Grand Canyon, AZ

Couldn't think of a title that actually felt suitable to the adventure and the mind-blowing experience that I had encountered this weekend. When one thinks of the Grand Canyon, one thinks of majesty at its finest and most intense, only to depict a photograph of what it actually surmounts to be. But the trail, my friends, the trail...

Honestly thought I was not going to make this trip with Steve. He had asked me multiple times, and I simply replied with a shrug of my shoulders and a light grin, complementing a tilt of my head. The only reason that would aave prevented me from travelling with him was the fact that I may have a checkride soemtime soon this upcoming a week. Checkride equals hours of chair-flying and mental preparation, and not much time for fun. But as the Friday approached, I figured that I could use a break from flying and studying everyday, so we ventured out into the evening, winked with hints of sun and purple dust.

Finally, we reached the site, our campgrounds. 9:05PM now. I only thought of how it was going to be another mosquito massacre during my sleep. I prayed for a gentle breeze to blow those annoying buzzards away. And the breeze came, kissing the top of our cups, filled with Cherry coke and Tattooed Rum. Drank about two full cups each, and felt and looked like the rocks themselves, faces blushed red with relaxation and joy. And I passed to the breeze, as the temperature continually dropped to a comfortable 60 degrees. Awoken then to an upcoming thunderstorm, Steve and I quickly saddled up the gear and accsesories, and hustled to the car. 4:00 AM. I am pretty sure Steve and I averaged about an even 2 hours each of sleep, not the healthiest sleep. We just gazed into the wndow, looking at the sky. The moon shown so bright, the clouds moving very rapidly, and the stars uncountable, could not think of a better night to be out.
4:30 AM, time to get ready for the hike down. We made it down to the Horseshoe Mesa in record time, traversing down 2,600 feet in less than 3 miles. 6:45AM-7AM, not sure, but definietly satisfied to reach goal. The rocks we walked on began to paint green and blue, beautiful turqouise. As we gazed in the best of what we can find, we found ourselves stumbling upon history. Not only ground that has been eroded with water and wind for thousands of years, but old prospected mines. Dark, mysterious, and almost fearful, my careful spirit flew with Steve's. Like old explorers we did, and the mine shivered cold and moist, welcoming the most daring souls.
And the souls came back out, only to remember the pace back upwards. Fatigue kicked in, and my body began to torment, and my mind resisting temptation to fall under cowardice and tear. Too much pride, I kept going up with Steve, making sure to soothe my mind with water. The summer monsoonal skies, cried and dropped few tears at our persistance, as my girl were praying that we make it back to the top. And her prayers answered, at 10:05AM.
Steve drove back into the afternoon heat, and I ventured into my own world. We stayed silent, both content and accomplished to the feat we had just conquered. I could only reminisce to when I only hiked a sixth of that trail with my family, only to come abckl again as deja vu, and add another couple of miles. The conquest seemed as only a symbolic virtue to me. Life is like the Grand Canyon, so immense and so large. Scarred and eroded away by years and years of experiences, but still beautiful, and still astonishing. These thought rushed behinf my retinas, painting maserpieces in front of me, only to wake up in my apartment, ready for another climb.