Audra and I are leaving for New Orleans in a couple of days. I am sure that there will be some stories to tell when we get back. Tonight, however, there is no story. Just me sitting alone at the computer, listening to music, and having one more beer. Anticipating.
Just in case you want to read an old story...
Grand Canyon National Park January 19-20, 2003
The sun was just coming up in Grand Canyon National Park, and it was cold on the rim. Audra and I had dressed in layers, as suggested by the mule ride brochure. Rain was expected at some point that day, and we were provided thick yellow hooded parkas just in case. We had no idea what to expect from the day ahead.
The head mule skinner called us all together. He was cliché cowboy, but he got away with it because we were all kind of scared of him. He got our attention by repeatedly smacking his shins with a riding whip. This guy made Jack Palance look like Michael J. Fox. The gist of his speech was follow the rules and pay attention or get lynched. Also, he wasn't fond of Democrats.
After his speech he offered us one chance to get our money back and stay home. No one backed out at this point, and I know a few of them regretted that later. We were then assigned a mule. Audra was assigned Sugar, and I was assigned Johnson. As they placed you on the mule the staff offered a brief anecdote about the mule.
As I climbed on my mule I asked, "How old is Johnson."
"I don't know. I'm not real familiar with him. I know he's wearing Cody's saddle though."
"Great."
After a very few moments of riding instructions we were off. The ladies filed out of the corral ahead of the men, and I found myself at the end of the line just ahead of one of the guides. The first few miles of the rocky, narrow, winding, trail were covered in ice. The mule in front of me slipped just as we hit the first switchback. I was filled with confidence as I watched the mules backside smack the ground. After a few seconds of Bambi-on-ice the mule was back on all fours. The guide behind me did not comment, or even flinch. The man on the mule was silent for the next hour or so.
Johnson must have sensed my anxiety, because he began to walk the very edge of the trail. The drop-off can only be described as a drop off. According to the literature most people who fall into The Canyon do not survive the initial 300 foot drop.
"Don't worry he is only trying to intimidate you," the guide informed me.
"Great."
After a few minutes it was easier to trust the mule. I'd decided that they had done this trip enough times that they could do it blindfolded. Also, the view was so fantastic it was hard to think of falling or dying. From that point on Johnson and I had an agreement. He agreed not to walk off the edge, and I agreed with him.
Audra was coming to terms with her situation a little farther up the line. It wasn't until a few switchback later that she turned to me and mouthed, "I'm scared."
"So is the guy in front of me," I assured her.
Because the trail was so narrow we could not get off of the mules during the descent or ascent. In order for the mules to rest it was necessary at times to stop on the trail. When we did this we had to turn the mules perpendicular to the trail with their heads hanging over the edge. This was so that the mules would know exactly where the edge was, and would not accidentally step off it. A good rule in my opinion, but a little disheartening while sitting in the saddle.
It was around four miles before the trail leveled off a little. There were more than enough tight switchbacks before that point, and a handful of backpackers to boot. Audra describes that part of the trip as the scariest thing she has ever done. At four and a half miles we stopped for a bathroom break, and the riding order was rearranged to allow couples to be next to each other.
Just after leaving the camp Audra dropped her "motivator". The motivator was simply a horse whip, but it worked well as a motivator. We were encouraged to motivate our mules if they fell too far behind, and they insisted on falling too far behind. While one of the guides was busy collecting Audra's dropped motivator the party continued on. I should say most of the party continued on. Audra's mule, Sugar, seemed very unmotivated. Audra tried using her gloved hand as a motivator, but the mule seemed more amused than motivated.
As Audra's fiancé I took it upon myself to ride up behind her mule and motivate the animal for her. The chain of events which quickly followed is still not completely understood. I remember Johnson leaving the trail and heading for high-ground fast, and Audra remembers Sugar almost throwing her from the saddle.
As Johnson charged away from the trail I yanked back on the reins and screamed, "whoa, whoa, whoa." He came to a stop about fifty feet from the trail. I turned him back towards the party, who were all now looking at me wondering what in the hell just happened.
"Oh no, what is that man going to do now," one of the ladies yelled.
I rode the mule back towards the trail half expecting the head mule skinner to come sweeping down the ridge noose in hand. Johnson took his place in line, and the party moved on.
We ate lunch on a ridge overlooking The Colorado River. The view was phenomenal. We spread out on the rocks among the few backpackers who had also chosen this spot for lunch. There was not a cloud in the sky, and we'd given up on the idea of rain. The sun was warm and bright. We finished eating before feeding our apples to Sugar and Johnson.
The return trip required us to stop more often for the mules to rest. This provided wonderful views, but Audra found it a little to unnerving. As for myself, the pain had really set in at this point. Every step caused sharp, jarring, burning pain to shoot up my spine and down my legs. It was excruciating whenever Johnson found it necessary to jog a little. I really don't remember ever hurting so badly, but it was well worth the pain.
The last few miles were still iced over, and the rim was more crowded. As we approached the top a crowd had formed to watch us exit the canyon. An old woman with a child asked me, "How sure footed are those mules on the ice."
To which I could only reply, "Nobody died."
"Yet," her charming little girl added.
