USA, My Way

Like most, I approach iconic tourist destinations with a wide eyed, doey sense of grandeur – reminiscent of Ferris Bueller before his big Day Off. The day I reached The Grand Canyon was no different.
I distinctly recall the 40 degree day, as where I am from this is equivalent to hoeing hay in a sauna. I had prepared myself for the adventure, purchasing $4 white sneakers from Walmart on the drive in. To say arriving at the canyon took my breath away is an understatement. The size and stark beauty of this legendary destination is both terrifying and remarkable. The canyon is the sort of place that photos do not do justice to. After taking a few panoramic shots and throwing in a customary selfie I realized I should just give up. It’s somewhere you have to see in order to understand.
I was here to hike and hike I did. With sneakers and a back on, I was off. We wandered past a sign “Mule Hire”, I scoffed, who would need that! Not I, the fitness guru, laden with 4 liters of water and an appetite for adventure. Seemingly naive I called out “I can make it down 4 miles!” and I did, with ease. We made it in record time, passing other tourists along the way and gaining a false sense of security about my own fitness. The 4 mile mark is where things turned. I turned my head towards the sky to see my epic feat in all its glory and was hit with quite far down the canyon I had come. In this moment, the realization that I, the all-conquering fitness guru, would have to walk 4 miles back up the canyon was painstakingly apparent.
To start with I played it cool, telling my friends I wanted to stop every 20 meters up the cliff face to drink in the beauty of the sights. 1 mile up, I offloaded my water to passers-by, it’s the right thing to do they’d need it in this heat. It wasn’t because I’d lost all ability to carry any weight that was not my own. By the end I was crying out “someone get me a mule before the apocalypse that is this canyon swallows me whole!”. With sweat dripping off me and my sneakers red from the dirt, my head buzzed our tour guides words, “this landmark claims lives of the ill prepared” and at this point my friends, the fear was real.
It may have taken me 4.6 hours longer than most to do, involved 150 pit stops, depleted my conversation skills to a sub zero level and ruined my $4 sneakers – but I made it. And I look back at that hike with a wide eyed, doey sense of adventure that screams “Let’s do it again… And I hope Walmart still sell those sneakers!”.