Author’s note: The first half of this trip report was actually written and posted within a few months following the hike in 2004, but like many of my projects, it was not previously finished. I now present the complete report.
The Day Before: Getting to the North Rim
This is where the adventure starts. . .the North Rim. It takes an entire day to get here from Phoenix, having driven first to the South Rim to catch the TransCanyon Shuttle, which leaves the Bright Angel Lodge promptly at 1:30 in the afternoon. The family accompanies me to the South Rim, but will be staying there one night and one day without me for their own version of the adventure. (“Don’t worry, I’ll be back. Really. Really!!”) Nearly five hours and 215 miles later, I’m on the other side of the chasm.
For the record, the date is May 31, 2004. It’s “possible” to do this hike most anytime of year, but lodging on the North Rim is available only from mid-May to mid-October. It’s good to have a place to stay while you’re waiting for the next day to begin. Even more relevant, although the temperatures tomorrow are likely to exceed 100 degrees as I approach the bottom, the forecast only gets worse in June, July, and August. This time of year is as good as it gets.
The entrance to Grand Canyon Lodge is the first thing I see after getting off the shuttle. This building houses the front desk, the restaurant and a separate cafeteria, and the large room where the nightly ranger talks are held. The lodging (mostly rustic cabins, but some motel rooms, too) is all separate buildings. It’s quiet here. . .and so much cooler than Phoenix, now 11 hours in the past.
After checking into my cabin and dropping off the load I’ll be carrying all the next day, it’s time to get a quick look at the setting of tomorrow’s adventure before the sun goes down. It’s always a thrill to see Grand Canyon again for the “first time,” and this is usually about the time I start to really wonder whether I’ve trained enough this time.
It can be difficult to take really good pictures of Grand Canyon. Sunrise and sunset are usually the best bets for documenting the colors and vistas that have given this place the sense of adventure and mystique that continues to bring people from all around the world. . .and me, time and again, from just “down the road.” Visibility tonight is unusually good. The mountains on the horizon, including Mount Humphreys on the left, are 70 to 80 miles away.
Turning slightly to the south, I see tomorrow’s destination, which is only 10 miles distant. . .if I could fly. Somewhat obscured by the shadows of early evening, the crevice that hints of the deepest segment of Bright Angel Canyon is just visible near the lower right. With some luck, I’ll be at the bottom of that crevice by mid-morning, with about a dozen miles yet to go after that point.
After more than than 50 trips to Grand Canyon, it’s a toss-up whether I’ve seen more pictures taken of the big hole in the ground, or more pictures taken of the “cute” squirrels that will steal food (and sometimes a little flesh) right out of your hand. One thing is certain: not enough attention is paid to the “insignificant” things that really make this Canyon grand. Unnoticed by most passersby, I thought this Utah juniper is a magnificent specimen.
A good sign. . .a nearly full moon rising near sunset. If I get into trouble tomorrow and need to hike after sundown, there’ll be moonlight to hike by. Not actually all that difficult a proposition. . .I tried it one year (on purpose!), and rather enjoyed it.
Another day at Grand Canyon comes to an end. Depending on the status of my fluctuating sense of confidence in my hiking readiness, the next day will start all too soon. . .or not soon enough. But before I retire, there’s the ranger talk, which tonight is about rim-to-rim hikes! Attended mostly by vicarious adventurers of the type you’d never see below the Rim, I feel a momentary uptick in my attitude.Down the North Kaibab Trail
The first challenge of the new day starts well before the new day even begins. I normally have a bit of trouble sleeping the night before a big hike. It’s rather like the night before Christmas for many kids. I toss. I turn. I wake up. I fall asleep again. Sometime, in what I’m hoping is still the middle of the night, I wake up. Wondering what time it is, I look at the sports watch on my wrist, and realize it’s dead. Kaput. I’d just put a new battery in it a week ago, having not used it since my last backpack trip here (April 2003), where it also died after a day and a night below the rim. Since there’s no clock in the cabin, I call the front desk for a wake-up call and go back to sleep.
Oh my, is that the phone already? 4:00 AM. I want to be at the trailhead in one hour, not too long after daybreak. I step outside briefly to gauge the temperature. Some years, it’s been near freezing at this time of morning. Today, I figure it’s near 45 degrees. I step back inside, close the door, and decide to forego the sweatshirt for my jacket as a light, second layer. I continue with packing up and downing my first calories of the day. As usual, I cannot ignore the fact that the moments prior to stepping out into the North Rim darkness and closing the door one final time, key inside, are the most anxiety-filled of the trip. I begin the nearly 1.5-mile hike to the trailhead.
Over the past couple of years, the Park Service has placed a greater emphasis on the potential for mountain lion attacks. I’m not sure what I would do if, but my eyes and ears are working overtime, searching the shadows. . .and listening. I tell myself an encounter is unlikely, but I walk quickly along the side of the road. As an unexpected, pre-dawn jogger passes me heading back toward the lodge, I surprisingly reach the sense of calm I wish I had 30 minutes ago.
Finally, the trailhead! It’s 5:00 AM, it’s cool, it’s quiet, and there’s not another person to be seen. Ideal hiking conditions on all counts. It will get plenty warmer before it cools off again, late in the afternoon, and even though this is a Tuesday after the holiday weekend, it still is summertime at the Canyon, and I expect a fair amount of traffic on the trail. I take off the pack for a few moments to readjust the gear, get a picture of the trailhead, and then it’s time to “saddle up” and take the first steps down the trail.
I make the conscious decision to take it easy going down the trail today. The North Kaibab Trail is always steeper than what I remember from the time before, and although I’ve not previously had any problems, my meager amount of pre-hike training this year makes me wonder whether my knees will give out before the lungs or feet. There’s more than 14 hours of daylight today, so I might as well treat the knees kindly this morning. I can make up some time once I get past this first 5 or 6 miles of downhill.
This picture gives a good indication of the twilight that still exists at this time of the morning, just a few minutes past my 5:00 AM start. This view is looking southeast through Roaring Springs Canyon (one of hundreds of tributary canyons here), with Mount Humphreys just visible on the horizon, about 80 miles distant, near Flagstaff. Although a bit overcast, the unusual, excellent visibility from last night continues this morning. The lightning-struck remains of a tree in the foreground are a reminder of a potential summertime hazard in the Canyon.
The Coconino is the most prominent layer of rock in this portion of the Canyon. Relatively young, at about 260 million years, the conventional theory of geologic history indicates that it represents a time when this area was a desert covered by rolling sand dunes. However, others are less than convinced, and believe the sand dunes were deposited underwater. Either way, it makes a great picture.
Not quite an hour and perhaps a bit more than 1.5 miles since the trailhead, I turn around and take a look at where I started. The trailhead is somewhere near the base of the “V” formed by the Canyon rim in this picture. I am reminded that every foot of elevation I lose going down, I must work against gravity (and fatigue) to regain on the way up. But “the way up” is still several hours and many, many miles away. I grab a few more peanut m&m’s out of my fanny pack, and continue downhill.
On previous hikes down the North Kaibab, and again this time, I’ve seen backpackers on their way down in obvious pain after only 3 to 4 miles. It’s not the distance covered. It’s not the “dancing” to avoid rocks, logs, and mule droppings. It’s the precipitous rate at which the trail drops into the Canyon. It tests the knees. It jams the toes against the front of the boots. It makes you wonder why you only worried about getting out of the Canyon. Going in can be the bigger challenge.Steeper and Steeper
My decision to take the descent a bit slower than usual is not without its drawbacks. On previous rim-to-rim hikes, I’ve been able to put about 5 to 6 miles behind me before the early summer sun falls on the brim of my hat for the first time. On this day, I “feel the heat” even before I get to Roaring Springs, about 4 miles from the trailhead. In the perspective of a 25-mile hike, it does not make a big difference, but it does make me wish that I would occasionally need my Gore-Tex rainjacket for something other than to protect against the early morning chill. Oh wait, is that a raincloud over there? No. . .probably not.
A dayhike down to Supai Tunnel and back is a fairly serious adventure, especially for those not used to Canyon hiking. At 1.8 miles from the trailhead and 1,415 feet below the rim above, the National Park Service recommends that you allot at least 3 to 4 hours for a round trip hike to this point. The following series of pictures takes you from Supai Tunnel (elevation 6,840 feet), across Redwall Bridge (elevation 6,062 feet), to just past Roaring Springs (elevation 5,200 feet).
Once through Supai Tunnel, I come upon one of my favorite views in the Canyon. This is the type of view that gets many novice dayhikers in trouble. “Oh, we’ll just go down to that switchback.” Before you know it, you’re another mile from the trailhead and 800 feet deeper into the Canyon.
Supai Tunnel was constructed during the 1930s by the Civilian Conservation Corps to eliminate the previous need to hike along a narrow ledge to get around the outcropping of rock that it now goes through. Although the former danger is not apparent in this photo, the picture immediately above gives a good view of the abyss that long-ago hikers tried to avoid looking at as they traversed the precarious ledge.
The 1.5 mile section of trail below Supai Tunnel is perhaps the most frequently washed out and rebuilt section of trail in the Canyon. Flash floods caused by snow melt and brief, but powerful “monsoon” storms can wipe out hundreds of feet of trail in minutes. It’s always a good idea to check trail conditions before embarking on any hike in the backcountry.
The first time I saw this section of trail, it was a surreal experience. I’d hiked the Canyon several times previously, seen lots of open spaces and long dropoffs, but to actually be a step and a half away from a 300-foot vertical drop was something I was neither expecting nor prepared for. And this section goes on like this for perhaps half a mile! Stay close to the wall. . .stay close to the wall. . .
Roaring Springs is the source of drinking water for the South Rim, 20 miles distant, by boot, from this location. It also supplies the development on the North Rim and Phantom Ranch. When the wind is calm, you can hear Roaring Springs from Bright Angel Point on the North Rim directly above. There’s no missing it at this elevation as I go by.
It’s not much of a decision to just continue on toward Cottonwood Campground, versus taking the side trail to get a closer look at Roaring Springs. Every time I’ve been by this way, I’ve either had too many miles to go, or not enough daylight left, or both.
Bruce Aiken has lived at the bottom of the Canyon since 1973. (Author’s note: Bruce retired from the Park Service in 2006.) He maintains the pump station at Roaring Springs, which supplies water to the South Rim via a 20-mile pipeline. He and his wife, Mary, have raised a family here, and it is said that his children earned college tuition by selling lemonade to thirsty hikers. At 4.7 miles since the trailhead, it’s also a great place to take the pack off for a while, with plenty of treated water and comfortable tree stumps available.Across the Bottom
Once again, I have survived the descent from an elevation of 8,241 feet at the trailhead to 4,600 feet at the Aiken residence. As if in chorus, the feet and knees joyously exult their approval of the sudden moderation in terrain. The conventional theory employed by relatively novice Grand Canyon hikers is that the next 6 or 7 miles along the bottom of the Canyon is relatively flat and easy. Sure, compared to the just-completed hike downhill or the eventual hike up to the South Rim later today, it is relatively flat and easy. However, compared to one’s subconscious hope that the tourist shuttle will come by at any moment and give you a ride from here to Phantom Ranch, well . . . don’t linger too long waiting for it to come by. There’s still another 2,000 feet of elevation drop between here and the Colorado River . . . and it’s getting warmer.
This waterfall appears shortly after you cross the bridge over to the east side of Bright Angel Creek, as the first of several bridged crossings. Bridge behind, the trail then makes a relatively wide turn to the right, and then to the left, mimicking the path of the creek. Before the turn left, the rushing sound of Bright Angel Creek intensifies as it passes through and over this assemblage of massive boulders that were themselves part of the Canyon walls long ago . . . somewhere upstream. If you’re not paying attention, it is possible to walk right by and not notice this waterfall, because it faces down-trail.
There are a few locations along the trail where distant views of where I will be hiking are not encumbered by narrow or twisting Canyon walls. The scene below Supai Tunnel, pictured earlier, is one stunning example. My present location introduces me to a surprisingly wide (and yes, relatively flat) valley along the Canyon bottom that allows long-range views in all directions. This landscape will continue for about 3 to 4 miles until the Vishnu Schist and Zoroaster Granite are first exposed, foreshadowing the next significant change in my surroundings. This is my first tease of today’s destination, the South Rim, since a brief glimpse or two near the top of the trail early this morning.
The sign at the Cottonwood Campground ranger house says it’s 7.2 miles to Bright Angel Campground, which means its about 6.7 miles to Phantom Ranch. Although treated water delivered by pipeline is never a guarantee along the Corridor trails, this is as long of a distance between water taps as there is along today’s route. Two liters is usually more than enough to cover the distance from here to Phantom, and considering that I’ve hiked this section of trail several times and should only need about three hours to do so today, it’s really not a big deal. But I still always have this sense that I’m stepping out into the “real wilderness” as I depart Cottonwood.
I turn around for a moment and look north from near the top of what is unofficially known to veteran Grand Canyon hikers as Asinine Hill. Compared to the total elevation change of today’s hike, this is a relatively minor bump in the road. However, having left the shade and relaxation of Cottonwood only 30 minutes earlier, this short trek uphill is always an unwelcome start to the rest of the hike, especially given that there’s still plenty of downhill afterwards. Could someone please turn down that sun?
This telephoto shot is about as close as I’ve gotten to Ribbon Falls, which becomes visible to the west as I start to descend the south-facing slope of Asinine Hill. Ribbon Falls is a frequent, but very long dayhike destination for visitors who stay two nights at Phantom Ranch. From where I’m standing, sweat dripping from my face, it looks exactly like paradise. But I’m on a schedule, and a stop there would be too much of a detour with 15 miles to go.
Not quite 10:00 AM, and it’s hot. Although the hiking is easy, I am preoccupied by the fact there are few trees or rock overhangs along the trail to provide protection from the rapidly intensifying rays of the sun. The Hike Smart tips issued by the Park Service strongly advise against hiking during this time of year between 10:00 AM and 4:00 PM, with good reason. With the temperature doubtlessly approaching 90 degrees, every bit of shade is precious. I remember that it will be even hotter before I’m done today.
I am approaching the halfway point of today’s hike, in terms of mileage, if not hours. It’s never really been a consideration that I’ve needed to actively consider, but should I get into some sort of trouble requiring self-rescue, the shorter escape route is no longer back to the North Kaibab trailhead. From this point forward, the Bright Angel trailhead, my intended destination, will be the best option. The requisite cliche? “There’s no turning back now.”The Box to Phantom Ranch
The landscape changes dramatically as I enter the last 3 miles leading to Phantom Ranch. Gone is the wide open valley. The Canyon walls have abruptly closed in on me, leaving enough room for the trail on which I walk and the flowing water of Bright Angel Creek that is responsible for cutting this narrow slot through the black Vishnu Schist and pink Zoroaster Granite. These are the hardened “basement rocks” of Grand Canyon that grudgingly allow downward erosion, given a few million years, but do not permit any significant widening of the channel. This final, downstream segment of Bright Angel Canyon is known simply as The Box.
The Box encompasses the most striking scenery of today’s hike, revealing landscape that is remarkably different from any other along the North Kaibab and Bright Angel trails. When viewed from the Rim, it appears an insignificant part of the incredibly vast panorama of Grand Canyon, if it’s noticed at all. From my perspective, The Box is both the motivation and destination for today’s hike. But I cannot visit for long. The late-morning sun is already warming the western walls of The Box, providing just a hint of the inferno to come when the walls on both sides begin to radiate. I pass several groups of dayhikers from Phantom getting a late start on their way to Ribbon Falls, often carrying insufficient water. Many do not appear to be embracing their first passage through The Box; I choose to not tell them that the return trip will not be an improvement.
About 2,000 feet above me is the eastern face of Clement Powell Butte, one of the many “arms” of the much larger Buddha Temple, which itself is located out of sight to the west. Walter Clement Powell was a cousin of John Wesley Powell, and participated in the latter’s second expedition down the Colorado River in 1871. With each step forward, I am cognizant of the surrounding terrain progressively towering above my head.
The close-in walls of The Box occasionally provide short-lived relief from the sun, even during the late-morning hours. This view is looking back at the trail behind me. You might consider hiking with a hard hat if the proximity of the overhead geology is a concern. However, only once in all my years hiking the Canyon have I run across what I know to be a recent rockfall on the trail. (It wasn’t there my previous time through.) That was within The Box.
Much of the North Kaibab Trail as it exists today was constructed during the 1920s. It replaced an earlier route that crossed Bright Angel Creek more than 90 times. Pictured here is a footbridge representing one of only 6 creek crossings along the modern trail, and a recent (circa 1995) reinforcement to the trail foundation. The previous section of trail at this location was no match for the destructive flash floods that come through these narrow and winding Canyon walls with little warning.
There’s something about this uncharacteristically wide segment of The Box that captivates me each time I come by this way. The juxtaposition of the relatively green and tranquil creek bed, the stark and unordered bedrock projections that dominate the scenery, and the well-layered butte high up on the Tonto Plateau (upper left) is unique. Fortunately, the seating here is not extremely comfortable, and I move on after a few minutes.
This sign is found where the Clear Creek Trail joins with the North Kaibab Trail. Another popular dayhike from Phantom Ranch includes going up this unmaintained trail less than a mile to Phantom Overlook, and then just a little further for the amazing views up and down the Colorado River gorge from near the top of the Tonto Plateau, about 1,000 feet up from the trail junction. The sign facing the other way says it’s only 0.8 mile to Bright Angel Campground, but my thoughts are on the rest stop at Phantom, which is even closer!
The sight of the first large Cottonwood tree tells me that the oasis of Phantom Ranch is just around the corner. It’s just a few moments past noon, but I’m two hours behind the record pace I set in 1996 when I actually trained for this event. I realize that I will never again match that time, but I find solace in the reality that I’ve long since given up trying, and all that matters is being in the Canyon. Hmm, that sentiment’s not actually believable, is it?
I usually break for an hour or so outside the Phantom Canteen, and today is no different. While sitting here, I am often conflicted by the need for serious downtime (a nap would sure be nice) and the restless desire to get back on the trail. There’s usually more than a few tired-looking souls hanging around the Canteen who obviously just hiked in from the South Rim, and are hoping to survive the hike out this afternoon. I set the unattainable goal to finish today’s hike before these obvious novices, and then I rest for another 20 minutes on the comfy bench.Up the Bright Angel Trail
That fact that I’ve now passed Phantom Ranch to begin my trek up the Bright Angel Trail signifies a transformation in several aspects of today’s hike. Yes, I’ll be going uphill now, of course. In the category of the less obvious, traffic on the trail will be relatively quiet compared to what I’ve seen during the couple of hours leading up to Phantom, until I reach Indian Garden. Most people do heed the summertime advice to not hike below the Rim during the middle of the day, especially within the depths of the Inner Canyon. Assuming that I reach Indian Garden with enough hours of daylight remaining, I will then begin encountering more and more traffic as I get closer to the South Rim.
Most notably, I have begun transitioning to a mindset that, as a practical matter, is focused exclusively on finishing this hike, magnificent scenery be damned. The increasing tourist density on the trail will serve only to exacerbate this attitude. As I approach the Colorado River, I feel in good shape physically, certainly well able to finish the hike, and I am also in good spirits as I set out on this final leg of today’s journey. But my current enthusiasm will gradually wane over the next several hours as I become immersed in the literal, step-by-step process of hiking out. Simply put, I’m a bit trail-weary. As a direct result, my camera will spend most of the remaining miles tucked safely inside its case, as the number of photos I will yet take is inversely proportional to the number of miles completed.
The Silver Bridge is one of two footbridges across the Colorado River. It was completed in the late 1960s to convey the new transcanyon pipeline that carries water from Roaring Springs to the South Rim. It is used solely by hikers, as it is too narrow for the mules, and anecdotally, because the beasts will not tolerate the open-mesh steel grating that allows a view of the raging river directly beneath your boots. Look down if you dare!
About 0.75-mile upriver, you can see the Black Bridge, which is primarily used by hikers coming down the South Kaibab Trail and mules going in either direction. It’s 1:30 in the afternoon. The mid-day heat is at its worst, but the full effect hasn’t hit me yet. Just 5 minutes earlier, I doused my shirt at the last water tap until Indian Garden. This will provide some cooling as it dries, but this meager relief will not last near long enough.
The hike uphill has now begun in earnest. I’m a bit more than 2 miles from Phantom, but most of that distance along the river was either relatively flat (way too much sand!), or gradually sloping upwards (way too much sun!), followed by a vexing return of the trail to near river level. Finally, nearly 1.5 miles since the Silver Bridge, the trail turns away from the river, but by no means away from the sun.
Indian Garden. Aways a good place to sit down, take off the boots, and rub the soles of the feet for awhile. Moleskin, anyone? There’s “only” 4.6 miles left, and considering that it’s now 4:00 PM, most of what’s left will mercifully be in shade. But the wall of 2,900 vertical feet in front of me can be intimidating. It’s much better on the psyche to look across the Canyon to see how far I’ve come, rather than to look up at what remains.
The 3-mile resthouse beckons. I have rarely stepped inside the actual resthouse, as I almost never need water at this stop, and prefer the relative quiet and comfort of the rocks just off the trail, immediately out-of-photo to the right. I grab a few more calories out of my fanny pack, and hope for the 17th coming of my second wind.
As I look up at the last 3 miles, I visualize many of the familiar milestones yet ahead of me, calculating for each what the remaining mileage will be once I reach them. This is a sure sign that it’s about time to get out. Although I prefer to sit awhile longer, it is time to take care of business, lest my family waiting at the top will wonder and worry as my predicted finishing time of 7:00 PM approaches.
Another rim-to-rim hike comes to an end. Cindy and the kids are there waiting, watching over the last few switchbacks for a familiar face. I’m 10 minutes late, but quickly forgiven. I ask for a picture, to document my condition at the end of today’s ordeal. Already, the memory of the long miles and heat are fading, and I wonder when I will return. But first, it’s time for a shower, a good meal at the Maswik cafeteria, and then a long night’s rest.
Hello! thank you for taking this hike and sharing it. Please post more of your Grand Canyon adventures – your writing style is wonderful. I enjoyed it vicariously very much and wish that I was younger and in better shape so that I could do it, also. I’ve been to Phantom Ranch twice via mules and am planning a solo trip to camp at Indian Garden for a few nights. GC is a very special place.
Thanks for reading! I am working on finishing a report on my April 2010 backpack trip on the Bright Angel, Tonto, and Hermit trails. Maybe in August?