Our Grand Canyon crew of hikers (from left to right):
Emily - 22 years old, recent graduate of King's College, London, with a nursing degree. Lives in Windsor, England. Tasted a Payday candy bar for the first time while out on the trail and immediately declared her eternal love.
Daniel - 21 years old, apprentice at Mars chocolate factory. Lives in Windsor, England. Emily's beau. Slept through a harrowing camp invasion by a wild, squawking deer at 1 am. He learned about it over breakfast several hours later.
Cameron - 44 years old, works on the Alaskan pipeline. Splits his time between Valdez, AK, and Benicia, CA. Several hours into the first day, buried his boots in his pack and wore Crocs for the rest of the hike. Proved himself to be part mountain goat, leaping and scrambling over rocks, boulders, and waterfalls with grace and ease.
Molly - 50 years old, nurse for Hospice of Spokane. Lives in Spokane, WA. Jill's partner. Faced the desert heat with fortitude and a stylish blue hat that she doused with water every chance possible. Traveled fearlessly into a blackened grotto through a curtain of water from the sacred Ribbon Falls.
Jill (that's me!) - 47 years old, academic coordinator at Washington State University. Lives in Spokane, WA. Discovered oatmeal can actually taste good, especially so at 5:30 am around a picnic table in the warm desert with a babbling creek at the camp side. Woke every morning and unfolded from inside the tent with little to no soreness or pain.
Dillon - 30 years old, guide for The Wildland Trekking Company. Lives in Flagstaff, AZ. Carried with him a backpack twice the weight of ours and a vast knowledge of the canyon, its rocks, flora, fauna, and people. Made the entire trek in Teva sandals, delivered us homemade meals on a beach, in a stream, and on a plateau with sweeping views.
Monday, Aug. 29, 2016
"This is your first Rim to Rim," Dillon quipped as we emerged from The Wildland Trekking Company's passenger van and walked toward Navajo Bridge. My fuzzy-from-nerves-and-excitement brain didn't at first compute. Mid-span on the short footbridge I remembered his lesson from last night's pre-trek meeting. The official start of the Grand Canyon is at Lee's Ferry, about 5 miles north, and this bridge would carry us across the Colorado River from one edge of the canyon to the other. In about 10 minutes, counting stopping to gawk, we completed our first Rim to Rim!
Dillon proved himself an amazing planner from the first moments. He traced a bird's eye view of our route on a map last night, just before dumping a pile of snacks on the hotel conference room floor and inviting us to grab what we wanted, Halloween style. Breakfast of juice, bagels, fruit, and danish bites spilled out on a table on the far side of Navajo Bridge, and still we made it to the North Rim with plenty of time to stop at Grand Canyon Lodge for an actual view of what we were about to undertake.
"Commence!" our guide called at 11:45 am and so into the trees we descended. Yep, trees. Lots of them. Pines, very much like the forests in which Molly and I have been training these past 16 months. From friends who had visited the North Rim, I was expecting the trees, but still it seemed confusing and thrilling that here we were in Arizona, a desert state, hiking shaded trails. Shaded and thoroughly marked with mule droppings. Quickly became obvious we couldn't walk and drink in the views at the same time. Large rocks and timbers placed to help with the descent, did help, but also required incredibly careful footing. Not to mention I wasn't keen on tromping through the green poop, so spent much of the first two hours skirting the edges of the trail. Mules on the North Rim take passengers two miles into the canyon for a scenic outing, then haul the tourists back to their cars in the trailhead parking lot.
Today we covered 7 miles and I never felt rushed. Some of the time passed between Molly, Emily, and I chatting about our jobs, health care issues in the UK and US, Brexit. The guys were several hundred yards ahead of us, sometimes out of sight because of the soaring red limestone walls that created sharp angles in the trail. We'd reunite at intervals that Dillon expertly timed for resting and snacking or rehydrating. He worked in stories and facts about what we gazed at from under our brimmed hats.
At the brim of this northern portion of the canyon is white/gray Kaibab Limestone, then thick layers of Supai Sandstone are a dramatic contrasting brick red. The passage through which the North Kaibab Trail passes, and on which we spent the day, is narrow. The sky overhead sometimes barely visible. The sandstone reminded me of books lined up on a tidy shelf, it is stacked so uniformly and vertically.
"I call it popsicle water," Dillon said with glee. In his hand was a bottle of frozen Gatorade, like the ones he gave each of us just before hitting the trail. We were taking another break and the half-thawed drink thrilled the tastebuds. Emily and Daniel delighted in the description and thus commenced 4 days of comparing and sharing Anglicisms and Americanisms. Emily's accent turned Midwestern and nasal-like whenever she uttered "popsicle water" from that day forth, which was at least twice a day!
The relentless downhill tested my mental strength today. For brief moments, I felt frustrated with the odd angles my feet were landing with every step and the wobbly feeling in my legs, but then the next moment, I was free of worry and utterly at peace. My shoulders were devoid of pain (I struggled mightily with shoulder fatigue during training) and nothing but me and my body were carrying me through this giant swath of space. For 4 days I will be propelling myself, traveling without motorized help. It's a simple concept that feels revolutionary in the 21st century.
Another revolutionary concept - immaculate outhouses! First at the spot where we stopped for lunch, then another resting point about a mile outside of our camp for the night, and finally at Cottonwood Campground. I had no idea I'd be using composting toilets all day long. No smell, and each stall as big as a half bath in most houses. Each of these spots also offered taps with drinkable water piped across the canyon from Roaring Springs, which spills out of the red limestone wall about halfway down the North Kaibab Trail. We will follow the pipeline, built by the National Park Service between 1965 and 1970, for essentially the rest of the trip, Dillon said. It provides water for visitors in the canyon, as well as all the lodges and restaurants on the North and South Rims.
We rolled into camp shortly after 6 pm and without preamble, began setting up our tents. A red checkered tablecloth appeared on the picnic table, and soon fajitas were sizzling over a camp stove. Each of us carried a stuff sack packed with food, but other than retrieve them from our packs and set them by the table, we didn't have to think at all about what was in them. Dillon prepped, cooked dinner, pulled out chocolate for dessert, and washed all the dishes.
I am thrilled by what we accomplished today. I am awed by where we have been and where our bedrolls are perched for the night.
Emily - 22 years old, recent graduate of King's College, London, with a nursing degree. Lives in Windsor, England. Tasted a Payday candy bar for the first time while out on the trail and immediately declared her eternal love.
Daniel - 21 years old, apprentice at Mars chocolate factory. Lives in Windsor, England. Emily's beau. Slept through a harrowing camp invasion by a wild, squawking deer at 1 am. He learned about it over breakfast several hours later.
Cameron - 44 years old, works on the Alaskan pipeline. Splits his time between Valdez, AK, and Benicia, CA. Several hours into the first day, buried his boots in his pack and wore Crocs for the rest of the hike. Proved himself to be part mountain goat, leaping and scrambling over rocks, boulders, and waterfalls with grace and ease.
Molly - 50 years old, nurse for Hospice of Spokane. Lives in Spokane, WA. Jill's partner. Faced the desert heat with fortitude and a stylish blue hat that she doused with water every chance possible. Traveled fearlessly into a blackened grotto through a curtain of water from the sacred Ribbon Falls.
Jill (that's me!) - 47 years old, academic coordinator at Washington State University. Lives in Spokane, WA. Discovered oatmeal can actually taste good, especially so at 5:30 am around a picnic table in the warm desert with a babbling creek at the camp side. Woke every morning and unfolded from inside the tent with little to no soreness or pain.
Dillon - 30 years old, guide for The Wildland Trekking Company. Lives in Flagstaff, AZ. Carried with him a backpack twice the weight of ours and a vast knowledge of the canyon, its rocks, flora, fauna, and people. Made the entire trek in Teva sandals, delivered us homemade meals on a beach, in a stream, and on a plateau with sweeping views.
Monday, Aug. 29, 2016
"This is your first Rim to Rim," Dillon quipped as we emerged from The Wildland Trekking Company's passenger van and walked toward Navajo Bridge. My fuzzy-from-nerves-and-excitement brain didn't at first compute. Mid-span on the short footbridge I remembered his lesson from last night's pre-trek meeting. The official start of the Grand Canyon is at Lee's Ferry, about 5 miles north, and this bridge would carry us across the Colorado River from one edge of the canyon to the other. In about 10 minutes, counting stopping to gawk, we completed our first Rim to Rim!
Dillon proved himself an amazing planner from the first moments. He traced a bird's eye view of our route on a map last night, just before dumping a pile of snacks on the hotel conference room floor and inviting us to grab what we wanted, Halloween style. Breakfast of juice, bagels, fruit, and danish bites spilled out on a table on the far side of Navajo Bridge, and still we made it to the North Rim with plenty of time to stop at Grand Canyon Lodge for an actual view of what we were about to undertake.
"Commence!" our guide called at 11:45 am and so into the trees we descended. Yep, trees. Lots of them. Pines, very much like the forests in which Molly and I have been training these past 16 months. From friends who had visited the North Rim, I was expecting the trees, but still it seemed confusing and thrilling that here we were in Arizona, a desert state, hiking shaded trails. Shaded and thoroughly marked with mule droppings. Quickly became obvious we couldn't walk and drink in the views at the same time. Large rocks and timbers placed to help with the descent, did help, but also required incredibly careful footing. Not to mention I wasn't keen on tromping through the green poop, so spent much of the first two hours skirting the edges of the trail. Mules on the North Rim take passengers two miles into the canyon for a scenic outing, then haul the tourists back to their cars in the trailhead parking lot.Today we covered 7 miles and I never felt rushed. Some of the time passed between Molly, Emily, and I chatting about our jobs, health care issues in the UK and US, Brexit. The guys were several hundred yards ahead of us, sometimes out of sight because of the soaring red limestone walls that created sharp angles in the trail. We'd reunite at intervals that Dillon expertly timed for resting and snacking or rehydrating. He worked in stories and facts about what we gazed at from under our brimmed hats.
At the brim of this northern portion of the canyon is white/gray Kaibab Limestone, then thick layers of Supai Sandstone are a dramatic contrasting brick red. The passage through which the North Kaibab Trail passes, and on which we spent the day, is narrow. The sky overhead sometimes barely visible. The sandstone reminded me of books lined up on a tidy shelf, it is stacked so uniformly and vertically."I call it popsicle water," Dillon said with glee. In his hand was a bottle of frozen Gatorade, like the ones he gave each of us just before hitting the trail. We were taking another break and the half-thawed drink thrilled the tastebuds. Emily and Daniel delighted in the description and thus commenced 4 days of comparing and sharing Anglicisms and Americanisms. Emily's accent turned Midwestern and nasal-like whenever she uttered "popsicle water" from that day forth, which was at least twice a day!
The relentless downhill tested my mental strength today. For brief moments, I felt frustrated with the odd angles my feet were landing with every step and the wobbly feeling in my legs, but then the next moment, I was free of worry and utterly at peace. My shoulders were devoid of pain (I struggled mightily with shoulder fatigue during training) and nothing but me and my body were carrying me through this giant swath of space. For 4 days I will be propelling myself, traveling without motorized help. It's a simple concept that feels revolutionary in the 21st century.
Another revolutionary concept - immaculate outhouses! First at the spot where we stopped for lunch, then another resting point about a mile outside of our camp for the night, and finally at Cottonwood Campground. I had no idea I'd be using composting toilets all day long. No smell, and each stall as big as a half bath in most houses. Each of these spots also offered taps with drinkable water piped across the canyon from Roaring Springs, which spills out of the red limestone wall about halfway down the North Kaibab Trail. We will follow the pipeline, built by the National Park Service between 1965 and 1970, for essentially the rest of the trip, Dillon said. It provides water for visitors in the canyon, as well as all the lodges and restaurants on the North and South Rims.
We rolled into camp shortly after 6 pm and without preamble, began setting up our tents. A red checkered tablecloth appeared on the picnic table, and soon fajitas were sizzling over a camp stove. Each of us carried a stuff sack packed with food, but other than retrieve them from our packs and set them by the table, we didn't have to think at all about what was in them. Dillon prepped, cooked dinner, pulled out chocolate for dessert, and washed all the dishes.I am thrilled by what we accomplished today. I am awed by where we have been and where our bedrolls are perched for the night.
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