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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.