Grand Canyon Rim to River to Rim Hike

 The allure of the Grand Canyon is indescribable; a visual masterpiece that is always changing in the light. Some rock layers are millions of years old, in myriads of fantastical shapes. But hiking to the bottom is a serious undertaking in the rugged harsh climate. The price of admission to the wonderland is grueling physical stamina to climb in and out of it. Lack of preparation or training can be deadly. At the same time the vast expanse is magical. Going below the rims is an adventure, and the first step on South Kaibab trail to descend is both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

We started down South Kaibab in the pre-dawn gloom at 4:30. I avoided looking at the dimly lit depths and shear drops offs that promised certain death if I fell, and kept my eyes down on the steep slope of the ground. The hazy sun was still under the horizon, glowing behind the rim.

So many steps.

Going down was strenuous with the endless steps and my knees ached already. The rock walls were spectacular in the growing orange glow. A bunch of hikers gathered to see the sunrise at Oh Ah Point. We took pictures. I reluctantly posed by the sign because I hate pictures of myself and don’t smile if I can help it. Moving on, my group stuck around with me for the most point, though it was hard for me to keep up.

We really had a lucky break with the weather. It was fifties at the start, with a nice cool breeze, and high clouds that kept the sun intensity lower. It could have been much worse. My biggest fear on this hike was getting overheated, especially in June. The bottom is known to be an inferno in the summer. Anxiety made me fill up on water almost every stop, though it wasn’t always necessary.

At Tip Off Point, the formations were still orange in the low light with dramatic deep blue shadows, making them resemble temples. The first glimpse of the silver green river thousands of feet below was always amazing.

We crossed the river and went on to Phantom Ranch. I got ice, a postcard to sent to my daughter and of course lemonade. My pack was heavy with snacks, so I didn’t buy food. I filled up with the ice and water and kept out a wary eye for the evil, obnoxious squirrels who never miss a chance to grab a snack from unsuspecting tourists. Sometimes they followed me along the trail. What a menace.

We went back to Bright Angel Trail and followed the river in a sandy path for what seemed a long way until we started ascending. It was warmer and I was drinking more water, but still felt dehydrated. My system of using an insulated small bottle with a three liter bladder to refill it  wasn’t efficient because I kept having to stop and pour water into the bottle. The bladder tube didn’t work at all. Next year, I will just get another three liter bladder.

My group got ahead of me, so I hiked alone. The trail was a lovely riparian paradise of creeks, waterfalls and plants hanging out of the rocks. The Canyon was greener than last year from all the rain and snow it got this winter. Flowers were blooming and birds called. One sounded like it was whistling at me. The peace of flowing water is my happy place as long as I can cross them or walk on the side of them.

But when the trail turned into a creek, requiring stepping on rocks to keep my feet dry, it elicited anxiety. This was one of those “where the hell am I, am I lost” moments. Am I doomed to wander around, getting nowhere? The watery pathway finally turned into something resembling a trail again. 

The rock formations were interesting, especially in my tired, mushy mental state. One undulating ridge had dark pancake batter layers. Some looked like faces. Whatever kind of rock it was, it was millions of years old.

I headed for a shady spot to pour some more water into my bottle and tripped. I had avoided this calamity up until now. My knee was bloody and my ankle bone had banged hard into a rock. Hopefully, it wasn’t broken. I could still walk, but it was still a long way up. It could get worse and my feet hurt enough as it was. I cleaned up the wound, but couldn’t find a band-aid to put on the knee, so it just dripped blood.

After enough time on these trails, encountering mules are inevitable. They leave their droppings and puddles of pee for hikers to step around, like a fecal obstacle course.  A train of mules appeared up the hill with tourists riding them. A space off the trail was a good place to stand and they went by me. The leader called out “that rock up there is Elvis, the king. You never know. Stranger things have happened here.” It did look a little like Elvis, if you used your imagination.

Finally I reached Havasupi Gardens. My group had actually waited for me, which was appreciated. They always got ahead of me, but it still helped to see them. Havasupi Gardens didn’t seem like much, but maybe there was more to it near the campgrounds. At this point, I just wanted to get back up to the rim. Four and a half miles to go, but it was the hardest portion.

Farther on, I caught up to them again and we soaked our shirts, hats and neck things in the creek, It was refreshing.

Alone again, the waterways were gone, with only the endless switchbacks. Now I realized why people hated this part of the trail. It was hell. It wasn’t North Kaibab hell, where my legs felt like any moment they would collapse and I stopped every five minutes, but my focus was waning. It was difficult to keep hydrated. A misstep and I fell on the ground. It was a soft fall with no injuries, but my body was telling me enough.

The less serious hikers with flip-flops, purses and shopping bags appeared. A man asked me “how far to the river?” My answer made him turn around. A stone arch seemed to mark the end, but no, more trail. “Oh, come on!”

Finally the end after ten and a half hours, in plenty of time for dinner. I sat down near the Bright Angel sign to rest. Getting out of that deep hole seemed a win. No heat exhaustion, no major injuries and I got out on my own power and had survived the ancient, unforgiving landscape.

Ironically, the most painful part was climbing the manmade stairs to my room, which caused me to scream from the pain of severe leg cramps. This was my body’s revenge for the abuse all day. Pain isn’t fun, but overcoming it is. Being exhausted, stressed and feeling like crap isn’t something that I seek out, but it’s part of the adventure. It’s worth it in order to see new things, be in a different environment and get out of the bubble of ordinary life.

Even if the Elvis rocks weren’t “loving me tender.”