The Bright Angel Trail Hunger Scare
Dad pulled out a few granola bars and a squished peanut butter sandwich, like that was supposed to feed four people for the entire hike.
The Bright Angel Trail Hunger Scare
By Jeremy Lott
I was 15 the first (and only) time I hiked the Bright Angel Trail with my family. It’s funny looking back now, but at the time, it was honestly one of the scariest things I’d ever experienced.
It all started because my dad thought it would be a sweet family trip for us to road trip to the Grand Canyon and hike down into it. He promised it wouldn’t be that bad. He told me and my sister tales of Havasupai Gardens, said we would get to that spot, have a snack, and then head back up. No big deal. My mom and sister agreed that it would be a good time.
After nearly nine hours of driving with infrequent stops (not really what a road trip is, dad!) we got to the Grand Canyon's entrance and headed to an overview. It was pretty mind blowing, even for me. Admittedly at the time I wasn't impressed by nature, so it felt like a big deal that I was feeling super impressed.
We packed back in the car and headed to a hotel for the night. The next morning we pretty much packed up our backpacks and headed right over to start our hike down the Bright Angel Trail.
The hike down was easy enough. I thought, This is awesome! The canyon was gorgeous, and we were laughing and pointing out cool rock formations the whole way. My sister spotted some bighorns that no one else was able to see. Mules wandered by, which was really cool. It felt like the morning was perfect.
But by the time we got to Havasupai Gardens, I was starving.
That’s when we realized a big problem. Dad pulled out a few granola bars and a squished peanut butter sandwich, like that was supposed to feed four people for the entire hike. Mom’s face said it all. She was pissed and snapped, while Dad mumbled something about how he thought we’d eat later.
I tried be nice about it, but by the time we started heading back up, I was in full panic mode. Every step felt harder, and I was feeling dizzy. I started imagining worst-case scenarios of falling down the canyon. Trying to hide all this from my parents.
We still had hours of climbing ahead, and it got scary fast. My legs felt weak, and the canyon walls seemed to close in. Mom kept telling me to take sips of water and rest, but it didn’t help much. I remember looking up at the switchbacks and thinking, What if I can’t make it? What happens if you just… stop?
Dad was trying to joke around, but even he looked worried. He started breaking the hike into little goals. My sister was dealing with hunger as well based on how crabby she was getting. All in all our family was your typical group of no-knowledge tourons who didn't take the Grand Canyon seriously.
Eventually, we made it out, though I have no idea how. I was shaking, starving, and completely done with the idea of hiking. When we got to the top, my mom basically shoved me and my sister into the car and drove straight to a restaurant.
I learned two things that day: the Grand Canyon doesn’t mess around, and my dad was not allowed to plan hikes anymore.
Now, I have a 15-year-old of my own, and every time we hit the trail, I pack extra food for him! Probably more than he would ever need. I’d rather lug around an extra peanut butter sandwich than watch my kid go through what I did. It’s funny how those lessons stick with you. As much as I hated that experience, it taught me a lot about what not to do!
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