The Grandest of Canyons

Entrance to the Grandest Canyon that I've ever been to.

Just like the Canyonlands National Park, I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I drove in to experience the Grand Canyon. When I hear the word canyon I picture a crack in the earth, steep-walled, with an abrupt edge, and a river flowing through the bottom. Maybe this would be a better description of a gorge, I don't know. So when I hear that the Grand Canyon (GC) is 10 miles wide from rim to rim, that is what I picture: two rock walls carved out by a river separated by 10 miles of air. This is not necessarily the case, as I soon found out.

Self-portrait on the hike down the South Kaibab trail, close to the beginning of my trek.

I was running little late arriving at the GC, trying to stretch too thin the time I allotted myself between Abilene and meeting someone in Las Vegas to rock climb and driving through an unplanned National Park that beckoned from the edge of the Interstate itself. Fueling up in Flagstaff, I made some last minute phone calls and ate some lunch before heading up the road (and up the mountains) around 1 in the afternoon. I was feeling the pressure: I didn't just want to see the GC, I wanted to experience it, and my grand plan was to hike down to the Colorado River and back that day. Before I did anything else though, I parked my pickup and following the flow of other tourists to the canyon overlook and lost my breath. Not from the strenuous hike up the paved walk-way, mind you, but from the incredible grandeur of the canyon. You see, it's not as simple as I had thought in my head. It doesn't drop straight down to the river with sheer cliffs on both sides (in fact you can't even see the river from the rim), rather the sides of the canyon seem to heave downwards, grasping at the vertical but not quite reaching it. Towers of colorfully layered sandstone stand across the gap while ridges and fins stretch perpendicular to the canyon itself. Funny, but the word "canyonland" comes to mind better than trying to imagine one single canyon. Before I became too lost in my trance, trying to take in the enormity of such an immense geological phenomenon, I turned against the tide of onlookers and caught my breath because I knew I would need it for what I had planned next.

The furthest point recommended by the Park Service for hiking down and back in a day, S. Kaibab Trail.

My goal was a loop following the South Kaibab trail, down to the Colorado River, cross on the Kaibab suspension bridge, past the Ranger Station/mule house, and back across the river on another bridge leading to the Bright Angel Trail, which would ultimately take my back to the canyon rim. The park service's website says the S. Kaibab Trail, from the rim to the river, is 6.3 miles and loses 4860 vertical feet of elevation while the Bright Angel Trail would gain 4460 ft in 7.8 miles. Being the smart person I am, I decided to jog the paved rim trail from the Visitor Center parking lot to the S. Kaibab Trail Head, adding several miles and gaining several hundred vertical feet. The kicker of my proposed journey: I left my vehicle at 2:15 in the afternoon, meaning my "hike" had now become a "trail run." Thankfully I was able to cover the majority of the 18.6 miles (distance according to my GPS) before it got dark, ending at the Bright Angel Lodge in 4 hours and 45 minutes. I was worked, to say the least, and promptly drove to the nearest fastfood place and celebrated with a Micky-D's cheeseburger, fries, and hot chocolate!

The hike/run was unbelievable. Being there in November meant that it was cool enough to exert that much and traveling in the late afternoon and evening meant seeing some spectacular lighting on both sides of the canyon. I was in awe of the rippling layers of sandstone, the beautiful flow of the river, and even the evidence of amazing human feats of engineering and took more than fifty pictures despite the fact that I wanted to cover so much ground in as little time as possible.

A handful of Colorado River water!

I have some family connections with the GC. My granddad was an incredible man of the mountains in his own right and it's likely that his influence on my mom is responsible for my love of the outdoors. He took my mom and the rest of their family on a back packing trip in the GC many years ago, along the same route that I traveled, and my mom later did the overnight trip again with some friends in college. I found out from my aunt that he had quite an adventure running with some buddies down to the river and attempting to make it back to the rim with very little food and water. My thoughts along the trail were on my Grandpa Ron, hoping that God allowed him to watch my trek. I wish I could see the look on his face when the little squirt that he took for "hikes" on the road behind his house in Cedar Crest, New Mexico was now running for miles in the Grand Canyon. Much love to you Granddad.

The bridge crossing the River at the bottom of the S. Kaibab Trail.