A few years ago, my son and I descended toward the Colorado via the Bright Angel Trail.
We spent the easiest of it, the walk down, bemoaning our misfortune for having undertaken so difficult a task. The threatening skies, the burden of excessive stowage, and my own not yet fully recovered post-surgical state contributed.
The trip back up was grueling. The top, the end, would never come, it seemed. I began to think about what it might be like spending a night curled up by the boulders on the side of the path. What kind of animals come out at night? What if we stray off the trail? What if we become lost?
But we found ourselves. In the ascent.