The more I reflect on June’s hike, the more I realize I have to go back. I went across; now I have to go along. I proved I could do it and came away utterly in awe of the place, eager to see more, to appreciate more, to understand more.

I also came away realizing that the eye sees beauty a camera can’t record. The vistas at Plateau Point were spectacular, but the photos were mediocre; the day was overcast, the sun straight above, and the camera was best just for snapshots.

West beyond Dana Butte and the Temple of Set

Another hike is inevitable. Nothing more need be said. But not a repeat of the first hike, looking instead for some less traveled spaces, sights not seen the first time, with time to capture the Canyon’s beauty when the light is best, early morning and late afternoon.

So what to do? Descend and ascend on different trails. Focus on the Tonto Platform, where the vistas are uniformly superb. Camp, because that’s the only way to get to where I need to go. Get a far better camera, and learn to use it. Learn more about the geology, flora and fauna.

Nibbles of interest from my fellow hiker, another good friend, my brother. This can happen. Will happen.

Tentative itinerary, late April or early May, 2011:

1st day: Grandview trailhead to Grapevine Creek – 9.9 miles.

2nd day: Pressing on via the Tonto trail to the top of Cremation Creek – 12.2 miles.

Sumner Butte from the Tonto Platform

3rd day: Pressing on via the Tonto and South Kaibab trails to Phantom Ranch – 5.5 mile. Partial day R&R at Phantom. Late afternoon excursion to the south side of the silver bridge, to photograph Sumner Butte in the late afternoon sun.

4th day: Clear Creek trail to camp at top of Clear Creek – 8.2 miles

5th day: Return on Clear Creek trail to North Kaibab, and head north to Cottonwood — 14.7 miles

6th day: Head up Bright Angel Canyon via North Kaibab and old trail to base of the Redwall, then return to Cottonwood ~ 9.0 miles

7th day: Return to Phantom Ranch with side trip to Ribbon Falls; partial day R&R at Phantom – 6.5 miles

8th day: Ascend Bright Angel trail to Indian Garden — 5.5 miles. Side hike to Plateau Point for late afternoon photography.

Indian Garden, Bright Angel Canyon, Sumner Butte, Brahma and Zoroaster Temples

9th day: Head west on Tonto trail, with side hike to Plateau Point for early morning photography, and then on to Monument Creek — 10.7 miles plus Plateau Point side hike and side hike down Monument Creek to the river

10th day: Head up Hermit trail to South Rim — 9.3 miles.

About 97.5 miles, not counting the various side hikes which would add an additional 7 or 8 miles. Not a very taxing pace, though, with lots of time for good photography, especially in the early morning and late afternoon, and enjoying the scenery.

Should be awesome.

I’ve decided to return this blog to it’s original purpose, meanderings about my cat ketch, my various kayaks, my Dakota Hawk light sport aircraft-to-be, and other recreational endeavors.

Commentary on social and political matters is being shifted over to a new blog, Optimistic Skepticism. Earlier posts on this blog dealing with such issues will be transferred over to the new one, or deleted.

I hope you’ll find both blogs to be of interest.

An aspect of the Grand Canyon hike I found unexpectedly interesting was the hikers we met along the way. Among others, there were ….

A three generation group of women from Missouri whom we met at Phantom Ranch over dinner. They ranged from a 14 year old making her first hike into the Canyon, to her grandmother making her 5th hike. Very enthusiastic, very friendly, quite interesting and quite fit. I can only hope that I’ll age as well as the grandmother, whose zest for life (she celebrates every New Year’s by canoeing in the Mississippi) and delight in the world about her are inspiring.

A Hollywood-beautiful but very down-to-earth and friendly Floridian couple on the other side of us at the same meal, clearly in love with each other and with the Canyon, on their 14th Canyon trip, some hiking, some rafting. Met them again on the trail, and again at the Grand Canyon Lodge, where they joined up with his 85 year old father … who himself had hiked the Canyon numerous times.

A forty-something New Zealander whose family wasn’t interested in hiking into the Canyon, so she slipped out of their lodge one morning to hike down to Cedar Ridge. Whilst we chatted with her, a squirrel grabbed her apple, and the three of us chased the little thief down and recovered the purloined fruit (not to worry; laughing, the crime victim gave the miscreant the section of apple it had already bitten).

A retired couple from Lake Havasu who used to live near the Canyon, and came back for old times’ sake. Over the years, the guy had hiked nearly every trail in the Canyon and the woman had done her share; this time they were taking a “short” jaunt down to the river and back.

Two women, very fit and experienced Canyon hikers, traveling light but clearly knowledgeable about what they were doing, hiking Rim to Rim in one day. We met them just two miles shy of the North Rim, even though they had left the South Rim at about the same time we had departed from Phantom Ranch. They were hiking fast, but not so fast they weren’t happy to chat with strangers on the trail, or to admire the beauty around them.

Four twenty-something Australians who had read about the spectacular national parks of the American west, and decided to spend the summer exploring them. Great guys, great attitudes, very funny. On to Bryce and Zion next.

Eight twenty-something friends, mostly from the Chicago area, finding a unique way of celebrating their friendship, going rim to rim, and clearly having a good time.

A wiry south African guy who took to the corridor trails almost on a whim but with enormous good cheer. Still, obviously fit, and well equipped. The only rim-to-rim-to-rim hiker we saw. Oddly enough, we met him at almost the exact same spot on both sides of the hike, even though we were headed in opposite directions.

Two rangers, both women around thirty, both personable, both avid hikers, one looking very athletic and the other rather bookish, both heavily loaded with emergency supplies for other people, patrolling the corridor trails. While we talked, they were warily eyeing poorly equipped hikers but still talked eagerly about the wonders of the Canyon and the joys of hiking into it.

A single mom with teen-age sons, poorly equipped (one water bottle and one gallon water jug between them, sneakers, no food) but enthusiastic and remarkably resilient. Nice people, but we were relieved to see them reach the North Rim. They sure looked exhausted by the end of it … but it’s probably a memory they’ll all treasure, once the blisters have healed.

And sadly, there were some others we were less happy to see, too. A surprising number, deep in the Canyon, with little or no water, sneakers or even sandals, blue jeans. Fortunately for them, the weather was unseasonably mild, else they would have been in serious difficulty. Others taking “short cuts” across switchbacks, heedless of the dangers they posed to themselves, the hikers below them, and to the Canyon itself. No wonder those rangers looked wary; the Canyon holds many grave dangers for the foolish and the ill-prepared.

It seemed ironic that the people we met who seemed most enthusiastic about visiting the Canyon, and the most enthralled with the experience, were from beyond our shores. Are Americans blase about the natural wonders of their own land? Or are Europeans and Australians, South Africans and Japanese, New Zealanders, Germans and all the others we met from around the globe more filled with awe by this beautiful planet we inhabit?

In early June of 2009 a friend and I hiked the Grand Canyon from rim to rim to rim. I had visited the Canyon’s South Rim before and had ventured far enough below the rim to realize that one must descend into the Canyon to truly appreciate it.

I was convinced that such a trip was beyond my abilities; hiking the Canyon seemed only a wistful fantasy. Then a hike up Mt. Wrightson, a 9,400 ft. mountain in southern Arizona, convinced me I could.

Our Canyon hike followed the three “corridor” trails, descending the South Kaibab, ascending the North Kaibab, retracing our steps down the North Kaibab and ascending the Bright Angel, a total of 44.7 miles with a total climb of 10,000 feet. In addition, I took side-hikes to Ribbon Falls and Plateau Point. We stayed at Phantom Ranch at the bottom of the Canyon (one of only two hotels in the U.S. supplied exclusively by mule train!) to save the weight and bother of bedding, a tent, food and cooking equipment.

I expected that hiking the Canyon would be an absolutely amazing, awesome and wonderful experience, but in fact it was even better. Better than I had hoped; better than I had imagined.

I also expected that it would be a severe test, but thanks to good preparation and fortunate weather, it wasn’t nearly as difficult as I had anticipated.

Personally, I think everybody who can, should. The Canyon is truly one of the wonders of the world; one exhausts superlatives describing it. Every twist in the trail brings a new wonder; one walks in beauty and lives in awe.

The Canyon is also humbling, incredibly so. Our egos, our self importance, our absorption in the fleeting concerns of our lives, all shrink into insignificance before the awesome magnitude of the Canyon. The scale is beyond comprehension; we reveal ourselves to be the tiniest motes of dust within its walls.

The Canyon reminds us not only that we are tiny specks, it tells us that the vanity of our existence is but a blink of an eye. When travelers reach the Canyon’s bottom, they walk among rocks formed 1,800,000,000 years ago. A third of their time has passed in the sterility preceding this planet’s first life. Humans have been around for barely one ten-thousandth of that time; what loosely passes as civilization accounts for only 1/200,000th of that period.

Humility and awe. It’s good for the soul. Hike the Grand Canyon to discover wonders you’ve never imagined, to realize how small we humans really are.

One cautionary note: Good preparation is essential for a safe and enjoyable hike into the Canyon. One must be physically fit, and must carry sufficient food and especially water. The bottom of the Canyon can be very, very hot, and water is unavailable on some trails. Canyon hikers must never forget that they are entering an environment that can be as hostile as it is beautiful, as deadly as it is wondrous.

A note on photos: I have placed in an online photo application a series of albums; follow this link. They are overlong, intended to give the viewer a sense of what the hiker sees. The photos were taken with a cheap camera, without regard to lighting conditions. For some stunning photos by a far better photographer who hiked some of the trails we hiked, follow this link.

Great Falls of the Potomac

Hardly a hidden jewel, but definitely worth the look. Great Falls, Billy Goat Trail, and the C&O Canal National Historical Park. Just outside the Beltway, but miles and miles away.

First beautiful day of Spring. 17 year old suggests hiking Billy Goat Trail. Don’t need to be asked twice: a great hike, and “quality time.” What more can a parent ask?

Billy Goat peels off from the C&O towpath just below Great Falls. It’s a bit of a scramble; the middle section is quite rocky, and at one point the trail ascends a steeply sloping granite formation. Lots of people out on the trail, even more on the towpath — urbanites cooped up over winter, needing to get out of the house.

Rapids bypassing Great Falls

Great Falls is always impressive, but the river was low; this winter just past was the driest on record in this area … and the records go back to 1872. It was also the driest February. Climate change, one suspects.

Mather Gorge

The hike proceeds along the northern side of Mather Gorge and affords some lovely views of the river as it rushes down the gorge. Rock climbers ascending the cliffs on the other side seem preoccupied, however. Sylvan scenery inland is almost overwhelmed by the river, but merits notice too.

Great hike. But nobody wanting to enjoy the peaceful quiet of nature should ever go on a hike with with a 17 year old.

Sawed a bit more. Another 4×8 sheet, becoming blanks for the bottom. Cut one together, then left the second for friend to do on her own, by herself. She’s starting to get it; she’s pretty accurate, but so far without confidence or power, so it’s going slowly. But she’ll get there, and find her confidence growing as she goes.

The Mill Creek 15 begins.

Two sheets of 4 mm okoume plywood, to be cut into four strips each, later to be scarfed into blanks for what the plans term bilge and sheer panels.

Friend doubts ability to saw straight lines. With some merit, initially.

Squat with eye on line, watching the vertical plane, directing the sawyer to move shoulder, elbow, wrist and saw in the same plane. Hand drifts back towards the hip, the kerf curves slightly in the same direction. Notice the eye is located vertically somewhere between hip and line; direct the eye into the same plane as the the rest of the sawing apparatus. Not yet working together as a unified whole, not working strongly, but progressing. Body memory will come.

Slowly the kerf grows longer. Slowly too, it becomes straighter.

Sawyer is nervous but with progress sees that the kerf is nearly straight. Easily “close enough for gummit work,” or, more accurately, for this stage in the process.

Get six of the eight panels cut; two more to go. Maybe cut the bottom panels next. Then the scarfs. A long ways yet to go, but it’s a start.

And it seems the sawyer believes just a little bit more now than when we began.

A new project, in more ways than one. A friend wants a custom-built kayak, but doesn’t have the skills to build it, or at least that’s the friend’s belief.

Laudable goal; mistaken belief.

But to prove it, I’ll have to transform my style from lone wolf to teacher and facilitator. Can we do it? Stay posted.

The project, by the way, is a Chesapeake Light Craft Mill Creek 15, to be built from plans. This is what it should look like, and what we hope that in fact it will ….

Example of a Mill Creek 15

Washington, D.C.

Everybody knows it for what it is: a beehive of bustling bureaucrats, a center for political shenanigans, a high-tech magnet for hordes of shuffling drones and, of course, the capital of the free world.

Whoever tries to combine the concepts of “Washington” and “beauty” into one thought naturally turns to visions of monuments, statues and cherry blossom festivals. Force them to add the concept of “nature” to the equation, and after much thought they might add Great Falls and the C and O canal.

If that’s all they think of, they’re in the staggering majority … but they’re missing one of the area’s real treats: over on the Virginia side nestled between the parkway and the river is Turkey Run Park and the Potomac Heritage Trail. Even with gorgeous weather on a federal holiday, the parking lot there is almost empty.

A shame, for it’s a remarkably beautiful and surprisingly wild park featuring miles of pleasant hiking. The hiker descends from the parking lot into a forest that blocks out almost all evidence of the surrounding metropolis. Skirting the banks of the river on the Potomac Heritage Trail, the hiker sees only river and trees and, yes, admit it, the occasional jetliner lifting out of National Airport. Along the trail, the occasional hiker; every once in a while, an angler or a kayaker out in the river. Once, an 8-point buck walking down to the river and across to the Maryland side.

It’s a jewel, and almost nobody knows it’s there.

Ricketts Glen State Park in Pennsylvania, west of Scranton, last weekend. Nice park; very scenic, good hiking.

The principal attraction are two creeks which have cut a precipitous canyon down almost 1,000′ through the underlying rock, creating a couple dozen beautiful water falls. Naturally, the trail following them is rather steep, but well worth the effort. (Also afforded a good opportunity to test the hiking boots acquired for the Grand Canyon trek next June.) Besides the falls trail, there are a number of other trails, some of which are fairly level since most of the park is in the gently rolling hills of a plateau-like ridge about 2,400′ in elevation.

The falls trail descends steeply along the looming walls of a narrow gorge, following a creek as it plunges over thirteen sizable falls and numerous smaller ones. Throughout, trees and fern punctuated with gleams of light frame the falls, an almost magical effect. Returning, a right along a converging stream leads to another trail climbing back up, passing eight more falls before a turn to a fairly level trail back to the starting point, passing along the way through enormous erratics deposited by retreating glaciers millennia ago.

The bottom fall created a classic little swimming hole, a fact discovered by a group of five teens. Three boys and a girl dare each other to jump off a 20 foot cliff into the water, which they all do, one after the other, each coming up spluttering to egg the laggards on. One boy doesn’t want to, the others chivying him on it, but gently, with humor, respecting his concern. But they keep jumping, and the reluctant one finally decides he can do it, and does. An interesting interplay of teen peer pressure, friendship, and respect, all resolved in laughter and comraderie. Meanwhile, a young mother with two little girls gripping her hands stands watching, slowly shaking her head but fascinated just the same.

A pretty little reservoir up in the highlands curves around the campsites, past extensive lily communities and along a rocky, primeval shore to a sandy swimming beach. Canoeists fishing. A couple paddling silently towards the setting sun. A group of adolescents playing in the sand, boys and girls oblivious to the natural beauty but clearly aware of each other. An older couple on folding chairs, reading as the sun moves towards the horizon.

The campgrounds are nice, the campers too. Nary a generator or boom box to be heard, the loudest human noises generally just soft conversations around camp fires. A group of Hasidic families nearby; while shaving after a shower, notice a seven year old wearing a yarmulke solemnly watching with a look suggesting that perhaps he’d never seen a man shave before. A smiling hello cheerfully answered, and we’re on our respective ways.

Ricketts Glen is far enough from any cities that even the night sky cooperated, with beautiful star-filled skies. It isn’t often urbanites get to see the night sky as clearly; a good pair of binoculars affords an opportunity to appreciate the density of the star fields within the Milky Way, the cosmic insignificance of our own little home. It’s always astonishing to see how many stars there are up there!