by Ellen Heyn, Communications Associate
I emerged from the depths of the Grand Canyon at Grandview Point, one of the scenic overlooks on the South Rim, with a week’s worth of dirt caked on my face and a pack almost as big as I was. Tourists pointed and whispered like I was a rare wildlife sighting. One of them was brave enough to ask:
“Did you come from…down there?”
I had just hiked more than 13 miles and climbed nearly 5,000 feet on the last day of my trip, and I was not in any mood to entertain tourists. My curt reply didn’t satisfy his curiosity.
“Did you like…carry a sleeping bag?”
Over 4.5 million tourists stand on the rim of the Grand Canyon every year – eating ice cream, snapping profile pictures, and admiring the expansive vistas that define this iconic landscape. Water comes out of spigots, gift shops blast air-conditioning, and shuttle buses cart them around.
Venture below the rim, and those comforts quickly disappear. Instead, you find scorching temperatures, shadeless trails, and slopes steep enough to make bighorn sheep turn around. Perhaps that explains why only five percent of park visitors spend a night camping in the backcountry, experiencing the tributaries, tablelands, and temples that make the canyon truly grand.
Backpacking in the canyon is punishing, a detail I always seem to forget the moment my knees and bruised hip bones recover. Ten+ mile-days seem like a great idea as I’m filling out my permit request, a decision I usually regret on the trail.
I curse the trail builders when I have to go up to go down, back to go forward, and south to go west. And while I might complain about my toes jamming into my shoes, or carrying the weight of a day’s worth of water, the truth is that I love every minute of it.
I love the mental challenge of setting benchmarks, slugging a few hundred feet higher to the top of the Redwall so I can dig into the M&Ms I promised myself at the top.
I love the shock of jumping into the 50-degree water of the Colorado River, rinsing off the salty grime and red dust that accumulates over the course of a day.
And I love when the spring flowers pop against the muted landscape, when fuchsia blooms soften poky prickly pear cacti, and dead-looking shrubs bud during the thaw.
I consider spending time in the canyon a privilege and want everyone to experience it, so when that tourist asked me if I carried a sleeping bag, I politely responded:
"Yes, among other things."
Every hiking trip starts at the rim; it’s the nature of canyons. I started at the same place as the 4.5 million people who see the view from the edge. I hope their hikes are yet to come.
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