Hitchhiking back to my Condo Tent- Luxury Home

Early morning came, and I got a text from bill around 5am... went back to sleep, chuckling about the misaligned zipper not only on the doorway, but on the screen as well. haha. It was a cheap backyard tent for kids that they apparently rented. The Korean couple also picked up one sleeping bag to share, in a climate where frost forms at night. Not wonder they were cold. The floor was hard and rocky, but is was SOOO nice to be off my feet.

The Korean guy, the one who fed me steak and rum, and whose name I still don't know, was fast asleep in the sleeping bag. Looks like they had a difficult night sleeping in the outdoors. Maybe they really were from Manhattan, New York. I had a cup of orange juice, and managed to get a hold my owl friend, Bill. We were in the same campground, just a short ways away, but I asked him to find me, cause it might take me forever trying to walk to him. I was moving in a cricked bow-legged fashion, and my muscles were like solid rocks.

Before long Bill showed up, and we got to finally meet. We spoke forever sitting on the Korean's picnic bench sharing stories as if we were old friends.

We began to walk back to his camp site to grab the truck, and Bill looked at me like you would a pitiful dog as I limped along like the crooked old man and his six pence. "I'll grab the truck and meet you back here." I was so happy! Bill grabbed his white work truck, a monster of a truck, and we drove off to find breakfast. It was like being in Disney land, the South Rim was so busy and Made For Tourists! We stopped in the grocery store, which was like a giant gift shop, and grabbed bagels and cream cheese. (Now a becoming a time long tradition for Bill and I). He took me for a nice driving tour of the area, and back in behind the restricted areas for a better view of the canyon. Every time I got out of the truck, it took me at least 5 minutes to get myself wiggled out back onto my soar legs. I certainly looked like a cripple, but I all I could do is laugh at myself.

As I mentioned earlier, Bill had crossed the canyon in 8.5 hours not too long ago, and was still not sure what took me so long. (He would later carry a pack across, slept a good nights sleep along the way, and still took longer than I did).

I met the owl crew on the South Rim, the Condor Crew, and one of the ladies working on Cougars. I mostly slumped around that day, didn’t feel like doing much more than sitting. And in good company too. It was time for Tim’s owl crew to head back into the canyon, and that included Bill too. I borrowed a sharpie marker and made up a nice little sign that said Highway 89 to North Rim. I also added a few hearts and stars for good luck. They crew was rushed off, and Bill said a quick goodbye pointing me in the right direction. You could tell he felt bad about leaving me there like that, but he also thought I pretty frickin awesome and would be just fine (he later told me). I wobbled down the paved trail towards the road that would take me back to my nice soft bed. I stuck my thumb out by the road hoping to at least get a ride closer, it was suppose to be nearly a mile away. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I had to hide in the bathroom a couple of times back at the wildlife center to hide my crying. Though I felt a little desperate and exhausted, it was still an adventure. It was more that not only did my blister cause me severe pain, (I did not mention that it popped on the climb back up), but also that I rubbed my tendons raw in my heels. I was too exhausted to take care of myself, and could sleep in the bushes for the next four days and not care.

As I walked on this path gliding side to side on the outer edges of my feet (it hurt less), the path diverged. No one had mentioned this. No signs, nothing. So I picked a path and continued on. I had to stop a couple of times to break down and cry, but it was all part of the adventure right? I had to say I had a great outlook on the whole situation. The path diverged several times more before I found someone I could ask for directions. I meandered over to a lady gardening, “Oh yeah, its about a mile from here, and she pointed back the same direction I had come from.” ??? She directed me through the branching of the trail, I took a deep sigh and carried on. Tears again, and a smile on my face, I tried to make my way back through. Still managed to get lost... several times over, and stuck out my sign as soon as I found the road. I had no idea where I was, but I was ready to get outta there.

Several vehicles passed me, often with disapproving hateful looks. (Bill had been sworn at, swerved for, and flipped off by tourists on his route back. How awful! What kind of society of I live in?). None of that had happened to me. I got a few smiles, and a couple of people stopped who were headed the wrong direction. I looked at a young guy across the street who wanted to give me a ride, but replied that he was going the other way. I ran off into the woods and cried some more. If I were in any other country, I would have had a ride by now. Full of hate for Americans, I gave up, and cried my eyes out.

Some time later, I got myself back together, and found out where I was. I grabbed a map from the campground laundry mat, and headed towards the free shuttles. I figured that I could take one as far as it would go out of the park. I had such a hard time believing that people could be so cruel. I was dressed in colorful hiking clothes, had a new backpack, and certainly didn’t look like I would cause anyone harm. I’ve always had great luck hitching, and with the most incredible people too.

I slowly made my way to the bus stop, and took it as far as it would go. Struck up a few conversations along the way, but nothing to benefit. I had boarded my third bus by now, and was far away from the park... but I looked at my map, and realized that I had taken the wrong bus. I was far South from where I meant to be, and had to ride it back, 20 minutes into the park again. When I finally reached the pick up point to the correct shuttle, it was already 6 pm, a useless and dangerous time to hitchhike out.

Filled with dismay, sadness and exhaustion, I put on my best smile, and tried to think of a new plan. It was certainly better for me to stay in the park another night than be stranded on an Indian reservation. Bill had warned me that people have been skinned there at night. Lovely.

Maybe if I hung out in front of the fancy lodges I could strike up a conversation and manage to crash a floor in some fancy sweet. It was early dusk, and I sat out by the rim of the canyon. Wind blowing my wild hair, and feeling like I was that crazy mountain woman I had always looked up to. I wondered what the children were thinking as they passed me with their parents. I struck up a few conversations that only ended is disgust and bewilderment at my having crossed the canyon. I pitty these people, they don’t know what kind of life they are missing out on.

A new idea struck me, perhaps someone else had walked this trail from the other rim and would be going back. Someone had to be at least as crazy as me, if not more so?!? I escaped the snoody tourists, and found a little place to station myself at the top of the trail head. Funny enough, people’s attitude here was completely different. It was only a few hundred meters away from the ‘others’, but a totally different world. I chatted up with almost every person who made it back up, each with incredible stories to tell.

Unfortunately none of them had done as I had. One lady joined me to watch the sun set over the canyon, a tradition of hers. She worked at one of the stores as a cashier, and simply couldn’t believe what I had done. “Well, what do I do with you?” She felt a bit responsible for me, like a sweet mother would. I should have just asked her for a floor to stay on, but I didn’t. I was hoping that she would just offer, it was on the tip of her tongue, but I was too busy re-assuring her that I would be fine. I knew I would be.

She went back to her car, not so happy about leaving me, and I made my way back towards the campground deeply disappointed about being stuck. I was 30 miles from home with an empty bank account. I had $5 in my pocket, no transportation, and no place to stay. I knew no one, and the sun had gone off to light up someone else’s day.