The summer of 1969 not only saw men walking on the moon and our family spending a whole month at the cabin, it also was the summer I hiked down into the Grand Canyon, killed my feet, and got to ride in a helicopter. It was quite the adventure.
I turned 13 in August that year and became a teenager. I always thought that would make me grown up, but I wasn't very. In fact, I was as scared about hiking in the Grand Canyon as I was about going to girls camp, which I had to do again that summer, this time without my mother. At least dad was able to go with me down into the Grand Canyon.
Each summer our ward took the youth ages 12 to 18 on a super activity. We earned the money to pay for these activities by putting on bar-b-que chicken dinners for civic groups in our city. We catered good dinners, and we made lots of money. Since dad was in the Bishopric he always helped with the dinners, which meant our family helped too, and we really enjoyed working together and learned a lot at the same time. But being in the Bishopric also meant dad went on all the activities, so I had to go too, whether I wanted to or not. Hiking 12 miles down into the Grand Canyon was one activity I had no desire to do.
The plan was that the girls in our ward would drive up to the Grand Canyon early, early Monday morning so we could start hiking about 9:00 am. We would camp down at the bottom until Wednesday morning, when a helicopter would fly down to take us out at the same time they took the boys from our ward in. We girls would drive home and the boys would stay until Saturday, when they would hike out. It was a good plan; no one would have to worry about boys and girls camping together, and hiking down would be easier on the girls while the boys could experience the thrill of hiking up from the bottom of the Grand Canyon.
We were actually hiking down into Havasu Canyon, on the south side of the Grand Canyon, to camp at a place called Havasu Falls on the Havasupai Indian Reservation. These falls are famous world wide, and are absolutely beautiful. Havasupai means 'the people of the blue green water', and that is exactly the color of the waterfalls. The water has so much limestone in it that it has formed pools and natural dams under the falls, making the most awesome swimming pools you've ever seen. Bishop Brinton, the leader of our ward, had hiked down to Havasu Falls before, and he was excited for us to get to have such a neat experience. Most of the youth in the ward and the adults were also thrilled to get to go on such a great activity. I was scared to death.
First of all, I hadn't had great experiences hiking in the past, especially not the previous summer when we had to go on a four mile hike at girls camp. I thought I was going to die before it was over. Second, I hated wearing closed in shoes, they always gave me blisters. I had spent my life either going barefoot or wearing sandals, so I didn't even own a pair of hiking shoes which was a must for going on such a long hike. Third, I did not like being away from home, and even though dad was going with us I was still really apprehensive. But it didn't matter. I was going and that was that.
The week before the activity mom took me to the store to find a pair of hiking shoes. I couldn't find any. Hiking boots were expensive and they hurt my feet. There were no such things as running shoes or good athletic shoes at the time, and tennis shoes were too flimsy for hiking. Mom ended up buying me a good pair of sturdy oxfords, thinking I could use them later as school shoes. I still remember how ugly those shoes were. They were white and light brown, stiff and hard, and I did not like them at all. Dad told me to be sure to wear a pair of nylons under my regular stockings and then he assured me I wouldn't have any problems at all. Right.
We got up about 3:00am on that fateful Monday morning, grabbed the sack lunches mom had prepared for us, kissed her goodbye, and drove over to the church where everyone was meeting. After loading all the girls and their luggage into cars we took off for the Grand Canyon. At first everyone in our car was excited and chattering, but within an hour or so the only people awake were dad, who was driving, and me who was too scared and anxious to close my eyes.
We got to the trail head at the rim of the Grand Canyon in good time. Here we met the Indians who were going to pack our sleeping bags and equipment down to the camp grounds. Once their mules were loaded we all gathered at the trail head for a prayer and final instructions. Our leaders made sure everyone had their sack lunches, full canteens, and that we all knew the rules of staying together, not horsing around, and keeping back from the edge of the trail. Then we started.
The first mile of the trail was straight down. It wasn't exhausting walking, like the hike up the mountain last year at girls camp, but it wasn't long before my legs felt like quivering jello. It's funny what different muscles we have to use to walk down a steep canyon instead of hiking up. It actually didn't take us that long to get to the floor of the canyon, maybe an hour or so. We stopped there for a long break, eating some and drinking. I was being as careful as I could with my water, remembering how I'd run out on our hike the year before and thought I was going to die. It helped, too, having dad with me. He had two extra canteens hanging on his belt in case some of us needed more water. The bad part was my feet. I already had blisters on both heels, the sides of my feet, and one big toe. Oh, they hurt, but I didn't want to complain so I kept going.
The rest of the hike was on the floor of the canyon. It wasn't difficult walking, but it was far. I have never been so happy when we finally saw the beautiful green trees nestling at the foot of some huge, red cliffs. We all thought we had made it to the river and the camp ground. It was actually only the village of Havasupai, and we still had two more miles to hike, but at least we knew the end was in sight. My feet were hurting so bad by this time I didn't think I could take another step, but I knew if I stopped or took my shoes off I'd never get them back on again, so I just kept on putting one foot in front of the other, and prayed for the end.
Eventually we did get to the river, and it was amazing! Havasu falls fell over a high, high, cliff, splitting into two waterfalls crashing down into cool, clear pools below. The campground was below the falls and we were sure glad to reach it. I dropped down onto the ground in agony and fumbled to untie the laces on my scuffed and dusty oxfords. It hurt like crazy just pulling them off, and then I had to peel the socks and nylons off my poor, blistered feet. And I am talking about blisters! The ones on my heels were huge, they covered the whole back of my feet. The side blisters had blisters on top of each other, and I even had blisters on the soles of my feet. Man, did they hurt! Dad sure felt bad when he saw how bad my feet were. He was upset that I hadn't told him my feet hurt while we were hiking. He had bandaids and mule skin with him, and maybe could have helped if he'd known. I was just glad to get those awful shoes off.
I spent the next two days hobbling around camp barefoot. I went to the pools a few times, and soaked my feet in the cold water, but most of the time I stayed at camp. It was fun, and beautiful, but I wasn't in much of a mood for enjoying camping.
Wednesday morning we packed everything up and I endured putting my shoes back on. My blisters had heeled a little and dad had doctored my feet pretty good with mule tape and bandaids, so I was OK.
Pretty soon we heard the whirr of the helicopter overhead, and we watched in anticipation as it settled down into the canyon and landed not too far from our camp. Out tumbled a bunch of excited boys. As soon as they had unloaded their gear the girls stuff was put on and then the first group of girls climbed on board. Maybe because I was one of the younger girls I got to be on that first flight. It was so exciting. I don't know why I wasn't scared about flying in a helicopter, maybe because I had dreamed of getting to fly for so long I just didn't care if it was on a helicopter or an airplane, but I wasn't nervous, just excited. It was sure noisy in the helicopter, and amazing how close the whirling blades were to our heads as we climbed in, but what a thrill when the copter lifted off the ground and flew up into the air. It didn't take more than a minute for us to be flying over the little village of Havasupai, and then just another couple of minutes to cover the ground to the edge of the canyon before we were settling down on the top rim, not far from our cars. And then it was over. Amazing!
The trip home sure seemed a lot longer than the trip there. We stopped in Flagstaff to get some dinner. I remember how good the fries and strawberry shake tasted after eating canned beans and hot dogs for three days, but our car sure got quiet quickly once we were back on the road headed for home. Everyone fell asleep except for dad, even me.
Mom was happy to see us when we got home, and it was fun telling about the falls and camping in the bottom of the Grand Canyon. It was even more fun on Saturday when Keith got home and we got to rehash all of our stories again. But it took a long time for my feet to get feeling better, and I never did wear those dumb oxfords to school. I was very happy wearing sandals all year long, even during the winter. Cold feet are lots better than blistered feet.
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