Travel Biography - Week 21.

Grand Canyon Corridor - Overnight Information

Phantom Ranch is the only known rustic brick-and-mortar accommodation located at the bottom of the Grand Canyon amidst a copse of Cottonwood trees, aside from several campsites found along the Corridor and elsewhere. Consisting of a restaurant and several huts, in all, the Ranch accommodates up to 96 guests in different individual huts, nine of them accommodating up to four people, which includes ten mule riders, along with two larger huts for the Colorado River boat trippers and hiking parties, each with ten beds, and in addition, four hiker dormitories, each also containing ten beds of which two huts are for the male hikers, the other two for the female hikers.

Mules at Phantom Ranch.

In addition, the Bright Angel Campsite is close by, with 32 sites. If each of the tents accommodated two people, which looked to be the norm, then with 64 hikers under canvass, together with up to 96 guests at the ranch, this would make 160 people sleeping at the bottom of the Corridor region of the Grand Canyon during a typical night. Although, as you are probably aware by now, I love playing around with statistics, and this is no exception.

However, regarding the proportion of individual hikers making their way down to the River to spend the night, here I can only give estimates. In this case, it's established that at the height of summer, all places at the Ranch were, and are, fully booked several months before arrival. Likewise, on the riverboats, all places were fully taken months before the day they set sail, in addition, even up to a year before any rider mounted his mule for a two-day journey on the trails.

According to official statistics, in 1978, the year of my first visit, there were a total of 2,746,642 visitors, or 7,530 per day if I was to iron out the seasonal variations.

In 1995, the year of my second visit, there were 4,557,645 visitors, or 12,486 daily.

For the record, 2018 peaked with a total of 6,380,495 visitors pre-pandemic, with a daily average of 17,480.  

Therefore, with up to 160 people spending the night on the corridor floor in 1978, only 2% of all visitors spent the night there. However, among individual visitors who made it down as independent hikers, with as many as forty sleeping in the four large huts in the Ranch, along with a further 64 campers, a truer figure would have been less than 1.4%. However, what I had experienced at the Ranch in 1978, the percentage would be even less. Therefore, the estimated number of overnighters to the total number of daily visitors being at around 1% was confirmed later by a Ranch staff member on a YouTube video.

However, a far greater number of visitors were day hikers. On the Bright Angel Trail, the turnaround would more likely have been at the 1.5-mile rest stop, or at the three-mile rest stop further down, both having a bathroom and a water supply. This was my experience of hiking down the trail, especially in 1978 when many hikers were making their way up towards the Village, but after passing the three-mile stop, the Tonto Plateau area with Indian Gardens campsite was absolutely deserted. On the South Kabab Trail, Ooh-Ahh Point would have been a popular turnaround 1.8 miles into the hike.

What Happened at Phantom Ranch?

The 9.6-mile hike down Bright Angel Trail was made especially daunting by the cloud cover and a dry thunderstorm, along with a notice warning of life-threatening flash floods. Yet, at Indian Gardens, despite being all alone, the sight of Buddha Temple Butte directly in front, and to the left, Cheops Pyramid, transforming the Village view of the North Rim from a straight line making up the horizon to that of a mountain range looming ahead, making me realise the vast grandeur of the Canyon. Its grandeur was intensified when I continued the hike down the Devil's Corkscrew within the Inner Gorge, a canyon in its own right, the hard Vishnu Schist bedrock resulting in a much slower rate of erosion, thus a much narrower gorge whose walls loomed far above me.

Vishnu Schist bedrock near Phantom Ranch.

Eventually, shortly after crossing the Colorado River on Silver Bridge, I arrive at the Ranch, which, by then, it was rapidly getting dark as the night approached. After checking in at reception, I found the appropriate hut and entered. Inside were ten beds arranged in bunk form like that of a hostel dormitory. And like any hostel dorm, this hut was single-gender, assigned for male hikers. There was also a shower cubicle and lavatory, hence a bathroom just large enough to accommodate one person at a time. 

There were already three hikers in the hut. Two of them expressed surprise at my late arrival, but at least I was commended for completing the hike. These two were Americans, both a tad older than me, and both from Los Angeles, and the third hiker, a German of about my age or slightly younger, making his way into the shower cubicle. Only then I became aware of the presence of a shower in the hut.

And so, with four of us, there were still six beds remaining vacant, but I gave little thought about them. Presently, the German came out of the shower, and I thought it was the right moment to take advantage of the facility. Feeling refreshed, I sauntered out into the night and watched Bright Angel Creek as it flowed past the Ranch as it makes its way to join the Colorado River, a half-mile downstream from where I was standing. Meanwhile, I spotted the German hiker relaxing with his girlfriend as I unintentionally drew their attention. However, I just sauntered along.

It was when we all returned to the hut that it was agreed between all four of us that we would be up at four in the morning. The hike back up took about nine hours - twice the time it took for me to descend. An early start would take much of the heat out from hiking back up the Devil's Corkscrew. It was after we all settled in our beds that a discussion arose among us on why the other six beds remained unclaimed, and with all indications that they won't be claimed at all.

I could see that the American hikers were more irked by the presence of unclaimed beds than the German or me. In a huff, one of them spoke with a sneer.

I bet they have turned chicken and turned back to the Village!

I felt myself blush. Surely, I am a coward, too. The hiker's remark reminded me how fearful I felt whilst descending the Devil's Corkscrew with the high cliffs looming above, the thunderstorm, and the threat of flash floods, never mind the sense of loneliness, the cutting off from civilisation. In my own embarrassment, I didn't say a word. Instead, I made attempts to sleep. But not that well.

Bright Angel Creek is next to Phantom Ranch.

The Hike Back Up.

I couldn't blame the irk felt by the American hiker. Six beds in our hut remained unoccupied. And that was just our hut. How many more beds remained unclaimed? And this, whilst back at the rim, the number of potential hikers who walk away feeling downcast because there were no spare beds and no cancellations. Among the crowd of failed potential hikers, a few dared to break National Park regulations and hike down and sleep rough. The Two Frenchmen I passed near the end of my descent were a good example. Then again, the six empty beds might have been a group cancellation, with just me taking up one of the freed beds. A possibility, but very unlikely. Any on-the-day cancellations would have rapidly filled up.

I was the last one to leave the hut to step outside just as the first hint of a new day turned the sky from black into a velvety dark blue, as all the thunderclouds of the previous evening had dispersed. As I hit the trail, crossing Silver Bridge and taking a last look at the River dominated by Zoroaster Temple Butte, I saw all the other hikers ahead, all of them heading back up. And every hiker had at least one companion. There were also groups of three or even four. But the greater majority were in twos. I was the only lone hiker.

As I began to ascend the sweeping curves of the Devil's Corkscrew, the sunlight began to shine on the peaks of the surrounding buttes and pinnacles. They looked as if each one was uprooted and dipped into a huge can of glow paint. But I was grateful for the shade that covered the trail.

It was a while when I arrived at Indian gardens. By then, the shadows retreated as the sun rose, and I felt grateful whenever the trail passed through a shadow. But as the hike progressed, so the shadows slowly diminished, and I began to feel the heat of the sun.

Looking into Bright Angel Canyon from the Devil's Corkscrew.

In the sunshine, however, Tonto Plateau looked beautiful. Backed by the two dominant pinnacles on the north side of the River, the sun brought out the beauty of the pinkish-red sandstone topped with white limestone. Buddha Temple was so similar in shape to Zoroaster Temple, each consisting of a white limestone "head" resting on red sandstone "shoulders" - both shaped that way by the different rates of rock erosion - that I was confused, thinking at the time that I was constantly looking at just one butte. Actually, there were two, both looking very similar in shape and colour.

At the rest stop, several hikers were soaking their shirts in the cool refreshing water, but I hesitated to do the same, as I was concerned about the rucksack on my shoulders. So I just wet my face and proceeded on.

At last, the start of the most strenuous part of the entire Bright Angel hike, which is up the south wall of the Outer Gorge, leading to the Rim itself. Starting with Jacob's Ladder, a series of short, steep switchbacks at the lower part of the cliff, I no longer was walking at a steady pace, as I was doing all along. Instead, I would now walk several metres, then take a short break stop.

Further up, I had to stand aside and allow a train of mule riders to pass by as it descended the trail switchbacks. After the last mule passed by, it was one switchback after another in an unending sequence. Yet, despite the frequent breaks, I was determined to finish the hike entirely. I kept looking back at the North Rim edge. The line was beginning to straighten, but it seemed to take forever.

Further up, I had to stand aside again. This time it was for just three mules. The first beast carried the park ranger. The second mule carried a rucksack. The third mule carried an exhausted female hiker, looking as if bathed in shame and embarrassment at having to be rescued.

And that is precisely the deception the footpath can have. No wonder there are notices giving warnings of the severity of the Trail. Each year, up to 250 exhausted hikers are rescued, then have to pay a hefty fee for the rescue. In many of these cases, it's either an underestimation of the strenuousness of the hike, an overestimation of the hiker's ability, or both. Not to mention heatstroke, hyponatremia, sunburn or any other ailments one can fall into during the hike.

As the three mules carried on ahead, I continued to walk, then pause, and then walk. By then, the Trail is crowded, mainly with day hikers, but some were, like I did, preparing to settle for the coming night on the Canyon floor. The only difference was that they were setting off earlier in the day. As I progressed, some of the bystanders were cheering me on, as if I was a marathon runner approaching the finish line. One family cheered me on with gusto. It was very encouraging!

Cheops Pyramid is seen from the Devil's Corkscrew.

At last. At last! The trailhead came into view and I exited to amalgamate into the Village crowd, feeling very happy, exuberant, a sense of achievement. It was somewhere between 13.30 and 14.00 hours. Having set off from Phantom Ranch around 4.30 am, the authorities were spot on with the duration. With so many pause breaks taken on the final ascent, the return hike took nine hours to complete. This compares with the 4.5 hours for me to hike down the day before.

Nearing the exit of the Trail.

But also tired and exhausted. Along the South Rim, there were two benches facing each other. As I sat on one of them, I must have fallen asleep. When I woke up sometime later, the family who cheered me earlier whilst still hiking, was there and gave me further greetings as they reminded me that I have been sleeping for quite a spell.

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Next Week: Staying in a hotel with a questionable past.