The eleventh hour forced a change to our original itinerary. Pablo, Kaiser, Mason, and I had planned to hike the Gems between South Bass and Boucher, but over a foot of snow and closure of the Hermit Road for an indefinite amount of time made that mostly impossible. We were told by Service personnel that we “would need a tank to get to the trailhead.” When the rest of us meet Kaiser to set up a car camp at the South Rim, Pablo balks at all the snow and offers to buy a room at Maswick Lodge for the night. No complaints from anyone. Plan B’s are discussed and at one point we nearly scuttle The Canyon entirely, but we settle on hiking the Escalante Route.

There is so much snow the backcountry office opens 2½ hours late at 10:30 am. This jeopardizes our chance to get to Tanner Rapids before sundown. We soon learn that’s irrelevant because the Desert View road is closed, thus leaving Bright Angel Trail as our only option. I swallow my pride and swap out the permits. Leading a trip from South Bass to Boucher will remain a thorn in my side for now.

This trip will be different, but the company is perfect, and at least we’re still in The Canyon. We hit the trailhead about noon to begin our descent to Indian Garden. The snowfall and clouds are so thick we can’t even see the mile deep gorge we’ve decided to explore. Fortunately a mule train has preceded our passage and there is a well worn path with no ice. Just up the trail from the 1 ½ Mile Resthouse we see a young California condor perched on a cliff face. It has yet to lose all the darker feathers around the head signifying immaturity.

Atop the Redwall clouds finally begin to lift, revealing nice views of the Inner Gorge and snow capped buttes of The Canyon. If we have to stay in developed campgrounds we picked a great time for a storm. Hikers are few and far between, and we share Indian Garden with only one other group.

Everything is damp and there are some patches of snow around, but luckily the snow/rain mix stops falling. Pablo can’t wait to show us his Mexican plaster mug for hot cocoa. He didn’t tell me about it previously, because he knew I would tell him plaster was a bad idea. Reaching into his pack, he finds it broken, never even got to use it once.

Our permit is for four, but we are actually joined by a fifth. His name is Señor Misterioso. He is a few inches tall, glows in the dark, and brings excitement to our otherwise mundane existence. Kaiser and Pablo meet him for the first time on the picnic table at night. As usual, Pablo’s thundering banshee snore echoes off the canyon walls throughout the night.

Day 2 – Indian Garden Campground to Bright Angel Campground:

Pablo is first to rise early and attempts to wake us all to prepare hot drinks and food for him. He is met with expletive laden rebukes, but it’s enough to get us up and ready for our morning day-hike to Plateau Point. Yesterday a Ranger told us the storm would last for a few days, but the sky is almost entirely clear. The scenery from the point is spectacular. We can see Bright Angel Trail descending into the canyon cut by Pipe Creek. Granite Gorge plummets beneath our feet to the west. The snow clad faces of Zoroaster and Brahma Temples are especially striking.

The trek from Indian Garden to Bright Angel is just shy of five miles. We follow Garden Creek until the drainage becomes nearly impassable; then detour along the trail to the adjacent eastern side canyon and switchback down the Devil’s Corkscrew to Pipe Creek. The few hikers we encounter give the top of my pack strange looks. Apparently Señor Misterioso is hitching a ride there.

Below the switchbacks another half hour brings us to Pipe Creek Beach and our first close encounter with The River. A slight, sandy climb up Canyon leads to the first of two suspension bridges that cross over to Bright Angel Campground and Phantom Ranch. Looking beneath my feet at The River through the grated metal of Silver Bridge creeps me out more than many other exposed areas of The Canyon I’ve encountered.

We choose one of the bigger B.A. campsites and put Pablo in the corner to mitigate the banshee snoring. Kaiser learns a Canyon lesson the hard way. After nightfall he leaves his tent open briefly and a ringtail darts in, grabs some peanuts and climbs thirty feet up a massive cottonwood, all within a matter of seconds. Throughout the night our perimeter is patrolled and invaded by that ringtail; and one small opportunistic skunk that takes advantage of the peanuts dropped by the ringtail.

For a nightcap we head up to the Phantom Ranch Canteen for a few rounds of $4 cans of beer. One of us asks the young woman behind the counter what kinds of beer they have and she replies, “Bud.” The canteen is warm and our spirits are high, as closing nears we are the only customers in the joint.

Day 3 – Bright Angel Campground to Cottonwood Campground:

The trek continues today as we plan to hike about seven miles up the North Kaibab Trail, following Bright Angel Creek the whole way. Mason wakes up to find Señor Misterioso hiding in his oatmeal bowl, and later he somehow makes his way into Kaiser’s boot.

Shortly after departing upstream beyond Phantom Ranch, we pass the Clear Creek Trail junction. I take a mental note because I’ll be hiking up that way on a another trip only twenty days from now.

The slot canyon cut by Bright Angel Creek is spectacular and deep with dozens of twists and turns. I wish we had more time to explore the even narrower side canyons and tributaries. There are several bridges to cross, before the canyon opens up to a wider, sunny valley. We stop for lunch above Willow Springs. I am reminded once again of the dramatic temperature fluctuations in The Canyon. Two days ago we were bundled up hiking through snow. Right now we’re comfortably hanging out shirtless and eating lunch so our sweaty clothes can dry out.

As usual I conservatively underestimate how far we’ve come, when we approach the junction to Ribbon Falls it’s only lunchtime. We decide to skip the falls for tomorrow and continue on to Cottonwood Campground. There is a small waterfall where the trail crosses Wall Creek.

The campground is situated within a grove of scrub oak, and we choose an open site closer to the creek since we will need to pump water there (the piped water at this campground is shut down during the winter). Again there is only one other small group here and we never even hear them. Pablo’s banshee snore has stirred a vote among the rest of us and he is unanimously banished to the immediate campsite north of us. But only for bedtime.

We start pumping water at the creek and my filter promptly breaks; some problem with the intake valve. This filter’s been through a lot, perhaps barely enough for this nuisance to be excused. Conveniently, Kaiser brought his pump and we also have backup purifying tablets.

I start to heat up some water for hot cocktails and nearly cook up Señor Misterioso, who is hiding in my Jetboil for some reason. It’s cold and windy tonight but there are lots of stars to gaze at, and some lively debate as to whether the moving ones are planes, satellites, or UFO’s.

Day 4 – Cottonwood Campground to Bright Angel Campground:

The next 2 ½ days will be spent retracing our steps, so we start back towards Phantom Ranch. The side detour to Ribbon Falls is well worth the trip. It’s a beautiful waterfall, somewhere on par with the likes of Elves Chasm or Deer Creek Falls. We sit behind the falls as sunlight filters through the cascading water to warm our bodies from the cool spraying mist.

Knowing what to expect, we knock out the rest of the hike in short order. This time we choose two sites next to Bright Angel Creek, one is for the banishment of Pablo.

A herd of mule deer grazes in and around our camp. We have seen deer every day of this trip. Two does walk right up to Pablo’s tent while he’s inside, and he never even notices.

After dinner we mosey back over to the Canteen again. This time the place is packed. There are maybe fifty people in here and not a seat to be had. Some folks are just sitting on the floor. We have to drink our first round standing up until some seats finally clear. Luckily the $4 beer tonight is Tecate, so at least there our situation has improved. Back at the campsite Kaiser, Mason, and I enjoy some late night libations.

Day 5 – Bright Angel Campground to Indian Garden Campground:

We awake to cloudy skies, and it appears the bad weather we’d heard about last night from a Canteen patron is going to materialize. Light showers and mist accompany us throughout our hike back up to Indian Garden. When we stop for lunch I discover Señor Misterioso has been in my food bag, stomping my pita bread into pieces.

We try to dry our gear out after stopping, but the rain and snow falls just enough to foil us. Mason and I move our tents to a high ground campsite where there’s a little more room under the picnic shelters. We also help to move Pablo’s table so he can stay drier. Kaiser and I finish the last of the whiskey in some hot cocktails, complete with lemon juice and honey packets, courtesy of the Canteen.

Day 6 – Indian Garden Campground to Bright Angel Trailhead:

We get our earliest start of the trip and make the hike up in about three hours. Light snow and rain makes things interesting and chilly. Ice cold Guinness awaits us in Kaiser’s truck.

Kaiser and I get dropped off at the South Bass Trailhead around 11 am, we have left our exit vehicle at Hermit’s Rest. The thought dawns that neither of us has been shuttled to a trailhead before and we now have no choice but to complete our hike, since backing out or retreating would leave us here without a car. This thought looms large as we slip below the rim on the first few steps of thousands that we will take to cover the next 45+ miles in five days.

We stop briefly to inspect the Anasazi ruins above the Esplanade. Like I did about two years ago, Kaiser would have walked right by them without noticing if I hadn’t pointed them out.

Unbeknownst to us, it appears that this trip will be something of a test for our various gear items, as we encounter our first mishap. At a lunch break prelude to the Redwall descent, Kaiser discovers his 2.5 liter water pouch has sprung a leak. We quickly empty some of the remaining water into the limited capacity we have available, and then give the rest to one of four hikers we encounter on their way out.

Kaiser and I have opposite hiking strengths. Descending takes its toll on his body while I motor down the trail, but conversely he leaves me in the dust during ascents. The going is slow either way, our packs are heavily overburdened with water. We have both tried to haul enough to skip the water at Serpentine tomorrow morning, consumption of which can reputedly lead to digestive issues.

We reach the Tonto Trail junction and climb out of Bass Canyon to begin our long east trending traverse. Up on the Tonto platform at the use area boundary there is a suitable camp and we are exhausted, so we drop our packs with a shrug of relief that we’re done for the day.

There are great views nearby from the lip of the Inner Gorge. The last rays of sunlight illuminate Holy Grail Temple, and we can see Bass Rapids and three separate camps of River rats over 1,000 feet below.

Tonight is my 100th night of backpacking in The Canyon! I lament to Kaiser upon wishing I had brought something to celebrate, then completely surprise him with two cold Tecates from my pockets, beer never tasted better…until we’re finished and then I further shock Kaiser with yet two more cold ones. We enjoy and toast to the celebration, albeit now he’s a little suspicious of how much beer I really was stupid enough to carry down here (4 was all).

Despite this being a dry camp there are many biting bugs around that look like mosquitoes on steroids, and we are grateful for bug spray.

Day 2 – Tonto above Bass Canyon to Le Conte Plateau:

The gods of gear mishaps struck again during the night, Kaiser’s inflatable sleeping pad has sprung a leak. We are on the trail before 8 am, a decent start, but one that we would soon wish had occurred earlier.

There is trickling water upon our arrival at Serpentine Canyon, and it seems we have inadvertently stumbled upon an amphibious mating orgy. There are at least a half dozen pairs of frogs in these pools, each pair consists of a smaller frog riding atop a slightly larger one. I’m no biologist but I think it’s safe to say these horny toads are the real deal.

As mentioned earlier, there have been hiker complaints about the quality of this water. I pumped two liters as a precaution and ended up dumping them near Ruby Canyon, but Kaiser did drink a couple filtered liters of this water with no ill effects.

Hiking the Gems between South Bass and Boucher is quite similar to any other stretch of Tonto, constantly contouring in and out of side canyons. At Emerald Canyon there is one small pool of water below the crossing that looks like it won’t last much longer. Continuing on it is getting downright hot as we approach a dry Quartz Canyon.

We hunker down here in the limited shade of a small Tapeats overhang for lunch and then trek on to Ruby Canyon. I stumble upon a very small kingsnake along the way, but it was too quick to get a decent picture. We are physically beat by the time we reach Ruby Canyon, so the sight and sound of flowing water here is a reassuring comfort.

We decide it’s just crazy to continue hiking in this heat and spend a few hours next to the creek, hydrating and waiting for cooler temperatures. After 5 pm enough of The Canyon is in shade to justify moving on, so we head out to Le Conte Plateau. There’s a good campsite near the west end of the plateau where we should have stopped, but instead we adjust to a marginal site further east.

Day 3 – Le Conte Plateau to Tonto above Agate Canyon:

Learning our lesson from yesterday, we are up drinking hot cocoa and coffee as a crescent moon rises at about 5 am. We are on the trail an hour later and thankful for the ease of cooler hiking. Sunrise gives way to another blessing, partly cloudy skies, and we blaze through Jade and Jasper Canyons (both dry).

Peering into the depths of Turquoise Canyon upon our approach is somewhat unsettling because it appears dry, but we discover two large potholes below the crossing. The water looks greenish after filtering but tastes fine.

Here we have a decision to make, as this could be our last watering hole before camp. Sapphire Canyon is almost 3 miles away, and a glance at our trip itinerary reveals that seasonal water is “possible” there. By this point we had hoped to cross paths with hikers doing the Gems from east to west and exchange water info, but we haven’t seen anybody. As wet as this winter and spring has been, I’m hunching on the reliability of Sapphire water, but is it worth the risk?

We decide not based on my conservative nature when it comes to water and refill everything at Turquoise. So of course, three much warmer miles later we encounter plenty of clear, flowing water in Sapphire. This is the perfect place for lunch and a siesta. Sapphire sports excellent views of Scorpion Ridge across The River, and also two large ponderosa pines that have no business taking up root way down here at around 3,000 feet of elevation, thousands of feet below their customary rim area strongholds.

After a few hours The Canyon has once again cooled to a hike-able temperature and we resume our trek. Passing through Agate Canyon, someone has placed part of a desert bighorn ram horn atop a boulder, unfortunately other than occasional droppings this will be the only trace of bighorn activity we see on this trip.

The West Tonto Trail through the Gems is easy to lose in places due to multiple trailing, game tracks, and the like, but it is typically just as easy to find again with rudimentary route finding skills. While waiting for Kaiser a few times during this trip he would eventually arrive at my destination from a slightly different route than I had taken.

Near the end of our hike today we lost the trail again in what proved to be a stroke of good fortune as we made our way to the lip of the Tonto northwest of Geikie Peak where there is a fabulous campsite. The stunning full circle views include a down River shot of Agate and Sapphire Rapids.

Day 4 – Tonto above Agate Canyon to Boucher Creek:

If we “lost” the trail yesterday it wasn’t by much as we’re trekking eastward again at about 6 am this morning, right after a round of hot drinks and another predawn crescent moonrise. By Tonto standards, sections of the trail contouring around Scylla Butte seem somewhat tedious.

Our approach into Slate Canyon reminds me of a poor man’s Grapevine Canyon as it sinks in how long this side canyon will take to hike around. I am certain of finding water here but when we reach the crossing there is only one measly pothole. Realizing we may have to search for water, subtle hydration anxiety creeps in as I wait for Kaiser, and wonder how much water we can scrounge from that slimy pool. I was making so much noise between shedding my pack and tacking off my boots it took me a couple moments of near silence to hear flowing water just upstream of the crossing.

As we filter that water and have a few snacks a pair of California condors soars over the mouth of Slate Canyon, and then pick their way up-canyon along the western Redwall cliffs. We enjoy their aerial show for a good fifteen minutes.

It is a long haul from Slate to Boucher and things are getting warm again. I know that any shady spot between here and there is unlikely for a meal break, so we push for Boucher Creek. When it finally comes into view below there’s no question of stopping before we get down to that cool water.

So while our lunch stop was a little later than usual today, we have already arrived at our intended destination. Neither of us can recall ever hiking ten miles before lunch. We set up camp above the creek near the junction with Topaz Canyon, and lounge around for a bit.

With so much time on our hands now, we stroll down the creek a mile or so to Boucher Rapids. The River is muddy, swollen, and the boiling rapids look intimidating. To us these rapids appear slightly less formidable than Hermit Rapids just up-River, but that’s based on our memories from over two years ago. Either way, it’s an impressive sight.

We had hoped to catch some River rats in action but after about an hour we decide to leisurely walk back alongside Boucher Creek. It’s nice to be near the creek and have a wet camp for the first time on this trip, and we enjoy the extra water with some cocktails.

Day 5 – Boucher Creek to overlook below Yuma Point:

This morning was rough on me. At first light I fly out of my tent and scramble up the hill away from the creek for an urgent intestinal requirement. The deed done I am dismayed to discover that in my hasty quest for relief I have forgotten my TP supply. Hope some of these rocks are smoother than they look…Back in camp recovering, one of those steroid juiced mosquitoes bites me on the forehead. I ask Kaiser how it looks and he laughs as the bite area has swollen to the size of a quarter, my own personal unwanted third eye. As we pump water for the hike up, my filter’s intake valve fails, something I could fix with time and patience but Kaiser’s filter is working fine. Finally ready to strap up and go, but then the zipper breaks on my backpack’s top pouch. So, yeah, I’ve had better backcountry mornings.

Most of the hiking we have left is uphill so I tell Kaiser to take the lead, telling him to be sure and turn right at the Tonto junction. A bit later I look up to see him heading north on the Tonto away from Boucher Trail. He took a left at the junction. I holler him back to where he missed the turn and onto the correct trail.

Early into the Redwall ascent we pass a foursome of a 12 year old kid, his parents, and an older guy in good shape who appears to be “leading” them. From first glance the parents look perhaps overmatched for Boucher and are literally inching up the trail. At least it’s shady now, but they got a late start for their hiking speed. I ask the father if they’re going all the way out today, he responds, “we’re gonna try.”

Further up I accidentally sidetrack onto a spur trail but correct my error quickly. Looking back I see some guy running up the trail. In our short chat as he whizzes by me I learn he’s just doing a day-hike from Hermit. Oh sure, just a leisurely 22 mile run through The Canyon along trails that receive little to no maintenance. One final note on the ascent out of Boucher Canyon, we are unaware of any names for the upper portion of that Redwall ascent, but Satan’s Staircase seems appropriate for all of the “step-ups.”

We pass over into Travertine Canyon and take a long lunch break in the shade at the base of the Supai ascent. Eventually the foursome from earlier passes us but we quickly overtake them again where they are resting about halfway up the ascent. The parents look exhausted and we can’t tell how heavy the kid’s pack is, but it looks big.

Atop the Supai we sprawl out on a large boulder, comfortably shirtless to let our sweat dry in the warm sun. An hour later it’s snowing in a freak windstorm! Here’s how it went down – Just before reaching the camp at the overlook below Yuma Point it started sprinkling and getting a little windy. As we hustle to set up tents, fearsome winds simply take over our camp. We can barely hold our tents in place to secure them, I gather about six large rocks in my tent, each weighing about ten pounds. The wind blows so hard the tent bottom picks up and literally flips these rocks over. Kaiser similarly puts rocks in his tent and still the wind power alone moves his tent three feet closer to the abyss.

Each of us get in our tents and brace against the wind with packs and bodies. Though our tents are very close to each other we must yell to communicate, then it starts raining hard. My rain fly is not secured so I brave the elements for a couple minutes to frantically keep my tent dry. The rain has turned to snow and it is blowing crazy sideways. We endure these conditions for about an hour with the rain/snow mix letting up more than the gusts, both of us agreeing instantly that we’ve never seen or felt more severe winds.

The storm lets up enough to invite Kaiser over to my tent for a cocktail, just as we’re getting comfy it looks all clear outside so we venture out hoping the worst is over. It’s a short but welcome respite as the views of all the snow topped buttes throughout The Canyon are astounding. We’re treated to a half hour of visual bliss before snowfall circles back in and chases us to our tents.

Later another short storm break after nightfall allows us just enough time to prepare hot drinks and meals outside. The timing was perfect, as dinner ends the storm resumes and remains throughout the night.

Day 6 – Overlook below Yuma Point to Hermit’s Rest:

We emerge from our tents in the morning to a frosty, icy, April Canyon winterland. Though we don’t need it, every pothole around is filled with water. Unwilling to escape The Canyon just yet, we soak up some sunrise and delay departure.

Kaiser is concerned about the foursome of hikers we passed yesterday. Forced to spend so much time in our tents we have no idea if they hunkered down for that storm or passed us by and hiked through it. Perhaps we could have hiked back to look for them, but without knowing if they had already passed by, how far back should we hike? One thing is for certain, if they continued trekking through that storm, the wind could have made it very dangerous.

The hike out passes without incident, except noting that there are no footsteps from the four hikers. We learn why at Hermit’s Rest. A Ranger is stationed at the trailhead parking area and reports that the foursome is an overdue group. We give him all the information we can – last sighting, time of sighting, descriptions, etc. and hope for the best.

Kaiser would later phone the SAR coordinator and discover they had hunkered down along the trail for the storm. Shortly after we exited, some Rangers descended the trail to eventually find the group successfully and assist in hauling out them and their gear.

As Jack and I finish packing at Grandview Point a tourist passes by and asks why we aren’t hiking Bright Angel.  My first thought is, “Dude, you have no idea how many different answers I have to that question.”  Instead I mumble something about fewer people and continue preparations.

Two heavy winter storms have passed through in the last week and there is a lot of leftover snow and ice on the upper parts of Grandview Trail.  The going is slow as our footsteps repeatedly plunge through heavy snow up to our knees in places.  One switchback has a protruding boulder jutting out over a section of trail that has become very narrow on account of the snow; cautious sidestepping gets us past this obstacle.  I am using new Microspikes on my boots and they are a tremendous help for some of the steep, icy sections of trail.  Just below the Hance/Cottonwood saddle I hear a thunderous rockfall somewhere in the Redwall layer below.

This is the most snow and ice I’ve ever hiked through on Grandview Trail and it’s a relief to finally remove crampons just above Horseshoe Mesa. We stop for lunch on the mesa and inspect what’s left of the old mining cabin.

From here we descend the west side of Horseshoe Mesa. Near the base of the Redwall I see a solo hiker maybe half a mile away on our trail, heading our direction, and approaching the bed of the easternmost arm of Cottonwood Creek. The hiker continues to stop every few paces and looks around, presumably also at us. When we reach the creek bed I assume the hiker will pass us any moment, but we never see him (or her) again.

Don’t know where that hiker went but there is nobody in any of the Cottonwood Creek sites, so we apparently have the creek all to ourselves.  We setup in the same place we did almost three years ago, on the east side of the creek above the Tonto junction.

Day 2 – Cottonwood Creek to Hance Creek:

I’m up at the faintest first light around 6:30, and before Jack which is rare, then down to the creek to filter some water for the day’s hike. Back in camp Jack says he saw a skunk in the middle of the night during nature’s call.

As we begin our loop below Horseshoe Mesa along the Tonto Trail I am excited about the trail ahead. These five miles to Hance Creek are new territory for me and my last untraveled stretch below the South Rim between Boucher Creek and Palisades Creek. As we ascend through the Tapeats, Jack points out a nicer campsite downstream of the Tonto Trail junction.

It’s good to be back on the Tonto, and contouring around the west arm of Horseshoe Mesa is a breeze. We take a short break in the main drainage beneath the two arms of the mesa and I spot two mule deer on a slope to the west of us.

Continuing east we reach the crest of a low saddle near the Tonto-level foot of Hance Creek Canyon. I quickly stop and point out another herd of mule deer to Jack, but within seconds a closer inspection reveals it is a large herd of desert bighorns. Counting out eight bighorns, it is the largest herd I have seen in The Canyon. We admire them for some time before they finally spook off over a ridge in the distance.

We decide to stop for lunch here at a nearby rock outcropping. There are many bighorn tracks and sign around, indicating this place is probably frequented by the herd we just witnessed. Some of our gear is frost dampened from this morning so we lay things out to dry.

After lunch the trek continues as we swing southward along the Tonto into Hance Creek Canyon. Near the halfway point of this side canyon I spot the shortcut down into the bottom through a break in the Tapeats that I have heard about. A brief scout by Jack reveals there are some spotty cairns and faint game trails, so this route definitely goes, good to know for future exploration reference.

Eventually we make our way down to Hance Creek and find we have camp to ourselves again, so we set up downstream below a large cottonwood, still keeping in line with the necessary snoring buffer zone. There’s still time for a day-hike so we head upstream. The creek quickly vanishes into subsurface flow and in less than an hour we are at the major east/west fork of Hance Creek.

There is a large Redwall cave or cavern perhaps a half mile away in the east fork, and the west fork looks appealing for further exploration, but we are running out of daylight to return so we head back to camp.

Day 3 – Hance Creek to Horseshoe Mesa:

The trek back up to Horseshoe Mesa is familiar ground for us, so we make good time up to Page Spring. Stop here for the last chance to filter some water before reaching our dry camp up on the mesa.

Continuing up the Redwall we both stop briefly at Last Chance Mine, which has been closed to visitation since the last time I passed through. Apparently some bats have moved in that the Park Service wish to remain undisturbed.

Back atop the mesa, there is no one in camp again, a welcomed trip long theme. We grub some lunch and then head out for another day-hike. First stop, a return visit to Cave of the Domes where we reacquaint ourselves. Since we’ve also previously been out to the west arm of the mesa, the next leg on our hike is out to the east arm, but to save time we contour around the north side of Horseshoe Mesa Butte until we link up with the east arm path.

The trail is faint in places out to the edge, but the direction and flow of travel is obvious. The end of the east arm affords some outstanding Canyon views, from west to east the most prominent features: Zoroaster and Brahma Temples, Angel’s Gate, Wotan’s Throne, and last but certainly not least Vishnu Temple. Wish I could sit here a lot longer.

Back in camp we expected a very cold night, but some moderate cloud cover keeps the temperature reasonably above freezing. The weather’s been about as good as you could hope for in December on this trip.

Day 4 – Horseshoe Mesa to Grandview Point:

As we leave the mesa on our return to the rim we encounter another hiker for the first time since the vanishing hiker of Day 1. He has day-hiked down here, using snowshoes for most of the trail, which has thankfully padded down much of the snow for our ascent.

We departed at staggered times and I catch back up to Jack below the Hance/Cottonwood saddle where we take short breaks. The rest of the trek out still has lots of snow and some slippery sections, but we make good time to the cold beers that await us at the trailhead parking area.

Mr. Jamrock and I begin our descent on Tanner Trail at about noon, yet another late start caused by various morning setbacks. We spent last night car camping just outside the Park, and sub-freezing early temperatures delayed our packing process. Experience has taught me we need to keep a quick pace to make it to The River before sundown, yet right from the start it is clear Mr. Jamrock’s pack is too heavy and his progress suffers as a result.

At the head of 75-Mile Canyon I wait for Mr. Jamrock to catch up. He looks exhausted and is already drenched with sweat. An hour later I am waiting again in the “blizzard camp” from my Tanner trip three years ago. Mr. Jamrock approaches slowly, lumbering along and breathing heavily, sits down on a boulder and promptly vomits twice. Now my concern shifts from anxiety over the location of tonight’s camp to his well-being. He insists he’s fine despite having a meager breakfast and being nearly out of water. We are both carrying two extra quarts of water to cache atop the Redwall for our return, but now it seems we may need it sooner.

Atop the Redwall descent it is decision time. Daylight is waning and Mr. Jamrock is exhausted, we will camp here. In anticipation of this possibility I have been conserving my water supply so we should be alright, but unfortunately we will have to consume our cache.

There are several fabulous campsites north of the Redwall switchbacks, with some of the most scenic views to be found anywhere in Canyon backcountry.  Like the eye of Sauron, Desert View Watchtower presides over all while perched on the South Rim.  I lounge on the point, soaking up the view, while Mr. Jamrock naps for a spell.  His need to rehydrate those lost fluids has me water nervous so we continue to cautiously ration throughout the night.

Day 2 – Tanner Canyon atop Redwall to beach north of Espejo Creek:

We skip morning coffee and cocoa to save water and hit the trail early. I give Mr. Jamrock the two quarts I was carrying for the cache that will no longer be available for our return. Coming down the Redwall I spook a large owl (possibly a short-eared owl?) out of a stunted juniper tree. The sudden flight movement startles me.

The sloping traverse below the Redwall is as long as remembered. With no viable options for a sitting rest, this part of the trek always has my toes jamming into the ends of my boots, an uncomfortable hiking situation to be sure. At the hill point before finally dropping into the Tanner drainage I give Mr. Jamrock my last quart of water.

It is a relief to reach The River at Tanner Beach, especially for a dehydrated Mr. Jamrock. We drink our fill of filtered nature’s champagne, make some gatorade, and eat lunch; taking about a two hour rest before our trek resumes up River. As we depart two backpackers trudge into one of the beach camps, looks like a father-daughter team.

Aside from a short climb where the beach is pinched out by cliffs, the hike up Beamer Trail to Espejo Creek is mostly a sandy stroll within earshot of The River. Near the small island north of Espejo Creek the trail forks into an upper and lower route. Around the corner there is a large cairn so we opt to decline the ascent and continue on the low route as it seems passable. The two routes converge back into one across from the north end of the island so the time saved is minimal at best. It appears that the water level would have to be abnormally high to make the low route impassable.

We make camp at a nice sandy beach so I can have some time to fish. The River here is serene and peaceful, but bereft of hungry trout. Fading sunlight casts an illuminating glow on Lava Butte and the stratified colors of Palisades of the Desert.

Day 3 – Beach north of Espejo Creek to Palisades Creek:

I had originally hoped to hike Beamer all the way to the Little Colorado River confluence, but the events of Day 1 have tempered my ambitions out of cautious respect for the demanding nature of the trek. Today will be a short hike to Palisades Creek, more of a layover day really.

There are several nice beach sites to choose from, and we pitch tents right next to The River’s edge, with just enough beach space to account for mildly fluctuating water levels. It is very warm today so we build a shade shelter on the beach, using my tent’s rainfly. Time for some fishing.

First cast…fish on! A nice ten inch rainbow trout, maybe deciding to stay here will be a wise angling choice at least. The fishing here continues to be outstanding, really some of the best I’ve seen in The Canyon. I get a few hits and land several more rainbows, including one at about fourteen inches and two pounds.

With so much fun to be had today, and very little physical work, it would seem that we are undeserving of a cocktail hour. Perhaps so, but that doesn’t stop us anyway.

What a gorgeous night, I am mesmerized by the shimmering half-moon light that stretches across the surface of The River. The setting of the moon beyond inner gorge cliffs leaves us speechless.

Day 4 – Palisades Creek to Tanner Beach:

Great beginning to another easy day as I reel in another respectable rainbow on my first cast of the morning. A few more trout are to follow, one of which hit my spinner and fought so hard I initially thought it was a bad snag. I am reluctant to leave but we need to get back to Tanner Beach.

Retracing our steps along Beamer I scare up a couple waterfowl (western grebe or merganser?) near the low route from Day 2. Back at Tanner we have a visitor in camp, a small lizard that has somehow lost its tail. It scurries around for a meal sneaking up on flies but always scares them off at the critical moment.

We travel down River along the Escalante Route to try out the fishing there. Rounding some massive sand dunes a huge plume of smoke is visible above the South Rim. On our drive in we passed some preparations for a prescribed forest burn, and hopefully that’s what we’re looking at. From down here it looks like a massive bomb has exploded on the rim, and we wonder if the planned burn didn’t perhaps get a little out of control.

The current here is too swift for successful angling so I return up River. There is an excellent eddy at the River bend above Tanner Rapids where my efforts are rewarded with a few more rainbows.

Night comes on as we filter gallons of water for our dry camp tomorrow. The first mice encounters of this trip occur as a pair boldly darts in and out of our camp throughout the evening.

Day 5 – Tanner Beach to Tanner Canyon atop Redwall:

Mr. Jamrock has learned his Canyon water lesson and begins today’s trek shouldering a pack that contains about twenty-five pounds of water. I also succumb to the urge to overcompensate my water needs and leave with about nine quarts, way more than I typically carry even in anticipation of a dry camp.

The ascent to the base of the Redwall and then up the switchbacks takes its customary time. All this extra water weight has really taken a physical toll on my body and I’m exhausted when we reach the spur trail to our camp from Day 1. We decide to camp there again so I lay out my sleeping pad for a short nap in the sun.

Wake up feeling completely refreshed, and just in time for a real Canyon treat. While our planned water cache to start the trip didn’t work out, we still had something valuable to stash behind which Mr. Jamrock has retrieved – four cold cans of beer. We sit on the point, admiring the view and sipping our tasty, frothy beverages.

It’s the coldest night of the trip and I use every layer of clothing I have packed. Hot drinks are a warm welcome for our last night in The Canyon.

Day 6 – Tanner Canyon atop Redwall to Tanner Trailhead:

Around 3 am this morning the wind really picks up and starts battering our tents relentlessly. My tent panels are making such a racket while whipping against my head and body that I have to get up twice to re-secure the tent. Even after sunrise the intense winds will not abate, if not for a quick move by Mr. Jamrock my sleeping pad nearly blows off the point into a thousand foot freefall.

Extreme gusts are prevalent throughout or trek to the rim but we persevere. We reach the parking area at Lipan Point with perfect timing. Just as we’re saluting a great trip with a couple cold beers it starts snowing. Getting back on the road, the prescribed burn we saw is still smoldering but appears completely controlled.

The drive out to Pasture Wash is as long as remembered, but we also luck out twice. Road conditions are the best I’ve seen and there is nobody manning the Havasupai tribal gate for the $25 fee. I stop briefly at South Bass Trailhead to inspect things, and there are way more cars here than last year. We hop back into the truck and head over to Signal Hill and Ruby Point.

The ranger at the backcountry office gave us the option of either camp. There’s a truck parked at the Signal Hill site so we continue down the road to Ruby Point. The camp here is unsigned but obvious; it’s just south of a couple downed trees blocking the road. Those trees appear to have been dragged across the road to discourage vehicles from traveling out to Havasupai Point, presumably by the Park Service.

As I set up camp, three Texans are returning from down the road and remove the tree barriers. They pick up the truck we saw parked and then drive out to Havasupai Point to camp.

Day 2 – Dayhike from Ruby Point:

I’m up early and we decide to hike out to Havasupai Point. The Texans pass me in their truck on the way out. It’s about 1.5 miles to the point and well worth the hike. From here the views of The Canyon are among the finest I’ve seen from any named point.

She decides to lounge at the point for awhile, but there’s too much daylight left for me not to sneak in another day-hike. Fossil Mountain is almost due west of here and looks pretty steep, but certainly not technical.

Following a series of drainages, I end up east of the saddle below the rim, marking the base of the mountain. This area gets a lot of game traffic and there are elk droppings everywhere. The route up to the summit is very steep, but straightforward. A few talus stretches slow the ascent on account of loose footing. The entire hike to the top from the point takes less than an hour. Mount Huethawali dominates the foreground to the west. Powell Plateau and Holy Grail Temple command the northerly views. Havasupai Point blocks most of The Canyon sights to the east. This summit is appropriately named, as there are many fossils littered about. On the way back I follow the rim more closely, it takes a little longer due to additional steep sections.

Back at Havasupai Point, we enjoy cocktail hour before sunset. Although she can only handle a few minutes just above the abyss, and has to sit down some feet further away.

Day 3 – South Bass Trail dayhike:

Pack up the truck and head back to the South Bass Trail for a day-hike. I am determined to find the ruins I have heard about, and set out to do so successfully.

The bonus of starting a trip from a car camp is cooking a big breakfast. After that we’re heading down the South Bass Trail at about 10 am. There are many slushy patches of snow, but thankfully no ice. It takes about an hour to reach the Esplanade and we stop for a short break at the Royal Arch Route junction. Mount Huethawali dominates the view to the north.

From here we trek west a few miles, making good time over the relatively level slickrock. I take a clumsy spill and bend one of my cheap trekking poles. We stop on Drummond Plateau, west of Seep Spring for lunch.

Now we head south and soon discover why this is a route and not a trail. Traversing the minor drainages between Toltec Point and Montezuma Point is tedious and demanding. The route is consistently obscure and we probably chose a path that was too low and steep. We pick, scramble, climb, and push our way forward. It is a relief to regain the Esplanade below Montezuma Point and we take a break. I’m exhausted, dehydrated, and cramping. I think those beers last night are catching up with me. Luckily we’re not planning to go much further.

Below Point Huitzil we drop into the east arm of Royal Arch Creek. I have read other trip descriptions that reported confusion about which tributary branch is the correct route. For us it’s fairly obvious we’re in the main drainage and there are timely cairns. We trek downstream to the west for maybe a quarter mile before reaching some pools where there is a workable campsite. With water close at hand we set Camp 1. All are tired and hit the sack before 9 pm.

Day 2 – East branch of Royal Arch Creek to Toltec Beach:

The hike continues downstream at about 9 am. A little late because Mantis’ water filter broke and we tried unsuccessfully to fix it (MSR should be ashamed; it’s only three months old with barely any usage). We quickly reach the impassable pour-off that has bypass routes on both sides. Mantis and I have done our homework, and we’re fairly certain this is the site of what many Canyoneers refer to as “the Ledge.” We investigate the left/south side and sure enough, the path pinches out at a ledge. It’s an exposed sideways shuffle, where any misstep would probably result in a fatal plunge. I’m not sure I would try to cross it sans rope, even without a pack.

We backtrack and attempt the right/northern route. It’s a rough detour but much safer option. There is a short section requiring a crawl underneath an overhang, and there are also two spots where we lower packs and down-climb. Then we’re back in the drainage and approaching the confluence with the main arm of Royal Arch Creek.

Our route turns north now and we encounter another drop-off. There is a bypass to the west, but this scramble looks like fun, so we lower packs and shimmy down a chute on the east side without incident. Pools of water start reappearing. At the narrowest section of the canyon there is a pool stretching from wall to wall. We remove our boots and wade through to the other side. Eventually we reach the junction where our route escapes this canyon through a notch that climbs out to the east.

The creek bed is dry here so we drop packs and wander downstream in search of water. There is a small waterfall into a pool where we stop to fill up water bottles. We’d love to spend time down at the arch that is this creek’s namesake, but we’re a little worried about our timing getting to Camp 2 at Toltec drainage.

The climb out to the northeast is steep but short. Views from up here are fabulous. Royal Arch is visible right below us, and we can see down River as far as Stephen Aisle. Our trek resumes eastward for about an hour until we reach “the Rappel.”

This is where the trip takes an interesting turn for me. Anyone with even the most basic climbing experience will agree this is a relatively easy twenty foot rappel. However, I have never rappelled in my life, or attempted any other kind of technical climbing maneuver involving rope.

For some reason I have chosen The Canyon as the site for my very first time rappelling ever. Call me Canyon crazy. I would discourage anyone from making this particular situation their first time, but I am in the very accomplished hands of Mantis, whom I trust completely.

Alex is an experienced climber and goes down first in a matter of seconds; he then retrieves the packs as we lower them. Mantis walks me through the basics and essentials of rappelling. Let’s hope the phrase “crash course” doesn’t literally apply here. I take another look over the edge where Alex is watching me from a narrow shelf. The drop beyond him is even further (note to self: don’t miss the landing spot!). My nerves are taking a beating, but before I can think myself out of this, I’m giving in to the relentless force of gravity and putting all my faith in rope barely thicker than a finger.

Per Mantis’ instruction, I keep a “death grip” on the rope with my right hand and lower myself at a snail’s pace. At one point I lose traction between my boots and the cliff face and spin about halfway around, then recover balance. Eons pass as I inch my way down until I’m back on terra firma shaking hands with Alex. I may have just set a new Canyon record for longest time ever spent negotiating “the Rappel.”

The beach at Toltec drainage is close but the route down is steep, and loose footing requires attention. A towering sand dune marks the last obstacle of our descent and we set up Camp 2 on the small beach. Five rafts drift by on a float trip. Their occupants wave and make camp across The River. I guess that means we’ll have to put up with extra company at Elves Chasm tomorrow.

Up the drainage there is the slightest trickle of seasonal water where I filter a couple quarts. I should have tried a sip first, this water tastes incredibly salty. Not like drinking the ocean, but annoying and distasteful nonetheless. Alex is a graduate student in geology and suspects the salty taste derives from leaching of alkaline or gypsum deposits.

Day 3 – Toltec Beach to Elves Chasm to Garnet Canyon:

After breakfast we shoulder day-packs and hike down River towards Elves Chasm. The best route tends to stay with high ground above The River for about 1.5 miles. Elves Chasm itself is appropriately named, looking like something from out of a Tolkien book. From below the arch, Royal Arch Creek cascades into a series of spectacular waterfalls, culminating at the confluence with The River.

Eventually the first of many groups of River rats stop by for a visit. Too many people so we climb above the first waterfall. Mantis and Alex take the adventurous east route, while I take the safer west option. A short break and Mantis decides to try the more difficult climb above the second waterfall. Alex and I defer out of a cautious respect for the inevitable exposed down-climb.

Mantis gets back and says the third waterfall is smaller and there’s a way above it also, but we still have a lot of trekking today so he turned around. Out of the hordes below only two other people have the spirit to climb up to our level where we have lunch.

In order to avoid drinking any more of that shitty water at Toltec drainage we climb down and maximize our supply from Royal Arch Creek. As we’re preparing to leave the sun finally crests south of us, warming things so quickly that staying for a short swim is a temptation. But we must keep moving.

The route between here and Camp 2 is much easier to follow going down River. Returning in the opposite direction we take several wrong turns as a result of misleading paths. Back at Toltec we pack quickly and depart eastward along The River. It’s a tough scramble and there are some nasty sections involving the so called “carnivorous” rock with knife blade edges.

Where the upstream course of The River turns north, so does the route. We are slowly regaining the Tonto platform and the going gets easier. Above the crossing of Garnet Canyon there are campsites and seasonal water. Alex hikes up the Tapeats to check the potential terrain ahead, but it’s getting late and this is clearly our best option for Camp 3.

The water here is also brackish and we have no choice but to use some of it for drinks and meals. Fortunately the salinity level is not as bad as the Toltec drainage water. The first substantial clouds of this trip roll in and obscure our moonlit camp. Is a storm eminent?

Day 4 – Garnet Canyon to Copper Canyon:

Under very cloudy and cold conditions we pack up and head north along the Tonto. There are great views of Walthenberg Rapids where the trail turns and starts trending eastward. At the unnamed side canyon northwest of Spencer Terrace we stop for lunch, anxious about the weather. Storms are closing in all around us. Mantis points our attention across the Inner Gorge. Heavy snowfall is visibly moving our way, and within minutes my winter Canyon streak of nineteen consecutive days sans precipitation ends.

We scramble to get ourselves and gear under a few available Tapeats overhangs. Alex and I crawl underneath a slab of sandstone as the Tonto platform is transformed into a winter wonderland. This is definitely one of the more uncomfortable meals I’ve had in the backcountry, but at least we’re staying dry. The snowfall continues nearly unabated for the next four hours until we reach camp in Copper Canyon.

We all begin setting up our tents immediately after reaching camp, but not nearly quick enough. The snow starts falling even heavier now without the slightest letup, and doesn’t stop for another six hours. Mantis and Alex tough it out beneath a small overhang and manage to stay mostly dry. Wet already, I set up shop in my tent reading, journalizing, cooking, whiskeying, etc. Slightly cabin feverish but I take advantage of my vestibule and keep half a flap open to track the outside world; it’s actually a fun change of pace with enough to keep busy.

That’s a good thing, because except for a five minute break saying hello to the guys (during which we heard a small rockslide a quarter mile up canyon), I spend fifteen consecutive hours in my tent, a new personal record. At one point we seriously discuss cutting the trip short by hiking out in one long day tomorrow if the weather doesn’t clear. Wait and see but we’ll get an early start tomorrow morning to be safe.

Day 5 – Copper Canyon to Bass Canyon:

Cloudy at first light but sunrise eventually burns off a foggy inner Canyon. What a relief. Classic Canyon weather, one day after a massive storm it is too warm to hike in more than a short sleeve shirt. This trip shan’t be cut short.

Hit the trail then stop to dry out our shit and eat lunch at an impressive viewpoint across from Shinumo Creek. As I flick another tick off my pack it occurs to me we’ve each had at least one encounter with these bastards every day of this trip. Ticks are not a new Canyon experience for me, but one or two per trip has been the norm, as opposed to per day.

We eventually swing around into Bass Canyon and find some rain pools downstream from the creek junction to refill on water. These pools are small and very dirty; I have to clean my pump filter twice because it’s doing double duty. Our first goal for camp was here but there are still many hours of daylight so we decide to push for the base of the Redwall and make a decision there.

The next couple miles are steep hiking up the drainage and my ass gets kicked as I’ve got some rare toe blisters that start burning and stabbing. Camp sites in upper Bass Canyon are very limited for a group larger than one, but we make do at a spot just short of the Redwall, with a perfect snapshot to the north of the inner Canyon.

Day 6 – Bass Canyon to South Bass Trailhead:

Knowing I’m the usual holdup I get a twenty minute head start on the dudes but they pass me before the Redwall ascent is complete. They break above at the Esplanade, I join them briefly and then set out first again. If given another chance I would love to camp here, this stretch of Esplanade along the South Bass Trail between the top of the Redwall and Royal Arch junction is beautiful.

The storm two days ago deposited a few fresh inches of snow and a couple icy stretches. No matter, the ascent through the Coconino is slow going either way. After being passed yet again, I hike out in a feel good time of only ten minutes behind Mantis. So either I was feeling better or he was feeling worse than usual. Alex greets me at the rim with an ice cold Tecate.

The original itinerary for this trip was to exit via Horseshoe Mesa. However, landslides have seriously damaged the Grandview Trail, and the Service is prompted to officially change our plan. The new hike will be from Red Canyon to Hance Creek and back.

From the trailhead it is a slow, jittery descent to below the Coronado Butte saddle. Pablo is suffering from some diabetic complications so we take a break at the Redwall overlook.

The traverse around the debris field towards the Redwall is somewhat tedious. An hour since the last break, D.K. and I wait for Pablo who is obviously struggling. It takes him a half hour to catch up, and it’s getting late. We have a decision to make, although it’s obvious this whole trip is probably screwed. Pablo’s in no shape to continue, so in the interest of safety we backtrack to a dry campsite south of the overlook. There is a pothole near camp with about two quarts of water that we take advantage of. Winds are howling all night.

Day 2 – Above Redwall in Red Canyon to New Hance Trailhead:

Our trip has been derailed so we sleep in, and then lethargically prepare for an assault on the rim that nobody is anxious to complete. The ascent through the Supai and Coconino is painfully steep. In my opinion and in terms of difficulty ascending, New Hance is second only to Boucher of all the South Rim trails.

We spend the night near Flagstaff, thankfully under a roof, and take some solace for not being in The Canyon as a huge snowstorm rolls through northern Arizona.

Pablo, D.K., and I were unable to complete this trip nine months ago. That was due to an over-abundance of caution regarding a minor diabetic issue with Pablo. This time Pablo and I have come back for some redemption.

We’re also better prepared this time for the crazy steepness of the New Hance Trail and make good time. From near the Hance/Red Canyon saddle there appears to be 2 day-hikers attempting the summit of Coronado Butte. At the overlook above the Redwall we take our first break.

The descent through the Redwall and down the ridgeline below is a knee-buster. There are sections where the footing is loose enough to demand careful attention. It is a relief to drop into the bed of Red Canyon and we rest as two ravens float about, waiting for us to briefly abandon our packs. There is some sporadic seasonal water flow up-canyon from where the trail bottoms out.

After a few pour-offs that are bypassed to the east, I hear that unmistakable roar of The River and my pace quickens until Hance Rapids come into view. The water runs green and foamy over piles of boulders that have created the rapids. Pablo follows up and exclaims, “My boots are stained red with the blood of New Hance!”

We make our temporary home in a mesquite patch on the eastern dunes. I chat briefly with a solo hiker camped below us who has trekked here from Tanner Trail. Our late morning start prevents a lengthy lounging session of soaking up the scenery before darkness motivates dinner preparations.

Day 2 – Hance Rapids to east rim of Hance Creek:

Packing up camp, I am reminded once again of the drastic temperature fluctuation possibilities between the rim and River. Winter grips The Canyon and the rim is frosty, but down here I’m perfectly content to complete pre-hiking chores shirtless.

We are running late, it’s nearly noon and we still have to pump water for today’s trek. The pumping goes slow, I have to clean my filter twice to account for the heavily silt laden water.

Finally we are ready to leave and head west along the Tonto Trail, as it climbs towards Mineral Canyon. I passed through here about five years ago, and my memory fails me. We are hiking along a typical Tonto slope, and approaching the point where we should round south into Mineral Canyon, when unexpectedly the trail pinches out to a ledge along a cliff face. I have forgotten and missed the upper bypass to avoid this section.

I approach the beginning of the narrow ledge and immediately brace my left hand against the cliff. Pablo asks if I’m alright and I don’t respond; he’ll find out soon enough. The plunge down to the right drops off for hundreds of feet. The view is so unsettling I vow to make it across without looking down again. To make things interesting there is also a difficult overhang to negotiate.

Keeping my left hand in constant contact with the cliff face I shuffle cautiously in a crouched position to the overhang. No real safe option here but to crawl beneath it. I slink awkwardly along to the end, and then it’s over. I can breathe easy back on the relative safety of the Tonto slope. For the first time I can turn to see how Pablo’s handling this.

Not so good. He is lying on his stomach at the beginning of the overhang and not moving. I ask if he’s okay. Pablo mumbles something then continues slithering across the ledge. Now under the overhang, his heavy pack is leaning too far towards the abyss. He shifts the pack, but overcompensates, and it ricochets off the overhang and sways ever dangerously close to the plunge. He stops again and shouts, “Help me dammit!” There’s really nothing I can do physically to assist, so I just try to encourage him across the rest of the ledge and eventually he makes it.

We take a longer lunch break around the corner so Pablo can regain his composure after the “Ledge of Terror.” The traverse around Mineral Canyon is time consuming. After two false saddles we finally top out on the west side and are treated to fine views of Granite Gorge. We contour south into the deep side canyon cut by Hance Creek, and now we’re in a race against time. Can we make it to the creek crossing before dark?

No, we run out of daylight, and continue detouring minor side canyons with headlamps on. My memory fails us again and I can’t remember how much further we have to the creek. I don’t want to take any chances hiking in the dark and we have enough water to hold out until tomorrow, so we stop in a small alcove off the trail just big enough to make camp. After dinner at least one mouse repeatedly attempts to raid our packs, but we maintain a vigilant defense with stones and trekking poles. Later I hear a larger critter scurrying outside the tent (ringtail?).

Day 3 – East rim of Hance Creek to Horseshoe Mesa:

A creek surprise for breakfast, & a mesa disappointment for dinner.

We wake up earlier after learning yesterday’s lesson, and skip breakfast in favor of getting to the creek. Looking out from our alcove, we still can’t determine how deep the creek’s gorge is until rounding a bend, where the trail unexpectedly switch-backs briefly down to a sandy clearing next to the water. I can’t help but laugh. We had made camp less than a quarter mile from the creek without knowing it! The deepness of the gorge had made it impossible to hear the running water.

Hance Creek is a rare gem, being a source of perennial water in The Canyon. We listen to the water trickle by and relax, a little disappointed that we missed out on this great campsite. Then the trek uphill towards Horseshoe Mesa resumes.

At Page Spring we stop to fill up water for the last time. The trail passes a well known and over-photographed old mining tunnel, complete with abandoned equipment. I stop and take a picture of Pablo. He has been worried about the Redwall ascent but we muscle it out in good time.

We set up camp and stroll over to the west side of the mesa, a nice overlook of Cottonwood Creek will suit just fine for cocktail hour. Pablo is responsible for tonight’s meal and has planned poorly; we both have maybe a cup of pasta. Tomorrow’s lunch stash is raided to compensate.

Day 4 – Horseshoe Mesa to Grandview Point:

Pablo left his pack open outside last night for mice to get into some of the food and trash. Lucky for us they somehow missed our breakfast. We head up the Grandview Trail and I leave Pablo behind, as he loses some momentum at the false rim I had warned him about. At the saddle into upper Hance Creek I pass two younger women backpacking out and make a mental note. Near the rim an older tourist looks shocked at my appearance and asks where I’ve been. I point towards the sliver of River visible above Sockdolager Rapids and say, “There.” He appears unconvinced.

At Grandview Point I’m waiting on Pablo and those two young ladies arrive. Apparently they’ve been following our footsteps for the last four days. We don’t have a ride back to Pablo’s car near the New Hance Trailhead, so I put my mental note plan into action and ask for a ride. My timing is perfect as they oblige right when Pablo arrives at the rim.

Due to a late start from Tucson, Mantis and I arrive at the Saddle Mountain Trailhead around 2 AM. Countless rabbits and a lone coyote frantically crossed the dirt road before our headlights, preceding our arrival. After maybe four hours of sleep we are preparing for our trek.

The hike begins as a gradual ascent before dropping sharply into the ravine of a dry creek bed, where we crisscross our way upstream. The trail leaves the creek bed and ascends steeply to The Canyon rim below Saddle Mountain. This is an atypical Canyon trek beginning, as the first three miles are spent mostly battling gravity, as opposed to welcoming the force. With a very heavy pack complete with a water cache, the ascent burns much of my energy.

From here at the rim, the Nankoweap Trail begins and the hiking does not get any easier. The five mile Supai traverse is very demanding, and the fatigue of limited sleep is taking its toll, hurting our chances of making it all the way to Nankoweap Creek. The “scary” narrow section approaching Marion Point has been widened, also the seasonal seep spring north of that point is not flowing. We finally round a point bringing Tilted Mesa into view, a feeling of relief washes over me. Only temporary, as a ferociously powerful gust of wind whips along the trail and knocks my backpack top-heavy body to one knee. Thankfully, I have fallen towards the cliff side of the trail, and not the abyss side. By the time we reach the clearings above Tilted Mesa I call an exhausted halt to our day, and we make a dry camp.

Fearsome winds pound our camp throughout the afternoon and evening. Of all my backpacking trips in The Canyon I cannot recall ever experiencing windier conditions. An amazing red full moon rises from the east and bathes The Canyon in eerie light.

Day 2 – Tilted Mesa to Nankoweap Delta:

After caching some water, we start the Redwall descent early, although it’s already getting warm. There are many steep and unstable sections, places where a slip would send one sliding down dangerous debris slopes. At times this trail literally appears to take the line of most resistance, a characteristic uncommon amongst most trails, perhaps especially in The Canyon. I am not looking forward to returning back up this. Mantis finds an antler where the descent levels out, and it takes about two hours to reach Nankoweap Creek. Now we can relax and drink our fill, since we’re both a little dehydrated.

After resting up we’re following the creek down towards The River. Sometimes the best path is right next to the flowing water; at others it is more efficient to follow footpaths above either bank. At various intervals I choose the former to avoid a climb, while Mantis prefers the latter. It’s a hot two hours to reach The River.

At Nankoweap Delta we reach the spur trail over to the granaries and the beach camp for commercial and private rafting trips. We’d rather not potentially share a camp with River rats, so we set up on the beach north of the creek.

There is absolutely no shade here for the next couple hours until sundown. I place my pack atop a large boulder on the beach and huddle behind it for at least a sliver of protection from the blazing sun. Four rafts float by and we exchange waves. Finally the sun passes beyond the North Rim, giving us a chance to cool off for cocktail hour. Dozens of bats swarm and feast overhead. Between our arrival here and bedtime, The River’s receding tide has exposed almost ten feet of beach.

Day 3 – Nankoweap Delta to Nankoweap Creek:

At first light the foot high stick I placed at the low water level is completely submerged. Two more commercial rigs float by as we pack up camp. We shoulder packs and head over to the granaries spur trail just as the sunlight of another hot day strikes.

This is just a short day hike so we leave packs at the junction and start climbing towards the base of a Redwall cliff overlooking the delta. The ascent is very steep, but relatively short at about six hundred feet. There are many River rats descending from the ruins, one of the guides offers us a couple beers back at the rafts, but our exploration time precludes such a luxury.

The ruins themselves make the ascent more than worthwhile, and our timing is perfect as we have them all to ourselves. The centerpiece is the four “windowed” granaries that are very well preserved due to their location beneath an overhang, although I’m fairly sure the Park Service has done some rehab work on these granaries in the past. Looking down River the view is just awesome. There are two more sets of ruins to the south, but only one can be reached along a series of ledges without significant exposure; at least more than I prefer to deal with. Clearly the Ancients had a better stomach for heights than I do.

Our trek back up to the camps at Nankoweap Creek begins around midday, and it’s already hot again. We stop a couple times to rest next to the cool water and then set up camp at the site right next to the trail’s final descent. The remainder of today is about resting and hydrating for tomorrow’s ascent to a dry camp. Mantis kicks my butt at some hands of blackjack. There are many frogs croaking and even hopping right through camp.

Day 4 – Nankoweap Creek to Saddle Mountain saddle:

I’ve found that when I’m nervous about a particular day of hiking in The Canyon I never need an alarm; the anxiety of first light routinely wakes me. That’s why we’re on the trail by 6 am to wisely take advantage of cooler morning temperatures; and thankfully so, because the steep, grueling ascent to Tilted Mesa takes nearly three hours.

We retrieve our water cache and rest up for a spell, then retrace our steps along the Supai traverse to the campsite near Marion Point before it gets even hotter. Once at the point we have a decision to make. It’s only about noon and I am more concerned than usual about our water supply. If we stop here I think it could probably be an inefficient use of our supply, given that we have about seven hours of daylight left in which to hike. We decide to rest out the hottest hours of the day in the shade here, and then push on to the park boundary.

The rest of the traverse, and the following ascent to the saddle, takes about an hour. We arrive in time for cigars and cocktails before sundown. Our decision has been correct, we still have plenty of water and tomorrow’s hike is an easy, mostly downhill three miles. At over 7,500 feet of elevation, nighttime brings a chill to this camp, and I’m glad to finally have some use (other than pillow) for my long sleeve shirt and lightweight pants.

Day 5 – Saddle Mountain saddle to Saddle Mountain Trailhead:

Just as Day 1 was the hardest beginning to any Canyon hike we have done, today is by far the easiest ending. We make quick time back to the car. Right before the trailhead I hide from Mantis behind a large juniper, and then come running out from behind, scaring the crap out of him, if only for a few seconds. A cheap laugh for a cheap prank.

After snapping a few photos from Hermit’s Rest; Kaiser, D.K., and I start switchbacking down through the Coconino formation to the junction with Boucher Trail. There is some patchy snow and ice, but nothing treacherous. Kaiser finds the fossilized reptilian footprints near the trail that are apparently over 250 million years old. We reach Hermit Basin after about an hour. I gaze across the gorge cut by Hermit Creek, looking for any hint of the Boucher Trail along this side canyon’s west arm. We will be returning that way in a few days, but The Canyon does not give up its secrets so easily.

We stop to register in the logbook at Santa Maria Spring, and continue to Lookout Point for lunch. Another short rest at Breezy Point, and then we’re descending the Cathedral Stairs to the junction with the Tonto Trail. From here it’s a brief walk west to the camp at Hermit Creek, which we have all to ourselves.  The perennial waters of this creek make it a charming place; there is a small waterfall right below camp.

It’s a pretty cold night so after dinner some warm drinks are a welcome refreshment. Kaiser is notoriously fearful of whiskey, but thanks to us he discovers that it can be damn good when cut with hot water as both a cocktail and painkiller. D.K. crashes out early, but Kaiser and I stay up late since tomorrow is an easy day. Our reward is the largest meteor shower I’ve ever seen in The Canyon on a perfectly clear night.

Day 2 – Hermit Creek to Hermit Rapids:

I wake before the others, but we all slept in. It’s very cold this morning. We’re in no rush so I explore upstream for awhile and find a nice spot for a blues harp jam. Eventually we’re packed and leaving by late morning. The Hermit Creek Narrows just below camp are an exciting passage through the Tapeats.

After less than an hour of trekking downstream the roar of The River precedes our arrival at Hermit Rapids. The water is as muddy red as I can ever remember on account of heavy winter storms last week. These rapids give birth to waves that are simply massive. We eat lunch right at the head of Hermit Rapids, awestruck by the power of The River.

We scout both sides of Hermit Creek and settle camp on a high sand dune above the rapids. There is an excellent view of The River, and we’re still far enough away from the thundering water that we can actually hear each other talk.

A small private group of two rafts comes shooting down the rapids. A woman on the first raft is literally screaming her ass off as they fly over the waves. The second raft gets slammed on entry and nearly tips as they’re spun around backwards, then finishes the rapids at the mercy of the current. We wave but they never acknowledge our presence.

We spend the rest of the afternoon fishing without any luck. The volume, velocity, and murkiness of the water make conditions here far from ideal. Gusting winds make for a cold night.

Day 3 – Hermit Rapids to Boucher Creek:

I wake before the others around 7 am. We are slow to warm up and don’t leave The River until three hours later. The hike back upstream to Camp 1 seems quicker sticking to the creek bed. We stop to pump some water for the trek over to Boucher Creek.

A short climb and we regain the Tonto, bearing north below Columbus Point. As we round the point south into Travertine Canyon the views up and down River are stunning, and there’s also a stretch with enough exposure to gain my undivided attention.

Along the east arm of Travertine Canyon we stop for lunch. We have bad timing as the energizing sunlight quickly vanishes behind the Redwall southwest of us. It’s astonishing how quickly the temperature plummets, and we hit the trail to warm up.

We detour around to the west arm and approach the minor saddle to Boucher Canyon. D.K. is on point and yells for us to come up quick. Kaiser and I jog up just barely in time for a three second glimpse at the head of a retreating desert bighorn ram with a ¾ curl. D.K. inadvertently spooked him out of sight around the point north of the saddle. Damn, that was great, but tantalizingly brief.

The trek continues southwest into Boucher Canyon. After only a few minutes, a second bighorn trots across the trail right in front of us. Wow! This is the closest encounter I’ve had with a bighorn in The Canyon and I couldn’t be more excited. I give him a whistle and he stops to inspect us with a few grunts. D.K. dubs him “Grandpa” based on an impressive full curl. As we climb south towards the Boucher Trail junction for the next half hour he stays just ahead of us, constantly turning to check our progress.

The bighorn’s climbing prowess is unmatched by any other large animal in The Canyon. At the Boucher Trail junction he’s suddenly hundreds of feet above us on a steep cliff near the Redwall.

From here there’s an ominous glimpse of the ascent for tomorrow. We take a break to discuss tonight’s camp. The tentative plan has been continuing to Boucher Rapids. However, we’re all tired and doubtful of the fishing, so the descent to Boucher Creek is the end of our hike.

Day 4 – Boucher Creek to overlook below Yuma Point:

We try to get an early start today, but there’s a slight delay. Kaiser has suffered the first equipment failure of the trip. At some point during the night his hydration bladder cracked and leaked, possibly from a partial freeze. Now it’s leaking everywhere and worthless. This could be a problem; we still have 1½ days of hiking and the closest water we are expecting to find is at Dripping Springs, about seven miles away. Kaiser improvises a plastic dry-bag for water storage and fills it with a couple quarts.

Of all the South Rim trails, Boucher is the most difficult to ascend. The climb out of Boucher Canyon and up through the Redwall is an ass-kicker. A lack of consistent switchbacks makes it incredibly steep. Despite the intensity of the trek, we make decent time and stop for an early lunch above the Redwall at Whites Butte saddle. Kaiser discovers his makeshift water storage has leaked in his backpack. He starts drying things out, and we agree to start rationing the rest of our water.

The hard work is not over yet. We have crossed over to the west arm of upper Travertine Canyon. There is a brief level traverse to the southern end of the canyon, and then another grueling ascent through the Supai. Near the top of this canyon there is a short hand and toe climb, after which we stop for a rest.

From here it’s a quick stroll around the corner to the eastern campsites on the overlook below Yuma Point. Kaiser is in luck, there are some partially frozen potholes so we don’t need to worry about water anymore. We set up Camp 4 and the views up and down Canyon from here are absolutely ridiculous. There are some ferocious wind gusts during the night.

Day 5 – Overlook below Yuma Point to Hermit Trailhead:

What a beautiful sunrise! This is such a great campsite and I’m disappointed that we have to leave. We still have plenty of water, so there’s no need to stop at Dripping Springs. Back in Hermit Basin we see people again for the first time since the rafting party on Day 2. We get back to Hermit’s Rest for a round of cold beers.