Rim-to-Rim

I'm out. After four days and three nights in the grandest canyon of them all, I'm back in my motel room in Flagstaff. 

For the first time in a long time, I'm lonely. I'll be OK by tomorrow, but spending all that time in very close proximity to four other people and suddenly being by yourself with dusty shoes, sore legs, dirt all over and a brain still trying to process everything, well, it's just a bit of a slap in the face. It's all over far too quickly, and I almost can't believe I was there, even though I can see the photos and see the sights in my mind's eye. I miss it already. 

Despite taking a bath and scrubbing myself from head to toe, when I dried myself there was still a slightly red hue to the towel. I should think the last will come off with tomorrow morning's shower, although I'd be lying if I said I was looking forward to it. I just want to get back down and get dirty again. 

I didn't want to come out, and I don't think the others did either. Our guide, Mike (from Just Roughin It), gets to go back down again and again, the lucky guy. What a job. Not only do you have to be extremely fit (he was carrying twice the weight we were - our rucksacks were about 17 kilos), but you also have to know first aid, the history of the canyon, survival skills, and last but certainly not least, you have to be a patient people person. He told us - after our pressing - some pretty good stories, like the woman who had been released from hospital a week before heading out on the hike. She had been extremely ill with pneumonia and somehow 'forgotten' to mention it on the health form you have to fill out. After about 1.5 miles they had to quit and turn around. They didn't get out until it was dark. The worst part was there was an Australian couple who had come over just for this hike. It was their life's dream, and it was dashed because someone thought they could hike the Grand Canyon despite still recovering from a serious illness. There were many, many more stories of what is basically utter stupidity. This isn't a walk in the park.

Of course there were also stories of groups that just didn't work out. Awkward silences, weird atmospheres, and arguments. We got lucky. It was just the four of us: Kelli from Ohio, and Emma and Graeme from Cardiff, Wales. We all got on very well, and from the moment we met, we were laughing. Things were going to be just fine. 

Suitably dorky

We set out from the North Rim in the early afternoon, and hiked 7 miles (11.26km) and 4,200 feet (1280 metres), down. It's hard going.

Going down

You might not think it, but hiking downhill, especially when you're dropping so far in elevation, is hard work. It's hard on the knees, hard on the calves, and hard on the back and shoulders. It's an incredible experience going into the canyon. You see yourself dropping in, the walls swallowing you up, and the little noise there is at the North Rim being left behind. Soon, it's just you, and a long way down. 

It's my first time, but already hope it won't be my last. It's incredibly peaceful, majestic, and humbling. 1.8 billion years old. I can't even begin to grasp that. This, combined with the Cosmic Zoom lecture from the Lowell Observatory the day before just leaves me boggled and speechless.

We pass through the layers, and Mike stops occasionally and tells us about the rocks we're passing through, and how old they are. He points out animals, views and tells us what we can expect. We break often to eat from the huge snack bags that were provided, and drink and drink and drink. It was tough going, surprising all of us, but we were done around 7pm.

One of the many appreciated breaks

We set up camp at Cottonwood Campground, a basic campground as the North Rim isn't visited or hiked from anywhere nearly as much as the South Rim. There are basic toilets and fresh water, but that's it. We have our first of many good meals and talk and laugh a lot around the table. We finally go to bed at around 9.30pm, and seeing as no rain is forecast, we don't put the outer cover on the tent, so as I lie in bed I can see the stars and the looming great walls of the canyon. It's just incredible and I can't believe I'm here and doing it. 

At some point during the night, I have to go to the toilet, so creep through the camp. The moon is bright and high in the sky, giving the world the impression of being in black and white - it was like walking into an Ansel Adam's photograph. I just couldn't tear my eyes away from it and stand for what feels like forever just looking up. So, so quiet. 

Mike wakes us at 4.30am, and we set about packing up camp as he brews coffee and gets breakfast started.I realise I'm the only morning person so quickly shut up, but by the time breakfast is down, we're all awake. The sun comes up just as quickly as it goes down, and to see it light up the canyon, in all the hues of red, orange, yellow, green and blue that you can imagine, is nothing but awe-inspiring. 

We set off in good spirits, a frame of mind that remains for the whole trip. We've already become a little unit, and we're excited to tackle each part, despite the bruised hips, sore shoulders and shaky legs. We hit Ribbon Waterfalls and have a look at the massive stalagmite that has built up over millions of years, then head on.

We're hiking another 7 miles (11.26 kilometers) and dropping 1,500 feet (457.2 metres), so it's another hard day. As we make our way down, the walls creep ever closer, and the rocks grow ever older. We stop often and just look and look and look. None of us can quite believe it, and Mike says he can't get used to it either. He sits and stares just as much as we do. Everyone should do this. Everyone. 

It's a hard hike, and we're happy to arrive at Bright Angel Camp at Phantom Ranch, right next to a river that runs into the Colorado, a 10 minute walk away from camp. 

The ranch is far better equipped than Cottonwood, as this is much, much closer to the South Rim, and people come here for a night or two from the South Rim before heading back out the same way. There are toilets, water, and even a canteen that offers lemonade, snacks and basic meals. We eat our packed lunch there, and then head to the river and a wander around the ranch. People are friendly and talkative - we're all (almost) in the same boat. 

The small river isn't deep, so we just sit in rock pools and let the cool water run over us. We talk, laugh, cool down, and then head out on foot to see the mighty Colorado.

It's big, it's brown and it's cold - about 8 degrees Celsius. Graeme and Mike go right under, while us girls go up to our knees. We stand at the bottom of the Grand Canyon on the sandy shores of the Colorado and take it all in. Or try to. It's frustrating as we know we can't and we know the photos we take won't convey any of it. Frustrating but somehow OK. You've just got to see it for yourself. 

Along the riverside are huge rocks, rounded from their trip, long ago, down the river. Now, with the dam upriver, the flow is completely regulated. It doesn't flood any more. Rocks don't get carried downstream, and the bleached tree trunks that lie at awkward and violent angles along the shore won't be going anywhere. Part of me thinks this is a little sad. This once mighty river has been tamed, and while it's still strong and immense, it'll never be as it was. Oh, to have seen it in its prime.

The sun is hot as we head back to the camp, and as the others play cards, I write my diary and read. I'm struggling to stay awake but keep myself busy. I don't want to ruin my sleep. After dinner, we head off to hear a free talk about how the Grand Canyon was formed. It's short and interesting, but to be honest I couldn't take my eyes off the sky - there above us, in all its glory, is the Milky Way. It's the first time I've ever seen it, and it's awesome - especially after Cosmic Zoom. I can't stop looking. Framed by the black walls of the canyon it's like something from your imagination - almost unbelievable. 

I sleep very well, waking up just before Mike wakes us up at 4.30am again. As I come back from the bathroom, a ringtail runs over the path, crouches by a rock and looks at me as I walk past. He looks very cuddly and I want him. He certainly looked more friendly than the little scorpions we see - a good reminder to knock out our shoes before we put them on. 

The day starts on a sad note, as today we start our journey out of the canyon. We've reached rock bottom - literally - and we stand on rock 1.8 billion years old. Despite the sweat, the sore hips, the bruised collar bones and one twisted ankle (not me, thankfully), we've reached this spot far too quickly. I don't want the end to start. But, it does.

Early, early morning over the ColoradoHeading over

Today we hike 5 miles (8 km) up 1,400 ft (426.72 m), to Indian Garden, another nicer site as it's that much closer to the South Rim. We pass mule deer, so called thanks to their huge ears, and lots of very chubby squirrels. Most of the hike is OK, but the last mile and a half goes up some evil switchbacks that go on and on and on. Mike keeps our minds off it all by playing games (e.g. there are 10 body parts with three letters - name them. My suggestions of tit and bum didn't count, and despite the fact that both Emma and Graeme are both paramedics (we lucked out!), it takes us a long time to get them all). The games are very, very helpful, and we reach Indian Gardens in what feels like no time. We set up camp, have an early lunch, and then take the afternoon off. I head off to try to find some signal to check up on wife and boy, and manage to find one bar that goes off and on a short walk from the camp. I send a text and receive one, and all is of course just fine. My mind is at ease and I take my book and after a walk around the site, I find a bench in the sun by a river, stick my toes in the cool water, my face in the sun, and read. It's bliss. 

When I get back to the camp, everyone but Mike is sleeping. They begin to come to one at a time, and dinner is started. We talk about politics and health care - always good topics for Americans and English/Welsh people to discuss. I'm constantly happy about the group. Mike is a really, really good guy, and Emma and Graeme make me laugh a lot. Kelli is a little quieter, but is quick to laugh and comment. I really got lucky. 

After an early dinner we head out for a 3 mile (4.8 km), round trip hike to Plateau Point to watch the sunset.

It's a long hike for a post-dinner walk, but it's worth it. The view is wonderful, and while we might be slightly too late to see the full red and orange hues, as the sky turns to night the canyon's walls change from oranges, to blues, and to greens. We sit and eat rather dry pancakes and Nutella, and watch this unforgettable evening unfold. As Graeme quite rightly said, it was one of those moments you remember for the rest of your life. 

We head back to camp using our head torch, I hit a cactus and have to pull a dozen needles out of my leg, and after watching a beautiful black and white kingsnake creep across our campground (headed towards next door, who are sleeping with no tent), we hit the sack, exhausted. 

This morning we woke at 4.30am once again. None of us can believe it's the last morning. Where did the time go? We look up the South Rim and while it seems so far away, it's all too close. Mike warns us of 'rimmers', day hikers who ignore the rules of the trail, and of the many, many switchbacks to come. 

Going up

Today we hike 4.5 miles (7.24 km), but with a 3,000 ft (914.4 m) increase in elevation. In other words, it's really bloody hard. Luckily, it's split into three 1.5 mile sections (this gives the day hikers coming down something to aim for), so we take breaks at each rest house.

We eat, drink, talk about leaving, and turn around constantly to look at the view. It's starting to look like the Grand Canyon we all know - the views you see on the postcards. It's beautiful, but it's not the same. I feel like I've had a glimpse behind the curtains, and once you've seen that, things are never quite the same.

We start to pass the rimmers, and hellos and good mornings are shared, and we're told time and again that we've just got the easy bit left.

This isn't true. In fact, once we've finally reached the top, Mike tells us that the final stretch is known as Heartbreak Hill. It's not fun, but it's good to go out with a bang. 

We pose by the Bright Angel Trailhead sign for an 'after' photo. We're all on cloud nine, and as we look over the canyon I think it's hard to say what we feel. A mixture of elation, disbelief, and sorrow. 

We walk around the visitor area, use the toilet, visit the shop, and take a good last look at the canyon. I sit on the small wall and stare for a long time. I'm so sad to be leaving it. It feels odd being up here with all the hustle and bustle of life and tourists. Even if it was just four days we were down there, it feels like a lot longer. I'm thrilled that I've done it, but wish I could just turn around and do it again. 

We eat lunch, and are then taken back to Flagstaff. I'm dropped at my motel, I lie down on the bed, and I'm alone. It's OK though. I've done it. 

About 5 million people visit the Grand Canyon a year, but only around 250,000 visit the North Rim.Only about 40,000 hike the canyon so we feel special

After I've read this though, I suppose I'll go and eat something and have a last walk around Flagstaff. I had hoped to go up to Humphreys Peak, Arizona's highest point, on the chairlift but it's bloody closed for repairs today and tomorrow. It's pretty annoying as I hoped to do Arizona's lowest and highest points. Oh well - that's for next time. You can do the hike up too, so maybe I'll do that one day. 

Tomorrow I head to Sedona. I'm looking forward to that, but it's with a heavy heart that I leave Flagstaff, and the Grand Canyon. 

I'll be back though. My boy is going to love it.