Family Travel and Autism

The slope of the path required chains anchored into the sandy rock.  Water poured down the rock not unlike those wall fountains in building lobbies.  The difference here was the steel chains were ice cold and the sand filled water poured down on our heads and inside our shirts.  We pressed against the rock and slowly edged our way across the slippery path.  Half way my daughter panicked.  She refused to move another foot - a literal foot.  My husband had taken our son ahead and he needed everything he had to help my son.  My youngest daughter was at the end of the line taking everything very calmly.

I was the only to help.  I looked directly into her eyes and told her to breathe.  In my mind, I was thinking if you can with sand in your mouth.  Breath and don't look down.  Shift a little at a time and look at me, not down, not up, not out.  Just at me.  In this fashion, we slowly inched our way 20 feet to the level trail and off the chains.  A few short switchbacks later and we were catching our breath under a rock overhang.  We looked out over the valley and the long series of switchbacks that had almost emcapcitated me on the way up.  We rung out sleeves, wiped faces with gritty hands and took a breath.  Until we heard a rumble and gush of water.  I looked down at watched the rock wall over the switchback giveway and tumble down 1,000 feet onto the valley floor.  Behind the rock, water poured out in a smaller waterfall.  It just kept coming.  It never slowed.  The worst part.  It was blocking our path.  We would have to walk through the hard part and then again and again as we went down the switchbacks.

My mind was numbing with cold and my feet were cold.  Wait  a minute, my feet were wet.  The water was pooling around my feet and pouring down the small series of switchbacks we had just walked.  And here we stood under a rock overhang not unlike the one that had just given way.  Smart move midwesterner tourists.

Holding hands and moving slowly so we wouldn't slide down the canyon wall, we left our safe haven.  A few moments later, just before we reached the waterfall, I heard a roar.

Now you don't me all that well.  I have suffered severe hearing loss from chemotherapy.  So if I heard it, it must have been an incredible roar.  I turned to look and the entire rock face gave way to raging waterfall that plummeted 1,500 feet to the floor of the canyon.  Trees, rocks, boulders rushed out with it.  We were witnessing a flash flood.  Just minutes after we left that overhang.

Now it was my daughters turn to help me down.  She took my hand and quietly tugged me forward.  We plowed through the smaller waterfall and all the subsequent waterfalls.  I couldn't take my eyes off the enourmous waterfall now in front of me.  The sound filled my ears and senses.  I admit that I was in shock. 

We finally reached the bottom and the rain had stopped.  The water continued to pour from the top of the canyon cliff and tourists poured from the buses to take pictures.  In halting steps, my family made their way to the bus stop.  We were drenched, white from cold and covered in sand.  We looked as if we had swam in the sea and rolled on the beach.

The looks we got.

Next time, the reality sets in . . .

The slope of the path required chains anchored into the sandy rock.  Water poured down the rock not unlike those wall fountains in building lobbies.  The difference here was the steel chains were ice cold and the sand filled water poured down on our heads and inside our shirts.  We pressed against the rock and slowly edged our way across the slippery path.  Half way my daughter panicked.  She refused to move another foot - a literal foot.  My husband had taken our son ahead and he needed everything he had to help my son.  My youngest daughter was at the end of the line taking everything very calmly.

I was the only to help.  I looked directly into her eyes and told her to breathe.  In my mind, I was thinking if you can with sand in your mouth.  Breath and don't look down.  Shift a little at a time and look at me, not down, not up, not out.  Just at me.  In this fashion, we slowly inched our way 20 feet to the level trail and off the chains.  A few short switchbacks later and we were catching our breath under a rock overhang.  We looked out over the valley and the long series of switchbacks that had almost emcapcitated me on the way up.  We rung out sleeves, wiped faces with gritty hands and took a breath.  Until we heard a rumble and gush of water.  I looked down at watched the rock wall over the switchback giveway and tumble down 1,000 feet onto the valley floor.  Behind the rock, water poured out in a smaller waterfall.  It just kept coming.  It never slowed.  The worst part.  It was blocking our path.  We would have to walk through the hard part and then again and again as we went down the switchbacks.

My mind was numbing with cold and my feet were cold.  Wait  a minute, my feet were wet.  The water was pooling around my feet and pouring down the small series of switchbacks we had just walked.  And here we stood under a rock overhang not unlike the one that had just given way.  Smart move midwesterner tourists.

Holding hands and moving slowly so we wouldn't slide down the canyon wall, we left our safe haven.  A few moments later, just before we reached the waterfall, I heard a roar.

Now you don't me all that well.  I have suffered severe hearing loss from chemotherapy.  So if I heard it, it must have been an incredible roar.  I turned to look and the entire rock face gave way to raging waterfall that plummeted 1,500 feet to the floor of the canyon.  Trees, rocks, boulders rushed out with it.  We were witnessing a flash flood.  Just minutes after we left that overhang.

Now it was my daughters turn to help me down.  She took my hand and quietly tugged me forward.  We plowed through the smaller waterfall and all the subsequent waterfalls.  I couldn't take my eyes off the enourmous waterfall now in front of me.  The sound filled my ears and senses.  I admit that I was in shock. 

We finally reached the bottom and the rain had stopped.  The water continued to pour from the top of the canyon cliff and tourists poured from the buses to take pictures.  In halting steps, my family made their way to the bus stop.  We were drenched, white from cold and covered in sand.  We looked as if we had swam in the sea and rolled on the beach.

The looks we got.

Next time, the reality sets in . . .

The slope of the path required chains anchored into the sandy rock.  Water poured down the rock not unlike those wall fountains in building lobbies.  The difference here was the steel chains were ice cold and the sand filled water poured down on our heads and inside our shirts.  We pressed against the rock and slowly edged our way across the slippery path.  Half way my daughter panicked.  She refused to move another foot - a literal foot.  My husband had taken our son ahead and he needed everything he had to help my son.  My youngest daughter was at the end of the line taking everything very calmly.

I was the only to help.  I looked directly into her eyes and told her to breathe.  In my mind, I was thinking if you can with sand in your mouth.  Breath and don't look down.  Shift a little at a time and look at me, not down, not up, not out.  Just at me.  In this fashion, we slowly inched our way 20 feet to the level trail and off the chains.  A few short switchbacks later and we were catching our breath under a rock overhang.  We looked out over the valley and the long series of switchbacks that had almost emcapcitated me on the way up.  We rung out sleeves, wiped faces with gritty hands and took a breath.  Until we heard a rumble and gush of water.  I looked down at watched the rock wall over the switchback giveway and tumble down 1,000 feet onto the valley floor.  Behind the rock, water poured out in a smaller waterfall.  It just kept coming.  It never slowed.  The worst part.  It was blocking our path.  We would have to walk through the hard part and then again and again as we went down the switchbacks.

My mind was numbing with cold and my feet were cold.  Wait  a minute, my feet were wet.  The water was pooling around my feet and pouring down the small series of switchbacks we had just walked.  And here we stood under a rock overhang not unlike the one that had just given way.  Smart move midwesterner tourists.

Holding hands and moving slowly so we wouldn't slide down the canyon wall, we left our safe haven.  A few moments later, just before we reached the waterfall, I heard a roar.

Now you don't me all that well.  I have suffered severe hearing loss from chemotherapy.  So if I heard it, it must have been an incredible roar.  I turned to look and the entire rock face gave way to raging waterfall that plummeted 1,500 feet to the floor of the canyon.  Trees, rocks, boulders rushed out with it.  We were witnessing a flash flood.  Just minutes after we left that overhang.

Now it was my daughters turn to help me down.  She took my hand and quietly tugged me forward.  We plowed through the smaller waterfall and all the subsequent waterfalls.  I couldn't take my eyes off the enourmous waterfall now in front of me.  The sound filled my ears and senses.  I admit that I was in shock. 

We finally reached the bottom and the rain had stopped.  The water continued to pour from the top of the canyon cliff and tourists poured from the buses to take pictures.  In halting steps, my family made their way to the bus stop.  We were drenched, white from cold and covered in sand.  We looked as if we had swam in the sea and rolled on the beach.

The looks we got.

Next time, the reality sets in . . .

The slope of the path required chains anchored into the sandy rock.  Water poured down the rock not unlike those wall fountains in building lobbies.  The difference here was the steel chains were ice cold and the sand filled water poured down on our heads and inside our shirts.  We pressed against the rock and slowly edged our way across the slippery path.  Half way my daughter panicked.  She refused to move another foot - a literal foot.  My husband had taken our son ahead and he needed everything he had to help my son.  My youngest daughter was at the end of the line taking everything very calmly.

I was the only to help.  I looked directly into her eyes and told her to breathe.  In my mind, I was thinking if you can with sand in your mouth.  Breath and don't look down.  Shift a little at a time and look at me, not down, not up, not out.  Just at me.  In this fashion, we slowly inched our way 20 feet to the level trail and off the chains.  A few short switchbacks later and we were catching our breath under a rock overhang.  We looked out over the valley and the long series of switchbacks that had almost emcapcitated me on the way up.  We rung out sleeves, wiped faces with gritty hands and took a breath.  Until we heard a rumble and gush of water.  I looked down at watched the rock wall over the switchback giveway and tumble down 1,000 feet onto the valley floor.  Behind the rock, water poured out in a smaller waterfall.  It just kept coming.  It never slowed.  The worst part.  It was blocking our path.  We would have to walk through the hard part and then again and again as we went down the switchbacks.

My mind was numbing with cold and my feet were cold.  Wait  a minute, my feet were wet.  The water was pooling around my feet and pouring down the small series of switchbacks we had just walked.  And here we stood under a rock overhang not unlike the one that had just given way.  Smart move midwesterner tourists.

Holding hands and moving slowly so we wouldn't slide down the canyon wall, we left our safe haven.  A few moments later, just before we reached the waterfall, I heard a roar.

Now you don't me all that well.  I have suffered severe hearing loss from chemotherapy.  So if I heard it, it must have been an incredible roar.  I turned to look and the entire rock face gave way to raging waterfall that plummeted 1,500 feet to the floor of the canyon.  Trees, rocks, boulders rushed out with it.  We were witnessing a flash flood.  Just minutes after we left that overhang.

Now it was my daughters turn to help me down.  She took my hand and quietly tugged me forward.  We plowed through the smaller waterfall and all the subsequent waterfalls.  I couldn't take my eyes off the enourmous waterfall now in front of me.  The sound filled my ears and senses.  I admit that I was in shock. 

We finally reached the bottom and the rain had stopped.  The water continued to pour from the top of the canyon cliff and tourists poured from the buses to take pictures.  In halting steps, my family made their way to the bus stop.  We were drenched, white from cold and covered in sand.  We looked as if we had swam in the sea and rolled on the beach.

The looks we got.

Next time, the reality sets in . . .

The slope of the path required chains anchored into the sandy rock.  Water poured down the rock not unlike those wall fountains in building lobbies.  The difference here was the steel chains were ice cold and the sand filled water poured down on our heads and inside our shirts.  We pressed against the rock and slowly edged our way across the slippery path.  Half way my daughter panicked.  She refused to move another foot - a literal foot.  My husband had taken our son ahead and he needed everything he had to help my son.  My youngest daughter was at the end of the line taking everything very calmly.

I was the only to help.  I looked directly into her eyes and told her to breathe.  In my mind, I was thinking if you can with sand in your mouth.  Breath and don't look down.  Shift a little at a time and look at me, not down, not up, not out.  Just at me.  In this fashion, we slowly inched our way 20 feet to the level trail and off the chains.  A few short switchbacks later and we were catching our breath under a rock overhang.  We looked out over the valley and the long series of switchbacks that had almost emcapcitated me on the way up.  We rung out sleeves, wiped faces with gritty hands and took a breath.  Until we heard a rumble and gush of water.  I looked down at watched the rock wall over the switchback giveway and tumble down 1,000 feet onto the valley floor.  Behind the rock, water poured out in a smaller waterfall.  It just kept coming.  It never slowed.  The worst part.  It was blocking our path.  We would have to walk through the hard part and then again and again as we went down the switchbacks.

My mind was numbing with cold and my feet were cold.  Wait  a minute, my feet were wet.  The water was pooling around my feet and pouring down the small series of switchbacks we had just walked.  And here we stood under a rock overhang not unlike the one that had just given way.  Smart move midwesterner tourists.

Holding hands and moving slowly so we wouldn't slide down the canyon wall, we left our safe haven.  A few moments later, just before we reached the waterfall, I heard a roar.

Now you don't me all that well.  I have suffered severe hearing loss from chemotherapy.  So if I heard it, it must have been an incredible roar.  I turned to look and the entire rock face gave way to raging waterfall that plummeted 1,500 feet to the floor of the canyon.  Trees, rocks, boulders rushed out with it.  We were witnessing a flash flood.  Just minutes after we left that overhang.

Now it was my daughters turn to help me down.  She took my hand and quietly tugged me forward.  We plowed through the smaller waterfall and all the subsequent waterfalls.  I couldn't take my eyes off the enourmous waterfall now in front of me.  The sound filled my ears and senses.  I admit that I was in shock. 

We finally reached the bottom and the rain had stopped.  The water continued to pour from the top of the canyon cliff and tourists poured from the buses to take pictures.  In halting steps, my family made their way to the bus stop.  We were drenched, white from cold and covered in sand.  We looked as if we had swam in the sea and rolled on the beach.

The looks we got.

Next time, the reality sets in . . .

The kids were anxious. Antsy and anxious.  They wantedmore excitement and challenge. Adventure.  So far our hikes weresafe and easy for them.  For me, theywere a stretch and exciting.  Of course,my physical challenges are far greater.

For our third day, we decided that my daughters would choosethe days activities.  I provided maps,park newspaper and tour books.  Theypoured over them and selected the hike to hidden canyon.  Hidden canyon was rated a moderate, 2.2 mileroundtrip hike.   We decided to leaveearly in the morning, lunch at the top and return in the early afternoon.

Up and out early by 8:30 am, we were on the bus by 9am.  The base of the trail is located at base ofweeping rock, which is a very popular and beautiful spot.  We started up the series of switchback inorder to ascend 850 feet.  Theswitchbacks were in full sun.  Andsteep.  Very steep.

The trip was supposed to take 3 to 4 hours.  For me, the ascent took almost twohours.  I had to pause at eachswitchback to catch my breath.  I feltso bad for the kids to slow them down. I admit that there were times when I could barely catch my breath.

We finally reached the top where the trail split.  One part of the trail split to the top ofthe canyon and our half split to the hidden canyon.  We continued on towards the hidden canyon and came to our firstset of chains.

For those who rock climb, chains aren’t a surprise.  For those of us who don’t know any better,this was intimidating.  Chains anchoredinto the rock with a sloping, slippery trail. Fun.

Fortunately, this was very short section of only a fewfeet.   Going slowly, we made our waypast the area helping each other over the height and fear.  Just beyond, we hit a long stairs andanother set of chains.  This set waslong, steep and disappeared around a bend.

We were in a conundrum. My middle child was anxious to go. My oldest eager but wary.  Myyoungest hopefully oblivious.  Myhusband worried.  In honest, I was eageras well.   We compromised that I wouldgo with the girls as far as I could and see if it was passable.  Actually, it was not as bad as Ithought.  If we didn’t rush and held onto the chains, the path was doable.  Except that my oldest daughter decided after a short distance to notcontinue.  My middle girl went the wholelength all the way to the canyon.  Shewas the only one who made it.

I paused just prior the entrance of the canyon to catch mybreath and stopped.  We headed back tothe beginning of the chains and that is when the fun started.

Next time . . .

I am working on writing and posting the most traumatic event of our trip.  Life threatening is not an exageration.  In fact, the whole experience was so traumatic that I am not sure the words really reveal the danger.

So, I am going to write now about the real dangers of the national parks.  You are on your own.  Hike at your own risk.  Beware of rock falls, flash floods, wild animals and more.  Those are the warnings posted in the all the national park newspapers.  I read them.  Understood them.  But I thought that if I was careful, nothing would happen to us.  Wrong.

If something happens, think about where you are.  How will they get to you?  How will they find out?  Does anyone know where you are and when you will return?  Do you understand the nature of the weather there?  Geography?  Do you have the right gear?  Yes, these are simple questions that many tourists are asked every year and yet don't heed it.

There is danger.  Preventable danger.  Read the postings and think about them.  Often it only takes a few minutes to really understand what you about to do -- that could save your life.

Until next time.  The headline could have read -- Family of Five Dies In Flash Flood . . . Bodies Never Found

The Grand Canyon Synopsis - South Rim - Hot, crowded, more hotel rooms, more camping spots and more to do.  North Rim - colder year round, fewer people, fewer rooms and sites and less to do.  The view is the same from either side.  There you have it in a nutshell.

We left after several days of exciting, beautiful time viewing the magnificient Grand Canyon.  Next stop, Zion National Park.  I was really looking forward to the next part.  I know that the Grand Canyon is what everyone thinks of but for me it is just too immense to contemplate.   Zion is a canyon approached from the bottom of the canyon.  The canyon also winds so that views unfold before you as travel along it.  Easier I think to process.

We slowly descended from the 8,000 foot altitude to the base of Zion at 4,000 foot.  That descent created an immense rush in all of us.  By that evening in the park, we were all, and I mean all, giggling and laughing far into the night.  After hours of this (yes, we were literally laughing at nothing) I realized that it was the altitude.  The sudden rush of oxygen was making us giddy.  What fun we had that night!

Zion camping is beautiful.  The river winds along the edge with the town just on the other side a short walk away.  The sites are level with trees shading many of the sites.  There are several hotels in town with anything from an ordinary hotel room to cottages and suites.  Be warned though, hotels are very expensive.   In fact, much of the town is expensive.  Springdale is a small artsy town catered purely to tourism.

On the plus side, transportation is a snap.  You cannot drive in the canyon itself.  There is however, buses that run from sun up to sun down through the whole summer.  The stops are frequent and rarely completely crowded.

The visitors center is beautiful and worth a stop itself.  There unique towers anchoring the corners of the building are actually designed to cool the facility.  There are educational exhibits all over the plaza which my son found fascinating.

An important tip, August and September is tarantula mating season.  Is this a real problem?  Not really but if you have a child into bugs, this is the time to go!

My son sure was fascinated!

Of course, I knew all about light  pollution.  In my arrogance, I thought I did.  That was until I experienced the North Rim  of the Grand Canyon.  We have had shooting star alerts here in NE Ohio and on many of those nights were unable to see due to the light pollution.  On several previous camping trips we had star watched in areas with little light.  That was until we reached the Grand Canyon's North Rim.

There isn't any light there.  Any.  At all.  Anywhere.

The result is a sky lit up like fireworks.  More stars than you ever imagined.  Reaching from horizon to horizon.

They were having a star party.  People with telescopes had come from all over just to view the night sky.  They set up on the terrace of the lodge.  Over 25 individuals with powerful telescopes focused on Saturn, galaxies, clusters and more.  What an incredible sight!

Like little children, we hopped from telescope viewing the fantastic sights.  The rings of Saturn!  Twisted clusters of stars!  Other galaxies!  Each individual explained what we were looking at and patiently handled all the questions Adam could ask.  They loved sharing their knowledge with the kids.

A fantastic opportunity for all!

Here is a jpg of what the earth looks like at night.  Makes you really think about the phrase "I'll leave the light on for you."

http://nssdc.gsfc.nasa.gov/planetary/image/earth_night.jpg

The North Rim is a beautiful 30 mile drive through heavily wooded country.  The one way drive ends in a scenic area with a old, beautiful lodge.  The lodge is built right on the rim with magnificent views.  Actually, the lodge is worth the visit itself.

The campgrounds are adjacent to the lodge with a scenic hike between along the canyon.  The best part of the North Rim are the reduced crowds.  As opposed to the south rim, there are very few people.  It is easy to find a quiet part of the trail and just enjoy the views.

We had a large quiet site at the edge and near the canyon overlook.  We were only a few sites from the bathhouse.  I mention this because the altitude was a real issue.  At first I didn't notice it but the first morning, I was moving very slowly.  By mid morning, I was dizzy and laying on the bed.  The mile hike to the lodge was very difficult.  My kids won't admit it but I know that they were struggling as well.

By day two, I had a trouble even making it to the bathhouse.  I spent a good part of the day taking it easy and the rest explored.  On top of the altitude, we were having trouble with the weather.  The cooler weather comes with the alittude but this was cooler than normal.  In the evening the temperature dropped to 32 degrees.  Sweatshirts, coats and mulitple layers were the norm.

Day three was much easier.  We all had acclimated and were doing much better.  So much better, my husband and daughters attempted to hike to the bottom.   Of course, it is impossible to hike to the bottom in one day.  Actually, you can reach the bottom in one day.  You just can't make it back in the same day.  They made half way down.  They left early around 6 am and returned around dinner.  The way down only took  a couple hours but the walk back was twice as long.  Keep in mind there were several miles to hike before they reached the rim.

Tip - Watch the alittude.  It can be a real problem.