Windwalker's Mountain Post: River: Into the Grand Canyon, 3--Hiking

Jumping Right In! (to the mud) on our first hike

"Hey, so…all day long you just float down the river getting splashed in the rapids?" A common question we are asked by many both before and after our river trip. The answer is an emphatic, "No." Our days on the river are varied and always interesting. Every day there is at least one hike--up a gorge, into a slot canyon, down the shore to a waterfall. We make 10 minute pit stops between our landings for snacks or lunch. The hikes, no matter when they happen during our day, are amazing--because of the beauty we see, the creatures, the stories we hear, or the huge effort they take to get where we are going. The pictures will tell the story better than words, so I will try to be somewhat brief, although that is always difficult for me.

Pam reminds me that our first hike started through mud. Sucking mud. Once in, the more you wiggle and struggle to get out, the deeper you sink. Most of us need a helping hand to get back onto solid ground. Where the hike went after the mud bogs, I don't remember. The first hike I do remember follows a steep and switchbacked trail up toward the rim in the heat of the afternoon. The promised reward is a scramble up a rock ledge to a pool of cool water fed by a small waterfall. Exhilarating!

On another day, we disembark at Deer Creek Falls, which is hung with bright green ferns and is within sight of the river and provides a brisk, welcome shower. Some of the group stays at the falls while others hike up a steep trail, blazing hot in the afternoon sun. We have to place our hands on the rocks to steady us as we scramble steeply upward. The rocks are so hot that I fear my fingers will suffer first degree burns. When we reach our destination--a plateau far above the river and our boat, the view of Powell Point is spectacular, with vistas opening up far into the distance. Below our tiny boat looks like a turquoise toy sitting on green water. When we reach the canyon floor again, a shower in the pour of the waterfall is so refreshing.

One day we leave camp in a steady drizzle. The chop and cascade of water from rapids soon has most of us shivering. "When we get to the Little Colorado," Shad calls from his captain's perch, "we'll stop and hike up the river if it looks clear. If it is a pooey color, we'll go on." The pooey color is a result of flash floods up side canyons carrying red silt and rock down into the main channel. The Little Colorado is pooey but we stop anyway just to get out and walk. The rock that lines the riverbank is much warmer than the air and soon, all of us find rocks to hug, niches in which to cozy up, crevices where warm radiates from wall to wall. Another afternoon hike takes us up a canyon trail to rocks where petroglyphs hint at ancient ways and lives whose meanings we can only wonder about.

On still another blazing hot afternoon we stop to inspect the former settlement of some pre-Puebloan people. Those who lived here were nomadic farmers. Planting crops on the rich alluvial soil between riverbank and canyon walls, the people migrated from canyon bottom to canyon rim. In this area there are thousands of potsherds…remnants of a people long gone. We find them, inspect them, feel them in our hands, and then place them back into the red canyon dirt or leave them arranged on rocks for others to admire.

We are now into Havasupai country. In the middle of a rapid, Shad skillfully pulls the raft into an outcropping of rock and Travis jumps off to tie our boat in. We get up onto the rock and begin the hike in to Havasu Canyon. Here the water is a milky turquoise as it pours and tumbles its way toward the Colorado. This is the same river we hiked many miles upstream when our friend Gail took Lee, Mare, Pam and I backpacking down into the canyon so long ago. We spend a few hours here hiking the banks, wading in the river, and wallowing in shallow pools. On the way out, we discover a small pink canyon rattle snake curled into a depression on a log. Very tolerant as we stop to admire him, he merely opens his eyes and shifts his coils a bit to let us know he is watching us too. We hike out just ahead of a rain shower.