One Grand Canyon trip down, a few days rest and back out for a five day, six night encore. I wasn’t going to be able to go as it was going too end too late in the month, so I tossed an idea out. “Move it up 5 days?” The trip leaders said yes. I was shocked and felt valued. Talking about ideas, this was going to be an exploration. A project of Mr. Rick Demerest. He signed on Rich Rudow. This proves that he is quite smart. Rich is the king of Grand Canyon. Expectations were set low. All the ‘low hanging fruit’ has supposedly been picked canyon–exploration–wise. But big gifts sometimes come in small packages. Such was the case this time.

Joining Rick, Rich and I was Jenny West, who benefited from the dates moving up too and did not hesitate to jump on the trip. Signing on for a shorter version were super studs Guy Smith and Grand Canyon ranger Todd Seliga. The road out to the start, if it can be called a road, was rugged. My first ride in the infamous Polaris.

The next morning we were on our way. So enjoyable was the day that we took our time and ended up camping in the slot in the Muav layer. The canyon stood out, at least so far, for several unique reasons. First off, it had a HUGE water holding capacity! Rich says none he has found has more. One frightening pothole was just avoided by angling off fall line around a corner. I mean this keeper was 10 feet deep and vertical on the lip. While the pots were mostly dry or holding shallow water, one could see the likelihood for two dozen swims after a storm. Second was that the canyon appeared to be along a fault line. The walls on each side were of different layers. We would dip into the Redwall, out the bottom, then into Temple Butte, then shift to the opposite wall, and be back in Redwall again. VERY odd seeing Muav and Temple Butte boulders in a Redwall slot. By the canyon’s end, we would experience Redwall, Temple Butte, and Muav, the three layers in seven different installments. Days later the canyon would earn the name Bargain Basement. Seven layers for the price of three.

We awoke in the canyon. We slept on these slanted ledges with steps and many of us fit in the grooves, swaddled in smooth limestone. We assumed the canyon will release us soon and we would be at the river promptly. We figured wrong. Three rappel anchors must be built. The usual solution was found more often than not with rock and knot chocks. Packs got passed on a tricky downclimb. A bypass was taken that, in retrospect, would have been more aesthetic as a rappel. A fun little inner gorge of a gorge spilled us down to the river.

Todd and Guy had a different schedule—they must exit up the long hill. Their super fitness made that happen with alacrity. The four remaining souls blew up their pool toys and cast off. We were met by a river rafting trip who offered beer to the pool toy folks. Some accepted gratefully.

The wind picked up and we came ashore and hung our wet gear on trees and bushes in the wind and sun. The boys had a convoluted return route, taking several nights. It’s all OK by me. We hiked a pleasant canyon for many hours, went up a sidecanyon, found water and camped. We spent the early evening climbing a 5th class chimney and then making our way into and down the sidecanyon, the siren song of adventure calling. The canyon was small and intimate. Another day in the Grand.

The following day plus involved working our way up toward the rim but not so focused on task to miss several minislot opportunities. After ascending and descending a lovely non–tech canyon, we found a camp for the night. Rich knew where water was. Over an hour later he came back, having climbed way up a slot to get the precious liquid. While he worked, I moved 20 feet at a time, following and soaking in the afternoon sun. Spring had very much arrived way down in the ditch and, after a long winter, I was grateful. One redbud tree had hundreds of honey bees working it. I mean it was LOUD! ‘Twas unnerving approaching it yet the bees were quite focused on the lavender flowers.

A pleasant eve, huddled about in conversation, was followed by sleep. For the third day in a row, Jenny brought a birthday celebration to Rick Demerest. One day it was party hats, then mocca mousse snacks and this day? A Mylar balloon. Did she really carry an inflated balloon all the way through our adventure? No, but she did FIND one in the canyon and it was for a birthday, no less. Some people just have the touch. And it wasn’t even Rick’s birthday yet. That would be four days after the trip was over. I was humbled by what he is able to do. Such rugged passage with such huge pack on the cusp of 70.

The next day we headed up another faulted canyon. Two separate Redwall sections? The rock was blue toned and we were delighted. Following a theme we named it Toofer, as in ‘two for one.’ We ate lunch after heading cross country toward another short canyon.

After a lunch ... oh the joy on Jenny’s face when Rich shared his salami ... we headed down a slot—one that had been scoured clean and very beautiful the year before. Rich lamented the loss of beauty from the deposits of gravel from a recent flood. The rest of us thought it was quite nice, not having the past view of it to make comparisons. This canyon got the name ‘Buried Treasure’ in honor of what it was and now is.

In mid–afternoon, three of us fun hogs decided another minislot was called for. It earned the name Window or Window Guy due to a window–like natural bridge and Guy Smith who was on the exploration a year or so before who owns a window cleaning company. Back at camp, we packed up and headed up the main canyon, out the side, and steeply up difficult terrain to the top of the Supai. Rich miraculously found water and Jenny found a way to access it from a deep hole just as night descended. It was Jenny’s and my 11th camp spot in the Grand Canyon in that month of March.

The next AM, the Polaris magically appeared over a hill and we started the long drive back to civilization. I would make it home after 16 hours of driving. Thanks to all our partners for being such good sports by moving up the dates of the trip so that Jenny and I could joing this wonderful exploration.

So when it landed that just two of us were going to be able to go down Cove Canyon in Grand Canyon, we hesitated and considered other options. I am proud to still be toughing it out on the adventure circuit and I think Jenny is too ... but this canyon required a 60 m rope and then the pull cord. It required full camping gear for the multi–day affair that it is. We had the option to forgo the pack rafting and all the gear it entails, but, but, but it is about the most fun part of the adventure. Edgy? Yes! Fun? A ton! So with apprehension and REALLY big packs, we commit to the project, with the only concession being an extra day on the permit. May all my concessions be so rewarded as having one more day in the big ditch.

Many of my friends and associates have done Cove Canyon. I am late to the party. Friends were in there just weeks ago and Jenny had done the canyon in November. Ranger Todd Seliga is a good friend and he is a very special person so it felt a privilege to have him share our camp the night before our adventure. So much fun was it that the engaging conversation continued well into the morning. As we watched the cool hours of the AM pass away, we knew there would be a price to pay as the sun rose higher and the temperature climbed. At 9:45 AM we finally pulled ourselves away from our most interesting pal.

It is an 8.5 mile hike to the canyon head, well less than half that as the crow flies. As we passed the sidecanyons of Cove via convoluted passage, the heat of the day took its toll. My pack may have been a dozen pounds heavier than Jenny’s, but she was carrying 40+% or so of her body weight. Waaay more than me. If I tried the same, I would crash and burn.

The hours evaporated, like the sweat did, during our frequent breaks. The sun had reached a lower angle by the time we found our way into the canyon. While we had shade now, the rougher and dropping terrain was working me over pretty well. You either push your pack around or your pack pushes you around. Clearly the later was happening. I teeter–todder and struggle mightily. At least I had a lighter pack for the rappels as the big rope was on the wall and not in my pack. Jenny had to hang her ‘beast’ of a pack every time the rap went free and use a chest harness rig for all the other raps.

There is often water to be had in Grand Canyon slots but it can be spaced far apart. So it was with trepidation that we continued downcanyon in lower light with nary a drop to drink. We found a pothole and called it a night, quite higher in the canyon than we hoped to be. Something would have to be done about the way the pack was winning the battle with me for the next day. Dinner and to bed, coated in dried salty sweat. The Grand Canyon asks a lot of you. It gives up its secrets grudgingly.

The next day we would only cover three miles or so, but the tide would turn. Time would be eaten up by big packs and big raps and a pair of boulder–filled sections, but the packs got more manageable—a lot for me and a bit for Jenny. We gained strength. That was part of it. I wore my wetsuit to the waist. While that was quite ‘swampy,’ it was better than carrying it. Carried less water and drank on the fly. A day’s less food too. It all added up. It only takes a few pounds to cross the threshold between being pushed around and pushing your pack around instead. We had a fine camp this night and we carried on an extended and interactive conversation with an owl and were visited by a ringtail cat at midnight.

The next day, the terrain grew easier and, in spite of Jenny having to build an anchor or so, we landed at the river in the early afternoon. I have done about 50 miles on the river in a pool toy. My memory embraces how much fun I have every time, but conveniently forgets how scared I am every time too readying to launch. Little boat, all my gear, a big turbulent river. What was I thinking? Our friends found the river ‘rowdy’ just a few weeks before. I was intimidated.

The first riffle seemed more like a rapid. We passed on the highest water. Jenny regretted passing on it. I didn’t. She is a way more experienced boater that I will ever be. I ran a rock garden route, kicking off rocks of lava and once being pinned on such a rock. Very exciting. Not very smart. After days of quiet, heat, sweat, struggle and toil, in a beautiful place ... we were wet, being propelled quickly, in the moment, in the noise, on the edge of rapid and eddy wall alternately. Brown water spun us, spit us, sent us down faster than we have moved all trip. Five miles pass in a bit under two hours of excitement.

We set up camp above Lava Falls and turned all the trees into drying racks. The sun was out, the breeze mild, the shade cool and all the world was just perfect. We visited the BIG rapid named Lava and feel the air displaced by this monster. The gear dried. The food tasted wonderful and the night temperature perfect. The next AM we got up early in the cool and finished the 1.5–mile, 3,000–foot ascent in three hours. Car shuttles and long dry dirt roads awaited. I thanked my partner Jenny for her skill, toughness and patience. It has been a fine way to spend my last four days in my 50s.

The day had arrived. I was to join a Grand Canyon rafting–canyoneering hybrid trip. I had been on the first of these five years earlier. After a day of scrambling in the Arches area I met Hank at the outfitters in Flagstaff. We were to hike down to Phantom Ranch the next day from the South Rim. The trip had started at Lees Ferry nine days before. Hank and I were on board for 16 days in the middle

We drove from Flag to the South Rim in Dan and Lindsey’s van and camped on National Forest land. We were set up well in the lap of luxury by our friends. Good thing too as the temperature was 21 degrees that morning. We met Chris P. and Bill who were also joining the trip. I invited Sara and Chris G. to join us for the day. Somehow we missed connections with Sara, but Chris joined us for the canyon and hiked out the same day. His skill was helpful as many on the river trip, while first rate backpackers and hikers were not always experienced with technical canyons, let alone C–rated (flowing water) canyons. He made several new friends on the day and I suspect he will find his way onto exploration trips in the canyon in the future with this prime Grand Canyon exploration group.

Those leaving the trip, along with most of the folks staying on the trip, hiked up from the river to the top of the canyon, where our small group met them coming down from the rim before 10 AM. We had about 12 folks and split into two groups for the canyon. Hank, just on the trip for three hours, was immediately promoted to leader of one of the groups.

It turned out that water was quite high and ‘pushed’ us around a bit. It took most of the day to make the descent. When it was over Chris G. headed up. A few folks along went off on their own cross country trip inside the canyon and us folks, new to the trip, tried to integrate into the new routines ... which was to hike down to the river, join a boat, and ride through Horn Rapid, one of the canyon’s larger rapids. Then to camp for our first night and help as we could with meal preparations.

So many routines to grasp. So many new names to place with faces. For the next 15 days, I would have no contact with the outside world, privileged to join one of the premiere adventures in the world with its most adventurous practitioners.

Jenny and I headed north, leaving Wes and Todd behind. We had a plan to see them four days later, along with some other folks, for a descent of Waterholes. First we had a permit for three days in Tatahatso and down the river. When we got to the turn out off the pavement, it became apparent that heavy rains had fallen locally. We would find out that three days of rain had changed many a road into muck. Still we persisted, even finding a way around the notorious stock pond. But when our tires sunk half way to the hubs on the final descent, we, with disappointment, pulled the plug on this plan. We hemmed and hawed but it was suppose to rain for two of the next three days. That final news tipped it and we went out to Marble Canyon to see what we could salvage.

We decided on Soap Creek. We had camped at the top but never done the canyon ... or really it is two canyons. We would descend the north fork, go to the river, and ascend all the way up the south fork. A lovely day, we ambled down the flowing north fork. It got technical. We armored up and found what we think is the rap station of the recent accident. It is a long way down and I am both surprised and pleased that no serious injury resulted. We rapped from a different station, a little upcanyon, down two drops. A lovely and colorful slot was experienced. Another rap and we were out among the boulder hopping. Not special, but not unpleasant either.

Another rap, with spray cooling us down, and then we found ourselves at the confluence. A sunny and pleasant spot. What to do? We put on the overdrive and made for the river. Down felt like it took forever. We sat mesmerized by the Soap Rapid of the Colorado River. Tick, tick, tick, alas we must go. A condor held Jenny’s attention as we strolled upcanyon, neck bent, watching the bird glide and glide and glide. The confluence came quickly. It still glowed in the afternoon sun. The ascent up the south fork was not trivial. One must route–find through huge boulders. Which way is best? Not always clear. We slid into camp right as last light extinguished. A fine day.

Over the coming day, rain came and Waterholes was cancelled. We descended the lovely non‐tech Cathedral Canyon and hiked up into ferocious wind, wet and cold, up on the bench via the Spencer Trail, staying active yet staying safe. I had one more thing I wanted to do before heading home. I lobbied Jenny as we headed west and a bit north.


Ram

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