Daily Inspiration
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Sep 01, 2008
We can never be the better for our religion if our neighbor is the worse for it.
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Grand Canyon Adventure
We were psyched for this hike and totally prepared, but then we were faced with an unexpected challenge.
By Adam Gordon
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from 
“Man, this place is somethin’ else, huh?” I said to my brothers Andy, two years older than me at 17, and Alex, 10, checking out the view from our family’s campsite on the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. None of the photos in Mom and Dad’s guidebook could compare to the real thing. God really did something awesome here, I thought, totally blown away by the setting sun’s orange rays shooting across the water-scarred rocks, peaks and valleys.
Tomorrow we’d be hiking down these rocks. We’d mapped out our trip: camp on the South Rim, take Kaibab Trail down to the canyon floor, spend a night there, then climb Bright Angel Trail back up to the top. To get in shape for the steep trails, we’d trained together for weeks before the trip—running, walking, hiking around parks at home. Mom and Dad made sure we studied the safety video mailed to us by the National Park Service. Each of us carried our own trail map and compass and was outfitted with sturdy hiking boots. We got a tent that was light—a cinch to put up and big enough for all of us. I figured we’d be ready for anything.
Grab a pencil and take a pop quiz with Martha Williamson
That night at the South Rim I was the last one into our tent. As I turned off my flashlight to go to sleep, I heard a park ranger talking to some new arrivals.
“The two most important things to remember about a flash flood,” the ranger said, “are never try to outrun it, and get as high as you can.” Flash flood? The safety video had all kinds of warnings about not hiking alone or going off the trails, but not once had they mentioned a flash flood.
The next thing I knew, Mom was shaking me awake. “Time to hit the trail, guys,” she said. I stepped out of the tent and rubbed my eyes, muttering grumpily, “The crack of dawn is no time to do anything.” Five-and-a-half hours later, I could see why we’d started so early. Everyone was exhausted, but at least we’d gotten to the end of Kaibab Trail before the worst heat of the day blasted us. After we pitched our tent, we took a walk and shot some pictures. When Dad suggested going to bed right after dinner, we actually agreed. I fell asleep to the sound of rain falling hard against our tent.
The next morning was crisp and dry. Perfect hiking weather. We packed up and went to the trailhead. A big sign read Bright Angel Trail. It was a nine-mile stretch, but not nearly as steep as the trip down. Around halfway up, it started drizzling. A park ranger in his wide-rimmed hat and green shorts hurried down to us. “Flash flood up ahead from last night’s rain,” he said. “You’d better wait here. I’ll let you know when it’s safe for you to move on.”
About an hour later the ranger gave us the okay to continue. We’d made some progress when it began raining harder. I remembered the warnings I’d overheard that night on the rim and started to worry. What if there is a flash flood? Never try to outrun it—is that the best advice they have?
The next crossing was totally flooded. To our left was a 500-foot drop-off, and to our right was a steep, muddy slope that went up about 20 feet. No contest. By the time we managed to reach the top, Mom and Dad seemed to be worrying more than they were letting on. I looked down at the roiling water. God, we prepared for a lot of things—but not a flash flood! We need your help now.
A sound like a train roared below us. Rockslide! Not small rocks, but car-sized rocks tumbled down, taking everything in their path with them. Then just as quickly, the rocks stopped falling.
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| 'Grand Canyon Adventure' by Adam Gordon, reprinted with permission from Angels on Earth Magazine. Copyright 2008 by Guideposts, Carmel, New York 10512. All rights reser |
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