The Hardest Thing I've Ever Done

November 4, 2006 2:08 AM

got home from poker tonight and decided I wanted to watch some TV. So, I turned on the Discovery Channel, and this show called "Survivorman" was on. Basically, this guy's fucking crazy. He gets dropped off somewhere in the middle of nowhere -- the two episodes I saw were Ontario in the winter and Utah canyonlands in the winter -- and survives there for a week with nothing but a multitool and ingenuity. It's kinda cool. He walks around and collects firewood and stuff, but he also has to look for water and food. The food is the craziest part because he's got to find ways of killing things with very rudimentary equipment. So, he'll have to lay traps for rats and squirrels and stuff. And then he talks about having to eat the brains of rabbits and stuff. Fun.

Anyway, it got me thinking about how horribly I would do in a survival situation. For example, there's that story about the guy who got his arm trapped under a boulder. After a few days, it became obvious that he wasn't going to get rescued. He ran out of water and decided that he had to cut off his own arm using nothing but a fucking pocketknife. That's the kind of basic instinct for survival that I probably have but have never had to act on. Thank god because, let me tell you, I would not be down for cutting my own arm off with nothing but a fucking two-inch blade.

In any event, lots of my friends in college were outdoorsy types. They liked to hike and camp and stuff. I like that stuff, too, but not as much as them and I'm not as hardcore about it. I'm not down for hiking 60 miles in the Grand Canyon in two days. Anyway, my friends decided that they were going to do this eleven-mile hike one day. I had done the first three miles of the trail before, and it was really easy and relaxing, so I decided I'd join them. What ended up happening ended up being the hardest thing I've ever had to do, not because of the inherent difficulty of the thing, but because of my out-of-shapeness.

Eleven miles really isn't that far. I could walk that with no problem, given even terrain and a comfortable pace. That's exactly what was going on for the first three miles of this hike. But, the trail sort of ended at the three-mile mark, and we had to start walking in the creek. That's fine by me. But then the whole excursion started turning more and more into climbing over terrain and crawling up rocks and shit. Needless to say, I was not able to keep the same pace as many of the other people on the trip.

As the day wore on, many people started getting way out ahead, and people started getting concerned that our pace was such that we would not make it to the end of the trail, where we had put one of our cars in the morning, by nightfall. It also became really obvious to me that I was exhausted and couldn't really go much faster. Two of my friends, PJ and Mark, stayed with me while I tried to move as fast as I could.

Things started to get dark, water was running low, we lost contact with the other people, and I started to feel generally really shitty. Not scared -- I knew I'd be fine. I just felt guilty that I had slowed everyone down to that extent and shitty about myself because I was so out of shape. Still, every step was really tough for me, and it was really discouraging when I realized that we still had a hell of a long way to go.

My friends tried to keep my spirits up and tried to keep me moving. But it was a strange feeling, one I hadn't ever felt before. My body was starting to rebel against me. It didn't want to do what I was telling it to do. I wanted to go a hell of a lot faster, but I couldn't get my legs to carry me more quickly. It was really frustrating.

The worst was after it had started to get really dark. By then, I was so tired I really didn't know if I could keep going. And then we ran into this spot in the trail where there wasn't so much a trail as there was a small pond with steep rock walls on either side. There was literally no way to get from one side of the pond to the other without going through the water. And it was plenty deep, I think. We couldn't touch the bottom. Now, the problem (in addition to the fact that it was cold, wet, dark, and demoralizing) was that I can't swim. Not very well, anyway, and certainly not in an exhausted state like I was. Still, we got through it. but it was just so depressing.

At the end of the day, it had taken me 12 hours to walk 11 miles. My pants were ripped to the point of being little more than a loincloth, and I felt like I was dead.

But it was one of the best experiences of my life for a few reasons. First off, the guys that stayed with me really came through, and I felt extremly greatful to them. Second, even though it had been really hard and I wouldn't have been able to do it on my own, I managed to do what, at the time, I thought was impossible. That was pretty much an awesome feeling.

A feeling tempered, of course, by the fact that it shouldn't have taken me anywhere near that long to walk eleven miles, and it certainly shouldn't have been that hard. I'd love to get in shape and walk that trail again, but I don't know if I'll ever do that.

Honestly, I don't know if I'll ever be in Arizona again.

3 Comments

morenonesense said:

ah, i remember that trip. i put it very high on all of the hikes i've ever done; i think that for me, its the thrill of the danger that makes it. and i also think you're wrong - a certain points, i was worried that there could be a serious problem, what with nightfall/cold temps/no camping gear/cold people, and i for one was not sleeping cuddled with you. but thats a different story. im sure we'll be back in arizona, at some point. You know whats weird? Every day that goes past is the longest I've been away from there, and thats sorta a bitch. But I also know from watching the Lion King, there is a certain "circle of life" and we will hike that trail again.

November 4, 2006 11:44 PM

emly said:

that trip is pretty unforgettable! At least you weren't the one completely separated from the entire group and hiking by yourself for 3 hours. The best was when we got back to town and bought huge steaks and then drank wine and played monopoly. ah good times :)

November 5, 2006 12:06 AM

Lauren said:

The Death March. I've never had a steak that tasted better than the one after that hike.

November 5, 2006 10:04 PM

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