rhihn
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Grand Canyon Hike: A Tale of Beauty and Survival
With eager anticipation, we drove into the Grand Canyon region for our first views and our first desert hiking experience. There is nothing extraordinary to be seen upon approaching the canyon, save lots of juniper trees, until you’re right at the rim. Then it hits you right in the face. There are no words to describe it. Some have cried at their first view of this incredibly stunning creation of nature. Far from being a dead hole in the ground, it is a living, breathing 277-mile-long entity, with a large variety of flora and fauna, rock formations, fossils, geologic wonders, ghosts of past dwellers and nearby home to people of the Hopi, Navajo, Havasupai, Paiute, and Hualapai tribes. It’s 18 miles wide at its widest point, with a tiny stream flowing through it at 2400 ft. elevation, better known as the Colorado River. The highest point is on the North Rim, at 7,800 ft. Six of seven world climatic belts are found here. It contains 70 species of mammals, 250 species of birds, 25 reptiles, and 5 amphibians. Generally it is 25 degrees hotter in the gorge than it is at the rim. And there are too many wildflowers to count. A simple mnemonic helped us to remember the principal canyon layers: Know The Canyon’s History; Study Rocks Made By Time. First letter stand for Kaibab Limestone, Toroweap formation, Coconino sandstone, Hermit shale, Supai formation, Redwall limestone, Muav limestone, Bright Angel shale, and Tapeats sandstone. There is also an eighth layer, the Visnu schist, which does not fit into the mnemonic. It all truly did take our breath away – and would soon do so again in a more sinister and physical sense!
Six hikers (Jan, Jack, Mark, Lani, Joanne, and Dick), all from various parts of the country converged at the El Tovar Hotel at the Grand Canyon, some of us meeting for the first time, and others renewing old acquaintances. Jan was the organizer of the group. Five were musicians and one (Jack) was a writer. All were experienced hikers. One (Lani) was a marathon runner. All but two (Joanne and Dick) had a fair amount of Grand Canyon and desert hiking experience. The emails had been flying for months, as we made plans for packing and pre and post-canyon details. I did what I could to keep weight to a minimum, but my pack at its heaviest weighed about 43 lb., including food and six quarts of water for the one dry camp. In actuality I would not need to carry that much, as the dry camp was at the end of the trip, when we would have eaten most of the food, so most of our packs were basically in the 30s for a six-day trip.
Applications for permits to overnight in the canyon must be applied for four months in advance, and they process a couple of hundred on a daily basis. We were lucky to have received a permit for a variation of our second choice from the ranger. The plan was to take the Hermit Trail down to the Tonto Trail over to Monument Creek, back to the junction and over to Boucher Rapids and up the Boucher Trail to the Dripping Springs Trail, over to the Hermit Trail and out. However, this itinerary was not to happen, as will be seen later.
The Hermit Trail is at 6,640 ft. at the rim. The trail was first used as an indian route, then improved by prospectors (known then as the Horsethief Trail). The modern version of the trail began in 1896, with further improvements when the Santa Fe Railroad took it over around 1911, in order to bypass the toll being charged on the Bright Angel Trail. They also constructed “Hermit’s Camp,” though nothing remains of it other than the stone foundation. The trail immediately sinks like a stone, first dropping 1300 ft. in 1.3 miles, almost always with spectacular views, and some excellent fossil specimens right on the trail within the first quarter mile or so. It then alternates with traverses that are more or less level with shorter drops, and finally, through a spectacular series of switchbacks known as Cathedral Stairs (aptly named, with the canyon wall backdrop) the trail dumps you out onto the Tonto at about 3300 ft. From there, we headed east to Monument Creek campground (named for a towering monolith just north of the CG). Total of just under 9 miles that day.
We started the hike at approximately 9:30 AM. TRIP MISTAKE #1. As trails go, this one is fairly straightforward. Or should I say straightdownward! The trail is mostly dirt, rock, and dust, fairly easily to hike. There are no real route-finding issues, save for a few moments of crossing some slides where huge boulders dropped off of the side of the canyon and littered the trail. Some portions of the upper and lower sections of the trail even have “paved” areas of cobblestone from times past when mules regularly descended the trail. Most of the traverses were embedded along the sides of cliffs, with several sections of steep drop-off. The “sides” of the canyon do not form a ring, but rather are a complex series of side canyons and bluffs. Imagine being on a lake and seeing the shoreline appear to be smooth in the distance, but when you actually paddle it, you see all of the coves and inlets. Similarly so in the Grand Canyon, except that you have to hike all of those coves and inlets! Written warnings about height exposure seemed exaggerated to us, and this was not to be an issue for anyone in our party.
Oh…did I mention that it’s hot in the canyon? Very hot. How hot does it feel? Turn your oven on and stick your head in the opening. That’s about it, but without much escape, save for the shade, which is at a premium in the canyon. The forecast was for over 100 degrees each day in the gorge, much higher than the May average. That afternoon, Jack’s thermometer registered 104.5 degrees. The southwestern sun is intense! Water is the nectar of the gods there, and shade takes on a whole new importance. They are at the top of the list of principal tools of survival.
What follows is a description of the second half of the first day in the canyon. It is not easy to write, and is somewhat of an emotional experience for me, as you may soon surmise. It may read a little melodramatic at times, but it was that way for us. At some point just above the Cathedral Stairs the group of six decided to split into two groups, basically fast and slow. I was never clear as to the reason for this, and I label it TRIP MISTAKE #2. Joanne asked me to stay back with her, which I did, along with Jack. We weren’t ever really that far apart and could often see each other. Toward the bottom of the Cathedral Stairs, Jan (group leader) called to Joanne to ask how she was doing. “Tired” was the reply. He kept moving, and he and the rest of his group disappeared through a cleft in the trail, just past the intersection with the Tonto Trail. Joanne stumbled. I didn’t think a thing of it. Then she stumbled again, and again. I suggested she try to focus on the trail and her footwork. She responded with words that made no sense. Clearly she was in trouble. With each step, she became more disoriented and clumsy, and her speech more distant. She fell frequently. I continued to try to get her to move until we found some shade. She started to stumble precariously, as the trail was becoming quite precipitous in spots. I held onto her shirt, trying to pull her away from the side. I tried to get her to drink, but she would have none of it, and told me to go on while she rested (not considered, even for an instant). There was NO shade and it was over 104 degrees of intense heat and sun. Jack and I talked and we agreed that he would try to go on ahead to catch up to the others for aid. I had about one inch of Gatorade in my Nalgene, half of which I saved for Joanne and the other half for Jack’s journey ahead. We were both otherwise out of water, as was Joanne. I asked Jack to call back if he noticed any shade within the next few hundred feet. MIRACLE #1 – ample shade was just around the corner about 100 feet away! Getting Joanne to that spot was another story. That process took a half-hour of stumbling, falling, and picking up, and Joanne was quickly loosing consciousness. She was confused, dizzy, and unresponsive. I took her pack off and left it in the trail to make it easier for her.
Somehow we made it to the shade. Fortunately I was physically doing fine, just a little thirsty, and more scared for Joanne than anything else. She was virtually unconscious, trembling, mumbling incoherently at times, sometimes seeming to reach out to perform some unknown task. I continued to try to get her to drink the last of the Gatorade, which she would either refuse or try unsuccessfully to drink, spilling it down her shirt. Somehow I eventually managed to get it down her throat. I held her and talked to her, though I knew she didn’t hear me. The afternoon sun was waning, which was a blessing, though I didn’t know the status of the rescue. We were without a watch (TRAIL MISTAKE #3), though it seemed to me to be around 5:00 PM or so. I was becoming even more scared – this time for both of us. I was somewhat comforted by the fact that we both had our packs and were fully equipped to spend the night, save for the “nectar of the gods.” Joanne’s pack was still 100 feet back, but I was reluctant to leave her alone while I retrieved it, as a fall for Joanne at that point could have proven fatal.
With eager anticipation, we drove into the Grand Canyon region for our first views and our first desert hiking experience. There is nothing extraordinary to be seen upon approaching the canyon, save lots of juniper trees, until you’re right at the rim. Then it hits you right in the face. There are no words to describe it. Some have cried at their first view of this incredibly stunning creation of nature. Far from being a dead hole in the ground, it is a living, breathing 277-mile-long entity, with a large variety of flora and fauna, rock formations, fossils, geologic wonders, ghosts of past dwellers and nearby home to people of the Hopi, Navajo, Havasupai, Paiute, and Hualapai tribes. It’s 18 miles wide at its widest point, with a tiny stream flowing through it at 2400 ft. elevation, better known as the Colorado River. The highest point is on the North Rim, at 7,800 ft. Six of seven world climatic belts are found here. It contains 70 species of mammals, 250 species of birds, 25 reptiles, and 5 amphibians. Generally it is 25 degrees hotter in the gorge than it is at the rim. And there are too many wildflowers to count. A simple mnemonic helped us to remember the principal canyon layers: Know The Canyon’s History; Study Rocks Made By Time. First letter stand for Kaibab Limestone, Toroweap formation, Coconino sandstone, Hermit shale, Supai formation, Redwall limestone, Muav limestone, Bright Angel shale, and Tapeats sandstone. There is also an eighth layer, the Visnu schist, which does not fit into the mnemonic. It all truly did take our breath away – and would soon do so again in a more sinister and physical sense!
Six hikers (Jan, Jack, Mark, Lani, Joanne, and Dick), all from various parts of the country converged at the El Tovar Hotel at the Grand Canyon, some of us meeting for the first time, and others renewing old acquaintances. Jan was the organizer of the group. Five were musicians and one (Jack) was a writer. All were experienced hikers. One (Lani) was a marathon runner. All but two (Joanne and Dick) had a fair amount of Grand Canyon and desert hiking experience. The emails had been flying for months, as we made plans for packing and pre and post-canyon details. I did what I could to keep weight to a minimum, but my pack at its heaviest weighed about 43 lb., including food and six quarts of water for the one dry camp. In actuality I would not need to carry that much, as the dry camp was at the end of the trip, when we would have eaten most of the food, so most of our packs were basically in the 30s for a six-day trip.
Applications for permits to overnight in the canyon must be applied for four months in advance, and they process a couple of hundred on a daily basis. We were lucky to have received a permit for a variation of our second choice from the ranger. The plan was to take the Hermit Trail down to the Tonto Trail over to Monument Creek, back to the junction and over to Boucher Rapids and up the Boucher Trail to the Dripping Springs Trail, over to the Hermit Trail and out. However, this itinerary was not to happen, as will be seen later.
The Hermit Trail is at 6,640 ft. at the rim. The trail was first used as an indian route, then improved by prospectors (known then as the Horsethief Trail). The modern version of the trail began in 1896, with further improvements when the Santa Fe Railroad took it over around 1911, in order to bypass the toll being charged on the Bright Angel Trail. They also constructed “Hermit’s Camp,” though nothing remains of it other than the stone foundation. The trail immediately sinks like a stone, first dropping 1300 ft. in 1.3 miles, almost always with spectacular views, and some excellent fossil specimens right on the trail within the first quarter mile or so. It then alternates with traverses that are more or less level with shorter drops, and finally, through a spectacular series of switchbacks known as Cathedral Stairs (aptly named, with the canyon wall backdrop) the trail dumps you out onto the Tonto at about 3300 ft. From there, we headed east to Monument Creek campground (named for a towering monolith just north of the CG). Total of just under 9 miles that day.
We started the hike at approximately 9:30 AM. TRIP MISTAKE #1. As trails go, this one is fairly straightforward. Or should I say straightdownward! The trail is mostly dirt, rock, and dust, fairly easily to hike. There are no real route-finding issues, save for a few moments of crossing some slides where huge boulders dropped off of the side of the canyon and littered the trail. Some portions of the upper and lower sections of the trail even have “paved” areas of cobblestone from times past when mules regularly descended the trail. Most of the traverses were embedded along the sides of cliffs, with several sections of steep drop-off. The “sides” of the canyon do not form a ring, but rather are a complex series of side canyons and bluffs. Imagine being on a lake and seeing the shoreline appear to be smooth in the distance, but when you actually paddle it, you see all of the coves and inlets. Similarly so in the Grand Canyon, except that you have to hike all of those coves and inlets! Written warnings about height exposure seemed exaggerated to us, and this was not to be an issue for anyone in our party.
Oh…did I mention that it’s hot in the canyon? Very hot. How hot does it feel? Turn your oven on and stick your head in the opening. That’s about it, but without much escape, save for the shade, which is at a premium in the canyon. The forecast was for over 100 degrees each day in the gorge, much higher than the May average. That afternoon, Jack’s thermometer registered 104.5 degrees. The southwestern sun is intense! Water is the nectar of the gods there, and shade takes on a whole new importance. They are at the top of the list of principal tools of survival.
What follows is a description of the second half of the first day in the canyon. It is not easy to write, and is somewhat of an emotional experience for me, as you may soon surmise. It may read a little melodramatic at times, but it was that way for us. At some point just above the Cathedral Stairs the group of six decided to split into two groups, basically fast and slow. I was never clear as to the reason for this, and I label it TRIP MISTAKE #2. Joanne asked me to stay back with her, which I did, along with Jack. We weren’t ever really that far apart and could often see each other. Toward the bottom of the Cathedral Stairs, Jan (group leader) called to Joanne to ask how she was doing. “Tired” was the reply. He kept moving, and he and the rest of his group disappeared through a cleft in the trail, just past the intersection with the Tonto Trail. Joanne stumbled. I didn’t think a thing of it. Then she stumbled again, and again. I suggested she try to focus on the trail and her footwork. She responded with words that made no sense. Clearly she was in trouble. With each step, she became more disoriented and clumsy, and her speech more distant. She fell frequently. I continued to try to get her to move until we found some shade. She started to stumble precariously, as the trail was becoming quite precipitous in spots. I held onto her shirt, trying to pull her away from the side. I tried to get her to drink, but she would have none of it, and told me to go on while she rested (not considered, even for an instant). There was NO shade and it was over 104 degrees of intense heat and sun. Jack and I talked and we agreed that he would try to go on ahead to catch up to the others for aid. I had about one inch of Gatorade in my Nalgene, half of which I saved for Joanne and the other half for Jack’s journey ahead. We were both otherwise out of water, as was Joanne. I asked Jack to call back if he noticed any shade within the next few hundred feet. MIRACLE #1 – ample shade was just around the corner about 100 feet away! Getting Joanne to that spot was another story. That process took a half-hour of stumbling, falling, and picking up, and Joanne was quickly loosing consciousness. She was confused, dizzy, and unresponsive. I took her pack off and left it in the trail to make it easier for her.
Somehow we made it to the shade. Fortunately I was physically doing fine, just a little thirsty, and more scared for Joanne than anything else. She was virtually unconscious, trembling, mumbling incoherently at times, sometimes seeming to reach out to perform some unknown task. I continued to try to get her to drink the last of the Gatorade, which she would either refuse or try unsuccessfully to drink, spilling it down her shirt. Somehow I eventually managed to get it down her throat. I held her and talked to her, though I knew she didn’t hear me. The afternoon sun was waning, which was a blessing, though I didn’t know the status of the rescue. We were without a watch (TRAIL MISTAKE #3), though it seemed to me to be around 5:00 PM or so. I was becoming even more scared – this time for both of us. I was somewhat comforted by the fact that we both had our packs and were fully equipped to spend the night, save for the “nectar of the gods.” Joanne’s pack was still 100 feet back, but I was reluctant to leave her alone while I retrieved it, as a fall for Joanne at that point could have proven fatal.
