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| | | Nankoweap Carbon Loop, AZ | | | |
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Nankoweap Carbon Loop, AZ
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| Backpack | 53.00 Miles |
10,600 AEG |
| | Backpack | 53.00 Miles | 5 Days | | |
| 10,600 ft AEG | | | | |
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| no partners | | This trip was uncertain until the last minute but I lucked out and was able to join my friend's permit. We reached the trailhead around 10:30. The bad spot (ledge) in the road is about 7 miles from the trailhead and (I think) after the turn to South Canyon. After making final arrangements to our packs, we made the tedious hike up the hill to the saddle overlooking Nankoweap Canyon and had a short break, starting down the trail at about 12:15.
We opted to take the Marion-Seiber route into the canyon and I downloaded a description but didn’t study it because I like the route-finding challenge. A use trail leaves the main one after it descends the Esplanade band. This trail braided a bit but there were generally good tracks through the brush all through the Supai. There was a ~20ft cliffband not far below the Esplanade which required some scouting, and there is a cairn below the break to help locate it. We continued down and to the right until reaching the top of the Redwall.
When we reached the Redwall we hiked to the head of the drainage between Marion and Seiber points and found a duck there. We started descending the chute and passing packs, but by the third steep part of one pouroff I decided the limestone, while not polished into a smooth slide, was too slippery and steep to scramble down safely. We left our packs behind and scouted around to the left of the drainage where we found a clear use trail and easy descent down a broken ridge. Another reason ducks suck: I would have given up at the head of the drainage much faster if not for that cairn.
We thrashed through some brush on the left side of a limestone ridge then contoured around to the “hanging forest” leading to our main Redwall descent chute. The chute beyond the hanging forest is very steep and becomes quite loose. Below the Redwall gully we climbed onto the left bench as mentioned in the description – I was relying more on the description now because we were trying to reach the river that night. A good use trail never appeared, and we descended back to the bed at our earliest opportunity. Going was easier here with boulders to hop down but minimal brush. There were a few places with very short bypasses around chockstones. In the Muav we were able to find scrambles down all the ledges and chockstones in the main bed. There was one place where we passed packs. At the bottom of the Muav, there is a spring that flows for a short way.
We reached the bottom of the Muav after 4pm and from here the drainage became less steep. Soon after, I made a comment like “I don’t think the Tapeats is an obstacle, but we’ll find out”, only to look up from the cobbles and realize we were halfway through the Tapeats, and the drainage was nice and wide there. In this area we got a spectacular view of Hutton Butte, which looks like some massif in the Winds – totally unlike other canyon summits. As we got lower, walking became easier on the wide terraces which were covered by nice soft Galeros formation.
It was dusk when we passed the popular camps at Nankoweap Creek. Once it was dark we stopped for a short snack break, then did our best to follow use trails down the creek past Nankoweap Mesa by headlamp. At one point we saw a pair of eyes reflecting at us and my friend said he thought they looked like lion eyes. We reached the river after 8pm and aimed for the main boater camp, setting up in a tamarisk alcove that was sheltered and relatively warm.
On the second morning we took our time getting started to make up for our first-day push. We hiked up to the hill overlooking Nankoweap Delta and my friend pointed out the upper part of the boundary ridge route. The Supai is very thin in this area. We finally broke camp after 9am and said hello to our boater neighbors, who were a friendly group and offered us chocolate bars. We followed a well-used trail downstream to Kwagunt, weaving in and out of many sandy gullies and generally getting very toasty in the sun.
We blew up packrafts below the riffle below Kwagunt and another group of boaters passed us here. One boat made a hard turn when they saw us and threw us beers. Woohoo! Michael’s packraft setup takes longer to rig but certainly rides faster on the water. We set off just after noon. I managed to float through all the riffles above the LCR, only portaging 60-Mile Rapid. By the time we reached the LCR we had a slight headwind and the sky was partly cloudy, so we were chilled. I had to fight the big eddy to pull in at the boat beach there, and we had another short visit with the boater group who said they’d only arrived 30 minutes ahead of us. It’s nice to know that when I don’t portage, I’m not that much slower than a normal oar boat. The LCR was brown, so we didn’t linger except to snack and warm up.
We left the LCR around 3pm and I immediately had to pull over to dump water out of my boat, thanks to the riffle below the confluence. The going felt faster now and I was slightly warmer. I headed through one riffle with 6-foot waves and stayed impressively dry; none of the waves broke on me. Midway down to Carbon, my friend pulled over on a sandbar. I erred left to wait for him, trying to raise myself above the water and get a good look at the riffle ahead. As I got closer, the left looked worse and right looked better. I tried to cut back across and didn’t make it – I felt the current seize me near the middle of the river and knew it was time to square up for those waves because I wasn’t making the shore above it. These waves were also 6-footers, but they were breaking and meeting at about a 60-degree angle. I could only get so square. I rolled over the first couple of waves, then hit the breakers coming from either side. Here, one hit me from the right and I instinctively grabbed the right side of my raft and shifted my weight to keep from capsizing. After about a second of shellshock, trying to adjust as waves hit me from opposite directions and I got splashed in the face, I grabbed my paddle with both hands again – boy, am I glad I didn’t drop it – and fought through the smaller tail waves. Once I was holding my paddle and fighting again I knew I could avoid capsizing, but I really wanted to get to the sandbar below and regroup. My friend followed me through the riffle – taking the calmer left side – and when he pulled over he said something like “wow, you went straight down the middle. You have balls and I'm so impressed you didn't flip!”
We continued to Carbon without any more big waves. There was weak sunlight and I felt much better after getting out of my wet clothes. A helicopter flew over low down with a cable dangling; I don’t know what it was there for, because it’s a very weird scenario for a SAR.
We had succeeded in our first two ambitious days, which lined us up well for the third day: from Carbon to Kwagunt on the Butte Fault, and avoiding a dry camp. We completed the long climb to the saddle with 60-Mile in about two hours. At this saddle, the fault causes the Supai to be even with the Tapeats. On our way down to 60-Mile, my friend stuck his leg on a yucca and blood literally spurted a couple inches into the air. Finally it was time to use the first aid kit that’s freeloaded in my pack for a good thousand miles. I whipped out some sterile gauze and let him contain the bleeding while I wrapped a stretchy ace bandage thing around his leg a couple times. This was quite effective, and I was proud to see how well it worked. I didn’t even get any blood on myself (though gloves would be a prudent addition to my kit).
Shortly after starting up out of the bed of 60-Mile, I spotted a short slab of Redwall that looked like it might offer shade in the alcove above. Not only did it offer shade, but after scrambling 20 feet up we discovered a pothole with about 5 gallons of water. I will definitely revisit this source to see how reliable it is. We had lunch, then continued to Awatubi. I think this section is so cool, with the Redwall tilted about 80 degrees on the river side of the fault and forming an impressive gray broken cliff. The climb out of Awatubi was shorter and less steep, and same for the descent to Malgosa. Coming out of Malgosa, there is a little basin at the level of the saddle before reaching Kwagunt. I have the impression the Redwall drops off impressively on the lower end, although the upper end is easy Tonto walking. Such funky geology!
The descent into Kwagunt was particularly steep. I think it would be worse going up, though. We found a tiny makeshift campsite right below where the fault comes into Kwagunt Creek. I was happy to have my tent because we were swarmed by flies and my friend reported lots of bites on his bloody leg. Near camp, I found a tangle of purple and white balloons – these on top of a silver mylar balloon earlier on the trip – which resulted in me carrying out the largest trash bag I ever have: a full quart Ziploc.
On the fourth day, we packed up early to head over to Nankoweap. After some discussion about the weather forecast, we wanted to reach the rim early the following day, so we opted to return via the Marion-Seiber route rather than Boundary Ridge route or Nankoweap trail. We hiked up to the saddle below Nankoweap Butte then dropped our packs and continued to the summit. This was a very straightforward, fun summit. However – as they had every day of our trip so far – we were annoyed by an incredible number of overflights. At one point, there was a wave of eight planes/ helicopters, and we could see six at the same time. It’s f***ing disgusting (and I mean the French) that we can hike 50-some miles off-trail, deep in the Grand Canyon backcountry, and have noisy overflights every half hour throughout the day reminding us that we’re not in wilderness after all. I treasure the silence in Grand Canyon so much, but it seemed scarce on this trip. There was even a plane flying low at 7am one day.
To descend into Nankoweap, we took the drainage below our saddle next to Nankoweap Butte rather than contour over to the true Butte Fault. I prefer this descent: it started out with very steep plunge-steps, then mellowed into a gentle drainage with Galeros sand rather than boulders. Lower down, we found bigger-than-usual mountain lion tracks. We reached Nankoweap Creek a short distance above the popular creek camp and had lunch under some cottonwoods, which are just leafing out now.
After our break, we continued up Nankoweap Creek into the arm we had descended on day one. We found a nice camp on a terrace and dropped our gear there. There was no flowing water, so we planned to collect water on our side hike to Mystic Falls. The bed of this arm of the drainage was clogged with dead trees and after a short way I climbed onto a terrace and made faster progress. Where it was wet, the bed was full of cottonwoods and something else that grew very tall and densely – maybe a willow. I climbed most of the way to the base of the falls but the brush was thick near where the water coursed.
We returned to camp quickly. The sky threatened rain that evening but we only received a few sprinkles as we were packing up in the morning. The Mystic Falls arm was socked in, however.
This time, we knew all the details of our route out. Within two hours of leaving camp – and including a decent break – we had topped out on the Redwall chute. Instead of taking the bench below this chute, we followed the bed of the creek all the way up to the Redwall. There was one large chockstone which could be bypassed through a truly horrendous amount of brush or scrambled over by fighting with only two small plants. We reached the rim three hours after breaking camp. The hike back down to the car really was scenic, with sprawling views of Marble Canyon and House Rock Valley. Rain continued to threaten but never fell.
Spring is starting in the canyon! The cottonwoods are really leafing out now, prickly pears are budding, and manzanitas are in flower. |
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