"Quarter Pounders from Heaven," or "Will Hike for Food"
Volume I - "Intro"
by Dan Rowley, Copyright (C)1998 Dan Rowley - all rights reserved


"Hmm. That's an interesing sensation"

(sleepily, from tent next door) "What?"

"Rotating your foot around your ankle."

(wide awake, also from tent next door) "AaargH! [expletive]! You [expletive]!"

"told you. [grin]"

Understatement, I'm finding, is an extremely powerful literary tool. It's hard to describe the grandeur of something like the Grand Canyon without understating it's majesty or slipping into hyperbole. To describe my physical and mental state the morning after hiking down to the bottom of the Canyon is similarly problematic. It's hard to describe, or indeed even to fully recall the feeling of accomplishment when we finally staggered the last few steps out of the chasm described by the Colorado River as it meanders it's way across our desert home on it's way to the Ocean. It's certainly not hard to imagine, as you gaze on it's waters and contemplate the canyon formed by it's progress, why the Colorado has been tapped, dammed, and diverted to serve man's needs - the power is palpable, and the sight is awe-inspiring. The words to describe all of this, though, inevitably pale in comparison to the real experience. This account cannot possibly capture all of the sights, sensations, and emotions we experienced on our adventure, but I hope it will serve to give a flavor of the events, despite the inadequacy of the words used to describe it.

Those who have known me for any significant period of time would undoubtedly fail to list "outdoorsman" on their top 100 list of words which describe me. The fact that I was once very briefly a scout is far outweighed by nearly two decades of a sedentary, and by and large indoor lifestyle. A good friend recently described his perception of "roughing it" as staying in a hotel without a cocktail lounge, and that wouldn't be far off from my own perception as recently as a few months ago. I'm not sure what prompted me to want to change it - perhaps it was the constant badgering of my friends, incipient jealousy at the fun they were having without me, or even some kind of latent machismo. Regardless of the reason, I'm rapidly becoming addicted to the "outdoor" lifestyle, and the new experiences it has afforded me.

The idea of a Grand Canyon hike was born more than a year ago - long before I had any inkling of a desire to participate. For a number of months it was little more than "big talk" - planning for an event so far in the future as to make it almost a pipe dream - one of those "dream trips" which never seem to make it past the initial planning stages. I expressed a vague sort of interest, safe in the knowledge that it would never really happen. After all, the Grand Canyon is a popular tourist destination. Hotel rooms are routinely booked as much as two years in advance, and scarce campsites are reserved four months ahead. How could we possibly coordinate vacations and organize a trip that far in advance? We can barely all manage to get to a movie on time, so planning for this canyon trip seemed a comparatively safe commitment.

Of course, I didn't plan for my growing reliance on weekend day hikes both for exercise and decompression. I also didn't plan for the addictive nature of the physical and mental "high" associated with this kind of physical activity - the goal is what keeps you going, but to borrow one of my favorite quotes, "the journey is the reward." Indeed. We all grouse about the blisters, the sunburn, the soreness, and the occasional twisted, sprained, or overused joint, but even that is part of the litany. We're all supplicants at the altar of the challenge - we pay the physical price, but we reap rewards beyond measure. This, as do many facets of this experience, defies all attempts at rational quantification and description. You simply had to be there.

Stay tuned for part II, when our intrepid explorers finalize plans and begin preparations.

Another Grand Canyon site can be found here.

Comments? email me!