A Breathless Event
A friend e-mailed me some suggestions as to how to stay young. One really touched me: “Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.” This reminded me of a breathtaking moment in my life.
In August of 1986, Pete, my husband, and I rode the mules from the south rim of the Grand Canyon to the Colorado River and then back up again (a “bucket trip” we had always wanted to take). Pete rode “Danny Boy”; I rode “Eldorado.” Our professional guide, Les Sorter, started us down the Bight Angel Trail, and we rode ten-and-a-half miles down into the canyon with the mules walking on the outside edge of the trail the majority of the time. Thus, we experienced many times when we could look down more than a thousand feet by just turning our heads. Spectacular!
Everyone truly has to take this trip to fully appreciate the magnificence of this canyon, the glory of the various rock walls the majestic views. Our guide told us the weather on the South Rim compares to that of Maine and Vermont. The ride down into the canyon is like traveling from Vermont to Florida. The rider experiences all the different climate changes. When the mule reaches the Colorado River, It is like being in Key West.
We stayed overnight at the Phantom Ranch located on the Colorado River. After enjoying a delicious steak supper with all the trimmings that evening, we slept soundly, anticipating the trip on the South Kaibab Trail, seven and a third miles up the next day.
My breathless moment occurred on this trail going up. Eldorado seemed content as he slowly plodded upward, head bobbing, breathing easily. Mid-morning, we came to an area where we had a solid canyon wall on our right and nothing but open desert on our left, plus a sheer drop-off at the trail’s edge. Evidently, Eldorado decided he wanted to take a longer look at the magnificent colors the sun had painted on the desert floor. So with no warning whatsoever, the mule stopped, turned, placed both front hooves at the very edge of the trail and just stared out at the majestic scene, head, neck, and shoulder extended into space. He did not care that because of his position on the trail and my place on his back, my legs and part of my body were over the edge. Talk about a breathless moment!
Pete panicked. “Kay! What are you doing?” My heart was so strongly wedged in my throat I could not answer. The guide hollered “Just sit still. He’s OK.” Which he was. After what was probably no more than thirty seconds at the most (but seemed like thirty minutes to me), Eldorado stepped back turned toward the trail and began the trek up to the canyon’s rim, seemingly satisfied with himself as I took many deep breaths to put my heart back in place.
Often we think of a breathtaking moment to be one of great happiness or a pleasant surprise. I have known times like that myself. Yet, I will never forget the moments I saw my feet over the trail’s edge. Scared witless, it truly took my breath away.