We have been spending Winter Solstice at Phantom Ranch ever since the boy was 4 and a half. I conned him into that trip by telling him he could sleep on an "up and down" bed (bunk bed). Every year we try to lure one of his friends into going, but this year we couldn't get a taker, so it was just us and him. In fact, all of his friends have broken up with him once I dragged them to Phantom. Hmm... like, don't hang around with him: you won't believe what his mother makes you do.

The weather was lousy all week, but it cleared when we headed down. Very deep snow, and not very trampled. They had, in fact, canceled mule trips for several days during this storm. So it was a little dicey heading down. Robert fell once and bent his hiking stick. Snow all the way past Skeleton Point, then mud, then snow again just above the tip off.

When we got to Phantom, the men's shower house was closed. They were staggering men and women on the women's side. The next morning, the power went out. It had been out the week before, and I guess they needed to put a good fix on their patch. But the men's shower house was open, so I guess there are trade offs. Electricity came on again in the afternoon.

Both evenings we got to sit with someone who knows all about hiking and all about Phantom. He was most disdainful of those of us who were staying in the cabin, for he was backpacking, and that's harder. Though he doesn't seem to have brought any of his food, since he ate all meals with us...

How does one tell a blowhard? When he asks, "where are you from?" and you say, "from here," he doesn't want to talk to you anymore. A normal person would say, "Oh? Where do you work, what do you do, etc.". The BH immediately turns to someone he can impress, which is obviously not you.

Hiked out in four hours, even with the nasty snow. It had sublimated a little, and a few mules had been through and trampled a path. Robert did OK for not having worked out much, which of course led him to suggest that he doesn't need to work out again until next December.

The true Leave No Trace person never forgets. The casual LNTer will pick up a piece of trash in the path, but the fanatic remembers things that have to be left for another day. Friday we noticed a bandanna hidden at Two Mile Corner. Ranger Smilin' Todd informs us that these are used as butt wipes and then abandoned (for good reason, I guess) so we do not want to tackle it without biohazard protective gear.

So today we waited for it to get above freezing, which it never did,but we went anyway and trotted back down armed with rubber gloves and a BIG trash bag and cleaned up Two Mile Corner. I also impaled myself trying to get a water bottle out of a current bush, until I finally remembered that I could extend the hiking pole and therefore my reach and snagged same.

So the Bright Angel Trail is pristine once again: at least until the next time someone can't make it all the way to the facilities at mile and a half and messes up Two Mile again.

The trail crew has been hard at work, and the section between Three Mile and Two Mile is pretty nice. The air has that between-storms clarity, and the Canyon looks very deep and very wide today.

I have been checking for rock-throwing persons whenever I have to walk under the "you're gonna die sign" and the Hermit Shuttle interchange, those being the two spots I have almost been nailed more than once. Too bad gravity works against me, or I could grab the rock and throw it back. Too bad I am never right on the spot, so the rock thrower could follow his rock on down...

Finally got to do our Kaibab-Bright Angel loop. Only three people coming out the SK in the morning, and no one along the Tonto until we got almost to Indian Garden. Then we met a man carrying a plastic bag. That's a long way in and a long hike for someone with no pack. Picked up his granola bar wrapper, too. Behind him was a lady runner, but she had a pack, so we figured that if they were friends or together, he would also own a pack. It's so much more intriguing to make up these stories about people we meet as opposed to actually stopping to ask them about themselves.

When I reached Indian Garden, the mules were saddling up, so I thought: oops! Don't want to get caught behind them! So I took off.

Brad asked if they were heading out, and they said, nope: hadn't even been to Plateau Point yet, so he hung around long enough to get a drink and use the outhouse. Sissy.

Kept ahead of Brad by dint of never stopping except for a quick drink, and we did the whole loop, about 14 miles, in five hours and 15 minutes,not that we are competitive or anything.

I really wanted to hike the South Kaibab-Tonto-BA loop this weekend, but I was fighting off a low level infection Saturday, so spent the day grousing about how I hate being sick, and why does it have to be on the weekend?

So today we just went to Skeleton Point and back: six miles and 2000+ feet. Only two small grafittis in the coconino. Right next to one another, which supports the "broken window" theory. If there is a broken window in an abandoned home, vandals are more likely to break another. If there is writing on a rock, vandals are more likely to also write onthe rock.

Passed a Brit who bemoaned the fact that HE hadn't worn HIS hiking skirt. His daughter told him that no one wore them here, at least not males. I suppose in the country where they invented the kilt it is more acceptable.

Passed four teenage boys in the Chimney. They were cutting switchbacks, so Brad passed them at a run, informing them that cutting the trail doesn't save them any time. I caught them on the last switchback, and one of them turned a vido camera my way and asked: "anything to say?" I wanted to say, "Yeah, you've just been passed by a pair of geezers, one of whom is wearing a skirt," but I smiled and said, "Almost out!".

A very grey day, but it brought out the colors on the North Rim. Sometimes the Canyon looks so much deeper and wider than others. Today it looked very large indeed...

Got up at 0 dark thirty to hike to mile and a half before going in to meetings at school. Very nice being on the trail all alone. Needed a flashlight until mile and a half, then there was just enough light to see, and getting stronger all the way out. Lovely light on the Kaibab cliffs as the sun rose through the penumbra.

No big horns: since we spotted three last week further down on the South kaibab, one must assume that they have hied themselves into warmer climes for the nonce.

Spent the weekend at Phantom Ranch. One gal had to cancel because she was recovering from surgery, the young man hiked out to spend time with her instead. Walked to Ribbon Falls on the layover day. A nice little rainbow in the falls. Haven't seen that before.

Lovely weather coming out: clear and cool with no wind. Brad lost his hat and looked all over. Dave and I looked all around the mess hall. Brad gets home, pulls on a fleece shirt, looks down, and there is the hat, clinging to the shirt.

I usually get out from Phantom in three to four hours. This time, Becky was with me all the way from Oregon, so I stayed back to talk with her. But we were passed by the mules, and two of the old f**rts on board told us, "Don't worry ladies: you'll get out." I sooo wanted to tell them, "If it weren't for my friend here, you would be eating my dust", but I couldn't, so I didn't. They were only trying to be polite and kind, but I don't need pity from a mule rider.

Patricia: shame on you for writing your name on EVERY rock in the coconino. All gone now, girlfriend. Remind me to stop by your house and write my name on EVERY surface I can reach.

Spent the weekend in Phoenix taking care of business, including visiting the Star Trek, the Exhibition at the Science Center. One visitor approached us asking if we had spotted the mistakes. We told him that Picard's uniform was missing a pip, and he wandered off, happy that he had found his own level of geekdom.

Anyhow, ran down to Mile and a Half when we got to the rim, just for the workout. Very cold once over the edge and in the shade. Last week I almost got creamed by two large rocks right under the "turn around or die" sign, so I am getting really paranoid about hiking on that stretch of trail. That's where I trip a lot, also. There must be a malevolent spirit hanging about the area.

The big horn herd was just below Cinch Up corner, and when we passed above them one of them started "huffing". I've never heard them make a noise before.

I started glaring at every young male person I passed, watching for rocks in his hand. This is really getting ridiculous.

The Hermit Road is now open, so we rode bikes instead of hiking. The road is a lot smoother and seems a bit wider, but maybe that is just the fact that they painted shoulder lines. A lot of the roads is still too narrow for a bus and a bike, particularly since the buses aren't allowed to cross the line, so they crowd bikes off. Bikes are supposed to dismount and pull to the side, but some of the shoulders are still about a 50 degree angle and a little hard to clamber down and back up,even on a mountain bike.

They paved some of the old road east of Pima point just for bikers and hikers and that was nice. We'd already walked it when it was dirt. Met Nancy, the retired school librarian. Some people just can't stay away.

The road was open to cars Sunday, which reminds one why it usually is not. People stopping in the middle of the road rather than get out of the car to see something. People turning around in the middle of the road rather than drive to the next pull out. But at least they weren't writing their names on the rocks...yet.

Today's plan was to hike down South Kaibab, cross the Tonto, and come out BA. However my Achilles started aching about halfway down. I figured it might feel better on the up, but as soon as we started across the tonto it let me know in no uncertain terms that flexing the ankle was OUT. So we turned around and came back out the SK.

So someone from Ireland carved their initials, and Ireland, on the rocks, and MP carved his/hers. People, people, people...I just cleaned up these rocks on Tuesday. Do you think I have nothing better to do with my time than scrubbing your silly little scribblings off the rocks? A Leave no Tracer's work is never done.

Met Phantom Matt (aka Slater) on his way into the abyss. I tried to gender sympathy with my tendon, but he claims he has gout and thus trumps my sore ankle. Many of us were saddened when Matt replaced Ranger Lori a few years ago, but he has proven a worthy successor. If you are ever at Phantom for Matt's program, he does a dynamite bat imitiation.

Hall of shame entry for today: V + G. Vapid plus Goober? Very Dumb plus Generously Dumb?

Here is is clean and washed. Sorry, lovebugs.

Veteran's Day, so no school, and we hiked to Skeleton Point. Spent some time cleaning up a graffiti site I got partially on Saturday. I didn't have my nail brush, so I had to use my bandanna. So many of my bandannas are dyed red from rubbing away stuff in the Supai. I consider it a badge of honor, but it does tend to wear holes in my banannas. A day hiking couple was eyeing us suspiciously, so when we passed them I assured them that I wasn't writing my name on the rocks, I was cleaning up someone else's. Although, they didn't say anything, like "Hey, were you writing your name on those beautiful rocks?"

A bit cold at the top, but pleasant once we passed Cedar ridge. We took off on the way out just ahead of the mules, expecting that we could keep ahead of them once they started to climb. Ran into Tim Beale, the head of the Trail crew, and chatted. When the kids at school complain about anything, I inform them that life sucks, and then you die. It usually shuts them up, but Ashley Beale, who belongs to Tim, has picked it up as her favorite catch phrase. So I felt a need to 'fess up.

Stopped again in the Supai to get a heart I missed Saturday. When will these people learn? You buy them books, and you buy them books, and they eat the covers.

Even with social stops and house cleaning stops, we still beat the mules.

Brad is trying slowly to get me to the river and back in a day. Last time we hiked to the Tipoff and back, today to Panorama Point and back. A lovely clear day with a hint of a wind.

Erased three separate graffiti panels. Who are these clowns and why are they allowed in my Canyon?

A boy scout leader asked if I was doing a single dip, and I said, yes. So he asked what time I left the North rim. I said I left from the South rim, so I guess I was doing a half dip.

A young man in cheap flip flops wished us good luck. as usual it took me a few minutes to come up with the perfect rejoinder, which was, "in the words of the immortal Reinhold Messner, I don't believe in luck." But it wasn't worth hiking back down to deliver it.

Met Dave Myer, the manager of Phantom Ranch. We saw him on the trail a few weeks ago, as well. He remembered us and chatted. That is a real professional: he makes everyone feel like a best friend.

Met another group of Scouts, these younger than the first group. One boy was commented, "But everyone loves the Boy Scouts...don't they?" I really doubt that most scout groups carve their names in the rocks, or cut switchbacks, or do other rude things, but of course, one troop does it and that is what we remember. I have commented before to Boy Scout Central Office that if they want to clean up their reputation, they need to rein in the mavericks. All I get back is: our leaders are volunteers and we have no control over them.

Two hours, 15 minutes down, two hours 20 minutes out, including waiting for mules and a couple of bathroom stops. Passed by a runner who spent a few hours sleeping on the bottom who was on his way to Mt. Humphreys. Ninety miles, and one tries to do it in 24 hours. A big storm moving in tonight, so I hope he doesn't get caught out in his little silk shorts and sleeveless shirt. I must assume someone is meeting him with water, food, more clothes, etc.

Hiked down to mile and a half. Yesterday my knee starting acting up. I felt like one of those old ladies hobbling about the mall. So we took it easy today, and I used my sticks.

If you don't get started before eight, you have to wait until after nine to avoid the mules. It is colder than snot on the rim, though, so a later start works OK.

CH carved his name into the Coconino, too deeply to get out easily, so I'll have to tell the rangers about that one and let them fill it in. He or she took a long time to get it that deep, and I am sure someone saw it, but no one smote him mightily about the head and shoulders with a hiking stick. Or a large rock.

Saw the baby bighorn and his mama. They were right in the middle of the trail, so we waited politely. Just as well, because daddy showed up acting macho and pushed them both out of the way.

Passed by a group of Mennonites, and one of the ladies complimented my hiking skirt. I have been hiking around in a skirt for over a year now, because it is cooler, and doesn't chafe, and gives a certain amount of privacy on overnights. Usually I just get a "don't make eye contact" glance. Occasionally someone thinks I am a guy and makes a comment about my kilt, until I get closer and they get really quiet all of a sudden. These ladies thought a nylon skirt was pretty nifty.

And now for a brief commercial announcement. I had an old 2 liter Platypus water carrier that I've used for about a hundred years, and it started to leak. I sent it back to Cascade Designs (lifetime warranty) and they replaced it with a brand-new, BPA free, hoser. I guess they don't make my antique anymore. That's service!

Hiked down the BA to three mile resthouse. Very humid: was sweating like I was on the East Coast or something. Tripped on the same rock on Heartbreak and had to do my little recovery dance. Didn't hit the wall this time though. Is that a nice way to treat someone who erases the graffiti?

The trail was clean and pristine, almost as if someone picked up several bags of trash on Friday.

Met a group on Heartbreak Hill yelling at their friends. They asked us if it "got any better" down below. I so badly wanted to tell them that they absolutely had to keep going until they reached the waterfall, but Brad wouldn't let me. So we told them, no, it is pretty much the same all the way down. (It is elephants all the way down, kid).

I looked back near the top and saw a lady cutting the switchback at Cinch-up Corner. So I channeled my inner camp counselor and bellowed, "STAY...ON...THE...TRAIL!" She kept going, so I added, "DO ...NOT... CUT... THE... SWITCHBACKS!" She stopped and glanced around, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from, so I said, "THIS...IS...GOD...SPEAKING...DON'T...MESS...UP...MY...CANYON!". She turned around.

Brad was just coming around the corner, and said she was NOT happy at being yelled at. Tough toenails. That will teach her to mess with the VOICE OF GOD.

Before:

Came out from a four day trip today and I was shocked, SHOCKED, at the amount of trash on the BA. A pile of gatorade bottles in the Narrows, a shirt, scarf and book in the Supai, and a host of goo packet tabs (Runners: pick up after yourselves. Your mother does not live on the BA.)

And special hall of shame message to Hertzel: Here yesterday: gone today. It only takes a bit of elbow grease to get rid of your stupid bid for immortality at Three Mile Resthouse.

After:

Friday we hiked to the Tipoff and back. We wanted something gnarly but I didn't want to fight the mules all the way to Plateau Point. Beautiful day: warm with no wind. Passed by a lot of over nighters. Not so many runners on the South Kaibab. Either it is too steep, they have to actually carry water (gasp) or there aren't as many skimpily dressed young ladies to brag to.


Erased a lot of doodles off the Coconino Sandstone. T.J., did you really think you were the first person to make it all the way to Ooh Ah Point?

Saturday we went down to mile and a half. I somehow managed to trip on a big rock on Heartbreak Hill. As sometimes seems to happen, time slowed to the point where I could think about what was going on without being able to stop it. I didn't want to land on the pointy rocks lining the trail, so I did a little sideways dance trying to reach the inside cliff, made it far enough to slam into said cliff and sat down hard on a pointy rock there. Also knocked a bunch of rocks down and managed to sit on THEM. Anyhow, it was amusing for people coming down. Probably have a heck of a bruise tomorrow.

Saw the big horns again. The baby was daintily eating a bush just under Cinch Up corner, and I was waiting for it to raise it's little head for a good picture when Daddy showed up with an annoyed expression. So I dusted out of there.

Saw some macho type guys cutting the switchbacks in the Fault. I yelled at them from a quarter mile away, and I know they heard me because they looked up, but it probably didn't connect. They seem to think that if there is a way to walk, it is the trail. Hey, guys,when you've spent as much time in the out of doors as you would like people to believe you have, you will know the difference between a trail and a switchback cut.

Hiked South Kaibab to Bright Angel today, along the Tonto Trail. The hiker shuttle was full as a tick on the way to the trailhead, but the crowd thinned as we got down. Someone left a bottle of water and two energy bars on the rocks for pick up later. The water is OK, but the energy bars were just asking for a raven to carry them off and get sick on the foil. I grabbed them. We did ask everyone we passed if they were theirs. No takers. Ate one at Indian Garden. Tasted like chocolate covered linoleum.

Lisa from Scotland, I erased your name from the rocks. Sorry, babe. Maybe I can come to Scotland and scratch my name on the Stone of Scone and see how you like that.

Only saw one person on the Tonto. Nice and quiet sitting at Pipe Creek.
Brad was determined that some rim to rim runners were NOT going to pass him, so he blasted out from Indian Garden in 90 minutes. The first runner passed me when I stopped to pick up a piece of trash. Then just below mile and a half, the trail crew were jostling rocks around, so I had to wait to be sure they weren't going to jostle it onto my pointed head.


Hiking out we saw the baby goat again. Brad saw another kid throwing rocks over the edge at the trailhead and admonished him. The father looked as though he wanted to start a fight, but didn't want to approach Brad. Fifty or more people witnessed the rock throwing and no one said a thing. Do they not realize how dangerous it is? I mean, one doesn't throw rocks indiscriminately in the city, either. Or maybe they are just afraid of confronting morons.

On the trail at 5:15 AM. Really nice moonlight. Too flat for me to see all the water bars and big rocks, but I had a nice view of the Canyon for a change. Light enough to see to walk out without lights once we turned around at Mile and a Half.

Normally this time of day one is alone on the trail except for the occasional predator in hiding. Today we met a couple dozen people who did not look like the typical rim to rim runners (IE, half naked, one water bottle and a big stopwatch), so I don't know what was going on.

We have decided what it is about rim to rim runners that bugs us. It is not hiking fast, because we do that when we are by ourselves. It is not being competitive, because we have both been known to increase our speed when we are being overtaken by snot-nosed kids (not to be confused with nice kids, who are allowed to overtake us if they can do so). This May, on the first weekend the North Rim was open, I was in the North Rim Lodge looking out the windows. Two runners were telling all and sundry that they had finished their rim to rim in eleven hours.

"So, it takes about 12 hours to go rim to rim?" one of the women in my group asked.

"Eleven, eleven!", they corrected her testily.

"But we are taking five days to do a rim to rim," she said,

"Well, I don't know what in the world you're going to do down there for five days!"

And there you have it. If anyone who has been down in the Canyon does not think it would be nice to go back and spend more time sitting under waterfalls or napping under the cottonwoods or drinking lemonade at the Canteen, they are not my kind of people. They can keep their eleven hours.

Hiked down the Bright Angel to Indian Garden. Met a group of big horns, including a little kid. I guess they like Cinch Up Corner.

Passed by a mule train. One of the ladies was taking a video (I bet that movie will be riveting), and as she passed us she said, "And here are some hikers". Couldn't resist. I said, "Do you think you're going to forget? We're the ones walking."

Last rim to rim, I noticed a huge pile of trash at the redwall Trash Stash where people will often dump their load prior to starting up the Redwall. At the time, I had no room in my pack, so this time I brought two big trash bags and filled them with a pot, a propane bottle, a pair of boots, a pair of sneakers, a pair of Levis, and assorted other crud. Then I hauled it all down to Indian Garden and handed it over to the Ranger. (Todd told me I could do this anytime I find a stash like that). He was impressed and thanked me profusely. I gained massive karma points today.

Then when we got to the rim we yelled at a boy who was throwing rocks over the edge, and his father came over and yelled at US!. He said they are from out of state, so they didn't know they weren't supposed to throw rocks at the trailhead. We had a lively exchange, culminating in my telling him to report me to the first ranger he sees, and tell the ranger that Slim (be sure you get it right!) told his kid not to throw rocks over the edge.

Saturday took a small group to Cedar Ridge. It was cool on the way down, then it rained and gusted nastily, so we dusted out of there. Passed a small group sitting below Ooh Ahh clustered around a hiker, then a ranger came bopping down, then a litter carry team. Don't know what that was about.

Sunday Brad and I went back to SK to do Skeleton, and this time I brought wool undies, rain gear, winter coat, etc. So the sun came out and I was sweating. Can't win, I guess.

Last night we hiked to mile and a half after work. On Heartbreak Hill we came around a corner and surprised a female big horn sheep and two kids. In fact one of the kids scampered off down the trail and almost took out a watching hiker. When they moved out of the way and we moved on, we could look down on a herd of one male, a few females, and the little kids.

Going on, we were chatting and passed some boy scouts from Chandler. The last one called Brad by name, so we turned around. It was someone who used to work with Brad. They walked out together, so I went ahead, turned around at the top, and hiked back to Cinch Up to meet them. On the way I passed a lady three times, and the third time she said, "Here you come again! Once I get out of here, I'M done!"

Friday we hiked to Three Mile Rest house and out. Some rather nice young people on the trail. They had apparently been informed that uphill has the right of way, and they did not shortcut the trail or write their names on the rocks. The girls were a bit loud, but I have a personal theory that young women are incapable of talking at less than a shriek. They were heading for the River and back, so I hope they did Okay.

On the way out we waited for the mules and one of the riders comforted me: "Don't worry; you'll make it". All I really need in life is to be patronized by a mule rider. What does one say? How would you know? So could you if you tried? You and the mule you rode in on?

Saturday and Sunday we joined a Geology Class from Mesa Community College and hiked in and out of Roaring Springs on the North Kaibab. Nice bunch of kids, and talented instructors. I was the only one to find trilobite tracks, even though Dr. Bob dismisssed them as "subtle". Jealosy is an ugly thing, Dr. Bob.

We made it out very quickly, and while waiting at the trailhead were inundated by rim to rim runners chain smoking cigars. When they started talking politics, we hiked back down aways to wait for our group. I tried to get a nap, but everyone who came by asked if I was all right.

Robert made me a "I aten't dead" sign (which isn't funny for anyone but a Terry Pratchett fan) and I obviously should have had it on me.

Hiked to Skeleton Point yesterday with a couple celebrating their 30th wedding anniversary. A nice change from the BA.

Met Keith Green at Skeleton. He has been a ranger here since Powell came through, and he was on his way to Phantom Ranch for a few days. He told us the whole story of Skeleton Point. I knew some mules went off, but Keith had a lot more detail.

It seems that in the 20's, mules were tied together with slip knots in case one decided to go off the edge. A wrangler got tired of the knots parting when they weren't supposed to, so he tied the mules together with real knots. While coming down the first switchback in the Redwall, the mule he was riding started losing it and going too fast. The mule behind got pulled in, and the mule behind that, and so forth until the string was careening toward the cliff. The wrangler took a dive and the mules went off the edge.

On the way out we got to critique other hikers. My favorites were the two young ladies below Cedar Ridge with spaghetti topped shirts, purses, and one half liter of water stuck into one of the lady's waist belt. I kept watching for them to return and never saw them. Of course on the BA, they would have water and probably meet a ranger to two to advise them. On the Kaibab -- nada.

Monday through Friday did a rim-to-rim for the job. Tough work, but someone has to do it. Weather perfect, group perfect.

On the way out Brad comes running down the BA and meets us. Continues to Three Mile, then runs past again.

Today went bike riding on the Rowe's Well Road and environs. It is nice to be on a trail where one doesn't meet runners or hikers. I always slow down or stop, and they often yell at me anyway because a mountain biker ahead of me ran them down.

Took the GCA tour of the boat collection. The boats are now stabilized, except for the Esmeralda and the Little Red. All they need now is a place to put them... When they were in display in the courtyard at the Visitor Center, they were abused by the weather and filled with trash by the tourists.

They include Kolb's Edith, the first kayak, the sportsyak, the Stone Boat, the USGS Glen, Rust's canoes, the Georgie, the Music Temple, the Esmeralda, and the Little Red. One boat is on display at the Canyon View Visitor Center. Safely ensconsed behind plexiglass so no one can throw cigarette butts into her.

Sept 13

Today is Grand Canyon Association Members' Weekend. I attend Bruce Aiken's talk and then take Mike's Canyon trivia quiz. I get 19 out of 21 correct, but I can't win the prize because I am a professional. I have the same problem when the Phantom Ranger does a Grand Canyon Jeopardy program: I am not allowed to answer any questions unless everyone else misses it. Although there is usually at least one that I do get to answer.

I had an issue with one of Mike's questions: how many overnight hikers in the Canyon each year. He said 30,000, and I thought it was more than that. According to the National Park Website it is 40,000, so I only missed one and a half questions. So, ha! Still don't get the prize, though.

During lunch I hike to mile and a half. I am almost never on the trail this late in the day, so to amuse myself I count hikers. On the way down, I pass or meet 109 hikers. On the way up, 246!!

Four million people visit the Canyon every year, and it is said that ten percent of that number hike at least a mile below the rim. Apparently most of that traffic is on the Bright Angel.

Sept 11

Another o-dark thirty hike to get a workout in before work.

This time two dudes start down immediately after us: we are being followed. Who are those guys, anyway? Probably headed for the River or the North Rim.

I've done one rim-to-rim in a day. Back when I was in college, a bunch of us started from both rims and exchanged car keys in the bottom (my idea). I received my key from Jim and asked him where he had left my car: at the North Kaibab trailhead or at the lodge?

"Neither", he replied.

"Oh," I said, calmly. "So where exactly is my car?"

"I came down the Old Bright Angel Trail instead. "

"And you were going to share this with me when?"

So the one occasion I did a rim to rim in a day, I hiked an extra four miles and came out on an unmaintained trail. So there.

Usually there is no one on the trail this early, but today we meet dozens of people on their way down. Some with day packs, some with backpacks, some with musical instruments!? Oh, yeah, the music festival is under way. As is Members Weekend for the Grand Canyon Association. All them Canyon lovers just can't stay away, I guess.

Today is Nine-eleven. I'm sure everyone who saw the footage of the World Trade Center figured that they and all other Americans would always hold this day in reverence. I'm sure that's what people thought about Pearl Harbor Day, too, and does anyone even remember when that is? I remember when I was in college, a disgraceful "Pearl Harbor Memorial Wet Tee Shirt Contest" at a local bar. Not to belittle Nine-eleven: just to point out that memories fade.

Sept 7

Yesterday we mountain biked 4 hours, so we only hike to Three Mile today. Nice new trailwork below Two Mile Corner: thank you trail crew!

Erased Zaco's name at Three Mile. Too bad, so sad, Zaco. If it sounds as though I am mocking you, you are correct.

Passed two commercial groups. I have heard a number of guides tell people that the pictographs at the first tunnel might be children's drawings. I've never heard that theory anywhere else. By the time these kids were five years old, they were contributing members of the clan, guarding the crops and bringing home small game. If they did leave pictographs, they were probably reglious in intent. Of course they also tell people that the red is cochineal, and it isn't: it is hematite. According to the Park Archeologist, and we assume she knows more than these guys.

Picked up a soda can and someone's sweat rag. The rag is understandable. I've lost a few bandanas both out of my pocket or off my neck. The can was hidden in a bush.

When I find trash in the middle of the trail, I figure these people are ignorant. No excuse, but they are ignorant. Ancient curses be on their heads. When I find trash hidden in the bushes or under a rock, they knew they weren't supposed to leave stuff, and they did anyway. So double ancient curses be on their heads.

September 4

Another early start to get a workout in before school. At the trailhead at 4:40 and it is chilly (48 degrees!) and dark, dark, dark. Need flashlights all the way to Mile and a Half.

Rounding one corner something BIG moves across the trail just ahead and of me and just out of sight. Don't see anything with the light. I wonder (hope) if it was a mountain lion. Big horn sheep usually just stand/sit there chewing their cud (if they do chew cud -- must look that up) (Yes, they do. Big Horns are ruminants, and they do chew cud) and stare at one blandly until they decide to move on. I know mountain lions frequent the BA. If they have a deer or mule to chow down on, they sit by the trail, watching the passersby, with no one the wiser. Probably thinking: "Hmmm, that one with the flip flops .. keep on eye on her. She might slip."

We take the Geology of the Grand Canyon class from Mesa Community College every semester we can fit it in. One year the class hiked overnight to Bright Angel Campground and spent two nights at Indian Garden. I was hiking down with Donna, one of the instructors, and told her about mountain lions in the Canyon, and how they have been spotted crossing the black bridge.

Darkness encroached upon us, so I scampered on ahead. Donna (with no light) started seeing lions in every shadow, and by the time she got to the bridge was cursing me soundly. Of course, I came running back with a flashlight once I had my stuff safely ensconsed in camp and realized that the hikers behind me didn't have lights. And we didn't really see a mountain lion.

No hikers all the way down. On the way out it is light enough to see the trail, so we can stash the lights. Lovely alpineglow on the Coconino and Kaibab. Query: alpineglow is at sunset, so what do we call it at sunrise? Wolgenipla?

We meet four hikers just below the rim, all foreign. It is the time of year for Europeans' long vacations, and unlike Americans, they tend to get out and walk. 35 minutes in, 35 minutes out, and it is time to get ready for school.

Monday, Sept. 1

It rained again last night (thank you Hurricane Gustav) and we didn't want to mountain bike because we don't like to tear up the trails, and the West Rim road is still closed. However it was blustery and cool (58 degrees) so we could hike the South Kaibab.

A lot of people don't like the corridor, but I really enjoy the SK. It has gorgeous views and less traffic, human and mules, than the BA. The parking lot is closed, which keeps the crowds down. They used to open the parking lot in winter, but the ranger at Phantom told me that when it was closed, it cut their search and rescue calls more than in half, so they left it closed all year. I suppose if one hikes down the Bright Angel with no clue, one finds water, rangers and emergency phones. If one wanders down the South Kaibab, there isn't much going for them.

Haven't been on the SK for about 5 months. It is too hot to handle most of the summer. It is a little steeper than the BA, but not as much as people think. The BA is 7.5 miles to the river, and the SK is only 6.8. The SK also climbs about 300 feet more, since the BA comes out at the head of Bright Angel Fault. The main problem with the SK is the size of the steps the trail crew installs to keep the trail in place.

It is windy, as is not unusual. A foreign gentleman warns me to be careful at Windy Ridge. I know he is trying to be polite, but I kind of noticed that the wind was gusting to about 30 MPH? I have to remember this summer when I was in Yellowstone. I approached a geyser gazer: a volunteer who spends all season observing geysers and making notes for the Park Service. I had heard a tourist the day before mention that Grand Geyser was even better than the fountains at the Bellagio in Vegas, and I thought she'd think it amusing. Instead she snapped, "I was there: I heard it". I immediately vowed to not come across so dismissively to tourists who approach me at the Canyon.

Skeleton Point wasn't very windy, and the clouds kept the temperature down. The River is flowing brown, as one would suspect from the recent rains. I really, really, really want to get down there again,but it is still way too hot for wimpy little me.

As usual in the Coconino I found someone's name written in the rocks. The Coconino sandstone is so beautiful, and it is the easiest rock to carve in. I took care of this person's bid for immortality in about 10 seconds with a spray bottle and a nail brush. Sorry, Kayla. Next time just write "loser" on your forehead and save us all a lot of time and effort.

We catch up with the outbound mules just under the last switchbacks, which the wranglers call "the chimney" but which I like to refer to as "the toboggan chute". The head wrangler turns around and tells everyone, "This is the finest group of folks I've had out in a long time". I wonder how often he really wants to say, "This is the biggest group of whiners I've taken out in years".

A nice workout, a little drier than yesterday, and pleasant to be on a different trail. We are kind of stuck on the BA until it cools off and/or they re-open the Hermit in November.

I’ve been hiking in the Grand Canyon since I was knee high to a coyote, forty-plus years, and I always thought it would be cool to live on the South Rim. Alas, one has to work there to live there. Just as well, really, or as my boss says, all of us on the South Rim would be doing Bill Gate's yard work.

About three years ago, a teacher at the Grand Canyon School quit halfway through the year, and lo and behold, I was certified in what she taught and available to drop everything (part time job, house, husband, kid) to move up there. My husband then quit his job and moved up to join me. My son was in college, so he was told that we closed up the house and changed the locks, so don’t come home for Christmas.

Well the teacher I replaced came back, but the school hired my husband to teach, so here we are on the South Rim. I also work leading hikes professionally, which I have been doing for 14 years.

Disadvantages: one is 50 miles from the nearest Safeway, pharmacy, and decent pizza and/or Mexican food.

Advantages: The canyon is a 10-minute walk from our apartment.

We hike the Bright Angel Trail several times a week because it is so close and a good workout. Brad mentioned that we ought to keep track of the stuff we see each trip (like the time we had to walk around two big horn sheep who were chewing their cud right in the middle of the trail) and so this blog was born.

Aug. 17

It is too easy to just go in and out of mile and a half so we have been hiking to the bottom of the Redwall. We pass Smilin’ Ranger Todd who is carrying a huge bag of trash. My one little goo packet that I found in a bush seems puny compared to the souvenirs he found rummaging around Three-Mile Rest house.

We pull over on our turn around rock, and Brad vanishes behind the boulders for a little private time. He comes out with a sleeping bag, a coat, underwear, and a pair of sandals and yells to Todd: “I WIN!” Apparently someone took one look at the Redwall switchbacks and decided to lighten his load.

Todd volunteers to carry the stuff to Indian Garden, and we graciously allow him to do so. I wonder out loud why I find underwear on the trail, and Todd explains that they are used for a "wipe".

“I don’t think I really wanted to know that,” I decide.

Aug. 22

Took a group down to mile and a half. The squirrels are horrible! Like ratty mosquitoes on steroids. I scare them off with my squirt bottle.

Note: a simple plastic squirt bottle is good for erasing graffiti off the rocks, cooling oneself down when it is too hot, and chasing off squirrels in a humane manner.

This recalls to mind the time I was busily shooing squirrels, and when I left a gentleman emptied an entire box of crackers on the ground.
“I don’t think you are supposed to do that,” a man tells him.
“They couldn’t get a thing to eat with that crazy lady chasing them around,” he answers indignantly.

Tom Bruno (PSR ranger) stops by and we give him a hard time about directions to the glass walkway. The rangers get really tired of telling people over and over that the walkway is
a) not in the park
b) has nothing to do with the park and
c) is a four-hour drive away from the park on bad roads.

A backpacker tells me to stop hassling the squirrels. I explain that they bite.
Backpacker: When is the last time someone got bit?
Bruno: Yesterday.
Backpacker: So when is the last time someone was bit that wasn’t doing something stupid?
Me: Last month a squirrel snuck up behind a kid that was with me, and bit his hand to make him drop his jerky.
Backpacker: (changing tack) So what’s wrong with feeding them a little? They don’t hurt no one.
Bruno: They just did a study on animals on the Kaibab Plateau, and 14 out of 25 of these squirrels tested positive for Plague.
Backpacker: Well, if there is Plague, you should close the Park.

Bruno and I give up and address our comments to each other. It is fine to disagree, but arguing with a backcountry ranger and a professional hiker? The backpacker starts making kissy noises at the squirrels, but we ignore him and hike out.


Aug. 28 Leaving at 5 AM so we can get a hike in before school starts. It is dark enough that I want a flashlight at the very top, and as we start, a guy jumps out of his truck and falls in behind Brad. Apparently he was waiting for a light, or just for company, for he chats all the way to mile and a half, telling us a lot more than we really want to know.

He tired a rim to rim to rim a year ago and collapsed in the bottom.
Assumingly he stayed with a Ranger to recover. Today he is going to try Indian Garden and out. I would be more impressed with his hiking expertise if he were carrying a daypack instead of a plastic bag full of supplies.

We bid him farewell at Mile and a Half, and he walks on, disappointed to have lost his captive and apparently rapt audience.

Aug. 31

It is raining like stink in the morning, and we almost don’t hike. But yesterday we could not ride bikes because Brad broke a spoke, so we have to do something.

We get to the rim and it is gorgeous! The clouds are in the Canyon and swirl around just below the trailhead. As we work our way down they drift and part, exposing sunlit buttes on the North Rim.

The trail is very muddy and the water bars are slick. We are caught between two mule strings, a problem with leaving later than usual. Normally one can walk between two strings, albeit a bit slower than we usually travel, but today the mules keep stopping to take off and put on their rain slickers (the riders: not the mules) , and the train is so washed out below two mile corner that they slow way down, so we decide to turn around after an hour.

I pick up a moldy sweatshirt, and dig a bunch of trash out from a bush. I yell at two hikers who are shortcutting the switchbacks (illegal, knocks rocks loose, destroys the trail work, and shows blatant disrespect for the Canyon). They sneer and keep going. But, hark, a ranger approacheth. I turn the suckers in and he promises to track them down and give them an earful.

At the top I have to stop five times for people to take pictures of one another. Hello? It’s called point and shoot for a reason? You are not Ansel Adams. But I am mostly polite until a guy stops me at the very top and I mutter, “Oh, come on!” I should be more patient, but my shirt is soaking wet from climbing in 94% humidity and I want to get out of the wind.

As soon as we get into shelter it starts to rain again, so our timing was impeccable.