Summer road trip.  We started in Durango so Brad could ride the Iron Horse where the bikes race the Silverton-Durango train.  I have no road bike, and I don't like steep downhill, so I just drove the truck to Silverton to pick up the bikes.  First time I had ever driven this truck, and I managed to get my foot on both the accelerator and brake and ram into a passing car.  First moving violation I've had in 50 years of driving, thank you very much.  At the end of ride party that night, it felt very weird to not be talking about the event.  I am not used to being on the sidelines.

sunset over Salt Lake

Watch out for Bison.  (no one is in the tent)

From there we drove to Antelope Island in the Great Salt lake.  There was a warning sign at the causeway which warned that the gnats had just hatched out, and people were abandoning the island in droves.  It was breezy enough that we didn't have a lot of bugs that night, and we walked around the point.  In the morning we ate between mosquitos and hiked to the high point on the island.  The trail was lovely until the last quarter mile, which took 40 minutes each way.  Very loose, exposed, and altogether nasty.  Next time turn around at the three mile mark.

Cascade canyon.  In the season, this trail is as crowded as the BA.

Next stop the Tetons.  We stayed in a fancy condo in the ski area and hiked Cascade Canyon and a little hike up to a lesser lake.  Cascade had a lot of people, the Two Ocean Lake was less crowded.  Perhaps due to the fact that the adjoining area was closed.  We read one sign which said the closure was from wolf dens in the area (!) but we didn't get to see any wolves.

Hot pool in Yellowstone

Lone Star Geyser.  Well worth the walk.

From Tetons to Yellowstone.  A one-hour wait to get into the south entrance.  If there was a by-pass for locals, I don't know where it is.  Old Faithful Inn is Okay for a National Park lodge.  We had a room without a bath, but we were right next door to the shared bathroom.  Spent two days chasing geysers.  Lone Star is a two mile walk, but it has a long eruption which was fun to watch.  Then we climbed Mt. Washburn because so many people have told me that we should.  About a quarter mile was pretty deep snow, and I fell into a hole and broke my new hiking pole.  Right near the top the snow was pretty slippery right near an interesting exposure.

Mama elks hide their babies, but this one relies too much on camouflage. 

Last night was at Mammoth Hot Springs.  This lodge was not worth it.  ONE shower and TWO toilets for the whole floor.  A fan was provided, but only two electrical outlets, so we had to choose between the fan, the lamp, and the clock.  I tried to borrow the bell cart to haul our luggage and was told it was for the bell staff only.  Then they locked it up.  I suppose one is supposed to utilize the bell staff and tip them a dollar a bag.

We left the park the day the kid went way far off the boardwalk and slid into an acid pool.  All they found were his flip flops.  Gee, I wonder what this boardwalk is for?  This is one thing we don't have to worry about at the Canyon. 

Whenever I visit a new Park I resolve not to be condescending to visitors to my Park. I tried not to ask stupid questions, but in a new area, a lot of questions sound stupid.  

On the way back we stayed in a really nice hotel in Cedar City.  We had a little refrigerator, and a microwave, and a real breakfast, and lots of electric outlets, and our own bathroom.  Why, oh why, do Park lodges have to be so tacky and cheap and still so expensive?

A couple of notes to myself from the last hike.

I was sleeping in the CCC kitchen shelter at Bright Angel Campground, and a cute little ringtail was peeking at me from the roof.  He started throwing what I assumed were dried leaves at me.  In the morning, I found a pile of Cliff Bar wrappers.  No, they were not mine.

At Indian Garden, a young man asked me where the ranger was.  I told him she was in the campground checking permits, and what was the problem?  He was hiking out with nothing, NOTHING, and needed something to carry water in.  Immediately I got into the bag of trash I had been picking up for the last four days and found two gatorade bottles and a one-liter pop bottle.  I handed them to him and showed him the water faucet.  

Spring Break.  Could not get Bright Angel for the first night, so we accepted Clear Creek use area.  We started in the snow: packed all the rain gear which we never used after the first couple of hours.  On the bus we listened to big game hunters brag about shooting a record size wart hog.  I bet the guide tells everyone it is record size.  Then I had to stay ahead of them until the Redwall when I had to stop for a drink and snack.

Filled our water at Bright Angel, saw the big game hunters again in the canteen, just before they started out.  Debated staying around until late, but got bored and hauled the two gallons up the hill and into Sumner Wash.  Nice campsite, just out of sight of the trail. No visitors, no one passed by.

along
the clear creek trail

Next morning we bopped into Clear Creek.  The new trail work is impressive.  Glad we donated $$ to this.  Got into camp, and noticed that the creek was in flood.  We had all afternoon, so we decided to see if Cheyeva was flowing.

The Cheyeva arm had water, so we kept going, and going.  Finally I could see the falls, and no, they were not running.  Oh well.  Got back to camp about 4:30.  A long day.

Next day we started down toward the River.  Figured it would be about five miles one way.  The first crossings were marked with many and elaborate rock cairns, but after a mile or so they gave up.  After the first time I fell in the creek, I also gave up on dry feet.  Kept going, and going.  Finally spotted the monolith at the River confluence, and still kept going.  I kept thinking I was going to see the waterfall that blocks the route, and never did.  It took about four hours to get to the drop-off, and I figured it would take us that long to get back.  I was glad we had brought lights, though I did not relish the thought of hiking through the canyon in the dark.  However it only took about three and a half hours back.  Always faster on the way back, very curious.

Another long day.  Walked through the campsite of a family (sorry!) and then right by a couple who had taken the camp by ours.  The wind was ripping at their tarp, and they finally gave up and found a new site.  I don't know if they were looking for less wind, or had not noticed how close they camped to us.

The family left early the next morning. I told the boy to be sure and get his Phantom junior ranger badge.  The couple passed us when we stopped, and then we passed them.  I didn't get my favorite small campsite, so I took the old large-group site.  It always irritates me when I need that site for a group of six and two people have it, but I took it anyway.

the river monolith

We went out via Bright Angel so we would see the Redbuds.  About half were in bloom.  A few trees had already peaked, and some had not bloomed at all.  Some years they all seem to blossom at once, but not this year, I guess.  It is a long day to come out BA with a full pack.  I hike out there several times a year from Phantom, but that is with a day pack.

cheyeva is dry, again or still

Counted 155 people from three mile to mile and a half, then 300+ from mile and a half up. Brad bawled out a kid for throwing his banana peel off the edge. When I walked past he was whining: but it will return to nature!  Wanted to offer to fill his car with banana peels and see how fast they rot, but I didn't bother.  I get in enough trouble carping to people on the trail.  55 miles in five days.  Not bad.

redbud

We have been watching the Redbuds at Indian Garden over the past few days.  They bloom somewhere around mid-March.  Two years ago on our way into Clear Creek in mid-March, they were past bloom.  Though we found some up in Clear Creek, just not masses and masses as they have at IG.  So I watch them from the rim through binocs.

Maybe we need a Redbud Cam at Indian Garden.  Although most of the year it would only show bare, grey branches.  I try to ask hikers coming out, and they don't seem to know if there were purple flowers in boom or not.

Grand Canyon Redbud is a sub-species of the Western Redbud, and it is only found inside the Canyon.  Because the springs are so isolated (less than one percent of the Park has water) species can flourish in one place and not move freely to another.  There are species at some springs that are only found there, and no where else on earth.  Somewhere in the depths there are white Redbuds, and I would like to find those.

The redbud dance

Sometimes they don't bloom until April.  I have seen the Brittle Bush get bushy already, and two weeks ago they were just starting to bloom in the bottom at the Black Bridge.  But that area gets sun all day, and Indian Garden is still in the shade for several hours a day.

Brittlebush at Devil's Corkscrew

The flowers just don't seem to cooperate.  The Park Service needs to look into that.  Maybe they should include it in the Backcountry Management Plan.  Until then, I keep gazing into the depths with my bincos, waiting for the Redbud to peak.

Hermit Trail was built  in 1914 by the Santa Fe Railroad.  In Grand Canyon Village, Ralph Cameron had taken control of the Bright Angel Toll Road and charged $1.00 for pack animals and riding animals.  Back in the day, this was roughly equivalent to $25 or so.  The Santa Fe and the Harvey Company didn't see why their visitors should lay out money to some other entity to get into the Canyon, so they built their own trail. That way visitors would lay out their money to the Harvey Company.

They paid Cameron $40,000 for the right to cross "his" land, and built the West Rim Drive, the Hermit Trail, Hermit Camp, and Hermit's Rest.  The Hermit may have been Louis Boucher, who had mining claims and tourist facilities there, but it may have been the invention of the Harvey Company in order to generate interest.  It sounded romantic.

Hermit was the first trail built strictly for tourism.  It was flagstoned and well graded.  There were several rest stops along the way at Sweetheart Spring, Santa Maria Spring, Four Mile, and Breezy Point.  Hermit Camp was supplied by a tramway from near Pima Point.  The facility had showers, phones, electricity, a chef, and a Model T Ford.  When Phantom Ranch was built in 1922, Hermit Camp was no longer used.  The Park Service and the Harvey Co. wanted the tourism activity centered at the Village, so in the 1930's, Hermit Camp was torched.

flagstones along the trail

Dripping Springs Trail leaves Hermit at the edge of Hermit Basin.  It is narrow, steep, and loose.  The exposure can be pretty intense for new hikers.   After about a mile, the Boucher takes off along the Hermit Shale and the Dripping Springs trail continues up to the amphitheater.  There is water here year round, no camping allowed.

Boucher's original Dripping Springs Trail wends its way down from Eramita Mesa above.  Boucher had a tent camp here and kept goldfish in the spring.  There used to be a picnic table, but it has vanished, I suspect when some good citizen chopped it up for firewood.

An old Santa Fe brochure from1951, speaks of a saddle horse ride to Dripping Springs along a "forested path". I suspect if this trip went to the actual Dripping Springs, it followed Boucher's trail rather than the present day Dripping Springs cutoff. I personally would not ride a mule, much less a horse, along that trail.

People often build campfires here. One assumes because they are cold, though it may be because they are camping illegally.  I clean out fire rings more often than not at the springs. Usually this involves trash, since there is a lingering notion that anything thrown into a fire ring magically vanishes.  Spoiler: it doesn't.

dripping springs

ancient footprints

This weekend we hiked to Dripping Springs for a new kind of workout.  Hiking the Corridor is good, but the Hermit is rougher and uses different muscles. Usually we are all alone on this trail.  Sunday we started down with three other groups (left them behind -- two had backpacks, and a couple couldn't decide where they wanted to go). We were all alone at the Spring except for a pair of nesting peregrines.  One the way out we met five other groups (!). One gal had very poor shoes and kept sliding, but her big, strong boyfriend was there to grab here.  Maybe that was the plan?

For most of the year, the West Rim Drive is closed to private vehicles.  It is open December January, and February. Probably because there just isn't enough visitation to justify running the shuttle buses.  This was the last weekend the road was open, and the weather was nice.  So the parking lot was full, full, full.  One guy in a macho truck drove around and around waiting for our spot so he could be right next to the trail head and not have to walk before he started his hike.  

Dogs are not allowed in the backcountry of National Parks.  Dogs negatively affect the wildlife, even when they are leashed.  Canine fecal matter carries a number of diseases and parasites, which may be passed on to wildlife.  Most dogs are not good hikers: their paws become lacerated and since they sweat through their feet, it is easy for them to overheat. 

However, there are those who cannot bear being away from their fuzzy loved one for the length of a hike in the wilderness, so they bring them along.  Even where it is prohibited.  How, you may ask?  Just say it is a service dog.

Bingo.  No one may question the service dog ploy.  Websites selling service dog vests, collars, and even bandanas, brag, “Take your dog anywhere”.  Then they sanctimoniously add that they sincerely hope that no one is gaming the system by registering a service dog which is not in fact a service dog. 

Right.

A true service dog is trained.  They do not go off leash, ever, and said leash is not retractable.  They do not bark at children, or anyone else.  They do not sit on their owners’ lap in the restaurant and eat from the plate. 

A therapy dog doesn't need to be trained.  It doesn’t even need a doctor’s note. 

Public entities, such as Park Rangers, may ask if the person is disabled and if this is the service dog.  They may not ask the manner of the disability.

The person may be asked what major life task the animal is trained to perform.  Websites warn that one should have the answer memorized so “it flows smoothly”.  Duplicitous?  Nah. 

No paperwork required.  This is on the honor system.  Period.  ADA is not pleased.  They are concerned that the rights of those with disabilities will be undermined by those who simply want their Fido along everywhere they go and are willing to lie to achieve their ends.

There is no really good way to address this on the trail.  One is allowed to ask, compassionately, what the dog is trained to react to and what, as a caring professional, one should do upon that occasion.  This evokes a blank stare from those who have not rehearsed their smooth response.  One can, if one is in a snarky mood and out of uniform, mention that liars go to Hell.

This is becoming enough of a problem that some states are passing laws penalizing passing one’s dog off as a service dog.  Grand Canyon National Park requires a special permit.  Yellowstone requires a special permit, and therapy dogs are prohibited in the backcountry (they have bears and wolves, after all). A Park is allowed to close an area to service animals if it is determined that the animal poses a threat to the health or safety of people or wildlife. 

So what is the harm if the dog is well behaved?  Surely rotten children do more damage to the wilderness.  After all, dogs don’t spray paint their name on the rocks.  So at what point does one decide that this is a law we will ignore, and this is a law we will obey? 

Permit required for overnight camping?  I’m a good person: I won’t need no stinkin’ permit.  No campfires? I’ll build a small fire – no harm, no foul.  Carry out my trash?  But I’m so tired!  The question becomes: are you an ethical person, or are you not?

My son tells me that Wiccans don’t need revenge: we have Karma.  I myself would hesitate to brag to all and sundry that I need a service dog when I in fact do not.  Fate might take a hand and mutter, “You want a service dog?  I’ll give you a reason for a service dog, and see how you like it”. 

The Coconino Sandstone at Grand Canyon is many things to many people.

To the hiker it means he/she is almost at the top.  To the artist it is a graceful sweep of sculptured stone.  To the geologist it evokes the trade winds blowing across Aeolian dunes 265 million years ago. To the graffiti punk it is a blank canvas.

Robert Frost said “something there is that doesn’t love a wall.”   Some people there are who cannot love an unsullied monolith without wanting to sully it.

Unfortunately it is easy to scratch names, drawings, and/or dates into sandstone.  Fortunately most of the time it is easy to erase same using water, a scrub brush, elbow grease, and some occasional blue language.  For those media which are not easily removed, such as paint or marker, I must rely on Park Rangers who have more powerful tools at their disposal.  Rock-colored mastic to cover the panel, or actually excising part of the rock. 

It is the policy of the Park Service to remove such vandalism within 24 hours.  Unmolested graffiti invites others to leave their mark.  Also it is ugly. 

College students write their team names or fraternity letters. Names and dates are ubiquitous.  Quite a lot of hearts, also male genitalia. Occasionally Bible verses.    One Halloween I erased ghost drawings from a fossil footprint panel. 

Some pieces of art are so elaborate one wonders how the vandal was not caught in the act.  One gentleman composed a 200-word eulogy for his late wife at Ooh Aah Point.  Some foreign visitors executed a four-foot by six-foot Swiss Flag.

When confronted, vandals will often claim that the place is so beautiful, they want to be able to bring their grandchildren back and show their descendants where they had been.  Ever heard of selfies? 

If they leave a last name, phone number, or hash tag, I turn them in to Law Enforcement.  Otherwise I take comfort in my son’s advice: Wiccans don’t need revenge, we have Karma.

It is a common fantasy amongst my acquaintances to catch one of these clowns in the act.  We have shared elaborate scenarios of revenge, from scratching a name on their car to writing “Hayduke lives!” across their shirt. 

I have caught people in the act.  Small children I admonish:  This is a National Park and it is not fair to spoil it for other people.  Adults I advise that it is obvious they don’t hike much, because experienced hikers know better. 

Recently I came across a young tween who was industriously drawing on a flat rock.  Her responsible adults had wandered off to a nearby viewpoint. 

I produced my squirt bottle and brush, erased the offending intaglio and advised her that graffiti is not only illegal but unsightly and rude.  Then I continued on my way.

Upon my return, she had reproduced the drawing on the same rock. 

Next time I dislocate her little thumbs.