New Hance Trail (Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona)

There are trails and then there are things that are not trails. New Hance is much closer to the later. While my backpacking friends and I had read a great deal about the challenges this particular descent into the Grand Canyon held for us, I don’t think it has fully sit-in until the park rangers had to pull out some old maps and call upon a trail specialist to show us the trail head. Still we whispered amongst ourselves “How bad could seven miles be?” The next morning, we would learn!

We awoke early to a brisk twenty degrees and immediately began breaking camp and getting our packs ready to go. The twenty-five pounds of my pack seems light now. What a difference a few hours a can make. We load Jason’s truck and drive a few short miles to the trailhead, which of course, does not provide any parking. We stop at Moran Point a mile further down the road. We put on our packs and make our way back to the starting point.

After a short distance through the woods, we see the sign marking the start of this unmaintained and treacherous path into the canyon. Down we go!

Almost immediately we found ourselves scrambling over boulders and questioning our path-finding skills, as we lose elevation extremely rapidly. Lowering myself down a 4-5 foot drop, made all the more difficult by my pack, I note a huge, thin limestone rock ready to slice anyone unlucky enough to lose their balance in half. I dub it the “Guillotine Blade”, for it appears to be such an instrument. A short distance further and we push our way across an amazing ledge with a 50-75 ft fall awaiting any clumsy travelers. Barely started and already this trail is earning its reputation.

For the next mile or two we lose and then partially regain elevation. My knees and feet are starting to feel it. At about this time, I see the first of many century plants we will encounter. This bizarre and dangerous-looking plant has a head of a few dozen 15” razor-sharp and dagger-like leaves projecting from it. The entire plant is about the size of a large Thanksgiving Turkey. Even stranger, many of the plants have a large, flowering stalk growing from their center to a height of 12-15 feet, almost like a giant phallus. It seems these plants live 15-25 years and grow this stalk shortly before dying – amazing plants.

We continue on, but looking back over where we came from can find no possible way to understand how we descended down such a steep and rugged cliff side; Amazing that John Hance ever found this trail.

Four hours in and all of us are in pain. Water breaks become more frequent, though they are less for water and more for muscle relaxation. Soon we reach the creek bed. Heaved from a seemingly solid sheet of red stone, the creek is not much more than a dribble at present.

Another mile or so and we hear the rush of the mighty Colorado River, forger of this majestic canyon. Upon reaching the chilling and fast-flowing river, we collapse on its banks and praise stillness. After six and a half hours, we have reached our destination.

After a short rest and water-splashing, we start to set up camp on a nearby sandy beach over-looking the Colorado. We fix some dinner over the portable camp stoves, tell tales of great adventures, and lost loves, and finally retire to our tents for some well-earned sleep. And this is somewhat beyond sleep. Maybe it’s the exhaustion. Maybe it’s the constant ambient sounds of the rapids. Or maybe it’s the crispness of the warm air in this place, practically untouched by man. Whatever it is, this night of sleep is one of the best of my life. 

The next morning, we again rise early and break camp. If we thought the journey down was hard, we hadn't seen anything yet. Retracing our steps of the previous day, we toil for almost eleven hours to finally reach the South Rim once more. Sore, dehydrated, and exhausted we feel a great sense of accomplishment. We have just backpacked into and out of the one of the grandest of the world’s natural wonders on the most difficult trail of the South Rim, and we did it in two days instead of the recommended three. I hurt, but I’ll heal. I’m tired, but I can rest. I’ve conquered the worst the Grand Canyon had to offer, and that I won’t soon forget!

Grand Canyon Rim Trail (Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona)

My friends, Jason, Nick, and Brent and I, drove through the night from Reno to arrive at Grand Canyon National Park shortly before 8:00 am. After pitching our tents and taking a short nap in the open air, we awoke to find three elk near our campsite. Obviously used to being around people, the elk pretty much ignored us as we snapped a few photos. A quick bite to eat and we were off to see the grandest canyon in all the world.

With our big hike tomorrow, we decided to stroll along the leisurely Grand Canyon Rim Trail and take in all the sightseeing we could handle. Upon first glance, I realized no words could accurately describe what my eyes now gazed out upon. Falling from the rim in majestic shades of red, green, yellow, and even purple opened up what can only be described as the negative-space of the Olympian Mountain Range. Not negative in any way describing the unbelievable beauty, but only in that it is a great canyon opening from the Earth instead of rising above it as a mountain range. The chasm is vast beyond all sense of scale and one can imagine spending a lifetime exploring it, yet only seeing a small fraction of this natural wonder.

We followed the trail, drinking in all of this amazement, to a ranger station. Seeing that a guided tour was about to begin, we decided to wait. Emily, the park ranger, was friendly and extremely knowledgeable of the park’s unique geology. However, no sooner had we begun, than the small procession was buzzed by three gigantic California Condors. If course, everyone being in awe of these endangered birds, the ranger had to talk about their appearance. She explained that 75 of the birds had been released into the park in an effort to begin repopulating the species in the wild. As she continued, the birds, with their 9-foot wingspan, flew nearby as if listening in. Truly amazing. . .

Returning to our campsite, we got a fire going and roasted some brats over it. Not much beats a brat and a beer when you’re camping. Jason pulled out a bottle of whisky he had purchased on the drive down and after a few shots we knew we would remain warm, even with the forecasted twenty degree chill.