Original Trip Description: (May 6-14, 2000) Join us on the ultimate week long backpack. This 50-mile trip within Grand Canyon starts at Monument Point on the North Rim. We will descend the Bill Hall Trail to the Esplanade, eventually joining the Thunder River Trail and following it to Surprise Valley and Thunder River. Over the next few days, we will follow Tapeats Creek to the Colorado River and scramble downstream to beautiful Deer Creek Falls. After enjoying the scenic upper Deer Creek Valley, we will continue downstream along the Colorado to Kanab Creek, camping one night near Fishtail Rapid. Two additional nights and three days of treking within the towering walls of Kanab Creek will allow us to explore Scotty's Hollow, Whispering Falls, and much more. The scenery along our route is possibly the best the Grand Canyon has to offer the off-trail hiker. On the eighth day we will emerge at Sowats Point and retrieve our vehicles from the Monument Point Trailhead. Much of this backpack will be bouldering off-trail but the campsites along the Colorado River will be spectacular and well worth the extra effort. This is a strenuous trip for experienced backpackers only. Prior experience in off-trail hiking is mandatory. Originates @ Kaibab Forest Ranger Station, Jacob Lake, AZ.

Thunder River

Deer Creek Falls

Trip Report:

Some of us returned to the lodge for breakfast the next morning while others shuffled through their packs, trying to sort out excess carry weight. It's always difficult after a cold night to convince oneself to leave the fleece behind. By noon, Jim had arrived from New Mexico. We decided to leave Peter and his crew to wait at the ranger station for the New Jersey folks and Doug. Meanwhile Bob, Susan, and Jim would shuttle Jim's vehicle to Sowats Point, where we expected to exit the Canyon at the trip's end. Since Crazy Jug Point was so much nicer, we decided to camp there rather than the Bill Hall trailhead parking lot. This decision was pretty popular when the wind kicked up as we were cooking dinner. Since it was Bob's last day of his 59th year and we didn't want to haul his birthday cake into the Canyon, we celebrated early. The black roses on the cake may have been a bit over the top but nevertheless the cake was a big hit. We again retired early, planning an early start into the Canyon.

The morning dawned cloudless. After a quick breakfast, we distributed the commissary and drove to Monument Point to begin our adventure. This first day of continuous downhill was a real killer. Losing 4800' in 8-9 miles, is enough to ruin both one's knees and toenails. After leaving the Esplanade, we ran into an old friend, Joe Schuster, leading a group of Hatch passengers across Surprise Valley on his annual Grand Canyon raft trip. By the time we reached the top of Thunder River, a number of us were suffering from excessive downhilling. We lunched and rested there for an hour or so. Several stayed longer, recovering and enjoying the shade of the cottonwood trees. Thunder River was gushing and the surrounding lush greenery was as beautiful as ever. By about 4:00 PM, all of us had made it down to our Tapeats Creek campsite. Anti-inflammatory appetizers were the dinner highlight.

Shortly after we reached our camp, a man and his adult daughter passed through and chose a site just below us. As we were cooking dinner, five more guys struggled through looking for a campsite. The Tapeats Creek camping area doesn't seem to have adequate space for one group and two parties, so these five ended up coming back up and sharing part of our space. Dave, the leader of their group was an acquaintance of Susan's from a club they both belonged to years ago. His group was on the same schedule as we were for the first three nights, so we discussed future plans and campsite sharing possibilities.

Since we had such a short way to go to the river, we ate a leisurely breakfast before starting our hike to the next campsite at the mouth of Tapeats Creek. Tapeats Creek was running full and fast so we stayed on the Thunder River side all the way to the Colorado. It was quite hot near the river and there wasn't a boating party camped there, so we crossed the creek to seek shade amongst the trees. A bighorn observed our progress from a high ledge. He hung around and watched us on and off during the afternoon. While a couple of our group fished for trout, most of us read, bathed, or laundered our sweaty duds. By late afternoon, Dave and his four friends had arrived and they set up their camp on the upper end of the beach. When AZRA pulled in with 6 boats and 28 people, we elected to head downstream to the lower camp. Jon Hirsch and Drifter Smith were part of the AZRA crew so we talked to them for awhile before leaving. Trip leader, Bill, was only too happy to take our trash out in exchange for the beach. We hadn't accumulated much to that point but it was nice not to have to carry even that small amount.

Expecting the heat to kick our butts, we got an early start along the river to Deer Creek. The ledge above Christmas Tree Cave wasn't nearly as formidable as some of our ledge-haters expected it to be. In fact, they already disliked many ledges from the Upper Tapeats descent with greater passion. Up over the saddle and down into Deer we trudged. We set up camp, lunched, and took off in various directions to explore or relax along the water. Carl hiked towards Vaughn Spring and reported back that it was dry up-canyon as far as he got and looked like it had been that way for years. A number of people hiked to Deer Spring and the Throne Room. Several more went down to the River in search of trout. We took turns guarding the food since we experienced ringtail thievery on a previous visit there. That night, one actually did tear open Susan's candy bag, removed a bag of M&M's and one package of crackers, and left everything else undisturbed. Ringtails are so polite. The camp at Deer was again crowded. By the time Dave's group had arrived from their sweltering, laborious hike over Surprise Valley, another group of three guys had set up camp just downstream of us as well.

We left camp early and on the way down along narrow, exposed ledges, Ken formulated the Marley prayer which begins, "Give us this day our daily dread". Our dawn start and a Cruise Cous breakfast by the river below Deer Creek Falls got us cruising for Fishtail fairly early. The hike downstream went more quickly than expected and we reached camp before noon. The Fishtail camp is a Sahara Desert style brain-sizzler. We set up a couple of tarps, had lunch, and did our best to stay out of the sun during a long, blistering afternoon. It was by far the hottest day we experienced on the entire trip.

Hoping to beat the afternoon heat, we were up early and on our way along the river to Kanab. Again this section went much faster than anyone expected it would and we reached the beautiful campsite at the mouth of Kanab around noon. Since we were close to the water and had as much shade as we desired, everyone enjoyed a much cooler afternoon. Some played Frisbee on the beach, others enjoyed hard-fought hearts games, and our two fishermen hooked trout after trout at the mouth of Kanab. Actually, some of us came to believe they were catching the same two fish over and over. While discussing fishing and women, fisherman Ron was heard to exclaim, "women are catch & release, fish you keep." Never did get to hear what his wife Anne had to say about that.

The first people out of camp the next morning saw a couple of bighorn sheep and a lamb. There were lots of tracks and scat along the streambed. The hiking to Whispering Falls was not too difficult. There was lots of good running water there and the usual two big pools. None of us were brave enough to dive into the pool below the falls. Since it is never in the sunlight, it was colder than the Colorado River. Yellow columbine and red monkey flowers were plentiful at the lower pool that some call the Fountain of Youth. We saw lots of flowers throughout the trip, but with no field guide to search we had difficulty identifying them. Another long upstream trudge, with several trying boulder fields to wend our way through and around eventually got us to a campsite slightly above Scotty's Hollow. It had been an unusually long day, possibly our toughest of the trip.

Hiking the next day up Jumpup Canyon, Peter C. was surprised to find so little water at the mouth of Indian Hollow where we stopped for lunch. We ran into a commercial dayhiking group there. They told us about the Big Saddle fire raging on the rim. It was another hot afternoon walk to Kwagunt Hollow. The dry pools in lower Kwagunt concerned us but by the time we got to camp there was lots of running water. Bob's usual campsite had been torn by flash floods since our last visit in '88. There also weren't many frogs around to keep us awake this time, but lots of crickets. Some mosquitoes buzzed us but they weren't biting anyone except Susan. She also picked up a nasty ant bite while setting up our campsite. We awoke the last morning to cooler temperatures and an overcast sky, which eventually broke into puffy high clouds. With such favorable conditions, all made it out of the Canyon in a couple of hours. The car shuttle was in progress and lunch was set up by the time the last hikers reached the rim. Since Jim had his satellite phone and the bankrupt Iridium Company was offering free calls, everyone made Mother's Day connections from Sowats Point.

We left early after lunch and thought about doing a little hiking around Lees Ferry. As we came down the Kaibab Monocline into Houserock Valley, we could see the smoke from the Outlet Fire on the north rim of Grand Canyon. Reaching the bridge over the Colorado we looked at each other and kept driving for home, hoping to beat the weekend traffic rush into Phoenix from Flagstaff. We arrived home by 5:00 PM, hopped out of the car, and got the news that we had a nasty sewer problem to work on the next morning. Made both of us wish that we had taken our time and spent a few more days in beautiful northern Arizona.

Updated on Thursday, December 8, 2006 @ 4:30 MST © 1995-2006 by Robert R. Marley