Coyote Calls and Hummingbirds
Day 49
The last time I wrote we were at what should be our last camp in Utah for the better part of the month. Our last day in Utah was as spectacular as it gets. As we were thru-hiking not “day hiking” (and neither of us were willing to give up a $20 without getting change) we decided to forgo the $5 fee to enjoy Buckskin Gulch. The sandy wash almost immediately led to one of the more surreal places imaginable; red sandstone buttes of all sizes and shapes with strata lines going every which way. There were a million wildflowers to accent the scene; we even stumbled across what must have been a “midden” or ancient garbage heap containing thousands of pottery shards, some gray, some black, some red, some painted with classic southwest patterns, others were corrugated or ribbed. Broken stone tools and flakes of chert were mixed in the shards; keeping our eyes busy as we poked around to see who could make the most interesting discovery. Note: you can look, but the Antiquity Act prohibits removing any artifacts.
A little further down the wash, we entered a section of narrows in the red stone, something we didn’t expect until lower down, where we found the deepest slot canyon we had yet to visit.
We exited Buckskin Gulch, the fourth name for the same drainage we had taken all the way from Bryce, by way of Wire Pass and yet more narrows. A quick mile and a half south of the trailhead brought us to the AZ/UT border and the end of Section 9. Ray and I each extracted our cache buckets from the hillside; each intent with food and water—mine had even become home for a very astonished pack rat who sat stunned as I disassembled the rock walls I built to conceal my goods. (I thought this was quite a testament to the integrity of the reliance buckets and water jugs I use for caches—the homesteading pack rat hadn’t breached either.)
Ben and Allison spent the night with us at the AZ state line trailhead; they wanted to get their cache while driving through. They also treated us to a couple cold beers and some dreamt-about ice cream (the temperature got into the 90’s during the last couple of days). The following morning Ray and I headed up the 1,200 foot climb to the top of Buckskin Mountain with a fresh load of food and almost 25 pounds of water on each of our backs. Yesterday, our fourth 15+ mile day in a row brought us across AZ highway 89A, just east of Jacob Lake, to a beautiful ponderosa forest high in the Kaibab National Forest. We ditched our packs in the trees and walked the couple miles to the Visitor Center to see what we could find out about water and trail conditions and to treat ourselves to a meal at the inn. What we discovered has had a major impact on our plans: the road to the We left messages changing the meeting site; we hope it’ll work out—only time will tell…At least finding water should be easy!
We’ve now spent three nights in Arizona, all three of which have been punctuated by the mesmerizing sound of coyotes calling out to each other. That’s 3-for-3 in Arizona, 1-for-45 in Utah. What’s up with that?
Cairns
Day 50
Today was our sixth day of 15+ miles; we’ve walked just about 100 miles in those days, the most in such a short period of time for both of us. Today, as promised, had us in the snow, just not nearly as much as there was made out to be. The snow's only in sheltered north faces and only on the very south end of the Kaibab plateau. More troublesome has been the fallen trees—literally hundreds of fallen fir, ponderosa and aspens have caused us to either detour around, climb over, or crawl under to keep going, sometimes creating our own paths through a blow-down tree by breaking branches with hands, poles or feet. The most fun is when there’s snow under them that we posthole in as we make way.
We’ve also encountered far more water than expected; all the “tanks” and wildfire “guzzlers” are full, and many drainages are overflowing their banks, making today’s 18 miles a mushy, wet-foot experience. The rain (accompanied by hours of thunder) played a role there as well. Once again, we get rained upon when it’s cold; something that would have been a lot easier to take on the 90 degree days we recently had. It does seem to have cleared up tonight, but now, at 7 pm, it’s already down to a mere 48 degrees where we’ve settled for the evening by “Sourdough Well”, a pretty little hollow in a mixed conifer forest with a gurgling brook coming down what’s supposed to be the trail—more cold, wet feet tomorrow apparently.
We’re poised for an easy day tomorrow. Ray is going to scout the Nankoweap Trailhead, then hike into the Imperial Point parking lot to hitch a ride to meet me and, I hope, the rest of the crew. I’m going to head into the park via the main gate where I’m going to then hitch a ride to the North Rim Village to pick up the charger for my camera, which my wife express-mailed, as my spare battery apparently never was ordered.
***
I thought I was going to be able to get the charger tomorrow, but being out here for so long now, I just found out that it's not only Sunday but that it is also Memorial Day weekend, forcing my little hiatus: the post office is closed Monday as well.
Today’s walk started in a perfect ponderosa forest close to the North Rim parkway, Highway 67. We quickly walked into one of the huge open meadows while paralleling the road where monster RV’s passed by with drivers oblivious to the fact that one could actually WALK to the Grand Canyon. Each grass covered meadow we passed through had a pond or two or three, some of which were obviously overflowing—the Kaibab plateau has very little in the way of drainages with water, usually. Water here generally percolates right into the limestone, filling underground reservoirs that feed springs like Roaring Springs, Crystal Spring, Thunder River and Showerbath Spring.
It was in one of these meadows —Tater Valley— narrow, three miles or so long—that the rain hit. Just after donning my rain gear, my eyes were delighted by two birds that flew in opposite directions in front of me: a bright yellow Tanager, with its green and red wings and head, and a vivid mountain bluebird. Later, just prior to dropping our packs for the day, we intruded on two more of the many birds that play on the massive Colorado plateau: a pair of mallard ducks. Birds are everywhere out here, even as I write this I’m listening to a couple separate Hermit thrushes , a hummingbird racing around, some little grey birds twittering, and a jay (pinion?) yammering. All the while, most people most people are listening to some psychobabble on their idiot box. Ah!!!!
For a change, I’m putting this post in the mail myself—tomorrow—from the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. It’ll probably be a week at least before I have the chance to send another; we’re leaving the snow for the blistering depths of the inner gorge.
Until then, from the REAL world, keep it wild!
Mike Coronella
The last time I wrote we were at what should be our last camp in Utah for the better part of the month. Our last day in Utah was as spectacular as it gets. As we were thru-hiking not “day hiking” (and neither of us were willing to give up a $20 without getting change) we decided to forgo the $5 fee to enjoy Buckskin Gulch. The sandy wash almost immediately led to one of the more surreal places imaginable; red sandstone buttes of all sizes and shapes with strata lines going every which way. There were a million wildflowers to accent the scene; we even stumbled across what must have been a “midden” or ancient garbage heap containing thousands of pottery shards, some gray, some black, some red, some painted with classic southwest patterns, others were corrugated or ribbed. Broken stone tools and flakes of chert were mixed in the shards; keeping our eyes busy as we poked around to see who could make the most interesting discovery. Note: you can look, but the Antiquity Act prohibits removing any artifacts.
A little further down the wash, we entered a section of narrows in the red stone, something we didn’t expect until lower down, where we found the deepest slot canyon we had yet to visit.
We exited Buckskin Gulch, the fourth name for the same drainage we had taken all the way from Bryce, by way of Wire Pass and yet more narrows. A quick mile and a half south of the trailhead brought us to the AZ/UT border and the end of Section 9. Ray and I each extracted our cache buckets from the hillside; each intent with food and water—mine had even become home for a very astonished pack rat who sat stunned as I disassembled the rock walls I built to conceal my goods. (I thought this was quite a testament to the integrity of the reliance buckets and water jugs I use for caches—the homesteading pack rat hadn’t breached either.)
Ben and Allison spent the night with us at the AZ state line trailhead; they wanted to get their cache while driving through. They also treated us to a couple cold beers and some dreamt-about ice cream (the temperature got into the 90’s during the last couple of days). The following morning Ray and I headed up the 1,200 foot climb to the top of Buckskin Mountain with a fresh load of food and almost 25 pounds of water on each of our backs. Yesterday, our fourth 15+ mile day in a row brought us across AZ highway 89A, just east of Jacob Lake, to a beautiful ponderosa forest high in the Kaibab National Forest. We ditched our packs in the trees and walked the couple miles to the Visitor Center to see what we could find out about water and trail conditions and to treat ourselves to a meal at the inn. What we discovered has had a major impact on our plans: the road to the We left messages changing the meeting site; we hope it’ll work out—only time will tell…At least finding water should be easy!
We’ve now spent three nights in Arizona, all three of which have been punctuated by the mesmerizing sound of coyotes calling out to each other. That’s 3-for-3 in Arizona, 1-for-45 in Utah. What’s up with that?
Cairns
Day 50
Today was our sixth day of 15+ miles; we’ve walked just about 100 miles in those days, the most in such a short period of time for both of us. Today, as promised, had us in the snow, just not nearly as much as there was made out to be. The snow's only in sheltered north faces and only on the very south end of the Kaibab plateau. More troublesome has been the fallen trees—literally hundreds of fallen fir, ponderosa and aspens have caused us to either detour around, climb over, or crawl under to keep going, sometimes creating our own paths through a blow-down tree by breaking branches with hands, poles or feet. The most fun is when there’s snow under them that we posthole in as we make way.
We’ve also encountered far more water than expected; all the “tanks” and wildfire “guzzlers” are full, and many drainages are overflowing their banks, making today’s 18 miles a mushy, wet-foot experience. The rain (accompanied by hours of thunder) played a role there as well. Once again, we get rained upon when it’s cold; something that would have been a lot easier to take on the 90 degree days we recently had. It does seem to have cleared up tonight, but now, at 7 pm, it’s already down to a mere 48 degrees where we’ve settled for the evening by “Sourdough Well”, a pretty little hollow in a mixed conifer forest with a gurgling brook coming down what’s supposed to be the trail—more cold, wet feet tomorrow apparently.
We’re poised for an easy day tomorrow. Ray is going to scout the Nankoweap Trailhead, then hike into the Imperial Point parking lot to hitch a ride to meet me and, I hope, the rest of the crew. I’m going to head into the park via the main gate where I’m going to then hitch a ride to the North Rim Village to pick up the charger for my camera, which my wife express-mailed, as my spare battery apparently never was ordered.
***
I thought I was going to be able to get the charger tomorrow, but being out here for so long now, I just found out that it's not only Sunday but that it is also Memorial Day weekend, forcing my little hiatus: the post office is closed Monday as well.
Today’s walk started in a perfect ponderosa forest close to the North Rim parkway, Highway 67. We quickly walked into one of the huge open meadows while paralleling the road where monster RV’s passed by with drivers oblivious to the fact that one could actually WALK to the Grand Canyon. Each grass covered meadow we passed through had a pond or two or three, some of which were obviously overflowing—the Kaibab plateau has very little in the way of drainages with water, usually. Water here generally percolates right into the limestone, filling underground reservoirs that feed springs like Roaring Springs, Crystal Spring, Thunder River and Showerbath Spring.
It was in one of these meadows —Tater Valley— narrow, three miles or so long—that the rain hit. Just after donning my rain gear, my eyes were delighted by two birds that flew in opposite directions in front of me: a bright yellow Tanager, with its green and red wings and head, and a vivid mountain bluebird. Later, just prior to dropping our packs for the day, we intruded on two more of the many birds that play on the massive Colorado plateau: a pair of mallard ducks. Birds are everywhere out here, even as I write this I’m listening to a couple separate Hermit thrushes , a hummingbird racing around, some little grey birds twittering, and a jay (pinion?) yammering. All the while, most people most people are listening to some psychobabble on their idiot box. Ah!!!!
For a change, I’m putting this post in the mail myself—tomorrow—from the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. It’ll probably be a week at least before I have the chance to send another; we’re leaving the snow for the blistering depths of the inner gorge.
Until then, from the REAL world, keep it wild!
Mike Coronella
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