I make it around 20 miles by 2pm today which is unusually fast. The trail was level, and well marked both because there is a trail and because there are giant cairns which are completely unnecessary in current conditions.
This part of the AZT on the North Kaibab has a uniform ecosystem so there wasn’t much new to see. However the trail is cut close to and crosscut with roads and double tracks which made spotting trucks easier than spotting deer.
Jacob Lake was a disappointing resupply. I got a nice meal while chatting up a pair of hunters and the food selection at the tiny shop was sufficient. However, rooms were expensive, internet was only available in the “hotel” not “motel” rooms, and there was no laundry. Cell service was very spotty and so I had to resolve some business by text message (which I had to resend multiple times) and couldn’t research AZT water reports. Perhaps what I’m really sad about is that my inner thigh chafe is getting bad (a first) so I didn’t really want to keep walking. A tub soak would have felt really good but I just couldn’t justify it without getting something else for the price.
With fresh food and water, I decided to just get back on trail. This would have involved a road walk which would have lasted until sunset but two amiable hunters stopped and asked if I wanted a ride so I yellow blazed a few miles. With the uniformity of the ecosystem here, I didn’t feel like I was missing much. Also this means the next several days should be a little shorter as so maybe the chafe won’t be so bad.
Tonight’s camp is by a full tank of water which has a large concrete catch basin maybe a quarter the size of a basketball court. New to me. The road noise (this section is inescapably close to a highway) with make an interesting lullaby.
The sun is now getting up late enough that I wake before it. Water from here to my next resupply in Jacob Lake looks extremely unreliable. Yesterday even some of the supposedly reliable tanks were empty. I took a my capacity of 9 liters from the first potholes I could find which weren’t just a skim of water over thin mud. Of course, there wound up being better water later in Buckskin Gulch but I usually play a pretty conservative water game. On the downside, my pack was pretty top heavy.
Buckskin Gulch had some interesting sandstone formations and a narrows.
There were more people there than I’ve ever seen on trail. I wound up walking out to the Wire Pass trailhead while chatting a husband-wife duo from Chicago.
Just a short while later I reached the state line and crossed into Arizona. Here the Hayduke follows the Arizona Trail until almost the Grand Canyon. Two Haydukers has signed the register at the start of the AZT three days before me. I probably won’t catch them but it creates a sense of community.
It’s oddly pleasant to be back on a National Scenic Trail. The trail is well graded and so takes a while to get anywhere. This draws out the views.
I think this is just my second night on the Hayduke camping in what might be called a forest.
After yesterday’s routing fiasco, today was pretty easy, though not particularly varied. It started in a small gorge, transitioned to a wide wash with intermittent bluffs, switched to a dirt road down the same wash and ended in another small gorge just after crossing Highway 89. Navigation was all pretty easy; I haven’t used GPS since leaving Bryce.
I packed my backpack, left the room to check out, went back to the room to get my poles, checked out, attempted to use the ATM to get cash and discovered it was broken, tried to get cash at the store and discovered they didn’t do cash back but recommended I use the ATM in the lobby. At this point, I resigned myself to being almost out of hard currency when I get to Jacob’s Lake and hopped in the shuttle I’d reserved.
The driver introduced himself as Oscar and usually gives tours instead of one-way shuttle rides. He was engaging, curious, and informative and threw in a quick stop by one of the Bryce Canyon amphitheater’s as a freebie since I wasn’t going to see them.
On arriving at Rainbow Point, I discovered that the fire closure for the Under the Rim Trail did end at Rainbow Point. Unfortunately, so did the Under the Rim Trail. The Riggs Trail which picked up where the Under the Rim Trail left off was also under fire closure. I should have put two and two together since the fire was called the Riggs Fire. There was no evidence of ongoing fire and it was very tempting to just hop the barrier. The shuttle driver took a bathroom break to give me time to come up with a new plan and I ran over to a Forest Service truck and asked about a potential reroute on a road marked on my map as administrative only. They told me that I wasn’t allowed on that road and that I didn’t want to be near the Riggs Trail because of burnt trees.
I would up getting dropped off at Whiteman Bench, where I’d exited the backcountry previously. Just for kicks, I followed the Under the Rim Trail as far as the signs marking it’s closure.
This was on the ridge south of Agua Canyon, and since the Hayduke connects to the Under the Rim Trail via a cross country walk up Agua Canyon (technically it follows a double track which fades to a pack trail and while I found evidence of a trail here and there it wasn’t anything I could follow). This got me back to the Grand View Trail which on my map connected to the Hayduke at Lower Podunk Creek. It stays out of Bryce Canyon National Park and I hadn’t seen a closure notice where I’d joined it to head north into Bryce.
The Grand View Trail as shown on the GPS app was jus a line which ran down a valley and then stopped. This is an accurate description of what happens heading north and so I was concerned that heading south would force me to decide about whether I wanted to do 10 miles of cross country on steep ridges which appeared to be heavily forested.
Fortunately, the Grand View Trail matched the map, not the GPS. It’s not particularly well maintained but far from a primitive trail. It went through a lot of burn areas so I’m surprised that it wasn’t closed.
I was full from gorging myself in town and so didn’t think to eat lunch until I came across a trickle of water in a drainage through which the trail contoured. This was a pleasant find because the change of plans had thrown off my water plans and I had been expecting to run dry shortly before my next water source.
From studying the map, it appeared that the Grand View Trail skirted the head of Bullrush Hollow, which the Hayduke joins at a lower point. Despite there being one potentially steep section on the map, I decided to try dropping in early and so cut a few miles. It wound up being relative gentle with deer and then cattle trails constantly on the sides of the drainage to help bypass the few minor obstacles. At first I only saw deer prints, then cattle, and was ecstatic when I found a shoe print. My shortcut had worked. Taking a cross-country shortcut is definitely not something I would have tried before the Hayduke.
In a funny ending to the day, I got up two embankments onto the dirt road which paralleled the stream just in time for it to dive down to just above stream level. I wound up making camp shortly after finding water in Bullrush Gorge.
Today was a zero in Bryce Canyon City. I got my Grand Canyon permit updated, patched a hole in the tent, and scheduled a ride out to Rainbow Point for tomorrow which should be past the fire closure of the Under the Rim Trail. I still feel so clean from yesterday so I didn’t even shower.
Loneliness doesn’t really get me on the trail, even when hiking and camping by myself. In town with all the people around, loneliness manifests in me thinking that I don’t want to do more through hiking because it’s meaningless. To kill time I put on a podcast called The Trail Show which had been recommended by the last hiker I’d seen. Much laughter ensued it, the feeling of purposelessness departed.
Today was mostly a getting off trail to resupply. Along the way, I encountered Germans and Bryce Canyon. One was great the other was a let down.
I woke up in Sheep Canyon and was quickly in the slot canyon up Willis Creek. This time there weren’t pools of water to avoid and the floor was level so I could pretty much just enjoy.
Okay, there was a pool of water but it was pretty and there was a bypass route.
As the slot canyon was winding down, I saw two people ahead, one taking a picture, so I stepped behind a turn, waited a second, then continued past. “Thank you” the photographer said in the most quintessential German accent. This made me so happy. Every German I met two years ago on my last through hike was a fantastic hiking companion: polite, good natured, and as tough as nails. Also, all the Germans I’ve met in normal life have been good people. I spent most of the road walk to the Grand View Trail contemplating Germans.
The iconic walls of Bryce Canyon had appeared in the distance and were drawing close, though always distant or partially hidden by the developing pine forest.
The Grand View Trail has devolved from a clear double track to a faint, though well signed, use trail when it hit the clean, taught fence of Bryce Canyon National Park. I had turned off the Hayduke route to head north on the Under the Rim Trail so I could resupply in Bryce Canyon City. There was a gate in the fence so I walked over to it and found the Under the Rim Trail. The gate looked almost new which is very unusual in the backcountry.
The trees in the area were mostly burned and there was a moderate amount of deadfall across the trail. The marks of old trail maintenance were there but nothing recent.
This was all explained when I got to a campsite where I was to turn up a connector trail to get to the road. In my defense, I had to turn around to read this and there hadn’t been any signage on the way in.
I did finally get a good shot of Bryce Canyon, though.
Walking the scenic drive towards north was not particularly scenic other than at the designated overlooks.
I was a little over half way to the visitor center when a car stopped and asked if I’d like a ride (hitching is illegal in national parks otherwise I’d have had my thumb out). My benefactors were a German mother-daughter pair who were touring a bunch of the local sights. Aren’t Germans wonderful? (disclosure: I’m not any part German).
They dropped me at a lodge where the registrar where the person working the front desk circled the laundry facilities while detailing the complex. Yes, my clothes are dirty.
I had stopped last night with about two miles of Hackberry Canyon remaining even though I could normally have made it out in time just in case things got slow. They turned out to be fine. Cottonwood Creek would have made a great campsite with it’s large areas of flat, white sand and leafy cottonwood trees to prevent condensation.
I took a road which paralleled Cottonwood Creek because I wanted something simple to walk on. The road runs through private property which is apparently for sale
After reaching the Paria River, most of the day was spent hiking up it.
The rock in places looked as red as a tomato and there were slopes with many colored bands.
The river was shallow but with water constantly present I didn’t carry any besides what happened to not be drunk after last dipping my bottle in the stream. The rhythm of walking became familiar: try to find the most stable looking surface to walk on. Sometimes that’s in the river where it’s washed away the silt and had exposed rocks. Sometimes it’s on the banks. Sometime you try to shortcut a turn. Sometimes that shortcut turns into more of a bushwhack that was bargained for.
Towards late afternoon I made the turn up Sheep Creek. The stream lessened significantly and I thought I’d been keeping an eye on whether it was still running or not when I realized that the creek bed was dry. I had about half a liter of water and the next water source was supposed to be a little under 5 miles. Not a good situation but not an emergency. I wasn’t going to make it before sundown but if you cover more ground, you’re more likely to find water. Of course I could have gone back a bit but I hate doing that. There was moisture everywhere: thin mud, damp sand, and dark dirt. Standing water was nowhere.
About 10 minutes before sundown I found a clay lined puddle in a deep depression. It had hoof prints and looked disgusting. The sides looked soggy and I was worried about stirring it up just by stepping too close. It turned out to be cleanser than the Paria had been and re edges solid. What a wonderful surprise to end the day on.
Mom and Dad walked with me as far as the turn off to the slot canyon which starts Section 8. It was just as well because things went from tame to insane pretty quickly.
To start. I saw two sets of footprints around the start of the slot canyon. There was a thin layer of clay mud in the slot canyon and only on footprint inside which makes me think I’m the first person to navigate it since the rain. The trail register listed Day hikers yesterday and a Hayduker named Sampson Superhip whose tracks I’ve been following since Hite.
Others have written about this slot canyon so I’ll keep to my particular travails. However, the entrance which gets attention in the guidebook, Skurka’s notes, and both of the blogs I used as my primary sources for researching this trip, wasn’t that tricky: drop the pack down and slide down after it. I reap the dividends of not learning how to properly climb slots properly in a few moments.
Since I’d just gotten new shoes and socks in my resupply, I’d been hoping to keep them dry for as long as possible. Unfortunately the slot canyon has many pools of water. I couldn’t put my back on one wall and my feet on the other because of my backpack and so at my most acrobatic, wound up almost horizontal with my right shoulder on a sloped part of one wall while my feet walked along the other. Unfortunately this meant this lead to my water bottle and maps fell into the pool. The water bottle stuck cap down in the clay. The ziplock for the maps trapped water inside it. After that I gave up and gave in to the inevitable and sunk my fresh shoes into the mud.
The second notable almost-misadventures was at the second place I had to take my pack off to get down something. While not particularly far down this descent was clearly going to involve a slide or fall into a murky pool of indeterminate depth. A haul line would have just let my pack into the water. I considered hurling it (as I had my poles) but that seemed a little too brutal, even for someone who regularly drops their pack instead of using a haul line. So I started the climb down to the position where I would slide into the water, but I faced backwards so that I could wedge the pack far enough down the crack that I could probably reach up and grab one of the hip belt straps I let dangle after my descent. As I was positioning the pack with one hand, the grip I had on a rock under the ledge started slipping. I only had one foot wedged in the crack and it was on the same side of my center of gravity and so a fall would be head-first backwards into water, maybe after bouncing off a rock wall. The ledge was sloped and I could find no other hold or angle to brace or wedge anything for more support so I yanked my backpack into the crack and kicked my feet out to make the best controlled slide that I could. The water was less than knee deep which was a great relief. There was a foothold under the ledge from which I could grab one strap on my backpack. Since it was already wedged, the pulling compressed the bag a great deal. Some of the mesh on the pockets abraded away and if the holes get much larger, I won’t be able to carry water bottles in the side pockets.
This is looking back at the ledge. I’m not sure what’s wrong because it looks like you can just climb down. I’m convinced it looked different from the top.
Once past the interesting obstacles, I picked up footprints again near a widening in the slot near a branch which I could imagine provides an alternate entry. However one of the three sets of footprints was heading back; the other two were outbound. What great peril lay ahead that only one had returned?
None, as it turned out. Hackberry Canyon was the definition of pleasant. Level floored and sun lit, there was something about it which made me think of Dinotopia. After an hour of hiking I found a turn in the canyon which created some shade and set up my gear to dry while I ate lunch. I also discovered that my hat had disappeared out of the rear mesh pocket. I thought I’d seen it after exiting the slot canyon but with the sun lower hadn’t bothered to put it on. Time for the bandana and sunglasses.
After lunch, I’d planned on getting water from a spring mentioned in the guidebook and Skurka’s notes. Shortly after the spring’s expected location, the wash bottom began to get soggy and small pools appeared. Worried these might go away further down, I put some effort into gathering enough for the next 15 miles from the shallow puddles which became turbid if disturbed. After filling my bottles I kept walking and discovered that the pools became a stream.
The stream continued down Hackberry Canyon for the rest of the day. It was usually 1-3 inches deep but I once hit quicksand and was up to my knees on both feet in an instant. I ploughed forward, trying to walk as though on my knees for several steps before getting out.
Hackberry Canyon widened for a while and it was fun bushwhacking overland to shortcut long turns of the creek. I was surprised how often I found footprints after committing to a particular line through the brush or crossing point of the creek. There’s a strange sense of camaraderie in thinking that complete strangers in different circumstances independently made the same chooses you did, sometimes down to the specific footing chosen.
About 40 minutes before sunset the Canyon narrowed. It’s about two miles to get out and it would have put a nice finish on the day. At my normal pace for flat ground this would have been an easy choice. However, narrow canyons tend to get choked with boulders, requiring careful footing and sometimes a little pathfinding. Not something I want to get caught doing after dark so I quit while campsites were still easy to find. Probably for the best but feels a little disappointing nonetheless.
Today’s miles were mostly road walking to the end of the section where my parents were going to meet me.
There were many ATVs, trucks, and even campers in pull-offs. I think hunting season is in full swing. A quartet of ATVs hummed by like a small caravan. One stopped to ask if I was “having fun” which seemed like a pleasant way to ask if I was ok. I said yes, pointed to his rifle and said he looked like was off to have some fun. He grimaced and asked if I’d seen any deer. Apparently things aren’t going so well.
There were some rock layers jutting out in an interesting way.
This is my new favorite road sign. Think about what must have had to happen and how many times for it to get made.
At the road which apparently does lead to highway 89, apparently things aren’t much better. For some reason, I find this hilarious. Hope there’s nothing important on Highway 89.
Shortly before Grosvenor Arch is this pond which reflected the sandstone nicely.
Grosvenor Arch.
I got to the end of the section where my parents were. Mom had tried to hike out and meet me but had started down the road which starts the next section so I got a head start on tomorrow as Dad slid the minivan over the slightly muddy road to get her.
The Cannonville PO had given Dad my resupply box since I’d written a note authorizing him to pick it up so there was no reason to go into town. My parents got their car camping on. Mom had her spinning, Dad a folding table to put under the stove and pulled out his laptop after dinner. Copious quantities of fresh fruit were consumed. It felt so good to sit in a chair.
Today was really pleasant. There were zero obstacles all day. I just walked up Last Chance Creek and Paradise Canyon letting my mind wander and wonder, checking the GPS every once in a while.
I had been dreading doing this with map and compass because I feel the need to track every turn and side canyon. My mind has to be on and engaged constantly. GPS made today feel like a vacation.
The mud made a set of footprints very visible. It’s like having an invisible hiking partner.
The only notable event was that I had human contact after about 50hrs of solitude. I was eating lunch and drying gear (mostly condensation on the tent) where a dirt road crosses Last Chance Creek. A trio of motorcyclists came by and one checked on me as he passed.
Other than that the only thing with mentioning besides some joke about having been to Paradise is that my water treatment drops ran out. There are two dropper bottles with different chemicals which you combine before adding to water. Only one dropper bottle ran out and on closer inspection it appears to have a defect which created larger drops. Good thing I’ve got a filter. Back home where I rarely treat or filter because there’s such a short distance between you and snowmelt. Not so here where the cows roam everywhere.
Isaac Takes A Hike 