Roaring and Thundering
Day 66—Once again we’ve experienced and seen quite a bit since the last time I wrote. I’ll start with leaving Cremation Creek. We had another beautiful night, interrupted briefly by the only two hikers we saw on the South Rim side. They told us about a pictograph panel near our camp which I managed to find before we hoisted our packs for the north side of the river.
Things quickly changed for us. It got cloudy and we went from a small trail to what seemed like a highway, complete with rest areas and garbage along the side of the trail. We were on the South Kaibab Trail, one of the major rim-to-river routes. We easily descended the couple thousand feet to the river, which we crested via the “black bridge,” which along with its nearby partner, the “white bridge,” are the only crossings over the Colorado River for at least 100 miles in either direction. There were also people on the trail for a change; backpackers whose packs were twice the size of ours (even though we’re out for a months and they’re out for a couple of days), day hikers in a hurry to get to the river and back to the rim, and weary-looking mule riders, including a sadistic kid who thought he needed to whip his mount three times for every step.
Up next was Phantom Ranch, where Mitch and I were treated so well during a brief layover on our 101-day trek in 2000. Ray and I got more of the same incredible hospitality. We found Rutha, one of the veteran “ranchers” and she quickly got the ball rolling with offers of food and drink, which we eagerly accepted and devoured. We went back to the bunk house for an afternoon’s rest and a cold beer when it started raining. We ended up hanging out all afternoon, waiting for the rain to end so we could hoof six and a half more miles to our planned camp. No dice—the ranchers talked us into staying for dinner and the night—not exactly a hard sell, but it set us up for a 14-plus mile day with a climb of almost 6,000 feet. It was well worth it! I even traded my dead camera battery for a freshly charged one —I can actually take pictures of the Grand Canyon now. (Thanks, Bridgette!)
We left Phantom at 5am and started climbing. Ribbon Falls, an unusual travertine formation, came along after two hours. Cottonwood camp, where we originally planned to be the night before, came a short while later. That’s when the serious uphill began, but it was cool out, easing the strain of the ascent. What didn’t help was reaching the Supai Tunnel; the end of the road for mule trips (a damaged trail prevents mules from continuing to Roaring Spring), and the beginning of a vile, slippery and literally choking session through what amounts to a barnyard outhouse. It’s amazing that the park not only allows hikers to experience such putrid conditions, but it virtually forces it on anyone who wants to climb to the North Rim (or off of it). When I asked the lady at the mule ride counter if they’ve considered “diapers” for mules, I got a very rude reply about how hikers should carry diapers and that we could just “deal with it.”
Anyway, we rimmed out in six hours, tired and hungry. We found our supplies for Section 13 of the Hayduke and Dane Lee, who has joined us for this section, as we walked to the lodge for a burger.
We tried to get an update on conditions in Tapeats Creek at the backcountry office to see if the water was yet low enough to follow along and cross, but the usual information ranger had the day off, leaving us with dated, and therefore, useless information. Oh well, we drove to the Bill Hall trailhead at Monument Point instead. The day after we climbed to the rim from the river, we hiked most of the way back down, this time with freshly loaded packs and already fatigued legs. Afternoon thunderstorms kept us entertained from the shelter of an overhanging rock—the thunder and lightning seemed to be non-stop. A break offered the opportunity to continue, so we took advantage and left the Esplanade for another rock shelter, above Thunder River, on Surprise Valley, where I am now—on the very first full “day off” that we’ve had. No need to hoist the packs for a change. Ahhhh….
Day 67—Back down to the river again. After a day off and a second night at the same camp, we slowly made our way down, stopping at Deer Creek Spring, which like Thunder River, is screaming out of the rock at a higher flow than I’ve seen before. The narrows provided shade and cool on the first day we’ve had that’s gotten into the nineties.
The day off had Ray and I resting (except for the mandatory visit to the always impressive Thunder River, where an enormous volume of water erupts from the wall of the canyon, sending a frothing cascade down the steep drainage that helps feed Tapeats Creek), while Dave, with fresh legs, went out and checked out some of the upper and lower Tapeats, reporting back that while he managed to cross the creek, it was difficult and we were wise to have decided on an alternate route.
Today, we’re two days ahead of our original schedule, but back on the Hayduke Trail with as little as eight days left of the journey! In fact, by the time this is posted, we could be done, something I have deeply mixed feelings about. On the one hand, I want to be home with my wife of less than one year and I’d like to work on the home we bought just before I began this adventure and I’d like to get back to training Aldo to be a certified search dog. On the other hand, I need to paint the house and go back to the crazy tourist world of Moab, back in hurry mode, hearing traffic and lights drowning out the stars. I like waking with a different view every morning. I’ll miss watching the river go by during our usual mid-day siesta, listening to rapids or a canyon wren. Peace is obtainable out here, I can only try to obtain such a stress-free existence upon my exit from the world that is constantly being exploited with little thought for the future.
Day 68—Finally!! We’re getting to Grand Canyon temperatures; 99 degrees in the shade—after dinner! We made it to Kanab Creek, the drainage that we’ll exit the Grand Canyon through. We didn’t hike the nasty, boulder-hopping route though—we hitched a ride on a boat (and even got wet in Fishtail Rapids). I can’t give them credit for the ride—I don’t want them to have any trouble on our behalf; even though a backcountry ranger suggested avoiding the tedious eight mile boulder hop, it’s not allowed for boaters to give hikers a ride downriver—only across is legit.
While sitting in the shade, we watched the river flow basically double, part of the most unnatural daily tide from the Glen Canyon Dam. In between swim breaks, I whittled a spoon from a piece of driftwood to replace the broken plastic spoon that I’ve used close to 300 times while route finding the for the Hayduke Trail. I was also kept entertained by a small group of collared lizards; two males and two females doing what males and females do: feeding, flirting and fighting. There was all kinds of colorful posturing; the males would puff themselves up, do little push-ups while turning necks and bellies bright blue. The larger one would run the smaller male off whenever they got close. The females were happy to walk around with heads turned to orange.
Day 69—What a fabulous day. We woke at dawn on the river—the last time I’ll see the once mighty Colorado River until I’m home in Moab. We quickly packed camp and headed up Kanab Creek. Like the rest of the drainages on this journey, Kanab Creek is flowing, but this time the water is warm, offering countless opportunities to take a dip on another hot day. After about three miles we dropped our packs and took a little side trip to one of my favorite places in the Grand Canyon: Whispering Spring, which has a travertine chute about 18 inches wide and several hundred feet tall, with a stream of water cascading down the chute into a 15 foot deep plunge pool, half of which is in a cave. There we had our first swim of the day. We even saw a couple of bighorn sheep with a baby on our way out. After a mid-day siesta involving a cave for naps, and of course, a swimming hole, we continued up the creek with our feet in the water most of the time.
We’ve settled for the night—our last in the Grand Canyon National Park—at the most wonderful and unlikely formation, Showerbath Spring. The spring juts out over the creek about a dozen feet up. The entire thing is covered with ivy and ferns, but surrounded by prickly pear cactus. The best part, though, is that the whole protrusion is porous limestone, and acts like a massive showerhead with water streaming and trickling down everywhere. A cool shower and a water source all at once—what more could we ask for in a hot desert canyon?
This post is getting long, so I’ll end it today, our last in the Grand Canyon. With only about a week left of this phenomenal adventure, the next post will come from home.
Please help keep it wild!
From one very happy camper,
Mike Coronella
Things quickly changed for us. It got cloudy and we went from a small trail to what seemed like a highway, complete with rest areas and garbage along the side of the trail. We were on the South Kaibab Trail, one of the major rim-to-river routes. We easily descended the couple thousand feet to the river, which we crested via the “black bridge,” which along with its nearby partner, the “white bridge,” are the only crossings over the Colorado River for at least 100 miles in either direction. There were also people on the trail for a change; backpackers whose packs were twice the size of ours (even though we’re out for a months and they’re out for a couple of days), day hikers in a hurry to get to the river and back to the rim, and weary-looking mule riders, including a sadistic kid who thought he needed to whip his mount three times for every step.
Up next was Phantom Ranch, where Mitch and I were treated so well during a brief layover on our 101-day trek in 2000. Ray and I got more of the same incredible hospitality. We found Rutha, one of the veteran “ranchers” and she quickly got the ball rolling with offers of food and drink, which we eagerly accepted and devoured. We went back to the bunk house for an afternoon’s rest and a cold beer when it started raining. We ended up hanging out all afternoon, waiting for the rain to end so we could hoof six and a half more miles to our planned camp. No dice—the ranchers talked us into staying for dinner and the night—not exactly a hard sell, but it set us up for a 14-plus mile day with a climb of almost 6,000 feet. It was well worth it! I even traded my dead camera battery for a freshly charged one —I can actually take pictures of the Grand Canyon now. (Thanks, Bridgette!)
We left Phantom at 5am and started climbing. Ribbon Falls, an unusual travertine formation, came along after two hours. Cottonwood camp, where we originally planned to be the night before, came a short while later. That’s when the serious uphill began, but it was cool out, easing the strain of the ascent. What didn’t help was reaching the Supai Tunnel; the end of the road for mule trips (a damaged trail prevents mules from continuing to Roaring Spring), and the beginning of a vile, slippery and literally choking session through what amounts to a barnyard outhouse. It’s amazing that the park not only allows hikers to experience such putrid conditions, but it virtually forces it on anyone who wants to climb to the North Rim (or off of it). When I asked the lady at the mule ride counter if they’ve considered “diapers” for mules, I got a very rude reply about how hikers should carry diapers and that we could just “deal with it.”
Anyway, we rimmed out in six hours, tired and hungry. We found our supplies for Section 13 of the Hayduke and Dane Lee, who has joined us for this section, as we walked to the lodge for a burger.
We tried to get an update on conditions in Tapeats Creek at the backcountry office to see if the water was yet low enough to follow along and cross, but the usual information ranger had the day off, leaving us with dated, and therefore, useless information. Oh well, we drove to the Bill Hall trailhead at Monument Point instead. The day after we climbed to the rim from the river, we hiked most of the way back down, this time with freshly loaded packs and already fatigued legs. Afternoon thunderstorms kept us entertained from the shelter of an overhanging rock—the thunder and lightning seemed to be non-stop. A break offered the opportunity to continue, so we took advantage and left the Esplanade for another rock shelter, above Thunder River, on Surprise Valley, where I am now—on the very first full “day off” that we’ve had. No need to hoist the packs for a change. Ahhhh….
Day 67—Back down to the river again. After a day off and a second night at the same camp, we slowly made our way down, stopping at Deer Creek Spring, which like Thunder River, is screaming out of the rock at a higher flow than I’ve seen before. The narrows provided shade and cool on the first day we’ve had that’s gotten into the nineties.
The day off had Ray and I resting (except for the mandatory visit to the always impressive Thunder River, where an enormous volume of water erupts from the wall of the canyon, sending a frothing cascade down the steep drainage that helps feed Tapeats Creek), while Dave, with fresh legs, went out and checked out some of the upper and lower Tapeats, reporting back that while he managed to cross the creek, it was difficult and we were wise to have decided on an alternate route.
Today, we’re two days ahead of our original schedule, but back on the Hayduke Trail with as little as eight days left of the journey! In fact, by the time this is posted, we could be done, something I have deeply mixed feelings about. On the one hand, I want to be home with my wife of less than one year and I’d like to work on the home we bought just before I began this adventure and I’d like to get back to training Aldo to be a certified search dog. On the other hand, I need to paint the house and go back to the crazy tourist world of Moab, back in hurry mode, hearing traffic and lights drowning out the stars. I like waking with a different view every morning. I’ll miss watching the river go by during our usual mid-day siesta, listening to rapids or a canyon wren. Peace is obtainable out here, I can only try to obtain such a stress-free existence upon my exit from the world that is constantly being exploited with little thought for the future.
Day 68—Finally!! We’re getting to Grand Canyon temperatures; 99 degrees in the shade—after dinner! We made it to Kanab Creek, the drainage that we’ll exit the Grand Canyon through. We didn’t hike the nasty, boulder-hopping route though—we hitched a ride on a boat (and even got wet in Fishtail Rapids). I can’t give them credit for the ride—I don’t want them to have any trouble on our behalf; even though a backcountry ranger suggested avoiding the tedious eight mile boulder hop, it’s not allowed for boaters to give hikers a ride downriver—only across is legit.
While sitting in the shade, we watched the river flow basically double, part of the most unnatural daily tide from the Glen Canyon Dam. In between swim breaks, I whittled a spoon from a piece of driftwood to replace the broken plastic spoon that I’ve used close to 300 times while route finding the for the Hayduke Trail. I was also kept entertained by a small group of collared lizards; two males and two females doing what males and females do: feeding, flirting and fighting. There was all kinds of colorful posturing; the males would puff themselves up, do little push-ups while turning necks and bellies bright blue. The larger one would run the smaller male off whenever they got close. The females were happy to walk around with heads turned to orange.
Day 69—What a fabulous day. We woke at dawn on the river—the last time I’ll see the once mighty Colorado River until I’m home in Moab. We quickly packed camp and headed up Kanab Creek. Like the rest of the drainages on this journey, Kanab Creek is flowing, but this time the water is warm, offering countless opportunities to take a dip on another hot day. After about three miles we dropped our packs and took a little side trip to one of my favorite places in the Grand Canyon: Whispering Spring, which has a travertine chute about 18 inches wide and several hundred feet tall, with a stream of water cascading down the chute into a 15 foot deep plunge pool, half of which is in a cave. There we had our first swim of the day. We even saw a couple of bighorn sheep with a baby on our way out. After a mid-day siesta involving a cave for naps, and of course, a swimming hole, we continued up the creek with our feet in the water most of the time.
We’ve settled for the night—our last in the Grand Canyon National Park—at the most wonderful and unlikely formation, Showerbath Spring. The spring juts out over the creek about a dozen feet up. The entire thing is covered with ivy and ferns, but surrounded by prickly pear cactus. The best part, though, is that the whole protrusion is porous limestone, and acts like a massive showerhead with water streaming and trickling down everywhere. A cool shower and a water source all at once—what more could we ask for in a hot desert canyon?
This post is getting long, so I’ll end it today, our last in the Grand Canyon. With only about a week left of this phenomenal adventure, the next post will come from home.
Please help keep it wild!
From one very happy camper,
Mike Coronella
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