*Photos by Sara Leibold
I’m in awe. That the earth should open so generously. That the water should be so alive, journeying to the sea.
And that me and my feet should be welcomed by the things that are.
In early May, I made my way through the many rocks of Utah. My dear friend, Sara-Tide, had invited me to join for her last stretch of the Hayduke Trail. It is an 800 mile route through Utah and Arizona which most hikers start in Moab and finish in Zion. The little I knew about the trail was that it included canyoneering and logistical challenges like burying food caches before you start your walk.nThe stretch remaining for Sara-Tide was along the north rim of the Grand Canyon.
I was touched. Our friendship was a big deal to me. Born on the Appalachian Trail in 2011 on our fourth day as thru-hikers. The ripples of what life and walking can do made a great impression, perhaps even a groove. A powerhouse friend is worth their weight in gold.
Hiking the Hayduke with her was a rare opportunity on a few levels. One being that I got to support her. I have received her company and road assistance many times on sections of the Appalachian Trail and Continental Divide. I got to support a journey of hers. A sense of purpose rode with me to southern Utah, where we could shuttle our vehicles to the start and finish of a 60-mile adventure.
Another rarity was showing up without having much of a clue what we were doing. I’m usually the planner. This time, I packed 5 days of food and arrived. The rest of the details were up to her.
Our first day would be dropping down to the Colorado River from the north rim of the Grand Canyon. It was over 5,000 feet of descent in 9 miles to our campground near Dear Creek Falls. From there we could either bushwhack along the Colorado River for 7 miles or hope to catch a ride with a raft. (Hitchhiking on river rafts is a thing for Hayduke hikers). Next we had 28 miles of boulder scrambling up Kanab Canyon; a place known for flash floods. And then 15 miles of trail and forest service roads.
When we arrived at the Bill Hall trailhead to start our journey, I did something I’ve never done before. I asked permission. With a lit candle and a song to the directions I made an offering to the Grand Canyon before we entered. My body trembled as a sang. Warmth spread across the back of my heart, like a comforting hand. I felt the yes. “This is big medicine.” I said to Sara-Tide.
I had known for a long time that some kind of magic was in that canyon. It was obvious in the eyes of people I’ve witnessed emerging from river trips. I recognized it as similar to how Glacier had opened my soul when I first laid eyes on it at age 14. And there was no doubt it had transformed Sara-Tide.
After the ritual, the space was open. Rock structures felt like beings. Certain minerals from the depths of the earth greeted my fingertips like family. The stars and planets spoke. The river itself was a friend, especially to Sara-Tide, though I was scooped up in it’s charms as well.
And in the spirit of being scooped up, I had the most phenomenal opportunity to practice the law of attraction.
On the morning of our second day, Sara-Tide and I had breakfast with the Colorado River. The base of Deer Creek Falls was alive with mist and the powerful yet soft energy of water shaping land.
We had a day ahead of us. We could hope to catch a ride with a rafting party or we could start walking seven miles along the steep canyon walls filled with brush and boulders.
“We should start now.” Sara-Tide weighed out the logic. If we waited for a ride and never found one, we could be hiking into the night. And it wasn’t getting any cooler.
I looked downstream for a moment. “Nah. Let’s order up the best day possible. What would that look like?”
I talked us through the possibilities, lit up with the alignment of the canyon itself. “How about we spend half a day on this beach and then a nice dinner and sunset at the next one? We can have lunch, swim, meet nice people, then catch a ride this afternoon.”
“And while we’re at it, let’s order a beer. Because if we believe in it, we can have it. I’m going to put in an order to the universe for a cold IPA from a boat full of Montanans.”
We sat down on the river bank and waited.
A rafting party of four arrived in two boats less than an hour later. In our first few minutes of conversation, they offered us a ride. They had plans to spend the bulk of the day at the beach and would be heading out in the afternoon.
“Perfect” I said. “That way we get to hang out here for lunch.”
I smiled at Sara-Tide, while we made ourselves comfortable in a patch of shade in the sand beside the canyon wall.
Several parties of various sizes tied their boats to shore. Everyone was aglow with gratitude and joy, living their best life on trip down the Colorado. Most of the parties were out for a three week journey that was nearing it’s end.
Their eyes showed their adoration like sunlight reflecting of the water. I knew the feeling well. I’ve had similar gazes toward the end of a thru-hike; drinking in my surroundings in hopes to hold on to it. Wanting to infuse myself with water and trees so that I can never be separated.
Two young men rolled up in river kayaks, followed by two rafts. One with a solo rower in the middle and another with several young women and men. Their ease and comfort with the flow of the current struck me right away.
“That’s gotta be the Montanans.” I nudged Sara-Tide.
We stood in the little free space left of the beach with our feet in the water, a few yards from their boats. The man in the raft by himself jumped out after securing his vessel and then walked over toward us with an open dry bag.
“Hikers?” He asked.
Sara-Tide and I nodded.
He held out the bag. “I think you’ve earned a cold beer.”
I peered down to the collection of cans before me. An IPA sat on top of the pile. Aha, there is was, the beer I ordered. I reached for it and smiled as he approached Sara-Tide.
“Where are you from?” I leaned in waiting for his answer.
“Idaho.” He smiled.
“So close.” I said over my shoulder to Sara-Tide. “That’s like the other Montana.” I took a step toward him and reached out my hand. “Thank you so much for the beer. I was working on manifesting one today. I’m Shayla.”
He shook my hand. “Good work. I’m Montana.”
Sara-Tide and I howled at the river. “Amazing.” She said.
Soon after that, we boarded a raft with borrowed life jackets and gaping smiles. The group we were with had an age range of 10-76 and insisted that we sit in front to get the full experience. Nothing could have prepared me for the thrill of those rapids as we dipped before our first 6 foot wall of water and received it’s icy greeting. We laughed and squealed and held on tight for an hour.
When we were dropped off beside Kanab Creek, we waved goodbye and stepped back into the peaceful energy of canyon sand. We ate our dinner with our feet in the water. Then I slept under the stars and had a conversation with the Moon and Mars before the morning light woke me.
A beaver swam back and forth along the shore as the sun rose. I wouldn’t have guessed I’d see one there.
Our walk from there was brilliant and challenging. We made the best time we could over giant boulders and through pools of water. We drank from a spring that fell from hanging plants above us. I imagined my life might have truly meshed with the whimsy. Perhaps a fairy garden or a mermaids lair. I’m no longer unsure that those things are possible.
When we made it back to our getaway car the next day I felt completion. As though an opening had closed and I’d landed back in whatever world this is. I thanked the Grand Canyon and Sara-Tide and drove back to Carbondale.
Today I put my feet in the Crystal River and cheer on the skipping water. I understand why it’s in a hurry to get to where its going. And I pray for more of that. May the water flow.
Thank you for allowing us to journey along.
