Vacation Autoreply

Grand Canyon Royal Arch Route

2011-05-01T19:15:00.006-04:00

Royal Arch Route, April 16-22 2011

Trip participants: Andrew Douglas, Jennifer Koermer, Roger Soucek, and I.

Full photo gallery is on my Smugmug page

GPX map file available at Everytrail

Overview:
Royal Arch was a Grand Canyon destination that was on my list of places to see in the canyon, but which was pushed to the top by my friend Jennifer. We’d been discussing a Thunder River/Deer Creek trip, but after thinking that one over we switched to Royal Arch. The trip was supposed to be a challenge, but I thought that given my past experiences in the canyon it shouldn’t be too big a problem. In the end, the trip was much harder than I expected, but getting to see Royal Arch was pretty cool. We put in for and received a permit in December for our first-choice April dates. The participants were Jennifer and her boyfriend Andrew, their neighbor Roger, and I. Jennifer and I had done a simple North Kaibab trip in 2006; she and Andrew spent 3 weeks on the river last summer, with a lot of day hikes from the river. Roger also had done a river trip before, hiking in to meet a trip at Phantom Ranch.

This was the first trip I’ve done in some time that wasn’t a solo, and I was glad of that. This trip would be very challenging alone. We all read up pretty heavily on the trip and were a surprised by the difficulty at some places. Royal Arch is always noted as requiring a short rappel along the route; that rappel was actually one of the easier points. The route is not always hard to follow, though there are places where there are several possible routes around obstacles. There are also quite a number of false trails or trails where enough people have missed a switchback to create a short path to nowhere.

Overall, a good trip, but a hard one and one that shouldn’t be lightly undertaken.

The trip:
We flew into Las Vegas from NJ, picking up a 4WD Chevy Yukon for the reportedly-bad road to the South Bass trailhead. After a night in Williams, AZ, and a few hours of general sight-seeing in the Park, we headed out for the trailhead, following Park Service directions. The directions were serviceable, and the road was in generally good shape. It looked like one vehicle had gone ahead of us by a few days, digging deep ruts in the muddy road. If not for these ruts and a couple of wet places, the road would have been in excellent condition. We crossed the Havasupai reservation boundary without seeing anyone (and wouldn’t on the way out, either, saving us $25) and continued out Pasture Wash Road. Leaving reservation land the road degraded, but still wasn’t too bad- it is too narrow for two cars to pass on this section, but we didn’t have any problem with that.

At the trailhead we were surprised by the number of vehicles, and that a couple of them were passenger cars. I think the road was in pretty good shape, but I’d be hesitant about driving out there in some of the compact cars we saw. Still, it was in better shape than the road to Tuweep on the north rim, which at the time I drove it was “passenger car capable”, according to the Park Service.

There are a couple of picnic tables at the trailhead, and a great view down the South Bass trail. The Powell Plateau, on the north side, is visible; though it took us a little time with the map to decide that was really its identity. There are a couple of decent tent sites, and probably more if you look around. We camped here, sharing space with a man heading down the South Bass and then east, toward Hermit.

Day One:

We started out early on Sunday; officially we were heading for the point where the Royal Arch Route splits off from the Esplanade Trail, dropping into Royal Arch creek. We were all hoping to go farther, maybe even making the arch that first night.

The South Bass trail, rebuilt a few years ago, is in good shape, better than any of the other non-corridor trails from the South Rim. It drops quickly, one long straight run taking it most of the way through the brief Kaibab section and then Toroweap rock layers, then a slightly harder section through the Coconino. In here, the trail passes the squared openings of an Anasazi granary, well preserved just above the trail.

Soon the trail hits the Esplanade, the plateau that stretches in the Supai rocks in this portion of the canyon. The Esplanade Trail splits off the South Bass, heading north & west. It’s well defined and easy to follow, with small trees breaking up the rock and wide views all around. Mount Huethawali sits on the Esplanade, a major landmark that we’ll spot again in a few days when we reach Copper Canyon.

The Esplanade is very pretty territory, but it’s largely exposed and without shade. The April temperatures we experienced were high for the season, near records on a few days. I think more than anything the heat was responsible for increasing the difficulty of this trip. Ten degrees cooler and it would have been a lot easier; ten degrees hotter would have been dangerous. I wouldn’t want to try this trip in July or August.

The trail contoured around several points. As we’d been told likely, we found water in pools at Seep Spring, just above the trail past Chemehuevi Point. We continued, passing Toltec Point and starting around Montezuma Point. Around here, I started to flag pretty badly. I’d probably pushed my pace too hard early in the day and now I was hitting a wall. We’d all pretty well decided by then that we weren’t going all the way to the arch that day; now we started looking for a place for the night.

It was also around this point that I think the Esplanade Trail and the Royal Arch Route split apart. I never really saw a break, but after a short distance of following a fading trail coming out of one drainage, I looked out to see a lower plateau with a trail on it. The trail I was on was real, but I think rarely used; we moved back and found a few cairns leading down onto the lower plateau and took a break.

Jennifer and I sat in shade for about a half-hour while Andrew & Roger looked ahead. They returned, telling us that there was water and some campsites not far ahead. They’d dropped their packs at that spot, now Andrew carried mine. (Thanks Andrew!) We continued around, this section of trail getting markedly rougher than any to this point. Eventually we reached what we realized was the branch of Royal Arch Creek that we were supposed to be following and made camp for the night. There was good water and a few decent campsites, so it worked for us.

Day Two:

The next morning I took off a little earlier than the rest, starting down the creek. A well-cairned trail led to the left of the creek and I followed that, soon reaching a steep set of switchbacks down into the creek bed proper. There are several different cairned routes down this hillside, so I sat there for a bit directing the rest of the group down the easier-appearing routes. None were really hard, but some were harder than others.

The creekbed turns, heading toward a junction with another branch of the Royal Arch Creek. The Park Service route description says that at this point you reach an impassable pouroff, with a short but difficult bypass to the left and a longer but less dangerous route to the right. We went by a number of possible impassable pouroffs, none of which were really all that impassable, before finding the real one. The drop is probably about 40’-50’, and there was an anchor rigged for a rappel. If you’re carrying enough rope, doing a rappel at this point looked like a good option. Otherwise there are the bypass trails. To the left the trail is easily visible branching right out from the top of the drop. It doesn’t go very far before turning into a narrow ledge that quickly disappears; we didn’t like that way. Jennifer looked around and found the right bypass, which starts further back and continues for some way out above the creek.

We went that way. The route isn’t too bad, though it’s narrow in a couple of places. In one, there’s a small hole you have to crawl through under a large rock; we passed packs ahead of us. The trail goes out quite a ways, before dropping over the side down steep switchbacks. At a couple of places we felt more comfortable passing packs rather than wearing them down; the more daring can probably go for it.

Be aware that this is a place with an alternate, or false, trail. Leading, I missed the cairn marking the route down. I followed other cairns out toward the creek intersection and was called back. As the trail I was on was petering out, I went back; I’m not sure if the trail I followed was a real alternate or not.

The Park Service route description has a memorable sentence at this point: “…normally this section offers something like hassle free hiking.” Um. Yeah, sure. If this is hassle free, I don’t want to see hassles.

Below the creek junction you follow the creekbed, sometimes going just above on bypasses where the creekbed is blocked. We’d only gone a few miles today, but all of our legs were tired from the large bypass. At least it clouded up today, and wasn’t as hot. This might be an observation from an overweight suburban desk-jockey, but this wasn’t hassle free. There are quite a few places where you have to squeeze past, climb over, or work around obstacles. It’s possible we missed side trails, but mostly the geography wouldn’t allow for them; also, we were usually following cairns. There are several places where we felt more comfortable taking packs off and passing them down; again, others may be ok wearing them.

Eventually we reached a spot where the trail met up with water in the creek, and where the creek dropped through a section of thinly-layered stones. This section didn’t look too bad, but there was one point where I got very uncomfortable. You must work your way around on a very narrow ledge, chest pressed against the rock, with very poor, crumbly hand-holds. It’s not a long fall, maybe 10’, but it would hurt.

Just below here the creek dropped into a waist-deep pool; we all changed to water-shoes and waded through. I’d guess that this pool is around in all but the driest weather. Below here are some more wet spots that we waded through, not changing back to hiking boots; these spots probably dry up quickly.

After only a few hundred more yards we reached Royal Arch itself.

You don’t get much of a long-view of the arch; pretty much, you turn a corner and there it is. It’s a big carved section of rock, probably 50’ wide and 80’ tall to the bottom of the arch; the arch is probably another 40’ thick. The tiny little creek that carved this winds innocently through it; it’s hard to believe that this water carved this arch.

Just below the arch is a giant phallic rock monument, one of the biggest hoodoos in the Grand Canyon. It’s as tall as the arch, and equally impressive.

Past the monument the creek drops, a steep fall down into Elves Chasm almost 200’ below. I didn’t explore much this way, but some people do take a long rappel this way down into Elves. It’s variously described as 100’, 150’, or 200’; all of those are a little high for my rock skills.
We ate dinner at the arch and camped under it. It’s a great spot. There are a lot of loud frogs, but most of them gave up during the night. The near-full moon, bright enough to be annoying the first night, lit the canyon beautifully but was blocked by the arch from hitting my tent. This was the first night I slept well on this trip.

Day Three: goal Toltec Beach and (maybe) Elves Chasm.

Even in the morning I wasn’t sure that I’d be up for the trip to Elves , though I knew that Andrew and Jennifer wanted to revisit a place they’d been to on their river trip. We headed back up the creek, looking for the point that a trail would break off to the east and climb above the creek. We hadn’t spotted the trail on the way down yesterday, but weren’t too concerned.

One note about going back up canyon- near the point where we’d had to start wading, and at the point of crumbly rock that I hadn’t liked, there’s one large rock blocking the creek. Going down it had been almost unnoticed; on the uphill it’s more of an obstacle. I’ve since heard from people who’ve left a webbing strap in place when going downhill to make the return easier. This rock is smooth, and not very high- the issue is the smoothness. It’s hard to get a grip on going uphill, and it takes a little bit of scrambling.

Soon we found the trail up out of the creekbed. It’s steep, and like many trails around here it’s got lots of loose rocks underfoot. It climbs quickly, reaching a trail above that parallels the creek, going right above Royal Arch. The monument is easier to spot, but once you’ve seen that the arch stands out.

Beyond there, the trail curves around and begins a long, pretty, and not difficult (though hot) descent along a green expanse of (I think- I had some trouble with rock layers on this trip) Tapeats sandstone. There are good river views, and great canyon scenery through here.

Before too long the trail drops over into a side canyon and you reach the much-discussed rappel of the Royal Arch Route. It’s described variously as 10’-25’; looking back at pictures I’d go with 15’ or a little higher. There seem to be few good pictures of this point on the web, and looking back at mine I didn’t do any better. It’s on a narrow ledge with no real long view possible; there really isn’t much to take a picture of. There was a solid anchor around rock, and a new rope had been left. Looking it over, we didn’t break out the rope we’d brought. Andrew dropped over first, followed by our packs. I followed and was able to get pictures of Roger & Jennifer dropping down. It really wasn’t a big deal, though there’s always that moment of fear dropping over the edge.

Had we looked closer before dropping the packs we might have decided to just drop them further on the rope- below the rappel is another ledge, and carrying the packs down looked hard. We passed them down, then continued.

Below here the trail begins a relentless descent to Toltec, the small beach at the mouth of a wash on the Colorado, well below Toltec Point. For much of the descent our party needed to spread well apart, keeping the loose rock from bouncing down on those ahead. Eventually the rock ends at the top of a sand hill; descending this was more like glissading than hiking.
We reached Toltec by noon. Roger & I looked around and decided that it was a nice place for the afternoon. Andrew & Jennifer decided to continue up to Elves while Roger & I sat in the shade of a big rock and rested our feet in the cold river.

Late in the day a large group of 9, older boy scouts and their leaders, showed up at Toltec. We’d seen them while climbing out of Royal Arch (some of them, thinking we were in their party, shouted “Come back!”) and now they’d caught up. They were very nice about not taking up too much space, and were decent neighbors. Eventually Andrew and Jennifer came back, having given up and sat in the shade short of Elves, deciding the various crossing trails weren’t worth following.

Day Four, heading for Copper Canyon.

We had good reason to believe that there would be water in Copper, given that all of the “seasonal” sources had worked out for us. We were carrying pretty heavy water loads though, just in case.

Heading out from Toltec, a cairned route takes you along the hillside above the river. Right off, this trail is harder than you’d expect. There’s a lot of up & down, often poor footing, and many of the large rocks along the trail have big nasty sharp pointy teeth. I’m not sure what they are- some kind of black volcanic rock, I think, but whatever they are, they hurt to put a hand on for balance.

A mile or so up river we reached Garnet Canyon. Here, the trail turns well back into the drainage and climbs. Pools of water were visible in a few places, but by all reports the water in Garnet should be avoided- it’s heavy with minerals, and even after filtering is known to cause “intestinal distress”. We skipped that part.

The climb up Garnet is well cairned, and near the top there’s a good shady rest point before going over the top. Once on top (well, it probably really starts at the creekbed in Garnet) you’re on the Tonto Trail proper. Most people treat the trail along the river from Elves to this point as the Tonto, but technically it doesn’t start until climbing up onto the Tapeats sandstone layer.
If you’ve hiked any of the Tonto, this section will be familiar. I was happy to see it after the condition of the trail from Toltec to Garnet. The Tonto goes up & down in short sections, rarely more than 25’ or 50’ at a time, mostly adding extra steps going out & around headlands and into drainages rather than gaining or losing too much elevation.

It is, however, exposed and hot. Only back in some of the drainages is there shade worth using.

Into the afternoon and I started flagging again. I rested for a while in the last major drainage before Copper, sitting for a half-hour in the shade and letting the rest of the party go ahead. I’d have stayed longer, but it clouded up and cooled a little, so I took the opportunity to go.
Eventually I reached Copper Canyon, finding my friends in a side drainage toward the back of Copper, where the Tonto crossed the canyon. They’d explored up & downstream, finding water in pools a couple hundred yards upstream from the camp. We also could now see Mt. Huethawali again, an old friend at the head of the canyon. We’d have to go around into Bass, the next major canyon, to actually get up there.

Tired, we all ate some and crashed for the night. My campsite was just barely the size of my tent, but it was enough. There looked to be a few more toward the other side of the creek that I spotted on the way out the next day, but I really hadn’t been in the mood to look the night before.

Day Five: heading back to the Esplanade.

On the trail the day before it felt like my pack kept getting heavier. Looking at it this day, I saw why- the lightweight pack had its waist-belt sewn to the pack, with no reinforcement to speak of. Now that join was failing. I put the pack on, feeling the extra weight on my shoulders, and took off.

We made good time up from Copper and around the headland below Tyndall Dome, hitting the trail junction to either head down to Bass Rapids or up toward the trailhead. We chose up. By here, my shoulders were killing me. Taking the pack off, Jennifer started experimenting and soon created a webbing splint for the waist belt, letting it take most of the weight of the pack again.

We continued up, eventually reaching the junction of the Tonto with the South Bass Trail. After a short rest most of the group followed; I stayed a few more minutes. I noticed then that I’d dropped my pack about 2’ from a pink Grand Canyon rattlesnake; he didn’t seem bothered so I didn’t either.

Continuing from here the trail heads uphill with little respite. It’s not terribly steep, but it does keep going. It’s tiring, but it’s not as much of a killer as many of the other trails. Again, this section of the South Bass shows the fine work that was done a few years back to rebuild the trail.

Eventually I reached the deepest penetration of the canyon, then turned on a switchback to continue uphill. Around here I was passed by a couple going downhill- a man with more, and heavier, camera gear than I carry, and a woman who was already struggling. They wanted to make it to the Tonto that night; I told him that they should camp at one of the several nice sites along the trail.

Going uphill I could see the last switchback before hitting the Esplanade, but I couldn’t really judge the distance. I pulled out my GPS to check it, and was surprised to discover that somehow I’d gone about 25 miles, and I was now near Wotan’s Throne on the north side of the Colorado. No wonder I was tired. I tried to let the GPS catch up, but gave up after 10 minutes.

I was extremely disappointed with my GPS on this trip. I had a new Delorme PN-60w with Spot Communicator. In the past I’ve carried a Garmin CX and separate Spot unit, but I’d liked the idea that with the paired devices I could send short text messages via satellite, instead of just “I’m ok” or “send help”. The reality wasn’t so good. The Garmin always did ok in the canyon, even in narrow spots like 75-Mile Canyon. South Bass, where the Delorme lost it completely, is pretty open. Beyond that, the battery life of the GPS when paired with the Spot was awful- only a little over a day with lithium batteries, not the 3-4 days I’d grown used to. End mild rant.

Around 5 pm I crested onto the Esplanade, finding the rest of the party spread out and setting up camp. It’s a great spot, though it was pretty windy, as is common on the plateaus in the canyon. You also have to keep an eye out for the large patches of cryptobiotic soil, a black crusty ground that helps keep the soil from blowing or washing away and is very fragile.

Day Six: hike out.

The last day we only had a couple of miles, and about 1200’ of elevation to go. Roger & I, up early, headed out at around 6. The trail meanders across the Esplanade before reaching the junction with the Esplanade Trail, heading back for Royal Arch. We discussed doing another loop, but decided that since the permit was expiring that we shouldn’t.

The climb up wasn’t that bad, though I took it slow. I got to the top to find Roger talking with a couple of new groups who were heading out, one to Royal Arch, and the other to explore the Esplanade. We both cleaned up, joined soon by Jennifer and Andrew, then headed back up Pasture Wash road to Tusayan, then on to Vegas.

Grand Canyon '09- Tanner-Escalante-New Hance

2009-05-10T12:41:00.007-04:00

A slideshow of pictures is here, or the full gallery here.

GPS track of this trip is available at Everytrail.com

Sunday April 19 I began this year's Grand Canyon backpacking trip, a five night trip down the Tanner Trail, west across the Escalante Route, then up the New Hance Trail. I'd been on the Tanner and New Hance before; Escalante was new to me, with lots of references to sections that required climbing and maybe hauling the backpack up or down on a rope, and regular reports of challenging route finding. I didn't find it that bad, with only minor route-finding challenges, and for me the toughest parts of the trip were on the always-challenging New Hance while hiking out.

I dropped my pack at the Tanner Trailhead at Lipan point about 5, then drove to park the car at Moran Point, about a mile from the New Hance trailhead. The day before I'd given a ride from Lipan to the New Hance trailhead to a guy who'd dropped his car there, on his way to start an ill-advised afternoon trip down the New Hance; I was hoping that the karma would get me a ride back to the trailhead. I'd walked about 20 minutes when a park maintenance man picked me up, saving me a long walk.

At 6am, just as the sun rose, I stepped out onto the Tanner Trail.

Tanner drops steeply, with many switchbacks, through the Kaibab and Toroweap rock layers, then into the Coconino. The Coconino sections of most trails are a challenge; in late 2007 a rock slide destroyed a large section of the Tanner Trail, closing it for several months. The Park Service crew did a great job restoring this area, building large boulders into staircases and trying to stabilize sections of the slide. I'm not sure that it won't slide further and deteriorate, but right now it's pretty good.

Below there, the trail drops further until reaching the saddle separating Tanner Canyon from 75-Mile Canyon, at Stegosaurus Rocks. There's a great view here down 75-mile, and several places that would be great campsites.

After here, the trail begins a long rolling run out the ridge below Escalante and Cardenas Buttes. There's some up and down, reminiscent of the Tonto Trail, but overall there isn't much elevation change until you reach the Redwall break, about 2.5 miles out. Before the Redwall drop there's another great area for camping, on the north side of the trail. Hiking out the Tanner in 2006 my friends and I had a great night here- the views aren't quite the equal of what they'd have been if we'd camped right at the top of the Redwall, but the wind was less.

At the point where the trail drops over the Redwall there's an obvious side trail continuing out & up the ridge. It's a short climb to the Redwall overlook, one of the more spectacular viewpoints in the canyon. It's also a good camping spot, though as noted earlier, it's always windy out there.

At the overlook I took stock- unsure of how long it would take to get from my car back to the trailhead, I'd decided to carry enough water to get me through a dry night of camping above the Redwall if I couldn't make the entire trail. It was now about 10am, and I was about halfway to the river. Clearly I'd have plenty of time to get to the river, so I dumped the two extra liters I was carrying, saving me 4.4 pounds. That helped on the challenging Redwall descent.

The trip down the Redwall on the Tanner is probably the hardest section of the trail. It's steep, constantly switching back, and features approximately 25% of the loose rocks in the universe under your feet, trying to make you slip. It's slow and painfull on the knees and feet. My legs, already sore from a dayhike to Phantom Ranch two days earlier, objected quite a bit. This is probably where I also jammed a big toe a little too far into my boot, bruising it under the nail. It would be black & blue and sore most of the trip, improving until I got home. A week later it exploded again, obviously infected. A trip to the doctor showed it to be MRSA; with antibiotics and the loss of the nail it's starting to feel more or less normal now, two weeks later.

Below the Redwall the trail becomes a steadily descending trip along the side of a hill. The view is fantastic, but it seems to take much longer than it should. The destination is in view for almost the entire trip, but it takes forever to get there. It isn't a particularly challenging hike, but it's wearing after the earlier miles of trail.

Eventually the trail drops into and crosses the bed of Tanner Creek, then hits the Tanner campground. There's a composting toilet here, with several unimpressive campsites nearby; I took a small one very near where the trail drops to the campground. I'd see the next day that there are several nicer sites on the north side of the creek- farther from the toilet, though that isn't a bad thing.

The rest of the afternoon was about lying in the shade relaxing, chatting some with a group who came in a few hours later.

Monday was a short day, just a quick hop to the mouth of Cardenas Creek. I did have a visitor for breakfast, a small snake coiled up under my hiking poles. It didn't move throughout my breakfast or while I packed up, never even reacting as I picked up the poles and headed out.

breakfast guest

North of Tanner Creek the Escalante Route begins, clearly defined by lines of rocks on either side. It follows the beach for a bit, then heads uphill to clear one of the several unnamed side creeks in this part of the canyon. It's never high above the river, and it was one of the easiest trail sections I've taken in the canyon.

I reached Cardenas Creek by about 10am and settled in for some serious relaxation on the beach.

I spent the rest of the day there, reading "Dune" (the perfect Grand Canyon book) and watching rafters float by. One offered me a beer; it hurt to turn it down, but I really didn't want to add the glass bottle to my pack. I had another snake visitor, this time a much larger Canyon Rattlesnake that slipped past as I ate lunch, disappearing into the reeds along the river.

Late in the afternoon, back at my tent a little away from the river, I heard the sounds of another group; I presumed it was a rafting party. I never saw them until the next morning, though. In fact, I wouldn't see any other hikers the entire time I was on the Escalante- the only people I saw were rafting parties. Until Wednesday the longest conversations I had were quick "hellos" back & forth with rafts.

Tuesday was a longer day, aiming for the beach at Escalante Creek. West of Cardenas the trail climbs a hill of Dox sandstone, staying above the river. It curves around, heading back into the largest of the unnamed drainages along the trail. As it starts to head back, there's a section of trail prominently visible just to the west of the trail you'll be on at that point. How you reach it isn't as obvious, but it looks to be down a short drainage. I went that way, only to find that it was a side trail, leading to an overlook above the Unkar Delta. The view is nice, and it's a quick detour, but if you're in a hurry skip this side trail.

Also in this general area- I'm not going to be specific, and I've removed the track from the GPS I've posted- is a side trail to Anasazi ruins. That's a longer trip, and slightly harder, but well worth it. The ruins are interesting, with a commanding view- one theory of their use was as a lookout- I'd buy that. The ruins are plainly visible on Google Earth, and popular with dayhiking raft parties, but still deserve protection and respect.

Escalante goes back into the unnamed drainage seemingly forever. It doesn't look like much on the map, but it keeps going back and further up until it feels like you're going halfway back to the rim. You do gain about 1200', but it feels like much more. Eventually you hit the back of the drainage, turning back out toward the river but still climbing. It looks like the trail is going all the way back up the the Tapeats, but actually it stays a little below, contouring out of the side canyon. You can clearly see the break in the Tapeats called "Butchart's Notch", a short cut that looks pretty reasonable from the east side, but looks a lot steeper around the other side.

Once around the point, you're above Escalante Canyon. You continue back some distance, then drop into the creekbed. The trail goes into the bed, but quickly climbs out the other side- if you continue down the creekbed you'll come to a sudden drop over a pouroff about 100' high. Sticking to the trail you detour around this, eventually dropping into the creekbed again at a much lower point.

There are nice campsites on either side of the creek; I chose one well upstream, on a sandy beach above the Colorado. Though today's hike was longer and harder than Monday's, I was still relaxing on the beach by 1. Late in the afternoon a river trip went by in dories- I hadn't realized that they were used commercially. It looked like fun.

Wednesday, another short day, but one that made me a little aprehensive. Today would be 75-Mile creek, reportedly a spectacular slot canyon that required several short climbs. The trail from Escalante climbs slightly above the river, starting out on a wire-rope & wood ladder set in the sand, then heading along the river to 75-Mile. It's an easy trip. At 75-Mile the trail turns left, up the side canyon, leading back about half a mile to the obvious point to enter the creekbed. I'd read several trip reports that suggested not going back this far, saying it was better to drop into the canyon at one of a couple of breaks where a scramble down a hillside lets you reach the creekbed. I'm not convinced of this- the trip back into the canyon probably didn't take much longer than a careful scramble would require, and the section of 75-Mile from the easiest creekbed entry is truly spectacular.

The "climb" of about 15' down into the creekbed was actually very easy. I'm sure that some people would be uncomfortable, as it looks steeper from above than it really is, given the lack of contrast in some of the rock. I was fine with it- I never felt insecure with my pack on at any point along the Escalante, and never wanted to raise or lower it with the rope I brought along.

The creekbed winds sinuously down toward the river, ranging from less than 10' to more than 20'. The bands of sculpted rock are beautiful.

There's one other short drop, again, fairly easy to negotiate. After that, a boulder about 3' tall probably poses no obstacle to most people. Me, I had trouble. My toe was aching, as was the ankle of that foot- I've long had a problem with it, a stress fracture that's never healed quite right. Trying to get down past this boulder without hurting that foot further I managed to scrape both arms, one leg, and land hard on the bad foot. So much for careful.

Eventually the canyon emerges at a beach on the river. I thought about camping here, exploring the canyon more later in the day with different light, but I decided to press on to Papago Beach, a little under a mile away. Papago, with a serious climb and drop, is reputed to be the worst section of the Escalante Route, and I wanted to start it early the next day.

At 75-Mile an obvious cairned, rock-lined trail leads up the hill from the beach; I took it. This was one point where I'm unsure that I took the correct, or at least easiest, section of the Escalante. The beach from 75-Mile reaches about halfway to Papago, and from the high trail I could see a low trail continuing. At the end of the beach the trail did climb a little, but the high trail that I was on had climbed about 200' above the river. It's probably a personal preference thing- overall I'd rather do a trail that's on rock, even if it changes elevation quite a bit, instead of a long hike on soft beach sand. In this case, though, that low trail looked very easy.

At Papago, the high trail dropped steeply to the beach. The infamous Papago Wall, climbing the opposite side, had been visible for quite a distance. It's difficult to actually judge how high the wall is.

The equally infamous Papago Slide is visible a little downstream, but only the bottom- the real extent of that obstacle can only be seen from the top.

Papago Wall is generally called out as about 50' tall. I think that's probably reasonable, though it looks shorter until you see someone climbing it, and get perspective. The steep section actually starts about 10' up, after an easy scramble to a high ledge. I watched a raft party climb up, but I'd leave my exploration of that wall for the next day. I probably should have scouted it, and explored Papago canyon, but given the aches in my foot I chose to spend a day lying in some shady rocks looking out at the river.

At Papago beach, there's a wonderful campsite just downstream of the rapids, though I skipped it- there's a nice little bay that looked like a prime boater destination, and I really wasn't interested in camping with a river party. I chose a nice site, a little rocky and potentially wet in a flash flood, as it was just outside of the main channel of Papago Creek. Still, it was about the best of the alternatives.

The mouth of Papago Canyon looks like it will lead to something like 75-Mile, but only a few feet in you hit a wall of rock, smoothed by years of water. It's probably 15' tall; to go farther back into the canyon you have to climb the wall.

As I expected, a river pary did camp there that night; we chatted a little, but didn't really socialize. This was the first real conversation I'd had since Monday. They'd been on a wait list for a permit for 12 years, and had secured this one in a cancellation lottery.

Thursday my goal was to complete the Escalante Route, then start hiking out Red Canyon up the New Hance trail. My foot ached in the morning, so I took the last remaining Tylenol with codeine from oral surgery a few years ago. It must have still been good, as all the pain left pretty quickly. Or maybe it was a really good placebo.

Papago Wall was a little challenging with a pack on, but I hadn't loaded up with water, figuring it best to keep it as light as I could until I reached the other side. There are a plenty of handholds, but no good route that I saw straight up the wall- it was more like climb about halfway, then work laterally a few feet, then climb again. About 50' up you hit a level point and it settles down. The trail then climbs up and around, another one of those trails that seems to climb forever. My GPS track shows that the trail climbs over 300' above the river. GPS altitude, especially in a canyon, is never that acurate- it can't get a good 3D fix. I think it probably was 150'-200'.

You climb that height, then you hit Papago Slide.

After all of the fears I had about climbs on this trip that turned out to be overstatements, I think the Slide was the one that actually turned out worse than I expected. It's generally called out as being about 75'. I think that's a serious understatement and it may be as much as double that, if you measure all the way to the river, though you can get clear of it above that height. It's a chute, filled with rocks ranging from pebbles up to multi-ton boulders, a great many of which are loose and ready to shift as you put weight on them.

The best route down, at least right now, is sticking to the upriver side of the chute for most of the drop, until you hit a blockage that has stabilized that section of the slide. Crossing that, I continued down the downstream side. There's a point not far below here where the chute opens up on the downstream side, and a high trail picks up heading downstream. I don't recall my decision making at this point, but I could also see a low trail, so I continued further down the slide to there. this turned out to be a mistake- the upper trail would have been the better choice- both converge at a midpoint not far away, and the lower trail requires much more negotiation of the slide, as well as then passing through some nasty thorns.

Clear of the slide, the trail is an easy walk through sometimes dense riparian vegetation to the mouth of Red Canyon.

I relaxed just above Hance Rapids, watching some kayaks and rafts negotiate the rapids while I tanked up on water. My goal for the night was a dry camp above the Redwall, so I'd need water for two days of hiking along with dinner & breakfast. For me, that's about 8 liters, or 18 pounds. My pack was now almost as heavy now as it had been at the start of the trip.

I'd hiked the New Hance in 2002, my first backcountry trip in the canyon. From there we'd gone downstream to Hance Creek and Horseshoe Mesa, then out the Grandview Trail. This would be my first trip up the New Hance. It has always stuck in my head as the hardest canyon trail I'd done; my friend Keely, who'd been on the 2002 trip on New Hance and 2006 on Tanner wasn't sure which was tougher. After this trip, I have no doubt that New Hance is harder. Tanner is longer, more tiring, but New Hance is just tough.

From the river it runs up the creekbed with occasional bypass trails to either side. The Park Service trail description says they're all on the east side; I found that to be not true. I'm not sure that all of the bypasses are really required, but some of them seemed to get me out of the loose gravel of the creekbed on better footing.

The trail winds uphill gently through the bright red rock of Red Canyon, the exposed remains of the Grand Canyon Supergroup, ancient rock layers that are only visible in a few places, like Red Canyon. In most of the canyon they were washed away by later seas before the newer rocks formed above them.

Near the point where the trail leaves the creekbed for good I met the first hiker I'd seen since Tanner Beach Tuesday morning, a woman I had a nice chat with. She'd lost some sandals on the way down and asked me to leave them in a visible spot if I saw them during my climb, as she was due to hike out the same trail. I did spot them, separatly, in the Redwall; I hope they didn't blow away in the wind that night and remained for her.

Past here, the New Hance begins a steady climb, wrapping around hills of loose stone. The footing isn't great- in 2002 this section really scared me- but it's similar to the lower sections of Tanner, and I was more comfortable this time. Eventually you hit the bottom of the Redwall and begin a serious climb. This section is a real challenge, the usual loose chunks of Redwall limestone making footing a little precarious if you aren't paying attention. Eventually you hit the top, the trail continuing upcanyon along/through the Supai layer for some distance.

The Supai was for tomorrow, though. It was only 2pm, and I thought that I could make it out if I tried, but I had the night left on my permit and didn't feel like pushing it. In retrospect that was probably the correct choice, but during the night I wasn't so sure.

It was windy on the point above the Redwall that I picked (as on the Tanner, any exposed point midway down the canyon is probably going to be windy) but that didn't surprise me. I staked the tent out pretty well at all 8 possible points, dropping heavy rocks over the stakes for some added security. The afternoon was pleasant, the sunset fantastic.

I settled into the tent before 8, with the wind really picking up. I slept a little, on & off, until about midnight. The wind was really up now, the tent noisy & bouncy. A little nervous, I got out of the tent and used rope to guy it back to two trees. Feeling better, I got back in. Within a half-hour, though, one of the slim lines connecting the rain fly to its stake gave way- the tent's movement abraded it against the rock I'd piled on top and it failed. The wind wasn't quite broad to the wide side of the tent, but it was close and each gust seemed to push the tent closer & closer to collapse. Sleep was impossible. After holding out for a little while I finally gave up. In the tent I stuffed as much as I could into bags, then got out of the tent into the wind. I stuffed what I could into my pack, collapsed the tent poles, then piled rocks on the tent to keep it from blowing away. I took my sleeping bag and curled up in the lee of a tree and its exposed root. It was actually more comfortable, less windy & quieter than the tent had been, but I got little sleep.

About 5am, the sky lightening, I gave up. Given the wind I didn't want to try to heat breakfast, I just ate a granola bar and packed. I thought I'd eat more when I got further up the trail, hopefully out of the wind. I was on the trail before 6.

At this point the New Hance winds through the Supai, generally staying low, just above the Redwall. There's some up & down, and the trail is sometimes not that obvious. Most of the time it contours around side drainages; at one of the larger of these I must have missed it climbing over a ridge and kept continuing out, off the trail. I realized pretty quickly that I was off the trail, but decided to climb over from where I was, rather than backtracking. The trail wasn't hard to intercept, but it probably would have been less effort overall to backtrack than it was to bushwhack through the stiff Supai growth.

Eventually the trail reaches the back of the Redwall drainage. There's a very nice campsite here, though it was still just as windy as where I'd camped. I ate a little, but while I was really hungry I didn't feel much like eating. I quickly continued uphill.

From here, the New Hance heads steadily uphill. No more of the up & down, just up. The trail is sometimes not entirely obvious, but I didn't have too much difficulty and never lost it, despite the fact that I've never felt like I have the best route-finding ability. I do remember losing the trail several times on the 2002 hike.

As the trail climbs, it heads toward a saddle between the rim and the massive Coronado Butte, the major feature visible from the New Hance trail. Before it quite reaches the saddle the trail steepens, turns away from Coronado, and heads up into the Coconino layer of rock.

Around here, Sinking Ship, a distinctive double-top butte that does sort of look like the superstructure of a sinking ship, comes into view. It's a sign that you're approaching the end of the trail.

Like most of the trails, the Coconino is steep & not that easy, but it didn't seem that long to me this trip. The route that the trail is going to take out is never quite visible here- from one switchback to the next you can't quite pick out where the trailhead is going to be. Working up the Coconino you hit the Toroweap, a section of softer, sloping rock, then finally reach the top layer, the Kaibab limestone.

On the New Hance, the Kaibab is one of the shorter layers, the trail leading up through a visible break.

Fairly quickly from here comes the top of the trail, followed by an easy walk through the woods to the road, about a quarter of a mile away.

I dropped my pack near the road, then took an easy walk the mile to Moran Point and my car. There is no parking at the trailhead (it's most easily spotted when driving by the No Parking signs) but there is closer parking than Moran- there's a fire road where parking is allowed about half a mile in the other direction from Moran, but I hadn't used it to shorten my distance for getting to the Tanner Trail on my hike into the canyon.

Back in "civilization" I headed straight to Wendy's and a bacon-cheeseburger, then drove to Kingman, Arizona for the night. It's a good spot, most of the way back to Las Vegas but relatively cheap and the staff at the Silver Queen motel never seems to look at me funny when I come in dirty & unshaven after a week in the canyon. Saturday, up to Las Vegas and the flight home to NJ.

For those who haven't seen it, the new bridge bypassing Hoover Dam is a pretty spectacular piece of engineering. It's been under construction for years now, and apparently is still a couple away from opening, but it's pretty cool.

Overall, despite the troubles of the last night and the bad foot, it was a really good trip. The Escalante was a challenge, but not nearly the difficulty level I'd been worried it might be. The scenery all along it was terrific, and for someone who likes to take vacations to get away from people, the solitude was terrific. It's a trip well worth taking.

Next up, 6 nights in Glacier National Park in late August/early September. The next trip for the canyon may be awhile- maybe next spring, maybe fall of 2010. That will probably be Nankoweap, a trail with a reputation much more difficult than New Hance.

Grand Canyon '09- The Warm Up Hikes

2009-05-10T11:18:00.006-04:00

In mid-April I spent 9 days at the canyon. The bulk of this was a backcountry trip on the Escalante Route; for warm ups I did a dayhike to Phantom Ranch and spent a relaxing day on the Rim Trail west of Grand Canyon Villiage.

A slideshow of pictures is on my Smugmug siteor visible as individual pictures.

Friday, April 17 I hiked the South Kaibab Trail to Phantom Ranch and back. This isn't a recommended hike for those without canyon experience.

I'd never done rim-to-river & back as a dayhike before, though many people do it. Without being ready for the strain, though, the hike can be a killer, literally. It's about a 15 mile round trip, almost 5000' vertical change in each direction.

I started at 5am, before sunrise, but with enough light in the sky that I didn't need a headlight. The South Kaibab drops quickly through a series of switchbacks, dropping down to Cedar Ridge, home to a resthouse.

Below the resthouse is another drop, then a long sloping decline below O'Neill Butte, named for one of Teddy Roosevelt's Rough Riders. After Skeleton Point the trail drops sharply again down the Redwall, toward the Tipoff.

At the Tipoff I spoke with a woman a few years my elder- she was on her regular dayhike down to the river, which she took about once a month. With guests due at 2 that afternoon, she was in a bit of a rush. If she could do it, so could I- after all, it was only 7 in the morning.

Below the Tipoff, dropping through the Tapeats & Vishnu of the layers of the canyon. Views into the inner gorge are terrific, almost straight down on Bright Angel Campground.

I got to the bottom about 8, and shortly thereafter made it to Phantom Ranch. For those who don't know the area, the South Kaibab, North Kaibab, and Bright Angel trails all come together at the bottom of the canyon, along the banks of Bright Angel Creek. Here is Bright Angel campground, with space for about 100, and Phantom Ranch, a collection of cabins & dorms available for rentals, usually reserved at least a year in advance, though there can be cancellations. There's also the Phantom Canteen, featuring the only cold beer for sale at the bottom of the canyon. At 8:15 in the morning, I went for a coffee and one of the t-shirts only available at the ranch, then turned around and headed out.

One of the "truisms" of hiking the canyon is that hiking uphill takes double the time of hiking downhill. I've never found this to be true; usually my speed is slower, but not by that extent.

This hike, it really did take twice the time.

At about 4pm I finally made it back up to the top. It was a long, tough climb for my sealevel lungs. There were also many more people, hundreds probably, on the trail, which didn't help my speed any, though it did give the excuse of being able to stop regularly to breathe and let them go by. (In Grand Canyon etiquette, the uphill hiker has the right-of-way, but I'm usually happy to take a break to let a downhill group go by.)

Saturday was a recovery day after that rough hike; it would only require about 8 miles of hiking along the rim. In 2008, as part of rebuilding the road to Hermit's Rest, the park worked on the rim trail, paving some portions of the existing trail and adding new bike/ped "greenways" for other parts.

At Powell Point, I saw that a great deal of work was being done on the site of the Orphan Mine, an old copper mine from prospector days that later became a major uranium mine, working until the late 1960's. There had been a large steel lift structure over the mine, an ugly but distinctive landmark visible for a long way from the inner canyon trails. Now, that structure is gone and most of the site is covered with a black material, held down by sandbags. I'd known work was in progress on cleaning up radioactive waste, but I didn't know it was that extensive.

Out to this point the trail had been about the same as I remember, though I think that it might be paved farther than it had in the past. The section around The Abyss, though, is now an 8' wide paved path for bikes & pedestrians; at Pima Point it narrows, but remains paved. The path is nice, but it's generally well back from the rim, with limited views. Luckily, the old rim trail is still there, except in sections where the new greenway lands on top of it.

The section from Pima Point to Hermit's Rest is probably my favorite section of the rim, as the trail winds back above Hermit Canyon. There are great views into & across this side canyon, over toward Dripping Springs, and downriver to Boucher Rapids, which I visited on last year's hike.

This trip, I did see something I never spotted before, somehow, even though it's pretty prominent. A collection of rusted iron hardware almost directly above the Hermit Creek Campground. In the days when Hermit Camp was a prime resort spot below the rim, there was some kind of cable tramway that carried supplies down; this, I think, was all that remains of that tram.

After Hermit's Rest, I drove out to some of the eastern viewpoints, looking down on the Tanner Trail and Escalante Route that I'd be starting Sunday. I met a hiker at Lipan Point- he'd just dropped off his car and was looking for a ride to meet friends at the New Hance trailhead; since I was hoping to get a ride like that the next day, I took him. They were doing the reverse of my trip, down the New Hance, across Escalante, then up Tanner, but they only had 3 nights. Doable, but with little rest or exploration time. On top of that, it was after 3pm and they hadn't started on New Hance yet. It was his first canyon trip, though they did have experience in the party, who thought that the 7 or 8 mile New Hance could be hiked in about 3 hours. Obviously, they hadn't been on the trail before. I told them that I thought their plan was overly ambitious, but they pushed on anyway. I never saw them during my trip on the Escalante; I hope they made it out okay.

Grand Canyon North Rim & Monument Valley

2008-11-02T12:33:00.009-05:00

Something is wrong with the pictures in this post. I'm going to blame Blogger for now, until I figure out what it is.

In mid-October I made yet another trip to the Grand Canyon, having a few days off before needing to be at a trade show in Las Vegas. I didn't have enough time to plan a backpacking trip this time, so I planned to spend 4 days on the North Rim just dayhiking around. The full photo gallery for this trip is here

I started waaaay too early in the morning in NJ, driving into NY to get to a JetBlue flight from JFK. I was due in Vegas before 11 am, but given the time to pick up a car then find a gas cannister for my stove I was afraid that it might be dark by the time I got to the canyon, and I didn't really want to deal with setting up my tent in the dark. I made a reservation at Jacob Lake Inn, about 50 miles north of the park. It's a fine place, with small but decent cabins and plenty of heat. I did make it faster than I thought, arriving around 4pm. I dropped my stuff and went to the park, getting a nice sunset.

The next morning I left early (still on Eastern time) and made it to the park for sunrise. I'd planned on going out to Cape Royal, but the sun was a little ahead of me so I stopped along the road, I think at Vista Encantata.

I spent a few hours that morning along the Cape Royal road, at the cape itself then on the Cape Final Trail. That's about a 2 mile walk, mostly level, through the woods out to an isolated viewpoint- much like Shoshone Point on the South Rim. It's a pleasant walk to a quiet viewpoint.

Later that day I hiked part of the Widforss Trail, another wooded rim trail. It's got a fair amount of up & down to it, nothing like the strain of hiking into the canyon, but given that I'd done no exercise prep for this trip my sea-level lungs had trouble.

A note about the North Rim- guest services end on October 15, a couple of days before I arrived. In the past, this meant that the park was technically closed, though it was open for anyone who wanted to make the trek and deal with the possibility of bad weather. This year, probably trying to get a little more money, the park was still open, charging the full $25 entrance fee and charging $12/night (the normal is about $18, I think) for the campground. Given the almost total lack of services, this seems a little unfair to me. $12 for a place to put the tent and an overflowing portapottie is a little much. On top of that, I was there for some of the close out of the Lodge. This meant that the bar was open for employees, but not to the public, which is almost like adding insult to injury.

The next day I started at Point Imperial, hiking the Saddle Mountain Trail out to Saddle Mountain, and the Nankoweap area. At the time, I thought I'd hiked to an area between Saddle Mountain and Tilted Mesa; further review of the GPS says that what I thought was Tilted Mesa was Saddle Mountain, so I didn't cover the ground I thought I did. Hey, it looks tilted. At least I got a nice view of Kolb Arch, a natural arch near Point Imperial that somehow remained uncharted until 1953, when it was "discovered" by Barry Goldwater.

The trail out toward Saddle Mountain from Point Imperial is one of the ugliest places I've been in the canyon. It travels through a dead forest, and the trail is lined with heavy thorns. It didn't look burned, at least not recently, just dead. It'd be a great location for Cormac McCarthy's The Road. The trail is also accessible from a Forest Service road that didn't look too bad- the road starts north of the park boundry, near the Kaibab Lodge and North Rim Country Store.
Another road leads in from the east, apparently used regularly by backpackers heading to the Nankoweap Trail. As remote as it is, I still saw two other groups on the trail that day. The full trip down into Nankoweap is on my list; maybe another year or two down the road.

During a later hike on the Uncle Jim Trail, yet another pretty rim trail in the forest, I decided that I was a little bored with the plan for another full day at the canyon. Given the north rim view related to a sun in the south, and a little smoke/haze in the canyon, I wasn't that thrilled with the photography conditions. That, combined with my continuing exhaustion from altitude (being overweight and inactive had nothing to do with it) I decided to take a long drive the next day to Monument Valley.

About 4 1/2 hours from the canyon, Monument Valley lies on the Utah/Arizona border and the Navaho reservation. It's instantly recognizable from the films of John Ford & John Wayne and more recent films like Forrest Gump. A short road leads from the main highway to a visitor center (under heavy renovation right now. Leave it to me to travel to a construction site.) It's $5 to get into the park, which gives you the right to take your car on a 17 mile dirt road winding through the park.

The road isn't great, but it's acceptable for small cars. Better than what I'd take the next day, at any rate. It's a fantastic drive down among the giant buttes, well worth it. There are other options, including tribal-led tours that go off road and get you up close, but for me this trip around was enough.

Like the Grand Canyon, Monument Valley is a place that looks in person exactly like it does in pictures and movies, and yet feels nothing like the photographic versions. The scale and the breadth of the view is stunning. For a touch of the flavor, John Ford's The Searchers gets close, his first widescreen film in the valley, but it's still not like the reality.

After the trip back to the canyon and another night on the rim, day 4 dawned. I was due in Las Vegas that night, so I looked for sightseeing opportunities along the way. I've spent much more time on the south side of the canyon, so I don't know the north nearly as well. I came across a description of Tuweep (also called Toroweap) on the Park Service web site, and it was featured in the North Rim Guide newspaper. It's a 61 mile trip on a dirt road off the main road, leading to a viewpoint 3000' directly over the river. It's mentioned as a rough dirt road, but caled ok for passenger cars. (The National Geographic Trails Illustrated map calls it an "improved road", which is way off.) In reality, this is a scary road for an Easterner like me. About 55 miles of dirt, stone, sand, and blind hills to get to the Park boundry. Then it gets bad. Right around this point there's a road grader parked off the road. It looks like it died there.

From the park entrance to the viewpoint the road goes to one lane and gets much rougher. It's slow going all the way, past a campground and some trailheads, but the view doesn't disappoint. It's straight down to the river, with expansive views off to the east. You can see as far as Sinyala Mesa, near Supai, which I saw from the south on my trip to Havasu Falls in March 2007.

After the long drive out, and with the return trip high in my mind, I couldn't really enjoy the time out here. I only spent about 15 minutes out there (after 2 1/2 hours of travel) before I gave up and went my way. The car survived, which was good since it was probably a violation of my rental agreement to take it there, though it did take a washing and thorough cleaning of places like the inside of the doors before I felt ok returning it.

Up next for the canyon- the Escalante Route, probably in April '09.

Grand Canyon, Boucher Trail to Bright Angel Trail

2008-04-20T14:06:00.004-04:00

Pictures from this Trip

Recently I took a 5 night backpacking trip to the Grand Canyon, travelling down the Boucher Trail to Boucher Rapids, followed by Hermit Creek Camp, Granite Rapids, and Indian Garden before hiking out the Bright Angel Trail.

My original plan for this spring's trip had been to explore the Escalante Route between the Tanner & New Hance trails, but given the closure of the Tanner just prior to when permits could go in last year, I elected to shift west to Boucher. Tanner, it turns out, did open in time for my trip, but I'm just as glad I didn't try it- I'd have been worried the whole winter that my vacation plans would need a major overhaul at the last minute.

I got to the canyon Friday afternoon, April 4, and spent a little time exploring the rim west of Bright Angel, mostly just feeling the altitude. I wasn't scheduled to hike in until Sunday morning; Saturday, as is my habit, was a day of acclimitization. I started Saturday early, on the South Kaibab Trail at 5 am. I made it down to Cedar Ridge quicky, starting with a headlight but quickly removing it with the growing light. I was at the Cedar Ridge rest house by 6, in time to see a nice sunrise, and ahead of the morning mule train.

I spent about an hour down there, then returned back to the rim over a trail that was much busier than it had been before. I just managed to get off the trail before a group of over 50 headed down on a day hike to the river. I was a little surprised to notice how much ice there was covering the top of the trail- I hadn't noticed it at all on the way down. It's so coated with dirt & mule crap that there's no problem with the footing.

After spending Saturday getting some exposure to the altitude, Sunday was the day to start the trip. Again, I was off early, catching the 5 am shuttlebus to the Hermit Trailhead. For those who don't know, the road to Hermit's Rest is closed this season. For the next couple of months there will be two morning shuttles to the trailhead; over the summer, no access at all.

Hermit was in good shape, easy to walk in the early light as I started down. I crossed what some maps call the Hermit Basin, others the Waldron Basin, splitting off the Hermit Trail to the Dripping Springs trail.

Around to the far side of the basin the trail splits again, the Dripping Springs trail heading to the eponymous spring, the Boucher (boo-shay) Trail beginning its long meander out Hermit Canyon. The Boucher stays high all along the west side of the canyon, rising & falling slightly as it traverses along the Hermit Shale layer of the canyon. The trail is plainly beaten, easy to follow throughout this area. There are a number of nice potential campsites at the area beneath Yuma Point, and as you approach it. They're dry, but with a great view. The only negative out here (and at White's Butte, where I camped) is the inssesant noise from tourist planes & helicopters flying the air corridor above. There was rarely a break of more than five minutes without their noise.

After rounding Yuma Point, the trail continues for a bit into Travertine Canyon, before dropping quickly down through the Supai to just above the Redwall. I'd read that this was a difficult section, but I was still surprised just how bad it is. The top, dropping through the Esplanade sandstone, is brutal. The trail drops steeply with loose gravel providing poor footing on the harder stone beneath, with a couple of places where the trail is narrow enough to be scraping your pack as you pass through. Below this, you continue to drop through the several Supai layers. It's always steep, with frequent switchbacks and a great deal of exposure, though I usually found the footing through here to be a little better than at the top of the drop.

By the time I reached the bottom of the Supai, my legs were totally blown for the day. I'd been planning for a dry campsite, probably at the White's Butte saddle, and that's what I'd do. It was only 2pm, but I couldn't face the idea of dropping over the Redwall today. I met a party coming up that way, planning on camping at Yuma Point, who confirmed that it was as steep or steeper than the Supai drop.

The saddle was a great place to camp, though lacking in shade or water. It was a little windy, but the views were great from the saddle, and further out below the butte itself. It quieted just after sunset, with the sightseeing flights done for the day.

In the morning I was on the trail by 7. The drop through the Redwall was indeed steep, but it really didn't feel as bad as the Supai to me. That might have been the advantage of fresh legs, but it seemed much easier than Redwall descents on either Tanner or New Hance. The trail wanders up & down a little below the Redwall, before its junction with the Tonto heading east, or the trail heading down to the creek.

This trail wasn't difficult, but it was a place where the footing twice surprised me, once sending me into a full face-plant. Oops. It's a quick drop to the creekbed, where a number of paths & false trails criss-cross. The ruins of Louis Boucher's cabin are plainly evident, and his mine is visible up a bit on the north side of the small canyon.

I followed the creek downstream (no real trail, but an easy walk in the creekbed) to Boucher Rapids. There was water virtually everywhere in the creek, only a few dry spots the entire length. There are small sandy areas to the right of the creek, and a huge beach to the left.

I spent the day on the beach, watching river runners go by. There were a few groups that day, including one group with some lifting equipment on board their rafts- I later learned they were a survey team, checking the results of the March flooding event.

The beach appeared to be a good place to camp, but by midafternoon the blowing sand got to be too much for me. I moved to the other side of the creek, picking a smaller spot surrounded by brush that formed enough of a windbreak to keep the sand down. It still seemed to pass through the screen of my tent, but not as bad. Sometimes
air doesn't seem to make it through those screens, but talc-fine beach sand didn't have a problem.

Tuesday was another fairly short day, a quick run back up and over to Hermit Creek. On the way back to the Tonto, I met a guy at the Boucher ruins who told me rain was likely that night, and maybe the following day. Not great news, but a little rain is ok.

This section of the Tonto Trail surprised me by just how much of the platform was in bloom. Yellow flowers had covered the Vishnu Schist of the Inner Gorge with a shocking amount of color; the plants along the Tonto weren't much different. Vast quantities of yellow-flowered Blackbrush and red Indian Paintbrush were everywhere, along with a blue & purple flowering bush I didn't recognize.

This is a generally easy section of the Tonto, leaving me at the Hermit Creek campsite by noon. I spent a relaxing afternoon there, enjoying the pool in the creek just below my tent and watching the clouds come in. It did rain very lightly that night, but hardly enough to notice. It was a quiet campsite, just myself, a single woman, and one party of about 4 sharing it that night. Still, this was the first night that I hadn't camped alone. It was also a site with a backcountry toilet. It had been ok in 2004, but now it was pretty foul. (I'd pass the Monument Creek toilets in a couple of days- in 2004 they'd been the worst I've ever seen. They've been replaced with nice clean ones that are, however, entirely lacking in anything like privacy. Just 3 toilets in a row, no real attempt at screening.)

Wednesday was another short day, a quick hop over to Granite Rapids, at the mouth of Monument Creek. This section of the Tonto was also in bloom, but not as vibrantly as the section just to the west. I made it to Granite Rapids by about 10:30 in the morning, giving me another day on the beach.

I'd been to Granite in 2004; it was probably my favorite campsite from that trip. It's about the same now, though back then there had been a wide, low sandbar-beach that formed a warm pool at the east end of the beach. That's gone now, just a steep 6' bank of sand down to the very cold river. One other change is that on that trip the squirrels had been relentless in trying to get into our tents, bags, and anything else left around; this time I never saw one. The next morning I saw one set of tracks too large for a squirrel, probably a ringtail, but my food (in a big plastic container) was unmolested.

There was a little drizzle during the day at the beach, but it was still a great location. Only one group of river runners went through, a private group who stopped to scout the rapids but didn't stay. I went to the other side of the rapids to take some shots as they passed through and saw another tent above the beach on that side. The occupants, a man & woman spending their second day at Granite, stopped by and chatted later.

Thursday was the long day of my trip. I was on the trail by about 6:30. Then I realized I was heading up the wrong creekbed at Granite and back on the right trail by 6:40. The goal of the day was Indian Garden, 12.3 miles away over the Tonto. On my 2004 trip, we'd crossed from Indian Garden to Monument Creek (about a mile less) on a May day with a temperature over 100 degrees. It was a shadeless, hot, borderline-miserable day. Having lost my hat in the Supai on Boucher, I wasn't looking forward to it.

This time wasn't nearly so bad. The air temperature was probably in the 70's, but a strong wind made it feel cooler.

Several times during the day I traded the lead with Andi & Jeff, a couple from Portland who were hiking from the South Bass Trail to the New Hance Trail, most of the length of the Tonto. They, too, were on their 5th night, though they'd covered about double the distance I had, and still had 4 days to go.

I got to Indian Garden by about 2 and settled in quickly. Indian Garden has its good & bad points- decent sized sites, each with a picnic table with a roof over it; toilets. But there are people, a lot of them. There were two large groups at the site, both coming up from Bright Angel campground. They were carrying packs of amazing size, with all variety of stuff. It was louder than I'd prefer to spend an afternoon in the back country, but they did quiet down quickly in the evening. Jeff and Andi made it in shortly after I did; Jeff & I had a nice talk. I hope they made it the rest of the way ok; I'm confident they did.

Friday was the last day, hiking out. I considered skipping the Bright Angel, continuing another 4 miles on the Tonto to the South Kaibab, but I decided that my ankles had had enough. I'm sort of glad I took the short way, but every time I hike the Bright Angel it reminds me why I never want to again. It's heavily maintained, but given the usage, especially by mules, it needs it. It's infested with mule trains & tourists, it's ground down into a deep, sandy or muddy "U" almost the entire length, and it's back in a side canyon with few good views. There are rest houses along the way, but water was still off for the season at both; lacking water, it doesn't have much going for it.

Still, it makes for a relatively easy (for the Grand Canyon) trip out, leaving me on the rim by about 11:30 after leaving Indian Garden before 8. Like the South Kaibab, the shaded upper portions were still deep with ice, but again the footing was fine.

Another good trip to the canyon, maybe with a second this year to follow in October.

Grand Canyon April '08

2008-03-23T15:01:00.002-04:00

Below is a map of my plan for April's Grand Canyon trip, taking the Hermit Trail to Boucher, connecting to the Tonto with a turn off to Granite Rapids, then spending the final night at Indian Gardens. Probably hiking out the Bright Angel, but might go out the long way via the South Kaibab.

There should be daily posts starting April 6 of my end-of-day locations from my Spot tracker. They'll be separate emails, each with it's own link to a separate Google Map.

View Larger Map

Acadia National Park

2007-09-08T16:11:00.000-04:00

At the end of June I spent 3 nights at Acadia National Park, on Mount Desert Island, Maine. Maine was the last state east of the Mississippi I'd never visited, and it seemed like a good excuse for a few days off.

The park is an interesting combination of ocean & hills, with clusters of towns scattered here & there across the island. Bar Harbor, the traditional old-money summer town, occupies part of the island, and the town of Otter Creek lies just outside Blackwoods Campground.

Acadia has no backcountry camping; there are car-camping campgrounds, but no overnight backpacking sites. I stayed at Blackwoods, which is the largest but didn't feel as uncomfortable as most car-camping sites do to me. I hate camping with lots of people around. The sites at Blackwoods are bigger than some, though I wish there was more separation than there is.

One trail to the top of Cadillac Mountain starts just beyond Blackwoods; it was the start of my first full day in the park. Cadillac is the tallest (1530') mountain on the Atlantic seaboard, and features wonderful views. Trails converge on the top from all directions. (Acadia is dense with trails, offering extensive opportunities to link routes together into loops.) There's also a road to the top, and a huge parking lot, so it isn't the most serene mountain top.

There are, though, great views of the park, and of most of the state.

From Cadillac, it's a nice hike, and a quieter one, to Dorr Mountain. It's a steep drop down the east side, broken rock all the way, into a col between the mountains. An equally steep trail goes back up Dorr, which is several hundred feet lower than Cadillac.

From Dorr it was down the Ladder Trail to a nice walk along a lake called The Tarn. The ladder trail actually only has two short ladders- The Beehive Trail is much steeper- but does have several long steep staircases. The steps are tall, but very well constructed, showing the amazing amount of effort spent building trails through the park.

From The Tarn I went over to the park's "Wild Gardens of Acadia", which is a beautiful (and not very wild) set of nature trails through gardens showing off the varied flora of the park.

To return to the campground, I decided to try the park's shuttle bus system. The buses are new, clean, & quiet- much nicer than the shuttle buses at the Grand Canyon. They're also plastered with the logos of their sponsor, LL Bean, but I guess that isn't too bad. The shuttle bus system has a large number of routes around the park, most of them coming together at the villiage green in Bar Harbor.

Day two started early. I'd read about the trail up The Beehive, a 500' lump of rock on the north side of the island. The trail was reputed to be steep, the views great, but the crowds greater. I decided early would be best.

Calling the trail steep is an understatement. For large portions of the hike the trail is vertical. Iron rung ladders are set into the rock to make it passable; I'd really hate to climb this route at midday, with the crowd forming a line up & down the trail. It must make Angel's Landing at Zion seem quiet by comparison.

Still, for me, starting at 7am it was a great climb. Yes, it's strenuous, but it is only 520' to the top, so it isn't a killer climb. The top is windswept, with incredible views of the harbor and Sand Beach, Acadia's prime swimming & sunning beach.

I continued over the Beehive, down the other side and past a nice little Alpine-seeming lake, The Bowl. Beyond the bowl are still more trail junctions- I went west, climbing up Champlain Mountain at 1058'.

Champlain has good views into Bar Harbor- that day I could plainly see a cruise ship mooring in the harbor to disgorge thousands of passengers. I decided not to visit town again.

I retraced the route back down Champlain, heading for my third hilltop of the day, Gorham Mountain. Gorham isn't much higher than the Beehive- only about 25'- but it seemed like a good route to take back past The Bowl, along nice wooded trails.

All the trails I took through Acadia were well maintained & easy to follow. They have an odd method of building marking cairns up there- sort of a little bench with another rock on top- but they serve well on the trails without cover. In the woods, the trails need little marking.

From the Gorham trail I could look back and see all my fears of the Beehive Trail coming true, with a sold line of people slowly working their way to the top. I was very glad I'd taken that one on first.

Gorham had the typical wonderful view, but really nothing to separate it from the rest. The hike down is very nice though, with a side route (a little more rugged than the main trail) that takes you along cliff remnants that were at one time at sea level and now are huge stone blocks along the trail.

The balance of my trip was a quiet afternoon back at the campsite, and sitting at the ocean near the campground. There was a quick shower, leading to a rainbow, and one of my favorite shots from the long weekend.

All of the pictures from this trip were taken with a new 8mp Samsung camera I bought before the trip, as a replacement for my nice Canon than drowned in the Catskills. Same megapixels, but a point-&-shoot camera just isn't the same. They aren't bad, but I wish they were better. The full collection is at my Smugmug gallery.

Catskill 3500; Catching up

2007-09-08T16:00:00.000-04:00

A weekend about catching up.

First note- after 4 years of hiking in the Catskill Mountains, I completed the requirements for the Catskill 3500 Club in June, on a hike of Kaaterskill High Peak with Katie & Jed. The hike was really nice, except for the rain on the way down the mountain. And the thunder. And the lightning. And did I mention the rain? After that, it rained some more. It rained so much that it overwhelmed my raincoat, and my pack cover, and soaked the pack so thoroughly that it destroyed my year-old digital SLR camera. Major bummer.

But I got a nice patch:

Empire State Building Lighting

2007-04-22T19:02:00.000-04:00

For some months now I've been involved in demonstrations of new lighting for the Empire State Building. The final demo was early Friday morning, and rated coverage in the NY Times. http://www.nytimes.com/2007/04/21/nyregion/21empire.html?ex=1334808000&en=3c584ea34e1c78f5&ei=5124&partner=permalink&exprod=permalink

Grand Canyon- Havasu Creek

2007-04-01T11:12:00.000-04:00

In mid-March I made a trip to the Grand Canyon, for the first time backpacking outside the boundaries of the National Park. For this trip, I'd be visiting the Havasupai Indian reservation, occupying territory adjacent to the park. The Havasupai town of Supai, Arizona, lies within the canyon, its 400 or so residents the only full-time dwellers in the Grand Canyon and control visits to some of the most beautiful waterfalls in the southwest.

My full photo gallery can be found here , or as a slideshow here

I spent a day in the National Park, hiking along the rim and taking a bit of time to acclimate to the altitude. I took the chance to visit Shoshone Point, the only notable point I hadn't been to within the main tourist section of the park. It's at the end of any easy mile-long trail, actually a dirt road, and features a large picnic area that's available for rental by private groups.

Monday morning, March 19, I took off. To reach the trailhead from the National Park you take Historic Route 66 west from Seligman, turning onto Indian Route 18 a few miles east of Peach Springs. It's a good road, better than it looks on maps, actually better than Route 66. You travel about 60 miles across the Hualapai Indian reservation (the Hualapai were opening their reviled Skywalk this week, well to the west) to reach the parking lot & trailhead at Hualapai Hilltop.

Hualapai Hilltop is the Havasupai connection to the rest of the world. There's a large parking lot and a helipad, with trailers for stock, but not much else. Use care when parking- spots under the cliff look a bit too subject to rockfall for my taste.

For someone with experience on most of the South Rim trails of the Grand Canyon, this one looked fairly easy. By the time you've reached Hualapai Hilltop you've already descended through the Kaibab and Toroweap layers of the canyon, so you're starting out about 1000' lower than most other trailheads. The trail starts out steep, descending another 1000' in the first mile of switchbacks, then levels out as it drops to the creekbed of Hualapai Canyon. The trail is wide and in very good condition- easily as well maintained as the Corridor trails in the National Park. Just before dropping into the creekbed is the best vista of the trip, one of the few open views you'll have. There is more trash along the trail than I'm used to be seeing, but old mail containers were being used to pick it up. Like the conditions in Supai, it looked like the tribe had heard comments, and were working to correct them.

Once it drops into the creekbed the going gets a little tougher. For most of the 8-mile hike to Supai, the trail meanders through the creekbed of Hualapai Canyon, then along Havasu Creek. The wash is generally wide, with a number of herd trails weaving across each other, sometimes running over higher or lower ground. It's tough to generalize one as better than the other- sometimes the higher path is firmer than the loose gravel of the creek, sometimes it's softer sand. Either way, for most of this gently descending trip your footing isn't as good as you'd like. It's a long, tiring trail. Yes, compared to most trails in the Grand Canyon it's easy, but that's entirely relative- it's still 8 miles to the village, then another 2 miles to the campground. Those miles were easier on my knees than trips past, but harder on the ankles. If I were to take the trip again, I'd probably use the service that lets you send a pack down on horseback and save myself the effort.

Eventually, Hualapai Canyon joins Havasupai Canyon; shortly after that, you reach the town of Supai. Much of what I'd read before the trip made the town seem like a blight within the canyon, but that's not what I saw at all. I saw a small, generally well-kept town. The houses, at least the ones along the main trail, are neat, most with air conditioning and satellite dishes. Most of them have a small corral for horses, and some have signs offering soda & snacks for sale. Many had toys & playground equipment in good repair in the yards. There are two churches and a school, along with the only post office remaining in the US that sends mail via mule train. There are also stray dogs everywhere, but they were friendly and not a nuisance.

Near the helipad (an open field) is the tourist office. It looked new, and there was no sign out front (A piece of paper had been added by the time I hiked out), so I walked past it and wandered for a bit before I got directions from a resident. ("Right across from the two-story building.") You pay & get a camping permit there, then continue to the campground between Havasu & Mooney Falls.

The campground starts a little below Havasu Falls, just after a new building with composting toilets- it was just opening when I was there, replacing porta-johns. The campground starts at a wide spot near Fern Spring, the camp (and town) water source. Tribal info says the water should be treated, but no one seemed concerned about it, streaming out of a pipe driven into the rock. For the best campsites, continue past this area. The canyon narrows again, with another half-mile of campsites on both sides of the creek (a narrow plank bridge provides a crossing) that are a little more spread out than the sites further upstream. The campsite is huge- at least a hundred sites- but didn't seem horribly crowded.

Below the campground lies Mooney Falls, the tallest of the set. It's about 200' tall, a thin stream pouring down into a pool below. To reach the base is a challenge, a steep, slippery descent along the edge of a drop, sometimes through narrow tunnels, and finally ending with two none-to-secure ladders propped against the rocks.
Signs warn against trying the descent in inclement weather; a lot of people weren't taking the trip even on the nice days I was there.

There's a fourth fall downstream of Mooney, Beaver Falls. I'm told that it's smaller but pretty; personally, I couldn't face another two miles of hikes with several stream crossings. I elected to spend my full day in the canyon hiking between the three nearby falls, and swimming at Havasu Falls.

One of the fascinating things about these falls is the contrast of the beauty of the falls themselves with the rock deposits built up around them. The disovled limestone in the water gives it the distinctive aqua color, and also filters out to form travertine deposits. Below the falls and in the creek the travertine forms dams; along side the falls it forms incredible projections, tooth-like stalactites that look like they'd fit right into a horror movie.

Further upstream lies Havasu Falls. It's a little shorter than Mooney, at about 150', but it's wider, with more spectacular pools at the base. I spent hours here exploring the pools, taking pictures, and swimming in the water. I'm told that the water is about 72 degrees year round; it didn't feel quite that warm to me, but it was still comfortable, at least until the sun went behind clouds.

I had some time to myself at the falls, but eventually crowds started appearing. Some were from the campground, but there's also a lodge in town, offering simple rooms for those unwilling to camp.

The pools at Havasu Falls are spectacular, spreading out below the falls. They step downward until the creek reforms further down, but in the falls currents are (mostly) calm, and the water is deep enough for swimming. Use some care- most of the travertine is smooth, but one outcropping left me with scrapes on an ankle that made wearing a boot for the hike out the next day a little uncomfortable.

Further upstream lies Navaho Falls, the shortest but widest of the collection. It's pretty, but not on the scale of the others. It's more private though, on a side trail that's easily missed on the hike from town, with a nice pool for swimming. I learned after my trip that there'd been a drowning here a few days earlier, so there's always a need to use care.

It rained on & off my second night in the campground, turning some of the soft sand into a heavier mud. Whether due to that, or just days of strain, the hike out on my third day turned out to be a very long trip, or at least it felt that way.

One thing to be careful of along this trail- the pack trains run free from just outside the village to near the hilltop. A villager rides with them, but he doesn't seem to be in much control. They run at high speed and can come up on you quick if you aren't paying attention. They're responsible for the winding, braided trails through the creekbed, each horse taking his own path.

Many of the horses didn't look like they were in the best condition to me. I don't know much about working horses (Hey, I live in Brooklyn), but these all had patchy fur, worn by pack straps, and looked very skinny. Horses being ridden by guests did look a little better treated.

The trail rises a few hundred feet from the campground to the village, then seems to level out. It actually gains about 1000' between the village and the point where it leaves the canyon floor and starts the climb to Hualapai Hilltop, but spread over miles it isn't very noticeable. That last 1000' up from the creekbed, though? That's rough. It took me about 5 1/2 hours from the campground to the hilltop, not bad for 10 miles, but that last mile took a full hour of it.

The next day I returned to the National Park, getting to take some pictures in varying lighting from what I've had before. The mix of clouds & sun led to some great patterning in the canyon.

Grand Canyon, again

2007-03-18T20:17:00.000-04:00

This morning I drove up to the Grand Canyon from Phoenix, about 3.5 hours. Spent the day hiking on the rim, including my first trip to Shoshone Point, which I think is the last South Rim trail I hadn't taken before.

Spending the night in Williams before hiking in to the Havasu Falls area tomorrow for 2 nights. Hoping the weather holds.

Glacier Park

2007-03-11T18:47:00.000-04:00

In September of 2006 I took what was intended as a six-night backpacking trip in Montana's Glacier National Park. I'd been there before in the summer of 2004; this trip was about half new territory, the balance revisiting some of my favorite places from the earlier trip.

The full photo gallery is here, or can be seen as a popup slideshow here

I came into the park at the West Glacier entrance, after a visit to my friend Gayle and her adorable daugher Riley in Bigfork. From the west, I crossed the park on Going-to-the-Sun Road, a spectacular artifact of the days before Environmental Impact Statements. It's a spectacular ride, even though its being there is probably an affront to nature. There's a lot of work going on along the road, part of a complete rebuilding, so traffic can be stopped for up to a half hour at a time.

You cross the Continental Divide at Logan Pass, home to a very crowded Visitor Center and some good dayhikes; it's also a starting point for the Highline Trail. The Highline is one of the trails I'll be taking on this trip, but due to the fact that the Hiker's Shuttle service ended the week before my visit, I can't start here if I want to get back to my car. It's unfortunate, given that starting at Swiftcurrent adds 2000' of vertical gain at the start of the hike.

From Logan Pass, the road curves down to the east side of the park, past St. Mary Lake and its nearby townsite, which had been evacuated during fires over the summer. To get to Many Glacier/Swiftcurrent you turn north, then reenter the park after a few miles. The winding Glacier Route 3 goes past historic Many Glacier Lodge, a campground, and the ranger station. Glacier requires that you pick up your backcountry permit the day before or first day of your hike, after you sit through a video on the park, and bear country concerns.

I spent the night at Swiftcurrent Motor Lodge, which features rather Spartan accomodations. The have small cabins, with or without a private bath (it's actually in the "living room" of the tiny cabin) or motel rooms with bathrooms. For me, the cabin with bath is the better deal.

I started out early Saturday morning, heading up the Swiftcurrent Trail, over Swiftcurrent Pass, to Granite Park.
The trail begins at the end of the motor lodge's parking lot and meanders up the valley, gaining little altitude for quite a ways. The trail, past several lakes and Redrock Falls, is a popular dayhike route, particularly when other area trails are closed due to bear activity. You only gain about 300' over the first four miles, then the climb begins.

Over the next three miles, the trail gains 2000' on the way up to Swiftcurrent Pass. The trail is sometimes very steep, and snowbanks off to the sides of the trail show how little impact summer has at this altitude.

Finally, at about 7200', you cross the pass. Just below the pass there's a side trail climbing higher, to a little lookout shack 1300' higher on Swiftcurrent Mountain. I'm sure the view is great, but I couldn't face any more altitude that day.

After going over the pass, you have about 1-1/2 miles to go to Granite Park, dropping 800' along the way. Here, the view south along the Highline trail is spectacular. Logan Pass is about 8 miles south, about the same distance as the hike from Swiftcurrent, but more of a rolling trail with much less stressful altitude gain.

Eventually, you reach the Chalet. Rooms are available here for hikers, along with meals. There are few amenities, though, not even water- you have to bring or filter your own.

My night was spent at the Granite Park campground, a little below the chalet. It's a great spot, with 4 or 5 sheltered sites and a Glacier-standard pit toilet- just a little wooden box with a hole cut in the seat over a pit. Only at the more open campsites is there even an outhouse around it; it actually isn't that bad, the open air keeps the odors down.

Water isn't that close to Granite Park- there's a stream a bit away from the campground, just below a ranger shack. This was the scene of my first disaster of the trip- as I cleaned my new water filter after pumping enough for the night and the next day, the ceramic filter element shattered. Just trashed. I'd be spending the rest of the trip begging filters, boiling, and taking my chances. Luckily, I didn't pick anything up.

Day 2, the longest day of the trip (at least according to the original itinerary)- 12 miles from Granit Park to Fifty Mountain Campground. The Highline Trail rolls through here, not looking that bad on the map. After about 5 miles you pass a spur trail leading to Ahern Pass, about 800' above the main trail. It's a steep climb, but a great view down the Belly River Valley. At this point in the trip I have no idea that I'll be on the other side of this view in a couple of days. At Ahern Pass, I'm a little higher than Ptarmigan Tunnel, part of my 2004 trip, less than a half mile away. But, again, I'm not planning to go that way this trip. Yet.

From Ahern Pass, I returned to the trail, continuing toward the Cattle Queen Creek area. This is the only part of the trail that looked iffy on the map- it's about 1200' of elevation loss and then an equal gain, which isn't much unless it's in the middle of a 12 mile day. It's also home to dense vegetation along the trail, bringing out some of my bear paranoia. As a solo hiker, I'm very afraid of running into a bear. I'd love to see one, maybe a quarter-mile away on the other side of a lake, but I really don't want to turn a corner in the trail and find myself facing a grizzly. I spend much of the trip shouting out and slapping my hiking poles together, giving the bears a little notice that I'm coming. I never did see a bear, just lots of deer and a few groups of goats. (Or are they Longhorns? I can't tell.)

Cattle Queen is a very pretty spot, with a large spring cascading out of the north wall and across the trail. That's also the best water anywhere near Fifty Mile, which I wish I'd known on the way in.

Leaving Cattle Queen is a steep climb that seems neverending. I know it's shorter than the climb up to Swiftcurrent, but by this time in the day it didn't feel like it. Around here I was passed by two guys who could only be called elderly; they blew past me like I was standing still. Actually, I think I was standing still, trying to catch my breath. I'd run into them again that evening at the campsite, where it turned out to be their last night on the Continental Divide Trail- they'd been hiking for four months and would finish the next day.

Fifty Mountain was, to say the least, a disappointment. The view was fantastic, but the campground was truly ugly, surrounded by burned trees from a fire in the late 90's. It actualy violates much of what I know about camping to set up a tent surrounded by that much dead forest. This was also where I discovered my second (minor) disaster of the trip- I left my rope & caribiner for hanging food back at Granite Park. From here on, I'd be using ground level lockups where they existed, or tieing together the strings from my tent flaps where they didn't.

A word about Glacier campsites- the standard model is 2-6 sites, sometimes a little close together, but with brush between them. Usually there's a separation of about a hundred feet to the food preparation area, and further separation from the food hanging/storage areas. You're not allowed to cook or have any food near the tents, to help prevent attracting bears. A fine plan. It also promotes a community atmosphere, meeting up with other campers at the food prep area for dinner.

Day 3 was a long day, 9 miles, losing then regaining 2000' on the way to Stoney Indian Lake. Even with the altitude change, it didn't feel nearly as bad as the day before.

It's another great hike down from the Highline into the Waterton Valley, but again it's a little scary with dense, bear-hiding brush encroaching on the entire length of the trail. At the bottom is the Waterton River, heading north toward Kootenai and beyond to Canada. (Glacier Park shares a border with Waterton Lakes Park, and is dedicated as an International Peace Park.)
Before Kootenai, I turn off to the east and begin climbing again, toward Stoney Indian Lake.

In a park full of superlatives, Stoney Indian is in a class by itself. The lake is just beautiful, nestled 800' below the pass. It's a little cold for swimming, but the cold water felt great on my feet after the long climb.

The campground spans one end of the lake, with tent sites above the lake to the south, the food area on the northwest side. Sheer cliffs stand on either side; for quite awhile I watched a group scrambling down from the north. They'd been making an attempt on Mt. Cleveland, but had to turn back before the summit, leaving them pretty well bummed out.

The other mild entertainment was the goats, which seemed to be having a family spat on a cliff edge on the south side, hundreds of feet up. It was a little disconcerting to watch one chasing another along the edge, and more disconcerting to hear them kicking rocks loose all night long.

Day 4: One of the "shorter" days, 7.5 miles, up 800' to Stoney Indian Pass, then down about 2000' past Glenn's Lake to the turn-off to Mokowanis Lake.

First thing in the morning, the climb to Stoney Indian was quick, painless, and spectacular. Maybe I was finally getting acclimated to the altitude? After all, my apartment may be close to the highest point in Brooklyn, but it's still only about 100' above sea level.

Over the pass, the Mokowanis & Belly River valleys are laid out in front of you, the glacier-carved valleys just amazing to see.

The trip down into the valley is almost a continuous series of waterfalls. The Mokowanis Cascade, Paiota Falls and Atsina Falls splash near the trail; Raven Quiver Falls stands above it all, the feeder for the river.

The floor levels near Mokowanis Junction, a bug-infested campground in the middle of nowhere. Of all that I saw in the park, MJ had the least to offer. I'm very glad I wasn't staying there.

Eventually the trail crosses the river at the head of Glenn's Lake, near White Quiver Falls. Tomorrow I'll be heading back this way, staying at a campground near the head of the lake.

At this point, I've started retracing my hike from 2004- my friends Keely & Steve & I had come this way then, and I really wanted to get back here.

Mokowanis Lake may be the most beautiful place I've ever camped. It's a small campground, only two sites, on the edge of a fantastic mountain lake. A mile away Pyramid Falls crashes down from Margaret Lake, feeding Mokowanis.

The only complication was finding both of the sites taken. A little permit comparison showed that one of the groups was in the wrong place- they were supposed to be at Mokowanis Junction. I felt sorry making them strike their tents, but not that sorry- I'd been looking forward to coming back here ever since I'd left two years ago; I had the right to the spot, and I wasn't giving it up. A little delay, but nothing to keep me out of the lake for too long. Finally, a chance to relax and swim a little, relax a little.

It also made for a great night at dinner, comparing notes with the other group at the campground. The were from Wisconsin (I always seem to meet people from Wisconsin backpacking), and I discovered that one of them was the chef at a Madison restaurant I'd eaten at a couple of months back. Small, small world.

Day 5 dawned cloudy, but not terrible. I only had to go 1.5 miles to Glenn's Lake today, so I had time for exploration. In 2004 we'd had two nights at Mokowanis, and made the hike to the falls, but the weather was threatening so we didn't go farther. Today, I'd follow the creek up to the falls, then see about climbing up.

I knew from maps & trip reports that at the top of the falls lay Margaret Lake. It looked like there was a clear route up to the left of the falls, a pile of rocks at about a 45 degree angle heading in the right direction. Sure enough, the sketchy herd path lead that way, and it turned out to be a pretty easy climb.

Up on top, Margaret Lake was everything promised- each lake I got to seemed to top the last, and Margaret was a beauty. (Sue, Helen, Margaret, and Elizabeth are all lake-names in this part of the park. Supposedly, Mr. Cosley, a noted prospector and explorer of the park, named them for his favorite "fallen women" in a nearby house of ill-repute.)

The clouds weren't breaking much; it was cooling down and getting windy. I decided to head back, and make for my next camp. It was an easy, quick, level hike, and honestly I was hoping for more swim time. But by the time camp was set, things started looking even worse.

Along the way I'd heard a loud explosion, a strong, quick blast followed by a few echos. I had no idea what it was.

I set up camp and was eating lunch when a ranger and his friend wandered by. They were heading up to the pass, and gave me the first weather report I'd had since coming into the backcountry days ago. Snow was moving in that evening, he said, likely continuing for days. My next day was supposed to be another short one, only about 4 miles to Cosley Lake. He suggested that I go farther, to the Gable Creek campground, so that I'd have less distance to hike out Friday, which was supposed to be even worse. He told me that it'd be no problem, given the weather, to go off my itinerary- there'd probably be an open site. If not, I could camp near a ranger station. I considered it.

While we talked, several other rangers came by from up the trail, on horses & mules. The leader called to the ranger "Remember that hazard-tree on the trail? It's gone." The ranger I was speaking with responded "Most of the park heard that. Think you used enough?" They all laughed and continued on.

That night was pretty miserable. My nice tree-lined site ended up very, very wet, with snow falling on the trees and melting just enough to be big, loud drops on the tent. Then the tent leaked. Badly.

The next morning found the weather going back & forth from rain to snow. It was ugly. I packed up and ate, then headed out, unsure of where I was really going. Cosley Lake had been a highlight of 2004, with a pretty lake for swimming, and a great place to spend the afternoon. There'd also been Craig & Yumi, a terrific couple (from Wisconsin) that we'd spent dinner time with. I planned this trip as an attempt to relive that, but this weather wasn't leading me that way.

Along the trail I made fantastic time- I was going at a 3-4 mile/hour pace, unlike my usual 2. As I neared Cosley I knew it wasn't going to be a good place to stop. I thought about following the ranger's advice, but given the condition of my tent (and wet sleeping bag), I started thinking about hiking out of the park that day, a day early. I decided to go for it.

At this point, I had two choices- 8 miles with only a little elevation gain to Chief Mountain trailhead, or 12 miles with 2500' gain & loss back to Swiftcurrent. Neither choice was great- Chief Mountain was my designated destination, but for the next day. I had a reservation for the shuttle to Swiftcurrent, again for the next day. I wasn't even sure that I could make it to the trailhead in time for the the shuttle; if I missed it, or if it was full, I'd be hitchhiking. That's supposed to be pretty easy up there, but given the weather I wasn't convinced. If I got there and couldn't get a ride, I'd be really screwed, about 30 miles from my car at Swiftcurrent.

So I decided to take the direct route.

This wasn't the smartest idea. I knew it was a bad idea, but I did it anyway. I was going off itinerary, so if I went missing, no one would know where to look. Worse, no one would be looking for me for another day, at least. And it was very unlikely that anyone would be coming into the backcountry from that direction.

But, I did it anyway.

Most of the way wasn't that bad. It was cold & snowing, but even with wet feet (my "waterproof" top-recommended by Backpacker hiking boots leaked) it wasn't that unpleasant. The snow-covered scenery was spectacular. And I was following footprints, so I knew someone had come this way before. Eventually I was at almost the height of Ahern Pass again, above Helen Lake, though this time I couldn't see it in the clouds.
The hike through Ptarmigan Tunnel had been a rough point in 2004. We did that trip in July, but still had snow, and Keely was on the edge of hypothermia by the time we got there. This trip was no better. I was alone, out of breath, and unable to stop because when I did, I started to get cold. That wouldn't do at all.

I skipped lunch, and I didn't even drink much (bad decision making? You bet!). I did have one set of hand warmers with me, ready to go in my boots if I stopped feeling my toes, but that never happened. I got lucky.

In early afternoon, I passed through Ptarmigan Tunnel (I did at least have a granola bar and change my socks there, in the bitter cold) and back into the Many Glacier area. From here, it was still another few miles, but I made it back to Swiftcurrent without notable problems. My car was in the lot- I was disgustingly wet, mostly sweat, so I changed in the car, shivering absolutly uncontrollably, probably hypothermic myself, before driving the 100 yards to the motel.

I even managed to get a room without a reservation, though I had to take the expensive motel room- they didn't have a cabin with bath, and after the day I'd had I wasn't going to deal with a community bath.

At dinner, where I inhaled food like I hadn't eaten in weeks, I ran into trail aquaintences who couldn't quite believe the distance I'd done in that weather. They told me it was over 18 miles. In retrospective, I think it was about 16- the mile measurements they looked at were probably to the ranger station, which is farther than the motel- but it was still likely the longest I'd done in a day, certainly the longest with a full backpack. And it was a really bad idea.

The next day was a trip back across the park, and a night in a Kalispell motel with everything from my pack hung up to dry. After another night at Gayle's, home to NY with some good stories about bad decisions.

USS Monitor Center

2007-03-11T16:47:00.000-04:00

OK, it's actually something from the office, but it's worth posting.

For almost a year I've been working on a museum expansion in Virginia. The official opening was Friday, and the NY Times reviewed it yesterday. In typical Times style, I can't really tell if they liked it or not.

Zion & Grand Canyon National Parks

2007-03-11T15:36:00.000-04:00

Back in October I had a great trip to Zion National Park & the Grand Canyon with Jennifer, who I share an office with. We had one night in Zion, a night on the North Rim of the canyon, and three nights below the rim along the North Kaibab trail.

The full gallery is here, but in an attempt to figure out what I'm doing, I'm going to play with posting pictures.

Zion Park, in southern Utah, is often compared to Yosemite Park in California- they're both centered on lush valleys, at least. The Virgin River Valley is the heart of Zion, and the climb to Angel's Landing is a classic day hike in the park. It's about 5 miles round trip, about 1500' vertical gain. Neither of those sound too bad, but it's seriously steep & exposed in the upper sections, and not for the acrophobic. Like the woman slowing down the trail, stuck at a tough spot being urged on by her "friends". For all I know, she might still be up there, afraid to come down.

From Zion, we took a nice drive out through the park and down to the Grand Canyon. One of the highlights of the ride down was passing by a general store with a herd of buffalo hanging around outside. The story is that they come there most days for the water supply, and are used to people being around.

The North Rim had closed for the season the week before. It's only open from mid-May (usually Mother's Day weekend) through about October 15. The highway is usually kept open until around Thanksgiving. No services are available, but the campground is open and there's normally a ranger present.

After a night on the rim, we headed down the North Kaibab trail, bound for Cottonwood Campground. It's about 7 miles and several thousand feet lower. The NK is a pretty easy trail by Grand Canyon standards- none of the trails is easy, but on a cool, overcast fall day, the NK isn't bad. Water was still available at Supai Tunnel (though it gets shut off not much later) and at the campground. Cottonwood is the smallest of the three "Corridor" campgrounds in the park- we'll be at another, Bright Angel the next night; the third is Indian Garden along the Bright Angel Trail. There are about a dozen sites, varying in size & shade, but all with picnic tables and poles for hanging packs out of the reach of mice & other little rodents. Though they do get hung at a nice height for browsing deer. There are also ammo boxes to put food into for protection.

About a mile further down trail from Cottonwood is Ribbon Falls, a justifiably popular side trip from the trail. The weather was overcast & a little threatening, but we decided to take a side trip that I'd never quite managed in two prior trips on the NK trail. From the trail you cross a bridge over Bright Angel Creek & bear left along the side trail to the falls; if you look, there's a slightly obscured trail to the right. This leads to Upper Ribbon Falls. It's very steep at the start, then levels out and crosses through a beautiful valley before reaching the Upper Falls, a mile or two from the trailhead. Another couple of miles up lie Upper Upper Ribbon Falls, but we skipped that trip.

The next day took us to Bright Angel Campground, near the confluence of Bright Angel Creek and the Colorado River. The campground is very large, but the creek usually covers noise pretty well. Nearby is Phantom Ranch, with cabins & bunkhouses available by reservation, and with a canteen serving breakfast & dinner (again, by reservation only) and serving light snacks, drinks, and beer! Beer is about $3.50 a can, less than I'd pay at home, and in Brooklyn it isn't delivered by mule.

The Colorado is crossed by two suspension bridges near Bright Angel, giving access to the trails coming down from the South Rim. It's a popular destination, and the trails are busy. It's also a big stopping point for river runners, and the spot where some hike in or out at the beginning or end of a rafting trip.

The next day saw us retracing our hike up the North Kaibab to Cottonwood. For me, a highlight was passing by Maverick, a Grand Canyon hiking legend. In 2006, to celebrate his 80th birthday, he decided to hike across the canyon 80 times. He hit that mark a few weeks before we saw him, then kept going- he was on #84 when we passed him.

Climbing back up the NK trail took us back to Ribbon Falls, this time on a much clearer day than the first visit. It's a great side trip.

We spent our last night at Cottonwood again, then hiked out the following day. We were off trail around noon, which isn't that bad for 7 miles and 4000', with a backpack.

All in all, a good trip.

Vacation Autoreply?

2007-03-11T15:19:00.000-04:00

Why Vacation Autoreply?

Out of Office Autoreply was taken.

Why blog at all?

Everybody else is doing it.

If everybody else jumped off a bridge, would you?

Only if I could get good pictures on the way down.

So what's the point?

I've got pictures posted online with little descriptions. But I'd like some more space for adding text and descriptions about them and the trips, and this seemed like a good idea at the time.