Trip Report

Soon after Christmas 2006, my dad and I started talking about our next big adventure.  I had always been intrigued by the thought of hiking the Grand Canyon, although the reality of such an excursion would likely take lots of planning.  We targeted early spring as the best climate period to do the trip, and in April of 2007 started grabbing whatever reservations we could for the meals, accommodations, and the 30 lb “duffle service”, where mules haul your heaviest gear to and from Phantom Ranch.

 The unique thing about Phantom Ranch is that it has a static population of 200 residents who rotate in every day.  The cabins and dorms house about 90 people, and nearby Bright Angel Campground includes the same capacity in its 32 campsites.  Add in the Xanterra support personnel and Park Service rangers, and you come up with the 200 person figure.  The housing reservations are extremely difficult to come by, and are best accessed either (a) in the first 15 minutes that phone lines are open for a 12 month advance reservation, or (b) in the last week of your desired travel, by catching a cancellation opening.  In addition to a campground permit that he secured on December 1, Dad called almost every day for four months trying to complete our meal reservations.

 In December, we started training in earnest, which was made difficult by an unusually cold winter.  I told my wife that we were “training for the training”, which meant that we had to complete a lot of repetitive work on the local hotel stairwell and the bleachers at our nearby baseball field before moving on to closer simulated training.  All of us spent considerable time on the stairs and in taking long walks, and, once the weather improved in early February, we moved on to the closer simulation of Pikes Peak, a 3,800 foot mountain just a few miles to the southeast of us.

 The road up Pikes Peak was the best possible simulation of the canyon hike that we could find, as it involves an approximate 3.5 mile hike from the bottom with a gain of over 2,000 feet.  While this didn’t help us much with altitude acclimation, it was perfect for the steep grades and rocky terrain that we would experience in the canyon.  Brenda and I hiked the mountain several times, and would be surprised to meet my parents walking the opposite direction on a few occasions.  In the last few weeks before the hike, we went up Pikes Peak six times.

 It seemed like just a few days later that the four of us were getting off the shuttle bus and posing for a group photo on the rim at the South Kaibab trailhead.  For Brenda, this was her first ever view of the canyon, and the sudden descent into the Kaibab limestone layer was a jolt for all of us.  Suddenly, this hike had become a reality, and we were beginning the 7.5 mile, 4,800 foot descent into the feature that the locals refer to as “The Big Ditch”.  We encountered dozens of hikers going in both directions as we begin the initial descent to the Cedar Ridge rest stop, located about 1.5 miles down the trail.

 At Cedar Ridge, there were probably 100 people milling around and enjoying the vistas in both directions.  I found a boulder to my liking, stripped off my boots and socks, and restored order to my swollen feet.  We soon set off down several switchbacks and began the quick traverse around O’Neill Butte, passing several mule trains heading uphill with a few stiff passengers.  Below this butte, we found another rest stop at Skeleton Point, which gave an awesome panoramic view of Cremation Creek and “The Battleship” formation to the east.  For ambitious day hikers going beyond the crowds at Cedar Ridge, Skeleton Point is the last call to return uphill, unless you are one of the criminally insane individuals who attempt to hike to the river and back in one day.  For those hiking staying the night at the bottom, the number of hikers drops quickly beyond this point.

 Just below Skeleton Point, in a somewhat treacherous notch in the layered formations, we got our first glimpse of the neatly lined cottonwood grove at Bright Angel Campground below us, even though we were only halfway through the hike.  This vista soon led to the arduous descent of numerous switchbacks and around a sheer rock edifice to the Tonto Flats, with the distinct path of the intersecting Tonto Trail cutting a wide swath through the sagebrush and cactus.

 Beneath the shade of the solar toilets at the intersection known as “The Tipoff”, it was time for one last infusion of energy food before tackling the steep descent into the inner canyon.  It is here at the edge of the prairie that you get your first good look at the muddy waters of the Colorado River almost directly below you, passing through a notch in the red rock limestone that leads to a sweeping descent of the adjacent ridge.  You can see the trail for almost a mile, with its dark, well-worn path contrasting with the brilliant red hues of the surrounding strata.

 If your knees and feet aren’t already pulverized, the final descent to the water will do the job.  The trail began a steep descent amongst numerous switches as the red rock limestone gives way to the jumbled rock layers of the canyon floor.  By now, the day was heating up with temperatures in the mid-80s (contrasted from a starting temperature in the low 40s), and we started to observe some of the hearty souls who ignored all warnings and were attempting the one day death march to the bottom and back.  Several of these hikers, mainly young people, appeared to us to be in a state of distress, and their likelihood of getting back to the top by nightfall was not encouraging.  I was confronted by the fact that if we encountered numerous troubled hikers on a pleasant day in April, then what would the carnage be like on a scorching day in July?

 Before we knew it, the black suspension bridge was in front of us, with its supports galvanized into the adjacent rock layers.  The final trek took us through a small cave to the edge of the river, where the bridge is about 60 feet off the water.  The black bridge is the only bridge that the mules use, as the wooden ties and running boards mask the view of the water below.  Another short walk along the north river bank and past the turbid waters of Bright Angel Creek brought us to the campground.

 What a relief!  We had done it!  And none of us were the worse for wear.  We decided to give the credit to (a) the grace of God, (b) the use of titanium trekking poles, (c) extensive training, and (d) the resting and elevating of the feet at least every 90 minutes.  Dad and I went to get the duffles up at Phantom Ranch, and we had just enough time to set up our camp and wash up before it was time for the 6 o’clock dinner bell at the canteen.

 Nightfall came swiftly to Bright Angel Canyon, and it was time to whip out the headlamp after the ranger talk at the fire circle.  Despite the excitement caused by a resident skunk near our campsite, we all get to bed fairly quickly, and the rushing waters of Bright Angel Creek soon drowned out the ambient noise of the nearby campsites.  Once the moon had set behind the canyon walls, the stars sparkled brilliantly above with no other luminous competitors.

 Mornings dawned bright and clear with a temperature above 60 degrees when we awoke at 4:30 am for breakfast.  In almost total darkness, we made the 0.3 mile trip up to Phantom Ranch for our early riser breakfast.  The smell of pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs wafted from the canteen doors as we awaited the hosts call to enter.  We may have been half asleep, but gained much satisfaction from the complete breakfast menu served.  We were also able to secure sack lunches for the day, and soon settled into whatever relaxing amusements we could find.  I quickly found myself engrossed in Clive Cussler’s “Black Wind”, an intriguing spy novel about the regeneration of dirty bombs remaining on the ocean floor from World War II.  Whatever the pursuit, we found that resting the legs and relaxing around Bright Angel Creek to be an excellent directive for the day.

 As the day’s sunlight made its way across the valley floor, the ever-changing monoliths around us morphed into various shapes, casting late afternoon shadows in their path.  Before long the sun could only be seen high above the canyon walls, and it was time for our long-awaited steak dinner.  Surprised with this early birthday present just a few days earlier, we had waited with great anticipation for this showcase meal at Phantom Ranch, comprising the best 12 ounce with all the fixings at the now familiar canteen.

 We were able to share a memorable meal surrounded by hearty travelers from all over the country.  With very little in common but an adventurous spirit and sore legs, we had come together for one meal at the bottom of the biggest chasm in the world.  And we would never all be together in the same place again.

 A warm breeze whipped through the valley floor as we made our way back to the campsite, which soon turned to a howling wind by the time we turned in.  The cottonwood trees and underbrush shook in cadence in the fading light, and continued their violent dance well into the night as sleep eluded us for a few hours.  The torrent quieted sometime in the early morning hours, and we were once again greeted by the mild morning air as we packed in the darkness and made our way up the darkened path for breakfast.

 Before long the duffles were packed and delivered to the corral, and we were on the trail at 6:40 am.  Morning sunlight had started to peak through the cracks in the inner canyon walls as we made our way across the cable bridge and west along the River Trail.  Here the silt-laden evidence of the prescribed flood a few weeks before could be seen throughout the canyon, and we were surprised by the frequent sections of thick sand on the trail along the river’s edge.

 Brenda and I soon left my parents behind as we turned up Pipe Creek and passed the old mining area midway up the canyon.  Once we were deep into the pocket canyon, we were able to look high above us to the east to see the cliffs below Skeleton Point that we had just traversed a few days before.  The trail then made a determined ascent through a break in the rock layers with the path known as “The Devil’s Corkscrew”.  This prolonged climb took us out of Pipe Creek and into the high walled sandstone canyon of Garden Creek.  After several rock-hop creek crossings amidst the luscious vegetation and transplanted Cottonwood trees at the waters edge, we soon found our way to Indian Garden Campground, a refreshing oasis halfway up the Bright Angel Trail that serves the weary traveling in either direction.  With the luxuries of a water spigot and solar toilets nearby, we rested and snacked on the hiker’s benches in the shade of the huge trees.  The thermometer at trail’s edge read 73 degrees at 9:20am as we made our way further south towards the imposing face of the Garden Wall.

 With the trail passing close to the canyon wall, we looked over several switchbacks and could see several hikers peering down at us through a break in the wall several hundred feet above us.  The trail soon began a monotonous series of 40 switchbacks known as Jacob’s Ladder.  It was here that the gentle ascent to this point up the Bright Angel Trail was cashiered for the steep, steady traverse of the South Rim wall.  The miles seemed to stretch out, and the warm breezes from below were swallowed by the icy chill sweeping off the cliffs high above us.  We eventually reached the Three Mile Rest House, which after several more switchbacks was far below us on the canyon wall.

 In what seemed like the longest 1.2 miles I have ever hiked, we finally reached the ineptly named Mile and a Half Rest House with its accompanying solar toilets and aggressive ground squirrels.  Upon pushing off for the final ascent, a well-meaning couple reminded us that we still had to gain 1,700 feet over the final 1.8 miles.  Whew!  As advertised, the trail reached pitches of 17 percent as it climbed near the 7,000 foot level.  At this point, I was very grateful for my wife’s slow, steady pace as the click-clack of our trekking poles banging against the numerous water bars could be heard against the edifice walls.  As the numerous day-trippers passed us on their way down to the rest houses, several tourists inquired as to whether our poles really helped.  “Ah,” I thought to myself, “if you only knew”.

 We had been warned about Heartbreak Hill by our host at Phantom Ranch.  Just when you think the exhausting ascent is complete and you have reached the juniper laden landscape at the canyon’s edge, a series of three long switchbacks come in to view, methodically carved into the white Kaibab layer.  Soon the large rest house at the South Rim came into view, and after passing through two small tunnels we had reached the top.  Six hours and forty minutes in time, 4,800 feet in vertical feet, and 9.4 miles in distance from the bottom, we had final reached the apex of the horizon.  We paused for a victory photo at the trailhead sign before heading off to the lodge to exchange the dusty layers of trail dust for our refreshingly clean clothes.

 A few weeks later, I now think back to our adventure like it was all just a dream.  We had worked and planned so hard for several months, and had approached this trip with great expectations.  And the Grand Canyon had more than delivered.  The treacherous perches and imposing heights that we had anticipated were replaced by memories of constant vistas, brilliant flora, and refreshing surprises at almost every bend in the trail.