The hike known as R3 (aka “Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim”) requires trekking from one rim of the Grand Canyon to the other, and then back again. ~50 miles. ~10,000 ft elevation gain. Typically taking 2 to 4 days. It’s difficult, to say the least.

Completing R3 in only one day, during a snowstorm, makes it something else entirely. Our group referred to it as a “Misogi”.

An emotional, spiritual, and psychological challenge that masquerades as a physical challenge. Something that leaves you no choice but to push beyond the limitations in your mind.

To give you some perspective, less than 1% of people who visit the Grand Canyon every year even make it down to the river. Most people consider Rim-to-Rim a bucket-list hike, let alone going back again in the same day.

There were ultramarathon runners, Ironman competitors, retired pro athletes, Navy Seals, and Army Rangers in our group who said this was one of the hardest things they had ever done, if not the hardest.

The Misogi

Leading up to the hike, life got in the way of training. I was so unprepared that I questioned whether or not it was rational to even try. I was scared. Really scared. I almost didn’t get on the plane.

Why?

Once you’re down in the canyon, there’s no cell service and you have two ways out: Walk yourself out, or helicopter evac. And helicopters won’t come during a storm.

I thought it was strange that the 12 of us started hiking at 10:15pm on a Tuesday night in the middle of a snowstorm. But God had a plan for us much bigger than R3. We just didn’t know it yet.

I knew this would be dangerous, but as we started down into the canyon from the South Rim, I was surprised at how unsafe this actually was.

The ground was covered in slush, cliffs were only a foot away, and one quick slip meant falling into the void.

As if there weren’t enough obstacles, 10 miles in, my right hip quit on me. I couldn’t lift my leg more than a few inches off the ground without sharp, intense pain. I’d have to use only my left leg to gain elevation. And I’d have to wince as I used my right leg for the next 40 miles.

Meeting David

Around 6am, we arrived at a small, empty, seasonal ranger station called Manzanita. Not far from the North Rim.

There were a few outhouses that might as well have been an oasis. It was pouring rain, with heavy winds, and scary cold. Those wooden boxes were the only hope of getting warmer.

Up to this point, we hadn’t seen a single soul in the canyon.

As we began taking turns using the outhouse for shelter, one of the outhouse doors cracked open and we heard a whisper.

“Heeelp mee.”

There, on the floor, was an 18 year old young man violently shaking and pre-hypothermic. He was only wearing underwear. Wet clothes in a pile next to him. Cold air still beating on his flesh through the slits in the wood. He could barely speak.

The Rescue

Our well-equipped group immediately put dry clothes on the kid, placed hand warmers everywhere we could, and wrapped him in an emergency blanket. Carlos found a way into the locked ranger station nearby and brought back a tiny, portable gas stove. A small miracle.

We attempted to get warm liquids into his system, but he was barely responding. We were able to get his name though. David.

We carried David into the ranger station, wrapped him in more blankets, and got him to drink the warm liquids.

It worked.

As he came around, David told me that at one point he was shaking so badly his body started to cramp, and that it was so painful he was screaming for hours.

David had attempted Rim-to-Rim with a friend, but his friend turned back. Then, David discovered he couldn’t make it up to the North Rim due to rocks blocking the path and snow up to his waist. He was caught in a rainstorm in the process.

He also thought his jacket was waterproof when it was only a windbreaker.

David managed to make it back to the Manzanita outhouse around midnight where he crawled inside and took off his wet clothes. He prayed it wouldn’t get colder through the night. But it did. A lot colder.

He froze for six hours.

Jimmy, retired US Army Infantry, said David was about an hour away from dying of hypothermia before we found him.

To my surprise, there was a working phone inside of the ranger station. We got ahold of the Rangers, but the only plan they could come up with was to wait until David felt better and then we’d escort him to Phantom Ranch.

We discovered that it was in-fact impossible to make it to the top of the North Rim. We were so close.

But that’s okay. Because it was clear to us now, that’s not why we were there. We were gifted with a greater purpose.

Once David felt ready, we all headed South.

The Ascent

Joseph Campbell once said:

“We have not even to risk the adventure alone; for the heroes of all time have gone before us; the labyrinth is thoroughly known; we have only to follow the thread of the hero-path. And where we had thought to find an abomination, we shall find a god; where we had thought to slay another, we shall slay ourselves; where we had thought to travel outward, we shall come to the center of our own existence; and where we had thought to be alone, we shall be with all the world.”

Two of our strongest hikers handed David off to the Ranger at Phantom Ranch and met up with our group.

After hiking back across the canyon, we approached the bottom of the South Rim Wednesday evening.

It was getting colder and darker. Many of us were hallucinating and seeing things in the rocks. After trekking through the snow for roughly 44 miles and 20 hours straight, that wasn’t a surprise. But the hardest part was yet to come.

We still had six miles left and 5,000 ft to climb.

My throat was raw, my hip wasn’t working, my shoulders ached, my joints were on fire, my feet were covered in blisters, my left leg was about to give out, and I was experiencing a fatigue like nothing I’d ever felt before.

But no helicopters were coming to pick us up on the side of a cliff. No one was carrying us out of there. There was no quitting.

So every time we thought we couldn’t go on, we put one foot in front of the other.

That’s the purpose of a Misogi.

To force yourself to go beyond your limits. To find that new edge. A new perspective. A new comfort zone. To go out into nature and put yourself in a situation where you have no choice but to level up.

Many cultures throughout history have embraced this experience through Rites of Passage.

Eventually, we made it to the top. But the celebration was a slow burn. We were happy to be alive, but our gas tank was past empty and we were still processing what happened.

Why DID we start hiking at 10:15pm on a random Tuesday in the middle of a snowstorm?

How had I managed to keep going when I was convinced I couldn’t go any farther?

I realized that I had sold myself short countless times. But I also realized I had the power to change that. So now I’m starting to ask, “Where else am I selling myself short?”

Big thanks to Joshua D Kalinowski and his team for putting this adventure together and extending the invitation.

To those asking, “Why would you do this?”

1. Read above.

2. To live epically.

3. Because it scared me. Using fear as a compass in the right situations will accelerate your growth.

4. Surround yourself with high performers who do hard things and watch what happens to your life. You become who you spend time with.

I surrounded myself with gamers in my teens and all I did was play video games. I surrounded myself with poker players in my 20’s and I became a professional poker player. I surrounded myself with successful business minds in my 30’s and now I have an 8 figure business.

Be intentional about your circle, they will impose their limiting beliefs on you whether they realize it or not. Most of that growth is subconscious.

5. To be more grateful and present. I didn’t appreciate a warm bed the night before the hike. But how do you think I felt when I got back to the Airbnb late Wednesday night? How do you think I felt when I came home to the love of my life? How do you think I’m feeling right now?

6. Sometimes you’re called to do things and you don’t know the exact reason why. In this case, we found out. Man, what a gift.

In the words of Terence McKenna,