Winter Climbing Mt. Whitney, 2005 Style, Part 1

Author's Note: Seeing as how I never got paid for this submission from 2005, I think I'll post it here! Hope you enjoy it!

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At three-thirty in the morning, the last thing one wants to hear is the shrill tones of an alarm clock; especially the type of alarm that is built in to a standard cell phone. I’m already awake at this early hour because I’m uncomfortably hot. I’m uncomfortably hot because I’m wearing long underwear and ensconced in my sleeping bag. I’ve placed myself in this unusual position of being awake at an odd hour and physically uncomfortable because I want to climb Mt. Whitney for the third time. Rather than ignoring all of the above problems, I fumble for the alarm, turn it off, and slip out of my bag to see my excess heat radiating off my body.

Mt. Whitney is the highest mountain in the continental United States. It is located on the southern portion of the Sierra Nevada range, and stands at 14,496 feet above sea level. The mountain is located in the Inyo National Forest, but does border Sequoia National Park on its western side. There are no roads that lead to its summit. The summit of the mountain is not close to any major amenities. The closest town to Whitney is Lone Pine, California. Lone Pine sits directly on the Interstate 395, which runs North and South along the Eastern Side of the Sierra. Lone Pine is a picturesque small town, with signs and placards proclaiming it the “Gateway to Mt. Whitney and the Alabama Hills”. Behind its few city streets, the Sierras rise in majestic splendor.

From the middle of Lone Pine, most people drive up the road, through the boulders of the Alabama Hills, and up into the Sierras to Whitney Portal, a combination of parking lots, campgrounds, picnic grounds, and one store at eight thousand feet. From the Portal, the main Mt. Whitney trail snakes eleven miles to the summit. There are many ways to summit Whitney; one can approach from the Western Side via the John Muir trail, one can technically climb the mountain’s face, one can take the mountaineer’s route in the winter, and one can, of course, do what most people do, which is to hike the main Mt. Whitney trail.

It is this trail that earns the mountain its greatest degree of contempt. As the tallest mountain in the continental United States, the mountain is viewed as a challenge to be conquered by all manner of individuals. Consequently, the Forest Service created the eleven mile trail that passes two campgrounds before reaching the summit. In the summer, the trail is packed full of people walking and straining to reach the elusive goal. The main Mt. Whitney trail, while an asset to those attempting to hike the mountain, has also become a source of discontent. Some feel that the trail makes the summit bid an easy, simple affair – “a mere walk up of a climb”. Others are unhappy about the access it provides to the public; especially in the height of summer, when hundreds on a daily basis attempt to summit the mountain in the dry, hot air. A contemporary of mine once stated to me dismissively that the trail should just be paved, and then they could properly name it the “Whitney Highway”, because in his opinion, that is what it was.

The main complaint about the trail is the permit system. The Whitney Portal zone receives thousands of people each year who wish to attempt to hike and or climb the mountain. The trail, much maligned for superficial reasons, was therefore causing a real problem – the access it provided was causing harm to the sensitive high altitude environment. As a result, the Forest Service instituted a system in which access would be limited to a certain number of day hikers and overnight hikers per day. The permitting system would be based on a random lottery for individuals applying far in advance, and then based on the number of spaces remaining on a first come, first served basis for the remainder.

Reflections on the Ongoing Angora Fire

This post will probably surprise some of my readers because it’s actually topical (Even I have to admit that trail reports and random musings aren’t always cutting news!) and it contains photos and links, rather than just straight text, which, I suppose, makes this my “bloggiest” post ever. But in any case, that’s not really important. What is important is the Angora Fire. Like everyone else with a TV, access to the internet, or a newspaper subscription, I learned about the fire shortly after it started and was able to view the devastation that it has caused. And, probably like everyone else, I didn’t give the story my full attention. But, when I started to hear the names of the places that were affected by the fire, Tahoe Mountain and Fallen Leaf Lake, I listened to the story intently because it was another place I knew that had been fundamentally changed.

I grew up in San Diego, and enjoyed the mildly forested areas of the backcountry as a child. I can still remember the distinct smells of the trails running through Cuyamaca State Park – a mixture of dry, dusty dirt, and sprouting growth. That smell, and a large percentage of the forest in the area disappeared in the 2003 Cedar Fire, along with thousands of homes and other backcountry areas. (See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cedar_Fire). Four years later, the forest returns slowly, but the smell is currently gone – replaced by one of smoke and ash. In 2002, when I was climbing mountains for a non-profit, I was in Colorado for the Hayman Fire, and watched waves of heat and smoke burn the sky from the fire’s progression. (See http://www.wilderness.org/Library/Documents/WildfireSummary_Hayman.cfm ). Before that, I worked for the National Park Service, and like any seasonal employee in my division, had wilderness firefighting training. From my training I learned that the professionals and seasonal employees that fight these fires have one of the most difficult – and dangerous jobs around, despite being some of the most dedicated individuals around.

The point about all of the above is that, sadly, I know a lot about wilderness fires. I’ve been to many areas pre-burn; and many areas during a fire; and many areas post-burn. It is worth noting at this point that many wilderness fires are unpreventable – meaning, that they are acts of nature. A lightning strike can ignite dry brush, and away the flames spread. But equally, it’s also worth noting that many fires are the work of people. The main point about all of this is to remember what we as people lose with wilderness fires. There’s the certain costs – the destruction of people’s homes and property which carries a hard mathematical number. More importantly, there’s the uncertain costs – the emotional stresses on people who are in the line of encroaching fires; the stresses on firefighters and other first responders; and the despair of people who lose property; and in some tragic cases, lose lives.

Beyond that, there are the intangible costs. While fire is a part of the natural process, it can – and does severely damage habitats and areas for an extended period of time. Moreover, it also places an added strain on ecosystems in an age where wilderness is increasingly sparse. Last, it also deprives the public of beautiful and scenic areas. It is a fact that people will fight to preserve things that they can see and appreciate. Conversely, it is very difficult to get people to conserve something that they cannot see or that has already been destroyed. With the Angora fire, I know we’ve lost – and are losing a lot of wilderness that will not be restored for a long time, if ever.

What have we lost in this? We’ve lost more than I can remember. I remember in 2002, when I was in Tahoe to climb Mt. Tallac, I parked at the Fallen Lake Leaf trailhead, and started to hike up the trail. The soil had that earthy, mountain forest smell. The trees rustled in the hot summer winds, brushing leaves against each other to try and cool off. At some point, my hiking partner and I stopped at one of the lakes midway up the mountain and watched a mother duck shepherd her young around the lake. Back behind us, the forest stretched off to the lake and South Lake Tahoe city.

Ducks on the Mt. Tallac trail

Fallen Leaf Lake, Desolation Wilderness, South Tahoe, circa 2002

A couple years before that, I was looking for a place to cross country ski away from the masses at the many resorts encircling the basin. I had stumbled across the area on a Wednesday, and soon found myself alone in utter silence. All I could hear was the crunching snow from my skies and the odd sounds of a lonely bird. It was a welcome respite from the hustle and bustle that is ski season in Tahoe. I imagine those recollections are just the tip of what has been lost. I’m sure the ducks have moved on easily, having wings, but left at the mercy of the Angora Fire are hundreds of other animals who have had to flee the best they could from the destruction. The green expanse in the second picture is no doubt gone - most likely replaced by an ugly black scar. When winter comes, the snow will fall on the ghostly remnants of trees. Unfortunately, the area will now live up to its name – “the Desolation Wilderness”. Before, the name reflected the pristine beauty of the lodgepole and red fir trees. Now, it will be a grim reflection of the destruction that this fire has brought.

The tough thing about this fire – and others is that there is no easy solution. As noted above, wilderness fires are a part of the natural process. But, just because a solution is not easy to come by, does not mean that we should not work for a solution. George Skelton, of the Capitol Journal suggests that homeowners should take more responsibility with regard to their property, and strive to clear dry brush. (http://www.latimes.com/news/columnists/la-me-cap28jun28,0,7113779,full.column?coll=la-home-center ). This is clearly a start. Another idea would be to enact stricter laws regarding the setting of wildfires. While arson is a felony in California and most states, perhaps a stricter penalty would serve as more of a deterrent to prevent individuals from committing such atrocities. (Such a crime, could potentially be called “Habitat Destruction” or something along those lines. As noted above, at this point, it is unknown how exactly this fire started.) Other ideas could include a larger budget for firefighting and wilderness preservation agencies. These funds could provide more jobs to prevent fires, and mitigate the extent and severity of such fires.

Last, changes could come about from working to slow the progression of climate change. There is probably an argument to be made that without the global change in temperature and climate patterns, this area of California would not be experiencing as severe of a drought as it currently is. Without such a severe drought, this fire would probably not be as large as it currently is. This, however, is all speculation. The point is that each and every one of us needs to work on enacting change to protect our environment, because otherwise all we will have left is our memories and several handfuls of ash.

Grand Canyon Tips: Watch those ravens!

Several years ago, we were at the Grand Canyon during the second week of June. We arrived late in the afternoon, and waited in the dry heat for the harried campground ranger to find us one of the remaining campsites that were still available. Our car, our tent, and everything else were stuffed into a small site that was stuck between two immense R.V.’s. We didn’t care about the location because we were just happy to get a spot. The next morning, we woke up at the crack of dawn so that we could see what permits were available at the Backcountry Office. We had oatmeal for breakfast, as well as some hot coco. After breakfast, I went over to the car to get my sponge to clean the dishes. As I reached the car, I heard the sound of scrabbling talons; and I had the distinct impression that I was being intently watched.

I turned around quickly. Our campsite had three things in it: our tent; a firering full of ashes; and a standard metal picnic table that was chained to the ground to prevent theft. I had left the dishes alone and unattended on the table. The table now had the dishes, and three new diners atop of it. The new diners were three of the large ravens I had seen while walking around the campground the day before. These ravens were some of the most confident birds I had ever seen. The day before, I had watched them briefly, strutting around the gaps between trees in their cocky hopping manner. They had been unfazed by the assorted humans that had waived various implements at them to scare them off; and had not even deigned to fly at such threats. Now, sensing another opportunity for a free meal, they had occupied our table.

I froze. The rearmost raven froze too. His inky bright black jaunty eyes stared at me with boredom. He cocked his head in my direction. Nonchalantly, he stretched out his wingspan. I had to admit that it was impressive. He was probably close to being about eighteen inches tall, and was clearly, very well fed. Once he saw that I wasn’t going to feed him for his display, he indignantly folded his wings. His two comrades weren’t interested in posing for photos – they were interested in scavenging. They continued to step around the table, peering into empty metal bowls and plastic cups. I wasn’t concerned – I knew there was no food on the table. I also knew that I was going to go back to the table once I had my sponge which would cause them to scamper away, unfed. That was my plan. It didn’t solve the problem about animal habituation to humans; but at least it didn’t contribute to the problem.

Suddenly, the first raven seized an empty plastic spoon in his beak. I still wasn’t concerned. At best, there were a few licks of oats on the plastic. I watched him more or less “beak” the spoon for a second before I decided that I was going to intervene. After all, it probably wasn’t good for a raven to be chewing on a plastic spoon; and it probably wasn’t good for my spoon to have all sorts of beak gouges in it. I took a step away from the car, intending to shock the bird into dropping the utensil. My action had the opposite effect: the second raven picked up the second spoon that was on the table. I took another step forward. The ravens - as a group – and still with the spoons - all took a collective step backward. We had a standoff.

I knew that they weren’t scared of me. And I wasn’t sure what exactly I could do to make them scared of me. I also didn’t really care if they were scared of me; I just wanted them to realize that the spoons weren’t edible and that they didn’t really want them. There was also an alternative to scaring them – I could bribe them. I had plenty of food in the car; it would have been easy to waive a piece of bread at them to get them to come to me, and drop the utensils. I didn’t like that idea because it would only encourage their hostage taking behavior. It also seemed a little ludicrous to be more or less, negotiating with a gang of birds over plastic spoons that I owned.

I decided that I would rush the birds. I thought that if they were chased, they’d drop the spoons and fly off. I ran forward. I didn’t waive my arms, or yell, or do anything really crazy; I just ran. The ravens hopped from table to bench, and then off the bench, placing the table squarely in between us. They still had the spoons. By the time I was at the table, I was beginning to doubt whether my gambit was going to work. One step later, I was at the midway point of the table. At this point, the ravens took to the sky with my utensils. Off into the wild blue sky they flew, with my spoons firmly clenched in their beaks. I had been outsmarted by a group of birds. Later, after dinner, they returned to our table to look for food, and more utensils. However, this time I was ready. I had taken the utensils with me when I left the table. It had only taken me two meals to demonstrate to the ravens that I had the superior intellect, and that I could protect my eating implements. Unfortunately, my superior intellect had to eat his oatmeal with a fork for a large portion of the remaining trip, because I couldn’t find a replacement plastic spoon for quite some time.

This spring, we returned to the campground. I was curious to see if the ravens would still be there; and whether they still would be interested in acquiring a full set of knives and forks. My first question was quickly answered. Shortly before dawn on the first morning, I could hear them talking to each other in croaks and rattles, with an occasional “caw” mixed in for good measure. As I ate breakfast, I watched them traveling around the empty campsites with their lazy swagger, looking for leftovers from careless campers. It was comical for a moment to watch the ravens walking in a dispersed line and going from campsite to campsite looking for food. But it was also tragic to watch wild animals acting in such a tame and habituated manner and looking for things that it shouldn’t eat. Across the road from us, our neighbors disassembled their tent, packed their car, and left. They were probably glad to be away from the creepy unshaven guy looking around the area while he ate his breakfast.

Within minutes, the raven search party arrived and found plenty of items in the dirt. Rather than bagging and packing their trash, our neighbors had left it lying on the ground, something that I hadn’t noticed. The ravens, noticed this fact right away. They easily found the abandoned half sandwich and several hard-boiled eggs; and immediately there were seven very large birds pecking and carrying the constituent pieces of food off in every direction. I considered driving the birds off, and picking up the rest of the trash, but by the time I had come to that decision, and made it across the street, all the food was gone; carried off into thin air.

My second question was answered quickly after that. We were keeping our dishes in a mesh bag on the bench of our table. On top of the dishes, we placed the plasticware. The utensils were still visible to the eye; but they were secured in the bag, and the bag was way too heavy for the ravens to carry off, despite their super size. After breakfast, I washed the dishes, and placed them in the bag. I then left the table for to go pack my bag for the day’s hike. As I sat on a nearby rock, placing items in the bag, I saw a raven land on the table. He could tell that there was no food. It didn’t matter. He was still curious about what was going on. Absently, he pecked at the closed stove. He walked around the closed cooler. Then, he saw something he really liked.

He saw the white plastic utensils in the bag. He hopped over to the bag, and grabbed on to the end of what was a fork. He frantically tugged on it for a moment before realizing that it was caught by the bag. Then, he stepped back, and began to size up the bag. I could see the mental wheels turning. He knew that if he could get into the bag, he could have a lot of utensils. Enough for a dining set. While I was curious to see if he would – or could figure it out, I decided that it was better to intervene, so I drove him off – empty beaked. Over the next several days, I saw several attempts by ravens – some half-hearted – some not – to finagle our utensils. These attempts – for the ravens – were unsuccessful. We left the park with all of the forks, spoons, and knives that we came in with. The whole series of incidents, however, has left me somewhat puzzled. It’s easy to understand how animals become habituated to human food. But it’s harder to understand how – or why animals become involved in a utensil stealing ring. Maybe spoons make good nesting materials. Or maybe the raven who has the most spoons becomes king. I’m not sure. But what I am sure of is that people should attempt to limit the amount of human food animals consume. I’m also sure that until the animals around the Grand Canyon get un-accustomed to human food, people should continue to watch the little things – because it’s likely that they will be confused for food and carried off.

Bright Angel Trail/South Kaibab Trails, Grand Canyon National Park

Bright Angel/South Kaibab Trails: These trails are two distinct and different trails. However, I’m going to lump these trails together for one reason: they are usually swarming with people. Similarly, I think enough has been written about them, so I’m going to keep my comments here very short.

How to Get There:

1. Kaibab Trail: During the summer, visitors have to take the “Kaibab Trail Shuttle Bus”. During the winter, look for the turn-off on the Desert View Drive.

2. Bright Angel Trail: The trail leaves from the signed trailhead in the Grand Canyon Village.

The Trails : From my experience working at two parks, and from my travels, there are certain places and things people have heard of and feel that they have to do or experience when they visit. Often, these “must-do” trails are clogged with people, leaving one to see not the natural splendor, but the back of the person in front of you, as well as the detritus (e.g., trash) that people bring with them. Equally as often, these trails don’t even have the “best” views or are the “best” trails for people to take. The result is in my opinion, tragic. People become disenchanted with the experience and the area becomes damaged from overuse. This is a textbook lose-lose situation. I’m not to sit here and say that I’ve never done things that haven’t been recommended to me. However, I will say that more often then not, when I have done “must-do” things, I have not enjoyed it for the above reasons. My advice in this situation is simple: when you’re on vacation, there is nothing that is a “must-do”. One should relax and find what they want to do. Chances are you will enjoy it better than what you were told to do.

If you absolutely are a person that has to do “must-do” things, my recommendation is as follows: go in the non-peak season. It will be less busy, and you too will enjoy it more. Peak season for the Grand Canyon is summer. The Canyon is very hot in the summer since it is in the high desert. During the summer, these two trails are packed with people. Packed is not even the correct term. During the summer, hiking these trails is like being in a herd of cattle, or a traffic jam – you pick your analogy. I will almost guarantee that there will be people in front of you and behind you. There will be people trying to pass you. There will be people you want to pass. It will be hot – and the temperature will only increase as you descend into the canyon. Yes, the views will be good. Will they be better than the other trails I’ve suggested? That’s a question of perspective. These trails are steep; perhaps not as steep as the Grandview, but still very steep in places. There is very little shade in the first several miles on both trails, and during the summer, both are very dusty. (It is, after all, the desert.)

Logistically, the Bright Angel Trail has sources for water on it in several early locations. The South Kaibab does not. In the summer, Rangers will be on one – or both trails checking to see if people are hydrated. I would recommend getting an early start should one be hiking either of these trails in the summer. Do not think that an early start will mean less people. The early start is to protect your body from the scorching heat. As noted above, if you absolutely must do these trails, I would recommend that you go in the Spring – or fall – not during peak season. These trails are still busy then, but not as busy as the summer. Regardless of what season you go, be sure to bring plenty of water.

The Grandview Trail to Horseshoe Mesa

This is not a bad option for those people who don’t want to wait for the Hermit’s Rest bus; or sit through the one hour bus ride. The trailhead for this trail is also not found in the village area; however as the trailhead is at the Grandview Point Overlook, it does receive a fair amount of foot traffic. Despite there being more hikers on this trail than the Hermit Trail, I can say that I observed the majority of the traffic hanging out and “hiking” within fifty to one hundred feet of the overlook.

How to Get There: Grandview Point is located off of the Desert View Drive. It is well-signed in both directions, and about a half mile drive on a paved road from the Desert View Drive. There is ample parking day use; as well as overnight parking for backpackers.

The Trail to Horseshoe Mesa: We had decided to day-hike the trail to Horseshoe Mesa; approximately six and one half miles round trip. Like the Hermit Trail, I was not that familiar with the Grandview Trail before I arrived at its location. Before I had arrived at the Grandview Trail, the word I had heard used most about it was “steep”. As descriptors go, I have always been unimpressed with “steep”. Everyone knows that climbing a mountain is steep; everyone also hopefully knows that 99% of the trails in the Grand Canyon are also “steep”. (The only exception that I know of is the Rim Trail on the South Rim that meanders from lookout to lookout along the park road, and is mostly flat – and almost completely paved!) As everyone more or less intuitively knows these things, the word fails to bring any information to the discussion. All I knew about the trail before I hiked it was what I could see on the map

After my group had made the necessary adjustments by the car to their gear on a cool March morning, we cut through the herd of people meandering around the viewpoint and onto the trail. I mentioned above that most of the “hikers” turned around within the first fifty to one hundred feet. This is because the Grandview Trail descends immediately with knee-shaking vigor through a series of tight switchbacks. Or as some people would say, the start of the trail is “steep”. One of the interesting things my group and I noticed is that in several early sections, the trail is shored up through a tough lattice/cribbing of logs and rocks. Having done a fair amount of trail work in my past, I was impressed by these sections, because most of them came on narrow, sandy, cliff-type sections of trail.

We were headed to Horseshoe Mesa, because I was interested in viewing some of the ancient mining ruins in the park. I find it interesting to wonder what would have happened to many of our national treasures had the Organic Act not been passed by Congress. A short list of some of the other Western Parks that were affected by human activities prior to becoming protected include the Borax mining in Death Valley, as well as logging and mining in Yosemite, Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks. I definitely feel lucky that people had the foresight to preserve these and other areas from development. In order to view these ruins, we had to keep hiking down the switchbacks that cover the first portion of the Grandview trail.

Unlike the Hermit Trail, the first portion of the Grandview Trail is covered with the short switchbacks mentioned above that cause the rim to rapidly recede from view. In a very short distance, we were well into the Canyon, and traversing our first flat stretch of the trail, across a saddle that had seemed incredibly distant from the viewpoint. The flat section was short lived. As we traversed around the corner through the sporadic oaks, there were several more long downhill stretches that lost a lot of elevation as well.

Before we began to traverse down further, we took a moment to admire the view. The Grandview Trail has an appropriate name. From the start, the view is simply amazing because the trail possesses a classic, traditional canyon view. The view is “traditional” because from the moment you leave the viewpoint, you are continually facing the main body of the canyon. Whereas the Hermit Trail to Dripping Springs provided interesting views of some of the slot canyons that the Grand Canyon has, the Grandview Trail provides amazing views into the heart of the Canyon and its formations. The next section that descended was basically a series of stone ramps.

I am tempted to say that these ramps are more like steps, but I will not for two reasons. One, there is no “stepping” like a staircase. Two, I don’t want to get a bunch of e-mails telling me that I’m an idiot because there are no real “steps” on the trail. The reason I equate these cobbled sections as steps is for two good reasons of my own. One: when I’m hiking, and I reach a stone or cobbled section, laid by the trail crew, I view it as akin to pavement. In dry conditions – meaning no snow, ice, or rain, they are an easy traverse in my book, as I don’t have to worry as much about my footing. Two: the grade on these cobbled sections is quite sharp. Each downhill step drops you quite a bit further into the canyon. Since I was descending sharply with each step I took, I found it to be reminiscent of a staircase, rather than the actual ramp-type bed of cobbles that it was.

And this is the point where I can more fully lay out my system of descriptors that I would use instead of “steep”. I could say at this point that this cobbled section is “steep”, and it would be true. But it would ignore the fact that the trail was also “steep” to this point. I could say that it was “very steep” in the cobbled section and it was. I would rather say that this section was such a rough descent that it caused the cartilage in your knees to grind audibly – and mercilessly against the tendons and kneecap within. It was such a quick descent that if my legs were not fresh, I would hesitate to walk down the section, because one mis-step – even on cobbles – would mean a definite painful fall, and roll down a long section of hill. It was a section that if we had been driving a car, at the bottom, the interior would reek of burnt brakes. That was how “steep” I thought the section was.

Even though it was quick and hard on the knees, it was not that bad because it was short. I would recommend trekking poles, to balance out the weight of a backpack or daypack, and to take some of the pressure off the body. As an aside, trekking poles are a great help on any hike in the Canyon, especially if one does already have rickety knees! After that descent, the trail lurches to a stop at a notch that divides Hance Creek Canyon from Cottonwood Creek Canyon. This is a great spot to stop for lunch, which our group did. The area is shaded by a number of trees, and has a great view of a separated butte. The area also seemed to be a great spot to cache water, whether for a day or a multi-day hike, as I stumbled across several water caches while looking around.

Upon resuming hiking after lunch, we realized that we had descended the bulk of the altitude to Horseshoe Mesa, as we passed a USGS Marker that stated that we were approximately twelve hundred feet lower than the rim. (The marker doesn’t say this in particular terms; it marks the elevation that it’s at, so if you do the math like we did, you should come up with a similar number!) The trail then slowly – every so slowly – begins to level out as it traverses along the butte. Slowly, the trees distanced themselves from their neighbors, becoming more and more spread apart.

As we trekked along this section of trail, our group elected to turn around because some people were trying to get over some spring colds. So, alas, we did not make it to the actual Horseshoe Mesa to see the ruins. When I reviewed the map later, it appeared to me we had stopped about one mile short of the Mesa, making a four mile round trip instead of the six miles. It is my opinion that we probably could have made it to the Mesa and back, but it is always better to be cautious than risky. Besides, the ruins have been there for a long time, and I’m sure they’ll still be there by the time I get back. I will say that the tough sections of the descent did make for a vigorous uphill climb on the return trip, so if one does take this hike, be sure to save a little extra energy for those sections.

The Last Adventurer’s Short Guide and Tips to the Grand Canyon, Part 1

After my most recent visit to the Grand Canyon, I thought I would share some of the wisdom I had acquired from visiting – and hiking the Grand Canyon. In a very uncharacteristic move, I’m going to share some of my favorite places in the Canyon to hike. I don’t usually proffer this type of advice, because I’m a hiking purist. I’m a cantankerous, cranky person, who believes that some places, as beautiful as they are, are best seen in the absence of other people. Right now, some of you are probably thinking the following questions: “1. Why reveal these locations and not others? Do you have something against the Grand Canyon? 2. Why do you believe what you just said?” The answers are simple. I don’t have anything against the Grand Canyon or any Canyon in particular. It’s just that the tips I’m about to dish out are not that secret. The unfortunate truth is that some of my tips about the Grand Canyon, as great as they are have been covered in a myriad of publications, word of mouth, or somewhere else. This doesn’t make my some of my tips bad - but in the interests of full disclosure, I’d feel bad about labeling them as state secrets! But enough disclosures – onto the information, which is conveniently broken down into two categories; 1. Hiking; and 2. Other. And as for why I’m cranky, well, I suppose that’s a diatribe for another time.

Hiking:

Let’s narrow the scope of this section even further. Most of the visitors of the Grand Canyon only visit the South Rim, and according to the Park Ranger I listened to, only stay for three hours on average. Having been to both sides of the Canyon, North and South several times, I think more people should visit the North Rim because it does have some great trails. But, for purposes of this guide, I’m only going to talk about trails on the South Rim. As for the official “three hour” average, all I have to say is that people should stay longer and walk more. I’m also not going to talk about how long the Canyon is (roughly 277 miles), how wide the Canyon is (between eight and sixteen miles), how old the canyon is (rocks at the top are roughly 270 million years old, the ones at the bottom are roughly 1.84 billion years old), or how deep the canyon is (approximately 4,600 feet), because the way I see it, there’s much better sources of information to find out these amazing facts from. What I’m going to focus my time on is the trails, and also make a few short comments about apparel.

1. The Hermit Trail: From what I have seen in and around the Grand Canyon, this trail rates as my favorite trail. Let me break it down simply: the Hermit Trail is separated from the majority of the South Rim facilities by an seven mile stretch of road that only can be traveled by the National Park Service bus system (unless one has an overnight wilderness permit). In my experience, this isolation from the village drastically cuts down on the number of people hiking the trail.

How to get there: Well, like I said, for most people, it’s all about the bus. The bus leaves from a bus stop just west of the various lodges on the South Rim. By my watch, the buses were running about every fifteen minutes – but I imagine in the busy, busy summer, things might be a little slower! Don’t be deceived by the amount of people waiting for the bus. While the bus may be full, there are several overlooks along the way that people congregate at, and most people appear to ride the bus for two reasons: 1. to visit the Hermit’s Point Overlook; or 2. to view the South Rim at Sunset. One warning about the bus ride: go to the bathroom first! The ride to Hermit’s Point takes almost an hour despite the short distance, and if you need to go, it is quite uncomfortable – at least from what I heard from the person next to me!

A Photo from the Lyrid Meteor Shower of 2007

Here is the best photo I took from our escapade, and after talking with a few people, I’m told it does contain actual meteors in it, even though I didn’t see them. Take a look, and be the judge yourself!

Lyrid Meteors!(Maybe...)