Angels Gate at sunrise

We got up fairly early on the 10th for we had a long way to go. We hadn’t covered as much mileage on the first day as we had planned, and I was worried if that was just because the nature of the hike that day, or if it meant our schedule would be similarly delayed for the rest of the trek. The morning was chilly, which I took as a good sign, since my greatest worry was really hot weather while we were on the arid miles of the Tonto Platform.

Descending Cottonwood Creek

Wayne’s group had already hit the trail, so we were once again by ourselves. In half a mile, we reached the junction of the of the Cottonwood Springs trail with the Tonto Trail, and we headed west, bound for the distant junction with the South Kaibab Trail, and thence the descent to the Colorado river and Phantom Ranch. One of the joys of the Tonto trail is that it’s traveled by few; hikers generally get to enjoy the grandeur of the Canyon in magnificent solitude. During the day’s hike, we were to meet but two other groups, one a pair of young men who passed us, and one a young couple heading east.

Blackbrush on a Tonto slope below a redwall cliff

As we headed north along the western side of Cottonwood Creek’s gorge, the trail was pretty easy. Almost immediately, we learned one of the defining characteristics of the Tonto Trail: it “contours.” Which is to say that the trail more or less continues at about the same level, snaking around all the dry creeks and washes, reversing itself to get around side canyons, meandering around obstructions and never, ever proceeding in a straight line. It’s not at all unusual to hike a half mile or more to advance a quarter mile, so it might take hours to reach landmarks that seem to be near at hand.

Zoroaster and Brahma, from along Cottonwood Creek

But another characteristic of the Tonto Platform is that it is anything but a platform. To a tourist looking down from the heights of the South Rim, the Tonto Platform looks pretty flat. Hiking the Tonto, you quickly realize that it’s “flat” only in comparison with the sheer drops of the canyon walls; in reality, it’s pretty hilly. The trail only rarely continues level for any distance; usually it’s ascending or descending rolling hills or diving down into washes and small side canyons that cut across the direction of the trail.

Purple prickly pear (Opuntia macrocentra)

As we got closer to the “Granite Gorge,” the relatively narrow inner canyon cut through the tough Vishnu schist, the talus slopes between the redwall cliffs and the inner gorge became narrower and generally steeper, forcing the trail closer and closer to the edge of the precipice that marks the rim of the inner canyon. However, at the same time, our vistas were opening up, offering spectacular views of the Canyon through an arc encompassing Zoroaster Temple to the west and Vishnu Temple to the east. The “microscenery” was becoming spectacular too, with hundreds of Opuntia beavertail and prickly pear with vibrant red, pink, yellow and orange blooms, as well as lots of hedgehog cactus (Echinocereus triglochidiatus) flowers.

Note the trail in the foreground

Then, as the trail started to curve around the base of the long ridge separating the Cottonwood’s drainage from the Grapevine’s, it was forced right up to the edge! The next half mile or so was pretty unnerving: the trail was literally on the edge, with a sheer drop of 1,300 feet immediately on our right. Worse, the trail was narrow, covered with loose gravel, and sloping sideways towards the precipice. Any fall to the right would have been instantly fatal. Definitely not for the faint of heart! Indeed, we considered this section (and another similar section about a mile further on) to be the most dangerous hiking we did in the Canyon, by far. It’s rated as “M” or “Moderate” on the Sky Terrain Trail Map used by most Canyon hikers, but we thought it was much more difficult – or at least more harrowing – than the trails we hiked which were rated “D-D” or “Expert.” We took this section of the trail very slowly, using our trekking poles for added stability and taking very cautious steps. (The accompanying photo gives some idea, but doesn’t do full justice to the it, as there was no way I was going to fiddle with my camera when the trail was right on the edge!)

Grapevine Creek

After about a half mile, the trail edged away from the rim as it approached Grapevine Creek and then turned south to follow the eastern rim of Grapevine’s gorge. It was partly sunny down in the Canyon where we were, but the South Rim far above us was shrouded in cloud. A little later, the clouds lifted, revealing the pines lining the rim to be covered in fresh snow. However, by the time we could see that, we once again were inching along with loose gravel underfoot, as the trail clung precariously to the edge of the abyss. Making life even more difficult, strong gusty winds began blowing down the Canyon, pushing us towards the gorge. I had wondered why the map characterized this mile as “D” or “Difficult,” and now I knew why!

Looking across Grapevine Creek's gorge

Fortunately, that was the last harrowing stretch of trail, and we picked up our pace as we headed southwest towards the trail’s crossing of Grapevine Creek. Once again, spectacular views rewarded us for our efforts. The North Rim was entirely cloud-covered at this point, and we learned later that they were getting a good deal of snow. That shouldn’t have surprised me, for the North Rim isn’t opened to tourists until May 15 for just that reason. As it was, those clouds contributed greatly to the dramatic skies framing our panoramas.

Filtering water from Grapevine Creek

Grapevine Creek is a perennial stream; although there’s not a lot of water in it, it’s a dependable source for hiker. We planned to fill all of our water containers there, for it would be the last water we could count on until we reached the Colorado late the next day. We had planned for much higher temperatures than we actually experienced, so we had reduced our maximum water load by four litres, to save weight. Not that we were complaining about the cool temperatures! The highs were reaching only into the upper 70s and low 80s at this stage of the hike. As it was, our maximum water load was now 18 litres. We figured at these temperatures, we could get by comfortably on six litres per person per day, so we thought 18 litres would still be enough for the 36 hours before we reached our next water supply.

Lyell Butte under threatening skies

Fortunately the trail on the west side of Grapevine was a good deal easier than the trail on the east, and we made fairly good time along it, and along the inner gorge below the two arms at the terminus of Lyle Butte. However, the trail had become pretty faint, and more than once we lost it entirely and had to spend some time and effort on route finding. Unlike route-finding in the eastern deciduous forest, hikers in the Grand Canyon always have a pretty clear idea of where they’re going, so route-finding consists of “merely” trying to figure out the best way to get there. (On the Tonto Platform that’s fairly easy, but in the redwall, Coconino and Esplanade, that can be damnably difficult, of course!) In addition, the many dry washes and side canyons made this section of the trail even more circuitous than the east side of Grapevine or the west side of Cottonwood.

Campsite near Boulder Creek

I had hoped to push on to a point about a mile beyond the spring at Boulder Creek and set up camp on the Tonto Platform at a spot fairly near the inner gorge which looked on the topographic map to be fairly flat and would afford spectacular sunset and sunrise vistas. But the day’s hike had taken much longer than we had anticipated, thanks in large part with the morning’s slow-going over the trail’s more precarious stretches, and dusk was drawing on. We were tired, having hiked over eleven miles since morning. Besides, the cloudy skies and intermittent showers precluded any chance for much of a sunset that evening and doomed any chance of a pretty sunrise on the morrow. So we stopped on a little knoll about a half-mile shy of the spring and set up camp, just as the light was starting to fade. We had another delicious dinner – this time Backpacker’s Pantry Louisiana Red Beans and Rice for me, and their Kung Pao Rice with Chicken for my companion, and crawled inside the tent as another light shower began.

Angels Gate from Boulder Creek

The next morning revealed that we had picked another truly spectacular camp site – total solitude, but with magnificent views of Zoroaster to the northwest and Angels Gate to the northeast. Angels Gate had dominated the scenery ever since we descended to the Tonto Platform, but Zoroaster became the focal point of the vistas we would behold for the next two days we would hike the Tonto Trail and indeed, I consider it the most dramatic feature of the Canyon’s stupendous scenery. Also prominent was the more immediate pinnacle below Lyell Butte, which my companion christened “The Lady.” The Lady was to stay with us through the latter part of this day, and much of the next.

Looking back up Boulder Creek to the South Rim

The morning also revealed that we had made a good pragmatic decision to stop where we did the previous night, as we had no sooner resumed our hike than we lost the trail while crossing a dry wash. I never did figure out where the trail shouldhave gone, but a little bit of bushwhacking led us to the top of another low knoll from which we could see the trail ahead, and the spring, and Wayne J’s campsite. It turned out that he was greatly relieved to see us, for he knew our plans had been to continue beyond the spring at Boulder Creek but he hadn’t seen any sign of us and had come to feel much as we did about the harrowing sections of the trail we had trod the previous day. As it turned out, Boulder Creek was flowing, so we topped off our water supplies, and headed on. (Do not count on Boulder as a water source, however, as it is often dry, especially in the warm weather months.) By now, the weather was improving, but ominous clouds still obscured the North Rim and hung on pinnacles to the north of us. However, hiking conditions were good – cool temperatures and no rain.

Looking east over Boulder Creek

The trail on the east side of Boulder Creek was often quite faint, but it was generally an easy hike. The trail ventured near enough to the inner canyon to afford some dramatic views of the river, but was never again worrisomely close to the edge. However, it was far enough away from the red rock walls to our south that we had good views back up Boulder Creek and, later in the day, Cremation Creek. Once again, the route was pretty circuitous as the trail wound around numerous dry washes and side canyons. The pinnacle below Lyell Butte we called “The Lady” was now behind us, but still prominent. Blackbrush and flowering cacti covered the Tonto Platform, so we had a lot of beauty right before our feet, as well. We saw little wildlife, though, except for an occasional raven overhead.

Zoroaster, from Lonetree Creek

The trail describes a big arc around the base of Newton Butte, and again offers great views to the west and east. We stopped for lunch at Lonetree Canyon, where we met three hikers, the first people we had seen since passing Boulder Creek early in the morning. One of the three had a relative who had been the mayor of a small town in upstate New York in which one of my companion’s relatives had also been mayor. The other surprise at Lonetree was that the creek had water in it. (Don’t count on water being available here, either; in fact, it’s even more likely to be dry than is Boulder.) We didn’t top off our water, however, and that came close to being a mistake.

Looking west from Pattie Butte

As we hiked along, the weather improved, the clouds started to part, and it turned out to be a beautiful day. The trail once again followed a circuitous route west from Lonetree, this time with a fair amount of elevation change. In many places the trail was quite faint, sometimes so faint that we lost it entirely and had to bushwhack a bit … but as before, the general direction and the goal of the trail were always clear, and we never had trouble re-locating the trail. Over the years, many hikers have erected small cairns to guide their successors, and we did the same. Often times, these cairns were the only sure sign of the trail’s existence. As we emerged from Lonetree Canyon and headed west below Pattie Butte, we were once again treated to some dramatic views of the river and the inner gorge.

Looking back to Angels Gate from Cremation Creek

As we entered the Cremation Creek drainage, we could see Skeleton Point ahead of us, as well as the switchbacks down its face that mark the South Kaibab’s descent through the redwall. My brother and sister-in-law were heading down from the South Rim, and we were planning to meet them at Phantom Ranch. If we got lucky, we were hoping to rendezvous at the junction of the South Kaibab and Tonto Trails at 3:00.

Switchbacks descending into Cremation Creek

But first we had to cross the three branches of Cremation Creek. To do that, we would encounter the only “D-D’ or “Expert” sections of trail we were planning to hike during our entire trek; these two sections consisted of descents into the Tapeats to cross the two western branches of the creek. Getting to them was easy enough; the trail was fairly direct and easy to follow, although it was hilly with some elevation change. However, the flowering cacti were out in force, and the vistas of the central part of the Canyon were superb; with the rapidly improving weather, it was a beautiful hike. We were a little nervous about the two “D-D” sections, but we were feeling increasingly confident and as it turned out, the two descents were anti-climactic. After we had crossed them, we wondered why they got the “Expert” rating, as we had already hiked unrated sections of trail as well as sections rated “Moderate” and “Difficult” that seemed to us to be far more challenging.

Zoroaster, seen from Cremation Creek

The trail proceeded northwest for about half a mile, and then started climbing about 350 feet to meet the South Kaibab Trail. We reached the junction at 3:10, almost exactly on schedule, and rested for a while, hoping to meet my brother and sister-in-law. By 3:30 we figured we had missed them, and headed north on the South Kaibab. Maybe it was because I had been there before; or perhaps it was just that I was tired; or it could have been because we were now on a wide, smooth corridor trail, and I already regretted leaving the comparative solitude and more primitive conditions of the East Tonto, but I was pretty blase about the descent from the Tipoff into the Granite Gorge. That wasn’t fair to my hiking partner, as this was her first descent into the Granite Gorge and it was all wondrously new to her.

South Kaibab trail descending into the inner gorge

The hike down from the Tipoff and into Phantom was uneventful, and we met my brother and sister-in-law at 5:15, just fifteen minutes later than I had planned back before we took the first step of our adventure. We finished with water to spare, but only barely: we hadn’t rationed water at all, figuring it was better to drink regularly than to hike thirsty, and we finished with 310 m.l. between us. That’s cutting it too close, and I resolved to carry a larger reserve in the future. But as it was, we were fine. Still, we were tired, and the showers and good food of Phantom Ranch were definitely appreciated. We had hiked almost 12 miles for the day, and 27 since we “went over the edge” at the Grand View trailhead.

Desert prickly pear (Opuntia phaeacantha)

Note: Click on photos to enlarge them. Visit my photo site, Grand Canyon rim to Rim Hike, to see more photos from this and my previous Grand Canyon adventures.

Morning at the Grand View trailhead

The day started early, with a cab ride out to the trailhead at Grandview Point, about nine miles by road along Desert View Drive from its junction with the National Park’s south Entrance Road. We were the only ones at the trailhead; no tourists were taking advantage of the early morning vistas. After looking around from the scenic overlook, we hoisted our packs and headed for the trail.

View from the Grand View trailhead

The Grandview Trail was originally constructed to haul copper ore up from Pete Berry’s Last Chance mine on Grand View Mesa. Transportation difficulties made the mine uneconomical despite its high grade ore, but Berry supplemented the copper with precious metals extracted from the pockets of tourists. However, that too failed when the arrival of the Santa Fe Railroad shifted the business to Grand Canyon Village and Hermit.

Grapevine Creek drainage through a veil of precipitation

When we arrived at the trailhead, the weather was cool and the skies mostly cloudy, but the scenery was beautiful. After the obligatory tourist photos, we started down the trail at about 7:00 a.m. Shortly after, it began hailing – mostly BB sized hail, but in sufficient density that the trail was soon nearly fully covered by the little balls of ice. The hail didn’t affect footing too much, which was fortunate since the trail becomes fairly narrow, steep and precipitous almost immediately as it descends through the Kaibab limestone just below the trailhead. At one point, the trail is particularly narrow as it skirts the edge of a cliff and ducks under an overhang too low to clear with our packs.

Looking northwest past an overhang

The hail continued as we continued down through the Coconino but then changed over to light, intermittent rain which gradually stopped as we approached Horseshoe Mesa. We met few hikers on the trail: a couple ascending the steep stairs above the Coconino saddle after a night on Grand View Mesa, and another party resting at the saddle as they neared the end of a long circuit that had begun with a descent of the Tanner Trail.

Zoroaster, Brahma and Deva Temples

The scenery was spectacular during our descent, with amazing, expansive views of the Canyon from the northwest around to the east. Our view of the Canyon kept changing, not so much because we were moving, but with the the Canyon’s dramatic play of light and shadow as sodden clouds with their veils of rain and hail alternated with sun-lit blue sky.

Horseshoe Mesa and the canyon of Cottonwood Creek

As we descended through the Kaibab, Toroweap and Coconino formations, the most prominent features of the Canyon to the northwest were Zoroaster and Brahma Temples, while Vishnu Temple and the eastern reaches of the Canyon dominated the northeast. But as we began descending along the Hermit formations and the rocks of the Supai group, the view became increasingly constrained by the ridges to our right and left to Horseshoe Mesa and Cottonwood Creek’s own canyon. At the same time, the weather started to improve, although the sky remained at least partly cloudy and sometimes threatening. The air continued to be cool, but whenever a veil of precipitation seemed to hang beneath the clouds above us, whatever fell seemed to evaporate in the dry air before it reached us.

Coconino cliffs and Hermit/Supai slopes on the left frame Cottonwood Creek

The trail became less steep and the topography less precipitous as we hiked. At points the trail still retained the stone steps and timber cribbing built for the mules carrying copper ore from the mines, but in others erosion had taken its toll and the trail was rougher, rockier and narrower. However, the route was clear and the trail was never difficult, and once we were below the Coconino we were past any alarming precipices. By now, we had dropped below the Douglas fir and Gambel’s oak we had seen at higher elevations, but there was still a lot of pinyon pine and Utah juniper along the trail.

Horseshoe Mesa, the Grand View trail's destination, with Vishnu Temple beyond

Our pace was slow. This was my hiking partner’s first descent into the Canyon, and she was being understandably cautious on the more difficult parts of the trail, especially those snaking past sheer drops. And I was weighed down by my pack; as my companion has a congenitally weak back, I was the “mule, so my pack was heavier than my norm. I never weighed it (I was afraid to!) but when I was carrying a full water load, it was probably 70 pounds. Consequently, we had only reached the ruins of Peter Berry’s old cabin by lunchtime, so we took a nice long break there. Our lunches (and breakfasts, and trail snacks) were rather monotonously the same: homemade “Aunt Lee’s Granola Bars” (the recipe borrowed from a friend, and illustrated by her niece), dried fruits, and nuts. We enjoyed the granola bars throughout, but got pretty tired of the rest!

Ruins of Berry's cabin at the old copper mine

There are campsites by Horseshoe Mesa, so we wandered over to take a look. The campsites were nice, but the composting toilets certainly weren’t! Later on, at less frequented campsites, we were to see similar composting toilets, and those seemed to be working pretty well, but the ones at Horseshoe Mesa were terrible; I hope the Park Service rethinks their design.

Horseshoe Mesa, seen from the the campground's vicinity

The other disconcerting feature was a sign warning that one of the trails diverging from Horseshoe Mesa was closed because it led through a “radiation area.” Later on, we were to cross Horn Creek on the western part of the Tonto trail where hikers are warned that the water is unsafe to drink because the levels of radioactivity in the creek are too high. Horn Creek is directly below the former Lost Orphan mine, which extracted high grade uranium ore until 1972. There is currently a six month moratorium on new uranium mining claims in the Grand Canyon area, and a twenty year moratorium is being sought, but there are interests which oppose such a moratorium.

Stansbury Cliffrose (Purshia stansburiana)

We were struck by the abundance of wildflowers in the area: stansbury cliffrose, globemallow, and two different lavender flowers reminiscent of poppy were among the most prominent, and the most beautiful, but there were many other flowers and shrubs as well.

Trail descending through the Redwall

Our goal for the day was a seasonably reliable spring on Cottonwood Creek, west of Berry’s cabin but about 1,100 below it. Two different trails led there: one descending from near the north end of Horseshoe Mesa’s western arm and then circling around via the Tonto Trail, and one descending rather directly to the west. Some sources we had consulted favored the one, and some recommended the second. We never found anybody who had used the northern route but had talked to several who had hiked the western route; from what they said, it sounded rough but feasible, and it was certainly shorter although probably less scenic. Anyway, that’s the one we chose. I’m not sure it was a mistake, but it did prove difficult and its consequences affected the rest of our journey.

Switchbacks down the Redwall; note the hiker in red descending

The trail started out innocently enough, but it was faint and clearly little-used. But once it reached to edge of the Redwall limestone cliffs, it’s character changed, as it plunged down a series of steep, narrow, uneven switchbacks. Footing was precarious, as the path was covered with loose pebbles, and most of the way the path was on the edge of rather precipitous cliffs and steep slopes. Our progress was cautious, slow but steady, and as we neared the bottom of the Redwall we were overtaken by Wayne J., who we were to come to learn was a very nice, helpful, considerate, experienced and devout hiker from southern California. He was the vanguard of a small party of his relatives and friends, who also proved to be friendly and helpful when they overtook us later.

Muav limestone talus slope below Horseshoe Mesa

At the bottom of the Redwall, the trail became so faint one had to rely on their route-finding skills to proceed. Wayne had hiked the trail before and chosen the wrong route, but working together we were able to locate a better one, and re-located the trail as it started to descend the steep talus slope of Muav limestone below. Here the trail was easy to follow but the footing was terrible; the trail was steep, badly eroded, and so covered with pebbles that it was hard to avoid slipping, even with the aid of a good trekking pole. Our progress was very slow, and by the time we reached the bottom we were exhausted. Worse, my toes had compressed against the “toe box” of my boots to the point where massive blood blisters had formed beneath the nails of both big toes. The discomfort from that was to plague the rest of our Canyon trek.

Approaching the spring at Cottonwood Creek

Once we reached the bottom of the talus slope, we had only a little way to go before we reached the spring, 4 miles later and 3,500 feet below where we had started the hike. We were footsore and tired, but happy to have arrived, and feeling good about the hike.

Our southern view from the campsite

“At large” camping is permitted in this part of the Canyon, but not surprisingly there were several good camp sites near the spring. Wayne and his party had already staked out some sites close to the spring, but they alerted us to another site atop a small knoll a few yards east of the spring. The site was magnificent: secluded, but with spectacular views in all directions. Redwall cliffs of Horseshoe Mesa towered to our east; to the south we could see the Ponderosa pine fringing the South Rim far above; to the west was the long ridge separating the Cottonwood and Grapevine Creek drainages; and to the north, beautifully framed by Cottonwood canyon’s walls, loomed the 6,761 foot twin spires of Angels Gate.

Cottonwood Creek campsite

The ranger at the Park Service’s backcountry office told us that at this time of year, Cottonwood Creek should be a reliable source of water, and indeed, it was. (That ranger was very helpful, and gave us lots of good information and advice.) Just the same, I was surprised at how little water was flowing, but it was easily enough to replenish our water supply. A good water filter is a necessity in the Canyon; we used an MSR Miniworks EX filter which gave good service throughout our trek. Dinner was welcome, and good; I had Backpacker’s Pantry Katmandu Curry, and my partner had Mountain House Sweet and Sour Pork. I really recommend these dehydrated dinners; they’re easy, quick and tasty; clean-up is easy, and heating the water for them takes very little fuel. But disregard the package labels’ assertion that they’re good for two; they’re not, at least not good for two who have just spent the entire day hiking in the wilderness.

The sky was too cloudy for star gazing, so there wasn’t much to do after dark except hit the sack. The night air was chilly, but with the fly in place the Crestone 2 was comfortable. So ended our first day on the trek – a good day, filled with spectacular scenery and dramatic skies, and thankfully a lot cooler than it might have been.

More photos of our hike can be found at my Grand Canyon Rim to Rim Hike page.

Zoroaster, Brahma and Deva Temples, from the upper Grand View trail

Back from the Grand Canyon. Almost two weeks hiking in the Canyon plus a few days playing the tourist at the South and North Rims and at Phantom Ranch. Over 102 miles hiked. Just about every kind of weather except hot: hail and rain and snow, and temperatures ranging from chilly to warm. Good company at times, even some trails that seemed almost crowded, but also a good deal of almost unbroken solitude on other trails.

Angel's Gate, from the first campsite

Scenery ranged from spectacular to “merely” beautiful. Plus a lot of pretty wildflowers. Not the same sense of wonder as last time, but that was just because I had experienced that humbling sense of awe two years ago, so it didn’t amaze me in quite the same way this time. That said, the Canyon IS amazing, awesome and humbling, and always will be.

Zoroaster, from Lonetree

Overall, the hike was more arduous than I had anticipated … to the extent that one excursion (Clear Creek) was dropped in favor of a more restful day-hike out of Phantom. The longest day was 13.8 miles, with others of 12.3, 11.8, 11.6, 11.3, 10.1 miles, plus several days in the single digits. I never weighed my pack (I didn’t want to know!), but as my hiking companion has a weak back I carried nearly all the supplies and water … and believe me, there were times when that pack seemed to weigh a ton!

The hike was also a bit scary in places, mostly on the East Tonto where the trail spent some uncomfortable mileage right on the edge of the abyss, even as the trail seemed covered with marbles while simultaneously sloping sharply towards eternity. Not for the faint-hearted … but still doable if one proceeds with caution.

East Tonto trail near Grapevine Creek

In addition, the trail was pretty vague in places, so some route finding and hiking logic is pretty helpful.

Oddly, some of the most difficult stretches were scored on the best commonly available map as being of “moderate difficulty” while some of the stretches described as “difficult” or “expert” were comparatively easy. None of it was beyond the capability of somebody in reasonably decent physical condition.

Ribbon Falls

Water ended up being not as much of a problem as anticipated, thanks in large part to the comparatively cool weather. There were a couple of dry stretches which required hauling two days worth of water, but that worked out – as it happened, six litres/day were generally all that was needed on those days. (Although a good deal more was needed on the major climbs, some water was available along those trails.)

Almost decided not to take a trekking pole but decided to do so after all … and that was a wise decision. One doesn’t really need one on the corridor trails (Bright Angel, South and North Kaibabs) but it was a huge help on this hike.

Clouds above the Esplanade

Did take a camp stove, fuel and a pot to heat water for instant dehydrated backpacking dinners, but it turned out those weren’t needed, as a fuel pump failure prompted the realization that those meals work pretty well with just cold water. The dinners proved delightful, a real incentive for continuing on to the intended campsite. But the trail snacks that served for breakfasts, lunches and munchies got awfully boring – another time, a little more variety would be pretty welcome!

Each trail segment was distinctive, with its own pleasures and problems, so the next few blog entries will discuss each in succession.

Looking west

I hope you enjoy … and go experience the wonder and beauty of the Canyon for yourself!

It’s been a fairly cold winter around the Washington D.C. area. Not terribly cold, but cold enough to discourage hiking (yet not snowy enough to encourage cross country skiing). But that changed this weekend, and it looks like we’ve got at least a week of decent weather, and maybe more.

So off to Prince William Forest Park, a unit of the National Park Service located just 35 miles south of the nation’s capital. The park is a 15,000 acre slice of Virginia’s Piedmont forest. It used to be home to subsistence farmers eking out meager lives on marginal farm land, but in 1933 it became the Chopawamsic Recreation Demonstration Area, one of 46 New Deal era land-use projects designed to reclaim marginal farmlands for recreational activities. The land had a very different use during World War II, hosting OSS (Office of Strategic Services, the predecessor to the CIA) training schools for spies and covert operatives. It returned to the Park Service after the war and was renamed Prince William Forest Park in 1948.

Today I hiked a 4.8 mile route starting at parking area “H” and proceeding counter-clockwise around a loop consisting of segments of the High Meadows trail, the South Valley trail and Taylor Farm road. I was carrying my expedition pack (a Kelty Tioga) with about 60% of the load I plan to carry into the Grand Canyon three months from now.

The High Meadows trail descends from the parking area through some rolling hills covered by deciduous forest and cut by several small streams. One of the more prominent trees in the area is the American beech, which is a particularly pretty tree in the winter, with its smooth gray bark and the large number of golden leaves still on its branches. The trail is in good shape, and most of the little brooks are crossed on sturdy and attractive wooden bridges.

Hiking in the winter has several advantages over the warmer seasons. With the leaves off of the trees, hikers can enjoy vistas that disappear once the trees have their foliage. That’s really welcome on a hike like this, as the hiker can see long stretches of Quantico Creek as well as entire hillsides rising above the trail. With the trees bare, one’s eye is drawn more to the forest floor, with its highly textured, rich golden brown carpet of leaves. And ticks are less of a problem, too.

When the trail reached the South Fork of Quantico Creek, I turned east on the South Valley trail and walked along the north bank of the creek. The creek is fairly broad through here, with lots of small rapids interspersed between more placid stretches. Despite the thaw, there was still some ice in the shade of the southern bank.

After following the South Valley trail for something over a mile and a half along the river, I turned left on the old Taylor Farm Road. It’s not much of a road any more, but it is a nice broad path slowly rising through the forested hills, heading north from the creek along the course of a minor tributary. After six tenths of a mile of steady grade, the trail met the High Meadows trail, and I turned left on it to return to parking area “H.” Right after the junction, the High Meadows trail passes a small cemetery with at least two graves, one being that of Robert Taylor, who lived from 1867 to 1937. The trail continues on, descending into a small valley, crossing a creek, and climbing back to the parking lot.

A very nice hike, on an unusually nice mid-winter day.

It was still pretty cold last weekend, but most of the snow was gone, except on shaded southern slopes. I figured it was a good time to start gearing up for the Grand Canyon, and headed out to Turkey Run (see Hidden Jewel of the Nation’s Capital) to start getting in shape. Turkey Run is close to home, and considering it’s deep inside a densely populated metropolitan area, it has a surprisingly remote feel; hiking it, one feels far from the city’s congestion and crowds.

The main trail at Turkey Run follows the south bank of the Potomac River, but there’s a nice little loop trail that follows Turkey Run itself, climbing almost to the George Washington Parkway before heading back towards the river. I’ve never measured it, but I’d guess it’s about a half mile, and climbs about 200 feet. I think of hiking it as a hiker’s equivalent to running laps, but the scenery is a lot better!

I only did three laps, but it was fun. Crossing the creek was a bit challenging, as the creek was up a bit and the rocks in the ford were icy, making footing a bit difficult. And some of the trail was pretty icy, too, especially the switchbacks, so caution was in order. It will warm up soon, and get easier, and I’ll start increasing the number of laps.

Or, more accurately, blanks into panels.

On the last Mill Creek work session (see Scarfing Okoume), we cut scarfs into the blanks of 4 mm okoume plywood that will become the core of the kayak’s hull. The next step is gluing them into the panels from which the various parts of the hull will be cut. The job is pretty straightforward, as you’ll see.

The gluing was done on a flat concrete garage floor. It doesn’t have to be, but garage floors are pretty convenient for such tasks. The blanks have to be raised up from the floor so the builder can use clamps, so I used six sets of 4×4′s and stacked 2×4′s to support the mating blanks, three under each one. Placement isn’t critical; the goal is merely to support the blanks so they won’t sag and impart a permanent bowing into the panels. The supports closest to the joint were set about 8″ apart — again, not critical, but you want them close enough to support the mated ends, and also close enough to support any weights you might use to help clamp the joint while the epoxy cures.

Then simply lay the blanks to be joined on the supporting lumber, end to end. The only critical issue here is being sure the blanks are lined up with their correct mates. Have the scarfs facing up initially.

Think through the process. Rehearse it, if there’s any doubt. Remember that once you mix the epoxy, the clock is running, and you won’t have time to go to the store to get something you forgot. Indeed, if you’re working in warm weather, that clock will be ticking pretty quickly.

Get everything ready. That includes all of the following:

• old newspaper to catch any epoxy drips

• latex gloves to protect your hands

• trashy clothes that won’t be ruined by stray epoxy (assume that any clothes you wear while epoxying will be ruined!)

• a respirator if you may be allergic to epoxy resin or hardener

• paper towels

• a thermometer if you’re working near the upper or lower temperature range for the epoxy you’re using

• a heater if you’ll need it to insure that you’ll be able to maintain an appropriate temperature for curing

• all the clamps and weights you’ll need to keep the panels in position, plus a few extra

• a disposable brush for applying the epoxy

• a disposal non-reactive cup to mix the epoxy. It’s better to use a broad, shallow cup than a deep, narrow one. The deeper the quantity of mixed epoxy, the faster it will cure – in warm weather it’s not unusual to have it start to cure in the cup, before you’ve had a chance to spread it. (Remember, too, that the curing process is exothermic, i.e., gives off heat, and if too much is “kicking” at once, it can generate enough heat to melt a plastic cup.)

• a stirring stick

• epoxy resin and hardener, along with calibrated pumps or measuring cups for dispensing each (I use West System epoxy, but System Three and MAS epoxies have good reputations, too.)

• adhesive filler (I use West’s 403 microfiber filler when bonding wood to wood)

When you’re ready to go, have fun! Be sure to measure the resin and hardener accurately, and mix it thoroughly – I found that a good rule of thumb was to mix it until it seemed thoroughly mixed, and then mix it some more! You’ll find that epoxy will be about the most expensive part of your boat, so try not to mix too much. Of course, it’ll take a while before you learn to estimate the quantities accurately, but try to start out on the conservative side. Remember to completely avoid contaminating hardener or resin with the other, so use separate measuring implements, etc.

When you’ve got it mixed well, brush the unthickened epoxy on the mating surfaces. Be sure to cover the entire mating surface, but there’s no need to use a lot; the idea is to soak some into the wood so the bond penetrates the wood’s fiber.

After you’ve done that, add some adhesive filler to the unthickened epoxy in your cup. Add it sparingly, as you don’t want it to be too thick. So add a little, stir it in, and then add more if necessary. For a job like this, I like it to be about as thick as thick molasses, although some people like it thicker. The idea is that it will be fluid enough to flow into any gaps in the wood and mix in with the unthickened epoxy you just brushed on to form a strong bond, yet thick enough to fill those gaps,.

Then flip one of each pair of mating blanks over, and mate the abutting scarfs. With your gloved finger, check to be sure that the surface of the two mating blanks are even. If it’s not, slide one of the blanks forward or back slightly until the surfaces are level with each other. Then clamp together one (horizontal) side of the joint. Walk down to the end of the panel and sight along its edge to make sure that the panels are lined up properly. Then clamp the other side of the joint. Doublecheck for alignment, and then add the other clamps and weights you need. Remember that you don’t want to clamp the joint so tightly that you force out most of the epoxy, for that will create a weak joint. But you do want to clamp it firmly enough that the mating faces of the wood are in close and firm contact. (That’s why I like spring clamps when I can use them, as they can’t clamp down as hard as a C-clamp or a bar clamp.) Triple check for alignment, both longitudinally (is the edge one continuous straight line?) and vertically (are the surfaces of the two blanks even with one another?).

If everything looks good, use a paper towel to soak up excess epoxy where you can — it’s a lot easier to soak up the excess now than sand if off later, after it’s cured!

Clean up your tools, and wait for the epoxy to cure. I usually wait overnight, and find that’s sufficient, but be sure to test the cured epoxy for hardness before you release the clamps. If it’s still tacky or soft, let it cure some more. (Also, check to make sure the temperature is at least as high at the minimum specified for the hardener you’re using.)

I’ve heard back from the backcountry office at the Grand Canyon, and now have an itinerary and a backcountry permit reservation number. Preparations for the hike can shift into high gear! From now until May, my focus will be on getting in shape, and getting used to carrying the weight of a full water load.

The itinerary isn’t fully what I had wanted, and I’m still hoping to change things around a little. But it’s pretty close, and will enable me to meet just about all my main objectives for the hike … and for those parts it takes away, it creates opportunities for other interesting excursions.

So here it is:

Day 1 — Over the edge; descend the Grandview trail to Horseshoe Mesa, and down into the Cottonwood Creek drainage, camping on the Tonto Platform near the point on the west side of Cottonwood Creek. About 8.6 miles and a descent of about 3,600 feet.

Day 2 — Continue west on Tonto trail, around Grapevine Creek, camping on the Tonto Platform near the point west of Grapevine. About 10 miles, with little net elevation change.

Day 3 — Continue west on the Tonto to its junction with the South Kaibab, and then down into the Granite Gorge, across the Black Bridge, meeting my brother and sister-in-law to dine in the Phantom Ranch cantina and sleep in its dorms. About 10 miles, with a descent of about 1,200 feet.

Day 4 — Hike up to Clear Creek. We’ll overnight at Clear Creek, but my brother and sister-in-law will turn back around lunchtime to return to the comforts of Phantom Ranch. About 8.3 miles with a climb of about 1,500 feet and a descent at the end of about 600 feet. (My brother and his wife will day hike up to Ribbon Falls on our Day 5.)

Day 5 — Hike back to Phantom Ranch, where we’ll meet up my brother and sister-in-law and swap stories over dinner. Another 8.3 miles, the reverse of the day before.

Day 6 — Head up the North Kaibab, overnighting at Cottonwood Campground, and visiting Ribbon Falls and exploring Wall Creek along the way. About 6.5 miles and a steady, shallow and almost unnoticeable ascent of about 1,500 feet.

Day 7 — Head up the North Kaibab, exploring the lower part of the old Bright Angel trail along the way. Overnight in the North Rim campground, with all its amenities, and dine at the Grand Canyon Lodge. About 6.8 miles, and a very noticeable ascent of 4,200 feet, with a little extra to get to the campground.

Day 8 — Spend the day being a tourist on the North Rim, and then go upscale, shifting our accommodations to the Grand Canyon Lodge and meeting up with my hiking partner from the 2009 Canyon hike, and his wife.

Day 9 — Hike the Widforss trail out to Widforss point with my buddy and his wife, and luxuriate for another night at the Grand Canyon Lodge. Widforss is a level 5 mile hike out, and 5 miles back.

Day 10 — Another day of touristing on the North Rim — maybe seeing Cape Fear and Cape Royal, before returning to the wilderness and camping in the Ken Patrick area near the North Kaibab trailhead.

Day 11 — Straight shot down the North Kaibab to overnight at Phantom Ranch. Not counting the .9 miles from the likely camping spot to the trailhead, it’s 13.4 miles and a descent of 5,800 feet.

Day 12 — Cross the Silver Bridge and head up the Bright Angel trail to its junction with the Tonto and on to Indian Garden for mid-day and early afternoon. Then head west to the Plateau Point side-trail, and on out to Plateau Point in the afternoon and take advantage of the late afternoon lighting for photography. As the sun sets, return to the Tonto trail, heading west to overnight at Salt Creek. The latter part of this hike will be by headlight, setting up camp well after dark. At about 14.2 miles, with an ascent in the first 5.5 miles of 1,200 feet, this will be a long day.

Day 13 — Get up early in the morning and hike by moonlight back to the point below Dana Butte to watch the sun come up and get some more photographs. Then back to Salt Creek to break camp, and move on west to Monument Creek, and down to the campsite at Granite Rapids, on the bank of the Colorado. This should be a relatively easy, casual day; about 9 miles total.

Day 14 — Ascend Monument Creek from Granite Rapids to the Tonto trail, and then head west to the top of Hermit Creek to overnight. This should be a fairly easy day, too, with about 4.5 miles and a 700 ft. ascent, so there should be plenty of time to enjoy the river and the sights of Monument Creek.

Day 15 — Hike out on the Hermit trail. It’s about 8.2 miles to the South Rim (and the shuttle bus!) with an ascent of 3,700 feet. And the promise of a hot shower and a cold beer at the end!

All totaled, about 118.7 miles over two weeks. It’s going to be a great hike!

UPDATE: The backcountry permit has arrived; the itinerary described above has been modified accordingly.

A sunny, mild day in the middle of a mid-November week, I decided I wanted a bit of an escape. A day hiking Old Rag sounded like just the thing.

Old Rag

Old Rag is a 3,291 ft. peak in Shenandoah National Park, located about four miles east of the main spine of the Blue Ridge Mountains which form the backbone of the park. The granite rock dominating Old Rag’s summit are among the oldest rocks in Virginia, dating back about 1.2 billion years.

It isn’t the tallest peak in the park, but because Old Rag stands apart, the climb is about the longest and steepest in the park. And because the upper reaches of Old Rag are exposed, there’s quite a bit of sustained rock scrambling over the last mile to the summit. All in all, Old Rag is probably the most challenging trail in the region.

Midway up, looking east

More than that, it’s also one of the most spectacular hikes in the area, with dramatic views of the Blue Ridge to the west, and the Rapidan and Rappahannock Valleys to the east. For that reason, it’s also one of the most popular hikes in the park, which is why I decided to go during the middle of the week on a late autumn day.

Like most hikers, I took the Ridge trail up and the Saddle trail and Weakley Hollow fire road back. Since the upper parking area is no longer open to the public, that made the hike’s full circuit about 8 miles, with a net climb of about 2,500 feet.

Ridge Trail

Since I’m preparing for an extended trek through the Grand Canyon in May, I decided to hike Old Rag with a pretty full pack, to train for that hike. So I was carrying about 45 lbs, mostly water. But of course, the typical hiker need only carry a couple of litres of water, plus snacks, basic first aid supplies, and clothing appropriate for the weather.

The hike is wonderful. Somewhat strenuous, but definitely worth the effort. After walking up from the parking lot to the trailhead, one starts climbing. At first the ridge trail is a pleasant woodland trail with a fairly mild slope, but after hiking for about a mile and a half, the rock scrambling begins, and the trail becomes considerably more difficult. But at the same time, the views become ever more spectacular, and one is inspired to press ahead to the summit. Once there, the hiker finds a number of wonderful picnic spots, but don’t expect solitude while you’re there, even in the middle of an off-season week.

One can head down either by way of the Ridge trail just ascended, or by taking the Saddle trail as it curves clockwise around the peak until it joins the Weakley Hollow fire road. That’s what I did, but although it is a nice woodland walk, it doesn’t offer any of the breath-taking vistas afforded by the Ridge trail.

From the top

Many rate Old Rag as the best hike in Virginia, and for good reason. But it is also one of the most popular, so don’t go expecting solitude. Also, be prepared for the difficulty. Approaching the summit, the trail is pretty strenuous, and hikers have to lift themselves up and over a number of boulders, and crawl beneath others. As popular as it is, hikers should be mindful of how much more arduous it is than are most area hikes, and should be willing to recognize that they might be getting in over their heads when the approach the summit.

By the way, like all other trails in Shenandoah National Park, the trails are maintained by volunteers from the Potomac Appalachian Trail Club. And they’re in great shape.

I had thought that the hardest and most trying aspect of planning a Grand Canyon trek routed through Phantom Ranch would be the reservations at Phantom. After all, you have to be on the phone at the time they open one year ahead of time, on the first day of month of your hike. Ten minutes late, and no luck; try again next month or next year.

Wrong. The hard part is the backcountry permit.

Background on the permit. It’s required if you’re going to hike overnight anywhere in the Canyon. (Hikes to or from Phantom and overnighting there are treated as day hikes, with no permit required.) The park is divided into a bunch of sections, and each has its own limit on the number of campers permitted on any given night, and its own requirements on where hikers may camp. In some sections, camping is not permitted, period. For example, if you want to camp along the South Kaibab Trail, you’re out of luck; it’s not allowed. If you want to camp along the Bright Angel trail, you’ve got to camp in the campground at Indian Garden, which accommodates a maximum of 50 campers per night. Likewise, along the North Kaibab, Cottonwood campground is it, yet it only accommodates 40 hikers (and fewer in the winter). If you want to camp at Salt Creek you’ve got to camp at a designated site, and there are only 6 campers allowed (it’s a similar story at a number of other sites along some of the major trails). If your destination is a more remote area, at-large camping is permitted, but only a limited number of campers are allowed in the entire area; for example, 29 campers are allowed in area BH9, which is centered around Grapevine Creek.

A backcountry permit is your key to the Canyon. No permit, no camping. No camping, no multi-day trek in the Canyon.

Mind you, this isn’t an arbitrary edict of a heartless Park Service bureaucracy trying to limit our ability to have fun, but a carefully thought out attempt to balance the interests of hikers with the protection of the Canyon’s fragile ecosystem, physical character and awesome beauty. But it does place a real constraint in a world where there are more would-be hikers enthralled with the Canyon than the Canyon can tolerate.

Backcountry Information Center (NPS photo)

Backcountry permits become available on the first day of the fourth month before your hike. The only practical way to get them is to Fax a permit request to the Backcountry Information Center. Fortunately, you can do that ahead of time, but it goes into the same de facto lottery as the ones Faxed in on the dot.

So that’s what I did. I’m hiking in May, so my request had to be in on January first. I called the backcountry office in December to make sure I understood the process and was thrilled to learn that I could send my request in early – there was no need to spend my New Year’s celebration finding a Fax machine that was available one minute into the New Year!

The next business day I got an e-mail back saying “If you keep your request as is and will accept only a 12-14 night itinerary, the only phrase I can think of is ‘snowball’s chance’ for your request.” The e-mail suggested instead an itinerary nearly identical to my 2009 hike.

I was pretty dismayed.

But I wrote back, and over an exchange of e-mails that lasted several days, I discovered that the park Service employee at the backcountry office was actually quite interested in working with me to develop a plan that would maximize my chances of getting an itinerary that was at least close to what I wanted. In the process, we discussed a bunch of alternative camp sites. For example, she asked me if I couldn’t get a permit for Indian Garden, could I accept one for Horn Creek, or even Salt Creek? However, there were no guarantees; I still had to wait for the January 1st permit lottery.

Then, a couple of days into the New Year, another backcountry staffer called to tell me that I had gotten part of what I wanted, but not nearly all. So she led me along my itinerary, and at each night for which I hadn’t gotten a permit, we discussed yet more alternatives. Then she’d hang up, go to the booking computer and see what she could “lock in” and then would call me back. She must have called at least a half-dozen times, but we finally came up with a good plan … and she locked it all in to their computer.

So, it looks as if the final major hurdle has been cleared, and I’m set on what will surely be the most awesome, most wonderful and most rigorous hike of my life. I’m really, really looking forward to it!

There seem to me to be several morals to this story.

Number 1: Be as flexible as you can be in developing your proposed itinerary. If that means trying to lock in some extra reservations at Phantom Ranch or the lodges on the rim, do it. Maybe a bit unethical, but it’ll will make life easier when you enter the backcountry permit lottery. (And there’s no penalty for canceling the surplus reservations as long as you don’t do it at the last moment … and you can be sure somebody else will be glad you did!)

Number 2: Start communicating with the backcountry office before the permit process begins, so you can better understand the problems and their possible solutions.

Number 3: The backcountry office staff are great. They really want to work with you to help you line up the best trek possible. They know the Canyon, they’re friendly, and they go the extra mile — and more — to help. I am particularly grateful to Shana and Robin.

Good luck. Maybe I’ll see you on the trail!

P.S. I do wish the back country permit process and the Phantom Ranch reservation process were integrated, so the entire itinerary could be nailed down at one time.

After too long of a hiatus, progress has resumed on the Mill Creek. The blanks cut some time ago to form the various panels of the kayak’s hull have finally had scarfs cut into them, so they’re ready to be joined together lengthwise. After that, they can be cut to shape, and then stitched together to form the hull.

Scarfs cut into stacked 4 mm Okoume plywood.
Note the 3 bands of plies in each blank.

The process of cutting scarfs is common to the Mill Creek, Sanderling and Dunlin, stitch-and-glue kayaks generally and, indeed, to all plywood.

Okoume (Aucoumea klaineana) is a fast-growing, plantation-grown tropical hardwood from west Africa. Among other uses, Okoume is used to manufacture plywood for use in aircraft and boats. Okoume marine plywood is particularly useful for stitch-and-glue kayaks, such as the Chesapeake Light Craft boats I’ve been building.

One problem the kayak builder faces is that Okoume plywood is typically available in sheets 8 feet long, but the boats we build are often twice that in length, or more. Which means that the panels used to form the bottom and sides of the hull as well as the deck need to be joined end to end. The best way to do that is to scarf together blanks cut from the plywood sheets. The easiest and most practical scarf joint for the amateur builder is made by tapering the broad surface of the blanks and glue them together with epoxy.

It is vital that the scarf’s taper be long enough to ensure that adequate surface areas are glued together. The scarf should be about 8 or 12 times longer than it is thick, and it is imperative that the scarf of the mating panel be an exact mirror image. That may sound difficult and intimidating to the first-time builder, but it’s actually fairly easy to acheive.

Take the panels to be mated end to end, and measure out the length of the scarf. Assuming an 10:1 scarf using 3 mm. plywood, the scarf should be 30 mm. long; with 4 mm. plywood, the scarf should be 40 mm. long. Mark each panel accordingly with a line paralleling the end of the blank. Remember that the slope of the scarfs of the two pieces must be complimentary, e.g., if slope of the scarf cut into the piece on the left slopes downward from left to right, the scarf of corresponding piece on the right must also slope downward from left to right.

After doing that, stack the panels being scarfed, with each one set back from the one below by the length of the scarf. (That’s where that line marking the scarf is useful) and clamp them together with all the ends to be scarfed together. This means that every other panel should be upside down. For instance, if the inboard side of the forward blank is up, the inboard side of the mating after blank should be down. When they’re all clamped together, the end of each blank should be offset from the blanks beneath it by the length of the scarf. The end of the clamped pile of blanks will have the appearance of a long, shallow staircase.

To cut the scarfs for the Mill Creek’s hull, I had a stack of ten blanks – 2 forward and 2 after lower panels, 2 forward and 2 after upper panels, and 1 forward and 1 after bottom panel. As I’m using 4 mm. plywood, the stack was 40 mm. high, and the combined length of the scarfs was 400 mm. long.

Side view of scarfs. Note the stack of blanks.

Then take a small power sander with a pretty coarse grit (I used a palm-sized orbital sander, but a random orbital, sheet or even belt sander could be used; one can also use planes or rasps, but the work would be slower and more difficult) and begin sanding down the “steps.” I found it to be most effective if the sander bore on three of the steps simultaneously, as that kept the slope of the scarf constant. Be sure the wood is supported, and cannot flex away from the sander. As you go, you’ll start cutting through the plies of the plywood; if the work is progressing evenly, the joint between the plies will form nice, straight lines running perpendicular across the blanks, parallel to the ends being scarfed. If those lines are not straight, the wood is not being removed evenly. Working slowly and carefully, it’s pretty easy to achieve good, even results. Stop shortly before the scarf edge is razor thin, as it will be pretty fragile. If you do that, you’ll find that your 10:1 scarf slope will produce a mating surface that’s about 8:1, which is good.

Finish up with a sanding block, also with a pretty coarse grit. If the “stripes” of the scarfs cut into your pile looks like the those in the photo, you’ve done well and can move to the next stage, gluing the blanks together.