I Almost Died in the Grand Canyon
By Ryan Barlow
Copyright 2007, 2012 Ryan Barlow
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I now regret the title of my article "I Was Attacked by a shark".
I regret the title because it was a sensational title to attract readers. I was lashed by a shark's tail, and though it was quite scary, I never felt my life was threatened. The shark did not bite me. I never thought I was going to die in the Caribbean. I wanted to title this story "I was attacked by Giant Bighorn Sheep" but I don't want to seem like the boy who cried wolf, so instead I will name it a more sobering:
"I Almost Died in the Grand Canyon".
Two weeks and two animal attacks, except this animal attack was far scarier then the sharks and I actually faced death for the first time in my life. I honestly believed my life was at an end.
A side note: Until you TRULY feel you are about to die, I don't believe you really know what you will think, or how you will act. I'd like to think I passed the test better than I thought I would, but oddly, as I faced a mile high drop on one side, and an angry charging bighorn on the other, my first thought was "how will Rachel get home? The car keys are in my pocket and it will take a couple days to extract my mangled body from the bottom of the canyon?" On to the story.
Rachel and I decided on an impromptu trip to the Grand Canyon. We live in the desert, and as it turns out, the Canyon is only 5 hours from our house. Not entirely unpacked from the Bahamas, we set off to Arizona, chasing the dream of seeing 1000 amazing places before we die. Little did I know I would face death after only the second place on our list. We booked a quick Internet one-day tour with the Grand Canyon Railway. If you have never been on a train, I suppose it is worth doing ONCE for the experience, but you are herded like cattle onto the train, followed by the shuttles, and you only get about 15-30 minutes at each stop to admire the beauty of a place that took millions of years to create. The total tour time is 2 hours at the Canyon and 5 hours on the train. I won't do it again, but it was worth doing once.
We decided this wasn't the experience we had hoped for, so we stayed in the Best Western at the Grand Canyon so we could hike below the rim the next day and take in the majestic beauty of this humbling place. We awoke at 5 am to watch the sunrise over the almost unspeakably beautiful walls of the Canyon, the sun-splashed clouds drifting below us, glinting the morning rays onto the huge multi layered red walls. It's a sight that if taken in proper, will bring tears to your eyes.
After this amazing morning we decided to begin our hike into the canyon itself. Trouble began immediately, as Rachel had a fear of heights that was previously unknown; it manifested at the edge of oblivion. The trails have no guardrails for safety, so one misstep and you plummet to your death. No exaggeration. It is a long way down, and death is certain upon departure of the trail, so she was a bit nervous. She overcame her fear however and soldiered on. I would go into the beauty of the hike and the majesty of the scenery but this is a story about death. Or very near death at least. I will stick to the good stuff for entertainment value.
It is early morning still, and we are relatively alone on the trail. There were a few hikers here and there, but overall we enjoyed peaceful solitude. A noise attracted our attention down the hillside: A family of bighorn sheep was frolicking (there really is no other way to describe it, they were prancing up the hill in a frolicking manner) far down the Cliffside, on a little outcropping. There were three of them, Mama, Papa, and Baby. I tried to snap some pictures but most came out blurry. They were a bit far away, and moving.
I noticed they were moving up the mountainside towards the trail we had just walked on. One other couple was sharing the trail with us at that point, and I learned that they’ve hiked the canyon almost daily for the last two years. They had only seen one bighorn from far away, so they were completely delighted to see an entire family of them. At this point so was I! What a treat to see bighorn sheep in the wild, and somewhat close! Baby came first, and began trotting down the trail towards us. Baby came within 20 feet from us, noticed us, and then turned and trotted down the mountain (over the edge). Mama came next, and walked right up to us (touching distance, I have a great picture of it) and trotted down after Baby. Papa Bighorn stopped on the trail and stared at us with his head cocked to one side (got that picture too!) then began to charge. At this point Rachel and I are a bit nervous, but the couple we are with said, “Don't move, and he probably won't strike us, he is just protecting his family". Great… a wild bighorn feeling dominant. I’ve seen how those things hit each other! Rachel and I tucked up BEHIND the couple since they trusted this wild charging animal for some reason. Sure enough however, the animal stopped (INCHES!!!!) short, stared at us a moment then trotted down the hill as well.
The scary part is yet to come.
Feeling a bit silly for being nervous, yet blessed to see such raw power in motion, we lounged a bit and looked at the pictures we had taken, and marveled at our apparent ability to attract wild animals. The couple we shared the moment with continued up the mountain (we were going down, they up) leaving Rachel and I to our photography. There were Indian Petroglyphs on this part of the Canyon, and we decided to rest a moment and admire these. A quick look over the edge saw Mama and Baby far down into the canyon at this point, but where was Papa? I walked the short distance through the little cave we passed through to see if he was still lingering.
I faced death at this point, a very real, looming death.
Looking at the pictures is a bit thrilling even now, and the drop is still unnerving. Mr. Papa Bighorn was charging back up the mountain, having safely delivered his family from harms way, and had decided to make a statement on territory and dominance.
Both Rachel and I saw him, and Rachel thought it would be best to retreat through the cave and hide on the other side of the rocks. If we both went though, we both might die I figured, so I stayed and faced the sheep alone and allowed Rachel to hide. He popped back up onto the trail, staring at the lone figure in his territory, threatening his family. Armed only with a camera, I probably did the stupidest thing I could have done. Maybe it saved my life, maybe it did not, but I climbed off the trail ONTO A CLIFF WALL that dropped straight into the Canyon, and tucked as far into an alcove as I could. There were two large holes in this rock. The first, a cave like passage that the trail passed through, and a smaller hole that humans did not belong in unless they wanted to die. I was right in the middle of the two, pressed into the cliff face, and that's when he charged me. Seconds from death, I did what most people should do; I tried to take the picture. I only snapped a couple decent shots; the camera was having focus issues trying to lock onto the moving target. I looked down. The bottom of the canyon loomed. I thought about Rachel and how she would get the keys out of my pocket, and if they would be covered with blood or if my sweatshirt would protect them in the fall. I thought about my kids, and what a story they will have, and look, it’s all on camera. I thought if I grabbed his horns and tried to ride him, maybe I would survive, as he was bigger than me, and perhaps this might not end badly.
The charge continued. I was hoping he would stop where he stopped before, and frolic down the mountain again. He charged right past that point. He did not waver; I was 5 ft from death and he continued the charge. No hesitation, no slowing, he rocketed towards me… 3 ft, 2 ft, INCHES… F@#% IM GOING TO DIE!
He jumped over me.
I have it on camera.
He jumped right over me.
I'm alive. (“I'M ALIVE!! WOW!” I screamed in my head.)
He jumped right over me, and I even took a picture of him sailing over my head.
He went through the smaller cave like hole to my left. Oh no. Rachel was hidden on the other side of that hole.
To my relief, she sprints through the larger opening on the trail and says, "That is enough wilderness for one day, we are leaving!" My smile was so relieved that she smiled too. Apparently the sheep had popped right out the other side of the hole right beside her, and stopped. It stared at her until she ran away. Then he went back to his family, and we called it a hike. We enjoyed the rest of the day from the top of the rim, deciding that the next adventure there will be in the rapids with a guide. It's scary facing big animals alone. We reported it to the ranger station, who seemed more amazed and fascinated by the account and the pictures then our safety, but they still asked if we were truly OK, so good for them. They were genuinely giddy about it though. Apparently it's a rare thing.
An afterthought:
The couple we were with for the first charge, stopped partway up the trail when he came back, and took some great photos of the second charge. I wish I had gotten his e-mail, to get the look on my face. He said had the sheep hit me, his camera was ready to see me to the bottom.
Bastard.
I would have done the same though. What a great photo that would have been.
Mama Bighorn taking a look at us.
Papa Bighorn coming back for the second charge.
Getting ready to Charge!
His jump over me!
A view of the cliff face where the attack took place. Notice the smaller hole to the right of the large one.
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About the author
Ryan Barlow is an American author, ghostwriter, and college professor. Ryan spent his youth in Applegate Oregon, and his formative years in Glendora, California, before baffling his future self and all of his relatives by majoring in criminal justice. Afterwards, he moved to Reno, NV, where he lasted only a few years before ending up back in California. This time it was in Ventura, where he worked as a surgical anesthetist and coached high school water polo. Eventually he decided that he should probably think about a career, but it was already too late– he had decided he liked to write and thus was doomed forever. He has recently taken refuge in the obscure-yet-charming town of Lake Arrowhead, CA, where he runs Ghostwriting Services, while concurrently working on his upcoming books.