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| Hiking | 8.40 Miles |
4,790 AEG |
| | Hiking | 8.40 Miles | 8 Hrs 30 Mns | | 0.99 mph |
| 4,790 ft AEG | | 15 LBS Pack | | |
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| no partners | | Having thirteen months prior broken through in the Grand Canyon reservation phone-in frenzy (i.e. pre-lottery) and procured a cabin slot, we started out on our trek down to Phantom ranch. We started early – excessive heat warnings had been issued, and my wife and I were durable but not speedy hikers. The four AM shuttle from the Backcountry Information Center dropped us off at Yaki Point at about half past, and head lamp equipped, we set off down South Kaibab.
Hiking with head lamps produces an eerie experience. Your world becomes not the expanse of the canyon or the sheerness of the canyon walls, but the small circle in front of you illuminated by the lamps. But we shrugged it off, since a pre-dawn start would keep us, for the most part, out of the hot mid-day temperatures.
At about quarter of six, the sun poked over the horizon, providing the first glimpse of the canyon, and the first photo opportunities. We took the obligatory pictures, but also just took in the experience.
By six, we could dispense with the head lamps. As the sun rose, its low, tinted light heightened and highlighted the orange and red hues of the Canyon’s rocks, sands and facades. We were graced by scenes both amazing to view and delightful to photograph.
We proceeded, making steady time, about a mile an hour or so, not stellar, but consistent. We brought a good supply of water, and kept the increasingly intense sun at bay with light, long sleeve, collared over garments. We find that to cover with a light full garment protects one from the sun and beats the heat better than a more typical approach of a skimpy top.
As we hiked down, I felt the history in the rocks, or more academically the “depositional environments” that gave us all the layers and strata and colors and cross-beddings in the walls of the Canyon. I could sense the rivers, and flood plains, and coastal shores, and oceans, and deep deserts shifting through time, each laying down sediment and animal remains linked to each environment. As we descended to the lowest level, I could feel the continents and island chains colliding, and the rock changing under the intense chaos of the collisions, and the magma pushing up through the cracks.
We marched on, passing and noting each of the landmark locations – Cedar Ridge, Skeleton Point, and Tip Off. We looked in amazement, still, even having seen it before, at the iconic O’Neill Butte, watching it evolve from a distant peak in front of us, to a towering giant as we passed, to a looming presence as we looked back. As we rounded corners, different expanses of the Canyon emerged into view – Zoraster Temple, Isis Temple, and the whole tapestry of peaks and ravines and slopes and colors. And also the mule trains; we passed one with travelers going up, and another supply mule pack bringing up items and likely trash from Phantom Ranch.
At the end, a bit tired of course, and now under the intense mid-day sun from our only modest rate of descent, we crossed the black suspension bridge about 12:30 PM. We knew a last leg ran ahead of us to Phantom Ranch. We trekked on, checking the thermometer at the bridge across the creek at the campground (116 degrees but in the direct sun), then passing the ranger station and crew quarters, then past the amphitheatre and mule ring. We took care not to be fooled that any of those signaled we had finished. Then finally the canteen, partially air conditioned, with tables to sit at and for me a place to catch a refreshing drink of cold lemonade (I mixed it with iced tea and plenty of ice) available at $4.75, but keep the cup for the bargain of $1.00 refills.
Refreshed, I stepped outside, and in the midst of no cell signal, and the lack of highway traffic, and the absence of crushing urban crowds, I took in the magnificence that nature had built – the rocks billions of years old, the canyon millions of years old, and the trees and vegetation decades old, and a graceful black bird swirling in the Canyon uplifts and the gurgling of the creek beside me.
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Route Editor
Route Scout
