After 30 hours of driving, we had finally made it to Arizona from Cleveland, Ohio. Mike, my oldest brother, and I have been driving since last week. We are doing a cross-country trip to get Mike to California so he can work at a chemical engineering company over the summer. So far, we have made many stops along the way. We have seen the old train station of Saint Louis, the plains of Oklahoma, the country life of Texas, the Ice Cave and old volcano of New Mexico and even the Petrified Forest National Park. And naturally, next on our list is the Grand Canyon. No cross country road trip would be complete without seeing the Grand Canyon! Also, as someone that loves hiking and nature, the Grand Canyon seemed like a blast to me! So, I am eagerly awaiting tomorrow.

I wake up early with the sun. It’s a bright, cloudless Sunday. The air is crisp since its only May. Mike and I pull into the National Park at the Grand Canyon an hour later, excited to start our adventure in yet another state. Looking at the map, I pick out an advanced trail, the South Kaibab Trail to Cedar Ridge and Skeleton Point, for Mike and I to cover today. We pack our packs with water and snacks for the day and set off.

The view is stunning. As we come over the rim of the south edge the canyon, we look out. I can see for miles and miles, nothing but rocks and trees. I look down, I can see the Colorado River winding through the canyon. It must be over 7,000 feet down. Every direction that I look I can see the canyon twist and curve into the distance. The dirt path is narrow with logs that create steps every few feet. There are people from around the world walking about, taking pictures and staring into the distance. We move past the crowd and start our way down the canyon.

An hour or two passes. Mike and I are descending at a quick pace, stopping occasionally to drink water or to take a stunning picture. Finally, we past Cedar Ridge and come to a stop for lunch. The view is breathtaking. We see a few people hiking down the ridge to take a picture at the far tip of the peak. We get up and begin to walk out towards the edge. I walk quickly on the rocks, gracefully jumping from one stone to another. As the path narrows, I slow, watching my footing carefully. The ridge slopes down drastically, so I begin to climb down the rocky slope, gripping to the indents in the formation. I lower myself slowly down, one hand down, then the other, then one foot down, then the other foot. Repeat again and again. I look up, out at the canyon, awed by the beauty of the place.

Then it happened. My foot slips on the tiny, red rocks that make up the dirt. I try, and fail to catch myself. My mind is a blur as I fall five, 10, 15 feet. My left leg gets stuck behind me. All of my weight comes down onto my ankle. My ankle snaps sideways, shoving into the red dirt. Pain pierces through my leg as my twisted ankle digs into the ground. My ankle slows me as I catch onto a rock. I look in front of me. Only a few feet away is a cliff that must be well over 2,000 feet. There were massive, ominous sharp rocks lining the distant bottom of the canyon. My heart thuds when I look down thousands of feet.

My attention is brought back to my leg by the blinding pain. I am panting from the fall and the injuries. Mike is by my side now, having quickly followed me down the mountain side. He attempts to help me stand. The pain burns through my whole body and my leg feels like someone has chainsawed my bone in half. I fall back to the ground in pain, tears rolling down my face. I need help. But to do that, I have to make it back up the mountain side.

So I start crawling. My knees and hands are bleeding, but I still crawl, like a baby, up the slope to the path. Mike climbs behind me, helping me get over rocks and ledges. I fall back a few times and he catches me. I finally reach the trail. I sit on the ground, hands wrapped around my ankle, rocking back and forth. My breath is heavy with pain and my mascara is dripping down my cheeks. Mike runs down the path to find people to help carry me to the flat top of Cedar Ridge. There was no way I was going to make it up the hill. I could not bear any weight on my foot.

I get the courage to skoot along the rock ledge. I move slowly, dragging myself across the ground. I make it about hundred feet before my brother and two other guys appear. The taller of the two, Anthony, and Mike pick me up and carry me the remaining few hundred feet up the hill to the flat terrace. They set me on a ring of rocks that surrounds an old, dry tree. The second of the two guys, Jeff, props my leg up with a backpack. Mike sprints away, attempting to find service to call the paramedics. While he is gone, a crowd surrounds me. One guy is washing my blood off my legs and arm, a girl is putting bandages on my large cuts, a couple is giving me pain medicine and another guy is offering me Sour Patch Kids. It seems that everyone on the mountain wanted to help out.

Once the excitement died down and I was all patched up, I sit under my tree with Jeff and chat while Mike and Anthony wait for the paramedics. We talk for over three hours about the most random things. Also, we can hear Mike and Anthony geeking out, talking about how refrigerators and engines work. While sitting there, Jeff and I talk to people that walk by as well. Everyone that stops is so nice. A lady from London stops and offers me an apple. Then, a young couple comes up and gives me a book on their Jahova Witness Church and some bug spray. Later, an old Korean man asks me if I wanted any of his Advil. Every hiker seems eager to lend a hand. Jeff and I then conclude that all hikers, or anyone that spends time in nature, are just generally nice, giving people that take care of others.

The sun started to set over the Canyon, casting spectacular colors across the rocks. In the distance we could hear a motor. As it flew closer, we recognize the search and rescue helicopter. Spraying the mountain with clouds of dust, the helicopter lands on the flat terrace. Four gorgeous, tall, male medics jump out of the cabin and come over to the tree that I was sitting under. One of them begins putting a splint on my leg and another puts an IV into my arm while the others check my vital signs. Looking down, my leg looks as if I had a golf ball as an ankle. My toes are dark purple except for my small toe, which is almost black. The medics are concerned about the neuro-vascular health of my leg. I have very little circulation to my foot and the doctors were worried that my foot might be lost. Once my splint was tight and the pain medicine began to kick in, I hop over to the helicopter, crawling into the back seat. The medic tells me that they need to take me directly to the Emergency Room. Wanting to wait for Mike, who was not allowed to ride up in the helicopter with me, I told them that we would drive ourselves. So, the medic told Mike to meet us at the car. I took off into the air while Mike took off up the mountain, running at full speed.

Flying over the Canyon, I could see for miles and miles. The view was absolutely breathe taking. After flying for 10 minutes, we land on the National Park’s helipad. The landing is horribly painful. I bite my lip to keep from crying. I am transferred into a car and taken to the medical station at the Canyon. There, I get a bigger cast on my foot and my wrists get wrapped up. Finally, I reach my car. After about two minutes of waiting at the car, Mike comes running out of the forest, bright red and panting. He looked like he was going to throw up. He had ran close to 10 miles in that short time just to get to me. Bent over, he manages to say, “Don’t…say…I never did anything…for you,” and then vomits into the grass. A few minutes later, Mike helps me into the car and we speed off to Flagstaff, which is the closest hospital to the Grand Canyon. After the most painful car ride of my life and a lot of screaming and colorful language, we arrive at the medical center.

I am immediately brought back to the trauma unit. I am hooked up to every beeping machine in the room. The doctors bring an x-ray into the room, painfully twisting my leg around to get a good picture. A nurse is gluing some of my cuts shut. I feel a rush of semi-relief as another nurse pumps me full of pain medicine. After much poking and questioning, I am told that I would make a full recovery with no surgery needed. The doctors are completely shocked that I did not break any bones. Granted, I had strained and torn many muscles and ligaments, and sprained literally the entire left side of my body. I also won’t be able to walk for a while. However, after remembering how close I was to falling of the fatally high cliff, I was just happy to be alive.

Mike bought me food and we stayed the night in Flagstaff. We sat in our hotel laughing about the day. Yes, I might have gotten a little bit smashed up and be in a lot of pain still, but the day was still great. I had seen the Grand Canyon, one of the prettiest places in the whole world. I had met amazing people from around the world and heard their interesting stories. I had even gotten a free helicopter ride over the Canyon with beautiful medics. Overall, even though the day had a major problem, I had a blast and would love to go hiking in the Canyon again. However, next time I am most definitely going to watch my feet when I am moving downhill.