Facing the Darkness of my Expectations

I promised the children all summer that we would go camping one weekend. So, of course, on the very last weekend of summer, the promise was kept with a visit to Bryce Canyon.  Of all of the National Parks, I think that Bryce presents the most spectacular initial impression.  Once my kids arrived at the edge of the amphitheater at Sunset Point, they were sold too. With the two little ones more likely to be awarded a merit badge in whining rather than hiking, I was shocked that they were ALL eager to go on a mile-and-a-half hike down and up the canyon on the Navajo Loop trail with its crazy sequence of switchbacks.

We actually had a hard time slowing the kids down on the decent.  I am still surprised none of them were lost over the edge.

We got some great pictures...

And despite his lack of a smile, Ronin was impressed with the canyon too (he would make this same face if the Power Rangers rode into town on velociraptors to face off in a Pokemon duel).  Even little Char Char (nowadays "Chuck" to me) didn't complain that much hiking back up.

Still, it was enough hiking for the littluns, so we headed back to camp for hot-dogs and root-beer (whose cans seemed to catastrophically explode when dropped from a relatively short distance.  We were not sure if it was the 7000 ft altitude or the fact that they were Walmart root beer cans.  Regardless, Ronin endeavored to intentionally obtain additional data points in this analysis).   Once dinner was consumed and countless marshmallows were lit up like Salem innocence, I gathered the crew together to watch the sunset from Bryce Point, the highest point overlooking the canyon.  Unfortunately, graying skies and pushy Japanese tourists wanting to clear us out of their pictures started us back to the car.

Then I had a Clark Griswold epiphany, I could take the two big boys back to our campground down through the canyon and back up again to Sunset Point in a little less than 5 miles.  The sun would be down soon and we would have an enchanting evening strolling in the shadows of the hoodoos.  My expectations pictured it having the same feel as walking around Disneyland at closing time when the crowds are gone and the lighting is perfect.  This would be cool.

Being as nuts as I am, the boys both eagerly agreed to the proposal and with high expectations we descended fearlessly down into the canyon.  As we got going, it was just as I pictured.  The lighting was great at sunset, despite the clouds.  We had lots of fun and lots of amazing scenery.  The light was fading, but visibility was still fine. Once we hit the bottom, however, it grew pretty dark.  At first this only meant stepping in more horse droppings that littering the trail than we had hoped (As a rule, I generally hope to step in no horse poo).  Not much later, however, we were only able to make out the faint whiteness of the trail snaking through the red rock and nothing else beyond the towering silhouettes of the hoodoos against the moonless sky.  So what I had hoped would be an enchanting evening was starting to get kind of creepy.  With specter of utter blackness, one of us would think that we heard something off the side of the trail.  At this point I began to realize that this was not Disneyland, but was a real wilderness with real wildlife.  And within these steep canyon walls, any animal we encountered would be inherently cornered and all the more aggressive.

It was about this time where I started looking of the Ctrl-Z button to undo this choice in favor of curing up in my sleeping back for an early bed time.   This hike wasn't living up to my enchanted expectations.  Yet there was no other option but to keep pressing forward.  We couldn't go back, all that was there was a much steeper hill and an empty parking lot far from our campground.  We couldn't call anyone to "pick us up"; even if we did have a phone signal. Nope nothing.  We were on our own and we had to keep going further into the darkness.

It was at this point as we were half joking, half serious about the dangers of our plight that I reflected philosophical (at least as much as an engineer can be, let alone spell, "philosophical").  I got thinking of other times just like this where I dug myself into a hole and had no choice to press forward or perish.  I thought of a time when I was 15 and found myself caught midway up a cliff face without a rope; not knowing if I could go any higher, but knowing for sure that I could not climb down backwards.  I remembered feeling the same sensation while in the midst of law school wondering what I was doing there.

I think we all find ourselves in these places in life at one time or the other, whether it be a job, our financial situation,  an injury, a relationship, a moral choice, or an adventure gone bad.  We find ourselves wading knee-deep through horse droppings of our making in the blackness of our own choosing.  Expectations and reality don't line up (at least for us Clark Griswold optimists).  It's at that point you ask yourself what choice do you really have, you can't lay down in the middle of the trail with your cute-blankie and suck your thumb, hoping this problem will just go away.  That is how you become a cougar appetizer.  These are the times you get to find what stuff you are made of and take a step at a time through the darkness and hoping you don't get eaten.  And if you make it out, you are older and wiser along with having plenty of scares and stories to show for it.  Being realistic, you don't always get out of your messes in one piece.  That is life.  But you are guaranteed to fail if you don't press forward.

So with this nice little Sunday school lesson in mind, the boys and I pressed forward.  We developed a cougar action plan that involved using a mag-light like a bull fighter and chucking rocks at the cougar like it was an Old Testament leper.  Having a plan was reassuring as the blackness got thicker and thicker.  Finally, we reached the looping point of the trail we had hiked earlier that days.  We were all notably relieved at the familiarly of the trail, despite the fact that this portion only offered a sliver of light in full daylight.

After another mile and a steep inclines in blackness, we finally reached the parking lot at Sunset Point; a half mile from our campground.  We followed a French couple back to camp and knew were safe, because who would eat Danish or Irish when they had French cuisine right there.  We figured if we heard a growl we would just spotlight the French to help the cougar easily find its meal.

Well we made it back safely, all except Locke who fell on his face as we entered our campsite.  It was a fun adventure, but it was a little more fun in its retrospect than in its immediacy.  I also wished I had read this article before I set off on our little trip (so apparently if a cougar charges you in a crowded National Park, he gets a free pass, but get's whacked if it is outside of the park - seems a little backwards).

So all-in-all, though it was nerve racking, it was lots of fun.  The best fun usually is.  Besides, after looking at my photos, I realized that I was surrounded by the real monsters all along.