Hiking INTO the Grand Canyon

The moment that you drop over the rim is breathtaking. The path transforms from a simple hike in the woods to a vista beyond compare. We take our time, taking many pictures, but not nearly enough to glorify the view.

Initially, I hike staring at the path a foot ahead of me, rarely looking up. I am desperately afraid of tripping with my top-heavy pack and tumbling into the abyss. I come upon something beautiful, suddenly look up, and exclaim, “Wow!” This is an odd way to hike the Canyon. As I become more confident with the weight distribution, I eventually raise my hiking gaze.

The first day’s descent is uneventful and anti-climactic. We see deer. We eat a picnic on the side of the trail. Most of the hike parallels the rapidly flowing Bright Angel Creek.  Looking back, I didn’t have to carry as much water as I did, and could have opted for a water filter.

We meet some people along the trail who are having physical difficulties in the heat. They started on the South Rim and planned to hike to the North Rim, which is 23 miles. One woman is wearing Victoria Secret sweatpants with “Pink” across her butt with a single small disposable bottle of water in her hand. We share our water with her. Another teenage boy was left behind by his friends and was very pale, disoriented and staggering. As we share some water with him, an older member of his party returns from the trail above.

We meet a group of men who are doing a rim to rim to rim run. They start at the South Rim, run to the North Rim and then run back. This is a total of 42-46 miles, depending on the route chosen. It shows me that people can relish in the extreme. I think I am adventurous, doing the most challenging thing in my life to date, hiking 28 miles over three days into the depths of the Grand Canyon. Here, there are people running double that distance in about 10 hours.

Once we arrive at the campground, we unpack the tent and unroll our sleeping bags. Relaxing, we have a lunch of peanut butter and jelly burritos.

It is extremely hot, the kind of hot when you don’t want your arms to touch your sides. The stream is about 500 yards from our campsite, down a well-stomped path. Upon reaching the bank, we take off our shoes and sit in the stream. We cool down, kill time, rest our muscles, and soak our sore and blistered feet. Even if you are super careful about your footwear, sweat and moisture can cause blisters. The additional weight of the backpacks adds another factor. Our shoes are broken in, but moleskin and tape is needed and eventually covers our toes and feet.

Nighttime falls early and we gratefully turn in. It isn’t difficult to get up at first light when you go to bed at 8 pm. The next morning, we leave early for Phantom Ranch.

In general, when hiking in the canyon, you aim to complete your hike by 10 am, when the sun comes over the rim. Then, you rest until at least 2 pm. At this point, the shade increases and you can then hike further. You should avoid the periods of highest sun, which are the hottest and driest. To offset the heat, I hike with a wet bandana around my neck and a wide brimmed hat.

On the North Kaibab Trail, the distance from the rim to Cottonwood Campground is 6.8 miles. The distance from Cottonwood to Phantom Ranch is another 6.8 miles. The published hiking rate averages one mile an hour, but going down into the canyon, it’s easy to hike at about twice that pace.

The trail clearly descends into the canyon, but it also slopes from left to right. Halfway to Phantom Ranch, the unusual angle of the trail causes my right ankle to become progressively more sore. By the time we reach the bottom, my joint is painful and it’s difficult to walk. Once we settle safely at our tent site at the Phantom Ranch Campground, I take my boot off. My foot and ankle promptly swell and my boot isn’t going to go back on.

Because of many people with diverse, but similar footwear issues, the Phantom Ranch staff started a bin of discarded boots and shoes. I pick out a man’s sneaker, size 11. It fits my swollen foot perfectly and being a shoe, it allows for my ankle swelling. It is comfortable and I wear it for the next two days and 14 miles out of the canyon. The solution is acceptable, although the appearance is comical. I should have taken both size 11 shoes, as my right foot is much more comfortable than my left.

At the time of securing the backcountry pass, we reserved dinner at Phantom Ranch. After 30 hours below the rim, the stew is a welcome homemade, hearty, and delicious meal. The company is varied and interesting with people from all locations with many different stories. Most rode mules from the South Rim.

I excitedly buy and mail postcards to my family and friends. They will be stamped “Carried by mule from the bottom of the Grand Canyon” and I think that is the coolest thing. The one I write and send to myself says, “Hey, Maria. You’re doing great! Keep going. You can do this! I love you. Maria” I still have the card.

There is a payphone at Phantom Ranch. The day we are there is Father’s Day. I put my money in and dial my parent’s number. When I hear my Dad’s voice say “Hello?”, I am overwhelmed with the location and the beauty and the emotions and the feat and the exhaustion and the fact that it was Father’s Day, that all I do is cry. Luckily, my Dad knows me well enough to know it was me. He asks, “Are you ok?” I squeak out, “I am fine, I just love you, I am overwhelmed.” Cry, cry, cry. “Happy Father’s Day!!” Cry, cry, cry. We talk for a short time, once I collect myself. I hang up to allow the rest of the people in line to call their Dads. It takes a while to stop sniffling.

That night is unbearably hot, with temperatures over 100 degrees. The campsite is directly on Bright Angel Creek and the water is five yards from our tent. In the middle of the night, I lie in the stream in my clothes for a few minutes. The sensation of the change in temperature on my skin is soothing, gradually cooling it to a comfortable level. I feel my sticky sweat, residual salt, and the dust of the canyon wash away with the flow. My synthetic top and shorts billow like silk in the current. By the time I walk the few steps back to the tent, most of the water evaporates and my clothes are only slightly damp. I do this a few times throughout the night. The next day, the temp soars to 118 degrees.

Phantom Ranch is very close to the Colorado River. On the north bank is a beach. For some reason, I expect a group of people in bathing suits to be grilling, playing volleyball, and to greet us waving with a “Hey!! Welcome! Come join us.” Instead, it is deserted and not festive at all. We sit resting on the shore with our feet numbing in the water.

The water is 46 degrees. It is released from the bottom of the Hoover Dam, where it is dark and cold. If you fall in, you have 20 minutes to get out before hypothermia sets in. My feet are blissfully anesthetized within a few minutes.

Sitting on the beach, I am mentally preparing to hike back to Cottonwood for one last night, and then back out to the rim. I have a new shoe for my right foot, a belly full of home-cooked goodness, and my pack is a bit lighter. I believe that “everything happens for my benefit.” All good. Equanimity.