain that I had been cursed by Hades to always absorb the heat they never seemed to feel.
Still, we were at the Grand Canyon, now, and I was not going to let a little upper-thigh-rubbing heat rash deter me from having a hoopla of a good time. So, with fresh clothes on and adventure in our hearts, we set out from the tiny lodge and headed the remaining mile or so to the South Rim. My dad, being the Marine that was, had hauled us children out of bed bright and early so we found parking with ease. The Grand Hotel was where the car stopped and out on to the still cool but only for a moment blacktop parking lot we all tumbled.
I won't lie. My discomfort in the heat of Arizona was forgotten by me the second my eyes passed over the ridge on which we all clambered and took in the majesty that is the Grand Canyon. The morning sun had broken gloriously over the top of the Canyon and for as far as my eyes could see there were miracles of colors. Paisleys and sage, lilacs and rust, broken blues and starburst oranges ringed and snaked the walls that descended down - so far down. Far below me a buzzard caught a breeze through a gulley and hitched gracefully in a circle, seeking prey.
From my vantage point, watching the bird of prey below, it suddenly struck my mind that I was the prey and the scenery below and before me was my victim. It was a victim to my imagination. I titled my body precariously over the one metal rail and let my imagination take me. I was tumbling! The rail had cracked and weakened in the unrelenting weather elements over the years and now I was falling towards a certain demise of most grisly form. But wait! I'm graceful and lithe and am capable of clear and coherent thought even as imminent death hurtles towards me. As I fall I twist my body, contorting my position, reaching out with my hands. Above me I hear my family yelling, unable to help. And then a ledge is rushing up towards me from below and I crouch my knees, pointing my toes lightly, hunching my shoulders and back ever so slightly so as to absorb the impact I know is about to happen. It is over in seconds but my mind captured it as if it took minutes instead of seconds. The impact jars my teeth and shakes my eyes but the way I have positioned myself ensures that I break nothing. I have landed much like a cat. Far above me and out of sight, blocked by small overhangs, I hear my family calling and crying my name. I am about to answer, cupping my hands over my mouth, when I see the body. Tucked tightly into a crevice no more than two feet high and run parallel the length of the ledge I am standing on, is a body shoved unceremoniously. But there is no fear or surprise in me, just curiosity. I dip down and peer into the gloom of the crevice. It is a teenager - surely dead - and he has been hidden in here. I have found a body! I rush to the edge f my ledge and begin hollering for someone to come down as quickly as possible. I am going to be on the news, I am going to be hailed for my quick thinking and movements and managing to survive a fall over the edge. The parents of this missing boy will cry and clasp my hands and thank me! I will...
Where's my family?! My heart stuttered as a nearby horn of a tour bus blared and pulled me from my dreams of grandeur. I looked around only to see that they had wandered off, thinking I was following. There are so many people here and what if some deviant kidnapped me! "Wait!" I yelled as I pushed away from the ledge and hurtled quite cowardly-like after their retreating backs. "Keep up," was my Dad's response. "I don't want to lose anyone here." Of course not, I think. I just fell off the edge of the Grand Canyon and you all tra-la-la'd away without even noticing.
We wandered along the edge of the South Rim, oohing and ahhing over each new explosion of color or depth that met our eyes until we came across a large tourist board - you know the type; mini little roof protecting it from the glare of the sun, plexi-glass panels displaying a large map with the "You Are Here" sign. This particular sign displayed the various hiking trails one could take into the abyss of the Grand Canyon. Next to each trail name was a description as well as level of intensity. Did we hone in on the beginners trail with the cute smiley face and thumbs up stick figure? Of course not! That would have been so boring. Well, perhaps the stick figure with a single, solitary drop of sweat splashing off him but still a brave smile and the word Intermediate? But what's one drop of sweat when you've come seeking adventure? Bypass that one and move all the way down the long list of trail to the word, written in an alarming shade of red, that proclaimed "Experienced Hikers Only! High Intensity!" Once again, my dad, being the gung-ho, die hard Marine that he is, jabbed a finger on it. "This one! What do you kids think?"
What did we think? Pft! We were farm kids. Rough and tumble and made of the stuff other only dreamed of. "Yeah!" we yelled in a chorus of ignorance. "We can do it!"
And do it we did. By this time the sun was nearing a ten o'clock zenith of raging, hot hatred on my body but I didn't care. I had seen the sign and the description. This particular trail would take us deep into the bowels of the Canyon, almost to Shadow Ranch which was nestled at the lowest, and deepest part. According to the sign it would be a 8-mile round trip trek. Four down. Four up. Who cared. 8 miles was nothing. Shoot. We walked nearly that every day as we ran up and down cliffs and through woods on our farm back home. "It says we need a lot of water," said Dad. Luckily, we were the smart family. We wouldn't come unprepared. Oh no. My dad had a backpack with two 8oz bottle of water per person in it. We were set! Never mind the 90+ degree heat. We were iron children!
Minutes later we found our feet leaving the paved paths running the edge of the Canyon and noisily, exuberantly kicking up small plumes of dust and specks of gravel rock as we began our descent into the Grand Canyon. We were so full of energy and zest and zeal as we skipped and hopped and scurried down the winding cutback trail that sank lower and lower. I was sticky with sweat but from the position of the sun, the walls of the Canyon provided a decent amount of shade and going down is always easy.
Still, because of the way the trail continuously switched back on itself, and got more and more narrow, limiting adrenaline fueled movement, the climb down quickly proved rather tedious work. Several times my clumsy, size 9 feet skittered on a patch of loose rock and dirt and my heart beat screamed that I was going to plummet over the edge and die so there was no room for my imagination to fly. I was focused solely on the exquisite view and staying upright. It was fun. I t was very fun. We laughed and talked and then paused to gawk at the sure-footed line of little mules that passed us, carrying tourists. I didn't know there were mule rides? I like mules. I tried to convince my dad to buy a sociopathic mule once and when he said no I attempted to board said animal - but that's another story for another day. Why were we not riding mules? Oh, that's right. We were iron children. And the trek continued.
It took far longer than we expected to reach just the half way point going into the Canyon and by the time we did there were five bottles of hot water left, and we were all covered in a several alternating layers of white dust and sweat. The half-way point was beautiful! A literal Canyon Oasis calling us in the rest a minute or two. The trail reached the Oasis and the ground leveled out, spreading about in a decent sized circle, shaded by trees, providing a spot to relieve one's self, and, glory hallelujah! there was a fresh Spring of water bubbling up out of the ground and creating a narrow brook that bubbled and trickled happily down the Canyon. We all rushed the wet jewel simultaneously - even my dad. The water was ice cold and crystal clear and numerous other hikers had dropped their well stocked bags and stripped their socks and shoes to rest beside the water.
What a relief it was when my dad told us to take off our socks and shoes and lay in the water. "Wait. You want us to lay down in the water?" "Yes," he replied. "This is a little more than I thought it would be and it's only going to get hotter. We can do this again on the way back up." In we all went. Ahhhhh!!! I couldn't remember the last time water felt so cleansing and refreshing. All around us, people talked quietly, laughing, resting, watching our family in amusement. Who cared? Certainly not me. I was finally not hot. Dipping my head back, I let the water swirl my brown hair and I sighed. Some of the water got into my mouth and I almost spit it out, thinking how many nasty bare feet had been in this creek, but I didn't, because...No one ever drinks water that others are lying in. And if they did, they did it at the wrong time. Once every hundred years, a fissure so small the naked eye cannot see it opens up on the creek bed and releases a potent and powerful stream of Kalimyte. Kalimyte is the essence of life and when, for that brief few minutes it is released into the water, someone drinks it, they will cease to age. I was that person. I was the girl who was in the right place at the wrong time. The life force slid down my throat, absorbed into every pore of my body. A year from now won't make much difference and no one will really notice that I haven't aged or grown. Five years from now they will wonder. Ten years from now I will have been rushed to every doctor known to man. Fifteen years from now I will have to run away, fleeing from those mad scientists who would seek to experiment on the girl who never ages. I will be frozen in the body I have now but I will be hunted. They will come after me. Those sadistic...
"Everybody out," called my dad and my eyes snapped open. Already? I shook off the imaginings and hauled my drenched and dripping body from the creek. As I slipped my socks and shoes back on I couldn't help but wish, with a very tiny part of me, that maybe, just maybe, a little Kalimyte got into me.
To Be Continued...
