Rim2Rim in the Grandest of Canyons

Post 43

Traversing the Grand Canyon’s Rim to Rim hike has always been a dream of mine. Well maybe not a complete dream, just a portion of a larger desire. Becky and I tend to have grander and more ambitious aspirations. Goals that require increased time, effort and occasional blood or tears. The extended addition of this dream would entail completing the Rim to Rim hike as part of the larger 800 mile Arizona Trail which travels from the Mexican border on the Southern end of the state, to the Utah border on the Northern end. We like to dream big, unfathomably big sometimes. These kind of seemingly impossible dreams are what make for truly unforgettable adventures. The greater the risk, the greater the reward! So maybe simply hiking from one edge of this massive crack in the Earth to the other is more like a smaller day dream, a tiny portion of the larger dream. But either way completing this epic hike was definitely on our bucket list. 

I’ve always hated the term bucket list. I’ve also always had distain for those who say you shouldn’t use the word hate because it is too harsh of a word that shouldn’t be thrown around lightly. For me it’s not a bad word, people just tend to be overly sensitive. In the end I guess it’s all relative. My definition of the word hate is a little relaxed compared to those that would never use the word except in referring to their worst enemy.

Sorry, I’m getting a little side tracked… Bucket list. I’m all for having a list of goals that you want to accomplish. Herculean endeavors that hold some form of significance over ones self. Scratch that, these goals don’t have to be of a monumental scale, just life goals. Its good to have goals and even better to write them down to hold yourself accountable to actually one day accomplishing them. However, I feel that the term Bucket List has become synonymous with the action of simply completing a task. Like it is a chore that needs to be checked off instead of an accomplishment that should be celebrated for the intrinsic reward acquired while getting to the elusive end point. Its exactly like the saying how “It’s not about the destination, its about the journey”.

Our journey hiking from Rim to Rim started days earlier before we dropped over the edge of the canyon. Having a large block of days off until needing to be in New Mexico for our next show, I started scouring the online permit data bases. Relentlessly I hassled ranger stations throughout the Southwest in an attempt to secure one of the coveted permits. Here we were less than six days prior to when we aimed to set off on our hike, while others had reserved their permits and accommodations up to six months in advance. It was a long shot but persistence and a little luck payed off. Someone else’s cancelation became our golden ticket. 

The day we were to begin our hike required many chores before we were able to set foot on the dusty trail. Starting in Phoenix we rose early to drive the two hours to Flagstaff. Here we rented a mini storage unit and stacked all our totes of gear normally stored in the Subaru and trailer. They’d be safer there for three days as opposed to sitting in the car at the trailhead tempting any delinquents from stealing them. Another three hour drive to the National Park before our adventure began in the late afternoon hours. 

Nine and a half miles later and 4,500 feet of knee jarring elevation loss we stumbled into Phantom Ranch as the acrobatic bats began to flutter overhead. The sun had only set a half hour earlier, but deep in the canyon its light had abandoned us over an hour earlier. Starting the hike late in the day had actually been a blessing. The orientation of the side canyon we had descended and its shear vertical walls shielded us from the harsh sun and bathed us in shade.

​We slept apart that night in segregated dorms separated by males and females. My dreams contained vivid images of the creatures that inhabit the Canyons mighty walls. Creatures we’d seen that night foraging around us in the dim light of our headlamps as we devoured our Good To-Go gourmet dehydrated meals. The baseball size tarantella with it’s stubby appendages creeped into 

my mental dreamland in all it’s hairy glory. Also the translucent baby scorpions and cute ringtail that tried stealing our dinner out of my backpack made guest appearances. The night was fleeting and restless at best.

In an attempt to beat the heat of the day the first hour and a half of the morning was spent in pitch black and then gradual reflecting hints of light from the sun rising 6,000 feet above on the canyons rim. The varying hues of the ancient rock walls entrapped us or maybe more accurately inundated us in its deluge of evolving colors. There was a overwhelmingly powerful pull to drop my bag in the sand and stop the madness of rushing through such an impressive place. My inclination was to soak in as much of this otherworldly beauty as possible while I was here. After all it’s about the journey, not the destination high above on the pine covered rim. However, more prevalent than my desire to take in my surroundings was the knowledge that if we didn’t continue to make our miles before the merciless heat of the day set in, we would pay for it dearly. So we marched on. I’d pause to take photos now and then, but in a place as grand as the Grand Canyon more often than not a single picture is incapable of capturing the impressiveness and scale. Especially while viewed from within the canyon.

Nearing the top of the canyon multiple temporary pauses halted our progress as we stood off to the side of the chalky well trotted path to make way for the string of mule trains. Daily these tireless workhorses of the park haul apprehensive tourists sporting their best western garb and descend into the gorge. Eventually we crested the brim of the great chasm and high-fived in celebration of our achievement. No one had told us it was still a mile and a half walk along the rim to the lodge!