Grand Canyon (Tanner Trail): March 2026

In early March 2026 Layne, Tom, and I spent five nights (six days) on a backpacking trip in the Tanner Rapids area of Grand Canyon.  Herman had originally planned to come on the trip, but had to drop out at the last minute due to an injury.  

Our campsite above the Rim

The drive up from Tucson was uneventful.  We camped overnight on National Forest land off a dirt road near the East Entrance to Grand Canyon National Park, which is closer to Tanner Trailhead than the more popular South Entrance.   We were up and off early the next morning.  The road into GCNP was empty as we drove to the trailhead in the predawn darkness.  

 

Day 1 

We were at the trailhead by 6 and started down the trail around 6:15.  It was still dark and we had our headlamps on, but the sky lightened quickly and soon visibility was not a problem.  I was carrying an extra gallon of water to stash by the trail for the return trip.  The added weight made for a heavy pack that had me a little off balance and needing to step carefully, but we made good time.

On most of my previous springtime hikes in Grand Canyon there would be lots of flowers all around: tiny but festive little splashes of white and yellow and red peeking out of the rocky ground.  This had been a very dry winter, though, and I think I saw fewer than a dozen plants in bloom over the entire length of the trail.  It gave me hope that the lack of rain might at least mean that the Little Colorado River (LCR) would be running blue.  But that hope was dashed when a couple of hikers coming up reported that, alas, the Little Colorado was a muddy brown.  Oh well.

Tom was feeling under the weather, and beginning to get tired, by the time we had worked our way down the grueling stretch through the Coconino layer at the top of the trail.  To make matters worse, it was a warm day and there was no shade anywhere. Tom ran out of water a couple of miles before we reached the Colorado River.  By the time we reached the campsites at Tanner Rapids he was so exhausted he could barely walk.  This did not bode well for our schedule the next day, which had us on a robust 9-mile hike to a campsite near the confluence with LCR.  Then I found that my water filter wasn't working, and had to borrow Tom's.   This was not an auspicious start to a six-day backpacking trip.  

Comanche Point at sunset

It was a warm night, and after dinner I lay on top of my sleeping bag pondering the logistics of how to work around the unexpected challenges that had come up.  Tanner Rapids rushed by just a stone's throw away, its hypnotic roar drowning out all other sounds (and making me acutely aware that if for any reason Tom called for help during the night I wouldn't be able to hear him over the sound of the river).   At some point I drifted off to sleep.

Day 2

Between Tom's fatigue, my balky water filter, and the disappointing reports of a muddy brown LCR, the prospect of hiking to LCR didn't seem very appealing, and I decided to stay back at Tanner; Layne decided to go ahead with a solo overnight hike to LCR.  

The site where we had set up our tents the previous afternoon was an open area near the river with little in the way of shade.  One of the first things we did in the morning was to look for a place with more shade.  We eventually found an inconspicuous and well-shaded campsite, tucked away below an overhanging slab of conglomerate, and moved our tents there.  The rest of the day was lazy.  We sat around, wandered around, watched some rafters float by.  There didn't seem to be anyone else around, and it felt as though we had the entire Canyon to ourselves.

Raft party

Comanche Point

After dinner Tom and I sat and watched as the sky darkened and stars appeared—in ones and twos at first, and then suddenly the sky was full of them.  Occasionally a small speck of light—a plane or satellite—sailed silently across the sky.  When I opened my eyes a little before dawn the Big Dipper hung suspended above me.  The air was cool, and except for the faint whisper of Tanner Rapids in the distance the world was silent.

Days 3 and 4

 Shortly after breakfast I decided to head out on a short easy day hike on Beamer Trail to Palisades Creek, a little over three miles to the north.  The air was pleasantly cool, but temperatures began rising once the sun rose above the cliffs.  By the time I reached Palisades, around 11 AM, it was quite warm.  I walked a short way up Palisades Canyon, but the heat sapped my motivation and before long I turned around and headed back to Tanner Camp.  I reached camp around 1:30 PM, and Layne came in looking sweaty and tired maybe twenty minutes later.

Carnivorous limestone

I spent a good part of the afternoon wandering around the rock slopes below Comanche Point: enjoying the views of the river and watching raft parties go by, admiring the towering cliffs before me, getting close to "carnivorous" limestone boulders—rocks whose surface has, over millennia, been gradually pitted into razor-sharp points by rain.  

Given the changes to our original plans for the trip, at one point we had considered the possibility of hiking out a day early instead of hanging around at Tanner Camp for three whole days.  But Layne was tired enough from his overnight hike to LCR that we decided to take a rest day before heading back uphill; that would also give Tom another day to recover.  This would leave us on our original schedule.

That night was my 150th night below the Rim in the Grand Canyon. 

Lizard tracks

(The line in the middle is
from dragging the tail)

The next day—the fourth day of our trip—Tom and I took a leisurely walk westwards towards Cardenas Creek.  The trail was very pleasant and we weren't in any hurry.  There were some cool lizard tracks in the sand by the river, and a small nameless rapid, a little further downstream, whose waves were fun to watch.  Importantly (since we had some tough uphill hiking back to the Rim coming up the next two days), Tom seemed to be getting his strength back.

As with the other nights on this trip, I slept without a rainfly on my tent.  The sky was moonless and the stars put on an astonishing show.  The Milky Way cut a bright fat diagonal across the top of my tent.  Polaris, a modest little speck of light, sat just a little above my right shoulder.  The Big Dipper started the night dangling over the cliffs to the north; when I opened my eyes just before dawn in had rotated to be directly above my tent.  The Bengali name for the Big Dipper is Saptarshi, the Seven Sages ("sapta", seven + "rishi", sage), and for a moment it felt as though the sages were keeping watch over us.

Days 5 and 6

 We had planned to hike back to the Rim over two days.  The first day's hike would be from the Colorado River to just above the Redwall, about 3.6 miles with a vertical gain of 3000' (about 5.8 km and 910 m).   (The Redwall Layer  in the Grand Canyon is a cliffy layer of limestone, about 760' thick in the area of our hike.  The trail through this section is steep, loose, rocky, and slippery, making for rough hiking.)  The next day we would then hike from above the Redwall to the Canyon Rim, about 3.5 miles with 2100' vertical gain (5.6 km, 640 m).  

We planned to get an early start to avoid the heat as much as possible.  We rolled out of our tents shortly after 4 AM and set about the morning routine of breaking down our camp.  We began hiking a little before 6.  It was still dark out, and all we could see was the little circle in front of us illuminated by our headlamps.  A splash of bright light peeked over the distant cliffs beside Comanche Point, then gradually grew into a sliver of crescent moon rising into the slowly lightening sky.  Little by little the rocks and shrubs and gullies around us took form.  We began to hear birds waking up around us.

Tanner Trail: Below the Redwall

The trail through the Redwall

The sun rose above the cliffs to the east around 8:30.  The day began to warm quickly after that, though it was still quite pleasant hiking.  We set an unhurried pace.  The climb through the Redwall Layer, one of the two hardest sections on the trail, didn't seem as bad as I had remembered it to be. Once above the Redwall we found ourselves a flat area where we could set up our tents and relaxed in the shade of a juniper tree.  

The shadows gradually lengthened as the day wound down.  The Palisades of the Desert, a band of cliffs towering over the Canyon for miles, glowed golden in the afternoon sun.  We sat and watched this spectacular show until the light faded and the hillsides grew dark.

The Palisades at sunset

The next day was the last day of our hike.   The first couple of miles, to Seventyfive Mile Saddle, were easy hiking with not a lot of elevation change.  The trail steepened after that, finishing with a steep hard climb of 1100' through the Coconino Layer over the last half mile.  We worked our way up slowly, and little by little the miles fell away.  We reached the trailhead just after noon.

Postscript

Cryptobiota

Although the trip didn't work out as originally planned—we went down Tanner, stayed at Tanner Camp for three days, and them came back up Tanner—it was still very enjoyable.  Not having to hurry to get to a destination each day meant that we could take the time to get to know the place much more intimately.  We had time to admire tiny little lizard tracks in the sand, check out "carnivorous limestone" boulders and cryptobiotic soil crusts, and watch the minute-to-minute change of colors on the vast wall of the Palisades as the sun sank down towards sunset.  We had encountered all of these on previous trips, but hadn't really had the time to enjoy them in unhurried leisure.  That was a delight.

And, of course, we all made it out in one piece, on schedule, under our own power.  There's a lot to be said for that. 

Yosemite (Matterhorn Canyon/Benson Lake Loop): Aug. 2025

 In early August 2025 Eduardo, Herman, Nancy, and I spent eight days on a pleasant and relaxed 50-mile (80 km) backpacking trip on the northern end of Yosemite National Park.  After a long hot Arizona summer I was looking forward to the high peaks and cool lakes of the Sierras.

 

 

 

 

 

The Drive Up

Tufa formations at Mono Lake

The trailhead was roughly a 13-hour drive from Tucson.  Rather than take on a strenuous day of hiking at a high elevation while tired from a long drive, Eduardo and I decided to travel over two days, stopping overnight in Las Vegas; Herman and Nancy traveled up separately on a slightly different route.  The drive itself was unremarkable, except for the eyeball-searing gaudiness of the Vegas Strip and the vacant-faced people working the slot machines in the hotel lobby at all hours of day and night.  We stopped briefly at Mono Lake to admire the tufa formations, and arrived at Lower Honeymoon Flats Campground a little after Herman and Nancy.

 

 

Day 1: Robinson Creek Trailhead to Crown Lake

Likely the hardest day of our hike: 8+ miles and 2,800' total elevation gain, our packs at their heaviest, and not yet acclimated to the high elevation. We decided to start early: awake a little after 4 AM, at the parking lot by 6, then a long walk to the trailhead, which we reached around 6:30.  

 

Creek crossing

Creek crossing

Hiking through the forest

The trail wound through tall stands of pines, with Robinson Creek rushing by noisily, the uphill barely noticeable.   We reached the top (north) end of Barney Lake by 8:30 and stopped to refill our water.  This was nearly the halfway point of the day's hike and we were making better time than I had expected.  

 

Barney Lake

Robinson Lakes

 

Once past Barney Lake the trail steepened and turned a lot more rocky and less shady.  The hiking was pleasant, though there were a couple of sections of steep switchbacks that were hard work.  We reached Crown Lake around 1:30 PM.

 

Approaching Crown Lake

Crown Lake

 

Crown Lake is a small pretty lake surrounded by large rock outcroppings, with the towering mass of Crown Point, rising to above 11,000', dominating the skyline to the west.   A large stretch of marshy ground to the south of the lake made walking squelchy.  Streamlets crisscrossed the meadow, carving winding channels through the grass.  Everywhere there were clumps of tiny little flowers.

 

 

Campsite by snow bank

We wandered around for a while trying to find an unoccupied campsite. In the end Herman and Nancy camped in a small clearing by a rock outcropping near the lake while Eduardo and I pitched our tents a short distance away on a little lakeside beach next to a snow bank, which was pretty cool. 

 

Day 2: Crown Lake to (Upper) Piute Creek

The trail started at the edge of the grassy marsh by the lake but charged uphill almost immediately through a series of steep switchbacks.  A peak named The Juggernaut loomed over us as we huffed and puffed our way higher.  The terrain was mostly barren rock that reflected the sun's harsh glare back at us. Little by little we approached Mule Pass, at 10,500' the second-highest point on our hike.  A marmot peeked at us, then disappeared into its den among the rocks and boulders.  A few snowbanks clung to the mountain slopes even this late in the summer.  Nancy went up to the nearest one and made snowballs.  

 

The Juggernaut

 

We sat and relaxed by a pretty little lake, nameless on my maps, just west of Mule Pass.  A couple of rock climbers hiked by, headed for the sheer rock faces of Juggernaut.  Once over Mule Pass the trail headed down towards the valley below, the jagged outline of Sawtooth Ridge dominating the skyline to the north and east.   The downhill walk wasn't particularly challenging, but we were tired from the climb to Mule Pass and this stretch of the hike seemed interminable.  We were happy to make camp for the day.

 

Views from Mule Pass

We ended up camping at a flat stretch not far from the creek.  While setting up camp, I found a damp spot in my backpack, which turned out to be a small leak in my water bladder.  This was worrisome.  I patched the bladder as best I could and crossed my fingers that it would hold long enough to finish the hike.

 

Sawtooth Ridge

 The afternoon was quiet  A few hikers went by but mostly we had the place all to ourselves.  Once again, temperatures were surprisingly mild.  

 

 Day 3: Piute Creek to Matterhorn Creek

When we woke up in the morning, the insides of both Eduardo's and my tent were dripping with condensation.  Packing up a soggy tent was unappealing, so we spread out the fabric as best we could hoping that they would dry at least a little while we went about our morning routine.  This helped a little, but my tent was still damp when we packed up camp.

Finger Peaks

Sawtooth Ridge

Marmot

It was roughly a thousand foot climb to Burro Pass, which at 11,100' would be the highest point of our entire trip.  My legs were tired from the previous day's climb to Mule Pass, and I struggled on the uphill.  Luckily the trail wasn't too steep and the climb didn't feel quite as hard.  We saw a marmot sunning itself at the very top of Burro Pass, utterly indifferent to our presence.  After that it was a long descent into Matterhorn Canyon.

 

Over-maintained trail

One thing that surprised me was that, even this far out in the wilderness, many places had carefully constructed steps cut into the trail; elsewhere there were rows of boulders carefully marking the sides of the trail.  These seemed out of place in such remote backcountry and took some of the wild out of the wilderness.  I would have preferred a less manicured hiking experience.

Matterhorn Canyon is a wide U-shaped canyon, suggestive of glacial origins.  The upper portion of the canyon, closer to Burro Pass, was mostly bare rock; we began to see more vegetation as we descended into the canyon, but the trail didn't have a lot of shade and the sun was quite hot.  The descent from Burro Pass started out quite steep, but after a while eased to an easy walk down the bottom of the canyon.  The trail was mostly rocky and dusty, and in the less rocky places it had been worn into a deep gully.  There were a few creek crossings, but the water wasn't high and they could all be rock-hopped across.

 

Matterhorn Canyon

Looking north towards Burro Pass

 

About six miles from Burro Pass we reached the junction with the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT).  We made camp at a wide flat area a few hundred yards down the trail, close to Matterhorn Creek and with plenty of trees for shade.  The one downside was mounds of horse dung that some inconsiderate people had left strewn around the campsite and also in the creek.  Some people will shittify Paradise as long as other people get to deal with the mess!

 

The rest of the day was quiet and relaxing.  Much to my surprise, we had the whole place entirely to ourselves.  Deer, some with fawns,  grazed quietly.  Occasionally a hiker went by, but there were far fewer than I had expected on the PCT.   Gradually the afternoon wound down and the shadows lengthened.  We had an early dinner and I headed into my tent even before it was dark.

Day 4: Matterhorn Creek to Smedberg Lake

The day's goal was Smedberg Lake, only about six miles away.  We'd have to get over Benson Pass, a climb of about 1,700', but it didn't seem like a tough day.  We aimed to be on the trail by 7 AM.  Several deer grazed nearby, ignoring us as we went about our morning routine.

Approaching Benson Pass
(10,200')

The trail paralleled the creek for a short distance, then veered off and began a steady climb through a forest of tall pines.  The shade made for pleasant hiking, but their gnarled roots stuck out ready to trip unwary hikers.  Wilson Creek burbled downhill noisily nearby, the occasional waterfall adding to the beauty of the landscape.  The trees thinned as we climbed higher, exposing us to the fierce heat of the sun.  Large rock outcroppings on all sides reflected the glare back at us, making it feel even warmer than it was.  

After what seemed like a long time (though it was only about four miles), we crested Benson Pass.  All of a sudden the trail headed downhill.  It was steep, loose, and rocky, and needed our full attention to avoid missteps and falls.  The steepness eased after a little while, and then we went through a section of gorgeous lush stands of dark blue lupine: a rhapsody in indigo!  (It turns out there are 26 different species of lupine found in Yosemite National Park -- I don't know which kind these were.)

 

Lupines

 

The trail came out of the trees and onto a wide-open sparsely vegetated plain that seemed almost desert-like.  Shortly afterwards we reached Smedberg Lake.  The horse party from Matterhorn Creek was camped across the lake from us, and for a while they serenaded us with a trumpet.  Mercifully, this stopped after a while.  Later that afternoon the horses wandered around grazing peacefully on the meadow beside the lake not too far from us -- pretty little dung factories.

 

Smedberg Lake

We had a very pleasant and relaxed afternoon.    Eduardo and Nancy went swimming in the crystal-clear lake; I contented myself with dangling my feet in the water. A grizzled hiker with a thick white beard,  whom we'd met the previous day at Matterhorn Creek, stopped and chatted for a while.  He had been hiking the PCT since March -- a six-month trek that boggled my mind!  

The afternoon wound down, the sun sank lower, the rocky peaks surrounding the lake glowed golden.  After a pleasant dinner we headed into our tents around 7:30.

 

Day 5: Smedberg Lake to Benson Lake 

A short and (hopefully) easy day: about four miles to Benson Lake, gaining 400' of elevation and losing about 2,200'.   

 

Just before we got on the trail a pair of hikers went by, chattering loudly like magpies.  This had the upside that they'd flush out any bears that might be out by the trail ahead of us; the downside was that we'd have to stay far enough behind them that the noise -- and also any flushed-out bears -- wouldn't affect us.

 

The trail skirted the edge of the lake for a little while, then veered away and headed uphill.  We were in heavy forest much of the time, with tall pine trees soaring high into the sky.  Through gaps between the trees we could see huge rocky crags on the skyline, with the occasional tree clinging stubbornly to cliff faces in apparent defiance of gravity.  The scenery was gorgeous.

 

 

The trail soon began a steep loose rocky descent, and we had to move carefully to avoid falls.  We saw a few PCT hikers going in the other direction.  Most of them had been on the trail for months and had hiked hundreds of miles.  Our 50-mile hike seemed puny by comparison.

 

 As we neared Benson Lake we lost the trail in a heavily forested area and ended up having to bushwhack through the forest.  Although we weren't far from the trail and had GPS navigators on our phones to guide us, the thick forest made it surprisingly easy to lose all sense of where we were, and I was surprised at how much work it was to hike around and over fallen trees and across creeks without the convenience of a trail.  Just a couple of days earlier we had pondered what it might have been like to explore this land a few hundred years earlier: more and deadlier predators (wolves, grizzlies), no trail, no GPS, no powerful headlamps, no ultralight camping gear.  I wonder how far we would have gotten.

 

Benson Lake

We arrived at Benson Lake shortly before noon.  It was beautiful: crystal-clear water surrounded by high rocky peaks, and a wide sandy beach.  A few hikers stopped by (including the horse-and-trumpet group from the camp at Smedberg Lake) but mostly they didn't stay very long and we had the place almost entirely to ourselves.  Except for Eduardo, who had gotten sunburned at Smedberg Lake and was staying in the shade, we all went for dips in the (cold!) water, which was delightfully refreshing.  

 

Time passed.  I got some laundry done.  The afternoon went by in a lazy relaxed haze.   We sat around at dinner and talked about this and that and other thing, and eventually I headed into my tent around 7.

 

 Day 6: Benson Lake to Arndt Lake

 This had originally been planned to be a rest day, but we all felt that the last few days had been pretty mellow hiking and we didn't really need a break, so we decided to skip the rest day and keep hiking.  

 

We started on the trail at 7.  Barney Lake is at 7,600', and our hike would take us over Seavey Pass, at a little over 9,100'.  After a short flat stretch at the beginning, the trail began to climb.  The terrain was thickly forested, with lots of tall pines and a rich undergrowth of ferns and grasses and occasional manzanita bushes.   The horse party we'd been following since Matterhorn Creek had taken the trail ahead of us, leaving behind plenty of evidence of their journey.

 

The trail kept climbing.   The sun grew hotter.  Although the air temperature was quite pleasant and resting in the shade was delightful, stepping from shade into sunshine felt like being hit with a blast of heat.  We passed several small nameless lakes as we approached Seavey Pass.  The clear water and the reflections of rocks and trees and sky, were beautiful and very refreshing.

 

 

After Seavey Pass the trail descended towards Rancheria Creek.  We came to a fork where the PCT veered off to our left and we continued uphill towards Arndt Lake.  The creek paralleled the trail, burbling away as it ran down the canyon.  The tree cover gradually thinned and after a while we were trudging along under the ferocious glare of the sun.  The trail leveled out, winding its way through a beautiful wide canyon hemmed in by craggy rock faces on either side.   Rancheria Creek flowed quietly nearby to our right.

 

 

Eduardo relaxing

There was no actual trail to get to Arndt Lake, so we rock-hopped across the creek and cut across a dip in the ridge that hid the lake.  The outlet creek from the lake was just a dry rocky channel, making me wonder whether the lake might have gone dry as well, but after hiking a short distance we reached it.  Arndt Lake was beautiful and we had it all to ourselves.  We put our packs down and relaxed; Nancy went for a swim.

Kerrick Canyon

Arndt Lake

 

We were now a day ahead of schedule.  Having skipped our rest day, we'd be coming out a day earlier than originally planned, and so needed to make adjustments to our lodging reservations.  I managed to contact Wendy through my satellite communicator device and she was able to make the necessary changes.  Whew!

 

Later in the afternoon some clouds moved in and we heard rumbles of thunder in the distance.  We hurriedly set up our tents in case we needed to find shelter in a hurry (while uncomfortably aware that we were near the top of an exposed ridge, and lightning could be a problem if a thunderstorm materialized).  But eventually the clouds dissipated.  The evening was calm and quiet.  We had an enjoyable dinner and went into our tents not long after.

Day 7: Arndt Lake to Peeler Lake

 A short and easy day: 4.5 miles to Peeler Lake with only about 500' of elevation gain.  We had a relaxed start and didn't start hiking until about 8 AM.  There was a short bit of easy off-trail hiking to get back on the trail.  During this stretch, unfortunately, Nancy slipped and fell and hurt her ankle.

 

 

The terrain gradually opened up into a wide canyon with a very gentle rise northwards towards Kerrick Meadow.  There were a few trees here and there but mostly it was open meadow, with high rock outcroppings in the distance.  Rancheria Creek meandered quietly nearby.

 

At Kerrick Meadow, about a mile from Peeler Lake, we were detoured away from the established trail due to a restoration project.  This took us away from the open meadow, where we would have broiled under the blazing sun, into a forested area a little to the east.  The patchy shade from the trees was very welcome.

 

Peeler Lake, our destination for the day, sits in Hoover Wilderness, just outside Yosemite National Park.  We reached the lake a little before noon and found ourselves a nice wide shady campsite on the north shore of the lake.  The afternoon was slow and lazy: we'd sit in a sunny patch until it got warm, then shift into the shade until the breeze felt chilly, then back into the sun; or wander over to the edge of the lake to watch clouds go by and enjoy the quiet.  The lake was beautiful: crystal-clear blue water surrounded by high rocky peaks.  The occasional hiker passed by, and eventually a small group came and set up camp at the other end of the campsite, far enough and quiet enough that we barely noticed them.

 

 

Peeler Lake

 

We sat around for a while after dinner reminiscing about other backpacking trips.  Temperatures dropped as the sun sank lower, and by 7:30 PM it was chilly enough that we went into our tents. 

 

Day 8: Peeler Lake to Robinson Creek Trailhead 

 

The last day of of our hike. We were on the trail by 7, with the cliffs on Crown Point glowing golden in the early morning sunlight.  The trail skirted the north shore of Peeler Lake, climbed a little to get across a small ridge, then began the long descent to Barney Lake and then the trailhead beyond that.

 

We made good time, reaching the junction with the trail to Crown Lake in just an hour.  The day grew warmer as the sun rose higher, but the hiking was pleasant and undemanding.  The terrain was mostly familiar this time, but we were walking in the other direction now and things looked just slightly different.  

 

 

We stopped briefly at Barney Lake.   From here it was an easy walk back.  The closer we got to the trailhead the more crowded the trail grew: I think we saw more people in the last couple of hours of the hike than we had in the last several days.  

 

Photo: N. Johannesmeyer

We reached the parking lot around 12:30 PM.  The hike was done, and a big juicy hamburger waited.

 

Looking Back

The hike turned out well, despite assorted technical issues.  Nancy had all sorts of problems with her backpack but soldiered on regardless.  Eduardo's water filter went on strike.  My camera choked and water bladder sprang a leak.  But we managed.

 

One thing that I found puzzling (and maybe a bit annoying) was that almost every morning began with an uphill slog.  I finally figured out that that was the price we had to pay for camping by those many beautiful lakes: water flows downhill, so lakes are necessarily at low spots in the terrain.  

 

Overall, it was a relaxed and leisurely hike.  We could have done it in less time (most people do), but I'm glad we took time to enjoy the scenery, go swimming in the lakes, sit back and enjoy the quiet.  What's the point of going to a beautiful place and then hurrying through as fast as possible?