Crossing the Big Ditch

2019… seems like eons ago. Back then my buddy Conan – no, not that comedic entertainer… no, not that chemically enhanced Austrian muscleman either (although that is the source for my former college roommate acquiring the nickname), had suggested a hike out in cacti central. Relevant to this story, I had been training with weights for more than a decade at the time we met almost forty years ago – as a multidiscipline runner primarily. He had been the big man on his high school campus via football and still retained decent size and substantial strength. Together we worked out in the surprisingly well-equipped SIU gym, Ozzy often being blasted over the sound system for inspiration (it worked) and me turning him on to an endurance aspect of pumping iron. I did not learn of his [new PR] max result until well after we had moved on with our lives. Him ultimately loading and handling 355# on the Bench Press bar; I dismounted the same and put it right back… that was very heavy for my 165# trim body. Unknown to me back then at Southern Illinois University, and to him as well it seems, under the covers and not yet evolved into, he was a desert kind of guy. Our couple-dozen or so hiking adventures carrying the big package on our backs began a handful of years after he had become an alumnus of that fine institution of higher learning – I had moved on sans sheepskin, still adrift in my foundationless life. In those years way back, he had destroyed his knees, and I had destroyed my lower spine. The hike he suggested was not unknown to me having toured the target trails earlier with Swiss Miss while investigating her educational opportunity at Northern Arizona University. Upon detailed inspection it looked challenging and interesting and why not? Rim to Rim of the Grand Canyon would be quite a change from our usual Rocky Mountain wilderness excursions.

The most basic description of our itinerary goes like this:

• Drive to and camp at the South Rim
• Park the Hondo above South Rim TH
• Ride shuttle from South to North Rim
• Sleep somewhere
• Hike the Big Ditch
• Stay a night at the South Rim
• Drive home

The first item to overcome turned out to be simple lodging. There are no trail limits for number of hikers on one day simultaneously like there is going up Mount Whitney for example, but there is severely limited lodging on the North Rim – our intended starting side over a mile in altitude above of the Colorado River. I received a call at work and Edmundo was ecstatic, he had secured a cabin for one night early in May – that time of year sometimes still having ice on the trails up above at eight thousand feet. You see, absent fixed lodging, we could have camped, but then what to do with the gear? We certainly were not going to haul it down six-thousand and back up four-thousand feet over twenty-four miles. We had no third person to handle anything like vehicles or cartage – the shuttle service would not accommodate. We had to stay overnight on the North to enable a very early start to the lengthy and already strenuous hike. Before the call, we had decided that if no room became available, we would in fact “camp”, but with just a tarp and wearing our full gear. Plastic disposable cookware and pre-made meals would have to do. The tiny cabin acquired at North Rim made things a bit easier and certainly more comfortable – we thought.

Next item: where to stay the night when we parked the Hondo at the South Rim (awaiting our successful return hike from the North)? That area is contained within the Kaibab National Forest and dispersed camping  (outside of established campground) is allowed. With no reservations available in the campgrounds, we would either camp rough in the woods or possibly snag a first-come-first-served non-reservable campsite.

Finally, our gear was a bit dependent on the trail facilities – running water could not be guaranteed at that time of year at the few piped in spots, so we opted for our pump/filter and purification tablets in case of pump failure – you really can’t borrow water from another hiker – they need what they have, and no one carries “extra” due to the weight. We were going to carry three liters each. Reports were mixed on the usual trail conditions at that time of year so we both opted for boots. Full shells – providing for the unlikely rain as well as wind and warmth. Multipurpose leather gloves, and two hiking sticks each as there was said to be some very steep sections – plus Sugarfoot’s many-times-repaired knees appreciated the load relief redirected to the arms and shoulders. Fleece upper and extra microfiber T-shirt, and extra sock system rounded out the clothing. We also decided on a very rudimentary first-aid kit due to the presence of other hikers (and Rangers) – that stuff could and would be shared – if needed. Sunblock was in there somewhere too. We would carry a handful of multiple versions of quality energy bars along with some of those chewy gooey electrolyte gels. If I remember correctly, this may have been our only hike ever to NOT include booze. We were being a bit cautious overall. Ultimately my daypack weighed in at just under twenty pounds and I think Eddie Bear’s was a few pounds more because of his additional clothing items.

The long drive from western Chicagoland was nothing new but we had never traveled through the mountains so early in the year and when we stepped out for gas near Vail, CO, we were both shocked at the sub-freezing temperature. If the time differential is not too much of a penalty, we like to take new routes… I really do not remember where we were when we ran into this beauty.

We arrived at the South Rim campground and the hiking gods smiled upon us – we snagged the last campsite. Tables, [flush] crappers, SHOWERS and potable water instead of camping rough in the woods were all very welcome. We set camp as we have done dozens of times and located the water. Some people ask… that’s my old and trusted Eureka Timberlite-3 – it’s been nearly everywhere with me for over twenty years, including Alaska. A tremendous value and great support at the company (I have other Eureka tents). Swiss Miss has it now.

Across the road from us there was a German dude changing fluids in his baby – a fully modified Mercedes survivalist van – that he had imported from the Fatherland (via Montreal). These days, you can pick one of those off the shelf for about a buck and a quarter (on my list).

We mounted up and headed to the hub of the South Rim. At one point we toured the has-everything store to grab some snacks and a big can of domestic beer each. We walked around in the beautiful mid-60s drinking and taking pictures of the canyon.

We received multiple stares at the beer-in-hand until one dude with his girlfriend simply asked where we acquired it, AND “… that’s allowed?” meaning open alcohol. No rules banning it, so there you go. He was happy and headed to the store; why he had none in his vehicle (cooler) is beyond me – huh, why didn’t we?

There was helpful information posted everywhere.

We then drove around sipping and playing our favorite classic rock music. We inspected a few trailheads, hiked a bit, and inspected the grounds for future hikes or a potential remote camp – if needed – ZERO water. You don’t see these just anywhere:

Eventually we headed back to retire early at camp. I didn’t sleep much. We were up early with elk nearby, ate, broke camp, and were quickly on the road to an allowed South Rim multi-night parking spot, and the Shuttle Depart zone. It started raining just after we suited up in the parking lot. Keep in mind: no extra stuff; we would be wearing and carrying whatever components necessary locally – extracted from our hiking gear. There was a klusterfukk in the lodge for shuttle check-in, but we were on the list as paid reservation holders. It was a good thing that we arrived early as they were using PAPER notebooks holding hand-written checklists. We waited a long time to [almost] depart… more than an hour. Loading the gear for twenty people in a small trailer and storage space took almost another hour. Eventually, we handed over our packs with sharp sticks protruding (nothing new for our driver), hanging on to some kind of snack and drink. The tour bus shuttle was full as we motored out in the rain on the over two-hundred-mile east end route to the North Rim Lodge. After all that, I think that we actually pulled out near the scheduled time. No one was talking so we grilled the driver on local animals – especially the big cats. “Unreliable reports” (just like home).

We stopped in Cameron after only an hour for the yahoos to piss. It was no longer raining, although the driver said that it was reportedly sleeting on the North Rim – GREAT! Although quite scenic, it seemed much longer than four hours to me as we climbed up nearly five thousand feet to the Jacob Lake intersection… and SNOW! Our speed decreased noticeably for the final southerly forty-five miles up another thousand feet. There appeared to be about a foot of snow on the ground as we acquired our packs and trudged into the lodge. Yet another complete klusterfukk – there was no power and consequently no computers to check us in. The place was jammed. I have no memory of eating. We were amazed that there was insufficient generator capacity for even the lodge to be completely powered. Many people and employees were saying that it’s just old, very old, and that this has never happened before – VERY hard to believe. Somehow, we did receive a key to the tiny cabin that was, of course, without heat. It was in the twenties if I recall correctly – we could see our breath inside the cabin. I think that we put more clothes on to sleep. Around midnight the power came on, but it was far too late – we were planning to be up very early.

Suited up and packed up, we headed out by three-thirty hoping for a ride to the trailhead for hiking by four. ARRRRGHHH! Roads had been closed by the Park Service late the previous night and were still unopened – no shuttle service at all. Supposedly the rangers had closed usage of the North Kaibab Trail – our planned route. More and more people appeared as we just waited. My pal Ed worked his native charm and had the employee in charge create a list for departures and of course put us on top… just in case shuttles started appearing. It took so long that the lodge opened the dining hall for free food mostly heated by Sterno. The hour was getting late and we saw two hiker ladies exit – to walk the two miles to the trailhead. We had never been on the target trail before and thought that the Rangers would only close it for actual emergency, but eventually we decided that they would have to close it based on the nearly crippled Americans that usually use it just to get to the Coconino Overlook – an easy mile. We could not wait any longer as we had at least twelve hours of hiking and wanted to live it up a bit on completion – certainly not hike in the dark at the South Rim (of course we had our lights). Screw it, add two miles as warm-up; we zipped up, gloved up and headed out.

The snowy walk was beautiful – even though in the dark. It had warmed up… things were melting. Although all the conifers were weighed heavy with snow, the road was partially clear, and we were walking on the black-top tire paths. Maybe a half-hour passed and a multi-seat passenger van slowed (I have no idea where he came from as the Lodge told us nothing was moving) and asked if we wanted a ride. Yeeee Haaaa! We hopped in the crowded, steamed-windowed van and proceeded happily onward. It was a chatty bunch, but no one had experience on this trail, and certainly not in these conditions. I think we were dropped with a few others at the trailhead just before six – two hours behind our schedule. The snow was about a foot deep, but both of us had hiked out of the wilderness once at ten-thousand feet with sixty-pound packs on our backs in at least fourteen inches and quite a bit colder. We set up our sticks and snapped a few images. Check this out, this middle-aged lady had NEVER used her sticks and I am showing her how and why to set them.

It was absolutely beautiful. Crazy: May 20, 2019, at 6:29am. Look at this one:

Clearly others had also ignored the alleged Ranger closure.

We were excited and ready.

And so, our hike began.

There’s not a whole lot to say; walk with me. Although we trudged a bit through the wet snow at the top, we cleared it in no time at all… I would say less than a mile.

It started snowing while still up high then changed to rain lightly but continuously. It also warmed up enough to remove my fleece upper and the lowers altogether. I am really glad we chose boots; our feet would have been soaked with trail shoes – but I suppose they would have been stomped mostly dry after more than twenty additional [dry] miles.

Wow… here is a great view of our route down, over the bridge and beyond. We had already passed several who had started before us. The trail was not nearly as steep as we anticipated; once again, the official line is directed at the most modest of Users.

The incredible size and beauty of this place was amazing.

The snow and rain of the last few days had filled those tricky underground channels.

Whatever they said about the water (drinking) was only partially true – we had plenty but re-filled at the available locations anyway. These yucca were well over ten feet tall.

Break time at Manzanita Rest Area; dropped 3,840 feet in 5.1 miles. The Big Boy examines his latest true food energy bar: Papa Steve’s No Junk Raw Protein Bars (yeah, they taste like you’d expect). I think that I had a ProBar and shared some of those purple chewy electrolyte things.

The trail leveled off significantly. We felt so good (then) that we ventured off on the spur to Ribbon Falls.

Here we are entering The Box. Supposedly frequently above 120°F, and as high as 130°F in there, for us it was barely 60°F even right around noon.

We blew through there so fast and cheerfully that two young ladies that we had been trading places with on the trail were startled around a somewhat blind sharp curve and asked us what was up. They shrugged off our adolescent flirting and snapped a good one.

We examined the area thoroughly and could find no reason for the heat issue experienced by many hikers; the Bright Angel Creek there is accessible… some minor scrambling but fairly straightforward to reach very chilly water. Why aren’t they dunking their heads, towels, or entire bodies? Unknown to us, and I’m not looking up the multitude of sob stories.

We chatted with anyone who would have us. Down near the bottom a reporter of some kind (yep, they still exist) heard us yammering and asked to interview us. Oh yeah, we shared some embellished tidbits of our experiences, and how they compared to this undertaking. He and his partners were laughing as we used grandiose body language. Very nice guy; snapped a few images of us, promised a writeup somewhere and we were on our way.

The cabins and canteen at the Phantom Ranch looked a lot less enticing than we envisioned (especially given the cost), beat even – we passed on acquiring a cocktail within. The various equines that were not tightly tethered said hello to us from the stockade. Mules dominate as pack animals, but visitors may use their own (horse/donkey/mule); llamas and goats are not allowed. We saw no riders or pack animals while on the trail.

At almost fourteen miles we pulled in to tour the Bright Angel campground for a possible future stayover. The cottonwoods would give shade but +100°F in any kind of tent would be rough.

It was then only a short walk down to the Colorado River, but first the South Kaibab trail intersection showed more than a dozen hikers spread all over the place coming down from the South Rim and over the “Black Bridge” – no one from our target route. They were all in decent spirits having dropped a thousand feet less and traveling five miles less than us. 

We crossed the big cold Colorado on the “Silver Bridge” and were now hiking on the Bright Angel trail.

Equines are not allowed on this bridge.

Once on the south side, we meandered about fifty feet above the river heading mostly west as the wind really picked up – and it started to rain – needles straight in the face for over a mile. It must have dropped twenty degrees; we stopped so I could put on the lower shell, my legs were freezing. Then just as we rounded the corner to head south and upwards, the wind was almost completely blocked by the high walls. Ed marched on because his knees were hot and wanted to keep them that way (cold means [more] pain). I stopped again, this time to take the water coated pants off. Due to the rain, my boots were coated in orange trail clay and there was no way to use the big leg zips and pull them over the boots without coating the inside with muck and water. Boots off; pants off; boots on; pack up – I was dormant for ten minutes. My tricksy buddy had been hauling ass… it took me a while to catch up. Good speed, but he may have ultimately paid a price later – in both additional pain and grinding pace.

It warmed up as we hiked up around fourteen-hundred feet in another three miles. The occasional direct sun now felt good. We pulled in for a break at Indian Garden.

The campground was also somewhat shaded, and the summer temperatures aren’t so brutal as down low – still in the nineties in prime time though.

We watered up and ate some more delicious bars – Ed choking his down now.

You know, he and I can really put away the food – hotdogs especially – we once ate four each fully dressed, in buns in five minutes. I think that we had long ago burned away any remnants of the previous days nutritious travel staples. Bars, BLOKS and no Bacon; I think we were dreaming of the Vienna Weenie Wagon coming down the trail. We lost track of time, but occasionally looking back for reassurance that we were getting somewhere.

We were catching up to other hikers that were heading up – from Phantom Ranch and Indian Garden most stated. It was hard to believe, we felt like we were crawling. At one point we came upon two guys; one hiked away as we stopped in to visit the other. They were brothers, or brothers-in-law. We looked at each other wondering how this absent guy could just leave his hiking partner – wacky to us. He tagged in with us for a mile or so, and we dropped him with a glance back and his wave.

Eddie was hurting, I have seen it before, but he was still pushing. If you’ve ever had severely arthritic knees or shoulders and use them anyway with any kind of weight… it’s like constant large steroid injection needles digging in to the joint – no relief; misery. Miles to go; we did have this though:

But it came with this near the 3-Mile Resthouse:

Up, up, up… forever. That South Rim looked to be close, but I assure you that it was not. Finally, the 1 1/2 – Mile Resthouse appeared.

The trail here was significantly drier than on the north slope. Maybe it was because of the socked in clouds, rain, and snow earlier but I don’t think you can get the right angles and points for this:

Near the top, many more casual hikers were present. I had to gracefully shoo them away for this snap at the Lower Tunnel – less than a mile to go, but still six-hundred more feet up.

Twelve hours and seventeen minutes. We were tired but satisfied.  Not bad considering over a dozen surgeries between us.

We hit the lodge for a brew… a few other hikers were present. I removed a package from my pack, unwrapped it for a pair of medals and handed one over to my hiking buddy – who had probably taken another five years off the life of his knees.

Ed’s legs were done, they had cooled off into frozen gravel. We had grand plans of touring some bars in wonderful Flagstaff but due to the weather delay it was too late for such carousing. I left him perched on a bench and retrieved the vehicle. We threw our junk in and headed to the town anyway. It was almost ten when we arrived. He had visited many more times than I and he directed us to the great old classic Hotel Monte Vista. I think Casablanca was filmed there. The brothel and opium options have since been discontinued – I could have used both. My amiable buddy worked his magic once again and acquired a very nice [discounted] and named room – Siouxsie Sioux (220) maybe… I was very tired, and my memory is no longer as sharp for such things. We could hear the live band below, but it didn’t matter… we showered and then slept – for a long time.

So, yeah, the Big Ditch, the Grand Canyon… beautiful, no: BEAUTIFUL! Well maintained and clearly identified trails. Really, plenty of water was available – even though a few points were currently closed. Never used the filter or the purification tablets. I think that I consumed a total of three liters… that’s me, your mileage may vary. Shaky lodge management, but I recommend the hard hike thoroughly.

Finally, you probably know that the prevailing “consensus science” says that the Colorado river eroded, grinding deep into the Kaibab Upwarp over many, many years forming the canyon, right? Did you know the altitude of the land increases in the direction of the flow of the river? How did the river cut up hill? That doesn’t really explain all the fractal fingers of the canyon either, does it? I have two alternatives for you to consider. 1) The earth may have expanded eons ago (multiple times), and the canyon is simply a resultant crack. Very similar to what those know-it-alls call Plate Tectonics (Mariana Trench anyone?). 2) Way, way back in the day, our planets were not aligned like they are this day, and they were far more dynamic in their movement relative to the earth (shush, it’s a secret). At one point Mars was so close that massive electrical discharges occurred between it and the earth – like ultra-powerful lightning. The Big Ditch (and several other earth formations) may be an electric arc scar. Don’t make me get out Prof. Whoopee’s 3-D BB and show you.