Young man on whom I based “Loren from Paris” in THE CANYON CRAWL novel. In real life, he’s from Luxembourg. He darted through the Canyon popping up everywhere we went. His dexterity and agility were unfathomable to us. But having hiked in the Alps myself, I should have not been surprised.
Hiker surfing Bright Angel rockface. Morning, 01/29/14. My favorite photo. Certain scenes along the way made me think of surfing. If it sounds crazy, be patient. This hiker was shooting down an inclined path cut narrow into the rockface preparing to cut right at the bottom of the slope. The incline to the rear evokes a rock wave rising up from behind to shoot him forward and down into the jaws of gravity like a wave throwing surfers onto coral reefs. And like great surfers, skilled hikers map their weight and physical prowess perfectly to momentum generated by slope and surface conditions. This guy was locked-in, one with the trail. His movements gave him away as did his pace when he blew past and resumed the climb to the South Rim. At his pace, he had two… three-hours max, to go. I may as well been wearing concrete hiking boots. For the fit and skilled, hiking in Grand Canyon appears to be pure joy on a par with that experienced by surfers on the North Shore of Oahu, and accompanied by the same level of terror and wonder. Nature is no one’s loving mother. It kills us without qualms. Yet we return, again and again.
Welcome to the Bright Angel Borough. It’s all uphill from here.
Nothing’s easy on the Bright Angel. Weary pilgrims re-routed this passage across Garden Creek but you can’t actually avoid the rocks on this trail. They served to remind me of my rickety ankles and shin splints courtesy of The Kaibab. This truly is, no country for old men.
We were hustling with determination up to Indian Garden. Our mission was to make the South Rim that night, no matter what. What we didn’t know at the time — at least I didn’t know — an ice storm was barreling down out of the Rockies taking dead aim. Our adventures at Indian Garden would throw everything out of kilter for the rest of the hike. But you’ll have to read about that, in the book.
The Plateau is multi-level viewed from the Bright Angel below Indian Garden. Can’t say I was sad to see it go. I could sense darkness coming already. Not a hopeful sign. I blew it a kiss, turned, and headed up to Indian Garden where I hope to find Jeff.
Typical of the Bright Angel. It was shocking how difficult navigation was, and how slow. You can’t make hiking happen on rocky terrain when it’s level, much less on a steady incline. But give it your best shot — it’s all you got.
Cracking The Plateau on the Bright Angel Trail mid-afternoon. Up close, Jut-Jaw shows his true colors.
My old friend appeared from nowhere, breaching The Plateau below Indian Garden. I had not seen him for some time. We just may make it to the South Rim. Read the book to discover the harrowing adventure lying in wait above Indian Garden.
More inexplicable juxtaposition, this time on the Bright Angel. Geologists tell improbable tales when discussing the serious matter of how artifacts like these end up where they end up.
I refuse to crop out the little sky. I refuse.
Bright Angel Trail, mid-afternoon below Indian Garden
On the whispering wind below the trail to Indian Garden, and rest. We’d been moving without a stop for nearly six hours. We had no choice if we had a prayer of making it to the South Rim that night. Keep moving, don’t stop.
Cañon Del Grande 