The Grand Canyon

I can't believe I haven't written about the Grand Canyon yet.

I knew I'd be hiking on this trip (which occurred on the same trip as the Petrified Forest and Painted Desert), so I finally bought hiking boots.  This was a great decision that I should have made at least a year ago.

I was given the sage wisdom to walk up to the South Rim from the parking lot with my head down.  I was told not to look up until I was at the edge.  My eyes watered when I looked up.  It was just beautiful.

I asked in the Visitors' Center for two trails that went down into the canyon (or as the same person that told me how to approach it calls it, The Canyon).  I wanted the trails to be somewhat populated.  I was going to return the next day, so I didn't want to wear myself out.  Because this was March, I was warned that there may still be ice on some of the trails.  In any case, I was instructed to do the South Kaibab and Hermit trails.  South Kaibab was closer, and crawling with ill-equipped tourists.  I had enough stuff in my backpack that I could have been lost for a few days and easily survived.  I may find myself in some strange situations, but I'm not going to knowingly go hiking up and down a very steep gradient in the direct Sun.

Anyway, I went on this trail with a bunch of other tourists.  There was a lot of mule poop and very little shade.  The trail did a ton of switchbacks and could have been a 6-mile hike.  Because I know my knees and didn't want to burn out on the first day, I only went for the 3-mile hike (a change in elevation of 1140 feet from the trailhead to the lowest point).

Once I made it back to the top, which really didn't take as long as I thought it would, I went back to where I had my first view.  I walked along the Rim Trail for a little while.  I left before the sun set that day because I knew I'd be back the next.

The next day I again drove from Flagstaff to the Grand Canyon.  I got on a bus and headed to Hermit Trail.  This trail was horribly marked, which means that I'm pretty sure it wasn't marked.  I hiked downward for at least 45 minutes without stopping, which should have gotten me to about two miles.  I didn't see a single sign and there were supposed to be several by that point.  Maybe a few hundred feet below me, I realized there was the camp I had no intention of reaching since it was nearly 2000 feet below the trailhead.  I turned around promptly.  By the time I got to the top, I had been climbing with primarily with my left leg because my right knee was killing me.  I was drenched in sweat from the Sun and the pain.  I should say that at no point was I in any danger of not making it out.  One thing that really irked me about this trail was that in the time I was on it, I only saw about a dozen people.

I dragged myself back to the bus and took a walk through the village area.  I got some dinner and headed back on the bus to stop at every lookout.  I was exhausted.  I got back to the lookout I liked, found a secluded rock and watched the sunset.  I didn't watch the sun set, but I watched the canyon turn amazing colors.  All the tourists were watching the sun set.  Fools.