Grand Canyon (Tonto Trail to Horn and Monument Canyons): December 2019

A bunch of us—Tom and Herman, the usual suspects; Nirmal and Nicole, friends from Canada; and I—spent four delightful days in December 2019 backpacking in the Grand Canyon along a stretch of the Tonto Trail that took us from its junction with the South Kaibab Trail, to Horn Canyon and Monument Canyon, then back to the Rim on Hermit Trail.

Day 1: Rim to Horn Canyon

The most direct and straightforward way to get to Horn Canyon is to take Bright Angel Trail down to Indian Garden [4.8 miles],  then march down the Tonto to Horn Canyon [2.5 miles], for a very reasonable first-day distance of 7.3 miles.  But back in March I had really enjoyed hiking the section of the Tonto from S. Kaibab to Indian Garden, which I remembered as being around a couple of miles of easy, flat, scenic trail (the figure "2.5 miles" was firm in my mind), and talked the group into going down S. Kaibab instead.   And so, after dropping off a vehicle at Hermit Trailhead, we took the Hiker's Shuttle over to S. Kaibab Trailhead.  We were on the trail around 8:30.

The hike down was delightful.  The trail was dry, without any accumulation of snow or ice from recent storms, and the sunshine took the edge off the cool air.  We reached the Tipoff around 12:30 and stopped for lunch in the recently-completed shelter.  At this point, Herman—sharp-eyed as always—discovered, from one of the signs nearby, that the distance from there to Indian Garden was actually 4.6 miles, not 2.5 miles as I had originally claimed.  This put Horn Creek campground about 7 miles away, and—given the short winter days—raised the prospect of getting into camp after dark.  We stopped dawdling.

The hike along the Tonto was just as enjoyable as always: gorgeous vistas, perfect hiking weather, and silence.  We saw a few deer grazing among the low shrubs some distance away, but other than that the trail was deserted and it felt as though we had the Canyon all to ourselves.  There were several more deer as we approached Indian Garden, and these mostly just ignored us and grazed nonchalantly as we sat by the creek working our water filters.  (The water at Horn Creek, where we would be camping that night, is considered unsafe to drink due to the leaching of radioactive material from an old uranium mine upstream.  This meant we had to take on enough water for the rest of the hike that day, for cooking that evening and the next morning, and for the next day's hike to Monument Creek.)  We left Indian Garden a little after 4pm and reached the campground at Horn Creek just as it was getting dark—which is to say that it was still twilight when we began setting up camp, and dark by the time we were done.  Dinner was by the light of our headlamps.  Everyone was tired from the day's hike, and we didn't stay up long after that.

Day 2: Horn Canyon to Monument Canyon

Monument Canyon is a little over 8 miles from Horn Canyon along the Tonto.  Another day of wonderful hiking, with blue skies, sunny and cool weather, and solitude.  The trail followed Horn Canyon for a little while, then swung away westwards, skirting the cliffs above the Colorado River and offering gorgeous views of the cliffs on the other side.

There is something primitive and savage about the Vishnu Schist cliffs of the Inner Gorge.  Unlike the orderly layered decorum of the strata above them, these rocks seem riotous and undisciplined.  It is as though an ocean of molten rock was frozen in mid-boil.
 
The trail eventually veered away from the Colorado and headed into Salt Canyon.  As with Horn Creek, the water in Salt Creek is undrinkable, though this time due to high mineral content.  Salt Canyon is pretty deep, which meant a wide detour on the Tonto.  A little later we went through the much shallower drainage of Cedar Springs, about halfway between Horn and Monument Canyons.  By mid-afternoon we were at Monument Canyon.

Day 3: Day hike to the Colorado

A rest day, with nothing more demanding than a mellow 1.3 mile hike down to the Colorado.  The day began cloudy and overcast, with the forecast (from a couple of days ago, back on the Rim) calling for a chance of rain in the evening,  We were feeling sluggish and lazy, and the cloudy skies did nothing to energize us; of course, there wasn't any real reason to hurry.  We had a slow and leisurely morning and eventually got on the trail somewhere in the vicinity of 9am.

The trail headed downstream, along the side of the canyon, for maybe a third of a mile before descending to a massive 130-foot sandstone-and-granite pillar that is the monument the canyon is named after, then down to the creek bed.   The creek wound its way gently down to the river, flanked on either side by cliffs of black schist shot through with streaks of pink granite intrusions.

As we got closer to the river, we could hear the rapids some distance away.  When we reached the Colorado, it was running thick with mud and silt, the color of masala chai, churning through Granite Rapids with a continuous deafening roar that made conversation difficult.  We sat around for a while, watched a couple of kayakers run the rapids, enjoyed the rush and roar of the river, then eventually headed back up towards camp.

Back at camp, an inventory revealed significant quantities of unconsumed alcohol.  As experienced backpackers, we knew that that hauling out all that weight the next day, over 9+ trail miles and 3,600 feet of elevation gain, could adversely affect hiking efficiency, which could then impact our fellow hikers' Canyon experience.  Therefore, purely out of a sense of social responsibility and civic duty, we spent the rest of the afternoon polishing off the booze.  Much merriment ensued.

Day 4: Hike out

We had a long day ahead of us—9+ trail miles and 3,600 vertical feet to Hermit trailhead—and so started early: up at 4 and on the trail by 5:45.  It was pitch dark, and our headlamps illuminated only a few feet of trail in front of each of us.  Tom was in the lead, and despite the poor visibility and although the trail was often rocky and faint, somehow managed to not go astray.  Gradually the sky lightened and the terrain around us began to take shape: faint outlines at first, then slowly gaining substance.

It was daylight by the time we reached the junction of the Tonto and Hermit trails.  The weather forecast had been for morning rain, and the sky was heavy and gray as we turned left and headed uphill on Hermit.  It began to spit on us intermittently above Cathedral Stairs—not quite rain, but not quite not-rain either—and the wind gradually picked up until, as we approached the appropriately named Breezy Point, it was gusting hard enough to wobble us as we hiked.  The wind eased up eventually, but we could see the weather moving in: much of the skyline north of the river was obscured by clouds, and some of the cliffs on the south side as well.  By the time we reached Santa Maria Springs the occasional drop of rain had changed to the occasional flurry of snow.  Towards the top the trail was covered with a thin layer of snow.

Cathedral Stairs

We reached the trailhead a little before 3pm.  Herman's Yukon was the only vehicle in the normally-busy parking lot.

Postscript

New Year's resolution: check maps and distances more carefully when planning hiking trips.

Grand Canyon (Bright Angel and Clear Creek): March 2019

Tom and I spent the week of March 2-9 (Spring Break at UA) hiking and backpacking in the Grand Canyon.  We had originally hoped to do the Escalante Route but didn't get permits for those dates, and in the end decided on a trip that had three nights at Clear Creek, with two nights before and two nights after at Bright Angel Campground.

Days 1 and 2: Bright Angel Campground

We showed up at the Backcountry Information Center for the first run of the Hiker's Special shuttle.  The sky was a dull leaden gray and the forecast called for rain.  We were at the South Kaibab trailhead by 7:30.  The trail was covered with a slippery mix of ice and slushy snow, and we very quickly decided to pull to the side and put on our Yaxtrax.  

About an hour into the hike it began to rain.  It wasn't too heavy, and once I put on my rain gear the hiking wasn't too bad.  The Colorado, once we could see it, looked a thick muddy brown, making me  wonder how bad the creeks would be (muddy water is hard to pump through water filters, as we had found out on a trip a few years ago).  Of course, there was very little we could do about it.

We reached Bright Angel Campground around 11:30.  I had been worried that the campsites would be a muddy mess, but thankfully that wasn't the case.  Even better, the rain stopped just as we reached the campground, so setting up camp wasn't a problem either.  It began to rain again about an hour after we'd set up camp, so we ducked into our tents.  The effects of the morning's hike, the sound of raindrops spattering on the tent, and the warmth and comfort of the sleeping bag, were wonderfully relaxing; before long, I dozed off.

The rain eventually petered out, and although the sky stayed dark and threatening, the sun peeked out now and then and lit up the cottonwood trees beginning to come into leaf.  The effects of the rain further up-canyon were now beginning to reach us: Bright Angel Creek, running right by the campground, was now noticeably higher and muddier than it had been just a few hours ago: rocks that had been sticking up above the water earlier were now submerged in the rushing brown torrent.

Hellgrammite: N. Kaibab Trail

Later that evening, and again on the trail the next day, we came across an unfamiliar bug , which we learned later was a hellgrammite.  It turns out that they live under rocks in clean water, and sometimes come out onto land after storms.  Maybe the muddying of the water due to storm runoff has something to do with that.

It rained off an on that night.  A couple of times I heard big loud rolling booms from what sounded like not too far away: one may (or may not) have been thunder, but the other sounded very much like a rockfall.  Camped as we were, right next to the cliff, this was not reassuring.

Washed-away section of trail

We set out early the next morning for a day hike to Ribbon Falls, six miles up North Kaibab Trail.  The weather was pleasant and cool, and the trail, which followed Bright Angel Trail upstream, had only a very gentle pitch to it.  The effects of the rainy winter were obvious: water seeping down the Vishnu Schist cliffs in many places, a number of rockfalls along the trail that hurried us along, a small section of trail washed away in one place. 
Crossing Bright Angel Creek to get to the waterfall turned out to be a problem, however: the creek was running so high and fast that wading across didn't feel safe, and the bridge across the creek was temporarily closed.  We ended up tiptoeing across the bridge slowly and carefully,  after which the short hike to the falls was uneventful.

The waterfall itself was absolutely stunning: over time, evaporation from the mineral-rich water stream has built up a huge travertine dome underneath the column of water, covered with a thick coat of moss whose vivid green was a brilliant contrast against the red of the cliffs.  A narrow path wound its way up the side of the cliff to  ledge behind the waterfall, from which I could look out at the canyon walls through a curtain of spray.  It was a delightful treat, and we had the place entirely to ourselves, so we sat and enjoyed it for a long while before heading back to camp.

Ribbon Falls

Days 3-6: Clear Creek

It was still dark when we put on our packs and hit the trail at 6am.  The first ¾ mile from Bright Angel Campground runs goes through Phantom Ranch and up along N. Kaibab Trail before coming to a T-junction where Clear Creek Trail heads off to the right.  The trail rises steeply pretty much right away, climbing about 1,500 feet over the next 1.5 miles to the Tonto Platform.  The trail was in pretty good shape, and the climb felt good in the cool air of the early morning.

Zoroaster Temple

The trail leveled out once we reached the Tonto, offering stunning views of the Inner Gorge; we could see S. Kaibab Trail across the river, a long diagonal slash ending in a zigzag of switchbacks above the Black Bridge.  The sun had risen above the rim by now, shining through gaps in the clouds and lighting up the top of the South Rim cliffs, the light changing from minute to minute.  The trail contoured along above the river, heading east for several miles, with the sharp point of Zoroaster Temple looming above us, then turned to the northeast towards Zoroaster Canyon.  A couple of miles beyond Zoroaster Canyon (it felt a lot longer) the trail turned and headed down the side of a steep slope of beautiful bright red Hakatai Shale towards Clear Creek below us. 


Once at the canyon bottom, a short walk brought us to the campground.  According to GPS, the distance from from Bright Angel Campground to Clear Creek Campground was just over 10 miles (officially, Clear Creek Trail is 9 miles long, but there's an additional 3/4 mile section along N. Kaibab Trail at the beginning and a short stretch along the bottom of Clear Creek Canyon at the end).  The sun was warm and bright above us, and it was very pleasant to crawl into my tent and stretch out.  Later, once the sun was lower and the air cooler, we went about the usual camp housekeeping: pump water, make dinner, etc.  Soon after the first couple of stars came out, I was in my tent for the night.

Hiking up Clear Creek

The next day began relatively slow and relaxed: there was no big hurry to get going, and we didn't get on the trail until around 7.  The plan was to hike up Clear Creek to Cheyava Falls, four miles upstream.  There wasn't much in the way of trail, so we pretty much just went up the creek bed, with a lot of boulder-hopping and stream-crossing.  But the weather was pleasant and the streambed mostly not too brushy, making for an enjoyable hike.  Unfortunately, Cheyava (Hopi for "intermittent water") was dry when we got there.  But it was a lovely day, so we sat and enjoyed the scenery.  Tom spotted some prehistoric ruins on the cliff face across the creek a little way from us, so on the way back we bushwhacked up to the ruins through some thick brush to check them out.

Cheyava Falls (dry)

We got a late start the next morning.  The plan was to hike downstream towards the Colorado.  The original weather forecast (i.e., when we began our hike) had called for rain that day, and it had grown cloudy and windy overnight, so we decided to wait see how the weather turned out.  The weather held, and after a while we decided to head downstream.  As on the day before, there was no trail to follow and we ended up with a lot of boulder-hopping and stream crisscrossing.  After hiking downstream a little over a couple of miles, we decided to just sit and relax by the creekside.  All around us were jagged black cliffs of Vishnu Schist, with a little rill of water running down the middle.

Vishnu Schist cliffs: Clear Creek Canyon

By the time we got back to camp later that afternoon, a weather system moving through the area was pushing through a lot of wind, which intensified greatly as it churned down the narrow canyon.   It was so intense that it kept uprooting my tent stakes, and I kept having to go pound them back in.  Eventually I ended up piling large heavy rocks on top of the stakes to hold them down.  Everything inside the tent was covered with fine red dust, and each gust of wind blew in more.  The winds grew fiercer as the evening wore on, and I don't think I got a lot of sleep that night.  I could hear each blast of wind roaring down the canyon like a demented freight train, the sound growing louder and louder until suddenly the tent was shaking hard, the rain fly flapping furiously, the tent poles creaking as they bent and twisted.  Sand in my face.  This went on for maybe a minute or so, then a lull, until the next freight train began its run down the canyon.  When I was taking down the tent the next morning I found that the relentless pounding had bent the tent poles in several places.

We headed back to Bright Angel Campground the next day.  The wind had mostly quieted by the time we began breaking camp, so taking down our tents was not as problematic as I'd feared.  We were on the trail by daybreak.  The hike back was uneventful, with overcast skies that kept the temperature pleasant and only a few brief light showers.

Days 7-8: Bright Angel Campground; hike out

The plan for the day was to day-hike up South Kaibab to the Tonto, then take the Tonto over to Bright Angel Trail, and take Bright Angel back to the campground.  The map showed some sort of natural arch not too far from S. Kaibab, and Tom thought it might be visible from the Tonto, so we thought we might look for that as well.

Black-tailed rattlesnake	Miner's cabin ruins

We were on the trail by 7.  The hiking was delightful: the sun was out, the air was cool, and there were very few people on the trail.  We made good time to the Tipoff, and after a brief stop headed west on the Tonto towards Bright Angel Trail, just over four miles away.  The trail meandered along, contouring back and forth.  We saw a small snake with unfamiliar markings dozing by the trailside (a park ranger later identified it as a black-tailed rattlesnake; it was the second reported rattlesnake sighting of the season).  Near Pipe Creek we came across the ruins of an old miner's cabin: just the base of the walls, and some old rusted cans.  

A little before (i.e., to the east of) where Tonto meets Bright Angel, there is a faint trail, unmaintained and rarely used, that heads off downhill: Old Bright Angel Trail.  We went down this trail, then bushwhacked across a steep hillside to some old cliff dwellings, then bushwhacked back down to Old Bright Angel.  Eventually Old Bright Angel Trail intersected (new, well-traveled) Bright Angel Trail.  We could still see faint traces of Old Bright Angel Trail plunging steeply down the hillside, and after some discussion decided to take it all the way down.  This was very enjoyable --- Old Bright Angel was challenging enough to demand one's full focus, but not so hard as to be scary --- though once we got down to the creek and looked back up, it seemed impossible that we could have come that way.

Ruins

Old Bright Angel Trail

When we got back to camp, there were three deer munching nonchalantly on the undergrowth near our campsite, quite comfortable with the hikers walking around.  They looked annoyed at our appearance, grazed for a little while longer, then wandered off.

We were to hike out the next day.  The plan was to take Bright Angel Trail up: 10 miles, just under 4,400 vertical feet.  We broke camp in the dark and were well along the trail by the time the sky began to lighten to the east.  The morning air had just a hint of chill and my ungloved fingertips tingled.  The trail became more crowded as the morning wore on.  The last mile or so of the trail, near the top, was covered with ice and snow, and we had to top and put on our Yaxtrax to get decent traction.  We got to the top around 1:30-ish.

Postscript

I had turned 60 just a couple of weeks before this hike, and the hike was a celebration of sorts.  It was wonderful: the scenery was gorgeous, the hiking delightful, the weather [mostly] great.  I should definitely consider turning 60 more often.

I saw two kinds of critters new to me on this trip: hellgrammites and a black-tailed rattlesnake.  That was pretty cool.

At one point, after talking to a hiker who was rhapsodizing about doing a rim-to-rim hike in a day, I got to pondering why that held so little appeal for me.  I've written down some thoughts here.