RD Mathers.com

On April 20, 2009 my father, my two brothers and I exceeded expectations, laughed in the face of danger, and did something that several guidebooks, signs, National Park workers and a number squirrels warned us not to do:  we went for a very long walk.

My family has not taken a “family vacation” since I was in high school.  Yes, we have spent time together down the shore, but we have not traveled for a vacation since I attempted to grow my first mustache.

On April 18, my parents, brother Joe, his girlfriend Felicia and I all met in Las Vegas, at my folks’ time-share.  While still on the strip, the condo was away from the “action.”  I’ve always stayed in casino hotels on the strip before, so this was actually a welcome diversion from the noise.  We were close enough that we could experience the pageantry of Las Vegas, but retire and rest.  I have never rested in Las Vegas before.

A day after we landed in Vegas, we piled into a Hummer H3 (the perfect vehicle to drive on Earth Day, by the way) and headed east to Arizona for the main event of this trip: The Mathers Men’s Hike of the Grand Canyon.

We took in a sunset tour of the canyon, had a carb filled dinner and then The Other Brother, Nick, met up with us.  Last minute preparations were made and we slept.

After four months of training in Liberty State Park, the mighty hills of Verona, and wherever Joe did his training (there are rumors he walked the 59th Street Bridge several times, and while not feeling groovy per se, he felt prepared), we were set to embark on our mission.

Monday at 5:45am, we descended from the South Rim of the Grand Canyon and began our hike of the Bright Angel Trail.

I had no expectations, other than I was going to walk for a long time and be tired when I was finished.  The only research I did was on the weather.  For me, after years of over preparing and getting my hopes up for things (only to have them crushed like a 10 year old learning that the Easter Bunny is not sanctioned by the Vatican), I wanted to be prepared just enough to survive and then let the experience happen.

The way down Bright Angel was not as easy as one would think.  April is really the start of the season, so the trail was not as worn down.  Howard, the sunset tour guide, had told use the night before that this past winter was especially hard, so the trails would be uneven and slightly treacherous.  He also regaled us with tales of the people who had died in the Canyon over the previous year.
I wanted to take in the scenery as we were descending, but every time I thought that I had my pace set and could look around, I would slip on a loose rock and twist my ankle.  Fortunately, and surprisingly for anyone who knows me, I did not need to be medi-vacced out on a stretcher.  I just toughed out and walked the pain away. Yes, I did feel more manly, thank you.

The majesty of this canyon was utterly breathtakingly beautiful.  The colors on the rock formations are like nothing you can imagine. It was as if all the great sculptors and painters of the ages collaborated to create an enormous work of art.

There is a deep sense of peace in the canyon as well.  After spending my days amidst the hustle and bustle of New York, being mere feet from the traffic and hum of the city, the sound of a slight wind, the crunching of dirt beneath my feet, the occasional bird and in the infrequent nod and “hello,” from a fellow traveler was a welcome respite.

About 45 minutes after we set out, we came upon the first rest station.  A sign depicting a weary and unprepared hiker greeted us and a sign that explained that going any further was optional, but going back up was mandatory. That same sign also advised against going to the river and back in one day; the very feat we were endeavoring to do.

Feeling good about ourselves, we pressed on down the road, stopping here and there to take a photograph, take a bite of a snack and revel in the beauty that surrounded us.   Occasionally we would pass people who had started from the bottom that morning, having hiked down the day before and camped out.  As we got closer to the river, I noticed peculiar looks from some of the campers when they failed to see us with big packs.  We only packed what we needed for the day.

Walking down the trail, my thoughts meandered from here to there.  In between conversations with my father and brothers, I contemplated past and future loves.  I was tempted to take my iPod out and see what the musical shuffle gods would come up with as a soundtrack for my walk.  However, the environment was so natural, so open, so…perfect that I left the iPod packed and let songs drift into my head. For a good portion of the trip down, I found my mind playing “Kind of Woman,” “Bathsheba’s Psalm,” “A Reason to Stay Up All Night” by an incredible artist named Emma Wallace.

By around 9:30 in the morning, we had reached our first destination: the mighty Colorado River.  My left ankle was a bit swollen by then, so I popped three Advil and I soaked it in the icy water.  Cold river water had never felt so good before.

At this point, you may be wondering where the Mathers Women were?  Well, unfortunately, Nick’s wife Hannah couldn’t clear work, so she was unable to join us. Since I am sort of sans a lady now (inquiries gladly received), that left Joe’s girlfriend Felicia to female bon with our Mom by sightseeing and exploring the hidden valleys inside gift shops.

After a spell, The Mathers Men started the gargantuan task of ascending 4,400 feet back to the rim.  The way to the top took much longer and required a greater exertion of energy.  One way to describe it would be to recommend that you climb stairs for 6 hours straight, in the sun, with a backpack containing three litres of water and some clothes.

Nick suggested that we not look up for fear of being depressed.  I didn’t have that sensation during the climb, I was still so in awe of the brilliance of the canyon walls.  I enjoyed seeing what I had left to accomplish.

I didn’t shoot many pictures on the way up as my thoughts were more focused on getting to the top and breathing. That whole “left, right, left, right bit from marching band, twenty years ago, came in handy.

By the time we had climbed one quarter of the trail, my mind began to wander again.   I thought more about love and the things people will do for it, I may have solved some issues at work, I may have conceived of some new product lines and literally walked away with some ideas for stories. Some of my very dear friends also drifted into my thoughts and I could hear them urging me on as I grew a bit weary.

Now rotating with Emma’s music in my head was “Be Ok” by Ingrid Michaelson, “Isis” by Bob Dylan, “People Got A Lotta Nerve” by Neko Case and “Red Dirt Road” by Brooks & Dunn.  Yes, I have a very musical imagination.

At several points during the climb, I thanked God that I had quit smoking and was in better shape.  There was no way the 300-pound me who was a heavy tobacco enthusiast from three years ago, would have made that climb.

Once we had a quarter of the climb left, I begun to have visions of certain women greeting me with open arms, cold beer and chocolate.  On each switchback, it would be a different one (hey I’m single, I can let my mind wander a bit).  Of course I am such a romantic that one in particular surpassed all others.  And that is a vision I may take to my grave.

After 6 hours and 17 minutes from the time we left the river, we four Mathers Men made it back to the top of the rim.  Now, half us could have had women waiting with open arms and cold beer – but we ended the adventure as we began it – four men who were family.

This post can only describe a mere fraction of the overall experience.  I am proud of my father for undertaking this exercise on the eve of his 63rd birthday.  I am proud of my brother Nick, for doing it twice (he and Hannah hiked Bright Angel a year ago) and for doing it with three people in far less shape than he.  I am proud of my brother Joe for forging ahead and letting the experience happen to him, instead of attempting to control it.

At the top of the post, I mentioned that we, in a word, flaunted what the National Park Service recommends.  It was not until we had returned to Vegas and did some research on the actual distance we hiked, did we see the following strongly worded advice in every book and website about hiking the Canyon: DO NOT EVER ATTEMPT TO HIKE TO THE RIVER AND BACK IN ONE DAY.
One of the officials in the lodge had said to my dad and I that we should only go if we’d been training and had a solid guide.  We felt we had trained adequately, and we had Iron Man Nick as our guide, what could go wrong?

Fortunately, nothing did.  We were sore as all get out these last few days, but we did it, we hiked the South Rim to the Colorado River and back in one day.  We achieved something that not a whole heck of a lot of people do, and I am sure most of the ones who want to, pay attention to the warnings and turn back.

My father said, that even though he fought in the Viet Nam War, he had never done anything that physically strenuous in that contiguous period of time, in his life.  Having never fought a hot war, or run an Iron Man, I hadn’t either.

By the numbers:
We hiked a total of 15.4 miles in 10 hours and 33 minutes.  15.4 miles, that’s it?  My New York friends, or the folks I know who have run the Boston and NY Marathons may scoff.  To that I say, do Heartbreak Hill… for 7.7 miles and see how fast you go, sunshine.  Oh and ascend 4,460 feet in elevation on loose gravel and dodge mule poo.

Have people achieved what we did faster? Yes, Nick and Hannah did, but they were much younger than my dad, Joe and me, and they did it at the end of the season when the trail was worn down better. Oh, and everyone knows pretty girls kind of float when they are in love, so doing the hike with her husband was a piece of cake for Hannah.

We accomplished something we didn’t even realize was important to us and we have a Father / Sons experience that we will look back on forever.

There is a somewhat vernacular, somewhat vulgar saying from an old Tom Cruise movie about taking chances in life, “Sometimes you just have to say, ‘What The Fuck’.”

For me, it’s more like, “Sometime you just have to do Rim To River in a Day.”

Check out the pictures here.