It can be called nothing short of remarkable. The local director of the Easter Seals camp called and asked if I would gather a team to push/pull a young woman in her wheel chair to the bottom of the Grand Canyon and then back out again. In one day. And we leave in six weeks. Are you interested, he said?
As fast as I could, I said, “Of course.” That was two weeks ago. Since then I have had a chance to explore the trip with due sobriety, and it looks anything but easy. The official park site does not encourage hikers to do an an in-and-out in one day, and I don’t suppose that adding a wheel chair to the mix enhances our chances of getting back to the rim by nightfall. But we sure are excited. Every last one of us is ready to throw ourselves against the numbing drive (27 hours one-way) and the prospect of a full mile vertical ascent to get back to the van. We’ll have to practice before we go, walk a lot of miles before we go, and again thank God for the upteenth time before we go. It is a gracious gift.
Still, people either love the idea or hate it. And I think I know why. We get very risk-averse as we age. I feel it coming on. More and more I wonder why I leap into things that have no easy landing. It seems less and less prudent to stay so busy. Then again, I fear more the voice in the back of my head that promises the best life in the anti-life. They say that the dream retirement is to find a day when you are well-rested and conflicts cannot find you. I’m not so certain that is life. I am personally hoping that this trip is hard. Real hard. I hope we come near to eating the fattest one among us to survive the winter. I want it to rest hard in the memory. That’s a life experience. Limping to the couch may still be ahead, but we’re doing our best to deny that walk as long as we can.
