I was lost in the canyon, unable to find my glasses which had been knocked off by a tree branch, and my brother, so I thought, was going to die.
Spoiler alert: he doesn’t die. At least not in this story. But he had suffered terrifying heat stroke and dehydration while hiking the Syncline Trail in Canyonlands National Park. Against all my natural urges I left him about three and half miles from the trail head. At least he was in the shade, I kept telling myself.
It wasn’t a terribly hot day – only about 80 degrees. But in that canyon, on that trail where not enough shade exists and where the hiking is hours long and made more difficult by the fact that we chose to camp and so were carrying heavy-loaded backpacks – it seemed especially brutal.
After a particularly hard and rocky scramble on the trail, my brother wanted to rest in the shade and I was happy to oblige. I offered him some nuts and a beefstick which he declined but he wanted to walk back to a certain part of the trail where he had seen some water so he could fill up bottles and use his filter straw to drink it. Okay, I said, if you’re not back in half and hour I’m going to be worried.
Thirty minutes later and I’m running down the trail calling his name, finding him not well and then walking slowly with him back to where I had left our packs. He said he could not go on so I said I would get help and I started out by myself.
I walked alone for two and half hours, up the steep and rocky canyon. At one point being so lost, and, as I said, almost losing my glasses. I found them, thankfully. The heat was starting to get to me too. Having two shirts, I dunked them in a puddle of cold water and put one on my body to cool down my core, and the other on my head to cool down my face and neck. I was completely out of water to drink, and I was certain that by this point my brother was dead.
And then I saw a big horn sheep. Well – I heard it first. Clack clack up the rocky cliff. And then I heard voices. And then I saw people. Oh thank God! These lovely people, two separate couples, each had GPS emergency devices and we were able to get ahold of the park rangers. One couple went down the trail to find my brother. He’s going to be face down in the dirt, i thought, and I have left him to die all alone. I could not shake the horror.
The other couple decided to abandon their plans and instead walk with me the mile and a half back to the trail head. We talked and that was nice. At one point we saw the helicopter flying in. I was still convinced they would find my brother too late. Eventually, we made it to the trail head where park rangers, emergency services, and a sheriff were all waiting. I hugged the strangers that had helped me and broke down crying.
The sheriff walked with me back to my brother’s truck, asking questions that I don’t remember answering. At one point I heard his radio spark to life and a voice said they had loaded a male onto the helicopter. I nervously inquired of his condition. The sheriff coldly informed me that he must be alive because if he were indeed deceased then the situation would have turned into a murder investigation and the body would not have been moved. He eyed me with suspicion.
At the hospital I found my brother in good enough spirits, resting and getting fluids and cracking wise. I tried not to let on how scared I was. I left to go back to our campsite and eat some food and that’s where i broke down so hard. I’m glad he wasn’t able to see that.
All in all – not a bad trip, all things considered. Camping in the canyon was beautiful and the stars at night were incredible. And we will go back and do it again – doing a few things differently of course. Because when you fall off a bike, you get right back on. And when you pass out on a difficult trail and need to be taken out by helicopter, damnit, you get back right back out there and conquer that shit.
