Rim to Rim, A Grand Hike

The last time I saw the top of the North Kaibab Trail, it marked the turnaround point on a marathon hike.

A group of us had left Grand Canyon Village on the South Rim before dawn, strode down to the Colorado River at canyon-bottom, then hiked up to the North Rim. There we made a U-turn and plodded all the way back, down and up, across the chasm. In a single day, I traipsed about 50 miles and made a vertical ascent roughly equal to the climb from base camp to the summit of Mt. Everest.

That was a decade ago. Like many of us, I have since suffered the ravages of environmental degradation. Sunlight through the ozone hole has faded my hair like an old, weathered fence. Global warming has shrunk pants and belts. Now my legs feel leaden.

I am still smitten, though, with canyon crossings. So last year on Memorial Day weekend my wife, Dianne, and our friends Mick and Barb Sears joined me on another rim-to-rim crossing of the Grand Canyon, although a bit modified from my first trek. We would hike down from the North Rim, spend a night lodging at the Phantom Ranch by the Colorado River, then hike the next day up to the South Rim. Half the distance in twice the time, a sweet, midlife revenge.

We departed from the North Rim at the cold cusp of dawn. (The North Rim opens in mid-May.) There was still some snow on the ground, and for warmth some of us wore long johns under hiking shorts. The geezerish look would have put us on any teen’s parental embarrassment list. We carried day packs with lunch, fruit, trail mix, a change of clothes and a quart of water (we could refill our canteens every few miles).

The trail from the North Rim begins in the pines, 8,200 feet above sea level. Dropping over the edge, the North Kaibab Trail carves its way about 14 miles down (with a vertical drop of about 5,800 feet) to a long tributary canyon to the Colorado River. Sunlight glazed the walls above with a golden glow. A rivulet tumbled over cliffs, showering the path with unwanted mist. We soon heard the morning’s first canyon wren. The song triggered memories of my youthful days in the desert back country.

The Grand Canyon is built like an eroded layer cake, and one of its most dominant strata is Redwall limestone, a band of stained rock that rises almost half as tall as the World Trade Center. As we hiked down, we also saw torrents pour from cliff-side caverns. “It looks as though a water main has been severed,” Barb said.

The plateau through which the Grand Canyon was carved tilts to the south. Aquifers have been laid open by deepening erosion. About five miles into our hike, at Roaring Springs, the flow draped the lower palisades in white froth. The sound must have been deafening before the Park Service partially capped the output.

Mule rides from the North Rim go no farther than Roaring Springs. From the South Rim, the mules do not go beyond the Colorado River area. Those who want to go all the way across the canyon must do it on foot. Beside Roaring Springs, we met backpackers who were doing just that. As a young couple huffed upward, their faces displayed the same pained grimace that I bore on my marathon hike.

“Looking good,” I lied to them. “You’re less than six miles from the top.” We continued toward the rushing flow of Bright Angel Creek, which the trail parallels to the Colorado River. We were far beneath the rim and engulfed in the canyon’s immensity. Buttes and plateaus pointed toward the heavens. Bands of subtle hues painted distant walls. Although the magnitude was visually overwhelming, we each had a personal scale for comprehending the canyon’s vastness. We measured it in muscle soreness. I figured I was already two Ben-Gays below the rim.

The day’s half-distance point came at Cottonwood Campground. The poplars that canopy this leafy oasis were a welcome sight. Growing near water, the trees adapt to heat by taking in up to 50 gallons of moisture daily. We wallowed in the shade and drank some water.

A short way farther south, a spur trail accessed Ribbon Falls. In a side-canyon cul-de-sac, we saw a brisk stream tumbling over a two-tier plunge. The flow first plummeted to a limestone apron covered with moss, ferns, columbines and monkey flowers. The bulk then whooshed down in a refreshing shower. “I never thought I would see so much liquid down here,” Mick said.

We paused before continuing the march downward. Two miles from the river and the canyon bottom, the route entered “the Box.” Walls rose, the canyon narrowed and the stone turned diabolically dark. Finally the corridor opened, and we reached Phantom Ranch, where we would spend the night. Never a cattle operation, this spread was built solely to accommodate tourist herds. It’s not easy to get reservations at Phantom Ranch, but we lucked out and had reserved a cabin to share. We checked in, got a key and ambled to our cabin.

The quarters were spartan. Two bunk beds nearly filled our cabin, leaving barely enough room for a small table. A side door led to a cramped toilet stall. The room had a sink with cold running water, but for a hot shower we had to traipse to a building across the compound. Amenities such as telephone, TV and radios were nowhere to be seen. The ranch lies about a quarter mile from the Colorado River. Explorer John Wesley Powell and his men bivouacked near the stream on their 1869 float trip down the canyon.

Massive cottonwood and sycamore trees shade the compound of cabins and dormitories. Cabins sit in blocks. Uncut river rocks form building corners. Wooden facings are painted pea green, and the eves, dark brown. They blend into the environment.

Three B’s soothed the sting of our devilish day on the trail. First came boots, which we all removed gleefully. For our wives, bathing came next. Soap and towels in hand, they disappeared into the shower building. Having different priorities, Mick and I headed straight to the canteen. Baths would wait; we guys needed brews.

As we finished a second round, Barb and Dianne joined us, looking refreshed. “Here we are at the bottom of the canyon and we have a staff at our beck and call. It sure beats setting up camp,” Barb said as she ordered a glass of wine.

At the evening’s dinner, we shared tables with those who arrived by mule-back from the South Rim. Everyone hobbled like orthopedic patients. The walkers shuffled stiff-kneed. The riders waddled bowlegged. There is no easy way to get here.

Meals are served family style, and guests choose from two sittings. The early diners enjoy New York steak or vegetarian plates served with salad, baked potato and vegetables. The later crowd savors bowls of vegetable-beef stew. (In the morning, pancakes and scrambled eggs help energize guests for the trip out. Hikers can also request sack lunches for the arduous climb, as we did.)

When night came, glistening stars danced through the black velvet heavens. Crickets chirped, mules brayed and Bright Angel Creek gurgled nearby. The spectacle of a night deep in the Grand Canyon was unlike any other.

Bleary-eyed, we returned to the trail at 5:45 the next morning. The route was already crawling with hikers and backpackers, and mule-skinners beginning to saddle mounts. We were eager to complete the 9.6-mile escape up the South Rim’s Bright Angel Trail before the arrival of the searing sun.

Two suspension bridges span the Colorado River. We crossed on the newer “Silver Bridge.” Beneath the grate flooring swirled the green current of the Colorado. The deviant color made the river look like a spate of rushing antifreeze.

The river’s name comes from the Spanish word for red. The Colorado once carried sediments from the chasms of Utah and Arizona. Glen Canyon Dam then changed the picture. Upstream muck now settles in Lake Powell, and limpid water from the reservoir bottom feeds the canyon.

After crossing the river, we followed a route that paralleled the Colorado. We were deep in the Vishnu group, the metamorphic roots of ancient mountains. This rock, formed about 2 billion years ago, is some of the oldest exposed stone on Earth.

Our trail turned at the river rest house, and we begin a gentle ascent beside the trickle of Pipe Creek. The easy travel ended four miles into our hike, at the Devil’s Corkscrew, where we began an unrelenting mile of switchbacks.

Along the way we saw far more hikers coming down on the popular, shorter trail from the South Rim than we had seen the day before. At times the foot traffic was so heavy it was like walking through Disneyland. The spaghetti strands of the trail baked in a sizzling solar oven. We stopped and basted ourselves with sunscreen.

The route crossed to Garden Creek, where grasses and reeds lined a shallow stream. Wild mint grows here, and Dianne put a sprig in her water bottle. The Anasazi once inhabited this area, building granaries and dwellings in the sandstone cliffs. Havasupai Indians later farmed nearby. A century ago, the lush desert oasis hosted mining operations and tourism.

The flow emanates from springs at Indian Gardens, about halfway into our day’s hike, where the Park Service maintains a backpackers’ campground. We paused for rest and rehydration. At 9:30 in the morning it was already 88 degrees. Buzzards soared overhead.

I was tired and sore, and I trudged up the final 4.6 miles like a catatonic zombie. One foot moved, then the other. The tempo was broken only when I stood aside for passing mule trains. Multitudes of hikers were but a wearying blur.

Around one final switchback, we faced the stone Lookout Studio that stands at the edge of the South Rim. It loomed like the checkered flag at the final turn of the Indy 500. Shortly after noon, we limped across the finish line. I did not feel this exhausted at the end of my double canyon crossing when I was 10 years younger.

As I gazed across the void, the reason for the added fatigue became obvious. Due to ongoing river erosion, the Grand Canyon must now be deeper.

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GUIDEBOOK: Canyon Footing

How to get there: It’s a 10- to 11-hour drive from L.A. to the Grand Canyon’s North Rim. Take Interstate 15, east on 9 and 389, then south on 89 and 67.

The hike: The easiest hike across the Grand Canyon is from the North Rim. The North Kaibab Trail is about 14 miles down to Phantom Ranch near the canyon bottom; most hikers then take the 9.6-mile Bright Angel Trail to the South Rim. Only strong hikers should attempt a canyon crossing. The trip covers about 24 miles of trail and includes an ascent of about a vertical mile. For hiking permits, contact the Grand Canyon National Park, P.O. Box 129, Grand Canyon, AZ 86023, telephone (520) 638-7888. The North Rim opens May 15. For a rim-to-rim shuttle, contact Trans Canyon Shuttle, tel. (520) 638-2820. One-way fares are $60.

Where to stay: Space is limited at Phantom Ranch and reservations are accepted up to 23 months in advance. Rates: dorms, $23 per person; cabins, $66 for two, $11 for each additional person. At the North Rim, Grand Canyon Lodge is the only in-park accommodation. Rates: $65 to $95. The South Rim offers various lodgings. Rates: $60 to $179. Call AmFac for reservations, tel. (303) 297-2757.

For more information: Grand Canyon National Park Service, tel. (520) 638-7888, Internet https:// www.thecanyon.com/nps.