Walking along the rim

Monday morning, March 18

Last night the internet connection faltered, and I'm hoping for better luck now.

Sunday morning, 7 am

The shaft of light dancing on the floor suggests that the sun is up. A quick peek between the curtains shows that it must also be cold: ice crystals glitter on the cars parked out front. How nice to be in a warm room instead of a tent this morning!
                               
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11pm


This is how I had started out my blog entry this morning, intending to talk about yesterday's visits to the Lowell Observatory, an amazing and interesting place on a hill overlooking the city of Flagstaff. I only got a good start, however, because we wanted to be on our way. Today, the Grand Canyon beckoned!

Our uncertainty about accomodation close by was one of the reasons why we had spent an extra day in Flagstaff: it is spring break time in the US for much of March, and it seemed wise to at least let the weekend go by to give the crowds a chance to thin out a little.

We had to let go the original idea of hiking all the way down into the canyon and stay at the "Phantom Ranch" lodge for a couple of nights before hiking up again when we found out that the lodge must be booked fourteen months in advance. By then, it was much too late for this year, of course. 

The next plan, to stay at campgrounds along the way, would have been difficult to implement for similar reasons: campgrounds are booked four months in advance. There is always a small contingent of on-site registration, however, given out every day on a first-come, first-serve basis. Since my back still wouldn't permit me to carry a full backpack this idea was no longer feasible either. 

When I checked online we were a bit shocked to find that other accomodation right at the canyon was pretty much booked out as well , except for a few very high priced options. If it was this full, we dedided, we might not even want to be there. Even hotels/motels in Tusayan, a small village seven miles south of the entrance to Grand Canyon National Park, seemed booked out. 

Finally we decided to just take our chances and go. If we didn't find a place to stay we could always pitch the tent: campgrounds - except the ones in the canyon - were not yet full at this time of year. There was also still the hope that not all motels were listed online.

Thus we packed up and left Flagstaff a little after nine this morning. To our right, the snow-covered peak of Arizona's highest mountain, Humphreys Peak, was outlined against the deep blue sky, but little snow was left in the ditches along the highway. 

After we turned north at the town of Williams we had about 80km left to go until we reached the gate to Grand Canyon National Park. The landscape had changed from the pine forest that accompanied us for most of the way west through the Kaibab National Forest. Now, it reminded me of the endless dry plains we had seen in Argentina, all tan grass and small, hard, dark grey shrubs - impossible to imagine that so soon the landscape would change so dramatically, the earth would open right in front of our eyes.

We entered the small village of Tusayan, a place consisting, seemingly, of nothing else but hotels, motels, places to eat, trading posts, a gas station, and the National Geographic Imax Center where, as I had just read, a half-hour movie takes canyon exploration to a new level. This was the time to look for a place to sleep. Online, it had seemed as if everything was booked out, but the Lonely Planet mentioned a motel that didn't take reservations. Instead, it served customers on a first-come, first-serve basis. 'Vacancy', said the sign - our lucky day! 

We checked in - a nice and not even that expensive room - and continued on to the park entrance. When we reached the visitor information centre parking lot we were reminded of Lake Louise in the summertime. This was what I had been afraid of: crowds so thick that they would obscure the beauty of the canyon. We didn't linger, but took the road through the 'village' to the backcountry information centre, in search of hiking information. Here, traffic was noticeably less already, and we got some good advice from the ranger.

We had different options for day hikes: we could take one of three trails to hike down into the canyon for a while, and come up the same way, or we could walk along the rim towards the last trail head, 'Hermit's Rest', a walk way parallel to the road, with almost constant view of the canyon. 

We decided on the last option for today. This would be a good walk, not too hard on my back since there weren't too many ups and downs. Shuttles drive along this road as well, stopping at different view points to let people out and pick them up again. This is an excellent system, allowing visitors to hike for a while if they want to, or just stop long enough to gaze over the edge for a moment. 

For the first kilometer or two the trail was still fairly well used, but soon crowds thinned out.The paved pathway turned into a dirt trail, which was much, much nicer, and all the while we had the canyon to our right, in all its magnificence, views changing around every corner. 

For kilometers on end we didn't meet anybody else, except at the lookout points. The wind whipped the hair in my face, fragrant with the scent of pines, chickadees crossed our path, easily recognizable by their call and their characteristic flight pattern. They are not black-capped chickadees like at home, but mountain chickadees, I found out. Ravens called from the tops of trees, but more often yet we watched them, far below, rising quickly on an air current, seemingly without moving a wing. I had never imagined what that might be like: to watch a bird in flight from above instead of from below. What a thrill this is, and what a joy!    

The sun is slowly slipping lower, and the shadows in the canyon change constantly. Colours intensify, the dark gets darker. Deep below the ribbon of the Colorado River is visible more constantly now; at first we looked for it in vain. Now, we can distinguish the smooth brown and rippled beige of the rapids, even from this far away. 

Towards its end, the path turns from a smooth, narrow dirt trail into a paved road again, making it possible for bicycles and wheelchairs to use it as well. For us, it loses its appeal. After 2.7 km, feet and back aching a bit, we decide not to finish the last 1.8 km to Hermit's Rest but take the shuttle back from Pima Point, the next-to-last outlook along the way. We have walked 10.5 kilometers along the rim, and we have had our fill. We don't need to 'finish' - hardly anybody else even walks for any part of this trail, after all. 

Warning sign along the path at the outlooks

It has cooled off considerably, now that the sun is close to setting, and the wind feels no longer pleasant. I am cold, and we are both ready to go back to our motel. We stop one more time for a look at the canyon after stepping off the shuttle. The setting sun is playing on the peaks rising from the depths of the canyon, painting them red. 

Time to go home.