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.

To read the trip report from these photos click here.

To read the trip report from these photos click here.

Length:

Water: If you’re lucky enough to be hiking right after a storm, pothole water can be found on the Esplanade. Other than that you can find perennial water at Thunder River, Tapeats Creek, the Colorado River, Deer Creek, and Deer Creek Spring. We recommend placing a water cache somewhere on the Esplanade for your return hike.  Do not underestimate your water needs along this trail.

Campsites: The Esplanade has at-large camping and you will find many sites there, perhaps the best of which are above the Redwall descent. Surprise Valley also has at-large camping and there are dry, but scenic sites at the east end overlooking the Tapeats gorge and the magnificence of Thunder River. All other camping is in designated sites only which includes Upper Tapeats, Lower Tapeats, and Deer Creek.

Reflections and Attractions: Simply put, there is way too much fun to be had in this area. Enjoy the moonscape surroundings of the Esplanade. Thunder River is Eden on Earth. Tapeats Creek and Deer Creek provide welcomed and picturesque relief from the heat. Don’t miss the exciting hike through Deer Creek Narrows to Deer Creek Falls. Deer Creek Spring is another excellent destination. Exploration possibilities are seemingly endless, and keep your eyes peeled for Anasazi ruins, pictographs, and wildlife.

Warnings and Musings: This area has proven to be lethal in the summer heat, so be prepared, hike smart, seek shade during the intense heat of midday, and stay hydrated. While it may be tempting to do otherwise, respect this area by camping in the designated sites only. The eastern route down Tapeats Creek is much easier than the western route, only be careful crossing the creek which can have dangerous late spring flows. Watch your step through Deer Creek Narrows, a slip here could be fatal. Mice at the Deer Creek camp are plentiful and bold, a contributing factor to the presence of rattlesnakes in the area.

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 toads in these pools, each pair consists of a smaller toad 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 my trip notes 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.

To see more photos from this trip click here.

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 stuff 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.

A false start extends our labors, & lounging preempts noisy neighbors.

The Bill Hall Trail actually starts with a short uphill climb before descending through the Coconino. At Monument Point we gaze west upon the broad expanding Esplanade. Perhaps the view distracts us, but we continue past the cairned descent onto a foot path that borders the rim. After maybe twenty minutes we can see the trail far below us to the southwest and it’s obvious we screwed up. We backtrack to the correct trail and start hiking down.

The descent finally levels out after about two miles as we reach the Esplanade. It’s a hot day and we have lunch in the shade of a large juniper tree. At the junction with the Thunder River Trail we start bearing south. The nature of the hike shifts from strenuous to a pleasant winding stroll along numerous terraces. Temperature keeps rising and we take another break in the shade of an overhang.

Eventually we arrive at the camps above the Redwall descent into Surprise Valley. We will spend the night here and also leave a water cache for our return in three days. There’s still plenty of daylight so Mantis and I explore around camp before settling in for cigars and cocktail hour.

After dinner I lounge atop a rock overlooking Surprise Valley and watch as several headlamps make their way up towards me. It’s a group of hikers that we graciously allow to share our camp. Our reward? They thank us by jabbering and actually singing away loudly until past midnight. Sometimes even in the remote reaches of The Canyon it is impossible to escape the presence of idiots.

Day 2 – Esplanade above Surprise Valley to Tapeats Rapids:

“I’ve been to Eden” or “Ponce de Leon should have used my map.”

Wake up at 4:30 am after very little sleep, just barely starting to get light. We’re all dehydrated and thirsty, with limited water remaining without raiding our cache. There is a sense of urgency to get down to Thunder River and Mantis leaves within minutes. The desire to kick our noisy neighbors awake is forgivable, but only a temptation.

Old Man and I follow along down the Redwall descent and then east across Surprise Valley. Two hikers coming out pass us. We’re heading to Tapeats Rapids so they tell us the creek is crossable and we can hike the much easier eastern route.

The Old Man and I run out of water at the east end of Surprise Valley, just as the sun comes up over the Tapeats gorge. Here we catch our first glimpse of Thunder River, and what a glorious sight to behold. Two jet streams of water burst forth from an imposing cliff face like dual giant fire-hoses. It’s a subterranean river that literally explodes out of the cliff into a fantastic waterfall.

Old Man tells me it’s the thirstiest he’s ever been and we hustle down to meet Mantis, already at the water. The oasis at the base of the falls may be the most incongruous scene I’ve witnessed in the backcountry. This is a harsh, burning desert brown landscape of jagged rock and piercing thorn. Yet here cold water flows, the green foliage of cottonwoods twinkle with life, and scarlet monkeyflowers are in full bloom.

We soak up this Eden and drink our fill of nature’s champagne. Mantis and I take showers under the falls. They take a nap and I climb up the path that approaches Thunder River Cave at the top of the falls. To reach the cave there is at least one exposed edge to negotiate. I know it’s been done, but I don’t have the stomach for it.

Our solitude is invaded briefly by a group of River rats on a day hike. There is no camping allowed here, but the urge to stay is nearly irresistible. After several hours we pack up and trek down to the junction with Tapeats Creek, which appears to have a slightly higher volume of flow than Thunder River. We know the east route is a much easier hike so we find the best apparent place to cross, just below the upper campground. The crossing is as difficult as it looks in swift, thigh-deep water. I am glad to have my trekking pole, and even happier when it’s over.

The next two miles border the creek, winding in and out of prickly pear patches. We take the liberty of dunking in the creek a couple times on a hot day. The second crossing back to the west side is shallow and easy. The trail climbs above the lower Tapeats narrows and then switchbacks down to The River.

We make camp on the west bank of the confluence across from some River rats. Mantis and the Old Man opt to rest while I explore downstream to try my luck fishing. Several suckers or bottom-feeders give my bait visible interest, but there are no takers. Despite losing about 3,500 feet of elevation, tonight’s camp is definitely colder with a cool breeze blowing off The River only a few feet away.

Day 3 – Tapeats Rapids to Deer Creek:

Which combo does not belong? Narrows & pictographs; waterfalls & rainbows; or campsites & rattlesnakes?

Up quite early again to take advantage of cooler temperatures. The next four miles downstream involve some strenuous boulder-picking and a steep climb above the Granite Narrows, all over virtually shade-less terrain. It’s a tough hike and definitely the hottest day thus far. Old Man’s small thermometer reads in the upper nineties by the time we reach the saddle into Deer Creekabout midday.

We shake more dust down to the water and enjoy a refreshing dunk in the creek. The so called Patio at the head of Deer Creek Narrows is a nice, shady spot to rest up. After lunch we head down the narrows. The rate of erosion here is staggering. Within minutes there is a plunge down into the creek that is only inches from our feet and probably fatal.

The Granite Narrows overlook above Deer Creek Falls has some of the finest Inner Gorge views that The Canyon can offer up. Mantis and I will hike down to the falls while the Old Man takes a look at the steep descent and decides to rest instead.

Deer Creek Falls are spectacular and we take turns swimming underneath the cascade.

More River rats spoil the scene again and Mantis heads back to upper Deer Creek. I wander downstream and this time luck strikes in the form of a respectable rainbow trout, enough for a three person appetizer anyway. The boats depart so I walk back up and have the falls and some fishing all to myself for the next couple hours. When I get back the Old Man shows me some Anasazi pictographs in the area.

There are two dudes taking up a big chunk of the main campground so we hike upstream to see if there are more designated sites closer to Deer Creek Spring. One possible option exists near the crossing to the spring but it doesn’t seem that cozy. Even less inviting when the Old Man discovers a rattlesnake under a cottonwood watching us. It seems we shall be sharing the main campground.

Old Man prepares the trout with some fish fry and leftover pita bread, delicious. The mice here are aggressive, especially after the Old Man spills some dinner on the ground at his feet. A bold mouse stops on his boot to scavenge the scraps. Mantis actually plunks another off a log with a small rock.

The bugs are out in force tonight so Mantis sets up our tent for the first time. Old Man is old school and tough, he sleeps outside with a wet bandanna over his head.

Day 4 – Deer Creek to Esplanade above Surprise Valley:

A poor man’s Thunder River, a pair of dunces, & a plethora of clouds.

Expecting another hot day, we decided last night to wait until late today to hike back up to the Esplanade; even knowing that trekking after dark with headlamps is probable. So we sleep in a little, then I walk back down to Granite Narrows overlook for one last contemplation upon The River’s narrowest section within the entire Park.

Some serious clouds roll in to cool things down, allowing us a chance to change our hiking plans. We trek up to Deer Creek Spring for lunch and our last water fill up.

This spring is sort of a poor man’s Thunder River. Not nearly the same flow of water, but it still bursts forth with fervor from the cliff, and there is plenty of greenery. We pump the Old Man some water and he starts switchbacking up to Surprise Valley to compensate for our faster pace. Mantis and I hydrate and eat directly behind the falls where a ledge doubles as a makeshift bench. When we’re packing things to leave a large, winged shadow passes over the ground between us. We look up to spot a California condor.

I catch up with Mantis and Old Man at the west end of Surprise Valley where they’re taking a break. They move on as I rest for awhile. The weather remains a blessing as we get some light sprinkling during the Redwall ascent. Near the top we pass two guys heading down. The elder father has a pack the size of a gorilla with a huge flannel sleeping bag strapped on top. His son-in-law is carrying two daypacks, one on his back and the other on his chest. They are planning to do our five day trip in just two days! We discourage them from attempting their entire ambitious itinerary, being perhaps ill prepared both physically and logistically for this monster trek. They continue anyway.

Atop the Redwall we retrieve our water cache and rest for a spell. We have the option of continuing along the Esplanade for a couple more hours before making camp, but we decide to stay here.

Day 5 – Esplanade above Surprise Valley to Bill Hall Trailhead:

To wish that all good things don’t come to an end.

Wake to partly cloudy skies again, we really lucked out for much of this trip. The first few miles of relatively level hiking along the Esplanade are a nice warm-up for the steep ascent. We’re out by lunchtime for a round of cold beers.

To see more pictures from this trip click here.

Overlooking Eden.

Jack, D.K., and I are at the Bill Hall Trailhead early because we spent last night near Monument Point. We luck out for now with cloud cover and a pleasant temperature. After a short break at the Thunder River Trail junction we hustle along the Esplanade traverse. Atop the Redwall we stop for lunch and leave a water cache, about two quarts apiece.

During the descent into Surprise Valley, Jack complains about feeling lightheaded. It has warmed up significantly and he’s probably dehydrated. D.K. continues while I wait for Jack, and get him to drink a bunch of Gatorade and water. Eventually he’s ready, so we rendezvous with D.K. and trek out to the eastern edge of Surprise Valley.

From here there are excellent views of Thunder River below, in addition to Tapeats gorge.  D.K. and I gaze down upon the surreal falls of Thunder River during cocktail hour while Jack rests.

Day 2 – Surprise Valley to Tapeats Rapids:

Creek Crossing Blues; & Señor Yermo vs. The Brownie.

Jack borrows my water filter and is heading down to Thunder River early. He’s thirsty and we follow up a little later. I am so happy to be back here, and take a moment of solitude near the source of the falls for a ceremony that’s become something of a tradition.

We eat breakfast and lounge in Eden for a couple hours. Each time I come back here it gets harder to leave but we have a busy day. Our trek resumes downhill and we follow Thunder River to its confluence with Tapeats Creek. The volume of water flowing in the creek is way higher than my last visit. Any attempt to cross the creek or the river looks like a dicey proposition at best, especially without any rope.

At low water the path downstream is much easier along the east bank, but with such a risky crossing we elect to follow the more difficult west route. There are lots of ups and downs and it’s a sweaty haul as the temperature is increasing. Intermittent cloud cover is most welcome for the shade, but it also feels like a contribution to the humidity.

We reach The River at Tapeats Rapids, set up Camp 2, and have lunch. The whole afternoon is up for grabs; Jack chooses to rest, while D.K. and I gear up for some angling. There is no luck for us around the confluence. Another group of backpackers moved in across the creek and we watch as one of them literally snags some kind of sucker with his fishing line.

With the other backpackers and a large River rat camp nearby, we decide to ditch the crowds and start hiking down River. After about half a mile the rapids smooth out and some fish-able eddies are more prevalent.

In due time D.K. catches a few respectable rainbow trout. It’s downright hot now, so he opts back to camp for water and shade, while I decide to work my way back slowly, fishing along the way. I spot a tempting eddy and cast out one of D.K.’s homemade silver spinners. Within seconds I get the big hit, and after glimpsing the size of the fish, holler D.K. back to my position. I battle the fish with my shitty backcountry telescopic rod for a few more seconds, bringing him as close to the bank and my grasp as possible when disaster nearly strikes. The fish, a big brown trout, gives a vicious tug and snaps my line. I instinctively pounce with both hands and secure the fish in shallow water. At nearly twenty inches and three pounds; this could be the biggest fish I’ve ever caught in The Canyon.

D.K. has probably caught more giant fish from here to Alaska than anyone I know, and his complete excitement over the catch only furthers mine. He snaps a couple pictures and we briefly discuss cooking up some fillets, but there’s another more satisfying option. We release the monster back into the water to once again dominate his piece of River turf.

Eventually I return to camp and hang out with Jack and D.K. in the shade before sundown. The swallows are out in force again at lower Tapeats, whirling and swooping above us on their daily insect feeding frenzy. The moon waxes even further towards full tonight and headlamps are largely unnecessary.

Day 3 – Tapeats Rapids to Deer Creek:

A day of catch & release – Jack catches his breath, & D.K. releases his rainbows.

The River route between Tapeats Creek and Deer Creek is hot and longer than it appears (just like last time). Below the saddle into Deer Creek I wait in the shade for Jack. He looks alright when he comes into view so I descend to meet with D.K. at the creek campsite. It is easier to follow the east bank upstream.

With camp set up, we pass through the impressive Deer Creek Narrows, I remind the guys to stop if they have the urge to look around. One misstep here could be fatal. Jack decides to call it a day at the Granite Narrows overlook above Deer Creek Falls.

D.K. and I continue down to the base of the falls for some more fishing. As usual there are a lot of River rats around. There’s also a camp of traditional dories across The River.

Unfortunately, after years of use my cheap reel breaks, but the memory of yesterday’s Brownie is still fresh enough to temper my disappointment. D.K. catches a few more rainbow trout, I’m content to wait in the shade and have an early cocktail hour.

We retrace our steps back to the Patio, marking the head of Deer Creek Narrows, where a raven is pecking at a headless kingsnake. A little further towards camp we encounter a small western patchnose snake.

Day 4 – Deer Creek to Esplanade south of Thunder River Trail-Bill Hall Trail junction:

Hearing loss & moon rocks.

Jack leaves camp with my filter at 5 am for the double ascent; first out of Deer Creek, and then back through Surprise Valley to above the Redwall. D.K. follows as I stay behind for a spell at Deer Creek Spring to clean his filter and pump more water. The hike up to the Esplanade is still an ass kicker as remembered, taking about three hours of trekking time.

We take a long rest and decide to cover a little extra Esplanade distance before making camp. Jack complains about some hearing loss after completing the Redwall ascent and I am a little worried as he obviously can’t hear some of our normal conversational volume (We never really came up with a decent explanation for this temporary condition, but Jack’s normal hearing would eventually return several days later).

Maybe a mile short of the Thunder River/Bill Hall Trailhead junction we make camp amongst some of the more unique globular red rocks that pepper the Esplanade.

Day 5 – Esplanade to Bill Hall Trailhead:

Fake Arizona rattlesnakes & real Mexican beer.

We all leave at staggered times again, I act as the caboose as usual. Stumble upon a large gopher snake soaking up some early morning sunlight near the trail. It gives me the classic fake rattlesnake routine by thumping its tail against the ground (a sound that anyone with rattlesnake experience knows is a cheap imitation.)

We’re all at the rim enjoying a Tecate at 10 am, toasting to the success of another excellent Canyon trip.

To see more pictures from this trip click here.