I had been to Arizona three times before, and I had experienced the Grand Canyon twice. However, I knew that this most recent trip would take me to places that would give me a whole new perspective on the gems in nature America’s 49th state has to offer. That was an understatement.
Dad had booked us three nights at Phantom Ranch, the only lodging in the Grand Canyon, on the only day he could be sure to secure our spots — April 1, 2014, a full 377 days before we would descent the South Kaibab Trail. That’s how popular the year-round cabins and dorms are. He had also booked us two nights at the lodge in Havasupai, the third leg of our trip where we would experience the most majestic waterfalls I’ve ever set eyes on. This trip was a year in the making, and as it got closer, the anticipation built.
Day 1, April 10 — Driving to Page
We both flew into Phoenix on a Friday morning, got the rental car, and headed north on Route 10 — a drive I’ve now done three times. Still, it doesn’t get old. After dealing with Washington, DC, traffic, driving through a desert landscape lined by 7,000- and 8,000-foot mountains seems like paradise.
After stopping in Flagstaff to pick up some cooking gear for Havasupai — gas canister, freeze-dried meals — and other food for all our hiking days at a really great health foods store with reasonable prices (gosh, I love escaping DC!), we continued on 89 North to the northeast corner of the state and Page, AZ. We arrived at Horseshoe Bend about an hour before sunset, and it felt lovely to step out of our indigo Toyota Corolla onto soft dirt. The Bend is a .75-mile trail on red clay sand to a circular lookout over a river.
Not surprisingly, it’s a popular spot for casual hikers, and as we approached the edge we came upon families, couples, and many more people enjoying the views as the sun set. While Dad set up the tripod for some shots, I scrambled around on the rocks and explored a high point that offered a bird’s eye view of the river below where I could see a few groups who, it appeared, had canoed in for the night to camp. Pretty cool.
We stayed until it was almost dark and then headed back. The Bend was a perfect short hike to loosen up our legs and give us our first tiny taste of beauty on the trip. We grabbed a so-so dinner in town and crashed early in our Best Western room.
MILES HIKED: 1.5
Day 2, April 11 — Antelope Canyon
We woke up before 7 on Saturday, which would be a theme throughout the trip — in fact, our wakeups would get closer to 6 — and had a crummy hotel breakfast before checking out and preparing for our adventure of the morning:
Lower Antelope Canyon.
The canyon is considered a gem. Just like its neighbor the Grand Canyon, people come worldwide to experience either the lower or upper canyon, a slot canyon that’s not visible whatsoever to someone driving by. In fact, you have to walk right up to one of its entrances to see the crack in the sandstone that leads to its depths. Interestingly enough, the canyon lies just miles from a huge power plant, the Navajo Generating Station, that was built in 1976 and creates plumes of smoke 24 hours a day. Contrast that with the beauty of Antelope.
In researching the canyon, Dad had read that unlike the more popular upper canyon, you could walk by yourself into the lower canyon for a fee. No guide service was needed. However, when we pulled into the parking lot and approached one of two stands, the Navajo man and woman informed us that wasn’t the case. Apparently, the rules changed recently and everyone visiting the canyon must do so with a guide. Throughout the morning, this would make more and more sense. At the time, though, we were bummed, as the next tour wasn’t for about an hour and a half. On top of that, there were separate tours for tripod photographers, like Dad, and myself, so we would be splitting up.
There wasn’t much around us, and a local state park at the Lake Powell Marina charged for a day pass, so we killed the time in the parking lot and learned more about the tour service and why guiding was a must. The man told us about the 1997 flashflood that had taken the lives of 11 European tourists caught in the canyon. They had been down there when a thunderstorm 17 miles away created flooding that quickly swept into the canyon. It soon overwhelmed them.
Dad’s tour began before mine, so he took off with a group all lugging their tripods while I waited in the 80-degree heat. A few minutes later, our group of maybe 15 people was called and our tour guide Ty, a Navajo man maybe in his late teens or early 20s, introduced himself quickly. We started walking down the path from the parking lot, and in 5 minutes we reached a stairway leading down into the canyon. We descended about 30 feet to the canyon floor, mostly sand, and immediately I was in awe.
It’s impossible to describe a slot canyon. It really is. Basically, it’s a very, very narrow space with walls of all shapes, sizes and sandstone colors rising up above and around you. No rock surface looks the same. None is the same shape. As we walked along, sunlight occasionally peaked in from way above.
Ty was great. At different places, he would stop and pull out his his hand-crafted Navajo flute. The music he played was beautiful and just felt right in the canyon. Between the music and the sandstone walls, Antelope Canyon felt like one of the most sacred places I’ve ever explored. Ty showed me how to use “chrome” mode on my iPhone to take spectacular photos, and in one spot he took my phone, turned it on selfie mode, and positioned it at an exact spot against a wall to compose a shot that is one of my favorites — a photo that if you look at horizontally appears to be a sunset over craggy mountains. At another spot, Ty gathered everyone around and demonstrated in the simplest fashion possible how the rocks around us were formed, cut out by water. In many places, he pointed to water marks on walls. Two things became crystal clear — Ty knew the canyon inch by inch, and water that entered it did so with serious force.
I took hundreds of photos; I could have taken more. Every turn we made revealed a spectacular new sight. In a couple places, Ty picked up a handful of sand and tossed it in the air to give us amateur photographers a surreal scene to capture. Every minute or so, we stopped to gaze around. What was said to be an hour-long tour took 90 minutes. I could have stayed in that canyon all day.
And then, we were back on top. We ascended a ladder, climbed out, and were back in a place where a person unfamiliar with the area could have stood without even knowing the gem below them. Ty told us, actually, that sometimes animals fall through the canyon’s cracks, and visitors at the bottom are greeted by carcases. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case for us.
Rather, we experienced an incredible, sacred place — a wonder of the world, if you will. I highly suggest visiting.
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The rest of our Saturday was tame. We drove into Page and had a pretty good pizza lunch before getting back on the road for a few-hour drive to the Grand Canyon. I was thankful to Dad for driving part of the way, as I conked out. When I awoke, we were entering the south rim of the canyon in the late afternoon. The temperature was maybe in the low 60s. Not exactly warm, but the sun was shining.
As we drove in from the east we stopped first at Desert View, a very popular tourist spot with a castle and the first widespread views into the canyon. It’s a nice spot, but at the same time, I had experienced the south rim twice before. There wasn’t the “wow” factor. Next we drove to Grand View, an overlook but also a trail. With still more than an hour left of daylight and feeling the itch to hit the trail, we hiked down the switchbacks a ways.
After maybe a quarter mile, we came to a perfect flat rock outcrop and Dad smartly called it his end point. As I was about to continue on, a woman came up the trail and informed us that she was worried. She told us that she’d encountered a dad and his son and daughter a couple miles down the trail, and that they were walking very slowly and basically out of water. She asked us if we thought she should call the ranger. We didn’t want to jump the gun, so we told her we’d call them if we hadn’t seen them by the time we hiked back up. We also learned in chatting with the woman that she was from Canandaigua, NY, a small town in upstate New York we had used to stay in en route to New Hampshire on family vacations each year. And she told us she’d be staying at Phantom Ranch the next night. We’d see her again.
I went maybe a quarter mile farther to a cool rock outcrop, sat for a few minutes, then hiked back up. We reached the trailhead right at sunset, snapped a few photos from another beautiful ledge, and called it a night. We would have plenty of hiking and photos to take over the ensuing days.
We stayed at the Bright Angel Lodge on the rim, and I passed out after a quick dinner.
MILES HIKED: 4
Day 3, April 12 — Hike down to Phantom Ranch
The beginning of hike-down day in the Grand Canyon was a bit hectic. I slept in until almost 7 while Dad was outside taking photos. I wasn’t feeling great, so breakfast was skipped. Still, it was a rush to the finish line to catch the 8am shuttle that would take us east to the South Kaibab trailhead (you aren’t allowed to park and leave a car there). The rush included choosing everything we would bring, and packing up the rest of our stuff into our suitcases. Then, I had to walk to the car parked a good 1,000 feet away, drive as close as I could to the lodge to get all Dad’s stuff, and finally we had to navigate our way to a lot close to the shuttle.
The result of all this were some last-second decisions on gear. I ended up packing way too much cold-weather clothes (somehow, it eluded me that it would be much warmer at the lower elevation in the canyon’s depths). And Dad wasn’t sure whether to bring the heavy tripod. As we were leaving the parking lot to rush to the waiting bus, I said to bring it. And we were off, with our heavy packs, and only 4,800 feet to descend to Phantom Ranch.
It was a hot day at least for mid-April, and combined with heavy packs, it didn’t make the hiking as pleasurable as maybe I preferred. I’m not complaining, though. The scenery was fantastic. We began descending switchback after switchback from the get-go, along with the dozens of other people on the trail. There was what appeared to be a pretty even mix of people with day picks and others with backpacks that looked heavier than ours — probably many of them campers heading to the large site alongside Bright Angel Creek that’s just before Phantom Ranch. At a breaking point, one large and unfiltered fellow scoffed at us upon hearing we were staying at the ranch and not camping. “You’re not tough!” he said. I couldn’t disagree, but I sure liked not having a tent, sleeping bag, pad and dinner and breakfast food in my pack.
The first few miles were nice, but when I turned a bend on the red-rock trail and saw the river for the first time, it was as if I had reached Stage 2 of the journey and everything would get more exciting going forward. Of course, there were dozens of switchbacks left, but the ultimate goal — The River — was now a tangible object below. Just way below.
The last couple miles to the river were spectacular. We walked on a packed-down sandstone trail with widespread views of the river and the two bridges below — the South Kaibab bridge we would shortly cross and the Bright Angel bridge we’d visit in three days. At the 5-mile mark, we reached Panorama Point, a money spot with tremendous views down on the river and to the west. We joined a group of three people there probably in their 30s with a little bit of crazy in them. Now if you know me, you’re aware that I love walking to the edge of ledges and even dangling my feet over them. But two guys in this group did handstands — handstands! — with their bodies 90 degrees just two feet, maybe, from the edge.
Imagine that! If your hands give, you’re done! I couldn’t believe it. Nuts!
An hour later, we finally reached the bridge. We had walked countless switchbacks, gone over sandstone and desert tundra, passed mules and dozens of people — including some ambitious day hikers going down and up (the act that’s discouraged in bold print on many signs at the south rim). And we were finally at the river. We walked through a cool rock tunnel before emerging on the bridge over the aqua-blue and — we’d learned — really, really cold water. Still, on such a hot, sun-blistering day, part of me wanted to jump in.
Upon reaching the north side of the river, we were greeted by trees. Lots of trees! We were in a different ecosystem. We walked along the river for a few minutes before reaching Bright Angel Creek and turning right to the north. As we trekked on the flat path under the shade of Cottonwoods, campsites began to populate the land across the lively creek next to us. We passed by people cooling their legs in the water, and others more fully immersed. Now that looked refreshing.
About a half mile past the campground, we started seeing buildings nestled among the Cottonwoods, and then came upon the main hub of Phantom Ranch. We had arrived! I believe it was only just before 3pm. We had taken our time and done about a mile an hour coming down.
Upon entering the main building, I was surprised to see dozens of people at tables drinking cans of beer. Wait — cans of beer in the Grand Canyon? There was also a lemonade vending machine, and when we purchased lemonades a few minutes later, they were given to us in plastic cups. Disposable plastic cups in the Grand Canyon?
This use of products that would have to be disposed was a shock to my system because of my familiarity with the AMC huts in the White Mountains where Croo members must hike everything to and from the huts, there are no trash cans or recycling — “pack in, pack out” — and there aren’t even napkins at dinner or breakfast. In the Grand Canyon, of course, there are mules, hundreds of them, to bring down supplies of all sorts to Phantom Ranch and hike out the trash. Oh, the power of mules!
We got settled in Dorm 13, which had 10 beds bunk-bed style. In a crazy set of circumstances, there was only one other person our first night. Now I must admit, we lived luxuriously in the canyon. Not only was there a bathroom right next to our beds, but the door next to it led to a shower. Yes, a shower that I would utilize for 2-minute clean-ups every day. And not only did we sit that afternoon enjoying a lemonade while talking with a friendly couple from Durango, Colo., but we then walked back to the Colorado River and found a sandy beach where I laid down and read a book.
It was like a typical vacation. All I was missing was a beach towel, maybe a chair, and a raft. Oh, and the ability to swim in the beautiful water surface in front of me (swimming is prohibited in the Colorado because of its swift currents). After the relaxing cool-down from the hike, we headed back to the Ranch to prepare for dinner! Each night, a staff member serves two suppers — steak at 5pm for the high-rollers, and beef stew at 6:30pm for those like us. There’s also a vegetarian chili option, but we found out this was a glutenous chili. So I went with the stew for three consecutive nights. I think I’ve had my stew fix for the year.
It was delicious. The food wasn’t quite as good, at least to me, as hut food in the White Mountains (Dad might dispute this with me), but it was delectable and perfect after a long day. We were placed at a different table each night, and on the first night we chatted with a group that was from Minnesota. After dinner, we ventured outside to find our pal, the big fella, waiting for the dining hall to open back up for beer time at 8pm. He turned out to be quite amicable, and we sat and chatted with him and his friends for several minutes. One of the guys said he did the Grand Canyon trip every year and was on, I believe, his 19th or 20th hike. Somehow, the conversation turned to golf and who had won The Masters. There was, thankfully, zero cell phone service, but there was a phone that you could use phone cards on — remember those? Two folks from the group tried calling a family member for the result, but there was no answer.
I was OK with that. We were in the depths of the Grand Canyon, several miles and 5,000 feet from civilization. And yet right at home, satiated and content. It was only 8pm, but I was exhausted. I called it a night.
MILES HIKED: 8
Day 4, April 13 — Boxed in
Breakfast on Monday was at 6:30am, so even if we had wanted to sleep in, that wasn’t really an option. Of course, when you fall asleep before 9, waking up that early is easy. Actually many people staying at the ranch wake up much earlier. The first breakfast is at 5am, and the majority of folks who are hiking up and out of the canyon choose to eat while it’s still dark out. Not me. After an eggs, bacon, canned peach slices and coffee meal, I was ready to hit the trail. We were going for a day hike, which was super exciting. Not only would we explore the North Kaibab Trail, but we would do so with light daypacks!
We were on the trail by 8am, and it didn’t take us long to realize we were in for a spectacular hike. Quickly, the path entered what’s aptly called “The Box” because we were boxed in by towering, dark canyon walls. The biggest challenge on the flat path was avoiding gazing up thousands of feet at the different shades of rock spanning hundreds of thousands of geologic years and tripping on a rock or walking off the path into Bright Angel Creek, which we passed over three times on bridges.
The walking was so easy that Dad decided to go farther than he had originally planned when a couple we passed going the other way told us Ribbon Falls, 5.7 miles up the trail, was must-see. The trail, which is the only path to the north rim of the canyon, doesn’t have maintained services until May, so compared to the previous day there wasn’t much traffic. I counted maybe 15 people all day. After a few miles of enjoying the boxed-in shade, we came out into the mid-morning sunlight and a desert landscape. There were still rock walls on both sides, but they were much farther away from us. We could see the trail thousands of feet ahead of us.
Just as Dad was asking how much farther I thought it was to Ribbon Falls, we came to a sign. We had been told about this junction by two different parties. The fellas we had chatted with the night before told us to turn left and ford the creek to take a direct, mostly flat path to the falls. The people we had passed an hour earlier had advised us to continue straight over the hill to where a bridge goes over the creek. We opted for the fresher response, schlepping over the hill to the bridge. Since it was so early in the day and I knew Dad would want to spend a long time at the falls photographing, I deciding to continue on for awhile.
At the Cottonwood Campground about 1.3 miles past the junction, I ran into a guy we had seen the day before with a bike. Yes, a bike. Of course, you can’t ride bikes in a national park, so he was carrying it on his back. A guy with a bike on his back! Yes, Mark told me that he was competing in the annual Arizona Race, which began in Sierra Vista by the Mexico border and ended some 70 miles from the north rim. It was mostly a bike race, but also walking the parts of the trail that were on national park land. He said he was in 9th place out of 25 competitors. I wished Mark luck as he continued on. I caught him about half a mile farther along the trail and man, what he was doing looked BRUTAL. That bike looked heavy plus all his other gear. And he only had 4,000-plus feet to climb to the rim!
I hiked another mile and a half or so until the trail, still mostly flat, reached the Pumphouse, a nice resting area still 5.4 miles from the north rim where there was one of the cleanest outhouses I’ve ever been in — probably because no one was on the North Kaibab trail this early in the season — and a bench under a grove of cottonwood trees next to the merging of Roaring Springs Creek and Bright Angel Creek. After a short rest, I headed back south, content with how far I had gone. I had reached the base of the BIG CLIMB. I’ll save that for another year.
Upon returning to the junction, I navigated some somewhat confusing turns on the trail to Ribbon Falls, but made it. And man, what a spectacle! The falls, maybe 75 feet (?), are covered in moss. I’d never seen anything like them before. Additionally, there’s a trail that takes you directly above the main cascade, and then a very narrow ridge you can tightrope that gives you another angle from which to gaze down on the cascade. It’s not the most powerful waterfall, but one of the most beautiful and certainly unique I’ve ever seen.
After eating my bagged lunch from Phantom Ranch — a sausage and an apple for me; Dad also had a bagel with cream cheese and Oreos — I walked out onto the mossy area and enjoyed the feel of water from the top cliff cooling me on its route down to the moss and the main cascade. Then we walked down to the base, where there’s a pool about knee deep. There’s also a cave you can go into and come out the other side, about 15 feet away, but Dad said there were some mysterious birds hanging out in the cave so I was more than content to stay at the opening to the cave underneath the falls. I drenched myself to the point of feeling a bit cold even under the bright sun.
Wearing my longsleeve shirt, I was ready to move on. For the sake of newness (and not having to go over another hill), we took the ford-the-creek route back to the main trail. It was a bit of an adventure keeping to the trail, but we never completely lost it, got to the creek, and easily traversed it while getting our shoes soaked, which felt pretty good in the mid-afternoon heat. Just a little bit down the trail, we came upon a guy sitting underneath a large rock in the shade who asked us for water. He looked completely out of it. Knowing I had my chemical solution for treating water, I gave him the 32 ounces I had left in my Camelbak and assessed him from a few feet away. He didn’t look completely out of shape, but having started the day at the south rim, he had gone a long way and clearly not hydrated enough. He was a stark reminder of the dangers of hiking in the Grand Canyon, especially solo.
The hike back in The Box was awesome. The late afternoon light cast shadows on the Vishnu Schist rock walls. We were out of the sun, and the shaded temperature was ideal. We enjoyed our boxxy return and stopped about a mile from the Ranch to soak our feet. What a hike!
I had hiked 17.2 miles and Dad 11.4, and we didn’t return to the ranch until nearly dinner time. Man, we deserved that stew and even a half carafe of wine, too! We also enjoyed the company at our table of a couple now living in Phoenix. The guy was originally from Indiana, so there was plenty of basketball talk to be had, too. Because I couldn’t eat the delicious-looking chocolate cake, I persuaded Dad to buy me some peanut M&Ms for dessert and devoured most of them before passing out again while reading my book before 9pm. This night, we actually had a few more people in our dorm, but it was still not full.
One other note from the day: On our way back south on the trial, we were passed by a couple of guys moving ridiculously quickly and carrying very little. I was able to ask them where they had hiked from. They informed us that they had started the day at 5:40am at the south rim, hiked the 21 miles to the north rim, and were now headed back. For those of you doing the math, that’s 42 miles in one day.
And you think I’m crazy?
MILES HIKED: 17.2
Day 5, April 15 — Ridge hike above the river
I didn’t sleep as well my second night at the dorm (maybe it was the wine? The M&Ms?) but was more than ready to hit the trail again with a light daypack during our last full day in the depths of the Grand Canyon! Dad wasn’t too enthusiastic about hiking long miles, but I was able to convince him to join me for at least the first couple miles up the Clear Creek Trail — a hike that takes you on a ridge running east some 1,500 feet above the river.
Again, the 8am weather was perfect — cool but warm enough to wear short sleeves. About a quarter mile north of the ranch, we turned right onto the trail and immediately started climbing switchbacks up the beautiful sandstone trail. We soon ran into a group of hikers from Ontario who were a lively bunch; we’d see them again higher up. I’m not sure on exact mileages or elevations, but after less than an hour we reached the Tonto Plateau, a flat area with a man-made Vishnu bench that fit me perfectly. I laid down for a minute and basked in the sun, promising myself to spend more time at this magical spot upon my return.
From there, the trail became, frankly, spectacular. We turned due east and began wending our way along on a cliff ridge trail while gazing down some 1,500 feet to our right at the Colorado River. We could see the bridge we had crossed on Sunday, the Bright Angel Bridge just farther west, and more of the river in both directions. It was from this perspective that I really took note, for the first time, of just how carved into the canyon the narrow body of water is. The vantage point made me understand how weather cut this knife of a river (Note: I’m currently reading The Emerald Mile, a tremendous history of the Grand Canyon and those who speed down it in dories; I highly recommend it.)
At 11am after probably 2.5 or 3 miles and what seemed like endless ridge hiking, Dad said it was turnaround time for him, and he made a great decision. Because as soon as we parted ways, the trail cut north and away from the ridge and river. It was still interesting, but the landscape changed from red rock to a desert trail with cacti on both sides — yellows, pinks, purples, and, of course, greens — and the expanse opened up as I walked over two canyon washes completely dry.
After about an hour of walking in a desert feeling like I might never see a person again, I noticed two people under a rare large tilted rock that provided shade from the midday heat — it was our Colorado friends coming back from camping at the 9-mile trail’s terminus, Cheyava Falls. We chatted for a few minutes, and they told me that the trail didn’t change much from there — more desert! The man noted that the wildflowers were spectacular, but I’d seen plenty of that the past few days. Since I didn’t plan on pushing another four or five miles to the falls, I figured I’d just go a bit farther and call it a day.
That’s what I did, finding a third wash where I could lie down, stretch out, read my book and eat half of my lunch while soaking in the sun rays. It was no waterfall, but pretty peaceful all the same. A little after 12:30pm, I turned around, and all of a sudden the sky, as it’s apt to do in such wondrous places, turned gorgeous. Huge, puffy white clouds popped up above the buttes to the north, and out of nowhere a serious wind whipped up that caused my baseball cap to fly off not once but twice. Oh, the wind!! When I returned to that aforementioned bench in the mid-afternoon, I laid down and finished my mystery novel (in one hand) while holding tightly onto my hat.
I returned to the ranch around 3:47 after about seven and a half hours and 10 miles — a guess — on the trail and found Dad chatting with a couple guys new to our dorm at the picnic table outside the dining hall. I’ve often said that Dad and I read each other’s minds, and sure enough, he had already bought me a refreshing lemonade. I’m usually not one for killing two hours when I could be hiking more miles, but Mike and Doug were fun conversationalists. Mike, from Sacramento, and Doug, from Santa Rosa (where we had been for cousin Pete’s wedding in September), were huge sports fans, and we talked with ease about basketball for a good hour (sorry, Dad!). They also updated us on the sports’ happenings from the previous two days, since they had just arrived in the canyon. When Mike and Doug headed to the 5pm steak dinner, I walked up and down Bright Angel Creek, soaking my legs, while waiting for our final stew feast.
Dinner, again, was great. Each night at the lodge, one staff member served us, and the final night it was Tom, a Bostonian who has worked at the ranch since 2001! Imagine that — 15 straight years of living, for the most part, in the depths of the Grand Canyon. That spoke to me how special of a place it is. We also had another great dinner table conversation, chatting with a couple who in retirement RV around the country visiting its unlimited gems such as the Grand Canyon for half of the year; the other half they spend volunteering at an RV park in Mesa, AZ. I peppered them with questions about RV life. It seems like a pretty fun lifestyle, except, maybe, for the driving part.
We spent our last night in the Canyon listening to a park ranger presentation — a frequent feature — about the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) and its role during the Depression in building trails in the canyon. The ranger had some great stories about the CCC, including them lugging a pool table to the canyon (!!!), building a swimming pool (!!!!), and pulling a severely injured Corps member up the South Kaibab Trail on a sled of some sort. The talk was perfect — informative and entertaining. And it wasn’t quite the capper to the night, either, because when it was done, the ranger took us on a “Scorpion Hunt.” That’s right — for some reason, you can see the Grand Canyon critters with a UV or blue light at night, so the ranger took us over to a circular mule stable with a perimeter of large stones, told us not to touch any stone (sure enough, someone did just that a minute later!), and then turned on her UV light and began searching for scorpions. She didn’t find any, but another person on the hunt also had a UV light, and when she shined it on the rock in front of me, there it was — a turquoise-looking, spider-sized, um, thing on the rock face. My first scorpion sighting!
I snapped some pictures from a few feet away and then headed back to the dorm, content that I had experienced many aspects of the Grand Canyon’s depths, not that I won’t be back.
MILES HIKED: 10
April 15, Day 6 — Time to hike up
Well, it was time to hike up. Way up! It was also time to put on our big packs. So no, this wasn’t the most exciting day of our trip; of course, it was still spectacular. Our task was 9 miles and 4,450 feet of elevation. That’s all. While everyone else going up in our dorm did the 5am breakfast to get an early start, we were in no rush. Since we were staying on the south rim after the ascent, we just needed to be up there before dark. Easy.
The weather was chilly when we hit the trail a bit after 8 — by far the coldest it had been at 2,450 feet. Still, there was no need for my down or rain coats, two things I could laugh at myself for hauling down and now up the canyon. After crossing the Colorado on the Bright Angel Bridge, we hiked for a good mile at least on a trail that meandered at different heights above the aquamarine surface to our right. Unlike three days before, I had no thoughts of entering the chilly water. I, in fact, was still trying to warm my body as the sun started to make its presence felt.
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From there, it was a 3-mile, heavy-on-switchbacks slog to Indian Gardens, the halfway point of our hike. The first couple miles were heavy on layered rock walls. Then, we entered a completely different ecosystem as cottonwoods popped up on both sides of the trail and we rejoined the creek. It was very, very green. I was taking in this new scenery, transfixed by the change in nature, when I heard stomping above and looked up to see a pack of mules coming toward us. Dad, ahead of me, found a rock outcropping to the left but it was small and our backpacks made standing on it awkward. Noticing our unstable positions, the leader of the mules paused the herd and motioned for us to move to a large rock to the side of the trail. Smart move by the guy. These weren’t supply mules but rather people mules carrying folks who paid for their services. Hey, to each their own, but I could never ride a mule in such a place because A) That would mean I wasn’t hiking!; and B) Man, it looked uncomfortable!
As we arrived at Indian Gardens and its multitude of picnic areas and campgrounds, a helicopter dropped from the sky. Oh, the excitement! Was a rescue occurring? An emergency? Nah. As we would learn minutes later, the ‘copter folks were simply doing some scientific experiments (maybe on the contents of the creek?). We spent a full hour relaxing at the gardens. After a little food, I found a flat rock next to the roof of a picnic hut and laid down on my back, soaking up the midday sun rays. I opened my eyes after a minute and stared into the eyes of a lizard occupying the roof 5 feet from me. Hello, lizard! It was harmless and doing exactly what I was! That lizard and I spent some quality time together.
(Note: We saw hundreds of lizards of varying sizes during our Grand Canyon adventure. No snakes. Also, plenty of birds, including ravens, a hummingbird, and maybe a condor or two. Also, some elk and deer.)
This portion of the hike was one of many where I was thankful for Dad’s presence. If on my own, I probably would have rushed up, eager to reach the finish line and complete the climb. But Dad encouraged us to take frequent stops and enjoy, one last time, the incredible scenery — the walls of multiple geologic layers spanning millions of years, including hermit shale, Kaibab limestone and Coconino sandstone (yes, I looked that up); the colors; the vastness of where we had come from. What a place.
When we reached the south rim and its hordes — HORDES! — of tourists at 4pm, we high-fived and gave one, too, to the woman who had fallen behind her husband and daughter but kept powering up the trail. She was awesome. Anyone who hikes to the base of the Grand Canyon and up is awesome. It’s a grind.
We spent the evening re-acclimating ourselves, at least for one night, to society. I scanned texts and emails, caught up on the NBA playoff picture, and posted on social media. We talked to Mom. And we even convinced a baseball-crazed woman at the lodge’s bar to change a TV to a basketball game (hey lady, it’s April; you don’t need both TVs to be on a meaningless baseball game!). All of this was great, but another adventure awaited us. Another chance to silence our phones, forget about annoying baseball ladies, and experience what only nature can provide.
Havasupai.
MILES HIKED: 9.0
TOTAL GRAND CANYON MILES: 47.2
Day 7, April 16 — The drive and hike down
Thursday morning was another logistically tough one for us, but we persevered through packing up everything from our room, walking to the car, then repacking our backpacks for Havasupai and leaving everything else in the trunk. Since the Havasupai trailhead is isolated, we didn’t exactly want people knowing all the incredible valuables (!!) we would be leaving in the car.
So that took awhile. Then we stopped at the Grand Canyon village grocery store — it’s huge! — to buy fuel for our cooking stove, cheese and crackers (because you can’t go a hiking trip without one such lunch), and more sunscreen. Add in the fact that it was COLD — maybe 30 degrees — and it was quite the morning of walking around. But we survived.
And then drove into nothingness.
Our three-and-a-half-hour drive resembled the shape of a U. Technically, the Havasupai reservation and its waterfalls that we would be hiking to is within 60 miles of the South Rim and all its services, but the direct route there is rough dirt road that the Corolla might have struggled with. So we drove south on 180, then west on 40 to Route 66, and finally to Route 18, which was quite the experience. For 60 miles, there wasn’t a single service. We saw one other car. It was nothing but Arizona desert — and a few stray cows. Pretty surreal.
A little background on Havasupai: It’s an Indian reservation that contains the village of Supai, considered the most remote village in the entire contiguous United States. Think about that for a moment. In order to reach Supai, not only must one drive 60 miles on the aforementioned cow road, but then hike 8 miles down. Imagine that! The waterfalls that everyone visits — Navajo, Havasu, Mooney and Beaver — begin just a mile past the village, with the popular and large campsite tucked scenically between Havasu and Mooney falls. Beaver Falls, the farthest hike, is 3 miles past Mooney Falls and 4 miles from the Colorado River, which sits outside the reservation.
I mentioned the mules. They are an absolute necessity for Supai because they carry almost all supplies to the village. There is also a helicopter pad, but it’s expensive flying in goods — and there’s only so much one copter can carry. So it came as only a mild surprise that during the first hour and a half of our trek, not one, not two but SEVEN brigades of mules trotted by us (Note: Having your eyes and ears open is critical on the trail, as the mules and their leaders don’t stop; you need to get out of their way.) Most of the mules were in business mode, but one was not happy. This poor guy had dozens of Folgers coffee containers strapped to him and was giving his master a hard time. I don’t blame him. Coffee grounds aren’t light!
Oh, I haven’t mentioned the dogs! My parents had been to Havasupai two years prior as part of a Road Scholar trip, and stray dogs from the village had hiked with them and tried to become adopted. My mom LOVES dogs, so I wasn’t surprised, but this also got my hopes up that maybe, at least for two days, we’d adopt a dog on our trip. Within the first half a mile, we came across four or five dogs, but they were busy barking at the mules and making sure they continued down the trail. They didn’t have time to socialize or be adopted. So there wasn’t much interaction there.
As for the trail, I’ll break it up into four sections: The descent; The Wash; The Slot Canyon; and The Cottonwoods to the village. During Part I, we descended while breathing in views similar to those experienced in the Grand Canyon. Then we entered the wide wash, a portion of the trail during which little side trails diverged every hundred or two hundred feet. We took many of them to avoid walking on the gravel mainway. We stopped after awhile and thoroughly enjoyed that cheese and crackers lunch. The slot canyon was the most beautiful part of the trail, which narrowed with towering red walls on both sides. This catalyzed a conversation about how we’d escape a flash flood — climb, climb, climb!
We saw very few people on the trail, which surprised me considering how popular I knew the hike was. We saw maybe three people hiking up — including a couple from our hiking country in New Hampshire! — and a few descending, including a couple we’d reunite with the next day. Dad wasn’t sure how late we could arrive in the village for our lodge reservation, so we didn’t stop much. After about three hours of hiking, we reached a sign pointing to the village (not far!) and the trees. We took a sharp left and began walking alongside Havasu Creek under cottonwoods. It became obvious quickly that water flow at the falls wouldn’t be an issue, as the creek was moving at a lively pace.
It wasn’t obvious, but when the trees started to thin and the trail widened, we were in Supai, the most rural village I’ve ever visited. Of course, there are no motorized vehicles and the roads are dirt. We began to see small, one-story houses and fenced yards with horses and dogs. We came to a small store and thought about stopping for a snack before continuing on. We passed a few villagers walking in the late afternoon sun. Some were friendlier than others. (Note: The Havasupai Indians were greatly displaced from land in the Grand Canyon to their current reservation, where life obviously isn’t easy. At the same time, tourism is their economy. So I think villagers have mixed feelings about people like us coming into their town and exploring their waterfalls.) We walked by a rec center with a basketball court where a couple guys were shooting. Then a cafeteria and an elementary school. After passing a grocery store, we were at the back of town and the lodge, which is positioned not far from beautiful canyon walls. The trail to the waterfalls, the next day’s destination, was just a few hundred feet from us.
Most people who visit Havasupai — where day hikes are not allowed and permits are required — do the 10 miles to the campsite, but Dad had opted for the lodge and I wasn’t about to argue with a shower and comfortable bed. We had both been baked all day and were pretty tired after pushing the pace for four hours. We got our gear in order, then enjoyed a freeze-dried chili meal at one of the picnic tables in the courtyard of the lodge as the sun went down. The descent day had been a success. Now it was time for the day of beauty.
I was asleep before 9pm.
MILES HIKED: 8.0
Day 8, April 17 — The waterfalls
After a long night’s sleep and with the anticipation of gorgeous waterfalls in mind, getting going on our final full day of hiking was easy. We left the lodge at 7:30am and walked down the deserted dirt road toward the trail. It was cool, and I wore a few layers. After maybe a block or two, we came to an intersection that pointed us toward the right and a trail along the very narrow creek. During the mile hike to the first waterfall, we passed a few hikers coming up from the campsite and were passed by a mule gang wildly riding toward the falls. We would see many more people throughout a very busy Friday.
After just a mile, we reached the first waterfall — Navajo Falls. It was an area that showed many signs of the 2008 flooding that dramatically affected Havasupai. I gazed in wonder at the twin 20- to 30-foot falls as Dad took advantage of great morning light to shoot a bunch of photos. While the falls were great, the cascades and running water that came down from them and continued on down the creek was just as alluring — this would be a theme throughout the day. Never a dull sight.
Just a little farther down the trail, we came to Havasu Falls and my, oh my, is it wondrous. Aqua blue water cascading down and over carved-out red rock into a large pool at the base that most people only see on magazine covers. Incredible! The light wasn’t great in the mid-morning, so we took a look and continued down the trail. We would be back.
During the next half mile, we walked past hundreds of campsites. We didn’t see a lot of people, but that would be dramatically different in the afternoon. After all, the weekend was arriving. One thing we did notice was a family of, I think, five that had built their own village at the campsite — a ginormous tent, huge coolers, kids playing baseball … all in all, probably hundreds of pounds of gear. We were pretty sure this family hadn’t hauled everything down the 10 miles. We got our answer shortly after when we came to what we’d affectionately name the “Mule Port,” a circular dirt area with posts where those who paid to have mules carry their gear picked it up.
Yes, a Mule Port!
It was as close as you’ll get to “climbing down a waterfall.”
At the base of Mooney, we grabbed a quick snack and accurately determined that the light — it’s all about the light when you’re taking photos! — would be better in the mid-afternoon. Plus, we still had 3 miles to hike to reach the final waterfall, Beaver. Better to get to end of the trail with plenty of time to enjoy everything on the way back then to feel rushed.
The 3 miles was quite interesting. I’ll break it up into three sections. Part I was all about creek crossings. We crossed Havasu Creek at least three or four times, and at one point without a bridge. That’s when I took my socks off and just decided that, hey, hiking in wet shoes on a warm day wouldn’t be bad. That turned out to be accurate. The water felt great as I forded the creek in a spot that was probably 60 feet wide. I maneuvered so as to not get deeper than about thigh-high.
Part II of the hike to Beaver was green — very green. We entered a section of the trail that was overgrown with a non-native green plant that at times completely blocked our vision. I felt like I was in a Jurassic Park movie. We walked through the green for a good mile before returning to the creek. After another crossing, we began a series of short, often-ladder-including climbs up red rock that quickly provided us with an aerial view of the water below.
And when the trail ended, we gazed down a hundred feet or so to our left at a series of terraced waterfalls — Beaver Falls.
Breathtaking.
The guide on Dad’s first trip had told him that Beaver was his favorite waterfall, and in any debate about Havasupai’s best waterfalls, it has a case. It’s nothing like Havasu nor Mooney — singular waterfalls. What makes Beaver so special are the terraces, one small waterfall cascading into the next, and next. There are four of them, with swimmable pools at the base of the bottom two falls.
Beaver was a popular place upon our midday arrival. A crew was having a picnic at the bottom of the falls including tortillas, guacamole, chips and more. Yum! Others were exploring the falls, which I set out to do. I walked up and around to the left of the bottom two falls, then into the large pool beneath the third. To get to the rock where I could climb up on the right side, I needed to swim a little. I didn’t fully immerse myself, but came pretty close. Then I climbed up the rock above the third and fourth falls and sat at the top, gazing down on the pools and people below me — all set against the backdrop of canyon walls.
Paradise? Yeah, I’d say so.
Back on the rocks at the main pool, I gathered up a little courage and dove into the force of the main cascade, going full immersion for the first time of the day. It was relatively warm out — maybe 70 — but my skinny self never completely warmed up from going in. Of course, it was totally worth it.
At 1pm, we decided to head back up the trail and try to experience Mooney at peak light. So we went back down the ladders, through Jurassic Park, and across the creek (several times) before arriving, once again, at the base of the beautiful falls. The unbelievably beautiful falls. With the mid-afternoon sunlight hitting the falls, I walked to the edge of them and felt the spray. The sheer force of the falls hitting the pool was an experience in itself even if you didn’t gaze around. Looking back, days later, at the photos Dad took, I was in a cloud of mist — a rather large mist cloud.
After we both went in and spent several minutes simply absorbing the wondrous nature before our eyes, we decided that if we ever wanted to make it back up to Havasu, we should probably climb the single-file, slow-going chains and slippery rock trail. The Friday night camping crowd was growing. We were far from alone. We witnessed this to the extreme as we walked past the campsites, many of which had been empty just hours earlier. None were now. People were setting up camp; others lounged in hammocks; others cooked early dinners; others were walking into their sites. It was a bit of a zoo. The Mule Port was bustling, too, as people picked up their bags!
And then we reached Havasu, and the feeling of being in utopia returned. Before 2008, the waterfall had been two, cascading down from either side of the beautiful red rock at the top. The flood caused significant damage, enough so to merge the falls into one. It certainly didn’t diminish the beauty of the falls. The base was like a large water amusement park. To our left, people slid down a mini waterfall into a pool. In front of us, others stood on a perimeter of rocks. And if you ventured a foot farther, you’d drop into the deep water at the base of the falls. A few brave souls swam in the pool, taking advantage of the little late-afternoon sun still hitting the water.
I was still chilly from my two immersions at Beaver and Mooney, so I harbored no thoughts of going in again, which was fine. I could enjoy the scenery just by lounging in the water amusement park, gazing around. After half an hour, — maybe longer; who’s really thinking about time in such a place? — we headed back up the steep trail and experienced Havasu from two different angles, first looking down from its right shoulder (a view made spectacular by sun shining on the canyon wall backdrop) and then venturing to the very apex of the falls, where I crept out to the edge and gazed down at the blue water as it flowed over the cliff.
Spectacular.
The walk back up to the village was pleasant, and we arrived at the lodge around 6:30pm, some 11 hours after our 10-mile, four-waterfall adventure had commenced. After showering and taking off our mud-coated shoes and leaving them outside to hopefully dry, we ate another freeze-dried dinner with a friendly couple from Colorado who had just hiked down that day. We told them about all they’d experience the following day, all the while knowing that you can only talk so much about such places.
There’s nothing like experiencing them!
MILES HIKED: 10
Day 9, April 18 — Out and up
Friday felt like a trip-ending day, the perfect climax to an action-packed adventure. The only problem? We still had to hike out. Yep, that was Saturday — 8 miles and about 1,500 feet of climbing. We got another early start after our customary granola breakfast, and were on our way at 7:25am. The early start allowed us to hike probably half of the way in relatively cool temperatures before the canyon became a sauna. The going was pretty quick and we only made a couple stops, not that I wasn’t enjoying the slot canyon or thinking, Why can’t I stay in such a spot longer!?
We passed several people heading down, some mules — although not as many as on our descent — and we passed people heading up, stopped, then were passed by the same people several times. Toward the top, as we slogged up the switchbacks to the final destination, we took a break and chatted with a guide we had first seen Friday at Beaver Falls who works for Wildland Trekking. He told us how he had been in the guiding business for six years and had done the Havasu hike more times than he could remember. It got me thinking — can a place so magical be magical over and over again? Would it ever get old? I really don’t know.
I do know this — even with the highest of expectations, Havasupai and its wondrous waterfalls exceeded my expectations. What a special placed.
MILES HIKED: 8.0
TOTAL HAVASUPAI MILES: 26
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Having climbed out of the canyon before noon, we had a full afternoon to get to Sedona and experience our last night in Arizona. We stopped in Seligman on historic Route 66 for a pretty tasty post-hike lunch at Lilo’s and then continued on to the red-rock capital of the state, Sedona, a place with no shortage of hikes. And of course I couldn’t be in such a place and not hike, right??
So after unloading at the White House Inn — which Dad had smartly chosen because of its proximity to hiking trails — we drove to Mt. Doe for a short evening hike. The mile ascent was spectacular, and the flat summit offered viewpoints in all directions of red rock country cast against puffy white clouds and the evening light. Two guys toward the top told us they thought they’d heard growling sounds — mountain lions? Bobcats? — at one end of the mini plateau top, so we went right instead of left and did a horseshoe hike on the many little trails dotted with cacti. We hiked down as the light faded from the sky.
Talk about a perfect ending to a hiking trip.
Just minutes later, driving back, we spotted a gang of wild hogs crossing the road. Hogs! They must have been the ones who freaked out those guys.
We concluded our final day in the area with an incredible outdoor dinner at the most hippy restaurant I’ve ever set foot in, the Chocola Tree. The menu, inspired by the owners’ experience living in rural South America, was completely vegan and gluten-free (my paradise!) and we were provided blankets to keep us warm as we waited for our food in an outdoor seating area that felt about as outdoorsy as you can make a restaurant, with trees and fountains. If not for the loud women’s group conversation adjacent to us, it would have been completely peaceful.
Fully satiated and content, we called it a night and a trip.
Thanks for reading!
MILES HIKED: 11.0
TOTAL MILES HIKED: 75
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