This year’s journey would not happen without the help of hundreds – if not thousands – of friends, family, and total strangers. There’s no way I can adequately thank everyone, but instead of taking just one day a year, I’m going to start taking one day a week – Thursday – to give thanks to someone who’s really helped the 50-50-50 mission.

Today, the big shoutout goes to Rebecca Scott! We’ve worked together for years, and for most of them, she was the person who had my back. She mentored the professional career that allows me so much personal freedom. She’s been a generous supporter of the many causes I’m fundraising for. When we needed someone to get our car and gear from the south rim to the north rim of the Grand Canyon, we knew we had found the right combo of fun and get-it-done.

What follows is her guest post on her rim-to-rim adventure:

Do not read on if you’re easily offended by profanity.

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The moon over the Vast Crevasse glowed so brightly we could see the geographic line between 3 billion years ago and 270 million. We could see the 1,000 pound elk feeding on the grass. It was so bright, Lisa said it looked like we were in a cheap movie shooting day for night. It was bright, but I couldn’t see that I would be on the surface of that moon in just over 40 hours when it was time to make the getaway.

El Banditos made their way down Bright Angel Canyon at an hour when they knew they wouldn’t be apprehended – middle of the freakin’ day. I, meanwhile, played tourist. Walked around, looked at rocks, ate lunch in the bar where it was unlikely I would encounter those unpredictable bundles of enervation other people call children. Then a nap. I woke up in time to seek out wifi. I found my people.

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Back to the room for a sandwich wrapped in plastic and leftover red wine in a plastic cup – with ice. The moon called me again and so I went wandering. Covered with clouds, the moon barely lit my way.

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As I walked the same path we’d walked the night before, using my iPhone pointed at the ground as a flashlight, I forgot about the 1,000 pound elk who like to eat near the path. I saw a hoof and stopped about 2 feet away from an elk. It looked up and me and if an elk can have an expression that says, “Did you almost fucking run into me? Do you know who the fuck I am? What the fuck is wrong with you?” then this elk had that expression. I expressed my sincerest apologies and skedaddled away to a path as far as I could go without plummeting 600 feet.

The next day, my path was the pink line.

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Luckily I didn't encounter the elk with the head bigger than 2 helicopters, since he'd probably heard about the idiot who almost bumped into an elk the night before. The elk were probably all like, "Doesn't she know she's not supposed to interact with us? We're frickin' PROTECTED. And what, 7 feet tall and we're invisible? Asshole."

Anyway, I had to escape the park, pass the tower, and drive up the 89, which has one, big, sad plant. In other words, it's the surface of the moon.

First, though, I had to eat some of the delicious oatmeal at the bar/ breakfast restaurant and then escape the one-way street maze of Grand Canon Village. All the signs want you to take the 64 South, so you pretty much feel like you're fighting a force field when you attempt to drive on the 64 Eastish. After a scintillating 35mph hour-long drive, I made it to the tower.

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Designed by Mary Colter, it has the best panoramic view of the Canyon.

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Then I started driving north on the 89. I didn't see many people and when I did they were always driving the other direction. I wondered if some catastrophic event had just happened that people were fleeing and I was driving right into. The night before, I had started reading the Fifth Wave, about a girl who's all alone after an alien invasion. Maybe not the best reading for this trip.

The view was desolate and beautiful. I imagined that the moon landing had been staged here. Maybe even the Mars Rover. I had to take pictures, so, while driving Michael's car, I gunned the massive engine and took these pictures while driving 185 mph.

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Luckily, I survived and made it to the North Rim, past evidence of the apocalypse I'd just missed.

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After I arrived at the Grand Canyon Lodge,, I saw this view below from the sun room where a lovely young waitress decided I needed an Irish Coffee, not just the coffee I'd ordered. I commend her.

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My compatriots brought their tired selves and a couple pounds of Grand Canyon terre to our lovely cabins. Afterwards, we went to dinner in the American Rustic style dining room. Since the lodge is closed from October to May and the place looks like Hogwarts, we figured it's where the young shamans come to learn their magic.

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The next day, we even had the energy to hike a little. If you looked at this picture below and thought, “Boobs,” you are by no means the first person to do so.

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At our last sunset from Roosevelt Point, we saw the moonscape I'd driven across. Not any less desolate from far away. Have to say.

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All in all, a great time had and a job well done.

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“A great time had and a job well done.” Indeed, Rebecca. Indeed.

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