Day 4 – May 23 First Hike – Dead Horse Point

Lunch at the top of the world

I awoke with the sun this morning – just after 6 a.m. My night’s sleep was occasionally disturbed by strong winds pushing the tent wall against me. I’m happy to report that the tent apparently is well-designed for strong winds.

 

 

I dressed and headed for Dead Horse Point, forgoing a cooked breakfast. I have yet to cook in the morning although I have eggs in the cooler. I just can’t seem to get fired up to make the time to do that. There’s something about breakfast needing to be shared, and the idea of cooking it for myself just holds no power. So I grabbed a protein bar to eat on the way.

Met a couple with whom I exchanged photography duties

By the time I arrived at the trailhead, it was a little after 8, and I had to go in and get a map, pay my park entry fee (this is a state park, so my National Park Pass won’t work), and ask a few questions about the trails.

 

It felt good to be back on the trail. I didn’t get a lot of hiking in this spring with the late snow and un-spring-like weather, and the conditioning I did was mostly in the gym. And it’s been since last summer, when we hiked the Grand Canyon and at Arches, since I’ve been on slickrock and sand in the heat. I love this kind of hiking – I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because the first real hiking I ever did was when Jesse and I hiked The Wave just a little south of here. That’s where I fell in love with hiking, and I suppose we often come back to that first experience with affection.

This was a good hike to start the season with. The book I bought on the area called this a moderate hike but one that didn’t have a lot of elevation gain or loss. The trail was mainly a loop, with a number of little side hikes to overlooks. I thought I’d make all the overlook side trips and hike about nine miles. I didn’t quite do that, but I got seven good miles in.

The hike was breathtaking as it overlooked some of the canyons carved out by the Colorado River. It provided a good look at the river, and it also offered a good view of the famous Horseshoe Bend where the river makes as a u-turn in its wanderings. The big views were complemented by the occasional wild flower and the weathered trees and stone formations. Some of the stone formations were man-made in the form of cairns, marking the way. These cairns were a life-saver. During the first half of the hike, along the eastern rim, the trail was easy to follow (although I did start out the wrong direction immediately and had to back track after about 10 minutes when I realized what I had done). There were just a few places that I lost the trail for a few moments. But the second half of the trail, along the west rim, was much more difficult to follow, and it was important to watch for these cairns. I’m grateful for the rangers who maintain the markers, keeping us on track.

 

After a few miles, I began to get my Southwest hiking wits about me. This is very different hiking from well-defined trails found through forests and areas that have clear pathways. Much of the hiking in the canyon country here is over slickrock, stepping – or climbing – up over boulders and around outcroppings. There is no way to identify the trail much of the time, except for these cairns and sometimes a slight discoloration from the wear patterns where others have walked. I began to scan the area in front of me, bringing in a wider area, panning across my line of sight and looking ahead farther for a cairn I might spot a bit farther up the trail. It’s easy to be hiking along, and suddenly find yourself off the trail. The path has turned, but the only indication is a cairn or so off in the other direction.

About halfway into the hike, I realized my feet were beginning to hurt a little. I’ve been working all spring with my podiatrist and a postural physical therapist to recover from the plantar fasciitis I got late last fall. My foot is much better, but it still is tender, and when I start to rack up the miles, I notice it more. It suddenly occurred to me that I may never again be pain-free on my right foot. It also occurred to me that I can handle that. The pain is not acute, and I can live with it. I certainly don’t want to give up hiking because of it.

As I’m walking along, thinking about this pain and how I’ve worked at getting healed for this summer, I realized, once again, how fortunate I am. I have health insurance. If I hadn’t had health insurance, I wouldn’t have been able to afford the doctor or the therapist. And I thought about how many people, who don’t have insurance, just have to live with something like this. I’m especially aware of what being able to go to my physical therapist means for my life and for my future. She’s worked to correct the way I walk, the way I carry myself, the way I use my muscles (or don’t use them). Because of what she’s done to educate me and correct those things, I should be able to stay active and able to do the things I want for many more years. So many people, as they age, begin to have all these physical conditions that limit their lives. And I think of how few of those people know they can get some good help on correcting those things by seeing someone like my therapist. And how many of those people, even if they knew about the help a physical therapist could give them, couldn’t afford her because of the lack of insurance.

It’s an unfair world, no doubt about it. I feel so fortunate that I have so much – and I don’t mean things. I mean opportunity. Opportunity that’s often invisible. When the sociologists talk about invisible privilege, these are some of the privileges they’re talking about. It saddens me that we live in a world where only a few can have the resources to make their lives fuller and longer. It also saddens me that so many people simply accept this imbalance, even believe it’s necessary.  Some believe we should have to earn the right to have comfort, abundance, and joy.  But how many of us really have “earned” this right? So often these are gifts that are bestowed upon us by forces outside our own power – who our parents are, what color our skin is, what kind of socioeconomic environment we come from. Yes, I went to school and got a job that provides health insurance. But circumstance provided that opportunity – a circumstance not everyone has.

So as I figure out how to be more comfortable hiking, so many are figuring out how to pay for medicine, or feed their children, of find a job. I really believe our obligation, as privileged human beings, seems to be to learn to bring those less fortunate along – to help provide the opportunities we enjoy to those without them. How do we do that?  Again, it might be as it is with so many things – we need to keep our eyes open and act when the opportunity arises.