The Difference is in the Details

Design – The unique design of the FoodSack makes it the most reliable food storage method.  Interwoven with stainless steel wire mesh so that the largest  gap is only 5mm, this design allows for two-fold protection:  1) Critters cannot chew through the steel mesh itself and 2) the mesh gaps are too small for critters to penetrate.

Other Specs – The FoodSack is 18” wide, 22” tall, and weighs only 10 ounces, making it ideal for Grand Canyon backpacking where low pack weight is essential.  A secure Velcro opening makes retrieving or stashing food quick and easy.  Nylon webbing with a minimum breaking strength of 1800 lbs. secures both the bottom and a loop enclosure from which the FoodSack can be hung.

Why the FoodSack is Superior

Storing food in your tent is risky – We’ve seen tents and backpacks with holes chewed through the exterior from hungry critters.  We’ve also witnessed a ringtail enter a partially unzipped tent, grab a bag of peanuts, and climb 30 feet up a cottonwood in a matter of seconds.  In addition, tents are often unnecessary for backpacking in Grand Canyon.  With or without a tent, the FoodSack advantage is that you can safely leave it anywhere.

Hanging food is problematic – Trees in Grand Canyon are rare and fragile.  Even if you find a suitable limb your food is still at risk.  We have seen mice scurry down cordage into a hanging stuff sack.  Since the FoodSack can be left anywhere, you don’t have to worry about finding or damaging tree limbs to hang food.

Testimonial

Despite numerous attempts seen and unseen, Grand Canyon critters have NEVER gotten into our FoodSack, it’s as simple as that.  For only $30 that is valuable peace of mind in the backcountry.

Ordering Info

To order the FoodSack online now click here or call toll free at 855-722-5375.

As Pablito and I rest in the luxurious shade of Kwagunt Hollow’s cottonwoods my thoughts drift to pack weight.  Why the hell did I bring those extra warm clothes and rain gear?  We built up quite the sweat just doing the short hike down here from the Jumpup-Naile Trailhead.  I hope it won’t be this warm all week.

But with great timing clouds roll in as we finish lunch, cooling things off nicely.  We have no set itinerary for this trip and Pablito is nursing a bum knee, so as soon as we confirm Kwagunt has water a bit downstream we decide to make camp here and just explore.

We snoop around the Esplanade and then day-hike downstream for about a mile.  Pablito finds a small skull I can’t identify.  A handful of potholes down here look like decent water so we pump a few quarts before returning to camp.

Back near camp I find an old weathered day-pack covering up a can of chicken that expired 5 years ago. A tremendous wind gust also blows through camp and bends one of my tent poles as it was pinned against a rock.  The clouds that have been discreetly accumulating start drizzling a light rain on us as a rainbow spreads over the North Rim.

The overhang we choose for a kitchen has 1 bat that flies out right by my head.  A single mouse keeps us company briefly during dinner.

Day 2 – Kwagunt Hollow to Sowats Canyon:

Pablito is a little slow to start today but eventually we regain the Jumpup-Naile Trail and head north into Sowats Canyon, where we leave the trail and head down canyon.  Just downstream there is an overhang inscription with what looks like the year 1933 (the name is illegible).

We take a break and Pablito thinks he hears water, but I think it’s just wind.  Sure enough, just around the corner is Mountain Sheep Spring.  I can’t believe how much water is flowing here for October.  The dry canyon bed transforms into a lush creek oasis.

I was thinking of making more miles today, but Pablito could use the rest, there is a superb campsite, and all of this lovely water is hard to pass up.  We spend the afternoon lounging near the creek, which has far too much water to be underrepresented as just a spring.  Mountain Sheep Spring can keep its name, we just choose to dub the stream Dragonfly Creek for the prevalence of its namesake.  Along with the dragonflies, this year’s crop of tadpoles also seem to have done very well as we see dozens of tiny tree frogs all over the creek.

There are voices upstream.  Singing voices, then drumming, then more singing.  This is really a strange sensation.  We are alone here, we both agree that the sound of running water is playing tricks with our ears, but it’s funny that we’re both mishearing the same thing.

Cloudy skies return and the sun only peeks out randomly, sending a shimmering light through green cottonwood canopies.  It starts raining again.

Camp is an unexpectedly large clearing behind some brush on the south side of the creek at the base of a large overhanging cliff.  There is a fire ring, wood, and someone even left cardboard for tinder.

Though it’s still raining the slight overhang provides just enough cover to get a fire started, a rare treat for The Canyon.  Pablito prepares a pepper jack quesadilla right in the fire using hot rocks…delicious.  We hear lots of scurrying about in the brush before us, but only see 1 mouse.

Day 3 – Sowats Canyon to Jumpup/Kanab junction:

While Pablito is off for his morning constitution he sees 4 hikers pass downstream.  Thankfully they did not see him at that moment.  Maybe the singing from yesterday was actually real…

We head down Sowats to Jumpup Canyon where the flow from Mountain Sheep Spring eventually gives out.  A few minutes after passing Kwagunt Hollow the narrows of Jumpup begin.  This is an amazing section of canyon where, in places, you can almost touch both cliff walls with outstretched arms.  But also intimidating, escape routes and high ground barely exist for the next 3 miles, and it’s starting to cloud up again.

I tell Pablito this is no place to waste much time so we set a quicker pace to get down to Kanab Creek.  About 2/3 of the way down Jumpup I find the inconspicuous basin of water that is said to be perennial.  It’s some scummy nasty looking water but it could certainly save you in a pinch.

Not surprisingly there is little animal life to be found in here.  I only see 1 spider until a larger bird flies up canyon directly overhead.  It looks like a duck and this seems quite the unlikely place for it.

Just before reaching Kanab a few drops of rain start falling as I overtake a group of 3 hikers.  The father comments something about thinking he was the only one dumb enough to be hiking the narrows with rain threatening.  Now that we’ve made it to the safety of Kanab I can afford a small chuckle at that remark.  His son hangs with us for awhile as we lunch.

There is a 2-tent camp directly opposite the mouth of Jumpup on a little bluff that sits about 20 feet above the dry creek bed.  Other than the outstanding view it’s a marginal camp with no water.  Indecisive, we decide to press upstream in search of water I’ve heard about and a better camp.

I flush a covey of quail (which might have been the bird I saw earlier in Jumpup).  At least I think they were quail, I’ve flushed many coveys and the sound was similar but they looked larger than quail, maybe chukars?  They resettle further upstream and the echoes of their calls waving down towards us sounds like laughter.  Kanab Canyon is mocking us.

It doesn’t take long to realize the folly of hauling packs up here, none of the campsite options will be better than our original, so we drop packs and continue upstream.  We find water in the second cleft on the left maybe a mile above Jumpup.  It’s in a large pool that is partially blocked by a chockstone, which makes getting the water a somewhat complicated task.  I’m a little concerned about our water supply, but not to the point of improvising elaborate water retrieval methods so we turn back and make camp at the confluence.

At about 4 pm it starts spitting rain on us.  Around 7 pm the rain intensifies to a steady wet drizzle, sending us scrambling out of our creek bed kitchen and up the bluff to our tents.  By 9 pm it’s a downpour so we just have dinner and hot cocktails in my tent.

Perhaps an hour later I’m nervously settling in to get some fitful sleep, but the rain is relentless and pounding my tent unmercifully…

Day 4 – Kanab Creek day-hike:

230 AM - CRASH!  CRASH!  BOOM!  BOOOOOOOOM!  I’m awake instantly.  What the hell was that!?!  Thunder!?!  F***ing artillery!?!  It sounds like The Canyon Gods are bowling boulders down Jumpup and we are the pins, and in fact, that is indeed, the terrifying truth.

I spring from my tent yelling, “Pablito!  Pablito!  Jumpup’s flashing!  Jumpup’s flashing!”, whipping my headlamp beam up just in time to see a 3 to 4 foot wall of madness composed of water, mud, boulders, and debris exploding out of Jumpup.  Below my feet the flood slams into the base of our bluff camp and fills the entire bed of Kanab within seconds as it roars downstream.  Holy Shit!  Water has abruptly become my primary concern based on two completely different extremes – shifting from scarcity to shitload.

I can barely believe it, but Pablito is confirming that he can sleep through anything, as I have to shake his tent to wake him.  After several tense minutes we realize our bluff is safe high ground, not that it matters much with no practical way to scramble up the cliff to our back.  In awe, we stare humbly at the flood with headlamps.  It is, at the same time, one of the most horrifying and amazing sights I have ever beheld.  Periodically we turn off headlamps and simply listen to the devastation.  In pitch black the flood roar evokes an intense sensation.  An hour passes, the flow remaining steady, until we finally turn in for a couple hours of sleep.

I reawake about 630 am.  The muddy flow down Jumpup is still substantial but has lessened considerably, and now there’s a new twist.  Kanab has flashed as well!  Probably sometime between 4 and 5 am.  We never even heard it over the roar of the Jumpup flood, but now Kanab is adding a foot of water to the flow beneath camp.  That’s 2 flash floods in 3 hours.

We had planned to hike back up Jumpup today.  That idea now appears to be perfectly insane, especially since more rain is looking like a real possibility.  We’re not going anywhere.  We are stuck here in Camp Marooned.

By late morning the combined flood level subsides enough to safely day-hike down Kanab and inspect the carnage, though some of the creek crossings are still a little sketchy.  The high water mark in places is hard to believe if we hadn’t actually seen the monster that rolled through here.  We stop for lunch and it starts raining again.  Not wanting to press our luck, we hustle back to the safety of camp.

Upon return, the flow in Jumpup now consists of potholes and a mere trickle, so we pump some of the cleaner water we can find.  At 3 pm it begins raining harder.  Enough so that we spend the next 4 hours alternately hiding out in tents and under the mesquite trees on our bluff.

Finally the storm breaks and we venture over to the bluff’s “balcony” for happy hour.  We sip hot cocktails and stare up the canyon.  Jumpup Canyon.  Our nemesis.  It seems we have been nervously staring up you for 2 days.  Then it happens…again.

745 PM - We hear it first, and oddly enough it is now a familiar sound.  The moon is casting a perfect light for visibility up Jumpup and we stare in disbelief as yet another flood comes barreling down towards us.  3 flash floods in 17 hours!  It is once again surreal to watch the entire approach.

This time the flow is more subtle (if a flash flood can even be such a thing) and only 1 to 2 feet high.  Compared to the original flood it almost seems to move in slow motion, ever so gradually building momentum until it unites with the floodwaters of Kanab.

It’s a strange feeling that flash floods have become part of our normal routine, at least for the last 17 hours.  The flow remains fairly constant for the next few hours.  I struggle again to get much sleep, obsessively worrying about what’s in store for us tomorrow.

Day 5 – Jumpup/Kanab confluence to Kwagunt Hollow:

At first light I peek out of my tent with fingers crossed.  Blue skies!  For now the Jumpup waters have disappeared again, and Kanab’s flow has dwindled to a width of about 2 feet.  The Canyon has given us a window of escape, we hope.

After what we’ve been through, preparing to ascend the narrows has me anxious.  I ask Pablito one simple question as we pack to leave:  “Are you ready to hike fast?”

We approach the mouth of Jumpup and I bow in respectful reverence.  Then we haul ass up.  This is the fastest I have ever hiked, barely taking note of all the potholes and flood damage, and even passing up a chance to stop and admire a leftover waterfall from the storm tumbling down from atop the Redwall above.  I am driven by fear to get the hell out of these narrows as quick as possible.

I reach Kwagunt Hollow in less than 90 minutes of hiking and Pablito follows up shortly.  We have escaped the Jumpup narrows.  But we’re not perfectly in the clear yet as it’s obvious that Kwagunt also flashed at least once during the storms.

There is water everywhere in Kwagunt as we ascend.  One of the Supai pour-off bypasses is a little exposed.  I choose the “fun” route right up the middle of the creek at times, which tends to fatigue Pablito a bit.  At one point he asks optimistically if we are at the place where we pumped water on Day 1, but we’re still at least an hour away.

Eventually we return to familiar territory in upper Kwagunt.  We are safe on the Esplanade and make “Camp High and Dry” across the way from Camp 1.  To make things easy, there are plenty of rain filled potholes to pump water from.  For the only time this trip the mice are persistent here, continuously raiding through camp and fleeing underneath Pablito’s tent.  One even headbutts the sandal I have on.

Day 6 – Kwagunt Hollow to Jumpup-Naile Trailhead:

The steep switchbacks of Jumpup-Naile Trail are a rough, but short lived, start to the day.  I make it to the trailhead in just over 90 minutes with Pablito coming in only half a beer behind me.

To see more photos from this trip click here.

To see the trip report for these photos click here.

Length:

Hiking Times: From south to north average times are 2 hours from Tanner Beach to Palisades, and 4 hours from Palisades to LCR Confluence.  From north to south average times are 3.5 hours from LCR Confluence to Palisades, and 1.25 hours from Palisades to Tanner.

Water: The Colorado River can be seen or heard from almost anywhere on this trail.  However, access to The River is limited to the areas between Tanner Beach and Palisades Creek, and also near the end of the trail at the LCR confluence.  We do not recommend drinking LCR water, even with a filtering device.

Campsites: The entire Beamer Trail lies within the Palisades use area where there is at-large camping.  There are plentiful campsites between Tanner Beach and Palisades Creek.  Between Palisdaes Creek and the LCR confluence there are a handful of spots with just enough room to make camp for a couple people, but these marginal sites will be dry camps.  There is no camping allowed within a quarter mile of the LCR confluence, but there is a small beach camp just outside this restricted area.

Reflections and Attractions: The Beamer Trail is an exciting hike deep within the heart of Grand Canyon.  Exploration opportunities and wildlife viewing abound between Tanner Beach and Palisades Creek.  Depending on the season and River conditions there are also excellent fishing holes here. The LCR confluence is a must-see, just don’t expect to see its famous mineralized blue waters during spring runoff.  Amongst other evidence of early prospector activity, don’t miss the short hike up the LCR to the historical Beamer cabin.

Warnings and musings: Heading south to north the 1st 3 miles of this trail are mostly a walk in the park.  We do not recommend that acrophobics continue from here.  Exposure is always relative to the hiker, but there are sections on this trail that can be intimidating for some, and downright dangerous in windy conditions.  Beyond Palisades Creek, the Beamer trail resembles a junior version of the Tonto Trail, with about 6 miles worth of countless minor drainages to traverse.  Many hikers attempt to make the 12 mile round trip day-hike to the LCR confluence from Palisades but are forced to turn back early from time constraints.  If you plan to try this as a day-hike be ready for a lengthy trek, leave as early as you can, and travel light.

I am accompanied by the Brothers Steiner (hereafter referred to as BS1 and BS2, or as the BSers) and right from the start I can tell I may be spending much of my slower hiking time alone as they speed down the trail.  We begin our trek mid-morning to the frequent serenades of a canyon wren.  BS1 has the canyon wren ringtone and instinctively reaches for his cell phone.

We rest briefly at Stegosaurus Rock and then continue to the Redwall camp for lunch and to cache some water for our return.  BS1 spots a mountain short-horned lizard.  Two hikers on their way out stop to chat and take a break, turns out they are fellow Canyon nuts and four of us graduated from the same high school.

Below the Redwall things start to warm up a little.  It doesn’t matter how many times I descend Tanner, my least favorite section is always the never ending Dox traverse.  It’s just a steep, awkward slope with no shade and no good place to rest, but at least the scenery can’t get any better.

When the trail finally hits Canyon bottom to cross Tanner Wash I just detour down the wash and shortcut my way into camp ahead of the BSers.

The River is quite muddy and we have no luck fishing.  Strong winds make us contemplate moving camp east of the wash to more sheltered sites, but we choose to remain closer to The River.

At some point during the night I realize that inside my rain jacket pocket is part of an old unwrapped forgotten granola bar from some past trip.  I’m half asleep, my food is all packed up safe from varmints, the rain jacket is my pillow, and I don’t want critters poking around my head, so I just set the granola bar aside, by first light it is gone.

Day 2 – Tanner Beach to Palisades Creek:

Awake to an amazing display of sunrise cloud colors.  BS2 discovers that mice have raided some of his food he accidentally left out.  Today is a short hike, sort of a recovery day, so we leisurely pack up camp, chat with some hikers just arriving, then head north on the Beamer Trail.

There is a short climb to negotiate some cliffs immediately upon departing Tanner Beach.  Back on the sandy flats south of Comanche Creek, BS1 spots a striped whipsnake.  We take the low route past the island north of Espejo Creek again, so I still have no idea what the high route is like.

I find the Palisades beach camp I used about 18 months ago but there is one small problem – it’s under water.  That’s a shame it was a nice little beach, but there’s still enough room for camp in the tammies a little further from shore.

We spend some time alternately fishing and hiding in the shade.  Even with all this River silt I’m a little surprised the fishing gods are skunking us, especially considering how great this fishing hole was last time I passed through.

A monstrous commercial motor rig comes barreling down The River.  I’m not sure any of the passengers expected to see a full moon at Palisades during the middle of the day.

Last night I barely needed my sleeping bag.  Tonight is cold and windy, I use my rain fly as another blanket layer for wind shelter.

Day 3 – Palisades Creek to beach camp south of Little Colorado River confluence:

BS1 asks what I’ve been doing to protect my food from critters overnight.  I tell him I just sleep with my arm over it, kind of like sleeping with my old lady at home, except my food bag doesn’t elbow, kick, and steal the covers.

Continuing north on Beamer, cliffs force the trail up onto the Tonto platform.  More River rats float by below us.  After maybe a mile of hiking from Palisades we encounter the section of trail that has earned Beamer something of a bad reputation, at least with some.  Across from Carbon Canyon there is perhaps a 50 meter stretch where the narrow trail skirts dangerously close to towering cliffs.  I know people who hike this like it’s no big deal without any fear of the exposure, but a mistake here could be fatal.  I concentrate on tunnel visioning the trail but it’s hard to pretend there isn’t a deadly drop immediately to my left.

We all make it safe and sound to the next drainage north where the Beamer Trail splits yet again.  We take the high route this time, assuming it avoids further exposure lower down.  The two routes converge after a short distance where the Beamer Trail becomes a poor man’s Tonto Trail, contouring in and out of countless minor drainages.  We stop for a lunch break across from Temple Butte as more River rats float beneath us.

As we finally approach the Little Colorado River confluence yet even more River rats are swarming the waters.  I have never seen this many people (boaters or otherwise) in The Canyon outside of the corridor.

One of the boats is tied up at our beach camp south of the confluence.  Time to stroll over and see what’s going on.  After wading through the academic jargon, I learn many of these boats are teams of scientists surveying and mapping The River bottom.  They even have a little motorboat that is ferrying people and supplies up and down and back and forth all over The River.

Despite all the commotion we make the best of camp and siesta in the shade.  The fishing gods are still pitching a shutout.  I am starting to believe that the trout eradication measures taken by the Park Service to protect the endangered humpback chub are actually working!  Or at least that’s what I’m willing to blame our bad luck on.

Day 4 – Day hike up the Little Colorado River gorge:

We are all happy to be trekking sans heavy packs for our day-hike up the Little Colorado River.  At the confluence there is a stark contrast between the greenish River and muddy brown LCR.  These waters clearly do not mix well.

In under an hour we’re at the Beamer cabin.  This prospector dwelling was built into the base of an overhanging Tapeats cliff over a hundred years ago.  The cabin is still in great shape with some interesting relics inside, but there’s also pack rat shit everywhere so we don’t linger long.  These ledges were certainly occupied by Anasazi as well, but the artifacts have been mostly picked clean.

We make it another few miles further up the LCR gorge then stop for a snack.  Before continuing I start doing the math in my head.  It’s midday, hot, my foot is hurting some, and if I want to make it all the way to our intended destination and back to camp I will have to hike almost 7 miles on 1 quart of water (I would prefer to only drink LCR water as a last resort).

With some regret I decide to call it a day here while the BSers continue ahead.  They eventually cross the LCR and make it to our goal for the day-hike.  On their return BS2 takes a nasty spill and gets some fairly severe cuts on his leg.

On my way back I try staying closer to the LCR, which leads to some bushwacking here and there, eventually stumbling upon some more scientific equipment I’m assuming is used for humpback chub research.  Back at the confluence I encounter a hiking couple looking for a way to cross the LCR and The River.  They are doing Grandview to Nankoweap, an ambitious hike for most, but even more impressive when I learn they are on about week 7 of their through hike along the Arizona Trail!  What an adventure.

Back in camp the fishing gods continue their shutout, in fact at this point they are working on a no-hitter.

Day 5 – Beach camp south of Little Colorado River confluence to Comanche Creek:

For a couple days now BS1 has been teasing us that he will hitchhike on the 1^st boat back to Palisades.  Only minutes after we ascend from our beach camp more River rats float by, they appear to have plenty of room for all of us.  Too late now.

Cloudy skies bless the hike back down Beamer, a welcome relief from some hot temps of the last 2 days.  We opt for the high route again where the trail splits.  Interestingly, there is a small rock barricade discouraging southerly travel on the low route, but there was/is no such barricade at the trail split coming from the opposite way.

The BSers have waited for me back at the exposed section of trail.  They proceed as a terrible wind whips across the exposed trail, forcing the BSers to lean down towards the uphill “safe” side of the trail.  The wind relents briefly, BSers continue around the bend out of sight, then yet another brutal gust of April wind threatens our balance.  Within seconds the BSers are hustling back towards me.  Apparently BS1 asked BS2 how things were looking, the wind came blasting through again, and he said “we need to turn around…now.”

In anticipation of any wind today, I had eyeballed a route to bypass this tricky section back on day 3, so that’s what we decide to do.  The bypass is easy and safe, we simply go up and over the ridge immediately east of the exposed section.  Parts of this bypass route are cairned so we obviously aren’t the first to avoid that sketchy stretch.

We stop at Palisades to retrieve a food cache and have lunch, then continue down to the Comanche Creek area where we find a nice beach camp.  A storm has been following and threatening us all day, so BS2 sets up his tent.  I only have my rainfly and am quite thankful he had extra stakes, the fly would just not hold up in the wind without being anchored.

Figuring it’s our last chance we try our luck fishing again.  Within minutes it is raining steadily.  So I guess it’s official, the fishing gods went from shutout to no-hitter to pitching a perfect game.

The science boaters are all over the place again.  The motorboat cruises up River then slows and beckons us over to shore.  I walk down and he just wants to apologize for any inconvenience they’ve been imposing on our wilderness experience.  I tell him it’s no problem, then he asks if there’s anything we need.  This is my chance.  I tell him if he can scare up a few cold beers that would be great.  He says he’ll be passing by the kitchen and he’ll see what he can do, then motors off again.

The wait seems forever and of course it starts raining harder.  BS2 jumps in his tent to stay dry, I would do the same but for my fear of missing the beer boat.  Standing there drenched I get to thinking.  Why on Earth did I say “cold” beer?  At this point we could care less what temperature the beer is as long as we have some.

I hear a faint motor through the rain.  My heart skips a beat.  The beer boat is returning.  BS1 asks me to check if the boater will take out his backpacking detritus so I grab his trash bag and hustle down to the boat.  This is a historical Yermo moment.  I am handing a River rat a bag of trash and in return he hands me a bag of beers!  I know of no other place where such a transaction would be considered normal.

We enjoy our frothy beverages with a hearty cheers.  Warm PBR never tasted better.  The rain eventually chases us back to our shelters, where I cook up a meal and finish the beer.  The storm remains fairly intense throughout most of the night.

Day 6 – Comanche Creek to upper Tanner Canyon:

At first light I peek my head out the rainfly, the sky is mostly clear.  A relief for sure, I hate packing up in the rain.  Also, last night we discussed hiking all the way out today if it was still stormy, but we seem to have scored one more night in The Canyon.

Apparently I fared the driest.  The BSers squeezed into that little tent, which proved to be something far less than waterproof, and awoke drenched.  Any sleep they did get was in puddles of water.

We give the sun a chance to dry us out some and then hit the trail back to Tanner Beach to pump plenty of water for our dry camp tonight.  It seems some jackass brought their dog down here since we left as there are tracks everywhere.

Before departing we see 2 seagulls (yes, seagulls, I have never seen them in The Canyon before and suspect they are making their way up from the Lake Havasu area?) soaring low over The River.  Heading back up Tanner there has been an explosion of blooming wildflowers since we passed through 5 days ago.

Above the Tapeats boulder field a large group passes by on their way down.  Mostly youngtsers, a few of them seem beat up and perhaps ill prepared (i.e. jeans, behemoth packs, and dog-tired faces).  We skip the Redwall camp, sacrificing those views for more wind shelter in the small bay northeast of Cardenas Butte.

After we get settled and hide out some minor rain sprinkles, a Ranger strolls into camp.  In dozens of trips outside the corridor this is the first time I have ever been checked for permit legitimacy.  We chat for awhile and she tells us a Canadian couple got ticketed at the rim for bringing that dog down.  She also encountered that large group we saw earlier and said they were mostly beat up from the hike and had to change their aggressive itinerary.

I run out of stove fuel exactly after cooking my last dinner, and I would love to take credit for planning on being that lucky.  BS1 decides to try sleeping under a boulder overhang, it only takes a couple pack rat runs across his body to move his sleeping pad up closer to us.

Day 7 – Upper Tanner Canyon to Lipan Point:

On our way out it starts snowing above 75-mile saddle.  This is starting to feel like more than coincidence perhaps, but every time I have ascended Tanner it has been snowing.  Not sure if the BSers were taking it easy on me but the trek out only takes about 2 hours and I’m at the rim right behind them.

To see more photos from this trip click here.

To see more about BS1 and his wanderings through Arizona click here.