Post #4: Pandemic Part One
The summer of Two thousand Twenty will go down as one of the strangest times my generation will probably ever come across. This is the story of how my friends, and I spent that time. The story doesn’t start on a classic Memorial Day weekend with a cookout or something cliché like that. It starts with one of the most confusing and wild adventures I’ve ever been on. It starts on the day the whole world went into lockdown thanks to the Coronavirus pandemic.
It’s March 12th, my friend Eric and I are currently hauling down Interstate 80 making a long, overnight, 30-hour dash hoping to make it all the way to Bishop, California to start an adventure-packed spring break of climbing mountains in the Sierra Nevada’s. We’re now also escaping a world that’s shutting down due to Coronavirus. March Madness and the NBA season had been postponed the day before and universities all over the country were canceling in-person classes indefinitely. Thinking by going and spending a week having fun removed from the craziness of society, we would maybe avoid most of the panic happening at the current moment and return 7-days later to a normal world. Man were we wrong.
Our first stop on this mountain climbing extravaganza wasn’t a mountain at all. It’s more of like a slight rise in the barren plains of far western Nebraska. The Nebraska state high point to be exact. They call it Panorama Point. To its credit, it did provide for some panoramic views considering there were no trees on the perfectly flat horizon. Eric and I, worn down from a long night of driving, get out of the car, and enjoy our first “summit” of the trip. We’re immediately greeted by 20-degree weather and bone-chilling wind.
Eric looking a little road weary but still excited to knock off the Nebraska highpoint.
Something just didn’t feel right. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation or the unexpected frigid temperatures as we stepped out of the toasty car, but it was more of a gut feeling than anything else. I brushed it off and we got back in the car to go on our merry way. We drove for another 8 hours before getting to the Bonneville Salt Flats in Utah where we decided to take a break. This is where things started to go south. I get a text from my friend we’re supposed to be meeting in Bishop. “Weather is bad. Don’t come” This is where the story starts to get a little crazy.
Well, now the entire trip has been flipped on its head. The sierras are getting a blizzard bringing 40 inches of snow and 60 mph winds. Not ideal mountain climbing conditions. Eric and I began frantically looking for alternative route options on our phones while sitting inside the shell gas station that is connected to a Nevada casino. Classy spot, right? Our other options are looking bleak and we start to heavily consider the option of just turning around and driving home. Ultimately, we decide that we’re too tired, after driving 26 hours out to our current location, to start driving right back home again. So, we book a hotel in Salt Lake City for the night. We get some burgers and get some rest with the hopes we’ll be able to make a better decision on plans in the morning.
While stuffing as much of the Hampton Inn free breakfast in our faces as possible, Eric and I spend about an hour looking at maps to see if there are any places we can go to salvage our spring break. I propose that we bomb down Interstate 15 to the Utah and Arizona desert to try and knock off some mountain hikes that we’d been wanting to cross off in that region. Eric is still tired and isn’t too thrilled about the extra driving, but I convince him that anything we do will be more fun than just driving home and giving up. We get in my car and start driving south.
About two hours into the drive, we stopped to get gas at a gas station in Beaver, Utah. I’m pumping gas when I get a phone call from my friend JP. He’s on his computer looking at $25 airline tickets to Vegas and wants to know if he can join the adventure. So, in the middle of a pandemic, at a Flying J rest stop, in a random town in the Utah desert, we make plans to pick JP up from Vegas the following night.
Eric and I go for a quick hike that afternoon in Zion and then get pizza outside of St. George, Utah that night. It Was March 14th. I remember looking around the crowded pizza restaurant and wondering to myself how uncomfortably normal everything was. The place was packed, social distancing was only a murmur at the time, and no one was wearing a mask. It seemed like nothing would really change. But there was an uncertainty in the air like no one knew what was going to happen next. Eric and I weren’t the only travelers with an unknown adventure ahead of us. Everyone was. We spent the night 20 miles down a dirt road in the Nevada desert with plans to climb a nearby mountain in the morning. Our campsite had no cell service, and it was peaceful. No noise, a warm spring desert breeze, and the stars glistening above. I was able to escape the unfolding craziness that was going on in the world around me and was able to go to sleep a little more relaxed that night.
I woke up the next morning to the desert sun creeping over my face making its way through a window in my tent. Usually, when my friends and I wake up at a camp spot that we had arrived in the dark, we find a high point to climb up to the next morning to enjoy the views we’d been deprived of the night before. I scaled a rock feature right next to our campsite. When I got to the top, I was immediately greeted by a barrage of text messages and notifications welcoming me back to the real world. I looked at all the notifications. More sporting events had been canceled, NYC was shutting down restaurants, and Vegas had shut down casinos. A couple of friends who had booked ski trips out west also texted me and told me that their trip had been canceled because the resorts were also shutting down.
Our campsite between some rocks in the Nevada desert.
Everyone always talks about how the begging days of the pandemic seemed so surreal. To me, it felt like a totally different world. Here I was, just sitting on a rock somewhere in the desert watching the clouds roll by while the human world began to totally shut down. The natural world was pretty much staying the same, and I felt more connected to it than anything else. I was unsettled by this disconnection from the human world though. “I should be more worried?” I thought to myself but pushed that thought down instead of trying to process it. I think that made me anxious because Eric and I’s mountain climbing attempt did not go well that day.
We’re usually strong climbers. Our hiking portfolio includes a couple of 14’ers and some state highpoints as well. This relatively small, 8,000-foot, mountain was kicking our ass though. We were anxious. The uncertainty of the pandemic was creeping into our hiking mindset. The mentality of ‘summit or bust’ just wasn’t there and at around 6,600 feet we were so tired and out of it, we made the call to turn around. To this day, of any mountain or crazy hike I’ve attempted, this is the only time I’ve failed to finish. Something just wasn’t right in the world and we knew it. As much as we were trying to fight that fact, it was now very much creeping into the tone of the trip. Defeated, we made our way back down the mountain and headed towards Las Vegas.
Eric and I had a wonderful idea, before picking up JP, to take in the sights of Las Vegas during this strange time, so we decided to walk down the strip. The energy was weird there, I’ve never been a huge fan of Vegas but this time it felt like the non-stop party atmosphere was dying. With all the casinos closed the Vegas-goers had moved to the street where their drunken ignorance could be on full display. To add to the bizarre mood of the day, I received an email from Indiana University and opened it while watching the fountains go off at the Bellagio. Classes were to be online for the rest of the semester.
Sunset on the strip
So here I was, walking down the Las Vegas strip, spring break plans totally flipped upside down, during the start of a pandemic, my friend is flying to meet us in less than three hours, and I just figured out I’m not going back to my college campus until next fall. Never in my life, have I ever experienced such a weird rush of emotions. I think the only thing Eric and I could think about doing is just rolling with the punches and trying to salvage as much as we could of what was left of our time out west. Without thinking of the shitstorm that we’d have to deal with when this trip ended. I even jokingly mentioned to Eric that we should just find a place to rent out in Las Vegas for six months and ride it out in an area where we could spend tons of time outdoors exploring the west. He’s wasn’t too thrilled at that idea. At this point, I think Eric was getting weary of the madness and thought it would be best to just go home. I’m a little bit more stubborn so I encouraged him to keep an open mind.
We pick JP up from the airport at around 11 o’clock and immediately head south into Arizona to try and find a campsite. Our first couple of spots end up being busts so we’re forced to head two hours south to Kingman, Arizona for some more reliable camping. The next morning it feels like we’re totally isolated from the rest of the world. Most things back home in Indiana have shut down and everyone has started to quarantine at their homes. Yet, the three of us are still somewhere in the desert living out of a car. At this point, we’re all just delaying the inevitable of having to pack up and go quarantine back in Indiana. We don’t really have a plan of where we want to go or even what we want to do. Without any discussion on where we should go, we pack up camp and I start driving towards flagstaff. “There’s stuff to do around there.” I thought to myself. Still lacking any sort of plans we drive up to the Arizona Snowbowl on Humphreys Peak to see if that will spark any ideas.
We stand in a pile of snow looking at the ski runs and surrounding views for about thirty minutes just talking about everything going on. It’s obvious all of us are just lost on what to do at that point. Should we even be traveling? Can we still have fun? Is this safe to do? Were thoughts I’m sure were running through our brains at that point. The south rim of the Grand Canyon was only about an hour away so by default we just decided to head there as it was the biggest attraction in the area.
Looking deep into a chasm of the grand canyon that afternoon
A huge goal of mine and JP’s had always been to hike from the rim of the Grand Canyon, down to the Colorado River, and back up again all in one day. This seemed like the perfect opportunity to try and see if we can do it. We start to make plans to embark early the next morning. Eric isn’t too keen on the idea, so he opts to stay behind on the rim. JP and I wake up at 5:30 the next morning to start our hike. We’re both excited to finally do an activity and get our minds off all the stuff that’s going on in the world. The hike was amazing, and it felt like we were totally removed from everything. I already wrote a detailed blog post on what it’s like to hike the Grand Canyon in one day so I won’t go into details but I can say it was the most challenging hike I had done to date.
We drove down to Sedona and Celebrated with large pizzas at one of the only restaurants that was still open. I proposed a more thorough travel plan of heading south through Phoenix and eventually ending up at Big Bend National Park. Unfortunately, the Grand Canyon had taken all of JP’s energy out of him and Eric was still battling a sinus infection. Not to mention that all our parents were starting to get concerned about the three of us traveling and were hinting that we should probably come home. We camped in a snowstorm that night. If that wasn’t a signal that it was time to pack it up and leave, I don’t know what is. The weather was terrible, we were all tired, and everything was shut down. After taking showers and doing some laundry at my cousins in Phoenix we start the long, slightly sobering trip back to Indiana.
Looking back after crossing the Colorado river in the depths of the Grand Canyon
We all knew nothing was going to be the same for a while at this point. The 25-hour car ride gave us all time to reflect on that. For me, that means thinking about my plans for the summer. “Will there even be a summer? There are so many things I didn’t get to do on my spring break trip I feel like I needed to redeem myself.” It felt like an unfinished chapter. Usually, when I go on an adventure like this, the drive home is a time to reflect on all the things you accomplished and discovered. This time it felt like the adventure hadn’t ended. So, 67 days later. I found myself at the exact same campsite outside the Grand Canyon where we had stayed in the snowstorm. This time full of ambition and ready to continue the Coronavirus pandemic chapter of my life.
I’m with three different friends this time talking about hiking the Grand Canyon in a day. In the exact same spot, I stood with JP and Eric talking about hiking the exact same hike two months before. Now, my summer can officially begin. I’ve started exactly where I left off, literally. This time on a cliché Memorial Day weekend.