R2R2R is a world–class route, staring on the South Rim of the Grand Canyon, running 5,000′ down to the Colorado River, across a bridge, then 6,000′ up to the North Rim. Then back again—‘Rim to Rim to Rim.’ I first ran it sometime in the 80s, and it was quite the thing back then, but in the last few years this route has become extremely popular, particularly the R2R version, which has created conflict, controversy, and even caused the Park Service to institute Day–Use Permits for Groups of over seven people.

We wanted nothing of that churn–fest, but did want to explore the millions of great things to do in the 1,900 square miles of the Grand Canyon besides getting in line, so we decided to run Rim to Rim to Rim—by a different route. It was a great plan. Super fun. No one had ever done it. That’s because there is no bridge—you have to swim across the River.

It’s not called the ‘PB Adventure Vest’ for nothing!


Peter Bakwin, Charles Corfield and I flew to Flagstaff on Friday afternoon, rented a SUV, then drove out a 33 mi 4WD road to the South Bass Trail Head, never even entering the Park. There were five other cars there, and except for the Havasupai Indian who we paid $25 to to drive across their land, we did not see a single person—a little different than the 5 million people (!) who visit the South Rim every year. The Big Ditch was right below us, and as always, took our breath away. You could come here once a month for the rest of your life, and the same thing would happen each time.

We started down the South Bass trail a little before dawn. Unlike the Kaibab trails in the Main Corridor, these trails are small, scrappy, and thus slow. You have to watch each step, and for the location of the trail itself. But what’s interesting is, other than the very different aspect of technical difficulty, the South and North Bass Trail profile is remarkably similar to the South and North Kaibab Trail Profile. This is a really cool route.

Finally we see the River, which is running silty; must have been a rain somewhere upstream. It takes us another 0:45 to get down to it, including 0:15 backtracking on top of the Vishnu cliffs looking for passage down. Now the business begins—we had pondered this for months—are we going to freeze our butts off swimming across this River?

Here’s the deal: the River is less than 100 m wide, so that’s OK. There’s plenty of big rapids you don’t want to get caught in, but they can be avoided. The real issue is the Colorado River is ‘dam–release’—it’s coming out from the bottom of Lake Powell—which is 46 degrees year–round, warming to about 52 by the time it gets to Bass. That’s cold, not at all fun, and can be dangerous.

We had contemplated numerous strategies for this situation. A packraft would be the safest and easiest, but we didn’t want to run down to the bottom of the Grand Canyon carrying one on our backs. Air mattresses and inner tubes have potential. If going by myself, I would have relied on my inestimable charm and good looks to hitch a ride across with a rafter. But I was with two scientists, which meant that wasn’t going to work, so we all decided to purchase shorty wetsuits (which fit perfectly in the Fastpack I was using) and just swim it. We’d drop some gear on the shore for the return, then put the rest in a dry bag which was tied to our waist and would float on it’s own. Peter added swim fins for speed, I used webbed gloves for the dork factor, and Charles used both.

We geared up, took some deep breaths, and waded in. It wasn’t bad; this was going to work fine. It’s possible the rains had warmed the water. It took us about 3 minutes to get across, swimming medium hard, and hit the beach we were aiming for about equal distance downstream from the width due to current. We did it! Oh, right. we’re also supposed to be running back and forth across the Canyon. Better get on that.

We picked our way up Shinumo Creek, then up White Creek; both had flowing water, which was terrific and rare in the Grand Canyon; often water is the limiting factor in big Grand Canyon routes. However, I also noticed Charles had been moving slowly all day, and became concerned; we were moving quite slowly, and had a long way to go. Charles wins his age group at ultra races by hours instead of minutes, and has climbed Everest, but the steep and loose footing was not his cup of tea on this particular day. As we started the passage through the Redwall, always steep and dramatic on any Grand Canyon route, I called for a quick reality–check. We weren’t going to make the North Rim then go back again without a major epic, like swimming across the river at night. I’m too old to epic. So I suggested Charles and I flip it right then, while the prospects still provided for an enjoyable day, and turn Peter loose to go for the rim.

So we did that. While Peter engaged in pointless feats of skill and endurance founded on decades of backcountry experience, Charles and I ambled back down with far more weighty issues on our mind, endeavoring to solve the world’s political, social, and cultural maladies. I’ll let you know how that turned out later, but Peter not only tagged the rim with aplomb and descended without mishap but caught up to us at the river. Right as it got completely dark we all came back together for the final slog back up to the South Rim, way, way up there somewhere.

It was a beautiful, warm, and utterly peaceful starlit night. Not a sound of any kind, and hardly a sight, except for the outline of the big cliffs illuminated by the stars. The switch on Charles’ flashlight broke, Peter’s didn’t last the night, so we didn’t worry about it and just casually hiked on up, enjoying the night, the companionship, and the Canyon. Got to the top at 10:22 PM, just as I was thinking a nap beside the trail was sounding good.


Buzz Burrell

On April 10, Peter Bakwin and I ran from the North Rim of the Grand Canyon to the South Rim. ‘R2R’ of course is now quite normal; a bucket–list route for many. But this took us 11.5 hours. Why so long? Because we started on the North Rim of the Little Colorado River, descended the fabled Hopi Salt Trail, ran and thrashed down the Little Colorado River for 10 miles to the Confluence with the Colorado River, traversed along the Beamer Trail for another 9.5 miles, then cranked up to the South Rim on the old Tanner Trail. It’s an interesting route; a worthy addition to our ‘R2R2R.alt’ of a few years ago.

I became interested in the Salt Trail about 25 years ago, after hearing about it while spending a few days in Hotevilla on Third Mesa. I wasn’t sure it existed, but this is what the Grand Canyon Association book, Quest for the Piller of Gold, said:

“According to legend, in the depths of the Little Colorado River abide the spirits of the Hopi. In the dim past, these legends tell, the spirits emerged from the Canyon, and the dead returned to reside in Hadean gloom. This exit from the world beneath is known to the Hopi as the Sipapu [sipapulima]. The abode of the dead, should be regarded with wonder and reverence, and that it is natural, therefore, the things found in the canyons are possessed with great mystical powers.

“Near the confluence of the Little Colorado River in the Tapeats Sandstone salt leaches out of the sandstone as water percolates through the coarse–grained sands and then evaporates. An ancient trail from the Hopi mesas to the salt deposits travels westward across the Painted Desert to the Little Colorado River Gorge, then plunges down to the river through what today is called Salt Trail Canyon, and proceeds downstream. The salt deposits can also be reached by following the Tanner and Beamer Trails. Since prehistoric times, people have made this precarious journey, close to the mystical underworld, returning with their heavy burdens. A man who returned with the salt was considered very brave (Titiev, 1937).”

Nowadays this has become an increasingly known route, with it’s mystical status morphing into new status as a rugged and remote alternative to the over–indulged R2R route on the uber–popular Kaibab Trails. Either status was good enough for us.

So late in the evening we drove out from AZ 89 on unimproved dirt roads into seemingly the middle of nowhere. It was very bleak. But we encountered Navaho herders driving nice pickups, looking content and at home, and the occasional herders outfit, all looking pretty good. I realized this terrain wasn’t at all bleak to them! And I also considered the irony of the large lease payments made by the coal and uranium company’s to the Navajo Nation, which maintains a trust fund of possibly 2 billion dollars, possibly enabling the people to continue an approximation of their traditional lifestyle.

None of these really mattered to us however, as we arrived at dusk at the edge of the darkening Canyon, under a full moon so bright one was tempted to just walk off into the distance, until you at last came to the place you were supposed to be.

The Hopi Salt Trail was scrappy. The party whose trip account we were following said it took them 8 hours to descent 2.5 miles! Those numbers were ludicrous, reminding me once again that schlepping heavy loads so one is ‘prepared’ and ‘safe’ are probably the most dangerous and risky way one can travel in the backcountry, and also reminding me how glad I was to be with Peter and not that group.

The Hopi Salt Trail was actually 5.25 miles long, not 2.5, and we reached the Little Colorado River in an hour and 45 minutes.

Our real concern was getting across it. The account we read said, “Check out the bridge at Cameron; if water is flowing under it, don’t attempt the Little Colorado River.” Hiking down, we could hear the rapids from a mile away, and the online Stream Gauge we checked the day before said it was running at 300 cfs. But crossing it wasn’t bad so I would say, under 300 cfs—hiking/running will be easier on the mud flats; over 300 cfs and it will become increasingly slower as you’re forced up into talus and brush; over 600 cfs and it won’t be worth it.

On a September river trip 20 years ago I had run upstream from the Confluence, and the Little Colorado River was a startling aquamarine color; now in the spring it was liquid mud. We brought 2L of water, more than enough to get to the clearer Colorado River, so we didn’t need any, but purifying this would have required filtering, which takes time that runners don’t want to invest. So while water is actually not a problem, aesthetically, fall trips in the Little Colorado River are probably better.

We encountered surprising Department of Wildlife work stations cached under overhangs, avoided more cactus (not entirely successfully), ran the flat sections, pushed through some brush, tried to find the easiest way, and eventually came to the Confluence. A classic spot. These are big walls! The Confluence marks the end of ‘Marble Canyon’ and the start of the Grand Canyon proper. This is where Ben Beamer prospected for minerals (in Sandstone?), remodeled an Anasazi cliff dwelling into his own ‘cabin,’ and tried to farm vegetables. I wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or horrified that early would–be settlers were clearly far crazier than ultra runners.

The trail he built and still bears his name goes in and out of every little draw and wash, while mostly above the attractive green colored Colorado River. We saw rafts below and other hikers on the trail. We purified water from the River and made a point of drinking it.

Arriving at Tanner Beach there’s a river–runner camp. Continuing west above the River and along the Escalante Route would be the start of the classic and very worthy Tonto Rim, which continues about 80 miles. We instead hung a left, turned uphill, and then it’s like every other River–Rim trail in the Big Ditch: put your head down, don’t think, just hike. Wish you would have brought trekking poles, and hope you don’t run out of water. The Rim is just up ahead ... sort of ... well, not really.

The Grand Canyon is indeed Grand. If you know it well, you know there’s something around the corner you don’t know. A few route notes:

  • We heard one is supposed to obtain a Permit from the Navajo Nation, which we would have but had no idea how, so didn’t.

  • Driving out the Navajo Roads to the Trail Head requires following a GPS file (easier and more reliable than directions or a map).

  • There are innumerable options on those roads; the one we followed was 20.5 miles from AZ 89 to the Trail Head.

  • Although the dirt roads are very remote, they are not hard, and 2WD sedans could do it if they followed the easiest route.

  • Camping at the (unmarked) trailhead is lovely.

  • The Hopi Salt Trail itself is steep and slow, particularly as one tries not to brush against cactus. 5.25 mi, 1:45.

  • The juncture of Salt Trail Canyon and the Little Colorado River looked like a good water source, as the side canyon starts flowing in the last 50 m.

  • The one–time Crossing to the South side of the Little Colorado River is 2.6 mi down, on a travertine pouroff. 2:40 total (slow bushwhack section).

  • Less than a mile after that is a Department of Wildlife work station, that is visited about 4X/year—they are studying the Humpback Chub I think—most notable is they cleared a trail through the Willows, making the going much easier!

  • A few hundred meters after that is a clear spring under a rock—it was warm and mineralized, but drinkable.

  • The Sipapu itself is about 3.5 mi below the Salt Trail Canyon on the north side. I have a photo but am not showing it.

  • About a half mile up from the Confluence is another DOW measuring station perched on a cliff, with a remote transmitting sensor powered by photovoltaic panels—interesting technology.

  • We didn’t see the old Beamer Cabin at the Confluence—probably have to be down at the River looking back south. 14.8 mi, 7:29.

  • From the Confluence the Beamer Trail starts west—this is an official NPS Trail, and you’re now in the National Park—many more people on this trail than the unofficial and seldom–traveled Little Colorado River path.

  • The Colorado is all dam–release from the bottom of Glen Canyon Dam, which means it’s quite clear and cold, and easy to purify.

  • The Beamer is a nice trail above the River, fairly rugged the first 6 miles then easing off after that, with no big or even medium climbs but plenty of slow little ones. Tanner Junction at 24.4 mi, 7:29 (stopped and walked around).

  • The Tanner is the typical River–Rim trail, with zero water and more fluctuation from steep to flat sections than the usual, and the NPS has done very nice trail work on the upper two miles.

  •  There’s parking at the top at Lipan Point. 32.8 mi, 11:36 total.


Buzz Burrell

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