National Parks – Visiting the Ancients

Down the Nankoweap Trail…

A week ago I hiked up, and out, the Nankoweap Trail to my truck, parked at the Saddle Mountain Trailhead. After 5 fantastic days below the rim, the semi-frozen Gatorade I had left in my cooler was the best thing I had tasted in months!

This trip had been on my radar for years and, after a couple failed attempts — excessive heat the first time, and impassible roads the second — I finally made that drive down Forest Road 8910. I chose this access, rather than the slightly shorter approach via FR 610, because it actually has a 1000’ ascent to the official beginning of the Nankoweap Trail, rather than a 1000’ descent.

Yes, I know, “Why would you want to go uphill??” Two reasons: A) Going uphill with a loaded pack is not as hard on my knees/quads as going downhill; B) After climbing up and out to the trailhead, I would rather look forward to a 1000’ descent with my empty pack, than another long climb. So, I chose the House Rock Valley route. It’s also less popular than the alternative, and there is a nice “car camping” campsite just before the Saddle Mountain trailhead, that wasn’t part of the old burn.

Day One began, after coffee and breakfast, with a sunny/breezy morning hike. After signing the trail register — I noticed there was a group of 6, one day ahead of me — I begin walking up, through the old burn. After about 30 minutes, the trail descended into the dry creek bed and wound along for about 45 minutes, before climbing back up into the Ponderosa. It was nice and cool, and the fall colors were starting to really pop, so the hike was quite pleasant, despite the hill climb. Don’t worry, it’s not THAT steep, just take one step at a time and don’t rush. I got to the rim, and the official Nankoweap Trailhead, about two hours after leaving my truck. The National Park Service (NPS) describes this segment of trail as being “3.5 miles.” It is closer to 4 miles, if you’re serious about tracking exact distance.

At the rim, the two Forest Service access trails come together at the NPS trailhead. There are actually a couple of small campsites here, and it makes a pretty nice spot for lunch, before continuing on, into the Canyon. Here I met a group of 4 ladies on their way out. They were tired and happy, which made me happy.

The “Actual” trailhead, 4 miles from the truck…

Once I’d rested from my hike up to the actual trailhead, I gathered my reserve and began descending the last of the Esplanade to the long Supai traverse. This is where the trail could become problematic if you have issues with heights, vertigo, balance, exposure, etc. The trail was very well defined, so no real route-finding skill needed, but there is a lot of exposure. Ie., the trail follows along a ledge system, at times very narrow, with a cliff wall to your left and the void to your right. In places, the trail narrows to less than 16 inches wide. It takes you along, for about 2 miles, to Marion Point. Here, there is a small, dry campsite that will accomodate a few tents if you don’t mind being close together. There are small campsites along the trail, past the point as well. Here, I stashed a couple of liters of water for my hike out, ate a snack, and continued on for another 3.5 miles to Tilted Mesa — my destination for the night. NOTE: The “seasonal” seep that is described by the NPS, has diminished to a patch of damp lichen. It is NOT a water source. More on this later.

The traverse/trail heading over to Tilted Mesa was essentially a continuation of the same trail type leading across to Marion Point. There are a couple of spots where the path takes you around large, protruding boulders (they push you towards the edge of the drop-off). I just kept my eyes focused on the path directly in front of my feet, and made myself blur out the void. One foot in front of the other… Bearing in mind that I had dry conditions for my hike, I could see these narrow spots being quite scary if muddy.

After a seemingly long, mostly unshaded walk, I came to the point where the path descends down through the last of the Supai. Here it does require a little bit of down-climbing, in a couple of spots. With the help of two handy trees, the climbs weren’t that bad, maybe 7-8’ of Class 4 scrambling. I kept my pack on, but if you are more comfortable lowering your pack, definitely do so. It shouldn’t require more than 5’ of cord, or a belt and long arms.

Once you get down through the Supai, the path eases up and descends down to the top of the Redwall formation, and a handful of nice, small campsites. I chose one, next to an odd structure, built by hikers. It’s up against a big, gnarled Juniper tree and, I suppose, it would help shelter you from the wind. It reminded me of a Tolkienien troll house, so I set up my shelter outside, and kept an eye on the structure. This was a dry camp, and I had carried just enough water across to take care of my basic camp needs for that night, and the hike down to the creek in the morning. No bird bath, or extra cup of hot tea tonight!

Day Two found me waking up at 6am to raindrops on my shelter. That made me sad, because I hate packing up wet gear, and I was not looking forward to the Redwall and Tapeats in the rain. Luckily, the rain didn’t last, and the trail was mostly dry. The Redwall descent wasn’t bad, for a RW descent. The worst sections have been built up/cribbed, to prevent any major slides. The loose gravels on the trail surface were big enough to be mostly stable. I usually have a foot slip at least once every Canyon hike, and it didn’t happen this trip. That said, because of all the warnings I had read about or heard about this trail, I was making a very serious effort to control my momentum, and only take one step at a time. This is NOT a trail to loose focus on. If you need to look at the scenery from time to time, stop, get your feet planted and then look around. This amount of attention is tiring, and after 2.5 hours of descending, while evaluating every foot placement, I was mentally worn out.

Getting to the creek was a relief! I scoped out my future campsite (Night 4), filtered a couple liters of water (I drank my bottles dry 30 minutes earlier) and headed on downstream. The hike to the river from where the trail hits the creek is mostly along the stream bed. There are a couple of places where you can leave the bed and hike along the ledges. It was beautiful —- fall colors in full-swing, gurgling creek. After a couple of hours, the river came into view!

I followed the main trail (very well defined) up and detoured onto the narrow ridge, overlooking the delta and lunch beach. Here you can see the remains of a small pueblo — a few room outlines, and a couple of poorly “reconstructed” wall segments. Sadly, any ceramic fragments or other small finds, left by the former occupants, have been carted off.

The Group of 6 had staked out the usual backpackers campsite I had been hoping for, so I walked around the top of the lunch beach, and found a nice spot in the old dunes, off of the Granary Trail. I got my damp gear out to dry, went to the beach and cleaned up, and was very surprised to find the water to be a COMFORTABLE temperature?!? I actually found myself getting back into the water to warm up, after standing up in the breeze. The water is so low in Powell Reservoir, that it is leaving the dam at surface temperature, which is almost warm. A commercial guide I spoke with said that by the time it reaches Nankoweap, the water is almost 25 degrees warmer than last year at this time. Good for the native fish, bad for the invasive trout. The water was also running clear — I was there between up-canyon storms.

After lounging around for a while, I noticed a private river trip heading into the eddy. Really cool group of folks, mostly from Wyoming and Idaho — My old stomping grounds! They invited me up to their camp for a beer. I decided to take them up on their offer, and they had appetizers, which they generously shared with me. While that was happening, the clouds rolled in and the skies opened up. We got a big, wing shelter set up over their kitchen and they told me I would be staying for dinner. They had not one, but TWO fire pans! When I’m not hiking I’m paddling. I am a river-rat, and for a couple of hours, they let me join their trip. They’re still on the river, heading for Diamond. Y’all, if any of you happen to read this, Thank you, again!!!

Day Three, I got up early the next morning, to hike up to the granaries. I actually had them to myself! The last time I saw them I was on a river trip with 15 other people. It was a bit crowded up there. A bonus: The NPS trail crew was just putting the finishing touches on a trail reconstruction project, the day before, so I got “first tracks.” They did a fantastic job, and the trail is now very stable and solid. The views down the river, from the granaries, is spectacular — well worth the effort to get up there!

I wandered back down to the river trip’s camp and said farewell. Then, it was back to my site to pack up and work my back up the creek. I found the little site I’d scoped out on the way down, and set up. I had the creek to myself for a couple of hours, before the Group of 6 came in. We kept to ourselves, and I was up and out the next morning, before they were.

Day Four, the climb out was, well, the hike down in reverse. I am one of those people that would rather climb up a steep, loose route than work my way down one. Gravity does most of the work keeping my feet under me, and I don’t worry about slipping as much. It was strenuous, but not nearly as mentally exhausting as the trip down. There are a few good spots to stop and catch your breath, and I did take advantage of those. I try to stop once an hour, when I’m on the trail, to take off my pack and boots, just to prevent pack soreness and blisters.

I got up to my first night’s campsite, on Tilted Mesa, in 4 hours. There I met a young German couple, heading down. They were stopped in the shade. She was looking at a large blister on her heel, and he was fiddling with his small pack. They were wearing light running shorts & tops, and running shoes, carrying 30 liter backpacks. As soon as they saw me come up, they both started asking me if there was water in the creek. They asked four times if there was water. He seemed a bit panicked about whether or not there was water in the creek. I asked if they had camped here, or at Marion Point, and they said they had hiked in from the National Park access that morning. It was about 11:30am, and was getting quite warm. I then asked if they were camping at the creek, and they replied that they were heading over to Kwagunt that evening. I noticed only one, 1 liter bottle in each of their packs. They may have been carrying more, but those packs were small and they were clearly out of water. Subsequent events would convince me further, that they were only carrying limited water/carrying capacity…

I said “Good Luck” to the two, Kwagunt-bound” adventurers, and made my way up, onto the traverse trail. By now it was getting pretty warm. I’d packed an extra liter of water that morning, knowing the hike across the traverse would be in front of a tall, heat reflecting sandstone cliff. I made it around to Marion point around 2:30 and collected my water. I noticed the Group of 6’s water cache, tucked into the rocks above the trail. I decided to press on and get to the rim, before sunset. I didn’t want to cram into the small camping area with a large group. I got across to the rim by 5pm and set up camp. The traverse back over was no less exposed/narrow than it had been on Day 1, I just had the void to my left this time. I had dinner during a perfect, Canyon sunset, then collapsed when it got dark.

I got up after the sun hit my tent (it was a cold night) and was just getting around to heading out, when the Group of 6 came up the short scramble to the trailhead. It was there that I learned that the young couple I’d encountered on Tilted Mesa had helped themselves to 6’s water cache. They only took 1 liter — one half liter from two different containers — but pilfering any water from someone’s cache could be potentially life threatening for the person/people that cached the water. That said, the Group got to the trailhead with enough water to be okay. If it had been hotter, it might have been a different story.

What do I think happened? The couple had started their hike without enough water. Based on the size of their packs, their condition when I encountered them, and only one visible bottle each, they’d headed out with limited carrying capacity. They got to Marion Point, looking for the seep that is still listed on the NPS trailhead sign as a possible water source, to find it dry. They saw the unmarked cache (no note) and assumed it was ok to help themselves. At least they only took the bare minimum. That half liter each probably didn’t get them all the way to Tilted Mesa, but got them through the hottest part of the trail, and there was definitely, positively water waiting for them at Nankoweap Creek. My hope is that they realized how unprepared they were, and stopped there. Pushing on to Kwagunt from Tilted Mesa, on a warm day, leaving at 11:30 was not going to end well. At least, that’s what I imagine happened.

Anyway… I hiked down to the Saddle Mountain trailhead, my truck and my semi-frozen Gatorade. The Group of 6 caught up with me. We hung out for a bit and then went on our way. One of them gave me a sweet bumper sticker for my truck. In all, my trip was amazing. The weather, despite the little bit of rain, was perfect for this trail. It’s not one I would do in the warmer seasons, or if I knew that conditions would be snowy or muddy. I met some amazing folks, saw some new scenery and got to revisit some old sites. This route is described by the NPS as “The Most Difficult” trail in the canyon. It is a long, steep, exposed hike. It would have been the most difficult route I’ve done, if I had tried to do it in a day, do it in late spring, summer or early fall. The exposure isn’t any worse than some I’ve seen on the Escalante, or Beemer, there is just a LOT more of it. The steep, loose sections aren’t any more so than what I’ve seen descending the Boucher or dropping off of Horseshoe Mesa, they are just longer. I broke the trail into sections, and had a great time. One misplaced step could’ve resulted in a different outcome. Will I do it again? Probably.

Trump aims attack at national monuments: 20 at risk | Wilderness.org

Trump aims attack at national monuments: 20 at risk President Trump is ordering a “review” of about half of all national monuments designated since the beginning of 1996, a sweeping action that is intended to shrink boundaries and reduce protections. The executive order will put more than 20 national monuments in the crosshairs, ranging from rare wildlife habitat to Native American archaeological ruins, stretching from Maine to California to Pacific islands. Photo: California Coastal National Monument. C

Source: Trump aims attack at national monuments: 20 at risk | Wilderness.org

Trump To Sign Executive Order That Could Shrink National Monuments : NPR

President Trump is expected to sign an executive order Wednesday that could end up shrinking — or even nullifying — some large federal national monuments on protected public lands, as established since the Clinton administration.The move is largely seen as a response by the new administration to two controversial, sweeping national monument designations made late in the Obama administration: the new Bears Ears National Monument in Utah considered sacred to Native American tribes and the Gold Butte National Monument in Nevada near the Bundy Ranch, site of the 2014 armed standoff over cattle grazing on public land.

Source: Trump To Sign Executive Order That Could Shrink National Monuments : NPR

Is Instagram Ruining the Great Outdoors? | Outside Online

The great outdoors is all over social media. On Instagram, the hashtag #nature has been used more than 20 million times. Attach a geotag to your photo of last weekend’s campsite, and your followers can tramp to the exact same spot. Some nature lovers worry about the downside to this: Is Instagram funneling hordes of people to places that can’t handle this crush of admirers? Are those filtered, perfectly tinted pics sending a message that people can always go where they want, when they want, and how they wa

Source: Is Instagram Ruining the Great Outdoors? | Outside Online

Mesa Verde National Park

Managed by the National Park Service, Mesa Verde is situated on top of Chapin Mesa in southwest Colorado, just thirty miles from Cortez on Hwy 160. The road to the park, and all interior roads open to the public, are paved.

What You Can See

There are over 4,000 known archeological sites in Mesa Verde National Park, ranging from Basketmaker II mesa top farm/village sites to Pueblo III cliff dwellings. Only a small percentage of the sites in the park have been excavated. Several of the spectacular cliff dwellings are accessible to the public via guided ranger tours. Stop by the visitors center on the way into the park to pick up a map and reserve a place on a tour. There are also several self-guided trails leading visitors to villages, pithouses and irrigation features.

Tips for Your Visit

Plan for two days to see both sides of the park. There are two main “loops” with plenty to see and do. There is a camp ground in the park, as well as a lodge and assorted dining facilities. If you plan to stay in the lodge or campground, make reservations early. They fill up quickly. There is a fee to enter the park, this varies depending on when you plan to visit. The pass is good for 7 days.

What’s in my pack? continued…

Personal items.

After I’ve settled on the perfect location to call “home,” and the tent is set up, my sleeping bag spread out to re-fluff itself, I clean up and change into my “clean” camp clothes. If there is ample water this entails a sponge bath with a bio-degradable soap – currently, I’m a big fan of the Sea to Summit Wilderness Wash, Pocket Soaps. They are little, dry leaves of soap that come in a tiny, super light plastic case. They take up no space, are nice to your skin and are biodegradable. One or two leaves to a half liter of water, and my 8″ x 10″ microfiber towel/cloth and I am clean! After a sweaty, dusty trail day I like to wash up, as much as possible. It helps prevent pack sores, chafing, rash, etc., and keeps your sleeping bag clean. If I’m in a dry camp and don’t want to use the extra water, I carry a few fragrance-free baby wipes, preferably with aloe. These will get the sweat and most of the dirt off until I arrive at another campsite with water. Usually, I try to plan out ahead of time, if my campsites will be dry, or not and try to pack just enough wipes. They are pre-moistened, so weigh a little more than the soap leaves. Once I’m all nice and clean, I put on silk weight base layers, clean/dry socks and whatever insulation the weather calls for. None of this is particularly heavy and really does feel good at the end of the day. It’s worth the extra few ounces, to me.

Water.

Collecting and filtering water is usually next on my list of camp chores. I carry a large 6-liter container to collect the unfiltered, “Icky” water. I’ll then carry this back to camp, where I can sit comfortable and filter to my heart’s content. Last summer I switched filtration systems. I’ve used an old Pur Hiker set-up for years. It works, but it’s heavy and slow and I have to sit there and pump the handle, and if the filter gets any sediment build-up in it, this can be a slow process. My new, Katadyn Gravity Camp system requires no pumping, weighs about 10 oz (they say 12, but I get only 10 on the scale) and filters water fast! Fill it, hang it, open the hose clamp (it works like a giant IV bottle) and in a few minutes, you have 6 liters of clean water. The cartridges are back-flushable and compact. I rigged up a cheesecloth pre-filter for mine, and was able to filter Colorado River water for 5 days – it was running very red/brown when I was there – with no problems.

Relaxing.

After cleaning up and changing clothes, and securing a supply of drinking water, I usually settle into my evening routine of setting up the kitchen and getting dinner ready. After a “happy hour” of some sort of electrolyte drink (sometimes mixed with a shot of something fun) and a handful of salty, snack mix, I choose a “dinner ball” from my food bag. Some of my favorites include Mountain House’s Biscuits and Gravy, Lasagna and/or Spaghetti. I’ll add a packet of Tobasco sauce or some grated parmesan cheese “product” for extra flavor. I also carry small (sub-film canister) containers of salt and pepper, as well. That’s it for my pantry…

The meal prep is pretty simple: Open the dinner ball, place it in the insulator/stove cover I made out of reflective double insulation, pour in the appropriate amount of boiling water, re-tie the plastic bag and wait 10 minutes. The insulator works to keep the food hot, and when not serving that purpose, covers/protects my JetBoil stove when it’s in my pack. It weighs less than 2 ounces and cost about 50 cents to make.

After dinner, doing the dishes entails crumpling up the empty plastic bag/dinner ball, wiping any food residue off my spoon with an alcohol swab and letting things dry. I’ve taken to “washing” dishes with alcohol wipes, as they are very small/light, the alcohol evaporates and leaves no flavor, you waste zero water. In the desert, that is everything. After packing away the kitchen, rehanging the food bag and making sure I’ve left no micro trash out, I drop the back of my chair a bit and relax. I have a Big Agnes Cyclone chair that I’ve been using for several years, now. I know, chairs are just a luxury item, and you don’t need one. No, I need it. There is nothing like being able to stretch my legs out and lean back after hiking all day. It weighs less than 6 ounces, works with any 20-inch pad and is quite comfortable considering how simple it is. Depending on h0w many miles the day covered, I’ll stay up and star-gaze. Or, crawl into my nest. I may listen to some of whatever audio book I’ve got on my iPod Nano, or take in the local sounds – river, frogs, creek, trees/wind. Sleep isn’t too far behind.

Packing Light: Getting the weight down without going to extremes.

I don’t enjoy carrying a heavy pack. And, while I’m not a zealot or fanatic, I do try to reduce the weight and volume of the gear that I carry on multiday backpacking trips. If you’re looking for extreme ultralight, minimalist tips/suggestions this isn’t where to find them. I’m the Ultralight (UL) backpacking version of Rudolph: I’d be banned from the “UL Club,” not invited to join in the UL Games. My backpack has a well-padded hip-belt and stays. I actually carry a (gasp) TENT! I use an isobutane canister stove (gasp, again). I carry and sit in a chair (Heathen!). I don’t cook/drink/eat out of the same cup. I refuse to rely on leaves when compact rolls of TP are easy to make and carry. I reduce weight and increase efficiency whenever I can, but I do like to be comfortable. You know, I like to enjoy the experience.

Even with all of these, what some would decry as unnecessary luxuries, I manage to carry a sub-30 lb pack on multi-day trips (5-7 day), including water and food. It takes a bit of researching and trial and error, but it’s possible to build a lightweight, but very comfortable kit. Ask anyone that knows me, they’ll tell you I spend a lot of time reading up on gear – I love gear! Show me a lightweight, functional, multipurpose toy and my attention is yours. That said, I don’t like the idea of buying/replacing/tossing a piece of gear every season, every time a new variation comes along. I’ll do my homework, compare different models, variations, manufacturers and try to decide how long the item in question will last, and will a significantly more efficient/useful model come out in a year? Can I modify what I already have to be lighter and more usable? Can I make my own version, better for my purposes? Does it make sense to replace an existing, functioning piece of gear, for a “better” one? Sometimes, yes.

A perfect example of this is my new stove. For several years, I’ve been using a very lightweight, titanium stove by Snowpeak – The Litemax. It comes in at under 2 oz, busts out over 11,000 BTU’s, and takes up hardly any space in my pack. That said, I’ve always found it susceptible to the slightest breeze – you have to build elaborate windscreens to protect it – and, it takes almost 3 1/2 minutes to bring a pint of water to a boil. I never put much thought into this, and just accepted it. I would carry a medium (8oz) canister of fuel for it, for a 7-day trip and it would be empty, consistently, at the end of the trip. With the stove, pot, stabilizer, cup/bowl, and lid the whole kitchen weighed in at 15 ounces. Last summer, I participated in a gear-testing outing, organized by my employer. Several of us went out to test prototype tents, packs, shelters, etc. We each had our own cooking equipment, and I was able to witness a variety of stoves and set-ups. Jetboil stoves made up the majority. While those of us using traditional, open burner stoves (my Litemax, an MSR Whisperlight, an MSR Pocket Rocket, etc) were still waiting for our kettles to boil, the Jetboilers were already a couple minutes into actually rehydrating their meals. The system stoves were significantly faster. The other standout feature I noticed was their fuel canisters – the Jetboil devotees all had the tiny, 4 oz canisters and had fuel to spare at the end of the trip. They were significantly more fuel efficient, under 2 minutes to boil a pint of water. I decided to upgrade. I purchased a Jetboil MiniMo. The MiniMo has a regulator and valve that enables effective use in cold weather, something that other canister stoves leave you wanting, and great simmer control. On its inaugural trip, my recent 2-week Grand Canyon trip, I got 10.6 quarts of water boiled with one, 4 oz canister. My old Litemax averaged 4.5 quarts of water boiled with the same size canister. The system weighs just under a pound, and by switching the included lid with a lighter one I already had, I shaved off another ounce. I didn’t have to build a single windscreen. I ditched the lighter I needed with my Litemax (I do carry emergency matches) because the built-in igniter on the Jetboil is reliable. I’m a convert.

Continuing with the cooking theme: anther way I reduce weight and volume and increase efficiency in the “kitchen” is by repackaging all of my food. Friends that I camp with like to joke about my “dinner balls.” I am a freeze-dried food devotee. I find it tastes better than dehydrated, and side by side, usually holds more of its nutritional value than dehydrated. It’s easy to prepare. Most importantly, it’s lighter and more compact. I’ll repackage the meal, tossing the original, bulky packaging, using food safe oven roasting bags or crockpot liners. Just pour the dried meal into one corner of a roaster bag, twist it down into a small ball, tie it off with a twist-tie, trim off the excess and write the water measurement and boil time on the outside with a marker. If I do it right, I can get two meals bagged with one roaster liner, one in each corner. These weigh significantly less, in this form than they do as packaged by their manufacturer, and after I’ve eaten, the empty bag is much smaller to carry out than the empty, heavy foil pouch. No muss, no fuss.

Next, I’ll rant about my camp “furniture” requirements. It has to do with the fact that I will NOT sleep out, under the stars, on a groundsheet. Something about scorpions, spiders, mice, packrats, sudden downpours….

Grand Canyon National Park: Why I go there…

My Tonto Tour: 14 Days Below the Rim, Part 8

Day 13.

Woke up and got going as early as I could. My goal was Tanner Beach, and that would be a 10.5-mile hike, across the most rugged terrain of my trip, so far. It would also be the hottest day of my 2-week journey, across the appropriately named Furnace Flats section, below the Unkar Overlook. Yay me. The morning started out, as usual, a quick breakfast, pack up, hit the trail and enjoy the morning shade as long as it would last. The first mile, or so, of trail wound it’s way along the lower end of Escalante Creek (a dry wash) and began to ascend up on to the ridge, immediately north of the drainage just as the sun devoured the last of the shade. Perfect timing. The route is easy enough to see/follow. It is narrow and sloping in many places, so careful footwork is required. I just kept up with my “…get there when you get there.” mantra, and listened to the theme song from “The Great Escape” play itself over, and over again in my head. PLEASE! Someone change the record! I stopped for a quick snack on the crest of the ridge and took in the view. It never gets old, looking around in the canyon. I also found my first tick of the season, and the second tick I’ve ever seen down here. I noticed it scurrying up my pant leg as I stood up to put on my pack. I gave it a good thump and sent it over the edge. Not today, my friend. Not today.

From the crest of the first ridge, the trail contours around the red, shale slope and maneuvers through a steep, boulder covered section. Mercifully, it was slightly shady here, and I made decent time despite having to pick my way around the rocks. It was here, almost exactly halfway between the Tanner and New Hance Trailheads, at 11:30 am, that I encountered four invincible male hominids, aged 19 – 25. They were all gingerly picking their way through the boulders when the one in the lead looked up, quite startled to see a lone hiker on the trail with a backpack. All four were dressed in light running kits – minimalist hydration bladder packs, a couple Gu pouches, running shoes/shorts/t-shirts. Their packs weren’t big enough for any kind of water filtration, extra clothing or substantial food. I just assumed they had come up from a camp at the river. The one bringing up the rear paused to catch his breath, so I said “Hey. Nice day for it.” He asked where I was headed, and I told him my itinerary for the day. I asked where they had spent the night before, and he looked confused. “Did you camp at Tanner or Cardenas?” I asked. “No.” he replied. “We came down the Tanner this morning.” “Wow,” was all I could muster. “We’re running out the ‘New something…?'” “The New Hance?” “Yeah! That one. It’s my first time here. I’m just following my friends.” At this point I decided not to break it to him that he still had 15 miles to go, the easiest 15 miles were actually behind him, and that it would get really warm before they even got to the river, which resembled chocolate milk and was the only water source between themselves and the rim. “Well, I need to get moving so I can get a good campsite. Have a nice run.” I didn’t see any helicopters circling the next day, but they usually wait 24 hours, so…

From that point, I just continued on around and out onto the ridge overlooking the Unkar area. The “hilltop ruin” is located a short way off, and is worth a visit. The views from the structure are amazing. So is the ancient finger of gravel bar it’s perched on! The next leg of my hike was spread out below me – Furnace Flats, Cardenas Creek, and heat waves, visibly radiating up from all of it. I can’t imagine what this place would be like in July. I don’t really want to. I’ll stick to spring. The trail from the Unkar Overlook winds down to the sandy flats by Cardenas. I walked down to the river, ate lunch in the shade, by the beach and found a 1/2 full bottle of sunscreen! Perfect timing, this find, as my little stash was empty and I was starting to pink-up on my shoulders. Thank you, unknown person, for the extra UV protection AND moisturizer, thank you. I checked my water supply and decided I had enough to make it to Tanner. Time to move on, it would only get hotter as the day wore on.

The trail leads away from Cardenas Beach, winds through the sand dunes, past several well camouflaged prehistoric sites, and strikes out across the dark brown/black gravel covered “Furnace Flats.” The ambient temperature was around 80 that afternoon, and it felt about 20 degrees warmer. By the time I crossed out of the Cardenas Use Area and entered the Tanner area, I still had a mile or so to go, and I was sucking air out of my hydration bladder. Mercifully, the distance went by quickly and I got to Tanner between 2:30 and 3:00 without feeling too miserable. I snagged my favorite campsite, at the west end of the area, under some junipers, with a rocky beach.

My first chore was collecting and filtering, and drinking water. This would be my last afternoon/evening at the river (on this trip) and I set up my sunshade, rinsed off in the river and enjoyed being there. By dusk, I realized I had the entire area to myself. I walked up river to the little ledges campsite on the other side of Tanner Creek, and, no one. I was the only human at the mouth of Tanner Canyon. Well, it should be a very quiet night.

Day 14.

The day would turn out to be my last in the canyon, for this trip. My original plan called for tanking up with enough water to hike up to a dry campsite, above the Red Wall. It would mean carrying extra water weight for the day, but I would have a shorter hike today, and a really short hike the next day. I was up and out of Tanner by 8:05 am and had a shady hike for the first 90 minutes. At 9:30 the sun rose above the canyon rim and there was no ducking it. The trek across the Dox is hot, and a bit tedious – it seems to go on forever.

Once you’ve ascended above this, the trail steepens and you get fewer flat sections to catch your breath on. There are a few little places, here and there, to rest in patches of shade, and I took advantage whenever I could. Before I knew it, I was at the break in the Red Wall and could see my destination for the day – just up there. I topped out on the Red Wall at 12:30, ate a handful of cashews and then started down the trail to my intended campsite.

I’ve camped up here before, and I like a particular site, between two big, cube-shaped boulders below the trail. It is situated directly below the Desert Watchtower, and if the wind is right, you can hear the tourist chatter on the tower. It was another hot afternoon, so I pitched up my poncho/tarp against the large boulder, for some shade and ate lunch and rehydrated. I was just relaxing, enjoying the shade and the nice, cool breeze when it occurred to me: “Why is there a cool breeze?”

I looked out from my tarp, just as a gust of wind whipped up a dust devil. Large, dark clouds had started building up on three sides. By this point, I had no idea what the weather forecast was. The bulletin board at Indian Garden had a 4-day forecast posted there, but that was 7 days ago. What was blowing in, and would it impede my hike out, up the friction slabs at the top of the trail? It was about 2 pm, so I decided to give it an hour, and see what happened. By 3:00 the clouds were beginning to consolidate and the wind was increasing. It was decided: Take enough water to hike out, put on the dry socks and head for the top. It would make for a long, steep day, but I wouldn’t have to navigate potentially wet slick rock slabs at the top.

Besides, a beer and cheeseburger suddenly sounded pretty good. The only potential issue, aside from how tiring I knew it would be, was finding a place to stay that night. I had a campsite at Mather CG reserved for the next night and had nothing planned for an early exit. I also wanted to try and get out and to the Village by 8:00 – a hot shower would really be a treat, and they close at 8:00. I drank a liter of water, ate the last of my chocolate and cashews, laced up my boots and started out.

I got up to Stegosaurus Rocks and met a couple resting after their hike down. He said the weather forecast didn’t look bad, but the buildup and wind hadn’t been predicted. I bid them farewell and kept hiking. From that point, the hike out isn’t too terrible. There are a couple of loose, steep sections (where have I heard that before) and, where the trail crosses through the drainage, large sandstone steps that trail crews have constructed. After ascending the Coconino formation, you start a series of switchbacks that wind through the trees. At the bottom of the Kaibab formation, you’re in the forest and the temperatures are significantly lower that what you’ve been used to. I zipped my pant legs back on and kept going.

At 6:00 pm, 2.5 hours after leaving my little site below the Tower, I came to a set of stone steps that climb up, and abruptly end at the edge of the paved road leading to Lipan Point Overlook. And, with that, I was done. I walked the short distance down to my truck, found a note from my wife on the dash, and thanked the canyon gods when the engine turned over without any hesitation.

I drove into the Village, and immediately found the campgrounds booked up for the night, “NO VACANCY!” I then headed to the rim and went into the lobby of the El Tovar – the rim’s fanciest accommodation. They also have access to any available rooms at the other hotels. As it turns out, the only room available, on the South Rim, that night, was in the El Tovar and they offered me a ridiculous deal on it, despite how I looked and smelled. The receptionist was actually quite excited to hear about my trip, and when I told him how long I’d been out, he took another $50 off the price of the room. Nice people, those folks at Xanterra.

I took the longest hot shower I’ve ever taken, well, not too long. It is the desert, after all. You don’t appreciate hot water and soap until you have been rinsing off in 50 degree, silty, chocolate water for days. It was at this point that I noticed my tan. I’d spent time at the beach in my climbing bra, burned through my long sleeved shirt on the trail, had pinked up around my pack straps, had worn my pant legs rolled up, or zipped off, been barefoot, worn my boots with my shorts. It all made for some interesting “topo lines” on my skin. Think “pink zebra.” After my shower, I found a cheeseburger, salad, ice-cold IPA and phoned home.

Home.

Usually, I find myself feeling down at the end of a backpacking trip. I put time into planning them and anticipating them, and then they’re done and behind me and I feel somehow disappointed, for lack of a better word. I haven’t experienced that this time, yet. I put more planning and effort into this trip, than usual. It’s the longest solo hike I’ve ever done, the longest number of days I’ve put in on a backpacking trip – period. I wasn’t afraid at any time, leading up to or during, that I wouldn’t be able to do it. My only real concern was how I’d do being along with my head for ten days. I’ve never done that before. Prior to the trip, that sounded like a lot. Looking back, it wasn’t much. I was in shape for it. I had prepared materially for it. The only equipment failure I had was a blown tent zipper (no biggie). I had worried about what it would feel like when I would catch site of the Tanner Trailhead, my endpoint. Would it be sad, would I feel disappointed that it was over? As the signboard at the top of the Tanner came into view, I didn’t experience any of that. I understood there, that I had taken this on for my own reason, to do the thing. Not how many miles I would cover in total, how fast I would do it, how “burly” it would be, what would my time be when I set my trekking pole tips at the trails’ end? My goal/reward/project was to go through the experience of the whole thing. That was it. All along, I’d been telling myself that I would get there when I get there. Well, I was here. Getting here was just part of the package. I had been rewarding myself the entire way, by just “doing the thing,” by just getting to know myself in this remote, rugged, potentially lethal, spectacularly beautiful place. It’s wasn’t the PCT, AT, or someone else’s “epic” journey. It was my journey, that I planned and executed and thoroughly enjoyed from start to finish. I think I’ll be able to ride the high for awhile, then I’ll head out on the next one.

My Tonto Tour: 14 Days Below the Rim, Part 7

Day 11.

Down to the river!

The hike from Hance Creek down to the river, and Hance Rapid (the mouth of Red Canyon) is about 6.5 miles. Heading-out Hance Creek is pretty easy, not too steep or loose. I left my campsite at Hance Creek around 7:30, and had good hiking weather – not hot, nice breeze, etc.

Even in mid-March, as you drop lower into the canyon it can feel hot. The reflected heat always feels about 15-20 degrees warmer than the ambient temperature. The hike down to Hance Rapid is also dry. Along the way, you hike through Mineral Canyon, a very interesting section of the Tonto. You pass through layers of petrified water ripples – shallow lake or sea shore deposits. These sit directly atop a huge, cemented cobble bed, resembling a frozen river bottom. It’s pretty cool.

As I was heading out this canyon, I passed two small, separate groups that were hiking out the Grandview. They’d come down the Tanner a few days before and were enjoying their last couple of days on the trail.

After you leave Mineral Canyon behind, you arrive at the top of a sloping rock garden. The trail winds it’s way through the large boulders, often marked by cairns. There are a lot of good places to duck into the shade here if you’re overheating. You can see Hance Rapid, and you can hear it!

About 45 minutes or so, the trail unceremoniously dumps you out at the edge of the beach, and when you pass between the two cairns, you’ve come to the end of the Tonto Trail. You’re now on the Escalante Route, that will carry you east to the Tanner Trail. The trail goes along the beach for a short distance, past a couple of larger boaters campsites and then ascends up slightly, into the sand dunes. This little bit doesn’t make for pleasant hiking, with a pack on, but the dunes are quite scenic and, when I went through, covered with Sand Verbena flowers.

My destination for this afternoon was a campsite, by the river, at the top of Hance Rapid. There is a very nice site situated under a small grove of large mesquite trees, and I usually stay there. It is really set up for multiple tents/people, so I opted for a small, single site in the willows below. The big site is for sharing with friends and, again, I didn’t want to take up more room than I needed, in case a larger group showed up. As it was, I didn’t see another human soul all day or that evening. I had the entire area to myself! I took advantage of the shallow, sandy bottomed river by my campsite and cleaned up, rinsed clothes and just relaxed and enjoyed the roar – Hance Rapid is a loud one.

After a light dinner of Mountain House Lasagna (one of my favorites) and some chocolate, I crawled into my tent and fell asleep to the roar and vibration of the rapid. I wanted to get an early start tomorrow, and would be looking out for my friends that had put in on a raft trip, seven days prior. I knew they’d be floating through this section (15 – 20 miles) and hoped to at least catch a glimpse of them. I know, total long shot… I also had the infamous “Papago Slide” to deal with in the morning, and wanted to put it behind me before it started to warm up.

Day 12.

Papago was waiting for me. I woke up early, even though I knew I only had around four miles to hike, today. My plan was to hike up to the mouth of Escalante Creek, and if the beach was dry and available, camp there. First, I had to maneuver up the Papago – a 20-minute crawl up a large, cone-shaped talus slope. The trail ascends this thing because the river cuts it off at the cliff edge below. It’s about a 45 degree slope, completely covered with assorted rubble/boulders/rocks in various stages of “stability” or, instability depending on where you put your feet. The trick is to keep an eye out for the “trail” (the obvious route previous hikers have taken), check the slabs you’re going to step on and make sure they’re solid, and move quickly. If you’re going up, I find the right side to be preferable. About half-way up, small stones began tumbling down past me, and I looked up to see a family of “Bumblies” trying to descend, in mass, down the upper left side. I asked them to please wait until I was up and clear of them, and they seemed quite surprised to see me. I’m not actually sure how they got to where they were, but when I suggested going down one at a time, and following the cairns, they agreed that it sounded like a good idea.

At the top, I stopped to take a photo and yelled “Hi!” to a kayaker floating past, below. He told me there was a large group of boaters camped about 1/4 mile up-river, and I might find my friends there. I’d been really lucky on my trip, so far. Maybe it would be Kat and Joe!

After you get through the “Slide” you have to down-climb the Papago Ledges. It’s a short, easy, class V section of slabby ledges. A section of rope or cord comes in handy here for lowering packs. Being solo, I chose to use caution and lowered my pack down all three short, down-climbs. Reshouldering the beast, I hit the edge of the beach and walked over to the rafter’s camp. They were just finishing rigging their rafts for the day when I caught sight of my friend Joe – I’d know those striped boardie shorts anywhere. I casually strolled up to him (he didn’t know I was in the canyon) and smiled. He looked a bit shocked, let out a few endearing expletives and gave me, and my pack, a giant bear-hug. “What the #$&* are you doing down here?!?” After recovering, he told me where Kat was, and I went over and startled her. She knew I would be in the canyon but, like I had also assumed, didn’t think we would actually intersect on our trips. It was really fun running into them. Just like I was, they were having a fantastic trip! After catching up for a few minutes, it was time for them to get going, and I needed to start my hike up as well. Kat gave me a much battered can of beer, that I would “put in the fridge” once I made camp. I waved them all on their way, and started out, on my way.

Hiking up, into the mouth of 75 Mile Canyon is one of the best sections of trail, anyplace. It’s a gravel wash that leads into a very lovely slot canyon. You wind your way along the bottom to where the slot canyon ends at a pour-off/bowl. An easy scramble up and you’re back on the main trail again. The entry into the slot reminds me of the Paths of the Dead in The Lord of The Rings – “The way is shut.”

A quick hike around from the top of the slot canyon, and you descend down to the river along a route of mixed dirt path and stone ledges. Here, I found the beach I was hoping would be dry and empty, dry and empty. It was all mine. I set up my camp at one end of it, put my beer in “the fridge” and enjoyed a long afternoon at the beach: wading, drawing, filtering water, snacking and relaxing.

There was a breeze blowing that evening, so after dinner (Chili-Mac washed down with a cold beer) and cleaning up, I put the fly on the tent. It helps keep sand dunes from forming inside. Tomorrow would be a long, hot, mostly dry day with a lot of narrow, up-hill trail to cover.