Heading to the Grand Canyon

I wake this morning to a raven cawing loudly outside my window. Last night I was set on wanting to hike today. My plan was to head into the mountains north of Flagstaff, the dry lake hills, mount Elden, and the San Francisco peak. I also was contemplating a trip to the Museum of Northern Arizona with Kristin. Hiking won though, so I start packing my things for a trip to the hills. Soon my friend TJ gives me a call from Tuba City, Arizona. He is driving out from Minnesota, playing tourist with his girlfriend Kim, on a nine day trip out west.

TJ and Kim are spending two nights at Phantom Ranch, at the bottom of the Grand Canyon and they want me to head up from good old Flagstaff and meet them up there. Of course I switch my plans. We decide to just get in touch when we both get up there, there's no need to hurry. They plan on a few stops along the way including the Little Colorado overlook. I understand that they will also need to stop at several other viewpoints in the park, and instead of rushing out to hike, my pace relaxes. I just need to make the back country office for a permit before it closes at five.

Kristin's roommate Chelsea is nice enough to give me a ride to a good spot to hitch hike, and I promise to make up the favor. When I get dropped off at the road to the canyon, the enthusiastic clerk at the convenience store, where I get chapstick, assures me that I will get a ride. His positive attitude lifts my hopes, and I now it will be easy.

True enough as soon as I walk to the road and take out my sign that says "Grand Canyon," a lady with a Grand Canyon employee sticker pulls over and tells me to hop in for the 78 mile ride. The first thing she says is that I am the first white person she has ever picked up. I am really happy for that. I have stood waiting for hours to get a ride to the Grand Canyon. She always only picks up natives I guess. No problem.

I never catch her name, but I get a load of good gossip on people that I know from when I used to work there. I never play into her constant inquires into why one manager got fired, then re-hired at a much lessor job. Funny thing is, I only found out myself from TJ today. I haven't even worked for Xanterra for eight years. I told her just to ask the guy, they see each other every day in the employee dining hall.

The ride up was nice and direct, I even get to hear her gossip about a lady who lived up there for years who after living seventy five years, was murdered by Grand Canyon legend hikers Maverick before he called the rangers, then blew apart his own head across their trailer in Trailer Village on the south rim a few years ago.

Lon Ayers another veteran Grand Canyon hikers, who has been writing me permits at the Backcountry Office, approves my two night stay at Bright Angel campground, while discussing a pioneer in the thought process of Grand Canyon route planning, Harvey Butchart. Nestled along the cool water of the fifteen foot wide and one foot deep, Bright Angel Creek, located adjacent to Phantom Ranch at the bottom of the Grand Canyon, Bright Angel Campground is usually very hard to get permits for. Perhaps the permit situation is all hype though, as I have always gotten the permits that I request.

TJ, Kim and I meet at the Bright Angel Lodge, and we head out of the park on the Rowe Well road, an old gravel road that leads into neighboring Kaibab national forest. TJ used to live out hear down a seldom maintained road that was disappearing into the forest. Here we set up camp then head back to the Bright Angel to see if TJ can upgrade his Phantom Ranch reservations from a hikers dorm to a cabin. They say to check back in the morning.

We get a few last things from the store, then head back to the forest away from the mayhem of Grand Canyon Village. I cook dinner on my stove, and we all crash early, we have a big day tomorrow into a ridiculously hot hole in the ground.