CHAPTER TWO
According to the National Parks Foundation, the rim-to-rim hike at the Grand Canyon is a classic bucket list adventure. An adventure that can end in catastrophe for the unprepared. The site offers assurance that the trek is well worth it for those who have appropriately trained, have the correct gear, and know what to expect.
The classic route begins on the North Rim, descending 14.3 miles and over six thousand feet in elevation to the canyon’s bottom using the North Kaibab Trail. From there, adventurers can connect with the Bright Angel Trail and climb over four thousand five hundred feet in elevation gain. Hikers will arrive at the trailhead on the South Rim in a little under 10 miles.
While not recommended, many hikers choose to do the rim-to-rim hike in one day. I will not be one of them and find the idea unfathomable.
At the canyon’s bottom lies one of the most unique and exclusive lodges in America – the Phantom Ranch. The historic property can be reached on foot or by mule. Built-in the 1920s to provide a tourist facility inside the canyon, Mary Elizabeth Jane Coulter designed the property. She provided sketches of rustic cabins and the main lodge, all using native stone and wood to blend in with the canyon’s beauty, to the Fred Harvey Company. Everyone was pleased, and soon the company announced that the facility would be called Roosevelt’s Chalets. Enraged, Mary Elizabeth, a renowned perfectionist, immediately snatched up her sketches and cried, “Not if you are going to be using my work!” The architect had already decided on the name Phantom Ranch. Obviously, she won that battle.
It’s not the first time I’ve heard of the Phantom Ranch. Years ago, as a young girl, I would take the AAA Guidebook’s current copy into my bedroom and peruse the pages. Before the internet, the only way to discover new places was in travel magazines, guidebooks, travel agents, or word of mouth.
Triple-A, or the American Automobile Association, provided its members with maps, trip-planning services, and big, thick guidebooks. Guidebooks included hotel listings in each city, spelling out the amenities and awarding star ratings, five stars being the best.
They also included attractions for each region, and sometimes there were articles interspersed amongst the pages detailing routes and itineraries. It was a great day on Quince Avenue when one of these arrived. To me, it was a book filled with possibility. I poured over the pages imagining traveling to each destination, no matter how unpretentious or drab they might seem. I found promise and magic in each of them.
These books are where I was first introduced to the Phantom Ranch. I spent hours thumbing through the well-worn pages, so filled with possibility, dreaming of escape.
****In one of those guidebooks, I first learned about the mythical, to me anyhow, Phantom Ranch located at the bottom of the Grand Canyon, reachable only by mule. The idea of riding a mule to the bottom of that vast canyon and spending the night was magical. It never occurred to me that someone might arrive at that place powered only by their own two feet. I’m nearly giddy over the idea that I will soon visit this place that has lived in the recesses of my mind for over forty years.****
But before I get too far ahead of myself, there are some logistics to be handled. The website warns of difficulty in securing these accommodations, which often sell out a year in advance. There are three types of accommodations. Cabins, dormitories, and campsites. I hope for a cabin but will settle for a bed in the female dorm. A campsite is out of the question. I have no camping equipment – hell, I don’t have any hiking equipment. I have never slept in a tent.
Clicking on the FAQs, I learn that Phantom Ranch only takes reservations on the first Monday of each month. Flipping through the pages of my old-fashioned desk calendar, I make a note on December 7. A reminder, although I doubt I’ll need it.
*****
When the morning of December 7 rolls around, I’m seated at my desk, eagerly dialing the number at 10 AM Central time. A woman picks up on the first ring; the first available date is December 4. A little less than one year away. Worried about the weather in December, I ask what we might expect. Patiently explaining that there is no way to tell, she goes over the cancellation policy. Full refunds can be had up to two days before the trip which mitigates the financial risk. And a handy excuse. Taking a deep breath I book our stay at Phantom Ranch.
Moving on, she inquires about accommodations before and after the hike. I was so focused on Phantom Ranch that I had given this little thought. She gets us into the Bright Angel Lodge the night before our hike and the night we hike out. I can barely contain my excitement.
Next, she asks what trails we’ll be using.
I proudly tell her that we’ll be going rim to rim; after a pause, she explains that the roads to the North Rim close in October. The North Rim closes for anything but day use on October 15 and closes permanently for the winter on December 1, or when the road is impassable due to snow. I hadn’t considered the possibility of snow. It now seems more of a probability than a possibility. I wonder if the woman taking the reservation is putting a note in our file. An asterisk next to our booking.
Sensing my disappointment coupled with a lack of knowledge and experience, she informs me that most people go down the South Kaibab Trail and return on Bright Angel. Both trails are located along the South Rim. I immediately tell her that that’s our plan, silently vowing to google it as soon as I hang up.
A few more questions, and we’re all set. She gives me a confirmation number and wishes me luck before hanging up. My phone dings as I receive a confirmation email.
This shit just got real.
*****
Opening the confirmation email, I read through it twice before hitting forward to send it to Carver. We’re hiking the Grand Canyon!
Back on the National Park Service site, I read that all kinds of people, from young children to the elderly, have successfully hiked the Grand Canyon. Still, even the most avid hikers and physically fit folks need to take this trek seriously. Comparing the rim-to-rim hike with summiting Mt. Whitney in California, they stress the importance of working one’s heart, knees, and hips in the months leading up to the hike. Thankfully, we have a whole year to prepare,
I search “hiking Grand Canyon” and scroll through the results. They are alarming. Much like googling symptoms when you’re not feeling well, it’s best to proceed with caution. The titles are disturbing. Top Ten Toughest Hikes in the World, Most Dangerous Hikes on Earth, and Death in the Canyon, to know a few leap off the page.
Clicking on one article after another, I wonder what the hell I’ve gotten myself into. It won’t be the last time I have this thought. One of the tamer warnings from Modern Hiker reads like this:
“Grand Canyon National Park rangers conduct a large volume of rescues each year due to lack of preparation, and part of the permit process includes education on the factors in the environment that are most likely to ruin your trip. Safety considerations include appropriate conditioning for a hike of this difficulty, understanding the hazards inherent in desert hiking, including dehydration, heatstroke, exposure, encounters with dangerous plants and animals, and hypothermia. Furthermore, it is essential not to underestimate the mental challenges of hiking the Grand Canyon. All hiking within the canyon follows the maxim that what goes down must come up. ”
Pretty serious stuff.
A permit is included and automatically issued with a stay at Phantom Ranch, so there won’t be any educational component of the process for us, as mentioned above. On the plus side, we have a year to learn and to prepare. A year is a long time. We are competent, self-reliant, strong women with a combined total hiking experience of zero.
Doing what anybody would do next, I turn to Facebook, that modern-day marvel of misinformation and memes. There’s bound to be a group of people who have done this. And there are. Many. Selecting the largest and most active group, I press the Join button and am immediately accepted into the fold.
The very first post is from a woman who just completed the exact route we’re contemplating, except in reverse. She went down into the canyon on the Bright Angel trail, ascending on South Kaibab. Her photos are incredible. I leave a comment and explain my plan, asking for any advice she can offer. Within an hour, there are dozens of replies from hikers all over the country.
The first reply goes like this:
The tips are this. Do it the other way around. Go Down the South Kaibab Trail and up Bright Angel. It is a very long strenuous, demanding, TOUGH hike. Start Training Now! Five thousand feet down and five thousand feet back up. It will take you all day, one way down, And Another All Day to Go Back Up.
Even if you do this in December bring at least One Gallon of Water, Per Person, Per Day. You, Will, Drink every drop, I promise you. Wear good-fitting hiking boots that are broken in to avoid any blisters. Use Trekking Poles; they help a lot. Take a Good Camera, stop, and take photos. Make your Backpack as LIGHT as possible; you will thank yourself for that on the way back up. Be Prepared for 2 EPIC Days. This hike will bring the “Hero” out of you. Have Fun.
Have fun? Holy shit! It doesn’t sound fun. It sounds terrifying. And potentially life-threatening. And that part about bringing out the hero in me? Um yeah, pretty sure I don’t have one of those.
The comment sparks debate. Heated debate. The kind most often reserved for election years. Most posters think it’s better to go down the South Kaibab Trail due to steepness and lack of water, returning via Bright Angel Trail.
There are plenty of other warnings about equipment, weather, water, food, and everything in between. No shortage of things to fret about here, but there’s plenty of encouragement too. Again I wonder what the hell I’ve gotten myself into. I also wonder what a crampon is?
Later that day, I receive a private message from the woman who wrote the original post.
Hi Tami.
I can answer any questions you have. The advice the other guy gave is good, but I wanted to put in my two cents. He said to do it the other way around, meaning down S. Kaibab trail and up Bright Angel. It’s a matter of opinion and the kind of shape you are in. I do it the way I do because the Bright Angel trail is a bit longer. Longer but not quite as steep. It’s longer by 2-2.5 miles. And when hiking back up, that is a lot of extra mileage, in my opinion. All I want is to get out of there, and when you have an extra 2-2.5 miles, it can seem like forever.
No matter what, this hike is grueling. It will test your every emotion, your mentality, and your physical being. South Kaibab is a very steep hike if you choose it to go back up. That’s why people generally go down this trail. My friend and I agreed, it would tear up our knees to go down S. Kaibab. BUT to be fair, many people do it every day.
The people in the group have completed Iron Mans, thru-hiked the Appalachian Trail, scaled Mount Kilimanjaro, we’re talking big-league stuff. Even with these incredible feats of athleticism and achievement under their belts, many claim this hike is one of the most challenging things they’ve ever done.
My most significant athletic accomplishment to date is placing first in my age group at a 10K run.
I was the only person in my age group.
I walked most of the way.
Doubt creeps in. Who am I kidding? It’s not creeping, it’s advancing like a wave of soldiers on the offense. I can’t do this. It’s ridiculous to even entertain such a notion. Who do I think I am? These thoughts are loud and clear. Assuming this is the voice of reason, not a crazy coming-out-of-your-fillings voice in my head, might it be wise to listen? My ideas are usually magnificent or moronic. And this one seems to be leaning towards the latter.
I’m not an athlete. Nor a hiker. I am a slightly overweight, middle-aged woman who has recently turned the page on her forties. I’m certain that there’s no hero residing in me. Visions of spectacular failure creep into my thoughts at an alarming pace, growing more vivid by the second.
Conjuring up the couple on the bus, I replace visions of catastrophe with their contented, albeit grimy faces.
If they could do it, I can do it. Right?
The couple on the bus becomes my new mantra.
