Personal Narrative: The Arizona Trail

“How much longer?” I groaned out to my dad while wiping the sweat off my brow caused by the blistering heat of the mid-day sun. We were hiking up the Arizona Trail in the Grand Canyon for almost two hours. My brother and cousin were running up ahead, trying to race each other to the top of the 13-mile trail. My dad kept yelling at the two of them to slow down and wait for us. I knew the three of them wanted to go faster but kept having to wait for me. I was too tired and sore to even care at that point. Muscles I never knew I had were being overworked and the heat was unbearable—hiking in peak-August heat was torturous.

“A few more miles.” came my dad’s reply, the same reply he had given me the past three times I asked that question. At that, my legs almost gave out. It seemed to me the more we hiked, the longer the trail grew. I didn’t know how much longer I could go on, I needed to sit down and take a break. …show more content…
I gestured to my dad to keep going and that I would follow him in a few minutes. I dug out my water bottle and drank it. What little water that remained in it was warm and made me more thirsty. I set it down and looked at the trail, at the stream of people going up and down the trail, at the evening sun. I took the time to admire the trail. The trees were tall and casted elaborate shadows on the ground and the birds were flying through the crevices between the trees. After a few more minutes of catching my breath and regaining some feeling in my legs, I hoisted my backpack over my back and went up the trail again. However, when I reached the fifth mile-marker, I saw that there was a split in paths, a fork. They both led up to the same destination and were the same length but I didn’t know which one my dad took. As I stood there wondering what to do, I saw a family of four go up the left trail, so I followed them. I tried not to make it obvious that I was following them, so I slowed my pace down and walked a few feet behind. The sun was setting as we approached the eight mile-marker and there was still no sign of my dad, brother, or cousin. I stopped and pulled out my phone, praying that I had at least one bar of service. Nothing. I checked twenty minutes later. Nothing. I walked a little further and checked again. Nothing. When I looked ahead, the family I was following was gone. I began to sweat, more than I had when the sun was up and beating down on me. I heard faint voices up ahead at the trail, so I pocketed my phone and walked towards the voices. As I got closer up, they kept getting farther away. I tried to run towards the voices but I couldn't see the path where I was going as the entire trail was blanketed in darkness. I became very aware of the overwhelming quiet, except for the occasional whistling of the chilly night wind and crunching of leaves underneath my boot. I turned on the flashlight on my phone and quickly walked