Tuesday, March 19, 2019

Grand Canyon: The silliness of rim-to-rim in a day

Some time ago, I was talking to a young man and mentioned hiking in the Grand Canyon.  "Did you go rim-to-rim?" he asked eagerly, referring to the activity of going from a rim of the Grand Canyon, down to the Colorado River at the bottom, and back up to the rim, all in one day.  "No," I said with a puzzled look.  "That sounds silly.  Why would I want to do that?"  He looked away, plainly disappointed.

I was backpacking in the Grand Canyon a couple of weeks ago.  We were coming up South Kaibab Trail when we stopped to chat with a lady heading down.  She told us proudly of the many rim-to-rim trips she had made, and how she aspired some day to complete a rim-to-rim-to-rim.  I tried to keep a polite face while mentally shaking my head.

A rim-to-rim hike is certainly not an easy thing: depending on the particular combination of trails  used, it can range from 14 to 20 miles with a total elevation change of 8,800 to 9,600 feet.  A rim-to-rim-to-rim hike essentially doubles those numbers.  Doing either in a single day is an impressive athletic accomplishment indeed.

What I take issue with is not the athleticism of these hikers, but rather the aesthetics of the endeavor.  It baffles me that people would travel all the way to the Grand Canyon and then basically just rush through one small section of it.  If demonstrating one's physical prowess is the goal (experiencing the Canyon in any significant way does not seem to be), there are much simpler ways of doing it.  For example, I work in a ten-story building, where one could get the elevation-change equivalent of a rim-to-rim simply by running up and down the stairs, from bottom to top and back, 900 times.  It would be simpler, cheaper -- and no mule poop to deal with either!

There are (at least) two things that rim-to-rim hikes miss out on.  The first is that they are pretty much limited to the Corridor trails (Bright Angel, N. Kaibab, S. Kaibab), which cover only a small sliver of the vast diversity and grandeur of the Grand Canyon.  The second is that the focus on getting in and out of the Canyon in a single day precludes experiences that take longer than just a day to really seep into one's mind.  It takes a few days in the more remote corners, when you haven't seen another human in days, to truly appreciate the silence and serenity of the Canyon, and also to understand its utter indifference to whether you live or die.  It takes quiet reflection to see a handprint inside an ancient ruin and imagine that person looking out at the same cliffs a thousand years ago; to touch the black walls of Vishnu Schist and take one's mind back 1.8 billion years to when the continent was young and that rock was laid down.  It takes time to listen to the songs of the Canyon -- the sigh of the wind among the cottonwoods, the lusty croaking of frogs in the tumbling creeks,  the full-throated roaring thunder of the River wrestling the rocks at the rapids along its way.  It takes time.

Imagine that you had a glass of the finest wine in the world: would you chug it and take pride in your drinking speed?  If you were at a banquet feast of gourmet dishes, would you gobble it down as quickly as you could?  Would you journey to the Louvre so you could race through rooms filled with amazing works of art, and boast of how quickly you had gotten through the place?


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In early March 2024 Layne, Tom, and I spent most of the week of Spring Break backpacking in Grand Canyon on a trip spanning the gamut from n...