GRAND CANYON, ARIZONA
TUCKUP CANYON
MAY, 2008
INTRODUCTION
As Sharon Spangler wrote in her book, On Foot in the
Grand Canyon, "Sometimes you just have a poor trip."
Such is true for the hike my friend Bob and I undertook in
May of 2008. Our plan was well thought out, carefully
studied and reasonably understood, but as we later found
out, woefully underestimated in difficulty, at least for
us. Sharon continues with, "And it was our own fault." True
again. In the route details of George Steck's book
Grand Canyon Loops II, upon which this
hike was based, he stated that this hike was "mainly a
piece of cake." Bob and I soon discovered however, that his
piece of cake was far from ours. George had hiked many
years and miles in the canyon. Bob and I knew we had
sufficient experience and thought we had enough miles
underfoot that we too were prepared for this particular
loop hike. Not so as the following trail notes will reveal.
When I returned home, I re-read Steck's book and found, in
his foreword, a passage that I had missed. It reads:
"Fortunately, the loops are self-protected. Pansy traps,
they are. Upstarts fare poorly, too." Well, I don't
consider myself a pansy, but I guess I fell into the latter
category on this trip. Due to the difficulty of this hike,
I didn’t write every day as I usually do, so the
reader will see my notes started after two grueling days on
the trail.
TUESDAY AFTERNOON, MAY 27
I am writing this, comfortably perched on a ledge, at the
confluence of Tuckup Canyon and Cottonwood Canyon off the
western portion of the north rim of the Grand Canyon.
Although reasonably happy at this moment, this has not been
the case leading up to this point. What started out as a
great plan for a stellar loop hike, unfortunately soon fell
apart. Following in George Steck’s footsteps, our
plan was to go south down Tuckup Canyon to the Colorado
river, follow the river west downstream past Fern Glen
Canyon to Stairway Canyon, where we would then climb up to
the Esplanade, and travel at this level back toward our
starting point. Many people have done this hike with
varying degrees of success.
On Thursday evening, May 22, Bob and I hastily left South
Pasadena, headed for Las Vegas. By 1:00 a.m., we had made
it as far as Baker, where we checked in to the Wills Fargo
Motel, an older independently owned place with the right
cash price that suited us just fine. The weather here was
quite warm, as is usual for this time of year in Baker,
even at this early hour of the morning.
On Friday morning we arose not too early and after showers
and a quick stop to check e-mail at the computers provided
free of charge in the office, we drove across the street to
Coco’s restaurant to have ourselves a road trip style
breakfast. With that done, we hit the road once again.
Blasting through central Las Vegas, we stopped briefly at
the north end of town for gas and a pair of sunglasses for
me. Yes, I had forgotten mine, and the bright desert glare
was beginning to take its toll on my eyes.
We arrived in St. George, Utah around 3:00 p.m., (Utah is
on Mountain Standard Time, so we had lost an hour) and made
our way to the airport on the bluff above town. I had
pre-arranged a rental 4x4, a Ford Escape, from Hertz a
couple of weeks before our trip. Bob and I felt we would
probably need at minimum a high-clearance vehicle to get to
our trailhead. We transferred all our gear from my car to
the rental, and then parked mine in the free parking lot
just outside the terminal. Being a really small regional
airport, I wasn’t too concerned about leaving my car
there for the week.
Last minute shopping was next on our list. A Smith’s
grocery store at the bottom of the road leading from the
airport was where we bought additional food and most
importantly water. We bought 5 two and a half gallon
bottles. This combined with what we would gather on the
trail would tide us over until we got back a week later.
Right across the street was an Ace hardware store where we
bought additional stove fuel and a couple of other things.
By now we were quite hungry, so on our drive back to
interstate 15 we scouted for a suitable place to eat. We
found it at Iceberg, a local fast-food establishment. Here
I had a chicken sandwich, Bob a burger, and we both had a
huge creamy chocolate shake. Boy did that hit the spot.
Back on the road, we headed toward Hurricane, Utah. Shortly
outside this town, which by the way seems to have grown a
bit since I last came through here, we knew we would in all
likelihood lose cell phone service, so we made our last
calls to family. It was sad saying goodbye for the week to
Jill, Sara and Rachel. Sitting here now, I miss them
greatly.
Some 50 miles later, we left highway 389 (the Utah portion
of this road is designated highway 59) about 8 miles before
Fredonia, Arizona. Turning south on the dirt road known as
Mt. Trumbull Road, we shortly came upon a large wooden sign
warning us of the consequences of driving down this wide
and seemingly well-traveled road.
It was another couple of hours and some fifty odd miles
down this increasingly worse road before we would reach our
destination. It had been raining on and off earlier and now
was a steady drizzle. As a consequence, in places further
down the road, it became quite slippery. Winding our way
through fields, pastures, and past earthen livestock water
tanks, bearing left at a couple of junctions, we finally
crossed the boundary line for Grand Canyon National Park.
By this point the road was down to a track through a
pinon-juniper forest. The tires of the car were packed with
mud and it took some careful driving to keep from sliding
off the crown of the road into the deep ruts we were
straddling. This was followed by a section of road littered
with embedded rocks, again requiring some effort to keep
from damaging the car. A short time later, we arrived at
the end of the road and the trailhead. There was one other
vehicle parked here. It was less than an hour before sunset
and quite cold. A storm front had been moving through the
southwest since Wednesday, bringing rain and late spring
snow at higher elevations. We had no snow, but it was near
freezing where we were.
In recent years, this trailhead has become popular, despite
being difficult to reach, because of an important
archaeological site that can be found just a few miles down
the trail. Up on a shelf in the Supai formation, is a wall
that is covered with polychrome pictographs, painted by
people who have been gone from this area for several
thousand years. The rock artwork is remarkably well
preserved. It is called Shamans' Gallery. First documented
in 1911, and more recently by archaeologists Polly and Curt
Schaafsma in 1986, its location was closely guarded, to
avoid vandalism. However, a wrangler who had provided
supplies for the 1986 survey, took credit for the discovery
of the site, renamed it after himself, and published
directions on the web, including a hand drawn map.
Fortunately, he was persuaded to remove this information,
but the impact has been felt. More about this later though.
Tired from our drive, Bob and I set up camp for the night
between periods of rain. We made dinner under the shelter
of the tailgate of the car. Soon after dark, we retired to
my two-man tent. Knowing it would be cold here, I had
brought along some warm sleeping bags just for this night.
On Saturday morning, we made a quick breakfast, and then we
each stuffed our backpacks with two and a half gallons of
water. Leaving my tent set up to dry out, we drove back
down the road three or four miles to a junction with a
road, now blocked, that at one time headed south to the
rim, coming out above Willow Spring. Our plan was to walk
the three miles or so down this road, scramble down to the
Esplanade near the spring and cache’ our water, and
then return the way we came. The idea was to have potable
water to drink, as the water quality reported from this
spring was not good, giving some other hikers intestinal
troubles, something we wanted to avoid. Somehow, Bob and I
had convinced ourselves we could do this in a day, and
still be able to get a head start down the Tuckup Canyon
trailhead that afternoon. It was quite a hike out that road
to the rim. We stopped a couple of times, once for lunch.
The weather had been pretty good, although it did start to
warm when the sun briefly came out. This jaunt took about
two hours. We came out at the rim, which was actually a
false rim, as the real rim had actually slumped down a
hundred feet or so in the past. We scrambled down this
false rim and walked to the real rim overlooking the
Esplanade. Our hopes began to fade. The way down to the
Esplanade was unclear at best, impossibly steep at worst.
We pondered our options, considered the weather, which was
a bit threatening, and decided to retreat. The walk back to
the car was a long one, considering the sloshing weight of
the water we were both carrying. Finally arriving back at
the car near 3:00 p.m., we were back at our camp at the
trailhead by 3:30 p.m.
So, our plans had changed and so had my mood. I was beat. I
knew Bob was tired also, but somehow he was more upbeat
about things than I was at the moment. We packed up the
tent, packed our backpacks, divided food for what seemed
like a long time, and prepared to hike down the trail as
far as possible before having to make camp for the night.
Surprisingly, it was now after 7:00 p.m. I lifted my pack
and put it on my back, only to be overcome by the weight.
My mood worsened. I was very tired and had way too much
stuff in my pack. I tore my pack apart, discarding excess
food and clothing, but it was still too heavy. I’m
sure this was all too amusing for Bob to watch. With less
than an hour of light left, we abandoned our timely start
to the trip and spent another cold night at the trailhead.
I had already begun questioning why I was doing this to
myself once again, an inner dialogue I usually reserve for
later in a backpacking trip. The tent went back up and we
retired for the evening.
On Sunday morning, the weather and my mood had improved. We
decided to forego breakfast until we had gone down the
trail a bit. My pack seemingly lighter now, we started down
at 7:00 a.m. Nice and cool and clear, we slowly marched
down the trail for about an hour, maybe more, before
stopping for breakfast on a boulder that was riddled with
fossils. Although we were a day late by our permit, we were
doing fine. Another hour and we were at the cubicle shaped
rock on the flats mentioned in Steck’s book. Leaving
the trail here, we were going to take Steck’s short
cut, making a beeline across the flats to the edge of the
basalt flow we would be walking on. Here we would find a
break that we could easily scramble down a couple hundred
feet or so to Tuckup Canyon, directly above and in front of
Shamans' Gallery. Before making this departure from the
trail, we took an extended break to have lunch and look
after our feet. This was our first day of downhill hiking,
which can be brutal on the feet. We were here for the
better part of an hour. A little exploring revealed the
cubicle rock to be pretty big, with a square notch broken
out underneath. Here I found an old drum used for oil or
fuel, not quite fifty-five gallons in size. Peering inside
revealed it’s current use as a waste receptacle for
unthinking hikers. A few old cans and a couple of new
one-gallon water jugs, empty of course, pretty much filled
the drum to the top. How hard could it be to crush these
jugs and pack them out? It’s these people that make
it difficult for the rest of us.
Now traveling cross-country, we made a straight line for a
lone tree about half way across the flats. Keeping that in
line with a prominent knoll on the other side of Tuckup
Canyon was our ultimate heading. Walking across these flats
was a little more difficult than walking down the
established trail. Soft sand, rodent holes to avoid or fall
into, many bushes to walk around, and of course staying
alert near the bushes for any long, thin reptiles with
sharp fangs, took more time than we initially thought it
would. Later than sooner, we arrived at the tree, which
provided needed shade. Unfortunately, we realized the tree
was less than half way across the flats. After a short stop
here, we were off again to the break in the basalt. For
over an hour we slogged our way to the edge. Upon arriving,
we discovered the break through the basalt was not as easy
as Steck made it out to be. We explored two different
routes, the more southern one being the most likely to go
through. Without my pack, I tried to descend this slope.
After losing footing a couple of times, getting scratched
up in the process, I determined it was too steep to go
down, especially with the weight I had in my pack. Bob
looked elsewhere and came to the same conclusion. Looking
down on Tuckup Canyon from here, we were dismayed at how
close we were. Close enough that I could have thrown a rock
and hit one the 12 or so people visiting Shamans' Gallery
below. So close, but not close enough. Our moods were
hanging low. Two days in a row now, we were faced with
retreating. But with safety foremost in our minds, we
accepted our fate and reluctantly headed back to a drainage
we had passed fifteen minutes before that we thought might
lead down to a small side canyon that fed into Tuckup
Canyon.
We found the drainage and again without my pack, I
scrambled down to the edge only to discover that it ended
in a pour-off that couldn’t be down-climbed. My pack
on again, we headed back to the lone tree we had rested at
briefly two hours earlier. The flats we had crossed and
were now re-crossing, appear relatively flat on a map. But,
in fact, it gradually slopes down toward Tuckup Canyon. We
were now walking back up that gradual slope and it was
beginning to take a toll on my legs. We kept looking for
our little shade tree to appear on the horizon, but it took
well over an hour for it to finally appear. What a welcome
sight it was too. I put my pack down, pulled out my tarp
and placed it on the ground. With no regard for the sharp
rocks underneath, I flopped down, curled up in a semi-fetal
position, and fell fast asleep to the sound of Bob eating
lunch.
Some time later, perhaps an hour or more, I awoke with
sharp cramps in my thigh muscles. Bob was now asleep.
Struggling to get up, I hobbled around in agony for a bit
to stretch my legs, had some much needed water, and then
flopped back down again, sleeping for maybe another
half-hour. Awake again, I now drank a lot of water and made
some lunch. Bob was also awake now, and we discussed our
situation. We noticed the tree we were under was on the
edge of another drainage that we again hoped might lead
down to the main wash. No coins in pocket, we flipped a
flat rock to see who got to go check this one out. I lost
and hastily made my way to the edge, where I found an even
deeper pour-off than before, perhaps a hundred feet down to
what obviously wasn’t the main wash. Beneath me was a
narrow slot canyon and at the bottom was nothing but hard,
polished limestone, with no apparent way of getting down. I
went back to Bob and informed him of this disappointing
news. We were now faced with walking all the way back to
the cubicle rock and re-joining the trail we had left
several hours before.
Once on the trail again, I remembered reading the trail
register at the trailhead. Some hikers had written that it
had taken them a mere two hours to get down to Tuckup
Canyon and Shamans' Gallery. These people were obviously
much smarter than I was. Needless for me to say, my spirits
were very low at this point. A long, slow walk down this
trail brought us down to our much-anticipated Tuckup
Canyon, within sight of Shamans' Gallery. Unable to go any
further for the day, we looked for a place to camp on the
Esplanade above us. Finding a suitable spot, we made camp
out of sight from the main wash. We were now off permit by
a day and didn’t want to be spotted by a ranger. We
found a couple of potholes that replenished our water
supply. While pumping my trusty Katydyn, I noticed water
beginning to squirt out the shaft, leaving me with less
water pumped with each stroke than the meager amount it
produced when functioning properly. I gave up and used the
Katydyn tablets I had brought as a backup. A quick dinner
in the dark, and this day was now behind us. Before falling
asleep, I told Bob I was done, and thought we should hike
back out the next day, admitting defeat after two days of
failure and exhaustion.
WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON, MAY 28
Monday morning I awoke in a little better mood, having had
a good night of rest out under the stars. I awoke only once
or twice during the night. The moon was shining very
brightly, despite it only being a half-moon, and forced me
to turn away in order to fall back asleep. The sky was a
brilliant blue, and the air was clear, cool and
refreashing. Bob, however, awoke in a worse mood, ready to
pack it in this morning. Just as I had told him the night
before, he said he wanted to turn back in defeat. We made
breakfast, having some hot coffee, cereal and fruit. After
this, things didn’t seem so bad. We decided to go
down to Shamans' Gallery and determine our fate after some
exploring. On the way, we found more potholes of water,
enough to sustain us for a couple of days if we chose. The
pictographs are numerous, colorful and, as I mentioned
before, in remarkably good condition, considering how long
they have been there. I spent quite a bit of time just
staring at it all, trying to understand what I was looking
at. Not being that educated about archaic rock artwork, and
the spiritual world of the ancients, I could only interpret
a small fraction of what I saw, mainly the annimals
depicted here. I took many photographs, and then eventually
came down from the ledge to explore the other side of the
wash. Bob took some time reading and writing in the
register, and talked with some hikers coming up Tuckup
canyon. These were the two hikers we saw going down canyon
yesterday afternoon, while we stood at the edge of the
basalt, trying to figure out a way down. Bob then moved up
to the ledge to explore. After an hour or so, our spirits
revitalized, we decided we would try going down Tuckup
Canyon. Our packs were ready to go before we visited
Shamans' Gallery, so we were off in short order.
The wash was wide and gravel filled for quite a ways below
Shamans' Gallery. Soon enough though, we came upon the
first of what would be many drops through debris that
choked the narrowing canyon. In more than one place, we had
to de-pack and scout the best way down. With safety first
on our minds, this took some time. We eventually came
across one drop that required roping the packs down a huge
boulder. This was tedious. One other time, Bob and I had
taken different routes through the debris. As I was
descending river right, I heard Bob take a fall on his
route through the middle. He immediately shouted out to me,
letting me know he was all right. Our forward progress was
very slow, and I was privately beginning to have
reservations about going too deep in this canyon. We
stopped for lunch on the east side of the canyon, in what
little shade there was to be had. The sun was out in full
now, and it was beginning to warm up considerably. My
energy level was dropping inverse to the rising
temperature.
After lunch, we made the drop below us and continued down,
becoming more comfortable in figuring out each drop as we
went. Near dusk, we encountered another difficult drop.
Tired, sore, and running out of light, I stood for a short
while, just staring. I turned around and looked at a huge
boulder sitting in mid-wash, easily eight to ten feet above
the flood plain. Upon closer inspection, we saw that it was
flat on top with two soft sandy spots, perfect for our
sleeping bags. Of course I did briefly stop to ponder how
that soft sand came to be on top of a huge rock ten feet up
in the middle of the canyon. The answer of course would be
a flash flood. A high wall of water racing down canyon to
join the Colorado below. Something I knew Tuckup Canyon had
seen many thousands of times in the past. But knowing the
weather above to now be fair, and not anticipating a flash
flood, we determined it to be a safe place to spend the
night. In addition, there was a small amount of water
nearby, enough to refill our bottles. Our day was once
again done. By our permit, we were supposed to be at the
Colorado River. But we were not anywhere near it. It had
been another somewhat disappointing day of travel. By
nightfall, we were through with dinner, set up for the
night, and quite ready for a good night’s sleep. Bob
had brought along a candle, which burned for some time
while we talked about the day’s progress and what lay
ahead. With the candle out, I was in my sleeping bag slowly
falling asleep while watching satellites float through the
sky, and increasingly visible stars in the deepening dark
of the sky. Of course our view here was only as wide as the
narrow and tall canyon walls would allow, but was still, as
always, spectacular. Yes, this was a good spot, even though
we hadn’t reached our goal of Cottonwood Canyon.
Tuesday morning, we awoke not too early, finally arising
when the sun was slowly making its way down the canyon
walls. A normal breakfast of coffee, cereal, tang, plus a
little dried fruit behind me, Bob and I packed up and
started on our way to Cottonwood Canyon. Several more drops
involving climbing down through debris once again began to
lower our mood. The sun now beginning to beat down, we
finally arrived at Cottonwood Canyon. Here there was an
abundance of water. Several pools had formed in the Redwall
limestone we were now walking in. Just slightly up
Cottonwood, on the south side, we found a large ledge, big
enough to accommodate all our stuff. It was here we halted
our progress down canyon and made camp.
Our trip had changed dramatically, starting with day one.
After little discussion, we decided to turn around and
start back up canyon the next day. We briefly entertained
the thought of climbing up Cottonwood Canyon to the
Esplanade, but after scouting a short way, we saw that it
was too steep and obstacle filled. That idea died a quiet
death. Off permit by two days now, we were supposed to be
at the Colorado River, or up Stairway Canyon. However, it
had taken us two long days just to get half way down Tuckup
Canyon. We clearly weren’t going to be able to
complete our hike as planned. With a tricky down-climb to
the River, and a difficult up-climb in Stairway Canyon, it
was just too chancy for us to continue. There were other
reasons also, ranging from our fitness level, to our age,
and even the stuff we had in our packs. The climbing rope
and hardware I was carrying was close to half the weight in
my pack. So, the choice was obvious and prudent.
A nice, leisurely afternoon of exploring and snoozing, was
a welcome relief. This was a nice, beautiful spot. Lots of
birds, bugs, and pollywogs made the place come alive. While
I was snoozing, Bob had spotted a fox on the hillside
across from our ledge. By dusk, which comes early in these
narrow canyons, it was time to gather some more water
before nightfall. An equally leisurely dinner brought a
close to the day. Tempered by warm air now coming up
canyon, we had a restful nights sleep on our ledge. It was
well into the evening before I felt the need to pull my
sleeping bag over my legs.
Wednesday morning we tried to consume as much food as
possible, thereby lightening our load by a small amount. By
the time the sun began to peek over the edge and hit the
canyon floor, we were packed and on our way. Retracing our
route up canyon, negotiating the drops in reverse, we made
pretty good time. Most of the drops we found a way through
without removing our packs. My body in better shape now,
the trip up canyon was mostly pleasant. Of course, the
general mood was much lighter now, which added to the
pleasantness. We stopped for lunch when the sun was almost
directly above us, near a spot with water. I replenished my
water bottles and retreated to the shade of the west side
of Tuckup Canyon. Here we ate lunch and rested for maybe
two hours, waiting until the shade was nearly to the east
side of the canyon.
THURSDAY MORNING, MAY 29
Late Wednesday afternoon, with the sun now far enough to
the west of Tuckup Canyon, and a nice long rest completed,
we were up and moving again, scrambling up the remaining
smaller drops. We encountered the last of the big drops,
where we scouted above while admiring the pools of water
below. We found a two step ledge that just about took it
all out of me, as I was getting tired. This accomplished,
it was now late afternoon and we were maybe a half-mile
below Shamans' Gallery where we agreed we would camp for
the night. We came up the small wash just north of Shamans'
Gallery and veered south a bit to the Esplanade above. Here
we found the best site we could and made camp. I scouted
the potholes that two days earlier had held plenty of
water. All I could find was maybe a quart and a half of
murky and bug infested water in the biggest of potholes. I
was amazed that all the water I found earlier could
evaporate or be used up by the local critter population in
just two short days. I drew about a quart out of this and
filtered out the big chunks and treated what remained. Dusk
once again approaching, we made dinner of mashed potatoes
and Bob’s dehydrated ground beef. What a yummy dinner
that was. Then it was off to bed, watching stars again
while I fell asleep. A big wide sky, nearly one hundred
eighty degrees, was our ceiling for the night.
Thursday morning was a welcome one once the sun came up. It
was pretty cold here last night. It was a big contrast to
the temperature the night before. During our leisurely
breakfast, we talked again about the aborted route through
the basalt, which was visible from our camp. We also
discussed where we’d go today, once we got out of
here. We will be hiking back to the car today. It’s
been a rough few days. As always, I feel my best, and the
most comfortable, on the last day or two of a trip. Soon, I
will arise from my reclining position here and pack it up.
With luck, it should take about two hours to hike out.
MONDAY EVENING, JUNE 3
After a few days rest, I’m now ready to write about
our final day coming out of the Grand Canyon. Instead of
the predicted two hours, it took us much longer to hike
out. This, by far, was one of the toughest hikes out I have
ever done. It started easy enough, I’m guessing
around 8:30 a.m. My sore leg muscles got their warm-up as
we hiked off the Esplanade into Tuckup Canyon below. A
slow, deliberate hike up wash, veering into the arm that
brought us down, eventually landed us at the edge of the
Esplanade, or what was left uncovered of it. A slow rise up
the alluvium, with a stop or two eventually had us at the
head of this arm. It was good to be on a real trail again,
where I didn’t have to think too much about where I
was going. While traversing this stretch of trail, a man
came up behind me rather quickly. An older man, lean and
traveling at a fast pace, apparently was the white-haired
guy Bob saw fanning a shield or something on the ledge of
Shamans' Gallery as we were leaving this morning. I had
missed seeing this, although Bob did mention it afterward.
We talked a bit about the Gallery. The man also mentioned
he had seen our camp on the Esplanade. He must have come
down early in the morning. After he left us, Bob and I
joked about how fast he was traveling compared to us. Now
more or less cruising along this stretch, I had the energy
to stop and take pictures of the many wildflowers that were
in bloom. We crossed the head of the wash and stopped again
at the cubicle shaped boulder, resting before the next
phase of our hike.
Soon enough, we were on our way once again, starting up the
alluvium below the Coconino. This was to be the beginning
of the worst part of our trip out. It was a relentless
climb. We took many breaks, some just minutes apart. We
removed our packs two or three times. What I had remembered
on the way down was a long continual spiral around a knoll.
Not the case though. Crossing over three or four rises,
winding around forgotten or unnoticed knolls, we arrived at
the rock I dubbed ‘breakfast rock’ on the way
down. Somehow, from here I now thought we were near the
top, perhaps an hour away. It was actually closer to two
hours. Thinking the worst was behind us, I happily marched
on. Then we encountered the break through a wall that I
somehow thought we had already come through. This was a
sketchy area with steep gains with every footstep. Twenty
or thirty minutes of this and we were through it. Another
pack removal and rest, drinking with caution what little
water I had left. Now sure we were through the worst, I was
happy enough to have Bob take a picture of me on top of an
outcrop (with a steep drop below) of what we had just come
through. This final stretch of trail was uneventful and
straightforward, bringing us to the top where the sight of
our parked car was all too welcome. We very slowly pulled
ourselves together, cleaned up a bit, and prepared for the
long drive out.
A long drive it was also. The terrain now completely
changed due to a few days of no rain, the roads were now
quite dusty. It seemed like it took forever to drive out.
But, we eventually hit pavement and pointed the car toward
Fredonia, a few miles down the road. Hoping to eat at
Nedra’s, a Mexican restaurant Bob and I had eaten at
last time we came this way, we discovered it closed and in
fact for sale. Knowing another restaurant was in Kanab,
eight miles further, we continued on. Nedra’s in
Kanab was clearly open and busy. Just down the street a
Holiday Inn Express looked very inviting. A quick check-in,
at a price of just ninety-nine dollars, found us in a great
room with really soft beds, just the ticket. Mexican food
on our minds though, drew us out long enough to satisfy our
cravings, before retiring to the welcome comfort of our
room and much needed sleep.
The next day, after a more than adequate breakfast at the
motel, we packed up and headed for the North Rim and Grand
Canyon Lodge, some seventy miles away. The purpose was to
see the Canyon from here and pickup some gifts for the
family. Stopping briefly at a familiar overlook off the
highway, we chatted briefly with a guy who was bicycling
across the country. A brave soul he was. Once at the North
Rim, we promptly got ourselves a cup of coffee. The bar
here, which I had been in a few times in the past, was now
doing double duty as a specialty coffee shop. We walked out
to the lookout below Grand Canyon Lodge and took some
pictures. We then waited in line to order some sandwiches
from the deli counter, which we ate while sitting on a wall
overlooking Roaring Springs Canyon. That done, we headed
out. Stopping at the backcountry office, we informed the
ranger in the office of the water situation in Tuckup
Canyon and the number of people we saw at Shamans' Gallery
on Sunday. She was particularly interested in this and the
fact that it was a bicycle tour company that brought most
of the people down there. Heading back towards Jacob Lake,
we took a detour down a dirt road near Kaibab Lodge that
took us to East Rim View. Marble Canyon, House Rock Valley
and Saddle Mountain could all be seen from here. Some
really nice campsites were along this road, some right at
the rim with incredible views. Jill and I had visited this
area several years ago.
Arriving back in Kanab, we had dinner at Nedra’s
again. Unfortunately, it was too much of a good thing as
Bob said. I stuffed myself and suffered for a couple of
days afterward. With the idea of camping somewhere off
highway 89, we headed north towards Zion National Park. An
hour later, with no easy campsites to be found, we turned
around and ended up staying in Kanab again. This time we
stayed at a Quality Inn for eight-nine dollars. We decided
to head home the next day.
In the morning, we drove in St. George, washed the rental
car, turned it in, ate lunch at Iceberg again, and headed
south toward Los Angeles. Blasting through Las Vegas again,
we stopped for about an hour at the Early Man site, just
outside Barstow. This is something I had wanted to do for
some time and proved to be fascinating and rejuvenating.
Leaving here, we stopped just once more in Victorville for
dinner at an Outback restaurant. By 8:00 p.m., we were home
in South Pasadena.
What a trip this had been. I began this last section with
‘after a few days rest’, which is what it took
to finally reconcile what we had been through. The
realization that we’d perhaps bitten off more than we
could chew on this hike came as a shock. A lot had happened
to change the nature of this trip, not the least of which
was the nine years additional age on my body. I understand
now that along with age, comes limitations. But also with
age comes knowledge. In this case, knowledge gained by a
fractured experience. So, as I usually say in closing,
I’ll be back again. Only next time, I’ll make
sure my expectations will be a little more realistic.
See IMAGES from
this trip.