Day 31: It's a Bird, It's a Plane, It's...Clare?

Day Thirty-One: It's a Bird, It's a Plane, It's...Clare?

7/10/11:

In the bright early morning on July tenth, I looked out over the Grand Canyon. Hiking trails stretched along the plateaus and craters of the canyon like slender threads, while determined plants and shrubs hugged the canyon’s red, brown and white walls. Clouds sailed overhead like great ships, their fat shadows hanging heavily over the rises and falls of the canyon.

Behind me, my folks lingered over one of the Grand Canyon National Park’s prolific warning signs. Their message, somewhat blunted by civility, had a sharp and clear theme: 

DO NOT HIKE UNPREPARED. DO NOT ATTEMPT ANYTHING IDIOTIC. DO NOT DIE.

Little anecdotes of death accompanied the weathered signs—real tales of even the über-fit expiring in the unforgiving heat of the canyon. With the loss of elevation, temperatures soared: a pleasant seventy degrees on the North and South Rims could easily spike to one-hundred-and-five degrees or hotter on the floor of the Grand Canyon. Attempting to hike down to the Colorado River and then back out of the canyon in one shot was ill-advised. According to Grand Canyon officials, it generally took twice as long to ascend as it did to descend. 

For this very reason, I had been prodded from my sleep at an unpleasant hour back at North House. In order to thwart the heat, Mom, Dad and I made the two hour trek to Grand Canyon National Park in the wee hours of the morning, hoping to start and finish our hike before temperatures swelled to unhealthy heights.

Despite my initial ambitious impulse, we decided to descend for only an hour or so before turning around. Mom, Dad and I had chosen Hermits Rest Trail, the most easterly hiking option in Grand Canyon National Park, for its remoteness and other “rugged” and tourist-deterring qualities. As stated by Dad's guidebook, Hermits Rest was a “rocky trip down, with some knee-wrenching switchbacks and long traverses that wend through the Supai cliffs.” Developed in 1912 by the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railway, Hermits Rest was an early alternative to the once private and toll-charging Bright Angel Trail.

We took off, packs strapped to our backs as we paced down the narrow trails. I pulled ahead of Mom and Dad and bounded down the switchbacks, pausing frequently to peer across the canyon and accidentally sticking myself with an attack cactus along the way. The plants carving out their lives along the trail were hardy and prickly specimens. Yucca of ungodly proportions brandished their shin-spears at the unwary wanderer, while scrubby trees and bushes clung to clothing.

My aim was the Waldron Basin, a drop of around 1,250 feet from the Hermits Rest trailhead. The last bit before the basin presented itself to me in gnarly switchbacks. Long slabs of stone had been cut and laid along the trail to provide some sort of traction; beneath my feet, they tottered and slid. After a few near falls, I made Waldron Basin. Here Hermits Rest Trail met a junction and, sunning myself like a lizard on the side of the trail, I chowed down on some smushed granola bars. A few minutes later, I turned myself around and pushed back up the trail and out of the Grand Canyon.

My jaunt was just over three miles, and Mom, Dad and I ascended only a few minutes slower than we’d gone down. At mid-afternoon, the heat was already rising considerably, and after popping out at the trailhead, I slouched back in the shade of a tree and watched the gigantic blackbirds swooping up along the walls of the canyon.

Sufficiently sweaty, we took the Grand Canyon shuttle back into the heart of the park. Milling about with the rest of the tourists, we poked around in the Kolb Studio, Bright Angel Lodge, Thunderbird Lodge, Kachina Lodge, and Hopi House, admiring the designs of the talented architect Mary Colter.

On our way out of Grand Canyon National Park, we followed Neil’s insider advice and sought out the secluded Shoshone Point. After passing the unmarked trailhead several times, we ferreted it out and set on down the smooth dirt path. The short hike spilled us out onto a jutting plateau with an extraordinary view of the Grand Canyon’s Zoroaster Temple. A tall and slender rock formation pushed up from near the edge of Shoshone Point, and clambering atop it, I took in the Grand Canyon from high up in the sky—wishing, more than anything, that I could leap and fly.

Photos: 1. Grand Canyon 2. & 3. View from Hermits Rest Trail 4. & 5. Shoshone Point