Sole to Soul

By Cheryl Chanaud

An entertaining variety of short stories of a life-long hiker and lover of the mountains. Includes stories that are humorous, observational, even sad. Many photos of the author's hiking locations are a part of this book.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cheryl Chanaud
• Release date: Feb 3, 2013
• ISBN: 9780615741512

Cheryl Chanaud

I have been an avid hiker since childhood! And I love to share hiking stories and my observations of people, animals, and nature.

Book preview

The Call of the Wild

They have cradled you in custom, they have primed you with their preaching,

They have soaked you in convention through and through;

They have put you in a showcase; you're a credit to their teaching-

But can't you hear the wild?-it's calling you.

Let us probe the silent places, let us seek what luck betide us;

Let us journey to a lonely land I know.

There's a whisper on the night-wind, there's a star agleam to guide us,

And the wild is calling, calling . . . . let us go.

Robert Service

Grand Canyon

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

Hiking on the Grand Canyon's Angel Bright Trail in the predawn darkness, I stopped short and waved one had behind my back to signal my friend to STOP. She didn't see my hand and bumped into me.

Look, an elk eating I whispered. I didn't think that my dear friend had ever been this close to an elk, unless we counted visits to zoos. The huge, muscular, horned animal was trailside, head bent to the ground biting at small shrubbery.

Wow she said.

After watching the elk for a minute or two, we very slowly continued down the trail. The elk immediately bounded away on the steep terrain, disappearing into the rocks below us.

This was my friend's first trip to the Grand Canyon and first major hike ever; she was pretty serious most of the trek down the canyon and didn't talk much. She has one bad knee, which slows her on the downhills, so I tried to stay close and not move too far ahead. We watched the remarkable sunrise together, with the rising orange yellow light revealing the remarkable sight of the multi-layered, multi-colored canyon walls and the first light rays hitting a sharp red rock face above our heads. The gradual light of dawn revealed the massive flat plateaus, with the tremendous crack in the plateau that displayed the shadowed and deep canyon. It was hard to believe that it was real; its immensity was difficult to grasp. Every few minutes the colors changed slightly, with yellows changing to orange, and the shades of orange morphing into layers of iron red alternating with streaks of black and yellow. Every direction revealed magnificent vistas that swept my breath away.

We stopped at Indian Wells for a rest and bite to eat. At the fork in the trail, my friend expressed a desire to go for the shorter distance, a walk out onto the plateau that overlooks the Colorado River, rather than the trail that descends to the river itself. I really wanted to go all the way down to the river, but knew that we weren't in practice for long hikes.

I told her, no problem and we headed out across the plateau.

The view was tremendous; we were overlooking the river and watched the rafts full of smiling, yelling people passing below us. We rested, waved, and yelled hello to them. They couldn't hear us over the sound of the water, but we yelled anyway. Some waved back to us.

Then we turned around and headed back up the trail. By the time that we hit the switchbacks, I started to slow down and my friend started to motor up. She was among that class of people who believed in going uphill as fast as possible in order to get it over with. Not me, I was of the old school philosophy of going uphill, slow and steady. As we continued up, still relatively early in the day, there were hordes of late-starters headed down the canyon stirring up continuous little dust swirls along the way.

Finally, after the slow slog uphill we made it back to the top of the trail and back to the trailhead. As we approached the car, my fried broke out into a broad smile across her entire face. Here eyes were dancing.

We did it! she said exuberantly.

Of course! You had doubts?

Yes, I was worried that I wouldn't be able to do it. This, from a woman who was running four miles a day and had run and finished two marathons!

You did just great! I told you that you would be a natural at this.

She beamed happily.

I drove us out of the Park and through a small commercial area that didn't exist when I was through here as a child. Now, there were several motels, gas stations, and places to eat. We picked a rustic, kind-of-country looking place and stopped for dinner.

We were seated at a table for four. We were both starving. When we ordered several appetizers and several entrees each, the waitress said, Are you sure you girls can eat all that?

We laughed and said that we had just hiked down the canyon and that we were very hungry.

She looked a bit skeptical, but smiled her natural friendly smile and said that our drinks would be out right away. We each ordered several beverages as well.

The appetizers arrived and we plowed through them quickly. When the waitress brought our entrees, she obligingly rearranged the items already on the table to accommodate all the dishes and plates that we ordered. Every square inch of the table for four was covered with food dishes or glasses. The table of food looked delicious and we eyed each dish with glee.

The waitress giggled and said in a slightly southern lilt, My, that sure is a lot of food.

We ate nearly everything on every plate. We talked about our wonderful hike and the immense beauty of the Grand Canyon, stuffing our mouths with food as we talked. When we finished eating, there was a bite or two left over, but otherwise all of the plates were polished clean.

When the waitress left us our check, she laughed and said, I surely didn't think you two could eat all that food, but you sure as heck did!

Needless to say, we left the restaurant fully sated, relaxed, and happy!

Juneau to Skagway to Dyea and the Chilkoot Trailhead

Alaska

The small four-seater prop plane was delayed in its takeoff from Juneau. The fog, filling the valley, hid the lush, dark green mountains that rose from the green ocean. It looked light as if the fog might lift at any moment. We waited expectantly for two hours, eager to get going. Early in our wait a trim, young-looking older man came and sat by us.

Headin' to Skagway?

We looked him over carefully, like people from the city do, Yes, we are, big city suspiciousness wondering why he was asking.

Well, I'm your pilot. Mornin' fog is usual 'round these parts.

Oh, we said with heightened interest.

I grew up in Oklahoma, came here and stayed to fly these little ol' planes for thirty-five years.

Really?! we exclaimed. How did you end up here?

Came for a visit, fell in love with the natural beauty and the low population, and just decided to stay. Was a pilot and kept on being a pilot here. I love it, couldn't ever leave.

His jovial narrative was infectious. We overcame our early morning doldrums and boredom with waiting and tried to learn about this beautiful remote place, with its changeable weather.

Oh, yeah, it rains most every day, you can guess that by all the green out there, he waved towards the window, which displayed a foggy green pasture.

Fog most every morning. Never know if this first flight will go on time or not. So where ya headed?

The Chilkoot Trail.

Oh, yeah he said bouncing in his seat. Two weeks ago I flew a seventy year old woman back from Skagway. She had hiked the trail by herself.

No! You're kidding us!

For real. She was tough. Said she was a little slow now, at her age, but not yet stopped.

We looked at one another, with the same thought, we had no excuses not to make it.

Later, after more waiting, our pilot returned and said that he talked to another pilot who had just landed in Skagway; he had said that the entire Haines-Skagway path and inlets were clearing of the fog.

Company manager says we can take off! Let's go!

We jumped up, picked up our backpacks and walked out to the plane expecting security personnel to stop us, but there was no security to speak of.

As we stood next to the little plane, the pilot eyed our packs and asked if we had weighed them and what the weight was. Ignorant of the need for careful weight distribution, we answered, No, we don't know. Then he jumped up into the plane and leaned behind the seats announcing, I'll need to re-arrange back here so we can distribute the weight right. OK, hand me your packs.

After lifting our packs up to him, we clambered awkwardly up into the plane and onto our rickety seats. We exchanged another silent look, asking, is this safe enough?

After a quick takeoff, watching the pilot with his well-practiced moves, and hoping that the knobs, pedals and steering bar didn't suddenly snap apart, we were rising smoothly into the fog. He piloted through an opening in the fog, but we still couldn't see much. I marveled that he knew where he was going. It reminded me of the time that I took a little prop plane on a local airline into Coos Bay, Oregon and when the pilot descended out of the clouds towards an inlet in front of us, he suddenly said, oops, wrong inlet, you know, they all look the same, and pulled us back up into the clouds. Fortunately today's pilot knew precisely where he was and brought us neatly down into Skagway. I recognized the church spire and train station; I'd been here once before as a tourist disembarking from a small boat cruise. There wasn't much to see in the cloudy drizzle, but I knew