Bryce, Zion, and Grand Gulch, 11-3-92

This report describes the second half of my trip to the desert southwest in November 1992 including visits to Bryce, Zion, and Grand Gulch. I started planning this trip after I was laid off from my job as a geologist at the Homestake Gold Mine in South Dakota.

The traditional two weeks of vacation I was likely to get in my next job was looking meager for outdoor adventures I had in mind. I decided to take a block of time off to travel and explore areas I’d not visited. In late October/early November going to the mountains wasn’t practical, so I looked at the desert southwest. The first part of this three week trip went to Arches, Humphreys Peak, and the Grand Canyon, and is described Here. I had also made plans to visit my friend Tod at Zion or Grand Gulch. 

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The previous day I finished a hike at the Grand Canyon and drove to Bryce Canyon NP and got a room at the Best Western. Bryce was a favorite of my folks who visited the park on their post retirement travels, but this would be my first trip. I was up early and out on the trail by 8AM after a luxurious breakfast at the hotel.

Fairyland Trail at Bryce.

My first hike was the 8 mile Fairyland Loop, which started near the Lodge. The weather was cold (~30F) and windy, but the trail was in perfect condition and took 3:40 to hike, with lots of time for photography. Right off the bat, the park reminded me of the Badlands, Bryce is really just badlands terrain, but marketed more appealingly. The Bryce rocks were mostly limestones and more coherent and more colorful than the sediments. The Bryce Hoodoos seemed bolder than the Badlands Spires. I was mostly hiking in the ‘pink cliffs” area, but the colors all looked orange to me. Bryce has a lot higher NPS profile than Badlands, but I felt the two parks were equally deserving of attention from hikers. There are few loop hikes in the Badlands, maybe having more loop hikes is another leg up for Bryce. Due to the cold, I only saw one other hiker. 

Fairyland Trail at Bryce.

I then went to the Visitor Center and saw their interpretive slide show. Despite the empty trails, the VC was packed. It looked like there was only one party in the CG when I checked in. At 8,000’ elevation I was expecting some cold camping. The park was really pushing winter use, and I wondered if the skiing would really get good enough to make it a worthwhile destination.

Queens Garden Trail at Bryce.

In the afternoon, I hiked the 2.9 mile Navajo-Queens Garden Loop. This was another great loop and looked more travelled compared to Fairyland. Much of the walking was on the rim, making it was easy to understand why my folks so enjoyed the scenery. I met two hikers from London on the loop.

Wall Street at Bryce.

The evening was cold enough to freeze my rinse water as I was cleaning up after dinner. But the skies were clear, and the wind had finally stopped.

Bryce Campground, Fairyland (7.9) and Navajo-Queens Garden (2.9) loops

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Very cold overnight. The VC had a low of 11F. I had just kept crawling deeper into my sleeping bag as the night wore on. I was planning to hike the Riggs Spring Loop at the south end of the park road. I drove with one boot on, hoping to warm up my left foot, and hoping not to have to shift much with the boot off. 

Wall Street from above.

Riggs Spring Trail wasn’t signed at the start, that part of the loop was considered part of the Under the Rim Trail. But once I got on track I was hiking like crazy, trying to stay warm. This loop wasn’t as scenic as what I’d hiked the previous day in the main canyon. But it was a pretty woods walk. I started to warm up about halfway through, and even sweat a little on the climbs. All three campsites I passed lacked water sources. In the cold, I had the entire loop to myself, any other hikers were likely in the main canyon.

Next, I drove to Zion National Park to meet my friend Tod and his friend Jeff. I got to the park in time for a quick tour of the visitor center before it closed. Tod and Jeff were not yet in the campground, so I picked out a day hike in case they didn’t show.

Zion Campground, Riggs Spring Loop, 8.8 miles

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Zion Canyon from Angels Landing.

Tod and Jeff had arrived at the campground after I had gone to bed. In the morning we debated some hikes at the VC, and finally decided on Angels Landing. The route started as a paved trail that switchbacked up a steep rock face. But just after the intersection with the West Rim Trail it becomes a walk up a narrow stone fin. In some places there were steps carved into the sandstone or metal chains for hikers to hang onto. I thought this might have been the coolest NPS trail I’d ever seen. The overlook is spectacular, it is just opposite Zion Canyon from the Great White Throne, with long views up and down the canyon. The resident chipmunks were habituated to people. They would scramble up Tod’s hand and wrist and he’d try to fling them off onto the rocks. 

View from Angels Landing.

We found that Zion was particularly wet, and so we had a full array of camping options. We decided on a hike to Kolob Arch, got our permit, drove to the trailhead, and started hiking promptly at 5:30. We camped in a side canyon in a cow pasture, but the views already had been great.

Hop Valley CS, Angels Landing 5 mi. and Hop Creek Trail 2 mi.

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Another cold night precluded an early start. I’d also had trouble with my stove (MSR Whisperlite). The jet was clogged, and we couldn’t clean it until I remembered that my cook kit had a spare. My notes describe us hiking out of the pasture and into the park, but from the map it looks like Hop Creek Trail is 100% in the park. Anyway, the difference was stark, primarily because the riparian area was lusher. I’d been afraid we’d be stepping through cowpies all day.

Tod in Beartrap Canyon.

We found a campsite just before the trail dropped into the drainage of La Verkin Creek and grabbed our day packs to head for Kolob Arch. The Arch was big, but hard to see well from the trail. The NPS was discouraging hikers from climbing near the arch to reduce erosion around it. From Kolob Arch we went upstream on La Verkin Creek to an obvious narrows. The narrows was beautiful, the orange colors of the canyon walls were bold and deep. In lovely contrast, many trees were still green.

Tod and Jeff in Beartrap Canyon.

We hiked up Beartrap Canyon to a waterfall. The canyon had recently flash flooded. 1’ diameter trees lay shattered in the creek bed with branches almost completely buried in the sand. I thought the flood might have been from the storm I saw last Saturday in Moab, and was bigger than any I’d seen in my summer working in New Mexico. I walked up to the next drainage with Jeff, then he continued a bit on his own. The colors were fantastic. A few willows and oaks wee still green, others are yellow, but they all offset the bright orange of the canyon walls. The cross beds in the Navajo sandstone lend a geometry to the walls.

We saw a little water in the canyons all day long, but nowhere was it enough to keep us from jumping across. I supposed this was still abnormally high water, but it was perfect for us hiking along the creek. There was a big pool just below Kolob Arch. There were also campsites at the trail junction, at the arch, and at the junction with Beartrap. It seemed finding a campsite wouldn’t be hard (The NPS now has 7 designated campsites in the area). We saw only one other pair of hikers.

La Verkin Creek CS, Kolob Arch and Beartrap Canyon, 10 miles

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The night was warmer than the last few, but I still slept in the tent, rather than out under the stars. Tod volunteered to hike back Hop Creek, then drive his truck up to the La Verkin TH to pick us up at the far end of the trail. It was a great way for Jeff and I to see the rest of the canyon. I felt a little guilty having Tod run the shuttle, but I think he and Jeff were starting to clash a bit after all their time together in Alaska and on the road.

La Verkin Valley opens up about a mile above the spur trail to Kolob Arch. Our best views were to the east, into the finger canyons of the Kolob. These canyons looked surprisingly glacial, with handing valleys and cirques that appeared totally isolated with vertical walls all around them. The hike out was preferable to Hop Creek, but still not spectacular. I think all the NPS-worthy terrain is in the side canyons. For more on Zion, see my trip with Jean in 1995 1995 Zion.

As it turned out, Tod had gotten a part time job on the Crested Butte Ski Patrol and needed  to head back to Gunnison. I was also thinking about heading back to Lead, to continue my job search, and finish the manuscript for my Black Hills and Badlands hiking guide, assuming I would get the contract from Cordillera Press (which I did). But I also knew I’d come a long way to hike here, and my prospects of any recent return trip were slim, so Jeff and decided to stay a bit longer and hike in Grand Gulch.

We drove to 10PM, our trip featuring interesting roads north of Medicine (Mexican?) Hat. About 10 miles out the road turned to gravel, switchbacked up a steep cliffside, and then turned back to 65 mph, straight and narrow. Probably a huge wake up call for southbound drivers. Just before the Kane (Gulch) Ranger District Office I almost hit a cow elk and calf, and then passed a large bull. I had no idea there were elk in this part of Utah. We spent another cold night sleeping in the RD parking lot.

Kane Ranger District Office, La Verkin Creek TH, 10 miles

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Grand Gulch is within the boundaries originally established for the BLM-managed Bears Ears National Monument, which has been restored by President Biden as of 2023. I’ve tried to reference this trip vs. a newer pdf map of Grand Gulch I got from their website.

Grand Gulch Trail Map.

The ranger station was closed so we didn’t get any updates on water availability for our route. We’d decided on a partial loop up Kane Gulch to Grand Gulch, and then out via Bullet Canyon. We didn’t know of any ruins in Kane Gulch at the start, so we just blasted up the canyon, trying our best to stay warm. Once into Grand Gulch proper, we walked past a great adobe house (Junction Ruin?) on a cliff before spotting it. We came to regret passing it as the distance to next ruin grew.

Jeff by Arch in Grand Gulch.

However, once past the entry to Todie Canyon the ruins were more apparent. We explored three ruins, two near the creek and one a short scramble up the cliffs. There were lots of pot shards, arrow fragments, and corn cobs. Many of the adobe structures were well preserved. Enough remained to get some sense of how the people lived; they took care to build things to last, and had the time and creative spirit to show their artistry in the structures. Walking through their homes I felt like an intruder, even though they’d been gone for 700 years. It was an impression of home I rarely felt at old mines or old homesteader cabins. 

Grand Gulch, Junction (?) Ruin.

We camped near the mouth of Coyote Canyon. Much to my relief there was intermittent water all through the canyon. But I still couldn’t get my stove to work, the fuel line might have been plugged. But we were able to cook noodles on a campfire, perhaps the only time since summer camp I’d had to cook over a campfire. We retired to light cloud cover, hoping for a warmer night.

Grand Gulch.

Mouth of Coyote Canyon, Grand Gulch, Cane to Coyote, 12 miles

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A warm front came in last night and brought a light rain shower. I quickly put the cover on my pack (my old reliable Kelty Tioga frame pack) and crawled under my space blanket, all in about the time it took for the rain to stop. The temperatures didn’t go below freezing, it was nice to be warm enough to enjoy breakfast. One disadvantage of our dry campsite was putting the fire out, We poked prodded, and peed until the fire finally looked dead.

Grand Gulch Grainary.

Jeff and I took slightly different routes to Bullet Canyon. He stayed higher and saw more ruins, I stayed lower and walked through more sagebrush. There seemed to be less pottery and other artifacts as we went downstream, I wasn’t sure why, but maybe historically the canyon had been accessed from the bottom, and fewer people saw the top?

Pack in Bullett Canyon.

We had lunch at the mouth of Bullet Canyon. Someone had scorched the sagebrush here with a campfire, and that made me nervous, hoping that we’d totally quenched ours. After lunch it was an easy walk up Bullet Canyon to Perfect Kiva. From below the Kiva appears as just a stone wall. I scrambled up and was interested in a well preserved building when I looked down and saw the ladder entering a Kiva. The Kiva was about 8’ deep, and 12’ in diameter with a wood frame roof covered with 1-2” of adobe. There was a fireplace at one end and alcoves around the walls at regular intervals. 

Perfect Kiva.

Around the kiva there were several pictograph sites. Jeff said there were ruins just before the kiva (Jailhouse Ruin?), but those looked more residential to him. I wondered why the kivas were round and all the other buildings rectangular. The humanoid pictographs were also very angular. Maybe the builders saw the manmade and natural worlds differently.

Petroglyph near Perfect Kiva.

We camped just beyond the kiva in a grove of juniper with another nice campfire. I recleaned the fuel line on my stove, it cooked dinner, then fizzled again. I cleaned it one more time hoping it would be functional for breakfast. After dinner I did a brief exploration up a side canyon, I thought I saw more ruins, but the site was out of reach for me.

Perfect Kiva.

This would be my last full non-travel day of the trip. I was getting ready to head back, hopefully with a book contract in hand, finish my manuscript, and enjoy the New Year.

At Perfect Kiva.

Bullet Canyon, 4.6 miles

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We woke during the night to a gentle rain and the morning brought us another round of rain. This batch showed no sign of letting up, so we packed up and hurried up the canyon. I saw little, but the rain did let up by the Bullet Canyon Trailhead.

I left my pack at the trailhead and ran towards the Ranger Station to fetch my pickup. About 2-3 miles from the station I got a ride the rest of the way from the first car to pass. Jeff and I gathered up all our stuff and then drove to Tod’s folk’s place in Gunnison by way of Moab.

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Tod and I drove up to Crested Butte and took a nice easy ski tour toward Gothic Mountain. Crested Butte was beautiful with good Nordic skiing and even more downhill terrain. Afterwards I drove to Cheyenne, WY for the night, and got back home to Lead, SD the next day.

Arches, Humphreys, and the Grand Canyon, 10-24-92

This report describes the first half of my trip to the desert southwest in October 1992 including a short trip in Arches National Park, climbs of Humphreys and Kendricks peaks in Arizona, plus a day hike and two backpack trips into the Grand Canyon. I started planning this trip after I was laid off from my job as a geologist at the Homestake Gold Mine in South Dakota. The layoff occurred, not surprisingly, at a downturn in the mining business and I expected the search for a new position would take a while. I had already begun the work to convert my newspaper columns on hiking in the Black Hills to a published guidebook, and had signed a book contract with Cordillera Press. After a few weeks my field work for the guidebook was going well, but the job search was not.

The traditional two weeks of vacation I was likely to get in my next job was also looking meager for outdoor adventures I had in mind. I decided to take a block of time off to travel and explore areas I’d not visited. For late October/early November going to the mountains wasn’t practical, so I looked at the desert southwest. I read a lot of adventure travel and the Grand Canyon is the subject of two of the best works in that field, Powell’s “The Exploration of the Colorado River and Its Canyons” about his first descents of the canyon in 1869-71, and Fletcher’s “The Man Who Walked Through Time” about his 1963 traverse of the Canyon within the national park. I’d never been to the Grand Canyon, and probably was the only geologist who had that hole in their resume. I built a three week trip around a trip to the Canyon, and also made plans to visit my friend Todd at Zion or Grand Gulch.

I left Lead, SD at 8 AM and made a stop at REI in Denver while heading toward Arches National Park. I pulled over at an interstate rest stop to sleep in the back of my pickup, but ended up moving twice because of the noise from idling trucks.

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I arrived at Arches early and was one of the first onto the Devils Garden Trail. A light rain that night had washed all the previous tracks away giving a feeling of solitude. I found the name Devils Garden to be a misnomer, there was nothing sinister or evil about the place. Instead, it was a celebration of landforms in stone. The arches are the stars, but the fins, fossil dunes, and steep red rock cliffs stole the show.

The trail went by a lot of the big name features including Landscape, Partition, and Double O arches. I took a lot of pictures. The clouds and recent rain kept the light perfect. But I must have been a bit disorganized this early in the trip as I ended up losing my film from the first few days. The only downside of the hike was that someone had poached a deer right on the trail. I heard the shot and soon came upon the gut pile.

The park seemed to be two distinct areas: the Windows and Devils Garden. I made a note to try the Windows next time, or maybe find a place to do some off trail exploring. It was a shame to spend only half a day in Arches, but my plan was to try and climb Humphreys Peak before hiking the Grand Canyon, and it seemed there might be few snow free days ahead.

Driving toward Flagstaff from Moab I saw a huge storm over the La Sal and Abajo mountains, But there was no snow on the valley floors, and I knew the Colorado Snowline was at 12,000 feet, so I still thought I had a shot at Humphreys. Next I drove through Monument Valley. The spires and castles here were no larger or complex than others in the southwest, but their setting was perfect. Each one has its own space to frame it. The valley was like a demonstration of the perfection of presentation: how can this feature look its best? Even with rain falling, there was a photographer in action at every pullout.

The weather cleared up by the time I reached Flagstaff. I arrived just in time to see snow on the top of the San Francisco Peaks. Following my state highpointer guidebooks, I parked for the night in the lot at the Snowbowl Ski Area where there was just a trace of recent snow. Lucky me, I was taking a vacation to the desert and getting rain or snow every day! Good thing the trailhead area was quieter than last night, I had a long day ahead and needed the rest.

Devils Garden Trail Arches NP, ~4.2 mi.

Snowbowl Parking Area

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Though the night was quiet it was also cold, in what would be a recurring theme for the trip. I awoke to frost both inside and outside of the truck. The Humphreys Peak Trail was in great shape, almost all on snow from what looked like the first fall of the year. The weather was perfect dry, clear, calm, and warm enough, once I got moving. In general, the snow was only 3-4 inches deep. The trail took gentle switchbacks to a view of Agassiz Peak, then a moderate section to a saddle on the ridge, and some nice easy cruising north to the summit of Humphreys. I had brief route descriptions from my Highpointers guides, and the USGS quad, though the quad did not show the trail. The lower slopes were covered in spruce, a species I was used to seeing in the Black Hills only in the higher, shaded draws. Lower down I saw lots of tracks, but only one set to the top before the saddle. Of the two highest of the San Francisco Peaks, Agissiz looked more dramatic, but Humphreys is a more massive summit and was the peak that had caught my eye from the drive in.

I spent about an hour on top, probably the longest I could have without getting chilled. The San Francisco Peaks are the remnant of a large volcano, and the surrounding peaks such as Kendrick and Bill Williams are likely parasitic cones.

I hiked part of the route with a couple from Burns, OR, who were also thinking about hiking Kendrick Peak the next day. It felt great to be climbing again. Just two months earlier I’d gotten away for a week of Colorado peak bagging, so hiking through the snow was familiar still. My notes indicate I took 3.25 hours up and 2 hours to descend the 3,100’ route.

After the climb I went back to Flagstaff then onto the USFS trailhead at Kendrick Peak. The drive to the trailhead reminded me of the Black Hills, lots of logging, cattle, and pine trees, but still through some flat country. I was glad to have a break from two long days of driving, and just to be out of the pickup. The trailhead lacked water, but had garbage and a toilet.

I realized I’d made the right choice not to visit the Canyon right away. I needed a few hikes to humble me first. My right calf hurt on the descent of Humphreys, and even later in town. I’d only hiked 9 miles, but was still in major pain. At least this way I’d be sure not to underestimate the canyon, and be more conservative in my routes. Hopefully that would leave more time for me to learn about it, and to get the right backpacking permit.

Humphreys Peak, 12,633’, 9 miles

Kendrick Peak Trailhead

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Earlier I’d bought a copy of the 1991 edition of “Arizona’s Mountains” from Cordillera Press (the publisher of my Black Hills trail guide). I used it to identify Kenrick Peak as the highest in the area outside the San Francisco Peaks, and thought it would be a good transition hike between Humphreys and my trip into the Grand Canyon. At 10,418’ it proved tall enough to be a challenge, and low enough to avoid deep snow.

I spent a long quiet night at the trailhead, sleeping for nearly 12 hours and reluctant to venture into the cold. Once I was rolling though I found a nice, well maintained trail that switch backed most of the way to the top. The trail seemed well travelled but I saw no other hikers. The tower on top was closed, and without it the views from the top didn’t match some of those from the trail below. The San Francisco Peaks stood out sharply, they are clearly the major range for a long distance. The rest of the surroundings looked like minor parasitic cones stretched over flat plateau. Most of the trail was in a nice open forest that that changed from pine to spruce going up and reminded me of the Black Hills. The eight mile roundtrip took me two hours up, and an hour and forty minutes to descend. At least I finished up the roll of film I would eventually lose, and have a meager number of slides from the rest of the trip on. With the Canyon awaiting I headed off immediately for the south rim.

Kendrick to the South Rim was a 70 mile drive. Once there I went to the backcountry office, but found it open only 3-5 in the afternoon. I took the time to shower and get a campsite (probably at Mather Campground). Once the office reopened I quickly realized that anyone requesting a walk up permit for the next day was assumed to be a suicidal idiot. I was told that there were permits available for the next day, but they wouldn’t tell me where unless I submitted a detailed itinerary and passed a quiz. This was a much a much different experience than Jean and I would have in 2002 when our South Bass trip was snowed out and the rangers carefully selected the Escalante Route for us as an alternative. I ended up on the wait list for a permit the next day, remembering why I had avoided backpacking in NPS sites, and hoping I’d do better the next day at guessing the open the campsite game.

I saw the park movie in the visitors center and had a horrible meal in the village. I wanted my first view of the Canyon to be from my trailhead, so I never even looked over the rim. Back at the campsite I had traded the solitude of Kendrick for a set of bitchy neighbors. Being optimistic, I packed for a three day trip.

Kendrick Peak, 10,418’, 8 miles

Grand Canyon Campground

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I finally solved the permit riddle. At 9AM all of us poor permitless souls were treated to a half hour lecture on Grand Canyon hiking safety, then came the long awaited moment, the raffle for permits. I was # 15 on the list. For a while things looked grim as all the permits for Indian Gardens and Bright Angel were taken. But I got lucky and secured a permit for Hermit Creek and Monument Creek! Though I didn’t get a loop hike, this route would keep me out of the crowded corridor zone.

By the time I had the permit in hand it was 10:30, so I celebrated by eating an extra breakfast for the road, but delaying my start just another hour longer. Of course, it had rained all morning, but not enough to dim my excitement. The Canyon was still full of clouds as I drove to the trailhead at Hermits Rest. I still wanted my first view to be with my pack on at the trailhead, but I couldn’t help but sneak a few glances. Of course, the rain continued as I finished packing up, only to quit immediately once I got below the rim.

I had reread some of Powell’s descriptions of the Canyon before starting the trip. Even in the age of flowery prose one of the masters was left groping for stronger language to describe what he’d seen. I wasn’t sure where to begin except to say the beauty of the canyon was all I’d hoped for. At times it was hard to focus on the trail with so much scenery to distract. On the descent there are two distinct platforms, one on the Supai and another on the Tonto above the Tapeats. I’d been in two beautiful sub canyons already, and had yet to see the Colorado River. It was humbling to realize that Hermit isn’t even one of the major side canyons. This place could take more than a lifetime to explore, with the side canyons the most interesting of all.

My trusty Trails Illustrated map of the park contained a stratigraphic column for the canyon geology. The column basically shows the names and characteristics of the rock formations one hikes through descending into the canyon. Since these layers are relatively flat lying, most hikers use the rock layers rather than elevation to track their progress. Two formations, the Bright Angel shale near the bottom of the canyon, and the Hermit shale midway up are easily eroded and form wide benches on the Tapeats and Esplanade formations below them. The Tapeats and Bright Angel formations are part of the Tonto Group, so hikers will often speak of traversing along the Tonto Plateau or along the Esplanade. The thick sheer Redwall Formation lies between the two benches and its cliffs are often the major barrier to a canyon descent.

Hermit is a great trail, with a mind boggling amount of work in its construction. Despite what the NPS says, it was getting at least some maintenance, just not as much as the corridor trails. A few short washouts were the only real obstacles. The campsite near the junction with the Tonto is nice, but tucked back in the creek drainage and without the expansive views so common on the trail. Hermit was about the size of the average side creek in Escalante Canyon (which I had hiked in 1989), but had a stronger flow of water. The water was warm and there were some pools to wash up with. Another party told me that Monument was the nicest campsite between Hermit and Bright Angel. I was very anxious to see the river the next day. Standing by the Colorado would give me the full experience of hiking the canyon.

View into Hermit Canyon.

Hermit Creek Campsite, 8 miles

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This would be an easier day. I just needed to move east on the Tonto over to Monument Campsite. The short backpack would give me time for two side trips, each down to the river from Hermit and Monument campsites.

Hermit Rapid

There had been a short rain overnight and the sky remained overcast giving me another cool day, unlike the furnace conditions that Jean and I would encounter on subsequent trips to the canyon. After breakfast I took the route down Hermit Creek to finally see the river up close. It was running a milky brown as it frothed over Hermit Rapid. I watched it for a half hour before another brief rain reminded me to return to camp.

Colorado River and the inner canyon.

The creek goes underground into some coarse alluvium just below Hermit Campsite, just beyond the unconformity. The unconformity itself is startling, suddenly the Precambrian core appears after a few days of nothing but flat-lying sedimentary rocks.

Luckily the Tonto provided easy walking. Just beyond the Hermit junction the river is visible, and I spotted six rafts entering the Hermit Rapid. From the Tonto it seemed the rafts barely moved, but to the rafters I’m sure it seemed a wild ride. The Tonto dropped into Monument (which I misnamed “Granite” in my notes) almost to the unconformity. I thought I might have missed the campsite, but finally found one that seemed relatively open.

Near Monument Campsite.

From the campsite I followed Monument Creek down to the Colorado again. Monument Creek was more open and easier walking vs Hermit. The trail led to a large sandy beach with great campsites. I dozed a while in one, hoping to be able to photograph some rafters, but none came through. Back at camp, I explored around it as well. There is a great narrow canyon in the gneiss just downstream. I’d been “lucky” with the rain I’d gotten, all the creeks were up, and finding water wasn’t an issue. Only one other hiker at Monument that night, a guy in the midst of hiking the entire Tonto.

Monument Creek, 9 miles

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A daunting day, where I needed to rehike the Tonto back over to Hermit, then climb that trail all the way to the rim. With the cool weather and cloudy skies, the horror stories one hears about climbing out of the canyon just didn’t apply to this trip. At first my problem was just staying warm. Last night’s winds had brought in a cold front, and by the time I reached the top of the Redwall I needed to put on a long sleeved shirt. This kept me warm enough while I hiked, but I got chilled anytime I stopped.

Tent and campsite at Monument Creek.

The climb out took 5:40 including breaks. I passed both the parties I’d seen at Hermit the first night. The traverse through the Supai was a savior as it broke up two long climbs. I was feeling good, though my thighs were still a bit sore from the first day’s descent into the canyon.

Once on the rim I stopped more to enjoy the overlooks. The scale of the canyon is such that it was hard for me to believe that I’d been “all the way down there.” Next, it was time for the visitors center and museum, which were vaguely disappointing. I guess I expected a park of this stature to offer more, but should have realized that its wonders are outside, rather than inside. At the Backcountry Office I managed to get a permit for  Sunday night at Tanner along the river on the east end of the park. My plan was to day hike on Saturday, then leave the park on Monday after returning from Tanner.

My Grand Canyon trips map.

9 miles

Mather Campground

 

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My plan for the day was to hike down the Grandview Trail and then walk the loop on the west side of Horseshoe Mesa. Overnight temperatures were 25F with a lot of rain. My sleeping bag was not keeping up with the cold. But the rain was keeping the canyon colors vibrant, and the vegetation green. Colors here are stronger than the muted colors of the Badlands.

View near Horseshoe Mesa.

I took 1.5 hours to reach Horseshoe Mesa from Grandview Point. The trail was steep down to the Supai, and then traversed over to the plateau. There was an old copper mine in the shale None of the mines here looked big, but supposedly they operated for several years. The loop around the west side of the perimeter took 2 hours down to the Tonto and up Cottonwood Creek. I lost the trail off the plateau briefly near its end and found myself out on the Tonto. 

Stone House on Horseshoe Mesa.

Cottonwood Creek had the pretties campsite I’d seen yet on the Tonto. I stopped for lunch and a rest, by that time I still underestimated the length of the loop. It was a long steep climb up to Horseshoe Mesa. The trail seemed too steep for mules; it may have been built as an access to water by the miners. It took about 1.5 hours to hike out. Walking without the heavy backpack helped my legs recover from the backpacking. They weren’t sore during the day hike, but that might change the next day with a descent all the way from the rim to the river. I was really looking forward to the full descent and the chance to camp next to the Colorado River.

Once back on the rim I got a meal and hit some of the touristy spots. Things seemed expensive and I hoped Bryce and Zion (next on my agenda) would be cheaper (and hopefully warmer). The lack of wildlife in the park was a surprise. I was expecting to see more in the canyon, but had only seen a few squirrels and birds.

West Horseshoe Mesa Loop, 11 miles

Mather Campground

11-1-92

Another cold night, but no rain and I awoke to a clear blue sky. The upper section of the Tanner Trail proved steep and rough. It took 45 minutes to descend to a long traverse on the Supai. Early on I could see the Watchtower at Desert View to the east, and was able to keep it in sight all day.

The rest of the hike was wonderful. Only the descent of the Redwall was especially steep, but my legs felt better than they had on my first descent down Hermit.  I saw 13 people hiking out, so it must have been a busy night down at Tanner Campsite. There was already another group at the site when I arrived.

I even saw some new rock formations. I hiked through the Proterozoic Grand Canyon Group, which I like because of its absence of thick cliff forming layers. The GC Group doesn’t appear further west at Hermit. There was a nice fault just across the river from camp. I set up at a sandy head on the delta at the mouth of Tanner Creek. I would sleep on the sand and listen to the river. I was able to wash in the river, but it was too cold for swimming.

In the afternoon I napped alongside the river once again. It was too late in the day to see rafters, but I’d gotten a glimpse of a few boats from higher up on the trail. The campsite was quiet and peaceful, but did have a lot of flies, maybe there were some sanitation issues? My site got late sun, but it still was an early evening. I slept under the stars below a crystal clear sky.

At 6PM it was barely light enough to write in my journal. While doing my cooking and cleaning chores I was treated to an ever deepening of the colors on the canyon walls. John Muir called the Sierras the range of light, so perhaps the Desert Southwest should be the land of colors. I realized the Spanish name Rio Colorado could be meant for canyon walls, not for the water itself.

The river thundered and surged. Often I heard dull thumps and muted crashes that I imagined to be boulders carried down the riverbed and scouring the channel. Sometimes the river would roar at a high pitch, and I would look skyward for a plane. Laying here I felt the attraction many others have had for a wild river.

I’d also learned to my surprise that none of the Grand Canyon was designated wilderness. But for all I saw the park was managed like wilderness below the rim, except for the Bright Angel Corridor, and I assumed some motorized river trips. It was hard to imagine a better place for wilderness, for it seemed very few ever ventured off the park trails. 

Comanche Point from the Tanner Trail.

Tanner Campsite

9 miles

11-2-92, I slept under the stars enjoying a warmer night, at least until I heard a mouse rattle my food bag and I had to get up to move it. I hiked all the way out of the canyon without taking any pictures, photography was definitely not a priority on this trip! My pack was light so the whole trip took only 5 hours. I was feeling the strength I’d built up so far, and really felt like I was rounding into good shape. I saw no one else hiking in, a bit of a surprise, I expected this would be a popular route. It was easy to mark my progress by keeping an eye on the Watchtower.

That afternoon I drove over to Bryce Canyon National Park, mostly on the advice of my folks who thought that it was the prettiest of the parks in the desert southwest. I’ll document the rest of this trip in separate post covering the Utah half of the trip, Bryce, Zion, and the BLM’s Grand Gulch areas.

1992, 7-11, Leadville (CO) Mosquito Marathon

 One sage piece of advice for runners attempting their first marathon is to pick an easy course. This simple instruction isn’t always as easy to follow though. I’d skipped the marathon distance in my climb up the distance ladder, going directly to 50 miles from a base of runs at and just above the half marathon. In 1992 after two attempts at the Deadwood Trail 50 Mile Race I had one finish and one DNF at 43 miles. After two years of experience, I knew that I couldn’t both help with the course marking and organizing, and run the race as well. I started looking around for other reasonably close races as alternates, and the Mosquito Marathon quickly caught my eye.

The race took place in the Colorado’s Mosquito Range on a loop course based out of Leadville. I think this was the second year of the race, which may have had its origins as a training race for the far better known Leadville 100 Miler. It appealed to me with the combination of a beautiful course, extended exposure above treeline, and a chance to bag a fourteener on the way.

My regular running training before the race was meager. But though I wasn’t doing many dedicated runs, my overall conditioning was good. I’d climbed mounts Ranier and Hood earlier in the summer, made two backpacking trips to Wyoming’s Bighorns, had been doing lots of long mountain bike rides, and had several shorter races under my belt.

I drove from Lead, SD to Denver the Thursday before the race. The next day I met with Walt Borneman (of Fourteeners fame) to discuss publishing what would become “Exploring the Black Hills and Badlands,” my hiking guide for the Dakotas. In Leadville the next day I toured the  National Mining Hall of Fame & Museum and generally enjoyed hanging around in one of the epicenters of ultrarunning. To put things in perspective, when I asked one of the race organizers how much of the course was runnable, the reply was “all of it.”

Race morning was just as cold as one would expect above 10,000’. I needed gloves, and ear band, wind shell, tights, and a polypro shirt. I carried only one water bottle, which was not enough with the widely spaced aid stations.

The race started with a run up the gravel road along California Gulch. We passed the Asarco Black Cloud Mine, the last operating mine in this famous mining district. I got to the Hardy Hill Aid Station #1 in 1:40, running almost all the way. In Empire Gulch I walked more, the gulch was wet and the trail faint. The climb to the ridge was too steep and rocky for running, but things cleared up as we got above treeline. The ridgeline had a few small snowfields. We climbed over Peerless Mountain at 13,348’, and then around the summit of Mount Sheridan.

The course highpoint was 14,036’ at Mt Sherman, how often could one climb a fourteener and finish a marathon at the same time? Here we passed some other hikers and got a few light snow flurries. I encountered another runner who was cramping pretty badly. I’d brought some of the salt tablets I used at work and gave them to him with instructions to use them with lots of water. Later on, he passed me looking strong and thanking me greatly for the help.

After going over the top of West Gemini and around Dyer Mountain we got to Hands on Saddle at 15.3 miles. The saddle had two relatively easy, short down climbs where it was easiest to go around the ridgeline on the right. I’d been passing a lot of people on the ridgeline and it appeared that many didn’t have a lot of experience off trail. After one more climb up Mount Evans, I got to the second aid station below Mosquito Pass at 17 miles and 5;20, and the end of a six mile stretch above 13.000’.

The third aid station at Lake Isabelle at 21.1 miles required a final 400’ side climb that about did me in. But after we got back on the main route it was mostly old railroad grade back into town. I was getting passed a lot on this section and was glad to spot a spectator coming up the trail, which meant I wasn’t last. Surprisingly, they told me there were still a lot of runners out on the course. I was simply tired, no knee issues or problems with my stomach. Living at 5000’ in Lead, SD kept me  in good shape for the altitude in Colorado. I finally rolled into town to finish in 7:15:37 and #53 out of 96 finishers. 

Mosquito Marathon Course Map.

Mosquito Marathon Course Schematic.

Though 100+ starters was a big race back in those days, the run had been pretty low key and a lot of fun. The run was billed as 26.6 miles, but even so 7:15 was a very modest marathon debut. The extra four tenths of a mile was enough to get a write-up in Ultrarunning Magazine, which back then reported the results of all the ultras in the country. After the run I drove up to the Rabbit Ears Range and slept in my truck at the trailhead for Parkview Mountain. I would have spent a comfy night in the truck if I had remembered to pack my sleeping bag. Snoozing under a few towels and spare cloths didn’t cut it at altitude. Parkview at 12,296’ proved a good post-race hike, not too long or steep. But I found the summit cabin occupied, and thick fog plus light rain deprived me of any views.

My next marathon would not come for another three years, after I moved to Tennessee and ran the Smoky Mountain Marathon in Townsend in 4:14. I doubt there are any official records on this, but suspect if there were I would own some record for taking the most time ever off my PR, by slashing over three hours off my Mosquito Marathon time, and proving that all distances are not created equal.

Bomber Mountain Backpack, Bighorns, 7-3/5-92

This three day hike into the Bighorns would be the last of my trips to the range during my time living in Lead, SD. Kathy & Leroy Hart and I picked a three day weekend to give us a full middle day for the climb of Bomber, with long approach days on either end. We were hoping this would be an easier trip than our previous climb of Cloud Peak (Cloud Peak), which had also included their dog Sophie. Bomber Mountain is generally considered the fourth highest peak in the range, but is not mentioned in the Melius hiking guidebook. However, the 1960 climbing guide by Bonney and Bonney states that the peak was named for a 1943 B-17 crash site, and lists a class 2 walkup route via the southwest ridge.

Cloud Peak from Bomber Mountain.

We left Lead early in the morning on the 3^rd and drove to the trailhead at Hunters Corral. Low clouds would roll through Florence Pass at the head of the canyon all day. The road was closed at the trailhead due to soft surface conditions. That gave us a three mile hike on drivable terrain to reach Soldier Park. Here we encountered one boggy area that we assumed was the reason for the road closure.

The Powell Cirque from Medicine Cabin Park.

Beyond Soldier Park the road was much rougher with nonstop boulders. The Cloud Peak Wilderness boundary was well marked, and there was a picnic table and campsite there. We saw two other well marked trail intersections in Trail Park, but I got confused at a small opening just before the Park.

Medicine Cabin Park.

As we got into Medicine Cabin Park the second bridge over North Clear Creek was out, but we found a handy log to cross on. We passed up one exposed campsite in a flowery meadow. Instead, we hiked another mile (for a total of 9 miles for the day) to the upper end of Medicine Cabin Park where a side trail crosses North Clear Creek on a bridge. We had the primo campsite is one of the most scenic spots in the range, unbothered by hay fever or mosquitos. Medicine Cabin Park is right on the edge of the alpine zone, with cascades tumbling down sheer cliffs on three sides, and spectacular views into the cirques feeding into the park. I’d passed through the park on my 1986 backpacking circuit with Craig (1986 Bighorns Loop) , and would do so again in 1999 with Jean (1999 Bighorns Loop). For all of us it was our favorite valley in the range. In 1986 Craig and I had hurried down the trail so Craig could get back to Lead in time for Kathy and Leroy’s wedding. So, it seemed fitting that I was here again with them, and with the time to savor the setting. Sophie patrolled the campsite keeping us safe from raiding squirrels.

We cooked up a great dinner, and even treated ourselves to a campfire. At dinner the clouds cleared, and we thought ourselves safe from the typical evening rains. But soon a brief shower moved in driving us to the tents.

Black Tooth and Woolsey from Bomber Mountain.

Sunday morning dawned with a clear blue sky. The trail to Florence Lake was a series of switchbacks, then became a route hacked through the granite. As we reached Florence Lake at around 11,000’ a light rain began. I wasn’t sure I wanted  to continue, knowing the conditions above could be much worse. But the Harts seemed game to on, so up the southwest ridge we went. The start of the climb was the steepest part. Near the first bench around 11,800’ the rain stopped, and we reached the lower limit of what had been last night’s snow. Older snow was abundant near the start of the second step at around 12,000’. We soon learned to use the harder old snow for walking to avoid the typical Bighorns boulders. The were a lot of false peaks along the ridge, but otherwise it was an easy trip up a long ramp. I got quite a bit ahead, and briefly turned back from the summit, just as the Harts and Sophie arrived. At the summit, Cloud Peak seemed close by. This was the location for the classic “Death March #3 overlooking Death March #1” framed photo that the Harts later gave to me.

With the Harts on the summit of Bomber Mountain.

After turning a perfect blue for our climb, the sky was now gray, and the wind was picking up. So, we left quickly to find the remains of the crashed bomber. Our ascent route had been via the ramp to the southeast of the Golden Lakes. For the return we would use the ramp on the opposite side of the lakes to reach the bomber. We did our best to stay on the snowfields, and aimed for a large snowfield on the south side of a 12,400’ subpeak. Leroy had been to the bomber before, so he led us to a point below an 11,680’ peak northwest of Florence Lake.

The wreck is strewn about the base of another snow field. Much of it had been hauled away for souvenirs and other pieces had been moved around. But there are a few large pieces remaining, and the destruction gives you the feeling of the power of the impact.

At the bomber crash site.

According to Wikipedia the B-17 disappeared on a flight from Oregon to Nebraska. Two searches for the plane in 1943 and 1944 were unsuccessful. In 1945 two cowboys spotted the wreckage, and later the bodies of the crew members were recovered. In 1946 the previously unnamed ridge was christened Bomber Mountain by the Forest Service. In 1990 a book about the crash was published.

The descent back down from the bomber was a little tricky, especially for a tired crew. Florence Lake is rimmed by cliffs, complicating the route finding. We followed the main draw down, skirted some cliffs and followed snow fields to another set of cliffs. There is a black dike above the lake, and it appeared that the best route was above the dike. From there it was back down the trail to our camp in Medicine Cabin Park. I would end my Bighorns peak bagging career with one 13’er (two ascents of Cloud Peak), four 12’ers (Bomber, Penrose/12,664’, Bighorn, and Darton 2X), 11,565’ on the way to Mather Peak, three 10’ers around the Hazletons, and 9,610’ Sheep Mountain near Powder River Pass.

The hike out the next day was uneventful, though we did see many more people. At the trailhead the person at the information booth told me that a forest trail crew was planning to go into the area that week.