Saturday, April 22, 2017

You Must See It Once In Your Life: The Grand Canyon

I had been to the Grand Canyon once many years ago, driving cross-country from Annapolis, Maryland, with my friend Julie after graduating from college.  All I remember is sitting at the rim, gazing at the immensity of it for several hours.

Now it's Tia contemplating the vast age of the Earth


This time, however, I wanted to really experience it.  Imagine my disappointment when at every trailhead, there were warning signs:  DO NOT TRY TO WALK TO THE RIVER AND BACK IN ONE DAY.  That was exactly what I had been planning to do, to put my foot in the powerful Colorado River.  “This is Victor,”  one sign proclaimed.  Victor was a 20-something male, sunburnt and on his hands and knees, barfing a pool of yellow liquid.  “Victor tried to walk to the river and back without sunscreen, no hat, one small bottle of water, and no good plan.”  Tia and Sasha thought this was hilarious.  “Don’t be like Victor!” became our motto. 

Trying not to be like Victor

So the first day we played it safe and walked the South Rim after scoring a campsite at South Campground, gazing down and across the depths with the hoards of tourists—six million of them per year—also strolling the concrete pathways.  I had Tia and Sasha read every placard we came across (this was school, after all), and we learned a lot in the visitor’s museum, about the Vishnu basement rocks down by the river (how I yearned to see them up close!), the Supergroups slanting into the sides, and the various sedimentary layers providing the glorious reds, yellows, whites, and greys of the canyon’s sides. 

These are just the top layers

The next day I trotted my family off on our bikes to the South Kaibab Trail.  It was a mere six-mile hike down to the river one way, but Tia continually reminded me about Victor, and so we stopped at Skeleton Point, three miles down the trail.  Sasha was happy to turn around, and I looked longingly at the water.  Back up the trail we went, not wanting to be like Victor.  That afternoon we traveled the western part of the South Rim on the shuttle bus, watching the sun set and ogling the elk that ambled by.

Sunset on the South Rim
Elk, elk everywhere

On the third day there was a full family rebellion.  I wanted to hike the Bright Angel Trail to the river, but no one else did.  So I compromised and got up at 5:30 am to make the 9-mile round trip to Indian Gardens.  I was tempted to go all the way to the river, an additional 6 miles, but was glad I didn’t. 

Early morning down the Bright Angel Trail

The trails are all steep and lots of switchbacks...going down is the easy part!

Hiking in the pure morning air was glorious.  I had the trail all to myself, and I had to admit that the Bright Angel Trail, although the most heavily traveled, was also the most beautiful.  I passed right under the huge layers of sandstone cliffs, seeing the canyon up close and personal while I could gaze across the canyon to the same sights a mile away. 

The rising sun lit up the canyon's layers

HUGE white and beige cliffs of sandstone

The trail was also green and shaded, very different from the Kaibab trail.  Cottonwoods grew in the streams of Indian Garden, and deer grazed in the campground.  I made it down and back in less than four hours. 

It was so green, and the cottonwoods were in full leaf, spring green

Deer were like little lawn ornaments everywhere

On the trail back up, Indian Gardens a green blip in the bottom of the canyon

Todd and the girls had packed up, and we left for Desert View, the campground in the eastern part of the South Rim, 26 miles away.  I had a secret plan—a park ranger had shown me the Tanner Trail, a mere 6 miles from rim to river, and I’d convinced my family to try it.  We packed Gatorade and water, made sandwiches, included trail mix and nuts, ample sunscreen, head coverings, everything we could think of to not be like Victor.

Heading down Tanner Trail at 6 am

We left at 5:45 am, bright and early, the sun just starting to hit the walls of the canyon.  Imagine my chagrin when the trail head said, “9 miles to the river.  THIS IS NOT A DAY HIKE.”  But down we went, deciding to play it by ear and see how far we got. 

My go-getter family

Three miles was easy, even though the trail was rough and rocky.  At five mile we paused.  “C’mon,” I said.  “Look, the river is not that far.”  “That’s how it always goes,” said Todd, “that’s what got Victor.”  But on we went, through piñon pines and junipers, the air warming, the flora changing from high desert forest to scrub to cactus and sparse grass.  We traveled through the layers, the pink cactus flowers just beginning to bloom.

In just a week, this valley would be a carpet of pink blossoms

At mile seven, we paused.  “Just to that ridge,”  I said.  Todd was silent.  Tia and Sasha were game.  On we went to mile eight.  There was the river, beautiful, flowing, the Tanner Rapids beckoning.  But it was clearly another hour’s hike.  We had been hiking for four hours nearly continually, and that was the easy part, downhill.  We’d been warned that the last hour up, scrabbling up the steep walls, was what got people in trouble. 

Gatorade was essential to success

The river beckons in the distance

“If my sister were here, we’d go to the river,” I thought.  But I was tired, Tia and Sasha were tired, Todd was tired.  It was getting hot, at 9:45 am, and the lower we went, the hotter it got.  And so with a last longing look at the river, we turned around.  “Good decision,” was all Todd said.  “We don’t want to be like Victor,” Tia joked. 

Finding some shade on the way back up

We hiked two hours back up the meandering trail, passing through the steep Red Wall section before stopping for lunch. 

Hunger is the best seasoning

And then the final power push back up the trail, zig-zagging up the steep and shifting wall of Tanner Canyon, to pop out the top by 2:30 pm.  I was impressed: Tia and Sasha had managed 16 miles of intense hiking in 8 hours! 

The Tanner Trail is STEEP

And so we climbed back into our trusty RV (that the girls had dubbed Karl), exhausted but satisfied, and headed off for Zion National Park.  The Colorado River would have to wait for another time.  But looking back on that magnificent canyon, a lump caught in my throat.  There are no words sufficient to describe its beauty.  “Yes, there are,”  argued Sasha.  “It’s ‘BIG.’”

Indescribably gorgeous--you just can't capture it in pictures












3 comments:

  1. Great article Steph! Almost feel like I was there!!

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  2. I should have been going Down to the River With you and Suzanne for sure.
    Nice to read you.
    Big Kiss to allí the family

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  3. Nice!! Keep enjoying life and its wonders! Besos Steph!

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