Woke up in great anticipation of our ride today, loaded the horses up and headed back to the mule barn. We were a bit later than we had anticipated, but that actually ended up working out very well. Mules have the right-of-way on the trail, so they always try to time it so that folks with their own stock don’t cross paths on the trail whenever possible, because there isn’t much room on many parts of the trail. As it turned out, the last mule train was just coming back up “momentarily,” so just as we finished saddling the horses, a mule train passed us coming back to the barn. We headed across the railroad tracks and the road to the trailhead of Bright Angel Trail, the busiest and only trail open to us today. As we reached the trailhead, another mule train had just arrived in the corral at the top, so this seemed to be the last group out. Perfect! After weaving our way through many people coming and going, we headed down the trail. It was a good 10 foot wide, had a low stone wall on the canyon side, and was like a superhighway compared to some of the trails we have been on this year! We had heard stories of how white-knuckle the ride was, and granted, the drop-off was quite imposing, but if you don’t obsess on the empty space and concentrate on the trail, this was nothing. Our biggest concern was how the horses would react to so much foot traffic, hikers coming and going all along the way, with hardly a stretch by ourselves. Happily, they took it all in stride, soon becoming used to the rows of people standing off to the side. Fortunately, most people were very cooperative, graciously moving to the bluff side of the trail (as I mentioned to several, if something goes wrong, you don’t want to be on the canyon side!), and the horses were brilliant the whole way! Well, except for one brief moment when Apollo decided to make a pile of manure while standing in front of an Oriental family. A little girl, about 4 or 5, started screaming her head off when he lifted his tail, which startled Apollo for just a moment, but he just stepped forward, then finished, then moved on. He just doesn’t like to walk and excrete at the same time! He calmed down again right away, fortunately, so it didn’t turn into a mishap. (Not a good place for a mishap!) The trail wasn’t really all that steep, as the switchbacks had been cut into the rock very deliberately to keep it as low-grade as possible, and the footing was supported by steps and railroad ties all along the way. After about a mile, a man on the trail told us there was a mule train coming up the hill, which surprised us after what we had been told, so we kept our eyes open for them, and when we spotted them below us, we found a spot where we could move off the trail and make room for them. I got down and had Hubby follow suit, just to be on the safe side, and the mule wrangler soon caught up to us, walking a string of empty, saddled mules. We told him we had been told all the mules were in, but he said he’d been sent down to meet a group down the hill somewhere, and they never showed up, so he was just leading them back to the barn. It was an easy passage, and we were soon back up and on our way. We went down to the first Rest House, which was a mile and a half, and stopped there for lunch. We contemplated going to the next Rest House, which was at the 3-mile mark, but decided that the farther you go down into the canyon, the less you actually see, plus we didn’t want to tire our the horses too much, since they hadn’t been ridden regularly for the last couple of weeks, so we decided to head back up after lunch. Again, the horses were brilliant. They seemed even more eager to go up than they did coming down (the fresh, cool air might have had something to do with it, or all the attention they were getting from the hikers), and even trotted up a few steps till we pulled them back. They got their picture taken so many times they were like movie stars. Several people recognized that they weren’t mules, and asked us where we got the horses from, and were, of course, entranced to learn we had brought our own. Many people (including one staffer we met later) didn’t even realize you could ride your own horses into the canyon. By the time we got back to the top, we were thrilled that the ride had been everything we had hoped it would be. Stunning views, a cacophony of voices in languages from dozens of different countries, truly a wonderful time. When we reached the top, we crossed back over to the mule barn, and since we had only been out a few hours, asked about the top trails we had heard about. We were directed toward the trailhead, and headed out. We rode along the edge of the road, which thus far we hadn’t seen any traffic on at all, but naturally, as we went along a car came by, which was fine, then another, which was also fine, then a great big bus, which was fine until the driver gunned the engine just as the back end was going past Clio. She was so startled at the belch blasting unexpectedly from the bus she went sideways, then took off, into the ditch next to the road, and out the other side. Her abrupt moves were just too much for Hubby, who come off in a crash. I didn’t see it, and wasn’t even aware of it until I heard someone standing on the other side of the road yelling “He’s fallen off!” I turned around and looked behind me, and didn’t see anything (I had expected to see Hubby), then I looked around and saw him lying in the grass up the embankment (thank goodness it WAS grass, considering how much rock and stone was around). I wheeled Apollo around, who already knew something was wrong, and headed quickly back over to where Hubby lay. I knew he couldn’t be hurt too badly, as he wasn’t screaming in pain, it seemed he had just had the wind knocked out of him. I jumped down and grabbed Clio’s reins (she had stopped just a yard away), then questioned Hubby about his condition. His breath was slowing coming back, and it seemed my initial judgment was correct. A young man, a GCV employee (and the one I mentioned earlier who didn’t know you could bring your own horses into the Grand Canyon), came over to ask how Hubby was, and to see if we wanted him to call the EMS folks. We said no thank you, he just needs to get his wind back. He stayed with us a few minutes, until Hubby got up and climbed back onto Clio, then went on his way, rather stunned, I think, that he would get back into the saddle so quickly. Well, that’s Hubby, he just has to prove nothing can stop him. He even got up without a step, which he usually looks for, just to be completely ornery. Anyway, I grilled him again, and he insisted he was fine, so we headed on down the trail a bit. A rather ordinary trail, really, especially after what we had just experienced. It wasn’t long before the shock wore off and the real pain started, so after about half a mile, I asked if he wanted to turn back, and he agreed. We got back to the mule barn, loaded up the horses, thanked our hosts again, and headed back to camp. Once the horses were put up, I had Hubby put an ice pack on the painful area for the rest of the evening.
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