Grand Canyon (Escalante Route): Dec 2020

In Grand Canyon hiking parlance, "routes" refer to roads less traveled than trails.  In December 2020 I spent a leisurely week hiking the Escalante Route, which connects the Tanner and New Hance Trails, with my hiking buddy Tom.  Although quite a bit colder than I had expected (a leaky sleeping pad didn't help), the trek was delightful overall.

Day 1: Tanner Trailhead to Tanner Beach

The sky was just beginning to turn light when we started down the trail just before 7 AM; the thermometer read 17°F (this was actually a considerable improvement on the drive up from Tusayan, when the dashboard thermometer stayed in the low single digits and at one point ticked down to 0°F).  There was a dusting of  snow on the trail, but it was powdery and dry and we had enough traction to be able to move along without any problems.  For a short section towards the bottom of the Coconino sandstone, the rocks had a thin glaze of ice -- snow that had melted the previous day and then frozen overnight -- and needed careful stepping.  But this didn't last long, and by the time we reached the Seventyfive Mile Canyon saddle the snow was gone.  

The hike across the Supai layer was uneventful, the weather sunny and pleasant.  Shortly after 11, we stopped briefly for lunch at the bottom of the Redwall limestone layer, the sheer wall of the Palisades of the Desert hemming us in to the east, the Colorado river a tiny ribbon away to the north of us.

The trail below the Redwall, descending through the Muav and Tapeats, was not too demanding, but by the time we got to the Dox layer of the Supergroup, about a couple of miles from Tanner Beach, I was beginning to get tired.  The trail descends steadily (and interminably) through loose broken sandstone -- nothing especially difficult, but needing care when one is tired.  We reached Tanner Beach around 2:30. 

Comanche Point

Deep in the Canyon, surrounded by high cliffs, the sun arrives late and leaves early.  Our campsite was in the shadows by 4 PM, and once we lost the sun the temperature dropped quickly.  A thin sickle moon rose above Comanche Point, which glowed golden in the fading light.  Not having brought enough warm layers, I was cold enough that, after an early dinner, I retreated into my tent around 5:30.  The leak in my sleeping pad made for a cold night.

Days 2 and 3: Tanner Canyon, Cardenas Canyon

Our next camp, over at Cardenas Canyon,  was just an easy three-mile hike away, and the cool daytime temps meant that there was no particular rush to get on the trail early.  So we spent the morning hiking up Tanner Canyon, which I had seen from above several times while hiking Tanner Trail but had never explored.  This turned out to be a very enjoyable stroll.  The canyon (the parts we saw) is wide with a gently sloping gravel bed interspersed with large flat beds of deep red-brown Dox sandstone.  One intriguing find: Tom spotted drag marks from something being hauled along up the canyon bed; prints on either side suggested that the dragger might be a cat.  The marks were quite conspicuous for a while, but ended abruptly on a rocky stretch.  We never did figure out what it was.  We walked up-canyon for an hour or so, then returned to camp to pack up and head out to Cardenas Canyon.

The hike to Cardenas Canyon, across a wide open shadeless expanse referred to as "furnace flats", would likely have been brutal in the heat of summer; in the warmth of a December sun it was a delightful walk.  We pitched tents on a nice flat sunny campsite close to the rushing river.  The sun crept down the sky while we took care of the various setting-up-camp chores, and we were in shade by 4pm or so, after which the temperature dropped rapidly.  Dinner was early and I was inside my tent soon after.

The next morning was cloudy and cold.  My nalgene bottle froze shut, and chunks of ice began to form inside, soon after I came out of my tent; when I poured water into my mug to make breakfast, a thin glaze of ice (which I initially mistook for a stray piece of plastic wrap) formed on the surface even as I watched.  The cold temperatures caused the stove to use more gas than I had expected, and I wondered whether I'd have enough to last the trip.

After breakfast we headed out on a day hike up Cardenas Canyon.  The canyon was narrower and slightly steeper than Tanner Canyon, with the occasional "interesting" part, but mostly it was a very pleasant walk up a soft gravel bed.  

Cardenas Canyon

Cardenas Canyon

Fossilized mud cracks

Back at camp later that afternoon, the clouds that had covered the sky all day gradually began to dissolve; by sundown the skies were mostly clear, portending an even colder night.  Another early dinner followed by an early dive into my tent.

Day 4: Cardenas Canyon to Escalante Canyon

To my grateful surprise, the night turned out to be nowhere near as cold as I had feared.  I didn't see any stars overhead when I went out briefly around 3 AM, so presumably the clouds had returned overnight.  But when I emerged from my tent the skies were clear and blue. And cold, but I was expecting (and resigned to) that.  The goal for the day was Seventyfive Mile Canyon, 7 miles away.  

After a short climb of about 300' heading west out of Cardenas Beach, the trail contoured south, climbing gradually.  We hiked leisurely, detouring to view some prehistoric ruins (to the east) and dramatic clifftop views of the Unkar Delta across the river (to the west).  

The trail trended upward, rising another 500' or so over the next 1.5 miles, then jogged sharply westwards, paralleling Escalante Canyon (though on the other side of the ridge) for roughly a mile before turning south to descend into the (dry) creekbed.  This descent, along a thin, loose, poorly marked path down a steep canyonside, finally felt a little more like a "route" compared to the nice smooth easy hiking we had encountered before that.  

The trail rose out of the creekbed to the west side of the canyon and meandered down-canyon for another mile or so before dropping into Escalante Beach.  It was about 3:30 by the time we got there, which meant we had maybe another hour or so of good daylight.  It was only a couple of miles or so to Seventyfive Mile Canyon, but the prospect of getting into camp after dark wasn't very appealing and we decided to camp at Escalante Beach that evening.  We learned, as we set up camp, is that Escalante Canyon has some very inquisitive rodents.

After dinner, sitting shivering in the dark watching the stars flicker on one by one, we were treated to the sight of Jupiter and Saturn closing in on each other to the southwest.

Day 5: Seventyfive Mile Canyon

Seventyfive Mile Canyon is just a couple of miles of easy hiking from Escalante Canyon: the trail essentially follows the river downstream until it runs into Seventyfive Mile Canyon, at which point it turns and heads upcanyon for half a mile or so before dropping down to the canyon floor and heading back down to the river.  We reached our campsite around 9:30, set up camp, then headed up the canyon on an exploration day-hike.

Lower Seventyfive Mile Canyon

The stretch of Seventyfive Mile Canyon between the Colorado river and the point where the canyon meets the trail is a narrow shadowy slot just a few feet wide.  The towering vertical canyon walls block out the sun for much of the day.  The rock layers are tortured and twisted and folded into crazy patterns.  But above the canyon's junction with the trail it is completely different: it opens up abruptly, the canyon walls drop down to reasonable heights, the sun shines.  The first mile or so up-canyon from the river, Seventyfive Mile Canyon twists and turns in a generally southeasterly direction, but after that the main canyon abruptly veers to the east, pointing directly towards the Desert View Watchtower on the Rim.  We were walking up the canyon, went around a corner, looked up, and there was the Watchtower far away in the distance! That was very cool.

Upper Seventyfive Mile Canyon

Jupiter and Saturn seemed close to touching that evening.

Day 6: Seventyfive Mile Canyon to Red Canyon

It's only a mile from Seventyfive Mile Canyon to Papago Canyon, and another mile from Papago to Red Canyon, where the New Hance Trail would take us to the Rim.  But that first mile turned out to have the two most challenging parts of the trip: Papago Wall and Papago Slide.  I had read about both before the trip, but the readings didn't really prepare me for the reality.

The trail out of Seventyfive Mile Canyon climbs a couple of hundred feet from the beach and parallels
the river before descending steeply into Papago Canyon.  After crossing the beach, it then goes straight up a wall of black rock: Papago Wall (different sources give different estimates of its height,ranging from 30 feet to 50 feet).  There are plenty of hand- and foot-holds and ledges to stand on, but its near-verticalness was off-putting at first -- in fact, when Tom initially pointed to the ducks indicating where the trail went up the rock face, my first reaction was, "You've got to be kidding me!" (Technically, that was my second reaction.  My first reaction is best left unprinted.)  But when I put skin to rock, it turned out to be less difficult than it had been intimidating, even with packs on. Tom and I were soon at the top and on our way.  

Tom starting up Papago Wall

About twenty minutes later we came to the Papago Slide.  This is a steep narrow chute, maybe 80 or 100 feet high, of loose scree, ranging in size from gravel to small stones to large boulders, perched precariously on this incredibly steep slope and ready to move at the least provocation.  Tom went down first, and once he was away from the fall line I followed him down.   As with the Papago Wall, all four limbs were involved.  Once I began moving, the actual descent wasn't as bad as it had initially seemed, but I was still glad when it was done.  

Papago Slide from the top from the bottom

Overall, Papago Wall and Papago Slide rank up there among the most intimidating stretches of hiking I've encountered, in the Grand Canyon or elsewhere.

After descending the Papago Slide it was just a short hike to Hance Beach.  There were a few boulder fields to negotiate along the way; these may have felt respectable in other places, but after the Slide they seeemed unremarkable.  The sun had lit up the red Hakatai shale slopes across the river, and their reflection made it seem as though the river was afire.  On a trip full of gorgeous scenery, the sight was absolutely stunning.

We spent some time at Hance Beach purifying water to take with us for our dry camp that night, then hiked up New Hance Trail to a campsite about 1.6 miles from the river.  On either side lay the bright red slopes of Hakatai shale that give Red Canyon its name.  Although the weather had warmed slightly over the last few days, the temperature dropped quickly once the sun sank below the clifftops.  After our usual early dinner, we finished off our remaining booze (there's no sense hauling it up the 3,700 vertical feet we'd be hiking the next day) and then I ducked into my tent.

Much later, maybe around 9 PM, I was awakened briefly by a pack of foxes yipping in the distance.  It was a cool sound for the last night of our trip, but I don't think I lay awake very long.

Day 7: Red Canyon to New Hance Trailhead

Tom fell ill overnight.  Our tents were far enough apart that I didn't find out until I went over to talk to him in the morning.  Although he didn't feel great, Tom felt that he'd be able to make it to the top on his own.  New Hance, considered one of the most difficult South Rim trails in the Grand Canyon, is hard work even for the physically fit; tackling this trail when one is weak and wobbly and running on fumes takes a huge amount of willpower and mental fortitude.  

Redwall cliffs Hakatai cliffs

We moved slowly, reaching the top of the Redwall around noon and the top of the Coconino layer just as the sun was setting.  We finished the last stretch by the light of our headlamps (trailfinding by the light of headlamps in the jumble of rocks at the top is hard!).  

We came out of the hike around 7:30 PM.