Anyone who knows me well knows that I don't really enjoy hiking. It's social peer pressure that gets me to go on hikes, but after a couple years of putting up with it for the sake of being social, I've decided it's just not for me. I feel okay about declining an invitation if I'm just not up for it. Especially when people want to go at 7am on a Saturday.
When there's a sort of once-in-a-lifetime hiking experience in your state and someone else does all the legwork and you really only have to show up (and walk with 30lbs on your back for 10 miles), then I realize that it's probably best if I just go.
After a long drive up to the trailhead on a Thursday evening in September (5ish hours from Phoenix, much longer for us) and stopping for gear and for dinner and for Walmart and for other stuff, we made it at 1am! Of course, without any headlamps or much energy, we made the executive decision to sleep in the Suburban until the morning. Six full size adults don't really fit, even when you take out our gear and try various configurations. It's a memorable night of giggling and the boys worrying about certain things and trying to talk secretly about them in Spanish, not knowing that I speak Spanish. Word of the trip: madera.
As the sun started to rise, we stumbled out of the car, put on our gear, and broke through "the barrier" to get started. The Red Bull would be the last cold thing I had before three days of well water and Grape Propel.
We walked through the dusty roads of Supai and contined another two miles to the campground. I think we beat many of the weekend hikers and got one of the best camp sites around, near the bathrooms and the water well.
Let's go back and see what I was doing in February. It was still covid times and winter. Terrible combo. But apparently not super terrib...
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