Travel Biography - Week 60.

The Unusual Layout of this Week's Blog.

This week's blog is about the second part of my 1995 hike into the Grand Canyon, where my task of taking photos of the Inner Gorge is complete. Therefore, instead of interspersing several pics within the text, as I usually do, on this occasion only, I will place all the photos and their captions in an uninterrupted row beneath the text.

As I have written about these hikes in the past or are familiar with my Facebook page, some of you may already be familiar with these photos. For others, they may be seen for the first time. For everyone,  I hope that after reading the text, you will also enjoy browsing through the pics. Also, note that all the photos displayed here are my own, to fulfil the main purpose of the hike. There are no stock photos posted here.

The distances are given in miles. To convert to kilometres, multiply the number by 1.62. For example:

3 miles - 3 x 1.62 = 4.86 kilometres.

The Morning After.

After a successful descent into the Grand Canyon on the Bright Angel Trail, I settled under the stars. This was due to the hike being "illegal" in the sense that I wasn't carrying a Camper Pass, a document I should have gotten if I was lucky in the lottery draw at the Visitor's Center in the Village. The lottery draw decides who will go down to spend the night deep within the Canyon from those who won't. The draw was still yet to take place at seven o'clock that same morning. In other words, had I conformed to the Park rules, I would still be at the South Rim village, most likely having slept under the stars, or found an ultra-expensive room at one of the Rim hotels, which according to my budget, would have been very unlikely. As it was, I took a chance and completed the descent to a spot near where Bright Angel Creek flows to join the Colorado River.

I woke up from my meagre sleep around five, just as the dawn was breaking. The sky was clear, and the Milky Way became obscured by the velvety blue of the cloudless sky. Soon afterwards, human life began to stir as both the Ranch and the campground began to empty of hikers starting their trek towards South Rim, mainly on the Bright Angel Trail. Also, I watched the campers at the official campground pack away their tents into their rucksacks and also began their hike back to the Rim.

I rose from the picnic table on which I lay, and taking my heavy rucksack, made my way to Phantom Ranch, a little further along the trail in the direction of North Rim. The whole night was far from pitch dark and silent. The millions of stars making up the Milky Way, along with the full moon, kept the Canyon floor well-illuminated with natural light. Added to that was the constant sound of the Bright Angel Creek waters flowing as if in a headlong rush to meet the mightier Colorado River.

I got chatting with one of the staff members who was in charge of the Ranch dining room, a slim, bearded man who supervised a fairly large room in which parallel rows of tables were arranged with their seating. All the places were vacant. As I bought some breakfast and made my way to a chair, I was stopped by the bearded supervisor without any explanation for his move. However, he wasn't hostile, and with just the two of us in the restaurant, we kept on chatting about how the Ranch was managed whilst I was eating standing up. Somehow, I was able to sense that he enjoyed talking to me. I have wondered how many visitors saw him as a human being loyal to his duties rather than always on the beck-and-call of impatient customers.

Most, if not all, hikers had left both the Ranch and Campsite. That I wasn't permitted to sit for breakfast indicated that there were more customers to have made an appearance, to whom the seating was reserved. But they weren't individual hikers. Rather, they were more likely a party of mule riders. There was also a possibility that there was a party of river rafters. Their inflatable boats, designed to ride more smoothly over the rapids, were known as dories. Both were actually escorted groups, therefore, I didn't find it too surprising that they took priority in the restaurant.

The Ascent Hike Begins.

One big difference I felt after arising that morning, and that I was no longer concerned about meeting a Park Ranger. Thus, there was no longer the humiliation felt if ordered back to the Rim, or even worse, faced a fine set by the Park authorities of several hundred dollars. However, I wanted to linger around the Canyon floor for a while rather than set off so early, like I did in 1978 when I left around 5.00 AM. However, I also wanted to have a taste of the North Kaibab Trail that linked Phantom Ranch to the North Rim and the Lodge near the trailhead. But, as I found out from the Ranch supervisor, a landslide had closed the trail for several months in 1995. This meant that even if I wanted to, I wouldn't have been able to hike to the North Rim, although that idea appealed to me.

Instead, I hiked a little way up along North Kaibab Trail. How far, I never recorded. But it must have been a few hundred metres. If the diversion was up to 400 metres, then I could say that the 9.6 miles from Rim to Ranch would have rounded up to ten miles. Realising the trail blockage, I then turned back to the Ranch and passed through. Where the creek, or stream, joins the river, I lingered, admiring Zoroaster Temple towering over me and looking so near. 

I then made my way to Siver Bridge and crossed the River to reach the South side of the Inner Gorge. Looking towards the west from the bridge, a section of the South Tonto at Plateau Point was just visible as it juts into the Inner Gorge, backed by a section of cliff resembling a pyramid. To the east, Zoroaster Temple, the now most familiar butte, dominates the skyline.

The trail ran along the bank of the River for up to two miles before reaching a turning at the mouth of Bright Angel Trail proper. Opposite the trail turning was a small incline to a small sandy beach. How lucky I felt when a passing hiker took a picture of me sitting on a boulder with one foot in the freezing water! That photo became the hiking classic.

I carried along the trail, leaving the River for good, fording Pipe Creek, and passing the seven-mile rest station. I then proceeded to the start of the Devil's Corkscrew.

Still cool as the morning wore on, I didn't find the wide switchbacks too overbearing as I carried the heavy rucksack on my back. Throughout, I kept sipping at the gallon water bottle I filled at Phantom Ranch. I was doing well. The Corkscrew offered fantastic views of itself as the sun shone into the recess of the Inner Gorge through which the trail runs. Both in 1978 and the previous day's descending hike, the switchbacks were under shade. The sunshine brings out its glory.

At last, I arrive at Havasupai Gardens, formerly the Indian Gardens of Tonto Plateau. With such a nice atmosphere created by visitors and passing hikers, I thought about resting here for a while and soaking in the experience. I sat, drinking water and facing the North Rim. Just ahead of me, the trail divided. The main trail, from where I had just come, dropped into the Inner Gorge, from it a 1.5-mile trail branch terminated at Plateau Point, on the rim of the Inner Gorge.

I decided there and then to check out Plateau Point, adding a total of three miles to the hike. But it was worth every step of the way! Yet, what I found astonishing was that despite the crowds, I was totally alone. I walked across the level desert scrubland to the Point. The view offered was absolutely breathtaking!

I was looking down the near-vertical walls of the Gorge. Directly below was the river, a ribbon of brown, murky water twisting its way through the Canyon. Directly ahead, Cheops Pyramid Butte stood as a giant formation towering over me, whilst Brahman's Temple and Zoroaster Temple formed the two pinnacles defining the eastern horizon. Behind me, to the south, the cliff wall of the South Rim loomed above, and warning me that the hike was far from finished.

Eventually, as evening was already drawing near, I headed back to Havasupai Gardens, passed through and carried on to the start of Jacob's Ladder, the first section of a long series of switchbacks that would eventually lead me back to the village. It was at the three-mile rest hut that I refilled my water bottle.

I took on one switchback after another as I struggled uphill with a heavy rucksack on my back. It was getting dark, and I realised that I spent too much time at Havasupai Gardens and Plateau Point. Yet, I had no regrets. I actually believed that I bargained more than most hikers. After all, I was all alone at Plateau Point and had all the wonderful views to myself. But the cost? Three extra miles added to the hike, making the whole round trip some 23 miles long.

Then it Happened.

The trail was deserted as I struggled along, sipping water. Suddenly, somewhere on the cliff, a sudden very sharp cramp pain hit my left thigh, right down to my lower leg. I felt my muscle tighten as if squeezed by a huge, invisible hand. I couldn't move. 

I struggled further despite the pain. It was dark by this time and the trail was deserted, lifeless, as if long abandoned. A big contrast to a typical summer's day when the trail is crowded with hikers and casual walkers. Eventually, I couldn't keep going any longer, the cramp pain was so severe. Compounded by the heavy rucksack, I laid down on the trail, my damp shirt getting covered with sand. I was no longer able to move. I thought that was it. My time had come. I began to recite Scripture, mainly from the Gospel of John. I thought that this was a good place to die as anywhere else. I closed my eyes and waited for the moment.

I felt defeated, blasted hope further dashed. Not by the hike but by life in general. Still single at 43 years of age, the very thought of marrying and raising a family was as remote as a tiny oasis in the huge Sahara Desert. I know what it's like being ridiculed by two young women in the church, treating me like some bogeyman. The haunting of Josephine and her hateful attitude only a year previously, I had not fully recovered from. Uneducated, if to be educated meant to have a University degree, I was just a pleb, rejected and kept in place by society, worthless, a manual labourer living on moderate wages. Failure. A life of failure. As a youngster, even my own parents were unhappy with my slow learning, surviving in the most dunce classroom of the entire school. Who knows, maybe the afterlife will offer something much better.

The pain seared mercilessly through my left leg and spread to my right thigh.

After an undetermined while, two hikers were approaching from below and saw me lying there, face down. One of them tried to speak to me and I gasped out an explanation that I was in severe pain, that of a muscle cramp.  One offered to contact the Village and arranged to be rescued. But I vehemently refused! I was still determined to finish the hike, no matter what it takes. No way would I live the rest of my life with a lie in my spirit. I could never bring myself to admit the failure of this hike.

However, as a concession, I accepted their offer for them to carry my rucksack along with their own. I was amazed at how they could have done that! I couldn't determine the distance they walked, but it wasn't at all long before the 1.5-mile rest station came into view. I couldn't have been that far from it in the first place.

The two hikers pleaded with me to rest here overnight whilst they carried on as before. I was given my rucksack and they left with a goodbye and well-wishing. I was alone once again as I lay down inside the rest hut. The pain eased slightly. In the stillness, I fell into a troubled sleep.

At daybreak, and another promise of a fine day, I woke to find that the pain had eased, but not gone entirely. I arose, positioned the rucksack on my back, and carried on with the hike. In no way would I allow the humiliation of a mule rescue like that poor woman back in 1978. The vision haunted me. 

I looked up to see Battleship Rock still above me. My heart sank. The end seemed further away than I first thought. But I kept going, determined, but allowing for short breaks. Back and forth, back and forth the trail went constantly upward. Gradually, the North Rim began to look much straighter as I passed through the first tunnel. By the time I passed through the second tunnel cut through a rock ledge, I knew that I was almost there.

The relief I felt when the trailhead finally appeared! I made the exit and I was back in the village. So, how did I perceive the entire hike? A success or a failure? Well, I started it on my own without aid, and I finished it also on my own effort, and not escorted out. Therefore, even if my rucksack was carried a short distance, the hike was deemed a success.

I laid face down on a bench. Presently, one of the Park Rangers approached, with the Question,

Frank, are you okay? You look unwell.

I gasped. "How do you know my name?"

It's written on the label attached to your backpack, you pillock!

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Next Week: "Yes, it could have been fatal" - so I was told.

Havasupai Gardens and Plateau Point are just left of the centre.

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View of the South Rim cliff wall from Plateau Point.

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The Trail just past H. Gardens. Buddha Temple is ahead.

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Looking into Bright Angel Canyon from Devil's Corkscrew.

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View of Devil's Corkscrew from Plateau Point.

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Gneiss Granite rock cliffs of Inner Gorge.

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First view of the River.

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I took off my rucksack to pose on Silver Bridge.

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Bright Angel Creek near Phantom Ranch. Facing Downstream.

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Another view of Bright Angel Creek.

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Granite Rock feature, near Phantom Ranch.

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Mules in readiness, Phantom Ranch.

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Phantom Ranch.

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At a Bridge crossing the Bright Angel Creek

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Brahman's Temple and Zoroaster Temple.

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Fully suited and ready to go.

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At the lowest point of the Canyon!

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View of the River from Plateau Point.

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Rock formation as seen from Plateau Point.

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View of Cheops Pyramid from Plateau Point.