We spent the day hiking into Phantom Ranch Campgrounds, a small ranger station a stone’s throw away from the Colorado River. Surrounded by ancient ruins and the magnificent walls of the canyon, Phantom Ranch seems to be a type of oasis in the harsh desert environment.
It was Nov. 23 when we hiked part way into the Grand Canyon and to Phantom Ranch, but our adventure into the canyon was far from the start of our trip, and in order to continue I must tell you about one of the most monumental parts of our adventure: Zion.
We left NIC Nov. 19 in a college van with a nearly 20-hour drive ahead of us. I was traveling with a backpacking class on the Thanksgiving trip. Our itinerary for the trip was: Hit Angels Landing in Zion National Park and then proceed to Escalante and backpack Coyote Gulch. We had also discussed possibly swinging by the Grand Canyon for a day hike on the South Rim. We were a group of six: Ryan Hayes, NIC PE/RRM instructor; Jet Johnstone, 21, general studies, Coeur d’Alene; Rebecca “Rebeccy” Kemner, 22, outdoor leadership certificate, Coeur d’Alene; Scott Eichenbaum, 22, psychology, River Vale, N.J.; and Austin “Ranger Rick” Theander, 19, outdoor leadership, Athol.
The first day was a blur of driving, and eventually we decided it was time to rest in a small, strangely empty motel outside Salt Lake City in a town called Nephi.
We were on the road early the next morning. It was another five hours to Zion. Our plan was to camp at Zion’s Watchman campsite and hike a spine called “Angels Landing” the following morning. That night we broke out the camping stoves and headlamps for the first time and Eichenbaum showed the group how to start a fire using a bow and spindle.
We checked into the ranger station before our hike. It rained through the night and we were curious if the trail would be safe of slip hazards. The trail is close to infamous; six people have died falling off its cliffs since 2004. The ranger told us to use common sense and that safety was our own responsibility. With that extra boost of confidence, we headed to conquer Angels Landing.
We started up the trail as a team. It soon turned from a walking path to long and arduous switchbacks, which led us up the side of a mountain. The walls were flat but slanted on one side, and on the other was a several-hundred-foot drop. The colors swirling around in the rock looked like graffiti when viewed from the right angle.
At the top of this set of switchbacks the path stretched into a saddle and we were suddenly surrounded by foliage of all colors. It was the calm before the storm. The mountaintops were surrounded in wispy mist that morning and had a fresh dusting of snow.
Again we hit a set of switchbacks: “Walter’s Wiggles.” The name originated from the first superintendent of Zion who helped engineer the section of switchbacks.
After we “squiggled the wiggles,” we could see the Angels Landing trailhead just off in the distance. It’s hard to describe the trail itself, but the best way I can put it is: Don’t trip. The majority of the hike we scrambled up the rocky spine, which turns into a monstrous cliff on both sides of the path. A sit-down is mandatory when you reach the summit; the view is one that deserves time to appreciate.
All was peaceful among the group as we trucked down the mountain feeling rather accomplished. The previous night we decided we would swing by the Grand Canyon, so once in the van, we were off.
It was dark by the time we arrived at the South Rim campsite. After dinner, we hit the sack. I decided to ditch my tent and lay under the stars with Kemner, Eichenbaum and Theander.
The next morning Hayes went to the visitor’s center while Eichenbaum and I stayed behind and brewed coffee. Our neighbors entertained us as we watched them gather the fallen brush around their site and throw it into their fire. The brush was still green, and a white plume of smoke steadily rose from their fire pit.
Hayes soon pulled back into our site, and with great news. He scored a pass for three nights in the Grand Canyon. The usual process for getting one of these passes is a multiple-week ordeal.
We headed to Grand Canyon Visitor’s Center where we laid out our gear in the parking lot and packed for the upcoming venture.
We caught the first bus we could to Kaibab Trail Head, where we would be descending the South Rim, snapping a classic group photo before starting our trek.
The South Rim is almost all downhill. One of the best views on the trail is of the Colorado River running strong through the bottom of the canyon and the awesome suspension bridge stretching across it.
The trail to Cotton Wood followed a tributary of the Colorado toward the North Rim. The experience of making your way through thousand-foot canyon walls with your home on your back is indescribable. I suppose you could call it freedom.
That night, I found myself staring at the amazingly bright and numerous stars. The last thing I remember before falling asleep was Theander observing the sky.
“No better ceiling in the world,” he said.
The next morning, we headed back to Phantom Ranch. We made a detour to Ribbon Falls, a well-known waterfall located close to the main trail. The falls are impressive, about 100 feet tall and covered in moss. Theander and I decided to venture into a small cave at the base of the falls. Water was running over the mouth of the cave and we ultimately got soaked to the bone.
We started back to the main trail, taking a different route this time, executing a river crossing to reach the trailside of the creek.
That night was rather bittersweet for me. We had to leave the canyon the next day, but a shower was needed and home-style food was sounding better every day.
We hit the trail early the next morning. I started off energetic, but the Grand Canyon is deceiving. We were more than halfway up the rim when I felt my body lagging. It was as if someone had hit the slow-motion switch in my brain. After a break and some sustenance, I was back on my game.
Our group rejoiced as we reached the top and looked down on what we had accomplished. There was something different about the view this time around.
It was Nov. 25 by the time we crawled out of the canyon, leaving three days for driving. We made it home in two long, delirious, caffeine-filled, wonderful days.
It had been seven days; we had traveled through seven states, drove more than 2,000 miles, and backpacked more than 30 miles. I’d call that a successful trip.
