First Time in the Grand Canyon

This time of year is the anniversary of my first backpack trip into the Grand Canyon.  October 31-November 2, 1983 to be precise, about a year and a half after I moved to Arizona.  I made a tourist trip to the south rim in February 1983 and gawked over the rim a lot but didn't try to walk.  The visit sure whet my appetite for something more adventuresome.

Three friends from the Old Dominion Appalachian Trail Club in Richmond, Virginia--Bev Wilson, Greg and Catharine Moser--came out to Arizona that fall for the trip.  We had hiked together when I still lived in Virginia and came up with the idea when I visited Richmond in the spring.  By October Catharine was a few months pregnant so she and Greg explored northern Arizona while Bev and I headed down the South Kaibab Trail to Bright Angel Campground.

The walk in was a revelation.  I felt pretty insignificant standing on the rim looking into that vast expanse but that was nothing compared to how puny I seemed as I descended on a bright fall day.  Up top I was just a speck overlooking an immense gorge filled with buttes, ridges, plateaus and side canyons as far as my eye could see.  The farther down I went. all of those features seemed to close in around me.  I saw less and less as I made my way down through the Kaibab, Coconino and Hermit formations, each step taking me deeper into geologic time.  On the Tonto Plateau, I got my first close-up view of the Colorado River, still about 1,800 feet below.

By this time my knees were screaming.  I was hot and tired.  And now came the even steeper descent into the Inner Gorge.  One step at a time I made my way down.  Finally we reached the tunnel that took us across the Colorado to the trail that led to Bright Angel Creek and the campground.  Deep in the Grand Canyon now we saw only a sliver of sky framed between the walls of Bright Angel Canyon.  We made camp and quickly fell asleep, too exhausted to even go to Phantom Ranch for an expensive beer that evening.

The next morning I was sore but eager to walk without my full pack so we climbed east out of Bright Angel on the Clear Creek Trail and walked more or less level for a few miles to Zoroaster Point before turning around and heading back to camp.  The day was bright and sunny.  We made it back to camp in time to catch a beer at Phantom Ranch before dinner.  After dinner we returned to the dining hall to hang out and talk with others who had made the same trip.  It was Halloween and a surprising number of people were in costume, having made the effort to bring those accoutrements all the way down from the rim.

 Our last day started early as we made our way to the Bright Angel Trail and began the nine mile climb back to the South Rim.  We worked our way up the narrow confines of Pipe Creek to the switchbacks that led to Garden Creek and Indian Garden.  At this point we were about halfway out, vertically and horizontally; the world was beginning to open up for us again.  We could see much more sky now.  The final ascent took us through an even longer series of switchbacks and finally to the rim near Bright Angel Lodge.  Greg and Catharine were waiting for us.  They had already set up camp.  Bev and I set up, got showered and the four of us returned to the lodge for dinner and sitting by the roaring fire in the lobby.

That was the first of around 20 or so Grand Canyon hikes I made over the next 17 years.  All were memorable but there's something special about the first time that never seems to diminish.