web hosting short URLs photo sharing

I was minding my own business, attending medical meetings in St Louis, and visiting with my old buddy Max; when he springs this one on me. " Don't you think it's about time for another trip to the Grand Canyon?"

Now what that really means is: "Let's take 4 middle aged former high school nerds, (Let's face it we all carried briefcases and slide rules, and looked like Ozzie & Harriet's foster children.), do physical training for several months, then mount a major expedition of climbing around on primitive trails to do a week of full contact backpacking."

This insanity began in 1987, when Max called me to suggest the first backpacking trip. Max and I had been keeping in touch, and seeing each other occasionally ever since high school; but this call really threw me.

"I was at the Grand Canyon with a Boy Scout group a while back; and, standing there at the rim, I got inspired to do a one week back packing trip to the bottom. I started scheming, and knew I needed a few friends to help pull this off. So, I ruminated over who I knew that might still be crazy enough to consider it; and thought of you. I think I can also get Frank and Tom to go. Do you want to go ?"

I had been to the "GC" in 1971 with my wife. I'd seen it, and I'd seen some young hikers who had been in it. The hikers did not look good. Two girls in their early 20's with significant sunburns, very pronounced severe fatigue, and one with a nasty knee effusion. And, they were in shape! I was also in my twenties at the time, and the thought of attempting what they were doing scared me even then.

I told Max I'd have to think about it and let him know.

Over the next several weeks, the bizarre thought processes of that period in my life caused the idea to begin to seem more rational.

In the end I called and said I'd do it.

Thus began a strange and wonderful process that brings me to the here and now.

Max, Frank, Tom, and myself hung around together a lot at good old

John Adams High School in South Bend. We did a lot of interesting stuff then, mostly involving automobiles or explosives; but nothing that compares to what we've experienced together over the last 12 years in now a total of 4 trips into the GC.

Max is now associate director of the virology lab at Washington Univ. Hospitals in St. Louis and is also involved in international studies on HIV.

Frank is now an attorney for the State of Alaska. His official title is "Adjudication's Project Leader" Commercial Fisheries Entry Commission .

Tom is a Real Estate agent in Park City, Utah; and a major wheeler dealer; much like he was in high school.

I think it's interesting that we, like most of the people I've talked to, still feel to ourselves and each other much like those same high school kids. I guess the main difference is that we probably make better decisions now (most of the time), and have internalized responsibilities to family and others.

However, for a week or so in a remote setting, most cares and concerns can fall into the background; and we can experience the more important creations of God first hand.

Our first trip was down the South Kaibab trail, then 5 days west along the Tonto platform

and out on the Grandview trail. It was in Apr 1987. I was not in proper shape; and found it basically an exercise in mere survival against powerful natural obstacles. All of us, however, agreed it was entirely too extreme in it's physical demands, that we were never going to do it again, and that we would advise others not to do it.

We're old and crazy though, so 3 years later our memories had failed and:

Our second trip in April 1990 was down the Tanner trail, 5 days east along the river to the confluence of the Little Colorado and the Colorado rivers, and back to and up the Tanner. Frank couldn't go on this one; but Tom supplied "What about Bob".

Our third trip in March 1993 was down the Grandview trail and then 5 days east along the river to ascend the Tanner trail. This was the weirdest of the trips.

We went in wearing crampons in knee deep snow, till we got down 800 feet or so. We had to do some free climbing and rope work a couple of times. We carried river water (if you can use the term water when refering to something that looks like Bosco) to our bivouac point half way out of the canyon.

Thus, in those three trips, we've hiked the area from the South Kaibab trail to the confluence of the Colorado and Little Colorado rivers: about 80 miles of the Grand Canyon.

After all this you'd think we would have had enough; but what I said in answer to that question posed in St. Louis was "Cool idea"

We began planning.

Tom and Frank were contacted; and we all agreed that early Oct would be the best time, and that we all could make it. I corresponded with the back country ranger station several times and got a route that would take us west from the Hermit trail so we could see areas we hadn't been to before.

I started by augmenting my usual bicycling and weight training with use of the Stairmaster; but later discovered that climbing the steps and bleachers at the football stadium much more accurately simulated canyon climbing, and seemed much less likely to cause my past troubles with plantar fasciitis to resurface.

Things were going well. I planned to soon be carrying a 50 pound pack up and down the stadium.

Then, BAM !!, disaster. I was riding in the Black Patch Festival bicycle ride in Princeton, KY. The ride had just gotten underway when I crashed and broke 3 ribs. One can read more about this on my web page.

About 10 days after the injury, I attempted to gradually resume training. I was dismayed, however, at my shortness of breath and severe fatigue (not to mention the pain). I shot a new chest film on myself; and cried with grief when I saw I'd developed a significant hemothorax (pocket of free blood in the chest) on the left, and my fractures were more pronounced.

I knew I'd have to avoid training for at least another 10 days; and would not be capable of doing a one week backpacking trip.

I corresponded with my buddies, and offered to stay home or reschedule the trip; but they were true friends and said we'd just do alternate hikes.

On Oct. 15th Max and I left St Louis at about 8:00 PM, and started driving out Route 66
(I 40).

Somehow the thrill and adventure of all night road travel seems to have lessened with the years. Times were when I looked forward to slabs of indigestible "apple brown Betty" at all night truck stops, perusing the store therein for 60 inch belts and Billy club holsters. I relished blasting through tumbleweed epidemics and panhandle snowstorms. I enjoyed watching a glistening, luxury, family sedan turn into a used 1963 Desoto fixer-upper. I felt uplifted by the stunned stare of NoDoze opened eyes trying to feed visual data into a computer that's still trying to pull it's own plug. Ah ! The good old days.

Being on old "66" is not without it's charms however.

Tom had gotten tied up at the last minute and finked out on us. Frank was flying in from Alaska and we would pick him up at GC International on the 17th.

Max and I arrived in Flagstaff about 6:00 PM Fri. the 16th. We spent the night at one of Flagstaffs three Motel 6's, then headed to the GC early Sat. am. We stopped briefly on the way to photograph the sunrise on the San Francisco peaks.

During the trip my resolve that I would, under no circumstances, carry a full pack below the rim had softened. I was beginning to fantasize that I was sufficiently recouped to do at least a modified backpacking trip. Accordingly, Max and I went over to the Backcountry Rangers Office (B.R.O. for short) and succeeded in getting our previously approved trip rearranged into a slightly less strenuous version. He and I then went out to the trailhead of the South Kaibab trail to test my mettle.

It is of interest that the GC is in the transition towards eliminating all P.O.V.'s (personally owned vehicles) from the park. To that end, they now have shuttle busses running during the "tourist season" (May to mid Oct). The buses run about every 10 minutes to the more popular lookouts, the hotels, etc. Thus, there are several overlook turnouts and other areas that are now closed to P.O.V. traffic. By the year 2001 everyone will either park at the south entrance to the park or be allowed to take their car to their hotel or campground and leave it there. By that time, it's planned, electric shuttles would operate throughout the park stopping every 10 minutes at all necessary sites.

So, Max and I took the shuttle to Yaki point, carrying 50 pound packs; and did a 2 mile 1000 ft. descent to Cedar Ridge. On Cedar Ridge we got our first view of the spectacular " Bi-level Outhouses With Service to Hikers In Traffic " ( or B.L.O.W.S.H.I.T.?s for short ). These remarkable erections are rumored to have cost millions. This ( I hope ) must be an exaggeration. They are two story, because the first floor is some special sort of high tech composting area that eliminates or greatly reduces the need for emptying the facility. The rock of the canyon prohibits any kind of simple pit type outhouse as might be used in the Midwest.

These had not been present on our previous trips. On past trips, in the rare areas where any outhouse existed, they were simple three sided enclosures with the familiar half of a 50 gallon drum receptacle. Those had to be emptied via helicopter every week or two. We were duly impressed by the new facilities.

I soon discovered that my original resolve was accurate, and that I should not consider prolonged heavy backpacking. This due to the muscle spasms that ensued in my shoulder girdle and the shortness of breath on climbing. These, I'm sure, were a result of still having 100cc or so of blood in my left chest; and the fact that I had not been able to condition myself properly. Still it was a beautiful hike.

That evening we headed over to awe inspiring Grand Canyon International (not) Airport to pick up Frank who was due in on the 5:00 p.m. flight from LasVegas. We picked and climbed strategic sites, and were at the ready with cameras poised for the momentous arrival.

Frank wasn't on the plane.

We checked with the flight desk, and found there was one more flight coming in that evening (it was rapidly getting dark). We ran outside and got our cameras all ready again.

Frank was not on the plane.

Once again we checked, and found out he was now scheduled to arrive on the first flight in the morning: at 07:45 am.

Since the forecast was for temps to drop into the teens that nite, and we needed to be at the airport early; we checked into an adjacent motel rather than return to our tent at the campground. We called Frank's wife in Alaska and she informed us that bad winds in Washington state had delayed Frank's arrival in LasVegas. While Frank had to languish over night in a LasVegas hotel, we hit the Jacuzzi at ours.

The next morning we hit the airport again. With certainty of success we took cameras up and awaited the first flights arrival. The plane set down in radiant morning sunshine.

Frank was not on it.

We checked at the desk. There were too many passengers for one plane. He should be on a second plane due in 5 minutes.

On Saturday the 17th of Oct. Frank finally arrived.

After a healthy breakfast and catching up on old times, we headed for the campground and got Frank's tent up.

That afternoon we went in to the reservation desk in the Bright Angel Lodge to check on the possibility that folks had cancelled for the Phantom Ranch. Two people had cancelled for Monday. So, we grabbed those two slots; and were told to check back at 06:00 each day to see if they'd had any last minute cancellations for a third spot. While there, we looked at the Canyon the way the typical tourist views it.

That Saturday afternoon we did a day hike down the New Hance trail. None of us had been on that trail before. We had some trouble finding the trailhead for this old abandoned, former mule trail; but, once on it, found it to be a pleasant hike with some nice vistas.

It was on leaving this site that I saw juniper flowers for the first time.
9 Sep 2001: I was just informed I'm in error concerning this plant.
"Enjoyed browsing through your Grand Canyon trip pictures, but as a botanist, seasonal Grand Canyon National Park Ranger, book & map dealer, and busy-body, I must tell you that the photo labeled as juniper flowers ain't.

The plant illustrated is not juniper, nor are the "flowers" flowers. (Actually, junipers, being gymnosperms, don't have true flowers. They shed pollen from inconspicuous staminate "cones") What you show is a splendid image of a member of the rose family called "Cliffrose" (Cowania mexicana), and the long fuzzy things have seeds attached to the base, and are the fruit of this plant.

Keep on hiking,

Lee Dittmann"