It is the morning of April 27, 2005, and we are getting ready to ride mules down into the Grand Canyon.
These are wranglers, preparing for the descent.
This is Casey, the "Chief Wranger." He gave us a great speech on what to expect. I wish I had a copy of his words. His main point was that this may be the most difficult thing we will ever do. It is hard work. He told us we could back out now with a full refund, and a few folks did just that.
Son and husband are the soon-to-be riders on the left.
Awww.
One more shot of the canyon before we go down.
You can see the tail end of a previous group of riders as they work their way around the first "corner." (I like this picture.)
This 80-year-old lady really wanted to go, but she simply could not do it. You can see why there is a 200-pound limit on the riders. The mules can handle more weight, but the wranglers cannot, or they prefer not to.
Here is my son, on his very well behaved mule, Sugar.
Here is my husband, on Mutton, who preferred to drag behind most of the time. (My son took a picture of me, but it is in another folder. Too bad.)
We are on our way! It was a little tricky to manage the reins, a "whip," a water flask, my wits,
and a heavy camera.
Everybody had to wear wide-brimmed hats and sip water from provided flasks to avoid having to be air-lifted out of the canyon.
Periodically, the wranglers would stop the descent so the mules could rest. We'd all turn toward the canyon, side by side.
More next week.
“Give up money, give up fame, give up science, give the earth itself and all it contains rather than do an immoral act.” —Thomas Jefferson (1785)