It was May of 2015 in Sedona when seven of my friends and I decided to go canyoneering — hiking, rappelling, and swimming through small slot canyons. The air was warm and our spirits were high. We were ready for the busy day, so we took a short drive from our campsite to our trailhead. Our bags were packed lightly since everything was destined to get wet; we only carried and wore swim trunks, stale power bars, water, foil emergency blankets, T-shirts, and light windbreakers. That morning, we began by climbing a steep, rugged mountain trail in the beaming hot sun. Throughout the entire hike up, all of us could not wait to get into the water. After five miles later or so, we got to the canyons, threw on our climbing gear, and stood atop the canyon. We looked up and saw that there were some clouds in the distance, large and puffy, like cotton balls. We disregarded them and persisted down the canyon. …show more content…
After the treacherous climb, we got to the top of the canyon and, just for a second, felt safe. That feeling quickly faded when no one had a clue what to do next. Our group agreed to not continue the trip, but instead trek back the same way we came. The eight of us, wet and cold, were accompanied by a slight drizzle and violent wind. As we hiked with empty water bottles, no food, and low morale, we looked like the walking dead. And once we realized that many of us in the group had contracted hypothermia, I knew things were worse than they seemed. As the group hiked, all we wanted to do is stop and rest, but it would cost our lives. Fight or flight kicked in, which helped us persevere back and feel numb to the slow death. The zombie state of dragging one’s feet along with a thousand-yard stare fleeted us, and there was finally laughter between our group. This laughter consisted until we returned to the trailhead and sat in our car, as we knew we were finally