Way back in September of 2024, when we were starting to scheme and imagine a road trip to the Grand Canyon, Beth-Rose was pretty adamant that she wanted to hike to the bottom of the canyon. Having done it waaay back in early 1990, I was somewhat reluctant. Been there, done that, got the tee shirt. Besides, that 3 day hike down to the Colorado and back up was the hardest thing I had ever done, both physically and emotionally. Did I really want to do that again!?
There were lots of dinner table debates over the next few weeks. I spent a great deal of time explaining the difficulties, obstacles and physical and mental challenges. I even pulled the age card. “But I’m old! Do you want to leave your dear old dad, dead and abandoned, lying in some cactus patch like so much pocket lint!??” (I admit it, I’m not proud…)
But in the end, the decision was made by someone else. The National Park Service, to be specific.
The trail down to the river was closed until May, due to major infrastructure work. The ancient water line that provided water across the wide canyon miles was finally being replaced. It was costing tens of thousands of dollars repairing the line every time it broke, several times a year. The hotels and restaurants on the rims of the canyon depended on this water, not to mention the Phantom Ranch and campground at the bottom.
The Ranch and the campground were closed, so there would be no where for us to camp. And there was no way we were going rim to river and back in one day!
A Compromise?
From the South Rim, there are two main trails that go down to the River. The South Kaibab and the Bright Angel Trail. The South Kaibab was still open to the River, but again, not doing it in one day. And that trail has no water or camping anywhere on its route.
I suggested a compromise. Down the Bright Angel Trail is a campground called Havasu Gardens. It’s about 4.5 miles down, an overnight rest for those going down or coming up.
From Havasu Gardens there’s a trail that goes out to Plateau Point, an overlook that takes hikers out to the rim of the inner gorge, looking down to the Colorado River. This was a trail I had always wanted to do, as it’s mostly level and provides spectacular views of the River and gorge.
Maybe we could head down Bright Angel to Havasu Gardens, camp there, and do the Plateau Point Trail. Then we could hike back up the next day. Beth-Rose reluctantly conceded. Yay! Crisis averted!
And then the National Park Service intervened again. The Plateau Point was also to be closed, as was the Bright Angel Trail from Havasu Gardens to the River,for the same waterline work. Damn! The best we could do was get into the canyon and camp at Havasu, but no river view.
And so we went to the website to book our camping. But here’s the thing about camping below the rim. There are limited spots available on any given day, and since we were less than a year from our arrival date, there were no sites available.
The Bright Angel Trail is a busy, popular route into the Canyon. And Havasu Gardens only has 15 campsites. During Spring Break, if you don’t book a year in advance you’re out of luck. And we were. Out of luck.
A Grand View
For many weeks we explored trail guides, Grand Canyon hiking websites, and watched videos on YouTube, just trying to find a workable way to spend at least one night below the rim.
One trail looked possible. Grandview Trail. But there were some issues. It was very steep, narrow, and unmaintained by the Park Service. And there was dispersed camping at the bottom, on the Tonto Plateau. That’s the same plateau the Plateau Point Trail traversed to the lookout above the Inner gorge. We could overnight at the camping area, and hike to the rim of the Gorge!
The Hiking Guy’s website had a turn by turn video and full description of the trail, so we studied that a few times. It looked doable, even for a 65 year old dude who hadn’t hiked more than 3 miles at a stretch in years. But we still had to get a backcountry permit to camp there. And there were about 18 campsite available at any time. I went onto the backcountry website and entered the dates we were looking for. Nobody had booked any of the sites! Bingo!
To book a permit for this area, hikers were required to have backcountry hiking experience in the Canyon. No problem! Even if it was 35 years ago…
The Hike to the Bottom
Fast forward to March, and we’re gathering our gear in the parking lot at Grandview Point. We’d been warned at the Backcountry Office that the trail was very icy. We were prepared for that. I had ordered us 4 sets of ice crampons from Temu. The weather looked great for the hike; sunny and highs in the mid-teens. We were all set. Or so I thought…
I hoisted my pack onto my back and almost fell over. How the hell did it get so heavy? Was I carrying everyone’s food and clothing?
A group of older fellows was coming back to their cars, fresh from their own hike. They also warned us about the slippery conditions, and we chatted with them for a bit. Fellow Canadians, teachers on Spring Break, they had been here several times. But it was time for us to get going. We were excited to get going, after so many months of planning.
A hundred meters down the trail, it became apparent just how challenging this hike was. The grade was better than 30 degrees, and here in the shadow of the South Rim, everything was ice covered. Our crampons helped, but it was very slow going down.
4 Pairs of Crap-ons
We spent the better part of 30 minutes navigating a particularly hazardous switchback, partially covered in muddy, half-frozen slush. The trail was no more than 2 feet wide, and a rocky overhang forced us even closer to the precipitous drop-off. From here, I could look down a good 500 feet. Vertigo was a distinct possibility here. Once past the switchback, the trail dropped steeply to the next ice-covered switchback. Crap!
This was the perfect spot for one of my crampon straps to break.
The flimsy nylon straps were really no match for the steep, icy cobbles and uneven, rocky trail. This is what you get for spending 7 bucks for cheap crampons! In my pursuit of saving a buck or 10, I chose to buy these terrible “crapons” off the Temu website, instead of getting the $35 dollar ones from Cabelas. Granted, my Scottish buddy Eric would have been proud of my frugal find, but yes, sometimes I’m an idiot.
Somehow, with me balancing precariously on one foot, leaning back against the cliff wall, crouched down with my 150lb backpack, I managed to “MacGyver” my crampon. And once Heather helped me back to an upright position without falling off the trail, we were back on our way.
Just about at this point, I began to think that we might be insane.
The thing about traction aids for your boots is, they tend to work best on ice. Slush, not so much. I think we would have been better off if the temperature had been closer to zero. All this icy trail had turned to muddy slush, and with better than 30 degree grades, we might just as well have been on a waterslide.
A New Definition of Insanity
Somehow we made it down to the next switchback. It involved scrambling down off a sandstone slab, followed by more cobble, and a dizzy drop-off to nice, soft, pillowy rocks below. I sat down on the sandstone slab and looked down. I counted 7 more ice covered switchbacks before the trail disappeared from view. My heart and my spirit sank. This was crazy! Barely 200 meters down the trail, and we had been going for less than an hour. By my calculations, if we carried on at this pace, we’d reach Horseshoe Mesa and our campsite sometime in July. At least the ice would have melted!
I knew things were getting serious, because Jana started questioning the logic of continuing. What I didn’t know until after the hike was that she had already expressed her misgivings to Heather before we even started.
Logic Sets In
Jana is one of the most positive people I know. When she came into our lives as an International Student, right in the middle of the Covid pandemic, her infectious spirit of enthusiasm and positivity was a bright light in a dark time. She has an enthusiastic “can-do” attitude that’s magnetic and inspiring. So when she says something like “I don’t know if this is such a great idea”, I kinda sit up and pay attention!
Heather was also assuming her “Mama Bear” role. She was questioning the logic of carrying on, concerned for the safety of her family. But she was voicing exactly what I was thinking. We are operating way outside of our comfort zones, to the point of compromising our safety. And I think Beth-Rose was feeling the same way, but she just did not want to quit. We had planned this for too long to just give up now, this close to achieving the goal of camping below the rim. But I think she also knew that it was perilous to proceed.
We had already agreed at the start that, if even one of us were feeling nervous about continuing past what they felt was their limits of safety, then we would stop the hike and turn back.
And then Beth-Rose’s crampon broke.
Pulling the Plug
A quick discussion about our situation, and the decision was made. We’re aborting the hike. Let’s head back up and live to see another day. I’m relieved, but Beth-Rose is devastated. I feel for her, but we’ve made the right choice. Now all we have to do is get back up in one piece.
Heading up a 30 degree incline on a slippery, narrow trail, dangling high above the pointy rocks below, became a completely different hike. Remember that really heavy pack I was lugging? This was when I started to notice it. Fifty meters on, and climbing back up over rock steps that would have been challenging for a Sherpa, and I was wheezing like a steam train. My boots are slipping out from under me, and I’m using most of my very limited energy trying to keep my balance.
The return was incredibly slow, thanks to this guy. The girls were very understanding, cheering me on by calling “Hurry up Grandpa”, and “Can you go any slower?” So touching…
Just kidding. They were patient, waiting for me every time I had to stop and catch my breath, which was about every seven steps. This was fricken hard!
Consequences of a Hike to the Bottom
Back on top, and I manage to wriggle out of my pack straps. After 7 or 8 minutes of panting, waiting to get my heart rate back below 190, I realized had we continued on down to the bottom and the campsite, I would not have been able to climb the 4 or so miles back up. My pack was just too heavy for me. Lesson learned and a bullet dodged! With all our preparations leading up to this hike, I had never done a dry run. All our hikes involved carrying water bottles, but no backpacking. D’oh!
Grandview Trail was the third hike we did at the Grand Canyon. The first two, Bright Angel Trail down to the Mile and a Half Rest Hut, and the South Kaibab to Skeleton Point, involved packs, but just my day pack, with water, snacks and a change of clothes. No biggie, and no problem on the ascent back up to the rim. And although both steep, they were nowhere near the difficulty of the Grandview Trail.
Someday, at least 4 years from now because I’m not going back to the States until the whackjob is gone, I want to complete the Grandview Trail. And maybe in the same trip, finally get out to Plateau Point. Now that would be epic. Not quite the brutal hike to the bottom, but, just in case, I’ll be sure to practice with a few potato sacks up and down our local mountain.
Back on the Road
Our Grand Canyon trip was wrapping up, but we still had more adventures ahead of us. We were getting ready to get back on the road, south to Flagstaff and Sedona for a few days of sightseeing. Then it was on to Death Valley. So stick around, and maybe I’ll have more to share from this Epic Road Trip. And if you haven’t been following along, here’s a link to my earlier posts on this road trip. Episode 1, The Grand Canyon Road Trip That Almost Didn’t Happen, Episode 2, The Crazy Road Trip Tune You Need in Your Playlist, and Episode 3, Arrived at the Rim: Tired. Hungry. Thirsty. Cold…?
In the meantime, here’s a little video I put together from the Grand Canyon. Enjoy!
