It’s a Small World

Hanging around by the trailhead waiting on the Trans Canyon shuttle was bliss. We had done it! I won’t lie, I was too tired to do a happy dance with my legs, but I most certainly was with my heart! Others strangled up and we swapped stories, lamented the fact that the bathrooms were all the way across the parking lot, like really, who designed this area, and laughed with joy.

Eventually a big old 14 passenger van towing a little trailer rolled in and we heard a holler that the shuttle had arrived. In fact 3 shuttles. We showed our reservations, were told to throw our bags in the trailer, and in we hopped. I don’t know why I thought it would just be a few people going around to the South Rim, cause I was certainly wrong. We were 78 people who needed a ride. Obviously more than the 3 shuttles could handle, so we all piled in tight to drive to the North Rim Lodge where some would get on a bus. We munched on delightful lemon rings as we drove, compliments of a guy who had hiked with his senior HS daughter. He gave all his children gifts when they were seniors, and she chose a Rim2Rim.

We all had to disembark again at the Lodge, and much shuffling ensued. It seemed madly unorganized, and frankly I think the coordinators didn’t have a clue what was going on. All I know is when the dust settled, we were back in the same shuttle, only this time we were 15 passengers instead of 14. One woman had to sit on her boyfriend’s lap. She seemed quite happy to perch there and chatter about random embarrassing things, comment on how skinny “honey” was, and inform us all that if she didn’t drive she got horribly car sick. Pins and needles for me! I can’t stand it when people get carsick.

It was quite a motley crew. Half of us had already hiked, the other half had parked their cars at the North Rim and were gonna sleep at the South and hike back the next day.

One guy had been supposed to hike back across for a Rim2Rim2Rim, but realized he probably wouldn’t make it so opted for the shuttle. Unfortunately he had no reservation, no phone, no credit card and only $80 in cash. And he did not look like he was feeling good at all. He asked a few of us how much the shuttle cost, and when we said $120 per person he looked even sicker. I felt awful for him. Anyway, a small collection got him the fare plus some food/drink money, so we figured he would be ok.

Two guys from Alabama sat near the front with Sharon and I. They had hiked as well, so we could commiserate about aches and pains and stinky shoes. We found out all kinds about Alabama, their families, how someone threw Steve’s shoes away at Kevin’s wedding and that such a thing might be good to do now (eying his friends feet with distaste) and so on. One had trouble with car sickness as well, but wouldn’t take my UK motion sickness meds called Sturgeon, cause how did he know it wasn’t really cocaine. I mean, I was a stranger so he couldn’t trust me. I told him I didn’t nearly always trust myself either, so that was fine.

We got 20 minutes down the road, then stopped at Kaibab lodge to sort out our overcrowding problem. Unfortunately it wasn’t an easy sort, as two guys on our shuttle hadn’t paid yet so technically they should have never been let on. The shuttle coordinators went round and round the mulberry bush, mass confusion reigned and nobody seemed to have a hot clue what to do. Our driver, whom I’m sure is bright as a button even if he didn’t look it, just sort of smiled and galluphed around. It did seem pretty dark to drive 5 hours with an overcrowded shuttle, but it also seemed somewhat wrong to just abandon the two guys there. It was the sick one who had no wallet or phone, and then an Asian guy. The shuttle folk finally told them they would have to stay at the lodge for night or get a taxi. Sick dude really wanted a taxi, but when he tried to convince the Asian he was met with a no go. He LIKED the lodge! It was warm, had food and drinks, and they’d get them to the South Rim in a few days. After about 15 more phone calls it was decided that “It’s all Alex’s fault and John will just drive them around”. Good. Glad to have that settled, the rest of us hopped back in the shuttle and off we went.

My plan was to sleep the whole way so I would be rested enough to drive to Phoenix that evening. I hadn’t taken into account the massive adrenaline rush I would have after the hike. I was absolutely pop eyed. I wasn’t the only one apparently, as conversation flowed the whole way. As we bumped and swerved our way down the reservation roads, Discussions ranged from the best way to make turkey broth, catching fish as big as Rottweilers, do you enjoy Christmas, and are there chickens that think they’re Condors. The last idea came after our Driver put on his big voice, and bellowed about the California Condor Hatchery we passed. Chicken eggs play into the hatching process somehow.

I had been slightly unsure about the lap sitter’s at the beginning, he looked like such a very cool dude, but when he started to imagine being a cow on the reservation (I’d just go roaring up one of those hills, have a good look around and then thunder down the other side and get lost), I decided looks were deceiving. He was actually a normal guy. Maybe even more normal than the average looking gal on maternity leave who was packing a breast pump down. I mean, what better opportunity to hike, when you have time off anyway. Baby was not along.

Chris had us all laughing when he told how he’d hit a black horse late at night and in a pouring rainstorm, in the middle of Nicaragua. They’d been trying to make a flight and decided just to keep driving, even if the hood was pressed against the fan. The horse had sorta centered on the hood and its rear had just slid up and over windshield. It was also the only time in his life he had bought full coverage on a rental car, so that had been a real blessing. The only trouble was trying to explain to the rental guys what had happened. He knew two words in Spanish, “Caballo Negro” and just said them repeatedly till it was time to go.

We had about three rest stops where we all had to pile out and stretch. It was painful watching the hikers get out, as we all sorta froze up after sitting so long. Groaning’s and limping’s would ensue but after a bit one would limber up again and feel half normal.

Our route took us past the Painted Dessert, Marble Canyon, Lee’s Ferry, and of course the Condor Hatchery. Our driver faithfully bellowed details at the top of his lungs which was somewhat interesting. I noticed everyone was real attentive the first few times, but by the end there were just a few hums.

It was long. Terrible long. Darkness had fallen by the time we finally rolled into Bright Angel Lodge. We said our fond goodbye’s, some way fonder than others. Red Shirt was very effusive, and also perhaps slightly high, so his goodbyes were abundant. And right in your face. But we WOULD meet again and it was SO GOOD to get to know each other. Our driver went the 2nd mile and brought us right to the Red Feather Inn, where our cars were.

Sharon and I went directly to Wendy’s to buy baked potatoes, only to hear they were out. We were horrified, but made do with loaded fries instead. They tasted like heaven! We nearly went back through the drive thru for another round. After fueling the car, buying food and drink we thought maybe Andrew and Heath would want, we went to wait by the trailhead where the guys would be coming up. Sharon slept, I tried to organize our route and tickets and night accommodations, but managed to sleep 25 minutes. Still totally lit I guess.

It was 10:45p before the guys finally popped out, not crying, but certainly looking tired. Especially Andrew, as he drunkenly reeled towards the car, fell into the back seat and was out like a light.

Three hours seemed like an awful long drive, but I was amazed how doable it was. I drove, while Heath and Sharon took turns entertaining me. I was a little nervous of all the enormous elk that were standing beside the road, but finally said “Lord, I really can’t hit one of those, so please keep them away” and then quit worrying. Andrews alarm, which sounds like a duck quacking, went off at midnight and he sleepily rolled the window down and slurred, “where is that thing, out there?” We let him know that it was actually in the car, and he seemed surprised and pleased.

The bed at 2:30am felt absolutely blissful. Actually the shower felt even better. It was a little startling to see the orange streaks on the towels from spots we had missed.

And then it was up at 5:30am to leave for the airport. Total marathon. Total good time. A person will gladly suffer all kinds of weird nights and food just to be in the company of great friends. Someone asked me why on earth we do such things, and Heath and I both agreed it was the friends. The new ones we make, and the old ones who come along.

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