Canyon

FEB 14

CCM


The night at Hotel Monte Vista was a good one, all the ghosts of all the stars paraded ‘round my dreams. Actually I think I was in a car driving down some endless highway throughout my sleep.
When the idea of actually doing a major hike in the Grand Canyon came up. Jack went into hiker mode which meant safety mode. Jack had insisted that I not only have rain gear but that we should also buy crampons for the big hike. I had my sneakers with me for running/jogging and had heard tell that sneakers were the way to go with hikes, if the weight of your pack was such that you needed ankle support then your pack was too heavy. I have been traveling with my Blunstones this trip, a pair of boots that for about a year have been wrecking havoc on my heels, tearing giant holes where there should be none. But in the past month they seem to have settled down. I told Jack that my sneakers would be fine, and I had a slim wind breaker with me that I could use, and if it rained, I would just dry off. Jack looked at me as if a second and third head had suddenly grown from my neck. A look that also looked a lot like “ are you insane?”. As the moment of truth arrived the next morning and we were packing up for our drive to the canyon Jack became insistent, apologizing for his thoroughness but still “ better safe than sorry”. The Lonely Planet Guide too had said that the Grand Canyon hike was not easy and many had died in naïve macho attempts. I needed a new rain jacket anyway.. right? As Jack packed up his sleeping bag, flares, hiking boots mole-skin, rain pants and first aid kit I slipped out of the room and downstairs to the one of three hiking stores by our Hotel (this University town feels like some modern day Gold Rush meets MEC town.) I found three jackets and picked up the best one- $100 for a North Face jacket that will probably be around after the cockroaches go extinct. As I was paying and telling the clerk about our impending Canyon hike he immediately asked about crampons, “yea they pretty much insist on them this time of year…” I bought two pairs as well as some sun screen and for Jack a pair of hiking socks, it was Valentines Day and he was stuck with an amateur, doubtful hiking partner rather than his sweet Meg Jones and I owed him for kicking my safety ass. (There had also been talk of us making it to Davis in time for a V day reunion of Jack & Meg but the road was long, Meg got swamped with dead animals and the Canyon’s call was loud. Jack had also years before narrowly missed a Grand Canyon Hike due to back troubles- we HAD to go.) The night before our hike Flagstaff had been dumped on, 4-5 inches of snow and there was forecast of even more snow and rain at the Canyon. Ahhhh yes now the rain gear made sense.

As we drove North the sun bust out and the snow covered Ponderosa Pine began to shake off their snow as we drove by. When we arrived at Bright Angel Lodge to check in the woman at the desk was shocked that we were planning to start our hike so late in the day- Noon. She said that we must be experienced hikers and must have done this before (no, never) and then asked if we had crampons (thanks Jack). Jack and I looked at each other just a little worried at this point. Jack was looking especially stressed. There was no time to loose, we had to hit the trail NOW, if we wanted to get to the bottom on the Canyon by nightfall and in time for our infamous $22 stew dinner. The hike down was to be on the Kaibab Trail, a difficult and steep descent that was 20-30 minutes drive from the registration desk. As Jack drove like a mad man, I squirmed around - pulled off my jeans and put on my long-johns then back on with the jeans. Jack had an extra day pack which I stuffed with the food we had bought for lunch and breakfast and lunch as well as 3 litres of water, one short of what was suggested for our trek. Jack had everything else in his pack plus his 3 litres. We made way to the icy edge, slapped on our crampons and took our first steps into the Canyon.


It was like a vacuum. What we had just stepped down from was suddenly replaced by another world. The earth opened up below us—an expanse like nothing I have ever seen. Cliffs and rock formations in purples, reds, browns and whites Clouds and sky meeting this wide opening down.
The trail was well groomed and fears of having to jam our hands into crevices for balance around heart stopping crevices disappeared. These were used not only by hikers but Mules hauling supplies and tourists to and from the bottom. Our destination today was Ghost Trail Lodge, a hand full of cabins and bunk houses that have serviced hikers since the late 1800s.

Only 20 minutes into our hike we began to notice excessively large birds flying amongst the crows. They looked like vultures and that was what we assumed they were, though each had a huge number attached to their wing and one a big transmitter, until we got to the bottom and were informed that no, these were California Condors who have the largest wing span of any bird and are possibly one of the most indangered birds on the planet- lucky Jack got some pics. This hike would take us down some 1400 ever changing meters to the Colorado river below. The snow quickly turned to sloppy mud and then began to dry up as small cactus began to appear around us. Every so often a train of 4-5 mules would cross our path, we would move off the path to make room. I can not believe that the only way to get things in and out of the Canyon remains the Mule( with the exception of Helicopters for emergencies, though even a broken ankle is dealt with by hauling the victim out on a stretcher loaded Mule.)

The desent was tough, on thighs, knees, ankles and feet, we both quickly broke into a sweat that did not quit until our day was done. Every time we stopped and looked around in awe shaking our heads, the scenery took our breath away, we were smiling unable to believe we were even here. The concept of time and age became ambiguous as we looked at the result of millions of years of activity. Subtle erosion that resulted in, not even, meters of change in a hundred years. Nothing here just happened.


The trail seemed to come to an end at a suspension bridge that spanned the Colorado. A brown, fast winding river that we both just wanted to jump into, aching, hot and exhausted 4 1/2 hours after we had begun. We found out the bridge was built in the 1960s. The trail continued after the bridge. After we touched the water we made our way to the lodge. Found our bunk house and collapsed. Dinner was in 1 hour, so we rested and then went to look around, Mules, Wild Turkeys, Mule Deer, a rushing brook and sooo much quiet.


The $22 stew- it was really good. After dinner Jack and I grabbed a couple more cigars (thanks Spike) and headed out to a bench. Along with Jack’s Scurbim (ask Jack), we smoked, relaxed and looked up to see one of the most spectacular display of stars I have ever seen in my life.
oh yea, wake up call was at 5 am and we were taking a trail the next day folks told us took 6-8 hours to hike up.