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the Grand Tour
Hiking and Backpacking the Canyon
with Joe Hudson
Please allow us, the Grand Canyon Junkies, to show you around
the greatest backpacking place on the planet.
Beware: It's a mile deep, so the going isn't always easy. Even so, once you enter,
you could become hooked on the place for life. Kind of like us.
  
To get to know the Grand Canyon, it's best
to immerse yourself in it. Hike to the bottom; spend a week or so there;
get the canyon's red dirt under your fingernails, in your eyes, on your
teeth and in your veins. Lie at night beside 2-billion-year-old rock as
you gaze into the eternity of the heavens. Backpacking in the canyon is
a journey of body and mind, so if you're lucky you'll come out both a
little more lean and a little more wise.
The canyon beckons. Are you ready to
get down?
Here is the table of contents.
Just click on an item and you're there. Or, simply scroll down the
page. Either way, when you see an iconized image, click on it to get the
full-size JPEG version.
This page is the project of Joe Hudson, an
editor at the Denver Post who has just one other obsession besides the
canyon. Long may they reign!
 Early morning in Grapevine Canyon. March 1995.
Why backback the canyon?
Well, why not? Just a few of the things you will do if you go:
Get stabbed in the shin by an agave plant.
Lose the trail. Scrub your Sierra cup clean with sand. Pop a blister.
Dig a hole and defecate. Watch the bats flit around at dusk. Worry about
those clouds rolling in. Take an afternoon nap beside a stream. Wonder
how you'll ever make it back to the top. Watch little lizards scurry
about. Check under rocks for scorpions. Wonder how bad you smell. Tell
stories at night. Run out of liquor halfway through the trip. Get
sunburned. Eat more dried fruit than you thought possible. Hike by
moonlight. Crave a cheeseburger, or a Coke. Reorganize your pack, again.
Smell the sagebrush. Smell a skunk. Look for water. Pump water. Boil
water. Drink water. Ignore the book you brought. Marvel at a twisted old
juniper. Slide off your sleeping pad in the middle of the night. Study
the habits of a pair of ravens. Explore a side canyon. Get rained on.
Flick ticks off your clothing. Put off getting up to pee at night. Watch
for rafters, who might give you a beer. Wish for a patch of shade along
the Tonto Trail. Wonder if you're lost. Lay your gear out to dry. Look
and listen for rattlesnakes. Eat cheese that has turned greasy. See
cactuses in bloom. Get sand inside your camera. Wade in the cold, cold
river. Watch the stars come out. Hear and owl hoot and a coyote howl.
Forget that you really live somewhere else.
(Scroll onward, or return to table of contents.)
 Jessica, age 10; Lloyd; Barb; and Stan at Hance Rapids. March 1990.
Meet the Grand Canyon Junkies
It all started in August 1972 when, fresh
out of high school, I hiked to the bottom of the canyon because a buddy
of mine wanted to. Three and a half years later, I returned with a
different friend, Jim. The next year, Jim returned with his friend Stan.
The year after that, Jim, Stan and I all went, and this whole thing was
already snowballing.
Backpacking the canyon is now an annual
spring rite for several of us. Stan has done it 16 times, even though he
has never lived within a thousand miles of the place. I am not far
behind, with 13-rim-to-river hikes. There are others who are just as
hopelessly hooked. Some of the regulars:
- Stan.
Periodontist and hockey player in Eugene, Ore. Deft hands are good for
tying knots and rolling cigarettes for others in group. Eats alfalfa
pellets to help his arthritic right hip.
- Barb.
Dental hygienist and speed-skater in Eugene. Became Stan's wife in
ceremony on South Rim in 1993. Entertains group by reading cowboy poetry
and old trail journals.
- Marlene.
Dental hygienist and runner in Eugene. Former GI; hikes in her old Army
boots with new Vibram soles. Wants to hike Zion next year instead of
the canyon -- say what?
- Lloyd.
Insurance agent and triathlete in Aurora, Colo. Brother of Stan and
dedicated father of four girls, one of whom hiked the Escalante Route
with us when she was just 10.
- Loretta.
Dental assistant and mom in Eugene (yes, a whole lot of flossing goes
on when this group gets together). Most-improved hiker in 1995 -- we ate
her dust on the Tonto Trail.
- Jim.
Educator in Lincoln, Neb., and Junkie emeritus. Hasn't hiked with us
since '86 but was a key force in early years. Founded annual University
of Nebraska canyon trip in '78.
(Scroll onward, or return to table of contents.)
Trailside scenes and notes
South Bass-Royal Arch Route 
The Royal Arch; the blue speck is Barb. March 1994.
It takes a four- to six-night trip in order
to comfortably complete this 45-mile loop. Two factors make this a
tricky route: the often-impassable road west to the South Bass
trailhead, where this route begins, and the need to rappel during your
descent. Your reward, though, is the spectacular lower Royal Arch
Canyon, one of the most beautiful places in the canyon we've been.
Unlike most other canyon routes, this one
does not make a beeline down to the river. That was a relief for our
aging muscles and joints when Barb, Stan and I did this route in March
1994. You descend the South Bass Trail for only about 1,200 of vertical
descent, then exit onto the level and scenic Esplanade trail and head
west to Royal Arch Canyon. The map that comes with the Backcountry Trip
Planner shows where the trail enters Royal Arch Canyon. Be sure you mark
the spot on whatever map you carry with you. We didn't, and we wasted
90 minutes trying to descend the wrong arm of Royal Arch Canyon.
The trail down Royal Arch Canyon generally
stays in the dry streambed, but the route is indistinct and difficult.
You're boulder-hopping, not hiking, much of the way, and finding a safe
passage often took extra time. At several points we had to stop to hand
down each other's packs. Then we hit the really dicey part -- one
we weren't expecting. The route description from the backcountry office
says that "a large drop blocks the way. This can be passed on the left
side via a trail with some exposed climbing. A belay may be desirable."
"May be desirable"? Unless you can cling to
rock like a lizard, you should instead take the advice someone
scratched in the rock at this point: "No gear -- Don't go." One slip,
and you fall 30 feet straight down. After much discussion, we got out
the ropes we'd brought for the next day's scheduled rappel and did an unscheduled
one here. Someone's going to die at this point unless the Park Service
revises its route description. We've brought this up with the
backcountry office, to no avail.
 Colorado River at Royal Arch Canyon. March 1994.
A few hours farther down, the trail leaves
Royal Arch Canyon about two miles short of the Colorado River. A huge
cairn marks the eastward exit. But don't leave Royal Arch Canyon just
yet: A side hike down to the arch is a must. Follow the drainage about
three-quarters of a mile. Just short of the arch, the canyon narrows and
the creek emerges from the ground, creating a lush, green oasis where
you'll want to stay awhile. The arch is not far from the river and Elves
Chasm, but a 200-foot dropoff blocks the way. So back up the drainage
you must go to the exit point.
The trail climbs out of Royal Arch Canyon
and onto the Tonto Plateau. A rappel of less than 20 feet is required in
the cliffs on the way down to the river. The trail reaches the river at
the Toltec drainage, which is a good camping spot. An extra night here
will allow you an easy day hike west to the pools and waterfalls of
Elves Chasm, which is off-limits to camping. It's about an hour-long
hike each way. Wear gloves to protect your hands from the jagged
travertine limestone boulders you come in contact with along the way.
And take a water bag to stock up on creek water; unless it has rained
recently, you'll probably be drinking river water at Toltec.
 The Tonto Trail east of Garnet Canyon. March 1994.
The hike east to Bass Canyon is typical
Tonto Trail hiking: into a side canyon, then out onto the plateau. Side
canyon, plateau; side canyon, plateau; over and over again. The plateau,
with its broad vistas and stunning views of the Colorado River more
than a thousand feet below, is as rewarding as the side canyons are
grueling. Eventually, you reach Bass Canyon for the climb back up to the
South Rim. Pray that it hasn't rained up top during your stay, because
the road through Pasture Wash can swallow up jeeps when it's muddy.
South Bass-Garnet-Elves Chasm
 Elves Chasm. March 1994.
This is another way to reach Elves Chasm,
and you don't have to rappel. The minuses: You won't see the Royal Arch
area, and the hike is an out-and-back instead of a loop.
This route is basically the second half of
the Royal Arch Route (described above), done in reverse. One stop worth
adding is Bass Rapids, where marooned in the rocks for the last 80 years
has been a metal boat believed to have been built by legendary riverman
Bert Loper. When we camped there in spring of 1978 and 1980, creek
water trickled down the tall cliff beside the river.
This stretch of the canyon used to be home
to many wild burros, descendants of animals brought in by prospectors
and miners. Their loud nighttime baying was a pleasure to hear, but they
also caused trouble by competing for habitat with the native species
and creating trails that led unwitting hikers far off the Tonto Trail.
The Park Service removed the burros from the canyon in the early 1980s.
 Wild burros on the Tonto west of Bass. April 1978.
West of Bass, we have found seasonal water
in Copper and Garnet canyons in March and early April. But one year we
had to search long and hard in Copper to find any. Garnet has the more
reliable supply, though its taste is a little salty.
Garnet Canyon could serve as your base camp
for a day hike west to Elves, but it's probably two and a half hours
each way, making it a very long day of hiking. Instead, consider camping
farther west at Toltec drainage -- just an hour from Elves.
South Bass to Boucher/Hermit
 Matt near the Boucher Trail below Yuma Point. March 1992.
Stan, Roger and I hiked this 38-mile route
in March 1987. Stan returned a year later and did the route again, with
Barb. It was her first canyon hike, and she suffered sunburn,
nosebleeds, blisters, everything but a scorpion sting, but she's been
back every year since. And she and Stan got married -- at the canyon, of
course -- in 1993.
Just for the record, this route includes the stretch that Colin Fletcher, the "man who walked through time," hiked naked.
After the South Bass descent comes a
22-mile stretch of Tonto Trail that we had all to ourselves in March of
'87. We went five days without seeing another human, but we did have
some company: a small herd of desert bighorn sheep just east of
Turquoise Canyon. There were plenty of water sources along the way:
seasonal streams in Serpentine, Ruby, Turquoise and Slate, plus the
permanent stream in Boucher. The camp at Turquoise was heaven: we slept
on a large outcropping about 15 feet above the streambed. A spring
trickled out of the ground just a few yards away. A hummingbird
occasionally buzzed by.
Slate Canyon has a giant, shade-making
boulder to camp next to. A side trail follows the streambed down to the
river, where if you're lucky you'll see rafts shooting the notorious
Crystal Rapids. Slate Canyon is where, in 1992, we were wakened just
before dawn by what sounded like a train rumbling through. In an instant
we realized it was an earthquake -- 4 on the Richter scale, we later
learned. Marlene's constipation was suddenly a thing of the past.
Descending the Boucher Trail. April 1979.
 At
Boucher Creek, prepare yourself for a most strenuous ascent to the rim.
It's doable in a day, but we usually spend a night partway up, on the
scenic promontory below Yuma Point. This is a dry camp except for
possible water pockets in the rock, so you'll probably need to haul
water up from Boucher Creek, making the 2,400 feet of vertical gain even
more of a grind.
The Boucher Trail ends at Dripping Springs
trail near the top of Hermit Canyon. You turn left and soon reach Hermit
Trail, which takes you to the rim.
Another way to approach this area of the
canyon is to start on the Hermit Trail, easily reached at Hermit's Rest.
The Boucher Trail descent is the most unnerving one I've done in the
canyon. Poor footing and steep terrain through the Supai formation make
it downright dangerous when going downhill. An alternate route: Stay on
Hermit all the way to the Tonto Trail and head west.
Tanner-Escalante-Grandview
Camp near Tanner Rapids. March 1990.
 The
Tanner Trail starts at Lipan Point, about two miles west of Desert View
on the east end of the park. The trail to the river is long (eight
miles) and dry, and at the bottom there is only river water to drink.
This part of the canyon is noticeably wider and more open at the bottom
than points farther west, giving it a distinctive feel.
From the river you hike west on the
Escalante Route, an extension of the Tonto Trail. The Tonto doesn't
officially start until Red Canyon, a two-day hike from Tanner. Some
people find that a 20-foot rope comes in handy at two points along the
way: For lowering packs where the trail dips into the narrow and
steep-walled drainage of Seventy-five Mile Canyon, and for lifting packs
during a climb through rockface just west of Popago Creek.
View from north end of Horseshoe Mesa. March 1990.
 There
are plenty of places to camp at Red Canyon, where you can see the Tonto
Plateau emerge from river level and rise westward. If you don't want to
drink river water, creek water can be found -- in springtime, at least
-- about a mile and a half up Red Canyon.
Farther west, Horseshoe Mesa and the
Grandview Trail -- the way out -- can be reached via either Hance or
Cottonwood canyon. Both canyons have plenty of water in early spring.
The climb to the mesa is probably more interesting via Hance: an
abandoned copper mine and a year-round spring are trailside attractions.
Ice and packed snow can make the upper
portion of Grandview very treacherous in winter and early spring. And
even when the trail is dry, it can break your heart. Many a hiker has
been fooled into thinking he was almost at the top when there actually
was nearly an hour yet to go. The trailhead, at 7,400 feet, is the South
Rim's highest.
New Hance (Red Canyon) to Kaibab
Rainbow over upper Red Canyon. March 1995.
The upper part of the New Hance Trail is
frustrating: constant twists, turns, switchbacks, protruding pine
branches, boulder-hopping, etc., and hardly anyplace you can really
stride out until the base of the Redwall. We covered this route in March
1995 and started out in a cold, drenching rain and wind gusts that
could knock a person over. About four hours later, things had really
changed: We were in T-shirts as the sun beat down on the canyon's desert
interior. But that wouldn't last long, either: At nightfall at camp
down by the river, the rain started again -- and didn't stop until the
next morning. We found out later that the storm had caused landslides
and floods in other parts of the canyon, forcing the closure of the
Bright Angel and Kaibab trails and knocking out the water line that
supplies the South Rim. We were lucky all we got was a little wet.
The Tonto Trail west from Red Canyon goes
through Hermit and Cottonwood canyons, mentioned in the previous
section. Then comes Grapevine Canyon, with its springtime creek forming
dozens of pools in the slickrock streambed. There actually were two
creeks this year, in adjoining arms of the canyon. Luckily, this was
where we had scheduled a rest day, and we were glad to spend the extra
time there.
About three and a half hours west of
Grapevine is Lonetree Canyon, another pleasant spot with seasonal water.
Unfortunately, four of us -- Lloyd, Marlene, Loretta and I -- overshot
Lonetree and hiked all the way to Cremation Canyon, our next
day's destination. So Stan and Barb had Lonetree all to themselves.
Meanwhile, the four of us stayed at Cremation, which is nearly as
desolate as the name suggests.
From Cremation, it's about three hours to
the rim via the Kaibab Trail. Lloyd did it in two and a half hours --
not bad for a guy who turns 50 this year.
Kaibab and Bright Angel
Bob and Dennis on the Kaibab. August 1972.
 The
Kaibab and Bright Angel are the two main tourist trails --
well-maintained, wide, practically impossible to get lost on. These
crowded trails are not most backpackers' idea of getting away from it
all. But if you can't get an overnight permit and you're intent on
making it to the bottom, this route is probably your only option: with
enough energy and daylight, you can go down the Kaibab all the way to
the river and up the Bright Angel in a day. That's what I did on my
first canyon hike, in 1972, even though the Park Service strongly
discourages it.
The accompanying photo is from that first
hike. Bob (left), Dennis and I, in our canvas sneakers, took turns
lugging that partly filled five-gallon water jug the whole way. Why we
didn't have individual canteens I can't recall. At lunchtime at the
bottom, Bob lost a stocking in the river and had to hike all the way out
with one foot sockless. I don't believe he's ever returned to the Grand
Canyon.
In 1977, Stan did his first canyon hike:
down and up the Kaibab with Jim. They didn't carry enough water on the
way out, so they got a bit delirious. In their extreme thirst, they
resorted to munching on trailside snow -- including the stuff turned
yellow and green by the park's pack mules.
(Scroll onward, or return to table of contents)
 Barb in lower Royal Arch Canyon. March 1994.
What to do before you go
Permits & Planning
Get caught camping in the canyon without a
permit, and you'll be kicked out and fined. So start out several months
beforehand by sending for a backcountry trip-planning packet, which
includes a permit request form. The packet is free, and the address is:
Backcountry Reservations Office
Grand Canyon National Park
P.O. Box 129
Grand Canyon, AZ 86023
Included in the packet are a map and the
lowdown on the rules and regulations you must abide by. For instance,
the canyon has four official usage zones (Corridor, Threshold, Primitive
and Wild), and you cannot camp outside established camp areas while in
the Corridor and Threshold zones.
1995-07. EMOL.org / Arizona Entertainment Magazine.net / AZentertain.com. All rights reserved.
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