added. “The three of you are tied for best in bed. You’re all good in different ways.”
“That’s a non-answer,” Logan complained. “Tell us the truth. We’re all big boys. We can handle it.”
“That is the truth,” I said. “Although I’m open to persuasion. Think about that the next time each of you is with me.”
“Challenge accepted, “Riley said. His headlamp bobbed as he nodded. “When we get to camp later today I’m going to rock your world.”
“You’re not going to want me when we get to camp. I’m going to be tired, and sweaty, and gross.”
“Is that a test?” Riley asked. “Because I don’t care how sweaty and gross you are. I’ll always want you.”
“I’ll wait for you to bathe,” Logan said behind me.
“Points for honesty!”
We all laughed as we descended deeper into the canyon.
27
Christie
We reached the three mile resthouse after another hour. As we sat down and took another break I realized I could make out details deeper in the canyon. Not just the north rim a dozen miles away, but individual ridges and terrain in the canyon itself. All of it was slowly coming into view with the pre-dawn twilight. Soon it was bright enough that we turned off our headlamps and stowed them in our packs.
I munched on some trail mix and looked back the way we had come. The canyon rim didn’t look too far away… Until I saw tiny specks moving along it. Tourists walking along the rim trail. They were so small! We had come a lot farther than I expected.
The water pipe was shut off for the winter at the resthouse, so we refilled our water from Riley’s backpack bladder and then continued on. The view before us improved with every passing minute. The switchbacks finally ended and the trail turned north, descending down into the middle area of the canyon. There was no risk of falling off a cliff now; the terrain gently sloped downward, and was relatively flat on either side of us. Green shrubs and bushes began appearing along the edge of the trail. Half an hour later we walked into a copse of trees.
“This isn’t what I expected to find down here,” I said.
“The environment in the canyon is surprisingly diverse,” Harper said. “It’s almost like passing through three or four distinct biomes.”
“The Indian Garden is up ahead,” Riley said. “We’ll take another break.”
The Indian Garden was nothing more than another resthouse, a campsite clearing, and a fenced-in area with feeding troughs. “This is where they keep the mules after hiking down,” Harper explained.
I paused to take a couple of photos with my phone. I frowned at the screen when I was done. “No cell signal down here?”
“Nope!” Harper said happily. “Most of the canyon is a dead zone for cell coverage. It’s nice and peaceful without distractions.”
“Except for our Ranger radios.” Riley pulled a black walkie-talkie style device from his belt. “The station can get in contact with us that way. Ruins the peace and quiet.”
Logan was standing next to a wooden post. “What are you looking at?” I called.
He waved me over. It was a map of the canyon.
“This is where we are,” he said, pointing. “The river is here. Everything in between we call the prairie. You’ll see why.”
I squinted at the mile markers. “We’ve gone four-point-six miles. To get to the Phantom Ranch it’s another…” I groaned. “Another six miles? We’re not even halfway there?”
Logan only grinned at me. “Look at the other chart.”
“What other chart?”
“The elevation.”
I found the chart he was referring to in the top-left of the map:
ELEVATIONS
6,860 ft (Trailhead)
3,800 ft (Indian Garden)
2,480 ft (Colorado River)
2,460 ft (Phantom Ranch)
I did the math in my head. “We’ve already descended three thousand feet. And we only have another twelve hundred?”
Logan nodded. “It’s mostly flat from here on out. Just a leisurely stroll.”
“Oh, is that it?” I said sarcastically.
“Yeah. It kind of is.”
We left the Indian Garden a few minutes later. Knowing we still weren’t at the halfway point was demotivating, and my feet started to hurt.
But then the trees disappeared and we emerged into a new section of the Grand Canyon. The trail was wide enough that we didn’t have to walk single-file anymore. I could see why it was called the prairie: because that’s exactly what it felt like. The trail was compact dirt rather than sand, and there were low bushes dotting the ground in all directions. The terrain stretched ahead of us endlessly, with the north rim towering above it in the