Sunday, November 30, 2008


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.

Sunday, November 23, 2008

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.

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

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.

Friday, November 14, 2008

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.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

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.

Saturday, November 8, 2008


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.

Friday, November 7, 2008

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!

Sunday, November 2, 2008


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.