Falling
The somewhat true story of how Katy fell down the Grand Canyon and survived.
Aila sat in the grass around the fire pit with five other undergrad students, the grad student whose research she was helping, and their advisor. They were in Northern Arizona for a month studying Goshawk reproduction along the northern rim of the grand canyon. On the southern rim it was packed with tourists, and guardrails protected people from their own stupidity. Horses plodded down trails every day. But here, on the northern rim, everything was quiet, and natural. During hunting season there might be a hundred or so hunters lucky enough to get hunting licenses. But it wasn’t hunting season and so the students, a few professional researchers and the firemen were the only people around.
Now, if you want to know how to build a great fire - ask a fireman. They had collected wooden pallets from packing crates, and they stacked them on top of one another. One match, and there was a roaring fire. The camp was against a cliff - about as tall as a football field is long. Most of it was covered in trees, but the part right behind the camp was nothing but dirt. The fire had gotten so big that its reflection shone on the cliff lighting up the entire area.
College students away from campus usually have one common interest - beer. And so, the group began to drink heavily. As they got drunk, the firefighters began to tell the new students stories about the area. Most were harmless. Apparently a family had come deer hunting with swords last season, and once a three year old child had been left alone in a tent while mom and dad went bow-hunting. One of the things the firefighters said stuck with Aila, though. Apparently if you climbed the cliff facing the camp, you came to a ledge about 10 yards wide. If you managed to climb an old tree, you could get cell phone reception, which was completely impossible anywhere else in camp.
The next afternoon, while the professionals were doing paperwork, the students had some free time until dinner. Aila grabbed her cell phone and started towards the cliff. 100 yards doesn’t sound like a huge distance, but Aila couldn’t get started. She put a foot up on the cliff, and the dirt immediately fell down leaving her right where she started.
Plan B - she went over to a forested area and began to pick her way up hill using showing roots as foot-holds, and pulling herself up on branches and smaller trees. She tried to brush the largest plants aside, but her ankles wound up completely scratched up. Muttering something about the need for controlled burns, she continued to fight her way up hill.
When, at last, she reached the top, she took a moment to look out. The Grand Canyon stretched out in front of her; she hadn’t realized it was so close. For a moment it awestruck her, and she stared, but she was on a mission. She quickly identified the easiest tree to climb and started up it. Unfortunately for Aila, she was not a small girl. Nor a strong one, The small part caused more problems as the tree branch she was on cracked and broke. She fell down. And missed the ground. As she was passing the ledge going into the Grand Canyon, she thought, “I’m dying!” but about twenty feet later she landed on a ledge.
Her first thought wasn’t so much a thought as searing pain. She had landed on her hand and her ring finger would no longer bend. Her elbow hurt to move, but at least it wasn’t immobile. She looked down. Bad idea. She looked up. The cliff was steep. Nearly 90 degrees. But at least it was solid, and not dirt like the cliff on the other side. She had done some rock climbing years before in highschool, and actually hadn’t been bad at it, even though she hadn’t enjoyed it due to her fear of heights.
She tentatively put her foot on the first hold she could find, and immediately realized her mistake. Flip-flops would not do for climbing a cliff. She took her shoes off and threw them hoping to reach the ledge. Her right one made it, but her left bounced off the wall, forever lost to The Grand Canyon. She tried climbing again. This time getting a good portion of the way up before a rock she grabbed broke loose. By some miracle she didn’t fall. It was slow and tedious work, which she would have hated had she not been too scared to realize she hated it.
Finally, her hands hit the ledge. She wasn’t strong enough to do a pullup so she still had to continue trying to find footholds, but an end was in sight. When she finally sat on the ledge again, she collapsed in sobs. But only for a moment, because she realized she wasn’t yet out of danger. It was dusk, and that meant fighting her way through the forest with very little light.
She took that first step - this time too exhausted to pull back the branches, which just slapped her across the face. She stumbled her way about halfway down when she saw the single things he had most feared.
The golden cat sat silently not twenty feet from her, staring at her. It began moving towards her with a look in its eyes that meant death. They’d been briefed on how to handle this situation, and now she desperately wished she had paid any attention. She was pretty sure the first instruction was ‘don’t run’ At any rate, she knew she couldn’t outrun a mountain lion. Don’t turn your back? Maybe. At any rate, the fear wouldn’t let her. She was now only ten feet away. Make yourself as big as possible. She unzipped her sweatshirt, grabbed it by the corners and held it out. Now. Was the rule quiet, or loud? Taking a 50/50 shot, she decided on loud. She screamed and backed up until her foot slid under her. She looked back and realized she was standing against the dirt face of the cliff.
She weighed her options again: in the forest, with that cat, or a 50 yard fall down a cliff face? Holding her breath from fear she put her back up against the cliff, sat down and slid down the dirt face. Fortunately or not, there were the occasional large rocks. They allowed her to put her foot down to slow her decent, but hurt as she slid over them.
It was night by the time she returned to camp with torn jeans, and looking like she’d been attacked by a whip.
Aila sat in the grass around the fire pit with five other undergrad students, the grad student whose research she was helping, and their advisor. They were in Northern Arizona for a month studying Goshawk reproduction along the northern rim of the grand canyon. On the southern rim it was packed with tourists, and guardrails protected people from their own stupidity. Horses plodded down trails every day. But here, on the northern rim, everything was quiet, and natural. During hunting season there might be a hundred or so hunters lucky enough to get hunting licenses. But it wasn’t hunting season and so the students, a few professional researchers and the firemen were the only people around.
Now, if you want to know how to build a great fire - ask a fireman. They had collected wooden pallets from packing crates, and they stacked them on top of one another. One match, and there was a roaring fire. The camp was against a cliff - about as tall as a football field is long. Most of it was covered in trees, but the part right behind the camp was nothing but dirt. The fire had gotten so big that its reflection shone on the cliff lighting up the entire area.
College students away from campus usually have one common interest - beer. And so, the group began to drink heavily. As they got drunk, the firefighters began to tell the new students stories about the area. Most were harmless. Apparently a family had come deer hunting with swords last season, and once a three year old child had been left alone in a tent while mom and dad went bow-hunting. One of the things the firefighters said stuck with Aila, though. Apparently if you climbed the cliff facing the camp, you came to a ledge about 10 yards wide. If you managed to climb an old tree, you could get cell phone reception, which was completely impossible anywhere else in camp.
The next afternoon, while the professionals were doing paperwork, the students had some free time until dinner. Aila grabbed her cell phone and started towards the cliff. 100 yards doesn’t sound like a huge distance, but Aila couldn’t get started. She put a foot up on the cliff, and the dirt immediately fell down leaving her right where she started.
Plan B - she went over to a forested area and began to pick her way up hill using showing roots as foot-holds, and pulling herself up on branches and smaller trees. She tried to brush the largest plants aside, but her ankles wound up completely scratched up. Muttering something about the need for controlled burns, she continued to fight her way up hill.
When, at last, she reached the top, she took a moment to look out. The Grand Canyon stretched out in front of her; she hadn’t realized it was so close. For a moment it awestruck her, and she stared, but she was on a mission. She quickly identified the easiest tree to climb and started up it. Unfortunately for Aila, she was not a small girl. Nor a strong one, The small part caused more problems as the tree branch she was on cracked and broke. She fell down. And missed the ground. As she was passing the ledge going into the Grand Canyon, she thought, “I’m dying!” but about twenty feet later she landed on a ledge.
Her first thought wasn’t so much a thought as searing pain. She had landed on her hand and her ring finger would no longer bend. Her elbow hurt to move, but at least it wasn’t immobile. She looked down. Bad idea. She looked up. The cliff was steep. Nearly 90 degrees. But at least it was solid, and not dirt like the cliff on the other side. She had done some rock climbing years before in highschool, and actually hadn’t been bad at it, even though she hadn’t enjoyed it due to her fear of heights.
She tentatively put her foot on the first hold she could find, and immediately realized her mistake. Flip-flops would not do for climbing a cliff. She took her shoes off and threw them hoping to reach the ledge. Her right one made it, but her left bounced off the wall, forever lost to The Grand Canyon. She tried climbing again. This time getting a good portion of the way up before a rock she grabbed broke loose. By some miracle she didn’t fall. It was slow and tedious work, which she would have hated had she not been too scared to realize she hated it.
Finally, her hands hit the ledge. She wasn’t strong enough to do a pullup so she still had to continue trying to find footholds, but an end was in sight. When she finally sat on the ledge again, she collapsed in sobs. But only for a moment, because she realized she wasn’t yet out of danger. It was dusk, and that meant fighting her way through the forest with very little light.
She took that first step - this time too exhausted to pull back the branches, which just slapped her across the face. She stumbled her way about halfway down when she saw the single things he had most feared.
The golden cat sat silently not twenty feet from her, staring at her. It began moving towards her with a look in its eyes that meant death. They’d been briefed on how to handle this situation, and now she desperately wished she had paid any attention. She was pretty sure the first instruction was ‘don’t run’ At any rate, she knew she couldn’t outrun a mountain lion. Don’t turn your back? Maybe. At any rate, the fear wouldn’t let her. She was now only ten feet away. Make yourself as big as possible. She unzipped her sweatshirt, grabbed it by the corners and held it out. Now. Was the rule quiet, or loud? Taking a 50/50 shot, she decided on loud. She screamed and backed up until her foot slid under her. She looked back and realized she was standing against the dirt face of the cliff.
She weighed her options again: in the forest, with that cat, or a 50 yard fall down a cliff face? Holding her breath from fear she put her back up against the cliff, sat down and slid down the dirt face. Fortunately or not, there were the occasional large rocks. They allowed her to put her foot down to slow her decent, but hurt as she slid over them.
It was night by the time she returned to camp with torn jeans, and looking like she’d been attacked by a whip.