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Mitch above Bridge Knoll Photo by Mike Coronella Click on photo for more Grand Canyon pics!

We've been talking about backpacking again in the Canyon since Mitch and I walked through a huge portion of the inner Gorge. Ahhh, the Grand Canyon! We had put it off long enough, that's for sure. There's just been so much to do; working to keep our heads above water, trying to get our Hayduke Trail guidebook together (the Colorado Plateau Trail on Mountainzone.com has evolved into the Hayduke Trail), and dealing with all the little things that make up life in this hustle-bustle world of ours. I've been back a couple of times since then for short hikes while on my way to Phoenix, and a whitewater adventure as a "swamper" on a commercial river trip, but Mitch hadn't had the chance to get back at all.

After two failed plans to come back, we finally got it together and returned to one of the most remarkable places on the planet, this time bringing Dan Bolton (Dan-O), avid fly fisher and owner of Park City Troutfitters, along for his first foray under the rim. Fly fishing actually figured heavily into our plans, as unlikely as it sounds. Ever since our 34 days of trekking under the rim, Mitch (also a fly-guide) has wanted to try his hand fishing Tapeats Creek, Deer Creek, and of course, the Colorado River. Now he and Dan-O would have a chance to see if any of the almost two thousand flies that they carried in would work in an environment completely different than the Provo River (UT), where they usually fished. Not being a fisherman myself, I knew I'd be happy exploring for that elusive million-dollar photograph and just enjoying another adventure...

Even getting to the trailhead can be a struggle, as it was this time. Perched on the North Rim, the Bill Hall Trailhead is accessed only by Forest Service roads, which can be a chore to navigate under the best of conditions (A Grand Canyon boatman friend got two flat tires on his SUV trying to reach the same area this summer), and we were trying to navigate this maze with snow-covered roads. The guys at Judd's gas station in Fredonia, AZ, the last outpost of civilization, told us that they'd been out several times to recover stuck vehicles on the very roads that we needed to follow to the trailhead. Fortunately we made it, slipping and sliding our way to the edge of the gorge, camping for the night on the rim above Tapeats Amphitheater. We were treated to the first of many unreal views of a region so inhospitable that it remained virtually unexplored until less than 150 years ago. The canyons below us were so deep that we couldn't see a single one of their floors; nothing but near vertical walls everywhere.

We woke to a beautiful cloudless day, quickly packed up and prepared to descend into the geologic madness spread around us. Leaving Monument Point, we went down, down, down. Dan-O learned why we were warning him that the downhill is a lot more strenuous than the uphill, particularly with a backpack in the Grand Canyon. I learned that carrying a backpack chock full of camera gear was possibly a mistake, given the fact that I was sporting a couple of cracked ribs (I just had to go skiing one more timeÉ), I couldn't even lift the pack from the ground without feeling like there was a knife in my chest. My pack was always dropped on a ledge or a rock for easier entry after that painful realization.

"They had something that no backpacker in the Grand Canyon will ever have: cold beer, and they were willing to share!"

We took a leisurely three days to reach the Colorado River from the rim, passing Bridger Knoll, Surprise Valley, and the amazing Thunder River; the world's shortest river (which feeds a creek!), it explodes out of the Redwall Limestone layer of the canyon, water gushes right from the middle of a huge rock face. This place is so unlikely. Massive waterfalls seemingly coming out of nowhere, providing a lush vegetation zone in the middle of all the rock, there was so much color sprinkled around in the flowering plants that survive off the remarkable water. We followed Tapeats Creek down from its confluence with Thunder River to the big river, camping for a night along the creek so the guys could school the fish along the way. I don't think the fish ever knew what hit them; I mean how many fly fishing guides ply their trade deep in the Grand Canyon?

Just a mile or so up the creek from the Colorado, a group of boaters on a hike walked by, and we couldn't help but notice that one of the gals was not happy and that she had no shoes on her feet, which is not the way you want to be hiking in the Grandest of Canyons. Apparently, at one of the water crossings (Tapeats is fairly deep and very fast) she tried to throw her shoes to the other bank. You can guess what happened; bye-bye shoes. Mitch offered her his sandals; we still had boots on for the hike with our packs, she gladly took them. Turns out they had a chance to repay our act of kindness; their group, a bunch of ski bums from Steamboat, was camped at the boater's beach at the mouth of Tapeats, right across the creek from our intended camp. They had something that no backpacker in the Grand Canyon will ever have: cold beer, and they were willing to share!

Two nights were spent at the mouth of Tapeats, and Mitch and Dan-O were absolutely working the fish like they've never been worked before. One group of boaters that we met was complaining that they had caught just a solitary fish in the ten days they had been on the river. They wouldn't believe that these guys were catching a fish virtually every time their line was in the water. At the same time, I didn't believe a claim I heard from the group of camping boaters from Steamboat: that a couple of them had kayaked down the bottom section of Tapeats Creek. I was thinking that the gorge is too deep, too narrow, too steep, and too inaccessible. I still have a hard time believing it despite the fact that I not only saw them do it again, but I have pictures. I think to me, the most impressive part was that one of the two fearless kayakers was a girl. Very cool indeed! As being a recently hooked river runner, I really got a kick out of watching all the boats go by, and through Tapeats Rapid. I've only had the opportunity to go on the big commercial motor rigs (38 ft. rafts), so I watched with envy as all of the smaller boats passed, particularly the unlikely-looking dories.

The spring timing for our journey seemed absolutely perfect; the roads were passable (more or less), positively everything was exploding in color with the flowering cactus, grasses, shrubs and trees, and the weather, which can turn just about any which way this time of year, was marvelous. The nights were clear and cool, allowing the almost full moon to light up the evenings, the days warm but not yet broiling hot (like the 120Õs that I felt while swamping on another river journey this summer, but that's another story!). The nice weather decided to leave for other places just about the same time we made a similar decision; it got windy, cold, and cloudy as we packed up. We found our way along the river route to Deer Creek that some boatman buddies had told me about as the wind picked up and the rain started falling.