The Grand Canyon. As the guidebook said, “Heard of it? Still here, still frikkin big”. And, it should have added, still frikkin amazing.
We came to the Grand Canyon after dark following a late afternoon high speed blast through Arizona back roads from the Monument Valley. We deliberately left the Canyon to last on our 2010 roadtrip so that the smaller parks wouldn’t be a disappointment after this one. But now there was a nagging feeling that perhaps the Canyon would be an anti-climax, especially after it had been hyped by everyone we met who’d been there. But that disappeared with our first Grand Canyon sunset.
We lined up at the Backcountry Information Office to get a ticket for tomorrow. The next day we used that ticket to get in line early to apply for a backcountry permit. We got one for the last night of our trip. This meant we could hike down below the rim and camp in the inner canyon. But it also meant we’d need to be out early in order to squeeze in eight hours on the road back to California! And we had a few days to kill until our hike could begin.
In the meantime, we scoped out the canyon rim. Our hike would take us all the way to the bottom. It was a long way down. From the rim, we could only see directly down to the first level. There were two more beyond that.
 Colca Canyon |
 Wheeler Peak |
 Lunar Crater |
The Hike to the Bottom of the Canyon
We woke at dawn and hooked up with the Rim Shuttle which took us, and, it must be said, a load of other hikers, to the South Kaibab Trail. This is a popular hike and not especially remote, but that doesn’t make it easy. From the trailhead to the campsite is 11 kilometers and a nearly 1,500 meter vertical drop (about the same as the epic trek we did at Choquequirao in Peru). We headed off down the interminable switchbacks as the sun started to heat up the red soil.
The spring flowers bathed the canyon in yellow, red, orange and white.
Mid-morning, we had our first close up view of the Colorado River. From way up at the rim, it seemed like merely a trickle that couldn’t possibly carve out the enormous canyon. But down here, still hundreds of vertical feet above it, we could see its strong current and its carving power was clearly beyond doubt.
A long morning of hiking past all kinds of lovely views brought us finally, around lunchtime, to the mighty Colorado river. After splashing our tired feet, we slept the afternoon away on its sandy banks.
Hundreds of years ago, a Native American (“ancestral Puebloan”) family lived right by this river. In winter it would have been harsh, in summer fiercely hot, but spring and autumn might have been divine.
The campsite at the bottom of the Canyon was ingenious: it had a metal ammo box for food and trash to keep skunks and squirrels away, and a metal tree to hang packs from to keep critters away from those, too. The rangers told us that animals would rip open a backpack if they thought there was food inside: “they don’t care if your pack was three hundred bucks”.
The Climb Out
Another dawn departure, though deep in the canyon the sun was not yet to be seen. After this hike we still had a long drive ahead of us, so we needed a really early start. We munched a muesli bar as we headed out. Someone – maybe a ranger – told us to carry a lot of water, so I had 5 litres and Yon about 3. (I ended up carrying this right to the top despite Yon’s persistent and correct reminder that there was water available at two points uphill – so stubborn!)
Back at dawn, we had crossed the river and were heading west along it when the sun burst over the canyon and splashed us with a glorious yellow light.
We’d get another few sunrises on the way up, each time we went into a narrow gorge and back into shadow. But none were as stunning as the first one.
After several hours we knew we were making progress because the downward traffic was picking up.
The walk up alternated between steep switchbacks and gentle, green valleys. The ranger said always judge your progress by looking back at how far you’ve come, because the canyon rim never seems to get any closer.
The last three miles were steep and there was a lot of downward traffic. On the way up we had two great experiences. First, we saw three giant Californian Condors wheeling right above us, soaring and gliding on their vast wings. These birds are still highly endangered – the wild population was only 180 at that time (with another 169 in captivity). But as recently as 1987 there were only 22 left. They were all captured for a breeding program, which has led to a rise in numbers and the release of some back into the wild. By 2017 there were 82 living in the wild in Arizona, out of just 290 in the wild.
Just before that amazing sight, we had a close encounter with a big horn sheep.
This guy was King of the Canyon. He was snacking on some trees right by the path. Upward and downward human traffic stopped still and watched him. In a while, he stopped eating, turned around, looked at our little gaggle of uphill hikers, and strutted down directly towards us. Like Moses parting a human sea, a steely gaze from beneath those huge horns was all we needed to melt back into the hillside and give him a clear path down. No-one was in any doubt that the humans were the guests in this Canyon!
From there, it was a short hop to the rim. We had finished the hike!
It wasn’t a race, and we didn’t rush, but I was still pretty chuffed that we did it inside six hours.
And then it was time to leave. Before long, we’d hooked up to Route 66. It took us alongside the old Santa Fe Railroad mainline, the sun setting over a lonely freight train, the wind blowing, and scarcely a car on the road. The beginning of a glorious end to a glorious southwestern road trip.
