At Phantom Ranch, Joe saw an exchange. When you are tired and hanging out, you watch others and note their behaviors. Joe saw The Cantina Lady waiting on a line of folks. Maybe she was a new hire, not fast, with a line of hot, exhausted people lined up to get their lemonade. Our teammate Joan was in line, along with six or seven others, so Joe noticed when a fifty year old white man, wearing all the right gear, bypassed the line with a flanking run around to the right, entered the cashier’s area behind the counter, grabbed two beers, and as soon as she was done with her transaction, handed his credit card to her. She took the card and rang up his beers without questioning his place in line. Joe tends to get irrational about fairness, so he asked Joan, ”Did that guy just cut in front of you?” Joan waved it aside, “I don’t know.” But Joe stored the information.
Ten minutes later, Joe was drinking his lemonade in the Cantina when the same man came back in and Joe heard his voice and recognized him immediately. The man was complaining that people were already in his bunkhouse and that his reserved beds were not available. His voice was a little angry, demanding— the bunks were not meeting his expectations. The Cantina Lady calmly explained the reality of Phantom Ranch Dormitories and sent him back out. Now Joe has two pieces of information about this man, and begins thinking of him as Arrogant Man.
Next morning we headed out for our big ascent up Bright Angel Trail, a 9.5 mile hike that goes from 2546 feet to 6860 feet.
We started at 5:40 after 5:00 breakfast and were leapfrogging with everyone else from Phantom Ranch, including Tomboy Girl and her group, Fainting Girl and her husband, Life-Saving Policeman and his EMT brother, and Arrogant Man and his family. In the first five miles the trail gains only a little, rolling up and down with only one steep section at Devil’s Corkscrew for about 35 minutes, a warning of things to come. During this section I overheard one man lecturing his group while holding up a ziplock bag, “I bring this in case you break a filling on the trip. It’s Oragel.” (I can only guess he is a dentist.) We had just stopped for dried mangos and coconut given to us by our guide when I heard Arrogant Man tell his daughter disparagingly, “See, you don’t need a guide. All they do is provide snacks.” I glance at him and consider getting snotty, but in the mountains I am a Buddhist so I let it go. White male, 50 years old, obviously successful, two daughters. Hmmm. Debbie meets Arrogant Man and stores the information.
Shortly after that, still in the first five miles of the day, Joe overheard Arrogant Man sitting on a rock telling his daughter, “You should be able to hike two miles an hour.” His tone was directive and lecturing, the CEO informing the executive staff of performance standards. Joe observes and notes it, now developing antipathy toward this man.
But of course you can feel the tension building in this story and you know there is a lesson coming. Wait for it.
After Indian Gardens, the world changes. We walked from that lush, cool oasis with trees shading and a creek rippling, to stark mountain rocks and steps, for four thousand feet of elevation gain in four miles of switchbacks in the sun. Each switchback of forward progress takes us to less oxygen. What a trade-off! The rocks are soaking up the sun and pulsing it back out at us.
Everyone is taxed, and people surprise themselves with failing functions. We passed a twenty-year-old mystified Swiss marathoner who lived at elevation his whole life, who had quad cramping and could not continue. He was kneading his legs with surprise and stumbling to express himself in English to a ranger. We passed a red-faced, overweight man who had walked down from the South Rim in his Nikes and t-shirt with a 16 ounce water bottle in one hand, shocked to find himself sitting on a rock gasping for air. I came around a switchback corner to see Arrogant Man sitting on a rock with his face in his hands, wife and son-in-law by him. I asked, “Are you ok?” He looked at me and said, “ I don’t know. Do I look ok?” I answered, “Not really. Do you have water?” He flapped one hand toward his backpack and said with disgust, still folded over, “We have everything.” I said ok and moved on. Joe saw the son-in-law shoulder Arrogant Man’s backpack, saying he could carry two backpacks. And a few switchbacks later I saw the daughter he had been lecturing, waiting on a rock for the rest of them to get up the hill.
Yes, we should not judge. Or gloat. Certainly there is a Ladder of Inference operating in these scraps of conversation. But we don’t need to judge or help or run for a ranger or lecture back at anyone in the Canyon. The Canyon is a great leveler. Not just the daughter, but even the wife was cruising up the switchbacks better than the laboring Arrogant Man. Karma was in action. What I hope is that for the family’s sake, Arrogant Man ponders his own lecturing, arrogance, and selfishness and becomes Humble Man. I hope he says, “Hunh. That lady I cut in front of in the Cantina? She just motored past me, yakking with her friend, strong and effortless.” I hope he accepts the lessons of the Canyon.