Grand Canyon (Escalante Route): April 2026

A group of six of us—Bill, Brett, Layne, Logan, Ramesh, and I—went on a four-day backpacking trip in Grand Canyon in April 2026: down Tanner Trail, across on the Escalante Route, and out on New Hance Trail.  This is a challenging hike (Escalante Route can be intimidating in a couple of places, and New Hance is possibly the hardest trail on Grand Canyon's South Rim), and after an unusually warm March I had been worried that hot weather might compound the challenge.  As it turned out, the weather was close to perfect and the hike was delightful.

Day 1: Rim to Tanner Rapids

View from Lipan Point

Our first day was down Tanner Trail, about 8 miles from Rim to river and intermediate in difficulty among Grand Canyon's off-corridor South Rim trails.  There are two steep, loose, and rocky sections—the first, going through the Coconino Sandstone layer near the top of the trail, with a drop of about 1,200' over half a mile; and the second, through the Redwall Limestone layer, dropping about 1,000' over 0.7 miles.  In between these two sections is a delightful mellow three-mile meander along the Supai (which the Park Service's trail description considers "the only reasonably civilized hiking to be found along the entire route").  Below the Redwall the trail descends another 2,000' over three miles to reach the Colorado River: nowhere as hard, but still loose and slippery enough to demand one's full attention the entire distance.

Descent through the Redwall 

We started down the trail around 9 AM.  It was pleasant hiking and we made good time.  There were very few people on the trail: we met one person who was going up, and saw a small group some distance behind us, but other than that had the place to ourselves.  We stopped for a brief snack break at Seventyfive Mile Saddle and a quick lunch below the Redwall, but other than these brief breaks kept moving.  

 

Hedgehog cactus in bloom

Although it had been a dry winter and spring, there were a lot of plants in bloom.  Especially showy were the big bright pink and purple flowers of hedgehog and prickly pear cacti that lit up the arid landscape.  

Tanner Rapids
(Video: B. Dooley)

We reached Tanner Campground around 3 PM.  There was a short flurry of concern when Brett briefly went missing, but he showed back up soon and all was well—it turned out that he had inadvertently continued along a stretch of trail we'd take the next day.  The sun was too hot to set up camp right away, so we took care of other chores, such as filtering water, and sat in whatever shade we could find and relaxed.  We were all tired after not-enough-sleep the night before followed by a hard day's hike, and once the sun sank low we set up camp, made dinner, and turned in early.

Tanner Trail: Below the Redwall

Tanner Rapids

Comanche Point

Layne and Bill relaxing

 Day 2: Tanner Beach to Seventyfive Mile Canyon

The trail out of Tanner Beach starts out soft and sandy and flat, and it's easy and pleasant hiking to Cardenas Canyon, about three miles away.  A little to the west of Cardenas there's side trail to a small prehistoric Puebloan ruin on a hilltop overlooking Cardenas Canyon and the Colorado River beyond it.  Beyond this the trail rises gradually, skirting steep red sandstone cliffs above the Colorado River, which carves a wide S around Unkar Delta on the opposite bank.  After a mile or so the trail veers sharply to the west and more or less contours along for a little over a mile before it jogs to the left and drops, steeply and roughly—more of a "route" now than a "trail"—down into Escalante Canyon. 

Views from around Cardenas Canyon

 We had a relaxed start and were on the trail just after 8 AM.  I was moving slower than the others in the group, and encouraged them to move on at their own speed; in the blink of an eye they were out of sight and I had the Canyon to myself.   It was an amazing feeling: all the pluses of a solo hike (silence; solitude; guilt-free breaks to take pictures or admire the scenery) alongside the knowledge that, barring mishaps, I'd have friends for company at dinner.  I took the little detour to the ruin near Cardenas, paused to admire the red cliffs framing the deep green ribbon of the river curling around Unkar Delta.  I met up with the rest of the group briefly at their lunch break a couple of miles later, but was back to solitary hiking shortly after.  I reached Escalante Canyon around 2:30 PM.  It was less than a couple of miles from there to Seventyfive Mile Canyon, but the sun was hot and I was tired and this last stretch felt interminable. 

On the way to Seventyfive Mile Canyon (Videos: B. Dooley)

The trail skirts the edge of the sheer vertical walls of Seventyfive Mile Canyon for about half a mile before dropping down into the canyon proper via a short but not-far-from-vertical rock slope.  Once at the bottom, the character of the trail changes abruptly: from hot, sunny, and rocky to cool, sandy, and shady.  The canyon narrows quickly, the walls closing in until one can almost touch both sides of the canyon with outstretched arms.  The canyon twists and turns, and after a while there is a faint whisper that gradually grows into the roar of Neville Rapids (which I was too worn out to appreciate, except for the shade and soft sand, which I was grateful for).  The canyon eventually opens up onto a flat open bouldery area, and off to the right (i.e., up-river) is a pretty little sandy beach, with a bunch of cozy tree-shaded campsites to the side.  Everyone was hanging around by the beach, relaxing and setting up camp.  A canyon wren flitted among the trees and rocks, complaining loudly about our intrusion. We hadn't seen a single hiker outside our group all day, and now we had the entire place to ourselves.  A raft party came down the river a little later and stopped at the beach, and donated some beer before they left; it was the best I had ever tasted.

Seventyfive Mile Canyon

 It had been a long day and I was tired.  I had hiked 10.5 miles, with a total elevation gain of 3000' and elevation loss of 3100'.  I had an early dinner and ducked into my tent soon after.

Day 3: Seventyfive Mile Canyon to Red Canyon

Papago Wall

Papago Slide

On a map,  the trail from Seventyfive Mile Canyon west to Hance Rapids looks straightforward: 1.5 miles with a very modest elevation change (around +500' and -500').  It's a lot less trivial on the ground: rough and rocky, with numerous rockslides to negotiate.  And, of course, the notorious Papago Wall and Papago Slide, which can be intimidating even to people who have hiked the route before.  We averaged about 1 mph on this section, which I think was pretty decent.

Hance Rapids

We reached Hance Rapids around 9:30 AM and stopped to pick up water for a dry camp overnight.  A raft party beached their rafts across on the other side of the river and hiked up to an overlook to plan their way through the rapids, one of the most difficult in Grand Canyon.  A big lizard came by, glared at us, and did some pushups to tell us that he had already claimed the area.  The rafters got back into their rafts and, one by one, launched into the rapids.

It was close to noon by the time we headed up New Hance Trail towards the Rim.  This is the shortest river-to-rim trail in the Grand Canyon (and one of the hardest), climbing a little over 4,400' over 6.5 miles; the first 1.5 miles are relatively flat, after which it steepens as it climbs out of the canyon floor.  The heat, intense sun, and the weight of the extra water we were carrying made for hard hiking.  After about two miles and 1,100 vertical feet, we  decided to stop and camp in a dry wash (this would have been a no-no in rainy weather due to the danger of flash floods, but the forecasts were clear and we were not expecting any rain).  The sun was still pretty high in the sky, so we sat in whatever shade we could find and waited for the day to cool.  It was a quiet and relaxed afternoon.  Another day of not seeing anyone outside our little group.

Red Canyon Camp

 Day 4: Red Canyon to Rim

Everything was silent  in the predawn darkness when I rolled out of my sleeping bag and slowly began packing up.  Little by little it grew light and the Canyon began to come awake.  A faraway mourning dove cooed softly as I prepared breakfast.  A tarantula hawk flew by, a small red-and-black blur looking for victims to sting and paralyze.  Some sparrows chattered in the distance, then a wren joined in.  The air was deliciously cool.

 We started up the trail at around 7:30 AM.   It headed uphill right away.  I was hiking quite a bit slower than the rest of the group, so I dropped back to the tail of the line and proceeded at my own pace.  Soon I was alone in the Canyon.  It was wonderful!   There were lots of wildflowers along the trail—and while the display was not as riotously exuberant as in places like, say, the Grand Tetons, it was lovely nonetheless, especially considering the long drought we've been in.

Sights from New Hance Trail

Redwall Cliffs

The trail climbed steeply and relentlessly.  There was a brief respite after the cliffy Redwall layer, but it didn't last long.  A little further up, going through the Supai layer, there was a stretch where the trail was repeatedly obliterated by a series of rock slides.  Negotiating these involved climbing over and around big haphazard jumbles of boulders.  I lost the trail a couple of times going over rock slides, and while I was able to get back to the trail each time, there were some anxious moments.  

 The vegetation around me changed as I slowly worked my way up the trail: the cactus and shrubs from lower elevations were replaced by junipers and, as I neared the top, pine trees.  I reached the trailhead little after 1 PM.

 Epilogue

Layne and Logan had gone ahead and were waiting at the Desert Watchtower.  We piled into Brett's truck and headed their way to say goodbye before heading home.  Brett popped a bottle of champagne he had brought.  It was a lovely end to a hard but delightful hike.

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 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 might not 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.