dwfoster.com

yet another personal site on the web

GRAND CANYON, ARIZONA
HERMIT TRAIL
FEBRUARY, 1999


INTRODUCTION
This hike had a completely different flavor to it as there were five of us. As always, my Grand Canyon hiking partner Bob was here, along with his two daughters Rachel and Emily. Our long-time friend Bruce was also along on this trip. Not having hiked here for a few years, I was pretty happy to be back again. Hiking with a group, by nature, somehow always takes longer, especially if some members of the group are inexperienced. Bob's daughters were real troopers though, and besides being able to share our experiences with them, they provided us with lots of entertainment. Although I'm sure they felt that we were the ones providing the entertainment. Regardless, despite a couple of setbacks, this was another enjoyable and long overdue trip.

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 17, 8:40 a.m.
I am sitting on a rock on the west side of Hermit Canyon, facing the giant ‘house-sized’ chunk of Canyon wall that I described in my notes in 1981, the last time I was in this part of the Grand Canyon. As if this massive piece of earth wouldn’t be. My two good friends Bob and Bruce, and Bob’s two daughters, Rachel and Emily, are at Hermit Creek campground resting. The itinerary printed on the permit I received in the mail some weeks ago had us leaving Sunday morning for Hermit Rapids campground for two days, another two days at large in the Boucher use area, and our last day at Hermit Creek campground. This isn’t the way things turned out.

Backtracking two days, we began our hike on Monday, a day later than originally planned. And we got a late start as well. We had driven from Los Angeles to Tusayan on Saturday. Arriving late in the evening, we easily found the Best Western Squire Inn, where Bob had made reservations for the night. The temperature was quite cold, and there was a few patches of snow here and there. We checked in and called it a day, as we were all pretty tired from the drive. Bob and his girls stayed in one room, and Bruce and I shared another. A nightcap in the bar prepared me for a good nights rest. In the morning, we awoke to a cloudy, snow-bearing sky. Overnight, the temperature had gone down to below freezing. Not exactly the ideal weather in which to start a week-long hike. Having a brief discussion, taking into consideration the weather and our tired bodies, we unanimously, if not quickly, decided to postpone the trip for a day to acclimate ourselves, rest and see how the weather progressed. That decision made, I secured another nights stay for us and we then had breakfast in the dining room.

After breakfast, we gathered day-hiking things together and headed for South Rim. Passing through the park entrance, we drove to Hermit trailhead, stopping a few times at viewpoints along the way. Taking a short hike down the Hermit trail, we came within perhaps a 10 minute walk from the Waldron trail junction and stopped to have lunch. Remembering what I had read in one of the many publications I’ve accumulated through the years of my obsession with the Grand Canyon, I was on the lookout for fossil foot-prints in the Coconino. I found a few right next to the trail. This is something I missed last time I passed by here. We spent about an hour having lunch, taking pictures, and exploring, and at 3:30 began our hike back up to the rim. It took much longer to go up than it did to go down. This was but a taste of what was to come the next day. On the rim, we stopped at Pima Point overlooking Hermit Creek. We spotted the trail we would be walking along the next day and tried to visualize ourselves on it. It was a long way down there. With the afternoon sun heading for the western horizon, the air was beginning to get cool and breezy. We took a few pictures and headed back to our hotel to freshen up a bit before dinner.

We had our meal that evening at the Arizona Steak House. Having eaten there several times in years past, it was most delicious as usual, even though the wait was longer than anticipated. I have never been disappointed with the food here. Rachel had been complaining about one of her ankles earlier, and as the evening progressed, it became even more uncomfortable for her. Knowing this could develop into a serious problem if ignored, we discussed our options for the week if she felt as though she couldn’t do the hike. We left it open for her to determine the trips fate, Bob assuring her that there was no pressure, only support for whatever she decided. He and Rachel decided to assess the situation early in the morning when she awoke. Back at the hotel, after another nightcap in the bar, I was off to bed.

Awaking in the morning to a ‘mission go’ from Rachel, we packed up and headed for the trailhead. Once on the road, I suggested that maybe we should try to have our itinerary changed to reflect our day late start, so we stopped by the new Backcountry Office. I say new because the last time I was here, the BRO was still off the parking lot near Mather campground. It is now at the newly built transportation depot, near Maswik Lodge. The friendly woman behind the glass obliged our request with a smile (all transactions are now carried on at window, much like that at a movie theater box office). Our new itinerary had us at Hermit Creek campground for one night (I thought this was worth asking for since we were making changes anyway), with the rest of the itinerary remaining as it was. I silently noted how there was no one else here obtaining a permit. We drove to the trailhead and began the process of transferring last minute items to our packs, rearranging and adjusting them, and psyching up for what lay ahead of us for the next few days. Unfortunately, by the time we actually started walking down the trail, it was fifteen minutes past twelve noon. This was much later than we should have been leaving. After a few pictures taken at the sign a short way down the trail, we were now officially on our trip.

It took us two hours to reach the junction with the Waldron Trail. We stopped for a late lunch here. A quick foot and morale check was conducted. An hour and fifteen minutes later we were packed up once again and heading further into the abyss. Soon coming to the junction with the Dripping Springs trail, we veered right, continuing down the drainage, which shortly landed us on top of the Supai. Following this relatively level section of trail, we reached Santa Maria spring by 3:30, where we rested for half an hour. Once on the trail again, I privately began to evaluate our progress. I was hoping we could at least reach the bottom of the Cathedral Stairs by dusk, leaving us with an easy twilight hike to Hermit Creek campground. This was not to be.

At 6:15 we reached a knoll overlooking Lookout Point. Having spotted this level area off the trail perhaps an hour ago (Bob said he had seen it too), I suggested we camp there for the night. This was an illegal act we were about to commit, and would have cost us a dear $250 per person if we were caught and cited. So, speaking quietly, just in case there was someone within earshot that could have alerted authorities, who would no doubt have made their way to us in the middle of the night to write us each a citation, and treading lightly, so as not to give away our extended presence here the following day, we set up a minimal camp. The light nearly gone, we hastily made a couple of dinners to share. On this subject, one of the dinners we had that night comes to mind. It was some sort of tuna dinner I believe. After rehydrating for the suggested amount of time, the meal was still quite crunchy in texture, but we finished most of it off anyway. The next night we would discover that the flavor packet Bruce had emptied into the pouch was in fact not flavoring at all. It was a small package of desiccant, with letters clearly printed on the outside stating it’s contents unsuitability for human consumption. Bruce suggested that maybe our lack of suitable kitchen light was the reason he hadn’t seen the warning. Fortunately, none of us had any ill effects from this unplanned experiment.

At 6 a.m. the alarm in my watch sounded. I turned it off and lay in my sleeping bag, drifting in and out of sleep. At 6:25, I finally came to my senses and awakened the others. By 7:30 we were on the trail once again. Having forgone breakfast until we had travelled some distance away from where we spent the night, we finally stopped at the saddle above Cathedral Stairs, the top of the Redwall. It was 9:30. We spent an hour and fifteen minutes here. As we were leaving, seven wilderness rangers walking down the trail at a good clip, came upon us. My first fear was that we would be caught. A short check of our permit, with me explaining how we had started a day late, followed by some discussion of trail condition and other such canyon talk, and they bid us well and continued onward. We followed at a much slower pace. (In retrospect, I now think they figured out by the time we reached Hermit Creek campground that there was no way we could have come this far in one day, hence the small lecture I would receive from them later regarding hiking responsibly.) Through the steep, short switchbacks of the staircase, we now were approaching open sunlight on the long stretches of switchbacks that would carry us to the Tonto. My pace being somewhat faster than the others, I reached the junction with the Tonto trail at 1:15. When I arrived, the rangers were taking a break here also, waiting for one of their crew who was lagging behind. I had passed her sometime back and informed them of her slow progress and apparently sore knees. Some in the group didn’t seem too pleased with this information. In another ten minutes, the rest of my group was here, although there wasn’t much shade to be found. After a short break, we easily travelled along the now relatively level Tonto trail. We reached Hermit Creek campground at 2:30.

The rangers were busy at work in the campground; rearranging rocks, realigning trails, performing latrine maintenance and in general sprucing it up. Noticing the absence of other hikers, we discussed amongst ourselves staying here for the night. I approached the lead ranger, Michael Walsh and asked if he could modify our permit to allow us to do this. He radioed the BRO and got clearance. Here is where I received the lecture I spoke of earlier. He stressed that this was a difficult trail, not for inexperienced Canyon hikers. I thought it wise to be silent and take the reprimand.

That behind us, and more importantly our hiking done for the day, it was now time to eat. Dropping our packs, we took some food with us to the shade across the creek and had a welcome lunch. We pumped some fresh water, talked and rested for some time. (As I type this into my computer in June of 1999, it comes to mind that I still have a quart of this water in my refrigerator. Sort of like fine wine I suppose, only better because of the work that went into bringing it home.) By now the rangers were finished for the day and had gone down to their camp at the river, so we moved back across the creek and set up our camp, choosing the very campsite Bob and I had spent two nights in seventeen years ago. The site is a spacious one at the top of the campground, having a tree growing out of the large rocks between us and the creek. Before leaving, the rangers informed us of the mice that were now plentiful here, and warned us not to leave our packs unattended for any length of time, suggesting we hang our packs on the provided hangars at night or while gone during the day.

After dinner, during which we discovered our previous evenings culinary mistake, we pumped water again. It was now much easier to drink plentifully, and as a result we went through what we had pumped earlier quite rapidly. With our packs dutifully hung for the evening, and the others retiring to their tents, Bob and I were able to enjoy a cigar while sitting by the creek, and had a satisfying discussion of things canyon. After perhaps three-quarters of an hour, we were also ready to turn in. Bob crawled into the tent with his daughters and I searched out the spot I had prepared earlier, a few sites down from the rest of our group. I was sleeping outside without the confinement of a tent, and aside from the unknown creatures that occasionally could be heard during the night, I slept very well. As always, I fell asleep while gazing up at the night sky, pondering our tiny planets position in the galaxy spread out before my eyes.

This morning, I arose at 7:15 with a hike to Hermit rapids in mind. By 7:45, with the others still sleeping, I was on my way. I travelled downstream for about fifteen minutes, passing by scenery I had only seen twice before in my life. I came across the pools Bob and I had bathed in, and the steps over which the creek worked its way down to the river. While splashing water on my still somewhat sleepy face at one of these little pools, I at first heard and then finally saw the work group on their way back up canyon. Michael Walsh once again took the opportunity to admonish me for my actions as leader of this hike with my friends. He then offered us another two nights stay at Hermit Creek campground. I gladly accepted. They continued on their way up, and I continued on my way down, stopping where I’m at now to make these notes. It is now 9:15. I will hike back to camp and inform the others.

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 17, 6:10 p.m.
We hiked to the river today, leaving at 10:30 and arriving at 12:15. We stayed until 3:30, having lunch, scouting the area, and taking a few photos. We took one photo on the beach that will need to be composited, much like the one we took at the trailhead sign when we started this trip. Bruce will be adding either himself or me into one of the photographs to make a three shot with Bob. It should be interesting. While wandering upriver, I came across the rangers campsite. Very elaborate, with two big rafts beached nearby, a nice kitchen and chests full of food. I found Bob’s hat here that he’d left behind at Santa Maria spring. The rangers must have picked it up and brought it down with them. Bob was upset when he discovered he’d left it behind, but gave it up for gone as we’d gone too far for him to go back and get it. He’d had that hat since we were in high school, some thirty years. So, needless to say, he was very pleased when I appeared with it on my head.

Being at the river brought a feeling of accomplishment for me. The walk down Hermit Creek was much like a walk in my past. Seventeen years ago I was a much different person, both in and out the canyon. Seeing the same sights through older eyes made me realize again that my life is less than a speck along the Grand Canyon timeline. Rounding the last bend, seeing the blue-green water of the Colorado come into view, made me feel privileged to be here again. This morning I heard for the first time on this trip my favorite canyon creature, the Canyon Wren. The sound of this bird is permanently implanted in my mind, and strikes a chord of pleasant resonance whenever I hear it. Among the many features that I was glad to see from before were the water-worn canyon walls on either side of the creek, with their floodwater polished chutes cut so smooth and deep. At one spot in the creekbed, a layer of mica was exposed that glistened in the sunlight, and easily gave up large pieces of the mineral.

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 18, 8:45 a.m.
I am sitting on the backside of the rock that borders our camp, facing Hermit Creek. I’m watching Bruce, Emily and Bob pumping water for our days journey. We will most likely be walking west along the Tonto trail today. I awoke at 7:30 and crawled out of my sleeping bag shortly after Bruce and Bob got up. The girls were still in the tent. Having a great deal of breakfast food remaining in my pack, I splurged this morning and had a double serving of oatmeal with grape nuts mixed in, a cup or two of tang, and two cups of coffee. I’m very satisfied now. My knees are a little stiff this morning. One Motrin will keep this in check.

Last night I fell asleep watching the sky again. I awoke two or three times during the night, noticing the movement of the big dipper. I’m still confused after all these years as to the location of the north star. I must look this up and commit it to memory. The weather has been excellent so far. I haven’t been keeping track of the temperature in the evenings, but my polypropylene pants, tee shirt covered by a sweater and a wool shirt, topped off with a wool cap has been keeping my quite toasty. It’s 9 a.m. now.

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 18, 1:50 p.m.
We are stopped for a lunch break at a wonderful north facing overlook near the mouth of Travertine Canyon. The view up and down the inner gorge is nothing less than spectacular. Hermit Rapids is a little upstream, to our right. The sound being carried on the wind is a pleasant rush of water. From this distance, watching the ripples on the surface of the water below the rapids make want to take a swim. Knowing that the temperature is probably fifty degrees makes me stop and shiver with the thought. Looking behind me and to my left is Travertine Canyon. The towering Redwall here is impressive, being the backdrop of perhaps one of my favorite photographs I’ve taken here.

When Bob and I were walking east along the Tonto on the other side of Travertine canyon in 1981, he was ahead of me by some distance. Bad knees and all now that I think of it. As he began to head into an amphitheater (it may have been Travertine) I saw an image I was able to capture on film. Bob had stopped and turned back to look at me. In the photograph he is but a small speck standing on the trail, with the walls of the Grand Canyon towering behind him. I am so glad we came back here. So much looks familiar. Having a second chance to look at this makes me aware of what I went through seventeen years ago.

Our camp, being overrun with rangers doing maintenance, has made us leave camp fairly early each day. Upon their arrival we were nearly ready to set out for yet another mini adventure. We made good time to this point. I’m guessing one hour. We stopped a couple of times, taking in the views. I wandered off the trail at one point, skirting the edge of the cliffs that rose up from Hermit Canyon. We found this spot and made the lunch call. Attempting to use up most of our food before the hike out, a chore we are always faced with when backpacking, we made a huge pot of rice soup mix for lunch. Very good. After lunch, I retired to this rock for note taking. It’s beginning to cloud up a bit. Maybe rain for tomorrow? We’ll see. More later...too much discussion going on around me to think.

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 18, evening (time not noted)
On hiking back to camp today, Bob and I spotted an inviting cross-country route over a small saddle. Bruce and the girls continued along the trail, while Bob and I split off and got a small taste of what we’ve done together so many times before. It’s called exploring. We crossed over the saddle, noting that this could have been a dry campsite, and eventually met up with the trail and our party. Once back at camp, we prepared for the following days work and are now retiring early in anticipation (fear?) of what lay ahead. I have been silently thinking about the hike out since we arrived. I’m sure the others have also.

SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 20, 7:25 a.m.
I’m at Mather point watching the sunrise. The brilliant light shooting down the canyon, illuminating the canyon walls and all the named and unnamed buttes and temples is a sight I never tire of. Quite a few people are here, each with their own reason for wanting to stand in the thirty degree temperature to witness something that has been occurring here for millions of years. One woman announced that today was her birthday, and sang in a beautiful voice “Morning Has Broken” and “Amazing Grace”. Very appropriate I would say, a nice touch to the morning. I have taken a few pictures, my fingers having some difficulty due to the cold.

Yesterday morning my alarm went off at 5:30. By 5:45 we were all up and preparing to leave Hermit Creek campground. We had wanted to leave by 6:30. This didn’t actually happen until 7:15. We made a plan to stop every fifty minutes of hiking for a ten minute break. We stuck to this and were able to reach the top of the Cathedral Stairs in two hours. As we slowly climbed out of Hermit Canyon, I found myself stopping to look down at where we had been camped. It seemed so desolate. Gathering more energy as I hiked along behind the others, I felt invigorated and quite capable of the hike that lay ahead. I even marched to a tune in my head for a while, catching up to the others rather quickly. Having lunch where we had stopped for the evening four days ago, we spent forty-five minutes to an hour there. As it was when we came down, the longest part of this hike is through the Supai. We reached Santa Maria spring by 3 pm. Here I estimated another two and a half hours to the rim. I was off by one hour, topping out at 6:30. Eleven hours and fifteen minutes of a slow grind uphill. This was quite a different kind of trip for me. Since we had a group of five, the system Bob and I had developed through the years didn’t quite work. He had his hands full teaching his daughters the ins and outs of canyoneering. They adapted quickly though and provided us with entertainment in the process.
I really enjoyed this trip. Reflecting back, I believe it was more difficult seventeen years ago when Bob and I were here last. Then, aside from carrying far too much gear, I was not yet psycholgically comfortable with the task in which I was immersed. Not denying the physical difficulty I had this time, in part I’m sure due to age, I still felt better prepared, both physically and psychologically. I feel now as though I’m ready for a solo hike here. Bob even noticed how comfortable I looked, mentioning this to me while stopped on the Supai section of the trail.

The Grand Canyon has been in my blood for years, perhaps ever since my father introduced it to me when I was fifteen or sixteen. Over the past decade, the increasing complexity of my life has slowly forced my thoughts of this special place into dormancy, tucked away in the far recesses of my soul. This trip has re-kindled that element and now flows in my blood once again. The drought has ended. I know that I will be back again.