Repeating a Grand Canyon Journey to Renew Our Vows

She didn’t know of the surprise that was hidden in a rolled-up pair of my socks that, until recently, I had placed in the deep recesses of my suitcase. It was difficult to keep this surprise from her. We had been on the road for a week or so heading west to the Grand Canyon. All the while, I went to great lengths to keep the surprise a secret, fearing that it would be discovered in our various packing, repacking, and travel activities.

Soon after arriving, we shouldered our backpacks and began our long descent down the South Kaibab Trail. We eventually made it to the Colorado River and the Bright Angel Campground at the bottom of the canyon, a mile or so below its rim. She didn’t know that soon, all would be revealed.

While we erected our tent and set up camp adjacent to the soothing sounds of a crystal-clear side stream, I removed the sock from my backpack and quietly unrolled it so that I could place its hidden contents in my pocket.

I suggested to Mary Kay that we explore a bit and head to the shoreline of the Colorado. Once there, she busied herself arranging some towels on the sand for us to sit on while I removed the small box from my pocket. I then knelt down before her.

It took a moment for her to turn and see me on my knees. But when she did, she brought her hands to her mouth while tears began to form in her eyes. I opened the box that I held in my outstretched hands and asked if she would do me the honor of marrying me.

Through joyous tears and a growing smile, she said, “Yes!”

That was back in 2001.

It has taken us twenty years since that memorable day for us to again find ourselves at the canyon’s rim. Our plans were to retrace the exact route we had taken back then: hike down the South Kaibab Trail, spend the night at Bright Angel Campground, renew our vows at the Colorado River shoreline, ascend the Bright Angel Trail to Indian Garden Campground, spend the night there, and then ascend further up the Bright Angel trail to the trail head on the South Rim.

At the start of our hike in 2001.

At the start of our hike, twenty years later.

We began our 7-mile, 5,000-foot descent down the South Kaibab Trail under the bright sunshine from cloudless skies. Several other intrepid hikers were making their way down along with us. Unlike us, with large and heavy backpacks, they carried only small day packs and lighter loads. They had no need for sleeping bags, tents, and other camping gear since they were lucky to get a cabin accommodation at the Phantom Ranch nearby the Bright Angel campground where we were going to be staying. The Park Service has implemented a very competitive lottery system for this popular overnight option. I had tried for months to get selected in this lottery but had no luck. So, backpacking and tent camping was our only option.

Our progress was slower than anticipated. An occasional mule train, which had the right-of-way, required us to step off the trail to let it by. Elsewhere, the very dry conditions created a powdery dust and dirt that hid and made slippery the rocks that frequently served as a base for the trail. We were not always successful in avoiding slips while negotiating these and other trail impediments. So, slow walking the trail was the only safe way to proceed.

At times, we would stop to rest. My usual pose was to bend over just enough to take the heavy weight of my backpack off of my shoulders. I apparently did this often enough that a guy who had been following us was concerned that I wasn’t doing well and asked me if I was okay. “Are you sure?” he asked. “I have an emergency beacon with me if you need help.”

On occasion, we would do a proper rest break and remove our packs, have a snack, and drink some water. When I took off one of my boots to adjust my sock, another hiker asked if I was okay wondering if I needed anything for my blisters. I assured him that blisters were not the problem.

Jeesh, do I really look that pathetic that fellow hikers are concerned for my well-being?

I guess I sorta do...

MK at a rest break in 2001.

And there she is again, looking good, at the exact same spot and the exact same tree (now dead) twenty years later.

Eventually, the Colorado River appeared far below. Soon thereafter, so too did the bridge we would use to cross over from the south side of the river to its northern shoreline where our campground awaited our arrival.

Deer roamed the campground, unafraid of any human presence. Other critters, mostly curious squirrels looking for a handout, scurried about. While we were careful not to have any food in our tent, we later learned that one of them ate through our tent’s netting to get inside while we were not paying attention. He must have done it just for the fun of it for he wasn’t going to find any food or other goodies. Good ol’ duct tape, something we always have as part of our gear, served as a temporary repair job until we get home.

Other backpackers began to arrive. One young couple, who were camping near our site, had no tent at all. They would be sleeping under the very chilly stars tonight. Most of the others had lightweight, modern gear, and single person tents. I looked on enviously at how their gear contrasted with our heavier, outdated, and aged gear that we’ve now had for decades.

Like we did twenty years ago, we headed to the shoreline of the Colorado River. We found the exact same sandy spot and backdrop as we did back then. This time, our pockets, instead of holding secrets and surprises as in 2001, held folded pieces of paper on which we had written our vows of renewal.

There, in the sand at the bottom of the Grand Canyon, we celebrated our past twenty adventurous and exciting years while expressing heartfelt and loving oaths, promises, and pledges to each other for the next twenty plus years in the future. We both know that they promise to be just as fun, exciting, and adventurous.

Right after I proposed to Mary Kay in 2001.

Right after we renewed our vows, at the exact same spot, twenty years later.

The next morning, as we broke down camp, I was reminded of the warning signs we read at the outset of our journey: “Going down is optional, going up is mandatory”. It was in the “mandatory” phase that we now found ourselves. Today’s journey would include a climb of nearly 2,000 feet over 5 miles.

We were now seeing a different part of the canyon since we were now on a different trail, this time the Bright Angel Trail. It’s first mile or so paralleled the river. Rafters floating through the Colorado’s rapids swiftly passed us. Some beached their raft near the trail to get out and stretch a bit.

Soon, we met a young woman, maybe twenty or so years of age, as we rounded a corner of the trail. We asked her if she was part of the rafting party since she was only carrying a single water bottle and a small fanny pack. Imagine our surprise when she told us she was out on a day hike, just now approaching the river from her sunrise start at the rim. Her plan was to reach the bottom and return to the South Rim all in one long day hike. That’s 18 miles round trip, with a descent of nearly a mile followed by an ascent of equal gain. Never in my prime (if I ever had a “prime”) could I have walked 18 miles in one go, let alone 18 miles with such elevation changes as what she was undertaking.

My oh my, to again be young, agile, and mobile. We, on the other hand, were old, stiff, and plodding as we hiked up the trail, slow and steady, Last time, we hiked from the river all the way back up to the South Rim in one day. Given that we are on the verge of senior citizen status, we instead cut this portion of the trip into two days, staying at the half-way point in the campground at Indian Garden.

The Devil's Corkscrew, the name given to these series of trail swithcbacks.

Many people over-estimate their abilities when hiking into and out of the canyon. Some need rescue while others unburden themselves of their pack weight. While setting up our tent at the Indian Garden campground, we had a brief chat with a park ranger. He told us we would be amazed at the stuff people leave behind for him and his fellow rangers to deal with.

One notable story he recounted, was one morning when he came upon a pile of gear, including a six-person tent, four sleeping bags, ground pads, and assorted cooking and hiking gear. On top of this pile was a note from the group responsible apologizing for leaving all of this behind. “Sorry,” they said in their note, “but there is no way we will be able to make it to the top if we have to haul all of this heavy gear with us.”

After finishing our camp chores, we added to our arduous day and took a 3-mile side trip along the relatively flat Plateau Trail. The payoff was at its end where we marveled at the glorious views of the canyon and the Colorado River.

When we woke the next morning, we laid in our sleeping bags staring at the tent’s ceiling while mentally preparing ourselves for what we had ahead of us: a 3,000-foot gain in elevation over 4.5 miles. We got out to break down our Indian Garden camp just before the rain began to fall. This was no light, summer shower. Instead, it started as a cold, steady rain that soon turned to freezing hail and pellets. After an hour or so, this freezing rain turned to a steady snow.

Foreboding weather up above.

When home, we always found a walk in our local forest preserve during a gently falling snow to be a romantic outing. Today, romance was the furthest thing from our minds as we made grueling progress up the increasingly slippery trail. Fortunately, we had brought our Yaktrax for this very reason which gave our boots much needed traction.

A ranger stopped us as we turned up one of the interminable switchbacks to ask us for our permits. After finding we were all legit, he mentioned that five or so inches of snow were forecasted and that we need to be very careful continuing on.

The rest of the way was as much a test of mental stamina as it was a test of physical endurance. Keep on with just one slow and steady foot in front of the other, we would say to each other, and we would eventually get to the top.

And after five and half hours, that is where we indeed found ourselves. After fist bumps, a big embrace, and a bunch of kisses, we had made it to the top at the South Rim wearily celebrating all that we had just accomplished.