*


    Harvey Butchart?s Hiking Log, Volume 4

    October 5, 1974 - Summer 1987

*

*Table of contents <47688.htm> | Volume 1 <47689.htm> | Volume 2
<47690.htm> | Volume 3 <47691.htm> | Volume 4 | Index <47693.htm>*

*/To conduct a full-text search of this volume, use the Find in Page
Command (Control-F or under "Edit" in your browser's menu). For a
complete chronological listing of trails and locations, please see Table
of contents <47688.htm>. For alphabetical listing of trails and
locations, please see Index <47693.htm>./*

*Butchart annotated a series of hiking maps, including western and
eastern half of the Grand Canyon
<http://www2.nau.edu/~libei-p/scadb/recdisplay.cfm?control_num=11524>
and others from throughout the Grand Canyon region
<http://www2.nau.edu/~libei-p/scadb/recdisplay.cfm?control_num=11523>
that are also available.*

*Wayne Tomasi, a Grand Canyon hiking enthusiast, prepared the following
version of Dr. Harvey Butchart's hiking log. Wayne spent hundreds of
hours reading, typing, and editing the hiking logs housed at the
Northern Arizona University Cline Library. This edited version of the
Butchart hiking logs includes only hikes in the area that Harvey and
Wayne mutually agreed to call Grand Canyon Country. This Country
includes the Grand Canyon, Marble Canyon, the Little Colorado River
Gorge, the Pria River Gorge and Plateau, Lake Powell, and Lake Mead.
Wayne notes that his transcription of Butchart?s logs begins with
Harvey?s brief introduction of backpacking. Harvey's description of
Little Colorado River exploration has been moved to the beginning.
Finally, a section of Butchart?s earliest logs, written by Harvey from
memory, are segregated under a heading of 'Protologs.'*

*Use of the Butchart logs is restricted to non-commercial use only. Any
reproduction and/or distribution of the logs (either the original
Butchart logs or Wayne Tomasi's edited version) requires permission of
the NAU Cline Library. *

*Copyright Arizona Board of Regents. All rights reserved.*

*Inscription overhang Grapevine Canyon
[October 5, 1974]*

Bob Dye and a correspondent had told me of an interesting overhang with
names inscribed just west of the Tonto Trail where it crosses the
Grapevine tributary south of Lyell Butte. Three weeks ago I had gone
down there and had looked for it in the Tapeats gorge east of the Tonto
Trail. I had forgotten that Bob had said it was west of the trail, and I
assumed that a good overhang would be found downstream in the Tapeats
cliff. The log for 9/21/74 tells of my effort then.

Now, armed with a map marked by Dye, and answers to questions about
location, I felt sure that I could go right to the place. Two NAU
students, Dave Grede and Phil Strawther, gladly accepted my invitation
to go along. Tom Wahlquist was interested, but he preferred going with
Bill Reitveld on an overnight backpack. We got off early on Saturday and
were at the permit desk a bit after 8:00 a.m. It was 8:45 when we
started down the Grandview Trail. The weather was fine and we soon were
leaving the trail along the ridge to the north in the Coconino. Just
before we left the trail, we exchanged greetings with a young military
airman, Jerry Jury, who was on a solo overnight trip to Horseshoe Mesa.

I led Phil and Dave down the talus to where the bed of Grapevine cuts
through the top Supai cliff. Mostly we stayed in the bed, but now and
then we would get a bit to the east. At the place where huge Supai
blocks form a big drop in the bed, we detoured to the west. I believe
this is better than the detour we had used before to the east.

I was 20 feet away from the others at the top of the Redwall when I came
on a rattlesnake. It hadn't rattled and it hid its head in a crevice
without trying to get away or showing any tendency to fight. It would
have been easy to kill this rattler, but my attitude toward them has
changed over the years. We just looked at it with interest.

I remembered all the moves in the climb down the Redwall at the big
drop, but it still seemed rather hairy. Phil had never done anything
like this, and he was glad to have me go first and show him the moves.
He and Dave did it all right, although I think they needed more courage
to do it than I. On the way back, I built some small cairns to indicate
the route. There were burro droppings at the very base of this Redwall
descent, but I don't think they can come up the cliff by this route. I
feel sure that bighorn sheep could get down here but possibly they
couldn't get up.

On the way down the wash we saw one burro and on the way back we came on
a group of five. We were able to follow their trail down the canyon most
of the time, but to avoid the mass of grapevines we had to be content
with a meager trace of a trail on the slide rock for part of the way.
When we came to the very narrow part of the bed in the Tapeats where
water was flowing and the bottom was choked with willows, we tried to
follow the burro trail on the slope above the bed. When the trail went
back into the narrows we went down too. The boys were very much
impressed with the narrow and deep Tapeats gorge that broadens out where
the Tonto Trail crosses. The Maxon geologic map shows the fault that
explains 200 feet of Tapeats above the Bright Angel Shale where the
Tonto Trail crosses.

We left the bed of Grapevine and followed the trail to where it crosses
the tributary south of Lyell Butte. The overhang was apparent from some
distance and we went right to it. The sand surface under the projection
is only about four feet above the streambed and it wouldn't be a safe
place during a flood. Red clay has formed a coating over the sandstone
on the ceiling and the upper part of the wall. Perhaps this was where
spray from a flood dried as it hit, and the lower part of the wall had
the deposit washed away. The main inscriptions were the names, P.D.
Berry, R.H. Cameron, April 20, 1890, and Hotel de Willow Creek.

It took us three hours and 10 minutes to get there from the car and over
five hours to climb out. Phil had knee cramps.

*Redwall at Mile 50 and lower Saddle Canyon
[November 9, 1974 to November 11, 1974]*

Summer before last I had walked up the river from Nankoweap and had
climbed nearly through the difficult part of the Redwall at Mile 50. I
must have had an off day because I gave up the attempt at a place that
should not have stopped me. I wanted another chance at this reputed
Redwall route, and I also wanted to see the Redwall gorge in lower
Saddle Canyon. Billingsley had told me that this was really a beauty spot.

Since we had a three day weekend, I figured that I could do these things
from the approach via the Eminence Break Route. I could also have
approached these projects from the end of the road in Houserock Valley
on the west side of the river. There had been snow and wet weather
recently, and I preferred the greater ease of driving out to the
Eminence Break Route. Dave Grede asked if he could go along. When I
explained that I would be away from him for at least a full day, he
asked whether he could bring his roommate, Ed Bryles, so that they could
have each other's company while I was gone. I readily agreed, although I
probably should have made a bit more sure that Ed would be able to take
this rather rough going.

We got started promptly at 6:30 a.m. and were ready to turn off the
highway at Cedar Ridge in two hours. I still haven't learned the road to
Tatahatso Point for sure, and this time I took a turn that got me too
far north. Well before I got to the base of Shinumo Altar, I turned
south and came to a three dwelling spread, an old style hogan, a
rectangular frame shack, and a modern board built hogan of eight sides
painted a classy blue. Here I swung to the west and was soon on the
right road to Black Spot Reservoir and Tatahatso Point. The recent
precipitation had muddled the bed of the stock tank, but it hadn't
flooded the road. We made it across without using four wheel drive. This
time I parked the vehicle above the steep rocky grade down to the head
of the trail under Fallen Tower Bridge. It is less than 100 yards of
extra walking, and I considered this worth the need to use four wheel
drive to get up the bad and steep road.

After all the times I have used this route, I headed down the two wrong
breaks from the rim. The right one is the break in the rim farthest east
of the three, and it is marked by a rather inconspicuous cairn. Grede
and I soon found that Ed was making hard work of the descent. He and
Dave both started more loose rocks rolling than I did, and Ed didn't
seem to be in very strong hiking condition. We had to wait for him
rather frequently. I nearly missed the fossil footprints and had to come
back up a few yards to show them to the boys. We took the turn out of
the streambed below a couple of the top cliffs of Supai Sandstone on the
left. This turn over on the ledge is well marked by a couple of cairns.
I believe I built the first one here, but others going down this way
have vastly improved my markings. We passed the mushroom rock on its
pedestal of clay and rubble and went down the ridge for a short way and
then contoured to the south to descend the talus through the Supai. We
kept out of the streambed until we were down below some of the Redwall.
Cairns now point one out of the bed up the little ravine to the south.
Dave found a good rain pool in the bed nearby. We went on south and
descended to the river on the old deer trail that had a few cairns
before I found this route in 1963.

Ed was too tired to think about going any farther than a campsite at the
river, and I said goodbye to both of the boys when the final stretch to
the river was obvious. We had eaten an early lunch near the top of the
Redwall, and it was 1:15 p.m. when I reached the river. I went
downstream along the bank but soon found the way blocked by water up to
a minor cliff. However, I found a deer trail going up around these
places. For almost an hour and a half I was up on the deer trail away
from the river. I was beginning to worry about whether I would be able
to get down to water for camping. Finally, I came to a spur trail that
seemed to lead down. I could even see a ring of rocks that might have
been a human shelter at one time, but the way was so steep and
precarious that I decided to look farther for a better way down.

About 15 minutes later I came to a better way, but even so it requires
care. While I was following the deer trail on the side hill slope above
the bare shale cliff, I was thrilled to see a big doe. It would bound
away and then wait and then bound away again. There were a good many
fresh deer tracks and droppings. After I got down to the beach I was
able to make quite good progress behind the tamarisk thickets for about
a half hour until I was opposite Triple Alcoves. Here the cliff ran down
into the water again, and a very vague deer trail went up very high. I
could see that the slope that would support a trail was getting
narrower, and I was more and more sure that the best walking was on the
other side of the river. Although it was only 3:15, I decided to make
camp and cross the river in the morning. I had a good campsite on dry
sand at the base of the cliff and no mice bothering my food. In the
night I heard a faint scraping sound. Both on my side of the river and
on the right bank there were fresh beaver cuttings, so perhaps this
sound was a beaver at work.

By 6:45 a.m. on Sunday I was through my breakfast and blowing up the new
little boat. I carried my shoes and canteen and lunch in a day pack as I
lay prone on the boat. My bare feet stuck out at the stern from the
knees down, but they didn't get wet except while I was launching and
landing. I can't propel it as fast as I can an air mattress, but at
least I stayed dry and warm. The deer trail on the right side of the
river was if anything better established than the one on the left. It
had taken two hours to walk the left bank from Mile 43.9 to Mile 46.5
and now it took another two hours to walk from there to Mile 49.9. I
noticed a few places where surveyors have painted rocks with yellow
markings denoting the elevation or pointing to a bench mark. I had
crossed the river by 7:00 a.m. and by 7:15 a.m. I was on my way south.
By 9:15 I was down to the familiar canyon that leads up through the
Redwall. I found everything as described in my log for 5/29/73. The
night before I came on this trip, I had looked at my pictures of the two
places that had made me turn back.

Since the day was cool and it was only 9:15 when I started up, I had
left my day pack with the lunch at the bottom. This time I tried
climbing alongside the chockstone that had baffled me almost a year and
a half ago. I found that there were enough good holds and I went up
successfully. After a short easy scramble I came to a place where I had
to get into another narrow crack. Getting into it from one side was
harder than what I had done at the chock, but the crack itself was safe
and easy. After a few yards of upgrade walking at the top of the crack,
I could turn to the east and climb rather easily through some ledges. I
feel that I could have gone on to the top of the Redwall in this
direction, but instead I walked a side hill slope to the right and came
to where I could get down easily into the main drainage above the big
drop. From here there are all sorts of ways to go to the top of the
Redwall and I chose to go west and come out where I knew I had passed in
the night of 12/20/69. When I was ready for the return to the river, I
resolved to see what the other place was like, the route at the end of
the ledge where I had stopped last year. It was easy to find the route,
especially since I had seen it from above as I was going up this time.
You leave the bed and scramble up to the east just before the big drop.
I found myself going too high but I could look back and see the place
where it is possible to get to a narrow slope going over to the ravine
opposite where I had quit last year. When I got to this place, I could
see a perfectly safe way down to the bed of the ravine and then an even
easier way presented itself to climb up to where I stood in 1973. I had
already done worse things to get here. This is by quite a margin the
better way through the Redwall in this side canyon.

On the way back upriver, I took 35 minutes to look into the canyon at
Mile 49.3. I had to get up through a couple of chutes in the shale and I
didn't go as far as I could have gone with more time. However, I am sure
that one cannot get up through the Redwall here. Huge rocks and slide
material have fallen from the rim.

A mile or so downriver from Saddle Canyon, I noted a running stream that
makes a small volume fall of 40 feet or so. A little stream stayed above
ground down to the river. At another place I noticed a wet streak on the
rock with some drippings from the wall.

I hadn't allowed a great deal of time to see lower Saddle Canyon and
still get back across the river to my pack, but I started up with the
resolution to turn back in 30 minutes. After a short walk up the bed, I
came to the place where huge rocks from a landslide have made the bed no
good for travel. I bypassed this by going up the slide on the north
side. There are no difficulties but walking is slow over such rough
material. When I got near the top I could look across to the south side
and see a well defined deer trail. This upper valley rivals Elves Chasm
for beauty and vegetation. There is a running stream lined with monkey
flowers, and some of these scarlet blossoms were blooming on November
10. The trail weaves back and forth across the little stream, and it
amazes me that it is so well defined. I saw some human footprints along
here and going back down the trail to the river, no doubt still showing
from one of the last boat parties. I got to the end of the trail, to
where the bed becomes bare rock forming a mere notch entirely filled by
the stream. If I had had the time to take off my shoes and wade, I could
have gone farther. It was easy to come down the deer trail, now marked
by a few cairns.

While I was following the deer trail through the thickets near the
river, I saw a fine mule deer stag bounding ahead of me. It had a
magnificent rack of antlers. This must be a favorite wintering ground
for a number of deer from the plateau. I am sure they would have no
trouble doing the route through the canyon at Mile 50, or they could
come up here from Nankoweap. I suppose they can still swim the river
even though it must be harder with the water so much colder than before
the dam in Glen Canyon. Euler told me about a route through the higher
cliffs somewhere south of Saddle Canyon and Mitchell and Graham also
pinpointed it for me on a map. It isn't far from the Redwall route at
Mile 50, so it would likely be a more convenient route for the
prehistoric Indians to cross the river than the Nankoweap Eminence Break
Route.

After another good night opposite Triple Alcoves, I walked back to the
way out in two hours and then took far longer than my former time to get
from the river to the rim. This time I used four and a half hours. The
college boys had spent the first night in the Redwall gulch where Grede
had seen the water. They got up to the car about 10:30 a.m. and were
cheering me on when I arrived about 1:40 p.m.

The weather bureau had predicted showers and snow for the entire three
days, so we were particularly pleased when the sky turned as clear as a
bell and stayed that way with no wind at all. It was a most satisfactory
trip with my two main projects accomplished. In addition I had gone a
short distance up another canyon at Mile 49.3, and when I was nearing
the base of the trail out, I happened to go down toward the river off
the main deer trail and chanced on the grave of Willie Taylor. What a
grand place to be buried! I took a close up shot of the bronze plaque.

*Fiske Butte
[November 16, 1974]*

Al Doty wanted a good hike and we got together on a climb that he had
already done, Fiske Butte at the end of Spencer Terrace. It is an
inconsequential hump at the end of the Redwall promontory west of Copper
Canyon, but the fun is getting down the Supai to the Redwall rim without
walking for miles first.

We were prepared for a long day and we met at the junction of routes 180
and 64 a bit before 6:30 a.m. We drove directly out to the head of the
Bass Trail using the cutoff behind Moqui Lodge and got there by 8:00.
The day was fine and cool and we made good time down to the Esplanade
and out toward Mystic Spring. On Al's former trip he had run into a
white man inscription on the bare rock under foot. He was looking for
this and he wasn't sure where to begin watching. He thought it was out
rather close to the descent from the Supai rim. We weren't able to see
it this time. He doesn't recall whether there was any date with the
name. It would only show up from a few yards away and one can take any
number of equally good routes through this area.

I couldn't say a thing about this inability to find the inscription
again since I was unable to show him the Indian ruin which I had found
fairly close to the direct route along the east side of Huethawali when
you are going to Mystic Spring. I should be able to locate the ruin if I
go armed with my location picture showing trees lined up with Mount
Huethawali in the background.

We wanted to see Mystic Spring again, but for a time we hesitated about
going there before or after we had been to Fiske Butte. I talked Al into
the short detour and we got down a crack through the rim of the
Esplanade that comes out between the spring and Seal Head Rock. I took
Al to the latter first. Then we noted that a little water is flowing at
the spring, but very little. There was more coming from a seep around
the point north of the old Bass Campsite under the overhang. Al was
intrigued by this ample overhang and especially by the tunnel and hole
up to the surface just to the north. We had needed considerably less
than two hours to reach the spring from the car although we spent a few
minutes trying to locate the Indian ruin east of Huethawali.

It was only a short walk from the spring to the rim of Spencer Terrace
where Al had started down through the Supai. This is just east of the
narrow promontory which extends farthest north. The route looks quite
unpromising although other places along here are clearly impossible. One
goes to the right along a bench below the first crack and on a lower
bench you swing quite far to the left to go down another crack. Then you
go quite far to the right again to go down to the level of a bench that
leads still farther left to a pinyon pine. Here you go around the corner
and see a long and narrow ridge of perfectly bare rock extending to the
north. The descent route is again at the base of this promontory and
just east of it. The descent leads to the real puzzle of the whole
route, a pile of large and small chockstones filling up a wide crack. Al
used a rope to get down here the first time and I had brought a light
rope to do this again if necessary. On his return he had found a small
and not straight passage under the rock pile. At first this time he
couldn't locate the hole again and he considered the idea that the rocks
had shifted during the past five weeks and the hole had been closed.
Finally he found it. We had to remove our day packs and pass them down
through the hole. However, I am sure that I could have handled my pack
here without help. Below here the route was simple and we reached the
top of Fiske in just under three hours from the car. We had a fine view
of the river and Hakatai Canyon from the rim of the Redwall.

I wanted to see what sort of trip we would have along the rim of the
Redwall to the west and south to Garnet Canyon. Some parts of this were
decidedly slow and rough, but much of it had a burro trail. We
encountered three burros where the rim was broad and followed their
trail up to a seep at the bottom of the Supai cliff. Down in the Redwall
streambed below Mystic Spring we came to some good rain pools and
refilled our canteens. We were rounding the corner into Garnet Canyon by
2:50 p.m. and we had only a little problem or two bypassing falls in the
Supai in Garnet. We reached the car on the return from Fiske in five and
a half hours.

*Fourth try for the Stiles Route off Point Huitzil
[November 23, 1974]*

A recent letter from Gary Stiles told me that I would recognize his
Coconino Route by a log ladder near the top of the Coconino somewhere
below Point Huitzil, and that he was quite sure that it was Point
Huitzil rather than Montezuma. I figured that it would now be easy to go
back there and find the place. I picked up David Grede at the south
campus at 6:30 and we got away from the permit desk by 8:20 a.m. On the
way out of the park on the Rowe Well Road we saw a flock of about 15
wild turkeys, the first I have seen for quite some time. David was also
thrilled by a doe that dashed across the road.

The road was dry enough and we had no more than the usual rough spots to
hold down our speed. I drove off the track that goes west from Pasture
Wash Ranger Station along the telephone line and parked where it ends,
about a mile from the station. We followed the line past a large tree
that has fallen across the wire and on across a shallow valley. After
walking perhaps 20 minutes along the line, we swung to the north,
crossing another narrower valley. I could see the main canyon rim from
one higher point, but farther north we seemed to be looking toward the
lower land south of the canyon. When we came to a deep valley running
down to the west, I was confused. First I led Dave west without trying
to cross, and then changed my mind. When we got to the top of the high
ground and out to the rim, we could see Montezuma Point to the north and
we knew that we were on Point Huitzil.

We went back south into the valley and followed it out to the bay south
of Point Huitzil. I had resolved not to pass up any chances at getting
through the Coconino anywhere below Huitzil. First we went along the rim
north of the end of the valley and came to a good break for a descent in
about 100 yards. Below the top ledge, the faint trail turned north and
in a few yards we came to a good overhang that had smoke stains on the
ceiling and ashes in the floor. The trace of a trail went down from this
cave and we got nearly to the Coconino directly below. Here we went
across the wash to the southwest and got down to the actual rim of the
Coconino. If we had gone farther west here and had studied the Coconino
wall across to the northeast, we would have saved a lot of time. As it
was I didn't notice the possibility of getting down a ledge system from
north to south starting down from the base of a yellow and broken
section of the Toroweap.

We did see that we couldn't follow the top of the Coconino to the north
very far since it connects with the Toroweap in a straight cliff. We
could go back to the top of the Toroweap and we went north along a
perceptible sheep trail. We went back down to the Coconino at the
yellow, fractured zone. This peculiar part of the Toroweap makes a fine
landmark with its outlying towers of the yellow, laminated rock. Bob Dye
and I had come up here. Now Dave and I proceeded north along the rim of
the Coconino with frequent detours to inspect every least suggestion of
a way to go down off the rim for even a few yards. I recognized the
place where I had rappelled down before, but this time I hadn't brought
the rope since I expected to locate the ropeless Indian route. We got
around the corner of Point Huitzil and I recalled that the north side
Coconino wall is absolutely impossible as seen from across beneath
Montezuma Point.

I was now ready to give up on Point Huitzil. The idea had occurred to me
that Gary might have confused Point Huitzil and Centeotl Point, so Dave
and I went back and climbed to the top and walked over to Centeotl
Point. We were starting down the wooded slope to the Toroweap when we
looked back at the wall below Huitzil and saw the sloping ledges going
from below the yellow towers down into the wash below the Coconino. It
was now 1:30 p.m. so I figured that there would still be time to go back
there right where we had eaten lunch and try that route. This we did,
but I was stopped by a 10 foot drop of smooth Coconino to a sloping
platform. I hadn't seen any petroglyphs or ladder, so I gave up. I may
come back with a rope for this 10 foot drop. It is an interesting chase,
but it makes me feel foolish. The Montezuma Point Route seems safer.

*Enfilade Point Route, Specter, and Fossil
[November 27, 1974 to December 1, 1974]*

Jorgen Visbak, Ed Herrman, and Gary Stiles came on Wednesday and we went
to the south rim arriving about 12:30 p.m. After getting our permit and
eating, we rattled out to the rim north of Enfilade Point a little
before 3:00 p.m. I found the right place to leave the rim very easily.
Someone has built a good cairn there and also put one at the top of the
Toroweap descent and also one at the bottom of the Coconino. I know that
this route has been used by Jim Sears and by Joanna McComb and very
possibly others since Davis and I worked it out. My log of 4/24/71 says
that Davis and I built some cairns. The four of us took one and a
quarter hours from the Jimmy to the Esplanade at the waterhole. I went
on around a point or two but I couldn't see any more water. I didn't
feel sure that we would find water below the Supai descent in the
Redwall where I had slept on April 24, 1971, so we decided to camp where
we were on the Esplanade. Although it was only 34 degrees by morning, I
got rather chilly in spite of having a new bag and my Dacron underwear
along. I got out almost an hour before the others and scouted the area,
but I still didn't find Donald's ruins. At this time and on our way
back, I saw three good mescal pits in the neighborhood. I also found
another water pocket with cleaner water lower in the wash that is
directly below the Coconino descent.

We camped on some soft soil covering the rock one terrace below the
highest part of this section of the Esplanade and left in the morning at
the same level contouring around several points before we got out on the
level ground leading directly to the Supai descent just south of Fossil
Canyon. On the return we got too high and then lower than we should have
been. In these wanderings I chanced on a neat little natural bridge
about three and a half feet high and perhaps 20 feet long. Along here is
where we saw three mescal pits. We needed less than an hour to go from
the waterhole to the base of the Supai and only 50 minutes this time to
go from there along the top of the Redwall to the slot leading down
through it. At the top chockstone we lowered our packs with a rope, but
the way is easier than I had remembered it. Only at the bottom eight
feet is it necessary to face in and look hard for hand holds. The lower
chockstone seemed a bit harder. Jorgen liked to hold to the rope here
and for a little while I wondered how I had done it alone in 1971. I
could grip the upper edge of the stone and get my feet on a step over to
the right. We got down as I have described the route in my previous log.
I had forgotten just where the break in the lower brick colored cliff
is, but we located it just to the left of the dry fall. This is where
there is a rock pile to serve as a step, presumably left by the Indians.
As I got down here I glanced to the north and saw a fairly well
preserved ruin of low walls just 30 yards away from this crucial part of
the route. It took us a total of five hours to get from the car to the
river and we all felt challenged by the difficulties of the route.

After lunch we proceeded downriver to Fossil in about one hour. Just
beyond the large sandy beach north of Fossil, we came to a good spring
which supports a thick growth of willows and tamarisks. About 15 minutes
later we passed another smaller flow of spring water in a narrow slot of
a gulch. Quite often the walking was relatively easy along terraces of
Tapeats Sandstone, but it finally got as bad as I had guessed it would
be, precarious walking along a steep slope among all sizes and forms of
rocks. Jorgen began to slow down. I told Ed and Gary that they should go
on ahead toward Specter if they wished and that I would go back with
Jorgen to the first good campsite and come on over to Specter in the
morning. Ed and Gary agreed to this and left us.

Within about 15 minutes Jorgen and I got on a ramp that led down to the
river where there were a lot of rocks spilling into the water and also
some good sand. I found an overhang that had a smooth floor and spread
out my pad and bag there. There was plenty of wood and Jorgen and I sat
around and talked until 10:00. On Friday I got away at 6:55 a.m. while
Jorgen was still asleep. This camp is easily located since it is across
from and below a fine cave opening, a big one near the top of the
Redwall about a half a mile south of the mouth of Mile 127 Canyon.
Perhaps this is the one that Donald's friend was excited about. The
walking became much slower beyond this point, but about a fifth of the
time, I figured that I was following a bighorn trail. There were lots of
the tracks and droppings all around this area.

I have heard that bighorn won't drink from a waterhole fouled by burro
droppings. For what it may be worth, I saw a small water pocket with
some bighorn droppings in it. Presumably the animals will continue to
drink from a rain pocket that they have fouled themselves. Ed and Gary
didn't make it all the way to Specter Thursday evening, but they also
found a way to get down to the river. There were two or three rain
pockets in the bedrock of narrow washes on the way to Specter. It took
me two and a half hours to walk from our campsite over into the bed of
Specter or a total of four hours from the mouth of Fossil and five hours
total from the foot of the Enfilade Point Route.

When I got to the bed of Specter, I couldn't see any footprints left by
Gary and Ed, but I went on up to inspect the possibility of climbing the
Redwall without them. There was no problem about clambering over the
blocks of slide material in the bed of the longer southwest arm until I
got to within about 60 feet of the top of the formation. There were two
rather smooth chutes ahead and the upper one was stopped at its head by
a neatly fitting chockstone. Perhaps I could have made it up the lower
chute (a feat that Gary did do), but I figured that I couldn't get up
the upper chute. Gary agreed with me on this. I also looked to the right
side at a big block of bedrock with a rough vertical crack. There seemed
to be some rather meager holds and I believe some sharp climbers could
get up here and probably walk across above the upper chute and the
chock. If this were possible, one would be up the Redwall in Specter (I
should have tried the travertine or talus to the northwest of the bed).

When I had been going down about 15 minutes, I met Gary and Ed coming
up. they had assumed that Jorgen and I would be slow in getting started
and had slept in. Jorgen had told me the night before that he didn't
care to struggle over to Specter and that he would spend his time in
lower Fossil. I could see that if I wanted to get down to the river in
Specter and get back to my bedroll and food, I couldn't wait to do that
with Ed and Gary. Somewhere I had gotten the impression that one can't
go down Specter to the river, but Billingsley had recently told me that
you can. He was right of course. The drops are quite easy to bypass
without going out of the bed. At the largest one, I thought that I
needed to do this and I went up quite far to the south, about 60 feet
high, and came back to the bed below the fall. The river at the mouth of
Specter is particularly impressive. A narrow black rock was sticking up
out of the water ten feet or so. The black shiny walls of the Middle
Granite Gorge are still getting higher, and Steamboat Mountain is a
showy backdrop.

The only water in all of Specter was a spring that starts in the upper
Tapeats and gets bigger with more seeps. All this water is salty and
bitter, and I made the mistake of filling my canteen before I tasted it.
I should have taken on river water.

I got back to my bedroll in a little less than two and a half hours and
had time to get supper by daylight. I spent twelve and a half hours in
bed and kept quite warm and slept more than I ever do at home. I was
ready to move on by 7:00 a.m. and I got to Jorgen's camp just as he was
waking and getting breakfast. He told me about the lower gorge of Fossil
and how he had been stopped by a pool below a chute with a trickle of
water coming down it. He walked back up Fossil with me for sociability.
When we got to the pool with the chute in it, I took off shoes and even
trousers and waded in. I was able to brace against the rather smooth
surface and work my way to the top of the chute. Immediately above this
is a chockstone stopping the way. I didn't seriously try to get by it
since there was nothing but smooth wall and smooth stone forming a
tapering crack between them.

When Jorgen and I were walking back down the canyon, we met Gary coming
up. He offered to go up and get me past the chockstone with my rope. He
went up the chute out of the pool as easily as I had come down and then
I used the rope as a handline to go up again. Then he wedged himself
into the crack at the right of the chockstone and doubled up his fist in
the narrow inner part of the crack. He was able to wriggle upward until
at last he was through. It was easy to do with the rope as a grip. We
soon came to a higher climb up to the next chockstone. The key was to
get up a projecting angle of white, travertine like rock with small
bumps for grips. I don't think I could have done this, but Gary
struggled up it. At the very top, next to the chockstone, it was not so
steep, but there were no bumps to hold to. Here Gary really had to
struggle, but he knew that he could do it since he had done it before.
The rope made it easy for me. There was one more chockstone, but I could
handle it without help. Likewise at the route out of the bed just before
one comes to a high fall with a travertine apron, I was able to walk up
the rockfall and then use the grips in the rough limestone to get out on
top. I recognized that I had been here before and thus Gary had enabled
me to do another rim to river route. If I would fix ropes in position as
I came down, I could do this alone. There might be a problem concerning
where to tie the ropes, but I suppose one could drive some sort of rod
into the gravel.

Gary and I arrived at the place we were all going to camp together the
last night right at the bottom of the route we had used to come down. I
felt foolish since I didn't recognize the place and Ed had to assure me
that we were right below the break in the low cliff and the Indian ruin.
We had a pleasant evening around the fire and a rather cold but clear
night. We went out without incident except that Ed, who was leading up
the lower ravine, didn't remember what he should do when it gave out. I
shouted to go clear over to the left, but he went a little to the left
and then started up a narrow and extremely difficult slot, almost
straight up. It led over into the right ravine up through the main
Redwall. We did the rest all right except that I got a bit confused in
trying to go directly to the waterhole. We could see the right break
through the Coconino, but I expected the water in the ravine too soon.
During this wandering we saw two more mescal pits than we had seen on
the way down and we also walked over the little natural bridge. At the
top of the Coconino some of the party didn't realize that we had to go
up the first ledge of Toroweap in the same bay where the Coconino route
comes up. We used the harder of the two ways to get through this ledge
just as I had done in 1971. We got from the river to the rim in six and
a half hours, including the time we were sitting still to eat lunch. We
all felt that we had been in great country and had a fine time.

P.S. While Gary and I were going up through the Fossil Redwall, Ed was
looking for Indian ruins. He didn't notice the meager rock shelter where
Bob Euler had left a Kodachrome can under the overhang on the east side
of Fossil just inside the gorge, but he found a much better one facing
the river north of the mouth of Fossil.

Another thought: there was lots of water at this time in the ravine at
the top of the Redwall just south of the Supai descent. The pool right
below the top fall was over a foot deep and eight feet across.

*Saddle Mountain Route to river Mile 50
[December 14, 1974]*

Ron Mitchell and Dale Graham had told me, after their trip from Buck
Farm Point to the Nankoweap Trail, that they had spotted a way down
through the upper cliffs to the Supai. Last August 1, when I was looking
for this route, I had seen a promising place right on the north side of
the park boundary promontory east of Saddle Mountain. When I got home
and consulted the map, I felt rather sure that they had told me that the
break is in the bay farther north. On the present trip, I was chiefly
interested in reaching the head of this next bay to the north and
checking it.

I picked up Dave Grede at the South Campus at 3:30 Friday afternoon and
got Steve Studebaker at the junction of US 89 and the Navaho Trail at
5:45. We just reached Cliff Dwellers in time to be served a good meal
and then continue to the hunting camp by 9:45 p.m. I thought I would
have no trouble driving that road in the dark, but about the time we
should have been going up the last grade to the camp, Dave noticed that
Orion was showing on the wrong side of the car. We were heading north.
When we turned around and went back, I discovered that I had taken the
left turn onto the road that goes around to Buck Farm Canyon. When we
went up the right fork, we soon came to enough snow on the road to force
me to back up and go at the place faster in low gear. They have torn
down the mess hall and all the dormitory rooms, but the cabin that used
to be the cook's bedroom is still there. The roof is still good, so
perhaps they are going to leave that cabin. We hope so, because it
protects one from the wind and the floor is much better for a bed than
the rough and sloping ground outside.

We went to sleep with the understanding that whoever would be awake by
6:15 a.m. should wake up the others. I got about five hours of sleep
before 3:30 and was the one who rousted out the others. We were all
ready to leave by 7:15 a.m. and I led the hike down the trail across
Saddle Canyon and up the other side. There was a bit of snow in many
places at this elevation and the morning temperature was only 18
degrees. Our progress was not hindered, however, and we reached the end
of the trail in good time. I went down on the flats instead of up to
Boundary Ridge as I had last summer and we got our first glimpse of
Marble Canyon after two and a quarter hours from the car. We were
looking at the promontory that I had gone out on last summer, so I
turned north.

On our way from the trail end to the rim, we encountered quite a ruin
outline. Steve and Dave were especially successful in spotting sherds,
many of which were well decorated in black and white designs. On our way
back we found two more ruins and quite a few more sherds and bits of
chert that had been worked. Judd was right about seeing numbers of ruins
with the cowboys for guides. Dave even found a sherd that had been
ground into an oval shape and been pierced for hanging around the neck.

When I thought we had gone far enough to check the bay that had been
recommended by Mitchell and Graham, we followed the rim for a while
without seeing the least chance for getting down from the rim through
the Kaibab. Then we went south to the breaks that I had noticed last
summer. Our first attempt was via the main draw and we got down through
several ledges. What made us think that this might go was a good shelter
cave near the top with smoke stains on the ceiling. There was an
interesting sherd on the floor. However, when we had descended about 150
feet, we were stuck. We couldn't go east around the corner at that
level, so we went clear up to the top and then east to the place that I
had thought absolutely sure to get one through the Kaibab and Toroweap.

This place was indeed a lot better, but we got down to one ledge where
we had to face in and might have needed to use a rope for regular
overnight packs. About two yards apart there were just two ways that we
could get down. Along this bench at the top of the lower member of
Toroweap, I thought it best to go northwest to a point where I figured
that the Toroweap and Coconino might go. When we got there, about a
quarter mile from our Kaibab ravine, we found that we could go through
the Toroweap, but the Coconino was impossible for average climbers. From
here we saw the promise of probable success in a bay just to the east of
our upper descent.

As we got back here, I thought a slot through the top Coconino on the
east side of this bay would go for sure. However, when we got around
there and looked down, we couldn't see that the crack was a regular
wall, vertical for 30 feet or more. From here we could see a much better
chance of getting down this crucial upper Coconino in the ravine on the
south side of the bay. I had no trouble getting down this brush and
scree filled crack until I was about 20 feet from the bottom. Here I
think I could have climbed down using some minor steps and dead trees
for grips. However, Steve had brought his rope, so we made it easy by
rigging it for a hand line. Below this place it was a simple scramble
through loose rock. Dave had been bruised in the calf by a larger rock
that had rolled beneath him, and he figured that he shouldn't try the
descent any farther since he had already proved that he could make it.

I wanted to get down to the Redwall and thus connect with my route when
I had walked all night in December, 1969, and Steve wanted to follow the
top of the Supai around to the little butte of elevation 4832. I turned
back just five minutes before our deadline of 1:30 p.m. having reached
the Redwall, and Steve found that he could climb the butte before that
time too. He raised the first cairn on top and left some sherds in a
rain pocket that he found. I had thought that it would take me longer to
get down to the Redwall and return than it would take Steve, but when I
was well up on the Hermit, I could see him coming along the slight deer
trail that we found just above the Supai rim. I waited a little and then
decided to continue up to join Dave who had been waiting for us for over
an hour. I recognized the right (the east) ravine and came to the rope
and soon joined Dave. At my suggestion he went on ahead to the rim to
warm up while I waited for Steve where I had left my pack and canteen.
He missed the proper fork (Packard and Walters came up here too) and I
had to shout that he should get into the east fork rather than the west
fork of our big ravine. The main drainage into this whole big bay is
still farther to the west, but there is little chance of thinking that
it furnishes a route.

We walked back without incident and Dave found that his calf wasn't
really bothering him. He could probably have out walked both of us. As
related above, we spent a little extra time at the two ruins sites where
the other men found quite a few sherds. We thought that the popularity
of this area for the Indians might have some connection with the
existence of the descent route that we had just found. When I was coming
up the Supai, right near the top, I noted a pile of rocks which may very
well have been piled to form a helping step. I had already come up
through all the Redwall on November 19. This is one of the most direct
routes off the rim down to the river from a comparable height, 3200
feet. If one were to go without any fumbles from the hunting camp down
to the river using the Saddle Mountain Trail and then the easy walking
east of all the ravines off Saddle Mountain, he could get to the river
in something like five hours equally divided between walking over to the
rim and getting down the 3200 feet to the river.

There is a fine landmark for the break in the Kaibab rim, a mushroom
rock on a narrow and slightly curving neck. In fact, Steve suggests the
name Mushroom Rock Route for this way down to the river. I thought of
calling it Mile 50 Route, but I slightly prefer calling it the Saddle
Mountain Route.

When we were going along the trail at 5:30 p.m., Steve announced that he
needed a rest and some food. He had by far the best light for walking at
night. Dave and I elected to keep on in the hopes that we would make it
to the car before it got completely dark on this moonlight night. We
succeeded, but just barely. It was just 6:00 p.m. when we saw the car
and the cabin, and we had missed the trail as we came out on top. I
recognized the poles of the corral which is just downhill from the
former camp, and knew that we had arrived. Steve got up here about 7:30
better prepared to sit out the night by a fire if necessary than either
Dave or I since he had his down parka and matches along. We were glad
that this wasn't necessary and we were all together in the cabin again
by 7:30.

We had a pleasant drive in fine weather on Sunday back to Shonto where
Kay gave us a delicious meal before Dave and I came back to Flagstaff.

*Fifth try for the Stiles Route at Point Huitzil
[December 20, 1974]*

At Thanksgiving Gary Stiles talked with assurance about how he had used
the Point Huitzil route through the Coconino more than once and
convinced me that I had simply overlooked something easy. I thought I
could go out there just once more and walk right down it. This would be
the day, but I would take a rope along just in case it seemed harder for
me than for Gary.

I got off to quite an early start and was ready to walk away from the
car parked a mile west of Pasture Wash Ranger Station by 8:25 a.m. I
followed the telephone line for about 15 or 20 minutes to where it takes
an abrupt turn to the left. I went north and was down in the draw that
is south of Point Huitzil in less than 15 more minutes. In only 35
minutes from the car I was at the shelter cave just north of where the
bed of the wash reaches the open canyon.

When I reached the Toroweap, I first walked around to the southwest
across from where I understood the route to be. This viewpoint wasn't
reassuring. I couldn't make out any safe way to get down to a ledge
about 50 or 60 feet below the Coconino rim. I could see where I had
stopped before and I could see another place farther to the south where
there might be a concealed route behind a block. I walked the Toroweap
rim over to the yellow towers of Toroweap and got down south of where I
had been before. I looked down on the place that had stopped me the
other time, and I could see that I would need a rope here too.

I remembered that Gary had said he had first proved this place by trying
it from below and I adopted the project for the day of going over to the
known place at Montezuma Point and getting down. Without really thinking
about how the time would work out, I started over there along the
bighorn trail along the bench between the Toroweap and the Kaibab
cliffs. There were places where the trail became obscure and many spots
had a lot of exposure. Crouching to get beneath low limbs also cut my
speed, and I took just over an hour to go from near the draw south of
Point Huitzil to the Montezuma Point descent. I ate an early lunch here
and went over my plans again.

Now it became clear that I would take a lot longer to get down on the
Esplanade using the rope and leaving it in place and then going over to
the presumed Stiles Route south of Point Huitzil. Since my purpose was
to check the Stiles Route, I changed my mind and walked back the way I
had come. On the way back I heard some animal in the brush, presumably a
bighorn sheep. I had also heard one when I was scouting the Stiles Route
from across the bay.

When I got back, I went down to where I had stopped on 11/23/74. I found
that the best place to tie the rope was through a hole through the solid
rock. I would have had a few more yards of rope if I had used a large
Mormon tea bush, but I preferred the safety of the hole in the rock. I
took my Jumars down with me but did a body rappel for about eight feet
to a sloping ledge. I could walk about 20 yards down to a crack that
dropped straight down to the intermediate terrace. I figured that if I
were down there I could probably get down the rest of the way without a
rope. Unfortunately, the rope only reached a little way into this crack,
and I didn't dare try to climb down this chimney that seemed to widen
out at the bottom.

A pinyon pine just a bit above this lower crack would make a fine anchor
for a second rope if I had one. A 50 foot rope for the upper drop and a
60 foot rope for this crack would work fine. As it was, I used the
Jumars to get back up the eight foot drop at the top. I suppose I could
have done this short climb with knots in the rope for grips.

When I was clear away from the area, I realized that I could have made
my 120 foot rope reach if I had tied it above a place where the cliff
was vertical right down to the intermediate terrace. Jumaring back would
be more tiring, but I have done places like that. I wish now that I
hadn't made the false move of going clear over beneath Montezuma Point
but had rappelled 50 feet down to the terrace.

*Lee's Ferry to Soap Creek
[January 25, 1975 to January 26, 1975]*

Ron Mitchell for one has walked the full length of Marble Canyon below
the rim and I have also had that ambition. Dana Gable walked from Lee's
Ferry to Soap and told me that this part is not too hard. I knew how to
leave the canyon on the right side about the middle of this stretch, so
I decided to spend the night, between two days of walking, in a good bed
at Cliff Dwellers. Bill Rietveld agreed to go with me and he wanted to
bring his hiking companion, Mark Storey. Just a couple of days
beforehand, Tom Wahlquist came into the office and I invited him to go
too. We were to leave from our house at 6:30 a.m. on Saturday, but a few
minutes before that time Bill called up and said that he couldn't go
because he had the flu. Mark came over on his bike several minutes late
because he had been waiting at home for Bill, and Bill couldn't reach
him by phone. Tom was still not there at 6:45 so we went without him.

I drove the Toyota at the legal rate and we also showed Mark around the
different sections of the Ferry before he and I took off downriver about
10:10. We followed a fisherman's trail below the top cliff for a couple
of hundred yards, but then we had to go up on top for a similar
distance. At the first break where the beach had begun we went down. It
was also our last chance until we reached Mile 2.7. Here a side canyon
comes in and hikers footprints showed in the sand. I figured we would
have time enough and I went up the canyon to see what sort of route it
is. Eventually it became very narrow and interesting. There were a
couple of places where some trail construction helped a lot. I got out
near where the power line crosses the canyon and looked around. Then I
hustled back to the river in just under 20 minutes, so I figure that I
must have gone up canyon for about a mile to where one can get out.

Mark had waited for me at the river, and it was a good thing because Tom
Wahlquist had driven up from Flagstaff to go with me. He had brought
along his friend, Jack Gelbreath. They had talked to Roma who was still
at the beach when they arrived.

The water was very low on Saturday morning in the winter and although
the Paria was flowing at quite a good clip, the water remained clear all
the way down the river. There were quite a few wild ducks on the calm
water. We also saw two V's of geese flying downriver, and later we saw
them on the water too. Beaver cuttings and tracks were so thick that I
think those animals are becoming much more numerous even while the river
is getting more use by the boaters. Before Mark and I got down to river
level the second morning, we saw a beaver swimming across the river.

Even before we got to the side canyon at Mile 2.7, Mark and I had to
pass places where the cliff came down into the water. We were able to
walk on meager ledges with very slight handholds. Most of the way was
through clearings and brush and over sandy places on the rock slides,
but sometimes we had to climb through big rocks and try to decide
whether it was better high or low. At Mile 3.7 we came to a place where
there was no possibility of walking where a cliff came right into the
water. We could see that the bottom was at least neck deep beside the
overhanging cliff. Tom climbed up and came down from a height of about
35 feet beyond this place. I followed his example and was glad to have
him help me find the holds. When Mark and Jack got to the top and looked
down, they decided against trying the climb. Tom went back over the
route and got his pack, but still Mark and Jack declined. They went back
to the car at the Ferry via the side canyon at Mile 2.7.

A little downstream from the bridge you have to follow the bench up high
above the beach. A little way upriver from Mile 5.7 Canyon, there is a
slide that covers the cliff and we took this opportunity to get back
down to the beach. This was a good decision since the side canyon goes
back quite far and I am nearly sure that the bench cliffs out. Just
beyond Mile 5.7 we could have gone up a rockslide, but I was sure that
there was another way up that I had used on 10/27/57. We found this true
just around the corner and up on the bench the progress was slower, but
there was a four inch wide trail much of the way to the ravine that
breaks the rim at Mile 6.5. This trail was so friable that I believe it
has been trampled by small and light animals such as rodents and ring
tailed cats and perhaps coyotes. There were no deer tracks along it. We
got from the riverbank to the highway in about 80 minutes and I arrived
at the waiting car within seconds of 5:00 p.m. when I had told Roma that
I should be there. We took Tom to his car. He and Jack spent the night
on the ground while Mark went with us to the motel.

Mark and I got an early start on Sunday and were leaving the car when it
was just light enough to see our footing. We left the car shortly after
7:00 a.m. and were down at the river by 8:20. We saw the beaver in the
water when we were up on the high bench. We got to Badger Creek Canyon
about 10:10 and left our packs in a prominent place so Tom and Jack
would see that we were up the side canyon. In about 20 minutes, we came
to an overhanging fall. There was a good deal of ice in the bed below
here, and an icicle decorated lip. With a 20 foot ladder or pole, one
might climb this fall. This barrier was formed by the Coconino.

Tom and Jack hadn't come along when we reached the river again so we
took our time and got some pictures of Badger at extreme low water. The
others caught up about 11:30 and we stopped to eat when we came to the
sunshine. This was below 10 Mile Rock. It had hardly any of the river
water between it and the left bank. There were also extensive boulder
bars out in the river that were exposed at this time. We wondered
whether the boaters realize that they have a deeper channel to the right
of one place that was now an island. The wider channel is to the left.
We ate lunch about noon and then reached the mouth of Soap about 1:10 p.m.

The channel of Soap Rapid was so narrow that I think you could throw a
softball across it underhand. I took two or three pictures and started
on ahead of the young men. I walked for more than an hour by myself and
passed the fork before they caught up. The lower canyon is gently
sloping and you can make time until you come to the Coconino. I had done
this on 3/4/61 but I wasn't mentally prepared to find the canyon from
here on up such a jumble of huge blocks. You have to use your hands a
lot. I forgot where they formerly had a cable fixed, but it is gone now.
At one place we had to climb up a few feet and then side step over to a
gentler slope to get up a fall. There were dozens of places where we had
to use our hands. We of course knew that we should take the left fork or
the one called the south fork on the map. After we were through the big
stuff, we came to a side canyon from the north. We had the help all the
time of seeing footprints in the sand and now there was a cairn to show
us that one could and should go out this side canyon. The line on my map
proved that I had done this before, but I didn't remember the
difficulties. They weren't bad, but we still had to scramble up some
ledges. I suggested climbing out of this draw on our right as soon as we
could, and when we got a view, we were heading right toward Cliff
Dwellers. The wind was so strong here, a terrific contrast to the calm
sunshine we had along the river, that I couldn't keep a steady stride.

I got to Cliff Dwellers in two hours and 20 minutes from the river this
time. I note that my log written in 1961 says to allow about two and a
half hours for the trip out.

These two days accounted for 11 more miles of Marble Canyon. I still
need to do three more legs to cover the rest, from Saddle to Buck Farm,
from there to South Canyon, and from Rider to Soap. This trek also gave
me my 84th rim to river route, at Mile 2.7.

*Pierce and Emery Falls Canyons
[February 16, 1975 to February 17, 1975]*

Mark Storey, Bill Reitveld, Tom Wahlquist, and I left around 8:00 a.m.
Saturday morning and got to South Cove so late that we just boated to a
cove near Pierce Canyon that afternoon and camped. We did have time for
a walk up over the foothills to see where the real Pierce Canyon was. We
went through the tops of tamarisk trees to get into the cove and we
found a burro trail leading over the hill north of us that went uphill
parallel to Pierce Canyon and finally went down into it.

On Sunday I got off at least a half hour before the others were ready to
go. To keep warm I climbed past where we had looked into the big valley
and sat in the sun reading Time until the others came along. It took
them about a half an hour to come up to me and then I caused a further
delay by walking on without picking up my camera. I had to walk back a
few minutes to get it. Where we went down into the bed there was a
little outcrop of broken rock near the foot of the hill. The Redwall was
already a high cliff on the north and we entered the bed about even with
the high cliffs on the south. The bed isn't steep and has no barriers
requiring any bypasses, just sand and small boulders. I had left the
boat about 7:20 and we must have gotten down into the bed about 9:20.
When we were on our way down, I noticed a cave on the north wall not too
far up from the bed, but we entered the bed at least a quarter mile
upstream from this cave.

When we were coming up the ridge before dropping into the valley, I saw
a window through the rock on the skyline across the river. It seemed to
be through a fin southwest from a high square topped butte.

We passed the first side canyon, from the south, about 10:30 and we
passed several good water pockets on the bare rock upcanyon from this
tributary. From the appearance it is really rugged and scenic. I wish we
had allowed time to investigate it. I assumed that it would soon present
an impossible fall. There seemed to be a couple of possible routes to
the top of the Grand Wash Cliffs in the shallow steep canyon south of
Pierce Canyon. It would be interesting to try climbing out to the top in
one of these places.

About 20 minutes walk up Pierce from the best water pockets we saw all
day, we came to a major fork. The fork continuing in the direction of
lower Pierce is steep and rugged, and again we preferred going on in the
main bed which came from the southeast. There was an intriguing cave at
the base of the cliff just north of the tributary. There was a big slope
of small broken rock west of the cave and for a little while I thought
this might be the tailings of a mine, but the cave was natural. It had a
smoke blackened ceiling and there was a little used metate and mano in
the cave. They were made from buff colored sandstone exactly like
Coconino. The bed of the main canyon is very impressive and wild for the
next half mile. I think we were getting through the Redwall here, but it
didn't look like the typical formation that showed plainly lower in the
canyon but high on the walls above us.

The valley opened out again. We were past the tributary from the south
when it began to look very much like rain. The others had left their
bedrolls out in the open. Since my gear was in the cabin of the boat, I
could go on without worrying, but at 1:00 p.m. the other three started
back to take care of their bedrolls in case of rain. I reached the final
split in the canyon at 1:30, when I had told myself I would turn back.
The south fork here was obviously not the main bed, but since it
promised to go up sharply I thought I might be able to climb out to the
top of the plateau in another 30 minutes. In only 15 more minutes, I
could see the impossibility of doing this. There were great
perpendicular walls at the end. Before I turned back I passed some
bedrock that was exactly like Coconino Sandstone, cross bedded and buff
colored (not Coconino), so I figured that I had at least gotten another
Redwall ascent done that day.

When I had gone down canyon about 15 minutes from the final fork, I
noticed a sure way to climb out the south side to the top. Someday it
would be good to go up here and then walk around to the head of the main
canyon and see whether one can come down it. I was in three short
showers on the way back. It took a bit over four hours to go from the
upper forks to the boat. I think it would have taken a bit longer if we
had been camped at the mouth of Pierce Canyon, but it would have been
interesting to see what the lowest mile of the canyon is like. I could
see that the bed went through another narrows below where we entered it.

One further note: We saw another somewhat smaller cave not far above the
bed on the north side of the bed east of the Redwall narrows. I checked
and didn't find any other sign of use then smoke on the ceiling.

We knew that we would have time for a shorter hike on Monday, so we
combined getting more good water with visiting Emery Falls Canyon. I had
been above the fall previously, but I had never had time to go up the
canyon farther. The lake was so high that the old trail in from the
point was submerged and not high enough to make boating over the
treetops easy. We had to force our way through the twigs to get moored
over on the west shore of the cove.

We didn't notice it until we were on our way back, but there is a trail
up from the lake from just north of where we tied the boat. Enough
people go above the falls to keep a dim trail open. There were also a
few old footprints that went quite far up the canyon. This one is quite
a bit steeper than Pierce, but it extends surprisingly far south before
you reach the Redwall. There were great blocks tumbled down in the bed
and at several places the bypasses needed inspection to find. Quite near
the start of the hike above the falls, you enter a spectacular narrows
through what I think Billingsley calls the Rampart Cave member of the
Muav. It seems that you should get stuck in here by a sheer drop. The
stream was flowing well and I had to get my feet wet two or three times.
I took my shoes off once and then just waded in with them on. The others
had stayed down low at the lip of the falls and I hadn't noticed where
they had gone when they got up ahead of me, so I was the first one up
this whole canyon. The others said that they were able to keep their
feet fairly dry by climbing along the walls through this narrow place in
the stream. The water begins at the top of this section.

We all agree that this canyon has more spectacular scenery than Pierce,
and there are several detached towers of Redwall. We were able to get
past the places where the 1:250,000 map shows a tributary from the
southwest. This is really a hanging valley with a great fall at the
junction. I hadn't known whether the others wanted to come up the
canyon, so I set my sights on turning back at 11:00 a.m. When I was
nearing this deadline, I was also coming to the place where I thought
there might be a dead end. I broke my resolution by 10 minutes and
climbed to the west side of a tower that splits the bed here. Up where I
thought I had done some good hand and foot climbing, I found deer
droppings. Here I came to the end of the line (go on up at the west end
of this bench and you get clear through). I could stand in a notch and
look up one of the wildest canyons through the Redwall that I have ever
seen. To get down into the bed beyond the tower, one would have to use a
rope, and then it seemed very sure that 100 yards farther there was an
absolutely impossible fall (wrong, it goes).

On the way down, I met first Tom and then Bill coming up. They continued
to the end of the line where I had turned around. Mark was waiting for
us farther down the canyon, and he stayed where he was to come back with
Bill. When I got to the lower end of the Muav narrows, I climbed to the
west to see a cave that I had noticed on the way in. There were some
bits of charcoal on the floor and two places that would have given
shelter in bad weather. There was also a tunnel that went through to the
other side of the promontory, and one could climb back to the streambed
here. It is a most interesting maze of channels, and I wonder how these
holes developed.

When I was through at the cave, Tom was already past me and Mark and
Bill were in sight. We all got to the boat about 1:30, about when we
thought we should be heading back to South Cove. One other point about
the cave in the Muav was that there is a smooth slab lying on a shelf in
plain sight with the initials J.G. and M.R. on it. I couldn't read the
figure that denoted the month, but the day seemed to be six and the year
17.

*Rider to Soap
[March 8, 1975]*

In March, 1961, before I had been down to the river at Mile 19 on 5/7/61
and down Rider to the river on 5/28/61, I went down Soap Creek with the
idea of following the Supai rim over to Rider. My log doesn't say that
this was the project, but I say that I gave up the idea when it began to
rain, and I recall that I had this traverse in mind. I must have assumed
that I would find a way out Rider or else I figured I would come back
and go out Soap. Finally now, after this traverse had been done by at
least five other people, I was ready to do it. The weather predictions
nearly scared me off again since they said there would be a major storm
on Saturday.

Roma was glad to help out with the car driving, and I planned to do the
entire trip in one day. Ken Walters was available and accepted my
invitation to go along. We drove to Cliff Dweller's Lodge Friday evening
and slept indoors with the alarm set. At 6:00 a.m. when we drove away,
it was already light enough to begin walking, but we were in the car for
the next hour and a half. The roads south and east of the Cram Ranch
seemed to have been shifted some and I was confused. After one dead end
detour, Ken and I got out and spent a half hour walking over to the rim
of Rider for a look up and down the canyon and then walked east to the
fractured part of the rim.

On a hunch I led Ken beyond the first three cracks that penetrate the
rim quite deeply to the one that is farthest northeast. There we found a
well built cairn and started down. We had to go beneath one big block on
the left. I had remembered crawling behind one block so I was taken back
when we came to quite a drop. Ken tried to climb down on the outside,
but we could see that he would have to drop about eight feet onto an
uneven surface, so he came back up. Finally, I noticed a crawlway
beneath the block on the right. When I had gone down, Ken lowered my
pack to me. While he was doing this over on the south side, I noticed
the bigger hole behind the block on that side. This was the way we had
done it before. Only a few yards to the west, I saw the crack where the
wind had been coming out on the former occasion. There was no
perceptible air current here now. I hadn't remembered the rest of the
way to the bed of the wash, but it is only a few yards east of the mouth
of the rim crack. Ken tried a hazardous climb at one place and finally
chose to come over and use my simple route. It must have taken us more
than an hour to go from the car to the bottom of Rider.

I am sure that floods have changed the bed since 1961, because I recall
that Allyn rested in the shade of a juniper, and there are no trees left
in the bed now. Without further incident, we got down to the eight foot
drop in the Supai of the bed. Someone has piled up a couple of rocks to
form a step near the middle of the fall, but I see from my former log
that I climbed down from the ledge that goes around to the south. Ken
went on down the bed figuring that he could make better progress there
and still climb up to the Supai later. I chose not to rely on this idea
and took off to the left on the Supai rim right there. He got ahead of
me and then had to backtrack and catch up later. One thing that he had
noted was two or three boards over near the south wall. We wondered
whether they had been washed down there or had been carried down for
some purpose.

I got out above the river at 9:40 and reached a point opposite Hot Na Na
Wash by 10:15. I had allowed for a speed of only a mile an hour along
here, to judge by our time in going from Salt Water Wash to Tanner and
then from Tanner to Hot Na Na. The walking along the right bank seems to
be easier because we made the six miles from Rider to Soap in three
hours and 40 minutes, plus about 20 minutes for eating.

I studied the possibility of getting down to the water at the mouth of
Tanner. I think one could climb down some cracks to a bench that slopes
from the mouth of Tanner upriver, but near the very end, I couldn't see
a way to the riverbank. On our side there were places to reach the river
as far below Soap as Mile 13.

We got to Cliff Dweller's Lodge by 4:20 p.m., an hour before it began to
rain quite hard.

*Parashant Whitmore area
[March 22, 1975 to March 27, 1975]*

Jim Sears wanted to do more geological mapping in the area, and I wanted
to see Parashant Canyon for the first time and then get south to where I
had been before on the right bank near Mile 205. He rode with me with
the understanding that we would be doing our own thing although our
routes might cross. He is a far faster walker than I, but by the time he
would be going out on points to observe faulting, I would be getting ahead.

We were in a hard sleet and snowstorm before we got down to Hurricane,
and on the way past Diamond Butte into Bundyville, we were driving
through snow and mud with more snow coming down. I thought it smart to
stay by the school house for the night until the mud had frozen. We
slept on the bare floor of the school where the roof is still good
although windows are broken and the door doesn't fit. Sunday was clear
as a bell and the mud was frozen. Lower on the grade below the rim, the
ground was bare and dry. The road is steep but better than the lower
part of the road down Peach Springs Wash and a lot better than the road
south of Mount Dellenbaugh.

About four miles before the cabin on the west side of the volcano, the
cinder cone that is in the middle of the valley, I got started on
carrying my 35 pound pack with food for more time than I was going to be
down there. I am not used to staying out more than four days at once,
and I hadn't planned well.

I let myself through the fence and followed the road while Jim Sears ate
some more breakfast. I didn't see him again until Wednesday. When I had
walked for 75 minutes, I came to a stock water station. The rancher has
built a concrete dam to hold rain in quite a pool in the bedrock. There
must have been several tons of water here at this time. There was also a
small overhang offering rain protection and an old mescal pit nearby, so
I knew that Indians had used the area. Much farther on, where the road
is turning north around the promontory separating Whitmore Valley from
Parashant, the bulldozer had cut through another mescal pit.

Jim had told me various things about trails through the area, but I
wasn't sure that he had done them himself or had just studied the map. I
didn't make notes on my maps, and what was worse, I didn't have a seven
and a half minute quad map of a vital part of the route. The road wound
down and across some very deep ravines and then up to a broad saddle
between the promontory and the elevation 5203 on the 1:250,000 map. Then
it swings north over surprisingly smooth country and ends above
Parashant just south of big rain pockets on the tops of outlier rocks of
the Supai rim. I didn't have the Whitmore Point Quad, or I would have
known that I should go to the east to find the trail down to Frog
Spring. On Monday Jim did this. You can get from Frog Spring west along
the Redwall rim to the big fault where you can go down and get the trail
to the bed of Parashant.

After walking out and observing the water beyond the road end, I started
east but the sight of the Supai cliff to the northeast discouraged me. I
didn't know there was a nearby break, so I turned west and went to the
Supai rim above the big fault. I could see trails down there, so I
figured that I should go south until I came to a place to get down
through the fault cliff. After much delay in trying to stay close to the
rim through the big blocks and looking briefly at one break in the edge,
I went back to the road and followed it south to where the strata warps
down to the south. Without finding a trail, I started down a ravine that
offered a route, and it went through, clear to some exposed Redwall. Jim
later told me that a trail goes down the next ravine to the south, and I
could make out a faint trail from where I reached the bottom. It went
north in the fault valley and I saw faint footprints here. When I
reached the saddle at the top of the fault valley, I wondered whether
there might have been a shorter way down. The Supai cliffs didn't seem
too bad from below. There were barrier drops in the bed of the north
sloping ravine where the trail went out of the bed to the west. The bed
of this ravine in the Redwall is to the west of the main fault line. I
was beginning to worry about having to camp without water when I came to
a supply that is available to cows even down here. There are bigger
pockets lower in the same ravine that the cows can't reach and at the
lower end of this wash, available from the bed of Parashant, there is a
large water hole that the wild burros use.

In the morning I first made sure that I couldn't get down the ravine to
the bed of Parashant. I did get down far enough to look right ahead to
the bottom. Then on a hunch I walked east from my campsite and came to
the main fault leading to the bed. Just as Jim had said, I could get
down here. In fact a well built trail with a wire gate at the bottom
goes down. Along here the bed of Parashant is strikingly narrow, and Jim
says the very best is upstream from here. The entire Redwall and some of
the Devonian is above ground to the east of the fault but you are only
below about a third of the Redwall to the west of the fault. The
narrowest part that I walked through was farther to the west, perhaps
where I was below all the Redwall and was passing through the top of the
Devonian. At two places I passed beneath plastic tubes that hung beneath
supporting wires and were supposed to carry water to the cattle.

After walking the bed for about 70 minutes, I came to the mouth of
Andrus Canyon, but I didn't figure that there was time to go up it.
About 20 minutes farther on I came to another canyon from the right, and
this time I put down my pack and scrambled up it. After getting past
three barriers I was stopped by the fourth. There were several good
pools of water up here. The deeper pools always have mosquito wrigglers
in them so I prefer the pools that are merely temporary. I was surprised
to note that my detour without the pack had taken 50 minutes.

From the map I thought I should expect two more canyons coming in from
the right before I would reach the river and I had my sights set on
arriving at the Colorado by 3:00 p.m. When I came to it about 1:00 p.m.,
I cached about five pounds of extra food here behind the only black lava
boulder that lies in the bed on the right. I felt much better about
walking more than 25 minutes at a time after my pack was lighter.

For the first quarter mile downriver from the mouth of Parashant, one
needs to walk the broad beach, but after that, one should look for the
burro trail that stays pretty consistently up near the base of the
cliff. Exceptions occur of course when side canyons come in and there
are perhaps two other places where the burros stay on the sand terrace
below the slope. On the way south I stayed low more than I should have
and lost time fighting through brush or hobbling along on the rocks near
the water's edge. There are places where the trail more or less
disappears, but on the whole the upper route is faster.

I had begun the walking day at 6:45 a.m. and my feet were hurting most
of the time, so I decided to call it a day about 4:45 p.m. I slept on a
smooth part of the trail without worrying about rain in the night. I was
ready to go on by 6:15 in the morning, and the first few hours of
Tuesday were also fine and sunny. Then it became windy and threatening.
Eventually I came in sight of the slope where Jorgen and I went up the
Redwall on the Price Point Trail and I crossed Spring Canyon with its
nice little brook. In spite of the cold wave, there were a pleasing
number of wild flowers in bloom and plenty of singing birds. There was
more than one version of the trail going up the slope to pass the rough
crags near the river at 205 Mile Rapid, but I walked south until I was
sure that I had passed the place I had been before with Jorgen Visbak.
When I turned around I was on the trail I had found from the south.

Jorgen and Bill Mooz had told me what an interesting canyon Spring is,
so I began to walk up it. By this time, however, the weather was
distinctly ominous so I gave that project up in favor of walking north
looking as I went for an overhang as protection from the weather. For an
hour or more I had my plastic sheet over my head and pack during light
showers. Several places that I inspected as possible shelters were
rejected, but finally I came to one that looked good on the north side
of the ravine at Mile 201.7. Under the projection, the floor had been
cleared and smoothed and showed bits of charcoal. I also noticed a
mescal pit where the trail goes down into the wash. The best find was
some interesting pictographs on a block of limestone that had been
attached to the ceiling. They were done in very faded red clay and at
least one was different from any design I have seen before. They were
put on square with the angles of the block which had fallen since the
artist had done the work. There were also a couple of designs on the
neighboring rock that had not fallen. These are the only pictographs I
can think of which clearly show that the rock has fallen in the last 800
years. I placed my ensolite pad down where there was a large enough
protected place and then discovered that pack rats had brought in a lot
of mesquite spines. I threw away those that came clear through the pad.
When I first found this place the sun had come out nicely, and I thought
that the only good of my shelter would be for prevention of dew on my
bag, but a little later a hard rain with lots of wind came along and
lasted for a half hour or more. I nearly had to get into the bag for
warmth during that gusty rain that was almost sleet.

The moon shone in the night, but soon in the forenoon, the sky was
threatening again. I packed my knapsack with the plastic sheet around
all my gear and prepared to keep on walking in the rain if it should
come down again. I thought I would keep warm enough from the exercise,
but fortunately it didn't come to that. All that day the sky looked
ominous, but nothing ever happened. I followed the high burro trail
quite consistently and made better time on the return to Parashant than
I had on the way south. Jim Sears hailed me when I was on the broad
beach about a quarter mile south of the mouth of Parashant. We had a
talk about what we had been doing. He told me that if I wanted to return
to the car the way George had led them several years ago, I should go
upriver to the broad sandy area at Mile 196. He was vague about which
ravine to use but he said that if I found a hairy climb, I had missed
the right way. He also agreed with me that there was a dike near the route.

The walking was much slower upriver from the mouth of Parashant. The
burros seem to have agreed among themselves that there must be an easier
way to make a living than to go upriver, for there were no more burro
signs. I had followed four in Parashant itself and had seen one at a
distance down near 205 Mile Rapid. As I approached Parashant on the
return, I saw several mule deer, and there were faint signs of deer
trails going upriver past the mouth. I also saw deer droppings all the
way upriver and a few droppings and tracks that may have been from
bighorn sheep. At one place when I was dodging the thickets on the river
terrace by following the very edge of the water, I startled a beaver who
dove for the water just a couple of feet ahead of my feet.

At Mile 196.4, I could look ahead and see the cliffs coming down into
the water. To get to the broad beach area beyond I would have to climb
up the narrow ravine to a bench and then proceed east. I noticed that
the rock in the bed of the ravine was of an unusual texture, but it was
light instead of dark that I thought was an indication of a dike. At one
place for safety and ease, I removed my pack and parked it on the
platform above me before climbing up. The ravine seemed to go on and on
as far as I could see, and very straight too. If I had given it a
thought, I would have realized that this straightness was another sign
of a dike. Since I phoned George after I got back to Flagstaff, he
confirmed me in thinking that this was the right way out. As it was, I
continued over and down to the sandy open area and then was too confused
about which ravine to try. If I should get hung up and have to spend the
night without water and protection from the cold weather, I might find
myself in a bad spot. I thought I had probably passed all the worst
spots for progress and that I could get quite close to the foot of the
Whitmore Trail that evening, Wednesday.

The part of the plan, to keep near the river with water and firewood for
warmth if necessary, was good, but the idea that the walking would
average better turned out to be false. I also made some poor decisions,
going higher than necessary at times. I would worry about having to
backtrack if a lower ledge would play out around the corner. At Mile 193
a strange cinder ridge comes down to the lava cliff that goes directly
into the water. The highest part of the ridge is a plateau and may be a
filled in volcanic crater. My impulse was to go up the draw west of the
ridge and cross it near the top, but instead I stayed close to the river
as long as possible and then had a rough time climbing the cinders at
the angle of repose. On top it provided the best walking I had had all
day, and I was soon past the mouth of Mile 193 Canyon which comes down
from the mesa south of the river. I still had a high lava cliff
separating me from the beach, and I began to worry about reaching the
river for camping, since it was already after 5:00 p.m. Just when this
problem was getting acute, I came to a nice break in the rim of the lava
that let me walk down to the usual struggle to get through the brush to
the open sand and boulder beach. It was the coldest night yet, and as
soon as I had my soup done, I crawled into the bag to eat my dinner. The
sand was damp and I was glad to keep my plastic sheet beneath me. Most
of the night was clear and there was enough wind to prevent dew from
forming.

In the morning I guessed that I would trust the beach to continue to a
safe passage past the next lava cliff, but I just wasted my time. After
getting started at 6:05 a.m., I was back at my campsite ready to climb
through the break in the cliff at 6:30. The next moves were particularly
discouraging and slow, across one small ravine after another above the
lava cliff. When I was 70 minutes from my latest chance to reach the
river, I could look across a broad opening where I would have to get
down to the water again and then have to climb up past another lava
cliff. In the series of cliffs ahead the lava went far higher than it
had previously, and I was not a bit sure that I could even climb above
the top lava. The lower ledge was cluttered with spilled bombs and
cinders and I knew that this might be hard to pass in safety. I was
ready to give up the project of reaching the Whitmore Trail. I had my
inflatable boat with me and I had two other options. One was to cross
the river to the left bank and proceed to the Whitmore Trail upriver,
and the other was to use the boat as an easy way back to the mouth of
Parashant Canyon. From there it would be a long but uneventful walk back
to the car. Since I figured it would be easier to get to the river level
ahead then back for 70 minutes, I went ahead. In less than 30 minutes I
was down ready to see what lay ahead at the intermediate lava slope. I
could proceed as far as I could see it and then give it up if necessary.
Some of the travel along here seemed more precarious than anything I had
done before, but I could go ahead. Finally when my spirits were lowest,
I came to the trace of a trail. Some small rocks seemed to have been
moved over to smooth a narrow path. Before long I was sure that there
had been a constructed trail this far south at the Whitmore area. Actual
trail construction got me down to the next broad slope to the river
where there was little need for a trail, and at last I lost the one I
had. There was one more big lava cliff coming down straight near the
water, but there was a talus of broken rock right next to the water. I
got along all right and reached the base of the Whitmore Trail by noon.

The mouth of Whitmore Canyon had been hidden until I was right to it in
the approach from the south, but it is wider and more open than I had
expected. The river trail shows again when one is getting close to the
main trail. It avoids the dense thickets on the flats by staying high at
the base of the cliff. Scratched on the wall at one place on this part
of the trail were two names with the notation that they were surveyors
from Casa Grande, Arizona. I had found another sure indication of some
former use, an old rusty tobacco can only a couple of miles upriver from
the mouth of Parashant. I wonder how many besides myself have made this
nearly 11 mile traverse. I should try to learn which side of the river
Colin Fletcher was on along here. If you were choosing sides, you should
be along the left as far downriver as Mile 193 or lower. Then there is a
place where you would have to cross or go high. If you were crossing
anyway, it would be tempting to stay in the water and do quite a bit of
easy floating. Whitmore would be a fine place to start a float trip to
Diamond Creek, say.

I saw three boats of the Hatch Company go by on Wednesday. In the low
water they were pulling up the outboards and floating through without
power and sidewise or anything. The trail out was above my expectations
for scenic value and for the walk from the river to the car took three
and a half hours, less than I expected.

The great lava spills into the valley from the northeast made me think
of the glaciers in the Canadian Rockies turned black and speckled with
green. I would like to know the whole area better.

*Blue Springs Trail area
[April 6, 1975]*

Ever since Donald Davis reported some strange markings on two rocks near
the head of the Blue Springs Trail, I have wanted to see and photograph
them. Ken Walters and Bob Packard were going out to descend the Blue
Springs Trail in Ken's four wheel drive Toyota, so I accepted the
invitation to go along. The road near the highway at Desert View was
rather muddy, but we made it through the slop. Ken drove fairly fast
over the rough road, and we got from the highway to the parking at the
head of the trail in one and an half hours. We had the map along and
didn't take any wrong turns. At my suggestion on the way out, we went to
the north of Cedar Mountain, but we tried the other side on the return.
The shorter way on the south side is a little rougher but we think it
may save a few minutes. Since I was out there on 2/11/66, someone has
extended the road until a four wheeler can get up a very rough grade and
part right at the head of the trail.

I went down through the rough park of the Kaibab with Ken and Bob. The
scramble seemed a little rougher than I remembered it. I was a little
surprised that I took it in stride with a four day pack on my back on
5/27/58. Ken climbed past everything with ease but Bob hesitated a bit.
They are both in fine shape and they got down to the river in an hour
and 30 minutes and back up in an hour and 35.

After I had reviewed the top part of the trail, I went to look for the
petroglyphs that Davis had seen. He had told me more precisely where to
look after I failed in the search on 2/11/66. This time I found them
with no delay. They are on two big rocks that have fallen away from the
rim of the plateau above the main draw drainage into the Blue Springs
bay, on the north side and just east of the last tributary from the
north. As Davis had said, they are clearly modern representing capital
letters, a date, and some designs that seem like cattle brands. the word
MAKE appears and the numbers 195 followed by a 4 backwards. I would
guess that some Navaho was watching the sheep in this vicinity with time
on his hands and he practiced some letters he had learned in school and
also some brands he had seen.

I had agreed to be back to the parked car by 3:00 p.m. so I spent the
rest of the time going north near the rim. I reached a point above Mile
8.8 on the Little Colorado and ate my lunch in a rather cold wind. I
hope I got some good pictures of the mouth of Big canyon and of Salt
Trail Canyon. I returned farther away from the Little Colorado gorge and
thus avoided some of the shorter gullies. I found a couple of pools of
standing water in potholes in beds of the deeper ravines. I also saw
four mule deer down in one of the ravines. I had supposed that the deer
won't find much of interest in that country where the Indians graze
their sheep.

There was no water behind the dams for cattle tanks, but I believe that
the big plastic sheets are more successful in catching water. We saw a
couple of those.

I was walking back to the car with my poncho over me since there were
repeated showers. We drove out with the wiper going and new snow was
staying on the grass but not in the roadway. Fortunately, we had nothing
worse than a wet pavement all the way to Flagstaff. We reached home just
after 6:30 p.m.

*Mile 36.8 Canyon
[April 19, 1975 to April 20, 1975]*

Ron Mitchell had told me that there is a descent route south of the fall
over the rim of Mile 36.8 Canyon. He and Graham had used the route to
put water where they could find it when they walked from South Canyon to
Buck Farm Canyon to complete his traverse of Marble Canyon last
December. Mitchell had stayed at the top of the Supai, but in addition
to my interest in doing the rest of Marble Canyon below the rim, I
wanted to see the Bridge of Sighs. If there would be a route through the
Supai to the rim of the Redwall, this seemed like a logical way to do
this. I also wanted to compare the route along the rim of the Redwall
with the way that Mitchell had traveled.

I had been planning a two day trip alone, but Steve Studebaker called me
and arranged to be met at the Tuba City turnoff, and than I was invited
to say hello to the Mooz party who were going down the river and pick up
Jorgen and Ed for any hike I was doing. The connections went off quite
well. I left Roma at 5:30 and had to wait only 15 minutes for Steve. We
found the boaters with no trouble, and there was a slight delay in
getting them down to the water, but we got away from the Ferry by
something like 9:30 or 10. I made one false move in getting onto the
right road to the head of Mile 36.8 Canyon by going through the gate to
Buck Farm Point. We had stopped to look down into Buck Farm Canyon to
get our bearings, and while Ed was still outside the car shutting the
gate, I decided that we had come too far. The right road doesn't have
the sign South Canyon Point as it did the last time I was there. It is
now called 445 E. We drove to the end and got the view and then came
back a little over a mile before walking to the rim of Mile 36.8 canyon.
On coming out on Sunday, we found that it would have been a lot closer
if I had parked another half mile farther south. I now have the right
place marked with a little two stone cairn.

With Ron's mark on my map for help, I had no trouble picking out the
place to leave the rim and when we got over to the place, there was no
problem in seeing where to get through the Coconino, at a rock slide to
the northeast of the Kaibab descent. The way off the rim was hard enough
to be interesting, but deer use it. The slopes below have a lot of loose
rock and it is safer for one man to get around here than for a party.
When we went down to talus covering the entire Coconino and much of the
Hermit, we should have gone to the bed of the wash rather directly. As
it was we floundered along on the steep loose slope much longer than we
should have. After we had gone some distance, a shale cliff cut us off
from the bed, and we couldn't get down without going quite a bit
farther. Jorgen tried staying high too long and we had to wait for him.
Steve experimented in trying to get down sooner than was safe and he
also got behind. When we came back out, I had intended getting out of
the bed in the same place that Ed and I had come into it, but I missed
the exit. Instead we went on up the bed with much better results. We saw
one shallow pool of water along here. There was some water in the Supai
bedrock of the wash, but the better pools would have required a rope to
reach.

When we were finally all together again, we took off along the Supai rim
on the north side of the canyon since I had seen an almost sure Supai
descent on that side. On the return I noticed that it took us 55 minutes
for this contour walking to the head of a slide area that covered the
Supai all the way down to the Redwall. One place near the bottom called
for a careful move over crumbling rock. Ed and I passed this
successfully, but Steve started a landslide and he and Jorgen went
around and came down a better way. Where the Redwall was bare in the bed
and a narrow gorge with impossible drops developed, there was plenty of
water for camping. One pocket was eight inches deep, but these would dry
up in hot weather. Farther east one can get down slides to the bed 100
feet deep in the Redwall. I didn't go down to see water in bigger
pockets, but I believe there are some that can be trusted. We also found
two good shelters nearby, on the south side and a bit east of the water
where we ate. The nearer one was fine for one man's bed and had fallen
rock walls at both ends, the only signs of former human use for this
area. The other was a cave that would shelter four or five in a pinch.
It is at a slightly lower level but easily reached.

Just before 4:00 p.m., we put our packs down at the water and took off
again along the Redwall rim to go upriver to try to see the Bridge of
Sighs. We covered the ground quite fast without our packs, and in 45
minutes we were definitely beyond where the Bridge of Sighs is supposed
to be. It must be well down in the Redwall because when we were up on
the top we couldn't see it. Near the end of our jaunt, Ed stayed at a
lower level and found two places where tubes go down through the
limestone. One of them makes a fair bridge that might be seen from the
river, but it was definitely not the one we wanted to see.

The most interesting thing I noticed was a way down through all the
Redwall to the river on the east side at Mile 35.7, practically across
from the Bridge of Sighs. Pat Reilly had found an Indian ruin on the
east side of the river. Very likely it was reached from this descent.
Now I want to go down Tatahatso Canyon again and go upriver along the
Redwall rim and get down here. I might get a good view of the bridge and
also see the ruin. We got back from our search upriver before six and
had plenty of light to get supper.

The continued walk upriver along the Redwall would be slow and
difficult. Where we turned back we had a steep ravine to cross, and up
at Mile 33, the Supai hardly leaves any space to walk. The slope to the
rim of the Redwall looks very steep.

Clouds came along about the time we were thinking of retiring and I
slept at the previously used shelter and the others used the cave. I
woke up so early that I had time to eat and take a walk downriver and
back before 7:00 a.m. I reached a point opposite the mouth of Tatahatso
Canyon. The Redwall seems quite promising as a route downriver, but if
you would like to come out at Buck Farm, you should remember to go up
through the Supai in the bay just north of Buck Farm Canyon. There is no
way up the Supai again until you are well past Buck Farm Canyon. (Dye's
route on the south side of Buck Farm.)

We all got started out before 8:00 a.m. and stayed in the bed with
better results than we had on our descent. We stopped for quite a while
to eat a snack, but we reached the car by noon. We were short of water
so we drove to Lee's Ferry before we ate the rest of our lunch.

The weather had been bracing and clear and everything was right for a
fine trek. I was most interested in the place where we camped and the
possible tours up and down river from there, but I would agree with
Mitchell that the best way to go from there into South Canyon would be
along the top of the Supai. I believe that this loop could be done in
one day, especially if someone would drive the car from the closest
approach to Mile 36.8 Canyon around to the Buffalo Ranch to meet you.
Without stopping to camp, water would not be a problem.

*Coconino from Centeotl to Quetzal
[April 26, 1975]*

The idea of finding a good descent through the Coconino in Aztec
Amphitheater was still bugging me. I had the idea that Gary Stiles might
have been thinking of Point Centeotl when he was sure that he had come
up at Point Huitzil, so I wanted to investigate this possibility. At the
last minute Jim Ohlman agreed to go along. He told me how he and his
roommate had become confused when they were separated from three other
hikers in trying to get down to Royal Arch. He mistook Point Quetzal for
Apache Point. Jim and his friend had gotten through the Toroweap and
Coconino (the Kaibab was a walk down) just southeast of Point Quetzal,
but he said the route was hairy.

We decided to use the road to the Supai cemetery for the approach to the
rim. Jim studied the map while I drove. We overlooked the turnoff again,
but this time we drove back from Mexican Jack Tank and found the easily
missed road. When you are driving along at a good clip, it is easy to
confuse the side road with a bit of grading by the bulldozer. It took
only 15 minutes to walk from the cemetery to the rim and we walked
another 15 minutes along the rim toward Point Centeotl.

I wish now that we had continued along the rim until we came to the big
ravine that cuts low through the rim just west of Point Centeotl. I
thought I was looking at the projecting part of the Coconino at
Centeotl, but we got down through the Kaibab before we reached the big
ravine, and there may be some feature of the Coconino that we missed by
not going that far east. The way we got through the Kaibab was fairly
interesting with some hand and toe climbing, but we saw a simpler way
just west of our slot.

Our next move was to go out on a flat topped Toroweap projection to look
at the Coconino. Jim figured that there was a likely route directly
below as he looked straight down from the edge and I thought more of a
sort of ramp, a narrow ledge that supported a few trees in the hollow to
the west. We went around to the west of this ramp and I gave it up
because there seemed to be a long drop from the lower end of the ramp.
Jim's suggestion seemed very risky to me and I insisted on going on to
the west along either of two bighorn trails, a lower one right near the
edge of the Toroweap or a higher one in the steep clay slope. At one
place the trail we were following had given way leaving a long stride
over nothing. Jim stepped across handily where I would have had to jump.
I bypassed it slowly by digging into the clay above while holding to
some gypsum outcrops.

At two or three other places, Jim thought he would like to experiment
with climbing down through the Toroweap and Coconino, but I thought it
would be better to go to the place where he had already proved the
possibility by getting down to the Esplanade near point Quetzal. We were
getting close to his route when he saw a better then most place. He
impressed me by the ease with which he climbed down a crack between the
limestone walls and reached a place where he would have to get down two
precarious drops of eight or ten feet with only crumbling rock to hold
to. If we had had a rope with us, he could have gotten down to a good
looking crack in the Coconino, but he agreed to some back up rather than
take a chance on getting stuck. I have a strong conviction that this
Coconino crack would only go part way through.

He then took me to the way he had gone down, and I didn't like the looks
of that place either. We had no trouble getting up on top and used the
dim sun showing through the low clouds to steer the course back to the
car. We thought we could intercept the spur road to the cemetery by
heading south, but we reached the main road west of the turnoff. We
could have left the car on the main road and saved a couple of miles of
driving, or we could have stayed close to the rim until we were sure we
were north of the cemetery. I should have carried a compass, since the
weather closed in for some real snow a little later. We were to the car
before 3:00 p.m., and I got home in good time for an evening of chess
with Dick Hart.

*Tatahatso Canyon to the Bridge of Sighs
[May 3, 1975 to May 4, 1975]*

When we were looking for the Bridge of Sighs by coming down Mile 36.8
Canyon, I had noticed an almost sure way to come down through the
Redwall and reach the river. Pat Reilly had once stopped here to
photograph the Bridge of Sighs and he had climbed up on the Devonian
ledge and had found some Indian ruins. His location fitted so well with
mine that I was really sure that there was a way to the river.

I left Flagstaff at 5:30 a.m. alone. I figured on going downriver from
Mile 35.6 in my tiny inflatable, so I couldn't invite anyone else along.
I made one error in driving to Black Spot Reservoir on the way to
Tatahatso. I know now that I should avoid the south fork of the road as
one approaches a unique rocky outcrop in the plain west of the Tooth,
about eight miles from the highway. After going for 1.3 miles on the
north fork, one should take the south fork where the road splits again.
This time I got on the north fork and came too close to Shinumo Altar. I
used a minor road that angled southwest and arrived at Black Spot
Reservoir. Still I got from the highway to the parking south of
Tatahatso Canyon in 45 minutes and noted that the distance is just under
20 miles. Although I had covered this ground only last summer, I had
forgotten that you need to walk about 15 minutes to get from the car to
the rim above Tatahatso Canyon. A closer approach by car would be to
drive along the lower ground north of Eminence Break. I saw a dim car
track in that valley. I was also unsure where I should get off the
Kaibab rim. Since there are some small cliffs in that formation to the
east, go down from right above the vital crack in the rim of the
Toroweap that I found last August. After some fumbling, I did this and
found my own cairn to mark the crack. This place is so narrow that I had
to remove my pack and move it ahead of me to get through.

This time I took the slope to the left at the lip of the Coconino fall.
It was a little longer to reach the fault on the south side, but I
avoided the awkward place on the north where I crawled under the big
rock. I was afraid I might have problems getting my pack through here.
In the fault crack, I looked up and saw where Packard and Walters had
their struggle to pass the chockstone. I am amazed that they could do it
at all.

Tatahatso Canyon is slow to descend since there is such a jumble of big
rocks in the bed. I saw about as much water in pools as I found last
August. There was some near the top in the Toroweap and I am fairly sure
I saw some in the Redwall slot that would have meant quite a detour. The
useful location is in the Supai near the junction with the north arm of
Tatahatso.

Redbud trees were in all stages of blooming, budding out near the top,
in full bloom lower, and through blooming still lower. Several different
kinds of birds were singing, particularly canyon wrens.

When I left Tatahatso to go north, I found a trace of a deer trail for
much of the way across 36 Mile Canyon. Also on a flat part of the
Redwall rim, I noticed a cooking fireplace and wondered whether Jensen
or Grua might have spent the night there.

The most interesting sight connected with 36 Mile Canyon is the biggest
rockfall I have seen in the entire Grand Canyon. It is not as massive as
the one brought down by the earthquake west of Yellowstone, but the
fresh scar shows that a part of the wall or perhaps a whole promontory
let go from the Kaibab down through all of the Coconino. I would
estimate that the scar is 100 yards wide, and the valley beneath is
choked with the debris. Strangely the largest blocks seem to have
stopped farther up the slope than the smaller boulders and gravel. The
latter followed two courses. Some spilled down into a tributary of 36
Mile Canyon but most of it has filled a minor ravine just south of the
bed of 36 Mile Canyon. Where there must have been a V shaped valley,
there is now a broad surface of yellow gravel that bulges up in the
center. Very little vegetation has taken root in this detritus and the
piles of Russian thistles in nearby depressions show that these weeds
are among the first to grow in this disturbed area.

I walked down the bed of 36 Mile Canyon as far as I could. There are
some big drops below. From the rim north of this canyon, I could see the
Bridge of Sighs. If we had been sharper we would have seen it from the
west side. It is just north of the promontory where Jorgen stopped and
waited for Ed and me to return. I hadn't remembered that the bridge
actually spans a drainage basin. I was so intent on making time that I
didn't look down as we crossed this drainage. From the east rim I could
see that one can go down just north of the bridge and actually walk
across it. There also may be a way to climb up from the river and stand
under the bridge too.

When I got up north of 36 Mile Canyon, I could look down and see the
broken slope that I had seen from the other side two weeks ago. This
ravine is not to be confused with a side canyon right next to it to the
north. The way is all obvious until you are almost down. Then there are
a couple of drops from ledges where you have to look for the best way.
Indians piled up rocks to shorten the last step down at two places. Just
north of this bit of construction, under a slight overhang were three
room outlines. These must be the ones that Pat found. This is also in
all probability where the chopper pilot let Bob Euler get out of the
machine while he rested one skid only on the ledge (probably at the ruin
on the right hand side of the bridge). Getting down to the river was no
great feat but you have to look for the best way.

I had come from the car to the river across from the Bridge of Sighs
between 8:25 and 3:00. I dropped my pack at the ruins, and although I
was weary, I had the pep and inclination to walk upriver as far as the
bank lasts. I had to climb up to the Devonian ledge immediately, but in
about 50 yards it ends. Right above 35.6 Mile Canyon, someone has
cemented a short pipe into the rock. I reached the next delta about a
half mile north of the one opposite the bridge. If I had used my three
and a half pound inflatable, I might have passed a place where the water
comes to the vertical wall and reached Nautiloid Canyon at Mile 34.8. I
also regretted not having brought the boat along since I could have
floated back to camp on the gentle current.

I had intended going downriver in my boat, see Buck Farm Canyon in the
Redwall, and return by the Eminence Break Route. I would be able to land
above 36 Mile Rapid and launch the boat below it. However, I caught
sight of a fairly brisk riffle farther down with no boulder bar for a
bypass. I would probably ship water here and I didn't want to get cold
and wet. As it was, I rested on my bedroll with a magazine for company
and got an early start back at 5:15 a.m. on Sunday. It was cloudy and
the riffle didn't seem very impressive in the dim light. I wish now that
I had gone through with the whole plan.

As I came out, it was windy and cool and I didn't stop for pictures. I
got from the campsite to the car in less time than I had needed to go
down, from 5:15 to 11:50 a.m.

It is an interesting route, but Tatahatso Canyon is rougher than the
Eminence Break Route and this is surely longer than the way to President
Harding Rapid. This route has the charm of seeming much less familiar.

*Oak Canyon and Music Temple Canyon
[May 18, 1975 to May 19, 1975]*

We waited until after 12:30 p.m. to meet Dock Marston at Lee's Ferry and
then launched at Wahweap. After a cool night camping on the east side of
Warm Creek, we took the Wards to Rainbow Bridge and next went up Oak
Canyon (Secret, in Stan Jones' first edition). We had to pole our way
through 30 yards of driftwood and paddle where it seemed too narrow for
the motor. We could land above the old barrier fall at 3649 foot
elevation for the lake surface.

The Wards and I started off together on foot, but they agreed to let me
forge ahead at my rate. I had agreed to get back in two hours and I
wanted to see whether I could find a way to leave the bed of Oak Canyon
and arrive on the flats where I had been before via the old Indian Trail
cut in the rock leading up to the east from the submerged hogan in the
other arm of Oak Canyon. Within 20 minutes from leaving the boat, I had
passed one crack going up to the east and had reached the next one. This
one seemed more worth trying, but far above it seemed to turn into a
bare crack going nearly straight up. I tried it, but about halfway to
the top of the cliff I came to a chockstone blocking my way. If I had
shinnied up with as much determination as it takes to get up Siegfried
Pyre, I might have passed this stone, but the way ahead looked still
worse, so I gave up while there was still time to try something else.

There were sheep and horse droppings in the bed of Oak Canyon, so I knew
that I was above all barriers for travel in the main arm. I recognized a
big overhang roofing over on the west side of the bed at a concave
angle, and about eight minutes of walking beyond brought me to another
long ravine that sloped up to the east. The average angle of rise was
not as great as it was in the other one, and I was distinctly encouraged
when I found a trace of a trail going up here and even some sheep
droppings. The last half of the thousand foot rise was over simple talus
material and if I had turned back shortly before I reached the pass, I
would have figured that I had found the right place. Instead I pushed
back my self imposed deadline and continued to the top to make real sure
and see where I would be getting down on the other side. I was
disappointed. There was no way to get down short of using a fairly long
rope in two places. I recognized the open area below and I am sure that
I had walked along those flats beneath the east wall of Oak Canyon. On
the way back I checked to see whether one can go up along the crest of
the wall to get farther south and look for another descent, but there
was no way. I'll have to try for another way farther south.

We camped Sunday evening on the right side of the lake on the south side
of a promontory that is southwest of the mouth of Hidden Passage. On
Monday morning we headed out into the main lake and started for the
Escalante. It was so rough that Roma talked me into seeking shelter. It
didn't take much persuasion to get me into the inlet above Music Temple
because I wanted to repeat the climb up to Emmerton Arch that Dennis
Bonnet and Arnie Stephanson had done. We found a fine place to tie up
with the chance to step out on rock while the keel was grounded on sand.
One could climb around quite freely over quite an area below the main
wall, and I found a crack I could go up to the west, on the south side
of the water, of course. After getting past a difficult place rather
near the bottom of this crack, I could go over the top staying in the
crack and get down the west side and reach another crack that led up
high enough to reach the easier slope of the sand rock where rubber
soles would grip. For safety, one still had to find the best way, but
fairly soon I was out where it was a simple walk up a valley. There were
even some water pockets on the way up.

I hadn't memorized the location of Emmerton Arch and I overshot it
badly. On my way down I got closer to the edge where I could look down
on the water of the inlet, and I found the arch. It seems to have been
formed by a cave breaking through and I would estimate that it is only
ten feet wide by six feet high. I got to the boat in just over 90 minutes.

After lunch it still seemed too windy for safety on the main lake, so I
took off again to explore a bit more of the high country. I already knew
that I could get down into the valley of the Music Temple Canyon above
the barrier fall. At the level 3649 the bedrock at the end of the water
formed a campsite for two boats. I found that it was just possible for
me to climb down a crack and reach their camp. In fact I had quite a
visit with these two families. Just around the bend, there was a shallow
plunge pool and an impossible fall. With water 30 feet deeper, I will be
able to get the boat in above this fall and it will be simple to walk up
the valley for miles towards Nasja Creek as well as go south toward
Anasazi Canyon. As it was I climbed the cracks to the west of our
campsite and walked south over the plateau. There was one very green
depression in the bare rock and sheep tracks were quite fresh in some
still wet sand. There was also some old horse manure in this area. It
would be a pleasure to spend the day roaming over this area. I did get
far enough to find the land dropping in the direction of the Anasazi
drainage. I had agreed to get back by 5:15 p.m., and I almost made it.
At least I was within sight of our boat by then. I hope to take another
crack at this fascinating area.

One observation was a cottonwood tree that had been girdled by beaver
cutting at the old water level where there was no chance for a beaver to
stand and work from any more substantial platform than the water.

On Monday we also went up Reflection (Cottonwood) Canyon. At the end of
the water it would have been easy to get out on the bank and start
walking. I am sure that the main arm of Cottonwood Gulch goes out on the
open area leading to Fifty Mile Point and the Hole in the Rock Road.

By 5:00 p.m. Monday evening, the main lake was fairly quiet and we could
have gone back to Wahweap then. We thought that the wind would die out
in the night, but instead it picked up force all night and blew a gale
of wind and sand all Tuesday until about 3:15 p.m. We took off and got
past the Rainbow Junction and then the waves seemed quite threatening
again. I brought the Crestliner into what we call Hippie Harbor and we
had a perfectly protected place for the night. It was a lot better
Wednesday morning, but we got away by 5:30 a.m. in order not to take any
more chances of getting marooned by a steady gale. We reached Wahweap in
time to eat breakfast at Page.

*Espejo Butte and possible routes
[June 24, 1975]*

Last year a geologist told me that he and a friend had been able to go
up Palisades Creek to within 60 feet of the top of the Redwall. When
Billingsley heard this, he said that it would be possible to get down
from the top with a rope and go all the way to the river from near
Espejo Butte. I figured that a good one day hike would be the project of
seeing about getting off the rim.

John Carroll was glad to come with me although he isn't interested in
severe rock climbing with exposure. We talked to the rangers at Desert
View, Don Chase, Bryan Swift, and Mark Brosovich. The latter is a
seasonal from Seattle and is very much interested in climbing Vishnu
Temple. We made a tentative agreement to team together and do it in
about three weeks.

We left the Jimmy at the junction of the Straight Canyon and Cedar
Mountain roads and started walking at 8:55 a.m. The day was cool and
clear and it felt good to be doing some real hiking again after my
operation 22 days before. It took a bit over 20 minutes to reach the
place where the road goes down very steeply into the bed of the south
arm of Straight Canyon. The Navahos had been bulldozing this section to
improve the road against the wishes of the Park authorities who want
this section of the park to be designated a wilderness area. The Indians
want to keep on using it for sheep grazing. They told us at the ranger
station that the park four wheelers can make the loop drive around Gold
Hill.

We followed the road along the bed of the wash for a short distance and
then went up over the hills to the north. Since we wanted to get the
view from Comanche Point, we took the left fork at the T and went closer
to a hogan before striking north fairly close to the rim. When we got
close to Comanche Point I made the mistake of going up over the points
along the scalloped rim rather than getting down into the valley and
going up on the proper point at the end. We were confused about which
point was Comanche, but we finally got to the real summit. It is just as
much of a climb away from the rim as Fossil Mountain and thus should be
counted as a Grand Canyon summit.

We took in the spectacular view and then I began studying the
possibility of getting down to the river. I could see how to pass the
lower basalt of Espejo Creek on a talus and then it appeared sure to get
to the base of the Redwall. Besides the chance of following the ravine
of Espejo Creek through the Redwall (I couldn't see whether there are
impossible drops in the bed), I could see two places northwest of the
bed where the Redwall has a non vertical pitch and may be possible.
Espejo Butte would be a cinch for a person reaching the saddle between
it and the rim. I also noticed from Comanche Point that the best chance
of getting through the Redwall on Temple Butte may be at the south end.
It is sure that one could get through half of it here. You would need to
start up around on the middle of the east side and follow the bench
around to the south end.

We proceeded rather close to the rim north from Comanche with quite a
lot of effort to pass all the notches and ravines that drain away from
the rim to the east. Finally we found that we had gone past Espejo and
we doubled back looking for ways through the rim. The best chance seemed
to be just north of the saddle. Near the top of the scramble it seemed
about as hard as the Shinumo in Papago Canyon and lower there seemed to
be a place where a 20 or 30 foot rappel would be necessary. I would like
to bring someone like Doty or Walters back here. We might need to bring
three ropes along.

We were looking down on the north side of Espejo Butte at Palisades
Creek. After one would get down from the rim through the Kaibab and
Toroweap, everything else looked easy. We had set 1:30 p.m. as a turn
around time, and we did start back at 2:00. By going southeast to the
flatter country, we were able to get back faster than we had come. There
were some ravines to cross, and we finally followed a streambed to the
south. When we climbed up to the east, we realized that we had been
paralleling the road for quite a distance. We got to the car from the
rim above Espejo in two hours and 50 minutes. It probably would have
taken two hours if we had used the car as far as the north side of Gold
Hill.

*Access to Oak Canyon from the east
[July 1, 1975]*

I had gone up the Navaho Horse Trail to the east of Dougi Canyon (east
of Oak Canyon) several times and I had tried to locate a route down into
Oak Canyon from the flats south of Dougi Cove. Check the log for 9/1/74.
Then I had tried going up Oak Canyon above the water of the lake and
last October and this May again, I had tried to locate a way to go from
the bed of Oak Canyon up through the cliffs to the flats where I had
been. This would be one more attempt, and I have to credit Ann Hopkins
with persuasive support for the project. Jim was not keen on giving me
four hours in here at the upper end of navigation in Oak Canyon, and
Roma was of the opinion that this trip was to please Jim, not me. I
really cut it close when I said that four hours was all I would need.

After forgetting the camera and then coming back for it, wasting five
minutes, I got started at 10:15 a.m. The water stood at the highest
level ever, 3669, and we had only a little struggle too pass through
some driftwood, not as much as when the Wards were along. Ann had her
fishing pole and the water was not too cruddy for a cooling dip, so I
didn't feel too bad about going off and asking the others to wait.

Right around the corner was one of the best narrows with some lumpy
bedrock just beyond and another spooky narrows. Within a few minutes I
passed the place where I had tried climbing only to be stopped soon by a
chockstone. In a little over 20 minutes I reached the impressive
overhang and in 30 minutes I was passing the place where I climbed to
the pass and looked down on the sheep pasture south of Dougi Valley.
Finally, in about 75 minutes, I came to a place where there was a lot of
desert varnished rounded boulders and gravel over the red sandstone on
the east side.

I had already seen places where I could have gone high on the steeply
sloping slickrock, but I waited until I came to this change in the
surface before trying to go up and to the east. I had been watching for
the mouth of a gently sloping ravine where I had come down past two
waterholes last September, but I didn't see it. There was a trace of a
sheep trail where I went up over the gravel slope, and then I continued
high on the bare sandstone. There I had to choose the south or north
side of a high fin, about the highest thing around. I could see how I
might make some real progress on the north side, but on a hunch I took
the south side. Here I soon came to an impossible drop, but as I looked
ahead across the gulch, I could see steps cut in the steep rock. I felt
sure now that all I had to do was to go down and start up the gully to
the south of the high fin.

When I got nearly to the bottom, I spotted a fine big cairn that would
be visible from up Oak Canyon. After following the bed of the gully, I
came to the place where I would have to continue up the bare rock of the
narrowing gully or strike off to the south where I thought the steps
were. I took the latter course and passed by another fissure gully that
might have led me over and down into the sheep pasture, but eventually I
came to the steps. There were no cairns along the way, but I followed
the easiest walking from the rounded rock ridge and started the descent
into the sheep pasture area. I was now quite sure that I could get down,
but before I succeeded I came to quite a few more places where the
Indians had cut steps. When I reached the familiar flats, I was at the
southwest corner of the area. I didn't have time to continue north and
find the place I had descended toward Oak Canyon and then had been
stopped by the 10 foot drop. A fine distinctive landmark for this area
was the presence of six mushroom rocks about the same size, about 15
feet high. One could call it Mushroom Rock Park. I ate my lunch under
one of them and started back at 12:50 p.m. I got down from Mushroom Park
to the bed of Oak Canyon in less than 30 minutes and back to the boat in
105 minutes. The scenery was all grand, superior to what you see from
the boat and it was most satisfying to locate the route without having
to get a guide.

The next thing would be to find the way from the Airport down into
Anasazi Canyon and farther east. Cooler weather would be a real help. I
lay down in the water twice on the return to the boat.. Spring water was
flowing in Oak Canyon a little below the talus of water worn rocks, and
there were a few water holes below there.

*Promontory east of Cliff Dwellers
[July 17, 1975]*

Dock Marston had told me that he had a report of Indian ruins on the
headland or promontory just east of Cliff Dweller's Lodge. On our way to
the north rim, we were staying at the lodge overnight, and there was
quite a bit of daylight left after dinner. I got Nellie interested in a
little hike. We went up the slope to the east of the dry east arm of
Soap and she kept with me nearly to the top cliff of resistant
sandstone. I had thought that there would be some convenient breaks in
this rim rock, but when I tried a couple of places, they seemed a bit
risky. I am sure that a fairly good climber would have been up either of
them in a hurry, but I recalled the recent climbing accident in Hermit
Basin and chose a safer place farther northwest of the next to the south
end of the promontory. It was getting a little dark when I succeeded in
making the top of the plateau, so I shouted to Nellie and she returned
to base before it got dark.

I was surprised to see that the promontory was connected to the mainland
by so narrow a neck, only about 10 feet wide. Just south of this
constriction were several short barricade walls which seemed never to
have been made with mortar. There were also some good sized cairns near
the neck. Other than these, I saw no signs of ruins. However, I could
imagine that these walls were the basis of the reported ruins. It seemed
fairly obvious that the aborigines used this platform as a refuge in
case of attack.

Before the light failed, I could see a road that had been bulldozed to
the level I was on but the road reached the edge of the plateau on the
far side of the bay to the east. I hurried to beat the darkness, but I
suppose it took about 15 minutes to get around to the road. It was easy
to stride down the road, but there are a lot of big rocks on it now. It
must date back to the uranium excitement. When I was a third of the way
to the bottom, I was startled by the buzz of a rattler. There was just
enough light to see that it was a big one about six feet away. It coiled
and I recoiled.

I had said I would be back to the motel in a half hour but I took three
times that long. Nellie had not tried to get up on top of the plateau
and she got back okay.

*Scouting Sullivan Peak
[July 18, 1975]*

I have been recommending Sullivan Peak to Baxter and Dexter as an
unclimbed Grand Canyon summit, so I have been interested in seeing
whether there is a shorter approach than getting through the Coconino on
the north side of Point Imperial. While Roma took Ruth and Nellie to
Cape Royal and back, I gave myself two hours to study the possible
routes for descent.

My method was to drop below the highway at the scenic view which is near
Sullivan. I was easily able to get down to the rim of the Coconino and
just a bit lower in the ravine directly below the viewpoint.

Then I walked up above the Toroweap and went down the next ravine to the
west. It is next to the point that goes out in the direction of
Sullivan. This time I was able to get down to the middle of the
Coconino. I didn't go absolutely as low as I could have, but there was a
big drop below. I then went up to the bridle path and walked out on that
point. Clear around to the west there seemed to be a couple of places
where the Coconino might be climbed. Through rather far, they would be
closer than the known break on the north side of Imperial. I then went
down toward the Coconino rim on the east side of the point, mostly to
look back and see whether I had missed a possibility of getting through
the Coconino, but my watch told me that I should turn back before I got
a good look at the cliff where I had gone halfway through the sandstone.
I got back to the highway quickly and walked down toward the Y. While on
foot along the road, I saw three grouse.

*Dry Rock Creek Route
[August 30, 1975 cf., 9/17/70]*

We were taking a Lake Powell trip and Roma and I had agreed that since
we would be there for three days, I should get most of one day for
hiking. We slept at Warm Creek Friday night, and it was 9:30 a.m. before
we reached the place to begin the hike in Dry Rock Creek.
Unrealistically, I had figured that one two quart canteen would do for
the length of time I wanted to take for the hike, but I knew I wanted to
go farther than I had gone when Henry Hall was waiting for me at the boat.

I knew from my previous experiences that I should walk up the southwest
side of the valley. As before, I noticed deer droppings and very old cow
chips. On the way back I ran across a neat little natural bridge. It
consisted of a flat slab, about one foot thick, four feet wide, and ten
feet long. It was at the head of the bedrock gorge of a tributary in
front of a prominent big base relief arch in the Navaho Sandstone of the
main cliff. For quite a bit of the way I could make out a game trail. It
took me two hours to go from the boat that was moored just across the
estuary from where I camped with Henry up to where I had turned back before.

A good landmark for this place where the trail gets steep is a mushroom
rock formed by a hard cap on top of a column of red sandstone. This part
of the valley has been filled by slide material at one time, but now
there are great ravines through it. The game trail goes up a ridge
formed by caps on top of the slide material.

I wasn't in too good shape for climbing because of the heat, but I got
nearly to the top of the slide area in an hour and left my lunch in a
shady hollow below a big rock. I went on to the top of the broad
platform that separates Rock Creek from Dangling Rope Canyon, and I
tried to walk across this rough platform with lots of rounded rocks and
junipers, but I couldn't get across far enough to see the lake in that
direction within my time limit. What I could see, however, was exactly
where one should go on up to the top of the Kaiparowits. The route was
relatively close and simple looking. On a north facing slope the
vertical cliffs were missing and the steep slope had a broad forest of
junipers and pinyons. I estimated that in another two hours I should be
able to get on top. The map shows a trail going down on the other side,
so I figured that I might walk up there and down into Reflection Canyon
to the lake the same day.

I spent a half hour eating in the cool overhang near the top of this
intermediate plateau, and then as I descended, I began to realize that I
hadn't brought enough water along. I held back, but still I drank my
last drop by about 3:15 p.m. I became weak and nauseated although I
avoided throwing up. I had to lie down every 15 minutes or whenever I
came to some shade, and I was over an hour later getting to the boat
than I had figured on. One of my disabilities was getting cramps in the
legs. More water and more salt would most likely have helped me get back
just as well as I had gone out in the morning.

It is a great area and I would like to do this again in cool weather.
(George Bain walked to the top and back in 10 hours. There is a spring
near the rim.)

*Espejo Butte
[September 6, 1975 cf., 6/24/75]*

Jim Ohlman went with me and we drove the Jimmy about eight miles from
the paving at the checking station, down near Cedar Mountain and then
across Straight Canyon. I parked it at first before we reached Straight
Canyon, and then I remembered that the rangers had said that they could
take four wheelers clear around Gold Hill and come up the steep grade
out of Straight Canyon. We wasted about 10 or 15 minutes going forward
on foot and then coming back to drive the Jimmy on to where the road
starts downhill toward Gold Hill. I had forgotten how bad and rocky the
road is about a half mile north of Straight Canyon, and the car would
have been helpless if I had tried to get up without using four wheel
drive. As it was, I was afraid I would get hung up on big rocks beside
the track or that the rocks might hurt the differential.

It took us an hour to walk from the parked car to the rim above Espejo
Butte. We were able to come back from the rim to the car in 45 minutes,
so I figured that this was because we used a better route on the return.
One should stay at the level above the broad flats. Here the canyons
that cut through the ridge that forms the rim seem to spread out fairly
level.

When we got to the place where the rim cliff is somewhat broken, I
didn't recognize the place I had spotted when I was with John Carroll
last June. First Jim went quite far down and stood on a very exposed
small platform and thought that there might be a way down a crack. On
further inspection, both of us didn't like this way at all. For a time,
my reaction was that I couldn't see a way where we ought to try it even
with a rope, and at one time I suggested that we abandon the project and
take a hike out to Cape Solitude for the view. However, before I gave up
completely, I went down to the shelf which Jim had wanted us to reach by
using hands and toes while facing in. These 10 foot difficult places
alternated with simple talus slopes, and when I reached the broader
bench about 150 feet below the rim, we could go south and find another
series of climbs and walks down to the Coconino.

One encouraging sign was that there were deer droppings at several
places along the route. the general plan of the route is to go down the
top ledge where we built a cairn, then north for 40 yards, then down and
then south and down again. The Coconino made us look around for a route
also, but by angling down to the north once more, we had no real
difficulty with it. Rather than stay high in the Coconino and go around
south to the Espejo notch, we chose to go down through two thirds of the
formation and then go up the ravine to the notch. We very likely missed
a shortcut by not staying higher.

From the notch our route up Espejo was mostly along the ridge, but it
was often easier to go down a few yards to one side or the other. There
was a real drop at one place about halfway to the top where we had to go
around to the north, and then on the last leg, I figured that a ravine
up through the Toroweap along the north side was quite a bit easier than
Jim's route pretty much along the top of the ridge.

There were no cairns before we built ours on the twin summits. We both
went west to a lower point to get the view of the river and of Lava
Creek Valley. We could see that it is quite possible to come down the
notch just north of Comanche Point clear through the Coconino and
probably all the Supai (Ken Walters found a way through the Redwall).
Getting through the Coconino in the ravine of Espejo Creek looked hard.
This part of the descent is much easier in Palisades Creek.

Jim brought my pack down in his hand after I had scouted the descent to
the Toroweap. Once he slipped and lost his balance and had to let go of
my pack. It caught behind a rock just before it went over a 100 foot
drop. Fortunately I was carrying my camera. Jim also stepped on a small
rattlesnake before he saw it, but it wasn't hurt and didn't try to strike.

*Montezuma and Huitzil Point Routes
[October 4, 1975]*

I had had six frustrating experiences trying to find the route through
the Coconino that Gary Stiles had found near Point Huitzil. I had tried
about everything except going down below and trying to come up. This
seemed like a good day project, and I didn't have any reason for
hurrying home at an early hour. I also had another project. Packard and
Walters had come up near my rope route at Montezuma Point and had then
gone farther north and had found a ropeless route up. I wanted to see
that too. This would be my seventh attempt at finding the Stiles Route,
but I hoped that I had made all possible mistakes and would at least
find it. Scott Thybony accepted my invitation to go along. He is a
stronger hiker and climber than I am, and I was glad to have his moral
support.

We got away earlier than usual, at 6:00 a.m. Since we don't need a
permit for a day hike, we took the shortcut from Moki Lodge directly out
to the Topocoba Road. It saves three miles and furthermore the road from
the South Rim is cut by ditching. I drove for about a mile along the old
telephone line west of Pasture Wash and parked by 8:45, my fastest time
from home to this place. In the woods we stayed so far east that we
didn't even see the valley which drains the south side of Point Huitzil.
We got down into the valley just north of Huitzil and then had to walk
to the east a bit to get down to the bed of the deep ravine. It comes
out level with the top of the Toroweap and we walked mostly on sheep
trails around to the terrace beneath Montezuma Point. There is a small
cairn here to locate the descent through the Toroweap.

Before we started down my rope route, we looked farther to the north
along the top of the Coconino. Scott called my attention to the
possibility of getting started down over here, but I thought it would
just lead to more frustration and we used my old route with the rope
around the clump of shrubbery. When we got down here we went north and
looked for the Packard Walters route. It was only a few yards away.
Without our packs it was mostly quite easy climbing, but one place for
about 12 feet I had some difficulty in finding toeholds in the chimney.
Scott was also impressed by this place. I chose to come down the rope
again while Scott climbed down where we had both just come up. We ate
lunch on the south side of the east arm of Royal Arch Creek and noticed
a good shelter under a Supai overhang across the way. We both went over
to investigate and found a couple of petroglyphs and two big mescal
pits. There were also some broken metates and bits of pottery and worked
stone. Getting along the Esplanade beneath Point Huitzil was rather
rough because of ravines.

On the south side of the point, we got up to the base of the Coconino
and began checking all possibilities. At one place Scott went up a crack
and investigated the chances higher up. He was sure that it was not a
route for the average good climber. We went on to a place south of here
where a narrow ledge leads to the Coconino above a basal cliff. Here
again Scott went ahead to report what he thought of our chances. With
his encouragement, I started up in the lead. When we had gone to the
south end of our bench we could double back to the northwest. We saw two
cairns near here and quite a few steps cut in the sandstone. At one
place some rocks had been piled below a three foot ledge for a step.
There was a lot of walking on sloping slabs, and at one place the angle
seemed a bit disturbing. To avoid this Scott wrestled up a crack but I
found the slope not too bad and gained time here.

A crack between two blocks led to a higher bench which I recognized as
the place I could reach by a 50 foot rappel that I had considered last
year. The north end of this bench is the place where two ropes would be
needed, so I went south. Right away I saw the display of petroglyphs,
and quite soon we came to the big crack behind a block where a couple of
logs are fastened to form a ladder. One seemed to have been cut by a
steel axe, and when we had climbed up this ladder we found a steel drill
bit that had been left by a miner. Another short log led by a concealed
route to the broken slope at the top of the Coconino and up through the
Toroweap. This place is marked by a couple of cairns and has more
petroglyphs at shelters.

*Sullivan Peak, Colonnade
[November 11, 1975 to November 12, 1975]*

I had told Lee Dexter and Scott Baxter that Sullivan was an impressive
challenge that had never been climbed, so Lee was glad to take my
invitation to the North Rim with that goal in mind. Steve Studebaker
joined us at Point Imperial after camping with his family and the Steve
Agins, friends from Shonto, the night before. I hadn't realized that
Steve has all the climber's equipment and some experience with the experts.

We started away from the road on the north side of Point Imperial about
7:30 a.m. and by 9:50 we were at the base of Sullivan. The impression I
had obtained last summer, that much of it is a simple scramble uphill,
was erroneous. We first walked around beyond the south side to see
whether we might be overlooking a route, but there was none remotely
easier than the one nearest us. Lee had scanned the whole north side of
the monolith and had picked a route up a sort of ramp from lower right
to upper left for half the ascent. Then he figured that one should go up
to the right and finally climb to the summit near the north end.

The only thing learned, except in the negative sense, by our trip around
the south side of the base, was that a nearly sure route up through the
Coconino existed going north at the angle in the bay west of Sullivan.
We could see that the brush and thorns would be pretty bad in that
direction, but still I suppose that one could get over there and go up
to the rim faster than he could backtrack around the end of Point Imperial.

I started up the approved place on the northeast base of Sullivan about
40 feet until the going got hard for me. I should have been willing to
tag along with Lee and Scott and use my Jumars on the belay rope after
it was in place when Lee had come to a good anchorage. I was afraid that
I would slow them down materially and I backed out after watching them
climb the first pitch. A few yards of this looked hard for Lee, and I
was convinced that I shouldn't attempt it. Lee put slings around two
trees during the first pitch and Steve stood at the bottom paying out
the rope until Lee had arrived above the worst part. Then Steve climbed
without putting weight on the rope. While he was undoing the lower belay
sling, I started back via the break in the Coconino to the west.

Before I came to the one that seemed a sure route through the Coconino
and Toroweap, I came to a good looking break, the first one in the
westerly direction from the saddle north of Sullivan. The fine thing
here was that I could walk up an open gully instead of fighting for
every yard through the dense brush and thorns. When I was at least
halfway through the Coconino, I came to one obstructing ledge clear
across the ravine. There were at least four places where a good climber
could have gone on through, but they all seemed a bit chancy to me. I
descended and fought my way on west to the better looking break. This
one was hard to reach, but there was some help from a deer trail for
much of the way up. I reached the car about 4:00 p.m. and I only had to
wait for an hour for Lee and Steve to come back. They had succeeded by
the route that Lee had spotted from a distance. One place at the
headwall had been all that Lee could manage (5.7, he called it), but he
didn't have to use any pitons or chocks. Steve got a bit of support from
the rope here, and they rappelled freely using two ropes on the descent.
They came back up the Coconino via a possible break at the eastern base
of the promontory extending toward Sullivan. It was rough and they had
to do some more belaying to get up there.

On Sunday Lee had something else to do, but Steve went with me to see
how hard it would be to get up the Colonnade. I knew that Al Doty had
done it, but I also knew that this didn't mean that it would be easy. We
drove south on the road that goes parallel to the south end of the
Widforss Point Trail. It stops about one and a half miles from the rim.
It was fortunate that Steve had brought his map and a compass. We got to
the rim all right in about 45 minutes, and when we looked out, we saw
that we were quite a way east of the Colonnade. We went out on the point
overlooking that butte and then backed up and started down on the side
facing Tiyo Point. A deer trail goes down here and then south along the
top of the lower Toroweap. I was expecting more thorny brush, but this
part of the rim seems quite free of it. The worst we encountered was
some low manzanita. I was surely gratified at this since my hands were
in bad shape from the previous day.

We got through the Toroweap ledges just south of the end on the west
side of the promontory and there were no really bad moves to work our
way down the crest of the ridge through the Coconino. Just at the end of
the steep descent, we had a bit of route finding on the west to get down
to the relatively level wall pointing to the Colonnade. The top of the
wall was quite simple until we came near the south end. Here some big
blocks forced us to choose a descent to the talus on the west base of
the wall. I had thought from the Maxon geological map that there might
be a lot of Coconino left at the notch below the ascent to the
Colonnade, but this is not so. At the south end of the wall one can
easily walk down the talus on either side. Thus one could come down here
and go along the Hermit over to Manu Temple. The brush isn't too bad
anywhere along here and I feel that with an early start, Manu could be
climbed in one day from the North Rim.

We must have followed Doty's route up. There is a fairly narrow and safe
ravine just west of the north base of the ridge going up on the
Colonnade, and we could use it. It required some care and a fallen tree
near the top of the crack forced us to go out of it to the west for the
last few yards. On the return, Steve pushed the tree down in front of us
and we used the crack all the way down. He had carried a relatively
light rappel rope all the way to near the top of the Colonnade, and we
used it as a handline in getting down this last place.

I was ahead on this lower part and when I got to where I could see a big
block in the center of the ridge, I felt discouraged. Also the clouds
were coming in from the west and I suggested that we give up the effort.
Steve encouraged me to continue. We found ways around all the obstacles,
and it turned out that the part I had already done was about the hardest
move of all. At the top of the Coconino Steve was ready to go to the
east to look for a way through the lower cliff of Toroweap. I said that
I rather remembered seeing green breaks in the cliff on the west side.
When we went around there we soon saw a way to ascend again. About when
we thought we were arriving at the top, we discovered that we were only
on top of a promontory extending to the northwest from the real summit.
It was still quite a way to the top, and Steve put down his equipment
and rucksack near the base of this last scramble. There was no
difficulty except the effort of walking uphill and we came out on top.
There was a big cairn on a rock slightly below the very summit and a
smaller one on the very highest point. I'll have to ask Doty whether he
built both of these. We got to the top only a little more than three
hours from the time we left the campground.

We would have enjoyed going south along the ridge of the Colonnade to
get the fine view down into Phantom Canyon the way Doty did, but the
weather was looking worse all the time. We wanted to get down before a
rain or snowstorm would make the rocks, some covered with lichen, bad
under foot. We ate lunch at the north end of the connecting wall between
showers. There was a little pellet snow mixed with the rain. The way up
to the rim seemed like quite a long drag to me, and then we had to find
the car.

We probably should have stayed near the rim until we arrived at the
place where we first reached the rim on our way in the morning. As it
was, we went away from the rim and then went east to avoid having to
cross all the valleys draining to the west. We had intended on staying
west of our morning route, but we ran into the Widforss Point Trail
actually east of where we had walked south to the rim. After going north
on the trail for over ten minutes, we branched off to the northwest. We
couldn't see the sun, but we had Steve's compass. The first thing we had
done on leaving the car was to cross a deep valley to the east of the
car, so we now crossed to the west. When we were getting up on the high
ground, I had a feeling that the knoll to the northeast, back across
that valley, but with another to its east, was the right place for the
road end. We decided to continue to the higher ground where we were
headed and then turn back to the northeast if there was no road. In just
a few more minutes, we ran into the road and found the car after walking
south for only five minutes.

It was a fine time of year for the north rim with all roads dry and hard
and aspens still fine. I had done three more Coconino routes and my 73rd
peak.

*Jicarilla to Slate
[October 25, 1975 cf., 10/1, 14, and 18/61 and 2/7/70]*

I got Jim Ohlman interested in joining me for this trip with the
ambition of climbing Castor Temple. We knew it would be a long day so we
left Flagstaff by 6:00 a.m. By 9:00 we were parked a half a mile along
the Jicarilla Point Road in from the Park Boundary Road. For some reason
I became leery of the road beyond but there would have been no more
difficulty from there to the end than I had already had. I needed to be
careful not to hit the side mounted spare tire on the trees.

We came to the rim south of the natural bridge and walked to it first
passing the place where one gets down through the Kaibab. Jim hadn't
noticed the bridge when he was here two former times. When I saw the
long traverse along the Hermit to get to the base of Castor, I had
qualms about my getting around and climbing Castor and getting back by
daylight. I had been having second thoughts about doing Castor before,
but now I definitely decided against trying it. Jim hadn't climbed
Pollux and I had never been down the Supai to the Redwall rim of Slate
from Jicarilla. We agreed to these lesser objectives, but before
splitting up, we looked over the petroglyphs near the notch below
Jicarilla.

I first showed Jim the spiral designs to the west and he went on in that
direction and showed me some that I hadn't seen before. One set was a
very realistic imitation of animal footprints. They showed pads about as
large as a silver dollar with dog like claws out in front. Another was a
circular maze. We also went around to the east and examined the profuse
display that Sears and other hikers had discovered. Doug Schwartz should
certainly retract his remark that pictographs and petroglyphs are very
rare in the Grand Canyon. Another retraction would be my remark in a
previous log that there are no ruins in the area and that there is no
importance for this area regarding routes to anywhere else. We now know
that there are a couple of ruins in the Toroweap facing east just a few
yards from the petroglyphs, and that routes through the Coconino go
along the top of the ridge and also down the slot towards Slate Canyon.
After Jim and I parted, he checked for a route along the west side at
the top of the Coconino, but he got cliffed out. We already knew that
there is no way at that level of Toroweap to start north along the
ridge. When Jim came to the block where Bob and Al went down the face
and I used a rope, Jim found a way along the east side. It involved
going along a very slight ledge but he regarded it as safer than using
the slight cracks of the face. When we got home I showed Jim my slides
taken the day that we climbed Pollux and he says he didn't use Doty's
way off the Coconino to the west. He found a well built cairn farther
north and he thought there is a better way than Doty used. This also
goes down to the west. He climbed Pollux and noted four mescal pits in
the saddle instead of the two that we had seen.

I went down the slot east of the notch and found the moves harder than I
had remembered them. I suppose it always seems safer to go up a climb
than down. At any rate, I hesitated and wondered whether I should give
up. However, I had a couple of short pieces of rope in my day pack and
after tying them together, I let my pack down the chimney near the top
and then came down very slowly. This is certainly a harder move than
anything on the Enfilade Point Trail. At the next barrier I also lowered
the pack through some redbud trees before I let myself through them.
These stout little trees are growing at the south edge of a chockstone.
They get in your way, but I think they help too by offering a safe grip.
On the return I came up with my pack on, but I had to wriggle to free it
when it caught on the limbs. One more place gave me pause. There is a
clump of buffalo berry bushes growing at the top of a precarious place
where one must use some steps that are not squarely below the best
grips. Below this one walks down an exposed short ridge and then gets
off to the north into the gully. The rest of the way to the Redwall rim
of Slate is routine.

Jim had previously gotten down the Redwall in the arm of Slate directly
below this Coconino route, but Allyn and I had used a different, safer
way. It was hard for me to recognize our way. By the time I found it,
time had run out, so I didn't make sure that it is just as easy for me
now as it was in 1961. On rereading my 1961 log, I see that our
relatively easy route was near the point separating the arm from
Jicarilla from the main south arm. It starts down on the side of the
point facing the Jicarilla arm and involves some toe and hand holds, but
I called them perfectly safe in 1961. Donald Davis, among others, has
taken exceptions to my statement that the Redwall passage here is
routine. The hiking club, or the elite members of it, got down beside a
big chockstone in the bed of the arm from Jicarilla after a long search
for an easier way. They had started from Flagstaff around 6:00 a.m. and
took until 4:00 p.m. to reach the Redwall rim. Jim led the way past the
chockstone finally and they reached Boucher Creek long after dark. They
had agreed to meet another party there with whom they had arranged a car
shuttle.

My most unusual experience of the day was an encounter with a bighorn
couple, a ram and an ewe. The ram was mature with a great set of horns.
They stood about 60 feet away in full view looking me over before they
showed any alarm. When they started on they stopped momentarily. They
went away at a fast clip but in good order with the ewe in front.

Near the top of the Coconino slot, parallel with the chimney there seems
to be a possible climbing route. At least it looks possible from below.
I told Jim that I couldn't remember going up the chimney in 1970 and
that I must have used the alternate route. He tried it and got in real
trouble. He couldn't get out to the top and his moves back down were
harder. He took a long time making up his mind and finally took the
biggest chance of the day to get over into the chimney.

In getting up the Kaibab ledge near the top, Jim could get up using the
meager holds between the crack to the north and the place where the pole
is resting against the wall to the south. I had previously used a rope
fastened around a flake at the top of the crack and when I came back
from Pollux, I climbed up using this pole. This time, I slid down the
barkless pinyon pine trunk. On the return, I tried the poor holds that
Jim had used and found that at the very top, I wanted more to hold to.
He uncoiled enough of his rope to give me a better grip.

We left the car at 9:00 a.m. and were ready to leave the notch, after
looking at the petroglyphs, by 10:30. By noon I was eating lunch on the
east side of Slate on the Redwall rim. It took roughly two hours to go
back up to the Jicarilla notch and 45 minutes more to reach the car
including about 15 on the rim walking to the car.

On the drive back I decided to investigate a pair of wheel tracks
leading south from the Park Boundary Road. They turned off east of where
the fence is next to the road. The general trend is southwest, so I may
not save any distance by going this way even though I can take the
cutoff to Moki Lodge rather than drive to the village before going home.
There was a locked gate at the park boundary fence, but someone had
lifted it off its hinges and Jim opened it in that manner. This
variation saves time, however, because one can drive the well graded
road at 35 instead of the 15 mph in second and first gears along the
boundary road.

The day's hike was considerably less impressive than I had planned, but
still I had been intending to get down from Jicarilla to Slate for a
number of years, and I was glad to fill in the line that would give me
another route from the rim to the river at the mouth of Slate.

When I consider how obvious the route is up the Supai, with a distinct
possibility of getting through the Coconino also, from the Redwall rim,
I would think that this is the actual Clement Tadje Route to the rim.
From where they would get to the top of the Redwall in Slate, the way up
the Supai and Coconino towards the Diana notch is not in evidence. They
would also have been a couple of miles closer to Bass Camp if they had
headed toward Jicarilla, and the Kaibab ascent is also easier just
southwest of Jicarilla than it is west of Mescalero Point. From now on I
am going to call this the Clement Tadje Route. In another log I recorded
that John Wehrman found the Coconino slot east of the Jicarilla notch to
be possible after I had concluded that it was impossible.

*Montezuma Point to Apache Point
[November 11, 1975]*

Long ago I had formed the ambition to cover all the trails within the
Grand Canyon which were shown on the Matthes Evans map. Between 15 and
20 years ago I had been over all of them except the place along the
Esplanade on the south side of Aztec Amphitheater. I had been down to
the Redwall Gorge of Royal Arch Creek from both sides in more than one
way, but I had intended to complete the Esplanade Route someday. Since I
had left my climbing rope hanging down the chimney at Montezuma Point I
decided that for a good one day trip, I would retrieve my rope and cover
the missing part of the Esplanade Route. Bob Packard went along
particularly to see the Stiles Route through the Coconino and Jim Ohlman
and his roommate, Rocky Dutt, also wanted to share this hike. We parked
a mile west of Pasture Wash Ranger Station and started walking at 9:15
a.m. After following the telephone line for 10 minutes, we headed north
and succeeded in missing the valley that drains the south side of Point
Huitzil. When we started down the draw going west about 30 minutes from
the car, I was fairly sure that we were in the wash draining the north
side of Point Huitzil, and when we got the view of the whole Canyon, we
were sure of it. This was 45 minutes from the car.

We took our time at the Coconino, spreading out to minimize the danger
of rolling loose rocks on each other, and the rest of the party looked
over my way through the Coconino while I was coiling the rope. They were
impressed by it and we were all sure that Packard's way was a better
discovery. Bob wasn't very sure that he had found the right approach to
his route from above, but I was able to assure him that he was going
down the right place. It is impressively steep but safe. We crossed the
wash between Montezuma and Huitzil at the shelter cave and the mescal
pits and went up the ravine filled with boulders to the Esplanade a
little to the west. We could keep to the Esplanade Trail about 90% of
the time. It would be clearer if the rangers hadn't killed so many
burros several years ago, but there are still some fresh burro signs in
this region.

Near the top of the Supai in the wash draining the south side of
Huitzil, a seep was running that would give enough water for a couple of
campers, but one would have to build a clay dam to collect the water. We
kept watching for possible places to get through the Coconino west of
Huitzil, but we could rule out a couple of places that Jim had
considered possible when we were above them. He couldn't even find the
place that he had climbed down near Point Quetzal, and we weren't even
sure which was Point Quetzal. Jim got ahead of us and then descended to
a lower level. Down there he found about ten cairns leading to a break
in one Supai cliff. He assumed that they indicated a route through that
formation down to the Redwall. While he was away, we changed our minds
about turning back and going up the Stiles Route at 2:30 p.m. I thought
that it would be about as easy to go ahead and get to the rim at Apache
Point. When Jim caught up and heard about the new plan, he commented
that we must want to take until 11:00 to get home, but he was eager to
see Apache Point, and he didn't object. It was after 3:15 when we
reached the place to start up from the Esplanade and it was 4:45 when we
reached the rim at Apache Point. Jim took my suggestion and went to the
top of the pinnacle north of Apache Point to see the Indian ruin, but he
caught up with me before we topped out. I was the slowest in the party,
but there were places along the Esplanade where the others would elect a
more difficult route and would get behind.

We intercepted the telephone line in broad daylight and followed it
fairly closely. As long as it was light enough to find it, we were able
to stay on a horse trail that paralleled the line, but when there was
only the moon for light, we tried not to lose the line. We had a little
trouble dodging cactus and fallen timber, but the main trouble was my
weariness. I also felt the cold in my light sweater, and we were all
relieved when we could make out the car in the moonlight off to the side
of the line. An extra big pine that had fallen on the line was the sign
that we were close. It was a hard day for me, ten and a quarter hours of
actual walking between 9:15 a.m. and 8:15 p.m.

*Jicarilla Point and Diana Temple
[November 22, 1975]*

I got Jim Ohlman interested in going back and climbing Castor Temple. We
left Flagstaff at 7:30 p.m. and met Steve Studebaker at Bright Angel
Lodge about 9:00, and then we drove the Jimmy to the end of the road at
Jicarilla Point. I didn't know that the cable barring the way from the
West Rim Drive to the Park Boundary Road is now down, and I went out the
Rowe Well Road to connect with it. On the return Saturday evening, we
tried going to the pavement directly and found that this is now
possible. I succeeded in driving between the trees on the Jicarilla
Point Road without hitting the side mounted spare tire or the side view
mirrors, but in full daylight on Saturday I had to stop abruptly with
the tire against a tree and later I broke the right hand side view
mirror when I went by a tree limb that I thought was non resistant. The
young men slept on the ground and kept warm enough in ordinary down bags
while I slept on a pad on the floor of the Jimmy and needed one down bag
inside another before morning. We got off shortly after seven Saturday
morning and found the descent route without delay. I slid down the pole
while the others used the bumps in the little cliff. On the return, Jim
went up again without removing his pack while Steve handed his pack up
to Jim before climbing up himself. As before, I asked for a rope and for
a handline near the top.

I hadn't remembered how difficult it is to go along the ridge towards
Pollux. Some scouting for the route is necessary at a couple of places,
and there is quite a bit of exposure. Then we came to the place where Al
Doty had done all right by himself, but when he took me the next time he
turned back. Then when he took us out to climb Pollux again, he was sure
that he had gotten down the face of the steep place. The others were
able to climb down and up here, but I had my rope along and used it as a
handline. On the present trip, the place seemed higher and steeper, and
I didn't even spot the bush where I had tied my rope five years ago. I
should have climbed down as far as I could and should have looked at the
rest of the way. If I had done this, I am sure that I would have seen
that it was the same old way. Jim had done this steep part just four
weeks ago, but he didn't press me to come ahead and try it. Both he and
Steve were carrying their climbing ropes, so I could have had a handline
again. Instead we backed up and Jim experimented with getting down to a
lower ledge on the west side of the ridge. He found this impossible
after getting halfway to the bottom of the Coconino. I was in one of my
depressions concerning rock climbing and we also saw that a complete
trip to Castor and back would take using more night walking and
climbing. We all turned back to the car. We did a bit more climbing to
the top of the ridge north of the notch below Jicarilla Point and we
also looked over the Indian ruins and the petroglyphs on our retreat.

In thinking over what we could do with the rest of the day, the young
men liked my suggestion about climbing Diana Temple. We parked 1.3 miles
along the Park Boundary Road southeast of the Jicarilla Spur Road, and
set off towards the rim. In 35 minutes we reached it about 10 minutes
walk west of the takeoff. I checked the view from the rim into the
canyon several times and finally remarked that we might be overshooting
if we went any farther. Steve called my attention to the fact that I was
standing within two yards of a cairn which I had said we should find
before we started down. I went down 10 yards and looked around carefully
before I recognized the slot leading to the main Kaibab route where a
handline is useful.

Here I decided to walk the rim to the east while Steve and Jim got over
to Diana and back. I had pioneered this route and now I thought I would
only hold them up if I went along. They had a fine afternoon and even
used a new route to the top south of the bighorn trail that I had used.
While they were up there, Jim ran onto a bighorn ram and it stood its
ground while he got a picture. Jim and Steve tried to see how it went
down after it made a 15 foot jump off the rim. They couldn't see it, but
they could hear it going down a loose rock slope.

I walked to where the drift fence comes to the rim and then returned to
the road in 20 minutes and went along the road to the car in 30 more.
The climbers reached the road only a couple of hundred yards from the car.

*Pearce Canyon
[November 27, 1975 to November 29, 1975]*

Originally Jorgen talked me into wanting to go down Emory Falls Canyon
instead of doing something in Clear Creek and Vishnu Creek for
Thanksgiving. I was more eager to go back to Pearce Canyon than to do
Emory Falls Canyon, and Bill Belknap swayed the decision. Ed Herman
would have gone along with either project. I took our boat to the
Hackberry Meadview Road Junction Wednesday night and slept in the Jimmy
while the other three reached the same place several hours after my
rather late arrival and slept on the ground.

We launched the Crestliner at South Cove and camped where we had on
2/16/75. It was only 10:30 a.m., so there was time to do something good
that day. From a distance I had picked a possible route up the cliffs to
the south of Pearce Canyon. It was not in either of the two most
prominent bays south of Pearce, but was easily reached from the burro
trail that we had followed over into Pearce. At the saddle where we had
formerly descended to the bed of Pearce, we continued up the ridge to
the east and then followed it southeast to the vicinity of a small steep
canyon, the closest to Pearce. What I hadn't seen from a distance was
that there is a cliff about 60 feet high that seemed continuous as we
got nearer. We looked at the fall in the little canyon. Ed thought it
might go, but about 15 yards to the west he found a place that he liked
better. It was hard enough to give him a struggle, and when Jorgen tried
the lower part of the route, he gave up. I tried and gave up a possible
route a couple of yards away from Ed's and then went up his route as
easily as he had. The rest of the way up through the Redwall was not
difficult, but it was an interesting exercise in route finding. We got
into the bed and went up a short distance and then scrambled up a bypass
to the east. After a hundred yards up a rockslide area, we reached a
ledge that led us to the west and south around a corner and then back to
the bed of the main ravine above the impossible falls. Where the valley
broadened we were above the Redwall, and we could walk up with little
difficulty to a projecting ridge pointing west below the large
triangular mesa directly west of the first south side tributary of
Pearce Canyon. Ed and I went as high as we could to the bench going
along the south side of the triangular mesa and the section of Sanup
Plateau south of Pearce Canyon. We decided that there wouldn't be time
to do anything else significant, so we turned back.

When we had climbed down the difficult pitch that had turned Jorgen and
Bill back, we were going west to descend to the burro trail when we saw
Bill and Jorgen on a bench above the cliff that had caused the
difficulty. They had found a fault ravine which was much easier and
safer than our climb. They had also found a cave with a piece of pottery
and a metate at the base of the cliff to the east of this break. We had
all seen two mescal pits between the burro trail and the main climb to
the base of this lowest cliff, and the fault ravine cut off an outlier
Redwall pinnacle from the main mass. However, before we all started back
to the boat, we checked to see that this bench continued around to where
Ed and I had been. It did.

Around the campfire that Thanksgiving evening, it was decided to split
up. Bill and the others would pack as much water as would be necessary
for a two day trip into Pearce Canyon while I would try to go up the new
route to the south of Pearce Canyon and try for a view of the great bowl
shaped slump area at the upper end of the first south side tributary
into Pearce. Our evening around the fire was cut short by a definite
rain after a lot of minor threats consisting of a few small drops. We
had a time getting the canopy raised over the rear deck of the
Crestliner since the plastic slides are getting broken, but we got
enough support so that it held fairly well in the windy rain. We all
slept under cover. The rain was the best thing that could have happened
for the backpackers into Pearce because it put water into pockets. They
needed only about a quart apiece from the boat.

I ate breakfast in the dark and started, after conferring with Bill who
was sleeping with me on the back deck, about 7:10 a.m. I was pleased
with my stamina after some discouraging signs of weakness relative to
the extra fine hikers who have been with me on recent hikes. With my
knowledge of the route, I was able to reach the ledge where Ed and I had
eaten lunch three hours after leaving the boat in only two and a half hours.

I followed our previous course to the top of the ridge in the Supai and
then saw that the best way to approach the saddle separating the
tributary of Pearce from the canyon draining to the west, the one south
of where I had come up through the Redwall, would be along the low angle
slope above the Redwall. I didn't see a way directly down to the south,
so I went off the ridge where I had come up and walked around the point
to the west and then turned east. Below the end of the promontory were
two more mescal pits.

Progress was easy in this high valley and I was soon climbing up the
gully at the southwest corner of the valley. It was easy to get to the
base of the final Supai cliff below the Sanup Plateau at the south end
of the saddle connecting it with the triangular mesa immediately south
of Pearce Canyon. In the hope of coming to a place where the final cliff
could be climbed, I proceeded south above the Pearce tributary. I had
decided to turn back about 1:00 p.m. and when I saw a way down into the
bed of the tributary, I was tempted to use the last of my time for this.
Just then I also saw a possible way to get to the top of the plateau, a
break leading halfway through the upper cliff a few hundred yards past a
vertical ravine with a chockstone halfway to the top. The route ahead
went all right. The final cliff was broken by a route about 50 yards
farther to the south. I was rewarded by a fine view of Snap Point and I
was also near the rim of the huge bowl where the Supai has slumped into
some sort of broad pit that formed beneath after the upper rock was
deposited. It was a little later than I had wanted to turn back, but the
trip down went so well that I was back to the boat by 4:45, less than
four hours from when I turned back.

I wasn't sure what I wanted to do on Saturday. The thought occurred to
me to take an easy hike like finding out what lower Pearce Canyon is
like below where we enter it from the burro trail up the ridge from our
cove. I knew it would be a long day to do what I had failed in doing
last February, find out if there is a way out of the east arm of Pearce
Canyon, the longer one at the final junction. After I woke up early I
decided to go after it. Last spring I had waited a half hour for the
others and we had also spent some time inspecting the cave near where
the main Pearce Canyon turns south through the Redwall narrows. I set a
quick but steady pace and stopped for a snack about 10:30. By noon I was
at the last junction where I had learned last February that the south
arm is impossible. Only about five minutes from this junction, a short
distance around the bend in the canyon, I saw a definite possibility for
climbing out to the south. Burro droppings and tracks had continued up
this arm, although they seemed much more scarce than in the lower parts
of Pearce, so I assumed that one should be able to walk on out of this
arm. To take the surer way, however, I climbed up the 400 foot rise to
the south rim and found no difficulty. When I saw that there is a slump
in the surface of the plateau down toward the bed of this arm, I thought
that there must be a walk up in the bed, but when I got near for a good
view, I found that there is still a 70 foot cliff. I had come up the
only possible way near the end (John Green got out to the northeast of
here, but I couldn't do his climb). The view of Snap Point whitened by
fresh snow was terrific. I also took a picture of Point Gerrett, the
extension of the Upper Grand Wash Cliffs to the south. I was surprised
to see that a road penetrates this section of Sanup Plateau from the
north. The new seven and a half minute quad map which Bill had brought
didn't show a road going this far. I turned back at 1:30 p.m. and
reached the boat by 5:35. I was gratified to see that I still felt god
enough to come down much of the burro trail to the lake on the double.

While I was doing the above good hikes, the other three were having a
fine time too. On Friday Bill and Jorgen checked the first tributary
from the south and found what I had guessed, impressive scenery but a
completely impossible high fall. Ed explored the narrow tributary that
continues east where the main bed goes to the south. He found the best
potholes of water here, probably reliable except during the hottest time
of the year. He was not stopped, so on Saturday all three went up here
and came out on top of the mesa that is separated from the mainland to
the east by a saddle. When they had enjoyed the view they descended the
simple broad slope into the main bed above the Redwall narrows and
returned to their camp via the main bed. Their camp was a fine cave to
the north of the best waterpockets, about 10 minutes walk up the bed
from the first south side tributary.

*East side of Cremation Canyon
[December 13, 1975]*

Bob Packard and Ken Walters climbed Newton and Pattie on 12/6/75 and
then while Ken went and climbed Lyell, Bob investigated a Redwall
descent at the promontory on the south side of the bay separating Pattie
from Newton. He found that the end of this point is split off by a crack
which he could descend to the north. Further there was a good route
through a lower cliff and the rest of the way was a simple rough walk. I
wanted to see this route for myself and I also hoped to finish a Redwall
route at the very head of the east arm of Cremation.

Jim Ohlman went with me starting from Flagstaff at 6:30 and Steve
Studebaker had arranged to meet us at the Visitors Center. The ice on US
180 kept down our speed and we didn't reach the Visitor's Center until
just before 8:30 only to learn that Steve had called from Desert View
saying that he was coming but would be late. I talked to Kathy Green at
the permit desk and gave her a copy of my trails marked on the Matthes
Evans maps up to December, 1975. Steve arrived just before nine and we
left our cars at the head of the Kaibab Trail about 9:20.

There were no snowbanks on the trail and only a few mud patches and our
progress was good down to the bottom of the White Switchbacks.
Proceeding across the rolling Tonto hills on faint burro trails at
times, we started up the ravine just north of the place I had picked for
Bob's route. We could have gone up a scree slope considerably to the
north, but there seemed to be only one easy way through a lower cliff in
our ravine. We first recognized Bob's tracks at this place. There were
more going up to the slot separating the tower at the end of the
promontory from the main rim. It was easy and safe to climb up this
crack and walk out on top of the Redwall closer to Newton than Pattie.
Jim tried climbing the low cliff to the top of the promontory but gave
it up as a bit too risky.

We went south along the Redwall rim passing by the easy descent through
the major fault ravine. I didn't recognize the route I had tried at the
end of Cremation from above. We could get down fairly far through the
top, broken part of the rim. When it seemed from above that the descent
to the west of the main ravine only led down to an impossible wall, we
went down the easy way to the ravine itself. It ended at a 50 foot
dropoff. I checked the possibility of going west along the wall about 30
feet up from the drop off and gave it up. I wish I had done the same
thing at the very bottom of the ravine. We gave up this attempt and went
back to our packs on top.

By now we could see that we were going to be short of time. The other
two were leaning toward the route down the Redwall in the major fault
and the return up the Kaibab Trail from below the White Switchbacks, but
I thought that we could make better time along the rim of the Redwall
back to the Kaibab Trail. I had forgotten precisely how slow this had
been in years gone by. By the time we were halfway we had all come to
the conclusion that we had taken the short but slower way. There was a
faint deer trail for much of the distance, but from the east side of the
end of Cremation to the Kaibab Trail took us two hours and 20 minutes
this time. I had also forgotten where I had previously gone up through
the slide area in the Supai to the trail. This time I led the young men
up to a wall in the Supai below the trail. Jim was able to muscle up a
shortcut while Steve and I took a longer way to the north.

By now snow was falling in pellets and higher on the trail the wind came
in gusts that sometimes made me crouch to keep from being blown off the
exposed ridge. Steve wasn't in the best of shape and probably shouldn't
have come. Near the end of the day he told us that he had recently
missed a day of school from having the flu. He elected to stop at a
sheltered place on the trail and heat some chili. He was driving his own
car and we figured that he could look out for himself.

Jim could go quite a bit faster than I, but I was able to keep up a
steady pace. We did the last mile and a half in 55 minutes and then took
two and a quarter hours to drive home.

*East side of Cremation Canyon
[January 3, 1976]*

On 12/13/75 we had given up trying to get down the Redwall at the end of
the east arm of Cremation Canyon. Before 1959 I had tried coming up
through the Redwall here and had given up only a few yards from success.
I still wanted to finish this project even if a rope would be necessary.
I didn't mind going alone since I could set my own pace.

Since the NPS no longer requires a permit for a one day hike, I drove
directly to the South Kaibab Trail and started down at 8:15 a.m. The
trail was just a bit icy, but with my lug soles, I had no trouble
keeping my feet. I reached the place to leave the trail in order to
follow the top of the Redwall going east in 45 minutes and the bottom of
the White Switchbacks in 70 minutes. As usual I could find some signs of
burro trails while I was going across Cremation Canyon. I got down to
the bed of Cremation at the same place as in December, downstream from
the Packard Route through the Redwall.

On the present occasion, I used the break through the Redwall where the
geologic map shows the big Cremation Fault. I had been down this route
years ago with Allyn Cureton and I recalled that it is relatively easy,
but I didn't recall the precise approach from below. After going up the
proper drainage to where the bedrock forms the lowest cliff, I found a
seep. It formed a slab of solid ice about a square yard in area and
several inches deep. When I came by about 2:15 p.m., enough ice had
melted to form a little muddy pool. I could have camped with this much
water, but I don't consider it reliable for hot and dry weather.
Evaporation would keep up with this much flow.

There was a burro trail going to this seep and then the burros seem to
follow the base of the cliff up to the west. I should have gone up the
little cliff right near the seep. I came down this way and there was no
difficulty, but I thought I should follow the burros on the way up. I
had to leave the trail and scramble up a broken cliff and then work my
way to the left to get into the fault ravine. I had remembered the chute
to the west of the main bed and the only barrier consisted of
overhanging bushes. It was still cold when I ate my lunch at the top of
this route.

As we had done in December, I went down the drainage into the east arm
of Cremation from the south side of the final bay in the Redwall. The
fault accounts for the broken rock on this side of the promontory as
well as the route on the north side. When I got down to the 40 foot
fall, I went up a couple of yards to the west to a stout tree and looked
for possible ways to get down and across to where I had come up so many
years ago. I used the tree as a safe place to tie the rope and
rappelled. After the first drop of eight feet, I moved the rope farther
west and could get off the rope after going down about 12 feet. The
rocks are so broken that a good climber might manage this without a rope.

I started to go down to the east in order to head the valley and come to
the bed by the easy talus over on the south side. This would mean that I
was abandoning the rope to be recovered on another trip. I had the
Jumars with me and decided to go back the way I had come down. However,
I first looked for a ropeless route. I could go higher a little to the
west of the rope, and then I tried working my way back to the ravine to
the east. The holds were as I remembered them from so many years ago,
not quite good enough to reassure me. I believe men like Walters,
Cureton, or Doty would have done this handily, but I came down and used
the Jumars.

I returned over the same route as in the morning. I seemed to be in
worst condition than in December, and my right hip socket was bothering
me. It took me three hours and five minutes to cross the Tonto and get
up the trail to where we had taken two hours and 20 minutes to do the
same thing along the top of the Redwall.

*Tincanebitts and Burnt Spring Canyons
[January 5, 1976 to January 7, 1976]*

Billingsley and Jensen couldn't go on this boating and hiking trip, and
near the last minute I learned that Bruce Braley wanted to go. He was
quite an interesting companion and was my superior as a walker and climber.

We reached South Cove about 6:20 p.m. on Sunday and got a fairly early
start from there Monday morning. The lake level was about the same as it
had been last Thanksgiving. I probably should have let the boat plane
upriver, but I had the fear of hitting a mud bar too fast and only
proceeded at about 12 miles per hour. There was no problem with the bars
until we were past the Bat Cave, but above there several times we would
have to raise the prop out of the mud and pole the boat loose. Then we
would go back a short distance and cross the river.

Ed Herrman and Jorgen Visbak had tried exploring Tincanebitts Canyon, so
I decided rather on the spur of the moment to stop there. Billingsley
had been most interested in Burnt Spring Canyon, but I figured on coming
back to the boat at night, and in three days we would have time to do both.

We moored the boat upstream from the middle of the tamarisk covered
delta of the canyon, but we still had a lot of fighting through the
jungle to get to the clear walking above the tangle along the east side
of the silted in triangle. It took about a half hour to get above the
tangle to the open streambed. Walking was quite easy but we took from
10:10 until almost noon to get from the boat to a sunny spot north of
the fork in the canyon. I had forgotten what Ed had told me about the
prospects of getting out on top. The long north arm of gentle gradient
looked like the one with more chance of success, but there were only a
few bighorn droppings along this route. In the Devonian we did a bypass
or two of chockstones, but then we came to a huge barrier with a bypass.
There were several rather deep pools of green (algae) water and some
clean smaller pockets of water. Perhaps the sheep and deer come up this
arm for a drink. We turned back at 1:30 and reached the boat rather
early even though we took a good look at the steep bed of the eastern
fork of the canyon.

The small scale army engineer's map shows only a bay here instead of a
real arm of the canyon. When you look up from the main bed, you might
not notice that it takes a turn to the north and isn't obviously a dead
end. Around this corner it maintains the steep gradient and there is
some scrambling to get past big boulders. When you are about 800 feet
above the fork, there is an impressive chockstone blockade. This can be
bypassed to the west by climbing a limestone wall with small handholds.
I can imagine that this might turn some hikers back. We had been seeing
many more animal droppings in this arm, so we wanted to prove that Ed
was right about it going on through.

It was late enough for one day when Bruce had proved that one can climb
this limestone wall, but we returned on Tuesday to make a real try.
Incidentally, we moved the Crestliner up the river about 300 yards to a
clearing on the bank where others had gone ashore to camp. It was quite
a bit easier to get through to the good walking from here. We got back
up to the fork in less than 90 minutes. I had intended to carry a rope
so that Bruce could belay me or give me support of a handline at the
bypass of the big barrier, but I forgot it. I found a fairly easy
combination of holds and handled that little climb easily.

Not far above here we came to another distinct angle. A narrow crack
seemed to cut across with the left hand one (going north) being the best
chance to get out. There were more animal droppings along here, and at
one place in the clay I noted bighorn tracks. If they can get up this
canyon, I would like to see the system. At one chockstone, I put my
canteen and camera up ahead of me and then struggled to make the right
moves up a few yards. There were a couple of other places in the Redwall
that required hand and toe climbing, but the hardest was in the Supai.
Bruce found a way requiring a long reach to the right, but I used a
zigzag route along two ledges to the left. Along the lower ledge, I had
only a few inches to sidestep while holding to grips above my head.
There were no grips for the upper ledge, but it was wide enough for me
to crawl along. A nervier person could walk this ledge. There was no
doubt about success above here, and we came out on the Sanup Plateau
about three hours and 35 minutes after leaving the river. Perhaps the
sheep use this route only for the descent. I would surely need to haul
up a real backpack at several places on a rope.

A geologist would be interested in seeing the black volcanic rock that
shows near the top for only a short distance. The rest is buried under
the scree. This dike continues southeast through the Redwall but in that
direction it doesn't crack the Supai above. When we walked across the
narrow promontory that separates the two arms of Tincanebitts, we could
see the dike through the Supai northwest of us. Just south of the top of
this route is a pinyon pine that seems to me to be a botanical freak.
Each needle grows out of the twig by itself. I had heard that there are
two sorts of pinyons, one with two needles in a cluster and the other
with three. (I have now checked with a couple of biologists, and they
say that the two kinds are those with two needles and one with the
latter very rare.)

We got back to the boat taking our time at the chockstones and could
have gone upriver to camp at the mouth of Burnt Spring Canyon then, but
we had the canopy up from the night before where there was a heavy
overcast, and we didn't want to take it down and then have to put it up
again in a half hour. In the morning we had eaten and I had the canopy
stowed ready to move the boat before 8:30. We had quite a bit of trouble
dodging mud bars on the way upriver. We tied up at the foot of a neat
bedrock slope on the east side of the mouth of Burnt Canyon. It was 9:30
a.m. when we got started hiking.

Quite soon we found a faint trail along the slope above the tangle of
tamarisk jungle. There was a three stone cairn where one should leave
the bed of the stream and go up to catch this trail. The gradient was
gentle and uniform over gravel and rounded boulders with no barriers
requiring climbing. After walking for two hours we reached a fork where
two big arms come together. The one to the right had the steeper bed and
seemed to be rather straight. One could see that it went a long way with
no sun on the bed, and we were looking for a sunny place to eat lunch.
We chose to go up the other (western) arm.

On the east side of the bed just south of the junction, I saw a terrace
under an overhang that seemed to have charcoal in the soil. We
investigated and found that the ceiling was smoked and fine charcoal
permeated the soil quite deeply. Some showed a foot below relatively
sterile sand where the bank had been eroded. There were traces of walls
from at least a rock shelter. On our return past this place we checked a
terrace 30 yards north of this overhang and saw that it is covered by a
mescal pit. Bruce called my attention to a seep in the east wall about
100 yards south of the shelter. There were signs that animals paw the
gravel away beneath the two seep sources to get water here, but the
gravel is so loose that I would think making bowls of clay beneath these
seeps would be the only way to use them. Up the west arm we had lunch in
the shade where the sun fell on the slope about 50 yards up the slope.
Walking continued quite simple and after starting on at noon, we had to
go up about 250 feet to get out on top, and there was one place
requiring hand and toe climbing. We could see that this arm continues
about due north and seems to present no problems since it is so long and
uniform. There were sheep droppings along the way, so I assumed that it
would make an easy route out on top. The map shows a road going to Oak
Grove Ranch near the upper end.

We got to the boat from 1:40 to 5:10 p.m. and this wasn't steady
walking. Bruce investigated the trails around the knoll above our boat
and found a neat rock cabin made with a sheet iron roof with a shaded
work table in front. Names in a glass jar indicate that a lot of river
runners visit this place. I recognized Ron and Sheila Smith and Ed Abby.
The earliest name was accompanied by a note that a prospector had lived
here from August 15 to November 6, 1962. He must have furnished the
glass jar for the register, but the names were written on random scraps
of paper. I wish I had noted this occupant's name, but I know it was not
Harry Aleson. This man said nothing about building the shack himself, so
I wonder whether Aleson might have been the first occupant. This is
surely a much more livable place than one of the shallow caves near the
mouth of Quartermaster Canyon which is so close.

There are a couple of places where water runs in the bed of Burnt
Canyon, but these are relatively close to the river, within walking
times of 25 and 35 minutes, respectively. They would be good for
backpackers coming down from the plateau in a long day who didn't trust
the river for drinking. Below the lower of these sources is a grove of
rather large trees. I was expecting them to be cottonwoods, but a good
look shows them to be willows (probably ash trees) 30 or 40 feet high. I
believe this is the only place in all my wanderings where I have seen
this species rather than cottonwoods at a wet place in the bed of a
tributary canyon.

*Around Coronado Butte and along the Redwall
[January 17, 1976]*

I wanted more pictures of the foot wide fossil footprints on the west
Redwall rim of Mineral Canyon and I also wanted to settle the kind of
rock they are in. Davis, who found them, was rather sure they are on a
block of Supai that has rolled down from above, and I had Billingsley's
backing for thinking that the rock was Coconino. I was glad to have Jim
Ohlman along, because as a graduate student of Geology, he figured that
he could give me a sure answer. His roommate, Rocky Dutt, and Bob
Lojewski, also came with me.

First we went to the Visitor's Center and I made sure that the permit
people were really interested in keeping my maps marked with the routes
covered. I talked with four rangers in all, a full time veteran named
Kline, and three younger people, Mary Langdon, Tim Mans, and another
young man whose name escapes me.

We then drove east and parked where the shoulder is paved about 100
yards beyond the place to leave the highway to reach the head of the
Hance Trail. It is now marked with a couple of metal fence posts, but
they haven't provided any parking right at the take off point. There
were tracks in the snow leading to the right ravine, and I noticed that
it took us only three or four minutes to go from the pavement to the
head of the trail.

The snow wasn't deep, but it was frozen hard and I was glad that I had
lug soles. There are a lot more cairns to mark the route than there used
to be, and from the tracks we could see that the Hance (Red Canyon)
Trail is getting a lot more use than in former years. The whether was
surprisingly warm for January 17, and we did most of our walking in
shirt sleeves. The air was clearer than I have ever seen it, or at least
as clear. The full moon was sharply visible right down to the horizon as
it set, and Navaho Mountain was strikingly outlined as we drove past
Desert View on leaving the park.

There was no difficulty in staying on the trail this time, and we
reached the rim of the Redwall in Red Canyon in an even hour. There were
plenty of places where we had to slow down in going along the Redwall
rim, and it took us another hour to reach the footprints about 200 yards
northwest of the head of the Redwall gorge in Mineral Canyon. This
Redwall is deformed and bent in this gorge, and I was impressed by the
observation that there may be a route down through the Redwall here. The
investigation would give me a project for another one day hike.

Jim immediately called the block containing the footprints Supai.
However, Davis might not get much of a thrill from the other statement
of Ohlman's. Jim says that these tracks are the same kind as all the
geology students observe along the South Kaibab Trail down a little way
into the Supai. However, he says that those along the main trail are not
connected as well into a continuous track going several feet. We had
Jim's geologist's hammer and I took a piece from the underside of the
footprint rock. I can show it to Stan Beus or any other geologist who
may be interested in classifying the rock. (He says it is Supai.)

It took us another half hour to walk on north to the end of Ayer Point
where we enjoyed the clear view of the north side of the canyon and also
where we ate lunch.

I suggested the possibility of going down the Redwall to the west of the
neck leading to Ayer Point and returning via the Old Hance Trail. Jim
suggested going along the Redwall rim around into Hance Canyon, and we
went from there up to the Coronado Saddle. We had the benefit of cairns
for the start, but we lost them and then had to do some hand and toe
climbing before we were out to the top of the saddle. I was trying to
spot the upper end of the tunnel cave Tse An Bida, but I missed seeing
it. We all had a fine hike although I was slowing the others down.

*Redwall Route, east prong of Horseshoe Mesa
[January 24, 1976]*

The first project for this hike was the Redwall in the bed of
Cottonwood. About 1958, Allyn Cureton had come up the bed by himself. On
10/21/61 I had led several hikers down here. Pete Huntoon was along with
his climbing rope, but when we came to a 50 foot drop that seemed
precarious, we gave up the attempt. A second project was presented to me
by Bob Packard who told me that Ken Walters had found an interesting way
down the Redwall near the end of the east prong of Horseshoe Mesa. Near
the end of the week, Jim Ohlman's trip overland to Rainbow Bridge fell
through, and he and Rocky Dutt came with me for the Grandview hike.

We left North Hall at 6:30 a.m. and got to the Grandview Parking lot by
8:30 over a fine dry road. There was snow on the trail well down into
the Supai and Jim had trouble keeping his feet. My lug soles worked a
lot better than my other type of hiking shoes and I didn't fall once.
There was thick fog at rim level and the Canyon was hidden until we had
descended about 300 feet. The footing being what it was, we didn't break
speed records, but we reached the mines in an hour and 20 minutes. For a
while the weather seemed to improve, but then it became much worse. For
an hour there was a fine light drizzle, and then not all the time, but
about ten thirty, it really began to rain.

One good thing about bringing Jim was that he could show me a neat cave
on the east side of the mesa. It is only a little north of the old rock
cabin and it is just north of the middle of the concave bend in the rim.
The miners may have enlarged the entrance, and they installed a ladder
to get on down the first 10 feet. We hadn't brought a light so we didn't
go down to explore it, but Jim had seen that it is fairly extensive on a
previous trip. I'll have to ask Davis about this cave.

We went around the east side of the butte and found an established trail
along here. There were plenty of hiker footprints in the snow of the
Grandview Trail, and there were a few tracks going out or coming back
from the end of the east prong of the horseshoe. We looked over the rim
into the horseshoe itself to check for possible Redwall descents. I
recalled that when we were coming back from the foot of Sockdolager,
Allyn had left the trail and had gone up the Redwall somewhere over
toward the east. We couldn't see any promising place from above.

Jim went out to the very most northern point of the prong while Rocky
and I went to the east where we could see that there was promise of
finding a way down. We could see that one should get down a narrow steep
ridge to a simple slope that covers the rest of the Redwall. Jim led the
way and handled the climb with dispatch. I took it slowly and had to
search for the best toeholds, especially near the base of this narrow
ridge. Still, I feel sure that I could do it alone. The rest of the way
to the Tonto was obvious and not far away, to the west and down.

When we were down the hard place, the rain began in earnest and we
decided to go up the trail on the west prong of the horseshoe and eat
lunch in the cave on the west edge of the mesa. While I was following
them up the switchbacks, Ohlman and Dutt went out on the tip of the west
prong and felt rather sure that they saw another route through the
Redwall. The rain stopped and we ate lunch on the Redwall rim near the
base of the horseshoe. I looked across to the east and figured that I
had identified the place where Allyn had climbed the Redwall. I am
rather sure that I would have to use a rope to come down there.

We talked about doing the Redwall in Cottonwood Canyon from below, the
way Allyn had done it, but when the weather began to threaten more rain,
we kept on going up the trail to the rim. It got nice again before we
came to the view down into Grapevine, about 2 p.m. We all thought it
would be interesting to go north and climb the peak without a name at
the end of this ridge. I changed my mind and so did Rocky, but Jim went
ahead and climbed it. He built the first cairn on top. The rest of the
hike out was through an inch of fresh snow.

*Shinumo Canyon to Tatahatso
[February 14, 1976 to February 16, 1976]*

A lot of possibilities occurred to me for the three day weekend, but I
finally settled on seeing the Shinumo Wash Trail to its end and then
continuing along the Redwall rim. Jim Ohlman and I played with the idea
of repeating Jensen's stunt of going clear to the Eminence Break Route
to President Harding Rapid, but it turned out that this would have been
too much for me.

Jim was waiting for me promptly at 6:30 a.m. on Saturday and we got up
to Cedar Ridge without incident except that there was a very unusual fog
for about 30 miles. I was wondering whether I would have trouble keeping
to the right roads away from the highway if all distant landmarks were
invisible, but before we got to Cedar Ridge we were clear of the fog.
The road was somewhat muddy, but we didn't make any wrong turns this
time. We were ready to start from the car at 9:30.

The two previous times I had gone down the Shinumo Wash Trail I had lost
it as soon as I reached the bed at the bottom. During the past few years
more hikers had used it and someone had taken the care to note where it
went and mark it with numerous cairns. After a hundred yards or so along
the streambed, it leaves the bottom and goes up on the left. When the
Supai begins to show a real cliff, it gets down and crosses the bed to
the right. For roughly a fourth of the way to the Redwall rim, it stays
over on the right and then crosses to the left for a similar distance.
For the last fourth of the way to the Redwall it is over on the right.
We missed some of this leg and followed the bed until we saw the trail
finally going up on the left. It is clearly recognizable clear to the
old cable anchorage almost directly above Redwall Cavern. Jim had been
no farther downriver than the break at Mile 30.4 and he was eager to see
the approach to Vasey's and Stanton's Cave.

About a quarter mile short of the tram site, we came to a ravine that
used to give access to the river's edge. A steel bar still shows where
they used to have a rope fastened. Some of the hiking club members have
been here and actually trusted their weight to the old rope and reached
the water. At the bottom the wall is inclined about 60 degrees with the
horizontal and some have said that they might get down without using the
rope. We felt that we had miles to cover still and we didn't try this
descent. Besides the collapsed shack and the concrete lower anchorage
for the cable and rock foundations for some other structures, we were
surprised to see planks lying on the Redwall rim on the other side of
the river. A date scratched in concrete was 1951. By then they could
have used helicopters, so this may have been the means by which the
boards were delivered to the other side.

It was still cool and it had been quite wet recently so that Jim and I
carried no great amount of water. We kept on the lookout for more
supplies. There were numerous pools in Shinumo Canyon, and of course we
could have gotten river water at Mile 30.4, but the best supply was in
the ravine that was an access to the river. Most of the small notches in
the rim were dry or the pools were inaccessible. There was a small
supply, enough for camping for two, in Nautiloid Canyon at Mile 34.8. I
was rather tired by this time, 4:00 p.m., and I considered settling on
this as our first night camp. I had been telling Jim about the neat
descent to the river at Mile 35.8. so he talked me into going on. We
made it before 5:30 and were glad to be down where the ground was flat
under substantial overhangs at the Indian ruins. We had been pelted by a
few drops of rain off and on, but by morning on Sunday it was clear.

From map study and the appearance of the Supai leading to the top of the
ridge just north of Tatahatso Canyon, Jim figured that it would be a
great saving if we would climb up there and get down to the bed of the
canyon whenever there was an opportunity. I didn't oppose his doing this
experiment, but at first I said I would use the way I had done it,
around on the Redwall rim into the side canyon. However, when I got
close to this ridge, I realized that there was no doubt of getting to
the top. I changed my mind and went up behind Jim. On top though I
didn't see any good way to get down to the bed. When I came to a big
ravine with a lot of dissected clay and rubble, I started down. This is
the ravine that starts between an impressive outlying tower and the rim
of the plateau. I got down to a place where the bedrock shows almost all
the way across the ravine. Over at the east side, I considered taking
off my pack and trying to get down. I could see another questionable
place farther down, and I decided to stay up and follow Jim who had
apparently continued high above the Supai rim. After a few yards in that
direction, I got discouraged by remembering how far I would likely have
to proceed before being able to get down. I backtracked to the valley
upriver from Tatahatso Canyon and started to do what I had done before.
This detour had taken two hours.

When I was coming up Tatahatso Canyon, I saw a couple of fairly sure
ways I could have come down, farther west than the ravine I had given
up. I also heard Jim shouting to me. He had continued high until he was
almost to the north arm of Tatahatso where he found a good talus for the
descent to the bed. He had left his pack there and had then retraced his
route above the Supai rim until he reached the ravine I had tried to
descend. Without his pack he came down handily to the bed of Tatahatso
and walked downstream to meet me.

About 2:00 p.m. when we were about halfway through the Supai in the bed,
it began to rain enough to wet things. Right where we happened to be,
there was a fine overhang and I was tired enough to want to quit for the
day. Jim had to go for his pack and bring it back to this campsite,
about a 50 minute trip for a fast walker. By 3:30 p.m. the sky was clear
again, but I knew that it would be a death march for me to reach the car
that night. We had a leisurely dinner and enjoyed conversation by a
campfire until nearly 8:00 p.m. There were some little rainpools nearby
and much bigger pools both downstream and up. On Monday we got away from
camp at the same time as before (7:45 a.m.) and reached the fork in the
canyon in a half hour. I felt the effort of getting around and between
the big rocks in the bed more than I used to and it took us three hours
to get clear past all the difficulties and out on top. Jim was impressed
by the neat crack I had found to get down the highest cliff. We soon
found a sheep trail leading from the bed of Tatahatso around the point
to the north and followed it more or less consistently to the flats west
of Eminence Break. After an hour of this walking we ate lunch and soon
thereafter reached a place where we dropped our packs to pick up after
we had found the car. The walking time after we were out of the canyon
was just less than three more hours.

Some observations along the way might be in order. We saw the footprints
of a lone hiker going north on the Shinumo Wash Trail. Also, there is
now a cairn marking the descent to the river at Mile 35.8. We saw a sign
that someone had camped where we did, opposite the Bridge of Sighs. Jim
saw tracks of more than one hiker in the area toward Tatahatso Canyon. I
can't say that I saw other footprints in Tatahatso Canyon itself.
Perhaps these hikers had come around the Redwall rim from the Eminence
Break Route. There were a few sheep droppings in Tatahatso Canyon all
the way down and a few rather old mule deer droppings. About the
strangest bit of wildlife was a very small frog right in front of the
overhang where I had my bed. It could barely hop in the rather chilly
afternoon.

Something else that took our eye was a tower near the east rim above
Nautiloid Canyon. It can also be seen from the road through the swale as
you drive to the rim of Shinumo Wash. It would be a real achievement for
any steeple jacks who could climb it. The one directly north of
Tatahatso Canyon would very likely be easier than this one.

*Hermit Trail and river at Mile 94.5
[February 21, 1976]*

I left home a minute after 6:00 a.m. by myself this time. The day was
clear and cold and there was almost no snow on the ground. I reached the
parking lot at the head of the Hermit Trail by 8:00 a.m. This is a
popular hike now, and there were a number of other cars parked. The NAU
Geology Club had gone down on Friday and I learned later that a group of
boy scouts from Tempe were also down at the river. I soon caught up with
a group of four men who were going to camp at the mouth of Monument
Creek and go on to the Bright Angel Trail on Sunday. They wanted to take
their time, and I wanted to see how long it would take me to go to the
river and back. I had done so poorly with Jim Ohlman lately that I
wanted to see whether I would be better setting my own pace. Even when I
am walking ahead of a good hiker, I tend to go a little faster than I
would by myself with the result that I end the day more exhausted than I
should be.

When I came to Santa Maria Spring, I noticed the little spur trail that
goes up to where the pipe is buried. I went up to see anything that had
been done here, but there doesn't seem to be anything unusual. There is
no artificial concrete basin, just the iron pipe coming out of the clay.
More water comes from seeps lower down.

In the bay just around the corner to the north of the spring and rest
area, I studied the slope to see what I thought about Donald Davis'
climb up the Supai here. It didn't seem as remarkable as I had thought,
although the low cliff about a hundred feet below the trail might stop
me. On the way back I considered going down to it and seeing how it
would feel to try getting down a crack I noticed, but I was fairly sure
that it would be somewhat risky for me. At the top on the return I met
Jim Ohlman and he was confident that he could do that climb.

There are some new rockfalls on the trail and it is surely not any
better now than when I first knew it, but it is just about as easy a way
to go to the river as it used to be.

When I was going down the Cathedral Stairs through the Redwall, I heard
someone, presumably climbing Cope Butte. Jim Ohlman told me that he and
his roommate were going to try that again. After some shouting back and
forth, I finally saw them. They had gone straight up the west side by a
route that seemed much harder than the way Chuck Johnson had told me
about and that I had done solo. At my suggestion, they came down the
easier way, a way that is hard enough to be a challenge.

It is only a couple of hundred yards to the right from the junction of
the Hermit Trail with the Tonto Trail to see the route down to the river
at Mile 94.3. The way seems easy and not far. The Tapeats seems a lot
lower than it is east at Plateau Point. There were a couple places in
the bed that caused slight delays. I bypassed one steep place where
someone had built a cairn over to the west of the bed, but the scramble
along the ledges was harder than the steep travertine of the bed. I used
the latter on the return. At another place the bed was cut through a
dike of very red granite and then under an overhang of breccia
consisting of blocks of Tapeats cemented together. There was a trickle
of water running through the sand along here for quite a few yards. It
didn't taste too bad even though it seemed to be leaving a white deposit
where it dried up.

I reached the river in three hours and one minute after leaving the car
and this without consciously hurrying. Down here I talked with two young
men who had come along the river from Hermit Creek. They had had to
climb high to pass some of the river cliffs. After a leisurely lunch, I
walked out in four hours and 45 minutes. This included an inspection of
the spring at the base of the Coconino to the north of the trail. The
water is low in the concrete basin now, but there is enough to dip a
canteen. The rock shelter nearby has a wet floor at this time of year.

It had been a pleasant day and I had gone to the river at a new place.

*Cane Spring Trail
[March 16, 1976]*

As usual I had big plans for the spring break, using the boat to explore
canyons downriver from Surprise. First I was delayed by the starter
needing to be replaced on the Jimmy, and then when I took the boat to
the repairman and called attention to a bolt that had sheered off and
was lying in the bilge, Glen Miller made no promises that he could get
it done immediately. Ken Walters had been planning to go with me on the
boating expedition, but he elected to do something else and I took the
Jimmy by myself to the Whitmore region. After spending a good deal of
Monday seeing about the boat, I got off around 3:00 p.m.

After dinner at Cliff Dwellers, I drove on and gassed up, including two
five gallon cans, at St. George. I slept in the Jimmy about ten miles
south of town. On Tuesday I got away early and drove by headlight up to
Wolf Hole. The road was quite dry and there was no driving problem
except for dust in my nose and on my glasses. I didn't miss any turns
although I hesitated slightly about three miles south of Mount Trumbull.
The road goes through a gate and makes a quick left turn. The correct
turn is much more used. I parked at the same place as I did with Jim
Sears last year, at the shack just west of the volcano. By 9:30 a.m. I
was walking away from the car.

My project for the day was to see the trail down to Cane Spring and then
try to get to the river using the trail that Billingsley had sketched on
the map of Whitmore Rapids. Because of careless map reading, I began
looking for the trail to Cane Spring right by the volcano instead of
west of the prominence over a half mile farther down the road. After a
few yards I checked the map again and had no trouble finding the trail.

The last statement isn't quite so. First I got into the bed of the wash
at the place where the 7.5 minute 1967 map shows the road ending. (It
now continues around Whitmore Point and ends above Frog Spring road gone
now 1982). When I came to a big drop in the bed, I climbed up to the
east and found the constructed trail. It ends on the open flat as shown
on the map, but cow paths lead up to Cane Spring. I had to consult the
map to find the spring since there is no tangle of water loving growth
to mark the place. There are a couple of cement basins and water coming
down to them from 50 yards higher. At the source there is a meager
growth of reeds giving the name to this spring. A plastic hose has been
buried in the wettest place and water runs through it down to the tanks.

Only about 150 feet of Redwall shows on either side of the lower exit of
this valley. From a distance I supposed that if I followed the narrows I
would soon come to a big impossible drop, but since a cowpath went
through here, I did too. In fact I followed four cows then and there.
The Redwall is vertical along the sides of the defile, but it is more
fractured than elsewhere. At the narrowest place the path went through a
gate. There seemed to be little purpose in having it here since there
was no fence across the bed of the wash. Beyond the narrows, the cows
went left and I went right, where Billingsley had marked my map.

The most difficult place on the route was along the steep shale slope
above the cirque of lower Whitmore Wash. I had to move carefully at
several places, and I think that a cow might be stopped. The route
crosses south on the next platform of lava. I am sure that a ravine from
this platform goes down to the bed of Whitmore and thus there is a way
to the river via the south side of the cirque. I was more interested in
seeing the trail, but now I wish I had gone to the bed of the cirque and
came up the trail. The trail leaves the platform where the lava meets
the sedimentary rock. Instead of getting down to water as soon as
possible, it parallels the river well up on the slope.

When I got back from this hike, I met Orville Bundy, who manages the
ranching operation down here. He expressed the idea that this trail was
constructed so that cows could drink from the river. The fact that I
found it down as far as mile 190.5 when it could have reached the river
1.5 miles upstream, seems to argue against the view that it was built
for cows. I would guess that it was a prospector's trail. I would like
to know whether it was built before the standard trail upriver from
Whitmore Wash. I have just reread the account by Powell of his trip from
the camp in the Uinkarets guided by the human pickle down to the river,
but an Indian ruin near the spring and the garden make it unlikely that
they reached the river via the Toroweap Trail, the Whitmore Trail, or
this one farther downriver (lower end of the Whitmore Trail). It is
unusual for there to be two trails as close as the regular Whitmore
Trail and this only two miles downriver from it.

My right hip was bothering me and this may have been the reason I chose
not to go along the bank into the cirque and up to the trail by the
ravine. As it was I followed the route back to the car in a little less
than three hours in spite of favoring my right leg.

Shortly after I reached the car, Orville Bundy drove up from the west
with his horse standing in the back of his truck. Then he used the horse
to find a mare and her newborn colt. He fed the horse and gave them
water from the big tank where he keeps rainwater from the roof of the
shack. After we had eaten by ourselves, I visited with him by the light
of my gasoline lantern and had a cup of his Mormon tea. He was a bit
disturbed by the thought that they may declare his leased land a
wilderness area and expel the cattle and destroy the road he has
bulldozed. I agreed with him that it is better as it is, access for
hikers to reach the best parts before walking, and some good use being
made of the grazing possibilities.

Before 7:00 a.m. on Wednesday I was ready to leave. I had thought I
might walk from the line shack, but with Lone Mountain and the dike at
Mile 196.7 as my destinations, I figured that I should drive farther
before walking. The road is really sporty and I wouldn't want to attempt
it without four wheel drive. Orville says he gets his truck over it
without that device, but I am sure he must gun it in compound to do it.
I drove five miles and still had to walk for a half hour before reaching
the place to leave the road and find the trail that George had marked on
the Whitmore 7.5 minute quad map he had given me. He was right about
which draw to go down but he put the place to leave the rim on the wrong
side. It is really up from the bed a few yards to the east. This is at
the first notch in the rim to the west of the big draw draining the
valley to the west of peak 5045. The trail below the main cliff went
north to the mouth of the big ravine I used last year to get down, and
then I lost it under rockslides. Down in the bed of the fault valley I
could follow it, and there were horse tracks along here.

When I was over halfway to the highest part of this valley, I started up
towards Lone Mountain. If I had studied the Billingsley map better, I
would have gone to see the dam and campsite less than a half mile north
of Lone Mountain, but I simply scrambled over the easiest route to the
top of this minor summit. It is a great viewpoint. I wondered whether I
would ever penetrate the mess across the river that the Hualapai called
Dr. Tommy Mountain.

There are quite a few cottontails over this part of the Esplanade, but I
wasn't sure what made some very well used midget trails about four
inches wide, perhaps mice. Walking was easy across the flat land out to
the rim above the Colorado. I reached the rim a little west of where I
should have for the shortest route, but I was glad to eat lunch and
study the north side of the mesa across the river.

I soon reached the dike about one terrace lower than the broad
Esplanade. The intrusive rocks here look quite dark while down lower in
the Redwall and near the river they seem a lighter gray. The crack is
impressively straight and narrow, here at the top only about ten feet
wide. In just a few yards, I had to chimney down, and then a bit lower I
came to a place where both sides of a big chockstone seemed too
difficult for me. However, there was a break in the rim only about 100
yards to the east where I could scramble down the rockslides with no
difficulty. The rest of the way down to the Redwall directly in line
with the dike was no harder. There were a couple of places in the
Redwall slot that made me look for the best route, but it wasn't too
hard either. The gorge here has vertical walls, but they are more like
30 feet apart and no one chockstone ever blocks the entire width.

Just when I was wondering whether I should take the time to reach the
place about 150 feet above the river where I had followed a bench to the
east, I came to a place that stopped me. It is about halfway through the
Devonian and I would estimate that I was still as high above the river
as I was below the Redwall rim. A promontory split the ravine into two
parts here. On either side I could get lower to the lip of a bare ledge.
Billingsley must have led the student hikers to the west end of this
ledge, but even the route over to the barely possible climb seemed most
precarious to me. I was glad that it was now 2:00 p.m. and that I had
resolved to turn back at that hour if not before. I am most happy that I
elected not to try this way to the car last year. I would say that the
way the Billingsley Party got to the river down the bed of Parashant
Canyon from the mine road was easier than the way they returned using
this dike (they used another dike farther east).

I would say that there would be a better chance for me to make it
through the Redwall and Devonian cliffs father to the east, somewhere
north of mile 196 (only a little farther east, I left the Esplanade
correctly). There was still a little water in depressions in the rock
near the top of the dike. I got back to where I had left my canteen and
day pack at the rim of the Esplanade in just under an hour. My route
from there was more direct than it would have been if I had headed back
toward Lone Mountain, but there were some tiring downs and ups. At one
point I had to decide whether to go down a valley past the bottom of the
trail through the rim, but I decided to go up and then down keeping
somewhat north of the trail. I reached the rim above the big fault by
5:15, and the car by 5:45. I was gratified to find that I had no trouble
with knees or hips hurting during my rather long day away from the
Jimmy, from 7:45 a.m. to 5:45 p.m.

I had intended to drive from here back to the fork and then south past
Mount Dellenbaugh to get down to the Snyder Mine and see the old trail
in Mile 214 Mile Canyon, but I found that the ten extra gallons of gas
was still not quite enough. I had driven down the Parashant Road for 17
miles before I decided that I would have to go back to St. George for
more gas. On the way back I was listening to the radio and heard that
there would be a break in the mild weather and that they would have snow
in Cedar City. By the time I heard some more weather news, that the
storm might not be serious, I was already headed for home.

As usual, my accomplishments fell short of my ambitions, but I had
followed another route from the rim to the river, and I had gotten
through the Redwall in two more places. I had also climbed one more
named Grand Canyon summit. It takes over nine hours to drive from
Flagstaff to the volcano in Whitmore Valley, so I spent more time behind
the steering wheel on this trip than I spent on foot.

*From Saddle Canyon to Buck Farm Canyon
[April 3, 1976]*

Two years ago in May Ron Mitchell showed me how to get down below the
Coconino in Buck Farm Canyon. I figured that this route would be a good
one to use when I ever tried to fill in the rest of the way below the
rim from South Canyon to Saddle, the part that I still hadn't done to
connect a route for me from Lee's Ferry to Nankoweap.

I would have to rappel down the Coconino in Saddle Canyon at the place I
had used in December, 1969. If I had someone who could carry the rope
back for me to the car, I figured that I could walk the Supai Rim around
and come out at the head of Buck Farm in one day. Roma took me up on the
idea of pulling our trailer up there and stopping at the Kane Ranch
where there is lots of space to park 11 miles from the highway. We
invited the Roths, and they were glad to bring their camper along. With
Eldon along, it was my chance to have someone carry the rope back for
me. He readily agreed to come down to the rappel site and to take the
rope back after I had rappelled.

We left the trailer and camper before 7:00 a.m. but we wasted a few
minutes while I started to show Eldon where I would be coming out at the
end of the day. When I saw that this would delay my departure
materially, I turned around and drove to the place on the Saddle
Mountain Road that has a sign for the Saddle Mountain Trail. Roma and
Maxine Roth came with us and it was rather slow getting across a small
ravine and through the scrub timber. After several minutes we came to
the corral at the east end of the old hunting camp. I realized then that
it is better to drive into the parking at the camp. One could drive down
the camp clearing and reach the corral.

We stayed together downhill near the rim of Saddle Canyon. When we had
been walking about 30 minutes, Eldon and I said our farewells to the
women and left the rim. It was rather slow walking below, and I realized
that we should have stayed on top at least another five minutes. I got
to the right level and followed the slight trail to the break that gives
access to the bed of the canyon. It was easy to see a deer trail part of
the time on the south side of the canyon and reach the landslide area
beyond the big Coconino fall. I remembered the moves in getting down the
slide and then east to the rappel site. My recollection of the actual
rappel site was off by a few yards horizontally, but because of the
steep bank at the bottom, my rope wouldn't reach. I couldn't see the
bottom, and I wasn't sure of this situation until I followed a
suggestion of Eldon's and tried tying a rock to the end of the rope to
see whether it would rest on the ground below. It wouldn't so I moved
the rappel rope as far south as I could. Then I realized that this was
where I had rappelled before. I used a stout clump of shrubbery as the
anchor for the rope and went down without incident. When I got below the
overhang, the rope twisted me around as before, and I shut my eyes
before I became very dizzy. We had left the car before 8:00 a.m. and I
was hiking away from the base of the Coconino about 10:30.

There is very little to say about the route along the Supai Rim. For
some stretch it was quite easy. There were places where deer hoofs had
left prints, and there were short bits of deer trails in some of the
steep slopes of clay, but there were mainly places where the fallen
rocks made progress quite slow. I ate lunch at noon in the bay above
Triple Alcoves and by 2:20 p.m. I was getting around the point that
projects toward President Harding Rapids. I had a fine view of the
riverbank where I had walked to the Redwall break at Mile 49.9 and I
could see the trail up into Saddle Canyon from the river.

I had no trouble recognizing the place to go up the Coconino at the head
of Buck Farm Canyon, but I had just a bit of uncertainty about the break
through the Kaibab. The one I tried came sooner than I had remembered,
but it turned out to be the same. Dick Petty, the Buffalo Ranch manager,
afterward told me that there are two ways through the rim (out at 5:30
p.m.).

*Comanche Point Route to the Colorado River
[April 10, 1976]*

When we climbed Espejo Butte, I looked toward Comanche Point and saw
that the ravine coming down to the north from the base of Comanche might
be a route through to the base of the Redwall, and from there to the
river the way seemed sure. With the snow gone, and one day only
available, the time seemed to be ripe for the investigation. I planned
to go by myself, but Ken Walters looked in my office about something and
I invited him.

We got started in the Jimmy at 6:00 a.m. since I needed to be back home
by 6:00 p.m. In just two hours we were parked on the west side of Cedar
Mountain just above the steep grade going down into Straight Canyon. We
followed the road for about a mile on foot and left it where it swings
to the east and starts downhill toward Goldhill. This is a little beyond
where a fork leads to the west to the vicinity of a ruined hogan. It
would have paid us to go higher to the west in the first place since we
soon had to cross a valley. Sooner than I expected, we were on the high
ridge with Comanche Point directly across the valley. We walked about 70
minutes to reach the top of the ravine going down north of Comanche Point.

On the top of a shoulder high rock at the rim there were a number of
small rocks that might have been piled up as a cairn at some time. On my
way out I rearranged them to form a cairn. Very near the top, I went to
the west around a spur of rock and I observed a faint animal trail going
down. There were some deer droppings and lower, a consistent trail of
bighorn droppings. I didn't consider this a sure sign that I would be
able to get clear through, because I have seen numerous places where
deer or bighorns seem to jump down 15 feet or more.

We were leaving the rim in the lower Toroweap and very soon we were
getting into the Coconino. Around Mile 19 the Coconino seems relatively
thin, perhaps less than 100 feet, but here it is as deep as it ever
gets, about the same as it is along the Tanner Trail. There were a few
little problems in bypassing chockstones or extra steep ledges in the
bed, but the first real problem was in the upper Supai. We left the bed
to go to the west along a meager ledge with a low overhanging ceiling. I
let Ken come back and take my pack across this place while I crept by on
hands and knees. On the return we found that we could go along a higher
ledge and get down beyond this uncomfortable place.

At one place we did a bypass consisting of going to the west along a
shale slope that was a bit steep for comfort, but we stayed fairly
consistently in the bed of the main ravine down into the top of the
Redwall. Ken scouted ahead down a bare slope of Redwall and then was
stopped by a big drop with smooth walls. We could see that a big slide
had left a clay ramp against the wall to the west, so we climbed up the
clay and rubble in that direction.

We could walk down the upper part of the slide, but then we came to a
bare wall of limestone seemingly perpendicular for 150 feet or more. To
the west of this talus a Redwall ravine went down at a gentle angle as
far as we had been down the main bed. Before this dropped over a big
fall, we could go to the right along a ledge from which we could get
down by hand and toe holds to another meager ledge that continued down
to the east. This narrowed in one place to mere toeholds, but there were
good handholds above. This ramp led to a narrow alcove where one could
climb vertically downward again using hands and toes. With more care in
finding the right grips for fingers, one could go around a bulge and get
to another narrow ledge going west to the head of the landslide rubble.
Ken found this route while I waited rather impatiently on top calling
down from time to time for him to be careful.

Finally, Ken came back up and we ate lunch together. Then he persuaded
me to try the route, pointing out that he had found bighorn scat all the
way down. He helped me find the grips and toeholds and we went clear
down using the sheep trail to the west where the slide abuts the wall.
This was my 144th Redwall route and just about the prize for exposure
and face climbing without a rope.

*Salt Trail Canyon
[April 23, 1976 to April 24, 1976]*

For a one day trip I considered trying the Redwall at the head of
Mineral Canyon, the way on the west side of Beaver Canyon that avoids
the chockstone in Little Coyote Canyon to get down to the bed in the
Redwall, but finally I decided that doing the Redwall on the east side
of Salt Trail Canyon appealed to me the most. George Billingsley had
said that this would be possible, and Bob Packard looked at it and had
reported his opinion. Jack Galbreath had been to see me in my office and
I asked him to come along. We thought Tom Wahlquist might join us, but
he had another engagement. We got away from Flagstaff at 6:00 a.m. and
were turning away from the highway at Cedar Ridge after two hours of
driving. I told Jack that I would be lucky if I made all the correct
turns in getting to the head of Salt Trail Canyon. It might have been
around ten years since I had been over this route, but I was lucky and
avoided all mistakes. It is less than 20 miles from Cedar Ridge to the
parking above the trailhead. We did this leg in about 50 minutes and I
drove back even faster. One place to remember is the fork to the west
just south of the point and east of The Tooth. Then one should avoid
right forks until you see the valley that drains west into Salt Trail
Canyon. Here you follow the main road to the southwest. It circles the
broad valley and you take the next fork, a minor track, to the west again.

I wasn't absolutely sure of the trailhead until we saw the two cairns
marking its head. The route down through the rim drops little less
dramatic and severe than the head of the Eminence Break Route to
President Harding Rapids, but they are rather similar. I was wondering
how I could have gone down here using only one hand for balance 11 days
after I had broken my left wrist. There may be more cairns now than when
I first saw the route in 1956, but I recall that I saw quite a few then.
Still there are places where it is easy to lose the right route in the
jumble of big rocks. One might miss the way just below the top Supai
cliff where it hugs the base of the cliff on the east.

Another questionable place is just after one crosses the bed of the
canyon at the top of the Redwall. A dirt track leads up over a landslide
and then one has to descend immediately after climbing 80 feet or so.
This is what we did on the way down, but on the return we saw some small
cairns pointing to a ledge along the cliff face at the lower level. In
fact one can choose from two ledges only about 10 vertical feet apart.

We reached the river in just over two hours from the car and ate an
early lunch beside a dirt floodwater. This is not the best time of the
year to make our way along the banks with crossings. We wondered about
taking a rubber boat downriver with this level. It might go all right.

On the way down, we had detoured to look at the Redwall across the way.
The bed had an overhanging ledge that would prevent one from reaching a
place where one could scramble all the way up. If there were a bypass,
we figured that it would be via a talus slope near the river. We went up
to the base of the cliff and then turned to the southeast to inspect a
crack that might lead to the right level. The base of this crack looked
promising although it involved some hand and toe climbing. This led to a
smooth walled narrow crack topped by a chockstone. Jack didn't see this
place, but he took my word for giving it up.

He could have followed the top of the talus along the base of the cliff
into the bed, but we knew this wouldn't work either so we went home.

*Reflection Canyon (Cottonwood Gulch)
[May 1, 1976]*

Ever since 1968 when I was taking our 16 foot runabout around Lake
Powell by myself, I had wanted to investigate the trail up Reflection
Canyon. It was obvious that the east arm could be walked since there
were several Indian ruins and signs that cows still used the gulch. I
had never come back by myself and it seemed inhospitable to go off very
long by myself when were entertaining guests. On the few occasions that
Roma was with me alone, she never wanted to be left with a boat that she
couldn't manage in case I never returned.

This time we had Anne Tinsley with us and Roma agreed that it would be
all right for me to be absent for an hour and a half or two hours.
Furthermore, there were quite a number of people camping at the end of
the lake water. She could easily call for help in an emergency.

I moored the boat twice. When I first started walking, I soon realized
that I could proceed by water for another 200 yards. There were some
tricks in the channel in getting to the second mooring, but I tied to a
root where there was deep enough water right to the bank.

There were still a number of occupied campsites north of the mooring,
one of them being an established camp with seven picnic tables. It had a
sign announcing that it belonged to Canyon Tours, Inc., and that it was
there under an arrangement with the National Park Service.

The route from here on was fairly easy although one sometimes needed to
push through cane beds and willows. There is a running stream which was
intermittently above ground all the way. I walked the bed and for most
of the way north, walking was easier up on the terrace on the east side
of the bed. I passed a bull and a number of Hereford's shortly after I
left the boat.

When I had been going about 20 minutes, at the end of a rather straight
stretch of canyon, I happened to pause and look up at the east wall.
About 15 feet above where I was walking and about 30 feet away were some
pictographs, a bighorn sheep and a row of decorative diamond shapes in
two shades of clay paint. I was hoping to be able to walk up and out of
the inner canyon before I would have to turn back according to my pledge
to return in one and a half hours. I just did succeed in finding the
place, a break to the northeast. I got up high enough for a fine view of
the Kaiparowits, but I had to turn back before I could look around at
the bare and round topped slick rock country. When I returned and
studied the Navaho Mountain Quad map, I could pick out the place and see
that there was still a long way to go to reach Fifty Mile Point, the
farthest east extension of the Kaiparowits, or to reach the road to Hole
In the Rock. With a day to hike, these objectives would be quite
possible. I believe I'll try getting up on the Kaiparowits by this route
before I go in from Dry Rock Creek again.

*Buck Farm Canyon to South Canyon
[May 8, 1976 to May 9, 1976]*

The work from Buck Farm Point in checking for a Marble Canyon Dam had
turned up signs of Indian occupation along the Esplanade in the Saddle
Canyon area, a mescal pit on the south side of the main bed and a
storage bin below the top Supai cliff on the north side of that
drainage. These discoveries had gotten me interested in finding ways
down to their level even if it meant going in from Nankoweap or South
Canyon. Ron Mitchell had formed the ambition to go all the way from
Lee's Ferry to Nankoweap below the rim, and he had found ways to get off
the rim into Buck Farm Canyon and Mile 36.8 Canyon. Allyn Cureton and I
had found one way into the head of South Canyon and we also followed the
example of Stanton and found a way to climb out on the north side of
South Canyon. Later we found a way off the slump block into Bedrock
Canyon and thence down to Vasey's. Mitchell and several companions had
stitched together pieces of the route until Mitchell was finally the
first man to connect all of Marble Canyon below the rim. Then Tom
Wahlquist and Bob Dye, hiking independently, did the same. I decided to
fill in my last leg, the part between Buck Farm Canyon and South Canyon.

Jim Ohlman joined me and we drove to the head of Buck Farm Canyon and
slept in the Jimmy during three hours of hard rain in the middle of the
night. I started over to the break in the rim that I knew best about
5:25 a.m. while Jim drove the car to the takeoff point at the head of
South Canyon. I had the cairns to assure me I was at the right place,
but when Jim came out on Sunday he found cairns at a second place, and
he came up to the rim at a third place that isn't marked. Although I
couldn't see the talus covering the Coconino from above, I went to the
right place and got down to the bed in the Supai without much delay in
just less than an hour from the car. The seep spring was flowing, and
there was a lot of water from the rain in the night.

It took me a half hour to walk around to the south to the head of the
Supai route that Bob Dye had found in the first tributary from the
right. Bob Packard had assured me that I would have no real problem
going down here, but I found that I had to study the route carefully to
keep out of real difficulties. Coming up Jim wasn't that careful and he
had to do a difficult climb at one place. I got down to the Redwall in
about three hours from the Buck Farm Road, and I didn't spend any time
trying to see what Ken Walters had done in trying to get down into the
Redwall. I could hear a running stream below and when I looked down to
the river, I could see brilliant red muddy water spreading tentacles
into the clear Colorado.

The way along the Redwall rim upriver was easier than it usually is. I
left the mouth of Buck Farm Canyon about 9:00 a.m. and arrived at the
drainage from the north side of Buck Farm Point about 10:30. It may have
been near the drop off in this streambed that I noticed a solution
cavern mouth. I think I could see where it came out of the side of the
cliff when I got farther north. In looking back I also saw a jug handle
arch. These features were near a squatty tower standing out from the
rim. This bay on the north side of Buck Farm Point has the only route
through all of the Supai between Buck Farm Canyon and Mile 36.8 Canyon.
It is up a talus formed by a landslide.

I ate an early lunch here and walked to the camper's cave at Mile 36.8
Canyon between 11:20 a.m. and 1:00 p.m. Just as I was arriving, Jim
Ohlman hailed me from across the Redwall gorge. We had a restful
afternoon. I read through my Time magazine while Jim snoozed and
reconnoitered the area. He found that one can get down into the narrow
gorge to a two foot deep water hole.

I had been slightly cold in my winter weight bag in the Jimmy on top
Friday night, but I slept soundly at the right temperature down at 3100
feet on my shorty air mattress. In fact I didn't get away as soon in the
morning as I had intended. I found the walking rougher to the north with
a lot of detours along the contour or else a climb down and back up. The
notch immediately to the south of the one containing the Bridge of Sighs
seemed easy to descend for a long way. Bob Euler told me that the Indian
ruin where he got out of the chopper as it hovered with only one skid on
the ledge is downriver from the Bridge of Sighs and is also on the right
side. I went down this ravine to see whether it might lead to Euler's
ruin. It ended about 150 feet above the river with no way to go
laterally along a ledge. When I came to the next ravine where I was sure
I should find the Bridge of Sighs, I went down it also. I was not
mistaken and I got a good view through the bridge to the river although
it would take some rappelling to get down under the bridge. A good
climber might be able to climb down to the top of the bridge, but I
didn't care to risk this, and anyway, I knew I would need to keep
traveling if I were to come out to the car on time, before 4:30 preferably.

When I was approaching Redwall Cavern, I was back from the rim so that I
couldn't see exactly where I was, but I began to hear voices. When I
went down to the rim, I could see a three baloney boat party stopped to
examine the cavern. I shouted down to them. The motors were shut off,
and I suppose they heard me, but they couldn't see me and didn't wave. I
noticed numerous surveyor's poles along here, guyed by three wires. I
also had a good look at the fallen down shack on the other side of the
river, and I saw where they had come down to the river with the aid of a
long rope.

On Saturday I had noticed a lot of wires and trash left over from the
more recent work on the Marble Canyon Damsite beneath Buck Farm Point.
There were quite a few pieces of aluminum tubing that carried compressed
air from the pump on the plateau down to the jackhammers at the drill
sites. I suppose the other wires and cables supported the tubing, but a
very long plastic cord had me guessing. It may have been the first line
down, strung by unreeling from a helicopter. Then they could have pulled
heavier wires and cables attached to the end of the cord.

I kept watching for ways to get through the Supai, but I think that the
last way was the one out of sight on the north side of Mile 36.8 Canyon.
There were several slides that would take one to the base of the top
Supai cliff, but I couldn't see any that were sure to go clear through.
At 11:15 a.m., I finally reached the Redwall gorge of South Canyon and
soon thereafter I stopped beside a rather muddy rain pool and had lunch.
I started on at 12:15 after filling my canteen with reddish water. As
soon as I was able to get down in the bed, I found clear water and
dumped my canteen for a refill.

Just below the junction with Bedrock Canyon there is a ledge with a
simple bypass to the south. It is well marked now and has seen so much
use that there is a clear trail along here. The route is at the height
of the lip of the fall. I vaguely recall going higher than I should have
when I first used this bypass. Another bypass farther west is also well
marked. There were numerous water pockets and I wondered why I was
carrying my canteen nearly full. Above the Supai I could see the way
that Allyn and I had climbed out to the north to follow the route of
Stanton. I would say that he was fairly sure to get out where he could
see the way and the route at the end of the canyon was still not a sure
thing.

In fact when I got to the route near the end, I was glad to see cairns.
The way looked worse than I had remembered it. I probably missed the
best way because I had to go up the steep landslide area holding to
rocks that were protruding from the clay and a lot of the footing was
bad. It was a relief to reach the bare exposure of Coconino where one
can walk a ledge over to the rounded smooth gully. Above this place, I
was ready to walk the clay slope to the south to go out the way Allyn
and I had come down, but Jim was back already and was shouting that the
best way was a little to the north. The climb was more of the precarious
sort through the clay and boulders but we finally came to a good break
in the rim where it was an easy walk up through a crack. We were quite
close to the car by 4:15.

It had been a good trip even through I hadn't kept up a very good pace.
Flowers were blooming, birds were singing, water was easy to find, and
it was not too hot. I was tired but glad to have all of Marble Canyon
connected.

*Red and Mineral Canyons
[May 24, 1976]*

From above, the Redwall descent at the head of Mineral Canyon seemed
possible. I had been considering this as a possible one day hike for
some time. I had done the Redwall rim from Red Canyon around into
Mineral twice fairly recently, so I decided to use the Hance Trail and
walk around into Mineral beneath the Redwall. In that way I would have a
good hike even if the Redwall should prove impossible.

I didn't try to get anyone to go along and I got away at 5:45 a.m. I had
told Roma that I would try to get home by 5:30 p.m. since we had
accepted a dinner invitation with the Roths for 6:00. I drove the Toyota
at a legal 55 mph and still arrived at the parking for the Hance Trail
by 7:45. By now I have no difficulty finding the head of the trail. It
gets a lot more use now than when I first began using it about 1951.

The day was clear and cool and the new leaves were just coming out on
the aspens. May had been relatively wet and everything was beautiful and
green. I was impressed once more by John Hance's choice for a tourist
facility. His part of the canyon holds its own with any other for
grandeur. Distant views are as inspiring as the nearer ones.

There are some alternate branches of the old trail, but with the
increased traffic, one can find the best route. The way through the
Supai first starts down between two ravines, then goes to the west, then
to the east side of the wash, then west, and finally stays on the east
side down to the Redwall. Now there would be no excuse for Dan Davis to
spend two and a half hours looking for the right descent. I wanted to
review the Redwall descent that is nearer the head of the gorge. I
vaguely recall having gone down it once and up on another occasion via
routes that varied only slightly. I thought I had scrambled from ledge
to ledge without getting into any ravines. This time I started down
between two towers and then followed a ledge around to the south. There
were signs that animals go this way. Then I got into a ravine and
followed it halfway down. When it came to a drop, I went out to the
north and had an easy scramble the rest of the way. There were fresh
signs that burros use the water that is intermittently above ground
through the shale of the bed clear below the lip of the Tapeats. I heard
a burro bray while I was on my way out.

At the top Tapeats fall, it would be difficult to go along the shale
slope to the east, but a very well defined trail proceeds west and up.
It is good enough to be artificial, man built and burro maintained. It
follows a natural ramp around into Mineral Canyon. A lesser burro trail
continues to rise into the higher part of Mineral Canyon below the
Redwall. I missed this and went down to the bed on my way in but I
followed this slight trail on the way back.

When I came to the highest showing of Bright Angel Shale, I put down my
day pack and climbed up several steep places. I had a good look at the
impassible fall, a really striking chasm. When I was retreating, I noted
the possibility of going up a talus to a higher bench on the west and
walking around into the middle of the gorge. However, there seemed to be
one more sheer wall, perhaps only 25 feet high, before one would reach
the easy scramble from there to the top. One could use a rope here and
get down all right.

I came from the car to the end of the trip from 7:45 to 11:20 a.m. and
got back from 11:45 a.m. to 4:00 p.m.

*Buck Farm Canyon from the river
[June 3, 1976 to June 5, 1976]*

Others had told me about getting up Buck Farm Canyon from the river so I
finally decided to do it too. Billingsley had told me that it is quite
pretty in the Redwall gorge although not as striking as Saddle Canyon.
Jim David had thought that one might be able to climb the Redwall, and
Ken Walters had made the attempt and had learned that someone had left
steel pegs in the cracks and a ladder in one place. When they were test
drilling the Marble Canyon Damsite, someone must have worked out a rope
descent.

I left Sun City quite early and had something done to the car at
Flagstaff. I took the current fork, the right, just west of the cattle
tank north of the Tooth, but I erred slightly after I had made the
correct turn to the left about 1.3 miles farther toward Shinumo Altar. I
took the well used track to a group of buildings instead of going
straight south of them. The mistake wasn't serious, but I reached
Blankspot Reservoir from the northeast instead of by the old main road
from the east. It takes me about an hour to do the 21 miles from Cedar
Ridge to the parking above the grade down the Eminence Break slope.

The Eminence Break Route is receiving quite a bit of hiker use and there
are a lot more cairns and tracks than there used to be. The hard places
seemed a little more hazardous than I had remembered them, but this is
because I am getting older. I saw all the usual landmarks, the Fallen
Tower Bridge, the big block of Coconino with the fine footprints, and
the place to leave the wash to go along a ledge below the top Supai
cliff. Just above the Supai, about 100 feet to the left out of the bed,
I noticed for the first time, another block having fossil footprints on
it. They are mere bulging pads and don't show the toe marks.

Hiker tracks have worn a trail in the clay over to the Redwall descent,
and there are quite a few cairns to mark the route down through the
Redwall south of President Harding Rapid. However, on the return I
missed by going too high before turning north. Also on the return I
spotted two bits of pottery, a piece of plain brown ware in the lower
Redwall, and a bit with black stripes on brown near the top.

When I got to the vicinity of the Hansbrough grave, I met a river party
led by Jake and Peggy Luck. Jake recognized me immediately from having
heard me talk at the South Rim. I enjoyed a visit with some of his
passengers after dinner.

In the morning I went upriver past the Indian ruin beneath the left wall
and the Bridge of Poles on the right before I blew up my boat and
crossed. The current was slack and I had no trouble going more directly
than a 45 degree slant. Walking averaged quite a bit better on the right
bank. There were deer trails and I followed a buck for 10 minutes on the
way upriver and saw a doe later when I had come down in the afternoon.

The Royal Arches were impressive and so was the short canyon at Mile
41.3. I knew that Loper's boat was supposed to be nearby, but I didn't
find it. A trail now leads into this alcove and there are a couple of
strangely built tables in there. One is topped with some sort of hard
composition sheeting and the other by the planking from some wooden
boat. I could tell what these boards had been used for originally by the
rows of nails that were no longer functional. I suspected that Loper's
boat had been dismantled and used to build the table. There are springs
and ferns and columbines in this short canyon, and I am not surprised
that the boaters like to visit it.

The bouldery bed of Buck Farm Canyon leads up gradually from the river.
There was no water at this time except for standing pools in the shale.
I had to take obvious bypasses around chockstones and then I came to the
real narrows filled with water. I followed a ledge on the south but it
ended at a precarious place where a good climber could go up, but I
didn't want to take the chance. I backtracked ready to give up when I
came to a place where I could go up safely. In fact there was another
place farther west where I could have gone safely up to the level that
leads on to the bed above the Bright Angel Shale. When I came to where
the canyon forks, I was really stopped. Here is where Jim David and Ken
Walters almost climbed to a steep peg in the rock. I took my picture and
left.

On the return, I inflated my boat and coasted downriver to the delta at
Mile 41.3 where I got out to walk around a riffle. A boat party was
parked here so that the dudes could go up and take a shower at the
spring. One of the young boatman told me that he had heard the rumor
that formerly a hermit had lived near where the tables are now. They
also told me where to find Bert Loper's boat, so I went back and located
it a little upriver from the mouth of the alcove. It is behind some
willows and tamarisks and not very easily seen from the river. The bow
and foredeck are still in good shape. After I talked to the manager of
the party, he took me downriver to the vicinity of the Platform of Poles.

One of the two main projects of the trip was to climb up to this
structure and record it in color slides. I didn't see it from below but
a well traveled path led upwards. Then I reached a place where the
climbing seemed quite a bit harder than I had remembered it and I
thought I might be at the wrong place. I went downriver at that level
and saw the doe, but I became convinced that the platform was not in
that direction. Then I went upriver from the end of the path and got a
glimpse of the poles from below. After choosing the safer of two rather
difficult moves, I was up the hard place and came to the edge of the
platform. I got my pictures, but when I was changing film back in
Flagstaff, somehow I lost the 36 shot roll. The river was lower in the
afternoon and I crossed right to where I had left my pack. I felt that I
had slowed down quite a bit, but I got from the rim to the river in two
hours and 20 minutes, and I got back up the Eminence Break Route in
three and a half hours including 25 minutes when I stopped to eat. I
regarded it as one of my more successful trips except for losing the
photographic record of the whole thing.

*Hakatai Canyon, Modred Abyss
[June 7, 1976 to June 10, 1976]*

I had wanted to visit the asbestos mines in Hakatai Canyon for a long
time, and ever since Jerry Hassemer had told me about getting down to
Abyss Cave via the route south from Elaine Saddle, I had wanted to do
that too. I came back to Flagstaff after my Marble Canyon jaunt and was
glad to hear that Bob Packard could go with me. He promised his wife to
be home before midnight on Thursday. We got a fairly early start and
were getting our permit at the North Rim Lodge before noon. We thought
we would spend the night at the car on the rim at the junction of the
Swamp Point and Point Sublime Roads before going down to Modred from
Elaine Saddle on Tuesday. Then we got the idea that a trip to the top of
Powell Plateau would be a good way to spend the rest of Monday p.m. On
our way to Swamp Point we followed the logging road west from DeMotte
Park and turned south on the road to Bear Lake, three miles. After about
two miles along here, I turned west toward Quaking Aspen Spring and then
south to the Fire Point Road. Here we turned east to the road that is
marked Swamp Point. The gate to the park is unlocked. We took the
simpler way out on Thursday, east on the Fire Point Road past the one
mile spur to Bear Lake and back north to the big logging road.

When we got to Swamp Point, we got the idea that it would be a good
thing to start down the North Bass Trail immediately and camp somewhere
at water below the Redwall. Then we would be more sure of reaching out
destinations. There has been a lot of hiker traffic down the trail and
the route below the spring east of Muav Saddle was quite well marked by
cairns. We looked around the spring at the base of the Coconino and
located the rock ruin with the chimney and also noticed a metal bucket
at the end of the trail to the spring. The trail detours east to another
spring about two thirds of the way down the Hermit Shale and there was
running water through much of the bed in the Supai. We both took
pictures of the cave with an open top at the upper end of the Redwall gorge.

There were places where the trail was easy to follow over the ravines on
top of the Redwall to the west, but we also lost the trail, especially
when we were supposed to start down the Redwall. I believe this place is
after you have crossed three ravines. After a quick look over the fourth
ridge, I knew that we should backtrack. After a short walk in the bed
below the Redwall, we came to running water in the shale. Where the
trail went up to the west, we followed it and came to a fairly good
Indian ruin, but soon I thought that it would be more bother to cross
the ridges than to follow the bed. We got down to the bed again, but we
would have been better off if we had stayed there in the first place.

I intended to stay on the east rim along the Tapeats, but there was a
question as to whether we should stay above it or below where the bed
was still broad. We guessed right that we should stay low until the
narrower slope developed. When it opened the bottom dropped out, perhaps
100 feet down with no warning. There were two chockstones wedged between
the walls high above the bottom. We could get down to the bed quite
easily in the tributary ravine on the left side north of Redwall Canyon.
I'll try to remember to show Bob the Kolb picture of the chockstone in
the narrows which we took the time to enter. Flowing water started
shortly and we found a good terrace where we camped. It had taken five
hours to come down here from Swamp Point.

I created quite a bit of excitement when I set fire to toilet paper
after dark and it caught the grass. It made quite a blaze as it went 15
feet up the wall and then started toward our beds. Even green bushes
burned brightly and driftwood also caught. Bob was for picking up our
stuff and getting out. The fire would stop at natural barriers where the
bare walls reached the stream but he helped me fight it, and we put it
out by beating the edge where the grass was lower. It was under control
in 10 minutes but I attended to all the smoldering sticks for another
30. I threw the bigger ones in the water.

Walking down the bed of White Creek was fairly easy although not very
fast over the rocks and along the gravel. We soon passed the mouth of
Redwall Canyon which has an impossible drop in the Tapeats. We didn't
notice it at the time, but on the return on Wednesday, we found bits of
trail construction going up on the Tonto to the east at a minor alcove.
The map shows only a slight nick in the wall here. A little less than
halfway from the bed of Redwall Canyon to Shinumo Creek, there is a
large gulch, bent like a shallow S whose boulder filled bed leads up
through the Tapeats also. We didn't notice this access route until we
were walking south along the Tonto on Wednesday. It took about 45
minutes to reach Shinumo Creek from our camp. There is a trail bypass
for a 20 foot fall near the end of White Creek, and Bass must have
installed the steel rod in the rock which was to hold the trail
construction, now gone. Deer and burros must keep this trail clear, and
now hikers are also helping. It took us another 45 minutes to go along
Shinumo Creek to the Bass Camp. There are a few dry footed crossing
sites, but I decided to wade in and accept wet feet. Bob was trying to
hold out, but he got wet to his hips when he slipped on a slimy rock.

We observed the rock shelter under a huge overhanging rock on the right
side of the creek that I had remembered and we were impressed with the
amount of pioneer tools at the camp itself. We didn't recognize all of
the items. An end of a wooden box was inscribed with the names W L
Vaughan and Claude T. The same inscription is carved on the vertical
side of a big rock beside the trail farther south. I didn't study it but
Bob thinks there was a date, 1912. We also passed the stone chimney near
the inscription rock.

The lower end of the trail to Burro Canyon was obscure, and for a few
minutes I was wondering whether I had led Bob up the wrong place. It
seemed hard to believe that a trail could pass the wall ahead, but it
does, near the base of the hard place. Bass must have had a lot of guts
to take his trails through some places. The new map doesn't show this
trail at all, and the Matthes Evans map shows it stopping at the bed of
Burro Canyon. I didn't recall for sure whether Donald Mattox had led his
group up on the Tonto or along the base of the Tapeats and quartzite to
enter Hakatai along the Archean, but I figured that the Tonto would give
much easier walking. The quartzite is broken leading up to the base of
Fan Island, so we started up. There were plenty of burro tracks on the
lower slope and toward the top I found a constructed trail. Bob came out
above me using a break in the crags to the south of the trail. There was
a cairn to mark the top, and when I returned, I found another at the
lower end. After some cross country walking we found a well defined
burro trail contouring along into Hakatai Canyon.

I had the impression that Mattox had gotten through the Tapeats in the
tributary from the east that is southwest of Fan Island. Bob led the way
down and even found a cairn midway. We were getting very hopeful and
then came to a 25 foot drop. There was a slight chance of chimneying
down a slight crack on the left, but neither of us fancied trying to
come back up that way. We found that the trail continued just as
definitely to the north. But first we went back to the point overlooking
the mouth of Hakatai. We could see that at the corresponding position
west of the Hakatai bay, the Tapeats is broken, but there is no chance
for a descent on the east side. In fact, we could see that moving along
the Archean beneath the Tapeats would be most difficult. After some real
soul searching, Bob and I agreed to go north and head the Tapeats gorge
of Hakatai and come down where we could see a trail through the Tonto
cliff across the way. We figured on using three hours if necessary for
just getting to where we could start down.

Bob went ahead at his rate and waited for me when he came to a bay near
where the Tapeats closes in to form the final narrows at the upper end
of Hakatai. He couldn't see the trail crossing this gorge. While I
rested, he went down to investigate the possibility of getting through
the Tapeats here. It had the same 25 foot drop as the other tributary,
but this time there was a ledge going to the right and leading to a
talus which continued down to the bed. Bob came back to report using a
burro trail. When we went down, we both saw unmistakable signs of a
constructed trail complete with switchbacks and pieces of retaining
wall. It was well defined clear down to the lower end of the Tapeats
gorge of the main canyon. We dropped our packs and investigated this
impressive narrows. We startled four burros in here including a foal.
Just before we were stopped by a big chockstone, we found a seep spring
where the burros drink. We could climb to a higher clean pool, but the
water may be too mineralized for good drinking. We had plenty of Shinumo
water left.

It was a long, easy walk along the bed down to the mines. They are above
the bed on the left at the junction with the tributary southwest of Fan
Island. There are two shafts, one about 10 feet deep and the other about
25 feet deep. They are only 50 yards apart, and there is another surface
excavation close to the longer shaft. Nearby is trash from an old camp.
A little way down canyon here the bed drops off into a fall through the
igneous rock. A trail goes up to the west along the rim of the igneous
intrusion and continues clear through to the Tonto leading to Waltenberg
Canyon. About 200 yards along this trail, a spur takes off and goes down
below the drops in the bed. There were several pools of fairly clean
water here, and I supposed this to be the supply of the miner's camp.
Bob and I handed down the packs at a couple of small drops in the bed,
but we could have managed alone. After a fine bypass to the left, we
arrived at the river. A channel with straight walls goes out into the
river. We enjoyed standing in the shallow, quiet water over the sand
bottom of this recess and cooling off. Bob then climbed around above the
river and reached a sand beach then went up 100 feet or so and found the
north end of the cable anchorage. He took me back up the trail out of
the bed to this place. The north end of the cable was through a five
foot hole clear through the bedrock.

After we had eaten an early dinner, Bob set off for a two hour
exploration. We had needed about one and a half hours to go from our
camp to Bass Camp at Shinumo Gardens and we had used eight hours to go
from there to the Colorado at the mouth of Hakatai, and I was ready to
rest on my bedroll. Bob found that there was no sign of a trail for
loaded burros to take ore to the Hakatai cable. The slope west of where
the trail comes down into the bed from the cable and anchorage is broken
and could have allowed a trail. After beating his way up this slope, Bob
reached the trail to the Tonto quite high. He followed it around into a
little bay and found an Indian ruin just below the place to get through
on top of the Tonto. The trail was going on clearly towards Waltenberg
when he had to turn back (Mattox went on and got to the river in
Waltenberg Canyon. No trail beyond Waltenberg Canyon). On the return he
looked without success for more mines and then started down the bed
where we had left it in the afternoon. He got down one fall and then was
stopped cold by the next. It was difficult climbing back to use the trail.

On Wednesday Bob wanted to make time over to Shinumo Creek and be able
to get to the Colorado via the old trail to the north end of the Bass
Cable and also see where the ferry was. He got from our camp (we stayed
together well past the mines) to Shinumo Creek in four hours. I came
along in something over five, quite a lot faster than our eight of the
previous day. I had not put river water in my canteen since I could get
a supply farther up the canyon. What I didn't know until I was well away
from the river is that the water from seeps tastes like dilute Epsom
Salts. I held back from drinking any more than necessary on the hot day,
but I must have taken in a quart in four and a half hours. I waited for
Bob and ate lunch at Bass Camp. He had needed two hours to go to the
boat crossing and then return via the loop that took in the mouth of
Shinumo Creek. About 12:15 we started on up the creek. We wanted to get
to the junction of Modred and Merlin on Wednesday and go out up to
Elaine Saddle on Thursday.

We went up White Creek again and found the trail to the Tonto without
going clear past Redwall Canyon, but we passed the other possibility and
didn't see it until we were coming south along the Tonto. There is a
good burro trail most of the way along the Tonto rim around into Shinumo
to the mouth of Modred, but there are more detours across lateral
ravines that I had remembered, and getting north to the mouth of Modred
was slower than I had thought. We got down to the creek just south of
the junction and then walked up Modred to find the campsite we had used
in 1969. When we were prepared to wade into the water, there was no
problem in getting up the creek from the junction. We had needed less
than two hours to get from Bass Camp to the break we used in the Tapeats
above White Creek, and about three to go from there to the camp site
above the Tapeats narrows in Modred. In 1969, Nelson, Sears, and I had
needed four to go from the same camp to Redwall Canyon.

On Thursday morning Bob and I got away at 5:15 a.m. but we soon saw that
it would take two hours to go two miles. We tried the north side of the
creek above the jungle, along the creek, up on the south side, and the
north side again. In only a few places we had a deer trail or relatively
open flats. We saw two mescal pits and the broken metate that I had seen
seven years ago. Going up to Elaine Saddle was also slow traveling, but
the chockstones or falls always had simple bypasses. Climbing up dirt
slopes that slide is frustrating and laborious, however. The Supai
averages steeper than the Redwall and then at the very top of the Supai
a cliff is rather continuous. We could see only two or three places that
gave a bit of hope.

Bob went to the most likely place, directly above where we had come up.
He had to remove his pack and had to do a couple of moves that required
some skill. The lower place required lying over the edge of a shelf and
then sliding forward. The other forced one to use some meager hand and
footholds that didn't give one much of a feeling of safety. We handed
the packs up at both places and Bob came down to give me a bit of
support at the upper slot (others have found a better way). Then I
decided that it would be more direct to beat our way through the brush
to South Big Springs Canyon and go up that creek to find the way through
the Coconino and out north to the Swamp Point Road. We took longer to
get from Elaine Saddle to the creek than Sears and I had, probably
because Bob and I tried to go too high most of the way. Getting around
log jams in the creek was bad too. The Coconino break on the north side
seemed harder than I had thought, and it took us about 30 minutes
through the woods on top to reach the road. It was quite cloudy and
blowing a gale, and we were not always sure which was north, but we
reached the road about 3:20. I got into my bag to keep warm while Bob
put on his running shoes and jogged 5.6 miles to the car in 48 minutes.
He reached me about 4:50 and we drove straight home to Flagstaff before
9:45. Tent caterpillars seem to be swarming all over the Kaibab this
summer and are killing a lot of the aspens and many other trees (leaves
drop off, but the aspen puts out more). The ponderosa pines seem to be
immune.

*Marion Point and Huntoon and Tibbetts Routes
[July 16, 1976]*

I left home about 6:00 a.m. in the Jimmy and got to Flagstaff before
9:00. I had a good visit with Dick Meyer and Bob Packard. The latter was
elated that he had finally beaten Allyn Cureton in a 6.3 mile race and
Bob's time was better than Cureton had ever done. Bob also told me about
getting to the top of the highest point in Texas with little Keith, and
also about a terrific day with Ken Walters when they not only climbed El
Diente but about four other fine peaks too. They went along the ridge
connecting El Diente to Mount Wilson. Their approach to El Diente was
from the north.

It seemed a bit too early for dinner when I passed Cliff Dwellers so I
drove on to the south end of the road in Houserock Valley and ate canned
goods in my car. I was impressed by the evening light across the plain
to the gorge of Marble Canyon and on to the Echo Cliffs with Navaho
Mountain looming beyond. The old hunting camp would be a fine place for
a vacation retreat.

I was awake at first light and started hiking at 5:15 a.m. I went down
the trail to the bed of Saddle Canyon and upstream until the trail goes
to the west of the bed. I was able to follow this better than ever
before and I continued up the open slope beneath the pines when the
trail gave out. This route reaches the trail coming down from the high
country about 100 yards to the west of the place where the Nankoweap
Trail goes down the top Supai Cliff, and it is about 50 feet higher than
this low point on the saddle. I got over this best route in less time
than it has ever taken me from the car to the saddle, one hour and ten
minutes.

The trail as far as Marion Point seemed rougher than I had remembered
it, and it took another hour and 10 minutes for me to cover this lap. I
got back a bit faster, perhaps because I didn't stop for pictures. On
the way out, I was interested in studying the Tibbetts and Huntoon
Routes through the Redwall, at the very end of the canyon and east of
here on the south side, respectively.

I started down through the Supai in the angle west of the Marion Point
promontory and then went along the rim of the lowest Supai cliff until
it gave out at the end of the promontory. On the return I chose the
slightly better way up the end of the promontory with a detour to the
west at the top near the trail.

There were footprints from several hikers going out on Marion Point,
perhaps dating from the Steve Studebaker Party. They were there when the
ground was soft with rain. Crossing the notch was surprisingly easy, a
simple walk on the north side and an easy scramble with good holds on
the south. There were a few small ledges farther on that required some
route finding, but the trip is not a demanding climb. There were three
cairns, two to mark the highest point and another to show how far along
the ridge someone had gone. From the end, I could see the V of firs and
Mystic Fall, but to tell that it had water, one would need binoculars.
everything in the northeast section of the park is visible from the end
of Marion Point. It is a grand detour off the Nankoweap Trail.

Without much determination, I checked for Redwall descents to the east
at the notch and the narrow bridge farther south. A good climber could
handle a wide chimney and go down a long way at the latter, and I could
have gotten quite far down at the notch. I think these routes are
impassible farther down.

*Coconino route into the east arm of Clear Creek
[July 17, 1976]*

Ever since Bob Dye told me about getting down through the Coconino and
Supai on the east side of the Cheyava Falls arm of Clear Creek, I had
been intending to try it. First I thought I should locate it the way he
had, from the west rim of this arm. About 0.4 miles from the end of the
fire road to Francois Matthes Point, the road goes close to the rim. I
walked down through the trees until I could get a good view of the east
side. I saw what I took to be Dye's route. His ravine slants to the
north and the bed is invisible from across the canyon. The bottom of the
Coconino appears to have at least a 30 foot bare fall, and I can't claim
that I saw the fir tree he used to get down this cliff. I didn't feel a
bit sure that I could handle this climb alone, especially after Packard
assured me that I would need a rope to do Dye's route through the
Redwall in Little Nankoweap.

I noticed that one could not get through the Kaibab directly above the
Coconino route, but there are good ways both to the north and the south.
To reach the south (nearer) one, I estimated that one should drive 4.2
miles south where the fire road forks. On the way back I saw the signs
announcing the fire roads connecting these two forks, but there were no
visible tracks to assure one that the routes are feasible. I would
figure that they have steep grades to cross sizable valleys. I would
want to drive clear back to the fork.

Tritle I and Tritle II

Near the rim on the ridge separating Kwagunt and Nankoweap Canyons are
two large limestone towers. On the Matthes Evans Map, the longer of
these two (and nearer the rim) was called Tritle Peak. On the 1962 map,
the farther east tower bears the same name. Thus we can call these
towers Tritle I and Tritle II. On 10/24/70, Al Doty left my car at the
viewpoint above Kwagunt and in an even hour got out to both towers and
climbed them. I wanted some insight into what he had done, and I had the
idea that perhaps I could climb the farther and lower tower which Al had
said was the easier.

The way to them and along their bases was not too bad although there was
some brush to break through. On the return, I used a deer trail that is
nearly continuous along the north side of the closer tower. I saw that
there is no easy and safe way up either. I climbed up about 25 feet on
the far side of Tritle II, but for me to continue would have been
suicide. I have seen Al do some tricky moves, but I have never seen him
do anything as nearly impossible as these climbs. I would have had a fit
if I had been watching him. I would have told him to postpone that sort
of climbing until I would not be along. I walked the ridge beyond Tritle
II until it was dropping off. There is another smaller tower out here
without a name, but it would seem as hopeless to climb as any.

I would like to see Lee Dexter and Scott Baxter climb these towers. They
would go slower and play them safer than Al Doty, but I am sure they
could do them. Tritle I and II have the advantage of being accessible.
They may become popular with the experts.

*Red Canyon and Redwall in Mineral Canyon
[October 3, 1976]*

I had noted the possibility of a Redwall route down Mineral and I had
investigated this from below and I had thought that a short rappel would
be enough. Wanda Seglund wanted to write an article for the Republic so
I agreed to take her along for as much of the hike as she cared to do.
She brought her 14 year old daughter, Julia. Just a few days before the
time, Allen Schauffler got in touch with me, and I agreed readily to
take him too. Allyn Cureton was at the Grand Canyon Symposium and he
decided to go with us also.

There had been some rain, but Sunday seemed fine. We picked up the
Seglunds at the Visitors Center before 8:00 a.m. and we started down the
Red Canyon Trail by 8:30. Frequent use has made the trail more distinct.
Allyn told us that he had timed himself for speed down to the river and
back on this trail. He had reached the river in one hour and 19 minutes
and had come back to the rim, after a three minute rest, in one hour and
39 minutes. Our party got to the Redwall in a little more than an hour
and took over an hour to walk the Redwall Rim around to the Redwall
Gorge of Mineral Canyon. This sort of walking was new to Wanda and she
said she was so busy watching her footing that she had no idea of the
entire route. When Al, Allyn, and I prepared to go down the Redwall, she
and Julia were content to stay on top. As I had seen before, the top was
easy, mere walking over rockslide material. Then there were several
places where Allyn led the way and Al was able to go down without too
much hesitation. However, they seemed risky to me, and I had to be
encouraged by such remarks as "There is a good step just three inches
lower." These places didn't seem hard on the way back.

Then we came to the drop. If we had rappelled at the main fall, it would
have been almost twice as far down as it was above a bench to the left.
Over here there was also a sturdy juniper that made a fine place to tie
the rope. The rappel was about 40 feet but there were a couple of places
where one could stand on ledges. The bottom 18 feet was slightly
overhung, but you could touch the wall with the feet. We used a diaper
sling and gave the rope three turns around a carabineer for friction. I
went down first and, while the others were descending, I followed the
bench to where one could walk down to the Tonto level.

When I was Jumaring back up the rope, I used the same nylon rope for
holding the slings against my body. Halfway up, when I had put my weight
on a ledge, the square knot came untied and the nylon rope dropped. I
took no chances and had the others send it back up before I proceeded,
this time with a better knot. I assumed that Al and Allyn had seen how
the Jumars work and I went up to where I had left my lunch and took
shelter under a rock.

Al came up next and Allyn put some tension on the rope so that the lower
Jumar would slide up the rope as well as the upper one. When Allyn tried
to come up, the rope was slack and neither he nor Al could see how to
use the thumb to hold the lower ratchet clear away from the rope to
slide the lower Jumar as I do routinely. Al had to instruct Allyn in
tying a Prusik sling that would support him under the arms while he
wrestled with the Jumar with both hands. From my position high up in the
chute, I couldn't see what was taking them so long. I decided to go on
when they assured me that the problem was solved. I found the women
waiting for me to lead them back up the trail. Al and Allyn caught up
with us when we were on the trail through the Supai and we all reached
the car just before a real downpour. Wanda thought our hike more
exhausting than her climb of Pikes Peak.

*Boucher Canyon
[October 4, 1976 to October 5, 1976]*

Al Schauffler camped with me at the campground and we went down the
Boucher Trail leaving the car by 8:30 a.m. I was startled by how clear
the trail has become over the years of frequent use. There was really no
chance to lose it. The place where it gets down the upper Supai cliff is
still rather a rock scramble, but now there is no question about keeping
on the trail below. It contours immediately over west into the main draw
and switchbacks through the old rockslide. Without hurrying, we got to
the old camp in five and a half hours, counting time out for lunch. This
compares favorably with my five hours and ten minutes also including
time for lunch. On the way out the next day, I was by myself while Al
was following the Tonto for a two day trip out via Indian Gardens. I was
a bit discouraged when I noted that it took me almost seven and a half
hours compared to my best time of old, five hours and 20 minutes. On
that former occasion, I had no pack but it was after I had gone down to
Hermit Rapid and had followed the base of the Tapeats from Hermit to
Boucher, the same day.

I was puzzled when I couldn't walk right to the old Boucher rock cabin.
I thought it would be on the south side of the creekbed that comes down
to the left of the trail. Actually, it is on the north side of this bed,
and the mine shaft isn't as far from the cabin as I had remembered. The
thing I call a chicken house has no roof now, but the walls are still
good. It is a bit bigger than I had thought and it is as large as some
Indian ruins. A short man could lie down in it.

After resting for 20 minutes, Al and I started the real project, going
up Boucher Canyon to try to get through the Redwall. This had been
declared possible by one of my correspondents. The creek was flowing
quite well right by the campground. Most of the water comes from the top
of the Tapeats, but there are places where it is running higher also.
There were rainpools in the Redwall, and all along the bed one could see
signs of a very recent small flood. I recognized the place where I had
turned back before, where the shale forms a bedrock ledge clear across
the bed. This is a long way below the real Redwall.

There were two or three places where chockstones or falls have to be
bypassed in the Redwall. We found cairns at the bottom and tops of a
couple of places and bighorn signs including tracks were evident. Near
the top there were a couple of very narrow places where the bed would
make a sharp turn. If we hadn't seen the bighorn tracks and were the
discoverers of the route, we would have sworn that we would be stuck.
Some of the climbing on the bypasses made me think twice and I didn't
mind having Al tell me where to put my feet.

At the upper end of the Redwall Gorge, the canyon widens from a
spectacular narrows into a steep sided cone rich with vegetation. All in
all, it is a really intriguing trip. We took two hours and ten minutes
to get from the camp to the top of the Redwall, but some of this time
was spent route finding. We got back considerably faster, in time to
make camp and cook by the last light. I was really ready to stop after
nearly nine hours on the go.

The night was pleasant although there were a few mice. Al copes with
this problem by hanging his pack a few feet above ground and spreading
some grain around on the ground beneath. He thinks there were more than
a dozen mice at once around him, but I didn't notice them. I hung my
pack in a different place.

*Comanche Creek
[October 7, 1976 to October 8, 1976]*

Ken Walters and I had seen that bighorns and deer can come down the
ravine northeast of Comanche Point through the Redwall. I wanted to
complete this route from the rim to the river, which would make the 95th
for me between Lee's Ferry and Pearce Ferry. Al Schauffler came to the
campground rather late on Wednesday and we were at the permit desk early
Thursday morning. He left his car at Moran Point since he wanted to fill
in his gap along the river from Tanner to the Hance Trail and come out a
day after me. The weather was ideal and the trail is in fine shape. Al
carries a monstrous pack but he never asked for a rest. With my 21
pounds or so, I had no trouble walking right down to the river in less
than three and a half hours. The present sign calling the distance 14
miles is surely an exaggeration. Al had read Grand Canyon Treks rather
carefully and he was interested in having me point out where one leaves
the trail to take the Cardenas Unkar Route, where the old Tanner Trail
comes in from Cedar Mountain, where the priest was killed, and where you
can see the Cardenas Natural Bridge. I also pointed out where Treiber
and Grubb climbed the tower below Comanche Point. There is a lot to see
from the Tanner Trail including the towers to the north across the river.

We ate an early lunch at the overhang near the cliff at the bend in the
river. It seems to be a popular campsite big enough to shelter a couple
of beds. Al had used it quite recently on a trek when he encountered a
bighorn sheep on the Tanner Trail. He also knew all about pack rats at
this site. We started on for the main project by 12:15 following a dim
trail that hikers have made along a route about halfway to the top of
the cliff upriver from the camp. When we were past the cliff section, we
followed the other hikers and walked near the upper part of the
vegetation. We started up the bed of Comanche Creek for a short way
before I remembered to go back and fill my canteen in the river. This
wasted perhaps 10 minutes, but I was glad to have a full canteen since
the afternoon was quite warm.

At the place where the creekbed swings to the south, we left it and went
up a minor bed that goes straight toward the narrows in the lava. This
was a mistake. We could have gone down into the main bed again, but the
temptation was to conserve our altitude and try to get along a bench
below the top of the lava and come out at the top of the narrows. We not
only passed by a place where we could have gone down into the main bed
but we also passed a break where we could have gone to the top of the
lava. Al was able to come down the basalt into the main bed right at the
narrows but I had to back up and go through the break above. While I was
doing this, he was walking up the bed. Here he got a fine view of a
bighorn ram and an ewe leaping from stance to stance across the face of
the cliff above him. They went out to a platform at the end of the
promontory and then returned the same way, proving that bighorns don't
have all their routes memorized. We saw fresh droppings all the way up
the canyon.

We noted the landslide and mud slide areas that Phil Schafer had used
for his talk at the symposium. They didn't impress me as being so
unusual as he regarded them. I recalled where we should leave the main
bed of Comanche Creek and follow the arm to the southwest. There were
great drops in the shale and a couple of bypasses weren't easy, steep
shale slopes with rocks showing in the mud. For a long way near the end,
we were on a simple consolidated landslide to the west of the bed. We
had to go clear to the base of the Redwall and descend there, but we
made it.

*Evans Butte
[October 11, 1976]*

I already knew how to go from the Point Sublime Road to the Tuna Flint
Saddle, so I figured that it wouldn't be too hard to reach the top of
Evans Butte, rather a recent name for the highest end of the Sagittarius
Ridge. I drove to the North Rim by myself Sunday afternoon while Roma
was going back to Sun City.

After an early dinner at Jacob's Lake, I drove south into the park and
found the Point Sublime Road open. Until then I hadn't decided whether
to do the hike to Manu Temple or the one to Evans Butte first. The Point
Sublime Road had a few puddles of standing water, but there was never
any danger of getting stuck in the mud. All places are surfaced with
broken rock, but there are some terrific bumps. When I stopped at the
sign for Kanabownits Spring, I couldn't start the Jimmy. I raised the
hood and put the battery back where it should be. It had been thrown off
its stand and had been leaking acid. The motor started immediately and I
tried to tie the battery in place since there was no clamp to hold it. I
went on out to the old campsite near the end of the road and spent the
night. In the morning I had no difficulty in starting, and I parked at
the first space off the road where you enter the valley.

It took about 45 minutes for me to up down up and south to the place to
leave the rim. There was a cairn of three large rocks at the head of a
deer trail. When I came down to the Toroweap, I figured I should go
still farther south to get through it. When I returned, I found a better
break with a deer trail right above the simple way through the Coconino,
but you do have to go quite a bit south of here to get through the
Kaibab. The trail was clear to the top of the Supai and the bypasses of
falls in the latter were simple, with alternatives. I reached the saddle
in about two hours from the car.

The old cairn indicating a route towards Flint is still there. I
proceeded along the ledges at this level without dropping down to the
Redwall. There were some short stretches of easy progress, but mostly
one walks around and between rocks and past brush. I was surprised to
find two more cairns in the next half mile. When I finally reached the
base of Evans Butte, I could see that there would be a slight problem in
route finding. After taking a drink, I put down my lunch and canteen and
went on with only the camera. There were no tough pitches. At the top I
doubled back and went up the final pitch at the east end of the mesa. It
is not a climber's challenge, but the views were exceptional. I took
pictures in all directions, toward Arthur, the Holy Grail, Wheeler
Point, and the South Rim. The sight of the river itself to the southwest
was great.

I had no problems with my feet or physical condition, but on the way
back I began to think that I should try harder to get a companion or
two. The story of Pederson's sudden death of a heart attack was on my
mind. A companion can't do you any good, but getting the body out is far
simpler if there is a witness. Anyway, I seem to be getting less
independent.

I had about decided to go home after this success in climbing my 76th
Grand Canyon summit, and then the car decided the issue. The battery was
shot. A friendly tourist got me started with jumper cables, and I drove
straight to Jacob's Lake where I had to buy a new battery for such a
price that I figured I had better come home before I went broke.

*North Rim trip and Bundy tales
[November 10, 1976 to November 14, 1976]*

I got away from Sun City so early that I didn't eat breakfast at home.
It seemed just as easy to drive to Saint George, Utah, around the west
of Lake Mead as through Page, so I went to the west on the way north and
came back by the other route to see friends. The whole drive is most
interesting. I was surprised when I first realized that Joshua Trees
grow so close to Wickenberg. The new bridge across Burro Creek is a high
one, but one is likely to cross it so fast that he doesn't see much of
the canyon. The old winding road down and up was more scenic. The ranger
at the Lake Mead Visitors Center advised going along the lake through
Overton rather than through Las Vegas, and I was glad to see the lake
and the rough country again. I stopped briefly at the picnic area called
the Bowl of Fire, an outlier of Valley of Fire State Park. Another
experience was the freeway through the Virgin River Canyon. The old
highway went north around the range, but the freeway manages to follow
the river right through the 1000 foot canyon.

It had taken eight hours to get from Sun City to Saint George. After a
late lunch at a restaurant, I headed south. The road out of the Virgin
Valley up the grade in Quail Canyon was a bit rocky and slow, and the
entire route in Arizona was very dusty this time. About 48 miles south
of Saint George, I took the road southwest at the fork to get to Mount
Dellenbaugh. After opening and closing the two gates, about 35 miles
past the fork, I was stopped by a padlocked gate and a No Trespassing
sign. I drove back to a fork and started down a secondary road to the
southwest with the idea that perhaps I could get to Mount Dellenbaugh
and down on the Shivwits Plateau by a roundabout way. If I had the right
maps, I would have continued, but after three miles of driving in this
direction, I gave up for fear it was a wild goose chase and I would run
out of gas without getting to do anything significant. I went back to
the fork in the main road and continued the 12 miles to the Mount
Trumbull schoolhouse, where I parked and got supper to stay all night.

Ed Bundy and another man came over from their ranch to investigate, and
during our conversation, I learned that Pat Bundy was living about a
mile to the east.

In the morning I drove over to Pat's place and had a two hour visit with
him. I heard again the story of his trip with Chet Bundy and Floyd
Iverson down the river to bury the body of Floyd's nephew who had
drowned. A point that I had not remembered clearly from Chet's letter to
Marston was that their boat hadn't got clear away from them at
Separation Rapid, but it had been badly damaged when they had tried to
float it through the rapid empty. They were also quite short of food.
They stashed the boat and came out finally finding the arm of Separation
Canyon that would go. They found Kelly Seep and Pat said that it was
back in a tunnel. He indicated that it shouldn't be hidden by the
present Castle Tank. He talked as if they were not as hard up for water
as for food. After getting the word about a cabin with some jerky in it
from two mounted ranchers, they missed the shack, but later they came to
a ranch with no one around although there was a freshly baked pan of
biscuits. They helped themselves and left a note and walked home on the
plateau. This was in 1929 and in 1931 they went back to repair the boat
and take it downriver and out. A rock had rolled down and punched a big
hole in the metal boat, so they went home on foot. This time they walked
down to 209 Mile Canyon along the river and came back the same way with
minor variations.

Pat passed along someone's suspicion that the bride and groom had walked
out Peach Springs Wash so that the groom's farther could collect a lot
of insurance money.

A real goody from Pat was the information that one can climb the canyon
wall almost directly opposite the Whitmore Trail and get out on the
Esplanade to the Ridenour Mine. He and two other men got high up there
and returned after shooting a bighorn sheep. The most exciting thing
that happened to that party was that the boat sank just before it got to
the north bank, a wetting for all. Pat also told me about getting a
flock of sheep along the river from Parashant Canyon to the Whitmore
Trail. In answer to my question, he expressed the belief that the trail
from the river a mile below the Whitmore Trail up to Cane Spring was
built by men working for old Nutter, who wanted to bring cattle across
the river from the south. He figured that cattle could get down to the
river from the south, perhaps through Mile 192 Canyon.

Pat also told me about driving a Jeep from the Whitmore Road over to
Vulcan's Throne. The roads indicated on the new map don't join, but Pat
got through. When another man tried to repeat the project, he tore up
the transmission in his Jeep and John Riffy had to pull him out behind a
bulldozer. Pat also told about getting down to the river upstream from
the Lava Trail via the old mine west of Cove Canyon. He reported a pit
or cave at the mine that seemed to have a lot of good ore showing. John
Riffy didn't back up this report. Pat and a friend had gone downriver
and out the Lava Trail. One of Pat's most interesting stories was about
a gang who cut a lot of cordwood in the mountains north of the Cove.
They packed the wood down and dropped it off the rim of the Esplanade.
They wanted it to float down to Needles where they would bring it to
shore and sell it. There was no indication how far this plan went, but
Riffy confirmed that you can still find cordwood part way down the
mountain.

After this I drove to the head of the Whitmore Trail, only 900 feet
above the river. Pat had told me that there are some Indian ruins to the
west of the base of the trail, and I wanted to find them. They tie in
with what Powell said about his trip to the river with the human pickle
as his guide. As I reread Powell, I figured that they took the horses
from where the present road ends around to the west past the cirque.
They couldn't get the horses past the narrow ledge above the cirque.
Then they got down into the cirque by the light of their torches. In the
morning they found the ruins over near the present trail and went up
there. Pat said that before he and his friends had made it into a horse
trail, this route had been an Indian path with rock piles for steps. I
hiked down to the river all right and studied the wall across the way. I
figured that I can repeat Pat's climb up to the Esplanade some day. I
also found what is left of the ruins, very little, but I saw bits of
potsherds and charcoal. I was going on downriver and out via the
scramble on the south side of the cirque but some chest pain around my
heart made me wonder. I went directly back to the car taking about 40
minutes to go up the trail. I quit worrying about a heart attack when I
recalled a lurch I had taken while camping at the school house. I had
banged my chest against the edge of the back seat and had bruised my chest.

On Friday I drove back up the road, in four wheel drive part of the way.
I parked due east of the cinder cone and went up the lava flow to the
Esplanade. Some of the walking was slow over rough lava blocks, but most
of it was a lot easier then walking the usual Supai surface with so many
little canyons to cross. I hadn't studied the map well enough to know
where the road is, but I got well past the fence marking the park
boundary. About the time I figured I should turn back, I went out on a
point about the time I figured I should turn back. I was south of the
promontory that bounds Tuweap Valley on the west. I should have used
another half hour to go farther east, and then with what I did two days
later, I would have connected a route from Tuweap Valley to Whitmore
Canyon. When I was getting back near Whitmore on the return on Friday, I
saw that I had a lot of extra time and I went out to the south on the
long promontory overlooking the river just east of Whitmore. On the way
I passed a shelter cave with bits of charcoal. On this hike I saw
numerous bighorn tracks and droppings, but the only actual animals were
cottontail rabbits, one jackrabbit, and one coyote. I noted the trail,
not shown on the map, that connects a road high up in the Cove with the
road going across the lava from the Whitmore Road.

I had a hard time deciding what I would do on Saturday. There were
indications that the weather might be changing and I considered getting
out of the area before the road got bad. But I decided to take a chance
and try the thing I had most wanted to do, get down Billingsley's dike
southeast of Lone Mountain. I had talked to Orville Bundy on the road
south from Saint George and he had said that the road west from the
cinder cone was now in worse shape than it was last March. Hence I
parked just a bit beyond the line shack and began walking the road about
7:35 a.m. In an hour and seven minutes I had reached the improved water
holes that have some plastic tubing nearby. This time I noticed that
there are two of these with cement dams only about 100 yards apart. They
both were holding water, the only supply that I saw all day. I had the
relevant maps along and had no trouble finding the trail down the fault
cliff, about a two and a quarter hour walk from the line shack. It took
about two hours to go from there to the edge of the Esplanade at the
volcanic dike. There are so many little canyons cutting down through the
Supai that it pays to keep fairly well north and then cut south to the
rim. I came to the rim a bit too far east but I soon found the
impossible dike ravine and then the break in the Supai where I had gone
down last March.

I had brought my overnight pack with the expectation of spending the
night at the river, but it was only 1:00 p.m. when I finished eating at
the rim, so I just went down with my canteen and camera. As Billingsley
had told me, I turned east this time at the foot of the Supai break and
got into the broader ravine there. There were about three places where
chockstones or small drops in the bedrock of the bed forced me to look
for a bypass. At a couple of these places I had to face in and look for
toeholds, but they weren't too bad. Down where the east ravine I was in
joined the one I tried last March, I would have had trouble getting down
to the bed, but it was easy to go around a point to the east and walk
down in a short ravine over there. I had overrun what I had figured
would be my time allowance by 15 minutes when I reached the place I had
been coming up from the river last March. I came back to the rim in
slightly less time than it had taken me to get down. By this time I knew
that I couldn't count on getting to the road much before dark, and my
canteen was so nearly empty that I would have a bad night if I didn't
reach the water holes. At one point along the way back, it started to
rain when I was near an overhang. I spread out my plastic sheet to catch
water and began smoothing a place to sleep under the shelter. It didn't
rain enough to mean anything and I went on. I was walking in the dark
from the rim to the road. I used my flashlight sparingly for fear that
it might give out, but I got to the water just 12 hours after I had left
the car.

I had a good dinner and slept an hour or so. Then I woke up because of
the bumps under my ensolite pad. Furthermore, a mouse and a mosquito
combined to keep me awake. About 12:30 a.m., I got up and walked to the
car where I got some good sleep in the Jimmy on my air mattress.

On Sunday I stopped the car and shaved at a metal cattle tank fed by
clean water from a pipe and then drove on out of Paw's Pocket to have
another short visit with Pat Bundy. I was pleased by the interesting
drive up past the Hurricane Fault and through the forest south of Mount
Trumbull and down into Toroweap Valley. After lunch at the last fork in
the road out to the Toroweap Overlook, I took a hike to where I had
slept along the road to Cove Canyon and a loop hike when I couldn't make
up my mind about the weather. When it seemed to be getting settled for a
fairly dry afternoon, I hiked to the top of Vulcan's Throne to reach my
77th Grand Canyon named Summit and then set out to go west to where I
had been two days before. I turned back about 20 minutes short of this
goal. It was a good thing too, because for the last 15 minutes before
reaching the car, I was feeling sickish from having eaten too much tuna
for lunch. A couple of Tums fixed me up, and I was soon able to eat a
modest dinner. After dark I went to the Riffys. They invited me in and
we enjoyed a visit of two and a half hours. John and Mary Beth are nice
people. About 9:00 p.m. I left and in less than five minutes I was
driving through a pelting rain and snowstorm. Before long there were
puddles but no deep mud. By 10:30 I was ten miles south of the paved
highway and the sky was clear. The night was cold and I was glad to get
into both sleeping bags.

On Monday morning I turned off the Kanab Page road at Glen Canyon City
and drove the 13 miles to the Warm Creek arm. The last four miles of
road go down the bed of a canyon and the route is very scenic. I took a
bath in the lake with no one around. Then I went to Page and found where
the Dotys live. Alan and Jane were in Flagstaff for the day to check on
Alan's eye which was infected. After dinner at the Empire House
Restaurant, I looked up the Finicums and had a fine evening visiting
with them. In the morning I heard from Al Doty about his first ascent of
Hancock Butte after giving up the ascent of Sullivan Peak. I visited
some more friends in Flagstaff on the way home, especially George
Billingsley who showed me color slides he had taken from a helicopter in
the western Grand Canyon.

I left out all mention of a minor loop hike that I took Thursday
afternoon. It was from the parking at the head of the Whitmore Trail
west to the canyon coming down from the cinder cone. I saw the cowpath
across this gulch and then went up the canyon and climbed up the Redwall
at its contact with the lava on the east side. The return from the
highest point of the Redwall here was mostly on the road.

During my four days of walking I had done two more Redwall routes,
another way from the rim to the river, and one more Grand Canyon named
summit.

*Western Grand Canyon
[January 24, 1977 to January 29, 1977]*

Steve Fulmer went with me leaving about 7:30 a.m. We had some worry
about the Jimmy 25 miles from Kingman. The motor bucked and surged and
then would stop even while idling. We finally got to town and saw a
Toyota GMC garage from the off ramp. The foreman knew at once what was
wrong, a clogged filter in the fuel pump. He had it done by the time we
were eating at the nearby Denny's.

As soon as we approached the lake, I could see that the level is up at
least 10 feet since last year. The lake showed a slow current in the
canyon, but the water was clear as far up as we got, to Jackson Canyon
at Mile 257. One could plane along without thinking about the mud bars
we ran into last year. I decided to moor the boat at the mouth of Pearce
Canyon so that I would have the experience of walking up the bed all the
way from the lake. We reached the place to tie up early enough to take
nearly an hour for an inspection of the old Pearce Ferry Road. Snap
Canyon Wash is only a little farther west, and the road follows the high
ground between the two washes. We saw wheel tracks showing that it still
gets some use. Another old road that is used more now than some years
ago is the one coming to the lake from the west just south of Iceberg
Canyon. When we came back down the lake on Friday, there were a number
of recreational vehicles parked at its end.

On Tuesday Steve and I got out and started up the wash by 7:40 a.m. In
15 minutes I realized that the day might turn wet, and I had left my
poncho in the boat. I went back for it while Steve walked on slowly. I
left the boat the second time a little after 8:00 and caught up with
Steve before we were even with the impressive butte of red sandstone on
the south side above the bed. Jorgen and Ed had thought that it is just
as easy to walk from the lake up the bed as it is to come from the cove
over the hills down into the bed, but from our timing, it seemed longer
the way Steve and I were doing it. However, this may have been because I
was slowing down for Steve. I thought we might be at the place in the
bed where we had reached it two years ago before we came to the actual
place, but when we did come to the right place, I recognized it for sure.

There was water as before in the holes on the bare rocks about 10
minutes of walking time east of the mouth of the big tributary from the
south, the one that drains the mysterious bowl. There were also lots of
burro droppings in the bed this time, and we saw six or more but were
not close enough to make a good picture. We ate our lunch a bit early
when we came to the fork in the main canyon where there is a shelter
cave. The weather had not become worse and we even had some sunshine on
us as we ate.

After lunch, Steve excused himself from going further while I started up
the north fork. Two years ago, Visbak, Herrman, and Belknap had gone up
here and had come down into the main canyon by going south over a
saddle. I immediately had to do a bit of climbing to get past a smooth
fall. Very soon I saw the waterholes that the others had reported. They
are deep enough to hold water for the entire cool season. To pass one of
these, I arched my back with my feet on one wall and my hands on the
other. There was a chockstone where I might have crawled up somehow
after putting my pack and canteen up ahead, but I preferred using a
bypass to the north where the Redwall was broken and rough.

I didn't feel sure about where I should leave the bed to go up and down
into the main south fork. Passing by one ravine up to the south, I
started up when I had been away from the lunch site nearly an hour. For
a time I wondered whether it would be easy to get up the last cliff to
the top of the Supai, but I found two good ways. I got out on top to the
north of the saddle. It would be easy to walk from here to the road
going to Fort Garrett, but I preferred to climb to the top of the mesa
south of the saddle. There was also no problem at all in going down the
open slope from the saddle to the bed of the main fork of Pearce Canyon
via the open tributary south of the bed which is in line with the route
I was using. I regretted not having time to get out on top of the Sanup
Plateau to the east of the great sinkhole bowl. Grist for another trip.
Going up the main bed and then going north or south using these fault
valleys is the most efficient way to climb out of Pearce. I found
bighorn droppings to the north of the saddle. Perhaps they go down to
water in the north fork because this seems to be the best supply in all
of Pearce.

I needed just under three hours to go from the lunch site up the north
fork, over into the main fork, and then back to the lunch site. It took
me about three hours to walk from there to the boat, arriving just after
6:00 p.m.

In getting away Wednesday morning, I started the motor too soon and hit
a rock ledge with the prop. Fortunately, it wasn't bad and there was no
new vibration. We followed the landmarks fairly well as we cruised up
the canyon. I showed Steve Rampart Cave, Columbine Falls, and Muav Cave.
He was able to keep us straight on the mileages with the Belknap Guide.
I looked into Tincanebitts and then turned back to tie up at the mouth
of Dry Canyon. I didn't have any strong hopes of getting up through the
Redwall in it, but I thought that a canyon that big should be checked.

Steve and I left the boat about 8:45 a.m. We had a terrible time getting
past the tamarisk jungle growing on the silted delta. The slope on the
east of the mud flat is steep and hard to walk on. We tried the edge of
the jungle for short stretches and then went up on the slope again. It
took us 45 minutes to reach the open wash above the jungle, but I did
this in 35 minutes when I returned by myself. We ate lunch where the
main canyon goes to the east and then north. Again Steve had walked as
far as he wanted to while I went on up the canyon about the same
distance that we had been together. I saw no animal footprints. The
absence of deer and bighorn gave me the idea that there is no way out,
so I wasn't surprised when I was stopped by a big chockstone at the top
of a dry fall. It was a little surprising that I had been able to get
this high, into the upper fourth of the Redwall.

I got back quite early. At the upper end of the mud flat, I walked up on
the terrace to the east and found the only evidence of Indian occupation
I had seen all day, a large and well built mescal pit. After two good
days of walking, I figured I would take it easy on Thursday and stay
with Steve. I thought he would like to see the evidence of gardening at
Quartermaster Spring. I should have tied the boat west of the mouth
where one can walk up the slope and get into the bed above the big fall,
but I saw a clean place to moor on the east side of the delta. Getting
south there was rough and when we went higher, it was still rougher.
Steve was afraid that the knee which has had surgery might give out, and
we returned to the boat without reaching my destination.

After lunch we cruised past Burnt Canyon. We were intrigued by the
picture taken from Triumphal Arch that appears in the Belknap Guide. I
thought it might be visible if we went into Jackson Canyon. When we
moored at the west edge of the tamarisk jungle delta, we soon saw that
we should have to do some cliff scaling. We moved downriver to a minor
ravine where we could land and easily pass the jungle and walk up to
where we could look into Jackson Canyon. We spent about two hours going
up here and back but we didn't see the hundred foot high arch. Perhaps
it is on the other side of the river. We moved the boat to Burnt Canyon
and had time to kill.

Thursday was special in that a boat came buzzing along up the canyon.
The four sightseers didn't camp because we saw them returning in the
afternoon.

Friday was supposed to be my biggest day. Last year Bruce Braly and I
had proved that we could go up the west arm of Burnt Canyon and get out
above the Redwall. I got the impression from something that George Beck
had said that there would be a still better chance of getting up on the
plateau through the east fork. Steve agreed that he wouldn't try to keep
up, and I would start early. Steve was intrigued with the stone shack,
or the two room apartment as he called it, counting the ramada as the
second room. We had a peculiar accident about 11:00 p.m. Thursday night
while we were tied to shore with two ropes and had our anchor out on the
other side as well. Both of us were awakened out of a deep sleep by a
big thump that shook the whole boat. The next day we tried to explain it
as caused by a convulsive kick that one of us had done in his sleep, but
when I got the boat out of the water, I found a new dent in the hull.
Perhaps the boat had been resting on some mud that was covering a rock
ledge. The mud may have slipped away letting the hull down hard on the rock.

I got started before it was fully light, about 6:50 a.m., and found that
the walking past the tamarisk jungle is very easy in Burnt Canyon. In
fact there is a vague trail along the not so steep slope above the
jungle all the way back to the open wash. It took me 130 minutes to
reach the fork in the canyon. I stopped long enough to inspect the seep
spring and I saw that someone had built a clay dam to catch the water.
There was only a small rim of clay left, and the water wasn't flowing
well enough to fill such a pool anyway. There was a small pool back in a
little cave where the seep comes out. I checked the terrace with a lot
of charcoal mixed with the soil and the mescal pit on a higher terrace
just north of here.

The map I carried in my hand kept me fairly well oriented as I walked up
the east fork. Tributaries were interesting, but they offered no egress.
This east arm forks again as one reaches the Redwall. These branches are
actually impressive with very narrow spooky channels. I followed the
north branch first and succeeded in getting past a couple of head high
chockstones before coming to a big fall that was impossible for me. It
was the same story in the other branch except that there was a little
water running out of the sand into a small pool. South of this junction,
on the east side was a small seep with some fern. I also went up to
inspect a vertical, overhanging slot on the left a few hundred yards
south of this junction. I was back so soon, in three hours, that we
moved the boat to Sandy Point for camping. On the road up from the
launching ramp, Steve called my attention to two bighorn ewes. They were
the first I have seen from a car in the US.

*Western Grand Canyon
[March 12, 1977 to March 19, 1977]*

Jorgen Visbak met me a little after noon at the turnoff to Dolan Springs
and we proceeded to Meadview. He left his car near the ranger's home. We
talked to Mrs. Heddin since her husband was away. She told us that the
lake had fallen a couple of feet to 1191 and that they would stabilize
it at about 1189. I also learned from a man near the ranger office that
the level fluctuates a lot at the mouth of Separation according to the
volume coming down the river. The motor worked fine and we got from
South Cove to Separation in less than two hours. We had time enough to
do some scouting for a route up on the Tonto to the east of Separation.
Jorgen showed more nerve than I in climbing the cliff right near the
river, but he didn't make the top, and he agreed that he wouldn't want
to carry his pack up the way he had climbed. I gave up this effort and
went farther upstream along the bed of Separation. About a third of a
mile from the river, I noted a talus and a broken area above. There was
a notch in the Tapeats at the top and I thought from what I could see
that the route was about 99% sure.

The water rose a lot Saturday night. On Sunday morning, I fastened the
boat by three ropes, one at the bow and two attached to the stern to
hold it a right angles to the shore. I thought that at least a
considerable portion of the hull would remain in the water.

We found my route to the Tonto quite feasible even with packs although
we did have to do some switching back and forth. Immediately we needed
to go over a ridge and across quite a deep draw. It was not much of a
detour, but going down and up again was tiring. Not long afterwards we
came to something very much like a cairn and a faint trail. Jorgen soon
spotted the site of Bridge Canyon City and we noted several places where
one could descend to the river on the south side. There also seemed to
be more water in the ravines over there.

We had the seven and a half minute quad maps and kept our bearings very
well. When we were on the rim of the tributary opposite 237 Mile Canyon
we found about a hundred feet of half inch steel cable. There were also
some boards and wire that had formed survey markers. Jorgen spotted an
old trail switching down to the river in the west arm of the canyon at
Mile 237, on our side of the river. The trail starts down midway between
the two arms and the first few yards are hard to recognize. The faint
trail continued along the edge of the Tonto only a little farther. We
soon came to another split canyon where the western arm seemed to offer
a good way to the river, but we didn't want to stop and investigate it
at this time. We hoped to camp at the river considerably past Gneiss so
that it would be possible to reach Mile 225 the following evening.

We at a late lunch on the rim above the big north side canyon opposite
Gneiss. Jorgen pointed to where their boat had lodged near the south
shore just above the rapid. The river level seemed to be fairly high
Sunday forenoon. Mile 237 Rapid didn't seem like much and the rock near
the middle of the river in the next rapid upstream was covered. Gneiss
Rapid still seemed impressive. From where we ate, we observed a route
down to the lower part of Gneiss Canyon North that would probably bypass
any fall in the bed. We couldn't see the lowest part of this route. We
went back about a half mile from the river to get to the bed of Gneiss
Canyon North and then we could get up the other side quite handily
although with a lot of effort. Our packs contained food for six days and
the descent must have been around 500 feet. When we reached the canyon
opposite Bridge, our side of the river was cut up and rougher than it
had ever been, and the walking that we could see ahead would be slow and
precarious along a steep slope. We had a feeling that there would be few
ways to the river for hours. We both felt it smart to retreat and get to
the south of Gneiss Canyon North for the night. The way down was harder
to find when we were looking straight down on it and near the bottom it
was quite a puzzle. However, we were able to get to the bed, and we were
lucky that it got us down right below the foot of a fall in the bed that
had no obvious bypass. Before we went on to the river, I noted a chute
that seemed to go up to the west rim of Gneiss Canyon North, if only we
could get up the first 80 feet where there were some falls. I used some
hand and toe climbing and checked this place before we went on to the river.

I recall that in June, 1966, I tried to land and walk past Gneiss Rapid
but I couldn't get to the north shore in time. The curving rapid still
looked impressive and I was not surprised that in 1966 I lost my zeal to
float on down the river indefinitely. I didn't relish another rapid in
that cold water and I got out on the left at the first beach below Gneiss.

When we were walking the Tonto on Sunday, Jorgen not only pointed to
Bridge Canyon City, but he showed me the bridge in Bridge Canyon. It
looked better from a distance than it did close up. I showed him the
place I had waited for 24 hours on the south bank and we noted the trail
system there and the terrace for a tent.

Jorgen and I had fine campfires every night except for the rainy
Wednesday evening that we spent in the boat. The beach at Gneiss Rapid
was especially fine for that and we thought that the Granite Gorge along
here is second to none for scenery. Our morning starts ranged from 7:35
to 8:00 a.m. We were starting away from camp on Monday about 7:45. The
chute up to the west rim of Gneiss Canyon North was a simple scramble
after the hand and toe hold bypass near the bottom. We left our gear
except for canteens and lunch on the Tonto at the head of the chute and
proceeded to explore upper Gneiss North. Separation Canyon really
doesn't fit Powell's description of the place where the Howlands and
Dunn left the party, and we wondered whether it would be possible to
walk out of Gneiss North. We got into the bed at the first deep draw
going in from the west. For a long way the grade was minor and walking
was easy. At the contact of the shale and the Muav, we found a spring
which had several drips and one steady stream about as big as a drinking
straw.

At what may have been the lowest of the Devonian Limestone, we were
stopped by a narrow slot with a deep waterhole. One could swim this and
crawl out at the other end, but we didn't care for the cold water. We
tried crawling along a narrow ledge on the east wall. We spent a long
time here trying to decide what to do. Jorgen went farther along the
ledge, but I climbed up using some poor holds and looked around the next
corner. There was positively no future in this because of another fall
crowned by a chockstone. Then when I tried to come back the way I had
gone up, I found it hard and dangerous. Even after Jorgen took my pack,
I didn't care to come down the way I had gone up. Finally, I disrobed
and prepared to swim while I was handing my shoes to Jorgen, we got the
idea that he could pull me up one place and I would be able to do the
rest, and this is how I got back without wetting. Then we found a fairly
good and simple hand and toe climb on the east to bypass this narrow
gorge. Bighorn sheep droppings along here encouraged us to think that
the canyon might allow us up through the Redwall. After another one and
a half hours of steeper scrambling over large rocks in the bed, we came
to a fork and chose the west side which seemed to offer the best chance
of further progress. Here we were finally stopped dead by a high sheer
fall near the base of the Redwall. Then we checked the other arm and it
stopped us even sooner. We concluded that Gneiss North is not a canyon
where anyone has gone out to the North Rim. On the return, we filled our
containers at the swimming hole in the narrows and slept on the Tonto
where we had first come up. That night I was glad to have my down bag
supplemented by quilted Dacron underwear. On Tuesday we felt that we
could set a leisurely pace and do a couple of side trips on our way back
to the mouth of Separation Canyon. The chute we figured we could descend
comes to the river at Mile 236.8. We had had some difficulty in getting
past a steep rubble ridge in the west fork of this canyon, and now that
we wanted to go down it to the river, we carried our packs down below
the hard place. Bedrock showed in a few places in this canyon, but the
bypasses were easy and obvious. The river was low by Tuesday afternoon
and the rock that had been covered when we passed on Sunday was now
three feet out of the water. Rocks were visible on the south side of the
river fairly near the surface, so the best channel is north of the
central rock. This nameless rapid was much more impressive than Mile 237
Rapid farther downstream.

Shortly after we got back on the Tonto we found the trace of a trail. We
soon recognized the trail below the Tapeats that goes down to Mile 237
Rapid, but we had a bit of doubt as to where to leave the rim. There
must have been a trail here good enough for pack burros, but now you
just scramble down among the cracks in the rim until you find the real
trail at the bottom of the Tapeats. By careful attention we could follow
the trail to where the wash leveled out near the river, and then the
trail seemed to stay to the west of the bed. When we started back we
missed the part of the trail where it leaves the bed to ascend the west
facing slope, but we caught it higher up and no time was lost.

We had no trouble identifying the break in the Tapeats rim above
Separation Canyon but I suppose we should have built a cairn to mark it.
I became confused about the best way down after turning to the north as
we both remembered it. Jorgen got ahead here by keeping to our original
route.

When we came in sight of the boat, we saw that the river had fallen so
far that the boat was perched at a 35 degree angle high and dry except
that about two feet of the stern was still in the water. A ski rope that
I had used to tie the bow to a stout tamarisk had broken and the boat
had slide a foot or two until the skeg had jabbed into the mud and sand
where the bottom leveled out somewhat. We assumed that the water would
rise in the morning and that the boat would float properly. Fortunately,
the river did not rise in the night, and I had plenty of time to
consider what would happen when the water rose again. There were three
orifices below the deck line near the stern and I began to worry that
the water would fill the lower part of the hull through these holes
before it would float the boat. I stopped up the gas tank overflow, the
bilge pump hole, and the large vent for the bilge blower exhaust with
adhesive tape. then when the river began to show signs of rising about
4:00 p.m., I dug sand and mud from beneath the forward part of the keel.
Between us, Jorgen and I slid and pushed the boat down into the water
long before the river rose appreciably. I noted that my adhesive tape
was quite wet, and the bilge pump took out quite a lot of water even
though we had needed only a few minutes to shove the boat into the
water. I have the feeling if we had stayed away for the full six days,
that we would have returned to find the boat more than half under water.

We were glad to get away from the small sandy beach at Separation. The
day had become windy and we had sand in everything. We dropped down to
the mouth of Spencer Canyon and found a good place to tie up. We could
see by the waterlines on the sand that the fluctuation here is only
about 18 inches. We could walk the wet sand over to a trail up into the
tamarisk jungle and the trail took us over to the open streambed. We
gathered wood for a campfire, but we didn't use it when the evening
became rainy. Both of us slept on board.

When we were getting breakfast Thursday morning, a couple of small oar
powered inflatables came by. We hadn't seen the others, but there were
six of these boats in the party that was led by Kenton Grua. It took us
just less than two hours to carry our packs up past the flowing water in
the bed of Spencer. Jorgen saw an overhang that would be some help in
case of rain. When we walked up to it on the east side behind a thicket
of mesquite, we saw smoke stains on the ceiling and an old tobacco can.

We left our gear except for food and water here and proceeded up the dry
bed. Both of us had forgotten how much farther it is to the travertine
promontory with the springs above on the west side. It took us about 15
minutes to reach this landmark. There was some water beneath the
travertine cliff in two places. In the square numbered 2 in the Spencer
Canyon Quad, a canyon comes in from the west. This looks from a distance
as it if might be a route to the plateau above.

Billingsley had told me that they had come down to the bed of Spencer by
a route between Hindu and Milkweed Canyons. This cliff looked so bad to
Jorgen and me that we didn't think we could be at the junction yet and
we didn't recognize Milkweed Canyon. The map indicates that Spencer
continues upstream to the southeast and we proceeded in that direction.

We were coming close to our time to turn back but we could see the
canyon changing character ahead. There was a big deposit of travertine
on the south wall and soon we encountered fine vegetation and springs
with the best pools we had seen in all of Spencer. When we came to the
next fork we could see two impossible falls where Hindu comes over the
Devonian Limestone. The other fork, probably called Spencer still, goes
up more steeply in a narrow canyon. We would guess that this arm is
blocked too. We got back to our packs and slept in the open after
enjoying a fine fire.

On Friday we walked to the boat and then proceeded to the mooring at
Mile 257.1 where Steve Fulmer and I had stopped and climbed to the
Tonto. While we were going up the ravine, I came to a handkerchief that
had caught on a catclaw and had been jerked out of my pocket on the
previous occasion. Quite soon after we started west along the Tonto, we
came to a faint trail. Burro signs were quite rare in this area. We
wondered whether this was a man made trail. In the Triumphal Arch
Canyon, the trail turned toward the arch, but we lost it before we got
close to the actual climb.

From across the valley, I couldn't feel sure that we could get up all
the lower cliffs below the arch, so I led Jorgen up the main stream bed
and we climbed past the lower three cliffs before following the bench to
the north. Well past the arch, there is a ravine that allows access to
the upper bench. Then we had to jog south of the arch and do some
climbing that seemed harder to me than to Jorgen. In fact, I might have
balked if Jorgen hadn't been with me. The arch is quite high in the
Devonian and you get a wonderful view over the whole area.

On the way down we saw several cairns besides the one at the back of the
arch. They guided us to the short cuts in the lower cliff. We got to the
boat and camped at Sandy Point.

*Ninety four Mile Canyon and Redwall near Set
[April 25, 1977 to April 27, 1977]*

Ever since I had seen a window in the Redwall rim southeast of the Tower
of Set and had heard from Mike and Barbara Martin that the Redwall could
be climbed from the south just east of Set, I had been eager to try
reaching this area. It had been a long drag to get across the river to
Bright Angel Creek and then walk to Trinity and beyond, so I was pleased
to learn that one could get down from the Tonto Trail to the Colorado
opposite 94 Mile Canyon. then I could cross the river on my small
inflatable and proceed up through the Tapeats where I had spotted the
break just east of the mouth of 94 Mile Canyon.

When I called Chuck Wider about this latest trip with Shafer in the
Superstitions, I mentioned my ambitions in this region. He realized that
I hadn't invited him, but he talked me into taking him. The idea was
that he would come down to the campsite by the river at Mile 94 and then
he should spend the day as he saw fit while I crossed the river to do my
thing.

We left at 6:30 a.m. on Monday and stopped briefly in Flagstaff. I
missed seeing Jim Ohlman and Bob Packard, but I visited with George
Billingsley who told me of a recent helicopter trip with Jan Jensen to
Separation Canyon. They found an Indian ruin, a mescal pit, and a
reliable water hole in the tributary of the east arm above the Redwall.

After lunch at the Red Feather Lodge, we had to stall a bit waiting for
the permit window to open at 1:00 p.m. Then Tim Manns got me interested
in an amazing bit of Grand Canyon lore, the proposal to connect the two
rims of the Grand Canyon by a series of aerial tramways. They would have
stations on Hopi Point, Dana Butte, Tower of Set, Hours, and Osiris.
According to a long account from Ed. K. Thodon who worked for the survey
team in 1919, they had a camp on the top of the Redwall near the point
to the southeast of the Tower of Set and quite a lot of their working
time was spent in getting supplies to that isolated place. This was
accomplished by mules to the south rim of the Inner gorge, and then they
used a temporary tram system down to the river and up to the camp.

Chuck and I got started down the trail by 2:15 p.m. and made such slow
time to the junction with the Waldron Trail that I got excited. I gave
the map to Chuck suggesting that he camp at Hermit Campground or at
Santa Maria Spring that night. Then he could go down and see Hermit
Rapid the next day and get to the car on the third day. I doubled my
pace as soon as I was alone. Before I came to the Cathedral Stairs, I
overtook a group of young people who had volunteered to work on the
trail from Hermit Camp to the river for two weeks. Their leader seemed
to be a member of their organization, Bill Valentine, and a seasonal
ranger, Bryan Culhane. They were all familiar with Grand Canyon Treks
and seemed pleased to meet the author.

At the difficult place at the base of the Tapeats in the ravine to Mile
94, I stayed in the middle of the bed and had a bit of trouble finding
safe hand and toe holds. I went down with my pack off, but on the return
I came up with it on. I spent four hours on the descent from the head of
the Hermit Trail. There were a few drops of rain, but not enough to get
anything wet.

The fire under my soup was Sterno and I put the fireplace close to a
large rock to cut the wind. There was some very short, sparse grass
nearby, but I had no idea that the fire might spread. When I was going
down to the river to wash up, I glanced back and saw that the fire had
ignited the grass and had gone like a streak up into quite a thicket of
mesquite including some large trees. There were so many dead limbs on
the ground that the whole thing went up like a blast furnace. All I
could think about doing was to pull my own gear out of danger from
sparks and go around the area to see that the fire didn't follow the
grass away from the area and up the canyon side. It took some lively
work on my part to bat the flames out to keep them from crossing a
natural fire break in the sand. I was quite sweaty when I saw that there
was no danger of further spreading, so I enjoyed my dunking in the
river. However, I was in a state of depression until I finally got to
sleep at quite a late hour because of my carelessness in causing the
needless destruction.

I woke up early, at 5:00 a.m., and by 5:45 I was off for the day.
Everyone had said that the river was exceptionally low and I could see
that they were right. I could paddle my little inflatable right across
without having it drift downstream at all. Going up the first rocks
above the river was about the hardest climb for the day, and it wasn't
really hard either. I got about 100 feet above the river and then went
slightly down until I was in the ravine with the Tapeats break at the
top. There is no virtue in staying near the rim of the Tonto along here
nor around into 94 Mile Canyon either since there is one ridge after
another. I left my pack with the lunch on a saddle north of a rocky
outcrop and went up the Redwall break with my canteen and camera. From a
distance the way up looked sure fire until near the top of the Redwall.
Then there seemed to be a sheer face with only a narrow vertical crack
near the middle. I knew that the Martins are very good climbers, so I
was prepared to be turned back at this place. However, when I saw a lot
of bighorn sheep tracks and droppings, I was reassured. When I found a
very rusty five gallon square oil can I was very sure that I would
succeed. The crack in the cliff turned out to be a yard wide at the
bottom and sloped back at an easy grade. There was even some trail
construction near the top.

To look for the natural bridge, I knew that I didn't need to go out on
the promontory next to the Redwall break. I climbed over a low saddle
and hit the rim going east to the point above Trinity. It was disturbing
that I couldn't find my bridge in going all the way to the point. Then I
cut back staying farther from the edge where the walking was smooth.
Very soon I came to an old camp marked by a rectangular row of rocks, an
old rusty shovel, and a metal funnel for collecting smoke above a fire.
There were also a couple of smooth boards that I took to be some sort of
surveyor's equipment. When I got back to where I first encountered the
rim, I went close again and was rewarded with finding the bridge, about
25 by 25 feet with a rather shallow and narrow rim of rocks over the
top. I got pictures of all these points of interest including a close up
of Set itself. I had been informed over the phone that recently someone
climbed the Tower of Set, and I assume that they approached using the
Redwall break I had. As I was getting back to my pack, I came on four
hoofs and a few bones, all that was left of a small deer. I couldn't
tell whether the predator was a cougar. Bighorn and deer droppings
indicated plenty of use in this corridor and there was a good game trail
along the Tonto around to the head of 94 Mile Canyon. I ate an early
lunch where I had left my pack.

One needs to stay high, following the trail, to get to the head of the
Tapeats gorge. As I went along, however, I did check the possibility of
getting down to the bottom of 94 Mile Canyon through a couple of east
side tributaries. They were impossible, but when I was going along the
bed later, I saw a couple of places where the walls were broken and one
could descend. I also noted, while going north to the head, that there
were three places where broken slopes occur on the west side.

Not far above the bed of the minor, eastern fork near the head of the
gorge, I noticed a small but deep mescal pit. When I went close for a
better look, I saw a rock shelter beneath a thin projecting slab. I went
along the west rim until I was reasonably sure that there would be no
drops in the bed of the Tapeats section. Walking was obvious and easy
until I got into the igneous rock. Springs occur when the bed is mostly
black and weathers with a rounded appearance. Soon thereafter I came to
deep dry falls. The bypasses required some care and use of the hands,
and I felt lucky that I didn't have to go back over my route up from the
boat. I spent one and a half hours in the bed of 94 Mile Canyon by the
time I reached the river. It was no trick to go east to where I had
cached the boat and I got across to my duffel well before 4:00 p.m. with
plenty of time to rest and read.

There were a few more raindrops a few times, but by bedtime the sky was
clear and I slept well. It took me about 50 minutes to get up to the
Tonto Trail and about five and a half hours to get to the car. This
included a detour to look for inscribed names near the spring north of
the trail at the base of the Coconino. I had thought that Roy Carpenter
had said that there were two very old names, possibly about 1890, but
the only one I saw was the name Al Rohrer and it had no date but looked
rather fresh. I hailed Chuck Wider when I was five minutes walking time
behind him. He had spent the night above the junction of the Hermit
Trail with the Tonto Trail. Strangely he didn't wait for me and walk out
together. I was closing up and then I missed him. He said that he had
gotten off the trail, but he joined me at the car while I was finishing
my lunch.

The nine hours of walking on Tuesday seemed most rewarding since I
connected two more places at the river with a route to the rim and had
gone through the Redwall at my 151st break. I had reached another
natural bridge and had found the evidence that they were really
surveying for the cross canyon tram. Furthermore, I had seen another
ruin and mescal pit and had found water and a route down through 94 Mile
Canyon.

*Ninety four Mile Creek to Crystal Creek
[May 19, 1977 to May 21, 1977]*

On my way to the South Rim, I checked and found that Bob Packard was not
at home but I had a short visit with George Billingsley at the museum.
He surprised me by not seeming a bit sure that there was a route through
the Redwall to the south side of the Ra Osiris Saddle. I had planned the
trip on the basis that he had told me on April 25 that it would go.

I gave two hitch hiking couples a ride to the canyon from Flagstaff.
They were surprised, and so was I, to learn that all four were from
France. Two could talk passable English, but I didn't understand much of
the lively conversation.

After lunch at the Red Feather and some conversation with the permit
rangers, I took the shuttle bus to Hermit Rest. It was 3:00 p.m. when I
started down the trail. I noticed that I walked the first 1.3 miles in
35 minutes instead of the 55 with Chuck Wider. I met several geology
students from Western Washington S.C. coming out while I was going down.
I felt like hurrying again and I missed seeing the old Four Mile Spring
that has been dry ever since I have been along the Hermit Trail. Tom
Davison confessed that he has never been able to find any trace of it. I
usually see it plainly when I am coming out. The way to watch for it is
to go around the shallow bay immediately north of Lookout Point. It is
just around the corner beyond this bay and is marked by a bucket rammed
down over the metal post that used to hold the sign for this spring.
Since it has been dry for at least 30 years, they should have taken it
off the map. On the return I noticed something along the Cathedral
Stairs that I had never seen before, an old rusty strip of iron fastened
to the rock that borders the trail. I couldn't guess the purpose.

In the Bright Angel Shale I was tempted to cut across to the pass where
the Tonto Trail gives a view to the river, but I decided that the rough
little ravines made it better to use the trail. In the ravine to mile 94
at the river, I changed my mind again about the difficulty at the bottom
of the Tapeats. This time I went out of the bed to the west and followed
the narrow ledge. I believe I'll do this consistently in the future. On
the return I tried something new, going up beside the cliff to the west
but closer to the bed than the regular way. After pushing my pack ahead
in a bushy place, I gave up and used the regular way. This has the
support of deer according to the droppings.

The girl at the permit window had warned me that the river might be a
lot higher than I had seen it in April, and when I arrived a little
before 7:00 p.m., I was impressed. It was up four or five inches from
what it had been in April and if I wanted to cross I would have to go
quite far upstream to avoid being swept into the rapid. However, in the
morning it was down again to almost no current and I crossed as easily
as on April 26th. I was expecting it to be high again by evening, but it
didn't rise again. There had been a little rain recently and I found a
few places with water even before I came to the narrows where one needs
to climb around the barrier falls. I also came to a place where I could
climb out to the west just before this narrow place in the Archean rock.
The bed turns east into the narrow place and a spur of schist juts out
from the west wall here. A place or two near the top of the Tapeats were
hard enough to make me build a couple of cairns so that I wouldn't miss
them on the return.

At the top of the Tapeats I took a good look at the south side of the Ra
Osiris Saddle and decided that I couldn't go up at either fault. I don't
have a similar mental picture of the possible break southeast of Osiris,
but I assume that it wouldn't go either. As an alternate hike, I decided
to go along the Tonto and see whether I could reach the place I had been
in 1966 along the rim of Crystal Creek. In doing this I found two mescal
pits, one being very nearly obliterated. I didn't notice them on the
return and I am not perfectly sure that they were near the crossing of
the first side canyon west of 94 Mile Creek, but I think they were there
rather than at the crossing of the one nearer Crystal. It took me four
and a half hour to reach the rim of Crystal Creek from where I had
cached the boat at 94 Mile Creek, and I had time to go out and look down
at Hermit and Boucher Rapids. I duplicated Stanton's picture taken from
right at the angle above the mouth of Crystal Creek, but I needed two 35
mm slides to cover his field. I had my lunch just before noon at the rim
above Crystal and I was glad I had carried a gallon of water before I
got back to the mouth of 94 Mile Creek.

There had been no breath of wind in the morning, but towards 2:00 p.m.
the wind began to blow in real gusts so hard that I had to brace against
it. I had not deflated the boat but had weighted it down with a couple
of rocks. I worried some that the wind might be able to tip the boat
over and then blow it away. When I got to where I had left it, it was
safe, and there was also a surprise. Some boatman from O.A.R.S. Inc. had
left a business card and a couple cans of beer. It was unfortunate that
I don't drink beer or anything alcoholic. However, I wrote them a note
when I got home thanking them for the sediment and the good wishes.

There was nothing exceptional about my walk out on Saturday. The day was
not too hot, but I took six and a half hours to get to Hermit's Rest.
This included time to visit with some of the hikers and eat for 25
minutes at Santa Maria Spring. I had come away from the river with only
one quart of water and was glad to get a refill. When I was starting up
the switchbacks west of Cope Butte, I saw a young couple closing the gap
between us below me. I was thinking how I would excuse myself from
keeping their pace on account of my age, but before long I saw that they
were resting enough so that I was pulling away from them. I saw them
about twice later, but after that they were so far behind that I never
saw them again.

*Lower Hance Canyon and Sockdolager Rapids
[May 22, 1977 to May 23, 1977]*

I wanted to go out to Fossil Bay and see whether I could get down
through the Supai in Specter and at the head of Fossil Creek, but the
rangers told me that the Indians don't allow walking out on Great Thumb
Mesa and I didn't feel like walking the Esplanade from Apache Point.
I'll wait until they soften this rule. As an alternate, I decided to go
down to the foot of Sockdolager Rapid and try to make my way along the
wall to the mouth of Hance Canyon as Jon Thomas had done. I got my
permit on Saturday and started early on Sunday.

Something that occurred to me was that the new part of the Grandview
Trail is a little scary. I feel sure that a loaded pack horse couldn't
get by a couple of narrow places. The rangers who get nervous about
letting hikers go to remote areas should remember that they let anyone
go down this rather risky trail. I met several backpackers coming up the
trail. They had spent the night on Horseshoe Mesa and had carried water
up from the spring. They were from Tuba City and knew Doug Shough.

I got down to Horseshoe Mesa in about the usual time, but when I started
up a slight grade north of the rock shack, I felt so tired that I
thought it inadvisable to continue. I actually started back for 100
yards and then reconsidered this decision. With my determination
restored, I proceeded north to the west prong of the horseshoe and went
down the old trail to the Tonto. It seems to be fairly well used now and
had quite a few Vibram footprints. It had been an even 20 years since I
was down here to get below the Tapeats, but I recalled that there was
some constructed trail off the Tonto. Over near the rim of Hance Canyon
there is a depression in the rim and a couple of large cairns locate the
beginning of the trail. It isn't very clear in the gentle slope, but
where the Tapeats breaks off one can easily find it and follow it east
at the base of the cliff. It is not so well defined as it goes down to a
saddle just west of a knoll in the schist. Here I should have gone down
to the river to the foot of Sockdolager, but an arrow made of pieces of
white quartz directed me toward Hance Canyon. Cairns almost all the way
down guide one to one of the two ways to the bed of Hance. There was
water making a few fairly good pools in this stretch of the bed. I would
swear that in 1957 we were not blocked by any barrier below here and
could walk right down to the river, but now, perhaps only 150 yards back
from the river, there is a chockstone and a 15 foot drop. Al Doty later
told me that he had bypassed this place by climbing up along the wall to
the west, but I lacked ambition. I shouldn't have felt this way since my
main purpose had been to go along the wall above Sockdolager. Now I just
walked up the bed again to the familiar barrier fall there and didn't
even use my time to see how the bypass looked for this barrier. This
bypass is now marked by a cairn and a trail is defined across a sandy
slope. After eating my lunch, I climbed back up the way I had come down
and then didn't consider seriously going down the slope t the foot of
Sockdolager.

Up on the Tonto again, I followed the very well defined trail around to
the spring on the east side of the neck to Horseshoe Mesa. This time I
came up the bed of the wash to the spring and only climbed out to the
south at the very end. This works quite well. I met a couple resting at
the spring with not too much on. Without asking them whether they had
just had a bath in the basin, I dipped my canteen in because I was a
little pressed for water. I went on and camped in front of the mine.
When it looked as if it might rain, I spread my bed in the shaft and
then moved out again in the night when I was bothered by mice. The
varmints ate a small fistful of my bread, but they didn't gnaw through
the pack to get to it fortunately. I won't sleep there again.

The couple I met at the spring came by while I was loafing on my air
mattress from 4:00 p.m. on. They had gone down the Hance Trail to Hance
Rapid the previous day and were going out on the Grandview Trail their
second day. I could have carried my pack out with them showing that the
trek to the river and back is still a possibility for me in one day, but
I wanted to reach the campground in the forenoon to be sure to have a place.

After cleaning up, I had a good visit with Tom Davison. He offered to
help me get up Vishnu Temple next October. Then I had quite a visit with
Bob Euler. He has looked over the Esplanade both east and west of Supai
that the present Indians call their traditional use areas. He found
plenty of signs that Indians different from the Supais used those areas
too. The most interesting thing that he told me about Vishnu Canyon was
that there is a ruin of a white prospector's cabin in a sort of bowl to
the east of the streambed.

Tim Manns had signed out Shankland's Life of Stephen Mather for me and I
read it clear through on Monday and Tuesday. After returning it, I drove
to Lee's Ferry to connect with Bob Dye. He thought he would be along
about Wednesday or Thursday.

On Tuesday evening the Patrick Conleys had me to their trailer house at
Vermilion cliffs for dinner. I met three river boatmen: Clair Quist,
Roger Murphy, and another man. We had a delicious meal and a good
evening of river talk.

On Wednesday I hiked up Paria Canyon for four and a half hours. This got
me 15 minutes past the first west side canyon that comes in at river
level. I was able to find stepping stones almost everywhere that I
needed to cross the stream. Some backpackers that I met about ready to
break camp said that they had wet feet all the time that they were
coming through the canyon. I found that it was even easier to keep my
feet dry northwest of where I met them than it had been below that
place. In fact for a long way a trail goes high above the stream to the
west. At some places this trail has to penetrate huge rockslides where a
few cairns are the only sign that you are on the approved route. The
streambed below is also cluttered with rocks so that this trail is a
help. Pat Conley told me that the canyon upstream from where I got
stopped is still more exciting, but the walk I took was through
inspiring scenery. Years ago I was on the verge of walking through the
Paria Gorge, and maybe I'll carry it out yet.

On Thursday I gave Bob Dye up and decided that I had done enough hiking
for one time. I went to Page early enough to catch Al and Jane Doty
before they went to their jobs. They gave me the run of their house and
on Friday morning Al took me for the long promised flight over Lake
Powell. I understood what I was looking down on much better this time
than I had before. We flew over the Dry Rock Creek arm and then over the
Kaiparowits Plateau. We saw a little of the Escalante and the mouth of
the San Juan. I recognized the Emerton Arch Cove and the airport and the
area where I had found the way from Dougi Cove over into Oak Canyon. I
looked for a way from the region of the airport down into Anasazi
canyon, but from our altitude I couldn't tell what would go. The white
rock ridges on the northwest side of Navaho Mountain showed up in a
spectacular manner.

On Thursday evening Al and I took his 150 foot rope over to Jim David's
route down to the river near where the tunnel road reaches the rim.
There is a good place to tie behind a big rock right on the brink of the
hard part. I got down a little way holding on the rope and then lost my
nerve. Al went on down to where Packard and I had come up from the
river. He said that the narrow crack was so narrow that there is very
little room to move. He didn't see any Moki steps that made it easy to
ascend as David had said. He used the rope constantly in getting back
up. I believe that the next time I get here I would keep up my nerve and
be able to do this climb. It would be preferable to use two ropes, one
for the top 15 feet and the other to hang straight down the crack over
at the west side.

On the way home I had another bout of chess with Dick Hart, until 2:00
a.m. and then until 1:00 p.m. on Saturday. He won the last four games so
he finally agreed that I could go.

*Paria Canyon
[June 27, 1977 to June 29, 1977]*

I visited with the men at the Alpiner Store and with the math department
on my way north. At the Lee's Ferry Store I asked whether it would be
safe to walk through the canyon at this time of year. Clouds were
beginning to build up for the summer rainy season and they had had one
good rain in Flagstaff. I could see that the Paria was about nine inches
deeper than it had been at the end of May. Then you could see the Paria
water as nearly clear, but now it looked like dark gray paint. The girl
clerk assured me that plenty of people were still walking through.

When I left the Jimmy it was 3:30 p.m. The gate was locked but it was
easy to walk around the east end of the fence by the irrigation ditch. I
was carrying quite a bit more food than was necessary, but I suppose I
would have appreciated it if I had been ledged up somewhere by a flood.
I took an empty plastic gallon milk container so that I could carry
extra water if at any time I saw the need. I had played with the idea of
pouring water on my shirt from time to time to beat the heat. The
temperature was about the hottest of the year, 114 ?F in Phoenix on
Wednesday. I passed by two seeps just west of the trail that are not
much more than four miles from the start. I figured I would at least
walk until 6:00 p.m. and take my chances on finding more water for camping.

Pat Reilly had briefed me on the location of several rocks decorated
with petroglyphs. His log, which I read very hastily the night before I
left home, mentions the mushroom rock marker 50 feet to the east. I had
noticed this rock when I was here on May 25, but at that time I had
overlooked the petroglyphs. This time I realized that I might be getting
close to Mile 6.2, Reilly's estimated position and I looked a bit and
saw the pictures. I didn't notice another picture rock until I was
returning on Wednesday. This is about 100 feet farther north, but still
just south of a low, stubby mushroom rock. One might guess that the
Indian artists were influenced by these two landmarks in picking the
site for their pictures. They don't seem to be close to any trail end or
water source. I had already noticed, at about Mile 3.0, the sandslide or
Domínguez Trail. This must be the way used by the supplier for the
second Powell river expedition when he tried to reach Lee's Ferry by
going to the north of the Paria Plateau. Neither going north or coming
south could I see the supports for the power line that used to come down
to Lee's Ferry from the east. Perhaps they have removed it and use power
coming from downriver. I meant to ask about this change, but I got to
the car too late Wednesday evening and I left too early Thursday
morning. A good loop hike would be up the sandslide trail and down the
Spencer Trail.

About a quarter of a mile south of where the trail leaves the flat as it
ends near the shale wash out, I camped for the night. I figure I had
come about seven miles from the car in two and a half hours. There were
lots of cow chips around but I saw only one cow on my way in and none on
the return. I had seen a couple of calves and about three cows in May.
Perhaps someone has moved them to higher and greener pastures for the
summer. There were fresh deer tracks everywhere along the creek and also
plenty of fresh cow tracks. I noted one big mule deer out in the open at
perhaps Mile 5.0 on the way out. In spite of the heat, it left in great
bounds. The two quarts of water I had carried from the car didn't
suffice for my soup or my breakfast. I doped the creek diluted mud with
iodine and drank it as sparingly as possible as well as using it for my
Lipton's soup. When I ate the latter it looked like mud pie, but it
tasted like soup. I didn't seem to feel the worse for the mud in my
diet, but it had a definite effect on my excrement.

When I had gone a short way on Tuesday morning I discovered that in May
I had missed the best trail through the rock slides and above the steep
clay cliff. I had been on the trail part of the way, but I went too high
before coming down on the flat near the F. T. Johnson inscription. When
I got it right, I saw the Johnson inscription of May 30, 1912. I wonder
how soon someone is going to get an attack of conscience and remove this
the way G. M. Wright was treated. In May again I failed to find his name
where it used to be near the sunken steamboat. I looked across the creek
but I couldn't decide which big rock had petroglyphs on it. It would
have involved two creek crossings, and I didn't consider this effort
worth while. On Wednesday I saw a rock that may have been decorated, but
I couldn't prove this without binoculars or going across to it. Within
two hours after Al had started on about 5:00 a.m. on Tuesday, I found a
seep spring just downriver from the mouth of the side canyon at Mile
10.5. I was glad to empty the dark gray emulsion out of my canteen. In
May I had walked 15 minutes beyond here. It would be interesting to see
how far one could go up this side canyon. If you were willing to climb
in sand, it might be quite high. The entire Paria Canyon looks very
difficult to escape from, but Reilly has marked on his map a way called
the Adams Trail at Mile 13.25 and the Old Stock Trail at Mile 19.8.

By a strange coincidence, when I met some people near Mile 12, I was
addressed by name. Two young men I had known in Flagstaff were
conducting a group of colored boys, ages about 12 through 15, through
the Paria Canyon. Lee Haines had been through before. Bill Williams I
knew from the Sierra club committee meeting in Flagstaff. They were
worried because one of the boys had gotten away from the rest when the
others went up to see Wrather Arch. He must have come out safely at the
lower end before I started in at 3:30 on Monday. There was no search
going on late on Tuesday or on Wednesday, so I am sure he was all right.
Close to Mile 13 I met a couple with two girls. Their names were Bruce
and Mary Perkin. They were from California and had met my old friend
Jerry Foote who had gotten them interested in the Paria. They were on
their second trip through. They told me about the Shower Bath Spring at
Mile 14.5 and that there is a good campsite, high above flood danger,
inside the mouth of Buckskin Gulch. I passed another young man and woman
hiking downriver, but they were across the creek and I only exchanged a
greeting. They hadn't noticed the special nature of the Shower Bath
Spring. When I asked about it, they didn't seem to have noticed it but
they had found plenty of seeps on both sides of the creek. I was afraid
that I might have passed the Show Bath without noticing it either, but
when I came to the end of a short stretch of the river running due west,
I saw the water falling several feet in much greater volume than
anywhere else.

As Reilly points out, the bed is different as the river is going through
the Kayenta bedrock about Mile 12. I also noticed the high sand dune far
up on the south side of the stream.

I had been told that there is now no BLM sign announcing Wrather Canyon,
but that I could recognize it from the cottonwoods and extensive flat
terrace on the north side of the river. I had been keeping my position
quite well by following the bends shown on the topo map, and I walked
right into the entrance. The beaten down tracks in the sand made me
sure. I was quite impressed with the beauty of the vegetation and
ruggedness of the side canyon as I was by the arch itself. Haines and
Williams had assured me that I would need only 15 minutes to get in to
see the arch but I suspect that they didn't time themselves. It took me
a little over a half hour to get up to the high position needed for the
best picture. I was on the detour for more than an hour. No water was
flowing out of the side canyon, as I have heard sometimes is true, but
there was a good gurgling sound of a running steam directly below the
arch. One could go on up the bed for some distance past the arch.

I wondered what would merit the name, The Hole, but I wasn't surprised
to find that it is a deep alcove something like the old Cathedral of the
Desert in the Escalante up Clear Creek. Lots of maidenhair ferns festoon
the walls and seeping water keeps a shallow pool well supplied. It is
surely worth crossing the creek to walk into.

I was identifying the bends in the canyon and I figured that I could
identify Judd Hollow, but still I didn't notice the pump and pipe that I
knew about. I was looking for them on the east side of a big promontory
that splits the bottom of Judd Hollow. When I didn't see the machinery I
thought I might have mistaken the identify of Judd Hollow and I walked
on. The short stretches and the abrupt turns in the canyon made me think
of the map beyond Judd Hollow. About 4:00 p.m. I stopped to study the
map and assess the condition of my feet and ankles. I was dismayed to
find that I had left the small amount of adhesive tape back at a rest
stop two or three miles downriver. When I saw the well developed mat
burns I decided that the smart things to do would be to retreat. This
was at about Mile 19 and I turned back around 4:15.

I soon got back to what I had thought to be Judd Hollow, and this time
the pump and pipe were in plain sight, just upriver from where I had
been looking. I also noticed a wooden ladder leaning against the wall. I
wonder whether the men putting in the pump could climb out using that
ladder.

I continued my retreat until I came to some seep springs and I camped on
the north side of the river at about Mile 17. On the right side of the
bed there is a spring that would be flooded with every rise of the
river. Still there is a good enough pool of clear cool water to be home
to hundreds of tiny fish. At a couple of places the tiny pool springs
keep the sand churning in the bottom.

On Wednesday morning I got started about 5:20 a.m. and reached the good
seep at about Mile 10.4 in five hours. I made myself comfortable in the
shade of a cottonwood on the cool moist clay near the river and read
Time and had a very leisurely lunch. When I finished all the reading, I
began to get bored and I decided to go on out starting on at 1:00 p.m.
It was plenty hot, the hottest June 29th on record in Phoenix, and I
carried about three quarts of water for what had taken me four and a
half hours to walk on the way in. I got to my first campsite in only one
and three quarters hours which I had remembered as having taken two
hours on the way in. I needed an hour longer for the next and last leg
to the car than I had used coming in. I had a cloud cover for most of
the afternoon, but still I was in poor shape from dehydration towards
the end. I finished with water in the canteen, but I seemed not to want
to drink enough. I did take some salt and also snacked on salted peanuts
about an hour before getting to the car. There were some disagreeable
features, like raw spots on feet and ankles, bites from flies, and the
heat, but still I am enthusiastic about going back to do the rest of the
Paria and study the possible trails down from the rims. The next time I
think I'll wear bread wrappers over my feet inside the socks to try to
prevent chafing.

*Little Dragon and Lawes MacRae Route
[October 8, 1977 to October 12, 1977]*

I had formed quite a program for four days of actual hiking at the North
Rim. Three of the days would involve going off Grama Point down the
Lawes MacRae Route to the Tonto in Tuna, then off the Tonto west of the
Tuna inner gorge and then via the Royce Fletcher Route down the river
cliff to the mouth of Tuna. Then we would go along the river to Crystal
and come up to the Tonto just west of the mouth of Tuna by the route on
the west side of the Crystal Creek Gorge. We would return via the Grama
Point Route. Then on the fourth day we would go off the rim toward the
Colonnade and get down the Redwall into Haunted Canyon.

Jim Ohlman met me in Flagstaff and encouraged me at various times, but
our accomplishments were far less than my plans, something that is quite
common.

Alan and Jane Doty pulled into the Jacob Lake gas station right beside
us and we had quite a visit. Just the week before he had climbed Little
Dragon and he was headed for Monument Point and Bridgers Knoll this
time. Jim and I got our permit at the North Rim Lodge and met Ira Estin,
a caver friend of Ken Walters, and a companion. They were going into
Dragon Creek via the Shiva Saddle and they asked a few questions about
that route. They intended to follow us out the fire road, but they
missed us somehow. I wasn't an expert in finding the road W1 any more
because I started up right on a road that goes to the exit highway and
has to back up some yards to get on the road that goes near the dump.
Jim and I had the map along and tried to work out the right position for
the car for the most direct route to the Little Dragon. We may have gone
a little farther west than necessary, but we got out and back in good
shape. We found that Al had not built any cairn on the lower north
summit of the Little Dragon but he had built a good one over a foot high
very near the summit of the real high point. When we had walked away
from the car we had gone past a couple of sinkholes quite near the road.
As we came back through the woods, we had to keep our course by guess,
and we tried staying on the high ground until that seemed to be going
too far east. When we went down and up on the high ground to the west,
we may have come quite close to the right sinkhole again. On reaching
the road, we turned west, but in just a few minutes both of us agreed
that this was wrong. The car was only a few minutes east of where we had
reached the road.

On Sunday morning we drove to a place that seemed closest to Grama
Point. In the walk through the woods we had a tendency to go too far to
the east, but finally we reached the rim of Crystal Creek Bay rather
close to the rise toward Grama and then we went southwest to the rim
above the east arm of Tuna. We were looking down into the fork that is
just east of the high point 6273. Ginger Harmon had said that the
Redwall break was a little north of this point on the west side of the
canyon, and we could see that the wall there was impossible.

Jim and I went down to the Toroweap at the head of this canyon through
some really bad brush and worked our way towards the end of Grama at
this level. The going got easier than it had been at the head of the
draw, but the slight deer trail wasn't easy to follow. I got discouraged
and we headed back for the rim. When we were half way to the road, both
of us got the idea that it would be good to go to the end of Grama and
look down. We did this and decided that with the rise toward the end of
Grama, it might be counted as a Grand Canyon summit a bit like Comanche
and Fossil Mountain. The view down gave me the conviction that Ginger
was wrong in putting the Redwall break over near the 6273 location. The
way through the Hermit and Coconino would be no real problem. There
would be some difficulty in the Kaibab between the main end of Gram and
the next headland to the west, but we could play that safe by going down
where we had before, through the brush and then along the deer trail.
The Supai was more of a problem, but the best place seemed to be right
at the bed of the wash going down to the head of the minor canyon right
next to the wall toward Confucius and Mencius. We could see the place
along the wall beneath the saddle to Confucius that was proposed by the
airmen to Lawes and MacRae because a talus covers more than half the
Redwall, but I still wonder why they would have preferred this to the
route down from the Tuna Flint Saddle. On the west rim of the Redwall
gorge, slightly to the north of a spire in the Supai on that side, I
could see a depression that might be the head of a ravine going down
obliquely into the canyon. It reminded me of the head of the cut through
the Redwall on the Enfilade Point Route and it would have been my choice
for the first try.

By now Jim and I thought it was too late to start down. We were not sure
that we would find water in the Tapeats in Tuna Creek since this had
been a dry year. I thought it would be better to wait until the next day
and use the known route via the Tuna Flint Saddle and get down soon
enough to reach the river if necessary for camping.

We next parked at a place which would be a logical departure point for
the Tuna Flint Saddle and then noticed that there were many plastic
colored ribbons tied to tree limbs here. A Jeep track led up the hill to
the east and more ribbons indicated something of interest. I concluded
that they have marked the route to the Indian ruins below the Kaibab. We
were going to spend some time just wandering in the woods to the west,
but we decided to see these ruins the second time for me and a new
experience for Jim. The Jeep track was faint and the ribbons were rather
far apart but there was a good cairn built at the head of the Scramblers
Trail off the rim. We went down below the bare Kaibab cliff and then
followed the trail to the west, getting lower than I had remembered.
Then we went up into a small bay and saw the familiar ruins, a row of
eight granaries on one level and a small dwelling on the level just
below. To the west on a ledge beneath an overhang and up about 15 feet
from where you stand, there is a crude wall that might serve as a
defense rampart in case of attack. Jim tried climbing a juniper tree and
getting up the wall, but this was out without a good ladder. Someone had
carried a heavy six foot plank down here, but we didn't see how that
would help. A 16 foot two by four with cleats would be the thing. Before
we started toward Grama Point the first time, we had driven to Point
Sublime for the view. Here we met Jeff Ingram, the former Southwest
Secretary of the Sierra Club. He recognized me and we had a short visit.
Now we decided to go back to Point Sublime to spend tonight before
starting down the Tuna Flint Route. During wakeful spells in the night I
decided that it would be better to go down the Lawes MacRae Route and
come up Crystal Creek with a half day spent in going along the river
from the mouth of Crystal to the mouth of Tuna to investigate the way to
get from the mouth of Tuna to the top of the Tonto west of Tuna.

We started away from the car just before 7:00 a.m. and needed more than
30 minutes, with some fumbling to find the place, to reach the rim at
the west base of Grama Point. Our way through the brush to the Toroweap
was just as bad as it had been when we went down the previous day and
worse than the way we had come up. Right after we passed the farthest
place reached on Sunday, the deer trail cleared up a lot and we needed
about 35 minutes to go from the woods on top to the place where we
headed down through the Coconino and Hermit. There must have been a lot
of ways to get down this broad slope of slide material overgrown by
junipers, but we did have to zigzag a bit to avoid minor drop offs. Jim
scouted ahead to look the Supai over and he came to the conclusion that
we had better try it right at the center of the wash. The hardest place
was a 15 foot wall where we had to go to the west and look for the best
place. There was a steep crack wide enough for one's shoe. I used a
light rope looped around a bush for a hand line, but Jim came down with
no help except that we lowered both packs with a rope. There was another
barrier where we might have gone far to the east across the draw but Jim
got a more direct way where he pulled out some loose rock and made new
steps for me. The rest of the Supai merely required routine care not to
stumble on loose rocks or slide on shale exposures.

Jim spotted the sole of the rubber shoe near the top of the Redwall
ravine before I told him that it had been seen by Olin and Harmon. Then
I alerted him to watch for the two ropes down in the break. He saw both
before I did. In fact I think my bifocals limit me a lot in spotting
things. The way down the Redwall in this ravine is beautiful. It must
really have amazed Lawes and MacRae to find so fine a way down. It could
be seen from the top of Confucius, but it doesn't seem logical to be
where it is. It would rank very high among my 151 routes through the
Redwall. There was one place near the bottom of the route where we got
out of the bed to the right, but Jim thought that he could have climbed
down here directly. He waited for me in the main canyon bed and pointed
to a rain pocket that is over a foot deep. There had been some recent
rain on the rim that had put muddy pools across the point Sublime Road,
but this rain pool was six inches down from its overflow but it was
still about eight inches deep. I was glad to get a refill for my two
quart canteen. The afternoon got quite hot and we didn't get to Crystal
Creek until 4:15 p.m.

Walking the bed was routine with a few big boulders to get around. We
left the rain pool after our early lunch about 11:30 and were leaving
the bed above the junction with the west arm in less than two hours. The
way along the Tonto on the east side of the lower Tuna gorge is time
consuming with hills and long detours into side ravines. I went over to
the Tapeats rim and checked that the spring is still flowing down into
the granite from the lower Tapeats. We finally got over the saddle just
south of the elongated shale butte I call Scylla Major and went
southeast to find the break in the Tapeats near the mouth of Crystal. We
located it with help from a cairn that must have been two feet in
diameter and several feet high before it fell in a heap. There were a
couple of small cairns 40 or so yards below the rim, but beyond that we
were on our own. We made hard going of this descent by getting off the
right ridge to the south. The footing on the chips of shiny schist was
precarious and the steep but jagged ridge to the north of the draw would
have been far better.

We had a pleasant rest beside Crystal Creek from 4:15 on, camping about
five minutes walk from the river. On Tuesday morning we carried just our
canteens and a snack along the river toward Tuna. I had the erroneous
idea that this would be simple walking over blocks beside the river all
the way. When we had to climb along cracks in the polished rock and step
along ledges around corners in a cliff, I got discouraged. Where I
decided to turn back we would have had to follow some cairns and go 200
feet above the river. I decided that it would take too long to really
see the Fletcher Route up to the Tonto and still move our packs up
Crystal to the highest water. We got back to our packs and started up
Crystal about 8:30 a.m. It seemed longer than I had remembered to the
junction of Crystal and Dragon, about two hours and ten minutes. As
before, a lot more water was coming from Dragon than from Crystal. There
was one place in Crystal below the junction where big chockstones made a
bypass necessary. There may have been lodged here by the great flood in
December, 1966. I don't recall the obstruction from my trip up the creek
in late May, 1966, but I recorded the fact that I took two hours and ten
minutes to go to the junction of Crystal and Dragon at that time without
a pack on my back, and Jim and I carried out backpacks over the same
distance in only five more minutes. I showed Jim the prospect hole near
the junction and we noted that the flood devastation over the terrace
south of the junction is not nearly so noticeable as it was in 1967.

The Tapeats narrows in Crystal is farther north than I had remembered, I
warned Jim that it was a deadend for me even though the fall at the
upper end is not very high. I took the deer bypass to the east. Jim
wanted to see what I had seen on my first trip, and he also wanted to
try the climb out at the upper end. The bypass is also longer than I
remembered. Jim did succeed in climbing the wall to the east of the
water and then he pulled his pack up after him. It swung into the fall
but it didn't get soaked. Our progress to the head of the water was
hindered by the amount of growth in the bed. Finally, we came to the
place where the water was above ground, but I recalled that there was
some on the surface higher. We found this to be true and camped beside a
seep pool. The springs I had seen at the feet of the cottonwoods on the
west side of the channel were not flowing. We had come here from near
the mouth of Crystal between 8:30 a.m. and 1:45 p.m. I didn't feel much
ambition and I spent the afternoon reading the Readers Digest. There
were lots of flies here but they didn't bite.

On Wednesday morning we got going a few minutes before seven and took
about two hours to reach the foot of the Redwall break. The brush in the
Redwall route was worse than I had remembered and it took us 35 minutes
to reach the top. Getting through the manzanita to the fine walking up
the wash in the Supai was also rather slow and we reached the good
walking in just about one hour from the bottom of the Redwall. There
were a few pools of clay red water through this stretch. Many of the
maples were past their prime but some had scarlet leaves and this was
about the nicest walking we had on the entire trip.

Where the going got steep near the top of the Supai we saw muddy paw
prints on some rocks that looked very much like a cat. They weren't big
enough to be made by a full grown lion.

The worst brush of the entire trip made getting through the Hermit and
Coconino a real fight. We could find some thin places where progress was
relatively good, and then we would come to a wall of interlacing brush
much of which had thorns. About 1:40 p.m. we came out on top with a good
deer trail for the last quarter mile.

We walked about 35 minutes through the woods to reach the road and then
a like time to reach the Point Sublime Road. It took 50 minutes of
walking on the road to reach the car. The car odometer told us that this
was just under four miles to pick up our packs where we had came out of
the woods.

We used W1 to reach park headquarters where we met a young climber, Earl
Cram, who has designs on Mount Hayden. I dropped Jim at the NAU campus
about 9:30 and got to Sun City about 12:30.

*Boucher Creek and Hermit Camp
[December 9, 1977 to December 10, 1977]*

My original plans for a nine day hiking period were thrown away when I
got a light case of the flu. Finally, on Thursday I drove north and
visited at the Alpineer store and the math department where I picked up
my trail logs that Jim Ohlman had had. I got to the permit counter at
the South Rim in time to get a plan signed for five days of good hiking.
I was going to go to Clear Creek in one day, then see Bob Dye's route
through the Supai and Coconino, then walk back and up into Haunted
Canyon in one day, walk the loop up Sturdevant Canyon and come down
Haunted using a rope at the top of the Redwall, and then walk out from
there the fifth day. Mary Langdon was loath to permit me sleeping
privileges in Haunted Canyon since she had been making others agree to
camp up on the top of the Redwall in the Phantom Canyon area.

While I was at the permit window I ran into Brian Culhane. We had met on
the Hermit Trail last year. Now he invited me to have dinner with
Trinkle Jines and him at the girls dorm, a former caretaker's house in
the southwest part of the village. We had a pleasant evening of talk and
then I was invited to sleep on the davenport at the men's dorm. I spent
an uncomfortable night of little sleep because the room couldn't be
cooled off. I realize that with the bad night and my cold still a
bother, I would rather take on a less ambitious project than to start
down the trail with food for five days. I went back to the permit window
and got a two day permit to go down the Boucher Trail expecting to see
the Supai and Redwall routes in the upper Boucher Canyon.

As I was hiking along the Boucher Trail before it reaches upper
Travertine Canyon, I began to wonder how difficult the Supai in Boucher
might be. I realize that Packard, Walters, and Ohlman can do climbs that
I wouldn't undertake alone. In order not to get in a jam, I decided to
go down the trail to the Redwall rim and then follow it around to the
head of the Boucher Gorge. I could then use whatever time I had left for
seeing the Supai route and have plenty of daylight for going down the
Redwall to water in Boucher Canyon.

This was a good idea except that it was getting along in the day when I
left the trail to follow the Redwall rim. When I had been breaking this
new ground for about 30 minutes, much slower going after the rim changes
from a platform to a steep slope, I got discouraged and turned back to
the trail. I had spent almost an hour on this deadend and in just one
more hour I got down to Boucher Camp about 4:15. I was feeling low
because I had had to give up the purpose of the trip, and besides my
feet hurt and one knee was feeling bad from breaking the shock of coming
downhill. I had fallen in the trail when a rock rolled underfoot and I
had put my hand on a cactus. I lay around on my mattress reading Time
until supper and thought that I would let the younger men have the big
time exploring to themselves. It was an unpleasant decision.

One mistake in packing my groceries was that I left behind the meat I
had planned on eating for the two days. Another poor decision was to
sleep in the mine shaft for warmth. I was wakeful again by being too
warm, but I got a much better night of sleep then I had in the living
room of the ranger dorm. Twice that night I was startled when rocks fell
from the roof of the shaft to the floor about five feet from where I was
lying. While I was eating in bed before daylight, I heard an awesome
rumble of a lot of rocks falling and sliding somewhere.

I went back on Saturday along the Tonto to Hermit Creek in three hours
and it took five and three quarter hours to reach the car from Hermit.

*Pearce, Spencer, and Milkweed Canyons
[January 22, 1978 to January 28, 1978]*

Bob Marley, an electrical engineer with a lot of hiking experience, went
with me. We pulled my boat from Sun City to South Cove with lunch in
Kingman. We got there shortly after two, but we found that I had left a
switch turned on and the boat battery was down. After some inquiries, we
took it to Frenchy's where we could get a quick charge in an hour. At
Bob's suggestion, we disconnected the battery at each long stop and had
no trouble starting it.

Since it was late when we finally got away from South Cove, we merely
went to the north side of the promontory of Sandy Point for the night.
We were glad we were in the cabin that night because it rained hard with
some hail. It was blowing from the northwest in the morning when we
wanted to start and we had a hard time getting going since the motor
refused to run in reverse gear.

From here to Pearce Ferry we had to watch for driftwood but we managed
to dodge it and we tied up at the north end of the cove where burro
trails lead over the hill and down into Pearce Canyon Wash. By 9:30, we
were ready to put on our packs and start up the 1000 foot climb over the
ridge into Pearce Canyon. This time there were quite a few pools of
water in the bed left from the recent rain. They subside into the gravel
quite fast, but the water in the grooves in the bedrock on the north
side seems to last well into the winter. This is about ten minutes walk
upstream from the first major side canyon coming into Pearce from the south.

Three years ago Jorgen, Bill Belknap, and Ed Herrman had gone up this
side canyon and had been stopped by a very high fall. We now had the
time since we only wanted to get to the cave near the junction of the
main arm and the north arm. It is an impressive bay with very high walls
going to the top of the Redwall. There is a split in the rock where the
fall has carved its notch, but it is still around 100 feet up to the
lip. We went up a talus to inspect a slight shelf at the foot of the
cliff on the west side of the fall, but we could see no signs of use by
Indians. Bob noted that one could climb rather high on the east wall
about a quarter mile north of the fall and an expert might have the
nerve to go on up using the roughness of the wall for holds. We spent
something more than an hour on this detour. At the shelter cave north of
the mouth of the north arm of Pearce, we were able to follow burro
trails up to the cave. It seemed that someone has been digging into the
bed for artifacts because there were two or three shallow pits in the
floor. We noted a crude metate and mano, but the blackened roof was the
only other sign of former occupation. We were able to scrape level
places for our beds and we had a good night here. There had been a
threat of showers but it cleared up and got quite cool before morning.
In the morning we got away about 8:00 and went through the Redwall
narrow of the main arm where we found quite a bit of water but no
running stream. My project was to go out on top using the third side
canyon from the south. It lines up with one from the north that I used
last year to get from the north arm to the main arm. Visbak, Belknap,
and Herrman had done this three years ago, but no one that I knew had
been up the continuation on the south. Bob agreed from the start that we
could get out on the Sanup Plateau from here, and we were not
disappointed. In fact it would be grist for another hiker to check all
the ways.

Just as we were passing an arm of this tributary that comes from the
east, Bob pointed to six splendid bighorn rams that were about 50 yards
away on a ledge leading into the east arm. All six watched us for a
couple of minutes and then left in a leisurely, orderly manner around
the corner into the side canyon. We had time for several pictures, but
there was little contrast with their background.

Near the top we veered to the west where the way to the rim seemed the
surest. We had come from the cave up here in about two and a quarter
hours. Bob ate a snack and took some pictures and then we headed
southwest to see the broad valley that forms a sort of bowl in the
surface of the plateau and that drains down into the canyon we had
entered before reaching our campsite at the cave. Billingsley had gotten
me interested in this area by suggesting that it might be some type of
sinkhole, but from our position on the slope east of the valley, it
didn't seem so different from quite a few desert type drainages such as
go into the Little Colorado. We got back to our packs at the junction of
the main and north arms of Pearce in time for a late lunch. We walked
down to the boat in less than three hours. The day was still warm enough
for us to shave and take sponge baths. We enjoyed our reading by
gasoline lantern light before retiring.

On Wednesday we boated up to Spencer with no trouble from mudbanks. The
lake was high enough so that one could get a boat to the foot of
Columbine Falls and there was enough water in the river above the lake
level. The lake level was 1184 feet and the river survey puts the height
of the bed at Separation Rapids as 1175 feet, but the daily fluctuations
of the flow are up to three feet at Spencer and from the swift current
and dirty water, we figured that there was also a flood coming out of
the Little Colorado River. We moored the boat at the extreme north end
of the silt bank but we should have tied it still farther upriver at the
last flooded tamarisk.

When we left the boat we soon found that the trail over to the running
stream was flooded by the high water from the river and we had a little
difficulty in getting up on the highest silt terrace to go west and get
down to the clear streambed. We needed about two hours to reach the
mouth of Meriwitica Canyon which is recognizable by the detached tower
of brown granite standing away from the wall. The flow in the creek
varied considerably along here. Once the bed was dry for a short
distance. Finally the bed did go dry just before we reached the wooded
terrace on the left bank where Jorgen and I camped last year. Floods had
buried the water holes where Jorgen and I dipped our canteens. The first
surface water is now at least 100 yards farther downstream. It was still
early and I was sure that we should find more water at the big
travertine terrace about a mile upstream from where the map places
Spencer Springs. When we approached this travertine cliff on the west
side of the bed, I entered the mesquite thicket looking for water and
Bob went up the open bed. He soon reached the place where water can be
heard falling down the face of the cliff with just a little dropping
over the edge of the bank into the gravel of the wash. We put our beds
on some level ground across on the east side of the wash from here. The
secondary stream channel just a couple of feet below my bed was still
muddy from the last flood.

We had taken about three hours to get here from the boat so there was
time to see the interesting features on top of the travertine terrace.
We followed a burro trail up on the south end and then went along the
rim to the north. The marshy tangle of greenery was hard to cross
without getting wet feet. We soon came to the rock wall and concluded
that its main purpose was to get rocks out of the way of a garden bed.
Something that I hadn't noticed when I was here with Homer Morgan was
that there is a petrified irrigation ditch here, much like those at
Quartermaster Canyon. All the former soil near them has been washed away
and now the former ditch is a ridge of travertine with a groove along
the top. Farther to the north and back from the rim of the terrace where
there is still quite a bit of soil and there are evenly spaced rock
piles where someone has tried to clear the ground.

We went up on the highest part of the travertine deposit near the
springs and then came down to the south and doubled back to find the
rock cabin. It is just below this higher slope and a few yards south of
the greenery formed by the spring water. Since there are no timbers
around to support a roof or form the door, we wondered whether the
building was ever finished. I have noted that the Boucher cabin had a
small fireplace but there is no hint of one at this rock house. The
walls are well done, everywhere at least two stones thick and fairly
impervious to the wind even without mud for mortar. About 20 yards away
there is a little shelter cave in the travertine, and the ground appears
to have been smoothed for good sleeping. A frying pan and another pan
are still there. We even found a shoe which may have shrunk some. It
didn't seem big enough for an adult. Parts of two more rotten shoes were
in the mud. We thought that the man who cleared the field and built the
rock cabin must have lived here for some time. About the first thing
that we saw when we walked north along the rim of the terrace were two
rusty tin cans which seemed too large for consumption of the contents by
one man. The shelter under the travertine projection was only big enough
to sleep two comfortably.

We broke camp on Thursday morning about eight as usual and needed about
two hours to get to the junction of Milkweed and Spencer. On the way we
looked rather carefully at two places where one might have a good chance
of climbing up on the plateau west of Spencer but we had other things to
keep us busy. We walked about 50 minutes up Spencer before we came to a
good flow of water and we camped on the south side of the creek. We
would have enjoyed more sunlight if we had been on the other side. There
was ice on most of the pools and the ground thawed into mud near our
campfire that evening.

After an early lunch we headed up canyon to find what we could about
upper Spencer and the possibility of climbing to the top of the plateau.
First I wanted to see what was up Spencer beyond where Jorgen and I had
been last year. The burros have a bypass of a fall quite close to the
junction of Spencer and Hindu Canyon. Then the walls close in above the
rough bed until, less than a mile above the junction, there is a big
pool that would have to be waded and only yards beyond there is a
spectacular fall. So we went back to the vicinity of the mouth of Hindu
where a lot of travertine on the left side of Spencer can be climbed.

Bob preceded me here and checked around a corner of the next cliff above
and soon I heard the encouraging call, "it goes." There is just one
angle where the rock is broken into stepsand one can go up even with a
pack on his back. Bob built a cairn to mark this place from above and
then we walked up a short valley with a bit more hand and foot work at
the top. From there is was just a walk to the east of a Redwall
promontory and up to the west to a saddle and so to the top. We were
higher than most of the plateau in any direction. On the return to camp,
Bob tried going down off the travertine into Spencer west of the
junction with Hindu and he was in camp for some time before I got there.
I went down near where we had gone up, but I found an old horseshoe. We
theorized that some Indian packhorse had gone wild and had come in here
without his master.

On Friday we walked down to the junction of Spencer and Milkweed. Bob
had something wrong with his digestion so he stayed by our packs while I
went up Milkweed to see what I could before 11:45. There is the way to
get to the top where Billingsley and his companions came down, but from
a distant view, we thought that his way is not unique. The way that
looked the easiest to me leaves the bed in the upper right corner of
block 26 of the Milkweed Canyon NW Quad and goes southeast past the C of
the word Canyon.

The first water appears near the bottom third of the same block 26 and
there is a running stream above ground most of the time from here on up
as far as I went, to the upper corner of block three where you come out
of a fine narrows through the granite. The geology of Milkweed is most
interesting. All the way up Spencer, the Tapeats seems to be tilted up
to the south until it is higher above the bed near the junction with
Milkweed than it is down by the travertine terrace. Then a little way up
Milkweed, on the west side, you can see a break where the granite comes
up suddenly about 600 feet higher than on the other side of the break.
Where I turned around at the end of the granite narrows, it was still
300 or 400 feet above the bed. The promontory to the south at 4600 feet
elevation may not have been Redwall at all. There is clear cut Redwall
above the junction of Spencer and Milkweed, but farther south where the
slope forms the access route, something else like red sandstone is just
north of the broken area. It weathers into smooth bulbous knobs. A
geologist would have problems cataloging all these irregularities. A
fine landmark was a travertine fall on the west side in a tributary. I
believe it is in the branch from the west about two fifths of the way
from the bottom of Block 34. Another landmark is the tower on the east
side of the bed near the top of block 35.

Even at the end of January these canyons have birds, junkos, canyon
wrens, and others. I saw an ouzel and a slate gray bird that had the
shape of a cardinal including the crest. There were herons and ducks on
the river.

In spite of Bob's indisposition, we made better time down to our former
campsite across from the travertine terrace than we had on the upgrade
on Thursday. There was a big ring around the sun and the sky became
overcast to the extent that we moved our beds under the nearby overhang.
This was the reason I saw the Indian pictographs painted on the wall and
ceiling in red clay. There were a couple of human figures and some
geometric doodles and some mere smudges. There was no rain and the
morning dawned clear.

We continued to make fast time down to the boat in the morning. The
river had dropped about three feet and the bow was on the rocks. Bob
didn't have to strain after he untied and pushed it into the water. We
made good time downstream. I recognized Surprise Canyon, Triumphal Arch,
Burnt Canyon, Quartermaster, Tincanebitts, Dry Canyon, Bat Cave, Muav
Cave, and Columbine Falls. We put the boat in close to Columbine Falls
for Bob to get a picture.

I had no trouble getting the boat on the trailer since there was no
wind. For the return to Kingman, I tried the gravel road that goes
through the foothills and reaches the highway a block east of Terrible
Herbst. We reached home about 6:30 p.m.

*Phantom and Sturdevant Canyons
[February 24, 1978 to February 26, 1978]*

I had talked to Jim Ohlman about climbing Manu Temple and coming down at
the head of Haunted Canyon with the aid of a rope. When he discovered
that they have named a minor butte on the promontory between Sturdevant
and Haunted for Louis Schellback, Jim had another reason for wanting to
go up here. He called me and we agreed to meet at the permit desk at
3:00 p.m. on Friday. I left home early on Friday and played chess with
Dick Hart in Sedona for a couple of hours on my way to the canyon. I got
there a couple of minutes after three and I was visiting with Tom
Davision when I got a phone call from Flagstaff from Jim Kirschvink
saying that they were delayed but that they would meet me down at the
Bright Angel Campground some time in the evening.

The Kaibab Trail was snowy and slick at the top and muddy in places down
to the upper Supai and I carried a heavier than usual pack since I had
my climbing rope. I got down to the campground in two and a half hours.
I happened to fall in with a seasonal ranger, Brad Jones, and I ate my
dinner in his cabin near the bridge across Bright Angel Creek. We had
quite a visit mostly talking about climbing Zoro and Brahma. The ranger
party packed a lot of water up to the saddle between Zoro and Brahma and
the party of three or four spent two nights there. Brad was able to
climb Brahma in one and a half hours from this saddle. Don Suthers
climbed Zoro solo and Tom Davison got almost to the top before time ran
out. At the ranger dorm on Sunday evening, Tom showed us the slides he
took of the trip. A major part of the route is up a vertical crack where
one can get only a foot into the space. It is aid climbing.

In talking about the Brahma climb, Brad didn't remember any part where
one had to walk across a steep smooth exposure of Coconino with shoe
friction only. When I told him about how Donald Davis and Doc Ellis had
done it, he figured that he had taken someone's suggestion and gone up
directly at this place instead of walking across the friction pitch. He
said that a woman who worked at Phantom Ranch, Terri Meche, had also
climbed Brahma. This was the trip using three days instead of going up
and back in one long day from Bright Angel Creek as Davis, Ellis, and
Doty had.

Ohlman and Kirschvink came along about 9:00 p.m. and we got off on our
hike up from the north end of the campground about 7:00 a.m. on
Saturday. The trail up to the Tonto is very well defined. The trouble is
that the clear track leads to a 12 foot pitch that is rather difficult
with a full pack. I had done this before, but we were delayed in getting
a detour to avoid this little cliff. The best way seems to be south of
here close to the base of the main cliff. The track through the Tapeats
break is also well used now, but it goes where the scramble over rough
blocks is harder than the walk up a talus south of the center of the ravine.

Ohlman was enough of a geologist to clear me up on why the Tapeats looks
so different on the Tonto here. He explained that it was formed in a
quiet bay between Shinumo Quartzite islands and had a lot more organic
material in it than the Tapeats which was formed in the open sea.

I led the way up to the saddle just east of Cheops and we found the
Indian ruin on the high ledge as we got down toward the creek. I came to
what is left of the trail just a little below the ruin, but on the way
out on Sunday I found that the trail continues farther east below the
ruin to a rocky ridge where it seems to end. Someone has built a cairn
here but it is not noticeable from a distance. I had probably remembered
it wrong when I thought that I had followed this trail clear up to the
pass east of Cheops. I must have passed beneath the Indian ruin numerous
times before I noticed it. Ohlman and Kirschvink probably would have
missed seeing it if I hadn't pointed it out. I had remembered the lower
end of the trail not exactly as it is either. I thought I had walked up
a not very steep grassy slope from the bed of the creek just above the
Tapeats fall, but I found that this is much steeper, practically a small
cliff. Rather than go down here and lose altitude unnecessarily, we went
west and got down through a narrow break in the little cliff. Ohlman had
come up the bed of Phantom Creek just the week before and he and
Kirschvink had gone back through Trinity and down from the Tonto to the
Bright Angel Campground. Ohlman prefers the route up the creek to the
way over the Tonto. I haven't done the creek for about 25 years, but the
overland route along the Tonto appeals to me. It took me just under
three hours to go back this way from the overhang campsite to Bright
Angel Creek and I think it would take me at least that long to go down
the creek and use the Kaibab Trail.

After a rest and a snack near the overhang about 10 minutes walk from
the Tapeats fall, we scrambled up the steep and skiddy route to the
shale slope toward Sturdevant Canyon. I made the mistake of going down
to the bed of Sturdevant instead of keeping most of my altitude at the
pass. The walking in the bed isn't that much better. Ohlman and
Kirschvink started later, but they got ahead of me and had to wait. At
the place where they reached the bed, we had a discussion and agreed to
split up. I left Phantom Creek with only two quarts of water while they
each carried one and a half gallons. They were prepared to spend the
night on the Redwall. I had figured on sleeping up there too, but I had
thought that I would find rain pools. The boys would leave their big
packs at the top of the Redwall and go up and climb the newly named
Schellback Butte. I would come to the top of the Redwall and pick up a
50 foot rope that Ohlman would put out for me and head around on the
Redwall rim to reach the head of Haunted where I would get down to water
for camping.

I got close enough to talk to the boys when they came to the barrier
near the bottom of the Redwall. I had followed the example of the deer
and had bypassed this to the east, but the two Jims climbed up right in
the bed. I had forgotten how rough the going is in Sturdevant. It is a
mess of broken, angular blocks, and I needed 45 minutes to go up through
the Redwall. When I got up, I couldn't find the packs and the 50 foot
rope that I was to use to get down at the head of Haunted. Walking the
Redwall rim back south and then north to the head of Haunted looked
rough and long and I lost heart and started down Sturdevant. When I had
used another 45 minutes to get to the bottom of the Redwall, the two
Jims shouted for me to wait down there. Both of them came down in
surprisingly quick time and Ohlman tried to persuade me to go back up
with them and go through with our projects. I insisted on going on down
where I could sleep warm with plenty of water. I agreed to go up Haunted
in the morning and meet them coming down after they had had a crack at Manu.

After a very warm and comfortable night under the overhang, I started up
Phantom toward Haunted Canyon, but the sky was completely overcast. It
seemed to be getting more threatening all the time, so I changed my mind
again and started to go out. After a three hour trip to Bright Angel, I
ate an early lunch and reported to Andy Banta that he could tell Ohlman
and Kirschvink what I was doing, going home starting up just before
noon. I needed five and a half hours to go from the river to the rim,
and I ended feeling pretty discouraged. I will have to plan less
ambitious trips with people that are my speed. I spotted one bit of cow
or calf droppings more than halfway from the creek to the saddle.

*Boucher Canyon
[March 27, 1978 to March 29, 1978]*

In the fall of 76, after Royce Fletcher had told me about the
possibility of getting up the Redwall in Boucher Canyon, I had done it
with Al Shaufler. Then last fall Bob Packard and Jim Ohlman told me that
they could also get up the Supai in this canyon. I had tried to do this
last December, but I had allowed only two days for the trip and I didn't
have time. This time I went by myself with a double purpose, first to
have a short visit with Dock Marston and then to take my three day trip.

On the way north I stopped for a bit of chess with Dick Hart in Sedona
and I had my dinner at Tusayan before going to the El Tovar to look for
Dock. I was lucky since his party of five wasn't called to their table
at the dining room for nearly an hour after I arrived. I also renewed my
acquaintance with Art Gallenson and met the local minister, Fred Dodge,
and the man in charge of the Campus Religious Center at NAU.

At the permit booth on Monday morning I had a good visit with Gale
Burak, a volunteer ranger. Just about all the places allowed at the
usual camping areas were taken, but they allowed me to go to Boucher
Camp. I met a 48 year old Canadian, Pete Walter, who also was given a
permit for Boucher. He felt that he had to wait until 9:00 a.m. to see
whether a man would show with whom he had been planning a hike the night
before. I could give him transportation to Hermit Rest since he had
arrived by bus. No one showed, so we took off and went first to the
Bright Angel Lodge where Pete wanted to check his tent. Here he met Ken
Kehn, the man he had talked to and Pete learned that Ken was the one I
had brought with me from Flagstaff as a hitchhiker.

Pete and I finally started down the Hermit Trail at 9:55 and passed two
parties also heading for Boucher. The first couple was having heavy
going. The girl was carrying two gallons of water because she thought
the rangers had told her to. She was interested in meeting Pete since
both of them had come from England. We didn't see them at the
campground. Perhaps they settled for going to Dripping Springs. Pete had
talked about his 20 mile hikes in the Canadian Rockies, so I didn't
hesitate to walk at my normal rate. However, when we were nearing the
bend away from Hermit Gorge along the Esplanade, Pete said that he was
nearly burnt out. He blamed the heat, but I'll bet it wasn't over 78.
When I had eaten an early lunch I suggested that he walk with some of
the people we had passed and I went ahead with a 16 year old, Brian
Cord, who was the leader of the group from Los Alamos. He is a good
hiker and seemed to hike my rate. He finally said that the others were
carrying his lunch, so he let me go on about 12:30 while he waited for
the party consisting of the Cords and Talberts to catch up. I had needed
to tape only one toe and I had no aches in knees or hips as I sometimes
do. I just kept on going without feeling very tired and got to the creek
in four hours and 40 minutes, faster than in 76 and even than 20 years
ago. On Wednesday I came up the Boucher Trail considerably faster than
in 76, six hours and 40 minutes, and considerably slower than in 1958
without a pack.

After a rest of 35 minutes, I walked up Topaz Canyon to the Shale Muav
contact. Gail Burak had told me that one can't get through the Redwall
and I was close enough to see that she was right. There was quite a bit
of water here and there all the way.

When I got back to camp taking nearly three hours for the whole trip,
the sky looked threatening so I moved my gear into the mine shaft. There
were a few drops of rain and one clap of thunder, but the other campers
needed their tents more for privacy than for shelter. I got acquainted
with the Talberts and Cords from Los Alamos. They had me over for desert
the second night I was there. My lighter weight down bag was just right
and I wasn't bothered by any mice. The threat of rain passed and the
moon was bright both nights.

On Tuesday I started up Boucher Canyon at 6:30 a.m. Most of the water
comes from a spring near the upper fourth of the Tapeats, but there was
more running water higher too with more of the bed dry than wet. There
was even a small flow over a fall in the upper Redwall coming from a
tributary from the east. I reached the first major bypass in the Redwall
in 95 minutes from camp. It is well marked by cairns at both ends and
even along the bighorn trail connecting. One has to look carefully for
the holds at the steepest place, but I carried my nearly empty pack up
here. At the second major bypass, more than halfway through the
formation, there were no cairns. The grips were much more meager and I
preferred leaving my pack at the bottom of the crucial place. I could
see that the steep rock face was whitened by bighorn hoofs. When I got
back into the bed, I marked the place with a small cairn but a big flood
would sweep this cairn away. On the return I overshot the place to get
down and had to come back up a slope. I was glad that I could see my
pack indicating the possible but rather precarious descent. Fortunately,
the smooth chutes near the top of the Redwall narrows had no water
beneath them.

Where the Redwall opens out of the narrows into the cone shaped valley,
I noted a large cairn that indicated a route to the east. I went up this
talus filled ravine until I could go over above a fall in the highest
part of the Redwall to the south arm of upper Boucher Canyon. Here I
could walk up slides of rocks of all sizes with here and there some
vegetation. As I approached the walled alcove at the head of this talus,
I looked where I heard some sliding rocks and saw tow bighorn ewes
running around a corner to the southeast. This seemed like the only
logical route to go higher. When I got there I found a wall, nearly
perpendicular, with rather meager holds for hands and feet, I chickened
out. It seemed a little harder than the worst place on the route up
Siegfried, and I hadn't liked that one either when I was alone. The
bighorn tracks and droppings came right to this place as well as
appearing all along the base of the cliff. I certainly wish I had been
in sight of this ascent when the ewes were going up. It would be a sight
worth remembering. It is this sort of route that I thought would be
strictly a way that bighorns can jump down, but I wouldn't have thought
that they could get up it. There was no other way for the ewes to
disappear. I went back to camp nursing my injured pride with the thought
that Packard must have had Ken Walters with him when he did this climb.
Jim Ohlman may have done it alone. Jim Ohlman told me that he tried
going up the Supai directly to the Vesta Saddle but that he couldn't
make it. He said that the south arm was a walk up. This makes me wonder
whether he has actually done it. The part that stopped me is at the base
of the top fourth of the Supai.

I spent most of Tuesday afternoon finishing the March Reader's Digest
and visiting with the other campers. On Wednesday I started out at 6:00
a.m. with two quarts of water. I had an empty gallon container in my
pack, but I finished the walk out with water to spare at the end of my
six hours and 40 minute trip. Four young men started later and finished
the route in about an hour less time, but this is slower than my best in
1958 without a pack. It was a good time of year when the weather was not
hot and the flowers were beginning to show.

*Supai rim in Boucher Canyon
[May 3, 1978 to May 4, 1978]*

I had been wanting to see for myself the way to get through the Supai
near the head of Boucher Canyon ever since Packard and Ohlman had told
me that one could do it (cf., the logs for 12/9/77 and 3/27/78). This
time I decided to approach the area from above by following the Supai
rim on from where the Boucher Trail cuts down into Travertine Canyon.
Bob Packard had done this when he climbed Vesta. He carried an overnight
pack to the saddle south of Vesta and got back to it from the top of
Vesta in one day from Hermit's Rest.

After playing eight games of chess on the way north (5 to 3 favor of
Dick Hart) I reached the Visitor's Center just in time to get my permit
for the next day. Sleeping was good in the Jimmy parked at the
campground and I enjoyed the evening naturalist lecture. The new
displays at Yavapai Point are also interesting and Peter _att the ranger
there, let me use his binox to see Cheyava Falls. It has been flowing
well this month.

On the way to the Hermit Rest parking I stopped at a viewpoint and ate
breakfast as the sun rose. There I overheard a young couple talking
about being careless. The girl, Cathy Ausa, had dropped her sleeping bag
over the cliff. While I was coming out on Thursday, Cathy recognized me
while she was on her way for a solo hike to Dripping Springs. It was
6:30 a.m. when I got started walking down the trail.

Spring flowers were in fine bloom. There must have been at least 12
kinds as well as shrubs covered with white flowers. I recognized Indian
paint brush and mountain phlox and one solitary Mariposa tulip. There
were several that looked like sweet peas and one looked like a light
blue daisy. I also had a visit with a group of hikers whom I overtook.
They had camped along the way and were pleasantly surprised to meet the
author of Grand Canyon Treks. I reached the place where the trail cuts
down into the Supai near the head of Travertine Canyon at 8:35 and then
continued along the Supai rim into Boucher Canyon with my pack until
around 11:15. In Travertine and around the point into Boucher the
walking was rather easy, but after that scrambling through the rocks and
brush and along the steep shale slopes was difficult and a bit
hazardous. I really appreciated the work that Packard had done to carry
his pack to the Vesta Saddle before putting it down. I ate an early
lunch and left my pack at a small flat place in the shale across from
the north end of the Coconino in Vesta. There was a gallon of water in
the pack which made it unusually heavy. After lunch I went on without
putting more water in my half gallon canteen. It was good that I could
get a little more from rain pools and seeps. It had rained a little only
two days before.

When I was nearing the head of the gorge I began inspecting the ravines
for possible routes. The view from an overlook convinced me that the
first is a no go. The next one seemed definitely promising. I went down
far enough to decide that a nine foot wall was the only difficulty
between me and where I had been in March. Furthermore, there was a
pinyon pine growing at the edge of the shelf and a limb, mostly dead,
hung down quite far. I might have held onto this limb and let myself
down, but I didn't want to chance any real problem in getting back when
I was by myself. The next big ravine was also quite promising. There is
a way down a chimney about 12 feet high. The crack is about two and a
half feet wide and I have been up and down places that hard, but I
decided against doing it too in order to have plenty of time to get back
to my pack.

It would have taken me another half hour to walk around to where Packard
had come up west of the head of the canyon. His break seemed like a very
unusual break in the cliff and although I couldn't look directly into
it, I could see that it is quite steep. I decided against taking the
time and effort to see it right. Bob said that he had to strain some to
get up and I would guess that my way involving the twelve foot chimney
is the easier. To use it, one would go up the talus in the center ravine
of Boucher and then follow the base of the top cliff to the northeast. I
seem to recall that the place where I would need to hang on the sagging
pine has a slope going clear to the rim of the Redwall.

As it was, I got back to the pack by 4:30 and could have carried it for
an hour or more toward home, but by this time I was tired enough to
enjoy loafing with my Reader's Digest. The night was so windy and my
perch was so exposed that I didn't sleep too well. I put a rock on my
pack to make sure it wouldn't blow away and I looked several times to
see whether my plastic gallon jug was still there. I expected it to die
down a couple of hours after sunset, but it was strong all night.
Strangely it got quiet by 7:30 in the morning.

With the additional quart of water I had picked up along the way toward
the head of the gorge, I had more than enough. Before I left the bivouac
site, I dumped almost two quarts to empty my gallon jug. I got back to
the trail in about 105 minutes between 5:10 and 6:55 a.m. On the way
out, I stopped three times for some food and rest and I reached the car
by 11:30. I met a few more people coming down the Hermit Trail. Some had
my book and seemed really thrilled to meet the author out in the wilds.
It was a fine trip with lots of flowers and birds singing. I haven't
seen a rattlesnake for quite some time, but I made a close approach to a
harmless one. It was very slender, over two feet long but only about
three quarters of an inch in diameter at the thickest place.

I felt that some of my weariness in getting out was due to the bad
sleep, less than four hours by my guess. I felt that it had been a
fairly good trip since I had learned quite a bit about the Supai above
Boucher Canyon even though I hadn't covered the whole route.

*Upper Paria Canyon
[May 10, 1978 to May 11, 1978]*

Virginia Ward, her son Leeland Dickerman, Roma and I left Flagstaff a
little before seven and reached the campground at the head of Paria
Canyon Trail just before 10:30. This is 35 miles from Page. The BLM has
a trailer for a ranger station near the highway, but no one was in it.
At the trailhead there is a registration box with the instruction that
you should get a permit by phone to Kanab if necessary. Roma and
Virginia Ward drove back to Page and got a permit for themselves and
also for us by phone. They were to spend the night at the Page Boy Motel
and then hike down the Paria on Thursday.

I had been able to get the USGS Quad map Paria at the Glen Canyon
Visitor's Center, but I didn't try very hard to keep track of where we
were on the map. As soon as we came to the first creek crossing, I took
off my trousers and walked in my tennis shoes and swim trunks. We had to
cross in a few inches of water that was nearly opaque. As we went
farther the flow decreased and what water was left seemed to clear up.
It must be getting filtered in the sand and gravel. I didn't notice the
White House Ruins, but I saw an old metal tank on the west side of the
river. At one crossing we saw a lizard about nine inches long swimming.
It paddled fast and carried its head quite high. Another thing that
surprised us was to find wheel tracks going down canyon for several
miles about to the beginning of the narrows. The only sign warning one
about getting through the narrows appeared at the very beginning of the
trail. There is a similar sign facing down river at the lower end of the
narrows, but this one is more appropriate since it is only about 50
yards to the actual narrows instead of about four miles at the upper end.

At noon we stopped and ate until 12:30. Relatively close to the
beginning we passed fretwork caves in the walls. A striking feature down
in the narrows was an archway beneath a huge block of sandstone that had
slipped down and had the small end resting in the middle of the bed. It
was 1:40 when we reached the mouth of Buckskin Gulch so our walking time
from the trailhead to Buckskin was two hours and fifty minutes. The
distance is 6.8 miles so we were doing a little more than two miles per
hour along here. On the return, when I was tired because of five hours
of walking in the morning, I took three hours to do the same leg.

When we had walked another hour, to 2:50, we came to where a young
couple were camping. They called out attention to a spring, the first
one we had seen. This must be close to nine miles from the beginning of
the trail. There are terraces for camping on both sides of the stream.
Around the bend about five minutes walk downstream is a big cottonwood,
the first one we had seen. We put our packs down and draped plastic
sheets over them since there seemed to be a possibility of rain. I
figured that I could reach my former highest point of last summer's trip
in less than one and a half hours. About 40 minutes from camp we came to
a break in the left wall where someone had installed a short tree trunk
as an aid in climbing. Only a little farther there was a ravine coming
down from the left. On Thursday morning Leeland went up the first
opening and came down the second. It seems to be a former meander of the
stream that has been cut off. A little farther we came to a gateway
behind a column of rock that may have slipped down from the right. When
we had been going a little over an hour, Leeland seemed to be slowing
down so I suggested that he let me go ahead alone. I turned back at the
end of 90 minutes still not sure that I had seen anything that was
familiar from last year. On the return, when I wasn't taking any
pictures, I needed only 75 minutes to reach the campsite. After talking
with a couple of young men who were hiking past our camp, and after
consulting with the BLM map they carried, I couldn't feel so sure that I
had completed the route through the entire canyon. During the night I
decided to go down river again and go almost twice as far. It rained a
few drops Wednesday afternoon but the night was fine and there was no
threat of rain on Thursday.

As I often do, I woke up at first light and ate breakfast in bed.
Leeland was wide awake before I wanted to leave at 5:45 and I explained
my decision to go down river quite a bit farther. He was agreeable to a
lesser effort on his part. In covering the same territory I had been
over the previous day, I of course recognized a number of features, but
I wasn't sure where I had turned back. I had the topo map along, but I
hadn't kept the bends in agreement with the map and I didn't know where
our camp should be located on the map. After I had come out of the
short, close bends, I was sure that I was past where I had turned back
last summer. To clinch this recognition, I came to the place on the map
where big and straight ravines come down to the bed from both the north
and south sides. I was positive that this is where Pat Reilly had marked
the location of the Adams Trail, a climber's route down from the plateau
to the south.

Only 15 minutes of the 150 I had allowed for the down river trip
remained. Rather than continue until I had to turn back, now that I
realized that I had already overlapped my upriver trip by two miles, I
spent the rest of my time going up the ravine. Other hikers had done
this rather recently to judge by the footprints in the sand. It was
routine walking between and scrambling over big rocks until I came to a
vertical pile of chockstones stopping up the narrow canyon. There is an
obvious bypass to the west, but the route has some risk. One would have
to be careful on some exposed ledges. I had run out of time so I turned
back without going up this most interesting part of the trail.

On the return I kept the map in my hand and followed all the bends in
the river right back to our camp. With every turn agreeing with the map,
I was sure I had located the Adams Trail. On the way back I met Leeland
walking down river to meet me and we got back to camp by 10:45, just
five hours since I had left in the early morning. The day had been cool
and there were no flies to bother us. I had noticed a few mosquitoes in
the night, but there were no ticks as there had been in Boucher Canyon.
There were deer hoof prints along the bed but no signs of bighorn sheep.

After a restful lunch we got going about 11:30 and reached the car by
3:30. Roma and Virginia had gotten back from their hike down to the
beginning of the narrows about 20 minutes before.

*Lower Kanab Canyon and vicinity
[May 30, 1978 to June 4, 1978]*

When I drove to the North Rim on Monday, May 29, I detoured over to
Lee's Ferry to see Pat Conley and also to get the Rusho Crampton book.
Pat was no longer working at the store and was on the Green River with
one of his own boat expeditions. I must have been talking to Susan
Hucheson. I wish I had learned her name and had referred to Roy
Carpenter. I have found the book most interesting and well worth the price.

At the North Rim I had time for a good visit with rangers Fritts and
Thorum. Rich Thorum is a seasonal and still an ambitious hiker. He has
climbed Shiva twice and was more than willing to go with me the
following Tuesday, June 6, when I would be back from my first
expedition. I had to discard my first objective which involved driving
out the Tiyo Point Road. There is still too much snow and mud through
the woods in this area. I got one six day permit and then took a walk
out toward Uncle Jim's Point. While so engaged I got a hankering for a
different way to spend the six days and returned to the permit desk. By
good luck I engaged some strangers in conversation about their hike to
Thunder River and discovered that they were Jeff Preston and his party.
Jeff had been on the phone with me from Boston. I chose to drive the
road not passing by Bee Spring since I seemed to recall that it is
rather narrow and primitive. I followed the logging road west from the
pavement north of the park through Dry Park and on north until you can
leave it to go southwest down the main road that swings around to Big
Saddle. Two or three miles before you reach Big Saddle I followed the
sign toward Sowats point. There were a couple of forks that gave me
doubts but I arrived close to the head of the Sowats Point Trail with
nothing worse than some bad bumps over the bedrock beyond the cabin
where the USFS sign says not recommended for passenger cars.

This trail sign into Kwagunt Hollow was familiar to me from my trip
several years ago. It is well maintained and I was down to the grove of
trees in less than an hour in spite of the fact that my pack contained,
besides many other things, a three and a half pound boat and four and a
half pounds of bread. I was feeling fit and I carried the pack for
almost three hours without a break to rest my shoulders. The water
situation was about as before, none at the grove, but some below for a
hundred yards or more. Between Tuesday and Friday it seemed to have
lessened and the highest pool in the Supai bedrock had no inflow. There
was still plenty of water at several places lower in the canyon. I took
about an hour to get from the car to the beginning of the narrow Supai
canyon and one and a half hours from there to the bed of Jumpup Canyon.
During the latter period, I must never have been more than 20 minutes
away from water. However, these springs and all that I saw along the
Esplanade and in Kanab Creek leave a white deposit on rocks and mud as
the water evaporates. Worse, by the end of my time using that water, I
was thoroughly miserable with watery BMs. I put Halazone in the Colorado
River water I used and it was a big relief. I don't remember having this
trouble when I was down and back overnight, so it may be cumulative. A
quick overnight trip is all right.

It was interesting to review the route through the Supai in Kwagunt
Hollow Canyon. This time I followed the main bed below the grove. About
half way through there are some drops that give pause. For the highest
one the route seems to require hand and toeholds for eight or ten feet.
At the next place there is a good bypass to the left for a big fall and
the same deer trail takes one past the smaller drop just below. The
scenery through here is appropriately gorgeous. as I had remembered the
fine narrows of Jumpup, but I didn't recall that it would take me about
two hours to walk from the mouth of Kwagunt Hallow to the mouth of
Jumpup. There is a lot of loose gravel and sand. I was so intent on the
footing that I missed seeing the recessed plunge pool on the right. On
Friday I was watching and noted that it is about two fifths of the way
from Kanab Canyon to the mouth of Kwagunt Hollow. It takes me about 20
minutes to walk from the latter to the mouth of Indian Hollow. There is
another landmark along here, a fine overhang where the floods have
undercut. In early June this year water was dripping.

When I reached the bed of Kanab Canyon, I got out the topographic map
and kept track of my position around all bends. I reached the main bed
at 11:25 and the next tributary from the left in 25 more minutes. A six
minute detour up here assured me that there is still water in a plunge
pool. These stagnant plunge pools probably have better rain water than
the mineralized water in the springs. Water begins in the main bed about
where on the Kanab Point Quad is printed the first "C" of the name
Coconino County. There are springs right in the bed that keep sand
dancing and also some water coming in from the left side wall a foot or
two up. I also explored up the next side canyon from the left, and one
that comes down from close to the first "N" of National Forest. There
was some running water at a couple of places before I got stopped by big
blocks of rock. the best Shower Bath Spring is located on the left wall
at the beginning of the name "Kanab" about three quarters of a mile up
canyon from the striking pinnacle that is pictured in Powell's and
Dutton's books. The water in the shower comes from ferns that completely
hide a mass of travertine projecting ten or more feet from the wall.

There are two pinnacles that make striking landmarks but the northern
one is the better tower. The southern one is only a half mile in an air
line from the other and it is more like a broken ridge than the northern
one, a true tower. I would think that both deserve names and they should
be real challenges to expert climbers. They are not smooth rock but
instead have a lot of cracks and rough spots. The bed has reached the
bottom of the Redwall here and the towers go through the entire
formation. It was 4:15 when I reached Hillers Pinnacle, the northern
one, so I decided to make this locale my first night's stop. This is
also where the main west side tributary comes in. Unlike the other side
canyons, this one has a nice flow of water all along the bed clear down
to its junction with Kanab Creek. When I was thoroughly rested, I went
downstream in the main canyon to inspect an overhang behind the catclaws
on the right side. It would be a good shelter in a storm since it is
high enough for safety and I was thrilled to find an Indian ruin here.
The walls are pretty badly fallen since they were constructed of water
rounded boulders, but there is part of the mud and wattle roof showing.
A metate with a 12 rowed corncob lying on it is further evidence of its
age. The position of the metate and little five inch corncob would
indicate that some white person had examined the site and shifted them.

Royce Fletcher and Donald Mattox of Albuquerque had told me that they
can get clear through the Redwall in the pinnacle tributary from the bay
northwest of Kanab Point. On Friday morning I tried doing this. It is a
really spectacular side canyon with high walls above striking narrows. I
had to muscle up using handholds several times. When I came to a pool
that would require deep wading or perhaps a swim, I left my shirt and
trousers behind and put my watch in my mouth. About the hardest place
where I wasn't turned back was a chimney climb in a wedge shaped crack
where it was difficult to keep from sliding out. Finally, when I was
nearing the top of the Redwall, I came to a chockstone where I would
have to pull up with a poor grip and slide against the face of the
stone. If I had had a boost I could have made it, but by myself I had to
turn back. The trip up and back took about two and a quarter hours.

Another feature that is interesting about the Hillers Pinnacle area is a
steep part of the main bed on the south side of the pinnacle. Huge
blocks have fallen into the bed making it difficult to pass. When I was
here in 1957, I am sure that we got by without seeing the bypass, but
now I noticed that I could scramble up to the right and pass the bad
place on the high talus. When I got there I recognized that this had
been a constructed horse trail probably dating to the time when Powell
was met by a pack train in 1872. There were a couple of other places
where trails formed from footprints would parallel the stream cutting
across a terrace. I saw tracks of mule deer and possibly of bighorns
along here as well as hiker's footprints.

I went up two more side canyons until they became too hard. One was from
the west heading near the word "Boundary" of the name National Forest
Boundary and the other was about a mile downstream on the east side. I
believe this was the one where I stopped in front of a high chute
carrying a small amount of water over a 50 foot cliff. This gulch drains
the south half of Fishtail Mesa. I had also gone up the tributary that
drains the north half of Fishtail. I don't recall the appearance of the
canyon where I was stopped, but I believe it was a jumble of huge rocks.
I was taking pictures through here, or so I thought. On my next to last
day, the exposure counter was going on way past the 22 mark, so I opened
the camera and found that I hadn't threaded the film properly and that I
hadn't any pictorial record until I was on the way to climb Racetrack
Knoll.

There are a couple of interesting features in the main canyon due east
of the map name Forest. At a swing to the east, there is a huge overhang
where the stream has undercut, and water was dripping from the outside
edge of this roof. A few hundred yards farther, at a swing to the west,
the wall is covered with a large sheet of travertine which is brightened
with ferns and wild grapevines.

The river was at a relatively low stage and I could walk down southwest
from the mouth of Kanab Canyon on rocks that would be covered by the
river later in the day. Although the footing in Kanab Canyon had
averaged a lot worse than the walking in the Paria, walking the bank of
the Colorado was slower than either. I suppose that a mile an hour would
be all that I could do. When I looked across the river from the mouth of
Kanab, I was amazed that Kenton Grua could even get by without going a
long way up. Perhaps he did. My plan was to walk down opposite Olo and
camp. Then in the morning I would cross without my pack and go down to
the mouth of Matka on the left bank. A nameless side canyon from the
right at Mile 144.8 accounted for a rapid with bigger waves than those
below Kanab Creek. At Mile 145.1, I had to step on a ledge that was only
a few inches above the water. I could see that the river had been much
higher. I found a campsite and then I began to think about getting cut
off by a rise of the river. It wouldn't be bad if I could be sure that
it would drop again at the same time of day, but there was also the
chance that I was getting through on the low water from the previous
Sunday. To play it safe, I went back upstream beyond this place and
camped. Within the hour the river started to rise and the rapid at Mile
144.8 had extended to where I was. By the middle of the night the river
was up four or five feet. By morning I could see that it was falling
again, but it still looked rough for my boat. I decided to skip the plan
of crossing and reaching the mouth of Matkat. However, when I had walked
back to Mile 144.3 the current was quiet enough to make me think about
crossing. To keep my hand in, I blew the boat up and crossed, drifting
downstream about twice the width of the river. Cross currents were
strong enough to put about a quart of water inside the boat, but there
was no danger of flipping over. I got back just as easily and gave some
thought to the idea of Matkat. I figured, however, that this would mean
that I wouldn't get to climb Racetrack Knoll, and I might find it hard
to get back to this quiet section of the river before the new rise would
occur about 3:30 p.m. On my way back to the same campsite at the mouth
of Hillers tributary, I inspected a couple of side canyons and still had
several hours to loaf. I could have come up the side canyon that
afternoon, but I was lazy and tired. By this time I had finished the
Reader's Digest and was starting some of the articles over.

After my nearly successful trip up through the Redwall in Hillers Creek,
I headed on back without keeping such a precise check with the map at
all times. I had quite a chat with a young couple, the only hikers I met
on this trip. The man, Eric Holly, said he had been in the Grand Canyon
a total of 180 days and said he had been wondering whether he would ever
run into me. His friend, Allen Claver, was carrying binoculars but he
even had a banjo along strapped to his pack.

I had been thinking that I was somewhat overdue about seeing a
rattlesnake. When I was walking in vines over the rough rocks to the
horse bypass, I flinched and got away quickly when I heard the buzz and
saw that I had stepped within a foot or less of a four foot rattler.
While it was getting away, I had a good look at it, a diamond back. Two
days later, on the open trail not far from the grove, I saw another only
about eight feet ahead. It proceeded to crawl up the slope out of my
way. Only when it was gone did I think of my camera. However, this was
before I had rethreaded the film and I wouldn't have gotten a picture
anyway.

When I was going up Kwagunt Hollow through the Supai, I figured that I
could camp at the highest water which I remembered as being at the top
showing of Supai bedrock. When I got there Friday evening, it wasn't
flowing, but there was still plenty in a small pond and I stopped about
3:30 after a 5:00 a.m. start that day. I got away almost as early on
Saturday south from the grove along a horse trail. I cached my boat and
extra food, trash, etc. and proceeded in the cool of the morning at a
good pace. In about an hour, I came on a fine grove of big cottonwoods
hidden in a deep ravine. This is the farthest north fork of Indian
Hollow Canyon. There was a little water on the surface even at the upper
end of the grove. It seems strange that they shouldn't show water
sources on the topographic maps. The Forest Service maps show a few
springs, but the one in Fishtail above the Redwall is out of place by a
half mile, and Indian Hollow Spring is shown so that one might not know
whether it is below the Coconino or above. I knew where to look for it
from George Billingsley's description. As I approached the arm of Indian
Hollow just north of the main one, I could see the grove of greenery.
Instead of heading up toward it I figured that I would see more if I got
to the bed directly south of where I was. Incidentally, the horse trail
is very sketchy south of that water in the north fork. I immediately
found some good pools in the bedrock with a little water running into
them. Strangely there was none on the surface most of the way up to the
cottonwoods, but when I investigated, I found a good enough flow
immediately below the trees.

It was still only about 7:30 a.m. so I put down most of my gear and
proceeded with only my canteen, camera, and lunch. I found a place where
I could cross the main arm of Indian Hollow without going far up toward
Fishtail Pass. Something that intrigued me was to see a barbwire fence
near the arm with the spring. In fact it was still in shape where it
crossed this wash. The walking along the north side of Fishtail Mesa was
particularly slow and rough. Above the bare bedrock of the upper Supai,
the Blackbrush was thick and the ravines through the detrital slopes
were frequent. I was expecting a horse trail higher, but the best bits
of trail that I ran into were more likely to be down at the level of the
flat surface of the highest exposure of Supai rock. Also, at this level
I ran into small flows of water in two ravines. Toward the northwest
corner of Fishtail, I climbed up to follow the nearly level surface out
to Racetrack Knoll. When I got to the base, it was still too early for
lunch and I went to the top with only my canteen and camera. The summit
is about 800 feet above the Esplanade and the views down into the
canyons were superb. My cairn was the first. The return to my campsite
was routine but as I ran into one difficulty. When I reached the arm of
Indian Hollow where I thought the spring should be, I couldn't see the
grove up canyon where I thought it should be, and the bed where I
crossed was completely dry. I concluded that I had been mistaken about
the location of the spring and that it must be in some ravine farther
north. Just before as I got over the rise north of here, I looked back
and could see the grove. It was higher than I had thought. Then I went
back down into this draw and walked downstream until I found my cached
bedroll. In the shade of a big rock at a flat rock terrace on the south
side, I kept very cool and had no ants. After resting an hour, I walked
up the bed to the grove and found that this took 13 minutes one way. The
bed was dry most of the way. It would be most interesting to explore the
various side canyons that make up all of the net of Indian Hollow in the
Supai. Perhaps one could shorten the trip from the north arm crossing
over to Racetrack Knoll by going down the bed and then up the south arm
and find a way out.

On this trip I saw plenty of lizards, the two rattlesnakes, an unusual
number of birds including one raven, many wrens, many doves, and one
ouzel. On a Supai terrace north of Fishtail Mesa, I came on a fine mule
deer buck. Years ago Paul Martin of the U. of A. faculty was interested
in the lower limit for junipers and was surprised to find them near the
river in Marble Canyon. I found just two maverick junipers in the bed of
Kanab Creek at a still lower elevation.

On Sunday it took me two hours to get from Indian Hollow Spring over to
Kwagunt Hollow Grove and then I was feeling so poorly that it took two
hours more to go up the trail to the car. I rested five minutes out of
every half hour. I showered and shaved at the North Rim and after
reporting at the permit desk, headed for home. Even with a break for a
meal at Flagstaff and a long phone call to Bob Packard, I got to Sun
City about 10:00 p.m. Bob reported great climbing accomplishments for
Ohlman, Kirschvink, Walters, and himself. Ohlman now knows three ways to
climb out of Little Nankoweap to the top of the Redwall, and three of
that foursome climbed Ehrenberg Point as well as Alsap and Novinger.

*Twilight, Music Temple, and Navaho Valley
[June 24, 1978 to June 28, 1978]*

Roma and I couldn't get anyone to go to Lake Powell with us so we had a
nice trip alone. We got away early Saturday and started gaily across the
Wahweap Bay towards Warm Creek where we intended to stay Saturday
Evening. I happened to notice the dashboard thermometer just as Roma
smelled smoking oil. The water pump had failed and we were helpless in a
rather rough sea that tossed the boat around in a rather alarming
manner. Fortunately, we were in the boat lane and the second boat to
pass took us in tow back to the pier. Finally we got our turn to put the
boat on the trailer and show it to the repairmen. When I tested it for
starting in the Lakeview Lake, I couldn't back the trailer in deep
enough and part of the intake holes were out of water with the result
that I had burned out the rubber impeller. They had that fixed before
6:00 p.m. on Saturday, but the mechanic noticed that there was water in
the lower unit mixed with the oil and he suggested putting in new seals.
We agreed and came back late on Sunday when they were through working
the motor over.

We slept in the campground and on Sunday morning drove over dirt road
277 from Glen Canyon City to Escalante. At first I didn't think we were
supposed to follow the road that leads to Warm Creek and Padre Bay but
after following the old paving north and west until it had deteriorated
to a mere track that crossed the creek twice, we came back to Glen
Canyon City and got the right instructions. It was 78 miles by the way
we went to Escalante and we met only two cars in all that way. The first
appeared to be returning from Warm Creek and the other was only a couple
miles from Escalante, so we set some sort of record for my driving by
going over 50 miles with no other car. We wondered about ever getting
help if we broke down. The experience of going up the switchbacks to the
top of the Kaiparowits Plateau is really outstanding and we were
impressed by the views. With a few picture and other stops and all the
grades to cross washes, we only averaged 19 mph for the 78 miles. The
BLM mileage signs didn't check, but it was probably because the 90 miles
from the fork to Warm Creek must have included the road going to the
Hole in the Rock Road and then to Escalante. We followed a new road for
the last 34 miles that gets into town on the west side at right angles
to the paved highway. We followed the paving back to Wahweap, three
times as far but still quicker and easier to drive.

On Sunday evening we slept in the boat on the trailer parked near the
State Line Ramp and then got an early start shortly after 6:30. The lake
stood at 3647 and we could take all the usual shortcuts. We could go
from the harbor area to Hippie Harbor across the west of the Rainbow
Junction in 89 minutes. We looked at the camping sites there and then
proceeded to inspect Twilight Canyon. Pat Reilly had told us that one
can hike clear out past 50 mile Point and wanted to see what sort of
boating it would take to reach the end of the water. It did get rather
narrow but there was very little driftwood and we could tie in shallow
water and walk to land. I walked up the bed for 17 minutes but I had
told Roma that I would be gone for no more than 30, so I had to turn
back when the walls were getting low. I jogged some of the way back and
made it in the limit.

Next we went to Emmerton Arch Canyon (Music Temple) and found a good
campsite rather close to a place that was taken by a party who were away
for the day. I hoped to take an eight hour hike on Tuesday over the
country I had seen in May, 1975, when we were with the Wards. Right
after lunch I started on a short hike that would take me up the drainage
to the east beyond the barrier falls. Much to my dismay I was stopped by
a climbing move up the first crack only about 100 yards from camp. I
couldn't seem to find the right hole that I had used in 1975 or perhaps
I am just not as brave. We played scrabble and laid in the water the
rest of the day.

Early Tuesday morning we moved down the lake to Hippie Harbor and tied
up rather close to a sailboat whose occupants were still asleep. After
eating breakfast here, I was still able to get away for my hike by 6:30
a.m. At this lake level there was no problem in walking around to the
crack near Cascade Canyon and I had no qualms about climbing where I had
been before. It is fairly clear how to proceed until you are turning
toward the tower extending out from Navaho Point. From a distance I
thought that my old route leading up a ravine to a stubby tower was
hazardous and I continued to the left along the slope above the water
filled canyon. I was able to work my way along and hop here, but on the
return I used the old way. It was easier to locate and I am rather sure
that it is no more risky. There was one more easily climbed rock slope
before I came to the black brush flats to get around into Navaho Valley.
I should have hit the cow path and stayed with it until I could get down
into the bed right in the main valley (the descent to the narrow inner
canyon is on the east side). Actually I tried going lower and cut across
several side drainages, but I couldn't get down into the main bed where
I had been on Monday. These experiments slowed me and by 11:00 a.m., I
seemed to have only one more steep sided gulch to cross, but since I had
told Roma that I would be back by 3:00 p.m., I stopped and used a half
hour for an early lunch. By 11:30 I was heading back and I used the
cowpath most of the way back. I took only three and a half hours to get
clear to the boat, so if I had used the trail on the way out, I would
have made the main bed. In a 12 or 14 hour day, I think I could walk
from Hippie Harbor up Navaho Valley to the top of the Kaiparowits and
come down to water in Dry Rock Creek. Just as easily one could come back
to the lake through Reflection Canyon or down to Hole in the Rock Road
and also the descent via the old gauger's route down Davis Gulch.

I saw no surface water in Navaho Valley except for the lake in the
narrows. At wet times of the year there are some seeps in the washes
that drain the west side of the valley. I noticed a patch of cane just
above the cowpath and there is a deposit of white mineral on the rocks
of the bed. This may run for over half the year.

Something else worth mentioning is the great slide of shale forming a
talus in the third bay from the south. There are spectacular narrow
shale towers capped by a flat rock forming "hoodoos." One could go up
two thirds of the way from the valley to the top of the Kaiparowits on
this talus. I also photographed a mushroom rock down in the slickrock
area nearer the bed of Twilight Canyon.

Horse hoof prints and cow droppings show that this valley still gets
some use. It furnishes an awkwardly long access route to the steps going
down to Klondike Bar.

*Upper Boucher Canyon
[September 29, 1978 to October 1, 1978]*

Paul Schafer was already parked at Denny's, Dunlap (or Olive) and Black
Canyon, when I came to pick him up at 6:30 a.m. We proceeded to the
South Rim with only a gas stop in Flagstaff. He surprised me with the
information that he can get to the South Rim faster (four hours and 10
minutes) by turning off to Prescott and going through Ashfork and
Williams than he can via Flagstaff. We took four hours and 20 minutes
via Flagstaff. After getting the permit and eating an early lunch in the
car, we got started down the Hermit Trail at 11:55 a.m. There were
surprisingly few hikers in the basin this time, but we met a young
couple coming back from Dripping Springs.

At the base of the Coconino we went over to the spring where there is a
rock shelter, almost certainly post Columbian. The cement tank is empty
and dry, but about 20 feet farther near the rock cabin, the little
spring was running well enough to fill a small pool. Paul showed me the
inscription the wall of Rohrer and Harry Kisslingbury, '89. 1 must have
seen these names before when I was inspecting the rock cabin, but I had
forgotten them. On our return on Sunday I photographed these names. The
date precedes by many years the 1911 construction of the Hermit Trail,
so it is clear that there were routes to this spring much earlier.

Traffic along the Boucher Trail may have fallen off because there were
places where it is indistinct in the blackbrush flats above Hermit
Gorge. Still we didn't waste time looking for it. I was having a little
problem with toenails jamming into the end of the shoe and I also had to
stop to put some tape on a heel, but we got down to Boucher Camp faster
than I ever had before, in four hours and 20 minutes. Last March I had
come down in four hours and 40 minutes, but this included a lunch stop.
That was with cooler weather. This time the prediction was for 102
degrees at the bottom of the canyon. Since we were down by 4:15, 1 had a
good rest and read Time while Paul looked around.

Along the Supai rim above Hermit Gorge, I missed seeing a rattlesnake
until it buzzed. It was coiled but had its head down as if trying to
escape notice. When we were going up Boucher Canyon on Saturday, Paul
pointed out a rattlesnake I had just stepped near, only two or three
inches away. It didn't rattle and seemed to lethargic to try to get
away. These were my third and fourth for 78.

Mice or bigger rodents were a bother again. Something got into my pack
and ate some of my bread. In the middle of the night I put the pack up
in a little tree. This seems to be futile since something was in my pack
up the tree during the second night.

On Saturday Paul and I started walking up Boucher Canyon a little before
seven. I noticed the mescal pit with charcoal at the north end of the
flat open area of Boucher Camp. There was a little less water in the
stream than there had been last spring, but it appeared above ground at
the same places. No water was coming over the fall from the east near
the upper end of the Redwall Gorge, but there was a large plunge pool at
the end of the western arm. I had left camp with two quarts of water and
Paul had three. He gave me some when mine was gone after lunch.

The lower one of the two Redwall bypasses was still well marked by
cairns. There is no problem here, but we walked right past the beginning
of the second bypass, the one that impressed me last spring and where I
left my large but nearly empty pack below the hard part. Paul and I went
on to a big chockstone with a steep ramp beneath it. I must have looked
at this in the fall of 76 when Al Schauffler and I had used the bypass.
I couldn't remember going up such a tricky place, but now I thought that
it had to be the only way. Paul and I studied it for some time. I
finally gave my canteen to Paul and tried worming my way up the outward
sloping ramp to where I could get a poor grip on a rock wedged beneath
the big chockstone. I was just able to make this climb. Then Paul came
up with his day pack on his back and his camera and my canteen hanging
beside him, and he was able to do it faster than I had. There was some
minor scrambling above the Chockstone. Before we went on up the canyon,
we looked and found a clear bighorn trail bypassing this place.

We proceeded up through several minor chutes until we could turn east
and get up past the top of the Redwall in a ravine filled with broken
rocks. As I had done before, we then went southwest across a slope and
down to the head of a fall at the top of the Redwall in the main arm
from the south. It is simple to scramble over broken rock slides in the
main arm until one is about 200 feet from the top of the Supai. There
was no possibility of going either to the east or west at this level.

The places I had seen as possible alternates from the Supai rim last
spring would have to be reached by going up other ravines from the top
of the Redwall. I am sure that Packard came up the way I had in the main
arm. Ohlman had gone through the Supai farther east using a different
ravine. In due time we arrived at the cliff where the bighorn ewes must
have gone up, where I chickened out and came down last spring. This
time, with Paul watching and able to direct me in coming down, I was
able to get up the courage to proceed. Paul wasn't too sure that he
could get down first, so he waited below while I finished the climb to
the top of the Supai. After this 20 feet the rest of the climb was no
sweat for me. It goes just as Bob said, over to the right to the one
break in a small cliff and then back into the main ravine. In getting
back I mistakenly got too high for the best crossing, but there was
little delay. Near the base of the final Supai cliff in the main arm I
found a neat little spring. There was a pint of water in a little pool,
but this could be enlarged. It would be a real help for a person who
wanted to travel the Supai rim from the Boucher Trail to Vesta. It was
easy to go up the main south arm at the top. There were bighorn
droppings all along this route.

It had taken two and a half hours for Paul and me to get from camp to
the top 200 feet of Supai, but then I used one and a half hours to get
up the last part of the Supai and back to Paul. Paul directed me to the
best holds for the bad place near the bottom of this cliff. I went down
all but the last 20 feet facing outwards. About 15 feet above the
bottom, I had a bad moment before I found a meager hold to keep from
falling. We ate lunch just across from this place. While I was finishing
he went up and down the hairy place without any help from me.

We got back to camp about 2:35 and had a restful afternoon. On Sunday
morning we got started by 6:40. I got to the top of the Redwall at
White's Butte Saddle in one hour and 23 minutes and from there to the
top of the Supai in an hour and 20 minutes. It took me an hour and 45
minutes to reach the Hermit Trail. The whole trip took seven hours and
23 minutes.

Alternate Version of Previous Description:

The lower one of the two Redwall bypasses was still well marked by
cairns. There is no problem here, but we passed right by the beginning
of the second bypass, the one that impressed me last spring enough to
get me to leave my large but nearly empty pack below the hard part. Paul
and I walked on to where we were stopped by a chockstone that leaves a
steep ramp beside it. I must have looked at this in the fall of 76 when
Al Schauffler and I used the bypass. I couldn't remember having gone up
such a tacky place, but now I thought that it must be the only way. Paul
and I studied it for some time. I finally gave my canteen to Paul and
tried working my way up on the outward sloping ramp to where I could
finally reach a poor grip on a rock wedged beneath the big chockstone. I
just was able to make this climb. Then Paul came up with his day pack on
his back, his camera and my canteen hanging beside him, and he was able
to do it faster than I did. There were some minor scrambles above the
chockstone. Before we went on up canyon, we looked and saw a clear
bighorn trail bypassing this place.

We proceeded up through several minor chutes in the bedrock until we
came out where we could turn east and get past the top of the Redwall in
a ravine filled with broken rocks. As I had done before, we crossed a
slope and went down to the lip of a fall at the top of the Redwall in
the main arm heading up to the south. It is no big deal to go up this
slope covered with rocks fallen from above until you come to the top 200
feet of Supai cliff. There was no possibility of going around at this
level either to the east or west. The places I had seen as possible
alternates to this route from the rim of the Supai on my trek last May
would have to be reached by going up different ravines from the top of
the Redwall. I am practically certain that I was mistaken when I spotted
a break in the straight Supai cliff farther west that I thought would be
Packard's route. I feel sure now that he was using the same route Paul
and I were on. In due time we arrived at the cliff where the bighorn
ewes must have gone up, where I chickened out and came down last spring.
This time, with Paul watching and able to direct me in placing my feet
on the descent, I was able to get up the courage to proceed. Paul wasn't
too sure he could get down first, so he waited at the base of this climb
for me to try to finish the passage through the Supai. After this hard
20 feet the rest of the climb was no sweat for me. It goes just as Bob
said, well over to the right to the one break in a small cliff and then
up and back into the main ravine. In getting back, I made the false move
of getting too high for the best crossing, but there wasn't much delay.
Near the base of the final Supai cliff in the western branch I found a
neat little spring. There was a pint of water in a little pool, but this
could be enlarged and it would be a real help for a person who wanted to
travel the Supai rim from the Boucher Trail to Vesta Temple. It was easy
to go up the main south arm at the top. There were bighorn droppings all
along this route.

It had taken Paul and me two and a half hours to get from camp to the
hard place near the top of the Supai but I used over an hour and a half
to negotiate the last 200 feet of Supai. When I got back to the hairy
place near the base of this final wall, Paul stood by and talked to me
about the holes. I went down all but the last 20 feet facing outwards.
About 15 feet above the bottom I had a bad moment or two before I found
a meager hold to keep from falling outwards. We had lunch just across
from this place. I was longer finishing than Paul, and he went back to
the hairy place and climbed up the 40 feet to where the rest of the
climb out would be routine.

We got back to camp about 2:35 and had a restful afternoon. On Sunday
morning we got off by 6:40. 1 got to the top of the Redwall at White's
Butte Saddle in one hour and 23 minutes and from there to the top of the
Supai in an hour and 20 minutes. It took me an hour and 45 minutes to
reach the Dripping Springs Trail and another 35 minutes to get to the
Hermit Trail. The whole trip up took seven hours and 23 minutes.

*Reflection Canyon
[October 4, 1978]*

Roy Carpenter and his nephew, Chuck, were already waiting for me when I
arrived about 1:00 p.m. on Tuesday although our appointed time was 3:30.
After I ate at the picnic area, we launched the boat and had a little
trouble getting the motor to start. It seemed to flood easily. There was
time so we went directly to Rainbow Bridge. Both Carpenters are
enthusiastic shutterbugs and they took many pictures from all angles.
Then we went to camp at Hippie Harbor without a landing at the marina.

We got away quite early. I had taken my breakfast of bread and orange
juice on shore where I slept while the other two stayed in the boat. I
was barely warm enough in my lightweight down bag and with one blanket
over that. Also, I learned that mice are very active on this dry and
bare peninsula. They ate more of my sandwiches than the mice at Boucher
Camp even.

As we went up the lake I pointed out the site of Music Temple and
various side canyons. Roy wanted to see the mouth of the San Juan so
after we had gone that far, I went on to show them Hole in the Rock.
Then I took them to Reflection Canyon. The lake level stood at 3640 feet
and the boat had to go between numerous trees before we tied up in a
dirty looking slough near the end of the water. We left the boat via the
terrace on the west and had to walk through lots of Russian thistle.
Almost immediately Roy spotted a ruin on a high ledge on the west wall.
He and I looked at the climb and I concluded that good climbers can
still do it, but that for me there was real risk of a fall, and we
turned away. Soon the way was through dense thickets of cane near the
running creek. After ten minutes of this, we found the cowpath on the
terrace along the east side where the ground is uncluttered and walking
is easy. Just beyond a place where we had to cross a gully, Roy spotted
an Indian ruin which is easily accessible, merely a walk up to the base
of the cliff. When we were through inspecting it and were coming down to
the north, I noticed what I had seen when I was here before, a
pictograph consisting of a bighorn sheep done in white clay and a
peculiar design of double pointed wedges. They are touching each other
and form a horizontal line of points reaching up and down. The upper
half of each slender diamond is white and the lower half is brown.

Sooner than I was expecting it, we came to the place where I had climbed
out on top of the slickrock country. Still this walk had taken us close
to two hours. Here Roy and Chuck wanted to stop to investigate possible
ruins and I wanted to proceed to try to connect a route to the road or
get where I had been before on the north side of Lewellyn Gulch. Roy
later reported that he had seen five sites and was able to climb into
two of them.

This time I noticed a few fence posts (metal) and I went through an open
gate where the cowpath went up. On top I went mostly north and west
especially where I could see the impossible bed of Lewellyn Gulch ahead.
Near the top of one of the higher rock hills I found a BLM survey marker
in a rather poorly preserved cairn. Beyond here I went northwest until I
either had to find a way across the gulch or turn more south to the base
of the Kaiparowits cliffs. I had resolved to stop at 11:30. At 11:15 I
came to a ravine in the bed of the gulch filled with slide material and
I could see a similar access route on the other side going down into the
bed of the other arm. If these routes could be connected along the floor
of the gulch, they would save quite a detour around the head over to the
cliff.

This idea worked fine. I had to climb over a couple of chockstone
stopped narrows, but these places were easy. Furthermore, the very
narrow channel at the bottom was most interesting with partly
overhanging walls. I tried going past the place where the rock filled
ravine made a route, but the north arm of this very narrow canyon soon
was stopped by an absolutely impossible fall. When I went out the slide
ravine, I continued until I could see that I was essentially in the
clear to pass the north arm. The narrow canyon had become a shallow
depression and I could have walked on to the road or back to the
northeast where I had been the time I gave up and retuned to the Hole in
the Rock.

When I had retuned to my day pack at the top of the first access ravine
and had eaten my lunch, I was almost 15 minutes behind my schedule. Not
entirely intentionally, I returned by a different route not so close to
Lewellyn Gulch as before. I went south as well as east and missed the
cairn with the survey marker. I was wondering how well I would get back
when I began to see the familiar area leading to the cowpath through the
fence near the bottom of Reflection Canyon. I had come back in 45
minutes where I had taken 75 in the forenoon. On my way down the bare
slope to the fence, I noted two big potholes with standing water, the
only water I had seen since the stream in Reflection except for a minor
seep in a bank on my way up from the bed in the morning. Here there was
a streak of wet rock with a growth of yellow and red flowers on either side.

When I got below the fence to the bed of Reflection, I walked right
along but didn't miss the ruin with the pictograph. I used a quicker
route at the end and got to the boat in about an hour along the bottom
of the canyon. The others had been waiting for me for about that long.

I was back to the boat about an hour ahead of my projected schedule so I
figured that I might do my hike in Twilight Canyon the same day. I only
wanted to walk up through the narrows until I could get into the open.
As we boated into Twilight, we got into the narrow part where the boat
could not be turned around, but I didn't realize that it had gotten
shallow until the skeg dragged in the mud and gravel. We brought the
prop up and poled ahead until we could see the bed above water. We would
have to anchor and I would need to wade for 50 feet before starting my
hike. I could see that the Carpenters didn't want to come with me and I
hated to see them wait so long. I decided to call off this part of the trip.

There was still time to go back to Wahweap and put the boat on the
trailer. I did it awkwardly and I had to put the boat back into the
water twice to get it positioned right. When it was finally set, the
Carpenters took off to reach Jacob Lake Wednesday night and see the
North Rim before they would have to start back to San Angelo.

I ate at the Empire House and then had a long delay while a young Indian
mechanic tried to fix my trailer tail lights. They went out in just a
few miles and I spent the night in the boat at Bitter Springs before
driving here by daylight on Thursday.

*Cave Canyon, Rampart Cave, and Quartermaster and Burnt Canyons
[December 30, 1978 to January 3, 1979]*

Jim Kirschvink left his car in our driveway and went with me to Havasu
City to get Jim Ohlman. We left with Ohlman about 1:00 p.m. and reached
South Cove about 4:15. We moored for the night near the mouth of Pearce
Canyon. There was no wind or we would have been bumped against the
shore. Ohlman and I slept in the boat and Kirschvink was on shore in his
neat Jansport tent.

We moored again within the line of tamarisks on the west side of the
Columbine Falls cove and started up a rough trail about 8:30 a.m. There
were a few cairns leading above the falls, but the trail gave out at the
streambed and we bucked brush as well as climbed over big rocks to get
into the narrows. As I had done on 2/17/75, I finally quite trying to
keep my feet dry and waded with my shoes on in the upper narrows.

The previous log covers the trip above the narrows and up to a barrier
fall next to a blunt tower. We were stropped here in 1975, but time was
a major factor since we had allowed only half a day for our trek. Jorgen
had told me about getting up here without using any pitons and now the
two Jims and I saw a cairn indicating that one should start up the place
I had been before to the west of the blunt tower. This time we noticed
that it is possible to climb up in the angle to the west of the tower.
It is hard enough for me to like a person below to direct my footing on
the descent. You reach a bench, narrow in places, that takes you around
to the bed above the fall. This bypass is on the left side of the canyon
when one is facing downstream.

About 100 yards farther up the bed, we noticed another cairn. The
walking continued good, but about 100 yards farther, we found the reason
for the cairn, another barrier fall. We went back and climbed to the
east or the right wall. The bypass is longer than the lower one but not
nearly so hairy. Where we came down into the bed, Jim Ohlman looked down
a fall and saw quite a pile of rocks against the wall forming a large
step. On the return he tried going down the main bed over this fall. He
got down the first drop easily, but the next was clearly impossible.
Evidently someone had gone down the first drop and then had needed help
from the rock pile to get back up.

About a quarter mile south of the top barrier, there is a cave on the
west side of the canyon up an easy scramble from the bed. When we came
back from the junction of the two big arms of Cave Canyon, our
destination for the day hike, we examined the cave and found an old
broken shovel and quite a bit of digging in the floor. I spotted a bit
of pottery and the walls and ceiling were smoke blackened. This must be
the one that Jorgen and Bill Belknap found long ago. We reached the top
of the lower bypass in about two and a half hours from the boat and we
turned back at the major junction about 1:30 p.m. The west arm, from the
scouring of the bed, would appear to be the main arm, but Jorgen and
Bill came down the east arm. Study of the Grapevine Wash Quad shows a
road ending near an upper part of this arm. The way back to the boat was
uneventful except that I appreciated advice in placing my feet at the
steepest part of the lower bypass. We got to the boat about 5:00 p.m.
and went up the river to a campsite with a fire ring about at mile 267.
The night was very windy and we had trouble mooring so that the boat
wasn't bumping the bottom all night. Furthermore, pieces of the bank
broke off into the water and splashed the boat. Kirschvink had a better
sleep on shore in his tent than Ohlman and I did in the boat. As I lay
awake, I also began to worry about the effect of the dirty river water
on the pump in the motor. In the morning I was ready to retreat so as
not to get stuck without an engine.

The boys wanted to see the outside of Rampart Cave, so we went down
river for eight miles. With the lake level at 1192,feet, we could moor
clear across the cove at the foot of the trail. We didn't find the
actual trail until we had gone about a third of the way up to the cave.
The last bit up to the entrance was harder climbing than I had
remembered. I was glad to use the fixed rods in the rock for handholds.
We saw the plywood bulkhead and the plastic seal that had been around it
to make it airtight during the campaign to put out the Sloth Dung Fire.
The bulkhead was torn away, but what surprised us was to find the steel
grill door standing open. The chain and padlock were still there, but
the padlock was snapped shut so that we couldn't use it to lock the
cave. The air in the cave had a bad smell and since we had no light, we
weren't tempted to go very far into it. While we were going down to the
lake, a ranger boat came along. We had quite a visit with the two men,
Craig Dorman and Dan Shurline. They told us that a helicopter had been
used in the fight to quench the fires, and that the whole operation had
cost something like $100,000. Various experts had argued long and hard
about how to do it and several ingenious and expensive methods had been
tried. What finally succeeded was to dig a trench to bedrock in front of
the fire and let it go out when it came to the end of the deposit. Only
about one fourth of the dung had been saved for scientists of the
future. The rangers were perturbed to hear that the cave was open to the
public and they told us that articles left unattended in boats were now
subject to theft and vandalism. They also told me not to worry about my
water pump since their outboard motor had been running in that dirty
water for two years.

With that reassurance, I decided to proceed upriver again to do some
real hiking. With only a half day left, I took the boys to Quartermaster
Canyon. We found a fine place to moor, in the channel at the mouth of
the creek. We used the anchor beyond the stern so as to keep the bow
from bumping, but we were close enough to step off on the bank. After
lunch we proceeded along a dim trail at the base of the cliff to the
east of the tamarisk jungle. We had to bushwhack a bit and then we
reached the travertine slope south of the tamarisk jungle. Here we could
go up and get down into the streambed above the big fall. I remembered
how to go far enough south and then go up to the farming area with the
barbed wire fence and the irrigation ditches that have been fossilized
by travertine. I led the boys over to the bare travertine cone above the
springs and then we tried going through the vegetation back into the dry
streambed. It was a jungle of willows, weeds, and monkey flowers. After
I stepped in deep water, we retreated to the north and got through to
the dry bed. We went up to the mouth of Jeff Canyon before I figured it
was time to turn around. We had seen mescal pits north of the farm area
and we found more near the junction of Jeff Canyon and Quartermaster. In
fact one of these was about the biggest and deepest I have ever seen.

After a comfortable night at the mouth of Quartermaster, we moved on to
the mouth of Burnt Canyon. I had had to switch from the 12 gallon gas
tank to the 18 gallon tank before we reached Quartermaster, so for
safety, I decided not to go any farther than Burnt Canyon. After looking
at the possibilities, we decided to moor on the upriver side of the rock
headland. By 9:15 a.m. we were on our way. The tin roofed stone shack
with the Ocotillo ramada nearby was just as it had been, and we soon
located the trace of a trail on the hillside to the east of the tamarisk
jungle. We had packs with winter weight bedding and food for three days.
It took me about 20 minutes to get past the tamarisk jungle and the
trees in the wet part of the delta. As I had noted in the log for
1/7/76, there was water here and at two more places only a little
farther up the bed. With only a lunch I had walked to the junction of
the main and east arms in two hours, but now it took me two and a
quarter hours. Ohlman called our attention to the little spring I had
seen near the Indian campsite on the terrace just south of the fork.
There were icicles hanging from the rocks but the little spring was
flowing freely, so I assumed it comes from some depth and is permanent.
It was 11:00 when we left the fork and by noon we had come to an
impressive gate at the base of the Redwall. There is a short cave
southeast of this gate and the fire blackened walls and the charred
floor show that it has been used as a campsite. We had lunch here in the
first sunshine of the day.

After a stop of 45 minutes, we proceeded. I found that I hadn't drawn my
line of progress on the map for the 76 trek as far as I should have. I
remembered that at that time I had climbed about 200 feet to the top of
the Redwall on the east side. This had to be north of the sharp,
meandering narrows. We came to the top of the Redwall due east of the
point marked 4370 on the Tincanebitts Quad. There were no difficulties
nor barrier falls and we came to water in the bed shortly before we
reached the fork. The east or main arm here goes up to Burnt Canyon
Spring, and there is another spring in the straight west arm that is
formed along a dike. Just north of the fork in the main arm there is a
15 foot fall with an animal bypass on the east side. The wall was well
festooned with ice, but the running water underneath made a clear sound
all night. In order to keep warm, I put my bed under an overhang to the
west of the top of the fall while the two Jims slept in the Jansport
tent below the fall. We were higher than 3900 feet but we all were warm
both nights. We had arrived about 3:00 p.m. after five and a half hours
of actual walking from the river.

To use our time, we put down the packs and went up the bed. In less than
10 minutes we came to a constructed trail down to the bed from the
Esplanade to the east. There is a barrier fall north of here that would
be hard for cows. We found plenty of their droppings on the Esplanade.
We went west across the bed north of the barrier fall and got into the
west arm. Here a barrier fall stopped me from getting to the bed
directly but I found a trail on the west side south of the barrier.
Ohlman called our attention to some igneous rock in the bed and showed
us that this fork is fanned along a dike. We got back to the packs about
4:00 p.m. I had been planning to go back to the boat the next day, but
when we checked our food, we decided to take a full day to explore the area.

By 8:15 on Tuesday we were on our way to climb Red Point, a long ridge
of Hermit Shale to the west. As we went up the trail out of the dike
ravine, we found a couple of cairns to mark the spot. The blackbrush was
a bother in walking, but we avoided some of it by getting on a bare
south facing slope, and eventually we got on a ridge projecting east
from the main Red Point ridge. The boys climbed all summits of the ridge
no matter how minor. Walking varied from simple to a bit precarious
along blocks forming the crest of a narrow ridge. We think that the map
is in error about the heights of the summits. The highest point is
formed by twin summits at the south end of the ridge where the map omits
elevation figures. The printed heights of the other summits should be
interchanged. We got back to camp by 12:15 after a four hour hike.

By 12:45 we were ready for the hike to the top of the Shivwits Plateau
to the east. A rather steep talus leads up to a break in the top cliff
directly east of the stock trail to Burnt Canyon Spring. We could use
the bed of a wash until the going got steep. We tried to stay on firm
ground and follow a trace of an animal trail, but I slipped many times
and it was slow going to the top, 2000 feet above our camp. Ohlman built
a small cairn and then we went south along the rim. The view was great,
especially of Red Point where we had been in the forenoon. I turned back
at 3:15, but the two Jims continued to the survey point marked red on
the Tincanebitts Quad. They had a good look at the rim of the east arm
of Burnt Canyon and were convinced that there is no access route into
it. They caught up and passed me just below the rim on the way to camp.
I just made it in time to get dinner and set up camp by daylight.

Getting back to the boat was easy and I held the map in my hand and kept
track of all bends down to the big fork. The boys went ahead and had
time to see what I had seen of the east arm two years ago. Then they did
something that had been suggested by George Beck. When he was in the
east arm, he found a cave on the north side about halfway from the
junction of the arms and the end of the line in the east fork. Beck had
told me that the cave is hard to reach and that he had had a worse time
getting down than up. What was most interesting was that Beck had seen
split twig figurines here. With this information, Ohlman and Kirschvink
were able to see it from below and climb up to it. With no light, they
missed the figurines. They estimated that the cave is 450 feet above the
bed and they reported that the climb is more difficult than what we did
in Cave Canyon. The figurine Indians were expert climbers.

Kirschvink and Ohlman got to the boat about an hour after I did. We took
the boat directly to South Cove and got it on the trailer before we
slept beside the road about a quarter mile away from the lake. Except
for the fact that we came home four days sooner than I had planned, it
was a good trip. I was especially happy to get past the barriers in Cave
Canyon that had stopped me before. In Burnt Canyon I had done my 155th
Redwall route since I can figure that going up the bed is different from
the way I climbed the upper 250 feet up the east wall. Then I got my
80th named canyon summit when we climbed Red Point. I have to thank
Ohlman for this since he noticed that it has a name on the new map. It
was interesting to learn that one can walk from the river to the road
east of Burnt Canyon in eight hours or less. I also learned the best way
to go from a boat in Quartermaster Canyon to the farming area near the
springs.

We saw quite a few ducks on the lake and a flock of juncos up on the
plateau. There were coyote tracks and droppings everywhere, and we saw
cattle and bighorn tracks on the Esplanade.

*Upper Cave Canyon
[March 16, 1979 to March 17, 1979]*

Ohlman, Kirschvink, and I had come up from Lake Mead to the big fork in
Cave Canyon south of the Indian cave at the end of December, so I was
eager to complete the route from the rim down to the bottom. Art Foran
was near Ajo and he knew about my date to meet Bill Mooz on the evening
of the 15th. He wrote me and then phoned, and he was waiting where the
dirt road from Kingman meets the Meadview Road when I arrived about 7:15
p.m. We had a good visit sitting by a campfire while one of his kites
carried a strange sort of tubular light aloft. Bill arrived and had no
trouble recognizing my Jimmy even though I had been asleep for an hour.
We were ready to move on by 8:00 a.m. Friday morning.

Bill left his sporty Studebaker at Diamond Bar Ranch and got in with me.
Art and his two dogs followed in the Jeep. The ranger, Craig Gorman, had
given me the idea that we wouldn't be able to drive the road up
Grapevine Wash, but we found that this merely took care at a few places.
I didn't need to use four wheel drive and the second half of the way to
New Water Spring was still easier. From the map we knew that the road
makes a sharp turn near the spring, but we had no trouble locating it
since there is a tin shack and corrals nearby and a cement tank farther
up the canyon. A very rough road goes up past the spring, but this is
now impassable even for four wheel driving. The water is plentiful and
good with no algae. We filled our canteens and took off for the end of
the road near the head of the east arm of Cave Canyon. Jorgen had told
us that this was the route Belknap and he had used.

At first we could walk the grassy banks beside the wash where the cows
make paths, but before long we were down in the wash on boulders of all
sizes. Art and his dogs seemed to be coming along all right and Bill was
with them while I was ahead. Then I noticed that Art was out of sight
while Bill had caught up with me. We considered waiting for Art and the
dogs, but Bill assured me that it would be all right to have two
contingents, two in ours and three in theirs. I thought that Art might
be having a slow time getting the dogs over the boulders but that he
would decide to take them back to the car if that seemed best. Bill and
I were careful to note the various forks so that we wouldn't lose our
way on the return. We had considered doing a loop by coming back to the
car up a different arm, but I thought that there might be impassable
barriers in the other arms. We reached the big fork in about two and a
half hours although I hadn't driven the car quite as far as I might have.

We ate our lunch here and then Bill went down canyon to try to reach the
Indian cave in 30 minutes. I had the impression that we had needed only
25 minutes to go back from the fork to the cave, but this must have been
wrong. Bill turned back without reaching it. I spent about 50 minutes on
a round trip up the west arm and back. I had reached the junction of
this arm and the tributary going through blocks six and seven of the
Columbine Falls Quad. The walk back to the car took longer for the
uphill walk, but we reached it about 4:45. Art had driven off and we
found his note saying that he had become completely blind but that his
larger dog had led him back. He didn't say how long it had taken him to
recover, but since he had driven away, we assumed that he hadn't been
blind all the way to the Jeep. That walk over boulders, through brush,
and past cactus would be no joke without sight. We wished that he had
told us when this began to hit him and also that he had waited before
leaving the area.

Bill and I spent a pleasant evening near the shack at New Water Spring.
Before we turned in but well after dark, two identical, new looking, big
four wheel drive vans came by without stopping and tried to go up the
canyon past the spring. They got farther than I had thought possible and
then had to back down part way when rocks at the edge of the track gave
way and nearly ditched the lead car. When they came back they stopped
and we learned that they had come in from Peach Springs until they
reached the locked gate at the boundary of the reservation. Then they
had found a way to go north and get past the fence. Their only map was a
state highway map and they had turned north instead of south to reach
the Diamond Bar Ranch Road. It was very odd that they had driven by us
the first time and that there shouldn't be just one person in each of
those big vehicles. It was also odd that they were using the Buck and
Doe Road instead of US 66, and at night too. We thought later that they
might have been eluding a road block to stop car thieves. Another
strange thing happened that night. About 2:00 a.m., a car came past our
camp and took the very obscure road beyond the sharp bend at the spring.
Then when we were driving over this track about 7:30 a.m., we met these
two people coming back. The driver said that they were looking for
arrowheads, but I am sure that they hadn't found any between 2:00 and
7:00 a.m.

On Saturday morning, Bill and I took the left fork of the road about the
middle of block 19 of the Grapevine Wash Quad. I had to look sharp to
see this track, but it became clearer farther along. We parked when we
were about halfway across block 18 and we went down the valley to the
northeast. There were no confusing tributaries to worry us on the
return, and besides we hoped to get back up the next canyon to the west.
The canyon was similar to the one we had used the previous day. There
was one impressively narrow slot of a side canyon. It appears on the map
just north of the northwest comer of block five.

Only a little farther on, we came to a deep drop in the bed, probably
120 feet straight down. Benches on both sides gave a little hope for a
bypass. Bill took the left side while I went to the right. He came to a
sheer wall where his bench ended. He could see a ravine on my side but
the possible route ended in a sheer wall of 50 feet at the bottom. When
I went past this ravine and on around a corner, I came to a fine wide
break filled with broken rock that made a perfect route to the bottom.
There was no other barrier and we reached the place I had come up to on
Friday by 10:30, two and a half hours after leaving the car. My tracks
were clearly showing in the sand to prove I had been there on Friday.

We went up the main bed of the west arm only a little way before
reaching another junction. The main bed comes from the west, but we now
turned into the tributary coming through block six. It was more
impressive and narrow than any other part of our two day trip. Just
after entering it, I stopped to photograph a skyline arch. Bill then
realized that he didn't have his camera and had to retrieve it from a
short way back where we had rested for a snack.

Seeing a vertical fall ahead gave us some worry for a moment until we
got close and could see a good way to climb past it on the east side. It
was steep enough to persuade me to hand my pack up to Bill. We got out
of the bed and walked over the blackbrush flats before coming to the
road. It didn't take long to reach the car along the road. We had a late
lunch about where we had left the valley because we had been waiting for
a snow flurry to stop. We noted a cave up from the bed on the east side
that might have been shelter for at least one person.

There was one Indian paintbrush in bloom!

*Surprise and Lost Canyons
[May 2, 1979 to May 3, 1979]*

Joe Hall had heard so much about Rampart Cave that he wanted to see it
at close range, so we stopped and climbed to the gate. He got a picture
or two of the entrance and we got back to the boat in about 75 minutes
for the entire trip. We still had plenty of time to go upriver to a good
mooring place in the entrance in Quartermaster.

Here things were very different from how they had been in January. We
could step off the bow of the boat down a few inches to the level of the
dry mudbank covered with dead wild oats. The land to the east of the
channel has been burnt over some years ago and it is now clear and forms
a good place to sleep on shore if desired. Joe elected to do this both
nights that we spent here. The birds were thick: swallows, swifts,
warblers, and especially red winged blackbirds. We could also hear the
waterfall at the head of the tamarisk delta. When we had gotten settled,
we took a short walk and could see the fall. The next morning we walked
south on the best, but rough, route to the hinterlands and got a closer
view of the fall. I have never before seen it running but now it looked
almost as good as Columbine Falls. My Petri camera jammed again and I
had to give up the idea of recording the present trip on film. Joe spent
a good deal of time with his elaborate equipment taking scenery, bird
life, and he even set up his camera on a tripod with a trip device for
animals to take their own pictures at night. The night we were at
Surprise Canyon nothing happened, but the second night that we spent at
Quartermaster, his shutter was flipped but the flash bulb failed to go off.

We moved on to Surprise Canyon and moored at the edge of a gravel bar. I
was careless about the depth of the muddy water and nicked the prop on
the gravel. The first surprise was the good flow of clear water in
Surprise Canyon. I had supposed it would be as dry as Burnt Canyon, but
of course with more than the usual amount of water in Quartermaster and
other canyons, perhaps Burnt Canyon is also flowing from the melting
snow above. When I set off from the boat about 8:55 a.m., I waded away
from the boat and then put my shoes on. There was so much water in the
creek that I had to get my shoes a bit wet in some of the crossings.
After the first half mile I was able to hop across on stepping stones
and let my shoes dry out.

The part of Surprise Canyon I would hike through is shown on parts of
three of the new seven and a half minute quads. I had them all with me
and while I was walking upstream I held the appropriate map in my hand
and kept my precise location at all times. I didn't try to hurry, but my
steady pace was producing results and by noon, I was only a little way
short of the side canyon that heads at Amos Spring. I had resolved to
turn back at 1:30 or the junction with this tributary, whichever came
first. I wanted to be sure of my location in case I wanted to come down
from above and connect a route from the rim to the river.

I must have passed the mouth of the tributary about 1:00 p.m., a half
hour after lunch, but I thought that the gravel and sand bed was simply
an alternate channel of the main bed. As 1:30 approached, I began to
hurry to get to my intended turning point, but there was no tributary.
The skyline ahead made me think that there might be a fork coming, so I
continued long past my suggested deadline. At 1:53 1 came to the place
that had looked like a fork, but there was only a turn to the east and a
steep ravine coming down from the west. (This side canyon south of the C
in Surprise Canyon on the Amos Point map. In order not to arrive at the
boat long after 6:00 p.m., I turned around rather completely confused. I
hadn't been able to recognize places on the map for some time. When I
had been going back for 55 minutes, I recognized the east side tributary
that had been my objective. I had overshot my goal by almost 25%. On the
way back I didn't keep the maps handy and concentrated on speed.
However, I got a bit dizzy from watching my footing on the boulder bed
and had to slow down. The landmark on the way back that I recognized was
the one and only grove of cottonwoods which was about 100 minutes walk
upstream from the boat. On the return I kept to the west side of the bed
along here and found quite a good spring coming out of the bank. After
the snow melts completely, this might be the only water in the lower
part of the canyon. When I was only five minutes from the boat, I
recognized a deep pool of the clear water where a bath and some swimming
strokes would be possible. A sign that the river people come in here was
a low dam made of large pebbles to raise the water in this bathtub. I
got to the boat at 6:15 after nine hours of actual walking besides the
time out for lunch. It was an unusually hard day and my feet were sore.

On Thursday we moved down to the mouth of Lost Canyon and tried to force
the boat in through the tamarisks to where I could get out and walk up
the bed. We must have killed more than 20 minutes this way before we
gave up. I considered mooring at the west edge of the delta but getting
out of the boat was no better here than near the mouth of the channel.
Finally we tied on the west bank of the channel and forced our way up
the bank through the jungle. On the way to a higher silt terrace that
was free of tamarisks, Joe and I found someone's camp. There was a box
of heavy wire mesh that might have protected food from rodents and a
square board frame that might have formed low walls beneath a canvas
roof. Tamarisks had grown up through these things.

I climbed up the dry slope above the delta thinking that I would be able
to get down to the bed of the stream a little to the south, but from
what I could see, the water was up forming a wet jungle for quite a
distance. At one place the water would have been open in an area as big
as several tennis courts except for some cattails. This may have been
the lake that Marston had said someone had seen inside Lost Canyon. With
some effort I was able to climb up through all of the Tapeats to the
west of the jungle and it was nice to find the trace of a trail above
the Tapeats rim. This may have been made by burros at some time, but
there were a few places where it seemed to have been made by man. I saw
no signs of burros at present, and the trail had large bushes growing
right in it. It appeared very old.

There was a lot of water in the last mile above the tamarisk delta but
the trail came down to the bed about five minutes walk above the
uppermost spring. It took me almost two hours to go from the boat up to
the trail along the Tonto and then contour back to the bed. After
another hour I was at the end of the biggest tributary of Lost Canyon on
the south side. The upper end of this arm would be walkable to quite a
high level and it seemed quite likely that one could go around a point
and get on up the Redwall and out to the top of the plateau. I didn't
have the time or energy to try this, but I walked up the arm for 15
minutes and ate my lunch there. There was a little very old burro manure
at the lower end of this canyon.

*Clear Creek
[August 23, 1979 to August 26, 1979]*

I left home quite early Thursday and stopped off at the math department
and saw quite a few of my old buddies. Ev Walter took me to look up
Lanny Westbrook who used to beat me in chess when he was going to
college. Now I won three in a row and then we drew. After lunch with
Lanny and West Brown, I stopped off at the Museum where I visited with
Billingsley and exchanged greetings with Katherine Bartlett and Ned
Danson. That evening I had a good visit with Tom Davision at his trailer
after visiting Gail Burak and Mary Ochsner. Mary confirmed the statement
that Tom Pillsbury and Dave had led a Sierra Club group up from the
southeast to the Wontan Angel's Gate Saddle and had gone down into Clear
Creek. Tom also impressed me with his climbing ability by telling me
that they had climbed Brady Peak.

With my permit made out on Thursday, I was able to get started down the
Kaibab Trail by 6:08 a.m. I visited with two groups of hikers down the
trail but then I went ahead and was leaving Phantom Ranch by 9:00. For a
while I was able to keep a slow but steady pace, and then I began to
drag with frequent rest periods. The heat got to me and I also had to
realize that I am a lot weaker then I was just last year. This time it
took me 7.75 hours to get to Clear Creek from the Ranch. One shallow
rain pool near the trail below Sumner Point was mostly filled with dirt
now, but two fairly deep ones in the bed coming down from the route to
Zoroaster were well filled with possibly permanent water. They occur
below the trail just before the drainage joins the larger one directly
below Zoroaster.

I started from Phantom with three quarts of water and still had some
when I got to Clear Creek. I was very glad to sit down in the water and
to wash off the sweat. I moved my pack down near the mouth of the canyon
coming from between Royal and Wotan to camp just south of the mescal
pit. Tiny ants were a bother in the night, and one even got into the ear
canal. I could hear rodents working in my pack and toward morning
something hit me on a shoulder and dashed away. I believe it must have
been a bat.

On the next day, to try for Hawkins and Hall Buttes, I was away by 5:45
a.m. I found that I didn't remember details of the route up the canyon
from the Howlands Saddle, but it gave me no real trouble. On the Tonto
toward the Angel's Gate Saddle, I made the mistake of going a little too
high and having to come down to cross a wash. Three hours after leaving
camp I was up to the steep upper part of the route. There was a simple
way behind a big rock that had looked discouraging from a distance. At
one place a little higher, I shoved my pack up on a ledge ahead so that
I could climb more safely. Then I went up and to the east where I
decided to leave the pack with the gallon of water and my lunch. There
was one more place that took a little care and courage for me at this
age and then I was on top of the saddle and could see Hall and Hawkins.
I knew that the higher one would take too long for me to go without
water safely in the present heat. For some reason I rejected the idea of
hauling up the pack with a rope I had and then going after at least one
of these peaks. I was also set back when I went down the approach to the
saddle from the southeast side. I got down where I could see two drops
that looked too hard for me.

When I had gone along the Tonto from Clear Creek to Vishnu Canyon, I had
formed the impression that there is a Redwall route on the west side of
the Hall promontory, and from the top of the Angel's Gate Saddle I had
this impression confirmed.

There was shade where I had left the pack, so I ate an early lunch. A
fine swallowtail butterfly stayed close and a canyon wren also came
close. On the way back I checked the route to the bed of the main
drainage to the east. I had to go across one big draw, but I got down
the next and followed the bed easily in shade much of the time. This was
a review for me, but I found flowing water from below the Angel's Gate
Saddle on down almost to where I had turned out of the bed to go toward
the Howland's Saddle. I got back to the bedroll in two and a half hours,
but this route would probably take longer than the other if one were
climbing. The fine narrow places make it more interesting, however, and
I had the pleasure of seeing a big buck with quite a rack.

My general weariness and feeling of indigestion in the heat and the poor
rest at night made me decide to leave sooner than planned. After resting
and reading most of the afternoon, I ate an early supper and started up
the trail to Bright Angel Creek by 6:00 p.m. I got to the top of the
switchbacks in 40 minutes, but the trail along the Tonto seemed plenty
long. After walking fairly steadily in the shade for one and a half
hours I found a smooth place in the trail and went to bed. I hoped that
no rodents would find me here, but they were after the bread in my pack
earlier than usual. I thought I was a long way from water, but more
mosquitoes bothered me here than down by the creek.

The flashlight had failed so I didn't know the time when I found myself
fully awake and started on in the star lit night. At 4:10 a.m. I struck
a match and lay down for some more sleep. By 5:10 it was light enough
for easy walking. I had eaten some breakfast about 3:30 before breaking
camp and I ate a better meal near Bright Angel Creek on the Clear Creek
Trail.

At the ranger station I met Scott Berkinfield and told him that I
wouldn't be by to say hello to Gail Burak on Monday. He told me about
tracking the man whose pack was found at Bright Angel Campground and
then how they found the body about where he had predicted that it would be.

On the way up the Kaibab Trail I began by walking twenty five minutes
and resting five, but later there was lots more resting. While I was
eating just below the top of the Redwall, I met Gail Burak coming down
and learned that at 62 she can hike better than I ever could. Then along
came Brad Jones and Steve Carrothers. We had quite a visit. I had
started up with three quarts of water and had some left when I reached
the car by 5:20 p.m., about eight hours after I had left the bridge. I
realized that I had better not try hot weather hiking again.

*Twilight Canyon
[September 18, 1979]*

We had taken Bill and Eleanor Crawford to see the usual attractions of
Lake Powell, the movie, the power plant, Cathedral Canyon, Rainbow
Bridge, Cathedral in the Desert, Davis Gulch, and Reflection Canyon. The
lake level was down six feet from its 1979 high mark of 3685 feet but it
was five feet deeper than we had ever seen it in 1975, the former year
of highest water. It had come up 57 feet from February to July. No
wonder that Lake Mead was also allowed to rise this year!

We had taken the precaution of having the mechanic at Sports Center
check over the starting qualities of our boat motor and had paid $44 for
the assurance that all was well. It was aggravating to find that the
battery was clear down when we put the boat in the water at Wahweap.
They gave it a charge of 80 minutes before the service station at the
head of the ramp was to close Sunday evening. We tried again and this
time the starter spun the motor quite well but it had great difficulty
starting. It finally did start and then I didn't let it run long enough
with the cold start lever out. After the motor died while I was trying
to shift from reverse to forward, I couldn't start it again in spite of
using the quick start aerosol spray pointed at the air filter. We used
so much of this fluid that the air filter mesh was dripping with goop
when I tried taking it off and looking at the choke butterfly valve. I
should have used the spray directly into the choke, but I didn't think
of that until we had given up the effort and had pulled the boat out of
the water.

While I lay awake part of the night, I tried to decide whether to take
the boat to the repairman at the marina or try once more to start it
with the spray directly into the choke. The battery was not turning the
motor as fast as it had when I first tried after the half charge, but I
figured that the chance was worth taking. The idea was a good one since
the motor took right off and we were careful to let it run until it was
thoroughly warm.

After the usual sightseeing, the hike up Twilight Canyon was to be the
high point for me. I approached the end of the water fairly careful
since I remembered nicking a prop blade on a rock when I came in here
with Roy Carpenter. This time I had Bill sit on the bow and report any
rocks he could see. He reported one but didn't taken any action with the
oar and we ran the middle of the keel onto it. When we got loose, we
approached the end of the water with me on foot leading the boat among
the remaining rocks.

Eleanor stayed with Roma and they didn't seem to have too bad a time
waiting for Bill and me. We scheduled the hike to last from 10:30 a.m.
to 3:30 p.m. In something like 20 minutes we came to a tributary from
the west that was very narrow but cut down to the same depth as the main
bed. I believe I inspected it before and had come to a dead end. Walking
was quite pleasant with the footing firm and not many big rocks in our
way. We've found tracks up from the lake as far as the narrow tributary.
There are a couple of places where seeps on the wall kept some flowers
blooming, but there was no water for camping. We carried two quarts
apiece and this was plenty for the less, than five hours we were gone.

I was watching, for places to climb out and I saw one chance on the west
side not far north of the side canyon. I didn't go up to check that this
actually got out on top. There was another place on the west where one
could go up to the top of a landslide, but I am rather sure that this
would not be good enough because of cliffs above. The same was true of a
place on the east, but we finally came to a place on the east where I
was pretty sure there would be a route if the main bed didn't go. This
place was about 65 minutes walk from the boat. About 10 minutes farther
on, there was another opening to the east, but I could rule this out.
The slide material formed a vertical wall near the top. When we were 80
minutes from the boat, we sat in some nice shade and ate lunch. Only a
few minutes farther we came to an absolute dead end where big
chockstones stopped the narrow sandstone canyon. We had to backtrack
about 20 minutes to reach the route out to the east.

I looked it over and started up keeping mostly to the north. My way was
simple and relatively easy. Bill thought he had a better way directly to
the east about the middle of our bay. He got into trouble with some
hazardous climbing through loose material and rocks that might come
loose. When he was nearing the top, he was really worried that he
couldn't go down nor up either. I went down a few yards and gave him a
hand. I had to caution him not to pull too hard on me because my footing
wasn't really solid either. This took a lot more time than it should
have. In the open valley up above we soon came on a well established
cowpath. Eventually it led us back into the main bed of the wash above
the narrow sandstone slot and we could have proceeded out of Navaho
Valley up on the Kaiparowits, but at 1:10 p.m. I figured that we should
turn back so as not to overrun our deadline.

When we first got out of the bed by the landslide talus, I was so
anxious to make immediate progress that I hadn't looked around for
landmarks. When we were going back, I recognized the place up canyon
from our route where the rubble walls were too steep, but then I
overshot the real route by staying too far to the east. We had come out
on a grassy talus, so when we found ourselves crossing bare flat
slickrock, I suspected that we had overshot. Fairly soon, I walked into
the canyon and decided that we had to back track. Between five and ten
minutes later, I had found the right place. Bill agreed with me that my
route was vastly superior to his. He had had another disquieting mishap,
a surprisingly serious fall right on the cowpath. He must have stepped
on a round stone that rolled and sent him into a spinning fall on his
shoulder. This shook him up and he didn't seem to walk as well on the
last part of the trip as he had at first. After the delay in finding the
way to the bed of the canyon, I was concerned lest we show at the boat
considerably behind schedule. It didn't help for me to walk at a brisk
pace because I would soon have to hold up and wait for Bill. Still we
reached the boat with 15 minutes to spare.

I should have waded and pulled the boat past all the rocks, but I
carelessly assumed that we could use the motor and I even went out in
reverse. The result was that I damaged one blade of the prop on a rock.
It gave us a bad vibration at slower speeds, but at 3800 we weren't
shaking much.

I decided that we could skip the proposed gas stop at Rainbow Marina and
go directly to our usual campsite at Warm Creek. When we reached it, the
gage was way down. After Roma looked it over, she decided that it wasn't
up to her standard as a camp and we went back to the ramp before the
motor had cooled down. By this time the gage showed empty, but when I
filled the tank, I found that I must have still had two gallons of gas.

*Colonnade Route and Dutton Canyon
[October 4, 1979 to October 5, 1979]*

I attended the Home Coming Dedication Banquet on Tuesday evening and
drove to the North Rim on Wednesday. It was early when I arrived and I
had no trouble getting a site at the campground. I walked the Transept
Trail to the lodge and visited with Rick Thorum the ranger who was going
with Jorgen and me down to the Colonnade Saddle the next day. He invited
me to dinner that evening after which I met Jorgen.

The other two are not particularly early risers, and we didn't leave for
the Widforss Point fire road until 8:20 a.m. and we were leaving the car
at the road end about 9:15. We followed a good route down the ridge
between the two valleys, marking the place where we reached the bed with
some sticks on a fire blackened stump. Then we walked the bottom of the
ravine for 20 more minutes until the bed began to be narrow and brushy.
We scrambled up on the flat ground and went to the point extending
toward the Colonnade. I should have reviewed my log from four years ago.
I half remembered a good deer trail down through the top cliff on the
west side a little north of the point, but I failed to find it. When we
were stopped by a cliff at the top of the Toroweap, we climbed back to
the top and went farther north. From a point we thought we could see a
way down. When we tried it, progress was good down to a final drop. Here
Rick went down first and actually jumped a short way where he could not
climb back. I was fairly sure that we could find a better way back, so
Jorgen and I followed him. At this place we had to hand Rick our packs
and I accepted some help too. We then went south and down and came on a
deer trail at last.

When we came to the point again, we were again stopped by the lowest
ledge of Toroweap. I was in favor of scouting north and lower on the
west side, but Rick went down a break very close to where we were on the
east side. This worked although there was a place at the bottom of the
small cliff where I had to remove my pack. According to my log of
10/12/75, there is a better place on the west side. The way through the
Coconino was rather easy, just west of the ridge where the crest was
hard. We had taken three hours just from the car to the saddle whereas I
recorded a time of three hours from the campground to the top of the
Colonnade in 1975. After eating lunch on the saddle, we drifted down to
the south through the top of the Hermit Shale. The Supai cliffs below
didn't look at all obvious and our water was going. Finally we all
agreed that we couldn't count on getting to Haunted Canyon Spring using
the rope at the head of the Redwall Gorge in time, and we felt it
especially unlikely that we could come up from there the next day on our
two quarts of water apiece. We had given up the idea of climbing
Schellbach Butte and Manu Temple, and now we gave up the idea of going
down into Haunted Canyon and returned to the car. We used the descent
route through the Coconino and Toroweap but I led along a faint deer
trail near the base of the top cliffs and found a clear trail through
the Kaibab. We should have looked for a deer trail when we were trying
to come down. After looking over the whole area from the end of the
point, we went back to the car first along the high ground and then in
the bed of the valley where we were glad to recognize the markers for
the final ascent to the car.

Rick couldn't hike on Saturday, but Jorgen and I decided to use Friday
and Saturday to repeat Donald Davis' route down Dutton Canyon to the
spring at the base of the Coconino. We got to Swamp Point and started at
9:15. The cabin near the saddle was in quite good shape with water in a
couple of plastic jugs.

During most of my North Rim hiking, I felt discouraged at my failing
strength in going uphill. The one exception was the trail from the
saddle up to the top of Powell Plateau. I was able to walk up steadily
without resting in about 45 minutes. The trail was overgrown in places
but it was still clear until one reaches the top. Here we were able to
spot the tin patches nailed to trees most of the way where the map shows
a trail out along the east rim to the head of Dutton Canyon. On the way
out we went past a vertical box of fire fighting tools and also two
horizontal boxes much farther south, which we missed on the return.
About where the map shows the trail ending, I spotted the outline of an
Indian ruin and farther toward Dutton Point another.

We kept to the high ground on the east side of Dutton Canyon until we
were about a half mile from where it comes out on the cliff.
Unfortunately, here is where the walking became much more difficult. We
tried going up on the steep bank on the left side, but the walking soon
became something like rock climbing at that level and I went to the
bottom again while Jorgen stayed up there. I had to fight my way through
chest high thick brush and thorns with broken rocks for footing under a
screen of thick grass. My progress was extremely slow, but I was keeping
up with Jorgen who was almost stalled. I saw a chance of going up into
the woods on the left and took it and we got together again. If I were
to try this another time, I would stay up in the pines as long as
possible and go down only where the canyon comes out on the cliff.
Perhaps this would bring me to Donald's deer trail. One might also look
for Doty's way down off the cliff farther east than the mouth of Dutton
Canyon. As it was, we had the time to go out to the south end of the
Dutton Point promontory and get a good look at King Crest and Masonic
Temple. Jorgen particularly liked the view up the inner gorge to Ruby
Canyon's mouth. Then we walked back to the cabin missing the blazes now
and then.

Camping there was pleasant but I might have slept better out on the
ground with Jorgen since there were lots of mice in the cabin. On
Saturday morning we refilled the water jars and walked up to the car.
There was plenty of time so we walked to Widforss Point on the good
trail. We followed the sketchy continuation down through the brush to
where we could look over the brink. I believe the trail leads to a point
west of the real Widforss Point since we were not at the head of the
canyon directly west of Oza Butte but were at the head of Haunted
Canyon. I couldn't see whether the Supai is broken all the way down in
Haunted Canyon, something that one could study from the west side of
Oza. If it is not broken continuously there, I believe one should get
down the Supai in the draw just west of the ridge separating the two
forks of Haunted Canyon. We enjoyed the views and Jorgen took some
pictures, but we still got back in less than four fifths of the five
hours that the NPS suggests for the round trip.

*Escalante Country
[October 7, 1979 to October 11, 1979]*

When we got to the campground Saturday evening, we found that Chad
Gibson had been waiting for us all that day. He was slightly upset to
hear that I had changed from a four day trip down into Nankoweap to the
project of seeing some of the Escalante River Country. In the end,
though, he enjoyed it as much as Jorgen and I. We had time to detour to
see Bryce Canyon on our 'way to Escalante, and we saw the seven minute
slide show at the Visitors Center and also walked the loop trail through
the Queen's Garden. We couldn't find the ranger at the BLM office in
Escalante, but we had gotten the recreation map of southeast Utah and
knew how to find the road down Harris Wash. We slept at the tank called
Corral Spring and in the morning drove to where the road forks one part
going to the left up a valley while the other goes down the bed of the
wash. Another car was parked here, so we thought it might be safer to
leave ours too. The car road goes through loose sand in the bed for more
than a mile farther before one comes to the boundary of the Glen Canyon
Recreation. Area and a sign forbidding further vehicular travel. This is
self enforcing for all but motor scooters. We could see the tracks of
two scooters clear to the Escalante.

Walking down Harris Wash is generally rather easy, but sometimes the
meager trail takes one through loose sand and sometimes one has to push
through willows and high weeds. We had water in the metal tank at Corral
Springs and continuous water started in the bed of Harris Wash before we
came to the boundary sign. One has to start hopping the water about
where the valley closes in and soon one has to wade in. The other two
had brought sneakers and they kept their big hiking boots dry while I
went in wearing my leather work boots. My shoes were none the worse for
the wetting. Near the end of the second day, Chad found that his feet
were getting bad where sand had bunched beneath the insoles of his
jogging shoes. He had more trouble with his feet on the way out and
ended by wearing his leather boots in the water. Harris Wash gave us
plenty to look at with lots of hollows up high on the walls and some
fretwork where the sandstone seemed pocked with small holes. At many
bends one wall would overhang as much as 100 feet. On one shelf at the
base of a cliff we suspected that rocks had been laid in a row by human
hands, but when we detoured to see it, we found that it was not a ruin.
The day was pleasantly warm and we enjoyed our lunch in the shade. By
the time we reached the Escalante, we had used five hours for the walk
in addition to the time we were eating. We still had the time and energy
to go down the main river for one and a half hours and come back to our
campsite with plenty of light for cooking.

On Tuesday we went up Silver Falls Canyon with day packs for eight hours
of actual walking in addition to the 35 minutes we sat and ate. It was
most interesting to see the line shack near the river and the plaque on
the wall near the large inscription of G. B. Hobbs who was stalled under
an overhang during a snow storm in 1883. The bed of Silver Falls Canyon
is mostly dry at this time of year. Where it does run there is a white
deposit of alkali clear across the bed that looks like a slight snow.
Naturally the water tastes a bit bad and we wondered how it would affect
us. We walked on about two hours beyond the big fork in the canyon where
one runs into the Chinle formation. There were numerous mining claims
along here, uranium no doubt. The sign forbidding further vehicles down
the old road in this canyon is several miles lower than the boundary of
Grand Canyon National Recreational Area. One of the better water sources
is about a quarter mile above the big fork. This water has filled deep
ruts in the clay. I got a refill here on my way out and the taste was
not too bad.

Just before we came to a better road, there was a corral with a little
water in the bed. We weren't sure at first that the better road was the
one on our map where our canyon seemed to meet a straight road at right
angles. Instead, the better road seemed right in line with the one we
had been following but a branch doubled back out of the canyon toward
the south and continued at the higher level to the east. We followed the
better road for 45 minutes without getting out of the shallow canyon and
getting a really clear look at the distant landscape. We turned back at
1:30 when we figured that we needed to in order to cook by daylight.
Chad had trouble with his feet and then rested while we went on. I was
getting worried about the time that he came into camp.

On Wednesday we broke camp and walked back to the car in less than five
hours, not including the time it took us to eat. In order to use the
rest of the day, I drove to Hole in the Rock where we spent the night.
Jorgen hadn't been there for over 20 years and Chad had never seen the
place, so this little extra was appreciated. We scrambled down a short
distance and saw the spring well festooned with poison ivy and other plants.

In the morning we drove back along Fifty Mile Mountain but couldn't see
any trail that was indicated on the map. The road to the top of Fifty
Mile Bench was easily located, especially since it has a road sign. We
drove up to where it meets the road that contours along this bench and
parked. Jorgen went with me to see how far down into Navaho Valley we
could get in a day hike. Chad preferred going to the top of the
Kaiparowits Plateau, a climb that is only feasible here and there.

It took 65 minutes for Jorgen and me to reach the end of the road. We
were surprised to see a couple of travel trailers parked at the end of a
short spur toward the end. At first we didn't find any trail, but there
were enough cow tracks to encourage us. Later we came on long stretches
of fairly clear trail. We saw two places where the trail turned down
near the northwest side of Fifty Mile Point. Jorgen spotted several very
old tin cans along the way. We took about an hour to reach the corner
where we could begin to look down into Navaho Valley. As we were
reaching the bare shale, we came on a USGS benchmark and a clear section
of trail. Big areas of this mud have deep cracks that have formed in wet
weather and sometime sections of the trail may go down the mountain.
When we came to an old corral made of rotten tree trunks, we left the
trail and headed for what I thought would be a l logical way down the
shale and clay slopes. We did find some cairns in this direction and got
a view that showed us that our idea would be possible but not as easy as
a route farther south starting down from the west side of the valley
where the trail seemed to be heading. We didn't have time to check this.
Our return seemed to go just as fast or faster on the whole and we got
to the car with almost an hour left. Chad used up all of the stated
time, arriving at the car by 5:00 p.m. I would like to drive to the end
of the road with enough water for checking Navaho Valley and also the
way across the top of the plateau down into the Dry Rock Creek arm of
Rock Creek. These ideas seem rather unpopular although we did see one
very old shoe print along the trail above Navaho Valley.

On Thursday afternoon the weather seemed to be deteriorating so we
crossed Harris Wash before stopping for the night. On Friday I took the
others to their cars parked at Fredonia while I proceeded home arriving
in Sun City about 7:00 p.m.

*Clear Creek
[December 12, 1979 to December 15, 1979]*

I went to Peach Springs to get a permit for hiking in Milkweed Canyon
and Lost Canyon, but Margaret Beecher said that they were keeping out
all hikers until the bighorn hunt is over by January 1st. The hunters
pay $1000 apiece and don't want any interference from Sierra Club types
who have tried to keep the sheep away from the hunters in Southern
Arizona. I had to turn around and go to the South Rim as my objective.

Chris Harmes gave me the permit to spend three nights in Clear Creek
Canyon. I learned that Tom Davison was off in Flagstaff going to school.
I got down the Kaibab Trail to Bright Angel Camp between 4:10 and 6:20,
fairly fast time for me. By candle lantern light, two young men were
playing chess and I had the pleasure of playing one game against each of
them. I won both times, but they were contests.

Before heading out for Clear Creek on Thursday, I talked to the rangers
at the River Station and met two climbers, Dave Bassinet and Glen
Barnhart. They were working to renovate the quarters for NPS but on
their days off they were going to try to climb Zoro. When I had walked
for two hours I took a break on the trail and they caught up for some
more visiting. Shortly after I went on, I met Chris Morchak coming back
from Clear Creek. While I was eating lunch about 40 minutes later, Lisa
Dunkle passed me on her way back from Clear Creek. The weather was
invigorating, but I was out of shape having not hiked for two months. By
the time I had reached Clear Creek in six hours I was pooped and my legs
got stiffer all night. I had one chance fellow camper, Ed Hinchey, who
had loafed around camp the previous day and was going back on Friday
morning. Chris Morchak had used his one day at Clear Creek for the
ambitious project of going down the bed to the river and then returning
via the Tonto south of Howlands. He is going to combine his work at
Phantom Ranch with all the exploring he can do. I was so crippled on
Friday that I loafed and read a lot of a soft cover book about Dan
Rather. Then early on Saturday I walked back to Bright Angel Creek
instead of doing my thing which was supposed to be the climb of the
Redwall east of Angel's Gate and then Hall and Hawkins Buttes.

From the rim of the Tonto I noticed a route up from the bed of Clear
Creek east to the Tonto. Probably the fastest way to go from Clear Creek
to Vishnu Creek would be via the Wotan Angel's Gate Saddle and the next
fastest would be through the saddle east of Howlands Butte. This route
from the bed of Clear Creek to the Tonto west of Howlands would very
likely be faster than the route I have used, up to the Tonto toward the
Howlands Saddle and then around the west side of Howlands. I got over to
Bright Angel Creek in six hours without feeling very tired and then read
my book the rest of that day. On Sunday I walked up the Kaibab Trail in
six hours without too much exhaustion. I had accomplished nothing new
but I had had a hike that some come from a distance to do.

On Saturday evening I had a good visit with two young women, Theresa
Balboni and Carol Frost, and the two Zoro climbers, Bassinet and
Barnhart. Their attempt ended about halfway up the Coconino. While I had
had freezing temperatures beside Clear Creek, it must have been really
cold in the wind up near the Zoro Saddle where they slept.

*Clay Tank (Lost) Canyon
[January 18, 1980 to January 20, 1980]*

Last year when I took Joe Hall into lower Grand Canyon by boat, I had
walked up Clay Tank Canyon (Lost Creek on the river map) and had noticed
a way to climb to the break in the highest cliff south of the "k" in the
name Tank on the seven and a half minute quad map. From map study I
figured that one should be able to walk down the bed of the wash that
reaches the river at mile 247.6 and scramble up to this notch. My only
real problem would be to find the way to the road that turns into a Jeep
trail at the water tank near the east border of block 14 of the map. The
best map I had of the Buck and Doe Road was the Williams Quad 1:250,000
which doesn't show any road to the northeast going nearly that far.

Friday and Saturday were perfectly clear and I had an uneventful drive
to Peach Springs with a gas stop at Seligman. To get a permit, I stopped
at the Tribal Administration Building and was directed to Beecher's home
or else the Wildlife and Outdoor Recreation Office. The Beechers were
not at either place, so I talked the receptionist at the administration
building into taking $10 to be given Mrs. Beecher later.

Some snow was still lying by the road in shady places and there were two
or three places on the road that made me wonder whether I shouldn't be
using the four wheel drive, but I got through all right. I could
identify the water tanks shown on the Williams Quad. On the way back I
checked the drinking troughs and found water in both. I didn't see the
catchment basins but I suppose they are at a distance and the water runs
into the big metal tanks underground. There must be a float type valve
to control the height of the water in the troughs although I didn't see
these. The tank on the west side of the road was almost empty and the
little water in the trough may have been rain and snow.

I had decided not to drive off the Buck and Doe Road for fear of getting
stuck and I reasoned that the best place to leave the car would be at
the flat leading to Clay Tank Canyon or at the beginning of the road
leading to the nameless canyon which goes near the notch above lower
Clay Tank Canyon. I began looking for such a place about five miles
north or the second water tank but two miles later, 35 miles from US 66,
I saw a streambed in a meadow that looked probable. A pool of water at a
rocky place quite near the main road encouraged me to think that I could
find more water for camping down the canyon where the walls would be
steep. Water had been running in Milkweed Canyon and in a minor wash
farther northwest. The valley floor was a broad terrace with quite a lot
of green and not too much sage brush. A nearly cubical structure made of
gray material like roofing aroused my curiosity about 45 minutes walk
from the car. Quite soon I came to a corral and the biggest clay dam and
cattle tank I have ever seen. Water covered about a third of the area
which could be flooded and wild ducks were using this body of water.

I had been able to step through a partially fallen fence near the edge
of the arroyo easier than opening a stretched wire gate, and I faced the
same problem just beyond the clay dam. I put my pack and camera under
one part of the fence and crawled beneath the bottom wire nearby. When I
picked up my stuff, I forgot the camera until I had walked for 20
minutes. Recovering it wasted 40 minutes. A little to the north of where
I had turned back, I came to a road. If I had been open minded, I would
have recognized this as the one I had intended to follow to the tank at
the head of the canyon going to the access notch for the descent into
lower Clay Tank Canyon. I had been thinking that the big cattle tank
with the ducks was the one shown on the Spencer Canyon Quad and that I
should follow this bed down to the notch. When the road diverged from
the wash, at first I followed it up a steep grade, but when I saw that
it was leading clear away from the wash, I scrambled back down and went
down the bed. I was still looking for a pool for camping any time after
4:30, but the bed consisted of gravel and boulders and no water showed.
Since there were snow patches, I knew I could get water by melting.
About 4:30 I came to a place where snow had melted and frozen ice three
quarters of an inch thick on a sloping rock wall. It would be faster to
fill my pan with ice than with snow, so I decided to camp here if
nothing better showed in the next 15 minutes, but I had gone far enough
to make sure that the canyon I was in did not conform to the bends of
the canyon I wanted. The right canyon has a bend heading due south for a
short distance.

I was using my light down bag inside my regular weight bag, but still I
got cold in spots during the night. Once when I was awake, I came to the
correct idea of the road I had crossed. I decided that the canyon I was
in must be the upper part of the main arm of Clay Tank Canyon and that I
should go back and follow the road east if I still wanted to complete
the passage to the river. After the wakeful night, I dropped off and
only woke up at 6:50. Before going on I had to melt ice out of my pan
and melt some more to start with a full canteen, so it was 7:10 when I
started walking. Incidentally, after all these years I got an idea about
preventing one's canteen from freezing at the neck. Usually only a
little ice freezes in the canteen overnight. If one lays the canteen on
its side or puts it upside down, the freezing will occur where it
doesn't seal the cap and make drinking difficult in the morning.

It took me about 45 minutes to get back to the road and then about 75 to
follow it to the metal tank shown on the Spencer Canyon Quad. There is
also a very new clay dam tank that has been bulldozed in the drainage,
but no water had collected in it. The metal tank was supposed to catch
the runoff from a plastic lined basin uphill from the tank, but this
black material had disintegrated and vegetation had grown up in the
cracks. There was about six inches of water in the bottom of the tank,
but not enough to get into the cattle drinking trough outside. I didn't
feel that I could climb out of the tank if I did get down into it for
water. I decided to walk down the wash and melt snow if I didn't come to
any pools. This time the bends in the bed and the tributary ravines
matched perfectly with the map and I knew that I was in the correct
canyon. A very faint truck or Jeep track matched the Jeep trail shown on
the map. My bag had collected so much frost and dew the first night that
I sought some kind of protection for the second camp. I found what I
wanted, a big and thick juniper with some level ground beneath the
boughs. This worked and there was no frost on my bed in the morning. I
slept warm and even had to take off a jacket I had gone to bed wearing.
Most of the time from 6:30 to 6:30 I was asleep.

I had reached this campsite with snow for water and the tree for
protection early enough to be through lunch by 12:15. When I walked down
canyon 247.6, all the bends continued to check. In fact I held the map
in my hand and kept track of my progress. Where the bed makes the
horseshoe bend and turns clear south, I tried going over the low ridge.
The cliff below on the east side looked formidable and I went back and
followed the bed. On the return, however, I believe I saw some hope for
getting through, but by then I was tired and preferred the easy, longer
walk. I was carrying only a light day pack, so that it was easy to keep
up a good pace. I reached the pass leading to lower Clay Tank Canyon
from my campsite in 75 minutes and my campsite was about 45 minutes
beyond the metal tank.

The notch was caused by a fault that accounts for a similar notch
directly north across Clay Tank Canyon. I feel sure that one could go up
through this second notch and down into the canyon reaching the river at
Mile 251.9. It must be not more than 80 feet from the bed of Canyon
247.6 up to the pass and several hundred feet from there to the
prevailing surface on either side of the notch. If the world lasts long
enough, stream piracy will occur and the bed of 247.6 Canyon will drain
into Clay Tank Canyon.

The descent from the pass was steep, especially near the top, but there
were no problems worse than watching one's footing on a rockslide. I
took an hour to get down to where I was sure that I had connected with
my position last spring and then came back up to the pass in 75 minutes.

When I came down from the pass to the bed of the wash, I noticed
something I had missed on the approach, about the largest and deepest
mescal pit I have ever seen. Also, only a few minutes walk upstream were
three rainpools with water just deep enough to nearly fill my canteen by
immersion. This extra water made it unnecessary to melt so much snow
when I got back to my campsite about 5:20. I had just enough time to get
my supper and have everything shipshape before dark. I had walked with
only a break for lunch from 7:50 a.m. to 5:20 p.m. and although I was
tired, I felt that I had done better than on the previous three
backpacks. In the morning I started back to the car about 6:50 and got
back in four hours of actual walking. My shoulders got sore sooner than
on the previous day and I took in addition to the four hours, two
fifteen minute breaks.

When I reported to Mrs. Beecher that I was out, she told me that the
Tribal Council has declared some parts of the reservation off limits for
hikers. I didn't stay long enough to hear more since she didn't seem to
want to invite me into her house.

It seemed like a fairly rewarding hike since I had rounded out my list
of access routes to the river to an even 100 and completed my 156th
route through the Redwall.

*Milkweed Canyon
[March 14, 1980 to March 19, 1980]*

Bill Mooz, Jorgen Visbak, and I had a fine trip by boat planned to go to
the mouth of Surprise Canyon and hike for a week. Chad Gibson had been
corresponding with me about a long hike through the entire canyon from
Lee's Ferry to Pearce Ferry, and I invited him to join us when Jorgen's
friend, Ted Rado, couldn't come. Jorgen and Bill arrived a few minutes
before I got to South Cove with the 19 foot powerboat, and we checked
that it would start with a little help from an aerosol can. Before the
2:00 p.m. deadline, Chad appeared, but he took a seemingly long time to
assemble his stuff for a long backpack. When we finally got under way,
we had to proceed slowly because of the mostly small driftwood in the
high level lake, 1204 feet (only 23 feet under the maximum possible
height). Then when we seemed in clearer water, I gave the prop more
power and the transmission promptly broke. The day was windless so that
we could consider paddling the half mile back to the landing. After a
few minutes of this, we were given a tow by a pair of young men in a
runabout.

After just a bit of discussion, we towed the boat to Peach Springs and
got a permit from Mrs. Beecher to spend six days in Milkweed Canyon. We
parked my boat and Jorgen's and Chad's cars at the police station and
still had time to go out the Buck and Doe Road in my Jimmy and turn off
on the spur to Milkweed Springs. Within six tenths of a mile this spur
crossed Milkweed Creek three times and ends at a corral and ruined tin
roofed house. We had a good meal and a campfire near the car.

On Saturday morning, I was ready to move before the others even though I
had spent more than an hour to drive back to the boat at Peach Springs
to get my can of quick start fluid just in case I might have a problem
getting the Jimmy to start after standing for five or six days. I also
tilted the prop to let water drain out and picked up the Time magazine
that I had intended to read on the hike. Then while the rest were having
breakfast, I walked down the creek to locate the trail that Kurt Meyers
had said was a fine bypass for the big drop. He had said that it begins
beyond the power line and before you enter the lava narrows. He also
built a cairn, which was now swept away by floods, and he said that
there was a white rock that serves as a natural marker. I couldn't see
the white rock nor the cairn, but when I was about 100 yards north of
the power line, I came to a break in the cliff just west of the creek. A
little ravine comes down here and leaves the cliff with a narrow point.
Right next to the end of the cliff, the Indians have placed one strand
of wire between two poles to form a sort of gate. There is no further
fencing around. After a little search, I found a sketchy trail going up
to the north with an old horseshoe lying on it.

When the other three arrived about 9:30, we proceeded up this trail but
near the top of the slope it disappeared. Jorgen and Bill went to the
east and Chad and I went on toward the top of the hill. We came on a
trail again and Bill and Jorgen caught up. At least twice the trail got
down at the west end of a cliff and then turned east. Eventually, it got
down to Milkweed Creek a little to the south of the junction with
Westwater. When we returned on Wednesday, we followed the trail
accurately through the lower half and then got onto a burro trail that
was lower and farther east, right close to the rim of the cliff above
Milkweed. Then we went to the top of the knoll and before we reached the
power line, we overshot the place we had come up from the creek but
doubled back down to the creek at the right place. While Jorgen and Bill
went on down Milkweed along the stream, Chad and I went up Westwater
Creek about a mile. It is quite different from Milkweed having a steep
and uniform gradient and the bed is clogged with huge rounded boulders.
We had to take to the slope beside the creek but we came down to the bed
to eat our lunches. We needed 50 minutes to get there from where we had
left our packs near the end of Westwater and only 30 to get back since
we went east on the slope clear away from the creekbed. Something that
impressed all of us was the prevalence of water. We had to jump from
rock to rock frequently to reach better walking on the other side of the
creek. The main narrows through granite cliffs begins where a minor
tributary comes from the west near the northeast corner of block nine on
the Milkweed NW Quad map and it ends near the southeast corner of block
34. Not long after we passed the end of a running stream from the west
that comes through blocks four and three, we reached a place where the
stream drops over a barrier fall with no bypass nearby. We saw that Bill
and Jorgen had written NO for going on and had put an arrow pointing up
a side ravine. Near the top of the ravine, we found numerous cairns that
Bill had built to help us find the tricky route over spurs and along the
steep slope beneath the rim of a plateau. We soon saw Bill and Jorgen
looking back at us from where they had come back down to the stream. I
didn't think that it would be necessary to stay up on that difficult
footing so long and led Chad down a ravine successfully. This big detour
was on the east side of the creek and it required quite a bit of time.
When Chad and I came to where we had seen Bill and Jorgen, they had gone
on. We were a little confused by a couple of cairns that we found at the
foot of a ravine from the east. We thought it possible that Bill and
Jorgen had gone up this ravine, but we learned later that this was where
they came down. After a break for me to inspect the climb up the ravine
and for Chad to see whether his feet were blistering, we went on. Chad
had a very heavy pack and was glad to call it a day before we left the
narrows. We had a good night with conversation beside a campfire. In the
late afternoon, here and on the rest of the trip, we were attacked by
biting flies. They were easy to kill as they would start poking a bill
into the back of my hand, but there were lots more.

On Sunday Chad and I had walked less than half an hour when we came to
Bill and Jorgen still getting breakfast. Their camp was just a few yards
upstream from the mouth of a side canyon coming in from the southeast
near the boundary between blocks 34 and 35. This side stream seemed to
have about two thirds as much water as the main stream. On Wednesday
morning I went up this side canyon to get a look at what had impressed
George Billingsley so much. there was a five foot fall about 150 yards
from the mouth and a 20 foot fall about 40 yards farther. The water
flows over bare red granite and about one mile farther up, there is a 60
foot fall. Travel up the bed stops here but farther down, one can get up
the steep broken slopes on either side. Billingsley must have seen more
of this canyon than I did. He also worked out a route from here up to
the main plateau near Bender Tank.

Chad and I walked on before Bill and Jorgen were ready to go. He stopped
at the northwest corner of block 25 where I saw the place Billingsley
had come down from Bender Tank. We ate our lunch back from the bed and
Jorgen just happened to notice my pack near the edge of our terrace or
they would have passed by. I was glad to get my cup that Bill had
spotted on the ground at their camp and had put in his pack to bring to
me. They told me that they wanted to go down Spencer and have a look at
the travertine terrace and also visit the Meriwitica Spring area and
also take a quick look up Spencer to the junction with Hindu Canyon. I
told them that since I had seen all of these attractions, I would spend
my time in upper Milkweed and that we would get together for the walk
out to the car.

I used Sunday afternoon to go to the top of the plateau to points of
elevation 4759 and 4842 in block 31 of the Hindu Canyon Quad. This
ascent of two and a quarter hours was relatively easy since there was a
burro trail much of the way. I was a little surprised to see the
footprints of other hikers on this route. The prevalence of water worn
boulders about the middle of the east boundary of block 25 made me
wonder whether this might be an ancient riverbed. I got back sooner than
I had planned and had time to read my magazine and eat an early supper.

On Sunday I walked back upstream in Milkweed and started up the dry
canyon to the northwest about a half mile from my campsite. I finally
left the bed and went southwest up to the base of the topmost cliff.
Walking was slow and precarious, but I made my way south past the point
of elevation 4541 to look into the big canyon east of the Meriwitica
Road. I had a fine view of the entire area and figured that I could get
along the difficult slope ahead and down into the bed of this major
canyon. However, I thought it would be more expeditious to go down and
come up the bed of this canyon. When I did try this route I was stopped
by impossible cliffs only about 15 minutes up from Milkweed. Then I
found a way south of the bed to climb to the first rim. The view up the
valley convinced me that there is no route to the very top in this
valley. I carried my pack upstream and camped just a few yards south of
the site Bill and Jorgen had used Saturday night.

On Tuesday morning I put my big pack down at the foot of the slope just
upstream from the mouth of the little canyon cutting through the "o" of
the word Reservation on the Milkweed Canyon Quad. At the base of the
Tapeats cliff, I went to the right around the corner and soon came to a
clear break through the Tapeats. It was routine hill and dale walking
through the blackbrush to the lower end of the canyon coming down from
Harding Spring. This goes into the bed of Milkweed on the level well
above the barrier in the narrows that occasioned the difficult bypass up
high on the east slope. This leg took me 90 minutes on Tuesday with a
day pack, but on Wednesday with the others to inspire me, we did it with
our full packs in 79 minutes. On Tuesday, I went up the rest of the
narrows of Milkweed along the creekbed and then came back to the Harding
Spring Canyon over the rolling plateau in slightly less time, about 30
minutes. There was plenty of time so I went up Harding Spring Canyon to
a cave on the red cliff rather high up. It had a flat floor about large
enough to sleep four if they crowded, but there were no signs of
previous use. I noticed an Ocotillo high in this canyon and saw several
kinds of flowers in bloom including loco and a small cactus. I heard a
canyon wren and another songster and a flock of pinyon jays. There was a
raven high in the air and several small lizards on the ground. There
were lots of signs of burros including passable trails in very useful
places. I saw one live burro and one jackrabbit and a cottontail the
next day. On the way out we saw several Indian paintbrushes in bloom.

Tuesday evening threatened rain. When I was about ready to eat my soup,
Chad came around the corner and instead of going on to where we had
camped the first night where he thought he might be protected from the
rain, he stopped to camp with me. He told me that Bill and Jorgen were
camping with Bill's tent for protection only a little way downstream
where they had stopped the first night. I left my soup for later and
went down to confer. I thought that I could put my tent fly over my head
if it rained in the night, but fortunately there were only a few drops.

On Wednesday morning I went down to the other camp again and then went
up the canyon of the waterfalls for a short distance until I was stopped
in the bed. After Bill and Jorgen got organized, we all started for the
car using the route I had learned on Tuesday. With our packs we did it
faster than I had done it with only a lunch. This time we noticed a
miner's drill rod, point down in the soil of the terrace just south of
the bed of Harding Spring Creek.

The weather didn't seem too threatening, but we thought that we had done
most of the interesting things in Milkweed, so when it was still early
as we approached the lower end of the trail that goes up the ridge
between Westwater Canyon and Milkweed, we continued to the car. It took
us around two hours to reach the car although we missed some of the trail.

*Clear Creek
[April 26, 1980 to April 29, 1980]*

Alan Doty went to Flagstaff with me and spent the afternoon and evening
with a friend while I attended the Friday session and the banquet of the
Math Association. Before 10:00 p.m. we were on our way driving toward
the Grand Canyon. We turned off on the Wilaha Road to sleep inside the
Jimmy. Both of us could get room enough on the floor when Al put the
spare tire and the tool box outside the car and we piled our duffel on
the seats. It was comforting to have the roof over us when we could hear
the rain outside. We had lots of time before the Visitor's Center opened
at 8:00 a.m. Tom Davison let me come behind the scene and get my permit
for Clear Creek without waiting in line. There had been no rain in the
canyon and the weather was fine for our stay until we were on our way out.

I didn't want to strain myself on the descent since we were going on
over to Clear Creek the same day. We got down to the campground in two
hours and 40 minutes. I made the acquaintance of the new ranger, Barb
Carolus. She told me that a stay at the Phantom Ranch Dorm would cost us
$9.50 per night. She seemed pleased to meet the author of Grand Canyon
Treks, and she suggested that if we wanted to break the trip out, we
could count on staying at the ranger house just south of Phantom Ranch.
I was glad to accept since all the space at the campground is reserved
weeks ahead of time at this time of year. We ate our lunch near the
campground bridge and then started on about noon. We kept a slow but
steady pace up the grade out of Bright Angel Creek Canyon and I told Al
about the old days when I could go a lot farther in a day than I can
now, how I once put down my pack on the trail near the bottom of the
Tapeats and went back past the campground and on up to the South Rim
with just my canteen and my lunch. Then after draining the radiator of
my leaky old car, I went down and over to Clear Creek where Boyd Moore
had a fire going in the darkness of November to guide me to his
campsite. I had added onto the generally regarded strenuous trip from
the south Rim to Clear Creek the hike up near the base of the Tapeats
and the hike down and up the South Rim.

In the bedrock wash between Sumner and Bradley, we noticed that the two
obvious rain pockets were dry but when we looked over the five foot drop
50 feet farther down the bed, we saw that there was stagnant water about
six inches deep. It had a lot of algae in it and was tinged a yellow
color, but we trusted it and got a refill in the canteens.

Alan was already feeling sick to the stomach before we got this water
and we rested here before going on. There are some overhangs here and a
quarter mile farther back that would provide a roof for a wet night.
When we had proceeded about a quarter mile, Al felt so bad that we
returned to the vicinity of the water pocket and camped for the night,
stopping about 2:30. I had my Time magazine along so I could spend the
time all right and Al was content to lie on his pad with his eyes shut.
About 4:30 he felt well enough for us to go down the wash to see what it
is like. Our trip was along the sides of a triangle, back along the
trail, then down one arm into the main bed to the impossible drop into
the Inner Gorge, and then back in the main bed to our campsite. We found
a little good water at two places, the best being just a few yards
before the bed comes to the drop off.

In the night I was thinking that we ought to return to civilization
because of Alan's health, but in the morning he assured me that he felt
all right. We got started on by 6:35 and reached Clear Creek in less
than the four hours I had suggested. Again Alan felt like lying on his
bed, weakened by nausea. After a long rest and some lunch, he felt
better and we went up to Cheyava Falls which was really booming. I have
never seen pictures that make the falls look better than they do now.
Clear Creek was difficult to ford with at least five times its normal
amount of water. Flowers were out as fine as I have ever seen them. I
noticed redbud trees in full bloom that I hadn't remembered being in
Clear Creek. I had suggested two and a half hours as a fair time
allowance to go from the foot of the Clear Creek Trail up to Cheyava
Falls, but I noticed that Alan and I needed only about two hours to get
there and one hour and 40 minutes to return. We took no more pictures
because we were worried that it might rain on our unprotected packs. We
also met a lot of people some of which had looked in vain for the Indian
ruins on the ledge to the south of Cheyava Falls. I met the Olson family
of Tucson just as they were leaving the vicinity of the falls and they
were surprised and pleased when I pointed out the ruins which are still
perfectly preserved.

Alan and I were scrambling along the slope on the west side of the creek
across from the falls and somewhat south of the falls when I noticed a
rock wall about three and a half feet high. It seemed to have been built
as a windbreak for a bivouac. When we got back to Phantom Ranch I
learned about a ruin at Clear Creek about which I had been ignorant all
these years. A red haired girl who works at the ranch had broken her leg
while trying to climb up to a storage bin on the east side of the creek
right across from where the trail first reaches the creek. I have yet to
see this granary with my own eyes. Hiking is so popular now that a well
defined trail has been trampled all the way to Cheyava Falls. Of course
it crosses the creek frequently and with the water so high, we must have
made slower time than normal. The key to finding the ruins south of
Cheyava Falls is to look at the shale cliff forming a promontory about
300 yards south of the falls. This ledge is about one third of the way
from the base of the cliff to the top.

The flowers and falls were unusually fine, but the mice, mosquitoes, and
little biting flies were also exceptionally prevalent. This was true
both at the rain pocket along the trail and at Clear Creek. In December
there were mice but no bugs.

If we had gotten back from Cheyava early enough to move camp down the
creek and up into the Cape Royal arm Sunday night, I believe I would
have favored going after Hawkins Butte on this trip. On Monday morning
Alan suggested starting for Hawkins then, but I was afraid that he would
have another attack of indigestion at a more remote place and I ruled
that we should return to Phantom Ranch. One group of hikers that we met
on the Tonto was the science club from Everett Junior High at
Wheatridge, Colorado. They had corresponded with me numerous times over
the past several years. We made better times than I have made for the
previous two times, four hours and 40 minutes from creek to creek. I
spent a pleasant afternoon and evening visiting at the Ranger Station
and at Phantom Ranch. I was particularly glad to meet Terri Mische, the
young lady manager of Phantom Ranch who has climbed Brahma Temple.

It was stimulating to match information with Gale Burak who hiked down
to spend the night with Barb Carolus Monday afternoon. People
encountered on the trail that I would like to remember are the canyon
guides, Bob Topping and Larry Powers, and the sponsor of the Junior High
Science club from Colorado, Mike Sipes.

We were glad to be in soft, dry beds under a good roof when it rained a
bit on Tuesday morning. It seemed fine as we started up the Kaibab
Trail, but sleet and rain hit us above Cedar Ridge. I put my tent fly
over my head and pack. We walked up right behind two mule trains, and
for most of the way, I could keep up with them because they rested quite
often. Then at Cedar Ridge we passed them briefly because they take
quite a rest while the tourists have a chance to patronize the johns. We
had to let the mules go by quite close above Cedar Ridge and then they
pulled away. I was gratified to be able to return from the campground
bridge to the rim in four hours and 32 minutes, quite a lot faster than
I have done it for several years. Perhaps I should give the credit to
the fine breakfast of eggs, fried potatoes, sausage, and orange juice
that Barb had fed us. David Chatfield, a hiker from Sacramento who works
for Friends of the Earth, walked up with us and accepted a ride all the
way to Phoenix where he was to catch a plane.

My little canyon books have paid off in more ways than just the
royalties. Everyone I met, or almost everyone, was familiar with them
and seemed thrilled to meet the author. I was invited to give the
evening talk to the tourists at Phantom Ranch and was invited to visit
with a number of people in the back room at the ranch afterwards. I met
the ranger, Glenn Fuller, there and again when I was reporting in at the
top on Tuesday.

*Hall Butte
[October 9, 1980 to October 14, 1980]*

Jack Shellburne had arranged by phone and letter for me to meet the
plane from Fresno on Thursday morning. Republic has recently taken over
Hughes Airwest, but I found the right gate well ahead of time and
recognized Jack and Mel Simon without trouble. We went directly to
Bright Angel Lodge where Jack and Mel paid for Thursday night and
breakfast at the Phantom Ranch Dormitory. We got permits for a very
ambitious plan, to Clear Creek Friday night, mostly rest on Saturday, up
the Redwall to climb Hall and Hawkins on Sunday, up around Deva or
Brahma on Monday, Tuesday night at Cottonwood, and out the South Kaibab
Trail on Wednesday. Jack and Mel got started down the trail by 4:30
while I went to visit with Tom Davison and then Chad Gibson with whom I
had dinner and spent the night. Tom came and ate with us at the Red
Feather and then talked a while at Chad's room.

I woke up early and left Chad's room in the dark. I didn't eat any
breakfast until I was down at the River Ranger Station at Bright Angel
Creek. The walk down the trail took from 5:15 to 8:17 a.m., about my
slowest time. My pack weighed about 31 pounds and I was in frequent pain
from ramming my toenails against the ends of my shoes. I also had to
apply some tape where my shoes were chafing. Friday was still hot and it
took me a bit over eight hours to get from the campground over to Clear
Creek. I had hoped to be able to pick up some more water at rain pockets
by the trail east of Sumner Point, but they were bone dry. Only about
four weeks before, there had been a rain that put down an inch of water
in 20 minutes. This had caused rockslides that had closed the lower part
of the Bright Angel Trail and the River Trail, but the unseasonal heat
had dried up the waterpockets. In a couple of places this flood had
damaged the Clear Creek Trail too. I was so tired and dehydrated before
I got to Clear Creek that I lay down for a few minutes in any shade that
I could find. When I reached Clear Creek, I couldn't see Mel and Jack
and I was so weary by 5:40 p.m. that I prepared to camp at the nearest
bed site. Mel came looking for me in a few minutes and led me to where
he and Jack were installed about 200 yards away where there was smooth
ground for at least four small tents.

It was good that Mel could cook my soup on his gas stove and that Jack
could let me use his toenail clipper. My pack was over its usual weight
with items that I didn't use, but I didn't have these things. Friday
night was fine and we slept with only the minor annoyance of being
raided by mice and a skunk. On Saturday I was ready for a rest but Jack
and Mel went up canyon to try to find the split figurine cave. They saw
the scenic wet arm of Clear Creek and the fall in the shale just beyond
the fork, but they didn't locate the cave in spite of getting up and
going along the base of the Redwall. On their way back they saw a Grand
Canyon pink rattlesnake. After I had finished my Time magazine, I went a
little way up canyon and met them when they were almost back.

On Sunday I ate and left camp before the others to go down canyon and up
the tributary north of Wotan. I had wondered about the flowing water in
this creek, but it was just as copious as it has ever been. This time I
noticed a good place to sleep under an overhang on the north side about
a quarter mile east of the source of the water. A place had been
smoothed for one person to sleep, and there were bits of charcoal in the
dirt. If I ever go back to climb Hawkins, I'll use this site. I noticed
that it took me an hour and forty minutes to go from camp to the place
where I could leave the bed and head for the slope up to the Wotan
Angel's Gate Saddle. I had said that I would wait for the others here,
so I spent my time going back to meet them. When we got back here the
second time, I had lost 50 minutes. I led Mel and Jack out of the wash
to the southwest toward the saddle, but Jack soon decided to drop out
and return to camp. He explained later that he had turned his ankle
slightly, but the main reason he didn't go with us was that it was
against his Mormon religion to work at anything hard on Sunday. The
route up to the saddle seemed familiar and I led Mel. The place where I
had put down my big pack in August, 1979, was over to the east of where
we had just come up the ravine and Mel suggested going up directly where
we were. I had some trouble with the necessary moves, but with Mel below
to check a fall, I made it. I didn't relish the thought of getting down
the same way. Before we went on, I went over and looked down at the
place where I had left my pack last year. The one right place was
vertical for 10 feet, but there were some good holds. Still when we
returned, I preferred having Mel go down first and advise me where to
place my feet. Jim Ohlman calls this place a breeze, but it is just
about the limit of what I can handle alone. Above this place, one also
has to go up with a lot of use of the hands. I was carrying two half
gallon canteens and a lunch in a day pack, and this was all right. To
get a full size pack up these hairy places, I would want a rope and pull
the packs up. I wish I had taken pictures of these key places in the
route. It is a most intriguing Redwall route with several places that
seem to be the one way past the difficulties.

We figured that we would still have a chance to climb Hall, the closer
of the two buttes (Hall and Hawkins) if we made the top of the saddle by
11:00 a.m., and we just made this deadline. It was good that Mel had
brought the Vishnu Quad map since I had had the wrong idea that Hawkins
was closer to the saddle than Hall. Going along the Redwall to the east
along the base of Wotan was slow but not the worst such travel I had
seen. We ate lunch when we had passed the bay and were heading south
toward Hall. We agreed that we should turn back at 1:00 p.m. or very
soon after if we were to get back to camp in daylight. All three of us
had had at least a brush with agave thorns and we didn't want to be
stumbling back to base getting spiked with agave and cactus. Mel
insisted that we would make the top of Hall within the limit, and we
just did. I was afraid that there would be a difficult gap between the
north end and the higher south end of Hall, but there was a narrow,
level walkway connecting them. The cairn, presumably built by Doc Ellis
and his friends, was at the south end. The views from here are stunning!
We took several pictures and left within minutes. On the return, rain
fell. The cloud effects and the spotty sunshine over the distant canyon
were really something outstanding. We tried getting under shelter from
the rain a couple of times, and really waited for ten minutes at the
second place, a little below the hardest part of the Redwall descent.
The return went smoothly and we joined Jack at camp by 5:40 p.m. He had
been working on supper and I was glad to accept his soup and eat in a
hurry since the weather was really getting bad.

The night was a rough one. It rained so hard that we had thoughts of
what we would do if a flood came through where we were sleeping. My
rainfly over the ridge rope was quite low over me and it let some water
through onto my bag. My toes were getting wet about the time the rain
stopped, and I was relieved that water didn't flow along the ground
under my bed. Mel and Jack had tube tents with open ends and they got
wetter than I did.

Monday was fine and sunny. Since I didn't relish the thought of going
clear to the South Rim in one day, we stopped at the rain pools. It took
me five hours to walk back here to the center of the bay between Sumner
and Zoro from Clear Creek even with the day cool and comfortable. I told
Jack that the pools would be in the tributary just west of the main
wash, but when I got near, I thought that they should be in the next
wash west of the one coming down from the Redwall break at the base of
the wall to Sumner. There was plenty of water where the rock had been
dry in this bed from the Redwall break and none in the next ravine to
the west, just beyond the good rain shelters under projecting ledges
next to the trail. I had figured on using these shelters instead of our
tents if we should have a rainy night, but the evening got better and
better. Mel and Jack slept on a flat rock in the bed below the trail
while I started the night under the overhang. We were visited with mice
in the night at both places. Incidentally, these critters were so
friendly at our Clear Creek camp that they would brush against my hand
in the night if I had it out from the covers. I was too warm under the
overhang and spent more than half the night in the middle of the trail
where I finally felt too cool and had to put on my Dacron longjohns.

Mel and Jack could walk a lot faster than I, so I got a much earlier
start than they did. Mel had walked by himself the previous day and only
caught up after Jack and I had reached our camp east of Sumner. He had
seen his second rattlesnake in only three days, and this time he had
stepped down only six inches from the coiled snake. Naturally, he was
shaken by this encounter and the necessity for stepping back without
disturbing the snake. It was another pink one.

I got to the bridge across Bright Angel Creek from the ranger station in
one and a half hours on Thursday and ate breakfast at the bridge. They
were doing some blasting and I couldn't go to the faucet for water. I
refilled my two quart canteen from Bright Angel Creek and didn't feel
the worse for drinking that water. I didn't find out what kind of
construction (sewage) was going on but a helicopter was coming down with
supplies. There was a small pile of pipes near the helicopter landing
site and they had prepared a road from there going several hundred yards
for the use of two pickup trucks. It surprises me that there is a
chopper big enough to bring down a pickup (the big machines came by
raft). I should have asked about this operation when we were reporting
in at the backcountry office. Tuesday was cool enough for good walking,
but I lost a little time when it began raining and sleeting hard enough
to make me get out the tent fly and use it as a poncho. I couldn't do
nearly as well as I did last spring and it took me not quite six hours
to come to the South Rim. Mel and Jack caught up with me while I was
eating lunch above the one and a half milepost. They took the car key
and waited for me at the top. The thing that bothered me most of the end
of this trip was a bruised right foot. The ball of my right foot is
still sore on Friday, three days after I finished the hike.

*Surprise Canyon
[December 8, 1980 to December 13, 1980]*

After Jorgen got back from Europe, he suggested that we have another
late fall hike together. I wasn't free until December 8th, so we planned
a visit to Surprise Canyon. It had been the objective last spring when
my 19 foot boat motor gave out. Now our transportation was a fourteen
and a half foot fishing boat with a seven and a half horsepower motor
that can only accommodate two fair sized men and their gear. The weather
was bad Saturday and Sunday, but we went on Monday anyway. We met about
2:40 p.m. at the Meadview Ranger Station and left Jorgen's car several
blocks from there next to ranger housing. There was no hitch in
launching at Pearce Ferry. The only problem with a larger boat is the
grade into the water. It is so gentle that one would have to back the
vehicle far from shore to get water deep enough to float the boat. I was
a little clumsy in recalling all the simple moves in starting the new
motor, but we finally got the motor going. It carried us along close to
10 mph on the calm lake. Only for short periods waves ruffled the water
and we shipped some spray. With the late start, we didn't try to reach
the mouth of Surprise Canyon. I thought about stopping at Quartermaster,
but Burnt Canyon is only a mile farther and it has the advantage of a
deep water cove and no mud bank to cave in on the boat during the night.

Near the shack in the saddle between the two coves there was plenty of
space for our beds. Something has wrecked the shack since I was here
previously. A good part of the tin roof has been torn away and a big
piece of the corrugated iron is many yards away near the water west of
the shack. A paper and a ball point pen are in a broken bottle under the
ramada. Ron Hilliard left his name and Tucson address only a week before
we were there. The night was clear but not too cold although frost
formed on the wet life buoy cushions in the boat. The only negative note
was that rats or mice raided my food in the night. Jorgen is one of the
numerous good sleepers and we didn't get the boat started until 9:10. I
found that I had to do quite a bit of bailing since the bilge hole plug
seems to be defective. We had used nearly three gallons of gas getting
to Burnt Canyon, so I switched to the second tank. I should have
finished the first can before the switch and then there would have been
no worry about getting back to Pearce Ferry the last day on the third
can. I had taken ten gallons of gas in jerry cans and plenty of two
cycle oil. My experience on this trip shows that the seven and a half
horse motor takes the load, we had about eight miles per gallon. The
great advantage of the 19 foot cruiser was that we could go two and a
half times as fast and be better protected from the cold breeze too.
(After getting home, I found what was wrong with the bilge plug, so the
leakage was stopped.) When we beached the new boat about 100 yards into
the mouth of Surprise on gravel and rocks, we figured without the rise
of several inches in the lake level. The boat had taken quite a bit more
water in four days than it had overnight at Burnt Canyon. The trouble
was that I hadn't learned the trick of tightening the screw in the
middle of the plug to expand the rubber.

The only people we saw after leaving Pearce Ferry were about 20 river
runners in a private party. They had taken over a month to get where
they were, upcanyon from Triumphal Arch. Since they had just been
through a couple of very wet days, they appreciated the fine weather on
Monday, and for that matter, it was fine all through our trip except for
a threat of rain Friday afternoon and evening.

The present high level of the lake with a strong flow last summer has
resulted in new sand and mud bars. The mouth of Surprise Canyon seemed
to be completely stopped by a new bar. We went on and about a half a
mile upriver checked the possibility of climbing up to the Tonto before
coming back and descending to the bed of Surprise. The map didn't show
clearly how far we would have to go north at the higher level before
coming down to the bed. A few inches of water covered a low place at the
east end of the bar, but Jorgen found a fairly deep channel at the west
end where floods from the creek had cut a ditch. With the motor up, we
pushed the boat through and then used the motor again for about 100
yards before the skeg hit bottom.

We tied up and then carried our packs around the bend from the boat
before eating lunch. It was 1:00 p.m. when we really got started. The
water in the creek gave out after we passed a place marked by a grove of
cottonwoods. There would be short stretches of flowing water and then
dry rocks again. We decided that we would camp wherever we found water
after 4:30. When we came to more about 4:00 next to a good terrace on
the east side, we decided to call it a day. About 9:10 the next morning
we walked north along the terrace and within seconds after my remark
that if there would be signs of prehistoric Indians, it would be at such
a terrace, we came to a couple of mescal pits. There were smoke stains
on the ceiling of an overhang a few yards away. There were also some old
cow chips here. These things are about 200 yards north of the mouth of
an east side tributary even with the number 77 on the left border of the
Amos Point seven and a half minute quad. It took us about an hour to
walk from here to the mouth of the Amos Spring Arm. Here we found a good
campsite next to the wall just upstream from the junction. We left our
packs here while we went up the big tributary.

We had carried a moderate amount of water all the way up Surprise
although I had remembered water off and on in the bed as far as I had
gone in the spring of 1979. The longest that we were ever without water
in the bed was perhaps 45 minutes. I knew nothing about water in the
Amos Spring Arm. Since the bed at the end was dry, we carried some water
as well as our lunches in my day pack as we started up the side canyon.
We found pools and trickles in the bed fairly often as far as we went,
into the base of the Redwall, so we walked back with empty canteens.
There were a few pools that forced us to find very local bypasses, and
three places where we had to use longer and harder bypasses, two on the
south side and one on the north. The gorge was narrower and more
impressive than the main canyon. A scattering of bighorn droppings
encouraged us to think that we might be able to walk all the way through
the Redwall. However, when we were above the Devonian and had passed the
north side tributary northeast of the l in Plateau we came to a
chockstone blocking our way in spooky narrows. One of us could have
helped the other up this nine foot difficulty, but without a rope the
other would have to stay below. Furthermore, our time allowance had just
run out. We went back a little faster needing only two hours for the
return trip. At a place high on the south wall there were vertical
columns of travertine like open air stalactites. The night here and for
the rest of the trip was warmer than for the first two nights when there
had been a little frost.

On Wednesday after we had walked around to the north side of the bend
near the e of Surprise, we looked up at the west wall where Billingsley
had thought a Redwall ascent should be possible. It probably would go
for strong and daring climbers, but neither Jorgen nor I felt the urge
to try it. I finally recognized the place I had reached in May, 1979,
and now I knew that I had been as far as the west side tributary that
had been my goal that day. This junction is just south of the C of the
word Canyon. The last part of this tributary is a jumble of big rocks on
a steep slope, and on the former trip I had thought that this was just a
minor ravine. Billingsley had suggested the presence of a Redwall route
on the south side about a half mile into this side canyon. We learned
more about this canyon on our way back. Our objective for the day was
the junction just north of the word Canyon.. We found places for our
beds here. Jorgen smoothed out a place under a big rock where dew would
not wet his bag while I located a clearing on a terrace south across the
side stream from him. We still had time to walk up the main canyon that
afternoon and we reached the second south side tributary beyond our
campsite. This is about halfway from our camp to the mouth of Twin
Springs Canyon. This side canyon comes in at the level of the main bed
and looks interesting too.

Jorgen found some good fossils in the main bed. One showed a bit of the
stem of a crinoid and another reminded me of the fringe at the end of
the stalk. He also noted some chunks of sandstone that seemed heavier
than normal rock. There were clear tracks of a raccoon and we saw fish
in the stream, four inch midgets.

Actually, when we put down our packs at the second campsite in Surprise
Canyon, we explored the west side canyon before going up the main bed in
the late afternoon. It is fairly steep and rough and required some route
finding. It is also one of the narrowest and most impressive canyons I
have been in. There is lots of moisture with monkey flowers, mimulas,
growing so thickly that one can't see his footing in some places. The
seeps along the walls sustain a lot of maidenhair fern. This is
especially true of the west fork that we took first. We came to a pool
where I thought I ought to take off my clothes and wade. Jorgen
succeeded in getting along the west wall with dry feet, but just around
the next corner he saw that he would have to wade too or give up. He
waded in bare feet while I wore my shoes and socks. At the end of this
pool at first I thought that I was stopped by a chockstone, but on
looking better, I found grips and toeholds and got up. Here Jorgen
waited to guide me down. Some 40 yards farther, around the next bend,
there was an impossible barrier formed by a 25 foot high chockstone. We
returned to the fork and went up the other branch with similar results,
stopping below a high fall. These two arms are about as narrow and
spooky as anything off Glen Canyon.

We had planned to go down to the boat by Friday evening, but we knew
that no good campsites were near the boat, and besides, we wanted to see
the west side canyon where I had turned back in 1979. It is on the map
just south of the word Canyon. We spent an hour going up it and decided
that Billingsley's suggested Redwall ascent on the south side about a
half mile west of the main bed was not for us. There were difficulties
in the bed with bypasses. This time we ran in order not to over stay our
schedule. The canyon was still dry and open, very different from the
others we had investigated on this trip. When we were coming north along
the main bed, somewhere on the east side, an overhang near the end of a
ravine had intrigued us. When we walked closer, both of us recognized
that there was a passage forming a natural bridge. On our way back, I
kept the map in my hand and kept us located at all times. We wanted to
pinpoint the location of the natural bridge that we had seen. The bed of
Surprise is about 90% boulders and gravel and one has to watch the
footing constantly. Although we thought that we were watching, we both
missed seeing the natural bridge (ten minutes walk south of mescal pit
camp). In one way the boulders are a help. One has to cross the stream
every few minutes and the boulders form good stepping stones. There was
only one place where my shoes got a little wet.

Near the mouth of the side canyon with monkey flowers, I climbed up
about 100 feet on the north side and looked at a shallow cave just big
enough for one or two beds. The floor was level and the ceiling showed
smoke stains.

We slept Friday night near the mescal pits and rigged shelters against
the possible rain. About noon the sky had begun to get hazy until the
sun was no longer visible. It looked very much like the beginning of a
winter storm. Snow higher up would mean a steady drizzle below. I had my
tent fly over a tight rope and my poncho beneath for a ground cloth.
Jorgen was going to be under a slight overhang so we made his poncho
into a neat shelter for the exposed side. The moon showed a few times,
but when we retired, I thought we were going to have a miserable night.
However, nothing came down and by 3:00 a.m. the stars were showing.
Saturday was not at all bad.

The motor started easy enough but we had to take our time to get through
the narrow channel at the west end of the bar. We had filled the empty
gas tank from the jerry can before starting. The other held out for 40
minutes. When it went empty, I should have disconnected the hose and
hooked the other in place while the motor ran on the gas already in the
carburetor. As it was I had a hard time getting the motor started again,
but still we got from Surprise Canyon to Pearce Ferry in three hours. It
seemed colder than it had when we were going in on Monday and we had to
wear all the wraps we had. The landing on the trailer was easy with such
a small boat. We got away from Meadview about five and I got home by
10:30. Near the mescal pits against the wall were quite a few cow chips.
Evidently there is a walkable route down from the Shivwits Plateau.

Jorgen's shoes were hurting his ankles on the way back to the boat and
we took almost a half hour longer to get from the mescal pits to the
boat than it had on Tuesday. The lake had risen several inches and the
boat was only resting on the bottom because quite a bit of water had
leaked in. It took an hour to get everything shipshape and bailed out.

*Surprise Canyon
[December 31, 1980 to January 4, 1981]*

My trip with Jorgen had left me with a desire to see how a cow could
walk down into the lower canyon and also to locate our natural bridge.
Jim Ohlman had expressed the wish to go to Surprise Canyon with me, and
if he were along, I wanted to go back to the Amos Spring Arm past the
chock and see whether we could go on through the Redwall. My invitation
and his rejection were so close to the starting date that there was no
chance to invite anyone else. His reason was that his father had to go
to the hospital. As it turned out, it was good that I was alone.

I left Sun City quite early and went through Kingman too early to eat
lunch there. Taking the Stockton Hills Road, I got to Meadview around
noon and sampled the fare at their cafe. At the Pearce Ferry ramp I
talked to a man who was staying some time in his motor home and told him
not to worry about my parked car and trailer before Thursday, January 8.
This time I had the oars and it was easy to take the boat to a good
depth for the motor and also to land at the end of the trip. The motor
worked fine and there was no trouble with waves.

I kept the Belknap Guide open and was oriented until after I had passed
Maxon Canyon. Then it seemed that I was going too far and had somehow
missed seeing Lost Creek and Surprise Canyon. I thought I recognized the
place where Jorgen and I had considered going up on the Tonto and
walking back to Surprise. I was so confused that I headed downriver for
half a mile before turning back upstream. A sighting that confused me
was to see one of the Spencer Bells before reaching the mouth of Lost
Creek. Another observation is that one can get a fleeting glimpse of
Triumphal Arch from about Mile 257.5, substantially downstream from the
stretch, 256.6 to 257, where one can see it best. I also noticed the
perhaps farthest downstream deposit of lava at Mile 254 as well as quite
a large chunk inside the mouth of Lost Creek.

When I finally got back upriver to the mouth of Surprise, I was in for a
shock. The lake had fallen more than a foot since Jorgen and I were
there and the channel was too narrow and shallow to float the boat into
the lagoon. If I had had a companion, perhaps we could have lifted the
boat over the bar. Without giving that idea a thought, I went upstream
to where Jorgen and I had considered climbing to the Tonto. I remembered
having seen a place to get down off the Tonto on the east side of
Surprise without having to go very far north. There was a good place to
moor the boat and a clear patch of sand several feet above lake level,
so I decided to stay there Wednesday evening and later decided what to
do for a trip. I spent an hour climbing up to the Tonto bench although I
didn't seem to be above all the Tapeats. Some of the climbing was a bit
of a challenge even without my four day pack, so by morning I decided to
use my four foot inflatable.

On Wednesday I had rejected the idea of dragging the fishing boat
through the shallow channel for fear that the lake would go down further
and trap me in the lagoon. On Thursday morning, it was several inches
lower so that half the channel was above lake level. I figured that it
couldn't get any worse, so I tried dragging the aluminum boat up through
the channel. It stuck solidly when it was less than halfway into the
lagoon, so I went back to the method of using the three and a half pound
inflatable that was intended to be a child's swimming pool toy. It
supports me quite well when I have only a day pack on my back. The few
yards I paddled with a full pack in the Sun City lake didn't prepare me
for the 100 yards of cold water in Surprise Canyon. The pack high on my
back forced my chin hard against the bow of the little craft and water
almost came aboard beside my chin. My hands began to hurt from paddling
in the cold water, but after a pause I got used to it and with patience
I finally landed. I deflated the boat and hung it and my tennis shoes in
a tree above flood level, I hoped.

After all this delay in getting past the lagoon, it was 9:40 when I
started up the streambed. I kept the map in my hand and was also aware
of my location. About 200 yards south of the granite narrows near the a
in the word Canyon on the Spencer Canyon Quad, I checked a terrace on
the east side and found another mescal pit. I also marked on the map the
top of the granite at stream level near the o of the word Canyon. It
seemed that the top of the Tapeats occurs south of the beginning of the
word Surprise on the Devil's Slide Rapids Quad. Returning on Sunday, I
watched for places to go west to the Tonto which could be part of a
through canyon route. On the east side, one is quite close to the river,
near the e of the word Surprise of the Spencer Canyon Quad, but the
route to the west is north of the boundary between the Spencer Canyon
Quad and the Devil's Slide Quad. This is only about a quarter mile
before one reaches the end of the Tapeats. I marked the spots of water
or surface streams on my map, but they are frequent enough to make
canteen water unnecessary. It seemed that Devonian limestone occurs at
stream level just across the border on the Amos Point Quad. I reached
our camp at the two mescal pits in three hours and 20 minutes while
taking a few pictures and making notes on my map. On the way back on
Sunday this lap took two hours and 52 minutes.

About 3:15 on the north side of the e in the word Surprise on the map, I
checked a terrace on the east side and found more cow chips and some
bits of charcoal. Just south of here three impressive towers crown a fin
thrusting from the west into a big bend of the creek. Billingsley's
suggested Redwall route is across from the old campsite. Just south of
the letter n in the word Sanup, a steep tributary comes down from the
east and near the bottom there is an alcove topped by a flat ceiling.
This may have been what Jorgen and I took to be a natural bridge (no the
natural bridge is ten minutes walk south of the two mescal pit
campsite). There is a white stain on this ceiling and I may have
mistaken this for light coming through from above. On my return I got a
picture of this alcove which I will match with the one we took of our
former natural bridge. (Added later after seeing the new picture: the
pictures are of different places, and the order of my slides in December
shows that the natural bridge is downstream from the mescal pits.) I was
quite weary when I reached the site where Jorgen had cleared a bed
beneath the rock and I put my bag here. Clouds had been getting darker
during the late afternoon, and I was relieved to see all the stars about
midnight. The mice or ground squirrels were too active during the night
for me to have my best night's sleep.

As usual, I ate my breakfast in bed and got started by 7:45. By 9:25 I
found another good campsite about four minutes walking time west of the
end of Twin Spring Canyon. It had smooth dirt next to the wall on the
south side and more cow chips were around here too. There is a lot of
water in the creek along here, and for the previous mile the canyon is
narrower but it still has plenty of trees of a type not seen in the
eastern Grand Canyon, probably some sort of ash or alder. The beauty of
Milkweed Canyon seems rather ordinary in comparison. Up near the Redwall
rim one can see many neat round cave openings. A very few might be
reached without prohibitively long rappels, but it would be a chore to
find routes to the rim above these caves. There are a few caves that
might be reached from below. There were some birds, the commonest being
wrens and flycatchers. I saw one ouzel doing its peculiar dipping curtsy.

It took a little less than two hours to go from the previous night's
camp to this site, and by 9:45 I was ready for the main project, walking
up Twin Springs Canyon. I reasoned that the need for a canteen would be
no greater than it had been during the rest of the trip, especially when
I saw water flowing down Twin Springs Canyon. I took my lunch but no
canteen. There was water in the bed for the first 20 minutes but the bed
was dry from there on. Progress at first was as slow as it had been in
the main canyon, but after the canyon became narrow, about 10 to 15 feet
wide at the bottom, the bed became smooth gravel and sand and so even
that it might have been raked. In this exceedingly narrow and deep
canyon with such a gentle grade, I half expected an impossible barrier
around each bend. In an overhang at one bend, I thought at first that I
might have found walls of an Indian ruin, but on looking closer, I saw
that sheets of travertine had been deposited by drips from above.

Turning to look ahead, I saw a huge chockstone wedged about 12 feet
above the bed. I advanced and found no fill beneath this chockstone and
the bed was gently rising and smooth all the way through the Redwall,
almost one and a half miles. It was by far the best walking I had seen
anywhere on this trip. When I got into the open valley above the
Redwall, I knew that I had found the route for a cow to come to the
lower canyon from the plateau above. I figure that the top of the
Redwall at stream level is on a line connecting the 88's on the sides of
the Mount Dellenbaugh map. I turned back at 11:45 at the latitude of the
89's. With an early start from the lake, I could reach the mouth of Twin
Spring Canyon the first day and probably reach the road end above Twin
Creek Canyon the second day. The three springs shown on the map make
this seem like a sensible plan even if no one had a car waiting at the
end of the road. When I returned to the water in the lower Redwall
narrows I had gone unusually long for me without water, three hours.
Here I ate lunch and considered how amazing it is to find the
combination of such good footing through such a narrow and deep canyon,
about 15 feet wide at the bottom and 500 feet deep. I could stand with
legs apart and almost touch the walls by leaning first to the left and
then to the right without moving my feet. I tried to match the bends
with those shown on the map, but I had to give that up. The aerial
pictures didn't show the meanders correctly down at the bottom of the
canyon. It was like lower Jumpup in that there were many bends not shown
on the map. It was a great experience, and if I had carried a canteen, I
could have walked at least another hour further north.

On Saturday I started up the main canyon. At first the boulders were the
same and I began to wonder why Billingsley and his party had had to
swim. Then the bed became bare rock and the water flowed along a chute
at the bottom of an inner trough. I could see the pool where they would
have had to swim. A letter from George says that he climbed along the
north side above the water while the other two were below in the water.
If George came through with no advance information, I would say that he
lucked out again. I wonder whether they carried a rope for possible
rappels. If they had come to an impasse in Surprise Canyon, George could
have led the party over to Twin Springs Canyon. (In a letter from George
replying to my question after I got home, he says that Pete Gibbs had
led a party of 12 through for Ron Smith the year before, but he doesn't
say whether he had any precise information about the route from Gibbs.)
After the short trip up the main canyon, I had time to explore one or
two tributaries. The one that appealed to me was the one from the south
where Jorgen and I had turned back in December. I had to do some hand
and toe climbing to get as far as I did, but I came to the inevitable
waterfall beside a high chockstone. This estimated half mile took me
about a half hour each way. It is an interesting place with a lot of
mimulas and ferns. I also noticed a nearly sure way up the Redwall on
the southwest side near the mouth. If I had had a little more ambition,
I would have tried it. All that I could see, about 90%, looked like my
kind of a scramble. One might go up here and then head for Amos Spring.
My guess is that I had done the hardest move in getting where I did. It
was bad enough to make me want a cairn to show the exact place to get
down. Near the bottom of this pitch, on the way down, I found a safer
way to go under a leaning rock. I would need to haul my pack up with a rope.

I also checked another tributary on the south (left) side of Surprise
before I reached the place Jorgen and I had slept. I couldn't go far at
all because of a high fall. However, there is an easy ravine on the
northeast side of this tributary very close to the main bed of Surprise.
It seems to lead up to a bench that would get one past the fall where I
stopped. I felt sure that the upper basin in the Redwall would be
impossible, and by this time I was getting eager to reach the campsite
near the junction with Amos Spring Canyon. On the way I looked again at
the fake natural bridge and got to the campsite with time to read my
Reader's Digest before it was late enough to get supper. The mice were
active here too and I worried about the sky in the late afternoon, but
again it cleared during the night.

Without bothering with the map, I made good time down to the lake in the
morning and was relieved to find my rubber boat just where I had left
it. This time I got the weight farther back and managed to ship some
water over the stern where my knees rested on the rubber. I had to pull
over to the side and dump the water and start again. I finally made it
to the bar without taking in more water and found the boat tied to the
only tree in sight just where I had left it. The bilge plug was in right
this time and there was no water to bail. The boat had been in plain
sight for four days to anyone coming up the lake. I had plenty of food
and could have explored Maxon and Salt Canyons on day hikes, but now I
was in the mood to sit back and enjoy the scenery and then get back to
the comforts of home.

*Maxon and Salt Canyons
[February 13, 1981 to February 16, 1981]*

My real project was to go up Surprise Canyon again and reach the road
end above Twin Creek Canyon. The start was fine. I left home on
schedule, about 6:30 a.m. and reached the Pearce Ferry launching beach
by noon. The only hitch was that I had no rope for a painter for the
boat. I realized this before I got to Kingman and bought a 50 foot
clothesline with very little delay. I ate lunch out of my pack at the
beach and got away in the boat a little after one. The lake was calm and
driftwood was only a slight problem. For the first time I reached
Surprise on one, three gallon tank of gas, getting over 10 miles to the
gallon and averaging around 13 mph.

With my new inflatable I was prepared to tie the boat outside the silt
bar and proceed up the lagoon after blowing up the Sevylor. When I got
there I found that the lake was even higher than it had been in early
December, and I could have rowed across the bar at either end. I raised
the motor and went into the lagoon along the channel at the west end.
Not having to blow up the inflatable saved a good many minutes. I tied
to the same tamarisk tree we had used in December and left the boat near
the deep water at the far end of my 50 foot line. This was good, because
when I came back, the lake had fallen and left the midsection of the
boat resting on a rock with only the stern in the water. I found that I
could lift one end handily and get it into deeper water.

It was four by the time I was ready to walk. I carried the map in my
hand and kept track of where I was for a while. I hoped to find the
natural bridge that Jorgen and I thought we had seen. I thought that I
was looking up at every side canyon and ravine on the east side, but I
still failed to locate the overhang. I just checked my pictures again.
The processor put my bridge picture before the one of the mescal pit. By
5:30 I was ready to stop and camp. This was about a quarter mile south
of the top of the Tapeats. Right across from where I slept on the east
side, I discovered a fine overhung ledge of Tapeats in the west wall.
There is room for two protected from a rain. The only catch is that the
beds are about six feet above the bed of the stream and have driftwood
lodged by floods slightly higher. Mice were not around my pack where I
slept the first night nor for the next two nights.

I got away about 7:05 a.m. and made steady progress. I was still
watching for the bridge, or so I thought, but I was not very observant
since I walked right by our campsite near the mescal pits without
realizing where I was. I had discontinued map reading for every bend.
The mouth of Amos Spring Canyon gave me my orientation again. I did
notice the overhang on the east side that is north of the crest of
towers. I was in sight of the west side tributary that I had reached on
my one day trip away from Joe Hall when I noticed that the sole of my
left shoe was splitting loose at the toe. I sat down and considered the
situation and finally turned back. I was afraid that it might get worse
and become a real handicap. This frustration and change of plan shook me
so that I was fairly sure I wanted to go home the third day instead of
the sixth as planned. I stopped for the night quite early at the mescal
pits after having overlooked the place when I was passing the mouth of
Amos Spring Canyon. It seems to be easy to walk Surprise watching one's
footing and not seeing much else. The afternoon sky became more and more
threatening. Rather than rig my light tarp for a crude tent, I decided
to walk down to the Tapeats overhang and stay dry in the night and trust
that flood waters wouldn't come up six feet. As usual, by midnight, the
sky was clear.

Also by morning I was ready to try a couple of one day hikes. First I
tried getting the boat into the lagoon at Lost Creek with the idea of
landing and walking farther up the dry bed than I had been two years
ago. With an oar for a paddle I was able to get the boat into the open
water but the dense jungle of tamarisk still thwarted me from getting
out of the boat and walking. The climbing route along the west side of
the delta is still the best there is. I was not too keen about repeating
Lost Creek, so I moved on to Maxon Canyon (Reference Point Canyon on the
map). First I tried to get around the jungle and lagoon on the east
side, but the footing seemed slow and precarious. I could see the west
side and it looked better from a distance. A thing that caught my eye
before I landed was a short trail just east of the delta. It was indeed
a man formed narrow trail and there was a surveyor's white metal pipe.
It leads east about 30 yards to an open grassy terrace that has been
used as a campsite for river runners. A big fire pit is on bare ground
just west of the terrace. When I had made poor progress for a half hour
along the rough slopes on the east side of the lagoon, I rowed over to
the west side of the delta. It was quite a bit easier here and in 40
minutes I was down in the streambed south of the jungle. I had combined
scrambling up and down on the granite with some walking at the edge of
the jungle.

Something that was soon apparent is that the granite up in Maxon Canyon
rises much higher than it does just across the river to the north. Then
I noticed that there is a fault with a throw of several hundred feet
that parallels the river for a half mile or so. A ravine to the west
inside the mouth of Maxon marks the fault. The Tapeats right next to the
river is at the same elevation as the Tapeats on the north side of the
river while it stands several hundred feet higher south of the ravine.
Downriver the fault goes into the riverbed and continues up Salt Creek
but the throw diminishes and seems to end farther up Salt Creek. This is
the fault that forms a notch in the Redwall on the south wall of Lost
Creek and a similar notch on the north side of Lost Creek.

Lower Maxon Canyon has flowing water above ground for two stretches and
it is a real struggle to get through the resulting tangle of brush. I
tried forcing the branches aside, breaking them, and even crawling.
There is also a place or two where a jumble of great boulders form
barrier falls. The bypasses are fairly evident, but this is not the
easiest canyon to explore. At one angle, the bed seemed to be going up
fast so I took a shortcut up a scramble east of the bed and came down a
short distance to the creek. The best way to keep out of the nearly
impenetrable jungle was to stay on the granite of the right bank. After
another sharp angle where I was forced into the brush again, I came out
above all the water into easy walking. Now I could go up the gravelly
bed at nearly 3 mph and I reached the top of the granite just at 3:00
p.m., my self imposed deadline. It had taken me 40 minutes to get from
the boat to the bed above the delta and two and a half hours for the
entire trip to the top of the granite. I got back in two hours.

To camp on the terrace just east of the Maxon Canyon delta, I could tie
to tamarisks and step out of the boat on rock instead of mud. It was a
good clear night and no mice although I had seen a rock squirrel during
the return down Maxon the previous afternoon. There were fresh beaver
cut trees in the delta and I heard numerous heavy splashes in the water
during the night, clearly beaver and not just fish. There were lots of
ducks in the lagoon and coots there and in the river.

I was in the mood to go home Monday, but decided that there would be
time for half a day to explore Salt Creek. I moored the boat at the east
edge of the delta and had to do a short climb to get up the rocks to
where I could begin walking. Within yards I had to cross a nice little
stream. I might have worked the boat in a few more yards and been at the
stream. Progress along the east side of the lagoon and tamarisk jungle
was a lot easier than it had been at Maxon Canyon, especially after I
had climbed to the top of the Tapeats and found what might have been an
old burro trail. Another ravine from the east had running water just
where I came down to get into the bed of Salt Creek. There were some
stretches with running water in the bed most of the way up the bed.
There were also pockets of rain water left by the last storm over two
weeks before. Spring was in the air. The canyon wrens were singing now
and cottonwoods had new green leaves.

From a distance, it seemed that there might be a route up through the
Redwall in line with the fault, but from close in, I was fairly sure
that a 40 foot wall stops one near the bottom. Just as I was thinking
that the lack of bighorn scat would indicate that no route up exists, I
came across some droppings. There was more higher too. The arm that I
could follow the farthest bends to the east. The upper end of Salt
impressed me as few places in the Grand Canyon have. There were a
profusion of striking towers and blank walls. I tried to bypass an
impossible wall in the bed by going to the north but found a long rock
wall ahead in that direction. I moved to the south to get a look into
the bed of the main canyon. I could see that a clear trail follows a
shelf on that side into a fine amphitheater, but the wall ahead must
eliminate this as an access route up through the Redwall. The bighorns
must go into the area for feed and then go back the same way. It had
taken me two and a half hours to get up here from the boat, and I got
back in two. I noticed a way out of the bed to go west above the Tapeats
not far north of the upper end of the delta. It is a great canyon for a
scenic, dead end hike. (Billingsley found an Indian ruin in Salt Canyon.)

*Hawkins Butte
[February 21, 1981 to February 24, 1981]*

Doc Ellis, Jim Ohlman, and others have climbed Hall and Hawkins and I
figured it was time for me to do likewise. I had succeeded on Hall last
October and Hawkins is just as easy. I took Scott Baxter with me since
he is interested in getting to know more about my experiences in the
Grand Canyon with the objective of writing a book.

After a bit of lunch and a short stop at the permit window, we got
started down the Kaibab Trail a little after noon.

On the road north from I 40, I picked up a couple of hitchhikers who had
done something unusual. They had walked the road from the South Rim to
the Topocoba Trail and had seen Supai the hard way. On the return they
must have hitchhiked the regular road and along the highway. I have
heard that Indians working at the south rim sometimes drive this road
out to Manakacha Point and go down to Supai via the rope route. I
suppose this is no longer true when a cable bars drivers from Great
Thumb Mesa. I know that the Kolbs and others have led burros and walked
this Topocoba Hilltop Road.

I felt fine while going down the Kaibab Trail and I talked a lot. I was
surprised when we got to the bridge across Bright Angel Creek in only
two hours, a lot faster than I have been doing this lately. The weather
was perfect for our whole trip and the trail has been improved since
last October.

While we were eating another snack outside at Phantom Ranch, Myla
Morchek came by with Keith Green. She remembered me from last year when
we had an evening visit with a number of people including Gale Burak,
Terri Michee, Teresa Balboni, and others. Tom Davison has told me that a
girl named Susan has climbed Brahma, but Myla Morchek says that Terri
Michee has also. Our permit said that we would sleep at Sumner Wash on
the Tonto Trail. Myla and Keith had just been up the Redwall in Sumner
Wash to try to climb Sumner Butte, but Keith had said the loose nature
of the rock along the ridge to Sumner had scared him and he had given
up. They said that they saw no water in the Sumner Wash water pockets.
Scott and I carried quite a bit of water, about two quarts apiece, but
we were relieved to find plenty in two pockets about 50 feet below the
trail. We had a warm night under the overhangs about 200 yards back
along the trail. There were mice but we got partial protection for our
food by putting our packs in a tree.

We had walked one hour and 15 minutes to get to this place from Phantom
Ranch and it took me three more hours to reach Clear Creek. I was
walking a lot better than I had on the recent trips when it took me
almost eight hours to go from Bright Angel Creek to Clear Creek. Perhaps
I was in better shape since I had just hiked for parts of four days in
the previous week. Maybe I could still approximate what I used to do
when I would get out on a hike every week at Flagstaff.

Since Scott and I had plenty of time, we went up Clear Creek and looked
at the ruins opposite the mouth of the Cheyava Falls arm. I hadn't
remembered how much more impressive the ruins are along the base of the
cliff to the south than the one right at the angle where I used to
sleep. At one place in a ruin to the south was another stiff wire that
must have held a tag saying that the Gila Pueblo had made a surface
collection there as well as at the projecting angle where I camped.

After we rested in the pleasant sun near the foot of the trail for quite
a while, Scott going over his notes and me reading Time, we walked down
to the tributary from Cape Royal. I began to worry about the dry state
of the bed, but finally there was plenty of water. Just before we
reached the narrowest part, Scott was up on an extensive terrace and
noticed a couple of good bed sites under overhangs. We decided to stop
although it wasn't as far along as my proposed place a little beyond the
spring. He smoothed out a place under the ceiling and then decided to
sleep in the open on the grass. I stayed under the overhang and slept
warmer than he did. In fact the only night I used my quilted underwear
in bed for warmth was the last night near the Tonto Trail under the sky.

There is enough hiker traffic up and down Clear Creek to keep a fairly
clear trail. Near the mouth of the Cape Royal tributary, it goes right
along the rim of the mescal pit. Before we turned in for the night,
Scott walked up the bed past the narrows and observed a very likely
route out on top of the Tonto to the south. When we started up here the
next day, we soon came on a clear deer or bighorn trail (Indian ruin
north of this across wash). I am now finding as much evidence of bighorn
sheep as of mule deer in most parts of the canyon, including Clear
Creek. We saw some droppings on our way to the saddle west of Angel's
Gate, but I didn't see any sure signs that they follow the climber's
route through the Redwall. I know that they could do this type of
climbing. I set our pace and reached the saddle in just under two hours
from our camp. Walking the slope above the Redwall wasn't fast and I
took one hour and 43 minutes from the saddle to the top of Hawkins.
Scott went around the west side of Dunn Butte to check the way that
Ohlman and his friends had climbed Dunn. On the return from Hawkins I
came this way too and no way looked feasible to me. Incidentally, the
footprints of the climbers of Dunn were still visible in many places.
Our return from the top of Hawkins to the saddle took five minutes less
than the trip over. On the way out, we had paused to consider the
possible way up the Redwall south of Hall Butte down the west side of
the promontory. We know that one can also go down the east side into
Vishnu Canyon.

*Another Redwall route that seemed highly possible is in the ravine
southwest of Thor Temple. I would guess that it is the best approach for
climbing Thor. I would like to go back and check off three more Redwall
ascents.

We got back to our camp early and moved up to the creek at the foot of
the Clear Creek Trail where we ate our dinner before carrying our packs
for an hour and then sleeping up on the Tonto. It took us about three
hours to walk from there to Phantom Ranch on Tuesday. Myla Morchek
invited us in to have coffee and eat our lunch at their table. She
wanted us to stay for a real dinner of spare ribs Tuesday evening, but
we got started on and while Scott went out at his rate, I got from the
Bright Angle Creek bridge to the rim in four hours and 39 minutes, five
minutes behind my time with Alan Doty last April, but much better than I
was able to do it in October.

It was a good trip and I found Scott Baxter's house interesting and his
companionship very pleasant.

*Surprise Canyon
[April 26, 1981 to April 29, 1981]*

The main problem about my going back to Surprise Canyon was how my right
hip would take the backpack. Just a few weeks ago I was walking around
the house in pain and needing a cane. Contrary to the predictions of
some friends the trouble had subsided and I could walk the sidewalks
without much bother. The inactivity had of course weakened my stamina. I
had to go at this time because of commitments for the next two weeks,
and after that the weather would be unpleasantly hot.

I hooked the boat on behind the Jimmy and got off at 6:30 a.m. Sunday
morning. The Sands garage mechanic had done a good job and the vehicle
had power on the hills and made better mileage per gallon that it had on
the previous two trips. I got to the Pearce Ferry ramp by 11:30 and met
a party of USGS river runners from Flagstaff. One was George Ulrich who
had given me the fancy picture constructed from satellite pictures taken
from 530 miles above the earth. It shows the Grand Canyon from Lake Mead
to Lake Powell. We agreed, contrary to Andy Rooney, that the boat
traverse of the Grand Canyon is still high adventure.

On the way into the canyon, I encountered a party with three big
inflatables moored where George Bain had told me to look for ancient
Indian rock art and mescal pits. I stopped and started up the slope to
see the goodies with others to show me where to look. Then I considered
how this might throw me off schedule and that I might not reach a good
place to sleep that night, and I went on. This little detour cost me
something in that the gas in the first fuel tank gave out when I was
only 50 yards from the bar at the mouth of Surprise Canyon. The lake was
three or four feet lower than it had been in February and the current
was too swift for me to row to the bar. It took me some time to get the
second tank going and get to the bar. Blowing up the three pound
inflatable was also time consuming and I didn't put in enough pressure
to support the oars properly. Eventually I got to the head of that kind
of navigation through the Surprise Canyon lagoon. One big flaw in the
upriver trip was that I hadn't put in the bilge plug well and I had to
bail frequently because of the leak. When I got the fishing boat up on
the bank, I pulled the plug and put it in tighter from the inside, and
on the return trip there was so little leakage that I didn't need to
bail at all. My mooring rope was 50 feet long, and in order to make it
reach I had to drag the boat up as far as possible on the sand. At the
very farthest upriver end of the bar grew the only tree for mooring. I
also had some difficulty in landing from the inflatable since I had to
get out into a foot of soft mud. When I had deflated the boat and parked
it high enough in the granite to be above any rise in the lake level and
had changed from my very muddy tennis shoes into my hiking boots, it was
already 5:20 p.m. I walked until seven to find a flat ledge under an
overhang in the Tapeats. It was several hundred yards south of where I
had slept on the previous trip. On Monday when I went on, I didn't
recognize the former bivouac site and when I was coming back on
Wednesday I saw it but I missed the place I had slept Sunday night.
There had been a prediction of showers for Sunday night, but no rain
fell for all four days.

Again I looked carefully at every ravine on the east side to try to
locate the natural bridge that Jorgen and I thought we had seen. The
only place it could have been was the one with the big overhang as far
north of the big bend to the east as this bend is north of the junction
with the Amos Spring Arm. I recognized the place we had slept near the
mescal pit by a landmark on the west side of the bed, a house sized
cubical boulder. I also saw the end of the Amos Spring Arm and the other
landmarks. It was only 2:30 when I reached the place Jorgen and I had
slept for our farthest north night and I used this bed site again.

I was worried about my right leg since it felt worse than it had when I
set out. I rested a good bit and I spent the afternoon of my arrival at
the old site lying around reading Time. Along about 8:00 a.m., after my
6:15 start that morning, I had decided that I wouldn't be able to carry
out my main project of walking up to one of the springs at the head of
Twin Springs Canyon, and I actually walked back toward the boat for
seven minutes. Then I thought of checking the Redwall route in the left
side tributary about halfway from my campsite to the junction with the
Twin Springs Arm. Sleeping out during this early heat wave was very
different from what it had been in the winter. On Sunday night, my
quilted Dacron underwear and socks sufficed for the entire night. On the
other two nights I used my light weight down bag. The famous silence of
the Grand Canyon was broken by birds singing much of the day and by
little frogs croaking like big ones for much of the night. Beavers had
been active near where I had left my inflatable but mice didn't bother
me at all. Humming birds were bold and curious in their near approaches
and a humming bird moth went from flower to flower near my bed. I didn't
notice any of the oily and pungent little trees which used to poison my
skin in the spring, but again I came home with red and itching wrists.
There was a slight threat of rain again on Monday morning, but the rest
of my stay was hot and clear.

On Tuesday I started walking about 6:15 and reached the tributary
halfway to the Twin Springs junction in 45 minutes. I decided that I
would turn back at 9:00 a.m. so I carried only two quarts of water and a
reel of adhesive tape. When I had gone into the side canyon about a
quarter mile, I started up the west side before I came to the difficulty
in the main bed. I had a little difficulty with the climbing so I marked
the top of this passage with a cairn. On the return I went farther south
and came down the bed using the route around the barrier fall that I had
spotted in February. My conclusion was that the more direct way I had
used for the present ascent was superior. Most of the way up the Redwall
was just rough walking, but three more places gave me the problem of
route finding finger and toe holds. The route was up to the northwest to
the crux near the top. At one stretch for a few yards there was a well
defined sheep trail and near the top I found old sheep droppings. The
end of the climb was on a promontory connected with the main rim by a
slender isthmus. This was probably not the true top of the Redwall since
I had to go higher as I walked south and went through another member of
the limestone. Above this in one area I noted quite a thickness of what
Ohlman has told me is the basal conglomerate. It seems remarkable that
this rather thin deposit appears sporadically but so extensively, from
east of the Walhalla Plateau to Surprise Canyon. There were some more
limestone ledges higher still, but I concluded that this rock was part
of the Supai. I reached the first big fork in this tributary before it
was time to turn around. The way to the top of the Supai seemed simple
in more than one place. I would estimate from the map that I had gone
about one quarter of the way to Amos Spring by 9:00 a.m. This Redwall
climb might be a logical part of the Lee's Ferry to Grand Wash Cliffs
route below the North Rim.

I got back to my pack and the bed by 11:30 and took a long rest through
the heat of the day. My right hip was a little worse for the workout
over the rough going and a couple of places I used a knee for climbing
instead of the feet. To kill the time I finished the current issue of
Time and then started through it a second time. About 3:45 I started
back and stopped where sand made a level bed north of the big bend
around the fin topped by three towers. On Wednesday I got off for my
earliest start, by 5:35, and reached the head of the lagoon in five
hours. I noticed that I took three and a half hours to go from the
mescal pit campsite to the end, the same time that Jorgen and I had
taken in December when we started fresh from camp. This time I had
rested about 15 minutes after walking for three hours without a break.
Also on this occasion I had random pains in my right hip when I stepped
the wrong way.

I easily found the tennis shoes I had hung in a tree and the inflatable
boat was not hard to find either. Again I had some trouble managing the
boat because I had not inflated it tightly and I had put the pack in the
wrong end. I felt that I had to kneel as I rowed and before I reached
the bar, my knees were giving me fits. I had a struggle, but not a
desperate one, getting the fishing boat down into the water. The lake
had dropped about five inches in three days. A malfunction of the
electric starter had me worried for a little, but I got everything going
and reached Pearce Ferry after 4:30.

I was under power coming down the lake from the mouth of Surprise Canyon
by noon, but I must have spent a half hour where I had seen the people
looking for the rock art on the brown boulders. I got out George Bain's
letter and sketch map and studied them on the site, but still I was only
about one third successful in finding the goodies. When I followed the
burro trail west to the patch of very green mesquite, I finally saw a
couple of boulders with designs cut through the desert varnish and the
two big mescal pits beyond about 75 yards northwest of the grove.

Getting into Surprise is far easier at a higher level of the lake. I
think that future visits by me will be when I hear that the bar is at
least partly covered. At this time, however, I saw bare footprints in
the mud at the head of the lagoon. I think that someone had waded
through the mud at the base of the east wall. I also saw Vibram shoe
prints going both ways far from the mouth of the canyon. I wondered
whether Tony Williams had come down from the rim and had walked to the
mouth and back.

It was gratifying to know that my bad hip hasn't put me on the sidelines
completely even though I did feel worse at the end of the trek. I had
walked seven and a half hours one day and five the next.

*209 and 214 Mile Canyons
[July 15, 1981 to July 18, 1981]*

I got Scott Baxter at Parks Monday afternoon and we drove to House Rock
Valley where we spent the night. We had a short visit with Jim Ohlman
who was pumping gas at Marble Canyon Lodge. On Tuesday we proceeded to
Saint George with a brief stop at Pipe Springs National Monument which
Scott saw before the ranger opened up. The interstate bypass for Saint
George confused me about where to buy gas and leave town to go towards
Mount Trumbull and Parashant, but after asking some questions we learned
that the best way is to leave the freeway at the first exit west of town
and go through a new subdivision called Bloomington Hills. About 22
miles south of Saint George, my left front tire went down so fast that I
nearly jammed into the steep hillside before I got the car over to the
right. Scott had an easier time loosening the bolts than I would have.
He was also a good man to have along when it came to opening and
shutting the wire gates and especially when we wanted to go through a
heavy wooden gate that was down in the mud too. We went back to town and
stopped at the Goodyear shop where I got two new six ply tires for the
front wheels and found the usefulness of my credit card to pay that kind
of bill. It was at least one and a half hours later when we finally left
town the second time. Jorgen had once said that one should allow eight
hours to go from Saint George south past Mount Dellenbaugh to the
vicinity of Rodger Tank at the head of 209 Mile Canyon, but we came to
the end of the driving for us. about four miles north of Rodger Tank, in
less than six hours. The road seemed worse than it used to, and I am not
surprised when we heard from Buster Esplin that more people used to come
that way in years past. We had a slight problem in driving on a slick
muddy surface at the places along the road where there had been spotty
thundershowers. However our principal worry was from the lava boulders
in the road near Mount Dellenbaugh and Price Point. A couple of times
Scott got out and tried to guide me so as to avoid the wors boulders. We
would have been helpless without four wheel drive. When we were almost
two miles south of Shanley Tanks, we came to a place so rough that both
of us were willing to walk some extra miles the next day rather than to
take the chance of getting hung up on the rocks.

I was also worried about the weather. It seemed to be tending toward a
general storm rather than just the afternoon buildup of clouds and light
showers. I played with the idea that we should head back north in the
morning rather than getting stuck in the deep mud which is possible
after a big storm. When we talked with Buster Esplin on the way out the
next Sunday, he said that it can get so bad that people have had to
climb out the window when their cars are so far down in the mud that
they can't open the doors. However, by morning I decided that we should
take the chance that a big storm might hit us and go ahead. Both of us
had rain gear, and we did use it for a half hour or more.

I read my odometer incorrectly and thought that we were closer to Rodger
Tank than we were. When we had walked south along the road for about an
hour and 40 minutes, we began to think that we might have overshot, so
we turned down the next draw. When we got the view in the more open
canyon below the Kaibab, we could see that we had come down the draw
immediately north of the drainage from Rodger Tank. Walking was slow in
the brushy narrow streambed and finally we came to where it dropped off
in quite a fall, in the Toroweap, I believe. We tried walking the slope
to the south of the fall and soon found a way to get down to the bed
again. From map study and my experience in Surprise Canyon, I thought
that it might be possible to go clear to the river in one day even
though Jorgen had said that this would not be possible. When we saw how
long it took us to reach the junction with Price Canyon, I began to
agree with Jorgen. Jorgen had also said that there was one big drop
which would require a real bypass. We figured we had found it in the
lower Supai at a fall where the wall was as smooth as the side of a
quarry. It was clear that we should go along the slope to the south and
get down about a quarter mile away. When we were well along on this
detour, Scott saw a place that might well have been some old constructed
trail. At least rocks seemed to be moved to the side for a few yards.
There were a few short barriers where we had to slide down among rocks
in the bed and where I felt safer to have Scott help by handing my pack
down to me. We found rainpools almost everywhere that the bedrock
showed. When Jorgen, Homer, and Bill came through it must have never
been dryer. After some more trouble with my right hip quite shortly
before this expedition, I was glad to be able to walk hour after hour
that first day. Then I began feeling ordinary weariness and was glad to
have water for an early camp. Scott thought he could find us a better
place than where we first stopped. He reported back in less than an hour
when he had loated a place for smooth sandy beds with a good rain
shelter across the way. I found that I could construct a rough bed site
under the overhang and spend the night with no thought of having to
move, but the weather looked better and better and I ended by sleeping
at the better place in the open. This was in the lower Redwall.

The heat hadn't seemed too bad the first day since there had been some
rain and cloud cover. We got started quite early on Thursday, about
6:10, since we figured that it was going to get hot. That day was also
somewhat wet and cloudy, and the narrows through the Devonian formation
gave us some shade. These narrows are impressive. If we hadn't known
that my friends had come through here years ago, we would have felt a
lot of relief when no impossible falls appeared. I was experimenting
with a kind of loafer instead of regular hiking boots. They were fine in
that I got no blisters, but the soles of my feet got somewhat sore and
by the third day, the shoes were beginning to break up. I tried tape to
keep the insoles from coming out, but on the fourth day I gave up and
just walked any way that I could in shoes that were coming apart. We got
to the river a little after noon and relaxed in the chilly water and
then rested in the thin shade of some catclaws to read our magazines for
a couple of hours.

Around three we went on along a good burro trail for a time. There were
lots of burro signs, but none real fresh. Perhaps they had airlifted the
burros out of this part of the canyon too. Near Mile 210 at the lower
end of the Granite Park island, we had to walk along the broken rock
forming the immediate riverbank. When I walked up this way with Jorgen,
I thought that we had used burro trails almost all the way. Perhaps
there was one higher on the slope. Then when it began to rain again, we
found a good shelter down near the river and sat it out. Before we had
moved on, the river rafts, both oar and motor powered, began coming by.
One of the river men recognized me as his former math teacher at
Flagstaff. Finally, Scott asked the last boat for a ride down to Mile
214, and they pulled in below us. They, the Diamond Company, not only
took us downriver but also invited us to join them for a fine meal,
their last on the river before they would end the trip at Diamond Creek
the next day. We had plenty of goodies such as vegetable soup, big New
York steaks, corn on the cob, and pineapple upside down cake. The
campsite was just right for us since it was about 100 yards downriver
from the mouth of 214 Mile Canyon. I had purification tablets for the
use of river water in our canteens, but that wasn't necessary since we
found a rainpool in the bedrock just above the river in 214 Mile Canyon.
We ate our own breakfast up on a shelf above the sandy camp of the
regular party and got off the next morning when only a few of the dudes
were awake.

Mile 214 Canyon is quite a little steeper than 209 Mile Canyon and the
lower part is more open so that one can see how high the Redwall is
above river. I realized how far we had come down from our first night
camp to the river. About an hour and a half after we started, we came to
a low barrier cliff in the bed. Scott climbed up directly while I went
up a rough slope to the north. On top of this cliff, we could see burro
trails especially on the south side. There must have been a fairly easy
bypass if one left the bed to the south soon enough. Later on we
approached a much higher barrier cliff across our path in the bed and
also far around on both sides. There was just one chance, a 50 foot wide
broken corridor on the south side of the bed. There was nothing else to
do, so we went up there. Scott headed for some shade near the wall and
ran into the constructed trail that George Billingsley had said was
here. Many places on this trail still showed retaining walls. It became
faint where there was no need for so much work and I missed the way a
few times. Scott was a little smarter in following the trail, but we
both would have had no trouble in getting up the right way to a notch
near the top of the Redwall. From there to the Snyder Mine, one has to
use his own common sense. I think we would have been smarter if we had
stayed lower and farther east than we did. We used the map to figure
that the mine is on the south side of a prominent knoll. Up the last of
the Redwall and across these rolling hills to the mine, I was feeling
the heat. If we had had to go another half hour to get into the cool
mine shaft, I might have really been in trouble. We had seen some
rainpools in 214 Mile Canyon but not as often as in 209 Mile Canyon.
Scott had left the trail to inspect about the highest of these pools
when he saw two big owls perched in a tree just watching him.

In the late afternoon I had recovered enough to feel like going down to
see Shanley Spring and make sure that it had water. When I got close to
the dropoff above the spring, I took Scott to the south side of the
little gorge as I had remembered doing with Jorgen. Then when I saw no
trail here and some across on the north side ledge, I backed away and
went over there. There was a constructed trail down near the wall on
that side, but there was no spring. We passed two places that may have
had drips at one time, but they were bone dry. Instead of persevering
and looking intelligently for the spring as I might on a first visit, I
rather panicked and concluded that there was no water here. Scott
advised me to go back to the mine and wait for him to look some more. He
found a couple of adequate rainpools in the mouth of the bigger arm that
comes in farther south. He brought us plenty for the night. After I had
spent a fairly good but short night in the shaft while Scott slept out
under the stars, Scott went back to the pools and filled all of our
containers starting down there about 4:20. By 6:10 we were on the way.
After the first day I was using the system of walking for 25 minutes and
resting for five, but on the stiff climb from Snyder Mine to the rim, I
had to rest more than that. The final steep part was a miserable talus
rather loose and near the angle of repose. There was a deer trail near
the top and some signs of trail construction and civilized trash. There
must have been a horse trail up here when they were working the mine,
but it is gone now. It seemed harder to keep one's footing than anywhere
else I have been. There were deer droppings along her and at one place I
am sure I saw bighorn droppings. On the Kelly Point Road we also
recognized coyote and bear dung.

When we got to the top, we had a two hour rest for eating and getting
cooled off for the nine mile hike to the car. Scott had carried water in
his pack, and it was a good thing. I had carried a gallon away from the
mine up to the rim, but that much needed supplementing soon after I had
eaten lunch. It seemed plenty hot even up on the Shivwits Plateau at
6000 feet and I was resting more often, about 10 minutes of progress
followed by five minutes of rest. Scott seemed a bit worried by the
direction of the Jeep road which we intercepted where it came down a
bare hill to the rim at a notch. We found that it continues well beyond
where the map shows it ending at the rim. We were walking within sight
of the rim and when we came to the road, we realized that if we had gone
down the slope to the west where the valley drains into 209 Mile Canyon,
we would halve been on the road much sooner.

Over two hours from our start after reaching the rim, we came to the
junction with the Kelly Point Road and soon found Kelly Tanks. They were
all dry this time although there was one rather skinny cow here. We
could tell when we were approaching Rodger Tank since the road turns
from northwest to north here. Rodger Tank itself is back hidden in the
trees. We had seen an arrow outlined in stones beside the road just a
short distance north of where we left the road to go down 209 Mile
Canyon and strangely both Scott and I missed seeing this on our way
north although we were looking for it. Around six there was more shade
and I began walking farther before the rests. Finally, Scott recognized
the rough boulders that had made us turn the car around and almost at
the same time he saw the car.

The most interesting thing that happened on our way north on Sunday was
our chance encounter with Buster and Lola Esplin at the outlier ranch
where the much smoother of two alternate roads goes through the heavy
wooden gate. Buster assured us that one can drive to the head of a
fairly good trail down to Amos Spring and he said that there is another
spring farther down the valley below Amos Spring where there is an old
rock building. He also assured me that one can climb out to the rim at
various places at the head of Twin Springs Canyon, thus contradicting
the information passed along by Georgie White Clark.

The other very interesting event while we were driving through the woods
was the sight Scott had of a hawk swooping down and killing a rabbit.

We had a good visit with Tony Williams at Jacob Lake. When we got to
Parks, we looked up my log and found that we had missed seeing Shanley
Spring on this trip. I had written that it formed a pool at least 13
inches deep and several feet across back in a little cave. The way down
to it is indeed on the south side of the slot where the dry bed drops
over the little cliff. We could have had good water instead of the
greenish brew from the stagnant pools.

Between the spring and the mine, I saw a big mescal pit and Scott picked
up a fine artifact made of stone. It may have been a projectile point.

*Thor's Hammer bay and Papago rim
[September 19, 1981]*

Jim Ohlman had told me about a fine route down the south arm of
Grapevine Canyon below Thor's Hammer. There is a parking area called by
that name that offers a convenient place to leave a car. One of the best
displays of Grand Canyon pictographs is under an overhang about 50 feet
below the rim and perhaps 200 yards to the west of the parking. Chad
Gibson had been there before and he was able to take me directly to the
place. The pictures and designs cover the wall and ceiling for a good
many yards. The dark maroon paint was put on apparently with a fine
tipped brush in dots and very narrow lines. One design would appear to
be a map perhaps having to do with the local route down into the canyon.

A clear animal trail led from the pictographs down to the east into the
bed of the bay or drainage. There seemed to be a problem right at the
top of the Coconino until we got close and could see that the fault had
made it possible to climb down a slope that had trees growing on it.
There were no really discouraging difficulties until we were down near
the base of the Coconino and had only about 50 vertical feet to go. Here
there was a 20 foot drop over big chockstones with a vertical slot on
the east side where Ohlman and the other students had chimney climbed
down. The crack seemed inconveniently narrow at the top and rather too
wide near the bottom, and the walls seemed rather smooth where I saw
them near the bottom. If I had had a rope to hold to as I climbed down
the crack, I would have done it gladly, but I didn't feel in the mood,
and I called for a retreat. We took one and a half hours to get down
here including the detour to see the pictographs and another one and a
half hours to get back to the car.

We were through with this main project by 10:00 a.m. so we drove to
Moran Point and spent the rest of the day until 4:15 walking the rim to
look for Indian ruins. I didn't see any that I hadn't seen years ago,
strung along the last half mile of rim before we reached the head of the
east arm of Papago Canyon. Two were defensive ruins out on promontories.
The western one of these is on a detached tower that seems difficult to
climb to even though the break is only a few yards. I feel sure that I
got on top of it when Norvel Johnson and I were out that way about 1967,
but it didn't seem easy and I didn't try the climb this time. There is a
small storage bin about 30 yards southeast of this, about 40 feet down
from the plateau. We chanced on two rectangular rooms about 30 yards
back from the rim. We also found the bigger promontory with the
defensive wall approached by an easy scramble down from the rim. There
were several room outlines on it north of the breast works. On the next
promontory to the east, there was no wall for defense, but there were a
couple of room outlines. I still didn't locate the overhang where David
Hunt showed me the charcoal design on the ceiling, the one I
photographed the first time I was there and then never saw again.

After following the rim from 10:15 until 5:15, we walked back along the
road and reached the car in less than one hour.

I had a permit for a three day trip to try to climb Brahma by the
approach from near Ribbon Falls, but I felt rather weary and had
acquired some blisters on my left heel and dropped out on that ambition.

*Wall Creek
[October 19, 1981 to October 22, 1981]*

The plan for this trip was to climb Brahma using the Redwall break
opposite Ribbon Falls. Jan Jensen had found that the Redwall is quite
easy here, and I had checked it in August, 1972, but I had forgotten
that it is quite a chore to get up from the trail near Ribbon Falls to
the base of the Redwall. In September I had secured a permit to use this
route to climb Brahma, but after the day with Chad Gibson when I had
turned back instead of going down the chimney at the base of the
Coconino, I decided that I wouldn't be up to the climb through the top
Supai on Brahma, and I gave up the project. This time I picked up Scott
Baxter at Parks at 9:00 a.m. and felt sure that he could get me past any
difficult climbing we would find on Brahma. We got our permit and made
good time down the South Kaibab Trail from 11:00 to 1:30. About halfway
down some other hikers showed us a baby rattlesnake. It was only about
15 inches long and as thick as my little finger, but Scott pointed to
the spiky horn on its tail that would grow the rattles. It didn't try to
coil and strike at us.

We ate lunch near the River Ranger Station and inspected the fancy new
restroom building there and at the campground. They are not open yet
since the sewage treatment plant is not yet ready for operation. Then we
went through Phantom Ranch and looked up Myla Morchak who greeted us
most enthusiastically and urged us to stay with them on our way back. We
didn't think that this would fit with the schedule. I figured that
climbing Brahma would take all Wednesday and that we would want to sleep
farther up Bright Angel Creek. As Myla's guests we enjoyed lemonade and
Scott had a beer. Then we walked up Bright Angel Creek for a couple of
hours and found a good place to put our beds near a spring from the east
wall. Thus there was no question about having to purify water from
Bright Angel Creek as the Park Service signs now say.

We figured on using the second day of the four that were available to
let me rest for the big push on Wednesday. However, at a fairly late
hour we packed up and moved on up the trail. I lost my bearings and took
Scott almost to Wall Creek thinking that the route up to the Redwall
break was still a little way ahead. Towards 3:00 p.m. we bestirred
ourselves to check on the start of the route up to the Redwall break at
the northwest side of Brahma. When we reached Wall Creek, I knew that we
had overshot. We carried our packs back south to a place where they
bring mules down to the creek to let them drink. This is just north of
where the trail starts up the hill across from Ribbon Falls. Then we
went up the slope on the south side of the wild gorge through the
Quartzite and get high enough to see for sure that this was the place. I
could point out to Scott exactly how I had been through the Redwall to
climb Deva. He thought that sometime in the future he might try coming
off the South Rim and up here to climb Deva and get back to the South
Rim in one day. He has done a one day ascent of Sumner Point and only a
little over a week before our trip, he and another man had tried the
feat of starting from the Colorado River at the mule bridge and running
from there to the summit of Mount Humphreys in 24 hours. On that
occasion they came up to the head of the Kaibab Trail in two hours and
two minutes and reached a place near timberline in about 21 hours. The
wind and weather were so bad that they decided not to go the rest of the
way for fear of hypothermia. After this reconnaissance of more than an
hour, we ate early and went to bed. I was worried at how long it was
taking me to get over stiff and sore muscles, and I decided that this
route up from near Ribbon Falls was going to be longer and harder than
the way up from the rain pools in Sumner Wash. Also I was afraid that in
my present poor condition that the ascent of Brahma would be so tough
that I would have a hard time getting to the rim on Thursday. Scott had
to get ome Thursday evening in order to teach rock climbing techniques
to a group of Navy men.

I was content to use Wednesday to see more of Wall Creek than I had seen
in 1972. From where we slept it took less than 15 minutes to walk north
to the mouth of Wall Creek. Instead of going high on the north slope
above the creek as I had nine years ago, we went in just above the rocky
narrow mouth. A deer trail suggested this move. We were able to follow
this dim trail through the entire creek bottom on the return, but on the
way in, I led Scott up above most of the quartzite gorge along the north
side. We were still not high enough to dodge the whole cliff system.
Just as our bench was getting cliffed out, we came to a damp ravine with
a lot of cane and travertine where we could get back down to the bed. It
was a lot easier to stay down as we did on the return trip.

The narrow creek bed filled with willows, vines, and cottonwoods was
really charming and both of us didn't miss the thrill of climbing Brahma
too much. In places we saw fresh beaver cuttings and we watched a small
doe both up in the high bench on our way in and also down below on our
return. I gave Scott Herm Pollock's information about an impressive
spire of Redwall about 200 feet high, near the south wall before we
could be sure that it was detached from the wall. This spire is back in
a bay on the south side of the canyon about halfway from the mouth up to
the source of the water.

When we had been going for over two hours from our camp, we came to the
fork where the main arm comes down from the southeast and where there
are lots of huge boulders making further travel difficult. I saw that
the water came down from the north wall and saw the nice fall over some
travertine rather near the main creekbed, but Scott first noticed the
foot of the main Redwall cliff. We had not brought our lunch an didn't
want to take the time to see how far we could climb toward the source of
the water. Scott wondered whether we might be able to climb up the
entire Redwall in the big south fork, but that investigation will have
to wait. We went down the canyon consistently near the creek in a half
hour less than it had taken us to come up. We had a close encounter with
a pink rattler about three and a half feet long. It rattled but didn't coil.

After lunch we walked down to Phantom Ranch by 4:45. Myla welcomed us
and gave us free lodging and a dinner of roast beef and all the
trimmings. I got acquainted with Dave and Janet Lyman, and Dave played
me a game of chess. They asked a lot of questions about climbing Shiva
Temple.

I felt fine when I was walking out on Thursday and got to the rim from
the bridge to the campground in five hours and 2 minutes. The weather
had been great all the way.

Scott had called my attention to the palm on the west side of Bright
Angel Creek which had interested Donald Davis in 1972. I wonder whether
it could have started there from a pit that someone had thrown out?

*Surprise Canyon
[November 15, 1981 to November 20, 1981]*

This trip with Jorgen Visbak was planned to get us up to Twin Springs
and preferably out from there to the Shivwits Plateau which I had been
told is quite possible by Buster Esplin last July. The agreement was to
meet at the Meadview Ranger Station around 2:00 p.m. on Sunday. I left
home about 7:30 and had an early lunch at Kingman. I recognized Jorgen
in his car beside Meadview road where the Hackberry road meets it.We
parked his car at the ranger residence east of the Pearce Ferry Road and
drove down to the beach. We got the boat launched and the motor started
by 2:20. It was a brand new 7.5 hp Gamefisher that replaced the motor
that was stolen from the boat as it was parked in the trailer compound
last summer. According to the instructions, I had to break it in by
going rather slowly for the first hour and fast in only short bursts for
the next two hours. Hence, we were only a little way past the Bat Cave
when it began to be evening and time to camp.

We stopped at a place on the south side of the lake where we figured
there would be a couple of smooth spots for our beds. We were able to
lift the boat clear up on the bank where waves in the night couldn't
bang it on the rocks and where no more water could leak into it during
the night. We had discovered that the battery for the electric starting
Mercury motor had made a depression in the floor of the boat next to the
transom and had caused a crack to open. The leakage could be handled by
bailing every fifteen minutes.

In the darkness we heard voices out on the river. A young man, Scooter
Jones, came over in his kayak and visited briefly. Their party of river
runners had taken 30 days to get there from Lee's Ferry and now they
were finishing by going all night. Scooter was quite excited when he
learned that I am the author of the two books they had been reading as
they came down the canyon. In the morning, I looked around and realized
that we had stopped at the mouth of the canyon where Billingsley and
Donald Davis had established that a route exits from the level of the
river. I noticed a bypass on the west side that would take one above the
lowest big drop in the bed. I wonder whether this cliff is the bed the
hardest place that Davis didn't see how a sheep could pass.

When we reached surprise canyon, the sand and mud bar across the mouth
surprised me. The lake was four feet lower than it had been at the
lowest appearance last spring, and half the bar was gone. The channel
was now about two thirds of the way from the east side of the canyon
mouth to the west and instead of a lagoon there was only a short
narrowing channel for 20 yards. The mud was fairly firm only a yard from
the water, and we could slide the boat up on the mud terrace a couple of
feet above the water. Still we tied the boat to a tamarisk and put the
motor and the rest of the gear that we wouldn't carry up on a higher
terrace in the tamarisks. We found a trail through the sprouting
tamarisks north to where we moored the boat last year.

Jorgen and I walked for 15 minutes and then had lunch. Then we walked
from 12:45 until about 4:30 to camp by water a little north of the mouth
of the Amos Spring Arm. We slept on a level sand on the west side of the
bed.

I hadn't brought the maps of the lower part of Surprise Canyon, but I
kept track of the places we were passing. A little south of our old
campsite by the two mescal pits, two ravines come down from the east.
Just before we reached the southern one of this pair, both Jorgen and I
noticed a fine overhang 40 feet up on the eastern wall. We had been on
the lookout for the natural bridge that Jorgen and I thought we had seen
a year ago, but that I couldn't find again when I was back there three
more times. This time I didn't connect the overhang with the natural
bridge until I went quite close. There is practically no drainage
through it from the slope above. This time, both of us went close under
the overhang to be able to look through the hole at the sky, and I got a
picture for proof. Jorgen was standing a few yards away and he was the
one who noticed that the opening above is split by a narrow arch or rock
dividing the top of the hole into two sections. It is in the Muav or
possibly the lowest part of the Devonian limestone. About ten minutes
later we were at the mescal pit campsite. There was water here but much
of the bed was dry to a place about 100 yards beyond the mouth of the
Amos Spring Arm. I was willing to call it a day at a patch of level sand
on the west of the bed near the mouth of the steep tributary from the
west. When we walked the next morning around to the north side of the
promontory crowned by the three towers, I pointed out the slope to the
west where Billingsley thought that he could climb the Redwall. This
time it didn't look as formidable as I had thought. A little farther I
showed Jorgen an overhang on the right that I had concluded to be what
we had thought to be a natural bridge. It is obviously nothing but an
overhang in a dry watercourse. In due time we came to our old camp at
the leaning rock where we had explored the forking tributary from the
west. We were only a little way past here when Jorgen stepped on a rock
in crossing the stream. It rolled and he went down on his back. He
slipped his pack off where it had landed in the shallow water and got
up, apparently none the worse for the mishap. He walked normally for a
while and even after we had stopped for lunch and then got up to go on,
he still seemed all right. However, before we got to the campsite a
short way west of the mouth of Twin Springs canyon, he realized that he
had hurt his right knee. When we had been at this camp for a time, his
right knee swelled and became so painful that he could hardly get around
the few yards from his bed to the fire. I passed a worrisome night
wondering whether we would need a helicopter and how we could get him to
the nearest place it could land. Where we had stopped the canyon is
quite narrow and cluttered with trees and big rocks. We decided that it
would be best for us to start out the next day and try short stages if
Jorgen found that he could walk with a big cane.

Jorgen had three strong pain killing pills and took one on Wednesday as
he set off very carefully with a stick for a brace. I carried his pack
for him about 200 yards and then put it down while I went back for mine
which I put down after passing his by another 200 yards. My triple
travel was not as fast as his gait. In an hour he became worried and
came back to find me. After that he found that he could carry his own
pack. Before time for lunch, we had gotten back to the campsite with the
leaning rock where we loafed through the afternoon. By the next morning
Jorgen could walk quite well without a pill. He still used an agave
stalk for a cane, but he decided that he could get down close enough to
the boat to go out on Friday.

We stayed together until we came to the suggested Redwall route on the
west side north of the three towers. I formed a tentative plan for the
route at the bottom, but for some reason when I was getting quite high,
I changed my mind. I finally stopped at a crack that would have been
easy and safe for some climbers I know. I looked along that level to the
north, and then gave up. My route down was different. When I went down,
I looked back up and decided that the way I had planned at the bottom
would have had the best chance for success. This route deserves another
try. (John Green did it with a rope for his pack.)

It took me less than two hours to walk down to the mescal pits where
Jorgen was sun bathing. We had another fine afternoon and night there.
It took us from 7:50 to 11:10 to go from the mescal pits to the boat. We
were careful not to miss the natural bridge although it is less
conspicuous from upstream. The lake level hadn't changed and all of our
belongings were just as we had left them. While Jorgen was changing into
his sneakers, I tried getting the boat off the mud terrace into the
water and I succeeded. We used the oars as poles and paddles to get out
into the lake. On the way up the lake, we had waited until the motor ran
the small tank under the hood of the outboard dry before pouring in
more. Now when we did that again, I had great difficulty in starting the
motor by the pull cord. In fact I turned the job over to Jorgen. With
his stronger arms, he got us going. After that I stopped the motor
before the tank ran dry, and then I was able to pull the cord myself and
start the motor very easily.

At first the ride down the lake was very comfortable in the pleasant
sunshine, but later the sky became heavy with an overcast. I was glad to
wear my sweater and jacket, and Jorgen put on his heavy plastic rain
suit. I also wore my poncho, and still I tended toward the cool side.
Full speed with this motor is slower than with the old one, and we
needed about four hours to go from Surprise Canyon to Pearce Ferry
launching ramp. In 20 more minutes we had the boat fastened to the
trailer with all the duffel in the Jimmy as protection from the dust.
The motor rode through the dust to Kingman and it needs a careful
wiping. I should tie the boat down near the bow as well as at the stern.
It jumped up on the rough road and came down outside the rubber V
receiver for the bow.

I ate at Denny's in Kingman and got home by 10:45, in just three hours.

*Surprise Canyon
[January 9, 1982 to January 14, 1982]*

I left home around 7:00 a.m. and got a gas refill at the Husky station
near the Stockton Hills exit in Kingman. It was about noon when I
reached Pearce Ferry and I ate in the car before launching. The new six
gallon tank worked fine and I didn't have to think about any refills
from the extra five gallon tank I carried. The Sears Gamefisher 7.5 hp
motor worked fine and got me from the launch ramp to the mouth of
Surprise canyon in three hours even though I had to slow down for a
short while because of waves. The motor got me back on Thursday in about
two and a half hours working with the current and no wind. What
surprised me more than the speed was that the cheaper Sears product used
less gas than the Mercury motor that was stolen. After taking me about
64 miles, there seems to be about a gallon left in the six gallon tank.

The situation at the mouth of Surprise Canyon was a pleasant surprise. I
was prepared to moor just back of the bar and walk the way Jorgen and I
did in November, with the possibility that the lake might rise and make
me wade through mud five days later, but I found that I could row for
200 yards to the firm gravel of the streambed. The lake had risen about
three feet since November. My only cause for worry was that someone
might come in and steal the boat or that a flood should come down the
creek and bang the boat around on the rocks, neither event being very
likely. I walked about 45 minutes before I found a level bit of sand and
called it a day by 5:00 p.m. That day and the next were absolutely clear
and I found a trace of frost on the sleeping bag in the morning, but
nothing else showed any freezing. As usual I ate in bed before daylight
and got started by 7:15. I knew it would be a long day so I didn't
strain for speed. I now have to worry about my hips getting weak and
painful so I walked rather carefully and rested after two hours. There
are few stretches where one can take his eyes off the ground, but I kept
looking up often enough to identify the places we had slept and I saw
the natural bridge again. For some reason when I came back on Wednesday,
I concentrated so much on my footing that I missed the mouth of the Amos
Spring Arm and our campsite at the mescal pits and even the natural
bridge. It made me feel peculiar when I realized that I was past all of
these check points and was arriving at the broad straight stretch with
the cottonwoods near its lower end. I reached the campsite near the
junction with the Twin Springs Arm by 4:15, so that a strong hiker could
easily come there from the lake in one day.

Monday was going to be an another big one. I left some of my groceries
at the camp under the overhang but I carried a full two quarts of water
since I thought the route up to Twin Springs would be dry. However,
there had been rain recently, and I found enough in bedrock holes so
that I didn't need to use the canteen until time to camp. Judging by
fresh mud in the main streambed, the storm had been less than a week
before, but there were fresh hiking shoe prints in the mud and in sandy
spots of the main bed up close to the junction with the Twin Springs
arm. This side canyon may be getting the reputation it deserves. I would
predict that it should rival Spencer Milkweed for hiking popularity, but
it takes a boat to make it equally accessible.

I was carrying four 7.5 minute quad maps in my pack, but I didn't get
them out until I was as far north as I have been before, to the edge of
the Amos Point quad. Then I carried the Mount Dellenbaugh quad in my
hand and followed all the bends for a time. I figured that I was
identifying all the side tributaries as I passed them, but then I
slipped. My finger went to a place about a mile north on the map, and
when I came to a fork with a rather level streambed from the west, I
thought that my map reading indicated that I should take it. The bed was
much steeper than the one I had been following and after several hundred
yards, I decided that it couldn't be right. Before this I had been
trying to identify striking towers that were an impressive backdrop to
the north and west. I mistook at least one and this may have also got me
started up the wrong canyon. When I looked more carefully at the map, I
realized that it would be foolproof to stay fairly close to the east
wall, the long headland called Suicide Point. I was quite sure of the
identification of the projecting angle at the northwest corner of this
whole headland, so I backtracked and went on north in the main bed. I
was sure of my location when I was passing the fork to Twin Creek
Canyon. It seemed like a good bet that one can go up to the rim to the
east near the elevation mark 5725 at this northwest corner of Suicide
Point. Another very likely route to the rim seemed to be in the
tributary just east of the elevation mark 5456. This would have been a
good place to try the ascent, because it faces south and seemed free of
snow.

More and more snow was showing, first on north facing and shady places
and then about everywhere. By the time I got to the place on the map
with the word Canyon of the name Twin Springs Canyon, I began to look
for a place where I could put my bed down on bare ground. There was a
rare spot of clear gravel on the side of the streambed next to the
vertical bank, but just inside the mouth of the wash going up east of
point 5456, I found some clear and level bedrock with a pool nearby that
would supply water without my having to thaw snow. I put my pack down
and went on with just the daypack holding a jacket and a few
necessities. Even though the day was threatening rain, while I was
walking hard, a sweater seemed warm enough.

The snow under foot was getting deeper steadily after I put down my
pack. When I had passed the fork leading north to Lower Springs, the bed
steepened, and six inch snow was making the walking perceptibly more
difficult as well as more precarious on rounded boulders. It was only a
little after 3:00 p.m., but what with wet feet and the slowdown caused
by the snow, I decided to turn back well short of the destination, Twin
Springs. I recovered my pack with time to carry it down canyon for an
hour to a better place to sleep. I got below the snow except for small
patches in the shade. The valley floor was mostly a maze of braided
streambeds and flood rolled boulders and I thought I was lucky when I
found a large pinyon with some level and soft ground beneath it. This
spot had been a favorite with cattle too. I had to clear away some not
very old cow chips. In fact I saw very fresh cow tracks in some snow.
About the only wildlife I saw on this whole trip were birds. Mice didn't
bother my food at any of my campsites. I saw tracks of raccoons,
coyotes, and just once clear hoofprints of bighorns.

The rain that had threatened all day Monday held off all night. However,
I was glad to be sleeping on the spongy pine needles and not in the bed
of the wash. I ate breakfast in bed and then as I was putting things
into my pack to leave, a light rain started. Alternately, I wore and
carried my poncho for a couple of hours, but then the rain started in
earnest. I reasoned that it would not be the sort of storm to start a
flood that would make the Redwall narrows hazardous since the
precipitation would be in the form of snow higher up the canyon. As I
was reaching the narrows the rain got heavy enough to wet my trouser
legs below the knee and my elbows also got wet. Once there was enough
wind to toss the poncho up away from covering my pack. I didn't feel
sure that the water wouldn't start coming down the bed, so I was in a
hurry to get through the narrows and reach the well protected campsite
on the south side of the main canyon five minutes walk from the end of
Twin Springs Canyon. However, I did notice some things that I had missed
during my previous three passages. There is a short and not so
impressive Redwall narrows north of where the main narrows breaks into
the open, and near the north end of this upper narrows, I noticed a
vertical cave on the west side. I could climb up a few yards and enter
the bottom of the cave, but the passage upwards seemed beyond my style
of climbing. Not much more than fifty yards south of this cave, also on
the west side, I found the best shelter for many miles. It is a flat
floored, hemispherical pocket in the wall high enough above the bed to
be safe except, perhaps, for hundred year floods. The ceiling seemed to
be smoke stained. The only drawback is that the nearest water supply,
except during heavy rain, would be down the canyon about 20 minutes
walk. It is big enough to sleep six or eight people. No wind driven rain
or snow could reach the camper here as it might where I was headed below
the mouth of Twin Springs Canyon. Besides the lack of convenient water
at the fine cave, one would have to go farther for much firewood.

This time I was trying to hurry through the striking Redwall narrows and
I got past the really narrow part in 30 minutes. The impression I had
from last year that the entire bed was a uniform grade of gravel and
sand was modified this year. There are now places where one has to watch
his footing on the boulders. I also changed my estimate of how high
above the floor the chockstone is wedged between the walls. The bottom
of the stone is more like 12 or 15 feet above the bed. A few yards south
of this chockstone I was able to touch the walls alternately by leaning
as far as I could one way and then the other without moving my feet more
than raising the heel. This is also where the depth is the full height
of the Redwall. When I reached the protected campsite west of the mouth
of Twin Springs Canyon, I found the ground dry and even the place where
I wanted to build a campfire was protected from the quiet rain. Things
in my pack, even the sleeping bag, were a little wet and I was glad to
build a fire and get myself and them dry and warm. Although I reached
this site about 11:00 a.m., I loafed by the fire and in my bag reading
the Reader's Digest the rest of that day. On Tuesday I had walked faster
but only for three and a half hours. The weather improved and I could
have gone somewhere else during the afternoon, but I didn't want to have
to sleep in a wet place. Besides, the sunshine alternated with more
clouds Tuesday afternoon.

The sky was fine on Wednesday and I was about half sure I wanted to try
again to climb the Redwall where Billingsley had suggested a route just
north of the four tower bend, where I had tried last November. When I
got there, I spent some time studying the possibilities, but I thought
that even on the most favorable route, I could see where I would get
stuck. With a better climber, I would like to attempt this again. Rather
than spend the three or four hours that a good try on this would take, I
went on down the bed with the objective of camping with the protection
of the Tapeats ledges. Although I was no longer afraid of rain, I liked
the idea of a dry bed and protection from cows. It was an easy 105
minute walk to find the boat just as I had left it except that the lake
was several inches deeper and I had to hike ankle deep to reach it. I
got home by 6:15 p.m.

*Clear Creek
[March 5, 1982 to March 11, 1982]*

Mel Simons and Jack Shelburne asked me to meet their plane and take them
some place of my choice in the Grand Canyon. They furnished the car and
paid for all the gas and treated me to a good meal when we got out. I
suggested checking the Redwall route that Baxter and I had seen from the
Wotan Angel's Gate Saddle. I also had in mind Bob Dye's route through
the Redwall, Supai, and Coconino at the north end of the Cheyava Falls
arm, and the fact that Simons and Shelburne had been unable to find the
figurine cave when we were there in October, 1981.

The plane from Fresno was one and a half hours late and we got to the
South Rim just too late to get our permit. I used the night phone and
the dispatcher gave me Curt Sauer's phone number. I wanted to talk to
him about giving a talk to the rivermen's seminar near the end of March.
Connie Sauer invited us over to wait for Curt to come home and we did
that after eating at the deli. When Curt came home and heard that we
were eager to get to the bottom and sleep where it is warmer, he called
Brian Culhane who is now in charge of the permit office. Brian had been
very friendly to me when he was at the South Rim before, and now he out
did himself to accommodate us. He took us to the office and made out the
permit. We got started down the Kaibab Trail by moonlight at 9:05 p.m.
and reached the campground about 11:30. By moonlight one can see rocks
in the trail, but it is hard to tell how far down one's foot is going to
touch the ground.

The new comfort station near the River Ranger Station was brightly
lighted and open, but for some reason, the similar one in the middle of
the campground is still closed. Girl volunteers have made the campground
attractive with rocks bordering the paths and new plantings of trees and
other vegetation. The night was clear and cold and Jack didn't sleep
much. He would have been worse off if the Sauers hadn't urged him to
borrow a sweater from them. There seem to be more and more people at the
canyon with whom I would enjoy a visit. This time I didn't look up Chad
Gibson. He is going to be the interpreter naturalist at Phantom Ranch
after April 1.

We were told that there is water at Sumner Wash, so we didn't carry much
up on the Tonto. All of us were rather out of shape for hiking and we
didn't set any speed records in getting to Clear Creek. Mel hiked ahead
of Jack and me, but he had trouble with his feet for the whole trip. He
had some bleeding blisters before we were through, although he seemed to
be more enthusiastic about doing a lot of walking than the others. We
met some hikers on the trail, notably Wally and Jim Craig and Jim's
wife, Annette. There were some other campers at Clear Creek but we
didn't get acquainted. When we were leaving on Wednesday, I had quite a
chat with a marine biologist from San Diego, Bob Hessler. His companion,
Cecilly Ross, thought that at 50 she would be the oldest hiker around. I
hardly ever meet contemporaries of mine, over 70. Bob had my book and he
was pleased to have me autograph it.

On Sunday we went down the creek and up the arm coming from Cape Royal.
We soon recognized bighorn as well as deer hoof prints on the terraces
beside the watercourse. When we were in the narrows, I reminded the
others that Merrel Clubb had found an Indian ruin supposedly on a high
ledge on the south side of the bed, as I had written in Grand Canyon
Treks. He didn't see anything of interest until we were through the
first narrows and were walking a sheep trail on a terrace on the north
side of the wash. Across to the south I recognized the route up onto the
Tonto that Scott had spotted and which we had used when we climbed
Hawkins. Mel found some bits of pottery on our path, and this gave us
the idea of looking up along the base of the main cliff to the north.
First we had to find a break in a little eight foot wall and then
scramble up 50 feet to the base of the big cliff. Mel got up first and
turned east. Within seconds he called to us that he had found the ruin
we wanted. There were walls outlining several rooms and traces of a
number of granaries. Someone had been there and had arranged some of the
best bits of pottery together on a flat rock. I think this was the ruin
where Clubb had found a fragment of yucca sandal. Clubb could easily
have been confused in the precise location of the ruin. It was
particularly satisfying to find this ruin that I had known should be
somewhere here for 20 years and had missed seeing during all my previous
visits to this area. I figured that this discovery alone would more than
justify the present visit to Clear Creek. Jack went back to camp soon
after we found the ruin.

Mel and I investigated the possibility of getting up the tributary from
the north that cuts a deep slot through the Tapeats. After a detour
around some chockstones at the lower end of the gorge, we came to a bare
fall that I considered too chancy for me. A good climber probably could
have done it handily, but we went on until we were through the upper
narrows and had an easy way up through the rest of the Tapeats. I knew
we had to go along the Tonto to the west but I wasn't sure which ravine
contained the possible Redwall route that Scott and I had seen. An
encouraging sign was that bighorn tracks were plentiful going in our
direction. After about an hour of uphill and downhill walking, we came
to where we could see a straight crack or narrow ravine heading up
toward the saddle west of the butte 6057. The route is straight enough
to be the result of a fault and it seems surprising that the main
drainage beneath the saddle didn't develop along the fault instead of
off to the east. Perhaps the faulting occurred after the bay was
developed. However, the geological map doesn't indicate any fault
connected with the Redwall route to the Angel's Gate Wotan Saddle nor
along the crack that Mel and I climbed. There were a couple of places in
the climb that are quite steep but with good holds. From a distance one
chockstone might seem discouraging, but when you get close you see a
safe passage with steps. At another place the way is very steep and
becomes a bit shocking on the descent. There are plenty of holes and the
walls on both sides that prevent the feeling of exposure. In that
respect it seems easier than the Redwall climb to Hall and Hawkins. The
top of the Redwall to the points southwest and due west of the head of
this break is remarkably level. One could have an airport here with less
grading than anywhere else I can think of in the Grand Canyon. The views
are great in all directions, especially toward Zoro, Brahma, and Deva.
This trip took longer than I had figured and we didn't get back until
late afternoon. The sky began to threaten bad weather and I carried my
pack up to the overhang at the confluence of the Cheyava Falls arm and
the wet arm. The sky was clear by sundown and we had no more worries
until the next evening when the same threat built up and then disappeared.

Rather than spend the next day going up the Cheyava Falls arm and then
not getting much beyond the Redwall, I decided to have a short day
looking at the figurine cave. We got a late start because Jack and Mel
didn't bring their packs to the overhang until well after 9:00. Travel
up the creek is a lot easier than it was when I began coming to Clear
Creek so many years ago. A fairly clear path has been trampled as far as
the confluence of the two source arms. When we got there, I had my first
jolt. I had thought that the 30 foot fall was just a few yards up the
west fork, whereas it is more like a half mile farther. When we reached
the fall, I got a better view of it because the leaves on the trees
hadn't come out yet. My next shock was that I couldn't spot the cave up
in the lower Redwall as I had remembered it. I even climbed the bare
shale on the east side of the canyon and still couldn't see anything
that looked familiar. My previous visit had been with Allyn Cureton in
1957, 25 years ago, so perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised that my
memory of it had failed me. There was one round cave far up on the bare
Redwall which would be inaccessible, a dark hole in a ravine topped by a
chockstone, and another possibility that turned into a dark rock that
had fallen on the ledge rather than a hole at all. Mel and I tried to
climb to this ledge. There was a dangerous move, but we were close
enough to cancel this one.

Then we found a way to climb to a juniper covered bench which had
nothing but the blank Redwall cliff above. There were two difficult
places. Jack conceded that he wanted no part of such climbs, and at a
place in the upper difficulty, I stopped while Mel went on. However, I
looked harder and found a way to proceed at the south end of the little
ledge. Mel and I managed along this high bench in both directions
without seeing any cave. I had put up a couple of cairns to mark the
upper hard place, but we had to look twice to see where we should come
down the lower one. We walked south along the base of the Redwall
without finding the cave, but on further thought, I believe we should
have gone still farther south. On my map of old routes covered, the cave
seems to be near the south end of the promontory.

We gave up the search that day, but the next morning we came back.
Frustration had gotten under my stubborn streak, and I thought that we
could find the cave if we would go at the search again. This time we
went a lot farther up the bed and tried to go as far up the Redwall as
we could in the arm where the water starts. We could see from a distance
that the Redwall is impossible in the branch farthest to the west, but
there is quite a forested slope on the west side of the main branch
above the waterfall. This penetration accomplished one more item in a
long term project of mine, to reach the beginning of the water at each
permanent stream in the Grand Canyon. Mel and I proceeded to the top of
the talus and got back into the bed. We could walk on a short distance
and find that we were above about three fourths of the Redwall.
Chockstones stopped progress in the main bed. A very strong climber
could probably have used some meager holds and reached a ledge on the
east side that leads back into the ravine above the first chockstones.
Any further progress looked dubious, so we were content to come away and
try something else. We had told Jack that we would be back to him in 30
minutes, and we really got back in 40.

When we got back to the confluence of our arm with the one from the east
a half mile below the waterfall, Jack took my day pack back to camp
while Mel and I went up to see whether there was anything of special
interest beyond the place I had been the day I climbed Howlands Butte
with only a third of the day left. We found the going fairly simple with
a lot of sheep tracks forming intermittent trails. The springs were up
on the south slope as I had recalled. Presumably the water comes from
the Kaibab Plateau, and yet it seems to come the long route underground
to reach the surface. Mel called attention to a little tower in the
shale near the bend in the canyon. The bed rises steeply to the base of
the Redwall, but there is no suggestion of a possibility of climbing the
blank wall. When we were coming down the creek from the confluence to
our camp at the overhang, Mel recognized the place where we had found a
way to get through the Tapeats a long way south of the final Tapeats
cliff. Then he noticed that someone had marked this place with a cairn.
This reminded us that Mel had seen a web strap rappel sling discarded
just below the place where we had done our most adventurous free climb.

On Wednesday we walked back to the Bright Angel Campground with a slight
threat of rain. We were all in pretty fair hiking shape by this time. I
took four hours and 13 minutes from Clear Creek to the North Kaibab
Trail plus about 40 minutes for lunch at Sumner Wash. The other two
traveled a little faster. We rested all afternoon and then worried a
little about rain in the night. Before midnight the full moon shown
through a haze, but about 2:30 I felt a few raindrops. The other two had
a tube tent, but I moved my bedroll under the overhang over the walk to
the south exit of the campground. It didn't rain, and by 5:00 I moved
back. I ate early and was ready to start to the rim by 6:30 while Jack
and Mel went to the ranch for a fine breakfast. They got started about
70 minutes after I did. Mel passed me near O'Neill Butte, but I came out
ahead of Jack in five hours and five minutes. After threatening to rain
with only short showers for the first half of the way, it finally began
to rain and blow. The clay stuck to our feet and made us slip back and I
would have expected to take extra long, but the thought of getting out
of the rain into the car was a stimulant and I came up from the Bright
Angel Bridge to the car in five hours and five minutes, perhaps faster
than I have been able to do it in the last few years.

We felt sorry for the people who were going down the trail to camp and
there were quite a few of them. I was still more sympathetic today and
last night when the rain got worse. I was really glad to be at home.

All in all this was a good trip. Finding Merrel Clubb's ruin after years
of frustration was a real plus and so was the 161st Redwall route. Black
and yellow swallowtail butterflies were out and so were several kinds of
flowers. Getting home before the big rain was something to be thankful for.

*Burnt and Twin Springs Canyons
[April 28, 1982 to May 2, 1982]*

I got away Wednesday morning a little after 6:30 and gassed at the Husky
Station near the Stockton Hills off ramp. However, I noticed that the
Peacock Mountain road station has a better price so I used it on the
return. I got to Pearce Ferry in time to eat an early lunch and was
under way in the boat before noon. According to a trash collector I met
at the Meadview Overlook, the lake had been higher, but the island a
half mile from the launching ramp showed only a foot or so above water.
There is no warning marker, so when the lake is a couple of feet deeper,
it would be a hazard. The afternoon was warm and I needed no wrap. I got
to the Billingsley Davis route to the South Rim in the second ravine
west of the Tram before two, so I stopped and started up to see what it
is like for myself. At the start I stayed rather high along the west
side of the wash and came down to the bed farther south than was
necessary. On the return I followed the bed farther north, but I had to
do a little scrambling to keep above the delta jungle. It seemed likely
that there would be an impossible fall in the lowest narrows. Rather
than run the risk of having to backtrack, I bypassed this narrows by
scrambling up the slope to the east. On the return, I looked down and
thought that I could go through most of the way, but I still used the
same bypass. There were a few more problems in route finding and some
places where I used my hands, but I was not really stopped in two hours
and ten minutes of my rather slow 75 year old pace. By 4:10 I figured I
was running out of time if I wanted to get on to camp at the mouth of
Burnt Canyon. I was up near the top of what I took to be the Devonian
and I had come to a wall of chockstones with a bypass to the east. I
must ask Davis more about his 30 foot climb where a bighorn should have
a real problem. I repeated Billingsley's and Davis' observation that
bighorns leave droppings along the route. Another point was that I saw
two rain pools in the bare bedrock above the first bypass of the lowest
narrows. They seemed deep enough to be permanent and one had a frog. The
water didn't look very choice, but I refilled my two quart canteen so
that I had plenty for camping at the mouth of burnt Canyon and could
start in the morning with my gallon canteen still full.

At Burnt Canyon I moored in the cove just east of the promontory where I
used to leave the 19 foot cruiser in deep water and where one could step
right onto rock. The only trouble was that my little aluminum boat has
some new leaks around a couple of rivets, and by morning I had to do
some bailing. I had an idyllic night on the bare, flat, hard clay with a
perfect view of the quiet lake by moonlight. There were no mosquitoes or
any rodents to bother the food at this and likewise not at the other
campsite up the main arm at Burnt Canyon Spring.

In the morning when I saw how much the boat had leaked in the night, I
rowed it around the point and found a slopping mud beach where I could
pull it mostly out of the water before tying it to a stout bush. Since I
had been told that the lake was falling, I didn't worry about the boat
floating and leaking. However, when I got back Sunday noon, I found that
the lake had risen and that much of the bottom was in the water. I had
to bale 100 scoops of a soup can to dry it out reasonably well. It is
fairly easy to walk the gentle slope above the jungle of the delta and
when I got to where I could get down the little cliff, I checked south
along the base of the wall until I came to seeping water in the cane and
tamarisks. When I walked up the creek, I found more water in the little
stream. The highest showing was separated from the rest by a walk of at
least five minutes. The next water is a tiny drip about 100 yards south
of the mouth of the east arm of Burnt Canyon. I figured that if I tried
to collect it with a poncho set back as far as possible in the little
cave I might channel it enough to get a quart in about 20 minutes.
Walking was slower with my rather heavy load of a full gallon on the
warm day and I took regular rest periods about every half hour. Thus it
took me over three hours to reach the east arm and over seven to Burnt
Canyon Spring. On the way back I was carrying a little less downgrade
with a light rain to keep me cool and I got to the east arm in just over
three hours of nearly continuous walking. After that I began to rest
more and I reached the boat by 11:30 after starting before six. I
noticed more on the way back too, a jug handle window up near the
skyline on the east side, and still in the twisting narrows of the lower
Redwall another window shaped a little like the map of Nevada. It is
also on the east side much lower in a minor spur. One has to face down
canyon to see these. There are also some striking towers in this
twisting section.

I got worried when I came closer and closer to the place where the two
Jims and I had camped before with water flowing in the creek for a good
quarter of a mile below the spring. There was no water coming over the
fall, but when I had gone up to where I had slept under the overhang, I
found a little in a couple of shallow holes fed by seepage out of the
gravel. I put my pack down and went farther up the bed and found a
deeper pool in the bedrock. As I walked on up canyon, I noticed the
constructed trail going out to the east to the Esplanade and there was
still a wet place or two in the gravel. Farther on there was no sign of
water but I determined that I could climb out to the top of the Supai in
the bed without using the trail if necessary. When I was on my way back
to the pack, about five minutes walk south of the trail, I found
something that we hadn't noticed on our first trip here. On the west
side, just a few feet above the bed of the creek a concrete dam about
eighteen inches high and four feet long held a pool of good cool water
about eight feet long and fifteen inches deep. The source seems to be
drips off the rear wall, but this supply looks permanent. This country
seems the ultimate in stark and lonesome wilderness until one comes on
such an improvement for the convenience of cows and people. Forage seems
very sparse and it surprises me that any rancher would think it worth
the time and effort to pack cement down here. For that matter, the map
shows a corral with a trail leading down to the spring a couple of miles
south of Twin Point. I am still eager to see such places, but I would
want to go at a time when rain pockets or snow would supplement the spring.

I had three nights under the overhang on the west side of the water
pocket fall. The first was cool enough to make me want to use my Dacron
underwear in addition to my lightweight down bag. This lack of extra
protection against colder nights convinced me that I shouldn't move camp
2000 feet higher to the vicinity of Twin Springs, and the shorter water
supply at Burnt Canyon Spring made me leery of trusting all springs
shown on the maps.

On Friday morning I left camp with enough water for a short day and just
my lunch and poncho. I used the trail to the Esplanade east of the wash
and walked through the rolling country south toward Red Rock Spring. I
knew that I would get nowhere near the spring before I should turn back.
Walking through the small but stiff black brush isn't the easiest, but
at times I felt that I was on a cattle or bighorn trail. Sometimes I
would be at the edge of a 500 foot cliff going down through most of the
Supai in one leap, but most of the time I followed the broad slope well
back from the rim. The numerous shallow ravines kept the walking from
being the easiest, but in three hours I was at the head of the second
branch of the east arm of Burnt Canyon Spring and Red Rock Spring. I
might have carried my full pack there to camp if I had been sure I could
locate the spring. The map doesn't show a circle with a curlicue to
pinpoint the spring as it does at the lower end of the trail at the
corral south of Twin Point. The day was warm and I drank quite a bit
after my early lunch. I rested about every half hour on the return and I
had only a comfortable reserve left of my three quarts of water when I
got back to the spring about 1:30. I had learned about my rate of travel
toward Red Rock Spring and I had seen some fine flowers on the
Esplanade. I was especially thrilled to see one Mariposa lily blooming.
I hadn't known that there were any in the western canyon. I spent the
afternoon loafing and reading the Reader's Digest, resting for the big
push on Saturday.

I had already abandoned the idea of a loop hike to Twin Spring and then
to the corral spring south of Twin Point and back to Burnt Canyon
Spring. It looks much more feasible to go there from Burnt Canyon Spring
using Red Rock Spring as a way station. If one could climb out of
Surprise Canyon where Billingsley suggested near the four tower bend, he
could go very directly to the corral spring. I have also considered
starting from the mouth of the Twin Springs arm and going north to the
end of the Redwall narrows and then trying to cross the rough country
from there to the corral spring. For the present trip, however, my main
hope was to go down past Twin Spring and connect with the end of my walk
last January so as to complete another way from the rim to the river. I
was doubtful that I could do it and get back to Burnt Canyon Spring in
one day when long past my prime as a hiker. I considered a more modest
effort of getting to the rim and proceeding due east to see whether I
could get down to Mathis Spring and check the descent below there. I
decided that if I took three hours or more to top out, this would be the
hike for the day, and I got into the mood to go home on Sunday.

On Saturday I got an early 5:50 start with a full gallon of water and
the idea that I would keep going fairly steadily all day. After getting
up the constructed trail I wasted some time in the blackbrush slope but
soon got the idea of walking up the gravel wash north of there. Along
here I encountered a big rattlesnake, my first since one in Wall Creek
last October. It didn't rattle until I was going on. At the upper end of
this easy wash, I followed ridges to the south. The slope increased to
nearly 45 degrees and the footing was often loose. For the top half mile
I was on a bighorn or deer trail. I saw the evidence that at least one
cow had gone quite high on that slope, but presumably they have an
easier way from the Esplanade to the rim. When I got to the rim, I
looked for a small dead tree and draped some toilet paper near its top
for a sign when I came back. I was pleased to see that it was only 125
minutes since I left camp, so I gave up the idea of looking for Mathis
Spring in favor of my real ambition to locate Twin Spring and get down
the canyon to connect with my former route up from the mouth of Surprise.

Mount Dellenbaugh was a fine landmark and I kept my route through the
junipers as straight as I could heading toward it. The sun was not too
high yet and also helped me navigate. There were a lot of big dead
junipers in piles and I figured that the area had been chained in an
effort to get more grass. More small junipers and sage had prospered
rather than grass. In 25 minutes I reached the road and marked sage
brush on both sides with toilet paper. The road was amazingly smooth and
I figured that 40 mph would be easy on it. Perhaps I'll consider coming
down here from Saint George some time. I don't care to challenge the
Kelly Point Road again.

It seemed that I needed to walk about four miles along the road to reach
the head of Twin Springs Canyon. About 20 minutes north of my paper
marked bushes, I came to the only steeper part of the road on the north
side of a little wash. Some bedrock ledges showed, but the road was not
too rough for an ordinary car. There was a spur road to the west, not
shown on the map, just south of this grade. When I had walked about the
expected time, I noticed a dim road turning off the main one to the
southeast. This was to be my key to finding the head of Twin Springs
Canyon a little farther north. Just when I figured that I had come to
the beginning of the right canyon, I came to the substantial sign
announcing the boundary of Lake Mead Recreational Area. I believe this
sign is placed wrong since the map puts the boundary distinctly north of
where the canyon begins. After heading toward a bright reflection of the
sun in the bushes (a fresh beer can) I turned to the wash and very
shortly discovered that someone had bulldozed a Jeep road down parallel
to the bed. At a couple of places the Jeep was supposed to bump along on
the bedrock of the wash and bushes had grown high in the middle of the
roadway, but it still made the walking much easier than I thought it
would be.

Just before the Jeep track reached Twin Springs, there was a spectacular
vertical wall through more than 100 feet of the Toroweap and perhaps
some of the Kaibab. There is a corral at the end of the road and a bit
before grading leads one to the north of the bay. I think a Jeep would
have to back up to the corral before it could turn around. Two trails
diverge from the end of the road. The upper one goes about 50 yards to a
horse trough with a trickle of water coming out of a pipe set in a clay
dam. You can walk over the dam down into a natural cave. Drips of water
from the ceiling form a clear cold pool about six inches deep and 15
feet long. There isn't enough water to form a noticeable stream outside
the cave, and again I wonder who discovered this spring. Plastic tubing
led from near the spring down the steep broken slope but it was wrecked
and draped in useless coils in the brush. Ranchers must have wanted to
save the cattle the arduous climb from the bed up to the spring.

Near the upper half of the descent from the road, no trail was visible
now but down below, construction still shows. Cows have to have agility
nearly matching deer and bighorn to get up and down here, but they do
it. I encountered a half dozen cows and calves down below. There was one
more smaller drop that required a bypass through a steep and brushy
slope on the south side of a small promontory. The rest of the walking
was simple down a flood graded bed of gravel. The towers and alcoves of
the canyon in the vicinity of Twin Spring make this about as scenic a
canyon as I have seen anywhere. After I was fairly certain that I had
reached the place I turned back last January, I walked another ten
minutes so that I could look up the canyon where Lower Spring is
located. I ate an early lunch in the shade of a pinyon, but after that
the sky began to show more clouds. A little fine rain fell on me when I
had been so sure of fair weather that I had left the poncho at camp. I
made it along the road to my paper markers faster on the return than I
had in the forenoon. Again I tried to walk directly away form Mount
Dellenbaugh, but according to plan I came to the rim distinctly north of
the head of the deer trail. When I walked south I couldn't see my little
tree with the paper marker but I did spot a cairn that we had built on
the rim three years ago. I soon found the trail. Close to where I had
seen the rattlesnake in the morning, I photographed a pink rattler.
Arrival time at camp, 5:10. It had been raining hard enough to dampen my
firewood and fill new little rain pools. However, I had no real trouble
making my little fire under a good overhang and I was gratified to see
that I was not too tired after ten and a half hours of actual walking to
do my cooking and get to bed.

There was a little quiet rain in the night, but I was snug and dry under
my overhang. Instead of clearing in the night, morning looked just as
threatening. I had plenty of food for two more days, but the weather and
the thought that I had accomplished my main objective convinced me that
I should get home. I got off early, before six, and had to walk most of
the way with my poncho over me. I paused only a few times to take some
pictures in the Redwall winding narrows and reached the mouth of the
east arm in perhaps my fastest time, three hours and ten minutes. After
that I rested about every half hour, but still I reached the boat before
noon.

The sight that the boat and motor were still there in a conspicuous
place was a relief, but the lake had risen and I had to bail with my
soup can about 100 dips before I figured that it was dry enough to
start. I also had to go to the other side of the promontory and pick up
my inflatable that I had for the emergency that my aluminum boat might
be gone. There was no problem about starting the motor except that it
stopped abruptly when I had been running for a few minutes. I was afraid
I might have trouble getting it started again, but it was no harder to
start than the first time.

The trip back to the launching ramp took about ten minutes more than it
might have since I had to slow down in some waves for a time. I enjoyed
a fine early dinner at Denny's in Kingman after going without lunch
except for a snack of peanuts and raisins.

There was one more adventure. Just as I stopped at the main intersection
in Wickenberg, the lights went out and the ignition key had no effect at
all in starting the car. Fortunately I was right in front of a big
Chevron station. The high school age boy came out with an outfit for
starting by jumper cables, but he found that the trouble was not a dead
battery but a broken wire near the battery. When he pushed the ends
together, I could start and get the rig out of the way into the station
parking. The mechanic cut away some tape and joined the ends of the
broken wire with a splice. With a little tape around it, I was ready to
roll, the entire delay being about fifteen minutes. I shudder to think
what might have happened to me if I had been without lights on some
section of the road with very little shoulder for parking. I still got
home before 10:00 p.m.

I figured it had been a very satisfactory trip with my main objective
accomplished and the birds and the flowers at their finest hour.

*Routes to Lake Powell
[May 22, 1982 to May 28, 1982]*

Jorgen came to Sun City on Friday and we took off quite early on
Saturday. We checked at the Alpineer Store, but Lee Dexter was out.
Since it was Saturday, we figured that George Billingsley would not be
in his office and continued to Glen Canyon Dam. A quick look at the
large relief map didn't tell me anything that I didn't know.

At Glen Canyon City, the lady at the first motel wasn't reassuring about
the road over the mountain to Escalante. She said, "if you don't know
that road, don't take it." I assured her that I had been over it once,
but I should have asked her where it left town. The sign on US 89 said
it was Utah 277, but there was never another indication that Utah had
any more interest in it. I made the same mistake that I had made years
ago and went west on the old pavement, but by looking at the
Southeastern Utah map, we got corrected and came back and took the turn
that said the road would go to Lake Powell. This correct road soon
crosses Wahweap Wash and then goes several miles to the fork where one
branch goes down a wash to the lake in one arm of Warm Creek. The next
fork is where one branch goes to Grand Bench and the left turn takes one
to the cut off more primitive road up Smoky Hollow to join 277 on top.
The main road to Escalante is wild enough with spectacular drops from
the outside of the well graded roadway. It seems amazing that they could
ever start making such a road along the steep and narrow slopes between
cliffs. One has to drive in second or low most of the way to Escalante,
but the 77 miles from Glen Canyon City to Escalante can surely be
covered with less gas for the motor than the surely twice as long route
through Kanab and Bryce. We carried five gallons of gas in a can and
half intended to use the cut off to the Hole in the Rock Road down
Collet Canyon. We saw a sign that said we could turn off to go to Grand
Bench again, but we didn't study the map of Southeastern Utah and notice
that this was the right beginning for our short cut to Hole in the Rock.
Jorgen spotted a couple of ruts going across a pasture at the mileage
that he figured was right for the cut off, but I decided that it would
be better to go to Escalante first. We gassed up there and were thus
able to take the cut off up Collet Canyon on the return. There is a good
sign where one should turn to go up Collet, but very soon one sees the
warning that it is a road for four wheel drivers. We took it and found
that it was a good thing to use the four wheel drive for about four
miles of the grade up the side canyon to the top of the plateau. When we
had driven down the Hole in the Rock Road (after taking a false turn on
an unmarked road to a ranch) until almost 7:00 p.m., we saw a chance to
turn onto the road to Red Well. A mile from the main road we found a
good place to camp and even had some firewood left by a previous camper.
Early the next morning I walked the last half mile to the end of the
road and found a parking for the Red Well Trail provided with a register
and two parked cars. This seems to be one of the ways to get into Coyote
Gulch.

Since we had not been able to get the car in place up on 50 Mile Bench
on Saturday, we decided to do the one day hike toward Reflection Canyon
(Cottonwood Gulch). We wasted a few minutes with a false start and then
moved the car down farther along the Hole in the Rock Road. We knew from
the map that we should get into the second bay of the main cliff to the
west and then stay on the left side of the developing Cottonwood Gulch
Wash. We mistook the farthest arm of Lewellyn Gulch for the desired head
of Cottonwood and wasted time getting stopped by the deep slot here.
After following it upstream, we were able to get across and then we made
sure that we were far enough into the second bay before we started
downstream along the left side of the rapidly developing canyon. Very
soon I was sure that I had reached the place I had passed coming up from
the lake, but the day was still young so I formed the next ambition to
go to the place where one can get down to the bed of Reflection Canyon.
We got there and went to the bottom and still had time for more. Then
the goal became the first water in the bed, but this was reached so soon
that we continued and came to the lake. After a swim and lunch we were
able to return without any miscalculation in about three hours. My only
regret was over the fact that I failed to find the Indian pictograph on
the left wall. Perhaps it is farther than we got because we were stopped
by the lake. On our way east along the north side of the increasingly
deep Cottonwood Gulch, we saw two cairns. Since I knew from past
experiences that the descent to the bed was a sure thing as long as one
stayed fairly close to the rim of Cottonwood, more cairns were
unnecessary. When we came back, we stayed still closer to the rim and
passed to the south of a skyline window about 20 feet wide and 10 feet
high. Someone had left what might have been a broomstick in a cairn
nearby. When we came to the angle where one can go down into Cottonwood,
Jorgen was leading and he spotted two seeps. Only the lower one was
flowing well enough to be a possible help for drinking water.

The walk from where we arrived at the bottom of the wash and the lake
took only 45 minutes, and we saw footprints of boaters along here. the
floor of the canyon is rather broad and the sand is firm and clean. The
temperature of the water was rather bracing but enjoyable on a warm day.
The grade of the bed is slight and a large boat would have trouble
coming very close to the last of the lake. Since we made no false moves
on the way back to the car, we got there in less time than we took to
get down to the lake, less than three hours. The project I had set
myself on, to go from the boat at the foot of the Hole in the Rock Trail
up and over and down to the lake in Reflection Canyon, was quite
reasonable. When we were driving back on the Hole in the Rock Road, we
talked briefly with a man at the wheel of his car who had just
backpacked down Forty Mile Creek and up Willow Creek. We proceeded up
the spectacular road up to Fifty Mile Bench and turned southeast on the
road up there. About two and a half miles from the junction I came to a
rocky and rather steep place in the road. I could have taken the car
through easily in four wheel drive, but I elected to turn around and
find a place to camp near there. It was a fine spot with a terrific view
to the Henries and the entire Slickrock Country Wilderness. There were
many kinds of flowers blooming, but the lupines were especially profuse
and about the richest display that we had ever seen.

On Monday we carried overnight packs along the road for about 30 minutes
and then made our way as best we could through the brush and small
gullies until we finally found a trail. When we were about one and a
quarter hours from the car, we came to a little seep with a lot of cow
tracks in the mud. The water was not very attractive, but one could dam
a little pool and use it in a pinch. About a half mile farther we were
rounding the end of the Kaiparowits Plateau and getting a fine view of
Navaho Mountain and the rock wilderness on the south side of Lake
Powell. The trail continues to be quite clear and there are some survey
marker steel posts and quite a few cairns. In fact there are some cairns
at odd places where they seem purposeless. A striking feature of this
bench above Navaho Valley is that the soil is cracking deep down like
crevasses in a glacier and parts of the slope have peeled off and gone
down forming mud slides. We soon passed the old ruined corral where
Jorgen and I had left the trail in October, 1979, when Chad Gibson had
been with us except that he elected to take a solo hike on top of the
Kaiparowits Plateau. We remembered that then we had gotten hung up on
cliffs at the head of Navaho Valley. On the present occasion, we
continued until we were almost to a deep, bare sided gulch whose head is
far above the present trail. I think that the original trail has been
removed by landslides. On the return the next day, we found that we
should have descended to the bottom of this gulch where the sides became
not so steep and bare and then we should have gone to the top of the
long slope which leads directly to the bed of Navaho Valley. On the
descent we kept to the left down the slope north of the gulch and got a
look ahead from the rim of the cliff. We then went down to the bed of
the big gulch right at the dropoff and contoured just above the top of
the cliff clear around into the next ravine and from there got onto the
final long slope to the bottom. If we had done this the best way, we
would have ben on the grade to the south of the big gulch and would have
found a trail going down to cross the minor ravine onto the final slope.
As it actually occurred, we finally got on the right slope without
seeing the cowpath until we were nearing a big lump of bare rock in
whose welcome shade we ate our lunch. One attraction of this hike down
the rather bare slope was the presence of delicate sego lilies, white on
the higher elevations and then yellow lower down.

Only a short way south of the lunch rock we got down to the bed and soon
came to a big cottonwood and then in a few more yards a seep spring. It
flows through depressions that seem only deep enough to be made by cows
and the soil is rather oily looking fine mud. We paused long enough for
Jorgen to scrape the mud away to form a small pool, and I dipped several
cupfuls of water on the return the next day. Quite soon after we passed
the seep, we came to the first showing of red bedrock on the left. If I
had looked carefully, I would have seen that the cowpath comes down from
the east into the bed here and that this was the place where I turned
back when I had brought Bill Crawford here. I couldn't believe that we
were now so far along and I led Jorgen on into the narrows. When we had
gone far enough so that backtracking seemed like a waste, we came to an
impossible drop in the bed. By some strenuous scrambling up the steep,
bouldery bank on the east we finally got around to the rim above the
inner slot, but we had to continue some tough going where more ravines
came down. Finally we got back from the rim just after we had crossed
another ravine requiring a lot of care and we went by a boulder strewn
indentation in the wall of the inner canyon without looking down it. If
I had taken a half a minute and looked down this bay, I would have seen
that it was where Bill and I had gotten out. As it was, we walked on
south across mostly slick rock. In about fifteen minutes, I began to
feel sure that we were too far south already. When we came to a deep
side canyon, I was sure of it. While we were scouting for a way to
cross, Jorgen found three potholes of water, one containing perhaps as
much as five gallons and deep enough to fill our canteens by immersion.
This best hole was down near the last step just before one would have to
give up trying to get down into the side canyon. Only about 30 yards
from there was a thin rock canopy projecting from a column of sandstone
that gave us welcome shade in the 88 degree afternoon. We settled on
using this for our campsite and we had comfortable beds on the sand nearby.

After quite a rest reading our magazines, I decided to go back and look
for the lost way to the bottom of the slot canyon. I found our
footprints only yards away from where I would have recognized it. Some
time after I had reported success, Jorgen decided that he might be able
to get down to the bottom of the slot canyon via the side canyon just
south of our campsite. He could walk down a slick rock ravine to a sand
dune in the open bed. I followed him quite a bit later when he was slow
in getting back and I found a USGS survey benchmark driven into the sand
bearing the usual sign that it would cost the trespasser $250 to remove
or mar the marker. I looked down at the bed of the main canyon past a
forty foot drop at the lower end of this canyon, but I didn't do what
Jorgen discovered he could do. He got out of the side canyon to the
south near its lower end then found a chute of talus material that he
could scramble down to the bed of the main canyon. He went on down to
the lake, a hike that took more time than I had thought, and enjoyed a
cooling swim in the trash covered water. His trip to the lake and back
took about two hours and I was getting worried before he showed. At this
campsite we had a threat of rain and a few drops fell during the night,
but the only real drawback was the numerous little biting flies. It was
far better to be camping by the rainwater pockets away from all danger
from flash floods and a good half hour closer to the car than it would
have been to be close to the lake in the bed of the narrow slot canyon.
On our way back, we were able to find a cowpath most of the way to the
seep spring, farther east than we had walked in, and I realized that I
had led Bill Crawford over the same route, much more up and down than I
had remembered it.

At the seep I used the pool Jorgen had dug and refilled my canteen. The
2000 feet elevation gain up the long ramp to the trail was quite a drag
for me even though we were able to find the trail for most of the way.
Where we crossed the bed of the great ravine with the bare upper end we
came to a trickle of water. Thus we had found three seep springs and
potholes at the low end of our hike. The trail seemed to disintegrate a
little to the west of the seep spring on Fifty Mile Bench and the walk
to the end of the road seemed longer than we had thought. Along here we
saw some kind of game bird that resembled a grouse but may be the kind
that has been introduced from India, called chukars, I thought, except
that I can't find that name in the dictionary. We saw the same kind of
bird deep in Willow Canyon. We got to the car early in the afternoon and
just thought a bit about going up 1000 feet farther to the top of the
Kaiparowits. We decided to take it easy and spend our last two days
going down Willow Creek and up Forty Mile Canyon.

The map shows two branches of Willow, so we left the road where the
western one goes under the road. For the first half hour on Tuesday
morning we were able to walk beside the wash on cow paths. Then for some
distance it seemed best to step on hard cakes of dry gray mud brought
down by floods. It dries into polygonal cakes that curl up along the
edges. It was generally only an inch or so thick and didn't mix with the
sand and gravel beneath. After about an hour of walking, the wash became
the bed of a narrow red rock canyon. The first narrows ended in a broad
basin which would have allowed us to climb out on top again, but soon
the wash goes into the final narrows that persists clear to the lake.
The map had given us no indication that Willow Creek has permanent
water, but after an hour and a half we were walking through willows and
tamarisks beside a little stream.

I must spend too much of the time looking at my footing because Jorgen
was the one to see several interesting things before I did. This was
true when we came to a fine arch that we hadn't noticed on the map until
we got back to the car and looked. It was Broken Bow Arch, very shapely
and beautiful. We passed a side canyon from the left that had
cottonwoods at the junction, but it was dry and we figured that the
Forty Mile Arm should have running water. Below this was a pool where we
took off our shoes and waded through a very narrow slot, perhaps only
five feet wide at shoulder height. There were places where the bed was
wide enough but without a bit of soil or vegetation. Then another side
canyon came in from the left which had a flow of water. On the way in on
Wednesday, we considered this the end of forty Mile Canyon although it
seemed rather insignificant for a tributary that drained as large an
area as Willow. Near here Jorgen's eye was caught by a hummingbird
landing on a very tiny nest. Once it had settled with its spike of a
bill sticking out in front and its little tail out over the other edge
of the nest, it let us approach to take pictures as close as we wanted to.

After seeing Davis Gulch, Harris Gulch, and Silver Falls Canyon, I
wasn't surprised by the overhangs and towering walls, but I wasn't
prepared to interpret correctly the rather deep pool we came to. Because
of the bend, no shore showed ahead and the water seemed to get deeper. I
told Jorgen that we had come to Lake Powell. We disrobed and entered
prepared to swim if necessary. The deepest part came to our hips and
then we were walking out on the other side to the normal bed. We went
back and picked up our packs. Next we came to a strange place where
projecting points of the walls about 30 feet up arched over the bed from
both sides with only a five foot separation. This place gave us fine
shade and a few yards farther, there were good sandy places for our
beds. We put down our packs, ate lunch, and went on down to the lake
without even a canteen. We came to the lake sooner than we had expected
and waded in bare feet to where we could walk down to a point between
the main canyon and a rather steep tributary from the west. Sandy clay
graded down into the water and this was a good place for a swim. Jorgen
swam around quite extensively. In addition to the swim, I wore my shoes
to walk high on the bank to get a better look at the side canyon, and
from here I could see a low promontory. While we were still there we
heard a power boat coming in to join the party at the houseboat.

When we got back to our packs, I inspected a low ceilinged overhang
above a flat floor about eight feet up from the stream. It was only 100
yards north of our campsite. We turned in after enjoying a campfire for
over an hour, but I didn't fall asleep since the clouds were more and
more menacing. After an hour in the bag, about 10:00 p.m., I picked up
my stuff and headed for the perfect rain shelter. Jorgen did likewise
and we slept with no more worry about a light rain. A super flood could
have drowned us since there was driftwood on our shelf. In one narrow
place, a big cottonwood trunk was lodged between the walls twenty feet
up in the air.

On the way out on Thursday, we couldn't believe that the steep little
side canyon with the flowing water was indeed Forty Mile Creek. If we
had carried the Southeastern Utah map, we could have seen that Forty
Mile enters Willow north of Broken Bow Arch, but we didn't have this
map. When we had gone a long way past the arch, we turned around and
walked downstream for 25 minutes trying to decide where forty Mile Creek
is, but we turned around before we came back to the running stream and
walked directly to the car.

I had poured in the extra gas from the jerry can, so we had enough to
use the Collet Canyon cut off instead of going into Escalante before
turning toward Glen Canyon City. The warning sign that a four wheel
drive vehicle is needed for this road shook me some, but Jorgen braced
my morale and we took it. Hitting the bumps rather hard would have taken
us up all the way in conventional gear, but we were glad to use four
wheel drive for the grade up the side canyon to the top of the plateau.
On top there was a fork with the better branch going to Grand Bench and
a short branch going to the Glen Canyon Escalante road.

There was a slight chance of light rain, but we got over the scenic
drive to Glen Canyon City on a perfectly dry road. After a short stop at
the Visitor's Center and a gas and grocery stop in Page, we drove on to
Cedar ridge where I turned off about a mile west and then a short
distance south to camp among the junipers. In Flagstaff we found that
George Billingsley was not in his office, but I had a good visit with
Bruce Grubbs and had a phone conversation with Bob Packard. On the way
through Oak Creek Canyon, we had a two hour walk up West Fork. We got
home to Sun City about 5:30.

*Powell Plateau
[July 10, 1982 to July 13, 1982]*

I figured that a good place for some hot weather hiking would be the top
of Powell Plateau or down no lower than the Esplanade around it. The
Esplanade surrounding Powell forms about the biggest area on my Grand
Canyon map that I haven't penetrated. I have done three hikes on top,
one of which was a frustrated project of getting down below the Coconino
in the Dutton Canyon area. Jorgen Visbak and I started very early, 9:15,
from Swamp Point and I misunderstood the way that Donald Davis had gone
down the Coconino near the drop in Dutton Canyon. On that October day of
79, I had gone to the bottom of Dutton Canyon about a quarter mile
before it reaches the big drop over the Coconino and the walking soon
became impossibly bad, chest high brush and brambles and hidden holes
between rocks for footing. By the time Jorgen and I got out of that
situation, we didn't have the time, water, or energy to make a serious
attempt to get down the Coconino as we went east and north along the rim
back to Muav Saddle.

This time I was by myself and I figured that I usually make better
decisions about the route when alone and I don't have to feel apologetic
if my choice of route turns out to be bad. I slept on the floor of the
Jimmy in Houserock Valley on Friday evening and got my hiking permit
early on Saturday. The road from the USFS Fire Point Road to Swamp Point
is open but rough in spots. Out of curiosity, this time I followed the
forest road clear to Bear Lake to see what it is like. At this time it
is only about 30 feet across and seems to be about three feet deep. I
didn't miss the shortest way to the park boundary entrance road, south
toward Bear Lake from the Dry Park Road past one signed turnoff until
the one labeled Fire Point, 14 Miles. You pass one dead end road and
about five miles from the Fire Point sign, you turn south onto a road
that goes along the bed of a little valley. There is no sign indicating
the way to Swamp Point right at the turnoff, but about a quarter mile
along this road, there is a sign for a dead end road to the right and
Swamp Point, 10 Miles to the left. I had forgotten that it is about a
mile along this road before one reaches the park boundary. The distance
isn't great form there to the junction with the road going to the Point
Sublime Road. It is 8.8 miles of slow driving from this junction to the
head of the North Bass Trail. I parked about 10:15 and got down to the
Muav Saddle Cabin in 30 minutes carrying six quarts of water to see
whether I could consider doing that on the way to find the route down to
Donald's spring below the Coconino. I also carried food for six and a
half days, and I was glad to leave my 40 plus pounds at the cabin and
walk on with a day pack containing my lunch and two quarts of water.

The trail up to the cache of fire tools took me 45 minutes again. I see
that in 1979 I was pleased to see that I could still do it that fast.
The trail seemed noticeably more overgrown. My project for the rest of
Saturday was to see how Davis had gone down through the Coconino on the
northwest side of Powell Plateau. I carried a map of Powell Plateau with
me including a mark indicating the place where Davis had gone down, but
I didn't think I needed to consult it, or perhaps I wasn't sure enough
of my orientation to think map reading would do me any good. I think I
must have followed a draw from the east side of the plateau to the west
before I should have. I found sketchy deer trails not far above the
Coconino rim, but none led to a sure break. At one place I saw where the
Coconino was covered with talus material at the top and over the lower
part with only about 30 feet of exposed and rather too steeply sloping
rock between. Perhaps Donald found that his shoes would grip on this
steep part and used it. I found that I had marked a place on my map
farther to the southwest, near the head of the south arm of Bedrock
Canyon, and I proceeded along a meager deer trail in that direction. Not
very far south of the first draw where I studied the possibility of
descent, I came to a draw with a fairly good solid trickle of water. It
was about two thirds of the flow at the spring east of Muav Saddle, and
I would judge that it is permanent water. A very clear deer trail comes
to it from the south. I should have spent more time going south and
looking for a better way through the Coconino, but the thought of
reclining on an air mattress and reading a magazine for an hour before
time for dinner got to me. The climbing was getting to be quite an
effort and I felt the need for some resting on the return trip. I wish
now that I had followed the trickle of water up the ravine to see where
it starts. Perhaps it is a major source for the prehistoric inhabitants
of the plateau. Euler has become intrigued with the great number of
ruins that he was able to spot on the plateau.

I was charmed by the beauty of the Mariposa (sego) lilies that were
blooming in the forest. They come into their own on the Tonto in April
or early May. There were also numerous other flowers in bloom,
especially masses of lupines. On this or the following two days, I saw
two does and was startled by grouse breaking out of brush close to my
feet and whirling up into the trees. There were also more songbirds than
one usually hears in the big pines, and I heard and saw a large hawk.

On my second day I got away from base about 6:40 a.m. with my lunch and
four quarts of water. I hoped to locate the way that Doty had used to
get down the Coconino when he climbed King Crest and also where Davis
had been down nearer Dutton Canyon. I stayed near the east rim and saw
the old corral (about 11 minutes walk from the tool cache in the green
cabinet at the trailhead) and also the two shiny aluminum chests the
size of funeral caskets. They were about ten minutes beyond the log
fence connected with the corral. One is nearly full of paper sleeping
bags and the other is nearly empty but has a couple of fire fighting
tools in it. The scrub oak and locust brush seem to be growing thicker
than formerly, and I gave up trying to spot many tin blazes showing the
route. One has to try to stay fairly close to the east rim since the
valleys get deeper crossing the plateau draining west but you have to
consider that the walking is often much bushier right near the east rim.
There is no way to avoid a big depression where the Dutton Canyon
drainage starts. I stayed fairly close to the east rim and frequently
came out on the rim for the view. I wouldn't try to refute J.W. Powell
who claimed that the views from this plateau or Swamp Point were the
greatest.

When I got around to the station right above King Crest, I saw that Doty
was right in seeing that the connecting ridge makes a superior route out
to climb King Crest. I wasn't too sure where one should get through the
top cliff, but about a quarter mile west along the rim there is a
depression and I figured that one should be able to leave the rim and
get down through the scree. I could see a very likely looking break in
the Coconino a little farther west. It was in a barren area with scree
covering the top and bottom and bare bedrock in the middle of the
formation. In the old days I would have had the strength and ambition to
go down there immediately, but this time rest back at camp looked
better. On the way back to the east rim, I kept pretty much to the high
ground but I crossed one not very deep valley. My worst embarrassment
occurred when I came back to the vicinity of the trailhead down to the
saddle. On Saturday I had tried to find the trail on a promontory too
far east and had to go through the brush back up to the right place.
This made me feel a bit senile since I can't recall having similar
troubles on earlier trips. To prevent this sort of thing on Sunday
morning I thought I had looked around carefully enough to spot the right
place in the woods and had even noted two dead trees that were standing
particularly close to each other as a good landmark. Then when I got
there Sunday afternoon, I was too far south in the forest to see the
right dead trees, and I overshot. This time I went down through the
thickets to look out in the direction of Crazy Jug Point and Fire Point
to see where I was. I took a lot longer to find the trailhead the second
day when I was aware of the possible difficulty than it had taken the
first day.

On Monday I got off still earlier with my gallon canteen filled the
night before. Also in the woods near the trailhead, I took the
precaution of leaning sticks against trees well back into the forest as
markers for the trailhead. This time I didn't fumble when I got back
after a hard day of walking. On Sunday I had observed the place where I
came back to the east rim directly from the Coconino break west of King
Crest. I had put a piece of dead wood on a little deformed pine tree and
had also looked down to where the North Bass Trail goes down the
Redwall. I had noticed that I was looking directly toward a promontory
in the Supai between the double alcove across from where the Bass Trail
goes down and a broad green strip covering the Coconino across on the
other side of the canyon. This observation was better than the deadwood
marker for me on Monday because I missed the marker, but I could see
where it was right to leave the rim by what I had seen across on the
other side of Muav Canyon. I got through the woods to where I had been
the day before quite early, a bit after nine. I went across west of the
draw which I had looked over from the east side and started down through
the scree and ledges. It wasn't hard going except that the scree had a
tendency to slide. When I was nearing the place to go farther west to
the barren descent of the Coconino, I came to a clear deer trail that
took me to a vegetated ramp next to the straight cliff of sandstone to
the east. The way was simple, and this must surely be what Doty used.
From below his route up the west side of King Crest looked harder to me
than following the connecting ridge and going on to the top.

I had an impulse to go climb King Crest, but then I figured that I would
miss seeing the seep spring Davis had found. I had to go rather far down
the shale slope to make any progress to the west and I had the impulse
to go down to the lip of the Supai rim to see whether there was water. I
was afraid that I would be too tired on the way back and was content to
climb back up to the base of the Coconino when I saw an overhang that
looked quite wet. When I got up there, I found about five places
dripping, and the best put down a fairly large drop every three seconds.
One would need to put empty cans under these drips all night to have
water enough by morning. I'll have to ask Donald Davis whether he made
do with that much water for several days. About a hundred yards to the
northwest of the spring I came to a ravine where the Coconino is broken
and where I could get up with some use of the hands. It seemed not to be
used by deer as much as Doty's route where I had come down. I got back
without incident and used the sticks I had leaned against trees to guide
me right to the head of the trail down to Muav Saddle. I was back about
five feet and could have done more below the Coconino in Dutton Canyon.
I did note a most peculiar outlier of Redwall on the right side of
Waltenberg Canyon.

*North Rim
[September 14, 1982 to September 15, 1982]*

After getting a reprint of the log by Donald Davis for his trip on the
east side of Powell Plateau, I made plans for going down to the spring
below the Coconino and trying to climb King Crest and Masonic Temple. On
my way north on Monday I stopped at Hart's in Sedona and played chess
for about six hours but still had time to drive to the San Bartolome
Historical Marker in Houserock Valley to sleep.

While getting my permit I made the acquaintance of rangers Mary Ann
Mills and Peggy Hollick. I also had a talk with a solo hiker, Frank
Peebles, who proposed to go down the Nankoweap Trail and use a small
inflatable on the river and come out the Point Atoko Route. My own plan
was to sleep next to the car at Swamp Point that night and start an
eleven day hike onto the Esplanade on both sides of Powell the next day.
In the meantime I walked the Widforss Point Trail. On the way I got
acquainted with a young couple from Oregon, Gary and Cathy Polhemus. My
special reason for going to the rim there was to see whether one should
come across from the Colonnade Saddle into the bay below Widforss Point
before getting down the Supai. In order to see the slopes below the
trail end, I went down and up Widforss Point itself to the southeast of
the end of the trail. I would agree with Alan Doty that this point has
enough of an ascent at the end to be counted among the canyon summits.
Thus, I climbed my 84th named summit, but on consulting my trip map, I
see that I did this long ago. I could look down and see that almost
everywhere in the bay to the west of Widforss, the Supai forms an easy
slope, and thus one should follow the Hermit over into this bay from the
Colonnade Saddle before trying to get down to the Redwall rim.

Theoretically, I would like to try this sometime, but my physical
condition wasn't encouraging while getting back to the car. I felt
unusually tired and weak and my left hip joint was a bit painful.

I got back from Widforss in time to drive out to Swamp Point before 6:00
p.m. It is only 20 miles from the highway along the big logging road,
then south toward Bear Lake, turning west again when one mile from the
lake. One then drives about seven miles toward Fire Point before turning
left down into a shallow valley and going east along the bottom. One
soon sees a sign saying that Swamp Point is ten miles ahead. There were
a couple of deep puddles along this stretch, but the bottom was good
below the water. In the park water has cut deeply into the road and I
was worried about getting hung up on the high center. Also, rough rocks
are exposed that require the lowest gear and make one wonder about tire
damage. I covered the last ten miles in 45 minutes. While I was getting
supper at the open area on the point, two hikers came back from visiting
Dutton Point that day. They were Mike Kelly and Rick Shepard. The latter
recognized me because he had been at one of my Honeywell slide shows.
When I was through my meal, I went back to their camp in the woods and
visited some more.

During the night I decided not to continue with my real ambitions but to
go back and do some easy hikes until I could find a companion for the
big time. I drove away before Mike and Rick were stirring in their neat
tent and turned over my elaborate hike plan to Denise Matula at the
permit desk. I had never been on the Ken Patrick Trail to Uncle Jim
Point, so at 10:00 a.m., I set out to do that. For a time I walked with
a father and his daughter who was soon to start work on a Ph.D at Cal
Tech. When she was unable to keep up a very brisk pace, I excused myself
and went ahead as fast as I could since I wanted to do something still
more demanding that afternoon. I got out to Uncle Jim Point in an even
hour and back in 47 minutes with no pain in the hip, so I concluded that
I could still hike. We saw some deer along this trail. One big
difference between a trip to the North Rim now and when we first visited
it in the forties is that the deer now don't get out on the open meadows
in force every evening. The views from near the beginning of the trail
show the Kaibab Trail in Roaring Springs Canyon, and at the end one gets
other aspects of the Kaibab Trail. I noticed that the break in the
Coconino on the left side of the promontory beneath Bright Angel Point
is around the corner and not visible from Uncle Jim Point.

Denise had invited me to eat my lunch at their house at the
administration settlement. I was disappointed when I learned that she
would not be there for the noon hour, but her roommate, Anne Harry,
invited me in. I had a good visit with Anne's parents who were visiting
from Hawaii where Mr. Harry is a ranger at the National Parks.

In the afternoon, I drove out of the park to the logging road that goes
14 miles to the Saddle Mountain viewpoint. The trail is now in quite
good shape, only a little overgrown with grass. At the first saddle
below the rim, the old trail to the north of the hill is completely
overgrown with thorny locust and a new trail goes to the south where the
vegetation is not particularly thick. It is easy to follow almost
everywhere until it reaches the flat burnt area east of the big hill.
There are a few cairns, but one mostly has to realize that the descent
to the big saddle at the top of the Supai is northeast across the flat
burnt area. Incidentally, this terrace is the largest rather flat area
at the top of the Coconino that I recall. In fact, I can't think of any
other broad terrace on top of the Coconino.

When I had been on my way about 20 minutes, I came to Frank Peebles with
his monstrous pack on the ground trying to decide whether the small but
clear trail would take him over to the saddle where the Nankoweap Trail
starts down the Supai. Even if he had begun his hike that morning he was
making very slow time and would have to camp away from water that night.
If he had started down the day before, his position was evidence that he
might be tackling much more than he could handle. He said he had a
gallon of water in his pack besides the half gallon outside, so I didn't
worry too much. It did bother me to see that he insisted on going with
me without his pack for over 20 minutes just to be sure that the trail
was correct before going back for his pack. A person who wouldn't take
that clear a trail on faith shouldn't be doing what he proposed to do.

At the big terrace, Frank was convinced that I was right when I told him
that this was now the correct way and he went back to bring his pack. I
went on to the southeast and dropped down through half the Coconino and
went up to the end of what Clubb called The Rostrum. This promontory is
a real landmark and really deserves a name. I wish the board would name
it Clubb's Rostrum, honoring Merrel D. Clubb for his years of exploring
the canyon. The light wasn't right or I could have made out Mystic
Falls. I didn't know where to look and I missed seeing a plaque honoring
Lois Webster who loved the canyon but died at the age of 46. I learned
about this from Wilson Tripp at the campground Wednesday evening. He
said that the plaque and a mountain register are a few feet below the
rim on the southeast side at the highest point. I found the cairn here
but didn't investigate beyond it.

The ranger girls had told me where to look for Wilson Tripp and I looked
him up after I had eaten my dinner. We had a good visit lasting an hour
or more. He is 75, just three months younger than I. Since his 11 year
old son, in 1957, saw a little natural bridge on the east rim of the
Redwall Gorge of Bright Angel Canyon near where the water comes out, Mr.
Tripp has been especially interested in it. This very day, he had been
down to lookout point at the top of the Coconino off the Old Bright
Angel Trail to see whether the light would be good for another picture
of the bridge. he wants this bridge named for his son, but one is
supposed to be dead before that happens. When he heard that I had walked
from the car to the Rostrum in 75 minutes and then back up to the car in
the same time, he assured me that I can do a lot better than he can.

*Paria Plateau
[September 18, 1982]*

About 15 years ago, Norvel Johnson and I had gone up the trail that
Donald Davis had found east of Jacob's Pool. The route up there had been
interesting, and so had the appearance of the top near the trailhead. I
finally got around to seeing it better. I left Jacob Lake long before
Tony said he would be awake. I should have stopped when I saw what
looked like Rick Thorum's car parked beside the highway east of Jacob
Lake. The agreement was that he should meet me at the old rock house
next to the pool before 9:00 a.m. if he wanted to go with me. I should
have said that we should meet at the historical marker. I told him that
the turn off the highway would be a couple of miles east of the
historical marker whereas it is really about 200 yards east. Rick found
a road going toward the cliffs farther east then the right one and spent
too long finally reaching Jacob's Pool and my car.

I started away from the car at 9:00 a.m. after reading Time for one and
a half hours. I followed the trace of a road away from the corral over
the hill and down into the area where plastic tubes bring water from the
seeps in the clay hills down to the pool. I found footprints of three or
four people going up the sandy slope toward the break in the rim above.
When I was about halfway up the whole slope, I went to the south because
I found some cairns in that direction while the tracks I had been
observing went more directly up. Before I had gone far enough south to
use the man made trail to the top, I followed deer tracks up through the
broken slope consisting of sand and loose rocks. When I was nearing the
final narrow ravine through the top cliff, I recognized a well built
retaining wall and realized that I was finally on the right trail. The
others who had been heading directly for the top seem to have given up
since I found no fresh footprints in the sand near or on the top.

I noticed the G.M. Wright, 20 April, 1894 inscription right away and
also quite a few very old pecked in petroglyphs stained over with desert
varnish. I couldn't find all the pictures I had seen so many years ago.
I had figured that I might go from the car to the top in one and a half
hours, but instead I made it in one hour and 45 minutes and a little
less on the way down. I was a little concerned about finding the right
place after a loop hike on top, so I put a red rock on top of a natural
pile of lighter rock and noticed some other details. Then I headed east
past the haystack shaped slickrock. Very soon I realized that the
surface of most of the Paria Plateau isn't very scenic, mostly slightly
rolling grassy sand with higher rocky outcrops. After walking for about
100 minutes a little north of east, I ate lunch on a knoll with a good
view. Then I went south for almost an hour and turned more to the west
to find the rim. I had intercepted a road in the sand before lunch and
also I had to go through a fence both before and after lunch. Walking in
the sand was tiring, and then when I reached the vicinity of the rim,
the way was cut up by the slickrock haystacks. When I was getting back
close to the descent site, after looking over the rim periodically to
see how far I had to go, Rick saw me from the top of a rock near the rim
and we continued back together. He helped me find the rest of the
petroglyphs and he also showed me something that I had missed, a wild
beehive in a fissure in the cliff right near some of the best rock art.
We were attacked and didn't stay around for fear of getting stung.

We went down using more of the old trail. Incidentally, we saw more
recent inscriptions than the one of 1894. Someone had scratched Spence
on the wall with the date 1941.

*Surprise Canyon
[December 2, 1982 to December 8, 1982]*

After some postponements because of the weather, Jorgen and I finally
started our long planned hike on Thursday, meeting at Meadview and
getting away from Pearce Ferry about 2:00 p.m. This time the little boat
stayed dry with all of the leaks fixed. The lake was a foot or so higher
than we had seen it in recent years and the island northeast of the ramp
was submerged with two buoys to show the hazard and a tuft of growth
sticking out of the water at the highest point. There was also a more
than normal amount of driftwood to watch for. Once on the way up and
several times on the return the skeg hit driftwood and a couple of times
we had to stop to pull sticks away from the prop assembly. Fortunately,
we didn't shear the shear pin. We kept the Belknap guide handy and
watched all the landmarks as we went along. There wasn't time to go all
the way to Surprise by daylight so we settled for camping at the mouth
of quartermaster where the east side terrace is mostly bare mud. We
could tie the boat in a protected place where no amount of wind in the
night could hurt it. Jorgen found a neat place for his bed under a
travertine overhang and used it for his bed. I found a similar place,
but the ground where I would be sleeping was sloping rather much and I
settled for sleeping out in the open. The recent big storm had left the
ground rather wet and the clear night put down a lot of dew. I even
found thin sheets of ice near the toe of my bag.

We got away about 8:40 on Friday morning and found the bar completely
under water at the mouth of Surprise. After using the motor through most
of the lagoon, Jorgen rowed us to a mooring 300 yards farther north than
ever before, and when we came back six days later, the lake was several
inches higher still. We should have moored so that the bow faced
upstream towards any flood that might come while we were upcanyon. When
we saw plenty of signs that the creek had been in flood very recently, I
worried a little. The creek was still turbid and it was flowing above
ground all the way and with inches of extra depth. I had to get wet feet
at a few crossings. Jorgen picked up a walking stick and used it to keep
his balance during creek crossings. After I rolled a rock and went down
with the effect of getting wet legs and part of my shirt, I also tried
using a walking stick. When we were higher upcanyon and the creek
crossing seemed easier, I discarded it as being one more impediment. On
the return, however, I fell in the water again and wrenched my left hip
so that I am still limping three days later.

We left the boat about 10:30 and walked rather slowly. Once when Jorgen
got ahead and walked at his own rate, I was soon lagging and saying I
had to slow down. I should work out on a mountain once a week instead of
just walking the Sun City sidewalks. Of course my being 75 also accounts
for some of this weakness. We observed some sheltered sleeping sites in
the Tapeats and were careful not to miss seeing the natural bridge. When
we got near the mescal pit terrace, I called the shot right and we
walked its length and observed where we had slept. We also walked out of
the regular bed to see the sandy place west of the bed and north of the
mouth of the Amos Spring Arm, but it was badly damaged by the recent
flood. I remembered where we had slept with some protection beneath an
overhang just north of the mouth of the Amos Spring Arm, and we were
glad to use it instead of having to spread our bags on wet sand or mud.

We got away from here about 8:40 and kept track of all the familiar
landmarks including the suggested Redwall climb west of the four tower
promontory and the side canyon where I turned back in 1979. It was still
before lunchtime when we came to the leaning rock camp at the mouth of a
fern and flower decked tributary from the west. The lack of sunshine on
the clear day was something of a record for both of us. We didn't see
the sun until 1:00 p.m. and then only briefly. Not including the time we
spent sitting down to eat, it took four and a half hours to walk from
the Amos Spring Arm to the protected campsite near the end of the Twin
Spring Arm. I was so tired that I was happy to lie on my bed and read
while Jorgen went on to see the fine Twin Spring narrows. He got back
well before five but he brought the report that there was water quite
close to the shelter cave I had seen last year in the upper Redwall
about eight minutes walk north of the end of the main narrows.
Furthermore, he observed that there is plenty of firewood in the
vicinity. We had friendly campfires every night. On Sunday we left the
Twin Springs mouth campsite and carried enough food for the next two
days to the shelter cave north of the narrows. There was plenty of space
for us to spread out and still have a campfire at the north edge of the
cave floor. We loaded my day pack and set out again about 10:20 picking
up water at two holes about six minutes walk up the bed. If we had
noticed, we could have started up through the Redwall about 50 yards
south of the water holes, but we went north several hundred yards to a
side ravine coming down from the east. We angled up to the south and had
to scout for a good way through the highest Redwall ledge. We went on
south at the base of the lowest Supai cliff until we got around a corner
and found a gulch going up to the northeast. From the head of this
gully, we kept to a blunt ridge and after some route finding we came out
on the top of a knoll with the elevation 4196 on the Mount Dellenbaugh
Quad map. When the way ahead seemed obscure, I noticed that if we
descended into the steep valley to the north, we would be able to go up
in and top out in a depression east of our knoll. On the return we tried
this descent and found that it went quite well for about two thirds of
the way down, but then we had to climb up to the south and go along
using poor footing until we came to the head of the gully we had used on
the ascet. The way we went up was better. There must have been easier
routes to the Esplanade farther north, but this route was preferable
since we wanted to go as far east as we could and still get back before
5:00 p.m.

We made fairly good progress across the Esplanade although the surface
was rolling rather than flat. With our time allowance we settled for a
point marked 4195, north of Green Spring Canyon on the Amos Point Quad.
This is a little east of the matching north and south side tributaries
where I turned back when I went upstream to see the pool where
Billingsley's clients had to swim. We guessed that one would have to
follow the Esplanade at least as far as the mouth of Horse Spring Canyon
before he could get down and go looking for Cottonwood Spring. There was
no cowpath over this way, a fantasy of mine while I was planning the
trip. There were plenty of bighorn tracks on the Esplanade on both sides
of Twin Springs Canyon as well as down in the bed of Surprise. Here the
raccoon tracks were the thickest and we also saw signs of a ringtail cat
and coyotes. There were several kinds of birds about including ouzels
and wrens. The view drew our glance and was magnificent, especially the
snowy north slope of the outlying Shivwits Plateau to the south.

When we got down through all the Supai and the top ledge of Redwall,
Jorgen was leading and he found a closer place to make the final descent
than we had used in the morning. We both assumed that we were still
north of the water holes where Jorgen had left some containers. We
walked south with our eyes so concentrating on the search for the water
that we both missed seeing the shelter cave and didn't get our bearings
until we came to the upper end of the major narrows. Incidentally,
Jorgen pointed out quite a deposit of fresh wet driftwood left by a big
eddy just west of the beginning of the narrows. During the recent flood,
water must have piled up five feet deep here. It hadn't reached our cave
floor, however. When we got our bearings, Jorgen and I walked back up
north and found the cave with our packs, and then had to go past the
place we had come into the bed about 50 yards to find the water. On
Monday morning two of the rain pools with clear water had subsided into
gravel and I had to refill our canteens from the slightly muddy pool,
and it was going down too.

Our Monday jaunt was to scout the Esplanade west and south of the upper
end of the narrows. I had formed a casual impression that one could get
out of the bed here, and from the Esplanade on the east side the day
before, we had the idea that there would be a fairly easy Supai route if
we would follow the top of the Redwall south across the first side
canyon. The lower part of the Supai looked good before we came to this
wash, so we started up. When we reached a point about two fifths of the
way to the top, we found that the rest of the way was impossible, and
also that we couldn't get down to cross the wash without retracing our
route. So much for shortcuts! Even on the south side of the tributary,
the route took some study. We went up the north edge of the east facing
slope quite high and then went south along the base of the small cliff
until we found a break. One rather hard place for me I labeled with a
cairn. Then we proceeded south and up until we came around a corner into
a hanging valley. The rest was routine. The black brush and the soft
soil on the Esplanade kept down our walking speed. We agreed that our
destination would be the long point going south from the elevation
number 4316. When we reached what we had thought would be this point, we
had a marvelous view of the area, especially of my suggested route over
to Amos Spring using the Redwall route I had pioneered. There was also a
striking detached tower south of our point, shown on the map as 4138.
Jorgen climbed down 30 feet lower than I and went out to the end of a
narrow point, but he thought he wouldn't try to climb the tower. Then by
careful map study, Jorgen convinced me that we had not reached the right
point. We should have gone west on the Esplanade until we were stopped
by the rim of the deep south trending canyon whose mouth is at the
leaning rock camp. We walked north and curved around to look into this
abyss, but we figured that we didn't have the time to go down to the end
of the point south of 4316.

For the return, we headed east and north of the route to the turn
around. As we arrived at a depression in the rim, we were not sure that
we had the right valley until we found our own footprints. We avoided
some of the hardest climbing by getting down farther south than our
route up, but for the lower two thirds, we repeated the ascent route.
Towards the end of our return, I was feeling the worse for having eaten
Spam for lunch, and I lay around on my bed while Jorgen did all the work
of getting the wood for a campfire.

I was short of food by Tuesday morning and I went back early to our
cache at the camp near the mouth of Twin Spring Canyon and waited there
for Jorgen. I took 80 minutes for this leg compared to Jorgen's 58. I
saw freshly fallen rocks on the floor of the narrows. By Tuesday it was
looking more and more like rain and both of us wanted the protection of
the Tapeats overhangs. I seemed to have recovered some of my old hiking
strength after several days of hiking and we made fair progress down the
creek, except for the mishap when I tripped and fell face down into the
water. I was able to predict our times rather well and we arrived at a
place in the upper Tapeats where I had slept shortly after 4:30. Jorgen
figured that there should be a better place farther south and he came
back where I was waiting with the news that he had found a far better
place. It was indeed superior, plenty of room for two with wood near and
even a way to climb well above any possible flood in the night. We had
our usual sociable time until 9:00 p.m. Around midnight the stars came
our and then the moon showed, but by morning the weather was rainy
again. Fortunately we didn't need to wear the ponchos as we walked down
to the boat. There had been no flood and only a little rainwater showed
in the bottom of the boat, not enough to need to bail. The lake was
higher and we had to wade to get to the boat. Jorgen was able to stand
the cold water better than I. He poured the extra gas before we left,
and both of us put on all the clothes we had for the cold ride back to
Pearce Ferry. I had a little trouble getting the motor to start, but I
managed to pull hard enough without calling on Jorgen this time. On the
way back, we had more trouble with driftwood and some even lodged in the
prop assembly necessitating hand removal. Still we got from Surprise to
the launching ramp in less than three and a half hours. Jorgen got off
to Henderson in plenty of time and I drove through a persistent rain in
time to eat an early dinner at Peacock Mountain Truck Stop.

On my way to meet Jorgen the previous Thursday, the Jimmy had refused to
start after I had refueled at this truck stop. The mechanic and I saw
the trouble immediately. About a year and a half ago, I had needed a
wire spliced, and now the splice had worn out. The mechanic was able to
fix it in 20 minutes, and he gave me the idea that it would never bother
me again. Now, a week later, as I was driving through Wickieup, the
lights seemed to grow dim and the wipers stopped working, but I was
eager to get home and kept on. About six miles south of the little town,
the car stopped. Fortunately, it came to rest after I had gotten off the
roadway and I spent a warm night in the Jimmy. After being in bed
awhile, I thought it would worry Roma if I didn't show that night, and I
got up and walked for an hour toward town. When I couldn't see that I
was getting close, I turned around and went back to the car.

In the morning, rather than wait for a highway patrolman to come by and
radio for help, I got out with food and water for lunch and prepared to
walk until I came into town. After I had gone a mile, I read a sign that
said a tow truck was available in six more miles. When I had gone about
three more miles, I got a ride into town with a man coming out of his
drive. The tow dropped me at the Exxon station where the mechanic worked
in bursts until after two. He tried but failed to find a slow discharge
through some faulty wiring. Finally, he put in a new alternator and
changed the battery and turned me loose to get home all right and see
the big service department here for the real repair, a complete new
wiring job, perhaps. I had phoned Roma about 11:00 a.m. and she said
that I would have a bridge evening waiting for me. I got home in plenty
of time. She had forgotten whether to expect me on Wednesday or
Thursday, so she hadn't been worried.

*Pearce Canyon and Snap Point
[February 10, 1983 to February 13, 1983]*

As often happens, I had much bigger plans for this trip than I carried
out. I had made plans to do a major piece of the north side route from
Lee's Ferry to Pearce Ferry, namely the route along the Sanup Plateau
from Red Point west of Burnt Canyon to Pearce Canyon.

I didn't try to leave home early on Wednesday the 9th and ate lunch
where I now get gas, the Peacock Mountain Truck Stop. It had been quite
wet recently so I thought the Stockton Hill road might be rough or muddy
and I stayed on the paving using the Dolan Spring route to Meadview. It
is 12 miles farther that way. Ranger Don Forrester was at home, but John
Green was gone on a backpack in Tincanebitts Canyon. I had a good visit
with Don who seemed quite interested in learning what I could tell him
of routes out on top. We went over the maps, but I didn't get nearly
through giving him all the information I know. Talk is left for another
day. I launched the boat and visited with some men around their campfire
after dark. The night was rather chilly even when I was sleeping in the
Jimmy.

I was off by 7:20 and had no real trouble getting the motor started. I
wasn't sure where I wanted to leave the boat, but I finally decided on
the mouth of Pearce Canyon instead of the cove where I have camped with
the 19 foot cruiser four times. By reading my logs I learned that it is
slower when you start up Pearce from the mouth of the creek instead of
from the cove, and I found this true this time too. I thought I had
noted the place carefully as I tied the boat to a fairly large rock near
the water. There didn't seem to be a suitable clump of bushes. I got
away from the lake at 8:15 and soon found that I was getting tired
rather easily. It was interesting to see the new fence that the park
people have constructed. Forrester says that they hoped to keep the
burros out of the park, but he knows it doesn't stop them. They can lie
down and roll under the bottom wire. It took me over two hours to reach
the place where I would be coming down into the bed if I had started at
the cove and it was after two when I came to the cave at the fork in the
canyon. I had thought that reaching Fort Garrett would be a fairly short
day for me judging from what I had been able to do previously, but now I
was really bushed from just getting to the cave. I put down my pack and
went looking for water in the north arm.

At the very beginning I came to a 15 foot drop where I believe I had
gone up using holds and a little ramp on the face of the rock on the
right of the fall. Now I was more cautious and I walked around a stubby
tower pushing through some brush and walking over a rockslide. the hole
at the foot of the fall was where I expected to find water, but it was
full of gravel. Very soon I came to another shorter fall which I could
bypass using holds on the left. There was no water here either, and I
began to get nervous. Within a few more minutes I came to a nice little
pool holding several gallons of water but not in a solid rock pothole,
so it might not last long. I enjoyed a restful afternoon of reading in
the sun near the cave.

On Friday I got away by 7:20 and went up the main canyon instead of the
north arm that I had considered. As I reread my notes, I see that this
was a good decision since there are worse places than I had seen in
getting my water. The heavy pack made the walking quite different than
it had been on the previous day hikes. I didn't recognize the slope I
had used to get out on the south side near the end and from the way I
had marked my seven and a half minute quad map, I thought I should
proceed farther upcanyon than I finally knew was right.

John Green had told me by mail about climbing up to one side and getting
into a short canyon on the north side. I put my pack down and went up to
inspect his route. I had to be careful, but I did get into the canyon
above a high fall and just below another about 15 feet high. When I
talked with John Sunday evening over the map, I learned that he had done
what I did but then he was able to climb up the 15 foot fall and get
into the upper basin. Just above where I was stopped there is a rainpool
that he and I both used, but when he was there in December, it wasn't
nearly full of mud the way it was for me. I would guess that it
contained only about three gallons when I was there.

When I went back and carried my pack on upcanyon looking for the place I
had climbed out to the south, I had to go over some big rocks and
finally I saw the headwall and knew that I had overshot. I went back and
decided that my route took off from the bed opposite the next to last
north side tributary. The route soon seemed familiar, but there are a
couple of places near the top that I now think would stop a burro,
contrary to what I said in a former log. The burros would certainly
prefer the routes using the fault valley that gives rise to the saddle
between the head of the north arm of Pearce and the main bed. I noticed
something at the hard places near the top, old rotten juniper logs that
probably were propped up as ladders to help the Indians. I got to Fort
Garrett about 2:20. This rock structure is a ruin now, but I think it
was never finished. I don't think it ever had a roof. There are no smoke
blackened rocks in the fireplace, but Green saw blackened rocks up in
the chimney. Perhaps these were used for a fire pit before they were put
in place.

There were well established cow paths going just about anywhere that
seemed logical, especially along the Jeep road. The cows would take
shortcuts across gullies where the Jeep would go around. Very soon as I
headed for the north side canyon where John had found the constructed
trail and the water, I came to a small cattle tank. There were a few
puddles of polluted looking water in the soft muddy bottom, but I
figured that I could use it if necessary. When I came to the rim of the
right canyon, it took me a moment to see where the trail had been
constructed. Walls that probably made this possible for a horse have
fallen away, but I could climb down readily. There was camp trash
including some boards under an overhang, and I soon saw the pothole of
good water. I should have moved my pack over here and used the
protection from dew and the cold of the open sky, but I took the water
back and slept half under a juniper near the ruin.

By now I knew that I couldn't think about carrying enough water to do
anything much about connecting with where I had been in Burnt Canyon, so
on Saturday I started early and headed for Snap Point. I had
misunderstood about where John had gone up to the top of the plateau,
but I now knew that I should use my own discretion and I picked out what
appeared to be a sure way up there. In talking to John later, I found
that he had done the same thing that looked good to me. I reached the
top just southeast of the last lava. Some places the footing in the
scree was loose, but I think this is a little easier than the similar
way to the top east of Burnt Canyon Spring. The hard part was over when
I got into a saddle before the end of a promontory that projects
southeast from the mainland.

On top there was quite a bit of shallow crusted snow between the
junipers. After I had crossed it a time or two, I finally recognized the
Jeep trail to the top. Walking in the snow and on the mud between the
snow patches wasn't the easiest, but I got to the surveyor's cairn in
about 50 minutes. It took me about three and a half hours to go from
Fort Garrett to the top of Snap Point. Of course the views from there
are magnificent. It was interesting to be able to look across the water
at where the motor homes are parked at Pearce Ferry. I got back to my
pack in about two and a half hours.

On Friday afternoon I had time and energy to walk the Jeep road
southwest to the head of the first tributary on the south side of Pearce
Canyon, the one that is a deadend. The road was still going toward the
big bowl and a still dimmer fork turns off to the southeast toward the
base of Point Garrett. There were no tire tracks showing now. These
continuations of the road coming across the Sanup Plateau to the west of
Snap Point are not shown on the map. Presumably they are for the
convenience of a rancher who owns the dozen or more cows which were
grazing on the broad area.

When I had rested from my Snap Point climb, I moved my pack over, under
the overhang near the good water where John Green had come up. He had
used a rope to get his pack up the 15 foot cliff to the basin below the
trail. On the way back, he elected to go to the fault valley connecting
the two arms of Pearce and to go to the south into the main bed. He
climbed down the wall below the water hole to retrieve a bottle cap that
he had carelessly dropped.

After a pleasantly warm night, marred only by a mouse and some
mosquitoes, I returned the way that John Green had gone down. I had
thought I would go down the north arm, but it looked rather forbidding
from the saddle, and I see by my log that the north arm took some fancy
chimney climbing. I needed 70 minutes to get from the overhang to the
saddle and 45 from there to the bed of Pearce. In 50 more I was back at
the confluence of the two arms and I ate lunch at the water on the bare
rock ten minutes east of the big south side canyon. By 2:30 I was down
at the lake. Leaving out the time for lunch, I had needed seven and a
half hours for the walk, so this stint is not really so unrealistic
unless one is very much out of condition.

The weather that Sunday was peculiar, first nice but not sunny. There
were about three drops of rain, and then the sun came out almost too
hot. I was worried that my canteen water was not going to hold out and
that I would be drinking from the lake.

When I got to the lake, I looked for the boat in the place I thought I
had left it and there was no boat. I had a panicky feeling that I should
have tied it to some bushes instead of to a rock. Perhaps the lake had
risen or somehow the rope had come off the rock. I went along the edge
of the water to the north where the wind was blowing the driftwood
hoping that perhaps the boat had lodged up there somewhere. I was
greatly relieved to find the boat still tied to the same rock. The wind
and waves had moved it and it was bumping on some rocks in the water,
but it hadn't been hurt.

The sunny sky was giving way to ominous clouds. I hated the thought of
spending a wet night across the lake from my nice dry Jimmy and the
interesting people I expected to see over there. The wind suddenly
changed from blowing north to blowing south. This made the launching
easy and I couldn't appreciate how stormy the lake was getting out in
the middle. I had an exciting crossing in waves as high as a card table
that surged up within a few inches of the gunwales. I was glad I was
alone and that the boat had a light load. I was most relieved when I got
back safe.

*From Burnt Canyon south of Twin Point
[March 13, 1983 to March 18, 1983]*

I had big plans for a hike south of Twin Point from Burnt Canyon to
Surprise involving seven days of hiking. Jorgen couldn't start on the
13th and stay that long, and I thought I should stay in Sun City for the
beginning of the spring tennis tournament on the 12th. We compromised on
a five day hike, and it was a good thing too. I was weaker than ever and
my right hip was bothering me especially on our last day.

I left home towing the boat about 7:10 on Sunday morning and had the
boat in the water before Jorgen joined me about 1:40. Right at the start
of the trip away from the ramp, he was most helpful. I couldn't get the
gas to flow from the tank to the motor and Jorgen found that I hadn't
pushed the hose connection far enough. We had a quiet ride through the
lower canyon, but the driftwood was a little worse than usual. The lake
is higher than either of us had ever seen it, possibly at the 1208 level
where Forrester said they would hold it. We could have reached the mouth
of Burnt Canyon in plenty of time, but I preferred staying at
Quartermaster where there are two little caves big enough to protect one
sleeper each from rain. I was as anxious for the warmth provided by an
overhang as protection from the rain. Since Sun City had been balmy for
a week, I assumed that spring was here and I carried my summer weight
sleeping bag instead of my roomy down one. Not according to plan,
however, was the omission of my waterproof nylon tent fly that can
either be a ground cloth or a tent. I simply got careless in packing. I
was a little chilly only a few feet above lake level.

It is less than a mile from Quartermaster to Burnt Canyon and we soon
found a place east of the shack on the promontory where at the present
lake level we could lift the boast out of water and let it rest on a
gentle slope of mud. The boat, motor, and a number of Jorgen's things
were in plain sight. We were trusting to the honesty of anyone coming
down the river. No wind and waves could bang the boat on rocks this
time. The bumping it got during my Pearce Ferry trip had made it leak
again. We bailed about every hour.

Jorgen had never been up Burnt Canyon and he was pleasantly surprised to
see that the walking past the tamarisk jungle of the delta is easy along
a faint trail. We carried water from the little stream that shows above
ground for a half mile above the delta. Most of the footing in Burnt
Canyon is easy compared to that in Surprise. Another contrast with
Surprise which is only a few miles away by straight line is that in
Burnt Canyon the lake level is only about 50 feet below the top of the
Tapeats. I set a pace slower than Jorgen's, but we got to the junction
of the two arms in about the usual time, two and a half hours.

During the rest of the walk up to Burnt Canyon Spring, our time was
lengthened by stops for lunch and sitting under overhangs twice to keep
out of the rain. We noted one of the windows I had marked on my map, and
we also found cow tracks much more prevalent than bighorn sheep tracks.
In fact we encountered several cows on the way in and five of them
looked us over when we were almost back to the boat on Friday. We
wondered whether any rancher considers it profitable to come after these
cows and send them to market. I know that the Indians have a yearly
roundup in similar country in National and Mohawk Canyons, but the drive
isn't as long as from the river to the Shivwits Plateau.

This year has been wetter than normal and we weren't surprised to find
water in the bed below the final fork below the two springs. What did
shock me was to find that the concrete basin that held a pool 18 inches
deep just last May is now filled with gravel and rocks put there by a
flood or a slide from above. We slept on dry ground under overhangs on
the west side of the fall downstream from the spring. I used the roomy
place I have slept before. Jorgen had just enough dry ground for a bed,
but on Thursday night he worked to smooth a place about a hundred yards
upstream. It had a lower ceiling and rain couldn't blow in. There was
also some convenient running water in the bed here. There was a little
gentle rain for short intervals both nights that we slept there.

On Tuesday we walked upstream past the cement basin, now useless, and
out of the inner canyon on the old trail. The Sanup Plateau is a
succession of hills and dales for miles and the walking was rather slow
and laborious especially for me. It takes a lot of effort for a man of
my age to keep going for hours over this area. As we approached the bay
east of the headland 6045, Jorgen followed a high route while I went
low. He had to wait for me about 20 minutes where the drainage from this
bay drops over the Supai cliff. We were both impressed by the nearly
vertical drop for hundreds of feet of the Supai rims in this whole area.
Typically there is a slope of talus at the foot of the top cliff and
then a lower cliff that is just as persistent. I had thought that there
should be a trail down to Red Rock Spring since this is so in both arms
of Burnt Canyon (in the upper Supai) and trails go to Twin Spring and
Amos Spring, but when we came to the canyon containing Red Rock Spring,
we could see that it is just a seep on the side of the cliff, absolutely
inaccessible. We had already walked about as far in that day as I cared
to, and all we were sure of was a little water in bedrock pockets where
washes went over the rim. We had hoped to get under overhangs down near
Red Rock Springs, but that was impossible. While we were considering
camping out in the open at the last bit of water, Jorgen went out on a
promontory to look down into the south reaching canyon just west of the
elevation mark 4418. The ridge he followed west is shown about a half
inch south of the north edge of the Devil's Slide Rapid Quad. We were
fairly sure that we could see water in the wash south of the ridge.
Jorgen came back and asked me whether I would like to camp down there,
about 450 feet below. He had found a nearly unique way through the upper
massive cliff. It was here because volcanic activity had split the rock
forming a dike of lava. I was timid about climbing down, but Jorgen went
first without his pack and reported that there was no exposure and that
care in avoiding loose rocks was all it took. When I went down, I saw
that it was much simpler than the Redwall route Mel Simons and I
pioneered in Clear Creek. We found a little running water, but this
can't be relied on at all seasons. Even 450 feet below the rim I had a
hard time sleeping warm and I kept a fire going all night. The second
night here I slept just as well without a fire.

Wednesday was the only day of our five when the sun shown all day and
the stars came out in a cloudless sky in the evening. We needed 20
minutes to climb to the plateau, and then we found a faint cowpath going
south the way we wanted to head. Our ambition was to get as far towards
the corral and spring shown on the Devils Slide Rapid map south of Twin
Point. Neither of us thought that we could get there and back in one
day, but when we hit a very distinct cowpath just east of the knoll
4912, we began to have hopes of success. When we came to the edge of the
juniper covered area where the corral is supposed to be, we found no
corral. Farther along where the trail starts down into the wash, we
found a piece of rope and a rusty bucket hanging in a tree. We
encountered several groups of cows with a bull or two. I saw one take
alarm about 30 yards away and break a six inch dead tree limb and toss
it several feet with a flick of its shoulder. The trail down the wash to
the upper spring is obviously manmade, but no trail at all seems to go
down to the lower spring which is featured near the confluence of the
trail wash and the other arm to the south. We left the manmade trail
just before it went down to the upper spring and Jorgen found us a way
to scramble down to the lower spring. It is only up the south arm and a
few yards. These springs could have been found from a plane since a lot
of willows grow near them. I would guess, though, that they were known
to the early ranchers and prospectors before the time of planes. I
suppose ranchers come after some of these cows once a year or so using
some trail into Burnt Canyon from the rim farther north than the spring
where we camped (trail off Twin Point on east side near the end). (John
Green has connected a route from the spring down to the bed of Surprise
Canyon using the route north of the pinnacle promontory.) We saw no
trail branching into Twin Spring Canyon, but cows may come across from
upper Twin Spring Canyon so infrequently that no trail is formed. We
looked at th Supai below the lower spring. There seems to be a rather
roundabout route on down to the Redwall, but it seems to me now that
there would be more future in trying to reach the bed of Twin Spring
Canyon by going north on the east side of Twin Point on the Sanup Plateau.

We got back to our packs via the dike ravine with time to relax before
supper. I went to sleep without a worry under a perfect starry sky, but
when I looked out at 1:00 a.m., no stars showed. By two there were
raindrops coming down. Jorgen got into his tube tent and slept on. With
no more protection than a poncho, I thought that the smart thing for me
was to sit up with the poncho covering me and the pack. I tried looking
for an overhang with my dim flashlight, but had no success. In the
morning I found a good one not too far up on the south slope. When it
didn't seem to rain much, and I found that I was getting thoroughly
chilled, I got back into my bed with the poncho spread over me, but I
got very little sleep that night after 1:00 a.m.

The weather on Thursday was very odd. There was some pellet snow and new
snow showed up near the rim of the Shivwits Plateau. There were also
some light rain showers and a little sun. We started early and I found a
fine little overhang cave at the foot of the cliff just west of the dike
ravine. If I had carried water up here the night before, I would have
had an unworried rest. When we got to the slope below the promontory
called Red (6045), we stayed lower and seemed to cover the distance
rather well. There was a complication near the end, but Jorgen found us
a walk down from the top of a small cliff. Last year I had done
something short but risky here, and in the trip away from Burnt Canyon
Spring this time, we had gone past by climbing higher. We located the
trail by two trees on either side and got back to camp earlier than
ever. In the afternoon I was afraid that I would barely survive the
night, but I actually felt too warm at first. It rained gently several
times and we were glad to have the nice overhangs.

On Friday we got away early and walked with our ponchos on for a large
part of the forenoon. It rained hard enough to wet the knees and feet,
but we were in a hurry and didn't stop for shelter. We reached the
junction of the two arms in about three hours for me and 15 minutes less
for Jorgen who had started later. I waited eight minutes for him to join
me. After lunch and 45 minutes beyond the confluence, we made good time
down to the boat without meeting any more rain.

The boat was just as we had left it, but someone had broken the rather
old rope and left the piece that was not needed for tying around the
stout bush I had used in mooring the boat. The only rough part of the
trip was across the lake to the ramp.

*Indian Gardens with Dennis Mihiel
[June 15, 1983 to June 16, 1983]*

We met Edie Mihiel and the three children at Sedona Tuesday morning and
then spent a lot of time playing in the water at Red Rock Crossing.
Floods have now made it impossible to drive a car across, and there
seems to be no movement to restore the cattle guard type of submerged
bridge that used to be there. After hiking for over an hour in the west
fork of Oak Creek (where I was the only one to pick up ivy poisoning),
we drove to the South Rim where the Mihiels gave Roma and me a room for
two nights at the Motor Lodge near the cafeteria.

On Wednesday 14 year old Dennis wanted his mother to let him go down the
Bright Angel Trail to the river and back in one day. I didn't feel that
I could count on my hip to hold out that long, and I also felt that my
stamina might not be up to that much exertion anymore. Edie overruled
Dennis on that request, but she agreed that he could go to Indian
Gardens with me if I thought I could do that much. From what I could do
after my hip got bad, in the White Tank Mountains and on Mount Rogers, I
figured that I could do that much and get back out from 8:00 a.m. to
about 1:30 p.m. Mrs. Mihiel and the two younger children, Mike and
Erika, went down as far as the 1.5 mile water station. Dennis and I made
quite good time, down to the gardens in one hour and 50 minutes, and I
considered letting us go out to Plateau Point and back before we started
up. However, when I considered my 1:30 suggested return, I decided that
we had better start back soon after 10:00.

Dennis seemed to be going strong up the trail too. I told him that I
could go only so fast and that if he found the pace too slow, he could
go on. He had his own water but if he wanted lunch on the way out, he
should wait for me to reach him before tearing on for the top. He did go
on at a good clip and then would wait until I came up. I didn't hurry,
so I could go on without a rest. When we got to the three mile water
station, Dennis suggested lunch although it was only 11:30. If I had
known what was coming, I should have made him rest a half hour before
eating and an hour after before going on. He didn't eat his full share
of our sandwiches, but I had no worry about his digestion. Then when we
were over a mile farther, I came up with him resting. We had just been
talking to a ranger, Stolgen I believe, who had given us a drink of
something like Gatorade. Now Dennis announced that he was feeling sick
and in about ten minutes showed what he meant by throwing up. We walked
on with long rest periods after about 100 yard advances, and Dennis was
throwing up the water that he tried to drink. When we were 1.1 miles
from the top, I decided that I should go on and tell the mother what was
up. On the way out I met Mike coming down to see what was going on and
he turned around to go out with me.

On top after 2:30, Mike went to tell his mother the bad news at the
hotel room and I joined Roma at the Bright Angel Lodge where we had
agreed to meet. Mike stayed with Erika who was getting her nap and Edie
went down the trail to encourage Dennis to try harder. She reached him
just as Ranger Stolgen had come along. The ranger said it was standard
for him to check a sick person before ordering a mule, and he said that
Dennis could go out with no more than the free assistance he would
supply with the support of his shoulder. Dennis made it out after 5:00 p.m.

I was gratified to see that I could come up the last mile without a
rest, albeit at a slow pace. Starting at 4:45 Thursday morning, I took a
rim walk to Powell Memorial and back and spent 135 minutes seeing the
sunrise and the morning haze clear away. I got out on some observation
points where I had never taken the time to stand.

*Lake Powell
[June 21, 1983 to June 23, 1983]*

Chuck Crandell had gotten acquainted with me by coming over from Sun
City West to talk hiking and I was glad to invite him on a projected
trip to Lake Powell. I had decided against any big time ambitions on the
North Rim this summer, but I thought I would enjoy a five day trip to
Powell. Chuck had never been on the lake, so he was very happy to accept.

Chuck is an electrical engineer and knew what to do with outboard motors
better than I, although I have done a lot more boating than he. He saw
how to take the hood off the motor and get it back on and also where the
spark plug is. When I told him that I was having difficulty starting the
motor, he got into the motor and read off the specifications to get a
spare plug at the marine store in Page. He had no trouble fastening the
hood down right, which I hadn't succeeded in doing, but he forgot to
replace the wire to the spark plug. When I had more trouble starting the
motor, he thought of the wire. With it back, we were able to do without
replacing the plug for this trip.

The Wahweap arm was rather rough and the ranger had said that it would
likely get windier so we settled for going north in the Wahweap arm and
then going behind some islands into the Lone Rock Creek Arm. A group
with three runabouts had found a campsite at a very protected place, but
we were able to find our own site with the chance to lift the boat up on
the sand and have some level sand to sleep on. We did hike a short
distance to the northwest and could have gone on clear to the Warm Creek
Road if we had wanted to. It was a good stop with no mosquitoes and only
some clouds of gnats in the morning. We had to go back south for miles
before we could go through to Warm Creek staying north of Castle Rock.
The lake was up to 3704 feet above sea level, about four feet higher
than it had ever been. Many fine campsites were now submerged including
the place we liked so well on the east side of Warm Creek. I went over
and looked at it. There were lots of places to stop against the sandy
mud, but the clean rocks we stood on to go swimming were no more. I
think I recognized the tip of the haystack rock where we used to stop.

We had quite a lot of duffel in the boat and it didn't seem to go as
fast as I thought it should. We couldn't keep up with one houseboat, but
on the whole we seemed to move along at the houseboat speed. It was
quite early when we came to Dangling Rope Canyon, but I was worried
about getting caught in the afternoon wind in such a small boat. We
found a fairly good site in the short west arm of Dangling Rope Canyon.
We could see a sort of truck working on the flat across the harbor and
after lunch we went out on foot to go around there to see what was going
on. It took a lot longer to head that arm than I had guessed, and I
finally decided that we should do our investigating by boat. We went
around into the main branch of Dangling Rope Canyon and arrived at the
new position of the Rainbow Marina which was moved here last March. They
were busy now constructing a sewage treatment system on the flat west of
the marina. They could get the bulldozers here by water.

Chuck found a big piece of plywood that had been part of the deck of the
floating platform and he propped it up for shade from the sun. After we
had seen the marina, we considered going to Rainbow Bridge and back to
our camp that day, Wednesday, but I was worried about the afternoon
wind. We went to our camp and I lay in the shade reading Time while
Chuck took quite a hike to the west and up a talus through the lower
cliff. Instead of getting stronger, the wind died down and we saw that
we could have gone to Rainbow that day.

After a night marred by a very few mosquitoes and a couple of mice, we
got an early start for Rainbow Bridge. One can proceed to near the end
without encountering the order to slow down to wakeless speed, so it is
now easier to get there without passing the marina. You stop and tie to
the pier about the same place as for the past few years, but you have to
walk on a floating catwalk for 200 yards before you land within 50 yards
of the bridge. As expected, the water reaches the rim and then some of
the inner gorge beneath the bridge. This high water has pretty well
ruined the spooky narrows where we used too take our company. I should
have gone into Driftwood Canyon on our way back, but I got the bug to
get home Thursday night and we didn't take time for anything very
interesting. When we were up near Rainbow Bridge, I detoured into the
pocket to the east where we used to get the boat under a trickling
waterfall. The lip of the fall is now only about 10 feet above the water
level, and at this dry season there was no water flowing. It took about
five hours to go from the mouth of Aztec Canyon to Wahweap with the 7.5
hp motor. We got home before dark.

There were several new sets of initials carved in the rock near the Zane
Grey inscription, but someone has scrubbed nearly all of the John
Wetherill name.

*Lake Powell
[October 22, 1983 to October 29, 1983]*

Jorgen came over Friday evening and we had a little visit before we took
off for Lake Powell Saturday morning. At noon at the turnoff to Wapatki
we ate lunch from our supplies. As we were ready to leave the marina, we
got a little flak from a young ranger who informed me that the letters
of the boat registration should be bigger and that Arizona law says that
we should have a fire extinguisher even in an open fishing boat. We
thanked him for telling us about the weather and knew that it would be
fairly good for a couple of days.

I had put in a new spark plug and noted that the boat started quite
easily. The best technique seems to be to try the starter clear out for
the first pull on the rope and then set it halfway in for the real
start. Then it helps to put it in gear and give it more gas rather
quickly. Then you can push the choke clear in and get up speed.

The water level was still high, 12 feet below the highest mark. Thus, we
could cut corners that we couldn't cut before. They have installed a few
buoys to mark hazards, but mostly one trusts to luck not to hit
partially submerged ledges. When we had run for about one and a half
hours, we decided to camp on a beach in a cove on the south side of the
channel, northwest of Tower Butte. I thought we would have time for a
hike over to the base, but we soon saw that it was farther than it had
seemed to me and we stopped when we could get a fairly good view for a
picture.

There was still little wind on Sunday and we kept the motor humming
steadily past the Rainbow turnoff and on up the channel to Emmerton Arch
Canyon. When the water had been considerably lower, I had gone into a
little grotto at the end of the canyon and had looked up at a 20 foot
wall. I thought that now I might boat right over the lip of the fall and
enter a gentle open valley. I had a little difficulty recognizing the
mouth of the cove, but I got my bearings from noting Hidden Passage on
the other side (right bank) of the lake. We were able to boat over the
top of the cliff that had stopped me so many years ago but very soon we
came to a split filled with water too deep to wade, and I realized that
I had been wrong in thinking that this would be an easy way to get out
on top of the slickrock country. Also, the way that I had climbed to the
arch on the south side was more difficult now since one would have to
get out of the boat onto steep rock that was now covered with light
green slime where the high water had receded. We didn't waste time here
but went on up towards the mouth of the San Juan and turned into
Reflection Canyon (Cottonwood Gulch of the USGS map). The neat ruin with
the T shaped door was clear under. We knew that we needed to take the
east arm to reach the place we had been in May of 82. Like most of the
side canyons, Reflection has begun to silt up where floods in the side
streams are checked by the quiet water of the lake. I was pleasantly
surprised to see how easy it is to reach the end in a stream as broad as
Reflection. The motor was checked by soft mud before there was any
danger of hitting a rock, and there was no driftwood in our way either.
We soon found a good campsite on a terrace where it was easy to get wood
for a campfire and good water from the little stream. We learned about
an Indian ruin about a half mile farther up the canyon on the left side,
facing downstream. The young informant was Ron Evans. He said that his
girlfriend and he had tried to walk out to the Hole in the Rock Road,
but they failed in that ambition. They also had not seen the pictograph
that I had found and then lost when Jorgen and I were down to the water
in 82. Jorgen and I walked up and found the ruin in 15 or 20 minutes. It
is just north of a gulch that forces one up on the sloping bedrock.
After we looked at the low walls, we decided to go on far enough to see
the way out of the valley bottom to the top of the slickrock country.
Just as I remembered that it would be nice to see the pictographs I had
seen years ago, Jorgen looked up and back and spotted them on the wall
only yards from the ruin. They are so well done and neat that Jorgen
wondered whether they are authentically ancient.

An overcast sky that night had me worried about rain, but it remained
dry and was clear in the morning. A brisk north wind was blowing as we
went south on the lake to the mouth of Mystery Canyon (Anasazi to Dock
Marston). Fortunately, the waves were going our way or we would have
gotten wet with the splashes. The name Mystery was given by Norman
Nevills from the unexplained steps carved halfway up the sloping cliff
to bypass a fall, but now the name fits because the maze of channels is
hard to chart and remember. There are at least two islands, one quite
large. We followed the system of going into any channel which was not
obviously a dead end to the farthest east first. The first one we tried
soon ended. The next went on a long way. We met a bigger boat coming out
shortly before the channel narrowed until we were sure that only a small
fishing boat could get through. Finally, Jorgen pushed and pulled
driftwood out of our way so that we could advance 30 more feet. Then we
came to a slot only one and a half feet wide but about 150 feet high up
to the top of the landscape. The water was still far too deep to touch
bottom with an oar and rather cold to allow much swimming, so we backed
away with still more shoving of driftwood. The next channel to the south
was also a long one. This had the end of the lake water at an intriguing
V shaped gate in the rock where we could just wedge the bow of the boat
into the notch and barely get ashore without sliding off the steep rock
into deep water. There was a neat open valley walled by unscalable
cliffs about 200 yards long by 50 wide. It had drowned cottonwoods and
live junipers on the slopes above where the water had been, and clean
sand for sleeping. People's tracks preceded us here as elsewhere, but no
campfire ashes were present. We brought our stuff ashore for a good camp
here.

There was still plenty of time to explore more of Mystery Canyon. I was
looking for the places that Dock and I used to try coming down to the
bed on our helicopter exploration on August 30, 1959. From aerial
pictures and then from the helicopter, Dock had seen two promising
routes from the slickrock surface to the bed of Mystery Canyon, going
down from the east side. On August 29, we spent the time, after coming
from Wahweap by helicopter, going down the more northerly one, only to
be stopped by a 40 foot cliff at the very bottom. On the next day, we
succeeded in getting down the other possible route and at the hardest
place we came to some Moki steps. I was now puzzled that from the boat
neither of these routes looked promising. At least we couldn't see where
I had come down on either of the two days. It is harder to get out of a
boat onto the slickrock slope than it is to start at a good dry platform
with no algae making the rock slippery. Still, we should have spent more
time looking for the way. I didn't recognize the place where George Beck
had stepped out of our boat and had climbed up a ravine when Lake Powell
was already well back into Mystery Canyon and water had filled in around
an island. Jorgen and I found a ravine fairly close to the main lake
where we could moor the boat and go up on the east side. At the end of a
short incline of broken rocks was a little pocket of sand and scrubby
bushes. While Jorgen went fairly high to the northeast, I followed some
footprints to the southeast and then up a ridge to the west to the top
of a fairly high knoll. Jorgen couldn't make it out on top of the really
high country to the east while I had a good view of the knolls next to
the water. He went around all the channels of Mystery Canyon by boat and
then back to our unique campsite, the only place left in the entire area
where an open valley with trees is accessible by boat. Jorgen tried to
get up the dry bed beyond our little valley. He had to bypass a narrow
slot filled with water by going up on the sloping rock to the east, but
he was soon stopped again, this time for good. We had wood for a fire
that had been killed by high water and bare sand to sleep on.

Tuesday was spent going out of Mystery Canyon and south to the Oak
Canyon bay. The lake was far rougher, but we didn't have to buck the
waves and not much water splashed aboard. Near the mouth of Oak Canyon
where I walked across blackbrush country in 1968 and boated past islands
later, we now had the main lake. I found the entrance to Dougi Cove
readily, and before I had gone far into it, I called Jorgen's attention
to a small natural bridge that Stan Jones had seen. There is now a good
enough place to get out of a boat and walk a few yards to it. It is
about five or six feet in diameter and we could photograph it with sky
showing. As we cruised along a wide channel, I saw the steps cut in the
rock before I expected them. We could boat quite far beyond the former
campsites. We selected a place on the southwest side of the channel
before we got to the end of the water and then took a hike up the
valley. Walking in here is popular enough now to have formed a trail on
the terraces above the little creek. Many trees had been felled by
beavers, but I didn't see any very fresh cuttings and I didn't spot the
beaver dam that I had seen in 1968. The trail crosses the creek a few
times and then ends at the base of a spectacular cliff on the south.
There is still an extension of this glen around to the west, but the
difficulty of getting across below the dropoff and up through the brush
on the rough country dissuaded us from the effort of going farther. I
saw poison ivy in flaming red fall color from our trail end. After
lunch, Jorgen and I moored the boat below the cut steps on the right
side of the water. There was a gentle slope and a platform where we
could place a gas can for an anchor, but the slickrock slope above and
to the sides was precariously steep. I recalled that I had formerly not
been faced with this hazard, and then I realized that I had come up a
more gentle slope about 20 yards to the right. The catch was that there
was no good way to tie the boat and even getting out onto the slime
covered rock was tricky. Since I was not walking well because of my bad
hip, I urged Jorgen to go alone and see the interesting country on top.
I let him out of the boat at the right place and he was soon up to the
Navaho cut steps and on beyond. I spent my time waiting for him to
return by mooring at a campsite directly across from the steps. There
were well developed trails over the sandy knolls and up the talus going
high on the cliff behind. I even came to some running spring water. We
had filled our canteens in the forenoon so I didn't need to pick up any.
Jorgen returned on the announced time, 2:30, and we realized that there
was quite a bit of time to kill.

To do something for the rest of the day, we took the boat across to
Twilight Canyon through some moderately rough water, but the distance is
not great. I wasn't thinking of walking beyond the lake water up
Twilight Canyon, so I didn't use full throttle speed. Later, I wished
that I had saved a little time, because we decided to go up the bed and
see whether we could reach one of the places where we could get out on
top to our old campsite of 1982 when we came down from the road on Fifty
Mile Bench. It seemed farther than we had supposed, and Jorgen was
confused in his search for a west side canyon that he figured was quite
close to the water of the lake. We passed one, but it was rather far
north, away from the lake. We also noted a neat grotto on that side and
two or three likely looking places to climb out on that side too. Just
as my deadline of 4:30 arrived, we came to a place that looked good for
part of the way to the top. Since I couldn't move as fast as Jorgen and
there was some question about reaching our campsite before dark, I
started back while Jorgen went on. He found that it was indeed the right
place where he had come down last year and then he went on a little
farther and reached our old campsite up on the plateau under a little
overhang. He overtook me before we had reached the boat and then we used
full power and arrived at our camp in Dougi Cove just before it became
too dark for ease in landing. The bad feature of this camp was that a
houseboat had moored only a stone throw across the water and that party
played country and western records loudly. Fortunately, they didn't keep
up much after 9:00 p.m.

I thought that a good way to spend Wednesday would be to go up Oak
Canyon. The open lake was quite rough and now we were bucking the waves
and quite a lot of water splashed aboard. Oak Canyon still has some
impressively narrow corridors with deep water below high walls.The
spooky narrows in Mystery Canyon are not all submerged either. The best
one in Oak Canyon was just before we came to the end of the line. There
was no driftwood in our way and the silt has covered the rocks that used
to be a hazard to the propeller. This morning was under a domed ceiling
at a bend in the creek. Only 50 yards away was a neat sand terrace, good
enough for two beds, and there was some wood for a campfire too.

About 10:00 a.m. we were ready to walk up the bed. The goal was to reach
the Rainbow Trail around the north side of Navaho Mountain, but with my
game leg, it became apparent that this might be too much for me. We
passed several rainpools and then we found the creek running an
increasing amount of water as we went south. About an hour's walk from
our camp, the canyon opened quite a bit and we often used sandy trails
through the brush above the creek. There was some old cow and horse
manure. Hiker footprints were seen for quite a distance above the lake,
and then as we got closer to the Rainbow Trail, there were a few boot
prints that I thought were made by a Navaho sheepherder. After a rather
long lunch break, we walked on and noted a big open canyon coming in
from the east with a tall cairn at the junction. It was steeper than the
bed we were in so we continued up the main canyon. At 2:00 p.m. I
decided that I had better turn back, but Jorgen went on and came to the
beautiful area where the main trail crosses the creek. He caught up with
me quite easily.

On the way back I cut across a sharp bend where the creek drops rapidly.
There is a distinct trail here going around the end of a projecting
ledge that forms a good shelter for a couple of beds. Upstream from
here, south of the tributary valley from the east, I followed the trail
down to the cairn at the junction and saw a bed outlined by rocks.

On the way upstream I had been watching for the place where I knew there
is a way up the slickrock slope over into the sheep pasture south of
Dougi Cove. I had seen a couple of places where there might be steps
cut, but we couldn't be sure that they were artificial. A little before
Jorgen overtook me, I came to a good cairn and looked up to the east.
There was another cairn and higher I could make out the real steps. I
may have shown this place on my Navaho Mountain Quad map farther north
than it should be. It took me an hour to walk down to it from my
farthest south location and it would have taken me about 80 minutes to
come here from the Rainbow Trail in my recent partially crippled state.
It took me two and a half hours to go from this cut step trail to the
lake. This 5:15 arrival gave us plenty of time for the evening chores,
but I was really tired. I didn't sleep as well as I might have here
because rocks fell into the water or on dry land. I wondered whether we
had moored the boat in a safe place.

We decided to spend Thursday near Rainbow Bridge. There was no problem
going down the lake with the waves from behind. We rather intended to
camp in the area, and I boated up the fork to the west called Aztec
Canyon. For high sides and separate pinnacles, this one is perhaps the
best. We went to the end of the water, but we found that the best
campsites are close to the mouth where it joins Bridge Canyon. I had
decided to take some extra rest this day, but Jorgen got a lunch
together and we set off together. The first point of interest was the
old camp back at the end of the bay about a half mile south of the
bridge. I hadn't see it for 30 years of more, and I was charmed by the
surroundings and the big pools of water fed by a spring. Someone has
placed a big aluminum pan under the seep so that plenty of good water is
available. There are a lot of steel cots out in the open and a couple of
wood shacks and floors where they had tents. Jorgen cached his extra
water jars and lit out for the trail going back towards Oak Canyon. In
order for us to camp at Dangling Rope Canyon, he had to meet a deadline,
but he was able to get a good view of the valley where the trail crossed
Oak Canyon Creek. I spent my time visiting with Russ Jenson, pilot of
the tour boat and going into the short cove just north of the bridge,
and reading my magazine. Russ was very obliging and talked with
headquarters at Wahweap about the prospects for good weather, and then
he even gave me two sack lunches that were left over.

They have recovered the bronze tablet honoring the Indian guide who
brought the whites to Rainbow Bridge in 1909, and now they have a small
one on the wall below it telling about the guide for the other party,
Mike's Boy. He was an Indian who had seen the bridge long before 1909
and had told Nasja Begay about it and how to reach it. He died at the
age of 105 not too many years ago.

Time was pressing again when we were locating a campsite in Dangling
Rope Canyon and we didn't find one where wood for a campfire was
available. We could scrape sand and level two places to sleep, and for
once we didn't walk around exploring the area. The lake was quiet on
Friday and we boated down the lake and up Rock Creek without trouble. We
got into a protected cove right close to the end of the water and were
ready to hike again by 10:30. We had noticed on the Southeastern Utah
tourist map that Woolsey Arch is only a few miles north of the lake in
an arm of Rock Creek. That was our goal for the day. By consulting the
contours of the map and remembering the height of the water, Jorgen was
able to place us on the map and he could identify headlands in the rims
to the east and west, so we figured that we should have a fair chance of
finding the arch. Walking through the scrubby brush was not the easiest,
and there were a few gulches to cross. Then we came to a big one that
seemed to be right for the one that the Utah map indicated as containing
the arch. We saw one place where we might be able to cross it, but
Jorgen got ahead and led me east towards the head of the canyon. He
found a nice spot for us to eat our lunch in the shade. After a good
rest, he went ahead while I headed for camp.

On an impulse I decided to check the crossing of the crucial canyon
before I left the area. I backtracked and found a place to get down to
the bottom on the south side. As I was going west along the bed to the
place where one could go up and cut to the north, I noted that the first
place we saw from the south also works. I used my success in crossing
the canyon to get on toward some overhangs that we had seen from a
distance. Before I got there, I saw something that looked like a big
hole through a fin of rock. I got excited since it seemed to be just
beside the big gulch where the map showed Woolsey Arch. However, when I
got closer I could see that the green that I had thought showed through
a big hole was really caused by greenery growing on the steep slope. I
went back close to the alcove holes in the cliff and took a picture
before really heading for camp. I did the trip back by a slightly better
route, but part of the time I was following our morning tracks.

We had a good fire for over an hour that evening and then got off early
on a quiet lake and reached the marina ramp in about four and a half
hours. This included a detour for a close inspection of the Warm Creek
site where we used to camp. My conclusion is that it would still be a
fairly good campsite. We had a late lunch in Page and a late supper when
we reached home.

P.S. As we passed Driftwood Canyon, I looked for the miners steps they
cut in the rock. In July with Chuck Crandell, I couldn't see them and
supposed that they were submerged permanently. I couldn't see them at
this time either, but when we were almost passed, Jorgen pointed to
them. I had been looking too close to the mouth of Driftwood. The high
water last summer had indeed put them under, but now the lowest steps
were still below water, but the rest, possibly two thirds were out of
water. I am glad that they are not gone forever.

*Twin Spring Canyon, Toroweap, etc.
[March 26, 1984 to March 31, 1984]*

Troy Eid and I met Jorgen at Ralph Behren's home in Henderson around
2:00 p.m. on Monday and soon took off for Saint George, Utah. After
getting some more gas, we drove back on the freeway and left by the
Bloomington exit. We could then go under the freeway and proceed to the
Bloomington Hills development where we could catch the road south to
Arizona. We camped just over the line. The elevation was about the same
as in Saint George, but still I was rather cold before morning. I should
have brought my second sleeping bag and had the advantage of both to
keep snug.

In the morning I noticed that one of the rear tires seemed soft and also
about bald. It looked bad enough to warrant going back to town and
getting a new tire at the OK Tire Company. So we got a rather late
start. However, the gravel road driving was not too bad. Jorgen and I
figured that we knew something about the road in the vicinity of Mount
Dellenbaugh, but he was upset by the fact that I hadn't brought the
1:250,000 scale map. I had the new Castle Peak Quad but we couldn't be
sure we knew which roads were which. We came to a fork shortly after we
had seen a mountain that we were not sure was Dellenbaugh. At one place
a little north of here, I turned off to the right and found the car
going too far to the west. I got out and walked uphill in a clearing and
became positive that the major mountain was Dellenbaugh and not Castle.
We wanted to go to Oak Grove Ranch, but there were no road signs
indicating which fork was right. We drove for two miles along a freshly
graded road that seemed to be going to the west of Dellenbaugh, but then
we thought that this might be wrong too. After going back and taking the
east fork, in a short distance this degenerated to a lesser road than we
had taken the first time. I figured that this is what is left of the
route to Kelly Point and went back to the first, freshly graded choice.
This took us to a rather new looking house in the woods with quite a
complex system of fences and cattle tanks around it, and I felt fairly
sure that we had reached Oak Grove Ranch. We had to go through a gate to
proceed. At the next fork we decided that the right branch would take us
towards Snap Point, so we tried the left. After one very minor attempt
to go right into a dead end, we came to the sign for Lake Mead
Recreation Area and knew that we were right where we wanted to be. I
proposed that we use some of our extra time that day to go down the
right drainage to Mathis Spring that is shown on the Mount Dellenbaugh
Quad map. We had no difficulty recognizing the road forking down to a
couple of ponds with clear water in them at the road end and knew that
we were in the right valley. For a short way down this draw we could
follow a cowpath. Later it was simple walking in the gently sloping bed,
but where the wash swung south, the drops began. At one place Jorgen and
Troy made it down handily but I preferred to go way up and around to get
down a slide. I gave up and started back at the next drop in the bed.
The others caught up with me as I was nearing the car, but they had had
to give up also without reaching the spring.

On the way back to the Twin Springs Wash, I used four wheel drive to get
up a steep and rocky place in the road. Jorgen and Troy went down to see
Twin Springs while I rested. They saw everything that I had seen two
years ago and also a second spring in a cave similar to the one I had
seen. It is a little to the north of the one which drains into the horse
trough.

With my bad hip, I didn't feel like doing an all day stint that would be
required to reach water on the way to the cattle spring southeast of the
end of Twin Point. Jorgen felt that they should not go off and leave me
to amuse myself for several days, so we agreed to go elsewhere and do
other things. We first had to get more gas at Saint George even though I
had brought two extra five gallon cans. We spent the second night in the
junipers well to the north of Mount Dellenbaugh. Jorgen had one of his
best campfires here, but I slept rather cold as was to be expected from
Jorgen's thermometer which read ten above in the morning.

We filled up with gas and then headed back over the same route, but this
time we turned toward Mount Trumbull. When we got near the actual
mountain, we saw a sign that said we were at the beginning of a trail to
the summit of Mount Trumbull. There was plenty of time so we set out
towards what we thought was the top. Within yards I announced that there
was really no trail. Instead of looking harder, we all set off up the
slope through brush and cinder slides. Getting onto the summit plateau
involved some good scrambling through breaks in two cliffs that Jorgen
found for us. I was leading toward the north up a gentle slope when
Jorgen called our attention to a much higher knoll southeast of us. We
climbed it and then could see a still higher point to the northwest. It
was now too late to get over there and still have plenty of time to find
a campsite, so we let that climb go. In 1957, I had started up farther
east than this time and had gone clear around the summit plateau
including ascents of both the summit we were on and the higher point on
the far side.

The top of our knoll was wooded and we got better views from cinder
slopes just below the top. One thing we wished we knew more about was
the optical device chained to a tree and aimed toward the snow covered
San Francisco Peaks well over 100 miles away. Vistas in other directions
were also superb, the Virgin Mountains and the Pine Valley Mountains in
particular. Another thing that was interesting when we went down the
mountain well to the east of the cliffs was that we finally ran into the
trail. If we had looked at the level ground east of the sign instead of
up the slope to the north, we would have recognized the trail because it
is outlined with a border of rocks. When we were driving the road in
this vicinity, we saw a bigger concentration of Kaibab squirrels than I
have ever seen elsewhere, four in just a few minutes. There were also a
few common squirrels here too. We found a fine campsite in the junipers
a few hundred feet above the Tuweap Valley floor.

On Thursday we found that Mike Ebersole, the Tuweap ranger was not at
the ranger residence but there was a lengthy note pinned to the door
telling about the plans of some backpackers and signed by Pat O'Brian. I
wondered whether he was the one I know in the Grand Canyon Natural
History Association? When we left the area the next day, this note was
gone, but the ranger was still missing.

We spent the usual time taking in the superb views from the rim at the
end of the road and getting more photos. Troy had never been here
before. Then we started in the car east along the road toward Cove
Canyon. I used the four wheel drive for one bad place and then got
cautious and parked very soon where I could turn the car around. We
walked for over an hour to reach the trailhead for getting down to the
mine which was our destination. There is a lot of camp trash and a loop
in the road about a quarter mile west of the trailhead where there is
another loop. While we were looking at some seats consisting of cinder
blocks supporting the seat, Troy spotted a more interesting item. When
we went to it, we saw that it was the shape of a beehive about nine feet
tall and of about the same diameter at the bottom. It was built of rock
and cemented together. It had a door at the bottom only about 18 inches
high, and the inside of the structure was blackened. We concluded that
it was a charcoal kiln. Only yards away was the rim where I figured the
miner had a tram for bringing his ore to the top. Troy found a steel
spike in the ground with a piece of wire attached, but I don't think
this could have been the anchor for a real tram cable.

The trail on the Cove Canyon side of the point was not hard to locate,
and most of the way down through the massive Supai cliff it was easy to
follow. It goes down through a pretty slope attractively covered with
vegetation. Down in the talus below the solid cliff of red sandstone, it
levels off toward the south. It went down much lower than I remembered
from my trip in June of 1971. Then we came to a place where the trail
seemed to disintegrate. Jorgen led us along the same level around to the
west, but finally at my suggestion he went up to the base of the main
cliff and found a good trail again. When we got around to the place
above a big yellow ridge of shale, the trail ended. My 1971 log says
that it continues at the very base of the massive Supai cliff. We could
see a fine big cairn or monument below us at the Yellow Slide, but we
could see no safe way to get to it. We tried the footing forward across
the shale slope where we were, but it seemed like suicide to continue
there. Jorgen got into an awkward situation when he was trying to return
from his farthest west position. I should have followed my hunch and
gone up to the base of the main cliff, but it didn't look much easier
and safer there. We gave up trying to get to the mine although I thought
I could see the trail beyond here about a quarter mile away. I also felt
confused about what I had done in 1971 to get down to the river. I have
reviewed my log and see that I had gone down to the Yellow Slide and had
used both sides of this blunt ridge before being able to get clear down.
That my nerve and agility have degenerated in the past 13 years is borne
out by the fact that in 1971 it took only two hours and 20 minutes to go
from the trailhead to the river. I wish now that we had gone up to the
base of the main cliff and had tried to go ahead to the mine.

While we were walking back along the road, we saw a car much like my
Jimmy in the distance going back to civilization. It was probably the
O'Brian party coming back. Someone had driven a vehicle clear beyond
where we had started down the trail. The map shows this piece of road
ending soon. This party or some other had piled stones into a little
streambed to make further four wheel driving possible only a little
farther than I had gone in my Jimmy.

There was a strong wind blowing all the time by now and we went to the
campsite by the comfort station for a little protection. We were able to
get wood for a campfire here although this was not as easy as
previously. By bedtime it looked like rain and in the night some fell.
Then by morning it was snowing and about an inch whitened the ground. We
gave up any idea of going down the Lava Trail on a day as cold and wet
as that and drove away from the area. The snow had melted as it fell on
the bare road and there was no problem with traction after so little
moisture. Even though no ranger was at Tuweap, we could get water from a
faucet outside the house.

We spent more time at Pipe Springs and saw it better than I ever had
before. A young woman, Lucy Cox, interrupted her job of baking cookies
on a wood range to conduct us through the building. It finally occurred
to me this time that the Dr. Whitmore who was killed by the Indians must
have been the man for whom Whitmore Wash is named. I also for the first
time realized that the Mormons raised dairy cattle here and took the
butter and cheese to Saint George.

We decided to have at least one pleasantly warm campsite before
finishing our trip, so we drove to Overton. We took our time at the Lost
City Museum and I saw it better than on other occasions. I learned that
it was not lost because of the level of Lake Mead water, at least not
more than one tenth of the ruins were submerged. It could be called lost
because it was abandoned and no one realized that dwellings for 12,000
people were scattered along the valley for 30 miles.

Then we went to the Valley of Fire State Park and looked at most of the
attractions Friday afternoon. We saw Atlatl Rock with its petroglyphs,
some of which are cut so high that we wondered how the artist could have
supported himself while doing the work. We noted the old way up the rock
in contrast to the new steel stairs. We saw the two campgrounds in
scenic locations among the red outcrops but we thought $4 a night a
little high for no running water. Anyway Jorgen wanted a camp with no
other people around. We drove out of the park to the west for several
miles and concluded that it didn't seem like such a good place either.
We finally drove down the single track unpaved road toward the lake
across from the road going into the park. It was a fine evening and we
were surprised to find enough wood for a campfire. The evening was clear
and pleasant and I really slept warm that night.

On Saturday we visited the cabins built by the CCC boys and walked a
little way north to see an interesting valley in that direction. If one
wanted to follow all possible routes through these fantastic rocks, he
could spend a lot of time at this one park. We took the little trail to
the Elephant and saw that they stop you 200 yards away from the oddity
although the road goes right by it. They don't want traffic to stop
there where there is little parking space. After a good visit at the
Visitor's Center, we drove north and took the nature trail down
Petroglyph Canyon. At first we thought that the petroglyphs were few,
but especially Troy spotted many that were not pointed out by the
signposts. I carried the trail guide sheet and picked up two or three
more names of plants that I may not remember long, and then we came to
the end of the trail at Mouse Tank, the water pocket used by a renegade
Indian who was a solitary outlaw for years. The pit that is obvious from
the trail end was dry. Jorgen and Troy jumped down on the sandy bottom
and looked at the next pocket just above an impossible 40 foot dry fall.
To Jorgen's surprise, there was water here.

We wanted some sort of longer hike that was still within my reduced
capability, so we went to the beginning of the road to the White Domes.
The day was still bright and sunny and I went with only a light shirt.
The reason they have closed that road is that a wash has cut into one
side leaving about two thirds of the original road that can be driven.
Cars could still get by, but I didn't mind being forced to walk the
three and a half miles each way. The road curves around near the end and
you look at the west faces of the White Domes. The south one seems more
like a slender tower. The area is well worth a visit since the exposed
rock is entirely different from the broken red formation of the main
part of the park. It consists of cross bedded sandstone of various
shades including a great deal of buff colored rock. It reminded me of
the landscape near the Hole in the Rock.

*Western Grand Canyon
[May 5, 1984 to May 8, 1984]*

Tony Williams met me at Pearce Ferry about 4:00 p.m. I had come from the
history meeting at Kingman a couple of hours early and had the boat in
the water ready to go. The weather was rather windy Saturday and Sunday
and I was just a bit afraid of the waves. That was a reason for stopping
rather early to camp at the first rather undesirable place. At the
present rather high stage of the lake, in the last few miles of the
Grand Canyon, mud terraces are mostly submerged. I found a small nearly
level bit of silt while tony slept on quite an incline.

On the way to our camp, even before we came opposite Rampart Cave and
Columbine Falls, I stopped and moored the boat where Bain had told me
there are petroglyphs on some brown boulders. This is at Mile 276 on the
right. Just as before, I had trouble finding any but finally located one
boulder with markings northwest of the very green patch of brush, and
also a couple of mescal pits.

Each evening Tony and I had long conversations as freely as Jorgen would
have when he has the inspiration of a campfire. The weather was nearly
perfect. I had been too warm in my winter sleeping bag at the trailer
court in Kingman, but when I used it unzipped for the three nights in
the canyon by the water, it was comfortable. There were no rodents to
bother our food and only for the last camp were the bugs a bother.

On Sunday morning, we stopped so Tony could go up to see the Bat Cave.
We moored west of the cave so that Tony could go up a break in the
ledges. He found that there is a better way where visitors have
established a steep path closer to the cave. However, he found the
horizontal part of the trail and followed it easily. He went into the
cave farther than the catwalks extend and also climbed to the top of the
tower. He also noticed some live bats, an observation that I had missed
when I was there with Jay Hunt. While he was doing this for about 105
minutes, I was going up the canyon at Mile 266.5. In order not to worry
Tony, I turned around at the end of an hour. I had gone up perhaps 1000
feet above the lake and had done one good bypass for a place where the
bed is jammed by oversized boulders, but I think I could have gone on a
long way, perhaps for another hour before the Redwall would stop me.

Our next stop and second campsite was at the mouth of Mile 265 Canyon on
the left. This is the lower end of the Billingsley Davis route from the
rim down between the Bat Cave Tram and Quartermaster Canyon.We started
up about 1:00 p.m. and when we got to the bed after the difficult side
hill walking along the left of the lagoon, Tony left me to go farther at
his own faster rate. I took Donald's tip this time and went right up the
Muav narrows, although a place or two were a bit hard for me in my
present weakened condition. I soon reached my former highest point and
went on for another 40 minutes until 3:20. I was afraid that I would be
too tired if I went much further, and I was about exhausted when I got
to our camp at 5:15. Tony went on up to the place where Davis couldn't
see how a bighorn sheep could pass. He thought he might have been able
to climb the wall perhaps using a crack at one side that is too small
for chimney climbing. He says the rock here is quite different and from
the sample he brought down (a heavy dark greenish rock) I suspect it is
an igneous intrusion. He played around until he could come down in the
shade and admired some yellow columbines in bloom and a humming bird on
its nest.

When we were landing and carrying our duffel up to a flat place on the
knoll, I was buzzed by a little rattlesnake in a rock pile. On Tony's
hike up the canyon he encountered another. We agreed that Mile 265
Canyon is most scenic and worth anyone's attention. Now I would like to
come down from above with someone who could belay me or let me go down
the hard place by a rappel. Tony carried an altimeter and knew that he
reached a place 2200 feet above the lake. From the map he reckoned that
he had about 1500 feet still to go to get out on top.

Our next interest was Quartermaster Canyon. Tony wanted to see the area
north of the spring where someone had irrigation ditches that have
become fossilized by travertine. I was fairly sure that the former trail
from the camp on the east side of the lagoon would be cut by the high
water, so we stopped and camped at the cove just west of the mouth of
Quartermaster. I remembered that Beck did this many years ago and I
could see that we could climb up on the Tonto and get into the bed at
the top of the falls. Tony went ahead with the idea that he might reach
the trail end that goes up the Redwall on the east side of the main arm
while I only hoped to get into Jeff Canyon farther than I had
previously. The spring water was flowing noisily near the base of the
big fall, but during the present dry season, no water from the real
Quartermaster Spring was reaching the streambed beyond the massive green
jungle. I wasted time trying to break through this dense tangle and had
to backtrack. I did get to the general area where I had seen the
petrified ditches, but I didn't range around well enough to locate them
again. When I came around the upper part of the jungle and then
penetrated where the two largest trees are growing, I found a good
little brook and filled my canteen. Then when I got through back into
the open dry streambed, I found another spring, considerably smaller,
flowing along just a few yards into the maze. I found where burros had
made a path and got to that water too. Incidentally, I came upon two
live burros northeast of the big spring and there are more burro signs
all the way up the valley. I got a half a mile into Jeff Canyon and
turned back around 2:00 p.m. I felt rather weak and hot and took several
rests when I could find any shade.

On Tuesday morning we went on and stopped to see the shack on the little
promontory at the mouth of Burnt Canyon. The roof has been torn off
completely but the ramada is untouched. Tony found one of his knees
turning weak and I had developed a bad raw place on one heel, so we
decided not to try any real hiking in Surprise Canyon. However, we
continued upstream to see the sights and camp for a night in the mouth
of Surprise. Tony had not picked out the right object to recognize as
Triumphal Arch and he was gratified when I put him right on this point.

Three things went wrong with the motor on this trip. First the prop hit
a submerged log and cut the sheer pin. I disconnected the gasoline line
for us to lift the motor into the boat, and I had all the right
equipment to replace the sheer pin, not a long job with this 7.5 hp
motor. Then when we tried putting the gas line back, neither of us could
make it lock in place. I pointed out the gas tank in the top of the
motor and Tony thought of the way we could get the gas from the six
gallon can into this tank. We could remove the fitting at the end of the
hose and use the bulb to squirt gas into the small tank. That worked,
but when we were past Reference Point Canyon the motor suddenly quit and
we couldn't twist the throttle. Something had locked. We tried turning
the prop, which we could do, and pull the starting cord too, but nothing
unlocked the gears until Tony lifted the motor into the boat and rolled
it over. He tried the throttle and found that it had become unlocked.
When we found that it would start and run as before, I opted for going
back to the cars before we would have more trouble. The current is quite
strong and we found that our down lake speed was about twice what we
could do going up. We took one more constructive detour. We stopped so
that Tony could go up and see the Muav caves. They were hard to
recognize at the time we were there and I had to pass them and then go
back until I made out the openings. Tony got to see several things that
he had missed on his other river trips. This jaunt for me was saved from
being a fiasco by my continued appreciation of the remarkable scenery of
this section of the Grand Canyon.

We got back to Pearce Ferry with no further motor problems and the
surface of the lake was as smooth as I have ever see it. With Tony's
efficient help, we got ready and left in a very smooth operations. I was
home by 10:15 after a good supper at the Bingo Truck Stop.

*Western Grand Canyon
[November 1, 1984 to November 5, 1984]*

Tony Williams met me at Pearce Ferry and we took off in the little
fishing boat about 4:20 p.m. I had been rather uncertain about the 7.5
hp motor because of some malfunction last May, but this time the only
trouble I had was due to pilot error. One time the fuel tank vent
joggled itself closed and this shut off the flow of gas enough to stop
the motor. I got it started again and only later discovered the reason.
One should unscrew the vent screw until it resists further opening. When
it was slow to start, I found that I hadn't turned the throttle to the
position for starting. The lake was nearly always very calm and the
level was down enough to leave the driftwood on the banks. Still the
water was high enough to cover the island on the line from the launching
ramp to the end of the Grand Canyon.

When we had been going for 70 minutes we looked for a place to camp.
Attracted by the gravel next to the water in a small cove at Mile 271,
we turned in. Tony thought he was stepping down on firm gravel, but he
found that his foot went down into soft mud. A foot farther in the bed
was firm. We found spaces for two beds on course sand and plenty of wood
for a small campfire. We were not the first to use this place.

On Friday it took three hours and 30 minutes to reach the mouth of
Surprise Canyon. Years ago I spotted a window in a high promontory and
this time I saw it again, a little below the skyline in a steep ridge
west of the one where the Bat Cave Tram was located. I kept the Belknap
River Guide in front of me and knew my position on the river at all
times. For about all the way coming back, Tony kept his topo maps handy
and we identified everything. He convinced me that the grotto in the
travertine is at Mile 269 and not at 267.7 as I had been told.

At the present high water I had thought that it would be easy to get to
the walkable bed of Surprise, but only 20 yards back from the river,
there was a solid bank of silt showing a few inches above water. Tony
tried walking on it, but he soon sank in too far for safety. I knew
about the possibility of going up on the Tonto a quarter mile upriver
and getting down into the bed, but I remembered that as being a lot of
effort with packs. Instead we moved downriver to Lost Creek. The bar at
its mouth is the whitest and cleanest sand I know about in this part of
the lake. We decided to camp here. However, when we tried to go by water
to where we could walk the bed inland, the tamarisks stopped us just
before we could reach the right place. Perhaps one could get through on
an air mattress or by swimming. We also tried, without much
determination, to walk up the slope on the west side of the tributary,
but when we saw how high one would need to go, clear to the top of the
Tapeats, we let that go and tried climbing to the top of the Tapeats
across the river. Here the climbing was harder and I let Tony go on by
himself while I stayed by the boat and read. He got to look down to the
bed of Surprise, but when he saw how far upstream he would need to go
before he could get down into the bed, he returned. I should have taken
him east above the mouth of Surprise and he would have been down into
the bed with the same effort.

For Saturday's activity, we headed the boat down the lake with the idea
of going up Snap Canyon. I had a feeling that we wouldn't get to the
interesting part of Snap, so when we saw a nice looking landing in the
canyon on the south side just west of Cave Canyon and Columbine Falls,
we turned into it. We could pull the boat up on a soft beach and still
have a clean rock ledge nearby. There was lots of firewood. We spent two
hours visiting Rampart Cave while going up the wrong talus for a good
part of that time. Rockslides have obliterated a crucial part of the
trail, and we couldn't see where the cave is from our approach. Tony
found a place where someone had used a hacksaw and cut a bar. With his
agility he could get through and he explored the cave rather completely
with a flashlight. I tried going through the break in the grill, but it
seemed like too much of a contortion. We got back to the boat in time
for a late lunch and then we set out to see the bed of our canyon. With
just a little climbing at a few minor barriers in the bed, we got to a
fork where the two beds go east and west at a much steeper angle. Since
we didn't want to do camp chores in the dark, we came down.

I had brought an extra five gallons of boat gas in addition to what was
in the full six gallon tank, but we had over a gallon left when we got
to the launching ramp on Sunday. We dropped the boat and trailer at
Frenchy's and drove up to the Bat Cave Tram in the Jimmy and ate lunch
with that marvelous view. Tony showed me a wrecked car far below the
west side of the neck leading to the tram installation.

After lunch we drove back to where a spur loop goes from the main tram
road east along the rim of the canyon called the Billingsley Davis
Route. Where the road starts to veer away from the rim to rejoin the
main tram road, we stopped. The view down into the Mile 265 Canyon was
breathtaking but not so reassuring. The upper part of the bed where
Billingsley had gone down seemed awfully steep and narrow. His bypass to
the east seemed long and tedious. Together we walked the rim to where it
was easy to start down. Tony spotted a fossil flush with the worn
surface rock that seemed to be a chain of overlapping rings. It was
about nine inches long and he thought it might be a nautiloid.

This depression in the rim leads down into the wrong canyon, east of the
B D descent, but we could get into the right one with only a few steps
to the west. The Supai has weathered into white clay in this saddle.
Down a few yards where the climbing is getting tricky, Tony saw a most
impressive bighorn ram about a quarter mile away. Its white rump
contrasted with the unusually dark coat, and the horns were magnificent.
I felt shaky and let Tony go on without me here while I watched the ram.
It stood and gazed at us for a time and then loped easily away to the
northwest along the bench about halfway through the Supai. Tony got to
the Redwall, but he figured that there wasn't enough time to go farther.
When he was almost back to the car, he encountered the same bighorn that
we had seen below. It had come up another break in the rim and was
probably headed for water in cattle tanks to the west. (Camped at
Quartermaster Viewpoint.)

On Monday we talked about doing some more hiking in the New Water Spring
area, but the gas tank gage seemed to be dropping rather fast, and I
preferred to get to Frenchy's and take no chances of having to carry gas
to the car. A man working at Diamond Bar Ranch told us that there are a
number of springs close to the house there but that Meadview gets water
from several wells about 600 feet deep. I got home about 4:30. It had
been a good camping trip with quiet water on the lake and a fine moon
most of the night. The walls and towers by moonlight seem out of this
world.

*Mile 265 and Tincanebitts
[December 30, 1984 to January 3, 1985]*

Alan and Jane Doty came on the 29th and we had a dinner and evening of
Trivial Pursuit with them before heading for Pearce Ferry on Sunday
morning. The 18 foot boat is heavy behind the Jimmy and we didn't reach
the launching ramp until 2:45 where Jorgen had been waiting for about an
hour. I was a bit worried about getting the car in too deep before the
big boat would float free, but it was all right. We were soon planing
along at 30 mph and found a place to tie up at the mouth of Mile 265
Canyon with plenty of light for camping. We enjoyed campfires both
nights that we stayed there.

On Monday we started toward the bed of the lower canyon along the west
side on a rough route over gullies and then noticed that the walking
would be a lot easier on the east side. We moved the boat over there and
started again. We began our hike before nine and I thought that there
would be plenty of time to either reach the rim or at least reach the
bypass for the Redwall drop. Alan and Jorgen let me set the pace and
this was much slower than they could have gone. Furthermore, at about
five places above where I had been before, Alan got out his rope to help
me up. Jorgen was able to climb all of these places without using the
rope, and Alan made them look easy although he had a bad cold which his
exertions were not improving. Finally, after we had eaten lunch, we came
to the exposure of the diabase dike. The dark green rock of the dike had
parallel and nearly vertical sides, but the dike material was not
straight. Early movements had deformed it subsequent to the formation of
the dike. Jorgen and Alan went up the break just east of the diabase
rather handily, but near the top I was glad to use the rope as a hand line.

We had been in fog when we got above the lower third of the canyon and
about here we could see blue sky through the mist above us. The rim
especially on the west side seemed amazingly far away and almost
directly overhead. About 200 yards beyond the lower of two diabase
outcrops, we came to another climb that Jorgen was able to handle. I was
afraid that I couldn't manage it with my bad hip and I tried using the
rope as a hand line and then with the Jumars that I had brought.
Jumaring was awkward because of the overhang. We seemed to be nearing
the place where we should leave the main bed and take the long bypass to
the east, but in view of the time, about 1:25, Jorgen and Alan turned
back to help me down. In spite of these places that were hard for me, we
found some fresh bighorn or deer droppings below the worst climbs.

When we started on the next morning, the boat behaved in a peculiar
manner. It didn't go fast enough to plane but the bow stood up very
steeply. We had a lot of trouble with mud bars right across the whole
river in the vicinity of Tincanebitts. Between the mud and the
malfunction of the prop, we decided to give up the idea of getting
beyond Surprise. We had thought something of coddling my hip by hiking
in Spencer instead of going climbing in Surprise. We turned back and
tried to get into Tincanebitts. The mud kept us away from the shore
upriver from the mouth, but when we tried getting to the shore west of
the mouth, we found that the water was deep enough to allow the boat
clear into the lagoon which was much deeper than the bar across the
mouth. We tied up with only a short walk left along the east side to the
streambed.

Jorgen and Alan, at my urging, went without me to try to reach the Sanup
Plateau by the dike route in the east arm where Bruce Braley and I had
been able to get up much more easily then we would have at Mile 265. I
was content to walk a little over two hours while the others were gone
from about 10 to 4:15. The reason they came back that soon was that
chockstones stopped them and they were unable to get to the top. In fact
they didn't reach the Supai. They said they really tried and that they
had done some climbing that was worse than anything we tried in 265 Mile
Canyon. Evidently, big chockstones have fallen down in this narrow slot
ravine just since Bruce and I were there on January 5, 1976.

After spending the night at Tincanebitts, we took our time in going west
to the canyon just west of Cave Canyon where Tony Williams and I had
camped. It was a good place with lots of wood, but we tied next to a
rock ledge at water level and in getting out and in, we bumped the boat
against the rock and chipped the fiberglass hull. Jorgen led us on a
short hike up east of the bed to the third bench just below a tower and
then out to a fine viewpoint. We took pictures in all directions,
especially of the snow covered Virgin Range. There was a fair burro or
sheep trail from here around into Cave Canyon. Jorgen led Alan down a
talus slope to the lower level near the creek and then they got back up
to the trail farther north. I elected to return to the boat but before I
got there I discovered that I had lost the boat ignition key. I felt
pretty bad about the prospect of walking to Pearce Ferry and paying
someone for a tow, but Jorgen and Alan cooperated in working out the way
to get the switch shorted so that we could run the motor on Thursday
without a key. We had an easy trip on calm water to the beach on
Thursday. I used four wheel drive to get the boat out of the water and
we had lunch together at the Meadview overlook.

About the most exciting discovery of the entire trip occurred as we were
approaching Columbine Falls about a third of the way from the right
shore to the left shore. Alan looked up at the right time and saw the
sky through a fine arch or window. It is about 1000 feet above the lake
across from Columbine Falls and a little east of the falls. I don't
think one can see the sky through it while facing east. It would be hard
to climb to it.

*Pearce Canyon
[February 25, 1985 to March 3, 1985]*

Since Jorgen Visbak couldn't go until Monday, I started early that day
towing the light fishing boat. With the light load I needed to get gas
only twice after leaving home, at the Bingo station east of Kingman both
times. I was at Pearce Ferry in time to eat lunch and get the boat in
the water before Jorgen arrived at the scheduled time of 1:00 p.m.

In launching the boat without help, I should have attached the painter
to the trailer rather than to something on shore. The rope wasn't long
enough and it broke as I was backing the boat into deep enough water.
When the boat floated loose, it might have gone out into deep water
except that the rope caught on some part of the car and was pulled up to
shore when I drove out of the water, a crisis avoided by luck. The motor
was a little hard to start, but we got it going and were over at the
deep cove just west of the big dark rock promontory ready to go on over
into Pearce Canyon just before 2:00 p.m. Jorgen had been up this route
over to the bed of Pearce Canyon much more recently than I had and he
remembered that the right way is to go up the hill just north of the
cove and follow the ridge where there is a burro trail. I got started 10
minutes before Jorgen and after walking a few yards to the north of the
bed of the wash, I came on a good burro trail that parallels the bed and
curves around from west to north and then northeast below the correct
ridge route. After a while Jorgen was looking down on me from the top of
the ridge. I came to a fork and went up to join him. We stayed together
until we were almost to the saddle where one can look down on the bed of
Pearce Canyon. I was so slow and out of shape that we could see that I
wouldn't make our proposed campsite with water at the end of the north
fork before dark. Jorgen went ahead so that he could reach the water
hole up the north arm and get back to the campsite before dark. I had
supposed that I could get there between two and seven, but it didn't
turn out that way. I began by resting five minutes out of each half
hour, but long before I got there I was walking ten minutes and resting
five. By the time I could shout and be heard by Jorgen it was nearing
9:00 p.m. He came down from his place along the bypass of the lowest
fall in the north arm to guide me with a light to his fire. I had a
comfortable night with more than enough cover to keep warm. We saw no
burros or bighorn sheep, but signs of both were very apparent. They seem
able to live in the same area. Sheep tracks and scat were common up on
the Sanup Plateau where there are about 30 cows in the Fort Garrett Area.

I left camp somewhat ahead of Jorgen but he overtook me in less than a
mile and we stayed together to the place where tributaries formed along
a fault come in from both sides. We went up the north one and Jorgen
stayed with me almost up to the saddle on top. Then he went ahead with
the idea that he could scout for water before I arrived at the campsite,
the overhang in the last north side tributary with the ruined trail
going down to the place that has been used by ranchers. Two years ago
John Green had told me about this place and I had seen it myself. I had
seen only about two gallons of water in only one rain pool in the
bedrock. Jorgen found several pools higher in the draw, one of them
being about a foot and a half deep and most likely permanent. I was
greatly relieved, but I had such a struggle in getting here that I gave
up the plan to do a long hike along the plateau to reach the next water
at the head of Tincanebitts where Green found water development a long
way down from Joe Spring. With a heavy pack I had to rest a lot and my
feet seemed to bruise even with thick soled shoes.

On our third day Jorgen set out for Snap Point and I headed across the
Plateau for the head of what we call Bat Cave Canyon, the one ending
just west of Bat Cave. Jorgen carried the map I had marked after my
climb to Snap Point two years ago and he made out all right. He didn't
have as much snow to mess with as I had had, but the ground was plenty
muddy and he was glad to walk on the thin slabs of lava. He also had a
little trouble recognizing the Jeep road to the top, but he got back to
base in good time, well before 5:00 p.m.

I followed the dim rancher's road going generally west and south. I cut
away from the road to see the cattle tank. It had plenty of good clear
water, a pool about 20 feet by 15 feet and perhaps 10 inches deep. I saw
the Fort Garrett ruin before I was clear past. I half intended to turn
left if I saw a branch road in that direction, but on the way south I
missed it. On the way back I saw it going a short way but it is badly
eroded. The better road I was on turned due south after it had passed
two ends of a side canyon that just show on the Bat Cave Quad and then I
angled to the southeast. Before long I came to a well established
cowpath and followed it down the lowest part of the valley. It ended at
a dry water pocket above the lip of a big fall. Cows would have to go
down a steep path to get to this presently empty pool, but one could see
where the rancher had built a rock wall in the hope that it would
prevent the water pocket from filling with sand. The view down the
canyon from here was striking, especially the slot in the Redwall. There
was no way to climb down. I needed about two hours and 45 minutes to get
there and three to get back with plenty of water left in my two quart
canteen. On our fourth day, Jorgen and I walked together for nearly two
hours until he left to go where I had been and I veered to the west in
hope of reaching the rim of 269 Mile Canyon. However, he crossed the
valley above the Bat Cave Canyon and went along the rim beyond to try to
see where he had been recently with two friends coming up from the lake.
He saw that they had stopped a long way down from the upper end. I soon
saw that I would take too long to reach the rim and look down another
canyon so I crossed the plateau to stand on the rim of Bat Cave Canyon
across from where Jorgen was. Without seeing me he talked to himself
rather loudly and I shouted back. We could hear each other but we didn't
connect visually. I took rest breaks, but again I got back before he did
from his longer trip.

Our fifty day was an easy one. It took me an hour and 45 minutes to go
from the overhang camp to the saddle between the north arm and the
ascent tributary while Jorgen needed only one hour. We stayed together
while we went down the fault valley and took just over one hour to the
bed of Pearce. It took us less than an hour to go down to the confluence
of the north and main arms where we camped on the terrace on the south side.

Jorgen took me up to the permanent water pocket in the north arm. At
least it is two feet deep. He also pointed out two nautiloid fossils in
the water worn rock of the bed just above a small fall that needs to be
bypassed on the north side. It would take a sharp or trained eye to spot
these lines in the rock that seem to be marks of a pointed cylinder.
They are at least 100 yards above the lowest fall, the one that needs to
be bypassed by going around a tower on the south side of the fall. I am
fairly sure I climbed up the rock next to the fall on the south side
once, but I wouldn't recommend this. The climb past the permanent pool
is one needing gripping shoe soles on the south side or one might go
across the pool with feet on one side and hands on the other, arching
the back.

On our sixth day I again started a little ahead of Jorgen but he caught
up in short order. Just before we reached the place where the north side
wall recedes, he pointed out the cave on the north side where Ed Herrman
found a curved stick about 15 inches long that was carved with a diamond
design. Jorgen said the floor is as steep as the rest of the slope and
the cave is no good for sleeping. About ten minutes farther, also on the
north side at the foot of the cliff about 150 feet up, Jorgen showed me
his pride and joy, a cave with a fine smooth floor and lots of
pictographs on one wall. It is a fine overhang with big rocks across the
face as protection from the weather. They are far too big to be anything
but natural. The rock on the east side of the door is a real landmark, a
canine tooth eight feet high.

As we walked down the bed of Pearce the wind got worse and worse. We had
to brace and look away while sand stung our faces during the gusts.
Incidentally, the waterpockets in the bedrock upcanyon from the mouth of
the main south side tributary are no more. They seem to have been filled
in with gravel and sand. In due time we left the bed and went up to a
small cave in some travertine near the ridge where one can start down a
burro trail to the lake. This cave protected us from the wind while we
ate an early lunch. We knew that we couldn't cross the water to the car
until the wind subsided, so we got out our reading. I became impatient
to get on down before Jorgen and we knew that he could go faster, so I
started down. I had left the trail in the valley and had followed Jorgen
up the right chain of ridges only five days before, but still I took a
wrong choice and came down a chain of ridges to the north of the trail
in the valley. When my ridge gave out before it reached the lake I could
see that I needed to use the valley trail for the rest of the way.

When I came around the last curve and could see the boat, Jorgen was
already there. He had come down the right chain of ridges and had found
quite a bit of water in the stern. We had pulled the boat almost out of
the water up the rather steep bank, but at this angle waves could come
aboard at the lower end which was still in the lake. He bailed out the
water and then tried to pull the boat farther up. While he was doing
this, a gust of wind turned the boat upside down and almost hurt him.
The motor was upside down in the water and the gas tank, still connected
to the motor, was in the lake when I arrived. We got the gas tank on
land and righted the boat, but of course we lost a few minor items in
the lake, and we had to row instead of using the motor on Sunday morning.

The moon shone some of the night, but at other times we were catching a
light rain from the snow that put new white on all the mountains. Jorgen
had his tent and I was all right under my tarp. It didn't drop enough to
wet anything. Jorgen was able to row us to the ramp, against some
moderate wind, in three hours and 20 minutes. He refused two offers of a
tow near the end of the trip. I got home in time for dinner.

*Helicopter to 209 Mile Canyon and Kiels at Mead
[July 22, 1985 to July 23, 1985]*

George Billingsley had been promising me a helicopter trip into the
canyon where he was investigating old river channels in the surface of
the Redwall, and finally conditions were right for it. The agreement was
that I would be at the Thornton Lookout by 3:00 p.m. Without hurrying to
leave, I was at Grand Canyon Caverns by noon where I had lunch. I was
glad to see that the old 66 still has enough traffic to keep them from
going bankrupt. The coffee shop seemed to have enough trade. I was also
appreciative of the fact that they have paved the Supai road past
Frazier Wells. I should ask someone how far the pavement goes, perhaps
to the end. The two miles of clay and gravel from the pavement to the
lookout was not muddy although there had been quite a bit of rain
recently. Afternoon and evening thunder showers had been predicted, but
the weather was fine through the time I was out.

I was ready for the chopper to arrive by two but I had to wait until
nearly 4:30. The geologists had been working that day somewhere else.
There were three in the machine, the pilot Dana Morris, the women
supervisor from Denver, Karen Wenrick, and George Billingsley. There
were seats for five and a luggage compartment behind.

Very soon after we took off we passed over the Help Youth Camp. There
were about three buildings and even a swimming pool, but that seemed to
be empty. Just a few miles south of the road past the lookout to the
camp and beyond, I could see the side road from Frazier Wells to
Prospect Valley and I recalled vividly my two trips out that way. In
short order we were across Prospect Valley and flying over Granite Park
Canyon. It seemed more deep and mysterious from the air than down on the
ground.

On looking from Price Point, I had gotten the idea that there is an
easier way to get down to Granite Park by the river than to follow the
bed of the creek. Now I think that the land to the north of the creek is
so cut up that this is not a good idea. One can probably save some miles
of walking at the upper end by using a four wheel drive down the road
onto the Esplanade or perhaps park at the rim of the promontory north of
the upper valley and get down from there to get into the creekbed.

I was also interested in the apparent possibility of getting off the rim
north of here and going up on Hurricane Mesa (Dr. Tommy Mountain). Late
July might be a good time of year to try this since we found plenty of
water in the rain pools near where the pilot landed us on the south side
of 209 Mile Canyon. George had spotted this place from aerial photos as
being one of the riverbeds cut into the surface of the Redwall when the
Redwall formed the surface of the land. It was a broad U shaped
depression several hundred yards wide by 250 feet deep. There is a
modern ravine cut in the bottom, but the main depression shows on the
other side of 209 Mile Canyon to the same extent as on the south side
where we camped. The Surprise Formation fills it in.

I tried to get down the ravine to the bed of the main canyon which was
only about 150 feet lower than our old river bottom. Accepting a slight
chance that I would have trouble climbing back, I got past two barriers
but when I was in plain sight of the main canyon bed, I was stopped by a
sheer drop of only about 15 feet. With a rappel rope I could have been
down. I wandered around the vicinity to get my exercise and then we had
a good night marred only by more bugs than any of us has coped with in
the Grand Canyon previously. I could have had another short hike from
5:30 to 6:30, but I didn't want to be gone when the others woke up. It
had been agreed that we would return to the lookout rather early. On the
way back, George had the pilot park down at Pumpkin Spring to see
whether it is entirely under water at this stage of the river, about
40,000 cfs. It was under and the water was thick with the Little
Colorado mud.

I started for Pearce Ferry about 8:30 a.m. and broke the trip for coffee
at the turnoff from 66 to Meadview by the Hackberry Road. The men
running the motel assured me that the dirt road was in good shape, and I
found that it was. I could drive from 45 to 50 mph and I hardly noticed
the place where the road crosses Hackberry Wash. I got to Pearce Ferry
by noon and killed time watching two boating parties load onto their
vans. The Kiels didn't expect me early so they didn't show until about
6:00 p.m. I got in a lot of reading and swimming during my long wait.

The Kiels had me as their guest for a really fine meal and then we
visited for four hours before bedtime about 11. Dave brought the
detailed maps of their route through the Lake Powell country and I was
really impressed. For one thing, I want to repeat their route up from
Dangling Rope Canyon to the bench below the Kaiparowits. The thing that
really amazed me was to see how light Bec Kiel is, about 110 pounds, and
to think that she can carry a pack weighing more than half her weight.
They said that she often started with a pack weighing more than 60 pounds.

On the way home early Wednesday morning, I not only used the Hackberry
Road to 66 but I went over the dirt road from there to the Kingman
Wickenburg road. It goes through some rough country and there were a lot
of washes where I had to slow way down.

*Pearce to Tincanebitts
[November 2, 1985 to November 5, 1985]*

After a short but early sleep, I got up early and left home at 4:30 a.m.
With no one to consult or meet, I cruised right along. The Jimmy was
giving me better gas mileage than it ever has, more than 15 mpg. The
recent tuneup at Sands must have been a good one. I stopped for gas at
the Bingo Truck Stop just short of Kingman and again at Overton and
Saint George. I left the freeway at Bloomington Hills about 12:30 and
proceeded without a hitch to the turnoff with a sign for Salt House Wash
and Snap Canyon. I thought I knew this road from driving it only a month
ago, but I didn't recognize the fork that goes along Snap Draw more
directly to the descent ravine. Without John Green beside me I even
missed the turnoff to Tincanebitts Tank where we had been so recently. I
felt confused when I came to a place where the road branches five ways.
The left track led to a fancy white metal gate, next a track much like
the start to Tincanebitts Tank as I remembered it, the route straight
ahead similar to what I had been driving, and a 90 degree turn to the
right that appeared to be less well used but which had a small sign
saying Snap Canyon 2. After going ahead a short distance, I decided that
the sign should be honored and drove north. The road seemed more used
that at first, and I came to the main road that soon headed down the
canyon grade.

This single track down the canyon or ravine was a fine place to be using
four wheel drive. I suppose one might come back up with two wheel drive,
but I would hate to have to. For long stretches the bed seemed to
consist of large but broken fragments of the local rock crushed by some
machine and pushed around with a road grader. Quite often the hood of
the Jimmy obscured the view of the immediate track ahead and I had to
proceed on faith that no sharp rock was standing up. I was relieved to
get down 1000 feet or so to where the road straightened out along the
valley heading north. A big metal tank filled to the brim and a line
shack gave me my location on the map and a little farther I came to the
branch where the road ahead had the sign saying Pigeon Canyon 8. Here
the Jeep trail to Fort Garrett branches off. I had Jorgen's opinion that
I could drive it in the Jimmy, but his letter contained the warning that
"you know how I am about such things." After about three miles during
which I had to use the lowest gear of the 4x4 drive to cross small wash
beds, I decided that 5:45 was late enough to arrive if I wanted to cook
by daylight.

I started the last nine miles to Fort Garrett by car headlights on
Sunday morning. It got to be real day before I came to the most nerve
stretching places in the road. There were places where one had to pass
big rocks close to the wheel marks in the wash beds and sharp curves
where one might have to get out and look for the route ahead. A field of
Russian thistles seemed to obscure the track for a few yards. There were
two places where I was rather alarmed by the way the vehicle had to lean
as the track went along a hillside.

About five miles short of Fort Garrett, there is another huge metal tank
to hold the water collected by a big plastic sheet rain catchment. I
believe this watering station for cows is too recent for the map. I
think it is not far from the most amazing viewpoint of the whole canyon
country, down the arm of Snap Canyon that heads in block 5 of the map.
The nearly vertical drop is amazing and the line of sight is clear to
the broad white bed of the main Snap Canyon. I can see why Jorgen and Ed
Herrman liked the hike up Snap Canyon. I wish I had stopped for a better
view and a picture. The Jeep track is close to the edge.

I kept the Jimmy in four wheel drive for 30 miles, from the top of the
road starting down Snap Canyon to Fort Garrett and back using the lowest
gear more than second. I noticed that my average speed along the Jeep
track was 6 mph, and I don't think I would go this way again. Once on
the return I killed the motor by running into a gravel bank in the bed
of a wash that seemed about half as high as the diameter of the wheel. I
had to back away and hit it harder to get over. I would agree with a BLM
man I talked to on the way out. It is no country to be in by yourself,
especially without a radio that can reach help. One of the worst places
was right at the end, the steep grade with loose rocks down to the level
of Fort Garrett.

There used to be a continuation across the major wash at Fort Garrett,
but floods have moved rocks in the bed and there is now no tire track
showing beyond as there once was. George Billingsley was out here years
ago in his two wheel drive truck, amazing. I found a place and turned
the car around just a few yards from the ruin. Incidentally, I have the
idea that this structure was never finished. Green said that he had
heard that the fireplace shows smoke stains, so I looked. There is just
a little black from a fire whose ashes are still in place, not even
covering the whole space. It appears to be from a camper rather than
from the occupant of a finished cabin.

I got here in time to shoulder my pack and start walking at 8:15. I knew
from a former hike, and from the map that I could swing wide and stay on
the more level walking, but this seemed to be a lot longer. I elected to
go up through the black brush directly toward Fort Garrett Point. Some
of the walking was easier, on grass stubble, and eventually I came to
gulches where I would have to go down deep or scramble up high to a
terrace just below a peculiar band of white shale in between ordinary
red shale and the main part in the great cliff above. I used the same
route on the return on Monday and this time I noticed something I had
missed, a little patch of manzanita. I began to wonder whether it would
be hard to get down again on the east side of Fort Garrett Point, but
there was a way all right. I had lunch rather early before I came out on
the flat leading to the head of Dry Canyon Gorge.

The only part of the whole walk that requires more than normal care for
the footing is a 20 yard stretch along a steep bank between a small
cliff above and a several hundred feet drop to the bed of Dry Canyon
below. Before reaching the head of Dry Canyon Gorge, I got help from a
cowpath and this persisted most of the way to the head of Tincanebitts
Canyon. On the way Sunday I missed a lot of the trail by going too
directly up through the black brush. I came down to the grassy flats
well before I got to Tincanebitts. On Monday I noticed something that
John Green had told me about, a shelter cave with a ruined mescal pit in
front. I would locate it at the southwestern corner of block 18 of the
Tincanebitts Quad.

As I approached the head of Tincanebitts Canyon in the rim of the Sanup
Plateau, I began to think seriously about water. I still had about two
quarts in my gallon canteen, and I had been telling myself that if there
was none in the water pocket we had used a month ago, I could go on up
to Joe Spring. I had noticed that there was still one rather deep
pothole that has water near the overhang campsite north of Fort Garrett,
and I desperately hoped that there would still be some at our campsite
seven minutes walk down the bed of Tincanebitts. By four when I arrived
I was really bushed. There was no water in the little holes near the
head and when I looked down into our former good source, I could see
only a place where some dead leaves looked wet. I went down and was able
to dig the muddy gravel and sand away and get a pool with over a quart
of water. After the mud settled, I used my cup and nearly filled my
canteen. I figured I had plenty for dinner and breakfast and to walk
back to the car. Still it wasn't enough to see me through another day in
the area, the day when I would walk down to the head of the dike ravine
where I had come up from the lake to the Sanup in the east arm of
Tincanebitts. I was tired and my hip seemed a bit the worse from my trip
so that I wasn't too sad about giving up the achievement of my 108th
route from rim to river. Besides, the route is no longer possible
according to the experience of Doty who gave up trying to climb around a
chockstone in the ravine.

My route back was nearly the same as the one I used coming, except that
when I got down from the terrace southwest of Fort Garrett Point, I
headed for the open flats where I could use a cowpath instead of going
through the blackbrush directly to the car. Between being tired from the
previous day and from finding that this detour was not efficient, my
time on the return was about one and a half hours longer than it was on
Sunday. I had only about two good drinks left in the canteen when I got
to Fort Garrett. Again it was about 4:00 p.m. when I arrived, but I had
started at 6:45 a.m.

The 12 mile drive back over the Jeep trail was routine, adrenaline
producing and nerve stretching almost all the way. I looked to see how
the tires were holding air several times, but I should have looked right
before I got on the steep grade up Snap Canyon to the top of the
Shivwits. When I got to the top I got out to release the hub locks for
two wheel driving and found that the tire I got new about five weeks ago
was completely flat. I don't know how long I had been running with it
that way since four wheel low is so powerful. Then I found that I am not
strong enough to loosen the lugs to change the tire. My wrench is the
crossbar type and rather short handled. What saved me was to find a
loose juniper root complex that I could place so as to support the end
of the wrench bar opposite the one that fit the nuts. Then by jumping on
the end of the handle as hard as I could I succeeded in loosening the
nuts. At the tire company in Saint George, they found that the trouble
was caused by a piece of wood that had gone through the center of the
tire. I had driven on it until the tire was ruined, so I used my credit
card for another new tire. What with the long struggle to change the
tire and my having to wait my turn at the tire company, I didn't get
away from Saint George until around noon, but still I got home about
9:00 p.m. after eating an early dinner at the Bingo Truck Stop. In spite
of the tire trouble and the near crisis about water, I had had another
good trip and had patched in another segment of the long way from Lee's
Ferry to the mouth of Pearce Canyon.

*Tincanebitts, Twin Creek, and Dellenbaugh
[September 27, 1985 to October 5, 1985]*

The first day was for visiting in Flagstaff and getting John Green at
Tusayan. Very soon after I stopped at the math department to say hello
to the old guard, I bumped into Dick Hart who was spending a couple of
weeks in Flagstaff. They are renting out their Sedona house but are
trying to sell it. We played a number of fast games of chess and Dick
came out ahead. I also had a short visit with Scott Baxter at the Dalton
Bookstore while he was at work. He is about the only one who has ever
carried part of my load in the sense that he gave me a good deal of the
water he carried up from the Snyder Mine.

At the Alpineer Store I dropped off my box of hiking logs for Bruce
Grubbs and Stewart Aitchison to consult for their proposed guide to
Arizona hikes. When I pulled into the McDonalds parking at Tusayan, John
Green was ready to go. He had a plastic five gallon jug of water which I
thought unnecessary since I had a three gallon jug along. Later I
regretted this decision since we ran short when we camped at the head of
Twin Springs Canyon.

I had replaced one of the rear tires with a new one days before this
trip and I didn't worry about the other rear tire until we had a quick
flat, almost a blowout, along the road south to Williams. I should have
looked around for a regular tire store, but I gave my business to the
Exxon station near the freeway. He would take credit card payment, but
we had to wait a long time for him to finish with another man, and then
he had to drive somewhere to pick up a suitable tire, and then after
this substantial delay, I was charged $33 more than I would have had to
pay at Eddie's Tire Shop where I stopped for gas on the return. One
thing about stopping at the Exxon station was that John met a women
clerking at the convenience store whom he had known at the North Rim,
Donna Strange. They had a good visit.

After this delay, it seemed nicer to go to Denny's for dinner. It turned
out that neither of us had quite enough food along to stay out as long
as Jorgen wanted to so this restaurant meal was a good thing. We drove
until about ten and turned onto a side road north of Kingman to sleep.

The agreement was to pick up Jorgen at the Behren's home around noon so
John and I felt that we could kill some time at Hoover Dam. We would
have taken the 45 minute tour except that the first one came at 9:00
a.m. and this would mean a wait for almost an hour and then to much time
for finding the right address in Henderson. We settled for a slide and
talk show at nine that takes only 15 minutes. The general idea was to
impress the public with the terrific difficulties that were overcome in
building the dam and the great advantages that are now obtained from the
dam: irrigation, flood protection, and power. It was well done.

I had come away from Sun City and left Jorgen's instructions about
reaching the right house at home. At a fast food place we found the
right address, but I went looking for it at the wrong housing
development. Then we called the phone number and were answered by Jorgen
himself. He told me about coming off the highway east on Magic Way and
then turning right on Burgundy to Red Sand Court. The Behren's family
was away, but we ate our own stuff at their house before leaving for
Saint George. Jorgen and John both know a lot more about the country
south and east of the Virgin River than I do, and I got interested in
driving down Grand Gulch and seeing the country. We fooled around in
Saint George trying to find a gas station that would undercut the
others, but they all sold regular for the same price. We left town with
a full tank and 15 gallons in jerry cans. Mostly for experience we left
town by the old way to the Arizona Strip. We had time enough to get well
beyond the fork leading to Mount Trumbull and find a good campsite with
plenty of juniper wood for a campfire. It was fairly high there and I
was glad to use my summer down bag inside the regular big one. I slept
on the floor of the Jimmy except for the two nights that I spend down in
the Supai gorge of Tincanebitts. The other two seemed to keep warm
enough on the ground.

Usually we would break camp about 8:15 and on Sunday we found the way we
were guided by John along Salt House Wash road to the turnoff to
Tincanebitts Tank. I believe that the sign at the beginning of the Salt
House Wash road said only eight miles to Snap Draw. The road to
Tincanebitts Tank was not in very good shape and Green saw that I took a
few places in 4x4 driving. The cattle tanks mostly had water in them and
there was some in Tincanebitts Tank.

One interesting break in our drive Sunday morning was a visit with
Buster Esplin at the Wildcat Ranch. He was there by himself when we
arrived, but a friend named Hagen came along before we left. He didn't
have the current facts about the pipelines down from Tincanebitts and
Joe Springs, but he confirmed that there had been such developments. He
also figured that we could drive to the head of the Amos Spring Trail if
we wanted to. I wish now that I had asked him the basis for Bob Dye's
report that a bulldozer had been able to go down an arm of Twin Creek
Canyon to the Sanup Plateau. It surely didn't seem possible when we
walked down the right one, the one taking off from the south spur of the
side road going east about one fifth of a mile south of the start down
to Twin Springs. The bulldozer operator would have to fill in a drop of
at least eight feet now before getting over one drop in the bed. John
Green wanted to see a route that he hadn't done before, so he separated
from Jorgen and me about 10:45 when we were ready to go down
Tincanebitts Canyon. The map shows the main arm of Tincanebitts not
coming from the cattle tank. After about a mile along the draw from the
tank, we passed the mouth of the arm that is supposed to be the main
one, but this wash didn't seem to be as impressive as the one we were
in. About here the canyon turns mostly south. If I had studied the map
carefully, I would have seen the little circle that locates Tincanebitts
Spring, but I didn't and thought that the spring is on the east side of
the main canyon. I could have taken the short scramble up the side
ravine. It would have been interesting to see the piping and to find the
Jeep road that was formed to bring in equipment and to cover the
pipeline. Jorgen and I walked quite a distance down the bed of the wash
before we noticed that there was a rough roadbed just to the west.

When we got onto the road, we found the plastic hose exposed in a few
places. John had told us that if there was water flowing the hose would
be cool. Instead it was warm in the sun, and there were some side
ravines where the hose was cut by flash floods. The ranchers have been
told by the Park Service that they will have to get their cows off the
Sanup, so naturally they are not working to keep up the pipelines. We
came to one big metal tank that had been taking water from Tincanebitts
Spring, and it was bone dry. We soon came to more pipeline that seemed
to be coming from Joe Spring, and eventually we were sure that it was
dry too. I considered walking on clear to Burnt Spring Canyon or back to
the car, but the more practical idea occurred to Jorgen and me of going
up to Joe Spring to camp by water. We turned back to do that when we met
John coming down from Joe Spring. He had succeeded in getting down from
the rim somewhere near Tincanebitts Point and then had walked back up to
Joe Spring, and he was now coming down to join us. He seemed to think
that there was still a chance to find water in the tank at the end of
the Joe Spring pipeline, and he talked us into going down. He hurried on
to find water or come back to tell us to go to the spring. The metal
tank wasn't as close as he had thought, and before we got to it, John
was back to meet us. His news was that the tank was dry but that he had
found several water pockets in Tincanebitts Gorge before a big barrier
drop. There were several little ones very near the top of the bedrock
and then a better one accessible but down a few yards below the lip of a
big fall. We camped here for two nights. There had been some rain
recently, and I wouldn't bet my life on these pockets being permanent.
The best one is deep enough to fill a canteen by immersion. It had a few
mosquito wrigglers in it, and a mosquito bothered me a little the first
night and a mouse woke me up some the second night.

On Monday night I took a walk east to climb the ridge of Red Point where
I had been before, coming from Burnt Canyon. For the first ten minutes I
struggled through the black brush without a trail, but when I headed for
a notch in a low ridge, I came on a well established cowpath that was a
big help. When I reached the end of the side canyon where the map puts
the letter a in the word Lake, John and Jorgen caught up with me. They
turned south to visit the head of the dike ravine where Bruce Braley and
I had come to the top of the Sanup from the river and then they went
east to look into Burnt Canyon. I went to the top of the Red Point
Ridge. When I returned to the place where I should turn south to
complete a route from the rim to the river, I was feeling that my hip
might give out and besides my two quart canteen wouldn't be enough. I
went back to camp and loafed with a magazine. Jorgen and John got back
fairly early too. I would have walked to the head of the dike ravine the
next day but I had come from the car without enough bread. I realized
too late that my three loaves for this trip were 16 ounce loaves instead
of the usual 24 ouncers. I walked up to the car on Thursday.

On the way out I observed the window that John had previously noticed in
Tincanebitts Point far below the top. He was not totally sure that it
was a window rather than a cave. I am just about sure that it is a
window through a fin that hooks away from the main wall to the north. I
could see some sunlit wall through the window. It is a good one, perhaps
about 100 feet tall by 80 feet wide and oval. While we were coming down
on Sunday I had observed the end of the Jeep road that John says comes
from the rim down the canyon at the north end of Burnt Canyon Point.
They brought the equipment down here when they put in the Tincanebitts
and Joe Spring pipelines. I followed the road that goes almost up to
Tincanebitts Spring. In my present poor condition for walking, I took
nearly five hours for the descent and almost seven for the way out.

On Tuesday after I had left camp, John and Jorgen decided to walk to
Fort Garrett. They found that hike not too long for one day for hikers
in good shape. They found the cattle tank north of Fort Garrett dry, but
there was still some water in the pockets near the overhang campsite. On
Wednesday they considered going up to the top and walking the Jeep road
back to the car, but they decided that it would be more interesting to
follow the road. There is a tank and a spring near the road up Snap
Draw, but they said that there is a fairly sure source of water along
that road within a couple of miles from the overhang camp. They had a
long walk along the roads but came to Tincanebitts Tank with plenty of
day left. We decided to move on and find a more exciting place to camp.

My own walk on that Wednesday was quite modest. I started toward the
south and southwest to try to reach Tincanebitts Point, but the way
seemed rather uphill and down and I decided to settle for a god view
into Dry Canyon and points west. It would have been the right time to
carry the compass I had in the car. If it had clouded over the way it
did the two previous days, I might have had a problem getting back to
the car. In fact it rained a little where we were walking on Monday and
there was a display of lightning and a very dark cloud to the north.
When I went out on Tuesday, I found new rain pockets in the Coconino,
and there was enough new rain to make me take out my rain sheet for
shelter. However, on Wednesday and later there was no threat of rain.

When I came out on the rim of Dry Canyon, I got my bearings on the map,
but when I went north through the woods and then came to the rim again,
I couldn't make the map fit very well. to go back to the car, I headed
northeast and was gratified to run into a cowpath that led to
Tincanebitts Tank. The next goal was to see the arm of Twin Creek Canyon
that Bob Dye had told me about. It is at the end of the south spur of
the short road leaving the main Twin Point Road one fifth mile southwest
of the Twin Springs Draw. We saw this turnoff on our way south to camp
at the fine overlook where the main road reaches the west rim of the
promontory. This viewpoint is truly outstanding. The promontory the
surveyors call Red is to the northwest. At sunrise the next morning, I
noted some complicated geology. There is an offset fault in some yellow
rock above the main Toroweap cliff and some pretty pink rock nearby. The
Kaibab rim seemed to be bent in a curve down toward a valley cutting
nearly to the bottom of the Kaibab, but this bend might be natural
erosion. Jorgen and I could see where we had walked from Burnt Canyon
Spring around Twin Point to Neilson Spring, the name Buster Esplin
applied to what I have called Pack Trail Spring.

On Thursday we drove north to the spur roads going to the washes
tributary to Twin Creek Canyon. I missed the turnoff going north but
found it when returning from the north. Incidentally, the worst rocky
place in the Twin Point Road needs 4x4 driving. The turn onto the south
branch of this short spur was not really clear, but we found it and were
glad to park where we could turn around before the very end of this
road. It was only 100 yards or so until we were in the bed of the wash.
It was agreed that John and Jorgen should do a loop trip down Twin Creek
Canyon and up Twin Spring arm while I would go at my own rate and turn
back when I thought I had gone as far as I could on my two quarts of
water. I got down to the junction with the bigger source of Twin Creek
Canyon in 35 minutes and on the return needed only about 40,
surprisingly short a stretch for going from the upper Kaibab to below
the very thick Toroweap. This part of the way was steep enough with some
real drops that needed bypasses and I couldn't understand how Bob Dye
had believed that a bulldozer could get down here. I turned around where
the arm from Mathis Spring came in. I didn't get out of the bed and
really look for the pipeline down from Mathis Spring, and the others
didn't see this either. After starting about 9:15, I returned to the car
rather tired about 2:45. The others picked up water at Twin Springs and
returned about 3:10.

I went down to the springs starting about 3:15 and returned around 5:30.
The old road and the trail up to the springs has deteriorated since I
was there before. One doesn't go below the Toroweap, but it took me
distinctly longer than the first part of the Twin Creek trip. This time
I was careful to find more than one spring. At first I was going to get
better water by dipping the canteen in the pool inside the cave, but
then in the dim light I saw that cows had crapped in that water. I took
water from the horse trough and I found that it is water from the upper
spring that would be hard for the cows to reach. There seemed to be no
good trail to this upper source, but when I broke through the brush to
find it, I first overshot and found a third and highest spring, not
giving much water and with only a short cave. Then I used a scanty trail
against the cliff and got down to the middle spring, the twin for the
lower one.

Back in the forest at Tincanebitts Tank, I had ice on the windshield by
morning, and it was cold enough to use my inner sleeping bag at Twin
Springs Draw. In the morning, John set out to climb Mount Dellenbaugh by
going along the Park Boundary Road while Jorgen and I drove around to
find the Jeep road to the top. We had to go quite far north to Oak Grove
Ranch to find the Kelly Point road, and then we turned off toward the
mountain before we came to the sign that tells how to reach the Ranger
Station and the road to the top. When we backed up and found the right
turnoff and reached the station, no one was around and I goofed again in
trying to identify the right Jeep trail. Jorgen walked ahead when he was
sure that it was the right road and I went back to the station to bring
the car. I judged the road too rough for my tires before I reached
Jorgen. When I started up on foot, Jorgen waited for me. We ran into
John when we still had about 45 minutes of walking to reach the summit.
He had found some inscriptions on the basalt at the summit, but not the
supposed signature of W. Dunn with an arrow pointing toward a distant
spring. We considered this story that appeared in the Arizona History
Quarterly a hoax. A man who was trying to save his life by reaching
Saint George wouldn't take the time to climb this 1000 foot landmark.

Jorgen and I ate lunch at the summit and then drove to an overlook of
Quail Canyon where we could see the lights of Saint George at night. It
was a pleasant place for a final camp with lots of wood for a good
campfire. We had plenty of gas in the morning to go onto the freeway and
not stop until we had come to Mesquite. It is a sort of casino boom
town, well strung out along the main business I 15 route. We left the
freeway to go through Overton and then passed by Valley of Fire to stop
and eat lunch at Roger Spring. This is a real beauty spot in the desert
with a flow of water like upper Oak Creek, and the pool has been fixed
for wading and swimming for children. After letting Jorgen out about
12:30, John and I had a short stop at the Lake Mead Visitor's Center and
then went on to Tusayan by 6:00 p.m. I got to Sun City about 11:00 p.m.
rather encouraged by the residue of my walking ability and hoping to do
some more, by myself so that I won't have others feeling sorry for me.

*Pearce Ferry to Surprise
[January 24, 1986 to January 25, 1986]*

The plan was to go up Surprise and try to climb through the Redwall to
the spring that Esplin calls Nielson. I left home early and hitched the
boat on behind the Jimmy on the way. It was only 6:30 when I got away
from the trailer campground. I got gas at the Bingo Truck Stop and then
drove around a little in Meadview to locate Mary MacBee. The minister's
wife told me how to find the house, but no one was at home. I learned
the next day from Shannon Peters that she was out hiking to a mine.

An obliging man at the launching ramp helped me get the boat off the
trailer. He stood on the bumper and pushed the boat off while holding
the rope. I had very little trouble getting the motor started. As I got
near Columbine Falls, I checked to see whether or not I could see
Rampart Cave (I could) and also the big window through the fin on the
north side of the lake. After all the times I had been by, it took Alan
Doty to spot it for us last year. I knew I should be over near the north
shore, but for a while I thought I had lost it. When I was across from
Muav caves, I finally saw it well, but I didn't decide whether it would
be possible to climb up to it.

I went on up the lake without incident except that before I got to the
grotto, perhaps near Mile 271, I ran aground out in the middle. The
trouble was that I hadn't noticed that a mud bar projected from the
north bank and when I turned to go to the south, I found the water only
a foot deep. Only the prop hit bottom and I rowed away. The other
incident was that the motor stopped. I soon remembered what had gone
wrong once before and noticed that the air vent in the gas tank plug had
joggled shut. When I opened it and turned till it stuck open, there was
no problem again.

When I got to Surprise Canyon I found the mouth changed again. The break
in the white sandbar was at the upriver end. A winding channel went
through a lot of fresh silt and I could row and pole the boat to within
50 yards of where one needed only to wade in the slowing stream to start
hiking. It was late enough by then and I spread out the ground cloth and
bed on rather damp mud and got supper over with. By 11:00 p.m when I
looked around by the full moon, I could see that the water level was
definitely lower and I moved the boat a few yards to the side of a deep
pool against the cliff. When I woke again at 2:30, I worried that I
might get locked in 150 yards from the main lake. I loaded my stuff into
the boat and headed out. Within 40 yards I came to where there was only
a narrow stream flowing about a foot deep and three feet wide. I had to
get out and pull the boat through with my bare feet sinking into the
mud. After another pool for paddling and a channel for wading and
pulling, I reached the deep pool that connected with the main lake.
About 75 minutes after I began this operation, I was bedded down again
on the white sand. My only trouble in trying to get to sleep at 3:45 was
that my feet didn't warm up. On the way back I considered going up
Reference Point Canyon to check Billingsley's idea that one can walk out
at the upper end, but I didn't feel up to it. When I got back to Doty's
window, I had the urge to try to climb up where I could get a better
picture. One can go up the ravine directly across from Columbine Falls
and turn west. The window, about 900 feet above the lake, is hidden
around a corner until one is very close. At one place one uses little
steps in the bedrock, but most of the way is over steep rather loose
talus. The arch is tall and narrow, perhaps 80 feet by an average 20
feet wide with wider openings at the top and bottom like a dumbbell. I
could go a few yards beyond the point directly beneath the thin ceiling
of the arch and get a fine view in both directions. To show the arch on
film I had to take the top half separately from the bottom half. The
biggest thrill of the trip was to see two bighorn ewes about 20 yards
north of the arch on the west side. They posed on blocks sticking out
from the rough wall and watched me while I got their picture. Then they
sprang up the craggy slope out of sight.

When I approached the ramp, Shannon Peters, a volunteer ranger for the
NPS, came down to welcome me and invite me to partake of some food that
the Pearce Ferry regulars were having for a picnic get together. I had
eaten a hearty lunch rather late after getting down from the arch, but I
managed to enjoy some fish, potato salad, and other goodies. Shannon and
some of the others were familiar with the arch I had reached. One said
he called it the Needle's Eye. It seemed to be news to more than half of
the group.

I had another big dinner at the Bingo station and got home about 10:30.
It was a nice scenic boat trip even though the only new experience was
to reach the Needle's Eye. I considered that more exciting than the
Triumphal Arch and it seems to be less well known.

*Anita Mine and South Bass Trail
[May 10, 1986 to May 11, 1986]*

The club, Grand Canyon Pioneers, had a field trip guided by Al Richmond
to see the Anita Mine workings and the vestiges of early railroad
activity in the same area. We met on Saturday morning about 10:30 at
Anita. I had arrived a little after 9:30 following a 5:10 start from
home. Al showed us the village sites at Anita and at Apex and the
section house, or what was left of it, the concrete walls. We also saw
where there had been surface mining, but he said it was now dangerous to
go to the main mines that were now being prospected further for uranium
by the gun toting owners. Shortly after 3:00 p.m., the party broke up
and I went to Tusayan and saw the IMAX picture.

I met the Billingsleys with their two children again at the show and sat
with them. They were seeing it for the second time. I could easily
understand why since it is so gripping. The scenery is better than you
can see from the rims and the views from the helicopter and the boats
churn out the old adrenaline. If you can't take roller coaster rides,
you should avoid the picture. It made me want to fasten a seat belt.

After this rather short show, I looked up John Green across the road at
McDonalds. He got ready rather promptly and we headed out the road
toward Pasture Wash. I had helped a couple of boys start their car with
jumper cables at the McDonalds parking lot, and now I did another good
turn. We met a man from Los Alamos, Hans Ruppel, coming back towards the
village. He had had two flats and had left his car beside the road about
seven miles from town. I agreed to take him to the service station, and
we went and got one of his flat tires from the car which was only a half
mile away. At the South Rim station he was able to get a new tire and we
took him back to his car without too much delay. This had held us up
nearly an hour, but we were still able to make camp at a nice place in
the junipers only a couple of miles from Pasture Wash. The road has been
realigned a lot since I was over it, and the new bed had dried in very
rough ruts. On the other hand, the part that used to be very rocky and
washed out is now fine smooth gravel. Then the road got bad again where
we had to turn north to reach the trailhead. It now takes at least two
hours to drive from the village to Bass Camp.

We spent about 20 minutes looking for the grotto where James did his
writing, looking along the rim to the west of the camp, as I had
remembered the instructions from Maurer and Madsen, but we couldn't find
it. Then we started down the trail to try to locate the shelter below
the top cliff of Supai where Maurer and Madsen had found some signs of
camping with protection from rain. I was afraid that I couldn't get that
far and back in the time I wanted to spend at it, so I urged Green to go
ahead to try to find it for me. He doubled the speed when he was alone.
The day was cool and the flowers were attractive, and I would enjoy as
much or little hiking as I could.

I branched off the trail to the east on the Esplanade, and when I
approached the rim of the Supai, Green shouted to me that he had found
the place. We found it almost in line with the gorge through the
Redwall, and one could scramble down a steep chute to reach the
protected shelf. There was a full pail of lard hanging on a nail driven
into the wall and some rather rotten rope fragments to show that it had
been a campsite. We ate an early lunch there. I noticed that it had
taken me 90 minutes to get down from the car and only 105 to get back,
quite encouraging.

*Surprise Canyon
[June 9, 1986 to June 12, 1986]*

After I had firm plans to go by myself to Surprise Canyon and really try
the Redwall route up to Neilson (Pack Trail) Spring, John Green called
me and wanted to go along. He had been helpful a couple of times and had
passed quite a bit of information along, so I was glad to have him. He
took the bus from Tusayan to Kingman so as not to make my route a lot
longer. We met at Dennys early enough to get to Pearce Ferry well before
noon. We ate lunch as we took turns steering the boat. The lake level
was at least three feet higher than it had been in March. The boat went
over the place where I had been in mud south of Tincanebitts and into
the mouth of Surprise farther than I had ever been able to take it
before. No mudbanks were in evidence. After we had walked 25 minutes, I
recalled that I had forgotten to screw down the breather vent in the gas
tank cap. John volunteered to do this while I found a campsite a few
yards ahead. I was worried as we walked up from the lake for 15 or 20
minutes with no water in the creek where I had always seen it before.
The creek was flowing from our campsite until we were nearing the
natural bridge but then it was dry again for a stretch that took me 80
minutes to walk past the next day. Green went ahead with my blessing to
try the Redwall climb and report concerning my chances on it. I had
filled my two quart canteen sometime before the creek went dry, but I
was worried about where we should camp. The creek was dry where Jorgen
and I had camped more than once on a terrace with mescal pits and a bed
outlined with stones. It was still dry farther north where I had marked
water on the Amos Point map. I had decided that I would turn back to the
nearest water if the map spring was dry, but I could see John's tracks
going on, so I did likewise. I had walked by the natural bridge without
noticing it and I went by the mescal pit terrace without a glance. I
finally recognized my location when I saw the jagged spur ahead which
meant the Redwall climb was on its north side. Here I also recognized
the mouth of the tributary canyon coming down from Amos Spring. About 15
minutes north of here my worries were over. There by a fine pool was
Green's pack. I had been resting in the shade about 10 minutes out of
every half hour, but I was glad to settle down in some shade under a
little tree and wait for Green to return. I had the current Time magazine.

John came back about 5:00 p.m. with the news that he had succeeded in
getting to the bench above the Devonian and had followed it around the
base of the four spikes and had connected with where he had been when I
waited for him at the Pack Trail Spring. However, he cautioned me not to
try the climb since I am not as good a climber as he is. He seemed eager
to get back to his McDonalds job. I didn't insist on staying as long as
I had told him the trip would take, but I wish now that I had gone on
the next day and looked at the climb myself. Perhaps I could have found
an easier way than he had used. He reported that there was a mescal pit
and bighorn droppings along the route. Instead, I got another early
start at 5;15 back to the boat.

This time I kept the map in my hand and located the mescal pit terrace
and noted that a flood had wrecked our bed sites but that the bed
outlined with a row of rocks was intact and the mescal pits were
untouched. I marked the natural bridge site with a small two rock cairn.
John passed here after I was gone, but he noticed the cairn and the
bridge. Not long after this he overtook me and went ahead to the boat. I
kept cool by dousing my shirt with water from the canteen and a couple
of times I sat down in pools with all my clothes on. I had walked for
more than two hours without taking a rest at the start, but after that
it was ten minutes of rest and reading out of each half hour.

In planning for the amount of gas to carry, I had gone by the
consumption in March when I was alone in the boat. With John and his
heavy pack, we were obviously short of gas for the return trip. I
reached the boat about 2:30 and we had time to spare. We took turns
rowing without using the motor for over three hours and stopped for the
night at Burnt Canyon. At this lake level, it was very easy to pull the
boat up on rock ledges that was well covered with mud. Tamarisks had
grown up on the east side to the level of the open space north of the
old shack, but the little courtyard was still clean and flat. There was
a lot of rather recent looking cow manure in the tamarisks but none
where we wanted to sleep. It turned out that we would have slept better
almost anywhere else. The red ants bit us and the mice rattled through
my pack and disturbed my sleep.

On our last day, Thursday, I used the motor from the first, but only at
half speed so that I would get more help from the current. The lake had
dropped a foot or so from our arrival on Monday, and we could see the
highest part of the bar at the mouth of Surprise. When I was out in the
middle in front of Tincanebitts, the prop dug into the mud. After I
stopped the motor and raised the prop, we floated free but we had to row
50 yards before we could use the motor.

Both in going upstream and on the return, I watched for Needles Eye
natural bridge and saw it only briefly. I missed locating by distant
view Rampart Cave on the way in but I saw it on the way out. When we
were finally even with Columbine Falls, I turned on the motor for full
power and got to the ramp with a little gas to spare.

John Green had been up into the lower Grand Canyon with rangers when he
was living in his truck at Pearce Ferry, and he knew more about
archeological sites. He confirmed Billingsley's report of ruins in Salt
Creek and he also had seen some interesting rock art there.

We got to the beach well before ten and had lunch at Dennys in Kingman.
After that we went to the Checkers Store at the Stockton Hills
interchange and John bought a new battery. I took him to Tusayan and
still got home around 8:00 p.m. For John it had been a rewarding trip
with perhaps the shortest route from the Shivwits to the river covered
including another Redwall route. I hope to try again in cooler weather
with a man who can belay me at the worst place, or perhaps I could find
an easier way that John missed.

*Surprise Canyon
[October 18, 1986 to October 19, 1986]*

I planned to check the Redwall climb to the Pack Trail Spring by myself.
John Green had told me that I wouldn't be able to do it, but I wondered
whether he had found the easiest way. Then a few days before I was
ready, Tony Williams phoned me and I invited him to go along with the
understanding that we would not try to stay together since he can
outwalk me easily. He came from Fredonia to Pearce Ferry and was waiting
there when I arrived about noon. The 7.5 hp motor pushed us along but it
took four hours and 20 minutes to reach the mouth of Surprise. I had
thought that the lake was high enough to get us back past the mud to
solid ground, but when we arrived a little before 5:00 p.m., the silt
flat was exposed with only a narrow channel for the small flow of the
creek. We figured that we might have to pull the light along while we
were in the mud most of the way. We used the white sand at the mouth for
a nice campsite Monday night.

On Tuesday morning, the water had risen enough so that we could paddle
all the way to the gravel of the creekbed about 150 yards in from the
mouth. Tony did a little wading and pulling. We were delayed by rain on
Monday morning. Tony waited it out in his little tent that is just big
enough for his bed and I draped my pup tent fly over a ridge rope and
lay in my bag until the water began coming through. Then I found that I
could cover my bed under an overhang where the sand was still dry. We
started up the creek when it was nearly lunch time. Tony went on ahead
while I came at my own rate, slow because my back

        Much of this log is illegible!

in Salt canyon, but there didn't seem to be any good way to get the boat
through the tamarisks at the entrance bar, so we moved down past the
Gibralter like rock at the mouth to camp on the sane at the mouth of the
defile leading behind the rock tower. It was a nice site for camping,
but when I tried going up and down into salt, I found that it would be a
difficult feat to climb along the wall above the lagoon. We took the
boat up to where I had walked in along the east side of the lagoon, but
that didn't seem very easy and we decided to give it up and do a few
other things farther down the lake. We stopped where Tony could climb up
and see the Bat Cave better than he had the previous time. He found that
the leader up the chute into the cave has been removed. Back beyond any
daylight, he spotted a ringtail cat and he wondered whether they can
catch and eat bats. After this two hour detour, we both walked up the
canyon immediately to the west of the Bat Cave. Tony went at his own
rate, perhaps twice as fast as mine. I got partway through the Muav
narrows. Tony got to the end of the line for ordinary scrambling and he
had the pleasure of seeing another natural bridge on the west side of
the canyon near the end of the line.

We proceeded down the lake to the good cove on the south side between
Columbine Falls and Rampart Cave for our last campsite. Tony looked
around better than I and spotted what we are pretty sure in another
natural bridge about halfway to the skyline southeast of our camp at the
head of the water. We had good calm water for our trip to the launching
ramp at Pearce Ferry on Friday morning and I got home without incident
that afternoon.

*George Bain
[Summer, 1987]*

I took George Bain in the little boat to the Dry Rock Creek arm of Lake
Powell and showed him the way to start up to the top of the Kaiparowits
Plateau. I had tried the route that one of Spencer's men, Jones I
believe, had done with a horse in the early 1900s. I had started up that
way twice. When Henry Hall was along, I got to the clay slide that forms
a ramp to the plateau about two thirds of the way to the top. Another
time when the family was waiting, I got to the top of this plateau and
didn't quite get to where I could look down on the Dangling Rope Bay. It
was hot and I was very short of water. I was in real distress and had to
rest at every bit of shade.

Now I suggested to George that it would be a great hike if he could make
the top of the Kaiparowits and get to the lake in one day. He was eager
to try this. We started together along the south side of the narrow
channel, but we soon parted to let him proceed at his much faster pace.
He reached the top and found a spring just below the rim with a cowpath
leading to it. He had time for lunch and a nap before starting down and
he got back to the boat with plenty of light left for dinner and camp
chores.

On the following day, we mostly loafed and saw side canyons, Driftwood,
especially and probably Rainbow Bridge. On the fourth day of the trip,
we went to Dungeon Canyon where I knew there is a Navaho sheep trail
coming down from the rim. About 15 years earlier, I had taken an early
morning hike and reached the top. Again, George made easy work of this
hike to the top of the plateau while I labored hard to reach a place I
had been before on a breakfast hike. I was bothered by the heat again.
In the fall of 1988, I went back by myself and made it to the top. It is
a most interesting route, weaving back and forth on ledges near the top
to reach breaks that let one go to a higher level. My congratulations go
to the Indian who discovered that this route is possible.

*END OF HIKING LOGS*