I’m perched on a rock as my guide, Amanda Neiman, tends to my second blistered toe in as many days. These hiking shoes are well worn, and I’ve never had blisters wearing them before, but here at the Grand Canyon, I’ve come to expect the unexpected.
We’ve just finished an amazing deli-style lunch that Neiman and her co-guide, Jeff Zeldin, unflinchingly packed along the eight-kilometre Widforss Point Trail, a hike that traces a portion of the North Rim of the canyon. Well fed, everyone is struck silent, mesmerized by the natural lightshow of rusty reds, dusty pinks and purples, and golds and browns dancing on the surrounding cliffs, towers and gorges – leaving little wonder as to why this is one of the most photographed landscapes in the world.
Photo by Kate Robertson
Most of the other six in my hiking group with Arizona Outback Adventures (AOA) had already seen the Grand Canyon, but from the South Rim, where the majority of the park’s six million plus yearly visitors go. Due to its greater difficulty to get to, the North Rim receives one-tenth of the visitors.
The North Rim is strikingly different from the South. Its tributary canyons are more deeply cut because it lies on the uplifted Kaibab Plateau, higher in elevation than the South by over 300 metres. The effects of this are heavy snowfall in the winter and cooler temperatures.
The South Rim also has significant commercial development, whereas on the North, the only accommodation other than a campground is the rustic North Rim Lodge.
On the group ride from Scottsdale, we had already compared our reasons for signing up for this adventure. For one, it marks a 40th birthday celebration, for others it’s a forever-bucket-list item – we each want to be part of the one per cent of park-goers who descend into the Grand Canyon’s heart. For me, there’s more: to prove to myself that I’m not too old for this type of epic adventure.
The Canyon lets us know who’s boss as soon as we arrived at the campground to find an eight-centimetre blanket of fresh snow – despite the fact that it’s May 24. But that’s just the beginning. Due to a water pipeline break, the campground is on level 2 water rations, making warm showers inaccessible. By the end of Day Two, we watch the park’s service truck haul in bright blue port-a-potties – no more flush toilets in bathrooms with electricity and running water.
The night-time temperature drops below zero and to help combat the cold, each of us is sent off to our frosty sleeping bags with a Nalgene water bottle filled with boiling water (which, incredibly, stays warm until almost dawn). Obviously, the Grand Canyon has heard my wish for “epic” and decided to comply with intensity.
The sun shines brightly the first morning, and our snowy site is turned into a soupy mess. You’d think trying to sleep with snow crunching beneath our air mattresses and sub-zero temperatures would have dampened our spirits, but there’s a joyful camaraderie in the air.
A couple of my co-hikers have woken up with headaches and nausea, the first reminder that most of us aren’t used to hanging out at an altitude of 2,500 metres above sea level. I feel okay and think perhaps, because I live in the mountains, I might come out unscathed.
Photo by Kate Robertson
Today is our big descent into the Canyon on the North Kaibab Trail, and I’m raring to start. Each step down through the rocky columns and precarious cliff faces takes us thousands of years back in geological time. Like cutting into a multi-layered marble cake, the distinctive polychromatic slabs are laid bare: greyish Kaibab limestone, yellow-ish Toroweap, creamy Coconino, rusty-red layers of Hermit shale and Redwall formations – all the way down to the Vishnu schist, a layer close to two billion years old and nearly half the age of the planet.
The vegetation varies, as well, and hairpin switchbacks wind us through pinyon pine trees, then past sagebrush, bright-yellow brittlebush and cliff roses and cacti nestled into rocky nooks and crannies. As we descend, we leave the snow and mud, and it gets increasingly warmer. In the summer, the bottom can reach 45 degrees. I’m carrying three litres of water. I’ve got this, I think.
Despite our early-morning start, we’re by no means the only ones on the trail, and we pass all sorts and ages of people, puffing and panting their way up. There are even ultra runners doing rim-to-rim runs or, incredibly, rim-to-rim-to-rim runs in the same day.
Conveniently, I’ve forgotten I’m used to going up mountains when fresh at the beginning of the day, then having the less challenging downhill at the end.
“The Grand Canyon lulls you into thinking ‘piece of cake, I can go for miles,’” warns Neiman. “This is what gets people in trouble, as they underrate the uphill, which takes twice as long.” Over 250 Canyon hikers are rescued each year.
Our turnaround spot is eight kilometres down at Red Wall Bridge, where we have lunch before starting back uphill. Once again, the Canyon reminds me that she’s in charge – I’m quickly short of breath with the extra exertion – my lungs don’t like the thinner air. Falling to the back of the group, my earlier optimism that BC mountain hiking has prepared me for this adventure fades.
Zeldin, as tail guide, is patient as I regularly stop to catch my breath. It seems to take an eternity to reach earlier landmarks, and from Coconino Overlook, two-and-a-half kilometres from the top, when the trail becomes much steeper, I stop even more. The “what if I can’t do this?” voice in my head turns from whispers to ominous shouts. But, eventually one timeless second turns into another, and I make it to the top, where amidst group high-fives, my breath quickly returns to normal, as if the suffering was just an illusion. Victory is sweet.
The final morning is a five-a.m. wake-up to catch the sunrise from Bright Angel Point. Even though this is the most popular lookout on the North Rim, only a handful of people from outside our group are there. As it lifts over the eastern edge, the sun reflects with a pastel-sheen off the ancient formations, another reminder of why so many people come to see the Canyon’s ever-changing view.
I feel, though, like I haven’t just admired the Canyon’s beauty from afar. I’ve been able to get to know her in a way you can’t unless you experience a descent into her – the smells, up-close colours, textures, layers, cracks and flaws. In return, she’s seen me sweat, shiver, be painfully uncomfortable, joyful and alive.
IF YOU GO:
For Arizona travel info, go to: www.visitarizona.com
I chose the North Rim Hiking Tour with Arizona Outback Adventures (now REI Adventures), but when you go to their website, you will see several other options for descending into the Grand Canyon. One of my fellow hikers had been on multiple trips with AOA and she said that each trip was phenomenal.
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