As I began the trek that would take me to the top of the Grand Canyon Ridge, I briefly asked myself “what the hell I was thinking”, but that quickly passed as I didn’t really have a choice of getting back to the top of the canyon without my own two legs. Well, of course there was always the helicopter method of escape, but that’s a hefty 3000$ and a lot of disappointed looks. Why would I do that, except that I’ve always wanted to ride in a helicopter, but still, that’s no excuse. Nope, my very sore calves and the 20-pound backpack pushing on my shoulders were going to have to make their way to the top with out aid of anyone else. I stood up straight, emitting various cracking sounds as I did so, and focused my mind. It’s only 9.6 miles, I’d done worse.
Surprisingly the hike started off very mild. The 20 or so people that had been at breakfast with us seemed to disperse into the morning light leaving the trail clear. Trailing after Omar, who realized that Robby and I were slow-pokes and trudged on ahead at a normal walking speed as if nothing was sore with his muscles, I enjoyed the view while walking the slight slope in the hillside that paralleled the Colorado run off river. Yesterday, Deputy “Hyper” had said that people hiking the Bright Angel Trail would want to stop by the riverbed about 1.5 miles into their hike to cool off before continuing the journey to the top.
View after walking a mile on the Bright Angel Trail.
As I walked up a few yards and then back down, Robby chirped that we were not going to meet back up with the river and that the Deputy was wrong, but I was fairly confident she was wrong and proved it when the trail split 2 miles away from Phantom Ranch: right .2 miles was the water, left 7.6 miles was the top of South Rim. Robby and I thought for a split second about turning left, but as it was still a tolerable 85 degrees and roughly 6:30 am, we didn’t really feel much like taking a dip. We turned left and walked into the gorge between the hills.
Vastly different from the South Kaibab Trail, The Bright Angel Trail is lush with trees and small running streams. Instead of the different rock shades of browns and reds the Kaibab trail offered, we got to see a different, livelier side of the Canyon. It’s amazing that from the top of the Canyon, looking down, I thought that there wasn’t much to this place. It’s vast and amazing because of how it was made, but it still looked like just an illusion. Multiple layers of mountains blending into one another and getting ghostlier in complexion the farther in the distance they stretch. I couldn’t touch the peaks or smell them, so their essence was strictly factious for me. A brief glimpse of a dream before one is woken.
The greeness of the Valley
By being in the Canyon, streaking my fingers along the bushes and rock’s sides , I was cementing this place in my mind. It was real, it was alive, and it was beautiful. Such wonders hidden inside, different at every step. I was glad I got a chance to hike both trails; both so different, showing the vast variety of life in the Canyon and allowing the hiker to appreciate Mother Nature that much more. My camera made an appearance frequently.
Little waterfall leading into a steam that flows along the bottom 3 miles of the Bright Angel Trail.
About 3.5 miles into the hike I realized that the incline of our little hike was now at about 10 or so degrees, the sun had risen and was starting to heat the rocks which would essentially turn me into a lobster regardless of my sunblock, and I’d just reach the Devil’s Corkscrew. There’s nothing I hate worse on a hike then switchbacks. I know they’re there to lessen the pressure on leg joints in a hiker, but they really and truly suck. Every time I come across a switchback I want to go off trail and just start climbing the cliff face because I’m fairly certain it would be more enjoyable and quicker, but probably much less safe. But then I never was very fond of “safe”.
Instead of going with my gut and bouldering my way to the top of the Canyon, I sucked it up (whatever it was that made me hate switchbacks) and walked back and forth, slowly gaining altitude. I passed a family taking a breather in a mini cave and pondered for a brief second over stopping, but I’d had momentum now and I didn’t think I had that much further to trek before hitting Indian Garden Rest Stop. I’d ditched Robby about 20 minutes beforehand. She was talking and walking slowly with an elderly lady we’d caught up to and I didn’t feel like killing my speed to walk behind them. There was only one way up, so Robby couldn’t really get lost.
20 mins after seeing the family, I started to wish I’d stopped. The Rest Stop didn’t seem to be getting closer and I was getting tired. I was pretty sure a blister was developing on my big toe, but I didn’t want to take my shoe off and check just yet. A few more minutes would surely lead me to my destination. 15 more minutes passed and I finally asked a lady coming down, “about how far is Indian Gardens?” “Oh, you’re almost there. About another 40 mins,” She smiled and was gone, down the way I’d come. 40 mins?!!!! What the hell? I had thought I’d hiked at least 4 miles at that point, but apparently I hadn’t. It had been about 2.5 hours, I was slow.
My goal for the day was to 1.) complete this 9.6 mile hike and 2.) beat the people riding the Mules. Since the Bright Angel Trail was also the trail that the mules walked up and down, I sure as hell didn’t want to be huffing and puffing so close from the top, yet so far when everyone else from our group passed by on their four-legged saviors, chuckling at my old lady hobble up the mountainside. No, I had to reach the top before the Mules. I had at least a 2 hours head start on the Mules and I was almost (I hoped) 4 miles ahead of them. That left 5.6 miles to complete by about 11 in the morning. I pushed my weariness to the back of my mind and troughed on. I was rewarded with wooden park benches and Omar 45 mins later.
A nice breather and a sip of Gatorade later, I was feeling better. Robby appeared about 10 minutes after me. She was still walking with the older woman, but ditched her for me to continue the rest of the journey. We knew that the next rest stop was only 2 miles up ahead and so we didn’t need to carry as much water as we had on the way down because there would be a water fountain. This made our backpacks slightly lighter. But at this point, I don’t think I could have felt the difference. I definitely wanted a massage or a hot tub at the top, at least a cold beer if nothing else.
View from 3 Mile Rest Stop.
At 3 Mile Rest Stop I fitted nicely into a wedge between two rocks and decided that this could very well be one of the best “rock” chairs I’d ever sat in. So comfortable I didn’t really want to get up, but I still had a deadline to motivate me into action. About 2 hours and counting before the Mules arrived at the top. Robby and I stopped long enough to eat some salty turkey jerky and the pancakes that I’d stolen from breakfast. At 5:30 in the morning the pancakes didn’t really taste like anything special, but at that moment in time, they were the best damn pancakes I’d ever had, and I don’t even like pancakes. More trekking, huffing, coughing as pack mules passed leaving choking dry dust in their wake, and sweating, we were at 1.5 Mile Rest House (yes, the Grand Canyon really abandoned all creative genius and named their rest stops the obvious. Lame. Just lame).
I think this was about the time that the heat started to get to me and I didn’t really want to move. I saw another couple of Mules packing out supplies and the thought of grabbing onto the end Mule’s tail to pull me up the rest of the mountain passed through my thoughts. I even considered trying to bribe the cowboy leading the Mules to give me a lift, but somehow I resisted the urge. I really did want to complete this journey on my own, unaided. I just didn’t want to at that particular moment in time. I guess somewhere deep down, I knew not to voice my exit options to the Mule guy because I knew I could do this on my own and I was going to prove myself right, no matter how tired I was or how painfully my calves were currently pulsing.
Robby, and her excessive whining (encouraging), helped a bit as well – “come on, just a little bit further. You can do it. Keep moving…” I looked up, taking my eyes off my rapidly turning salmon colored dusty hiking boots, and briefly wondered how she managed to get so far ahead of me and more briefly, how I ended up the slow one on this hike, but none-the-less I edged forward.
I don’t know why this hike seemed to drain my energy more then any other hike I’ve been on in the last few years, but it really sucked towards the end. It’s like the people who made the switchbacks in the trail got as bored as I got walking them as making then and decided to steepen the slope to make the trail shorter. This would have been fine by me had I not been utterly exhausted and the slope of the trail now heading upwards of a 40 degree angle. I think I had to stop and catch my breath every 100 yards for the last mile. It really sucked, but eventually Robby and I made it to the top of South Rim with most of our pride intact and no worse for wear besides a “few” sore muscles.
Robby and I looking deceivingly fresh after completing the 9.6 miles to the top of the South Rim.
The storm clouds that we’d watched for the last few hours slowly creeping over the canyon and gratefully hiding the sun from us, now decided to give us a lovely trail completion gift of rain. It was blissfully cool at the top of the canyon and now raining. We’d beat the mules by about 25 minutes and we’d hiked the Bright Angel Trail in a little less then 6 hours. It seems like a long time, but not too bad considering we hiked 7000 feet over 9.6 miles and with temperatures ranging from 80 degrees to 100 degrees. I’d say we did excellent.
Once everyone was together again, we all agreed that showers and food were a top priority. Robin, Robby, Leah and I ended up having a miss-moshed picnic in our room with all the random food that we’d all brought for this adventure. It turned out to be quite refreshing, especially when accompanied by a hot shower. It’s a little scary to glance down at your t-shirt and see crusty white stuff dried into the fabric and to then realize that that white stuff is not a deodorant accident, but salt…salt that your body produces and lives off of, but that you’ve managed to excrete through high exertion of activity. I downed a bottle of Gatorade and took a nap.
Later, when Robin, Robby and I woke up after our refreshing nap, we decided to go listen to the talk on Condors that one of the rangers was putting together. It took a little effort to walk up and down the steps to the Condor perch, mostly effort to maintain some perception of being in my twenties as apposed to my 70’s but I think I managed it. My legs were beyond stiff and my calves felt like giant grapefruits were embedded in them. This would have been cool if the grapefruits were defined muscle, but no, they were constricting muscle spasming from overexertion.
While listening to the talk, I learned that the Grand Canyon is not only a world renowned hiking joint, but a place for rehabilitating and extending the breed of Condors. Condors are becoming extinct, so the Canyon and its rangers found a way to help stop the downhill spiral. They realized that when condors find a mate, they stick with that bird for the rest of their lives. The condors will lay one egg and care for the baby, teaching it how to fly and eat, for a year before setting them on their own. They lay about three eggs in their lifetimes. Rangers also observed that when said egg mysterious vanishes from the condor’s nest, they’ll cry and then they’ll lay another egg. When the next egg vanishes, they’ll lay a third and final egg. The condors will raise their third child, while the rangers raise the first two, helping to repopulation the species. It’s a vicious and cruel cycle, but effective.
Since the rangers don’t want the baby condors to associate humans as their mothers, they feed them with a fake and kind of realistic looking condor puppet head. They also try and care the newborns of any affections they might be developing towards humans, so that when they’re released back into the wild, they’ll be animals with a healthy dose of fear for the biggest predator of all…us. That was about all I learned from the lecture as the bugs started to eat me and I turned my attention to their extinction.
We ventured to the General Store after the condor talk to see what goodies were there, to buy souvenirs, and to find some food before going to see the sunset with the rest of the group. We drove out to Lipton Point and watched the reds and oranges weave their colors through the incoming storm clouds and disappear behind the darkening grey mountains. Jumping photos were a must as well as a comedic act when we convinced four 50-somethings women to do a jumping pose of their own. See, the magic of a jumping photo is not totally lost on the young.
We stayed at the lookout point long enough to realize there’s no green spark right before the sun disappears over the crest of a mountain and then we hopped (slowly eased) back into the cars and headed to the El Tovar pub. It was our last night to all be together and we wanted to enjoy it with a nice draft or cocktail. Robby and I would be heading to Page, AZ in the morning; Tomaya, who had the misfortune to be needed at work in two days, would be driving back to California on her own; and everyone else would be driving to the North Rim of the Canyon to spend a few more days hiking and relaxing before they resumed their normal lives.
Since the majority of our traveling companions thought that Robby and I looked like invalids, they dropped our asses off in front of the Bar while the rest of them went to park the cars back at our hotel and walk the half mile to come meet us. Apparently we were doing a fantastically horrible job of walking normal and had now fallen into the pitied gimp category. While we waited, we secured two tables, a bunch of chairs and ordered drinks. Once everyone showed up we shared pictures and stories of our adventures down and up the canyon. Most of the Mule riders wanted to come back another time and actually put their legs to good use. Robby said she wanted to try hiking from the North Rim (14 miles to Phantom Ranch) to the South Rim (23.6 miles total). I think I just wanted to be able to sit and stand without using arm rails or the offered bicep.
Most everybody, besides Robby and I, decided they were going to go on the ranger lead tour in the morning that consisted of hiking down to the mysterious bathroom on the South Kaibab trail and then back up. It sounded like pure hell to me, especially since I knew what the stairs looked like to get them all back to the top of the canyon. Robby and I said we would wait for them to come back and then we’d head out to the Tusayan Ruins together because they were on the way out of the park and towards the North Rim and Page, AZ. The ruins would be the start of Robby and my’s archeology leg of our trip and a parting of ways from the group leg of the journey.
The drinking continued for a bit more before we all bid each other goodnight and headed to our rooms. All and all, it turned out to be a lovely end to a lovely day, despite the giant hike up a hill and the effort it took to get me to complete said walk. Who knows, I could still be sitting in the shade about 1.3 miles from the top of the Canyon munching on my remaining pancake and watching the rain slowly wash away the sandstone if it hadn’t been for a little encouraging from Robby and a ridiculous goal I set for myself.
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