Have you ever poked the side of a bowl of Jello and just watched, mesmerized, as the wobbles and currents of vibrations rippled through the colored, but translucent gelatinous product? Have you ever thought, "Hey! I bet it would be fun to jump in a pool filled with Jello!"? Well, I have. And on that mutinous day with my family, making the insane round trip hike of 8 miles to the bottom and back up of the Grand Canyon that was recommended by experts to actually be done over the course of two days, my body slipped into that pool of Jello and everything anatomical on me began to rebel.
My pool of Jello that I slipped into happened gradually and without the benefit of being cool or refreshing. By the time we had reached the bottom of the Canyon, our clothes, previously soaked in that cool oasis stream, had turned dry and crusty, sticky to and off of our bodies in hard angles that rubbed our skin like sandpaper - at least, it did mine, I cannot account for my siblings who, as I have mentioned before, seemed to be born with a blessed, heat-resistant, sweat-resistant spoon in their mouths.
The bottom of the Canyon loomed below us, just beyond a jutting wall of orange and grey rock. I think the sight was welcome, or beautiful, but honestly, the main memory that sticks with me is that of looking behind me and up and realizing, with utter dismay, I would have to haul my Jello-y legs, upper thigh heat rash and all, back to the top. That memory, of seeing the sun blazing down into my eyes, and the walls of the Canyon towering mockingly over me is forever singed into my brain. I have tried locking it away in the "Not My Finer Moments of Adventure" part of my mind but it will having nothing to do with locks and keys. I was sweating, amazingly, though I didn't think I had any liquid left in me to sweat out, and the rash from the combination of skin rubbing, wet clothes drying, dust slathered awesomeness was a festering, pink reminder that I wasn't quit the Iron Child I initially thought myself to be.
At this point, I think even my Dad was tired because I saw the look in his eyes when he glanced back up the walls of the Canyon. He didn't comment on what the hike back out might be like, however, because he had a plethora of children around him, looking at him, knowing he was the strongest, toughest, best dad to ever traverse these switch-y Canyon paths. Instead, he said to us, "Shadow Ranch is just around the next few bends. Look, you can even see the bottom and the Colorado River from here." We all clambered to look. Well, they clambered, I attempted to hold my shorts away from my legs as I waddled over begrudgingly. Sure enough, there was the River, a short ways below us. "I think maybe we should just head back up," announced my Dad. "It took a little longer than I expected to get down here and we don't want to be caught in the dark halfway up."
There was zero arguing to this suggestion, which only further emphasizes how weary we children really were. I think James, ever the "best" of us, said something along the lines of "We could have made it if we left earlier; I feel fine." He liked to swim and at that moment, I considered letting him swim...in the Colorado River...with just a quick pus. He wouldn't be hurt, right? Okay. Bad thought. I couldn't push my beloved brother who was practically my twin.
The water bottles, refilled at the stream we had stopped at, had once again dwindled down until now, as we prepared to make the trek out of the Canyon, there were only 3 left. They were in the bag on my Dad's back and as we began walking back the way we had come, my bringing up the rear, I stared at the bag longingly. I was never very good at math but just then, I was doing some calculating. 5 of us kids plus my dad plus 4 brutal, climbing miles ahead of us, plus one miserable, inferno drenched sun, minus 3 bottles of water...there's something fishy about these numbers. I don't trust them.
The sun, if it were possible, was shining even hotter. At this point, I could practically see the steam rising off the rocks and dirt surrounding us. I tried to distract myself as I plodded along; and I tried very hard not to resent my little sister, Lee. She was the youngest of us to come on this trip and I want to say she was eight or nine years of age. I glared at her back. Look at her. Just bouncing along next to dad, skipping and tra-la-la-ing like she doesn't have a care in the world. Telling me, "oh, it's not that hot," and laughing and saying "Brook looks so red!" Why can't she be tired. What does she think she is; a mountain goat?
I admit, my finest thoughts were not happening during those steps back up the Canyon. I also admit, however, that for the sake of my well-being and maintaining an "I'm tougher than this old Canyon" façade, I tried very hard to think of anything but the fact that I now felt as if my legs had gained an additional hundred pounds each. So I focused on the walls rising steeply to my left and kept my eyes darting over them constantly, looking for a hand hold or foot hold...
Iiiicccceeee Cccrreeeaaammmm.....Mmmmm! Yes. I would eat as much ice cream as I could shovel into my mouth the second we made it to the top. But wait. What about all the calories I was burning with this walk of death? Never mind that. Those pour calories were crying. See that tear? See all the tears? Yes, my sweat was the tears of my calories as they were brutally and without discrimination burned from my body. The poor things needed sustenance. I could lose the weight later. Right now, it was game on with the Ice Cream Vending machine I had seen back by our cabin. What was in there? Ah. Chocolate Chip Cookie Ice Cream Sandwich. Mouth watering (well, it would be, if I had any saliva left but the heat stole that from me, too.) Wait a minute. There was an ice machine. That was even better. I was going to crawl into it. After all, it was the big, cooler type of machine that you opened up and dipped into for a small, sensible bucket of ice. Sensible? Pft! I was done being sensible. There was nothing sensible about my entire current situation. Hey! That reminds me...When we lived in Okinawa Japan James and I, to beat the heat, would sneak to the Marine barracks and crawl into the ice machines. There we would sit, munching on crunchy cubes of ice. But that cute guy from last night might be out. What if he saw me sitting in the ice machine, gorging myself on the tiny cubes? He would think I was crazy. He wouldn't talk to me. No, that wouldn't do at all...
The ground came up at me fast and, since I was currently occupied with anything but observing my surroundings, my mouth and knees received the majority of dirt and gravel. I grunted in pain and shock to realize that I was now caked in even more of that awful white dust. "You okay?" called my dad. "That looked about as graceful as a ballerina."
I scowled, furious, then embarrassed, then mortified when I saw what was coming towards us. Springing to my feet, I wondered how many of the oncoming mule riders had borne witness to my flying sprawl. We moved to the side, allowing for the riders to pass. I couldn't help but notice that each rider looked fresh and relaxed, not a bead of sweat marring their giddy, smiling faces. Some of them even had the audacity to sip from still cold bottles of water...in FRONT of me! How dare they! Couln't they see I was dying of heat stroke? Couldn't they see me withering away in the heat? Didn't they know it wasn't polite to eat or drink in front of someone without offering to share?
Awww! Those mules were so cute! I wanted one. I should have been allowed to have that sweet, cuddly, psychopath mule from my past. Then I wouldn't be stuck mentally scratching and clawing m way up the side of the Canyon. And why were there so many. This was torture having to stand in the blazing heat as hundreds of sure footed animals plodded past me without a care in the world. They just kept coming and coming. Look at that big, fat, ball of blubber on that mule! Why does he get a mule? I want to be a big pile of blubber so I can ride a mule! The mules would like me. Mules always do. Who keeps this many mules at a Canyon anyway?
"Dad, Brook isn't coming?" Lee's voice sang out, interrupting my delirious mental tirade. At first I wondered why she said that, and then I realized the mules were almost out of sight and my family had continued on while I stood there gaping at lines of passing mules that weren't really there. "Get up here, Brook. Drink some water."
I did as told, trying to subtly drink the whole thing (because I was dying quicker than my siblings and needed it more) but Dad quickly rescued the bottle and passed the remaining waters around. I watched bitterly as it all disappeared. The climb through Dante's Inferno continued.
By the time we reached the rest area-slash-oasis dusk was settling and we weren't allowed to stop and soak. Now, with night coming, it was "hurry up, hurry up," the whole way. Lee still bounced along with energizer bunny legs, James staggered from time to time but kept his head up, Jeneva looked flawless, as usual, with just the slightest pink to blush her cheeks and indicate heat, and Thomas did his best to emulate James and my Dad. I dreamed of Ice Cream, Ice Machines, and large bodies of water. The hot kid from the cabins was but a distant, fuzzy memory at this point.
Occasionally we passed a crag in the Canyon walls from whence trickled tiny rivulets of hot water. Here, my dad would soak a bandana and plaster it to the top of my head. My hair hung limp and stuck to me in greasy tufts, the rash between my thighs was now a cursing, living, breathing dragon, and my crooked eyes had taken to crossing randomly and seeing double.
This is it, I thought, as we turned sharply up another path. This is where I die. This is where the helicopters have to be called in to carry me out. This is where my siblings stop laughing at me and start mourning me. This is where, this is where, this is, this...I didn't even have a thought anymore. All I knew was that my mind had just gone blank and I was never going to survive this.
"There's the top," shouted James and he took off like a rabbit. "Nice job, kids," complimented my dad proudly, with a hint of relief for us in his voice. He looked back at me - I was in tears of anger and exhaustion at this point though I was doing my best o hold it in. They were lying. I didn't see the top. Oh wait. There it was. Who cared? I wasn't going to make it anyway.
"I say we all go get a nice big meal as a reward fro making in one day what others said took two days." This from my dad.
What? Food? I was the second one to the top, mere seconds behind James. That wasn't so bad. Look at me! Look at us! We are Iron Children after all!
