Vegas and the Canyons, 2018, day four
Hiking in the Grand Canyon
We planned to hike some of the South Kaibab Trail to glimpse the scenery below the rim. For days, I held two contradictory thoughts in my head: (1) we needed to catch an early shuttle to the trailhead to avoid the desert heat; and (2) the forecast morning temperature was 1 degree Celsius, so we would need many layers to resist the icy cold.
I finally realized that if it was going to be so cold, maybe we didn’t need to leave so early.
Instead, Shannon and I took sunrise shots around the village.
Cars need special permission to park at the trailhead, so we took the “hiker’s express” bus from our hotel instead of our faithful minivan. While we were waiting in the morning chill, another hiker asked genially if we were going to Phantom Ranch. The ranch is at the bottom of the canyon by the Colorado River. It’s a five-hour hike with an elevation change of around 500 flights of stairs — one way. (You then sleep at the ranch, having booked a bunk two years earlier.) Our plan was more modest. We aimed to reach to the first lookout and climb back out within two hours.
The trail starts with a series of tight switchbacks and then follows the base of a cliff. I bought trekking poles for the trip, and my knees were grateful.
After we’d been hiking for a short while, I paused at a switchback, Shannon and Sandy ahead of me on the trail. There was a splintering sound like a ricochet. My body flinched reflexively. I said a bad word as my mind caught up to what had happened.
A baseball-sized rock had fallen from a hundred feet above and smashed to bits right beside me.
No one peered down guiltily from a higher ledge, so it may have been natural erosion. Later, I heard the hikers behind us whispering about “that guy who was almost killed by the rock.”
We reached our lookout after only thirty minutes. People took turns snapping their picture at the sign.
We’d reached our goal, but it felt too early to turn back. Below, we could see an open area called Cedar Ridge. Going there would lengthen our hike from three kilometres to five (round trip), but the temperature was cool, and we had spare water. Sandy pointed out a building on the ridge that I had mistaken for an interpretive sign; my sense of scale was confused. Still, it didn’t look that far away.
Before we left, a woman reached out to a greedy chipmunk in exactly the way the park signs show will get you bit. Her family talked her out of it.
We descended to a new geological layer, and the ground turned red.
The canyon warms as you descend, and the trail was now exposed to the sun. We began to peel off layers.
You have to keep reminding yourself that the climb out is going to be harder. They say that when you decide to turn around, you’ve finished the first third of your trip.
We reached the ridge, sweaty and ready for a rest, but with no doubt that extending our hike was the right call.
We refueled on nuts and berries, then explored the plateau.
The ascent was hot, but once we reached Ooh Ahh Point again, the cliff shaded the trail. When we returned to the bus loop, the sky was ready to rain.
In the afternoon, I walked into town to run some errands. There was only one grocery store in this national park filled with tourists who have no other choice— it had completely fair prices, fresh produce, and a wide selection of goods.
After I returned to the lodge, Shannon and I took each other out for ice cream — waffle cones, no extra charge — and we wandered along the Rim Trail. A stray turn put us on the trailhead for Bright Angel Trail, which leads all way down to the river, if you hike for five hours. Below us, the trail passed through a tunnel in a cliff. I have a weakness for tunnels, but our hike was done. This had to be someone else’s adventure.
We returned to rouse Sandy. The sun would set in a few hours and we wanted to watch from one of the quieter viewpoints to the west.
Hermit’s Rest Road is closed to cars, so we took a bus from the Bright Angel Trailhead to Mohave Point.
On the way to the bus stop, Sandy convinced us to peek inside a cliffside gift shop. Inside was an art gallery with an exhibit of canyon paintings.
At Mohave Point, we walked away from our eventual destination to peek west and got one of our few glimpses of the Colorado River.
The river is cold year round because the dam that controls the river’s flow releases water from the bottom of Lake Powell, not the top. The hiking pamphlets bluntly warn that if you slip into the river, you’ll die.
Every day since we landed in Las Vegas, our weather apps had been warning of storms that never showed. That was about to change. The first weather was hail, then a wash of rain swept past and was gone.
There was no one else on the trail.
Watching the clouds, we hustled toward Hopi Point.
Hopi Point is a popular place to watch the sunset because it juts out into the canyon.
You can tour the Rim Trail from home on Google Street View.
The clouds were low and dramatic.
At times, I worried we wouldn’t reach Hopi Point before sundown, but we made it. The light was hard to capture.
The cloud ceiling that had been sweeping lower and lower now spilled into the canyon.
A bank of clouds swallowed us.
There was some goofing.
The sun dropped, and the storm turned serious. Bolt lightning flashed on the far side of the canyon and the rain fell in splashes. The return buses don’t stop at this viewpoint, so we hit the shadowy trail to Powell Point.
Rushing along the rim of the canyon, we counted the seconds between the lightning flashes and the thunder.
Powell Point was not far, but the rain became a downpour. A bus entered on the far side of the parking loop, bright in the darkness. We ran and, in the dark and our hurry, almost lost Sandy, who thought we were boarding a different bus headed away from town.
Our bus driver was out of his seat to deal with some passengers who had dawdled, exited, and then reboarded. “You’re killing me!” he complained to them, upset about his schedule. As he turned from them, he saw us and physically forced us off the bus, grabbing and shoving even as he was announcing to us for the first time the bus was too full. I’m mad even now remembering it. He left us in the rain.
The next driver was a friendly grandpa by comparison. His bus was packed and steamy. Standing with our hands in straps, we dripped and teetered as the bus drove, the rain and lightning still crashing outside. A bus dispatcher on the radio told all drivers to strongly urge visitors to head back to the village. Our driver called out, “I strongly urge you to head back to the village.” He paused. “Ahh, don’t worry. That’s where we’re going.”
The bus let us off at the edge of the Grand Canyon Village. The weather was grim. We scurried along the now-deserted trail to our hotel room, relieved to reach the covered stairs and our room. Safe inside, we unwrapped a dinner of popcorn, mini cucumbers, pumpkin crackers, and cheese. And leftover vegan donuts.
Our schedule allowed us one full day in the Grand Canyon, and this was it.
Next up: Road trip to Utah
Thanks for reading! Here are the photos collected in an album and here is page one of this story. The next chapter of the story is here.
