*


    Harvey Butchart?s Hiking Log, Volume 2

    August 6, 1964 - September 20, 1969

*

*Table of contents <47688.htm> | Volume 1 <47689.htm> | Volume 2 |
Volume 3 <47691.htm> | Volume 4 <47692.htm> | 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.**

**Hermit Basin to Bass Canyon, Dragon and Crystal Creeks
[August 6, 1964 to August 11, 1964]**

After some good chit chat at the Visitor's Center with the Chief Ranger
(Lynn Coffin), I got started down the Hermit Trail carrying about the
heaviest pack I have tried, 37 pounds. My objective was Supai in 11 days
with some interesting side trips along the way. The stage of water was
not too much different from what it had been for my trip through Marble
Canyon and I thought that 12 to 15 miles a day was quite feasible.

In Hermit Basin I met seasonal ranger Marge Goff on her way back from a
nature hike to Santa Maria Spring.In our short conversation, she assured
me that several of the rangers were now waging a war of extermination
against the burros and that they would soon all be gone. I didn't
express my views on that subject very forcibly, but from what I have
read about previous attempts, I would say that about all they can hope
to do is to keep the numbers in check. Unless they would have a regular
military campaign, enough burros would escape to bring back the race. It
would take a lot of men willing to go down into a lot of exhausting
terrain simultaneously to get the job done. I am not even sure I favor
the project anyway. No doubt it is more thrilling to observe deer or
bighorn sheep, but I got quite excited in seeing my first wild burro.
Also, the trails are much more distinct in those areas of the canyon
where there are burros. With my heavy pack, I used six hours to get to
the river instead of the three and a half which would be possible with
only a lunch and canteen. My Kelty pack is rather bad in the prone
position on an air mattress since it holds my head down. I need two
mattresses to hold my nose out of the water and I have ten inches of the
lower mattress projecting in front of the one which supports my face. If
all the river were like the stretches from Hermit to Boucher Creek and
from there to Crystal Creek, and if all rapids were as easy to walk
around as Boucher, my schedule would have been feasible. You can walk
the boulder bar almost as easily as a trail. I covered the three miles
From Hermit to Crystal Creek at two miles an hour. Unfortunately, this
was the exception. For the rest of the way to Serpentine Canyon, the
rapids were closer together and the way around them was over big angular
blocks of schist. Getting out of the water had to be done in soft mud,
and then the mud on the sneakers made the footing precarious. I soon
learned another thing. The rule that the portage should be made on the
side of the tributary stream had about as many exceptions as not. I
ended by playing it safe. I would land on whichever side would give me a
view of the rapid ahead from farthest upstream. If the opposite side
offered the better chance to walk to the foot of the rapid, I could
still cross over. Just once this portaging had to be modified. At Mile
99.6, the nameless ravine from the north downstream from Tuna Creek,
blocks have fallen that break the low stage of the river into three
channels. A land bypass would have to go quite high on the south wall
and with a 35 pound pack, I decided that this would be more hazardous
than taking the fast water. It was getting late Saturday evening when I
landed on the south side, so I decided to camp and think it over until
morning. From most places I could have gone upriver by paddling in the
slack water next to the cliffs and walking the talus slopes between, but
the current had been strong right to the Wall below Tuna Creek Rapid.
Over at the right, the channel was visibly rough while the water looked
smooth between two big rocks on the left. In the morning, I put one
mattress in my pack and draped myself transversely across the other. I
had time enough to kick myself into any chosen channel. When I found
myself going over the one with the smooth appearance, I saw why it was
so smooth. It dropped abruptly two or three feet on a number of rocks
that were hidden from my viewpoint, necessarily a distance upstream. I
stayed right side up on the mattress, but the water spun me so fast that
I didn't have time to fend away. I bruised my elbow on one rock and
scraped the mattress stiffly on both sides before I was out in the
clear. The deep water was eddying every which way, and I had to climb on
the mattress in paddling position before I could drive it out of that
pocket. This was rather difficult with my heavy pack, and I may have
stuck a finger nail through the rubberized nylon. At any rate I soon
realized that my raft was sinking slowly. I soon found the small tear
and fixed it with adhesive tape, but the mattress continued to leak
somewhere else. My other mattress had a slow leak before the trip began.
I could still navigate for an hour or so between rapids and then give
them some more air before pushing off again. But this experience sobered
me to the extent that I deided to leave the river at the Bass Trail.
Furthermore, below Crystal Creek, I had averaged less than one mile per
hour. I might have taken a chance on improving this speed, but my wet
socks chafed through the outer skin, and I was convinced. I also decided
that shorter trips are more to my liking than the lonesomeness of 11
days by myself.

So much for the navigation. On Thursday night I camped on the sand just
east of the mouth of Crystal Creek.The only drawback was the large red
ants. In the morning, I wrapped all but two days' supply of food in a
plastic sheet and left it in the shade of a large rock and started up
the creekbed. But first I found the Indian ruins Dock had told me about,
up on the high terrace to the west of the mouth. In about 40 minutes I
came to a place where chockstones had formed a fall, but there was a
neat bypass formed by deer and bighorn. Incidentally, I saw bighorn
tracks on the sand near Boucher Rapids as well as up Crystal and Dragon
Canyons. They seem to be as common as the deer in this area. In 75
minutes I came to the tributary from the west which comes from the bay
below Mencius Temple. Some water was flowing. I had maps for all the
areas I hoped to encounter during the trip except for Crystal and
Dragon. Now I mistook this for Crystal itself and left my blanket and
mattress above the creek on a bench. After walking about two and a half
hours from the river, I came to the real junction of Crystal and Dragon.
About half as much water comes from Crystal as from Dragon Creek, which
might let us conjecture that Harry McDonald would have continued up Dragon.

As you get into the lower Tapeats, the bed suddenly goes dry. I had to
back up a few yards to fill my canteen. The tributary coming from the
bay west of Shiva looks just as impressive at the junction as the main
bed which is somewhat choked with willows here. I went up the tributary
and when I had seen my error, I decided to climb out and get a view of
the country. Progress north over the detrital ridges was laborious, but
I could see that the main canyon was getting very narrow in the Tapeats
so I concluded that I should stay above the Tapeats rim. From here a
break in the Redwall was evident, about due north of the west end of
Shiva. There has been a lot of breakage of the Redwall, and a slump of
Supai Sandstone as well as limestone forms a ramp over the Bright Angel
Shale to the base of the Redwall. I continued along the top of the
Redwall until I could see into the bay north of Shiva. One could
probably get through all the higher formations clear around to the north
side of this bay, but it was already 1:30 p.m., so I turned back. This
may have been McDonald's route to the rim, but I would rather expect him
to go up the creekbed much farther before climbing out. Miles away in
the west arm of Dragon, the bed seemed to penetrate quite a bit of the
Redwall. Possibly the Stanton climbing party used this break in the
Redwall. At least there seemed to be no other break farther south. On
the return, I went to the bed of the creek and almost went to the lip of
the dry fall into the Tapeats gorge. A well developed deer and sheep
trail goes east around this barrier and descends by a break a quarter of
a mile downstream. There is a permanent spring in this upper portion of
the Tapeats gorge, but when I got to the bottom, it was supplemented by
a stiff rain which I sat out under an overhang with my magazine to pass
the time. When I reached my blanket, it was dripping wet, but by hanging
it on a mesquite near a fire, it got dry enough to use by midnight, the
earliest that I ever wanted cover during this warm season.

There were two ideas for the next day, to look at the bases of the Tower
of Ra and Osiris Temple, and if there was time, to go up Crystal Creek
far enough to see the valley above the Tapeats. The first chance to get
out of the lower gorge of Crystal is by the canyon draining the bay
between Ra and Osiris (wrong). I was able to get through the Tapeats at
a break on the south side about a half mile up from the main stream.
Here I found a piece of float copper ore that weighed considerably more
than ordinary sandstone. Perhaps I should have gone close to the Redwall
ravine north of Ra, but from my viewpoint, there didn't seem to be any
chance of climbing it. I started the return down the bottom of the bed,
but a fall halfway through the Tapeats forced me back out to the north
where I had seen that one could go to the bottom through the Hakatai
Shale which shows well here. The deeper rocks of this amphitheater seem
pretty complicated. It would take a real geologist to diagram all the
outcroppings of Base Limestone, Shinumo Quartzite, etc. For instance, on
the west side of Crystal, the Tapeats seems quite a bit higher than it
does on the east side.

The trip up Crystal was easy. The grade seemed a bit steeper and I got
into the Tapeats sooner than I had in Dragon. The inner gorge through
this sandstone is particularly striking for being narrow and deep. One
wall supported quite a growth of maidenhair fern. There were deer tracks
here which led me to think that one might get through without a block.
Just as the rims were getting low, there was a 20 foot fall which could
not be bypassed. The place had been so pretty and shady that I didn't
begrudge the time I had been there although I had to back up some
distance to get around the Tapeats. I went up on the west side, but I
could see from there that the easier way, marked by a deer trail, was on
the east. After going several hundred feet above the bed to get pictures
of the upper valley, I went back to the river in time to paddle down to
camp at the nameless ravine just west of Tuna. From the Tonto Trail
south of the river, I had seen a place where it seemed easy to get
through the Tapeats, but from below I couldn't locate it. I knew by now
that river travel would be slow, so I decided to call off the side trips
and concentrate on getting to Supai.

I have already described the rough ride through the barrier rocks just
below my camp. Another rapid that impressed me was the one about one
third mile upstream from Ruby, which seems to drop about four feet in
only 20 yards. At the low stage there seemed to be no channel. The rocks
appeared to be covered with not more than a foot of water in many
places. I wonder what the Sport Yak Party did here? The Sunday night
camp was at Serpentine and was early enough to relax. There had been no
ants at all on the sand on the south side of the river at Mile 99.4 and
only a few at the mouth of Serpentine.

In starting on the next morning, I thought I might see what Colin
Fletcher had done in going from Bass to Serpentine mostly on land. Even
when I tried the south slope to get below the lower part of the rapid, I
found it so slow that I got back in the water to reach the tail end of
the fast water. After a few more yards of walking, I got back into the
river for the next hour that brought me to Bass Rapids and the abandoned
metal boat. By steady paddling, I could make about a mile an hour. It
was still early in the day, but I knew it would be a long haul to get
from there to Hermit Rest so I decided to use Monday mostly to rest.

First I carried my pack to Bedrock Tank. I had never seen water here
before, but this time there was some dripping over the fall, and there
were small pools in the gravel below. There are still some tools cached
here from the days when Bass was alive. Something I hadn't noticed
before was a three inch pipe driven back into a crevice with a regular
valve fitting at the end. After stowing my gear where I thought it would
be safe both from rain and a flood, I found the trail up to the west and
visited the old copper mine in Copper Canyon. First I checked the trail,
still well preserved, that goes along the east wall above the mine.
After going north high in the schist, it starts down. When Cureton and
Finicum had been with me, we had left this trail when it started down.
This time I followed it down, but it soon ended.

There was less water in the vertical mine shaft than I had expected, but
there were rain pools in the creekbed. Instead of going on to the
Hakatai Cable as I had thought I might, I decided instead to loaf with
my magazine on the old cot in the mine shaft.

On Tuesday I reached the rim in four hours and 37 minutes and then
reached the car by 9:30 p.m. Mostly on the Bass Trail I just plodded
along expecting no surprises after the number of times I had covered it,
but once I stopped for a breather about where the west half map has the
name BASS for Bass Canyon, between the two bench marks. For the first
time, I saw a neat hole through the Supai rim at the top of the wall to
the east. I would estimate the hole to be about 10 feet across with
nearly 100 feet of solid rock above it. I wonder how well known this
window is? Another observation that broke the monotony was a rattlesnake
sunning itself on the trail in the Supai. It didn't rattle but casually
moved out of my way when I would have stepped on it in two more strides.

After scoring with that new to me window, I got careless and missed
seeing the Indian ruins near where the trail comes to the top of the
Coconino. Another thing that I missed this time were the dams in the
creekbed at the top of the Coconino which Bass had built to catch water.
If they are going to conduct nature hikes part way down the Bass Trail,
as Marge Goff had said, the guide might do well to locate these
interesting old structures. The authorities might also have to worry
about the state of the road near the last part on the way to Bass Camp.
It is in much worse condition now than it was a year and a half ago and
I would think an ordinary car might have trouble on it.

The burro situation seems about the same as I have known it. I saw
tracks near the mouth of Boucher and there were two burros browsing
below the Redwall along the Hermit Trail. There were no signs in the
Crystal Dragon Basin. There were signs at the mouth of Serpentine, and
plenty of tracks in Bass and Copper Canyons. I heard them bray in both
of these canyons.

*North Rim trip off Cape Royal and to the Indian ruins near Point Sublime
[August 22, 1964 to August 26, 1964]*

The first thing I did was to drive to Kanab where I finally connected
with Preston Swapp. I am a little skeptical when old timers are glib
with all details concerning some exploit that happened 20 or 30 years
before. Preston was realistically vague and confused about many points.
First he thought they had followed the top of the wall connecting Cape
Royal to Wotan's Throne, 500 feet below their tops. When I pointed out
the deep notch, he agreed that they must have gone along the shale on
the east side of the wall. He didn't remember much about where they came
back up the Coconino, but he agreed with my suggestion that it was at
the southwest end right under Wotan. He reread the Andrews' article and
studied the pictures before he pointed to the ridge that he thought they
had climbed, the one directly above the end of the wall. He disagreed
with the idea that they had left several fixed ropes for the return. He
thought there was only one, whereas Wood, in the American Alpine
Journal, lists about six. Swapp remembers very clearly that they did get
on top, but agrees that they stayed on top only a short time, just long
enough for him to go over to the south rim and get water. He also
remembers distinctly that he found a very old and rusty tin can on top
near where he found the water. He says they slept another night at the
base of the Coconino below Cape Royal. He has no recollection of
Andrews' narrow escape, but figures that George stepped on some loose
gravel and sat down once. He thought that he himself showed up better on
that kind of climbing than the others, and he says he was opposed all
the time to being tied to the rest on the final climb to the top. He
didn't like the idea of one man pulling all the rest with him. My
impression was that he honestly didn't remember much about the trip
except that they did get to the top. I don't think that he was covering
up for the others who claimed the ascent, but I would have preferred an
informant who could remember a few more details about how they did
things. He didn't know about climbing a rope by the Prusik method. His
impression was that he had gone up about everything without a rope at all.

By the time I had visited with some of the rangers and secured a permit
to climb Wotan on Monday, there was not much left of Sunday. I did go
down along the top of the Coconino from the campground north to the
ranger village but couldn't see anything that looked like a passage.
Maybe there is a break farther to the south. I should check this before
I say that it takes an awfully good climber to make it through here. One
of the fire fighting maintenance men, Jim Fain, said that a man he knows
came up out of the Transept and surprised a couple girls who were taking
sun baths in the nude.

Sunday night, after seeing the movie on the upriver trip in the jet
boats, I drove out to the Walhalla Glades parking and slept just above
where I wanted to go down Monday morning. By 6:30 a.m., I was on my way
with eight quarts of water and a 120 foot rope. The way down to the
rappel was just as I had remembered it, a little brushy, plenty of loose
rocks, and a couple places that require a short chimney climb. The place
I tied the rope must have been the same as it was two years ago, a clump
of pale hoptrees. (Identification due to Ed Rothfuss who came down on
Tuesday to help me retrieve the rope.) It seemed solid enough, but I had
a qualm or two when I was in mid air halfway down. Another thing I
should remember is that the new rope, one half inch in diameter went
through the carabineer more easily with the same three turns around the
metal than did the old rope which was five eighths inch in diameter.
When I was about 15 feet from the bottom hanging free of the wall, the
rope began to slide through the ring faster than I wanted it to. I
suppose I could have gripped the rope with my left hand hard enough to
stop it, but I let it slide at an accelerating pace and was a little
surprised that my hand wasn't burned by the time I hit the bottom. I was
glad this hadn't happened on the rappel that seemed a lot higher below
Cape Royal. I should have had a practice session with the new rope.

At the bottom of the rappel, I filled my two quart canteen from the
Purex bottle and left that behind. I thought that six quarts from here
on would be plenty when I would find plenty at the foot of the rope to
get me up on the return. This trip from the rim to the Hermit Shale had
taken two hours compared to the one and a quarter hours I had logged on
my trip with Allyn Cureton two years ago. Walking the shale slope seemed
rather discouraging this time, and I wanted to change my view that it
had seemed safer than traveling the Nankoweap Trail near the top of the
Supai. I reached the base of the wall connecting Cape Royal to Wotan in
only five minutes more than I had taken with Allyn, but I felt weak and
lacking ambition. At the time I thought that it was my age finally
getting to me, but later I decided it was probably my head cold. Anyway,
the water went so fast during an early lunch that I decided to turn
back. The return to the rope was made at a very leisurely speed, and I
saw some good fossil footprints in a loose block of Coconino just before
I reached the ravine. After a slow and sloppy job of Prusiking, I got up
the rope and pulled my pack up, this operation taking an hour and a
quarter. I was so sure I never wanted to do anything like this again
that I left the rope where it was. After cleaning up, eating, and
sleeping; I was ready to reconsider. Ed Rothfuss was off duty, and I got
him to go back with me to see the ravine and encourage me while I
brought the rope out. He was following me about 80 and 60 feet below the
rim when he spotted two sets of pictographs. They were in red clay on
light parts of the Kaibab under overhangs. Some of the designs were
quite familiar, but there were a number of odd drawings like a grid of
city streets. Rothfuss then took me to the southwest corner of the
campground and showed me the way down to a small platform ruin that I
think our family visited 18 years ago. A good many girls who work at the
lodge had known all about this ruin, but none of the rangers knew where
it was until Rothfuss looked for it a few days before.

Before we parted, Ed told me how to find the ruin I had heard was out
near Point Sublime. Quite a number of the rangers had visited it just
this summer. About two and a half miles north of Point Sublime are
several cairns on the east side of the road. Since you have to walk
about ten minutes to get to the rim, they can all be regarded as
correct. To get an idea of what you are trying to do, it is well to
study the rim from the Point Sublime picnic area. About a mile and a
half to the north, the rim turns east. There are a couple ravines or
breaks where one can go down through the Kaibab here, and the
southwesterly one is the place. A cairn marks the immediate spot on the
rim where you should start down. On Wednesday morning, I drove out to
Point Sublime and then found the ruins within 40 minutes of leaving the
car. I did foul up a little and went down one dead end ravine. The next
one south went down through the Kaibab nicely with a good deer trail.
Near its head, I found two sherds and brought the best one away for
identification. Since the ruin was not around the corner to the south, I
went across the next ravine and found it, a row of neat granaries and a
small chamber on the ledge below. Some daredevils have climbed from the
top of a juniper on a couple boards to a higher ledge. (Lex Lindsay
identified the sherd as Dogoszhi black on white, 1050 ad.)

My cold kept me from wanting to do any real hiking, so I went home
Wednesday afternoon.

*Point Sublime, Dragon, Shiva Saddle, and Salt Water Wash
[August 31, 1964 to September 3, 1964]*

Dirk Springorum the German geology student who went with me on several
trips last year, was back at the Museum and he accepted my invitation to
go with me back to the north rim.

We got our permit at the ranger station announcing as the principal
objective to find the location of the route from Point Sublime to Tuna
Creek. I had studied the route from the map and from distant views from
the south rim and thought it would be easy to go down a mile north and
west to the rim. From there we thought we could proceed to the saddle
between Flint and Tuna Creeks and walk down easily into Tuna. On Monday
afternoon we spent several hours looking at the area. We could get down
to the top of the Coconino at the place I had picked. In a couple places
the Coconino was partially broken or covered by a talus, but we decided
that it wasn't safe without a rope, and I wanted a ropeless route. Below
Point Sublime the Coconino and Supai would be easy, and one could get
below the Kaibab by way of the big ravine to the west (farther west than
the one through which the road runs). We could not be a bit sure of the
route through the Redwall. The drop from the Flint Tuna saddle is much
steeper than I had thought from the road on the way out, we left after a
good night at the picnic area.

The route we wanted to look at came down on the west side of the Dragon.
The morning light made the Redwall seem more difficult than it had in
the afternoon. There would be a lot of manzanita on the way down. While
studying it from the viewpoint where the road nicks the rim of Crystal,
we changed our minds again. We decided to walk on the Dragon and
possibly attempt an ascent of the Dragon's Head. I told Dirk that I
wouldn't set my heart on that one since I had been getting frustrated so
often lately. We found the fire road to the basin in good shape. About
the time I thought we might be getting into position for a take off to
the Dragon, we found red paint blazes marking a trail this way, so it
was safe to conclude that we had found the right route. It is quite hard
to identify the various ravines shown on the map so we were quite
grateful to have the paint and later yellow plastic ribbons to follow.
The route goes south from the road at Crystal Ridge, then veers west
across Milk Creek rather near the rim. You dip rather low through the
scrub oak on the east side of the first spine of rock outcrops. At the
south end of this spine there are no more trail markers, but it seems
sure that you are supposed to go to the west of the next spine. We kept
high here which put us into locust thickets. On the way back, we found a
fair deer trail below the thickets, except that we had to fight our way
through scrub oak at the saddle to get back on the marked trail. Before
we got to the steep climb up on the Dragon, we found the deer trail. It
took 105 minutes to get from the car to the top of the Dragon.

Once on the Dragon, we soon found supplies for fire fighters hanging
from a tree, some of which were wrapped in a couple parachutes. One red
parachute was still high up where it had caught in a tree. The smoothest
walking south along the Dragon is first to the west rim and then to the
east rim. The walk takes about 45 minutes. You get down from the south
end of the Dragon on the east side just before you reach the tip. The
deer trail then switches over to the west side of the ridge south to
Dragon's Head. We lost the trail as we approached the rock ledges below
the Head. To climb the Head, you go where most of the green shows from a
distance, but there are still some ledges. We may have found the only
climbable break at one place. You seem to have to go up, turn left, up
again, and then right to a debris filled ravine leading to the top. I
have done harder climbs, but I was glad Dirk was along to bolster my
morale. It took four hours to get back from the top of the Head to the
car. There seemed to be no cairns on top, but we built two small ones,
the first where we topped out and the other at what we considered to be
the highest point, near the north end. It didn't take long to walk the
rim and get some pictures. From the top of Dragon's Head, we had a fine
view of the Redwall route I had ascended north of Shiva Temple on the
east side of Dragon Creek. We could also see a very probable route down
into Dragon Creek from the saddle between Shiva and the north rim. We
decided to inspect this on Wednesday. After getting the view from Tiyo
Point, we first parked about a mile to the north. Then I thought we
could drive closer if we used the fork marked Shiva Xp Pt. This was
harder to follow than it had been in 1957 and I thought that we would
certainly have trouble finding the car at its end. We went back and
parked on the Tiyo Point road. It took 40 minutes to cross the various
ravines and reach the point of departure which is just east of the
ravine that is east of the promontory reaching toward Shiva Temple.
Getting down and crossing this ravine to the ridge is the rough part,
but there is a good deer trail along the east side of the ridge. We lost
the trail and fumbled in getting started down the Coconino. You have to
get below the top cliff at the end, but don't start down through the
lowest part of the Toroweap into the Coconino until you are over to the
west. There is a fair trail through the top of the Coconino down to the
talus where no trail is needed.

We first checked the draw at the north end of the saddle. After going
below the top cliff of Supai, we were baffled by the second. Then we
went to the south end and found that the way down is easy at the north
edge of this bay. The whole Supai is broken down and covered with a
talus below this place, and the Redwall even looks very fair. However,
if there is any difficulty in the ravine itself, one could go along the
top and reach the place where I had come up before. If McDonald was
using his eyes, he would have come up this way. Dirk found a couple
pieces of very poorly preserved pottery on the saddle nearby, and on our
way back I showed him the first mescal pit that is just to the north of
the red rocks which are at the south end of the saddle.

We also saw a very probable alternate route into Dragon Creek. It is
from the tip of Little Dragon down into the west of Dragon Creek. There
is a lot of manzanita on this route.

On Thursday we broke up our trip home with a walk to the Colorado River
down Salt Water Wash as described by Pat Reilly. I had neglected to
bring his instructions and we made about all the mistakes in the
approach that he did. We didn't climb the point and see the row of
monuments until we were out of the canyon. We drove the Jeep too far
along the top toward the river and tried one side wash that didn't lead
to the bottom. Then we drove across country around to the south of this
drainage and found the trail going down. Dirk was leading most of the
time and he went so fast down the bed of the wash that we didn't locate
the trail along the talus to the west until we were coming out. At the
drop near where the shale begins, he climbed down past the chockstones
while I found the trail around to the west. On the wide slope to the
river, I found a few cairns high on the west side, but the old trail was
so eroded that I could make better time by joining Dirk in the bed. We
got down from the car to the Colorado River in 62 minutes, and using
more of the trail, from the river to the car in 100 minutes. On the way
out, Dirk spotted three sticks placed near the ceiling of a shallow
cave. Together they formed a sort of shelf, and Indians may have tried
to keep food away from rodents up here. It was similar to the device
near the driftwood platform in Marble Canyon. We enjoyed a swim, rather
cold, and a rest at the river which was running clear. We found a board
which had been painted and nailed to a shovel handle and propped up by
rocks. We wondered whether this was the memorial to Brown, the president
of D.G.C. and P. Railroad.

It was a good four days, and it left me with a desire to go back for more.

*Tanner Wash
[September 19, 1964]*

I stopped at Bitter Springs gas station and had a chat with Leroy
Arnold, the manager. He had never been to the sinkhole, Ah Hol Sa, but
he suggested leaving the highway about a quarter of a mile to the north.
The side road appears to be headed for a couple of hogans, but just
before it reaches the first, there is a branch turning north. It goes
right to Ah Hol Sa without a fork and it ends there. Arnold said that he
understood the sinkhole to be a half mile across and 500 feet deep. It
took me eight minutes to make the circuit about 30 feet away from the
rim, so I figure that it is about 500 feet across and about 150 feet
deep. The place to climb down is at a break on the west side. It looked
bad enough to scare me away when I was by myself without a rope. The
bottom is generally covered with clay and rather smooth except for a
hole in the clay over to the west and several big blocks of limestone
near the northeast. There are a couple of drainage channels toward these
blocks.

The next part of my plan was to head for the river along the right rim
of Tanner Wash to get the picture of what the lower portion of the bed
is like. I could see where the narrow part of the wash ended abruptly at
cliffs near the top of the Hermit Shale. A steep talus goes along the
base of the Kaibab and appears to connect with the creekbed farther
south. I could see a definite place where a broad talus connected this
upper bench with the bed of the wash below all obstructions. I knew that
one cannot go down the bed through the Supai to the river, but from the
rim I could see that one can go upstream along the top of the Supai
about a half mile to a break where you can make it through to the river
(false, two and a half miles to Salt Water Wash). Thus the entire route
down Tanner Wash to the river depended on one's chance of getting down
the bed far enough to reach the bench below the Kaibab. It took less
than an hour to walk back from the point overlooking the river to the
end of the road at Ah Hol Sa.

I drove the Jeep back heading several drainages until I could see the
Bitter Springs settlement and parked again. Heading west, I soon came to
a large cairn and went down into this streambed. In about 20 minutes
from the car, I came to the main bed of Tanner Wash. Near the junction
is a stretch of improved trail for sheep.The attraction isn't hard to
find. As soon as the Kaibab Formation is passed, there are abundant
pools of water. These continue at frequent intervals and many of them
are quite deep. I saw no fish and not even a tadpole. The summer floods
must have cleaned them out. I had even seen pools in the lower valley
deep in the shale. There were very few places where one couldn't have
scrambled up one side or the other in case a flood started to come down
from above. I have been in many worse places for being trapped by a
flood. I continued until I was well down in the Coconino, but I was
finally stopped by some climbing that might have been possible for a
very agile person who could count on a companion going for a rope in
case of difficulty. You can't see out into the broad part of the canyon
below at this point, and I felt that there were other difficulties ahead
before one would reach the place where the broad view is possible.

Retracing my steps about 200 yards, I was able to climb to the bench at
the base of the Kaibab Limestone. The walking here was without any signs
of a deer trail, but one could go about as easily as along the Hermit
Shale below Cape Royal or many other steep rock strewn slopes in the
Grand Canyon. In less than half an hour, I was around the bend looking
down on the broad lower canyon. If the Glanton Party left the bed and
did this, they could have felt that they were looking down on the Grand
Canyon, but still they couldn't see water. If they were eager to see the
canyon, it would have been much easier to keep on top of the plateau
where there are many viewpoints for seeing the river itself. From where
I turned back, one can't see the talus that leads on to the bed below.
This route may be possible on both sides, but the one I am sure of is on
the west side. Thus Jackass, Salt Water, and Tanner all furnish routes
away from the river, but the length of the walk gets longer each time
you go farther west. I would estimate that you could walk from the water
a half mile upstream from Sheerwall Rapid to the plateau by way of
Tanner Wash in about four hours.

*To the Colorado River below President Harding Rapid and the pole platform
[September 20, 1964]*

Tibbetts and Grua went up beyond the bridge and were stopped. Then they
came out from Buck Spring Canyon and climbed down to where only 20 feet
separated them from completion of the route. (Finally, they climbed all
the way up.)

After sleeping in the Jeep where Eminence Break meets the rim, I got an
early start Sunday morning. Care must be exercised constantly on the
loose footing, but I reached the fossil footprints on the huge blocks of
Coconino in 35 minutes. I was a little surprised to find a solitary
woodpecker down here drilling on a dead stalk of agave. In 20 more
minutes I reached my inconspicuous cairn that marks where you can turn
out of the bed below the top cliffs of Supai on the east and find better
walking. I couldn't make up my mind whether to stay high and head the
small canyon in the Redwall or whether to go on down into the bed of the
wash and go below this Redwall cleft. Finally, I compromised and kept
going down but farther to the south than I had before. This took me
along the base of the Redwall on my left. The route turned out to be the
best yet. Not far from where this route brought me back to the bed of
the main wash from where I had started down, I found a mescal pit. It
was unlike most in that there were very few stones in a pile, but there
was a distinct circle with a good bit of charcoal lying around. After I
had gone to the bottom and gotten out above the Redwall on the other
side of the converging drainages, I found some tracks of men's boots.
There seemed to be more than one person. They were coming away from the
river. I didn't follow them far, and I saw no more tracks except from
deer all day. I don't see how my own tracks could have lasted from a
year ago through the winter frosts and all the storms. The route down
the final pitch into the inner canyon was quite perceptible most of the
time and there were places where men had lined up rocks beside the trail
and had built several cairns. (It took me 127 minutes to go down and 165
minutes to come back up.)

After getting the word from several people that the Platform of Poles
was in plain sight from the river, I studied the wall in the general
region where I knew it must be until I could see it from the left bank.
It was as high as I had thought, about 250 feet above the water, but it
was farther to the west than I had been looking last year. The
impression, obtained from Gordon Denipah, that one goes right by the
cave with the stick fitted below the ceiling, was erroneous. The
separation of the routes is quite a bit below the cave and to the west.
It was just a steep scramble to the crack where Euler must have turned
back. No boost was necessary, just routine wriggling to get up through
this crack. I had left my knapsack and even my canteen at the river
after making the crossing on the air mattress. Footing above the crack
was sometimes precarious and the exposure was a bit nerve racking. As
one approached the platform, there was only an 18 inch wide ledge at one
point. Knowing that Denipah had done this, I was encouraged to continue.
There was one discrepancy between Denipah's account and my experience.
Gordon said that he got a plain view of the platform from about 15 feet
away but was unable to get any closer. I don't understand his
difficulty. When you get that close, you can continue to the brink right
above the platform. I didn't do it, but I feel that I could have lain on
my stomach and allowed my feet to slide down until they touched the
poles. I was strong in my impression that these poles were driftwood
from the river. They were all rather straight and were juniper if I am a
judge (Grua and Ellen Tibbetts crossed and climbed beyond). The main
supporting poles had been cut to the right lengths to fit the natural
nitches in the rock. The largest one was farthest out and was about five
inches in diameter. A number of these had been blown out of place. Extra
poles were clustered towards the east side, leaving a big gap on the
outside to the west. I could see one small pole lying on the rocks 80
feet below. When I was through taking about five pictures from the ledge
to the east and above the platform, I retraced the route down and went
below for another picture. Lying here was a pole of the same material
from which I sawed a foot long sample for further study. (A Ph.D in
forestry says the wood is cottonwood.)

This platform could be quite ancient (770 ad using Carbon 14 dating at
the University of Michigan) because it is protected from all but the
most oblique rain by a large projecting slab of rock. It can hardly be
called a bridge since one can't go a yard past it on the west side and
the surface of the rock gives no sign of any recent fall. My conjecture
is that it might have been a place for meditation. (Grua and Tibbetts
crossed and climbed out.)

*Salt Trail Canyon
[October 10, 1964 to October 11, 1964]*

The most unusual thing about this trip was the personnel: Marshall
Demick from New York City, Dirk Springorum from Germany, John O'Brian
from England, and Bodil Helt from Denmark. We reached the head of the
trail about 11:00 a.m. but first we walked along the rim to look
directly into Salt Trail Canyon from above. I had the idea that the
trace of a road would lead us to a point between Salt Trail Canyon and
Big Canyon from which we could take pictures directly down the Little
Colorado River, but we stopped the car too soon for that.

We soon saw that Miss Helt was going to slow us down a little, but she
kept up a fair speed until we got to the Supai Sandstone. Here Marshall
went to the west side of the wash to skirt a small cliff. I took the
rest along the marked trail up under the cliff along the east side. At
one place the trail seemed to be gone and since Marshall seemed to be
making better time than the rest of us along the bottom of the wash, I
led the rest down to join him. This was a mistake as we found on the
return. The trail below the top Supai cliff down to the cross over at
the start of the Redwall is mostly rather good. We found plenty of water
in pools in the bed although it hadn't rained for several weeks. Bodil
became quite tired about the time we reached the beginning of the
Redwall and crossed to the west rim and Marshall carried her pack in
addition to his own.

I had just read the paper by Titiev in the 1937 American Anthropologist,
but I couldn't make any more positive identification of landmarks than I
had before. We found three places where pilgrims had piled small rocks
on the top of big ones, quite close together, a little north of the
place where the trail starts down the Redwall. These small stones are
mostly chert, but they come from the vicinity and not from the rim as I
once had thought. We noticed the name J. D. Baumgartner, USGS, 6/8/52.
Another date without a name was scratched on a rock higher up the trail,
5/7/58. We appreciated the frequent cairns all along the trail
especially for the Redwall descent. The Little Colorado was flowing a
light tan on Saturday, but before we left on Sunday, it was a milky blue.

A mouse chewed pile of prospector's supplies was just above the high
watermark at the east edge of the delta. There were cans of tomatoes,
many cans of Vienna sausages, a pan or two, two sleeping bags looking
quite new, and farther upstream a stout nylon rope tied around a clump
of willows. The rope was buried under sand and mud in several places. We
had a good time swimming and swapping stories around the fire. In the
morning Dirk and John went on down river to the Colorado for a week of
geologizing. I walked upstream to take some pictures, and Bodil and
Marshall started out about 75 minutes ahead of me. We all got out in
good shape.

Something that interested me was the travertine. Some of the wood that
had been cemented into the travertine was still there. Perhaps it had
once been entirely sealed in, and only recently been exposed by further
erosion. The level of this travertine was at least 15 feet above the
present river level. It would be interesting to know how old the wood
could be without rotting away. (Travertine dams were cut by the flood of
1923.)

*Steamboat Mountain
[October 17, 1964]*

A student, Marshall Demick, went with me to Swamp Point Friday evening
and we slept next to the car. Both of us were wide awake by 5:30 on
Saturday morning and we were going down the trail to the saddle by 6:00
a.m. The cabin just west of the saddle had one broken window and two
were swinging open. We were able to follow the old trail to Powell
Spring, but it is getting rather overgrown with maples. The scarlet
leaves were mostly on the ground and past their prime, but there were
streaks on the hillsides, especially below the Coconino, that were a
deep pink for a half mile at a time.

At the end of the trail, the best walking was along the bed of the wash,
but there were places where it was a fight to make any progress. There
are several drops in the bed after one gets into the Supai. The upper
ones are minor and can be detoured by only a short scramble through the
brush to the side. The lower half of the Supai is something else. You
can detour to either side, but you have to walk along the steep benches
through rather bad brush occasionally for 25 minutes until you can get
down. We went to the south this time instead of to the north as I had
with Jerry Bortle in 1962. We doubled back to a slide near the head of a
canyon tributary to the south but we later saw that we could have
continued west and descended the point where the two arms come together.

We went down the bed of this southern arm and continued down Saddle
Canyon bypassing an upper fall in the Redwall where it becomes the bed.
After we looked at the narrows where the stream has cut into the high
Redwall on the north side of the fault, we went back and up to the top
of the ridge to the south where the deer get by the barrier falls in the
Redwall narrows. From the top of this bypass, we continued up the slope
to the south and broke through the brush into the pinyon pine and
juniper forest that covers the Hermit Shale. It was tiring but not
difficult to climb the talus that reaches up on the Coconino at the
northeast corner of the mountain. At the place where the Coconino looked
possible, we found that we were not mistaken. I left my extra jug of
water and Marshall left, against my advice, all his food and water at
the base of the Coconino. As I had predicted, he was drinking from my
canteen before we returned. The break in the Coconino was so obvious
from below that I neglected to build a cairn at the top of the break. On
the return I walked right by the place and had to go out on a point to
look before I learned about the mistake.

To get up the Toroweap cliff, we went southeast. We were able to get up
by an obscure crack before we had gone as far as a place that was
obviously broken down. On the return I was glad to find the cairn I
built at the top of this route. From a distance, going up the Kaibab
cliff had seemed sure if we got close in this direction. We found trees
growing quite high on the slope, but in most of the ravines along here,
there is an impassible 30 foot wall at the top. I picked one that I
thought might have a crack out of sight at the top and Marshall went to
inspect the next one to the west. I should have put my canteen in the
pack and then worn the pack in front. Instead, I put both at the base of
the crack and chimney climbed past a chockstone and got up only to find
that Marshall was stopped at the top of this ravine. I told him to come
up mine while I proceeded to explore the top of the mountain. The valley
that separated the north rim from the main part of the summit goes down
to the west right through the Kaibab. One can walk around to the west
side and simply walk up into this valley. When I went back to met
Marshall who should have been on top by then, I found that he had gone
past my break to the next ravine east and was stopped again. He is from
New York City. He has plenty of stamina but he showed on numerous
occasions that he has little sense of orientation and routes. I told him
about the easy way to the west and I climbed down to retrieve my pack
and water while he waited at the bottom of my ravine. We walked west
past the first ravine he had tried.The very next one looked interesting
to me. First I thought it would be possible, and then I became
skeptical. When I got near the top, I found that there was a break
filled with big rocks. We could climb through a hole behind a
chockstone. Marshall handed me my pack and canteen and I could put them
ahead of me through the hole. By this time it was getting later than we
liked and we just built a cairn and took some pictures from the highest
point.

As I had guessed I would, I liked the views from the top of Steamboat
Mountain as well as any in the entire park. Stone Creek and the Middle
Granite Gorge were especially fine. The Redwall overhang in the Tapeats
tributary containing the main spring was impressive. In Stina Canyon and
also in Saddle Canyon we could see streaks of bright green foliage
coming down from the base of the Coconino, probably indicating springs.
There were numerous creases in the slopes lined with the color of the
maples.

I had marked the rim above my chimney climb with a cairn, but we walked
down the open valley to the west through the woods to the top of the
Toroweap and kept to this level as we went north and then southeast. The
walking was relatively easy but it was further and we lost time compared
to our approach route. It began to rain on us here and for the next hour
we became increasingly wetter. We found the cairns marking the top of
our route through the Toroweap, but I overshot the place where we were
to descend the Coconino by a few yards. We went down the formation and
came to the talus 20 yards southeast of my jacket and Marshall's water
and pack. We considered staying on the Esplanade in the junipers leading
to Powell Plateau, and I now feel sure we would have made better time if
we had done so. We actually went down to the bed of Saddle Canyon over
the same route we had used on the approach. Instead of going up the
short canyon to the south and climbing out above the Supai, I led the
way a short distance into the canyon toward Fire Point and then up above
a couple of the Supai walls. I leveled off above a cliff that I thought
was above all the barriers in the bed of Saddle Canyon. When we reached
the bed, we found that there was one major fall above us, and the only
way out was to retrace the route we had been following for 20 minutes.
It was just getting dark and both of us were tired and wet. I had
thought that we would keep on going after dark, but breaking through the
wet brush for several hours didn't appeal. Instead, we located a dry
overhang and gathered firewood for the night. Marshall had plenty of dry
matches in a can and we stayed rather snug with a small fire warming the
one who was lying right in front of it. We took shifts stoking the fire
and sleeping. I slept about four half hour stretches, but Marshall made
much better use of his hour shifts on our dusty bed.

We still had some of the six quarts of water I had carried from the car,
and we also had rain pockets in the bedrock. Food was no problem either
since both of us were carrying enough for breakfast. On Sunday morning
we backtracked for 20 minutes and climbed to the right height to pass
the barrier before going back to the bed. It was routine slogging to get
to the car by 10:00 a.m. It was a fine climb and I believe it could be
done in a day with the improvements I could now make in our route. As it
was, we left the car at six and I was on top by twelve, but I could cut
an hour from that time by turning out of Saddle Canyon to the south when
we first encountered falls in the Supai. One could head the arm that
comes down from Powell Plateau and stay on the saddle from Powell over
to Steamboat. We could thus avoid the climb back up from the top of the
Redwall and also avoid the brush by staying in the junipers.

*Phantom Canyon
[November 25, 1964 to November 26, 1964]*

Dick Jacobson and I walked down the Kaibab Trail to Bright Angel
Campground in two hours even and took the usual 45 minute lunch stop. He
had done the rim to rim to rim hike with considerable walking at night
in fine shape, but before long I could see that he wasn't too
enthusiastic with the scree slope walking up to the break in the Tapeats
northwest of the campground. In walking over to the saddle east of
Cheops, we refreshed my memory of the most dense and broadest spread of
all sorts of small cacti I know of. Jake got a spike into his shoe. On
the Phantom side of the divide, we didn't drop down soon enough and I
didn't hit the deer trail as soon as I should have. It comes down to the
streambed only a little way upstream from the waterfall, just as soon as
there is a passage through the Tapeats cliff. The horse trail from the
northeast, from Bright Angel Creek upstream from the granite narrows,
comes down to the bed of Phantom at least a quarter of a mile upstream
from here. I didn't go up here to check the old campsite under the
overhang, but I am sure that this is where it is. We took two and a half
hours to reach Phantom Creek from Bright Angel Campground and another
half hour to go from here to the bedroll cache a few hundred yards up
Haunted Canyon. It was only four o'clock, but we stopped for the night
here and enjoyed an early supper.

As usual, my young companion could sleep much later than I and we got an
eight o'clock start. Half in the water, we found a rather recently
killed deer eaten down to the skeleton, possibly the work of a mountain
lion assisted in the clean up by coyotes. There was no water in the bed
above the region of seep springs about halfway from the end of Haunted
and the fork in upper Phantom. In the shale above the fork, a little
water was flowing.

We could see the place where we wanted to try the ascent of the Redwall,
about 100 yards to the southeast of the notch which drains the east side
of Shiva. I started up the talus too soon and discovered my mistake when
it would have meant a long downward detour unless we kept on up to a
ledge which led across to the right place. Soon the climbing began and
it was about as steep and exposed as I have ever done, and I might have
turned back if Jack had expressed concern or if I had been by myself.
However, the rock was rough and offered good finger holds when we took
our time and looked for them. Good ledges broke the serious climbing
about every 12 feet during the steep 60 feet that put us on the easy
ledge going over to the notch. When I had looked down from above on my
way from the Isis saddle to the Shiva saddle, I couldn't see how one
could get up from the lowest part of the notch to the wooded broken
level. When we came around the corner now, we were above the difficult
part and had a choice of routes out to the top of the Redwall. As was to
be expected, I had more trouble descending. At one place I let myself
down holding only by my hands and had to pull up again when I couldn't
find a foothold. A foot had a half to the north there was a good step
below. On the return we went directly down the talus to the shale bed of
the west arm of Phantom. This arm ends in a high fall a few hundred
yards to the north.

Dick had stabbed his leg on an agave during our climb and this affected
his ambition. When we were in the drainage below Buddha Temple on our
way back to Bright Angel Creek by the old horse trail, he wanted to
leave me and return to Phantom Ranch right down the draw to Phantom
Creek. He wanted to wait at the Ranch for me to get through with my trip
up the Transept. I had to tell him that I was rather sure he could not
reach the bed of Phantom by that route and that the closest way was to
continue. He was a bit discouraged Thursday afternoon, especially when
he slipped and landed in a small cactus and most of all when he lost his
glasses as we were fording Bright Angel Creek. I turned south with him
and we slept at the campground two creek crossings north of the Ranch.

On the way out, I met Dewey Wildoner and Donald Davis with whom I had
been corresponding. Jacobson got back his pep on Friday and we made it
to the rim in good time under a beautiful clear sky. I had met some
interesting people and had learned that one can go over to Dragon Creek
via the Shiva Saddle.

*Down Peach Springs Wash to the Colorado River
[December 30, 1964 to December 31, 1964]*

Instead of asking directions to the road down Peach Springs Wash, I just
drove off the highway in the general direction and found the good road
past the pumping station which ends (at this time) at a gravel pit. When
I was ten minutes away from the car, I found the narrow road that goes
to the corral. At first I began to go after the car but I changed my
mind again and proceeded on foot. It was not my four wheel drive Jeep,
and I thought that the extra time for driving back and starting over
might not be warranted. At the end of the trip, I watched for the fork
where I should have turned off the wide road. It is up on the plateau
about one and a half miles from the highway (false now). I noticed that
where I parked was 6.1 miles from the highway and 1200 feet lower. If I
had taken the right road, I could have driven about two miles farther
than I did, but beyond that, the road has rough places that would be
better in a power wagon. The best way to get to the corral would be
along the bottom of the wash. A road has been bladed along the flats
east of the wash, but floods have cut it. Walking time from the gravel
pit to the corral was two hours and from there to the river about four
and a half. It takes about a half hour along Diamond Creek itself.

Peach Springs Wash was a remarkable contrast to all other approaches to
the bottom of the canyon I had ever seen. The route can be described as
consisting of four parts and a broad upper bowl where the good road
ends. On the road down the wash, you soon come to a fence with a wire
strand gate. Here the road goes over a low ridge while the wash detours
through a narrow canyon to the west. In a quarter of a mile, you come
out into a broad valley surrounded by easy slopes and some exposed
cliffs. After a couple miles through this valley, you turn slightly to
the right and enter the section that goes nearly straight for mile after
mile. This seems to be determined by a great fault.The disparity of the
formations seems to indicate that the east wall is several hundred feet
higher than the west. I would like to know more about the geology of
this area. Igneous rocks on the east seem to overlie more limestone, but
before you get to the bed of Diamond Creek, both sides show granite.
There are several side canyons which might offer access to the bottom,
but mostly the walls are formed by tiers of sheer cliffs. The Redwall
near the top has the usual Grand Canyon coloration, but most of the
walls are nondescript desert drab. The bed of the wash is as broad as
though a big river had been here and the slope is uncanningly uniform
for the 17 estimated miles I walked to the river. If any great blocks
ever fell from these cliffs, they have either weathered away or have
been buried under gravel and small boulders. The final section, the bed
of Diamond Creek, was also an evenly graded slope of gravel and small
boulders, but it is much narrower, and I believe that floods
occasionally cover it from wall to wall.

I could orient myself on the Williams Quad map when I came to the
opposed side canyons, Halls to the east and Lost Man to the west. The
corral and spring are about three fourths of a mile up canyon from this
place. I was looking for cottonwoods to show where the spring is, but
there is nothing more luxuriant than a thick grove of mesquite. The
spring is just below a small shale ledge and is quite easy to locate
since burro trails go right to it from both gates of the corral. At
present the gates are wide open, but I could tell that they had been
built to allow burros or other stock to go toward the water but the
poles would come together and trap the animals in the corral. I saw
numerous burros on both days.

On the terrace near the junction of Diamond Creek and Peach Springs
Wash, there are mortar free walls of water smoothed boulders. They are
placed along the rim of the terrace and appear to be barricades to
protect a camp from possible flood waters rather than the foundations
for buildings. Lying nearby are a few old weathered two by fours, about
three old steel mesh cots, and a very large pile of rusty cans. I
recognized a part of a stove. I wonder whether the Farley Hotel was just
a tent camp. (I found out later that the hotel was a frame building.) On
the return I noticed a better built wall coming out from the cliff about
ten minutes walk upstream from this junk at the junction. It is about
two and a half feet high and comes out about 30 feet from the wall and
ends where the stream has cut into the terrace.

Near the campsite at the east side of Peach Springs Wash, just where it
reaches Diamond Creek, I could see where men had cut through the edge of
the terrace to get a wagon down to the water in Diamond, but for the
rest of the way to the river, I couldn't recognize anything like a
trail. One just walks the bed and hops the water numerous times. I
watched for Leo Brown's rock pile but I didn't see it.

On the sand dune near the river, there are more signs of former
occupation: old two by fours, part of a stove, part of a heavy mining
machine, and a lot of pieces of granite core where someone was
investigating the rock. There were some very old tin cans and, closer to
the river, some charcoal from the camps of river runners.

I reached the river in time to snap a few pictures and get an early
supper. They must be trying to replenish Lake Mead because the river was
flowing well and was as dirty as it ever was. Tamarisks were growing out
of a foot or more of water, and the rapid was kicking up quite a noise.

About the most impressive view of this trip is the sight of Diamond Peak
standing at the end of the straight stretch of Peach Spring Wash. It
looks like something from Glacier National Park. I wonder whether it has
ever been climbed. It is relatively accessible and Diamond Creek
supplies plenty of water for camping.

The other thing that impressed me about this route is that with good
footing and a straight course, one can cover surprisingly large amounts
of territory on foot. Landmarks ahead looked discouragingly far away,
but within two or three hours I would pass them.

On the return, I was glad that the road was there for a guide into the
correct side canyon and that I could see my own footprints where I
needed to leave the road to go to my car. I hadn't remembered the
landmarks here as well as I should have.

** On a later trip, we climbed Diamond Peak, but Green found an old
bottle at the top with names.

*Thunder River
[dates unknown]*

When you look west from any of the observation points near the village
of Grand Canyon, you see a series of major promontories jutting out
alternately from the north and south rims: Point Sublime, Havasupai
Point (not to be confused with the Indian Reservation), Powell Plateau,
and farthest of all, the Great Thumb Mesa. Beyond the latter lies the
interesting Havasupai Indian Reservation with its stream of blue green
water and three majestic falls. North, across the Colorado River from
the Great Thumb, is a wilder area of great interest.

This is the region drained by Thunder River, a stream just as large as
Havasu Creek and a lot swifter and colder. Other tributaries from the
north bank such as Kanab Creek carry more water during floods, but for
permanent flow, Thunder River, or Tapeats as Powell called it, is the
largest stream coming in from the right between the Escalante and the
Gulf of California. This is remarkable when one considers that Thunder
River flows above ground for only about five miles.

Strange and contradictory reports have been circulated about this stream
and the area in general. C. E. Dutton explored the north rim country for
the government in 1880. His report devoted over a page to his trip down
through the Tapeats Amphitheater to the river. He followed a trail built
by gold miners four years before. The only way to make his description
conform to the terrain is to conclude that he missed Thunder River
entirely and went to the mouth of Deer Creek, three miles farther west.
He was very specific about the last few hundred yards where one must
dismount and follow a narrow ledge with the creek out of sight below in
its crevasse like channel. He even mentions the place where the path is
so narrow you have to stoop to get past the overhang in the cliff on the
right. It is a precise account of the route from Surprise Valley,
through which runs Little Deer Creek, to the bank of the Colorado. The
mystery is that he didn't mention striking Deer Creek Falls whose clear
water sometimes drops directly into the brown flood of the Colorado.

The present trail to Thunder River goes to the east when one has come
down the Redwall. One no longer sees the old trace of a trail to the
west into Deer Creek Canyon, or Surprise Valley. This name must arise
from the fact that the lower end of the valley seems to be blocked by a
ridge which the creek pierces by its strange slit. The fame of Thunder
River rests on two things: the fishing and the falls at Thunder Spring.
It was stocked sometime in the twenties, and after World War II,
fishermen were coming out with tales of 23 inch trout. The spring is
near the trail. A considerable volume of water gushes out of a small
opening in the cliff at the foot of the great Redwall formation and fans
out over a short half cone to drop sheer for a hundred feet. It is more
dramatic than the falls in Havasu Creek, for the observer has had no
warning. The most water he has seen along the 15 mile trail has been a
few stagnant rain pools full of dead bugs. There is a slightly smaller
fall 50 yards below the first, but the whole of Thunder Creek from here
to its junction with Tapeats is one long chain of cascades. The trail
switchbacks down this thousand feet of altitude alternating between
catclaw and cactus away from the stream and monkey flowers where the
water comes to the edge of the path. The trail was first developed by
prospectors, but from its present state of preservation one would guess
that it was improved during the depression by the CCC workers.

In 1948 Philip Ferry and Al Schmitz asked Park Superintendent H. C.
Bryant whether there was any part of the national park that needed
investigation. Doctor Bryant referred them to Thunder River as a place
where reliable observers could clear up some conflicting reports. Park
Ranger R.E. Lawes and two companions had been on the rim of a side
canyon about a half mile away from the source of Tapeats Creek and had
come back with the report that it began with a high fall. Jonreed
Lauritzen, a writer and contributor to Arizona Highways, had been up the
stream, often hip deep in the cold water, and had come back with the
story of nothing more exciting than a lot of small springs in the
streambed. The names Thunder River and Tapeats Creek are often used
synonymously, but the Forest Service map draws a distinction. Below the
junction with the tributary from Thunder Spring at the end of the horse
trail, it is called Thunder River, and above this point is referred to
as Tapeats Creek. Ferry and Schmitz hired a guide and some horses and
went in to explore Thunder River without realizing that the argument was
over the source of Tapeats Creek and had nothing to do with Thunder
Spring. The large scale topographic map of the park is not helpful here.
This map, drawn by Matthes and Evans between 1902 and 1923, is a
marvelous piece of work up to the park boundaries everywhere except
north of Tapeats Creek, where it is completely blank. Thunder Spring is
shown, but the larger source, which supplies three fourths of the water
in Thunder River, is in the blank area. Forest Service maps of various
dates show this spring about two miles east and a mile north of Thunder
Spring. Ferry and Schmitz measured the accessible falls below Thunder
Spring and noted the width of Thunder River. They went along the bank
toward the Colorado until the creek entered its final narrow gorge. They
reported their conclusion in an article published by Natural History in
1949 that Lawes was right about there being a good fall at the source.
Lauritzen was understandably irked at being regarded as practically
blind by men who had not even understood the problem. He replied in
Arizona Highways for April, 1950, that the falls at Thunder Spring had
been well known since 1905. Ferry and Schmitz hadn't even taken the
usual hike to the river along the top of the final gorge and then down a
talus from the right to the mouth of the creek, while Lauritzen had
struggled all day through deep water to see the source of Tapeats Creek.
Lawes had seen a cavern mouth which Lauritzen had missed.

These inconsistencies were finally explained by some Fredonia high
school boys in the summer of 1956. Without realizing that there was any
argument to settle, they made their way upstream to the source. In
climbing around the big springs to the east, Don Finicum, the leader,
came on a large cavern mouth about 30 feet wide by 10 feet high. No
water was coming out, but there was plenty standing in the corridor
farther back. It was now clear that Lawes had seen this cave mouth when
it was acting as a spillway at a high stage of the late spring melt. The
rush of white water down the steep talus gave the impression of a high fall.

Both Ferry and Lauritzen gave the impression that there is something
sinister about this region. Lauritzen passed on a story of a miner who
found too much gold in a bar at the mouth of Thunder River to pan by
hand. When he returned from Kanab with planking for a sluice box, the
river had risen over the bar. In his desperation, he walked out into the
river and drowned. Lauritzen fancied something unnatural about this
creek, perhaps basing his impression on the great difficulty one has in
following it any distance. Ferry passed along his guide's remark that he
couldn't see why anyone would want to visit such a gloomy place. Coming
back to specific events, we can note that one guide for a fishing party
lost several horses that were poisoned by some kind of forage here in
the fall of the year. The horse Al Schmitz was riding to cross the creek
lost his footing and almost drowned Al. All his color film was lost.
When Lauritzen was going up the creek to the source, he lost his footing
and his picture record also was ruined.

Ferry's and Lauritzen's articles inspired me to try to reach the source
too, but when I got to the end of the trail in 1952 and again in 1956,
the water chilled my ardor. I settled for trips to the river and to Deer
Creek. As I was leaving the second time, I noted the possibility of
following the talus above the gorge. In the fall of 1956, I met Don
Finicum at the Flagstaff State College and learned about the cavern near
the source. In the summer of 1957 and again at Thanksgiving, I was able
to reach the cavern at the source by way of the bench above the creek
and had the pleasure of getting the first close pictures of the source.

The two students, Don Finicum and Allyn Cureton, who were with me on the
fall trip, found the way back through the dry part of the cave to the
large corridor containing the main stream before it finds the cracks
down to the surface springs. No one knows how far back under the Kaibab
Plateau one could follow this 15 by 20 foot channel. (Now known, 3000 feet.)

Just a week or two earlier a cave explorer from Pittsburgh, George Beck,
climbed into Thunder Spring and followed it back, using a rubber boat,
without finding the passage becoming any smaller.

This area should continue to grow in popularity. There are two
interesting trails down from the rim in the neighborhood of Big Saddle
Deer Camp, which is about 50 miles southeast of Fredonia, Arizona. They
meet on the Esplanade, the great plateau of fantastic red rocks about a
thousand feet below the rim. Consulting a map of the North Kaibab Forest
is a must for one who is going in without a guide, and one should carry
a gallon of water in the hot season. The falls, the dramatic change from
desert to oasis, the fishing, and the caverns all measureless to man
will draw more people than the flour gold in the river ever did.

*Mile 24.6 and Hot Na Na Wash
[January 22, 1965 to January 23, 1965]*

My guest for this trip, Norvel Johnson, thought we were going for just
the day. When I told him it was a two day trip, he brought in his
sleeping bag, but since he had no knapsack, we decided to sleep at the
Jeep. The idea was to see Hot Na Na from the rim on Friday and then go
down it as far as possible on Saturday.

We thought we were following the Tanner Wash Quad map carefully when we
left the highway a little to the north of the middle of the bay formed
by Curve Wash in the Echo Cliffs. What we didn't realize is that there
is another turnoff only a quarter of a mile north of the one we used.
This is the way we came out of the hinterland on Saturday. Our exit is
marked by a large pile of rocks and it gives a more direct access to all
the country we were interested in seeing. The way we went in goes west,
south, and north and we got thoroughly confused before we headed toward
the rim of Marble Canyon. The track we followed goes considerably past
the end of the road which we finally identified as the one that is one
and a half miles north of Pine Reservoir. It ended near a dam. We
entered the draw beyond the dam and after looking down at the Colorado
River, decided that we were on the north side of the bay at Mile 24.6. I
could recognize Stanton's Marble Pier although it is not as clear from
the east rim as it is from the west.

After a lunch where this draw comes to the rim, we proceeded southeast
along the rim of the main canyon. We could see that there was a sheer
drop below the bed of the main canyon, but I wanted to see whether we
could get down to this point, far below the rim at the top of the
Coconino Sandstone. About a half mile back from the sheer drop, where
the channel turns due south, we were able to climb down through the
Kaibab Limestone. The bed soon became red and pitted with water pockets.
My geology student companion wanted to call this Hermit Shale, but I
convinced him that the regular Hermit Shale had to be much lower. He was
convinced when we came to the top of what was clearly Coconino
Sandstone. There were a couple of steep drops in the bed before this,
but we could get down safely. We came out to the notch formed by the bed
with a sheer drop of about 100 feet to the bottom of the Coconino. Below
this it would have been simple to go to the river except that I couldn't
see a place quite close to the beach. This wash has one advantage over
the Tanner Wash as a candidate for the one the Glanton Party used. One
can see the river where one is stopped. It must be about 800 feet up to
the rim and 1300 or 1400 feet down to the river. There are no deep
pools, however, and the walls hem one in for only a short distance near
the end. Furthermore, travelers coming north would stay in the valley
next to the Echo Cliffs and would very naturally start down the Tanner
Wash drainage rather than any over the cut up country to the west.

When we got back to the car, it was still early so we drove back and
then north to the road that goes between the Hot Na Na draw and the one
that ends at Mile 22. We missed the way again and followed the track
farther than it is shown on the Tanner Quad.The Jeep reached another dam
about a mile from the rim. When we walked to the brink, I could see that
we were two miles south of the mouth of Rider Canyon. We went north
along the rim until we got a good view of the barrier rock at Boulder
Narrows and then returned to the car. We thought there would be a closer
approach to Hot Na Na if we drove back up on the plateau, so we did that
before we camped. Just north of a fork I stopped for the night although
I could have driven farther north either down a draw or out along the
higher land which would have put us closer to Hot Na Na.

We managed to keep warm with two sleeping bags apiece although the night
was a little below freezing. The sky was crystal clear and Venus and
Mercury, I believe, were impressively closed in the morning sky over the
Echo Cliffs. When we got up it was so cold that we just threw some
groceries into my pack and started to walk with the intention of eating
breakfast when the sun came up.

I thought incorrectly as it turned out, that the next drainage to the
east was the beginning of Hot Na Na. I had the idea that we should go
out to the rim and look down at the mouth of Hot Na Na before we tried
to get down along the bottom. When we came to the first draw, we stayed
on the plateau to the west and found a car track which we followed until
it gave out. Since this draw was not deepening, we figured that Hot Na
Na must be farther east and crossed another draw without finding
anything deep enough. We followed the bed of this one clear to the rim
of Marble Canyon and found ourselves still downstream from the mouth of
Rider Canyon. We were only about a half mile from where we had been on
Friday afternoon. We now walked up past the mouth of Rider Canyon and
looked down at the mouth of Hot Na Na. We saw that if we could get
through the Coconino Sandstone, it would be simple to reach the cliff
right above the river. It ought to be easy to walk to the rim of the
Supai above the river and return up Tanner or even Salt Water Wash.
Since I had promised to get home by 5:30 p.m., at the latest, we knew we
would be doing well this time if we could get to the bottom of Hot Na Na
and follow it to the Coconino. We were able to get to the bottom
opposite where the dotted blue line comes in from the east below the
high point marked 5063 on the map. Progress along the bottom was easy.
There were a lot of sheep tracks and rather surprisingly a man's shoe
prints looking quite fresh. There were probably two men, because we came
to four, half grapefruit rinds, a food that we thought unlikely for
Navaho sheepherders to be carrying. The only water was very shallow
mostly on flat rocks from the recent snow, but we finally came to a real
drop in the Coconino Sandstone. It seems to be about 60 feet thick here,
and about halfway down there is a deep pool. We assumed that we had to
bypass this place along a shelf to the east, but on the return we found
a shorter way still to the east. We also saw that we could have walked
up the bed and passed the pool on the west side. I had set 11:00 a.m. as
my deadline for turning back. About three minutes before that time we
came out to where we could see into the wide open canyon. It is quicker
and easier to go down Hot Na Na to the Supai rim above the river than it
is to do this in Tanner Wash. On the return to the Jeep, we lost our
bearings somewhat and expected to see it quite a while before we
actually did. We really didn't get off the most direct route and came
back to the car using the same track we had followed in the morning. I
got home with a half hour to spare. On the return around the pool in the
Coconino, I found some very clear fossil footprints about the size of a
half dollar.

Hot Na Na doesn't rival Tanner as a candidate for the Glanton Party
canyon. It lacks the series of pools and doesn't give one a hemmed in
feeling. Besides, there is no place along the bed where a person has to
stop and just look ahead.

*Marble Canyon at Mile 15.5
[March 7, 1965]*

Of the tributary canyons that might have been followed by the Glanton
Party, Tanner Wash seemed to meet the description of Chamberlain the
best, since it has a narrow bed with pools of water and a channel that
would be hazardous during a flash flood. However, the man would have
been stopped by a fall in the bed at a place where there is no view of
the main canyon of the Colorado. If they had backed up and gone along a
steep talus on the east side of the wash, they would have come out where
they could see the sweep of Marble Canyon although they would not see
the water of the river. If they went to the right along this upper
talus, they probably could not get down to the last small cliff above
the water. If they had gone along this level to the left (west), they
might also conclude that there would be no way down whereas there is a
way around a bend further north. Hot Na Na Wash also seemed not to be
right since one can proceed smoothly right down to the edge of the cliff
immediately above the water. Marston wanted me to check the minor side
canyons that come to the river at Mile 15.3 between these two major
tributaries.

Gordon Denipah, the finder of the pole platform at Mile 43.3, and his
survey crew boss, R.V. Tramall, went with me. We left the car at the end
of the road just west of the service station at Bitter Springs and went
down the arm that soon reaches the main bed of Tanner Wash where it
starts to be steep walled and narrow. One can get out of it to the right
farther down where I entered it on the other occasion, but it is a
climbing stunt to leave it to the left and this is only possible at one
or two places. The Glanton Party would have thought that this deepening
canyon would be a logical approach to the river, and their horses would
have found the going easy for a couple of miles more. Then there would
be no exit without returning to this point, or the lower trail to the
east. It would not be easy or natural to switch over into the relatively
shallow draw that we proposed to inspect.

A trail leads from the bottom of Tanner Wash to the top of the plateau
to the west. We got to the top and then paralleled Tanner. After
crossing a swale or two that drained into Tanner, we got to the drainage
that goes to the river at Mile 15.5. As we were about to follow it, we
met a young Navaho man, Bill Tunney, who was reading a comic book as he
watched some sheep. He supposed that we were prospectors, but when he
heard that we were just interested in seeing the country, he volunteered
the information that if we could go down a 100 foot rope to the bottom
of a pit near the start of Hot Na Na Wash, and had flashlights, we could
follow a tunnel three miles long to the bank of the Colorado River. At
least he said he could show us the pit, but he had just been told that
there was a tunnel. His other information wasn't very reliable, because
he said that we could not go to the river down Tanner, but we could get
down the one we were beginning just now. He did understand our
questions, however, and he pointed to the place on the Tanner Wash Quad
that was our correct present location. He may have meant that we could
get down the cliff with a rope.

In about two hours of walking from the car, we came to the end of the
valley. We were about two thirds of the way through the Kaibab
Limestone, and there was only about a 40 foot drop to a ledge that could
be followed to the west where one could get on down by a talus clear to
the rim of the Supai immediately above the river. After lunch at this
notch, we had no difficulty in climbing to the plateau to the west only
a few yards back from this drop off. In fact, one can leave this valley
at will, and there would be no hazard from floods. We followed the rim
west to the view into the mouth of Hot Na Na and Rider across the river.
It took about two hours to walk back to the car. I was slightly amused
that the engineer and surveyor thought we were in Tanner when I knew we
were just in the upper end of the draw where we had lunch, above Mile
15.3. He also missed two or three other identifications that day, but he
and Gordon were both fine walkers and interesting companions.

*Cremation Canyon
[March 13, 1965]*

I was slow making up my mind to go because the paper promised more
storm. Highway 66 was so hazardous that some drivers were doing less
than 35 mph. The road north to the canyon was much better and I reached
the Visitor's Center by 10:20 a.m. After a visit during which I learned
that Cureton had recently made a solo trip to the river down the
Grandview Trail, I started down the Kaibab Trail at 10:40 a.m. right
behind three teenage boys from Durango who were going to sleep at Bright
Angel Campground. They had to break trail through the drifts. I wish I
had taken a picture of the peculiar knife edge cornices along the
outside trail.

The first snow and the cloud effect in the canyon made the views
fantastic. Across the canyon, the west side of numerous buttes would be
in clear sunshine while dense fog clung to the east sides. The updraft
from the west would leave a sharp edge of cloud inclined upwards at 45
degree angles for a thousand feet above the tip of the butte. The day
was generally sunny, but there were several short snow flurries and the
constant shifting of the clouds made the experience unforgettably scenic.

The original plan was to go along the rim of the Redwall east from the
South Kaibab Trail, go down through this formation east of Cremation
Canyon, and return along the Kaibab Trail. Since the Redwall rim was
still snowy, I decided to reverse the order. It was not hard to go down
the muddy trail and I was enjoying the trip to the full. It took from
11:30 a.m. to 1:30 p.m. to get from the trail to the end of the east arm
of Cremation with about a half hour of that time for lunch. I noticed
three caves high in the Redwall on the west wall. The one farthest south
is the one we climbed into in 1957 after it had been explored and
furnished split twig figurines. I believe Art Lange has also explored
the one farthest north, but the middle one seems inaccessible. There
were other seemingly inaccessible holes on both walls of this canyon.

There are parallel streambeds in the upper part of this east arm of
Cremation separated only by a clay and gravel ridge. I followed the
eastern one, and this does continue farther than the other. At one place
in this shale streambed, there was a short flowing stream. The streambed
came out of the shale just east of the bed. As there was no snow on the
slope above, this may be a seep that runs most of the year.

About 100 yards short of the end of this wash below the Redwall, I
started up. I had seen deer and burro signs ever since I had left the
Kaibab Trail, and I continued noting them up the talus immediately below
the Redwall here. There was a place at the top of the talus where I
could go almost straight up by using my hands to milder slopes that led
without further chance taking to the level of the figurine caves across
the canyon. If I had been more daring or skillful, I might have gone on
across a steeply sloping part of the Redwall. There were many little
nubbins of projecting rock and a few bushes growing in the cracks. Since
I have resolved not to press my luck and get in a fix that might induce
the shakes, I decided to turn back. Scholing and Todd (?) came down
somewhere near here, but perhaps they used the ravine that opens to the
north on the other side of the promontory. I knew I was taking too long
so I couldn't scout more places. For over 20 minutes, I had to look for
the place to get down from this upper talus or rather I was trying to
find an easier spot for the descent. Finally, I went down six feet from
where I had come up.

The mud and snow made the trail back rather hard. I needed two and a
half hours for the last three and a half miles. Eight years ago this
would have seemed much easier. (March 8, 1969: 1 hour and 55 minutes for
this three and a half mile leg, also mud and snow.)

*Black Water Canyon (Oak Canyon on the Navaho Mountain Quad)
[March 20, 1965]*

The occasion was the third trip of the college hiking club to Rainbow
Bridge under the management of Jay Hunt and my sixth trip. Some of the
students went in from Rainbow Lodge, some over the top of the mountain
with Hunt, and others came in by boat from Wahweap. Those that walked in
got to go out by boat. Everything worked out all right although I had
predicted that the party would have to retreat the way they had gone up
and then would be quite late in arriving at the bridge by one of the two
regular trails. They were two hours slower this year than they had been
last year with two girls along, but apparently their feet were stopped
by a buried crust in the snow just about as deep below the surface as we
stepped last year. Cureton kicked his foot down through this crust and
still hadn't found the bottom at four and a half feet.

Since I was more eager to see something I hadn't seen before than I was
to see whether I could defy good sense and make my way through the deep
snow, I took the north trail around the base of the mountain. We had
left Flagstaff about 6:00 p.m. Friday evening and reached Navaho
Mountain Trading Post about 9:30 p.m. After some palaver, two students
went with me by car four and a half miles farther north to the brow of
the hill. They drove the car back to Rainbow Lodge where the non
mountain climbers spent a cold night out. I walked down the road by
moonlight toward the beginning of the trail for an hour and turned in.
It was a surprisingly cold, clear night and by three I was wide awake
and cold on the underside where my down bag was compressed. After due
consideration, I exercised my freedom as a solo hiker and got up and
walked for over an hour. The moonlight on the snowfields of upper Navaho
Mountain and the bare sandstone below was unforgettably beautiful. Some
features of the route seemed unfamiliar and there was a little
difficulty in keeping to the trail. About 4:00 a.m. I inflated the air
mattress and stopped to sleep again, but by 5:30 a.m. I was wide awake
once again.

Soon after I started on at 5:40 a.m. I came to Balk Rock Canyon and had
the assurance of the distinctive route down the east side that I was
still on the regular route. The mountains out to the northeast were
unusually clear in the early sunlight. I was still not sure of the
identification. The two domes on the left had steep sides, but the range
a little farther to the left seemed higher, farther away and more snowy.
From the shape of the summits, I decided that this range must be the La
Sals and that the two on the right were two sections of the Abaho
Mountains. This doesn't account for the Henrys, so I am not sure about
this geography yet. The north side of Navaho Mountain was covered
solidly with snow, except for cliffs, to within a few hundred feet above
the trail. The creeks were running less water than they had last year in
February and even in November if I could remember correctly.

After only about two and a half hours of sleep Friday night, I tried
sacking out in the sun at 9:00 a.m., but my habits were too strong and
after a ten minute nap I was wide awake. I reached Black Water Creek by
10:30 a.m. and turned down it for a short way before an early lunch. The
water that is flowing at the trail crossing soon disappears. The arm of
the creek that comes in about 15 minutes walk down from the trail
crossing had a nice flow of water that kept the creek flowing above
ground for over a mile. For the rest of the bed I covered, possibly
about two miles, there was water only in infrequent standing pools.

The canyon is a beauty. First there are views out to the prominences and
back to Navaho itself. Then there are short stretches of narrows that
open again on open areas where the walls slope back at a gentle angle.
Then the walls close in again and finally form the narrowest of narrows.
In a place or two, I lacked only a foot in being able to touch both
vertical walls with my finger tips. I was hoping to have time before my
1:30 p.m. deadline to either reach the lake or the spot that had stopped
Hunt, Cureton, and Earl in November, 1965, when they had gone down this
canyon by mistake. At 1:15 p.m. I came to the place. A couple of
chockstones had formed an eight foot step in the bed. Perhaps I could
have climbed up the slope to the shelf on the left, but after going
along it for 40 yards, I would have had to jump down a six foot wall
which would have stopped me from returning. This was the objective and I
returned feeling that I had seen a most interesting canyon. It would be
absolutely insane to go through this lower narrow part in flash flood
weather, but it seemed about as interesting as Anasazi Canyon. If one
dropped a short log over the chockstone, he could go around the next
bend, but Cureton found more obstructions below when they let him down
the six foot wall with a rope. I got back up to the trail crossing in
about two and a half hours, so I figured I had been down canyon about
four miles.

There were signs of a horse trail in the first mile below the main trail
and I noted an old ramada about five minutes walk north. There were
several fault cracks that came down to the bed before the real narrows
began, and I wondered how many places there were where a man could enter
this canyon.

There were no signs of sheep, horses, or man yet this season to the west
of Black Water Canyon. I wasted no time entering the right crack where
the straight drainage begins that finally drops into the east arm of
Bridge Canyon. At the end of this fault crack, I wasn't positive which
route was right, but after following my hunch for a little while, I came
to the trail construction with the switchbacks down to the brook in the
east arm of Bridge Canyon.

About ten minutes after reaching the brook, I noted a triangular mouthed
cave in the sandstone across the creek on the right. It went back about
35 feet, but there was a sand terrace at the very back caused by floods,
so there was no chance that it was ever occupied.

The park people have improved the trail from the boat landing up the
canyon to Rainbow Bridge and there was not a scrap of trash to be seen.
Boats now moor about 100 yards above the narrows. They even have a house
trailer parked on the terrace, and a foot bridge takes you from the west
side across to the trail on the east.

I thought I was thoroughly familiar with the scenery along the lake back
to Wahweap, but I got a greater impression of its grandeur from the boat
than I had when I had floated down the river two or three hundred feet
lower beneath the rims or had flown a couple of thousand feet above the
rim. Lake Powell is a much more scenic than Lake Mead as the Alps are
more scenic than the Sahara.

*Clear Creek
[April 15, 1965 to April 16, 1965]*

The most unusual thing about Clear Creek at this time was the number of
visitors. It seems to be coming into its own after all those years of
solitude. I met two family groups and 31 Sierra Clubbers. I had known
John Ricker and I became acquainted with Bill Poston, Marshall Eaton,
and especially Tom Pillsbury, another college teacher but one who has
independent means and still teaches chemistry. Several of them made the
effort to get up early and be ready to go with me up to Cheyava Falls
even though they weren't supposed to be ready to leave the area until
5:00 p.m., while I intended to start back for Bright Angel Campground
quite a bit sooner.

I was rather disappointed in the small flow out of the cave at Cheyava
Falls. At this time of year I had hoped for a picture such as the Kolbs
had taken. Tom and Marshall went with me on up the long arm of Clear
Creek to see how it ended in the Redwall. One of the visitors, Francis
Smith, had been up the day before, but we finally passed his last tracks
just below some large rocks in the bed. A more serious block at a fall
in the lower Redwall was passed on the east side up a talus filled crack
where we had to crawl under a chockstone. Here Marshall decided that he
could use a rest, but Tom and I kept on. About ten minutes farther we
came to a couple of chockstones effectively barring the passage. They
were only about seven feet in diameter, but the cracks between them were
harder to start up because they were wider at the bottom and the rocks
themselves were smooth. I wedged my body into the likeliest of the three
cracks. Although there were almost no rough spots to push against, I
kept on trying and made it up an inch at a time. Tom decided he was not
that agile and waited and watched while I went around a corner and up a
wet slope. (Tom has done climbs that have baffled me.) I then came back
into sight from below as I climbed up a steep pitch that had a lot of
good holds. Above was a worse slope, gentle but rather smooth. Using a
few small holes for toes and heels, I was soon up and could walk ahead
above the Redwall. There was no time to investigate the upper formations
for a route to the rim. (Bob Dye has been down there from the rim.)

Ranger Bailey had seen something in the side canyon to the west a little
south of Cheyava that he thought was a natural bridge like Goldwater's
or Hartman's. I looked up here in the forenoon without seeing anything.
After climbing up over halfway from the bed of Clear Creek to the base
of the Redwall in this side canyon, I saw that there was a large block,
convex both above and below, lying across the vertical walled ravine.
There seemed to be less space beneath the block than the thickness of
the block. It would take time and care to negotiate the cliff below this
place and I didn't get a close picture. (Later I went up and there isn't
even a block with a hole beneath.)

*Redwall rim south of Shiva Temple
[April 18, 1965]*

Allyn Cureton joined me at Bright Angel Campground. We proceeded along
the river near the telephone lines and then started up the granite. A
number of people along the trail on the south side of the river were
quite interested in our progress, steady at first and then slow and
careful towards the top. We had done this years ago, but we still don't
feel sure we have the best route, high on the right until we were just
below a cliff and then across. We had previously gone ahead to the west
on the shale, but this time I preferred to go up on the large blocks and
talus of quartzite to minimize the shale. Beyond Cheops Pyramid, we went
down the north side of the island of Tapeats and got into the draw that
Kolb used as a route up from the river into Trinity drainage. We turned
up to the northwest and finally got above the Tapeats and reached the
rather deep wash that goes into Trinity. On my former trip up between
Shiva and Isis, I had gone down into this and across, but Allyn had
followed it to its junction with Trinity. He was pretty sure we would
find water near the junction. There were several nice pools connected by
a tiny stream. We filled the canteens and even took a bath.We then
proceeded upstream to the place where I had formerly camped, at the very
top of the Tapeats. Here we found the two small rainpools I had found in
August, a good 45 minutes walk upstream from the next water. We stopped
here by 5:30 p.m.

In the morning it took us almost two hours to walk to the top of the
saddle between Isis and Shiva Temples. I remembered correctly that the
very top needed some use of the hands. After putting both lunches in my
almost empty pack with Allyn taking water for both of us, we started the
tedious process of walking the top of the Redwall. About half the time
we could find a deer or bighorn sheep trail, for we saw some droppings
and tracks that indicated bighorn as well as deer. In three of the bays
at the rim of the Redwall, there were rain pockets holding less than a
quart of water apiece, and in the bay below the middle of Shiva, we
found a very slow seep running. None of these could be trusted during a
dry season. After three hours of careful stepping, we reached the saddle
between Shiva and Osiris. At the hollow just before we reached this
divide, we could have gone up the Supai and probably the Coconino
towards Shiva. I believe this is the uphill route used by the deer to
reach the top of Shiva.

After a late lunch at the saddle, we went out to the angle projecting
northwest from Osiris Temple and took pictures lining up objects rather
well with those in Stanton's view. We also went farther south until I
got a good look at the Redwall leading to the notch between the Tower of
Ra and Osiris Temple. The Stanton Party couldn't have gone up here. They
could have gone up all the Supai except the last cliff forming the top
of Ra and they probably could have done that well on Osiris also. I
think the picture shows the Redwall rim considerably lower than the
camera. From the line up with the knolls below at the Tonto level, they
were probably on Osiris. (SHK went down here, also Don Davis.) Starting
from the last water up Dragon Creek would give us a better chance for
repeating Stanton's hike on Osiris.

On the way back to our packs, we drank all the water we could get out of
the midget rainpools. We had thought that we would have time to get our
packs down the Redwall into Phantom Creek before dark, but dusk was
descending when we arrived at the break I had checked last Thanksgiving.
We were careful not to drink copiously but we found that we had enough
for light meals both at night and in the morning. It took us two hours
to get down the risky part. Allyn led and he practiced without his pack
before proceeding. At one place I handed the packs to him, but the rest
of the time they were on our backs. At two places I threw down my
unrolled sleeping bag before coming down with the lighter pack.

We now had some extra time so we spent it going up two arms of Phantom
Canyon. It becomes more spectacular as it closes in. At one place, two
room sized blocks are leaning against each other across the streambed.
At another, there is a 20 foot fall with a huge boulder wedged into the
narrow slot above. A deer trail bypasses this, but you finally come to a
dead end in a peculiar chamber about 30 feet wide at the bottom. The
curving walls above seemed to be no more than ten feet apart and thus
almost shut out the sky. A series of falls bring the snow melt and storm
waters down from the basin, but on the present occasion, there was
almost no flow. There are also several caves high in the walls of this
most interesting gorge.

We returned to the Bright Angel Campground by the high trail east of
Cheops Pyramid but not before locating the overhang at the beginning of
the trail to upper Bright Angel Creek. There are still some cow chips
here so many years after the cattle have left. Long parts of the trail
out are covered by slides and I think it is harder to find them than it
was several years ago. A few cacti were in bloom and we saw several
Mariposa tulips, but the best flowering is still to come. We noticed
more birds than usual.

*Down the South Kaibab Trail then above the Redwall to Cremation Canyon
[May 9, 1965]*

Norvel Johnson and Allyn Cureton came with me and after checking in at
the Visitor's Center, we were starting down the South Kaibab Trail by
8:30 a.m. We left the South Kaibab Trail in the Supai east of O'Neil
Butte below the continuous cliffs but far enough south so that we had to
choose a route to get through to the rim of the Redwall below. I noticed
that it took the three of us two hours to go along the rim to the head
of the east arm of Cremation Canyon. On checking with my report of the
trip on February 2nd, 1963, I see that this time wasn't too much slower
than the two and a half hours I needed to go by myself from the South
Kaibab Trail around the end of Cremation. On the present occasion, Allyn
and I had time for a few pictures while waiting for Norvel to catch up.
We were able to find the deer trail about one quarter of the way. The
day was cool and bracing. We sat down in the shade of a pinyon at the
top of the Redwall for lunch, but before I was through, I wanted to move
into the sun. This time I was sure where we should try to go down, the
notch where the Cremation Fault meets the Redwall. At my suggestion,
Jerry Rassner and Dick Jacobs had done this last week. We found that it
is a simple walk down. If one didn't move from the main bed to the
broken region to the left, it might be somewhat difficult.

At the bottom, I led the others up the wash to the place where I had
found the seep earlier this spring. It was now completely dry even after
our wet April. We had found several rain pools and a seep active along
the rim of the Redwall on our way over from the South Kaibab Trail.
There was even a very slow seep in the lower Redwall in the fault ravine
we had descended. I believe there had been some rain here only two days
before.

After our detour up the wash, we left the base of the Redwall descent at
1:00 p.m., an hour and a half sooner than the party the week before. I
predicted that we would be on the South Kaibab Trail near the lower end
of the white switchbacks by 2:30 p.m. and to the rim by 4:30. We left
the wash in Cremation before we came to the Tapeats bluff on the west.
There were acres of Mariposa tulips along here although some were
beginning to fade. In fact, the notable part of the trip was the
profusion of wild flowers. A certain shrub above the Redwall was covered
with white blossoms, and many other flowers were blooming along the
Tonto Platform.

When we were leaving the wash, Allyn decided that he would like to see
the Colorado River at close range in its high stage. He left us about
1:30 p.m. and I predicted that he could reach the rim by 5:30. With all
of his records in mind, he thought he could do quite a bit better. He
crossed the river to go to the bank at Bright Angel Creek, and on the
way back up the white switchbacks, he encountered two bighorn sheep, a
ram and an ewe. They were in no hurry to get away and he had time to get
his camera out of his pack and take some rather close views. He reached
the car just five minutes before my predicted time. The day was cool and
the trail was free of dust and mud, and I reached the car by 4:05 p.m.
My conclusion is that it is a little faster to reach the caves in the
east arm of Cremation by way of the South Kaibab Trail than to go along
the Redwall rim. I would still like to go over to Lyell Butte, and the
route would be along the rim of the Redwall and over the saddle south of
Newton Butte It would take more than one day (false) and you would have
to carry water for the full time unless it had rained recently.

*The Transept and Ribbon Falls Creek (Upper Ribbon Falls)
[May 29, 1965 to May 31, 1965]*

Doug Shough and I went down to Bright Angel Campground between 5:45 and
7:45 p.m. and had a good evening that was enlivened by some scouts whose
leaders were staying at Phantom Ranch while the boys were running loose
beside the river and anywhere else. In fact, for the entire weekend, the
place was alive with scouts, most of whom couldn't resist jumping on the
suspension bridge even though they could see that something was breaking
the bolts out of the boards.

Doug and I were on our way by 6:00 a.m. Saturday morning. The air was
bracing and we made good progress until we came to the heliport, 1.5
miles south of Ribbon Falls. Doug thought there might be something wrong
with his feet. When we looked, he had about the most extensive
assortment of blisters I have seen on one person at one time, but
fortunately they weren't deep. I was short of tape, but the chopper
pilot gave us quite a bit. I took some for possible future use.

I went on while Doug made up his mind whether to proceed or not. He
caught up with me while I was eating a snack at Ribbon Falls. Then he
went back south while I went on past Cottonwood Camp to the Transept.
Crossing Bright Angel Creek in its high stage was a bit of a problem. I
kept my shoes on since I have learned that bare feet in the swift water
are no good. I picked a shallow place and made it all right.

The Transept is a beautiful canyon with a lot of verdure, but at most
places there is a clear terrace for better walking on one side or the
other. I found these improvements more consistently coming back than I
did going in. The walking time to the fork at the upper end was two
hours going in and one hour and 40 minutes coming out. About 15 minutes
from the mouth, I was surprised to find a horseshoe. The little stream
was flowing well, especially from a spring two thirds of the way from
the mouth to the upper forks. There were wet places on the cliffs where
snow was still melting, but about three fourths of the way to the upper
end there was a nice pair of falls coming down big jumps in the Redwall.
Both of the main forks also had neat falls. Water ouzels and canyon
wrens added charm to grandeur.

Donald Davis had climbed the Redwall at the ends of both forks, but he
had warned me that I might find the west fork a little severe. As I
bypassed a couple of small drops in the bed, I muttered to myself,
"Purely routine." Then I came to a broken angle in a wall to the east of
a waterfall. As I carefully found my way up here, I thought that this
must be the hard part. At the top of this, I really saw the trouble. I
picked the place where I thought I could go the highest, to the east of
a travertine lined fall. I got to a shelf above a fir tree, but here the
handholds seemed more precarious. Since I value my remaining years more
than my rock climbing reputation, I went back down and figured that
Donald Davis had just joined a not too select club, the climbers who are
out of my class.

The longer, east branch was a good deal easier, but not too easy to be
dull. There is a minor forking at its end and the easiest way is on a
projecting angle between the forks. The Supai Formation above didn't
give me any encouragement. I rather think that there would be a way
through it somewhere out of my sight to the west.

There is a fresh rock slide near the angle between the main forks. I
went from the west to the east branch fifty feet above the bottom and
had seen what might be deer trails going up. It was getting late in the
day, but I tried getting up the Redwall here. Again I could get up to
within 30 feet of the top by testing all holds, but finally there was a
place where a projection stopped me. A good climber could have gone on,
but I don't take chances. I got back through the fir and maples of the
upper end of the Transept and crossed the creek to the North Kaibab
Trail eight hours after I had started in and had time to get down to the
Ribbon Falls Campground by 7:00 p.m. Here I met Bob Bell and Bill
Burkhardt of Phoenix and learned that the Sierra Club had passed that
way about five.

With an early start at 5:30 a.m. on Sunday, I thought I could see what I
wanted above Ribbon Falls and still catch the Sierra Club at Phantom
Ranch since Jerry Foote had said that they would eat lunch there at one.
I began by allowing three hours for this side trip, but when I finally
saw that I might hope to reach the source of the water by a slight
extension, I ended by making it three and a half. The valley above
Ribbon Falls impressed me more than it had 13 years ago. The trail is
still in fair shape. I noted the Indian ruins to the south of the falls
under the overhang before I started up the juniper covered slope that
takes you above the cliff to the south. There is a fair deer trail here
and I could follow it around toward the stream. The valley above Upper
Ribbon Falls is one of the most interesting in the whole Grand Canyon.
There doesn't seem to be a prayer of a chance to climb the Redwall
anywhere. To the north of the upper falls, I noted an interesting
looking overhang above the lowest fifth of the Redwall, just where some
caves are found. This one has a feasible approach and I first thought I
would use my time to inspect it, but when the light got better, I
concluded that it is probably nothing more than an overhang.

The bed of the creek and the level ground on both sides are more densely
overgrown in this valley below the Redwall than they are anywhere else I
have been in the whole canyon. Travel is impassible in or near the creek
so I went up on the south facing slope. This was more open but it was
steep and covered with shale, so my progress was slow. First I thought I
would turn back when I had determined which of the upper arms carried
the water, but after I had seen that it was the one from the west, I
went on until I found the bed dry. The highest spring is very minor,
just a small pool in the middle of the boulder bed. The dense
cottonwoods below for some distance seem to mark additional small
springs. I went back on the north facing slope and found the travel
among the junipers much easier. This upper upper valley is a fine place
to get the feeling of being in a remote area while you can actually be
down to the main trail in an hour. Two thirds of the way from the mouth
of the Transept to the upper forks, I noted an area on the northeast
side that might give a good climber another route to the top of the
Redwall. I got back to Phantom Ranch by 11:15 a.m. and met a couple of
the Sierra Club group, but Jerry Foote and most of them had already
taken off for Indian Gardens. I had kept to my schedule much better than
he had to his, but I didn't blame him because the day was getting warm
and I could see the point of getting out of the inner gorge before two.
Allyn Cureton found me eating at the campground and we walked out
together. He had missed me up at Ribbon Falls. He had come halfway down
on Saturday evening and was looking for me on Sunday. In addition, he
was going to spend Monday and Tuesday going through Sycamore Canyon with
Dr. Hunt and some scouters.

*Coconino west of Cape Royal and the rim above Clear Creek
[June 2, 1965]*

When Norvel Johnson and I reached the north rim on June 1st, we stopped
in and paid our respects at the Ranger Headquarters. We got acquainted
with Robert L. Peterson, the ranger in charge, and also Jim Richardson
and Ranger Timmons. We further visited with Timmons and a seasonal
ranger, Jim Dyer, who knew me slightly since he is a Flagstaff College
student. Peterson and Richardson told us that they had sighted a natural
bridge or arch right on the rim of Clear Creek in the area above Cheyava
Falls when they were observing the falls from an airplane. They were
going to walk the rim sometime and photograph it and get a better
location. We got permits for the one day effort to see about going down
from the rim above Clear Creek to the top of the Redwall and also for a
five day trip from the rim west of Point Atoka into the Chuar Basin.

Since this was Norvel's first visit to the north rim, we stopped at the
viewpoints starting at Point Imperial. There was no snow left around the
campground, but it almost covered the ground on the north slopes in the
woods around Point Imperial. There were still some snowbanks below the
Coconino in the shade. I tried to locate the Powell inscription on a
tree at Point Imperial but without success. Perhaps it was on a tree
that was removed to make way for the widened parking pavement a few
years ago. At Vista Encantada, it was very simple to see the window
through the south buttress of Alsap Butte. In the morning the bright
surface beyond contrasts with the dark cliff.

At the next viewpoint, formerly called Two Rivers Junction, we observed
the place to come down through the Coconino west of Point Atoko. After
taking in the sights at Cape Royal, I got the urge to see what sort of
descent Donald Davis had made through the Coconino west of Cape Royal.
It was easy to follow his directions and go to the bottom of the ravine
below Cliff Spring. A short distance east of the mouth it is quite easy
to scramble down through the Toroweap and most of the Coconino. About
the middle of the Coconino, there is a ledge where one can have three
choices: a possible friction descent with no good holds for several
yards, a climb down a narrow crack, or a route distinctly separated from
the first two to the west. On the way down, I left my pack above the
crack and used it, but on the return, Norvel and I went up west of here
and I had to come back down a short way to pick up the pack. There is no
further difficulty until one reaches the very bottom of the Coconino.
The only way here involves trusting to friction alone to get on a
steeply sloping step possibly four feet above the good step below. With
a rope it would be easy and safe. Davis warned me about this spot, but I
couldn't see myself getting back up, and Norvel had shown himself a
poorer climber than I the night before at the little ruin just below the
rim at the southeast corner of the north rim campground. We gave this
place up and returned to the car. I wish now that I had looked around
for a loose tree trunk or had considered the possibility of building a
step from loose rocks. Except for this one place of about eight feet,
this descent is routinely simple.

We returned to the main project, try to get down to the top of the
Redwall at the end of the long arm of Clear Creek. In order to intercept
the bridge that Peterson had seen from the air, we parked at the lot 1.4
miles north of Cape Royal and headed west until we hit the rim. As luck
would have it, within a couple hundred yards we came to the bridge or
window. It has a good shape, but the hole is only about 35 feet in width.

There is no deep valley leading to the drop off into Clear Creek. We did
succeed in getting down through the upper cliff a bit southeast of the
end of the gorge. A deer trail seemed to lead down to the south, but we
soon found that there is no chance to get through the Coconino, and the
Supai also looked formidable. (Bob Dye succeeded one and a half miles
South of the head of the canyon on the east side.) We had to give up.
Since there was still quite a bit of time left, we went out to visit the
Indian ruin on the promontory northeast of the parking. This time I used
the little tree.

*Ascent of Bridger's Knoll and Tapeats, Stone, and Deer Creeks
[June 3, 1965 to June 7, 1965]*

I had been intending to spend these five days in the Chuar Creek area,
but after Norvel and I had spent 15 minutes going down the steep
hillside toward the break in the Coconino through the wind felled aspens
and other impediments, it occurred to me that Norvel and I might both
have a better time going to Thunder River where there is a good trail.
He accepted the change of plans with alacrity. I had the feeling that
fighting brush and making our way from ledge to ledge on Gunther Castle
would not be a fair initiation for a person who was just getting the
feel of Grand Canyon exploration. We notified the rangers of our change
of plans and headed for the beginning of the Thunder River Trail at the
Indian Hollow Campground.

We left the rim at 1:00 p.m. and by three we had arrived at the good
campsite under the overhang near the wash that comes from between
Monument Point and Bridger's Knoll. It has been used considerably since
there is even a small heating stove there with quite a bit of stovepipe.
Someone even left a bottle of detergent. It was looking more and more
like rain, so we decided to hole up under such good protection. The
immediate threat passed and we deposited our packs under shelter and
took a side tour down the ravine. There had been a little water in a
couple of pockets near the trail, but lower in the bed there was water
running. This water from a ravine to the east could not be trusted after
a drought. We bypassed one big drop in the bed and finally came to
another. The Redwall was still out of sight below when we managed to
scramble to the top of the Esplanade. It was now after five o'clock so
we went back to camp.

On our way the next morning, Friday, we took time out to climb Bridger's
Knoll. The Coconino was no problem when we went to the obvious place, a
ramp about in the middle of the west side, but the Toroweap called for
hands as well as feet. There were two or three closely associated routes
near the north end. We left the first cairn on top and got some
impressive views.

In reworking the trail recently, they have shortened it by taking it
from the Esplanade almost directly down to the place where the
switchbacks into Surprise Valley begin. When we were below the main
Redwall down the switchbacks, I suggested to Norvel that we test the
route above the two big slump blocks of Redwall. He followed the trail
and I cut across to a place on the trail where it climbs some to get
down to Thunder Spring. I needed about 20 minutes to do this and then
waited about five for him to arrive. A trail across this route would
save another five. We were as thrilled as ever by the sight of Thunder
Spring, and it seemed to be flowing at least half again as much water as
I have ever seen on my other four trips. The trail, about a third of the
way from the bottom of the inner gorge of Tapeats Canyon where it used
to be slightly moist, was now under several inches of water.

Almost directly above this place, high in the Bright Angel Shale, there
is a spur trail that I once thought to be the way to the Colorado River.
In 1951, when I tried to use it as an approach to the Colorado, I soon
lost it. On the recent trip, I finally saw its meaning. After the first
fine view of the falls, the former trail went to the south away from the
creek and reappeared where the spur is still seen. The present trail
seems more precarious in places, but it gives finer views of the
cascades. We met three men from a Bus Hatch river party coming up to see
the falls. They told us that there was a safe way to cross Thunder Creek
near the bottom where it broke into three channels with trees lying
across the two larger ones. They said that Tapeats Creek could be
crossed with a little difficulty just above where Thunder River joins it.

Tapeats Creek was so high that part of the trail was under eight inches
of water. We took off our packs and pushed them ahead of us over a rock
under an overhang.

We had eaten an early lunch up near Thunder Spring in the shade at the
end of a spur trail leading to the improved sleeping platform under the
overhanging rock. It was only noon when we got down near Tapeats Creek.
Almost on the impulse of the moment, I suggested going over to see the
cave at the source of Tapeats with the hope of getting the first close
up pictures of water coming out of the cave itself. Norvel and I crossed
on the logs and scrambled up the north bank intending to climb to the
top of the Tapeats at the break I had used in 1957 with Dale Hall.
Before we got there, we saw another inviting ravine that led up quite a
distance. About halfway up, this stopped cold and we had to climb back
down. At this point, Norvel decided to forgo this part of the
expedition. I didn't have to descend clear to the creek to reach the
right break, the ravine opposite the place where the trail comes down to
the water about two thirds of the way down the inner gorge. In 1957 I
didn't regard this as anything out of the ordinary rock scramble, but
Dale Hall was rather impressed when we came out on top. This time, I
seemed slower and more intent on finding the easier way. Towards the
top, I went into a crack and braced against the wall. I am rather sure I
marked the approach above with a small cairn before, but I couldn't see
it and put a rock on top of a barrel cactus and also stood a slender
rock upright in a crack of a larger rock a little higher on the slope
above. It now took me an hour and a quarter to walk, keeping fairly low,
to the angle into the source canyon. In another hour, I was taking
pictures at the cave. On the return, I avoided the tangle along the
creek and the steep ravines that bar progress along the lower west slope
by going high up near the base of the Redwall. Progress is better here.

At the campground, we met two Flagstaff men and a high school boy;
Father Turner, Earl Sanders, and David Fronske. After a late supper that
was slowed by quite a rain storm, we had a pleasant evening visit with
the other party.

On Saturday we were ready for the main event, a visit to Stone Creek.
Norvel had scouted part of the way to the river Friday afternoon and he
knew how to lead me to the one tree bridge across Tapeats Creek. We had
to go away from the creek twice along the shale ledges where the footing
called for great care before we got to the bridge. On the east side, the
trail goes over some old rock slides as well as furnishing level walking
along the terrace where Indians used to farm. When you come to the place
where the creek enters the final gorge to the Colorado River, you would
almost surely lose the trail. I couldn't see how a trail could stay
below next to the creek, so I led Norvel up higher with no trail at all.
When we got near the river, we saw a good trail below and found that it
had been down there all the time. On the return, we followed it and had
to do a couple climbs up ledges. In low water, you would just wade
through the water to pick up this part of the trail.

Unfortunately, I hadn't intended to include Thunder River in our trip at
this period and hadn't brought along Beck's sketch map locating the
Wayside Inn and the other ruins. We should have slowed down to look at
things as well as the cavers had. We took some pictures and I thought we
were using our eyes to spot Indian ruins, but we missed them all. It
took us about an hour and 35 minutes to get from Tapeats to Stone Creek
and only an hour and 10 minutes for the return when we were intent on
getting back to our camp before dark. If Beck had shown more different
falls, his sketch would be more useful. We went up the creekbed although
I was sure there would be an obstruction. Pat had told me something
about a bypass to the east, but I wanted to see what sort of difficulty
he had in mind. We soon saw the Twin Chimneys and to the east below
there is a fall lined with travertine that stopped us. From a distance,
it had looked as if we could get up a ravine just west of here, but the
lower part is impossible (others have done this before). We went back
perhaps a third of the way to the entrance at the top of the diabase and
started up to the east. Before long we found a good deer trail which led
us to the southeast to a break in the cliff. If we had climbed a little
higher here we could have looked down into Galloway Canyon across a
rather slim ridge.

To judge by Beck's sketch, we should have gone down into the creekbed as
soon as we had passed the Twin Chimneys, but I thought that there might
be further barriers and I led Norvel along the contour until we were
definitely in the valley right below the spring. It was fairly easy to
go up the bed beyond the last water. All the canyon country below the
highest rims were a mass of wild flowers, but especially in upper Stone.
One dripping wall was covered with maidenhair ferns, primulas, and
columbines.

When we returned to where we had come down into the streambed, I crossed
to the west side to examine a platform next to the shale cliff. There
was a little charcoal here but no other signs of ruins. According to the
way I read the sketch, these are in the middle valley that we avoided
for fear of more barriers.

The return to camp was uneventful. Again we passed a little running
water in the two main indentations along the river. There is a place as
you get rather close to the mouth of Tapeats Creek where a deer trail
obviously follows a narrow ledge above a shear drop into the river. We
regretfully detoured to a higher level where the footing was poor but
where you could think that one slip wouldn't be your last.

At the campground that was vacated by the Flagstaff men, we found three
more, John Harrington, Howard Booth, and Henry Morgan. They has just
succeeded in getting down Tuckup Canyon to the Colorado River, although
they had needed a rope in one place. I told them about going to Stone,
the source of Tapeats Creek, and over to Deer Creek. They asked about
getting to Deer Creek along the river. I told them that Dr. Ricker had
given this up, but only from the start at the river level below Deer
Creek Falls. I suggested that they start along the bench at Tapeats
mouth and then walk up the ramp where the beach gives out about halfway
to Deer Creek. On Sunday they did this after a poor start. Not knowing
the proper way to reach the river beach, they started up too soon and
almost came to the level of Surprise Valley. They got to the beach by
going down Bonita Creek (the wash that drains Surprise Valley) although
they needed the rope at one place. The feasibility of the rest was never
in doubt, although at the very end they went along the ledge on the east
side of the Deer Creek Gorge matching the well used ledge on the west.
Here they had to get down on hands and knees for a few yards. ( I would
have preferred walking up over the low ridge into Deer Creek valley.)
They are a tough and cheerful gang. They were swimming below the fall
when I met them again and they seemed very unconcerned about arriving
back at the campsite rather late. Anytime before midnight would be fine.
They returned by the standard route up to Surprise Valley and down the
trail to Tapeats. The following day they planned on visiting Stone Creek.

Norvel and I went over to Deer Creek on Sunday by the standard route.
The trail was just as clear as I remembered it being in the fall of
1957, but I had forgotten how it went down after the gently sloping
valley gives way to the first steep pitch where the bed is cluttered
with room sized rocks. On the return we found that the trail is high
above the bed along the south side. When this steep part comes to the
actual cliff above Dutton (Vaughn) Spring, the trail swings across to
the north where it crosses the shale on a narrow ledge and then is
almost lost in a big rockslide.

This time I was aware that there are Indian ruins in the valley, and
when the trail swung to the base of the shale cliff near some platforms,
I looked and made out the outlines of rooms. There was a little
charcoal, and Norvel found a bit of obsidian. Around to the north about
50 yards are two well preserved storage bins.

We had needed three hours and 45 minutes to get over from Tapeats Creek
and now we loafed over a leisurely lunch and soak in the creek. About
2:15 p.m. we started off to see a few things. We went above the water in
the bed and then looked into the storage bins. Now Norvel decided to
skip the visit to the fall down by the river since his knee was giving
him some trouble. I went by way of the slope west of the creek to see
whether I would agree with Don Finicum that the terrace he saw had an
artificial retaining wall. Following a deer trail, I found it all right
and a little to the south I saw an Indian ruin or two. The terrace was
of the same age as the ruin and probably formed the base for more
housing. When Harrington, Booth, and Morgan were leaving they came up to
see this area with me, and between us we found many more dwellings. They
were so thick that they must have looked like a pueblo, a regular
village. This is on the west slope above the creek and about a quarter
of a mile north of the beginning of the gorge. Another observation that
I hadn't made before, but that I had been told to watch for, were horse
skeletons. I saw two, one of them right where we camped at the end of a
passage through the willows that came from the end of the trail over to
the creek. Norvel and I agree that camping next to Tapeats Creek is much
more pleasant than near Deer Creek. We have no explanation for the host
of small flies that tried to get into our ears and bothered us around
the eyes and nostrils. More serious than these tickling gnats were the
chigger bites we found we had when we left the next morning.

On the way out, we tried a variation that didn't really pay off except
in experience. We went up a talus that covers the Coconino about a
quarter of a mile northwest of Monument Point. We had thought we would
follow a deer trail into the bay between the promontory and the main rim
that leads directly to Little Saddle where the trail comes over the rim.
We felt rather sure that we could get up on the rim at this angle and
then follow it to the trailhead and the car. After we had gotten above
the Coconino and Toroweap formations and had found the deer trail we
wanted, the clearest deer trail led up to the rim at the notch not far
west of Monument Point. We went up here contrary to the original plan
and when we came to wide stretches of scrub oak at the bay we had
intended to skirt from below, we wished we had kept to the lower route.
We wound up getting into a draw that led down to the Indian Hallow Road,
1.3 miles from the end. We knew which way to turn to reach the parked car.

After walking about 15 minutes, we reached the Jeep belonging to
Norvel's father. The starter turned the motor in fine style, but nothing
happened. When Norvel looked under the hood, he found a bird's nest on
top of the motor block and woven into the nest was an essential wire
leading from the generator to the distributor. A nine inch piece had
been cut off by the bird. We would like to know what sort of bird can
bite through the insulation and about as much wire as is in half an
ordinary extension cord. To get wire for a splice, Norvel took a piece
to the horn and with adhesive tape and about 45 minutes work with his
knife and a screw driver, we were ready to travel. We assume the bird
thought that under the hood of a car would be a fine dry place for her
nest, but when the sun came out on the metal, she thought that there
would be better places for a brood. We wonder whether birds have ever
cut wires before.

*North of Saddle Mountain (Saddle Canyon)
[June 8, 1965]*

We noticed that the distance from Indian Hallow Campground to Jacob's
Lake is surprisingly short, only about 36 miles by the back road from
Ryan up to Jacob's Lake. After a good meal here, proceeded by my first
shave for five days, we drove on to investigate the way down the
Coconino I had tried before in Saddle Canyon.

On an impulse I called for us to turn off on the East Side Game Road.
After three miles of curves and hills, we came to a crossroad. We
elected to go down to Houserock Valley, 10 miles. The road got so bad in
the dark that we stopped and slept above the last big slope into the
valley. We could see the car lights on the highway not so far away.
Strangely enough there were mosquitoes up here and I spent about the
worst night of the trip.

On Tuesday we left the deer camp and soon went down below the upper
ledges of limestone hoping to find an Indian ruin. No luck, but we found
ourselves on a deer trail that I had used on my trip two summers ago. I
found the same small fireplace where I had boiled soup under an
overhang, and a little farther I came to the level spot under another
overhang where I had slept through a very wet night. We located the
unique descent into the lower valley from our (north) side and followed
a deer trail over to where I had attempted going down. This time I had a
rope along which was supposed to make all the difference. However, when
I got close to the edge, the bottom seemed so far down that I didn't
even uncoil the rope. I guess I need a more optimistic type of person
along who wants to hang out over the edge to see exactly what is below.
Norvel and I meekly climbed to the south rim of Saddle Canyon to go east
along the rim to see if we could locate what had looked like a natural
bridge from below. Norvel was quite sure that what he thought to be a
hole was only a white rock, but since there was quite a tributary canyon
to circumvent, we settled by going back to the deer camp mostly along
the south side of Saddle Canyon.

By this time, I was developing a cold sore on my lip and I also felt the
need of some good sleep and food at home. After an early dinner at Cliff
Dweller's, we went on home to Flagstaff.

*North Canyon, Mile 19 Break, and Jacob's Pools
[June 11 and 13, 1965]*

After digesting my experiences of the previous eight day trip, I decided
that I would like to go back and have a crack at reaching Cave Springs
Rapid by land, namely along the Hermit Shale slope. I should have driven
up the night before and been ready for an early start. When I left the
car it was about noon, and I felt rather sure I couldn't expect to get
very close to the goal. I carried six quarts of water with the
expectation that I might not be able to find more for 24 hours. I
started towards the break in the rim at Mile 19, but soon got the
impulse to investigate North Canyon. I had parked the car six miles from
the Kram Ranch on the road that keeps north of North Canyon. If one
would stop about four and a half miles past the ranch, he would be
closer to the descent into North Canyon. I had to walk the rim for about
an hour to find a way down, about the middle of block (township) 13 on
the Emmett Wash Quad. There was no real barrier in the bed of the canyon
until you reach the Supai. After bypassing a couple of ledges, you soon
reach the narrow slot. A good climber can get down into this narrow
part, but you would soon come to an absolute impossibility where the
stream drops through a narrow polished slot into a dome shaped chamber
below. Coming up from the river, one could as easily climb the walls of
Music Temple as pass this place. The rest of the bottom seems to be much
more easily walked than the corresponding part of Rider Canyon. The
difference is that Rider has feasible climbs past its obstructions. The
Escape Routes Pamphlet should list Rider (Houserock) Canyon as a sure
way out and scratch North Canyon.

It was about 3:30 p.m. when I reached the Supai in the bed, and I
proceeded along the bottom of the broad slope for the next hour. What
with taking a few pictures and having to go up and down as well as
exercising vigilance for loose footing, I only reached Mile 21.3 where
there is a steep and bare slope of shale. By climbing, I could have
found a way across, but since it was obvious that I wouldn't be able to
even approach Cave Springs, I turned back to find a good place to spend
the night ( We crossed the bare slope of shale with care later.)

One of the surprising things about this region is the lack of any deer
signs. The only tracks I found in the sand of North Canyon were Coyote.
Deer trails and droppings are more abundant at Saddle Canyon then about
anywhere else, but in North Canyon and along the shale slope above the
river, I saw no sign of deer or bighorn sheep either.

The only firewood I could find on the bedrock where I stopped were
pieces of driftwood that had come down from a distance. After my soup,
raisin bread, and sardines; the sky began to rumble with thunder and
lightning. There had already been light showers about 5:00 p.m., but now
it really poured down for a few minutes. I got down on my bed with a
plastic sheet over me. Furthermore, the overhang protected me when the
wind wasn't blowing. It soon cleared and there were no mosquitoes or bugs.

Saturday morning I followed the shale slope to the north and came up at
the Mile 19 break. I located the peculiar fossil footprint and
photographed it again. My impression that the Coconino here is only 30
feet thick was erroneous. A slide covers the lower part, but the
formation is more like 80 or 100 feet thick.

On leaving this area, I drove two miles up to the ranch near Jacob's
Pools. There are three separate patches of greenery hidden behind the
Bentonite Hills. I was intrigued by the rock walls that were old corrals
and I believe I recognized some terracing. Only one seems to have much
water at present and a pipe conduits a good flow to the pond near the
ranch below and on clear across the highway.

Donald Davis climbed to the top of the plateau behind the spring. I
suppose the break was the one to the southeast. He found names scratched
in the rock: G. M. Wright, Armon Davis, Maddox 41, and also some cattle
brands.

*Redwall ascent at Sumner Saddle
[June 20, 1965]*

Ever since reading about the successful ascent of Zoroaster Temple, I
had looked from a distance at the ravine up the Redwall where the
promontory to Sumner Point meets the main mountain whose superb summits
are Zoroaster, Brahma, and Deva. I assumed that this ravine would have
some for me impossible features, but still I wanted a closer look.
Whenever I was going to Clear Creek, I was always in too big a hurry for
this detour, but when I was waiting for the Belknap Marston boat party,
I thought I might as well take a look.

To get up to the Clear Creek Trail, I scrambled up the schist of the
main ravine west of the bridge. There were no more than the expected
difficulties and I needed about a half hour to reach the trail a few
yards to the east of the first point on the trail where you can look
down on the Colorado River. One observation I made after all these trips
up and down the Clear Creek Trail was that there are three ways to get
through the Tapeats Cliff on the west side of Bright Angel Canyon, the
route we use to go from Bright Angel Campground to Phantom Canyon and
two more further north.

When I was approaching the Redwall ravine from the south, it looked
easier as I got closer. At first I had thought that I would just go up
the talus as far as it reached, take a picture, and come away. However,
I found that the limestone was thoroughly fractured and that there are
many hand and toe holds. In fact as I reached the end of the scree, I
found deer hoofprints. I bypassed the lowest fall in the middle by going
up the broken slope to the east and then with care got back into the
main ravine. Very soon there is a narrow slot stopped by a chockstone.
You can bypass this by climbing a few yards to the west. There were no
other obstructions. I needed 30 minutes to go from the talus at the base
to the top of the Redwall and 25 for the descent. As one learned all the
holds, this time could be cut. I wouldn't mind carrying a pack up here
with no help from another person, and I regard this as easier and safer
than the climb up the Redwall at the west end of Phantom Canyon.

From above, the climb down the Redwall on the other side of this neck
seems even simpler, although I couldn't see the very bottom (impossible
below). There is a narrow cave near the top of the south ravine on the
east side, and at the very top there is an interesting little window
about three feet wide by two feet high. This ravine intrigues me and I
wouldn't mind trying a hike along the Redwall rim clear over to the
break I found below Deva. It would probably be possible to go from
Bright Angel Creek up here and along the Redwall rim and down below Deva
in one long day.

*Impressions from the air
[July 8, 1965]*

Bill Martin flew me up around Apollo Temple and I saw for myself the
cave with the hole through above the Redwall on the north side of
Apollo. He flew me over the pass between Apollo and Venus twice for two
photos and then he made one or two more passes from the east so that he
could take his own pictures. I was a bit surprised at the small size of
the orifice on top. The lower entrance appears to be possibly 40 feet in
diameter but the hole on top is not more than 20 feet across. I would
estimate the height of the tunnel as being about 100 feet.

What interested me as much as the tunnel was to see that there are about
three sure ways up the Redwall to the top of Apollo, one on the east
side, one from the east up the ridge between Apollo and Venus, and one
up the west side (I doubt this) of the same ridge. As well as I could
see it, one could come up from the bed of Unkar Creek, climb this ridge
and ascend both Apollo and Venus. I also saw a striking basalt pinnacle
in the west arm of Basalt Creek. There was a lot more greenery in the
east arm of Basalt than I had remembered.

We then skirted the west side of Gunther Castle but we crossed on the
south side so that I could inspect the route I had picked to climb the
Redwall. It looks absolutely easy. To get to the very top, one should go
around to the northwest side of the summit pinnacle. (We went up the
southwest side.)

Then we cruised by Chuar Butte to give me another look at the place I
thought it might be climbed at the northeast corner. It looks difficult
but it may also be possible. It seems that I should be able to collect
four more fine summits.

The Colorado River was a lot lower than it had been only a few weeks
ago, and it also seemed to be clearing up. These aerial views made me
all the more eager to get in there on foot again.

*Venus and Apollo Temples
[July 16, 1965 to July 18, 1965]*

After Bill Martin had shown me from the air that one could get up the
Redwall saddle between Venus and Apollo, I was eager to try the hike. I
left the head of the Tanner Trail about 4:00 p.m. and reached the
Colorado River in less than three hours.

For the second time I used the cutoff near the bottom of the Redwall
where I had found that I could climb up a steep ramp in the Bright Angel
Shale. This meets the present trail about 100 yards south of the saddle
where it leaves the bare green shale and heads north down to the Tapeats
exposure. It took me so long to pick my way safely down these crumbly
ledges that I decided that it is no real saving. Actually the trace of
the old trail that leaves the present trail about three fourths of the
way down the Redwall and heads north with a couple of switchbacks
doesn't reach the shale rim at the place where I can climb down. It
deteriorates just above this place and continues as a deer trail north
around the angle to the west. A picture on page 118 of the August, 1914
National Geographic, taken by the Kolbs, shows a man and a mule on the
shale cliff rim right at the corner north of where I found a place to
descend. I had followed this deer trail around the corner before, but I
hadn't gone far enough to discover any way down. On the return two days
later, I decided to investigate this possibility a bit further. Only
about 100 yards west of the corner, I found a good break in the shale
cliff where a talus came up from below. With only a little work, a horse
trail could be constructed here. I should discuss this route with Emery
Kolb or Melvin McCormick.

At the bottom of the Tanner Trail, I cut to the west of the last shale
hill and went across the low water boulder field to cross the river
above Basalt Creek Rapid. I landed on the island and had to use the air
mattress again to reach the mainland of the delta. Where I climbed up on
the sandy flat, I found a concentration of pot sherds, the most I have
seen at Basalt Creek. The night was warm and overcast and I was bugged
by a few night crawlers including a couple of ticks. A light rain woke
me early but I was able to eat without interference from the weather and
by 5:30 a.m. I was on my way up Basalt Creek with a full gallon of water
and food for a long day. Right away the streambed impressed me as being
unusual for the Grand Canyon, a smooth surface of sun cracked mud. The
west fork, on the other hand was a more normal surface, sand and
pebbles. I think I soon found the explanation. For the next quarter of a
mile up the east fork, there is a small stream running with water that
seems twice as mineralized as the Blue Spring water of the Little
Colorado River Gorge. In fact, I didn't care to swallow more than a
thimble full. The minerals must act as a sort of cement to keep the mud
from washing away during storms. I recall that during the heat of August
six years ago, this little stream was dry except for one tiny pool.

I have often noticed that burros seem to avoid Tanner Canyon and the
park generally east of Red Canyon. There is even a scarcity of deer
sign, but in the wet part of the east arm of Basalt, a number of fresh
deer tracks were seen. These showed the way past a couple of low falls,
and in a few places cane patches and mesquite make for bad traveling
along the narrow bed. As soon as the ravine began to widen, I started up
the rock strewn slope to the west. Not far below the basalt cliff there
is a cairn as large as my Kelty pack. I was able to continue up to the
top of the basalt promontory that dominates the junction of the two
arms. I got a fairly good view of the black pinnacle that comes up two
hundred feet or so from the bed of the narrow gorge to the west. I then
was able to get up the escarpment to the north and reach the west arm of
the creek above the basalt canyon. On the return I went down into the
east arm of the creek a half mile farther north of where I had come up.
In so doing, I encountered a jungle of cane and large cottonwood trees.
From a distance, I felt sure that there would be springs here, but when
I forced my way through the tangle, I didn't even find any mud.

The way to the top of the Tapeats at the upper end of Basalt Creek was
sure since I had gone over to the Chuar drainage here six years ago.
From a distance I saw some indications that I might be able to get up
the Tapeats in the arm that comes down from Jupiter Temple. If I
couldn't get through, it would make the trip at least an hour longer but
if I succeeded, it would probably shorten my project by a couple of
hours. I decided to take the gamble, and it worked out fine. The route
was just intricate enough to be interesting and I was soon above the
Tapeats heading for the valley between Apollo and Venus. The cave on the
north wall of Apollo was even bigger looking than when we were bussing
by in a plane. I estimated the mouth to be 60 or 70 feet in diameter. I
went up directly below it, but I still saw no light through the hole
above. When I got to the brink of this hole above the Redwall, I tossed
a stone into it. For a long time I heard nothing and then I heard the
impact on the lower lip of the big cave and finally the rock falling
down the whole Redwall cliff.

Going up to the top of the saddle between Apollo and Venus was simple. I
was startled to find a cairn right at the pass leading down to the west.
From the plane it appeared that one could go down here a third of the
way and then proceed to the north until you could get the rest of the
way down the Redwall. I considered doing this with the object of getting
into Unkar and returning down that drainage, but I was afraid of the
Tapeats below. Perhaps I'll come up this branch of Unkar sometime and
study the possibility. I had no real trouble climbing Venus Temple
although the false summit fooled me. From this first summit, the real
Summit looked nasty with overhangs on both sides. When I reached it,
however, it was simple to walk up the side right in front. No cairn was
there before mine.

Apollo needed a little study but there were breaks in the three Supai
cliffs where needed. The summit is a platform of some size and is a
jumble of peculiar erosional effects. I don't know of another place
quite like it. While I was assembling some rocks for a cairn on the
highest point, I happened to look south. Rather near the rim was a fine
large cairn built of bigger pieces than I have ever bothered to leave
around. I could very well have logged two or three more breeches in the
Redwall on the different sides of Apollo or Venus, but I thought I would
rather spend the extra time going up the west arm of Basalt Creek from
the junction with the east arm to see the pinnacle from below.

I got back to this junction fairly early, about three, and went up the
west arm. At one place I had to detour around a dry fall. Soon I came to
a higher one, but this time I had no real difficulty going right up the
middle on the small steps. About the time I had a good view of the
pinnacle, it began to rain and I was worried about the smooth lava in
the bed of the fall if it should become thoroughly wet. Actually, the
rain never did wet the warm rocks. Hiking under the thunderclouds was
fine, but I kept a weather eye for escapes up the banks in case of a
real downpour and a possible flood.

It was still quite early when I reached the river and I was able to
cross below the swift water and make a calculated landing right where I
had planned. I had plenty of time for a leisurely supper at the mouth of
Tanner Wash and I lay on my bed and read Time until I got sleepy even
before dark. Again, the next morning I was on my way by 5:30 a.m. and I
made my third fastest ascent of the Tanner Trail including an unhurried
lunch break.

*Into Hance Canyon southwest of Coronado Butte and the burro trail out
of lower Hance
[July 24, 1965 to July 25, 1965]*

Barton French and Norvel Johnson left with me just after 1:00 p.m. After
seeing about the permit to hike and parking at the picnic area nearest
the Sinking Ship, we started to walk to the head of the Hance Trail. I
found that I was still confused about the location of the head of the
Old Hance Trail since they rerouted the highway. I finally recognized it
farther east than I thought it would be. There is a small parking lot
that is just a slight widening of the highway and only a few yards to
the west you find the outlines of two torn down or burnt down buildings.
The trail head is very near these.

More embarrassing than this fumble was my inability to walk right to the
head of the New Hance Trail. I found a road through the woods where I
thought it should be, but the road seemed to be taking us too far east,
and I led the others away at right angles. Very soon I saw that we were
paralleling the highway and were going back where we had come from. To
avoid further mixups, we went over to the rim and walked until we came
to the draw at the head of the trail. The trail itself is about the same
as ever, nothing to brag about.

I had Don Davis' report of their trip down from the Coronado Saddle to
the rim of the Redwall in Hance, so I was expecting a little trouble in
route finding. Our system was to follow the main ravine that is a bit to
the south of the saddle until it meets a small cliff. Then we shifted to
a ravine over one ridge farther south. This brought us to a lower cliff.
We got by this over to the south, but not in a ravine. The 12 or 15 most
difficult feet made us face in and look for handholds. Below this we
turned still farther south after another slight difficulty that we
bypassed by going a little to the north. It took us an hour and a half
to go from the rim to the place in the Redwall where I had been before
on the Old Trail. French slowed us down a bit since he was carrying a
much heavier pack than I would have thought necessary. He also stabbed
himself on a century plant and got against some cactus.

At one place I thought I saw a cave up to the east. While Norvel and
Barton walked on, I climbed up to see what it was. It was only a slight
overhang that had formed a shelter for rats. I caught up with the others
before we reached the point directly below Bida Cave. I hadn't
remembered how high up the Redwall it is. I would think that the tube
from it to the rim above would have to be only about 130 feet long. I
also noticed that it is considerably south of the seep spring where
Hance had his rock cabin. We camped here and filled our canteens at the
splashy little fall. There were a very few burro tracks around so that
we think the extermination campaign hasn't been 100% successful.
However, we heard no braying during this trip, but we did hear coyotes
far away in the darkness.

The rock walls of the corrals were just as I had remembered them. When
we went on at the fairly early hour of 6:30 Sunday morning, I was
looking for the inscription wall, supposedly on the east side under an
overhang just below where the Tonto Trail crossed the bed of Hance
Canyon. (Really on the west side at the southern most Tapeats.) I missed
seeing it both on the way downstream and also when I came back to look
again.

The little stream in Hance in the Tapeats gorge seemed to be running
less water than I had seen before, and I also thought there were more
willows growing than before. Perhaps the willows are using the water. We
had no trouble finding the place to go up out of Hance to the west
although I had never used this short cut recommended by Dan Davis
before. It is directly opposite the place where you can come into Hance
from the east. French was having a tough time with his heavy load as we
were coming up to the Tonto, so I relieved him of most of his weight and
more than doubled my burden for the rest of the way out. We also
switched from going out towards the river to go up the trail on the west
prong of the Horseshoe and went up past the spring east of the neck.
Even while carrying nearly all of French's weight, I could still walk
away from him. I went after the car while he and Norvel walked out
together.

*South Kaibab Trail to Lyell Butte
[July 31, 1965]*

From Grandview Point it had seemed that there might be breaks in the
cliffs around Lyell Butte. I figured that this should be a one day round
trip from the South Kaibab Trail. On rereading my log from the trip in
May, I see that at that time I considered this a two day trip for which
one would have to carry all one's water. My experience this time shows
that I had been wrong on both counts. It took me 40 minutes to get down
the South Kaibab Trail to the place at the bottom of the main cliff in
the Supai east of O'Neil Butte where I can start down to the Redwall.
From there I needed one hour and 45 minutes to get to the head of the
east arm of Cremation Canyon, one half hour less time than we needed in
May. (My system in leaving the trail is go down to the south to a creek
in the small cliff then north to the slide area.)

To vary my trip to the Newton Butte Saddle, I started up from the
Redwall rim at the southernmost rim of Cremation instead of going to the
place directly below the saddle. Hands were needed to get up one ledge,
and the walking was a little slower at this level than it had been along
the rim of the Redwall. However, it just now occurs to me that one could
leave the South Kaibab Trail at the right level in the Supai and come
over to this saddle. One can get through the entire Supai southwest of
the saddle where there has been a lot of tilting and faulting.

Going from the saddle over to Lyell presented more of a problem than I
had thought it would. The Supai drops off in a continuous cliff north of
here and I was afraid to go to the south also. I didn't study it well
enough and decided to go over the higher saddle northeast of Shoshone
Point into the Grapevine Canyon drainage. Here the rocks are all smashed
by the syncline and it was just a long walk down to the Redwall in the
valley. By now it was noon and I ate lunch in the shade of a large rock.

The day didn't seem excessively hot, but I realized that I was
perspiring profusely. I had brought a gallon of water with me and I'd
drank all I care to. Apparently this was not sufficient, or I was not
making up for the salt loss. My appetite was poor. A few minutes after I
started on, I found two rain pools at the top of the Redwall that were
deep enough to fill the two quart canteen by submersion. I had no fears
of water shortage since I still had two quarts in the pack. As I reached
the south side of Lyell Butte just after 1:00 p.m., I began to feel
unusually weak. It was now clear that I couldn't climb the butte, but in
spite of my weak feeling, I continued to the point of the promontory
that goes farthest east from Lyell. It was interesting to get a bird's
eye view of the Tonto Trail heading the Tapeats gorge of Grapevine
Canyon. I could see exactly where Allyn and I had left the Tonto Trail
and had gone down to the bed of Grapevine.

I returned to where I had left my pack around the other side (north) of
Lyell. By now all movement was an effort and I decided that I would
rather go clear around the north side of Newton Butte rather than climb
the slope I had come down just before lunch. As I reached the angle
between the ridges that extend towards Newton and Lyell, I thought from
the view below that I could go up here. I couldn't see all the details,
but the probabilities were so good that I decided to try it. Again, at
one place I had to use my hands, but the gamble paid off. It was easy to
reach the Newton Saddle and I climbed down to the Redwall rim at a third
place, directly in line with Cremation Fault.

By now I was swallowing extra salt every time I took a drink, but my leg
muscles were cramping worse than they ever had. I had experienced cramps
on the inside just above the knee, but now I was getting fleeting cramps
in the calves and even in the feet and hips. I filled my canteen again
at a rain pool and arrived on the South Kaibab Trail as it was getting
dark about 8:15 p.m., very glad to be past the bad walking. It had taken
three hours in the evening to cover the same ground I had done in one
hour and 45 minutes in the morning. It was a good thing that I had about
two quarts of extra water, because on the trail I met a young fellow who
had been without water for four hours.

*Hermit Trail
[August 14, 1965 to August 15, 1965]*

Barton French wanted me to take him for a float on the Colorado River so
I suggested going from Hermit to Boucher Rapids and coming back out the
next day by the Boucher Trail. Norvel Johnson got feeling bad before we
reached Cathedral Stairs so we decided to stay at Hermit Creek near the
old camp and just visit the river Saturday afternoon. After lunch and
some cooling water in a pool of Hermit Creek, Norvel got over his
weakness and we all had a good restful time playing in the quiet water
above Hermit Rapids.

It was quite windy for several hours while we were eating supper and
getting to bed, but the night was plenty warm for our single blankets.
We slept under an overhang along the trail where it is getting down to
creek level. A mouse ran over my bare feet while I was lying on top of
the blanket. We saw it by daylight in the morning.

There were few new observations. I noticed that one can climb out of the
Tapeats Gorge below where the trail meets the creekbed around the bend
in the large bay on the west.

I was showing the others fossil footprints in the Coconino and telling
them about the existence of more in the Hermit Shale. One of them saw
some good ones in a piece of shale which had been put on top of the low
wall at the side of the trail where it starts down the first small cliff
of Supai. I hope my picture shows it.

We got an early (6:15 a.m.) start back out on Sunday and had shade for
quite a bit of the way. About 11:00 a.m. we reached the junction with
the Dripping Springs Trail and detoured over there. This took about one
and a half hours and we got caught in a mild but chilly rain before we
reached the car about 1:40 p.m. Norvel and Barton both showed up fairly
well, but I was not extended to keep up with them.

*North Rim (Dragon Creek and Hartman's Bridge #1)
[August 21, 1965 to August 25, 1965]*

After Norvel Johnson's poor showing the week before, he decided not to
come. I got off about nine and ate lunch at Cliff Dweller's. For the
first time I was shown the interesting collection of fossil footprints
that Haynes collected and mounted on plywood. One series of several
prints are what I found at Mile 19, four claw marks showing for each foot.

On arrival at Park Headquarters, I learned that Joe Hall had left only
two days before but that Merrel Clubb was around, out to Widforss Point
that day. I left a greeting at his car on my way out to Tiyo Point. I
learned later that he managed to make an adventure out of this easy
hike. He got benighted and couldn't tell his directions by the stars. He
finally stopped and set out a cold night thinking that he was in the bed
of a ravine. When it got light, he found that he was at the end of the
road down the ravine leading to the Transept and that his car was only
200 yards away. Later I learned from him that his cross canyon
pilgrimage to see where his son and grandson had died took about a week.
For instance, he was exhausted when he reached the engineer's home at
the junction of Roaring Springs and Bright Angel Canyons the first
night. This was surely when he was in worse condition then he is this
year. In his prime he went from Bright Angel Creek up the Kaibab to the
rim in two hours and 23 minutes, 15 minutes shorter than my best.

By Saturday evening at five, I was ready to leave the car about a mile
north of Tiyo Point. I lined up Buddha to the left of the Colonnade so
that I would know which way to go after I reached the road on the
return. To make sure I wouldn't be in dire straights if I had to camp
without water, I carried one and a half gallons. After crossing the
usual number of ravines, I reached the drop off point in 35 minutes
which was ten minutes faster than I did this lap on the return when I
was tired. It took not quite an hour to reach the rim of the Supai on
Shiva Saddle where one can start down into Dragon Creek. I had this
place marked wrong on my map. It is right in line with the trend of the
creek below, the notch in the rim that reaches farthest east. On the
return, I found the water that Kolb had mentioned and that Joe Hall and
his brother had located when they went to the top of Shiva. There are a
number of big flat rocks in the vicinity of this break and on the top of
the largest are several pits up to nine inches deep. Days after a light
rain they still had water three inches deep. If I had spotted these rain
pools on the way down, I would have stopped for the night and continued
in the morning along the Hermit Shale along the north side of Shiva as
planned. Instead I went down past the top half of the Redwall to the
place where a side ravine comes in over a dry fall. Here, there were a
couple of rather copious rain pools and even a nice overhang under the
wall with a smooth, level spot for the bed. It was a good site except
that I had too warm a bag, my three and a half pound down bag, and there
were a few mosquitoes. Even this high, my cotton blanket would have been
right. The water was red with suspended clay, and two days later when I
was leaving, I noticed thousands of mosquito larvae.

On Sunday morning I left before six taking food for more than one meal
and one and a half gallons of water, enough for a long day. First I went
back to the top of the Redwall where I had come down and then followed
the rim around Shiva to the west. It took 15 minutes to get to the top
of the Redwall and one and a quarter hours to go from there to the place
where I had come up from the main bed of Dragon Creek last year. The
walking was slow along the Redwall rim in this area, and when I had
proceeded a little farther, I realized that I probably would not get
much past the place Allyn and I had reached last spring. I should have
brought my sleeping equipment and taken more than one day for this.
Instead of going on all day for the minor pleasure of completing a loop
around the base of Shiva, I went back and down the break in the Redwall
I had used last year. By 8:35 a.m., I was ready for a day of exploring
up the east arm of Dragon. When I came to the fork in Dragon, I had no
way of deciding which branch to follow. At the time I thought I would be
going out the next day and would explore only one branch. The east
seemed longer on the map, so I went up it. The bed was easy to follow
with few large rocks and only a few rain pools. I could have dumped
almost all my canteen water here.

A little over a mile north of the fork in the bed there is a bay to the
east and standing near the base of the Redwall on the west is a fine
landmark, a stocky tower that has an almost uniform overhang most of the
way around separating the upper part from the lower. I thought of a
frontier blockhouse or a medieval fortification. As I was admiring it, I
happened to look up to the rim of the Redwall a little to the south and
saw a neat though rather small natural bridge. I would estimate its span
to be about 55 feet, putting it in the class of the Peterson Bridge
above Cheyava or of the Cardenas or Jicarilla bridges. I was reminded of
the conversation I had at the south rim headquarters when I was
reporting the north arm of Chuar under Point Atoka. Dan Davis told me
that Hartman had already reported it from the air, and another man in
the office at the time had said that Hartman had also reported another
somewhere in the Crystal Dragon region. I didn't get the name of this
informant, and later I couldn't even get a ranger to say that he could
remember the remark. I had begun to think I had heard wrong. If the one
to Chuar (Lava) would be Hartman #2, then this one must be Hartman #1.

Above this landmark, the nature of the vegetation along the bed changes
remarkably. Instead of consisting of a few scrub oaks and junipers, it
becomes a dense forest of box elders, maples, and very shortly mostly
firs. It amazed the naturalist ranger Richardson to hear about this type
of forest occurring below the Redwall when for miles up on the rim 2,000
feet higher the forest is ponderosa pine. This shoots down a theory I
had held concerning the same type of forest in upper Bright Angel
Canyon. I had thought that the coolness which enables the firs to grow
thick is caused by the presence of the cold voluminous flow of water
below the springs. There is no such flow in upper Dragon Creek, but the
forest is just as rich. Three or four types of butterflies were common,
birds were thicker than elsewhere in Grand Canyon, and for long
stretches I was scolded by the shill whistle of chipmunks. Finally,
towards the upper tiers of the Redwall, there were deep springs of fine
cold water coming in from the west side of the creek. Once I heard small
streams of water falling a few feet on a rock hidden back in the jungle.

There had been no real barriers in the bed besides a couple of easily
bypassed chockstones, but I could guess that the very top of the Redwall
would still form a 40 foot drop. When I saw a rockslide to the west that
led above the Redwall, I took it, but then it was rather a mess to get
through the brush and ravines back to the central streambed. After
taking a picture of two from a promontory in line with the lower canyon,
I got back down by an easier way following a deer trail through the
ravine to the west of the main channel. Even though I had given up
Osiris, I had scored two routes through the Redwall, one below Shiva
Saddle and the other at the end of the east arm of Dragon, and also a
natural bridge thus pinpointing Hartman's poorly located find.

When I got up the next morning, I packed everything in the Kelty
thinking that I was ready to head back to civilization. Suddenly, I
realized that I had food enough for another day and that I might never
be this close to the west arm of Dragon again. I left my gear where it
had been for two days and headed back down the familiar bed leading to
the bottom of Dragon Creek. There is another branch of Dragon coming in
from the northeast and almost meeting the branch I had camped in just
before they both reach the main bed. On the level ground near this
junction, I thought there might be some signs of Indian occupation. On
the return the previous day, I had cut across here with my eyes on the
ground hoping for sherds. I am not particularly good at finding them,
but I was rewarded by spotting a very distinct mescal pit. It is not
quite as well formed as the one Allyn and I had found on the Shiva
Saddle about 50 yards northeast of the big rock with the rainpool.

I made good progress up the west arm and found the place in the Redwall
on the east side about one and a half miles north of the junction where
I had suspected that a climb up to the Little Dragon would be possible.
The close up view from below still made this seem attractive, but there
is a lot of manzanita higher up. Perhaps a deer trail makes this mess
penetrable. However, I didn't go up here to test it either on the way
north on the return. The appearance of the canyon is about the same as
it is on the other side of the Little Dragon. The Redwall seldom makes a
smooth wall. There are many high ledges and interesting alcoves and
overhangs. I saw two rather inaccessible caves near the top of the
formation. At one place I suspected that there is a round hole going
through an overhang but I didn't force a passage through the brush to
get under it. There were more small rain pools in the bed and finally as
I got close to the upper end of the Redwall, I encountered a small,
clear stream. It comes down from the higher regions in the main bed and
forms a steep travertine chute at the notch in the Redwall rim. It was
too steep for climbing, but there was a dry ravine on the east side of a
crag that I could climb. Near the top of this brushy ravine, there is a
bad place where a chockstone has lodged. I had to remove my canteen to
wriggle through the crevice and get on top of the Redwall.

The idea of getting back to the comforts of the campground including a
shower and a good meal at the cafeteria appealed more than another
Redwall climb, so I bypassed the interesting route to the Little Dragon.
After a short rest at my campsite under the overhang, I started for
Shiva Saddle at 3:15 p.m. Instead of following the rather overgrown
route directly up to the break in the rim, I experimented by keeping to
the open rockslides angling a bit to the north. There was one place
where I had to do a bit of a scramble to get to a higher ledge to save
considerable backtracking to the south as well as down. I didn't have to
waste altitude, and I believe I prefer this route to the north and then
back to the south higher up near the top cliff of Supai. One factor was
disagreeable. I was attacked simultaneously by two wasps. The one that
stung the back of my neck bothered me for only 15 minutes, but the sting
on the underside of my wrist left a swelling and an itch for several
days. After discovering the water holes that Kolb and Hall had found, I
ate a snack and reached the car in two more hours. I can follow a deer
trail almost all the way up to the rim from the saddle.

It had been a good two and a quarter days with three more Redwall routes
proved, a natural bridge located, and a mescal pit to prove that Indians
had used the valley. My conclusion about McDonald's route out of Dragon
would be that he probably did not use the easy way up to Shiva Saddle
and out. If he had to abandon his blanket to get up some ledge, he
probably went all the way up one of the arms, probably the east one.
Then he could easily have encountered this kind of difficulty in the
Supai or Coconino. He may have guessed that the snow would be deep on
top and that it would pay him to stay low as long as possible. From the
little I have heard about this amphitheater, I may have been the first
white man to cover some of this ground.

*King Arthur Castle and Guinevere
[August 25, 1965]*

I spent Tuesday visiting with Merrel Clubb. He appears to have his
problems under control and we had a fine time talking canyon routes. He
took me out to the point of the rim above Cheyava Falls which he
succeeded in getting named for Francois Matthes. He regards it as one of
the very best in the whole park since you see Zoroaster, Brahma, and
Deva so well. You can get all of Wotan in one picture, and you get an
entirely different impression of Cheyava Falls. The cave mouth shows so
well. It is an easy six miles from the paving. Although I don't regard
it as in the same class with Cape Royal or Point Imperial, it is going
to be a must for guests of mine in the future. He has some fine glasses
and he showed me the place where he took his son up the Redwall when
they circled Isis. There is a slot in the Redwall on the north side of
the point that sticks out toward the east of the base of Isis
(Impossible here, promontory farther north). I should have asked him how
he suspected this place would be possible. I'll have to take another
trip into Phantom Canyon to look at this, but I would guess they did
some pretty mean climbing, worse than mine at the end of Phantom Canyon
below Shiva Temple. He must like to do things the hard way. I could come
down from the Tiyo Point road and reach the Redwall rim around Isis in
less than three hours. The prime example of Clubb's mismatching means
with ends is when he and his son started from Bright Angel Campground
going west to pick up duffel that was left by the parachutists. They got
as far as the valley east of Cheops when both father and son gave out.
It was a struggle for them even to go back although they had covered
less than a twentieth of the project. I asked him why they hadn't tried
to recover the Lawes MacRae route. Apparently they hadn't given the idea
any consideration (Redwall okay south of Flint Tuna Saddle).

Clubb told me something concerning this route that I hadn't appreciated
before. He says that Lawes did the real scouting and that MacRae was
just along for the ride. Furthermore, they did not go down from Point
Sublime but rather from somewhere near Grama. I am inclined to agree
that there is no break in the Redwall between Sublime and Sagittarius
Ridge. ( MacRae was the leader.) I could see no sure way up the Redwall
from Flint Creek (have been up here in 1967) either, so if I ever want
to finish the traverse on the north side of the river, I had better
count on keeping just above the inner gorge, except of course from
Powell Saddle along the Esplanade to below Big Saddle.

Clubb had made such a big production of climbing King Arthur Castle that
I was braced for something rough. He had scouted it by degrees over the
years and had taken several multiple day trips just to reach the base.
Finally, he climbed it in two days, or I rather think three days, only
four years ago. I couldn't believe it would take me so long, especially
when I see that the ranger had marked a Jeep road out to Galahad Point.
I got started at 6:20 a.m. away from the Point Sublime road just south
of Kanabownits Spring. There is a corral just before the road turns
steeply up the hill. With the bright red blazes on the trees and the
truck tracks for a guide, I had no trouble reaching the angle at the
south side of Galahad Point. Clubb had told me about the possibility of
getting down at the end of Galahad Point, but from his tone, I thought
it would be as far to start down through the Coconino where I first hit
the rim. I followed a rockslide until I reached a good deer trail, or
rather a deer maintained Indian trail, since Clubb likes to make this
distinction. It stays up near the base of the Coconino and takes one
past a dripping spring, a good base if one wanted to explore the entire
area. Here, there is quite an exposure of shale which I crossed to
bypass by dropping down nearly to the rim of the Supai although I later
found that a deer trail continues across the top of this slope. Soon the
peculiar tower of some Coconino capping the same height of Hermit Shale
known as Excalibur was catching my eye. From all angles it seems worth a
good many frames of 35 mm film. There are places where one loses the
deer trail in brush and many low limbs where deer go under without
difficulty, but progress was steady and a good deal easier than I had
pictured it from Clubb's and Beatty's experiences. I passed to the south
of Guinevere Castle. Clubb had never tried this one, perhaps because it
is not at the end of the promontory and the views would not be as
striking as they are from the slightly higher Arthur. I continued past a
bare ravine in the shale below quite an exposure of the Hermit in a
cliff at the bottom of the Coconino. One can go up on either side of
this cliff, but I was more sure of the west side. There was no real
difficulty in the climb although at one place in the Coconino and again
in the Toroweap, I believe I used my hands briefly. The summit has the
charm of being quite definite. I would have sworn that when Clubb
returned after his success in 1961 that he told me he was surprised to
find a cairn already on top and that he had taken it apart without
finding any message or can. Still when he placed his own can upside down
in the middle of the small cairn, he wrote that to his best knowledge it
was a first ascent. I signed my name and recorded the time required to
come from the Point Sublime road, four hours and three minutes. I
arrived at 10:23 a.m. compared to Clubb's hour, 3:15 p.m. He also
recorded that he was somewhat exhausted at the time, whereas I was still
feeling fine. He carried his 30 pound pack clear to the top because he
has a fear, very well justified, of losing the pack. I left mine with
lunch and too much water at the bottom of the final slope.

Clubb is on firm ground in his raptures concerning the view from the top
of King Arthur. If they ever develop a thorough trail system in Grand
Canyon as they have say at Glacier, I certainly hope that one goes to
the top of Arthur. By a good trail, it would be a splendid half day to
leave Galahad Point, take in both Arthur and Guinevere, and return to
the rim. The abysmal depths in Shinumo Amphitheater are a more
impressive network than I know of anywhere else. I don't blame Clubb for
losing interest in the rest of the park for several years.

Clubb's reason for bypassing Guinevere is not so good. I suspect that he
was so tired when he got through with Arthur that the queen was just too
much. After I finished lunch at the base, it was only 12:10 p.m., so I
started up. I could see a Coconino ledge that might be beyond me, but I
thought it was worth a closer inspection. When I reached the place, I
found a convenient walk up in a crack behind a rock. There was no other
discouragement except that the very top is formed by overhangs on three
sides. I left my pack and canteen in the gate between the main summit
and an outlying block 30 feet high to the east. I was prepared to
chimney climb some crack in the top, but when I followed the base to the
west, I found that the side towards Arthur is a simple walk up. The top
is almost flat but slopes slightly up to the east. My cairn, in a
clearing among the trees near the east end, was the first.

However, I know I was not the first man on Guinevere since I found a
rock shelter under the overhanging south side of the top. About 50 yards
west of the shelter is a clearly artificial wall closing up a natural
hollow in the limestone for a storage bin. These discoveries made me
feel doubly rewarded for the climb. I was a little weary before I got
back to the car, but I felt that it had been a most satisfactory day. I
used the stiffer but shorter route up to the rim at the end of Galahad
Point and got back to the car at the Point Sublime road in just ten
hours total time. Arthur and Guinevere made my 34th and 35th summits
reached in the park.

*Impressions from the air
[September 11, 1965]*

Points discussed with Clubb, Reilly, and Marston had made me itchy for
the views from the air. The wind was blowing at 20 knots and the sky
between Flagstaff and the canyon was studded with clouds, some of which
were dropping rain, but I wanted to see the area around Point Sublime
before I tackled it on foot on the following weekend. Bill piloted me
efficiently where I directed.

Without dropping much below the rim, I got a fairly good look at the
tops of Sheba and Solomon Temples. Solomon appears the easier of the
two. I would still think that Solomon should be climbed from the east
side, but now I believe I would go up Sheba from the west (actually, on
the north side Solomon is harder than Sheba) until the top cliff, then
to the north ridge which might be followed to the summit.

Vishnu Temple did not seem quite so forbidding this time. My attention
was directed mostly to the Coconino. The easiest way seems to be in a
groove that slants up to the northeast just inside the northwest
shoulder. There wasn't time to study the Supai approach which may be the
harder part. I couldn't see the final route, but I could tell that there
is little choice. Go up a ravine rising toward the south. I recall that
Clubb needed one piton for the summit block (Sears found an easier way
around on the north side). (Wotan's north ridge climbed by Packard and
Walters.)

I intend studying the north ridge to the top of Wotan where the Wood
Party said they climbed Wotan in 1937, but it was on the wrong side of
the plane and I got only a little better look than one gets from Cape
Royal or Matthes Point. I still think it would require hardware and
ropes which the 1937 party did not use.

After a fleeting glimpse of Cheyava, and a brief look at the route
through the Coconino Cliff Spring (this before Cheyava), I had Bill fly
past Point Ariel. Contrary to what Clubb had said, it seemed to me that
the easiest way down is well to the west of the point, in fact, closer
to Obi Point (Obi Point no rope). Still I would think that a rope would
be needed.

My next objective was the east side of Brahma. I couldn't see any break
in the top Supai cliff, but I saw a narrow rockslide through the part
lower down. This is north of the middle of the whole butte. There were a
couple of possible routes through the lower Coconino, but I would have
to try them on foot to make sure. The higher part looks easier. A quick
inspection of the west side didn't seem much better. I agree with Clubb
that the Supai is more of a problem than the Coconino. Most of the climb
would be over when one got to the saddle between Brahma and Zoroaster.
The Supai cliff forming Hattan Butte didn't seem to have any breaks.
(Davis and Ellis went to the top on the west side.)

We next steered toward Isis to see how Merrel Clubb and Roger had
climbed the Redwall. From the air, there doesn't seem to be any ravine
where Merrel had indicated through the glasses from Matthes Point. My
aerial impression bore out the map, and the best way up (very poor
though) in this neighborhood would be to climb the projecting ridge.
(Walters and Packard climbed the point toward the east.) (Packard and
Walters used a R W route on the projection in the middle of Isis on the
east side.) I wouldn't bet much that I could do this.

A reasonable close view of the southwest corner of Shiva reinforced my
impression that this offers an easy passage through both Supai and
Coconino. It could be used as the uphill route by deer to the top of
Shiva. We circled Osiris to the south and looked at the east, south, and
west sides. It would not be best to go towards the Towers of Ra and then
come toward Osiris across the connecting ridge. Part of this ridge looks
narrow on top, but hardly 18 inches as reported by Stanton. One could
come up a talus directly on Osiris, then move a little to the north
below the top Supai cliff where one might try a steep slight break. I
wouldn't bet much on my chances here either. (Davis had to go around the
north projection and turn south to get up.)

Next we passed north of Confucius. A fairly good, though distant view of
the upper end of Crystal indicated that the Redwall and higher
formations would be quite feasible. It would be a long walk from here to
the parachutists' camp above the mouth of Tuna, but a few days of
energetic reconnaissance should have turned up this route for the
evacuation. The next view completely changed my plans for the 18th.
There is absolutely no chance to get down the Redwall into Tuna from
Grama Point. (There is a fine break on the west side of the east arm of
Tuna false.) Clubb must have been reporting MacRae incorrectly. [I
retract this now (1969). MacRae and Lawes went off Grama and found the
Redwall on the west break side.]

A few minutes later I was seeing something that completely validated the
impression I had obtained from Marston and Reilly. One should cross the
valley to the west of Point Sublime about 1.2 miles north of the end of
the road and follow the south pointing ridge to near its end. Here you
can get down the Kaibab and also the Coconino and Supai by going a bit
to the north along the Hermit Shale. You can't see the ravine through
the Redwall from Point Sublime, but the view from above shows this to be
an easy route right down into Tuna. The plane wasn't in the right
position to let me see whether one can go down through the Redwall into
Flint. The next thing I want to try is this descent into Tuna and a
return up Crystal as a fine two day trip. (Descent into Flint one half
mile to the west opposite mouth of Gawain.)

We had been warned that we had only three hours of flying time on our
22.5 gallons of gas, so I didn't call for any circling. The principal
objective that I overlooked is a detour over the upper end of Shinumo
Creek to see where Clubb has climbed the Redwall north of Elaine Castle.
We went directly over Powell Saddle and around the north side of
Steamboat Mountain. I had a good look at the place above the springs of
Stone Creek where Beck considered a possible Redwall ascent. (Nothing
doing.)

Then we dropped down for a look at the Redwall in Specter. This was one
of the prime objectives so we flew back into the bay. I got a good look
at the ravines on the south side, and I am almost positive (?) (we
failed when we came up this ravine) it can be followed right to the top
of the Redwall. The Supai above looked even worse than it had from above
along the rim. The bench above the Redwall can be followed around here
from fossil, but it is rather steep all the way and I saw no signs of a
trail. This would be the most discouraging part of this idea. The
promontory south of the first drainage (?), south of the mouth of
Fossil, seemed more promising (Enfilade Point Route). I am rather sure
this would go, including the shale slope below the Redwall. Another good
two day loop trip would be to come down into Fossil Bay, get to the
river the first day by one of three routes and return by the other.

Royal Arch was in shadow and I fumbled and missed a picture as we went
by. It impressed both of us as being larger than I had imagined it from
the close views. Strangely, I couldn't see the bench mark cairn as we
went by.

My last observation had to do with routes off the Tonto to the river.
Again, I was slightly confused as we passed the Jewels. The way down
west of Copper Canyon was obvious and I could see that it was likely in
Serpentine where Colin succeeded. I am quite sure I snapped another
place upriver, but the rim just west of Slate is a possibility. I would
now go up the bed of Slate and look for a way out on the east side. It
appeared probably from a distance (Yes, in two places). In spite of a
pill, I still felt a little air sick, but I felt that the trip had given
me a lot of leads and was well worth my fourth fifths of the cost.

*Pattie Butte
[September 19, 1965]*

My proposed trip to the Point Sublime area was stopped cold by a storm
that put down more than a fifth of the normal yearly precipitation in 30
hours. There was quite a bit of snow on the peaks and on the Kaibab
Plateau. Reider Peterson, Jim David, and I headed for Pattie Butte along
the rim of the Redwall east of the South Kaibab Trail, and Nancy
Peterson and Lettie David came along and went down the trail as far as
the edge of the Redwall.

The day was cool and there was quite a bit of water standing in all the
hollows. I led the way and found deer trails about one third of the way.
We talked quite a bit and I was a little slower in covering distance
than I had been on the hot day last summer. Again we passed the old
cairn just before we reached the saddle between Newton and Pattie
Buttes. I sat down for an early lunch at the saddle and speculated about
our chances to climb Pattie. I knew that Scholing had given this up, and
so had I after walking completely around the base, but I had seen
something from the plane the week before, a crack about ten inches wide
in the most difficult cliff.

The obvious way to start up was at the south end on the west side. When
we got within 60 or 70 feet of the top, the difficult part was directly
ahead. It was possible to proceed a little higher without real trouble,
but I called for a walk around the butte at this height to see whether
there was any still better way. We saw a crack around to the northwest,
but I preferred going on around once. When we came back to the starting
point, we went up to the east side at the south end. Here we found the
crack I had seen from the air. It wasn't too good because I could only
get my leg into it and I had to search for very poor handholds to keep
from falling backwards. There were a few of these, however, and I was
able to go up about ten feet and step north to a shelf. The shelf ended
in about 30 feet, but there was a notch in the rim which was only about
six feet above the shelf. I was able to step up using a crack at knee
height and another toehold and slide up on the rim. The lack of a good
hold above was a little unnerving, but I could use a bulge in the Supai
rock for the right hand and pure friction on flat rock for the left. Jim
David followed these maneuvers very easily, but Reider Peterson elected
to stay below and watch us.

We had no trouble in walking north along the east side below the summit
rock and in ascending to the top at the north end. We built the first
cairn on top.

At the higher of the two hard places, I found that when I lowered myself
past the two steps and reached down for the shelf, my feet didn't quite
touch the deck. I pulled myself up again to think it over and look at
the space below. Jim went down, and with his greater height, it was no
sweat to reach bottom. He rolled a good sized rock a couple of feet over
for me to stand down on. I had no trouble negotiating the crack below.
Jim and I agreed that it was just hard enough to be interesting. Reider,
who had been up the Grand Teton, assured us that we would find no part
of the ascent of the Grand more exacting than what we had just done.

One should be able to leave the South Kaibab Trail beside O'Neil Butte
and be to the top of Pattie in less than three hours.

*Climbing the Sinking Ship
[September 25, 1965]*

After a necessary meeting that let out at 12:10 p.m., I packed up my
passengers: Professor von Sivers, Migs Hubbard, and Reider Peterson. To
save time we ate our lunch out of sacks in the car and left the picnic
area east of the Sinking Ship at 2:30 p.m. You shouldn't head too
directly for the rim or you will have to go down and up the deep part of
the ravine that drains the valley just west of the paved parking. I
couldn't remember details of the best walking from here to the Sinking
Ship and I believe I led the party over some brushy deer trails when
there was better walking higher on the slope. On the return we kept on
what seemed like the old tourist route, that led up directly from the
saddle to the rim. Professor von Sivers was exceptionally appreciative
of the beauty of the canyon, but he was slower than the rest. He is not
only interested in geology but he is also quite a bird watcher and
artist. On the drive back to Flagstaff, he sketched the San Francisco
Peaks as we drove along.

I was hoping for time to show my guests all the attractions of the
Sinking Ship, especially the Indian ruins near the north end of the east
side, but we could see that if Reider and I were going to attempt the
highest point, we would have to leave Migs and Jens to their own
devices. We went to the west of the south tower. Formerly I had tried
the ascent unsuccessfully at a broken groove on this cliff. Now we found
a place where we could go rather high that is about 20 yards farther
south than this ravine. There are plenty of cracks between the rocks
which have lots of rough edges. Nothing appears to be loose, which makes
this better than the other possibility.

This route had the advantage of uncertainty. I called down to Reider,
"we can go quite high, but I believe we'll be stopped." A little later I
said, "no I think we can go along a ledge to the left and get into
another chimney." This was indeed the case, and only moderately
difficult climbing brought us out on top of the high point at the north
end of the spine. Donald Davis suggested that the Hance Ranch guest book
record of a climb of all three towers of Mount. Ayer really referred to
the Sinking Ship instead of Coronado Butte which was known as Mr. Ayer
at the time. I was not surprised to find a rock pile holding a stick
upright at the top of this spire. Reider and I next went down and along
the connecting wall to the real summit north of the first steeple. There
was no difficulty until we reached the wall right below the real summit
of the Sinking Ship. I found that I could worm my way behind a
chockstone, but there was nowhere to go from there. Reider took the lead
and went along a shelf to the left. We had both seen this, but we had
also seen the awkward corner where a very low ceiling over the ledge
slows one's progress. Reider went under here on his back and found the
footing just beyond the corner all right. I made it on my stomach but
still feet first. We could go to the top by an easy scramble from here.
There was a well built old cairn at the highest point.

I had carried a 75 foot rope all the way up here, and now we had a
chance to use it as we came down the direct descent in the groove where
I had formerly given up the ascent, down to the southwest from the top.
There is a juniper growing just where one needs an anchor. The doubled
rope didn't reach past all the difficulties. We didn't have to Rappel
because there were enough spots for our feet every yard or two. When
Reider was down to the rope's end, he was able to flip it loose and pull
it after us. By this time I was down the place where I had been stopped
before. It required some ingenious use of the elbow in a crack. To save
time, I let Reider step on my shoulder and also my knee at this place.
It is an interesting climb.

I had already been to the cairn at the top of the middle tower by an
easy route. The lowest tower to the north appears hardest of all. (Three
cairns without this climbed by Ken Walters.)

*Crystal and Tuna Creeks from Point Sublime
[October 2, 1965 to October 3, 1965]*

From the air it had looked easy to get down into Crystal right through
the Redwall. My idea was to go down at the upper end where both arms of
Dragon Creek had been possible, walk down to where I had been before and
then go around into Tuna and either visit the site of the parachutists
camp or if time was getting short go directly up to the Tuna Flint
Saddle and then up to the rim west of Point Sublime.

I knew this would be a long trip so I left Flagstaff Friday afternoon
and slept near Kanabownits Spring on the Point Sublime road. It was
rather cold with a heavy frost forming on the outside of the sleeping
bag. In the morning I drove to the fire road to the basin and left the
car. I figured I would walk until I got a nice place in the sun before I
ate my breakfast. This was a good enough idea but it did not make my
water supply last as well as if I had eaten at the car and then filled
the canteen after I had had all the water possible.

After walking along the road going northeast along the rim, I came to a
place where I could see the rim from the road. The way down looked
favorable so I skidded in the rockslides and broke through the brush to
reach the Coconino. Here I had to try a second time before I found a
good break. There were also a couple of ledges in the Supai that gave me
pause. At one of them I let down my pack and canteen, tied to the end of
a pole, and at the other I climbed down a tree that was close to the
small cliff. The woods were beautiful and the walking was easy as I
approached the edge of the Redwall. I was in the short arm that branches
toward the west right near the longest arm as it ends in the Redwall. It
is obviously impossible to get down the Redwall in either of these arms.
There is a bigger arm also to the west a little to the south of where I
first reached the Redwall rim. I should have investigated this before I
started north to see what the main arm was like (it goes). Off to the
south quite a lot farther there is a place that looks promising. A talus
comes nearly to the top of the Redwall, and the top may be split giving
access to the talus. I felt that I had taken long enough for this
investigation, and if I were going to carry out the trip down to the
parachutists camp, I would have to give up the project of getting into
Crystal. I went back up the Supai near the end of Crystal in the Redwall
and crossed over the top of a shale ridge to get into the drainage where
I had come down. I was aided by a deer trail for the last part of this
route and this was a real help in getting through the brush. When I got
to the car about 12:30 p.m., I was pretty tired.

By 2:00 p.m. I had parked the car where the Point Sublime road is
leaving the valley and is ready to start out to the final promontory. It
took me about 30 minutes to get to the right place above the good break
in the Coconino that Dirk and I had missed by so little. It is right
around a point to the south of where we were trying to get down. I
really hadn't seen the right place from the air, but it was back in the
notch from where I was looking. Getting down the Kaibab at the rim was
much harder than getting through the Coconino here. In fact, I found a
good deer trail down the unusual open grassy slope that covers the
Hermit Shale here. Neither was it hard to get down the Supai, but I had
to leave the bed and go to the north for the lower drops. It was easy to
get over to the saddle between Tuna and Flint. One branch of the trail
seemed to lead from the saddle northwest along the contour. While I was
getting ready to take a picture of King Arthur Castle from here, I found
a man built cairn. It seems unlikely that Lawes and MacRae would have
put this here because it is not on the direct route down into Tuna (they
went off Grama). Could W. W. Bass or some other prospector have put this
here?

The way is simple down to the Redwall. There had been some brush on the
way down to the saddle, but the way from here was much different,
practically bare. Even the south facing slopes of Dragon and Crystal had
been overgrown with all sorts of brush so that this route is wonderfully
easy in contrast. The top 80 or 100 feet of Redwall is a simple walk
down. There was first a short pitch that made me face in and use fingers
as well as toes. About 170 feet down the Redwall, I came to a place that
really had me guessing and studying. The dry fall on the west was
impossible and investigation of a fall east of a spur showed that it is
no better. However, I found that the spur had a nice crack in it and I
could climb down here and get into the main canyon again. While looking
for the way off the base of the spur, I found something I had begun to
worry about, a pool of rain water. This pothole is over a foot deep and
in any but the very driest season ought to be reliable (day in May,
1977). I had an early supper by this water and then walked on until 6:30
p.m. to a place that had some water and also the best smooth sand I had
seen. My lightweight down bag supplemented by a blanket toward morning
gave me compete comfort.

I ate bread and dates before the stars were out and was ready to move by
six Sunday morning. With only my camera, canteen, and some gingersnaps
for a snack, I could make good time. About where I had to leave the
creekbed or get shut in by the Tapeats cliffs, I came to a small seep
There weren't any water loving plants around and I am not sure that it
could be trusted long after the last rain (good May and October, 1977).
I am pretty sure I saw more water in the bed of Tuna below the Tapeats.
Quite a bit of burro signs were visible along the Tonto Plateau and I
enjoyed a well established burro trail, so much more easily followed
than a deer trail, for quite a bit of the way past the knoll that is
just north of the parachutists' camp. An indication that the area of
fine burro trails may be past was the desiccated body of a dead burro
rather close to the campsite. I am not so sure that the park people are
right in thinking that the burros have limited the bighorns. In this
area I also saw many bighorn droppings as well as plenty of deer signs.
I actually saw two deer at this lower elevation.

The rim above the river was also interesting. I could see the rock
splitting the clear current where I had my mishap on the air mattress
last year. With the present higher stage, there would be no trouble. The
walk up from the river was obvious, a little east of the middle of the
narrow plateau between Tuna and the next drainage to the west. In
looking at my pictures recently, I found that I had taken a shot of this
break from the south side of the river. I also got the best look yet at
the breaks in the Tapeats on the south side of the river, and I found
that my impression that you can get up out of the inner gorge just to
the west of the mouth of Slate was correct. There is also an easier
place yet a little farther to the west. Now I would like to check the
impression I got from the air that you can get to the bottom of Slate
from the east side without going clear around to get down.

Very little was left to mark the old campsite. Perhaps the ranger in the
helicopter who shot the burro stopped at camp (Jim Bailey was shooting
burros by rifle from the chopper). I strongly suspect that I am the only
one who has followed the MacRae Lawes Route (MacRae and Lawes didn't see
this) here from the rim since 1944. I don't know how old Lawes was, but
MacRae was 42 when he did this scramble. I was feeling my age or perhaps
a lack of calories before I got to the car at 4:00 p.m.

*Echo Peaks, left bank upstream, Jacob's Pools to the Paria Platform
[November 6, 1965 to November 7, 1965]*

Reider Peterson, Norvel Johnson, and I left Flagstaff about 7:15 a.m.
and by 9:40 we were parked a mile north of the highway on the old road
leading to Lee's Ferry on the east side of the Colorado River. We had no
trouble finding the right valley leading to the beginning of the trail
up to the south of the Echo Peaks spine. There was an inscription with a
1934 date on a rock shortly before the Jeep road gives way to the
regular trail.

After the trail starts going north and up, it splits but higher the
branches come together. The higher part, leading over the ridge south of
the spine, is particularly wide and well built. When the trail started
down to the east, we thought that we should start climbing the spire
right near the trail in the belief that it was the south part of Echo
Peaks. After some experiments, we gave up the southernmost spire and
continued along the base to the west. Finally I thought there was a good
chance to go up to a saddle between two spires. It worked quite well and
we found that from the saddle we could go to the top of a spire to the
south, a few yards to the second highest point along this row of
something like thirteen spires. The highest rock was just to the north,
but it seemed too tough. We were a lot higher than if we had succeeded
where we had first tried going up at the south end. We built the first
cairn on this summit. We could see that we were still quite a bit south
of the South Echo Peak. I called for a descent to the west. After lunch
we continued on down to a ravine that bounds a big sand slide.

Keeping to the large rocks that were exposed in the ravine next to the
cliff, we went up several hundred feet until we had passed the slide.
From here we worked through the jumble of broken rock to the top of the
ridge immediately north of the South Peak. In going south toward the
peak, we had to descend a few yards. Two ledge possibilities presented
themselves. If we could work our way along precarious ledges south along
the east side of the peak, we thought that we would eventually find a
feasible route to the top. A narrow fissure pointing right toward us
also beckoned. We were unanimous in selecting it. It was a bit steep,
but there were no real problems and we had only a short scramble from
its upper end to the summit. We built the first cairn, a small one
because there were few loose rocks. It is quite a few feet higher than
the North Peak. There is probably no good approach by any route other
than the one we used. A companion peak just north of where we had
arrived on the ridge looks high from the other side of the river on the
way to the ferry, but it seems rather unimpressive from either the main
South Peak or the North Peak. It may be too steep for our type of
climbing, but we didn't give it serious consideration when we were near.
My impression was that we could have done it but didn't see the point of it.

We had no real argument about how to proceed. Johnson wanted to go down
into the deep notch between the two main peaks and hope for the best on
the steep and bare pitches of the North Peak. I remembered our
predicament on the similar looking slope of the spire near the Sheep
Trail and called for a more laborious approach. We went back down the
sandslide to the west and then north at a low level until we were
definitely north of the North Peak. Here we could go up to the ridge to
look down to the east onto the Colorado River where it runs west for
over a mile. A simple walk up this ridge put us right below the last
steep monolith of the summit. Now we had the choice of going up another
ravine similar to the one we had used for the South Peak or of going
down and south along the east side following the top of the sand. The
latter looked sure, but it was now getting rather late in the day and we
still hoped to follow the left bank of the river into the alcove past
Outlaw (?) Cave (Hislop Cave). Again we were unanimous in trying the
ravine. It went fine up to a chockstone where I had to try about all the
acrobatics I could think of. To make the last foot and a half past the
chockstone, I braced my feet against an inward leaning wall and had only
my shoulders against the opposite side which sloped more favorably away
from the vertical. I have never been so stretched out in a horizontal
position for a chimney climb before, but inch by inch I made it up and
over the block. Reider saw how I had done it, but this time his leg was
bothering him, and Norvel said that he had run out of umph. Neither of
them made it over this obstacle I had worried about what the upper end
of the crack would lead to, but once above it, the going was simple.
Nothing worse than sloping slabs with fair pits and crevices were
between me and the summit, quite a few more vertical yards above.

Strangely, there are two summit cairns on the North Peak. The very top
one is of generous proportions, three feet in diameter and two feet or
so deep. It still supports a stick. In an obvious place I found a glass
jar with a neat note saying that it had been climbed that same day in
1957 with one buddy, a dog and Harry Aleson, the day before Harry would
be 50. Then followed the names, Dean and Edna Tidball. It didn't seem
perfectly clear that they were among this party or who wrote the note,
but presumably both of them had come up that day. They added the note
that they had stayed on top for over and hour and had started down about
3:30 p.m. I could see that the route from the south part of the
sandslide on the east side of the peak would be easy enough for a dog,
but we felt rather sure that it had not come up the ravine I used. I was
soon down with my companions but I was sorry we had not brought a rope
or some way of getting them over the chockstone. (The other cairn
contained an old baking powder can with names from 1911.) It was 4:00
p.m. by the time we were down on the ridge above the route to the east
side sandslide, and in only 35 more minutes we were down to the trail
going up the left bank of the river. Here Reider decided that his leg
was going to cause real trouble if he didn't turn back. We agreed that
we would all follow the old road above the river and then go from the
ferry back to the car along the road that shows on the quad map. It was
obvious to Norvel and me that we would be doing a lot of moonlight
hiking, but we hurried on to inspect the alcove beyond Hislop Cave.

When we came to the end of the road, we chose the beach and then found
that there was no chance of getting through the thickets until we came
to the clearing north of the alcove. We had no trouble going into it
until near the end. Here the bed steepened and there were huge blocks of
sandstone barring progress. I hustled up a talus to the east while
Norvel decided to wait for me. Over the spur I went down into the bed
again only to find that there was a ten foot dry fall ahead. Again, I
went up the slope to the east, but now I couldn't get down into the bed.
I was looking at the end only a stone's throw ahead. Now there was no
time to go back down to the bed and try harder on the ten foot fall.
After setting up my tripod and trying to record on film the overhang
ahead at the top of a precariously steep climb, I rejoined Norvel. He
had been waiting about 30 minutes for me to carry out this solo
maneuver. We just had time to inspect Outlaw Cave and get to the end the
old road before darkness closed down. For an hour the moon was behind
clouds but our uncertainty about the route was often removed by seeing
Reider's footprints. By the last light of day, Reider found traces of
the old road leading away form the upper ferry site along the red talus.
Norvel and I missed this but we followed the ramp of the bluff sandstone
that starts right behind the gauging station tower. We had enough light
to avoid the various ravines in the surface of this sloping formation
and we finally came to traces of the old road. Near the place where this
ramp breaks off, Reider was waiting for us. It was a good thing that we
had not found the trail from the gauging station through the shale
immediately above the river or we would have missed Reider. United
again, we found a rough way down to the place that sloped continuously
up to where the car was parked. We were able to see the car by the
rather bright moon. I had snacked on extra food that Reider and Norvel
had taken along, but now I had a belated meal at 9:30 p.m. and got a
good night's sleep in my down bag.

On Sunday we drove around to Lee's Ferry and soon located the sunken
steamboat. The boiler showed out of water and we could stand on it and
look through the clear water at the old planking of the hull. Only about
30 feet through the willows of the bank there is an outcropping of
bedrock and on its vertical face I easily spotted the G. M. Wright
inscription. (1892 removed now, 1977.)

After taking the drive along the river south of the Paria mouth to see
the lower ferry crossing and the old dugway shelf up the opposite cliff,
we headed for Jacob's Pool and the trail that Donald Davis had taken to
the top of the Paria Plateau. Seeps were running in several places that
were dry when I was there before. Reider had to sit this one out because
his leg bothered him after the little walking we had done at Lee's
Ferry. When we had gotten over the broken foothills behind the springs,
Norvel decided that he didn't feel up to the more than thousand foot
climb ahead. When he was almost out of sight on the return trail to the
car, I shouted a farewell. Within a minute he changed his mind again and
headed back uphill. He overtook me while I was eating lunch at the top
of the sandslide area.

Above this, the trail seemed to go too far to the south rather than up
towards the ravine we were sure was the right way to reach the plateau .
We took off up the broken slope and were probably better off than if we
had stayed on the trail. After it swings to the south, it goes up more
loose sand and heads back into the ravine higher up. In the ravine near
the top, there is a lot of trail construction. On the desert varnished
walls beginning about 150 yards from the top are the thickest set of
Indian petroglyphs I have ever run into, not counting sites that were
well known as tourist attractions. The remarkable thing is the great
variety of designs. Some are neat and fresh looking cuts in the dark
patina and others are covered over by obscuring patina themselves. There
are pictures that I have seen at Supai, Canyon de Chelly, and elsewhere,
but there are also some designs that I have only seen in pictures taken
by others in Glen Canyon.

The G. M. Wright inscription that Davis had found eluded me until I was
about ready to give up the search. While Norvel and I were out on a
ledge above the trail to the north, he happened to look down on the
south wall. There about 10 feet above the trail was the name we were
looking for with the date 1894, two years after the date at Lee's Ferry.
He also found Davis' observations of the name Ammon Davis and Spencer
and the brand marks. These are on walls on both sides of the trail about
100 yards down from where you leave the plateau. This distance is to be
measured along the trail, not a difference in elevation.

We descended keeping to the trail and enjoyed the skidding through the
sandy slopes. Norvel's sharp eyes helped again. When we were at the base
of the lower sandslide, he found some bits of pottery. We took two hours
to go from the car to the top of the plateau including a half hour for
lunch. We used 70 minutes for the return.

*Upper Havasu Canyon
[November 24, 1965 to November 28, 1965]*

Both Allyn Cureton and I were afraid that the primitive road out to the
Great Thumb Mesa would be impassible after the record rain. We figured
that it would be better to tackle the area south of the Topocoba Trail
with the gravel road approach to Hualapai Hilltop. The official
prediction was for the clouds to stay through the weekend, and I drove
to Williams with the windshield wipers going. However, there was only a
little more precipitation and Friday, Saturday, and Sunday were clear.

We got started from the car at 11:30 a.m. and reached the creek by 1:20
p.m. with a half hour out for lunch. For once, we saw an Indian working
on trail improvement in Hualapai Canyon. It took us one hour and 25
minutes to reach the junction of Havasu and Lee Canyons. We inspected
the pictographs and the petroglyphs and very soon found the canyon
broadening out to the south. the high vertical walls below this junction
soon give way to a wonderland of red rocks in receding terraces. We
could identify Mr. Burro and many other landmarks along the rims. It
reminded me of views I have seen of the new Canyonlands National Park
with the high, gray rim cliffs thrown in for good measure. Arizona
Highways might consider the possibility of a fine article on this whole
basin. the bottom lands and the gentler slopes of the side canyons
support quite a few Supai horses, and the resulting trails are fine for
walking. It is easy to keep up a three mile per hour average if speed is
a consideration.

Water would be a problem in dry weather, but we could find rainpools in
all the small ravines. There were short stretches where it would be
difficult to climb out of the way of a flash flood, but most of the time
there were remnants of clay terraces above the general level of the
bottom. Good overhanging ledges are numerous enough to protect you from
rain at night, but finding one near a pool of water was a little harder.

Wednesday night we camped under a rather skimpy overhang a little to the
north of the mouth of Driftwood Canyon. Our down bags were more than
adequate during this overcast night. We got under way by eight Thursday
morning. Almost at once we were fooled into thinking that Driftwood was
the main canyon. What we were to learn later is that all of the side
canyons seem to carry more water in a storm than the main canyon whose
bottom is usually silted in with clay and overgrown with willows. Allyn
realized before I did that we were going up a tributary, but we
continued to see how it would end. When we were getting near the top of
the Supai Formation, we found a fine overhang on the east side above a
pool of water and here we left our packs except that we carried both
lunches in mine.

There were six or more horses in the upper basin of Driftwood. We passed
them and went to the south end where we could see that most of the
Coconino was covered by a talus slope. I thought that a trail might lead
from the upper end through the rest of the Coconino, but we discovered
that this was false. Still, we could scramble up the rest of the
Coconino in a gully and walk up a steep clay slope to the base of the
top Kaibab Limestone cliff. Up here there was a fine deer trail which we
followed to the west. We had no trouble finding a way into the upper
ravine and out to the rim only about a mile from the Hilltop road. I
would estimate from the map that this is eight or nine miles south of
the road end. This would be a fine route to use to get into the south
end of the basin instead of going clear down the Hualapai Trail and back
south. We had lunch near the top where we found some water in the
ravine. It was strange that we found no indication of a clear deer trail
out this way. We saw two fine deer during our stay in the area and I
thought I saw droppings of bighorn and even some tracks. It is
significant that the bighorn do not shun the area that is used by horses.

There was a lot of day left when we reached our packs so we proceeded
back to the main canyon and on upstream. At the rather early hour of
four, we were caught by a rain shower and found shelter under a large
overhang whose only drawback was that the sand below could be swept by a
superflood. We could see that it had stayed dry during the recent wet
spell, so we figured that there was little danger. This spot is on the
right wall of the main canyon a little less than a mile downstream from
the mouth of Havatagvich Canyon. There are two side ravines in the angle
on the same right bank just upstream from the place, and we were able to
fill our canteens from a pool in the nearest. There was plenty of room
to spread out under protection from all but the most driving rain. We
camped there two nights.

We were away by 7:40 on Friday morning with complete confidence in our
ability to keep our location on the map of the Supai Quad. Within a few
minutes, where the bed begins an easterly stretch towards Havatagvich,
we saw names written on the right wall. Two Wills brothers hailing from
Grand Canyon Village had dated their trip in charcoal during May, 1965,
and Bennett and Dan Hanna, two Supai men, had signed the register in
chalk as of January 1965. I met Bennett Hanna's uncle on Sunday and
learned that he works on a ranch southwest of Seligman.

As usual, we noted that Havatagvich Canyon brings in a lot of gravel and
cuts a deeper bed than the main canyon. We got out the map to assure
ourselves that we were really following the main valley to reach Moqui
Trail Canyon, the objective of the trip. There were some big meanders
and also some straighter stretches where we could cover the map at a
good clip. I noticed a lot of tamarisks along here although there had
been none for long reaches lower down. Usually they crowd the willows
out up to a certain distance from the Colorado then abruptly stop. It
was ten when we turned into Moqui Trail Canyon on a well marked horse
trail. Towards the upper Supai, the bed was pitted with rain pockets.
Especially along the south rim the Kaibab is broken into towers some of
which tilt out at a precarious angle. We couldn't tell from the map
where the trail goes out. At first I thought that it must turn out of
sight to the south, but there the wall is sheer in the Coconino. There
is an awe inspiring defile through the Coconino at the north side of the
upper end, and the trail finally headed toward it. A few hundred yards
before it starts up the chaos of boulders in this ravine, the trail
passes a seep spring. It appears to be permanent since there are plenty
of ferns around it. The map showed Bachathaive Spring off to the south
below another section of cliff. there are pieces where this trail would
be hard for a horse, especially carrying a pack, but above the Coconino
the trail shows a lot of good construction and is in fine shape clear to
the rim. As shown on the map, it goes across the plateau in the
direction of Moqui Tank. I suppose if I had driven out here from the
village, I would have tried going down the arm of the upper canyon from
Moqui Tank and would have wasted much time in finding the trailhead.

Allyn and I had fine views of various mountains from the top, Trumbull,
Rama, the San Francisco Peaks blanketed by new snow. We used two hours
in going from the junction of Moqui and the main canyon to the rim. We
were back to our campsite by four thirty and relaxed before dinner. From
a leisurely start the next morning, we reached the beginning of Havasu
Creek about lunch time. We had stopped about 30 minutes walk up canyon
to workout climbing the large triangular rock that has fallen into the
middle of the wash.

We reached the mouth of Horse Trail Canyon shortly after one and decided
after some hesitation on my part to go up and try to locate the route
out near Wescogame Point. Earl Paya had told Allyn about it. When we got
into the bay north of the point, we could see the talus covering the
Coconino on the north side. Although Allyn questioned this route, I
wanted to see whether a ledge led off the northeast. We used up the
allotted time and learned that there is no access to this talus from
above. We could see that there is a much more probable route up a ravine
on the south side, and when we were in the village, Earl Paya confirmed
our idea that this must be the route.

At the campground we met Jorgen Visbak looking around to see whether I
had come in yet, and we had a fine visit with him and John Harrington.
They had some young and inexperienced hikers with them from Las Vegas,
and although they had spent three days on the project, they had been
unable to reach the river.

On this trip, I carried more food than necessary. In fact, I was lugging
a third of all the food as I went up the trail to the car on Sunday. It
took me just under four hours to go from the campground to the car. It
was a good trip and I want to see more of the upper part of Havasu
Canyon, especially Havatagvich Canyon where Earl says there is another
trail to the rim.

*Left bank of the Colorado River above Lee's Ferry
[December 11, 1965]*

I was still miffed at my inability in finding names out in the rock that
Phil Martin had located after he had heard about them from Pat. Pat had
said that the most interesting one was at the end of the short canyon
just east of Hislop Cave. After a hairy climb up to the bare wall below
an overhang here, I was ready to try something else. I thought that
perhaps the right canyon was the one that ends at Glen Azimuth 3187 or
possibly the one just east of Echo Peaks. I considered using the
recently acquired boat and motor, but since Roma didn't want to come out
on the day that was supposed to continue our wet weather, I decided to
see how well I could get around by kayak. I would save some time in
launching and landing and I figured I would keep warmer while pulling
the oars.

The light weight oar powered kayak proved surprisingly effective. By
staying near the bank and rowing at a three and a half or four mph clip,
I could go upstream quite a bit faster than I could walk the old road
along the left bank. In most places the water was crystal clean and I
could see the bottom 12 feet or more deep. Sometimes I could see great
blocks of sandstone completely submerged which at the low stage of water
might be hazardous to a motorboat. Once or twice big fish jumped with a
splash that startled me. I saw a couple of 15 inches swimming calmly
through the clear water. In a grove of willows, there was a slide down
to the beach that made me think of a beaver run. Numerous cut willow
saplings on the sand backed up my surmise. The towering cliffs of the
right bank and the peaks above the sandslide on the opposite side with
the more distant Vermilion Cliffs to the west make this the sort of
boating that would be hard to beat. All this wildness and quiet water
too! From the middle of the river, I noticed something up on the
sandslide that had escaped me before. There is a bare groove or track
cut through the vegetation near the north side of the slope. I don't
think it is the trail which I thought should switchback up and leave the
slope over near the south end. It looked quite fresh and I wondered
whether some huge boulder had come down during the recent rain.

Upstream from the mouth of the canyon which is east of Echo Peaks the
river is rather shallow and with a stronger current. I got past the
mouth with effort but when I was well past Hislop Cave and the short
canyon, I decided it would be faster to walk the left bank. There were
definite signs of a trail or old road above the water level. Almost all
of this was obliterated by the slides of clay and rocks, but in a few
places the old retaining wall was still there. I suppose this used to
connect with the road that seems to end at the canyon mouth west of
Hislop Cave.

There were no names that I could see on the canyon walls. Contrary to
what is shown on the Lee's Ferry Quad map, there is no permanent water
in this side canyon and there had been plenty of recent rain. Pools were
still standing in the hollows of the bedrock. From out on the river, one
might think that you wouldn't be able to walk any distance up this slot
without coming to some insurmountable cliff. There are many meanders,
but the level sand goes a considerable distance in between the sheer
cliffs. It is one of the most impressive, not excepting those north of
Navaho Mountain. Evidently some of the boaters have other interests
besides fishing, because I was following a man's tracks almost all the
way to the end. Once I thought there might be a shallow cave 40 feet
above the stream level that conceivably could hold an Indian ruin. It
was easy to scramble up, but there had never been a structure there.
About two thirds of the way to the end, there is a plunge pool. The way
I got past was to take a short run and get up a steep pitch on the west.
The footprints were missing above this obstruction. At the very end
there was a possible route to a ledge below the final wall. I got about
halfway up the difficult part and then let discretion rule. It took
about 25 minutes to walk back to the river.

On the return I checked the short canyon just east of Hislop Cave for
the third inspection. I watched as I passed all bare walls. For the
first time I persisted in climbing the bed when I came to the jumble of
big rocks near the end. I found that I didn't have to climb the talus to
the east, but when I came to the slot in the bedrock, I would have had
to climb up to the east and go down the way we had done on the previous
trip with the Petersons. This satisfied me that there were no easily
reached inscriptions here.

Since I was so near Hislop Cave, I thought I might as well give it
another inspection. I don't see why we had been so unobservant before.
There were several names on the wall. One was the one Pat had been
telling me to notice. Perhaps the most interesting was not dated. It was
shallowly carved in cursive writing, and although I didn't take notice
on the spot, I believe it read A. Colon. It looked quite old and I even
considered whether it might be done by a Spaniard who came through
before Anglos were so numerous.

The afternoon was passing, but I figured I could row down the middle of
the river in the dark if necessary, so I walked up the longer canyon
just west of the cave. Again there were footprints ahead of me, made by
two men, I believe. This canyon is not as narrow as the first I had
inspected, but it is still impressive. I could find no names on the
walls. Again when one is a little more than halfway to the end, there is
an obstruction which can be bypassed easily on the east. At the very
end, there is the usual ledge in front of the final wall. This time I
was able to go up and slap the wall although there was some friction
climbing. It took me 45 minutes to get up to the end while I was
watching for inscriptions and just over a half hour to get back to the
kayak. I had no trouble rowing back to the boat ramp in 35 minutes where
I would have taken more than an hour to walk it. It had been a beautiful
and satisfying trip.

*South fork of Diamond Creek
[December 20, 1965 to December 22, 1965]*

Dock Marston had interested me in seeing more of upper Diamond Creek and
particularly in getting down from above from the Frazer Wells road. I
was foiled in my attempt to go down and meet him while on the Sportyak
trip by the breakdown of my Jeep. It was just as well since I never
would have reached lower diamond on schedule.

This time the dubious aspect was the weather. We had had a fair amount
of snow the preceding week and the long range forecast was for more.
When the weatherman changed his tune to references of some cloudiness in
the afternoon, I thought I might as well go. I would be careful not to
get the car very far from the all weather road. On Monday morning about
ten, I parked about nine miles from Highway 66 beside the trash can just
south of the dip which is the valley of Robber's Roost Canyon. I went
down the nearest draw and in a short time found myself at a cattle tank
which is reached by a turnoff from the gravel at the bottom of the
valley. A cowpath leads west on one side or the other of the streambed.
This is a well forested gorge between hills. In about one and a half
miles you come to a broad valley between the hills to the south and the
best landmark in the region, a butte that goes up into the Coconino
Sandstone. A rockslide of darker fragments high on the middle of the
south side is a distinguishing characteristic of this butte. After
walking the streambed, I found that a dry weather road has been bladed
all the way along here. On the return I found that it is marked, at the
main gravel road, Wilder's Spring, Catchment #10. One branch goes north
at the east end of the big butte and the continuation turns north at the
west end. It is straighter than the streambed and I preferred walking it
even though the mud and snow made for poor footing.

When the road veered away, I followed the bed. After a pleasant lunch in
the sun, I soon found the Redwall Limestone. The stream cut down into it
about 100 feet before it came to the big drop. I backtracked and went
along the rim to the north where the snow had melted. The north facing
south rim was steep and all white. I soon realized that the Redwall is
just about as sheer and continuous here as it is in the park section of
the canyon. I went far enough to see, however, that the west wall of the
south arm of Robber's Roost Canyon was more broken. I could see both
from the only map I have of the area, the Williams 1:250,000 Quad, and
by my eye that the walk around would be a long drag. It was now after
2:00 p.m. and I figured I would never get down before dark so I returned
to the car keeping high to the north of the streambed back to the dirt
road. This time I followed the road clear to the gravel. It avoids the
narrows, just west of the cattle tank by going north up a small valley
and doubles back to the gravel road. I figure that this was twice as
long as going back on the cowpath. I treated myself to a motel room
Monday night and returned to the project Tuesday morning.

What I learned on Tuesday after a tedious approach to the descent
through the Redwall I had spotted on Monday was that there is a very
good route down only a half mile farther than I had gone. I could have
gone down in a little over an hour from the point I reached. While I was
following the rim north of the Robber's Roost streambed, I saw several
caves that would bear investigation. One or two were hard to reach, but
at least one could be entered with little risk. They were in the upper
part of the Redwall. I was hoping to find a dry place under an overhang
since there was plenty of Supai Sandstone around but all I could see was
very wet mud. Similarly, when I was down below, I looked for overhangs
in the Tapeats Sandstone, but the Tapeats itself was rather obscure. I
believe it is not very thick and is mostly covered by talus material.

On Tuesday I drove about six miles away from route 66 and parked about
100 yards up a side road that is marked only by a crude post and no
sign. It was on a rise and I knew that more moisture would not make it
impassible. Since it wasn't on my map, I could only hope that it would
lead to the south fork of Robber's Roost Canyon. Not far to the side of
the road, there is an insulated cable that connects small metal boxes
mounted on steel fence posts. I assumed that it is part of a field
telephone system. After walking for an hour, I came to the road end near
a cattle tank, but what is more unusual is a recently constructed leanto
with a big tank for bottled gas beside it. The oil on the dirt floor and
the copper piping from the tank indicate that at one time there was some
sort of power plant under the shed, but I couldn't guess why the stuff
was placed here.

This cattle tank is distinctive for the breach in the dam. The dam is
over 20 feet high, but the little Dutch boy wasn't there and a flood has
cut a V, 15 feet deep. I followed the bed downstream until I came to a
resistant stratum of Supai that causes a fall of 25 feet sheer and a
further drop of 50 or 60 feet. My route led to the west here so that I
would be on the right side for a descent of the Redwall. From the high
ground, I finally saw that this was not the south fork of Robber's Roost
but only another hanging valley that ends above the Redwall close to the
canyon I had been in on Tuesday. Furthermore, the canyon from the
breached tank has an imposing tributary which I now had to cross.
Further along I found that the hanging valley above the south fork of
Robber's Roost, or perhaps we should call it the southwest arm of
Diamond Creek, is really double. The east one is not quite as deep and
steep as the west, but they go over the Redwall into the big bay at
separate points. The only shelter I found on this trip was a shallow
cave near the top of the Redwall on the west side of the eastern one of
these parallel ravines. The roof is fire blackened and there was a
little charcoal on the floor. Needless to say, going down and up these
ravines several hundred feet deep became rather tiresome. I resolved to
go farther to the south and try to stay on the high ground more on the
return. When I finally got around to the west of the main bay, I started
up over a high point in the Redwall to a site I had chosen from across
the bay. I actually passed a narrow slot and then decided that it would
bear investigation. It turned out to have indications of a deer trail
and I found that it was distinctly easier than the place I had picked on
Monday and also easier than the place that looked good from across the
bay at 11:00 a.m. on Tuesday. The footing is a bit bad at times on loose
material, but the deer go out on the clay slopes when they can. I can't
see a horse getting down here. It lines up quite well with the place I
mentioned as being where I could have descended on Monday. I believe
that place on the north side of the junction of the bed of Robber's
Roost with this southwest arm would be easy enough for a horse. As Davis
noted, this valley is a favorite with horses. Judging by tracks, deer
are also plentiful, and if I am not mistaken, I also saw signs of bighorn.

Fifteen minutes walk from where I reached the streambed, I came to a
grove of cottonwoods and other trees. I have seen such groves where
there is no water on the surface, but I figured I might as well take a
look. It is to the east of the main streambed and is on its own terrace.
There was a nice little stream that made a surface stream through the
clay. As soon as it reached the sand and gravel of the main streambed,
it disappeared. There was one pool deep enough to immerse a canteen.
This made my base, a grove with plenty of dead wood, a spring, and shady
level ground. The surrounding crags are as imposing as anything in the
Grand Canyon, but I found no evidence that it has been used by men. I
dropped my pack and gave myself two hours to see as much of the lower
bed as possible.

In something like ten minutes, I came to the junction with Robber's
Roost Wash. Very close below this is another smaller spot with
vegetation indicating a spring. It is on the east side of the main bed
and causes a surface flow which is hardly more than a trickle for a
hundred yards. About ten minutes farther on, I came to the real spring
which is the source of the flow in the south arm of Diamond. It comes
out of the Archean as does the trickle above. The spring where I left my
pack is in greenish shale. I had to stretch my deadline by five minutes
to reach the junction with Diamond. More water was coming down this main
bed although the arm looked more constricted. I noted that it took 25
minutes to walk from the junction to the beginning of the water in the
south arm. My camp was about 70 minutes of upstream walking from the
junction. By noon on Tuesday, the sky had looked threatening, but since
I could see more blue near the horizon I thought it would blow over.
Soon after I retired, two light showers occurred while I could still see
stars in other parts of the sky, but later I woke to a steady rain with
no stars anywhere. I pulled the plastic sheet from under my bag and put
it over me and the pack, but the sound of the rain so close to my ear
stopped most of my sleep for the rest of the night. It stopped before
morning and the fragments of fog in front of the cliffs and mostly
preventing the view to the tops made an amazing sight. I got started as
soon as it was light enough to pack and go, but the fog cut off my view
of the slot in the cliff which I had come down. Sixty seconds spent
building a cairn the day before would have saved 20 minutes of fumbling
for the right route. I went too far and checked two ravines before I
found the right place. I was out of the slot on top about 80 minutes
after breaking camp. I got down into the first canyon at the same place
I had used on Tuesday although it seemed farther. The sky was sending
down a slight drizzle that I figured was better than snow. Every time I
brushed against a bush, I would get wetter, so when I got on better
footing, I carried my plastic sheet around me like a poncho.
Unfortunately, I had no compass, but I thought I knew the area well
enough to avoid the hardest walking of the previous day. I figured I
could ascend south tending ravines and take a turn to the east or left
after a suitable time in each. The trouble with this plan was that there
were more ravines farther to the south and I missed the count. Formerly
the fog had cut off seeing distant landmarks, but now it began snowing
and visibility went down again. I must have crossed the draw leading to
the breached dam rather close to the road end. Finally I came out on the
featureless prairie above the ravines. By this time I was thoroughly
confused. I was too wet and cold to really stop and eat a good meal, but
I tried some gingrsnaps twice. I followed a higher ridge of sandstone to
its end, and then for about five minutes the snow stopped and the fog
lifted enough for me to see most of the lower part of the butte north of
the broad part of Robber's Roost Valley. Going down to that valley and
finding the road I had used on Monday was a sure way to get to the car
even though it would be over twice as long. By now I was in no mood to
use the easiest or best way back. Walking through five inches of snow on
top of soft mud was pretty exhausting and I recall plenty of stories of
hunters who had fallen in their tracks. My gloves had been wringing wet
for hours and I doubt whether I could have built a fire without a knife
to shave off the wet surface wood. I was glad to hit a draw leading down
into the valley and find the road. When it left the broad valley, I
followed the cowpath to the tank and soon reached the gravel road to
Supai. After another hour of easy walking on the road I found the car. I
have always been skeptical about providential occurrences, but if anyone
asks whether I have had personal experience with them, I might mention
the brief view to the landmark when I was in the right place to see it.

*Diamond Creek
[January 21, 1966 to January 25, 1966]*

Allyn Cureton came with me and we parked on a side road to an unoccupied
shack on the hill north of Robber's Roost Valley. At 10:30 a.m. we
followed the road past the building and then found a trail down into the
bottom land where we hit the cowpath west. I knew this path and the road
it leads to through the open valley south of the high butte. I had
previously noticed the dark rock slide high on the slope but for the
first time I saw that it comes from a volcanic dike still standing at
least 30 feet high above the Hermit Shale. The road was clear of snow
and mostly frozen so that we walked at a good rate. By 12:30 p.m. we had
come to the end of the fork that goes farthest west, and we had lunch in
a draw where we got the sun but no wind.

We crossed this big basin south of the main branches of the complicated
drainage pattern and got on the high flats a half mile north of the rim
of Robber's Roost Canyon and the main arm of Diamond where you would
come down into Diamond about a half mile downstream from the side canyon
containing the lower of the two main springs. However, we hit the rim at
the southeast edge of a large bay east of this pass. Rather than back up
and go around to the pass, we started down into an impressively narrow
ravine that leads around to the base of the slope up through the Redwall
to the pass. There were places where we had to use hand and toe holds,
but we made it down. It was a relief when we came to the first horse
manure and knew for sure that there were no further difficulties. It
took us from 2:00 until 3:30 p.m. to get down to the bed of Robber's
Roost Canyon. If we had gone around to the pass, I feel sure that we
would have seen our way clear to descend directly into Diamond and we
would have had quite a bit more time to see what was new to me. As it
was, we proceeded down to the junction of Robber's Roost and the main
stream and then walked for 45 minutes down the increasingly impressive
Archean gorge. There is quite a variety of rock, mostly very dark, but
some is reddish granite. Both down in the Precambrian and up along the
rim of Redwall Limestone, there seem to be an unusual number of spires.
Just about anywhere you look, you will see balanced rocks precariously
perched on their pedestals. We were glad to pick a campsite by 5:15 p.m.
and use the ample light to pull together some wood for a campsite.

By 7:45 on Saturday morning, I was starting down the increasingly narrow
gorge to visit the junction of Diamond and Peach Springs Wash. The
mileage on the map, about two and a half, is deceptive because of the
many right angle turns. I kept watching for Donald Davis' Black Aisle.
For most of the way, there were still alcoves and sand and willows or
catclaw. One could scramble up the rough rock for several yards after a
sprint to the likeliest place if he heard the rumble of a flood. As an
omen of what could happen in here we noticed a driftwood log spanning a
side ravine a good 50 feet above the little stream. About two thirds of
the way from the Robber's Roost mouth to Peach Springs Wash, we came to
the real Black Aisle. Here for a quarter of a mile, there were few if
any ways to get above a flood. We came to the small fall, about eight
feet in drop, and saw how it could be bypassed by a man. A boy or girl
might need a boost, and it is hard to see how a horse could get up the
smooth rock with the inch wide ledges. A burro might do this with a good
leap at the bottom. On the way back from Peach Springs Wash I recognized
the picture of the pinnacle that was shown in the 1984 National
Geographic. It was a short walk upstream from the fall. Allyn looked at
the road and in Peach Springs Wash and thought that it was about the way
he saw it last fall. A truck would be better than a car for this road.

We got back to the campsite about 11:00 a.m. and after snacking and
packing, we moved on. Lunch was eaten before we came to Robber's Roost
confluence. About 40 minutes walk up stream, the Tapeats cliff is
pronounced on the south but there is no actual narrows such as you find
in many side canyons of the National Park. Beyond this point, the valley
broadens and instead of walking the streambed, it is better to watch for
the horse trails on one side or the other. The first tributary is on the
left as you face up (right bank in river terminology) and is dry. Near
the Redwall rim on the right wall is a shapely natural bridge where a
cave cut through to the surface. This is about halfway from the side
canyon just referred to and the next coming in from the opposite side.
There is another indentation in the west wall before you come to the
side canyon to the south. This one to the south is interesting because
it leads to the pass over into Robber's Roost Canyon and I am
practically sure that it is the horse route from above into both
canyons. You can walk down to this pass from the platform if you keep to
the north slope of the promontory separating Robber's Roost Canyon from
Diamond and then you can go into either from the pass. We could call
this Horse Trail Canyon.

A small spring comes into Diamond just upstream from Horse Trail Canyon
but about half the water comes in from the next canyon, also from the
left side of Diamond. This is what Davis refers to as the lower spring.
We had left our packs at the confluence of Robber's Roost and Diamond
and we wanted to reach them well before dark. We kept on then passed
another dry canyon coming from the right side of Diamond. It is a long
one and might be called the main canyon, but the higher spring comes in
from quite a long canyon itself. The forest in the upper spring canyon
is particularly fine and there are very few places where thickets or
deadfalls block ones progress. Just as we were turning into this canyon,
Allyn pointed to some very fresh looking cans, mostly large size cling
stone peaches. My conclusion is that some men were using a packhorse to
get here and camp because I can't feature a backpacker toting such
bothersome weights. A little farther on we came to a skeleton which
appeared to be a deer although the identification was not sure since the
head was gone. Allyn thought that it was large enough to be a cow.

The springs are about 20 minutes of fast walking up from the mouth of
this canyon and come down a steep bank from 50 or 60 feet above the bed.
The water comes down by several small falls in the thick bank of
maidenhair fern. The actual site of the spring is such a mass of dead
and living vegetation that one would have to play Tarzan to get through
it. I penetrated the mass slightly but backed down to the bed below
while Allyn forced his way to the clear area above and joined me above
the springs in the dry bed. Allyn was also the one who saw some more old
cans in the main valley below the spring canyon, and he spotted the
window on the west wall of the lower spring canyon. It may not be a
window through a thin wall as Davis suggested. It just might be a
straight cave that penetrates quite a thickness. It was hard to identify
trees with the leaves down, but as evidence that Davis was right, near
the upper spring, I picked up a half a walnut shell.

We saw no signs of ancient Indian occupation, but we didn't search the
flats. There is a cairn built on a projecting rock about 50 feet above
the bed of Robber's Roost Canyon a few minutes walk upstream from the
spring that makes the permanent flow, or about 30 minutes walk above the
confluence of Robbers Roost and Diamond.

We camped at the confluence and went out on Sunday morning by the same
route we had come down. When we got out to the plateau, we circled
around to the north to get a look into Diamond. We had clear views into
the lower spring canyon and could see the easy descent to the pass at
the top of Horse Trail Canyon. We found another cairn at the narrow
place on the high ground separating the valleys draining into Robber's
Roost and Diamond Canyons. We reached the car by 3:30 p.m. to find that
some one had taken a jug of water, a steep tape, and a pair of cheap
gloves while we were gone. It was nice he hadn't stripped the car.

It is indeed a fascinating region and now I want to go back and enter
upper Diamond by the Horse Trail and see all the branches. There may be
other ways in, but I rather doubt it.

*Salt Trail Canyon and travertine dome
[February 5, 1966]*

For several years I had looked at the Kolb's pictures of the Little
Colorado cascades which appeared in the National Geographic article and
had thought that the bed must have changed considerably since there are
now no falls of the size their picture shows. I thought it would be
interesting to locate their position from the background and compare the
present bed with the bed as they saw it.

After a 15 minute delay to pick up Jay Hunt and then finding that he had
made no preparations to go after making me take him along just the day
before, Norvel Johnson and I went on, leaving town at 5:30 a.m. I drove
the dirt road from Cedar Ridge to the parking above Salt Trail Canyon
with only one very minor wrong turn which I immediately corrected by
backing 20 feet. We reached the parking in an even three hours after
leaving Flagstaff, and this included a gas stop at the Gap. There are
now two well built cairns indicating where you should park and also
pointing to the trailhead. Since I don't recall having seen them before,
I think that Dr. Ricker's Sierra party must have put them up. The small
cairns along the trail also seemed more numerous than before. We could
still see plenty of hiking boot prints in protected sandy places and
even on the sand near the river. Two or three of the party had walked
upriver a mile or so to see the Travertine dams.

It was my fourth round trip over the top part of the trail and Norvel's
first. He was properly impressed by the entire locale even though the
river was a light brown instead of blue. Quite a bit of water is coming
past Cameron. There is almost no trail showing except where feet have
knocked small rocks aside. I wonder about G. W. James' statement that
the Hopi will have to do some trail work or they will no longer be able
to get their burros down here. I suspect the only trail construction
that was ever done here was scraping a path through the scree slope
below the Redwall. There is no vestige of a retaining wall anywhere
along it. Although Norvel and I were not feeling up to par after short
sleep rations the night before, we went from the car to the river in two
hours and 45 minutes.

A tarp from the prospector's camp at the foot of Salt Trail Canyon was
all that we saw from the duffel we had found in October, 1964. Of course
there were empty cans around, and we saw more of them along the way
down. This route to grandeur is becoming better known.

I had brought an air mattress with me so that I could cross the river
and look for the Kolb's picture site, but with Norvel along, I walked up
the right bank with him. We had the usual trouble getting above the
thickets. There is quite a series of springs just before you reach the
end of Big Canyon. It is a good thing that one can walk the boulders and
sandbars between the thickets and the river. We miscalculated and got
into some deep soft mud right at the mouth of Big Canyon. Norvel was
right behind me and saw me going in to my shoe tops. We both made some
quick leaps for the bank, but he got into mud up to his knees while I
headed for a different place and got no mud on my trousers.

We waited until we came to a sunny spot to eat our lunches. The canyon
made a slight bend to the east. Soon after we started on we reached the
place where you see fantastic designs in the old travertine. Great
chunks are left along the banks with one or two pieces in the middle. We
were wondering whether we would have time to reach the Kolb's picture
when Norvel announced that we might already be there. I soon saw that he
was right. I retreated a few yards to get into the sun before undressing
and crossing the river on my mattress. It was cold but not unbearable. I
climbed the talus until the background matched the old picture
perfectly, but the nearby rockslide and the riverbed had changed
completely. The Kolbs were still at least five miles below the Springs
Trail instead of the one mile they thought at the time. This spot is
about three fourths of a mile above the mouth of Big Canyon.

On the return, we had an interesting encounter with cattails that were
just ready to scatter their silky seeds. A little of the perfectly
packed fluff expands to a lot.

*To the Little Colorado rim above Blue Springs
[February 12, 1966]*

Ever since I received Donald Davis' letter written November 24, 1965, I
had been interested in getting to the site of the mysterious
inscriptions on boulders below the south facing Kaibab rim several
hundred feet north of the dropoff of the draw at the head of the Blue
Springs Bay. It would be a one day project even without driving out on
the road past Cedar Mountain. Norvel Johnson came with me while the rest
of the hiking club went down the Hermit Trail.

The main reason for this date was that there seemed to be no other
counter attractions or obligations, but the conditions for the hike were
poor, namely a cold wind at Desert View and about ten inches of heavy
but uncrusted snow. On the lower plateau around Cedar Mountain, the snow
was about six inches deep and still lower below the next drop the snow
was anywhere from zero to four or five inches deep. What helped until we
got to the east side of Cedar Mountain was a pair of wide truck tracks.
Keeping in the tracks was a little like walking a railroad rail, but it
was surely better than going through the unpacked snow. It was cloudy at
first and as a storm was predicted, we thought the weather man might be
right for once. However, the sun came out strong about 11:30 a.m. and
the sky remained clear. We had no real worries about keeping warm until
after 5:00 p.m. My shoes were not well chosen for a snow hike and my
feet were wet most of the time. I carried dry socks which I changed into
when my feet began to get cold. There were no real ill effects. However,
we were both quite tired toward the end, and Norvel had to slow down. He
seemed more relieved when we reached the car at 7:10 p.m. then he ever
has before.

The truck tracks led us around the north side of Cedar Mountain. Soon
after they started south on the east side , we left the road where there
is a washed out wagon track starting steeply down to the east. The south
facing slope was free of snow, so we stayed above the ravine. After
turning north a few yards at the rim of the big drop, we found a way to
descend where there was little snow. Below the steep drop near the top,
Norvel noted an overhang with some very fresh Indian pictures. They were
done in very deep red clay on the light Kaibab Limestone. One or two
might have been old classic designs of the cliff dwellers, but the rest
of the marks seemed to be practice scribblings of a beginner. I suspect
that these are doodles of some modern Navaho shepherd.

On the snow covered but relatively flat land below, we saw a Navaho
moving a large flock of sheep to the north. One of the four dogs seemed
a little too aggressive and came over toward us. I armed myself with a
piece of dead sagebrush, and we gave the flock as wide a berth as
possible. We were climbing the opposite side of Straight Canyon when the
sheep were coming down into it from the south. We repeated this process
for two or three more draws that slope down to the east and ate our
lunch just before we reached the road that goes along the valley south
of Gold Hill. We followed the road until we were near the narrows where
it goes through to the flats southeast of Gold Hill. On the slope above
the road, we saw a new way to collect water on the reservation. They
grade an area about as big as a tennis court and line it with plastic
sheeting. Water that runs down to the lower corner of the diamond goes
through a pipe to a bowl lined with plastic, and below this is a pipe
leading to a sheet metal drinking trough. Another of these catchments
has been built on the east side of the valley near the ravine leading to
the Blue Springs Bay.

There seems to be an example of stream piracy at this ravine. The valley
to the west now drains to the south into a large ravine at a lower
elevation. The west end of the Blue Springs ravine slopes to the west
now and there is a large earthen dam to collect the water flowing west.
However, only a short distance east in the ravine, the water still flows
east into the Little Colorado River. A much smaller dam collects this
water. The small dam had a pool behind it but the large one did not.
There were also several shallow rainpools with ice on them in the bed. I
had thought I could remember Davis' instructions about finding the
inscriptions. We went to the very end of the streambed and then had to
back up a few yards to the north. After passing a rather steep slope
with no good rocks for pictures, we got up to a higher level where there
is a rather broad bench below the top ledge of limestone. Here are some
rather large detached rocks about shoulder high on a man. The surface
has a good desert varnish and it seemed as if the inscriptions should be
on them if they are anywhere. All that Norvel and I could make out were
irregular markings where the surface had chipped off from natural
causes. I took a picture to send to Donald, but I wish I had taken one
of the entire area. Maybe he saw something we didn't, but we went on to
the north until we came to the deep but round bottomed valley that leads
up to the natural start of the Blue Springs Trail.

By now it was 2:00 p.m. and we were satisfied that we weren't going to
find anything significant. We returned by a route that was slightly
different from the approach, mainly in going south in the valley east of
Gold Hill instead of crossing the ridge to the road south from the Hill.
We noted that we took only four hours and ten minutes of actual walking
time from the checking station to the rim above Blue Springs but we
needed five hours to get back when we were tired and had to go uphill. (
I found the modern petroglyphs later.)

*Clear Creek
[March 4, 1966 to March 6, 1966]*

I left town as soon after classes as I could on Friday, but it was 9:00
p.m. by the time I was starting down the South Kaibab Trail. It was hard
to hurry over the frozen trail at the top and although the moon was
bright, I would have had better going in daylight. The night at the
Bright Angel Campground was about as chilly as it had been in Diamond
Creek weeks before. We were having a cold wave and at Flagstaff on the
morning of the fourth, it was officially 18 degrees. Some campers at the
bottom said that they had slept comfortably, so I slept out instead of
getting a cabin.

By 6:15 a.m. on Saturday, I was packed up and walking. Breakfast was
eaten after I reached sunshine at the rim of the inner gorge. I was
feeling some very stiff muscles on my way over to Clear Creek. It took
me four hours and 45 minutes of actual walking to go from Bright Angel
Campground to the bed of Clear Creek. This was almost a half hour longer
than I took last year when I walked down from the south rim and then on
over. My nearly 59 years are showing. Clubb had told me that there are
some striking narrows in the side canyon leading below Cape Royal. Since
I had never been in this major branch, I was eager to see it. He had
reported an interesting evidence of Indian occupation also. In the flat
next to the main creek just above the mouth of this tributary I came on
a deep mescal pit. There is still quite a pile of charcoal covering the
bottom.

Not far from the mouth of this tributary you pass the side canyon coming
down from between The Howlands Butte and Angel's Gate. A few minutes
walk upstream brought me to a small flow of water which increased as I
went up. About 20 minutes walk from the mouth, I came to a place where I
thought I would have to attempt a rock climb to proceed. Only a few
yards from the place I saw that the bed turned a sharp angle and the
canyon became impressively narrow. There was no barrier at all clear up
to the base of the Redwall, but I found that Clubb had remembered the
place perfectly. There seemed to be two distinct formations involved in
the two stretches of narrows, perhaps Bass Limestone in the lower part
and then, beyond a short open area, the Tapeats. Where the upper narrows
opened out was a half acre of march and here is where the spring starts.
The tributary from the east side of Angel's Gate just cuts a notch in
the high wall and the drainage from the southwest side of Thor's Temple
drops down into the main canyon by a steep chute. I believe I could have
climbed out here, but there wasn't time. I continued east to the Redwall
cliff below Cape Royal.

On the return I went across the steep talus to the arm that heads east
of Thor. This cutoff must have taken longer than going down the bed to
the junction and up. When I was near enough to get a fairly good look at
the Redwall at the head I took a picture and turned back. It was not so
obviously impossible as the cliff at the east end of this system and I
should have gone on for a closer look but I began to feel a bit weak
from lack of food. I ought to carry a snack for such occasions. I think
the upper end is formed by an interesting narrow gorge, but that there
is no hope of climbing out.

When I reached the supplies beside Clear Creek, I ate supper and then
decided that there would be no time on Sunday to do any further
exploring if I were to get up to the south rim. The time was past when I
could spend four hours in Clear Creek and then start the nine miles to
Phantom Ranch and then begin the climb out in late afternoon. After
eating I moved my gear up near the trail and went to sleep. About
midnight the clouds covered the full moon so ominously that I packed up
and walked to the Bright Angel Campground between 1:00 and 5:00 a.m.
After an hour of sleep and a leisurely breakfast and a visit with the
maintenance man, Schmidt, I started out. The upward trip was broken by a
lunch stop and a climb up through the window southwest of the trail at
the contact between the Bright Angel Shale and the Muav. The top part of
this scramble required care, and the window is not as big as I had
thought, only about ten feet wide by twelve high.

There was plenty of water in the two water pockets near the trail where
it crosses the wash east of Sumner Point.

*Impressions from the air
[March 31, 1966]*

The Readers Digest conducted tour happened to be over some of the
territory that is particularly interesting to me, and the pilot even did
a bit of turning and tilting by request. We were rather high when we
passed over Osiris, so I didn't learn anything new. I did get a look at
the Redwall on the south side of Flint Creek, and I would say that there
is a very good chance that one can get down (yes).

They had called the scenic flight a guided tour, but I found myself
acting as the guide among our group. We had a good look at the source
canyon of Tapeats Creek. I couldn't tell for sure whether there is water
coming out of the cave at this time, but I think not. Thunder Spring was
putting on a fine show and we all seemed to feel that it is more
impressive from the air than the falls at Havasu. I had to ask the pilot
to go a bit to the south or we would have missed Deer Creek Falls by
passing directly above them. There was quite a streambed and lagoon
separating them from the river.

Just before we arrived above Fishtail Canyon, I noted a long talus that
covered the Redwall on the north side of the river. One can come down
into the shallow valley at the head of the minor, nameless canyon
between Deer Creek and Fishtail and turn to the east when it reaches the
Redwall. (Almost. We no longer think this is possible without a rope.
Possible, the northern route 2 7 71. P. T. Reilly has told me that a
young man, Mortensen and one other have used this without a rope.) Just
a short distance around the corner there is this talus. It would be easy
to get off the rim at Little Saddle on the regular horse trail and get
down to the mouth of Kanab Creek. It would be considerably shorter than
either the Hack's Canyon or the Deer Creek routes.

Kanab Canyon isn't seen well from the air since the inner gorge is so
narrow. Tuckup Canyon looks fine and impressive. I was also most
interested in seeing Fern Glen Canyon from the air, and Bill Butcher
called my attention to the Alamo Window before we were past. The long
canyons on the south side, National and Mohawk, were also fascinating
and I hope that someday not too far in the future I'll be going down
them too.

*False start, Mount Burro and Havatagvich
[April 7, 11, and 12, 1966]*

I left Flagstaff on the 7th with plans for a through 6 day coverage of
the Osiris area but the heat combined with my 27 pound pack got to me as
I was climbing the granite behind the Bright Angel Campground. I wasn't
used to feeling so debilitated and my self diagnosis was that I am
getting too old for this sort of thing. Furthermore, I was worried about
the seep above the Redwall on the south side of Shiva. The last six
weeks had furnished no precipitation. Rather than tackle something that
might become a disaster, I returned to the Bright Angel Campground.
After quite a pause and some conversation with one of Georgie's
passengers from Prescott who had hiked up Granite Mountain there with
Jay Hunt and me, I started back up the South Kaibab Trail. It became
progressively cooler in the late afternoon and I satisfied myself that I
can still hike three hours and 45 minutes walking time to the rim. I
also sat down to eat for an additional 45 minutes, but the total elapsed
time was better than my time in early March on a muddy trail.

The South Kaibab Trail is carrying a lot of traffic this spring with the
construction blocking the River Trail and the lower Bright Angel Trail.
Some of the hikers seem to have no idea as to how much water they will
need on the South Kaibab Trail. I didn't carry a full canteen downhill,
but I parted with almost all that I had to help three people who
admitted they were already in straits. At the end of the day, only about
a half mile from the top, I came on a teenager who was trying to sleep
in the dust of the trail. His buddies had gone on to the top, and none
of them had taken any food down for the entire day to Phantom Ranch and
back. Some of my gingersnaps gave him enough energy to get him out.

After a quiet Friday, we invited Sam and Anne and the two grandchildren
over for a trip on Lake Powell on Saturday. We played with the kids
while Sam and Anne took our boat to Rainbow Bridge and back in good time.

On Monday, I got off for a two day trip to take care of a couple of
minor projects. After leaving my plans at the District Ranger's Office,
I started out along the Topocoba Road. The Forest Service has put up
some new signs. The road is numbered 328, but it is worse, if possible,
than it used to be several years ago. Someone succeeded in driving
through leaving ruts eight inches deep. There is no moisture left but
one has to dodge the deep ruts as well as natural gullies in the road. I
parked about one fourth mile east of where the Jeep road leaves to go up
on Great Thumb Mesa.

After an early lunch, I started up the draw to the south at 11:30 a.m. I
was far enough to the east so that I missed the canyons that drain to
the cliff above Topocoba Spring. The terrain was fairly level, and
before I realized it, I was at the head of the drainage that separates
Mount Burro and Pot Hole Point. After crossing the first valley, I saw
the distinctive isolated wall standing west of Pot Hole Point. I crossed
the valley back to the north, but then I felt uncertain about the
identification. I began to think that the tower I had seen might be
Mount Spoon head, so I crossed the valley again and proceeded west.
Finally, I was sure of Pot Hole Point and was able to identify Mount
Burro. Crossing again where the ravine was quite deep took time, but I
finally got to Mount Burro on the north side of the draw that drains to
the north of the saddle. I could see a distinct deer trail going up on
top of Mount Burro, and it just took some time to walk over and up. I
built a small cairn to mark the spot, and it was a help when I returned.
Just above this place on the rim, there is a fissure in the Kaibab
Limestone that makes a couple of good overhanging shelters and one
fairly long cave. I would have needed a light to explore it completely.
I stopped looking it over when I saw that I would have to chimney climb
down a crack that was getting to be too dark for comfort.

As I thought, the views from the west rim of Mount Burro were
outstanding. I could see a lot of the route used by Allyn and me last
Thanksgiving. There was a well built, old cairn at the west rim.

On the way back to the car from Mount Burro, I followed a route that was
west of the way I had come. I was about 40 yards from the rim of the
draw that drains from between Burro and Spoonhead when I came to a hole
that seemed very localized, not connected with a crack. Besides several
good overhangs for shelter, an arm led away to the southwest farther
than I could follow it without a light. When I tossed a rock ahead, I
seemed to have come near the end, about 30 yards in all. It might have
been my imagination, but the ceiling near the entrance seemed to be fire
blackened.

I turned north too soon on the return and I got into the canyons that
drain to the cliff above Topocoba Spring, but still I reached the car in
a half hour less than it had taken me to go to the end of Mount Burro.
Without the mistakes in route finding, one should be able to go from the
car to the end of Mount Burro in less than three hours.

To get a location of the cave, I used my compass to take the angle
between the center of the peak beyond Pot Hole Point and the center of
Mount Burro. It was 30 degrees. I also noticed that there is a surveyors
rod with two crossbars mounted on a post set on a hill across the draw.
It was 35 degrees north of the line to Mount Burro.

On Tuesday, I drove the car back to the Pasture Wash crossroads and
headed for Moqui Tank. There were a couple of places where this road was
more nearly washed out than any other I had driven. If the car should
slip down into the gully, it would have been hung up. When I had gone
five miles, I came to a road that went north and then turned somewhat to
the east. I learned at the end of the day that this road comes back to
#328 at the cattle guard in the valley where the ranch is located north
of the road. Where this road started east, I parked and proceeded a
little north of west. After walking for an hour in the direction of
Mount Trumbull, I came to the head of Moqui Trail Canyon. I passed the
north arm rather high where it is shallow and walked to the trailhead
where Allyn and I had topped out in November. The trail shows so
distinctly from above that I decided to look for a similar one in
Havatagvich before I should start down.

After consulting the Supai Quad map, I headed for Chikapanagi Tank and
on to the rim. I spent a few minutes looking at a fissure cave near the
rim, but I could see the end by daylight. I followed the rim to the
point north of here and decided that the Coconino is the real barrier.
There seemed to be a place where it might be partially covered by a
talus below and an erosion slope above quite near where I first looked
down. However, there was no trail leading to the place from below or
above, so I didn't go down to inspect it. I followed the rim around
north and then east for a long distance. There was a place not far east
of the place where the stream plunges over the Coconino to cross the
canyon, but I figured it would be more effort than walking east to where
the canyon is shallower. Here and also in the north arm of Havatagvich,
the stream cuts a narrow notch into the top part of the Coconino, but I
could be morally sure that there were falls and plunge pools in the
notch. The entire drop occurred too abruptly. There were deer trails
along the shale above the Toroweap Formation, but they seemed never to
lead to any lower.

When I finally crossed, I had to go down between two and three hundred
feet. Where I came up on the north side, I found a rough cairn to mark
the cross canyon route. After eating here, I headed northwest to strike
the rim of the north arm. I saw where this arm collects two branches and
then cuts a narrow and steep notch through the Coconino Sandstone. The
lower end of the north comes out above an impressive overhang where the
Hermit Shale is gone. Horse and deer trails lead up to a spring at the
bottom of the Coconino a few hundred yards to the west on the north side
of this arm. From here I went west to the point and looked back at the
rim I had followed along the south side of the main arm. If there is any
place to get through the Coconino in all of Havatagvich, it has to be
below where I first looked down, but I don't believe this would be
possible either. I think the Indian who told us there is a trail in this
canyon was confused in reading our map (no, we got the route later).

I got back to the car in only two hours by paralleling the escarpment
that goes east and then south.

*South Kaibab to Bright Angel Trail along the Redwall
[April 16, 1966]*

A new hiker, Garth Boyd, wanted to go with Reider Peterson and me. He
used to be a two miler in school, but I thought it would be smart to
check his present condition and also mine, so we went out and climbed
Sunset Crater as fast as could. He easily came within the 25 minutes
limit that I have been setting for hikers who wish to go to the bottom
of the Grand Canyon and back the same day. His time was 19 and a half
minutes. I was gratified to find that I could still do the climb in 16
and a half minutes thus tying my time of last June.

We started down the South Kaibab Trail a bit before 8:30 a.m. and
reached the departure point in 45 minutes. It was south of the last bit
of Supai Sandstone forming a knoll just before the trail starts down the
Redwall. We were at once impressed with the fact that the footing is
considerably worse along here at the Redwall rim than it is on the way
to Pattie Butte. I had estimated that it would take us an hour to reach
the head of Pipe Canyon, but it was more like 80 minutes. We were
impressed by the display of spring flowers pentemons , loco, and white
flowered shrub, and redbud trees. There were also quite a few more birds
around than one usually sees in the Grand Canyon.

As we were about to pass the head of Pipe Creek, we saw a circle of
rocks that had contained a campfire, and several places farther along,
we saw footprints, so that we figure Allyn Cureton was not the only one
who ever preceded us over this route.

Just east of the bedrock crossing of Pipe Creek, we examined a small
cave. The entrance was only big enough to crawl through, and it didn't
get much bigger. At the end there was a bend that made striking a match
necessary but the whole thing was only about 35 feet long. This cave,
although under only a few yards of limestone, has some rudimentary
speleothems, just nodules of travertine.

When we passed the first little cape sticking out from the west side of
the rim above Pipe Creek, Boyd looked back and saw a cave entrance that
was quite accessible. We had to detour back to examine it. We figure it
is the one Allyn told me about. The floor is level and dusty, but the
mouth is so large in proportion to the depth that the whole interior is
well lit by daylight. The cave is about 30 feet deep and 20 feet wide,
and the entrance is about 20 feet high.

We were not quite to Yavapai Point when we stopped for an early lunch.
It was pleasantly cool in the shade, a perfect day for a hike. If the
day had been hotter, I would have really been short of water. My two
quart canteen was empty about 20 minutes before we reached the water
station on the Bright Angel Trail at the top of the Redwall. The walking
was much easier and faster after we rounded the bend and could look down
on Indian Gardens. About a third of the way from the point to the Bright
Angel Trail, we came on a large and well built cairn. We didn't take it
apart to see whether it contained a claim paper. For short distances we
had been able to find deer trails, but after we reached the cairn, there
was a rather distinct trail that we could follow easily.

I saw a possible route up the Redwall clear across the canyon, in the
bay just west of Sturdevant Point. If one wanted to climb out near
Widforss Point, this might be the way.

*Marble rim from Tiger Wash to Mile 21.7
[April 24, 1966]*

Pat had spotted a probable way through to the Hermit Shale and wanted me
to check his aerial view from the ground.

As usual, driving the reservation roads was more than half the problem
in locating a particular place. I should have remembered more about them
since I have been over that territory a year or two ago. I left Highway
89 over a mile north of Curve Wash, a big indentation in the Echo
Cliffs. I knew I should turn south something like two miles up from the
highway, but I felt unsure of the right place. In my confusion, I ended
by following a broad valley that angles southwest and parked about seven
miles from the highway. I went 0.9 miles beyond a dry tank where Norvel
and I left the car when we hit the rim above Stanton's Marble Pier. The
car was parked just east of a draw that cuts the fault valley at right
angles and also drains into the bay at Mile 24.6. I followed the high
ground west of this ravine and came to the rim on the north side of
Tiger Wash. I was thoroughly confused about my location until I
recognized the slump block on the north rim of South Canyon. Oh well, I
had been intending to visit the rim above Tiger Wash some time. Here and
all along the rim to the north the views down on the rapids with the
river running clear were outstanding.

On the way northeast, I had very clear views of the opposite canyon wall
and I could pick out three places where there is a sure way down through
the Supai to the beach. Of course the talus above Cave Spring Rapid was
one of them. Another was just upstream from Stanton's Marble Pier, and
the third was at Mile 25 or possibly a bit upstream. The latter would
connect with North Canyon by way of the Hermit and thus would constitute
an escape route from the river. At one or two places along the rim, I
noticed deep fissures partly filled with blocks of limestone. In one I
tried going down. At a depth of 30 feet under some big blocks I found
that the crack, rather too wide for chimney climbing, went on down for
30 or 40 feet.

When I came to the bay at mile 24.7, I detoured along the rim until I
was able to cross precisely where Norvel and I had entered this wash. I
followed rather close along the rim to the next bay, the one that meets
the river at mile 21.7. This is an interesting wash since the slot down
to the Coconino is very narrow and steep. The slope from about halfway
through the Kaibab down to this dropoff is quite steep and
correspondingly short. I went east until I could get down the rim cliffs.

When I first discovered my mistake by coming out at Tiger Wash, I should
have returned to the car and driven to a better position for reaching
the 21.7 mile wash. I had left the car at 9:30 a.m. and when I reached
the rim above the right canyon, it was already 3:15 p.m. I had already
taken pictures of this supposed route through the Coconino a little to
the south of the dropoff, and I was about ready to figure that this
project of going down it would have to wait for another day. The thought
that Donald Davis would wind up this attempt at once even if he had to
reach the parked car by moonlight spurred me on. Also rainpools for a
refill in the canteen would make it much easier to return to the car in
comfort. I had taken only two quarts of water along.

Walking down the bed was slowed by the large blocks, but I could see
quite a few sheep tracks. There were at least four places where the
descent was easier because someone had piled rocks up to form a step. At
least one of these piles was in the middle of the bed where successive
floods would sweep it away, so I would attribute this trail improvement
to modern Navaho. One place in the bed was particularly interesting. By
some means, the bed had been removed forming a bowl about 25 feet in
diameter while a rim of rock no more than three feet thick formed a dam
on the downstream side. Earth had blown into this hollow and weeds had
grown thick. The presence of so much soil would indicate that no super
floods had come down here in the time it took the earth to blow in and
for the weeds to grow. I have seen plenty of small deep plunge pools
below fairly high falls, but I don't know of another place where the
basin is so broad in relation to the narrowness of the bedrock dam.

Before one comes in sight of the final plunge over the Coconino, he gets
to a ten foot fall where he has to go along a ledge to the south. Here
he must crawl under a leaning rock which forms a short tunnel and then
he can get down the broken slope to the bed below. This is where I was
first convinced that someone had built stepping stones to improve the
descent. The deepest rainpool was below. I think the Indians bring their
sheep down here for a drink. I don't think that the improvements are a
sure sign that this is a route down to the river. The biggest plunge
pool was below a 20 foot drop in the upper Coconino and was inaccessible.

I seem to be deteriorating as a climber and it took a little nerve for
me to follow the meager steps and handholds along the cliff to the south
to the place where the Coconino looks quite possible. I had put down my
pack about 300 yards up the canyon where I had to begin using my hands.
Now I could have used the rope I had carried all day. There are at least
three places where a climber like Davis or Cureton could have gone down,
but I was unsure that I could return and I reluctantly spent the time
going for the rope. Even if one could go down here without a rope, I am
not sure where he could get through the Supai to the river. (On a later
trip, three of us got through the Coconino by a ropeless route, but
neither Chuck Johnson nor I cold get directly to the river. We needed to
follow the Hermit Shale south to Mile 24.5. Later, Al Doty showed us a
way through the Supai to the river at the point between main 21.7 Mile
Wash and the ravine just south of it.

In getting back to the car, I got up on the plateau to the west of the
draw and went south or mostly towards Shinumo Altar. I reached the upper
end of the fault valley in which the car was parked in about one and a
half hours and found that I had to walk southwest down this valley for
35 minutes to reach the car. I was plenty tired, but it was broad
daylight, about 6:45 p.m. There were some spring flowers and a few
birds. I saw only one Mariposa tulip. The day had been breezy and cool,
ideal for a long walk.

*Cave and Mile 21.7 Wash
[May 7, 1966]*

I parked the car where the road goes south to Pine Reservoir from the
main road west about a mile north of Curve Wash. I was three and a half
miles west of State Route 89. I was aware of the fact that I would have
to walk more than four miles to reach the rim where I wanted to go down,
but my plan called for a trip below the rim to the Colorado River at
Stanton's Marble Pier and then to Cave Springs and then to Mile 29 Wash
where I would come out by the trail. Whatever distance I saved by
driving at the beginning would be added to a rim hike of ten miles at
the end. The car was on high ground and would be visible for quite a
distance from several directions. I took the precaution of carrying a
compass and noting that magnetic south was straight toward Shinumo Altar.

At first when I left the car I followed truck tracks in a northwesterly
route, but they ended rather soon near a ruined hogan and I headed
across country. For some distance I walked along the bed of a shallow
valley that I thought would lead to the correct notch in the rim, but
when I started going almost due north, I left it for a draw that was
farther west. This was a mistake. About one and a half hours from the
car, I came to the rim, I was a half mile south of the right canyon. I
finished by getting down into Mile 21.7 Wash right where I had two weeks
before.

Before going to the bottom, I noticed across the canyon a peculiar fault
line. The rock near the canyon rim had arched down sharply in a slippage
that paralleled the canyon wall. Then the strata leveled and dropped
with a translational movement. At the west end it is easy to climb out
of the canyon. I didn't notice any displacement on the south wall, but I
could get up or down there too. I thought the situation worthy of a
picture, but when I supposedly finished the roll, I discovered that the
lever hadn't been turning the film at all. Thus, my last three trips,
two to Mile 21.7 Wash and the trip to Oak Canyon on Lake Powell, are
photographically unrecorded.

It was now nearly eleven but I thought that I should take the time to
see the deep cave somewhere near the rim on the north side of the
canyon. When I was almost out on the north, I thought that since I was
so close to the fault zone, I would walk over 20 yards and see it. I was
happily surprised to see that it was the deep cave. I hadn't realized
that the cave is actually below the north rim by a few yards. If one
were approaching it from the north, it would be hidden until he started
down. It is indeed an impressive hole. I climbed down 70 or 80 feet and
thought I took a pictures of the mouth looking out. I also heard an
eerie moan and soon saw a couple of large owls. They obligingly posed up
near the entrance in good light, but my camera's click wasn't exposing
any film.

Another thought about the legend that victims of an attack sought
sanctuary in this cave and then escaped down to the river is this.
Pursuers may have seen the defeated escaping toward this cave when they
were actually getting into the canyon. If the refugees had 15 minutes
lead on the pursuers they could run down past the cave into the bed of
the canyon. The attackers could spend their time waiting at the cave
mouth, but those in flight would proceed to the river and get across.

About the time I was getting back to my pack in the bed of the canyon,
the weather began to look bad with wind and lightning. A few rocks fell
from the rim and I ate lunch out of the light rain under an overhang. My
determination to go down this extremely narrow gorge began to falter.
However, after two rests, the shower seemed to be over and I went on
down with my whole outfit. This time I noticed something that indicated
the use of this as a route for men to descend to the bottom of Marble
Canyon. Three of the places where people had placed stepping stones that
I had supposed were for sheep to reach the rainpool were above a narrow
chute that would stop domestic sheep. One more (the largest) pile of
stepping stones was below this chute.

As before, when I came to the view over Marble Canyon I proceeded with
caution past the precarious place along the wall to the south and out to
the broken slope of Coconino Sandstone. This time I had a rope and I
found a good little shrub that would serve as a support just above one
of three likeliest routes. Two weeks earlier I had thought it was a bit
steep for safe climbing, especially when one is tired. I had no trouble
in getting down safely while holding the doubled rope, and I feel rather
sure that I could climb up and down here without using the rope. When I
got down to the talus below, I tried coming up a sort of chimney to the
east a few yards. I could get about halfway up but I reached a place
that stopped me, but this was partly because I knew two other routes
that are easier, the one I had come down and another a few yards to the
west. On the latter, I had no trouble at all in going up. Two weeks
previous I had been down to this ledge but hadn't had the gumption to
follow it around a corner or I would have gone through the Coconino
then. After I had gone back up to where I had left the pack and canteen,
I came down once more using the rope and then pulled it down after me.
The place I had gone up was easier and safer than where one has to cross
the meager ledge from the bed of the wash to get above the break in the
Coconino and it is also easier than the chute before you get down to the
place where you detour around a fall by going under a big rock and then
use the stepping stones. I had to watch my footing but there were no
other difficulties in getting down to the Supai rim above the river. Of
the two neighboring cuts through the lower cliffs, the one to the south
seems to offer the best chance to get down to the water, but from what I
could see from above, it might be impossible to get down about 15 feet
at one place only (it goes near the point). I had intended to follow the
slope above the Supai cliff to the south until I could find a break to
the river at Mile 23.3 or thereabouts. While I was trying to make up my
mind to continue along this slow and difficult route, the storm clouds
got black and I didn't relish the idea of spending a wet night under my
plastic sheet wondering whether the reservation roads were getting too
muddy for the car. Furthermore, I saw that since it was 2:00 p.m. by
now, it would be a late return to the car if I proceeded according to
plan. I gave up the rest of the project and returned to the car. I had a
struggle getting up and out to the car. My physical condition may have
been the worse for a short night's sleep. I hit the road fifteen
minutes' walk to the west of where I had parked the vehicle and I was
glad I had gotten a compass bearing on Shinumo Altar.

*Dragon and Crystal Creeks and the Tower of Ra
[May 29, 1966 to June 2, 1966]*

Donald Davis and I got to the North Rim Campground Sunday evening in
time for a cafeteria meal and a visit with James Richardson before and
after his campfire lecture. On Monday morning we found the Tiyo Point
Road in fairly good shape and did some looking from the point before
driving back north two tenths of a mile to where we could find the car
by lining up the Colonnade with Buddha Temple. Donald was carrying a
heavy load of canned food for four days, but we made it to the takeoff
point in 35 minutes. We got out on the promontory toward Shiva Saddle as
usual, but when we were just reaching the top of the Coconino, Donald
saw a band tailed pigeon leave a nest about 15 feet from our trail. We
got close pictures of the nest and one egg. When we returned on
Thursday, we got close to the brooding bird before she flew.

Down on the saddle, Donald immediately began seeing a lot of worked
chips of chert. There were imperfect arrow heads and blades of various
sorts. We had another look at the big mescal pit near the basin rocks.
There was no water in the basin after the last three months of drought.
However, there was still some buggy water in the waterhole where I had
camped last summer and I believe this last eight inches will last until
the summer rains start. Just east of this steep tributary, Donald
inspected a solution hole that allowed him to crawl in about 30 feet.
One pleasant discovery on our trip down the Supai slope was that there
is a deer trail about three fourths of the way before it disappears.

When we came to the bed of Dragon Creek, we went on down past the deer
trail that bypasses the fall to see the first obstruction. It dropped
about 10 feet, not spectacular, but enough. When we got around this
section down to the spring, we walked up the very impressive narrows to
a higher fall. There was more willow and cut tail growth in the bed than
I had remembered from last September and it took us an hour to get down
to the junction of Dragon and Crystal Creeks. Something that made us
wonder was the skid marks made by a helicopter landing about a quarter
of a mile upstream from the junction. Beck's pilot had not put him down
here, so it may have been Euler. We camped by a pile of large stones, a
low cairn or fireplace on the east side of the creek just below the
junction. Our bags were a bit too warm until late at night, but there
were few if any mosquitoes.

On Tuesday morning we got off to a leisurely start about 8:30 a.m. and
proceeded on up the wash that splits with one arm going to the Shiva
Osiris Saddle and the other heading under the Osiris Ra Saddle. We left
the bottom and climbed out to the southwest through a narrow fault
ravine as I had done two years ago. Again we found traces of copper in
the Tapeats.

We felt rather sure that the Stanton Kane Hislop Party had come down the
Redwall just east of the end of this canyon head where there is quite a
bit of vegetation and there are numerous ledges. When we got close, we
found that Stanton's remark about having to jump down the last 15 feet
was borne out. Donald was able to climb up over halfway but then he was
stopped. As we were getting ready to retreat, he noticed that we could
bypass this drop by going up the talus on the west and following a ledge
around under the main fall to the east side. I could see form this
higher station that the way ahead looked worse than I am used to
climbing, and in order not to be completely frustrated for the day, I
elected to go back down and head for the river along the Tonto to see
how the party started their epochal hike.

The promontory that reaches north from Ra spreads out at the north end.
I could now follow Stanton's field notes of his route to the top of the
Redwall. They went up a talus at the east end of this wall to a shelf at
the very base of the Redwall and then turned to the right toward the
river, meaning that they were doubling back over the route that they had
followed below along the Tonto. In this way they went west of the fin
that projects about the middle of this north facing wall. Beyond this
fin there is quite a bit of broken cliffs and ledges, but the prevailing
gradient is even steeper than where I had declined to follow Donald.
Especially toward the top, I would say that Stanton was not exaggerating
the difficulties. They were three men of more daring than good judgment
to even try this ascent.

(While we were away from camp, a group from Phoenix came by. They had
come down Crystal Creek. After going up Dragon Creek a short way, they
went to the river, crossed, and went out via Hermit Gorge. See Donald
Weaver's story in Summit Magazine.)

I was pleasantly surprised to find a fair deer trail most of the way
along the Tonto. I noted that there is no chance for a man to try a
Redwall ascent anywhere closer to the river than the two ways we had
seen. When Kane went off to try to climb the backbone, it was a feature
of minor size along the route to the top that I noted on the north
exposure of Redwall, not one of the promontories reaching west and south
from Ra. I also noticed that one can climb out of the bottom of Crystal
at two places along the west side of the course of the creek below the
junction with Dragon. The upper one is where the tilted strata of
Algonquin age angle up to the horizontal Tapeats, and the lower is quite
close to the mouth of Crystal Creek. If I ever want to complete the
traverse of the canyon below the north rim from one boundary of the park
to the other, I could go from Crystal to Tuna by going up here and then
west along the Tonto. Then I would need to complete only the gaps from
Tuna to Flint and from Powell Saddle to the Thunder Spring Trail.

By map study I had placed Stanton's pictures across the river. Out on
the next point, east of the Tapeats headland and right above the mouth
of Crystal, I got pictures to match Stanton's. Back to the north, I had
seen a good break through the Tapeats that angles down to the north.
Before reaching the place, I found a break that is wider and more
conspicuous from the mouth of Crystal. Since a good deer trail went down
this one, and since I figure that the Stanton party would have come up
here, I chose to descend this one. The way got steeper as I neared the
bottom, but it was never really bad. I walked back up the creek to camp
in just over two hours, and along the way I identified my camp of two
years ago. Although I didn't reach camp until 5:45 p.m., Donald wasn't
along until I really became worried.

He finally came in about 8:30 p.m. with a terrific tale to tell. He had
succeeded in getting up the Redwall although at two or three places
there was no alternative to the very difficult holds he had to use. When
he was above the difficult parts but about 80 feet from the top of the
Redwall, he had found and explored a fine cave. About 60 feet back where
the daylight was about gone, he found a 14 inch olla and in a pack rat's
nest were four corncobs showing eight to ten rows of kernels. Then he
had gone on around the north side of Ra and had located the place where
Stanton stood to take the picture showing Dragon Head and the knobs
lined up in front of it. Then he succeeded in climbing the lower Supai
cliffs and could walk south to the summit block of Ra. As was to be
expected, this could not be climbed but he was able to come down to the
Ra Osiris Saddle by an easier route. The sun was down long before he was
off the cliffs and in the wash below.

Donald was quite sure he could take me up the route he had followed
through the Redwall, so on Wednesday we gave it a try. I don't mind
going up a place that may be vertical where the holds are good and
frequent, but about halfway to the top we came to a place that was not
very steep, but there was dirt over the friction holds. Donald had to
give me a hand here, but only a few yards farther I met my Waterloo. He
had jammed his fist into a crack and then had reached up with the left
hand to a good hold which was three inches too much for me. I had to
turn back and read my magazine while he went back to the cave to
photograph the pot in it.

On Thursday just as we were packing up to leave, I saw a mine shaft
against the cliffs across Dragon Creek and while Donald was coming to
inspect it, he found a box of dynamite sticks under an overhang. The
name Hercules was still very legible. We went out without undue fatigue
and reached the car about 4:45 p.m.

On our walk down Dragon, we had an excellent look at a golden eagle.

We both came away thinking that Stanton, Hislop, and Kane were taking
awful chances to go up the Redwall where they did and then bet their
lives on getting down at a different place.

*Bridge, Separation, Spencer, and Meriwitica Canyons
[June 4, 1966 to June 10, 1966]*

As planned, Jorgen Visbak, Homer Morgan, John Harrington, and Bill Moos
met me at Peach Springs about noon on Saturday. With only 30 hours
notice, Jim Ervin had driven 840 miles to join us. Donald Davis was also
taking advantage of the fact that I would leave my car at the head of
the trail into Meriwitica Canyon. He was traveling by motor bike and I
could accommodate his supplies in the trunk of my car. He hoped to find
caves in the limestone of the area. Jim Ervin had come to get pictures
of the area where he had left the river in late June of 1931 to climb
out by what deputy sheriff Nelson called an impossible route. He had
recently written an account of his near fatal adventure which had taken
the life of his companion. They had become discouraged with trying to
reach Boulder Dam by hoping freight trains and had heard of a boat at
the mouth of Diamond Creek. They thought it would be easier to float
downstream, but when they had lost an oar, Ervin decided to abandon the
project and get help for his companion who was too weak to attempt the
route up the cliffs. At the age of 31, just 35 years ago, Ervin was able
to survive this exploit on almost no food and only the water that he
could drink before starting away from a spring below the Redwall.

Donald told the down river floaters where to get the road down Peach
Springs Wash and they got off soon after lunch. Ervin, Davis, and I
started northwest on the reservation road on the other part of the
combined trip. First Donald showed us how to get to the road that goes
to Hindu Canyon. The Williams Quad map shows this going down into Hindu
Canyon and up to the north skirting the head of Bridge Canyon and on out
to an overlook opposite Separation Canyon. The turnoff from the main
reservation road is clear, about seven miles from route 66, but after
passing a mysterious modern building with a white tower, it looks no
better than tracks to various cattle tanks. Familiarity with the map and
a knowledge of directions should indicate which branch leads on to Hindu
and Bridge Canyons. When Davis had taken us far enough to clear up the
route, we went on to the Meriwitica Tank road and found the end above
the route down into Meriwitica Canyon, west of the tank itself. We had
wasted a little time taking a detour of three miles and back to Willow
Spring, bone dry at this time. Along this road I had shaken the tail
pipe loose from the muffler and I would have had trouble if Jim Ervin
hadn't pulled out the right tools and fastened the pipe back in place.
He impressed me as a very capable man in an emergency. I left Donald the
key to my car trunk and went back to Ervin's car to take off for Bridge
Canyon.

We drove to the rim above Hindu Canyon and left Ervin's car just before
reaching a place where the road starts down a long grade. We had a map
that Dock had furnished showing where the search party had gone down in
1931, but I didn't get in mind the fact that they had driven cars
farther at the time than we had in 1966. When we had been walking down
Hindu Canyon for nearly two hours and darkness was starting to settle
down before we came to a turn to the north in the road, I began to feel
that we might be going to the west of the head of Bridge Canyon. I
called for a turn to the north up a draw although the road went on west.
A few hundred yards up this draw, we noted a few deer trails, but no
assurance that we were on the right route. When we stopped to eat, Ervin
discovered that he had picked up only his bedroll and had left the only
food he had brought along back at the car. He had purposely brought no
water because he remembered a spring at the bottom of a long set of
switchbacks. I gave him some of the food which I had figured would last
seven days and he drank as much of my one and a half gallons of water as
he could. He was walking well for a man of 66, but I could see that he
might have a hard time getting out if he went the full distance that I
was prepared to take on. He also showed that he would not be able to
show me much about the route since he said that he was still too beat
when he came with the rescue party 35 years ago to do much more than tag
along. When we left his car, I figured that it would be safe for him to
come back up Bridge Canyon alone if he took my gallon plastic jug of
water, but now I changed my mind. I figured that I might have to
skirmish quite a while before finding the head of the Bridge Canyon
Trail and that we might not reach water before noon the next day. When I
suggested that he allow me to go ahead and get the pictures he wanted
while he went back to his car and civilization, he seemed happy enough
to follow this idea. It was almost dark, but I figured he could reach
the ar in two and a half hours and the lateness would simplify the
thirst situation.

I went up the main draw that turned slightly to the east and finally
came out on the rim of an impressive canyon which I took to be Bridge.
In going up here, I detoured a bit and inspected a shelter cave that
showed smoke on the ceilings. The rim to the east was still higher, and
the head of the canyon was to the west, so the last daylight had
directed me to go back down to the west. I thought I might just retreat
to the road, but I followed the rim and soon came to the end of the two
tracks where I suspected that morning light would show the beginning of
the trail. Here I slept with the comfortable feeling that all was well
for the next day.

On Sunday I saw that I had guessed right. There was a terrace for a
shack, a wall for a corral, and the beginning of the trail going down
through a slot in the Redwall. Little trail was left in the ravine, but
below I went to the east on a 1500 foot descent and at the bottom near
the remains of some floor tents was the spring with a cement catchment
basin. I went on with more than enough water to see me down to the river
even if I found no more. The wild burros in this section of the canyon
have reached a saturation point and the trails are in a fine state of
preservation. As was indicated on the map, the trail to Ervin's ascent
led around the rim of the inner gorge to head the next canyon to the
east. What surprised me most was the prevalence of water. Some was
flowing below the Tapeats in a minor gorge between Bridge and the one I
had to head, and Ervin's spring at the base of the Redwall was quite a
little brook which made a pleasant sound as it came over the ledges from
above. I could see the ravine with the wet vegetation he described, and
around to the southwest, I could see where he had actually gone up.
There were a couple of rather continuous small cliffs where a route was
not apparent, but most of the way to the top would be well within my
capability as a climber. Maybe Davis or Cureton would like to try this
place. I would rate it as more promising than where Stanton, Hislop, and
Kane went up and down the same formation. Out on the rim of the inner
gorge, I could see the rectangular rock that projects into the river and
I saw a logical route up to the Tonto Platform. Everything was just as
clear as if Ervin had come with me. I was impressed with the clarity of
his memory of the area. Of course, he had seen the situation once when
his life was in doubt and then again four days later, but 35 years
usually plays tricks with the memory. At first I had thought that I
would go down to the river at Bridge Canyon City on the old trail. The
catch was that I had forgotten its precise location, and to complicate
things, I had picked the wrong canyon on the north side of the river as
Separation. I hadn't yet seen the real Separation and I concluded that
one entering the Colorado only a little way below Bridge Canyon was
Separation. In going to the west, I saw a chance to get across Bridge
Canyon with breaks in both Tapeats walls. When I reached the bed of
Bridge, I changed my mind and decided to try going on down to the river.
There was one place where I preferred going down experimentally without
my pack, and then I decided to make sure there were no other bad spots
before I went back for the pack. In going back, I happened to glance up
a side ravine to the east and saw what gives the canyon its name, a
natural bridge. It is only an easy ten minutes from the river.

The mouth of what I took to be Separation was in plain sight from the
bank at Bridge. I saw at once that the air mattress floating was
different here from what I had done in Marble. I had to push off into
some rough water and float through with the mattress crosswise. I like
to keep my feet up and my body on the mattress, but soon I was hanging
with my feet straight down. It was a bit disturbing to struggle up to
proper paddling position lengthwise on the mattress only to encounter
another rapid before I could land and warm up. I did land just upstream
from the mouth of what I had taken as Separation, but when I pushed off
to get around a projecting rock, the current caught me and swept me by
before I had time to see whether my friends were there. This further
disturbed my piece of mind, and I landed quite soon on the south bank
where a ravine came down to the water. I was so cold that I shivered for
ten minutes. This experience shook my enthusiasm for floating in this
section at this stage of the river. I learned later that the other four
floaters were in fine spirits and were thoroughly enjoying the trip.
Their surf rider floats and foot flippers worked fine. However, Jorgen
went through Diamond Creek Rapids on what was intended to be only a
practice start and was unable to take a pair of shorts he had left in
the car. When I remarked that Diamond rapids looked shallow and that I
would be afraid of hitting rocks, he said that he had scraped on a
couple with no harm done. Apparently the proselytes are now better
believers than the missionary.

The beach where I had accidentally landed was quite interesting. I found
a trail leading up to a couple of terraces to the east and a further
trail going to the igneous cliff, probably for the purpose of mining
although I could see no shaft. On Monday morning I went up to the Tonto
Level and walked a bit to the west. I could now see that the real
Separation Canyon was quite a distance downstream. If I had brought my
pack up with me, I would have continued along the fine burro trail over
to Bridge Canyon City where the other men had spent Sunday night. I know
that Mrs. Lamb would be up late Monday afternoon, and I wanted to be on
my beach when the boats came along. I spent the day finishing my Time
Magazine including all the ads and letters to the editor. Eventually,
the boat arrived and took several of the visitors up to float through
Mile 234 Rapid. Then they took me aboard and down to Separation where we
all had a wonderful steak dinner with tossed green salad and baked potatoes.

On Tuesday morning, Bill Moos and John Harrington went back to Las Vegas
with the boat. Jorgen, Homer, and I waited until the boat party was
about ready to leave and thus got off to a late (9:00 a.m.) start up
Separation. I carried about a gallon of water, Homer two quarts, and
Jorgen one quart. There were spots of running water in the bed until we
were about a half hour from the river, below a row of impressive holes
in the deep brown sandstone 200 feet up on the east. The day was hot and
there was no more evidence of water. I was glad I had water to share
with Jorgen, but all of our water was gone at least an hour before we
got back to the supply in the creek.

With such a late start, I had no ambition to do more than get up through
the Redwall, and as a limited objective, I figured that it would be
satisfactory if I could photograph a possible way. We were glad that I
had Reilly's information that the west and north arms are to be ruled
out at once. We probably would have gone up the north arm with no
advance information. About 15 minutes past the west arm, we reached the
first obstruction, a narrow channel leading into the gray limestone. I
would have started up the clay slopes to either side, but Homer went
right in. Jorgen gave him a boost and then he pulled us up bodily. Not
too much farther on we came to a long winding narrows in an 80 foot
formation. I, with my usual pessimism, announced that the odds were 9:1
that it wouldn't go through and that we would have to retrace our steps
to climb around the rim. Homer led us in. The question was in doubt for
at least a quarter mile, but finally he showed that one can walk right
up on a bed of gravel.

Not far beyond the mouth of the north arm, Homer stepped very close to
the tail of a rattlesnake that had its head under a rock. It didn't
rattle until Homer tossed a couple of small pebbles at it. I noted a
couple of places on the north wall of the canyon where an expert climber
could probably go up the Redwall, but by keeping to the the branch to
the east, one can go right on up out of the Redwall along the gravel and
boulder strewn bed. Time was running out especially in view of the water
shortage. While Jorgen rested in the shade of a very interesting narrows
in the Redwall, I went ahead and climbed up a bushy slope to get a view
ahead while Homer went ahead along the bed. It was interesting to see
that on the north side of the Colorado, the upper formations are still
intact. I could see the Hermit Shale with a long white cliff above, the
Coconino Sandstone (thin) combined with the Kaibab Limestone. Over to
the northeast, I could see a rockslide through all this upper cliff. If
I ever come in by car, it ought to be easy to come down and reach the
place we turned back. Separation is a long and impressive canyon. One
wonders whether the Howlands and Dunn were playing the percentages right
when they assumed that they could climb out. They picked the right
canyon, but how could they have known.

Even my 59 year old timidity couldn't see much danger in Separation
Rapid on a mattress. However, I figured a way to beat the cold water.
The Las Vegas party were going to stash their surf floats and swim fins
at the mouth of Spencer Canyon and get them later by boat. Since there
was no extra carrying involved, I borrowed one of the floats used by
Harrington and Mooz and put it on top of my regular mattress. I was able
to lie up high and dry with my only worry the matter of tipping over. At
a couple of boils, this was a real problem, but almost all the time we
had a peaceful 6.4 mile float. There was a good current, but I could
have gone to sleep on my soft bed. We stopped on three nice beaches
before we reached Spencer Canyon. I didn't eat all my lunch until I
reached the spring water coming out of Spencer because I had had 12
hours of intestinal trouble from using Colorado River water. Apparently
my five year old Halazone tablets have lost their potency,

There was no problem in recognizing the mouth of Spencer since there is
a prominent lava deposit on the north bank opposite. You see the bells
peak in the Redwall as you float down the Colorado, and you expect fine
scenery. Spencer fulfills all expectations and then some. Verdure also
lines the bank and slows the walker. About two hours walk upstream, past
a small fall or two, and past a dry wash from the west, you come to the
mouth of Meriwitica. It is easily identified by the small tower of
granite with the creek bed split around it. Homer spotted some tools
used by a prospector cached high on this castle. He took the shovel to
help level his bed site and also to help in the construction of a dam
which held enough water to let us float, a cooling process that all
enjoyed a couple of times a day. We camped at the big cottonwoods
upstream from the mouth of Meriwitica. One memorable view was obtained
from the Tonto level several hundred feet above our camp. We could look
around in the evening light at the Bells and other pinnacles on both
sides of Spencer and Meriwitica. The downhill side of the travertine
deposit left by the Meriwitica Spring was amazing. There must be a
greater volume of natural cement here, roughly 350 feet deep and
hundreds of acres in extent, larger then in any man made structure in
the world. It has a little brother formed by the spring one and a half
miles farther up Spencer, but the Meriwitica Spring must use have left
100 times as much travertine. A caver could go wild wondering where the
lime has come from.

On Thursday, Homer took us up to look at the travertine formed by
Spencer Spring. There are some most peculiar walls on top of the
deposit. The best preserved goes for quite a few yards fairly straight
and ends at the rim above the cliff. I remembered stories of Indians
driving stampeding buffalo over a cliff. A roofless rock house back near
the upper spring has been occupied by a white prospector. On his former
trip, Homer found a can with a note in it reading "So much damn country
and no blankety blank gold." On our way down, Homer showed us a good
cave that John and he had found. It is rather near the top and is north
of the big gray hollow in the east facing wall. One can enter it about
100 feet and walk around a solid center of the largest chamber. It is
well decorated with speleothems, many of which ring as you tap them.
Slightly lower on the route down, Homer pointed out a six inch entrance
with bees entering in a steady procession. On our way back to camp, we
disturbed a pair of slate dark hawks with banded tails and light colored
beaks. They were apparently trying to keep our attention away from a
nest in a tall cottonwood that Homer spotted.

After lunch we walked up to Meriwitica Spring, using the trail which is
fairly well defined on the talus south of the travertine cliff. The
grove nourished by the spring is an amazing place. It is about 50 yards
wide and 200 yards long, but we saw birds of several species including
one bright red male. Within minutes Homer was watching a little kit fox
and we saw a couple of young jackrabbits as we walked north to the
Indian shelter cave.

It is quite a scramble up to the cave but the trip is most rewarding.
There are outlines of numerous dwellings. Pot hunters have combed the
site. The neatest signatures are printed with charcoal or pencil and
read "W. H. Riddenhour, J. Tillman; Dec. 9, 1879." There are still
plenty of corncobs around of 8 to 12 rows and a few sherds. After a
mosquito infested night, we walked out in fine style Friday morning.

I had been worrying slightly about the safety of Jim Ervin in getting
back to his car at night without water, but when we reached my car I
learned from a note written by Donald Davis that he had been extremely
worried about my safety. He drove clear to Kingman to alert the sheriff,
who had then called my wife and had come out with three deputies to the
place where we were to come out. Ervin had also thought that Donald and
he should go down the Bridge Canyon Trail looking for me, but Donald
assured him that I was used to looking out for myself in the wilderness.
The search and rescue squad got in on the act and took their Jeeps down
Peach Springs Wash to check that there really was a Rambler station
wagon parked at the river. They came back predicting that a tow truck
would be needed to get it through the loose gravel where the road
follows the bed of the wash. Homer was a little worried also and he had
me stop five and a half miles from the river. We carried our lunch to
eat beside the Colorado after a cooling dip. Homer also packed my tire
chains along as a last resort if he should begin spinning the wheels. On
the way down, we threw many rocks out of the high center and in one spot
we filled some holes with flat rocks. It paid off since Homer brought
the Rambler right through without a hitch.

Donald quieted the search considerably when he spotted a letter in my
parked car saying that Mrs. Elinor Lamb of Las Vegas was going to supply
the party by boat on Monday evening. Evidently the sheriff reached her
and learned that I had safely joined the party and that the last three
were not expected out until Saturday.

*North Rim to Olla Vieja Cave and Tower of Ra
[May 29, 1966 to June 2, 1966]
(written by Donald Davis)*

Harvey Butchart and I slept at the North Rim campground the night of May
29, 1966 after driving from Flagstaff. The following morning we drove
out the fire road to Tiyo Point, and after enjoying the view briefly,
retreated some one half mile to park the car about 9:00 a.m. From here
we walked about a mile west, crossing several shallow canyons, to the
point that leads down to the saddle between Shiva Temple and the North
Rim. While descending this point, just east of the ridge and just above
the Coconino, I flushed a banded tail pigeon from its nest on a
horizontal limb of a juniper about six feet above the ground. The nest
held a moderately heavily incubated egg which we photographed. (On our
return June 2, 1966, by quiet approach, we were able to get within 10
feet of the incubating pigeon and photograph her on the nest.)
Naturalist James Richardson had two reports of pigeons on the North Rim
last year, but could not recall any nest record for the Park offhand;
however, Birds of Arizona (Phillips et al., 1964) lists the species as
common in the juniper oak manzanita zone in Arizona. Our nest was about
7200 feet in this zone.

The Coconino is broken down into a steep ridge which leads easily down
to the Supai Sandstone forming the broad Shiva Saddle. Harvey showed me
a particularly large and striking mescal pit toward the center of the
saddle. Nearby are potholes in sandstone which provide water after
storms, but which were dry at this time. There must have been very large
Indian camps here at times; I have never seen a place so littered with
worked stone chips. In addition to innumerable chert fragments scattered
over several acres, we found two scrapers, the bases of two arrowheads,
and about three small obsidian flakes which must have been brought from
many miles away. Relics of the 1937 Shiva Temple Expedition were also
noted; I saw a few tin cans and an olive green wine bottle with a broken
neck.

Harvey's route to Dragon Creek starts near the narrow point of the
saddle and descends into the bed of the gorge leading northwest from it;
this route is surprisingly easy, with no cliffs encountered anywhere. A
deer trail may be followed most of the way through the Supai before it
dissipates. In the upper Redwall are a few smallish cave openings mostly
choked with a semi consolidated yellowish sandy fill; I could not enter
those I tried for more than 20 feet. Just below these are potholes with
a little stagnant seep water which we did not drink. Where this gorge
begins to widen out into the valley of Dragon Creek, I heard sharp
whistles of a large rodent from a rocky ridge to the north. It sounded
much like a marmot, though perhaps more insistently repetitious than the
marmots I have heard in Colorado. Since I understand marmots are
considered to be extinct in northern Arizona (Journal. Mamm., May 1956),
I tried to get near enough to observe this animal, but could not make a
conclusive sighting.

Shortly after we reached the dry section of Dragon Creek, a Golden Eagle
flew down canyon not more than 30 feet above the wash bed and 50 feet
from us. (Since George Beck and I saw a pair in Phantom Creek in March,
it seems likely there is at least one nest somewhere in this general
area of the Park.) Where Dragon Wash enters the Tapeats, we followed a
deer trail up to the east to avoid drop offs in the bed. The trail
reenters the bed at Dragon Spring, which wells from fractures in the
Tapeats and nourishes attractive groves of fairly large cottonwoods,
boxelders, and brush, closely enclosed between the dark brown cliffs.
The flow of Dragon Creek averaged three to four feet wide and was about
comparable to Wall Creek; Crystal Creek was producing much less, more
nearly the equivalent of Ribbon Creek. These niggardly flows seem rather
surprising in view of the extent of the Hindu Amphitheater. We camped at
an old stone fireplace a few yards east of Crystal Creek just below the
Crystal Dragon junction, at about 4:00 p.m. Harvey found an unusual
soapstone pendant across the creek from camp, and I found an obsidian
flake nearby. A major object of this trip was to try to determine the
route followed by the R. B. Stanton party when then tried in 1890 to
climb to the Canyon rim in this area. To this end, Dock Marston had
furnished me with a copy of Stanton's photo labeled 354 486. Comparing
this with modern maps, Harvey and I concluded independently that it must
have been taken from somewhere above the Redwall on the north end of the
Tower of Ra (or the promontory that reaches north from Ra, as Harvey
described it); and we suspected from Stanton's notes and book that his
descent might have been made at the head of the gorge north of the
saddle between Osiris Temple and Ra. On May 31 we left camp around 8:20
a.m. to investigate this gorge. The weather was relatively cool and we
easily reached the base of the Redwall, where we were halted for a time
by a cliff about 15 feet high across the wash bed. Above this, a few
hundred feet north of the gorge head on the Osiris side, the Redwall
cliff was just slanting enough and broken enough to suggest something
less than an even chance of climbing it without equipment. We finally
saw that the lowest cliff could be bypassed by scrambling up a slope on
the Ra side and traversing a ledge which reentered the bed above. (We
decided that this was probably the cliff where Stanton had to be lowered
by a strap. Coming from above they would not have had a clear view of
it, and on reaching the drop would be likely not to have noticed the
alternate ledge route they had already passed.) However, at this point
Harvey decided he would probably not be able to manage the climb above,
while I did not want to turn back without studying it as closely as
possible. Accordingly, we decided to separate, and he would try to work
out the section of Stanton's route closer to the River. After contouring
around the ledge to the east (Osiris) side of the gorge, I found that
there were good holds and that the climb was a bit less formidable than
it had looked from a distance. There were about five short bare rock
pitches, but only one, near the middle of the Redwall, was really
thought provoking. The climb topped out on a minor point divided from
the main mass of Osiris by a draw. Looking across the draw to the east
side, I could see a triangular cave entrance several feet high, about 80
feet below the top of the Redwall and located on a minor normal fault
striking roughly E W or NE SW and dipping about 80? N., with a few feet
downward displacement to the north. I did not think the cave would be
sizable, but decided to check it as I felt that such a site was a likely
place to find untouched split twig figurines or pottery. This suspicion
proved to be prophetic.

After crossing the draw, I reached the opening by scrambling up a low
cliff and traversing a brushy ledge to the north. Inside, the cave
opened into a chamber about 20 feet wide and high enough in a few places
to stand in. About 60 feet from the entrance, in a pocket among
breakdown blocks on the floor, I encountered a large prehistoric olla
lying on its side, sunk three or four inches in pack rat droppings. It
was in one piece although the lower side had a crack extending almost to
the base. It was about 14 inches high and 14 inches wide with a ten inch
wide mouth, and was coiled and indented grayware (probably Tusayan
Corrugated, according to George Gumerman, acting Curator of Anthropology
at the Museum of Northern Arizona, to whom I later described it). The
olla was empty except for a little debris, but I found four small
corncobs (three with eight rows of kernels, and one with ten) in pack
rat nests elsewhere in the cave. This find brings to at least three the
number of pots known to have been found in the Grand Canyon, the others
being found by Peter Berry below the South Rim in the late 1800's (photo
in Burton Holmes Travelogues, 1901, p. 190) and one found by Western
Speleological Institute more than 10 years ago (G.C.N.P. archeological
site number. 606) in Grapevine Canyon. The Osiris location is easily the
least accessible of these sites, being almost midway between the rim
where the canyon is nine miles wide, and seemingly approachable by only
three ways: from Crystal Creek by the Stanton route; from Phantom Creek
by a Redwall climb and a long traverse south of Shiva Temple; or over or
around Shiva Temple from the Shiva North Rim Saddle or from Dragon
Creek. I marvel that the Indians could have gotten such a delicate item
to the cave unbroken, and believe the only way in which it could safely
be removed intact would be by landing a helicopter on the Ra Osiris
Saddle or on a small Redwall bench nearer the cave, and backpacking the
olla, well padded, to the helicopter.

I decided to refer to the cave as Olla Vieja Cave (roughly, Old Jar
Caves), as the simpler term Olla Cave had been pre emptied by Western
Speleological Institute for their site. The cave is of some interest in
itself. It is apparently the longest dry Redwall cave yet found below
the North Rim. I explored some 300 to 400 feet or passage. Beyond the
olla, the main passage narrows and divides into two crawl ways, rejoins
after a few yards, and continues, with a slight left ward bend, for at
least 20 feet as a passage too low to enter without excavating pack rat
deposits. Back near the entrance, an opening on the right (as one faces
the cave) reveals a spacious chamber whose cliff ward side contains
stalactites and stalagmites up to a foot long. Some of the stalactites
hang from peculiar mammillary bases which are apparently of aerogenic
rather than subsaqueous origin. From the inner end of this chamber, two
passages continue about SSE, roughly parallel with the cliff face: an
open , dust floored broachway to the right; and a narrower, breakdown
interrupted passage, at a slightly higher level, to the left. The former
ends after about 100 to 150 feet. The latter, after continuing a
comparable distance, forks to form two narrow crawl ways which were too
difficult for me to enter while alone and with limited time. Though much
modified by breakdown, and by accumulations of rat debris and dust, the
cave is definitely of solutional origin. Fractures in the ceilings have
been irregularly widened, and the passages beyond the stalactite chamber
show directionally oriented flutes and scallops, which indicate former
flow in the SSE direction (toward the River, but opposed to the slope of
the side canyon in which the cave now opens). This is the only dry
Redwall cave in which I have seen scalloping.

I left, with the intention of returning the following day to photograph
the olla after seeking advice on camera settings from Harvey. I then
rounded the head of the gorge between Ra and Osiris and examined three
openings in the upper Redwall on the east side of Ra. These all ended in
fill after 20 to 40 feet and had no visible artifacts, but the
northernmost contained a layer of ash, suggesting that its pack rat
guano had burned at one time.

From here it was a simple walk around the Redwall rim to the north end
of Ra. I found that a number of vague foreground objects in Stanton's
photo were recognizable as sections of the Redwall cliff top, and that I
could obtain a view matching his by standing a few yards below the
lowest Supai cliff and somewhat to the west of center of the north end
of Ra. Relationships of features were definitely altered if I moved as
much as 50 feet from the spot I chose to duplicate his photo. Stanton
must have used a very wide angle lens; I needed four shots to include
the important parts of his picture and would have needed six if I had
covered the lower left and lower right corners. Unfortunately, certain
foreground points at the bottom of the picture, which were in my
viewfinder, did not quite appear on the negative. I noted with interest
that many of the juniper trees in Stanton's scene corresponded with
living trees of about the same size. The summit of Dragon Head appears
more rounded and broader now than in Stanton's photo; I cannot account
for this.

It seems that the Stanton Party camped below this slope on the flat top
of the prominent Redwall point extending north from the west side of the
north end of Ra. (Harvey decided their climb up the Redwall must have
been almost directly below this point, not on the one of those nearer
the River.) I would have liked to go look for relics, but decided I
should use my time examining the upper parts of Ra as thoroughly as
possible. Just above the photo slope was a chimney by which I could
climb above the first Supai cliff, but not on up to the point at the
north end of the Ra ridge. After scouting traverses a few hundred feet
out onto the west side of Ra at two levels, I concluded that this side
was almost certainly unclimbable, and walked around the east side one
third mile until directly below the saddle between the main and north
summits of Ra. I then scrambled easily up to the saddle and ridge. I
first went south to the base of the main summit block and walked around
it in a clockwise direction. At its east and west corners, I found
chimneys where I was able to climb about one fourth of the way up, but
had to turn back, as there were problems I did not dare attempt without
protection. Even if I had been able to gain the next ledge, the second
cliff above might well have proved impassable. Giving up these climbs, I
walked the ridge across the small rise of the north summit and out to
the point at the extreme north end of the ridge. I saw no cairns or
other signs of previous visitation here. As the sun was dropping low, I
walked back to the saddle in the center of the Ra ridge and rather than
go back to the chimney at the north end (where I had left a cairn in
case I needed to relocate it), I descended to the east as far as
possible and traversed a ledge in the lower Supai south to the Ra Osiris
saddle. From there I went to the Redwall climb and retraced it down with
little difficulty, guided by three cairns I had left on the way up. I
did not reach camp until darkness had fallen, about an hour after I had
agreed tobe back, but was in time to forestall Harvey's leaving to
organize a rescue.

An anonymous note had been left in our camp during our absence,
admonishing us to remove or bury our rubbish. This was evidently from
one of Bill Sewrey's party from Phoenix; they had gone in a day before
we did from the west side of Crystal Creek. The next day they passed by
again, and once more missed us. They were obviously puzzled as to our
identities.

The morning of June 1st, Harvey and I started back toward the cave for
photography. I thought he could do the Redwall climb, since I considered
it a little easier than the one he had done out of Phantom Canyon near
the Shiva Isis saddle, but he lacked a few inches of the reach required
to make the worst pitch safely, and had to turn back and wait at the
cliff base for me. I went on to the cave and made several tries to
photograph the olla in situ by carbide light, one of which turned out
fairly well (f.3.5 at 1 second). I then removed the olla and corncobs
carefully to the entrance, took a shot in the shade and one in the sun,
and replaced the artifacts in their original locations. After rejoining
Harvey, he and I went around to investigate the gorge which climbs up to
the west side of the Shiva Osiris saddle. We established that Stanton
could not possibly have descended here, as there is sheer cliff all
around its head. On the north facing slope of this gorge is the best
growth of grass I have seen in the sub Redwall parts of Grand Canyon.

I am satisfied now that Stanton's party not only did not make the
circuitous and difficult climb of Osiris, but probably did not even
reach the north summit of Ra. The photo level was probably the highest
reached. From there an easy walk around the corner to the east would
have shown them the Redwall route down from the Ra Osiris saddle (which
looks easier from above then from below), and after having spent a
waterless night atop the Redwall, they probably would have headed for
this without further cliff climbing digressions. Thus, they probably
walked only about a mile along the top of the Redwall, but their climbs
up and down it were respectable achievements, and Stanton's notes
(though not his book) seemed accurate, although vague. The next morning
Harvey noticed a prospect hole in the Hakatai (?) just north of Dragon
Creek near the Crystal Creek junction, and I found a box of old
dynamite, with the faded stencil Hercules Dynamite, under an overhang
100 feet to the east. I am fairly sure this does not date back to
Stanton's time. We made an uneventful hike out and reached the car in
mid afternoon. On his separate hike on May 31st, Harvey had determined
the spot from which Stanton took his other photograph looking across the
River from the Tonto Platform east of the mouth of Crystal, and found
the break they probably used to climb to it. Thus, the true route of the
Stanton Kane Bislop excursion seems rather well established now.

**
*Meriwitica and Spencer Canyon areas, Western Grand Canyon
[June 4, 1966 to June 8, 1966]
(written by Donald G. Davis)*

After our recent trip to the Tower of Ra area, Harvey Butchart intended
to join some other men for some air mattress floating down the western
part of the Grand Canyon, and I took the opportunity to use his parked
car as base camp for a few days of exploring and cave hunting in the
region of Meriwitica and Spencer Canyons. I left Flagstaff on my slow
motorcycle about 8:00 a.m., an hour or more before Harvey, but we
arrived almost simultaneously in Peach Springs before noon, in time for
a brief meeting with the others of the party. There were four plus Jim
Ervin, who had been in communication with Dock Marston about a river
tragedy that Ervin had survived in 1931. Ervin and a partner had begun
an ill prepared boat trip from Diamond Creek, and before reaching Bridge
Canyon, Ervin had to leave the other man and hike out, at great peril,
to Peach Springs. The other was missing when Ervin returned with a
rescue party and was never found.

The four floaters left in a station wagon for their starting point at
Peach Springs Wash. Harvey had decided to join them downriver by way of
Bridge Canyon, and Ervin was to accompany him partway. Harvey and Ervin,
in separate cars, and I followed the road leading NW into the Hualapai
reservation. Seven miles from the highway the road to Bridge Canyon area
leads north marked by a small sign FAA Vortac. (This is a cryptic modern
building with a conical white tower, standing in a flat about two miles
from the junction.) I led Harvey and Ervin far enough along this road to
pass the two confusing forks which are not on maps; then we went back
and continued to the head of the Meriwitica Canyon Trail (with a
fruitless side trip to the dry willow spring). At 4:00 p.m., Harvey left
his car there, with the intention of coming out that way on June 11;
then Ervin drove with him back toward Bridge Canyon.

I had information on Spencer and Meriwitica Springs from USGS Water
Supply Paper 1576 A, and decided to backpack into this area for two or
three days. I started down the trail about 6:00 p.m. The upper part has
been built where the spectacular Meriwitica monocline has broken down
the Redwall and lower cliffs, and descends in two long slopes with a
switchback to the bed of the monocline controlled tributary, where it
abruptly disappears. It looks as if the original intent was to build a
wagon road into Meriwitica Canyon, but if so, it was never completed.
The rest of the way one follows wash beds or animal trails. Meriwitica
Canyon is overrun with wild burros and horses; I saw no more than three
burros and six horses at any one time, but all reasonably level areas
are trampled and laced with trails, and the ground between the desert
shrubs virtually denuded of grass. I reached Meriwitica Spring and its
lovely cottonwood grove just before dark, and camped NW of the spring.

This section of the Grand Canyon is of very different aspect from the
National Park and less known, but in my opinion it is of equal interest
and in some ways even more strange and other worldly. The vegetation is
more typically Lower Sonoran, with crucifixion thorn (Canotia), creosote
bush, Ocotillo, and California barrel cactus prominent. Above the Tonto
group the sandstones are absent; the Muav is thicker, a thick Devonian
limestone lies between it and the Redwall, and above the Redwall the
mesa tops are capped by bedded Pennsylvanian limestone in place of the
lower Supai. The twilight scene down the level alluvial floor of
Meriwitica Canyon to the 2000 foot limestone wall beyond the spring
grove is a very fair prospect, with no hint of the chasm which drops off
below the enormous spring produced travertine dam which has held back
the alluvium upstream, in much the same way as the lava at Toroweap. The
effect is vaguely suggestive of southern Utah.

The spring is not yet depositing travertine where it emerges in a grape
hung bower from talus below the Rampart Cave member of the Muav. There
it averages about four feet wide and several inches deep, with a fairly
rapid flow, but after it has run a few hundred feet, it spreads our over
the travertine and sinks. Oddly, it does not reappear at once in the
Tapeats bedrock of the gorge below the travertine dam; only a stagnant
pool was visible from atop the dam. In view of this isolation of the
spring by a cliff and dry canyons from Spencer Creek and the River, I
was surprised to find in its waters an abundance of tiny fish up to
three inches long. It would be interesting to know if they are a form
endemic, perhaps, to this spring only. Also plentiful were small toads
which hopped about rustling the dry leaves at night. Mosquitoes, while
not abundant, bit persistently and badly impaired my sleep.

There are old ditches, flattened wire fences and old stone ruins SW of
the spring, with some kitchen utensils and screw top bottles most of
which look no more than perhaps 30 years old. A remnant of the sun
purpled whiskey flask is more likely to be 60 or more years old,
however. At the south end of the travertine dam fences block the
approaches to burro trails which can be followed either north down to
the gorge below the dam; or east around contours above the Tapeats
toward Spencer Spring, about three miles away by foot. I set out for the
latter early on June 5 and was able to keep to passable trails most of
the way.

The travertine deposits at Spencer Spring are smaller than at Meriwitica
and are restricted to the west side of Spencer Canyon, which they do not
block. The deposits form three or four distinct terraces rising some 400
feet above the canyon floor. Water now emerges only on the lowest two
and only in small amounts, and sinks before reaching the canyon bed. It
does not reappear for a mile down Spencer Canyon, where a larger stream
two feet wide rises at the junction with a dry canyon from the east.
Cottonwoods begin only below this. Two burros with a baby one were
sheltering in the brush at Spencer Spring; they had befouled the water,
and I had to dig a hole among the water plants as high up as possible to
get a clean drink. Atop the lowest, broadest travertine terrace is a
stone ruin, with some kitchen utensils in a shelter cave behind, and old
stone walls (which may have been corrals) toward the cliff edge. I noted
with surprise a forlorn survivor of cultivation, a struggling fig plant
three feet high, growing from barren decomposed travertine about 50 feet
from the ruin. The failure of settlement attempts at Spencer and
Meriwitica Springs may be due to the poorness of the soil, which seems
to be little more than a thin layer of powdered calcite. The dried
remnants of old limestone dams, much the worse for weathering and
trampling, attest to the former occurrence of much larger flows of water
at both springs.

I could not find any caves in the Rampart Cave member of the Muav above
Spencer Spring, though there were a number of short solution tunnels
some of which were lined with several inches of calcite crust of
subaqueous origin. I spent several hours, however, investigating caves
in the lowest travertine cliff. These are apparently of constructional
origin, formed by roofing of spaces with canopies of travertine.
Delicate networks of fossilized roots and twigs are common in them. The
longest I found was toward the north end of the cliff, near the top. It
had two entrances and about 150 feet of passage, consisting of a barren
outer chamber and two inner chambers heavily decorated with old, flaking
drip stone and pool deposits. In pack rat nests it had many small eight
to twelve row corncobs and pieces of cane. These were present, in fact,
in most of the caves, and in many there were arrangements of stones
vaguely suggesting storage cysts. If so, however, they were rifled long
ago. I found no potsherds. Another conspicuous cave farther south, in
the east facing wall near the top, was accessible from below; it had two
openings, was about 80 feet long, and contained several foot wide
clusters of Corynorhinus (?) bats with many naked babies. In holes on
the cliff outside the main entrance were two colonies of honeybees. (I
also saw honeybees drinking and working catclaw flowers in Meriwitica
Canyon. I have not yet seen them in the National Park section of the
Canyon.) Near the cliff base below this cave I found and photographed
the skull of a bighorn sheep.

In a north facing shelter cave in the north end of the cliff I made a
particularly interesting discovery. A stick about one inch long by two
inches wide, with a burned end (apparently an Indian torch, perhaps
prehistoric) had been jammed obliquely into a hole in the ceiling, and a
hummingbird's nest (presumably Costa's or Black chinned) had been built
on the outer end. It contained two large young. My photograph of it
unfortunately turned out blank. This curious nest site is similar to two
found by Cave Research Associates in the eastern Grand Canyon (Cave
notes, v. 3 no 5, Sept. 1961, p. 38).

Returning toward Meriwitica Spring in late afternoon, I enjoyed some
striking views down Spencer Canyon, with ocotillos and barrel cacti
outlined above the shadowed Tapeats nearby, and great Redwall peaks east
of lower Spencer Canyon glowing in the light opposite. On a promontory
about one third mile southeast of the Meriwitica travertine dam, above
the Tapeats, I found a plastic covered box, about nine inches square,
containing electronic parts and labeled U.S. Army Signal Corps,
Modulator, Radiosonde: seemingly the payload from a weather balloon. It
was too badly weathered to be of any value. I got back to camp in time
to scramble up the long talus to the enormous shelter cave in the Muav
of the west wall of Meriwitica Canyon opposite the spring. On a ledge on
the north side of the cave is the best built cliff dwelling I have seen
in the Grand Canyon. In addition, there are remnants of two walls just
below the cave, two more about halfway up the talus slope inside, and
another where the cave levels off for 20 feet at the top before ending.
There were corn husks, cane fragments, and fairly large corncobs strewn
about, and I saw a few bits of blackened, non corrugated pottery.
Someone has done a good deal of crude looking digging, and a shovel and
broken rake have been left.

I spent the morning of June 6 in leisurely wandering around the
Meriwitica Spring grove, observing the interesting wildlife. The evening
before, I had seen two kit foxes, so unsuspicious that they would freely
go about their business while I followed 50 feet behind, and one of them
appeared again. (One of these may be the little coyote seen by Harvey's
party.) A remarkable variety of birds inhabit this tiny riparian oasis.
I saw a family of Gambel's Quail, a Ladder backed Woodpecker (female);
an Ash throated Flycatcher; a Western Wood Peewee; Blue gray Gnatcachers
(very common); a Phainopepla (probably; it was too distant to be
certain); a Scott's Oriole (male); two Common Cowbirds; two Cooper's
Tanagers (pair, or possibly male with immature); and several house
finches. A notable sight as I walked upcanyon on the way out was a
Hereford bull which had somehow managed to go wild here.

As I plodded up the upper part of the trail in the afternoon, a human
figure appeared briefly on the skyline at the trailhead. I was braced to
be upbraided by the Hualapai for trespassing, but it turned out to be
Jim Ervin with a startling story to tell. He had hiked three miles down
the Hindu Canyon road toward Bridge Canyon with Harvey two nights ago;
they had parted at dusk, and Harvey left the road and went toward a
saddle that Ervin was so sure would not lead to the river that he drove
to Kingman and reported to the Mohave Co.. Sheriff (Floyd L. Cisney)
that Harvey was in trouble! On Monday Ervin returned to the Meriwitica
trailhead and waited several hours until I came up. He urged me to go
with him to Bridge Canyon to search, and in momentary confusion I
started off with him; but I soon decided his grounds for concern were
not very good, and I didn't know the Bridge Canyon Trial and was
unprepared for it, so I sent back to Harvey's car. I advised Ervin to
drive back to the edge of Hindu Canyon to see if Harvey had come back
that way, and then if he still felt there was real cause for alarm, to
return for me by 10:00 a.m. next day. After he left, I still had time to
walk out along the Redwall rim east of Meriwitica Canyon for about two
miles, to see if I could find a way to cave entrances I had seen from
below. I could not enter them, but one recess in the rim contained a
pocket of light reddish and whitish sediments resembling the Hindu
Canyon fluvial beds of the area farther east. Possibly the apparent
scarcity of caves in this area is due to filling by these sediments.
Along this canyon rim, about one and a half miles from the car, I found
two crumpled wing tanks, some 10 to 15 feet long, which had evidently
been jettisoned from an airplane. They were about 300 feet apart and a
similar distance back from the cliff edge.

The next day Ervin did not come to my camp, but the sheriff and three
special deputies did. They had also had a report from a Peach Springs
school teacher about the station wagon left at the bottom of Peach
Springs Wash. To my chagrin, the only one of Harvey's companions whose
name I could remember was John Harrington, and the only pertinent detail
I knew of their plans was that Harvey was due back out Saturday, June
11. This, however, was important, since they said Ervin had told them
Harvey was to have been out the past Monday! I explained that Harvey was
the recognized champion of Grand Canyon back country hikers, and we all
agreed that it would be unwise to mount an all out search until after
Saturday, as there were still no solid grounds for believing Harvey lost
(though, if he had been, Saturday would probably been too late). I led
them on a walk along the rim to see the jettisoned wing tanks, after
which they left.

All these visits had cut considerably into my intended cave hunting
time, but after the sheriff left I was able to investigate a large
opening visible in the Muav at the head of a short tributary of
Meriwitica Canyon across from the trailhead. A ledge on the north wall
of the tributary canyon led toward the hole, but appeared to be
interrupted by unclimbable spots. After dropping into Meriwitica Canyon
and climbing laboriously up to the ledge, I found this appearance was
not deceptive; I could not get within 200 feet of the cavity. Probably,
however, it was only the result of weathering along seeps in a silty
zone of the Muav; there were several seeps, enough to wet the rock,
above the ledge at the same level. Wasps were drinking at them, and a
man might be able to get enough to survive by chipping V shaped
undercuts with a rock hammer, if for some reason he could not reach
Meriwitica Spring three miles away. On this nearly inaccessible ledge, I
saw mountain sheep droppings, tracks, and beds. What they want there
mystifies me, but if they wish to escape the presence of the introduced
wildlife and their neighings, braying, and bellowings, this is the place.

On the morning of June 8, having eaten most of my food and drunk five of
the ten gallons of water in Harvey's truck, I started for Los Angeles.
Where the road crossed a Redwall hill two and a half miles south of the
Meriwitica Trailhead I stopped to photograph the hill and its typical
vegetation of gnarled cliff rose and agave. Fifty feet from the road I
flushed a black throated (Desert) Sparrow from a small clump of rabbit
brush (?), and found a nest, just above the ground, containing one small
young sparrow and an infertile egg.

Before leaving the car, I had found a letter to Harvey from Jorgen
Visbak from which I got the names of Homer Morgan and Bill Mooz (or
Moose) and some information about the plans of the river party,
including the fact that a Mrs. Elinor Lamb from Las Vegas was to have
met them June 6 and taken Harrington and Mooz out June 7. I told the
sheriff about this as I passed through Kingman. He called the Las Vegas
Sheriff to check on an Elinor Lamb who was known to the latter sheriff,
but found she was an operator of a western clothing store who was not
known to go boating, as far as could be found at the time. He also tried
to get through by radio to Temple Bar, but had received no reply by
about 4:00 p.m. when I left. I arranged to be notified if they had to
resume the search, but Harvey reached his car before the deadline, all
unaware of the furor. I decided that Ervin's agitation had probably been
conditioned by the fact that the last man he had left alone in that area
was never seen again. The effects of remote events can echo even through
time in curious ways; because of a 1931 river tragedy, I now have a
speaking acquaintance with the sheriff of Mohave County!

**
*Ervin climb area revisited
[July 3, 1966 to July 4, 1966]*

Since I had brought back so little in the way of pictures from my visit
on June 5th, I felt that I should go back and take more relevant shots.
At the car after the climb up Mount Humphrey on Saturday, I was asked
some questions by a man who proposed going up and spending the night on
top. Since he had several days to do anything he wanted, I invited him
to be my companion on the Sunday and Monday trip down Bridge Canyon and
around to the east. He thought this over for a short time and agreed. I
had suggested that the amount of water to be carried should be two
quarts but when he showed up Sunday morning he had only one. He was sure
that this would be plenty for himself and his two little dogs since I
had said that we could get from one water source to another in four
hours. Since he was quite experienced in the Sierras and had also done a
fair amount of desert hiking, I didn't challenge this claim.

We drove my car to the rim of Hindu Canyon and started down on schedule
at 9:00 a.m. One of the two little dogs kept right up to us at all
times, but the 10 pound black dog was showing symptoms of difficulty in
the heat within an hour. She wanted to hang back in any kind of shade.
Art had to carry her numerous times, but still we seemed to be making
better time than Ervin and I had done. It was only about a quarter of a
mile from the ravine where I left the road to where the road turned
north to go to the Bridge Canyon Trail and beyond to the viewpoint. I
was satisfied that it is no longer safe to take any vehicle other than a
four wheel drive beyond the place where I had parked.

A short distance after the road turns to climb out of Hindu, there is a
corral and some lumber from a ruined shack. Farther on the road splits.
We could tell that the long continuation goes to the west, but I thought
that the other branch might go to the beginning of a clear trail up to
the head of Bridge Canyon. At the end of this branch there is a shed
still standing and for a portion of the way up the ravine beyond, we
could follow a trail. Most of the way to the pass we were walking up as
we saw fit, but it was the right pass. Williams still had to watch the
little black dog to get her away from shade, but we were down at the
spring in two and one half hours from the car. As I filled my canteen, I
was a little afraid of the wasps, but they didn't sting. The dogs
enjoyed getting the cool water our of Art's canteen on their backs.

I had suggested that since Art could see that his one quart had to be
supplemented from my two quarts, he might consider staying at the spring
while I continued to get the pictures. He was properly impressed by what
he had seen of the canyon country and wanted to go on with me. When we
had proceeded for about 15 minutes down a clear part of the trail, the
little black dog gave unmistakable indications that he was suffering
from the heat. This convinced him that he should go to the spring and
wait for my return on Monday. I assured him that I would be back before
noon and most likely before 9:00 a.m. Before we parted, I should have
made sure he knew where this spring was. It never occurred to me that an
outdoorsman like him would get confused with the spring only a half a
mile away. I had pointed it out as we came down the switchbacks and it
would have seemed insulting if I had made him review its location. When
I got back at 8:00 a.m. Monday, I learned that he had spent a good part
of the afternoon looking for the spring. He apparently had no idea where
it might be in the whole upper end of the valley. He remembered that
there is an old barb wire fence a hundred yards or so above the spring,
but he couldn't find the fence. Finally, after spending as much time
resting as walking, he came to the water. It was a good thing for me
that he had agreed to go back because my two quarts were about right for
my own needs in going over to the spring that Ervin had found, a trip of
three and one half hours in the heat. I had to stop for three rest
periods. My route was essentially the same as it had been four weeks
ago, along the flat to the west of the wash for a short distance and
then along the burro trail to the east until I came to a clearly man
made portion nearer the ravine. On the return I avoided some of the
distance involved in contouring on the burro trail by taking a good
chance to drop down to the bed of the wash. At the bottom I saw who had
improved the trail. An old sign is still standing. The board is just
weather blackened wood, but when I went close, I could make out letters
spelling Upper Dam Site. They now show only because the rest of the wood
is sand blasted leaving them in slight relief. I suppose the original
paint protected the part which is still legible. It seemed to take just
about as long to walk the bed of the wash through soft gravel and the
boulders as it had to walk the contour path above.

The walk along the rim from Bridge Canyon to 234 Mile Canyon seemed
longer this time than it had four weeks ago. Possibly this was because I
may have followed the burros out along the lower rim instead of taking
the higher man made trail as I had before. I believe I also went farther
south to cross 234 Mile Canyon than I had on the first occasion.
Likewise, on the present trip, Ervin's route up the Redwall looked less
promising than it had earlier. I had considered trying to climb it or
see how high I could get, but when the rocks got so hot in the sun that
I could just stand to touch them, I soon changed my mind. Rather than
take time here, I walked on north to the river to get a view of the boat
landing and the climb out of the inner gorge. The water was lower than
it had been a month ago and I was a bit unsure of the identity of
Ervin's projecting rock. The one I decided must be right was more nearly
cubical than projecting out like a pier. I figured that Ervin must have
walked out south about a quarter mile from the main rim of 234 Mile
Rapid, which seemed to be kicking up higher waves than 234 Mile Rapid
itself. I returned to my pack at the spring by 5:45 p.m. and ate my
dinner after a cooling soak in the shallow water at the brink of the
fall. After eating and drinking all the water I could take, I packed up
and spent 45 minutes crossing 232 Mile canyon to spend the night on the
other side. There was water in pools in the Archean bed of 234 Mile
Canyon even above the place where the water from the spring goes down.
There were also numerous burros down there and at least one or two were
noisier and more aggressive than any I have ever seen. I could look down
and see two or three scrapping for the attention of what I took to be a
female. There was no classic fight with two stallions baring their teeth
facing each other, but I saw one rearing and driving another away with
its front hoofs. The braying was mixed with sounds more like shrieks and
whistles than I had never heard before from a burro.

My cotton blanket was just right for a comfortable night, but I was
bothered by a few mosquitoes. I packed up and started on as soon as it
was light enough to see the trail and when I was approaching Bridge
Canyon, I detoured down and back to eat breakfast along the rim with a
fine view of the river showing 234 Mile Rapid. I reached Art Williams
and his dogs at the spring just as he was finishing breakfast about 7:45
a.m. We took about an hour to reach the pass at the head of the trail,
and this time we went up to the west and saw the road as it continues up
a valley on its way out to the viewpoint overlooking Separation Canyon.
We had to carry the black dog in a knapsack for most of the way up Hindu
Canyon and out to the car which we reached in three and three quarters
hours after leaving the spring.

One observation concerns the canyon from the north rim that reaches the
river opposite Gneiss Canyon. From what I could make out, it might not
be hard to climb the Redwall at its upper end. If this is so, it would
offer a quicker route to the plateau than would Separation Canyon.
However, it is hard to land at its mouth and I am not proposing that it
is the true Separation Canyon. (Jorgen and I checked and the Redwall is
impossible in this canyon.

**
*Fossil Bay and Redwall rim to Specter
[July 25, 1966 to July 27, 1966]*

For several years I had been interested in the possibility of getting
from the top of Great Thumb Mesa to the Colorado River. Reilly had first
suggested getting through the Redwall in Specter but had later reversed
his opinion that it is possible. I had seen this from a plane a couple
of times, and especially after the flight last September had believed
that one could go to the rim of the Redwall southwest of Stanton Point
and then along the Redwall rim around to Specter and down. In 1961 I had
taken several trips to the Esplanade in Fossil Bay after locating the
break in the rim a half mile southwest of the head of the main draw.

Just once I drove my 55 Ford up the access road north of the Topocoba
Hilltop Road and I had had a $70 repair bill on the front end. I now
left it at the fork where W2A turns north. On previous occasions I was
able to walk from there to the break in the rim in four hours and I had
even come back south from the same place once in three and one half
hours when I thought that a winter storm was about to break. I found
that I was slower now and that the interval had dimmed my recollection
of the landmarks. I wasted several minutes in going out for a view north
along the rim and I thought that I should have reached the place before
I had. Just before you reach the place, there is a surveyor's crossbar
mounted in a dead juniper at the high point of a ridge several hundred
yards west of the rim. Another good landmark is the first steep valley
draining to the west and leaving only a narrow ridge which formed the
rim above Fossil Bay. Also, the cairn I built is still just east of the
trace of a road. I am not surprised that Davis thought the north half of
the route to the rim above 140 Mile Canyon not even Jeepable. The old
route is overgrown and much less clear than it was five years ago. The
horse trail through the junipers and old burn is much easier to follow,
but even it doesn't seem as clear as it did when Allyn and I first came
this way in 1957.

When I left the rim I tried something that I hadn't done since the very
first time I went down. I descended rather near the break in the rim to
the steep clay slope at the top of the Toroweap outcrop and tried to go
horizontally to the north. This was very slow and precarious. On the way
back I saw why I had previously given up this route. One should stay
high until it is obvious that he has to descend. Down in the clay here
there is a fair trail past one bump to the break in the Toroweap which
leads to the talus covering the Coconino.

When you get down to where the slope gentles out in the black brush
cover, you have to cross two ravines to the left to reach the deep
rainpool area. I was gratified that I had drawn a bead on this three and
one half foot deep slot in the bedrock which I feel holds water the year
around. The recent rains that had broken the drought at Flagstaff seemed
not to have done much for this western part of the park. The pothole
water was a foot below the overflow point. I found everything as I had
remembered it including the little fireplace I had built, but something
that was new was the large tin box which had been airdropped to Fletcher
in 1963. He had placed it under an overhang in a good slot. I tried
opening it with the handle of my spoon, but the lid was rusted tight. It
would take a strong screwdriver to pry it open. One thing that has not
impressed me forcibly before was the prevalence of mosquitoes. At this
time of the year they were bad, especially the second night.

My plan called for the second day of my projected five day trip to be a
big one, settling the major question of whether one can walk down the
shale in Specter. I was up before five and was on the trail by 5:40
a.m., carrying two gallons of water and food for three days. My
timetable called for getting to the point along the Esplanade where I
could go down to the Redwall in two hours. It was cold so early, but
still I didn't keep up to schedule and I also bungled by overshooting
the point close to the rim. It took 40 minutes walking back after I got
oriented by looking down at the river and the bed of Fossil Creek.
Getting down to the rim of the Redwall went off better than I had
planned, in 50 minutes instead of an hour.

I took some time for a few pictures that might give more light on the
possibility that Indians had been able to descend to the bed of Fossil
in the semicircular bay opposite the route I had used through the Supai.
My conclusion is the same as it was several years ago. As long ago as
800 years, the talus material probably came up to the rim and extended
clear to the bottom at a steep but climbable angle. Now there is a break
at the top which would require a rope, and the lower slopes of the talus
are steepened so that no one could go on down even after using a rope to
reach the cone of detritus. I was also able to study the broken rough
places in the Redwall a half mile south of the mouth of Fossil. When I
passed quickly in the plane, I had thought that the route here should be
a real possibility, but my present one sided view made the route look
like the chance for success should be more than 10% (it goes, Enfilade
Point Route). It would still be worth a try. I also saw where I had come
through the Supai on the other side of Fossil Creek. From further study
from the Kaibab rim on the return on Wednesday, I saw what I consider to
be a much more direct route from the Esplanade down to the possible
route through the Redwall south of Fossil Creek.

My original timetable called for three and one half hours spent along
the Redwall from Fossil to Specter. I was already about an hour behind
schedule, and I seemed to be making poorer progress than I had hoped
along here too. I decided to keep going forward until 2:00 p.m. If by
then I saw that the rest of the trip down into Specter was sure, I would
advance, but if not I would spend the rest of the afternoon heading
back, a discouraging thought. It now seemed that this frustrating safety
measure would have to be used. Perhaps I was trying to hurry, or it may
be that I am getting careless. Anyway, while I was looking for the route
two steps ahead, I stumbled. I tried to check the fall by advancing a
foot, but that foot caught on something. I fell headlong and my canteen
flopped up and caught my full weight on its shallow cylindrical surface.
The 25 pound pack added to the impact. The blow came right over the
heart. I got my canteen and pack off and rolled back into the shade of a
large rock to get over the shock and assess the damage if any. I had
cracked a rib in Kanab Creek with a lighter blow, and I had done the
same with a heavier impact while skiing. I could move into various
positions without too severe pain, and I decided that what I felt was
probably just a severe bruise. I went on very carefully and slowly
around the angle and down parallel to the river to the next point before
the wall developed a hollow. It was probably about a sixth of the way to
the ravine in Specter, and it had taken nearly an hour. The pain in my
chest was increasing, and by now a sort of secondary shock was making my
knees tremble. I took a couple of pictures and decided that I had had
enough for one trip.

I noticed one thing before I started back. The slopes on the other side
of the Colorado down near the water and up along the shale benches had
the clearest system of animal trails that I have seen anywhere. They
looked like burro trails but I didn't know that there ever were lots of
burros in the area. I recall the somewhat mysterious information in the
Escape Routes pamphlet that there is a trail upstream from the mouth of
Tapeats Creek for 16 miles. I wonder whether this information came from
aerial observation of these game trails.

Before starting up the Supai, I dumped almost a gallon of water. The
evening and night at the pothole were marred by too many mosquitoes. I
also came away from this trip with itching welts on the undersides of
both forearms although I hadn't noticed any hoptrees. I also picked a
tick off while I was eating a snack along the road back to the car.

There seems to be a way down to the Esplanade from the top of Powell
Plateau on the west side about a half mile north of Wheeler Point.

After the poor sleep because of the mosquitoes and the discomfort of not
being able to take a deep breath, I needed more than the usual four
hours to reach the car after taking two hours from the camp to the plateau.

(Later, Gary Stiles helped me up through the Redwall in Fossil. Others
have gone up through the Supai near the main bed. Others found that one
can get down the Redwall at the head of Fossil and pass the chockstones
and a chute to reach the river in Fossil Canyon.)

**
*Tapeats, Deer Creek, and Galloway Canyons
[August 23, 1966 to August 26, 1966]*

My previous approach to Specter had failed because I wasn't sure where I
could get water. When I carried enough to get me back to the Esplanade
in Fossil, I found walking very slow along the rim of the Redwall and
got discouraged, especially after a fall that broke a rib. This next
attempt would solve the water problem by staying where I could reach the
river.

I drove up to Big Saddle Monday evening. In the morning I used the road
that goes out to Crazy Jug Point as I had in 1957. The road was much
better now and I found that several new branches were a bit confusing. I
reached the rim and took the one along the rim to the west. About three
miles from where I had slept by the gate across the Crazy Jug Point
Road, this road starts downhill into a valley that separates Monument
Point from the main plateau. I parked here and went on foot below the
Kaibab Limestone and followed a poor deer trail around below Monument
Point as I had done in November, 1957, when Don Finicum and Allyn
Cureton had stayed above and had come down to meet me near the end of
the point. We had walked a dead heat at that time, but I am now
convinced that they had an easier time by staying on top as long as
possible. Then as we had done in 1957, I went northwest past the point
until I came to the talus that covers the Coconino and all but the top
few feet of the Toroweap. Below here I found an intermittent trail that
led down to the main Thunder River Trail from Little Saddle. By the
route I used this time, it took me one and one half hours from the car
to the horse trail or Forest Service Trail 123. This is very likely an
hour less than it would have taken me to come in from the end of the
road at Little Saddle, but I could have done it in at least fifteen
minutes less if I had stayed on the plateau across Monument Point and
had headed for the small bay in the rim northwest of the place to get
through the Toroweap and Coconino. I came up to the plateau here with
Norvel Johnson last year and I came out the same way at the end of the
trip this year. A deer trail goes down the draw into this bay and then
splits. One branch follows a ledge on the cliff which forms the south
side of the bay and the other gets down to the northwest and then turns
left to the break in the Coconino. Norvel and I used this latter last
year, but I got up this time by the former. There is a place where one
has to crawl under a overhang to stay on the ledge. I had to put my
canteen in the pack and move it along in front of me by one hand while I
crawled 15 feet.

While I was walking along under Monument Point, I had a good view of
Powell Plateau and I believe I saw where one can get from the rim down
to the Esplanade somewhere to the northeast of Newberry Point. With no
map along (an unusual oversight), I didn't locate it well. I don't know
whether I'll ever be able to set foot in this rather forbidding region,
the largest section left on my map with no trail marks.

I also took a good look at a possible route to get down from the north
side of Great Thumb Point to the Esplanade. From my distant viewpoint,
it looked safe.

The main trail along the Esplanade to Thunder Spring is now fairly well
marked with cairns, but there don't seem to be as many signs of use by
horse parties as when I first came this way in 1951. I could see
footprints of several people in the sand and dust, but they had already
come out. This was my fifth trip down here, but it was the first that
was solo. The walking is surprisingly level and the rocks are of
fantastic shapes. Many times during these four days I thought that the
views were superior to any we had seen on the recent vacation trip
through South Dakota, Wyoming, and Colorado. I didn't try to hurry, but
my total time from the car to Tapeats Creek was four hours, my fastest
yet. I believe I could save a quarter of an hour yet by keeping to the
top plateau to reach the bay on the west side of Monument Point before
starting down.

The creek was not high and after lunch I crossed and proceeded down the
trail on the left side. I now had to decide how I would proceed towards
Specter Chasm. I felt sure that I could climb up from the river on the
south side opposite the mouth of Tapeats, but I had no clear
recollection as to the possibilities farther upstream. I figured that I
would cross below Tapeats Rapid and then follow the higher levels
upriver until I came to water in the bedrock of a side canyon or found a
way to climb down and camp by the river. I crossed back over to the
right bank of Tapeats Creek a bit too soon and rather than wet my feet
again, spent extra time going along the precarious slope above a cliffy
promontory. I think I could have seen an Indian ruin on this promontory
if I had looked as well for such things as I did when I was returning
along the other side on Friday. I reached the river in about one and
three quarter hours from the camp sites at the foot of the trail. After
a little rest in the hottest part of the day, I walked down to the foot
of the rapid and crossed on my mattress.

It was easy to follow the river back upstream for quite a distance, but
I made the mistake of climbing up above the cliffs just upstream from
the mouth of Tapeats,. This climb was exhausting in the heat, loose
material underfoot, and the walking along the side hill contour wasn't
much better. I couldn't see from where I walked whether I could get back
to the river for water, and there was none on a couple of places showing
bedrock. I began to worry about getting shut away from the river with no
water for the night. When I came to the first real tributary on the
south side of the river, about a half mile upstream from the mouth of
Tapeats, I could see a couple of shallow rainpools way down below me in
the narrow bed, but the prospect of the long walk uphill to find a way
down to them seemed like the last straw. If I had been fresh from a
start at the mouth of Tapeats, my decision might have been quite
different, but now I turned back and found a way to the beach rather
near where I gave up. I floated downriver and across but didn't take a
chance of getting caught by the current and taken into Tapeats Rapid. I
left the water upriver from the mouth of the creek and walked past the
last cliff. Upon further study, I decided that this was needless
caution, but when I am alone I try to err on the side of safety. I
enjoyed one of my best nights ever on the sand first with nothing on and
then with only a cotton blanket. For a bit on Wednesday I couldn't
decide how to plan the rest of my trip. If I went right over to Stone, I
couldn't do Galloway justice and get back to camp at Stone the same day,
or so I thought, so I aimed at another target of opportunity that I had
considered previously, but not for this trip to Deer Creek and back
along the river. Booth, Morgan, and Harrington had done it the hard way,
up the wrong ledge and over into Bonito Creek. They had made it to the
river by using their rope. By now I had given up the idea of getting to
Specter and back, so I started for Deer Creek. Walking the riverbank was
routine until I came to the mouth of Bonita where a diabase promontory
made it necessary to climb up the slope. It was just a bit difficult to
find a place to climb down into the bed of Bonita, but there are two.
Bonita Rapid was not as long as Tapeats, but the waves were bigger. The
next impassive part of the river was a couple of hundred yards before
the beginning of Granite Narrows. A big boulder bar extends from the
right and directs the current against a low ledge sticking out from the
left side. The water piles up against the ledge and forms a big swirl on
the upriver side. Some water at this stage flows behind a dark rock
island near the left bank. I would surely not want to run through on an
air mattress, but there was plenty of beach to walk on the right. The
water appeared perfectly smooth in the narrows.

It would be interesting to know what the other party did here. I first
followed up the ramp formed by the lowest ledge. About ten minutes walk
up here I could see that the ledge ended completely, but before I
reached this place, I found several Indian ruins. There was even a mano
on a metate here, and to prove I was not the discoverer, there was a
piece of galvanized wire holding a plastic ribbon. After retracting to
the beginning of the narrows, I avoided the next ramp up and climbed to
the spacious slope still higher. On the return, I found that the second
ramp connects with this slope and makes it unnecessary to go as high as
I did. Walking was easy to the saddle where I went up and down into Deer
Creek Valley. On the descent I came on a couple of ruins and then
remembered that Euler had told me they were here. I reached the creek in
just less than three hours after leaving the mouth of Tapeats and I
returned in about 15 minutes less time although I made the mistake of
staying too high too long after going up at the mouth of Bonita. At the
beginning of Granite Narrows, I saw driftwood higher above the water
than just about anywhere else along the Colorado River. It was hard for
me to believe that the water had ever been this high, about 60 feet
above the present level.

After a two hour break, I started for Stone Creek. I had looked over the
climbing route up above the mouth of Tapeats to the east, but I
dismissed it as too tough for me with my pack. Another bit of climbing
that I flunked was to follow the ledge above the last gorge at Deer
Creek on the left where Morgan, Booth, and Harrington had come last
year. Although I had only my canteen at the time, I decided that those
three are better rock climbers or are greater fools than I, probably
some combination of those two categories. Now on the way to Stone, I
labored back up the talus on the usual trail to Thunder Spring from the
river until I could cross above the final gorge. This detour isn't
really too long. I had remembered a clearer deer trail along the bluff
from the mouth of Tapeats to the mouth of Stone than I found this time.
Perhaps when we went along there in early June the deer had been using
it recently, but now in late August they had been on the plateau above
for a long time. Actual deer tracks in this low area were few and old
looking. Before stopping for the evening, I moved upstream and camped
near the slope where the trail starts climbing away from the creek to
the east. The night was surprisingly cool and after getting under my
blanket early, I found myself putting on some long johns and my regular
clothes before the night was over.

The next morning I was up with the first light and was heading away from
camp about 6:40 a.m. with almost one and one half gallons of water and
my lunch. I had just left the creekbed and was walking at the edge of a
patch of cane when I had my closest encounter with a rattler. My eyes
were a few feet ahead of my feet when I heard the buzz and saw that my
forward foot was about six inches from the head of the four and one half
foot snake. It was not coiled and had only enough slack in the neck to
strike about four inches, but I wasted no time in withdrawing. This
shook me quite a bit since I thought how serious it would be to go
through with even a non fatal bite so far from help.

The trail up to the ridge separating Stone from Galloway was about the
clearest and easier to follow of this area. One can see human planning
behind it with deer use for maintenance. With the various ruins in
Stone, this is easy to believe. For a clincher, I found pot sherds at
the edge of a red rock ramp about 100 feet above the bed of Galloway
just south of the Tapeats narrows. Something contrary to Euler's report
obtained when he flew over Galloway by chopper was the presence of a
small amount of running water about a half mile down the bed to the west
from where the old trail entered the bed. I didn't need it, but I could
see the sky reflected in the small pools and there was water obviously
running over two three foot ledges.

The narrows through the Tapeats could have been avoided by keeping to
the higher level, but side sill walking is always slower unless the bed
is impossible. For a few moments, I thought I was licked as I went up
into the narrows. A chockstone blocked the way where the rather smooth
walls were just too far apart for chimney climbing. However, after
putting my canteen and pack with the lunch up behind the chockstone, I
was able to wriggle up too on the third attempt. There were two other
places where I had to use my hands, but they were easy compared to the
first spot.

About where the two upper arms came together, I got a view of the upper
part of the north branch and saw why Reilly had thought it a walk up
from his aerial view. However, when I had climbed up the rather sharply
rising bed to the upper three fourths of the Redwall, I found an 80 foot
cliff barring the way. I studied this climb for a break to the south,
but I decided that this would be for the experts with hardware. Another
flaw with its being an old Indian route to the rim is that the Supai
seems to offer no route at all near. It would be clearly easier for a
man to walk back from Stone to Tapeats and then out. With the present
trail system, I am sure that I could do this in a long day. After
returning from Galloway, I camped in Tapeats and reached the car the
next day.

A few more comments might be in order. There is a feasible route for
climbing from the left bank of the Colorado River below Deubendorf
Rapids. If one went up 800 or 900 feet he could find a fairly level
bench on which to walk to Specter. I had about dismissed this route as a
ridiculously hard way to go from a car to Specter, but I have now
changed my mind. It would be less than an eight hour walk from where I
parked to the mouth of Stone using the best way off the rim. From the
mouth of Tapeats to the mouth of Stone shouldn't take more than two
hours. I could even camp on the left bank across from Stone the first
day and be able to walk to Specter or past if necessary to reach water.
To check out the route up Specter and the other route I have been
thinking of upstream from the mouth of Fossil would take another day, so
one would have to devote five days to the effort. Five or six days
together would be enough if one were to start down the Bass Trail. If
one were sure he could make it along the Redwall rim from Fossil to
Specter and then down Specter to water, this would be the fastest,
especially if he had a four wheel drive and could camp with water at the
rim above Fossil Bay. If he had to start where I leave my car on the
Topocoba Road, parts of four days would be necessary, or five if one
wanted to check the place south of Fossil. All in all, I rather favor
going back and trying it again with the Tapeats Stone route.

I had a rough night sleeping where I did in Tapeats after ten and one
half hours of actual walking on Thursday. I found a good level place
where there were no obvious ant hills, and yet in the night I was
overrun with tiny red ants. I had thought that ants don't work at night,
but I was bitten two or three times and they crawled over me until I was
finally cool enough to get under the blanket. They were into my food in
such numbers that I got most of my bites in the morning when I was
trying to shake them off my gear. What I saw too late was a neat sandy
ledge under an overhang right beside the creek where the rushing water
kept it locally cool all day and night.

Even on short sleep rations, I was able to enjoy the walk to the car as
much as any I have ever had. First I relocated three ruins in Tapeats
Valley. Cairns and diggings show that many have seen them too, but I had
missed them on all but one of my previous trips, and then I had seen
only the most obvious. In Surprise Valley, I cut across instead of
following the trail down and around the two great lumps of limestone
that have slipped from the north wall. About the middle of this cutoff,
I found a large mescal pit. I also noted where the trail along the
Esplanade cuts right through two more mescal pits. There was a haze in
the air which brought out the various headlands in the direction of
Supai and beyond. I have never seen the Esplanade appearing to greater
advantage.

**
*Upper Crystal Creek
[September 24, 1966]*

My plan was to get an early start by sleeping near the takeoff point and
go down into Crystal, out to the river along the Tonto, and come back up
to the rim out of Tuna where I had done it last year about the same
time. I had studied my two slides of the possible route down into Flint
Creek, one taken from the air but not at the best place, and the other
taken from the rim of Galahad Point mostly to show Gawain Abyss. The
more I studied them, the less likely it seemed that there is a ropeless
descent of the Redwall about two miles north of the Tuna Flint Saddle (
I have done this without a pack). The aerial view looked promising if a
ramp extended around a corner and continued up but the view from Galahad
showed no continuation. In order not to lead one or two students on a
frustrating trip or perhaps tempt them to attempt a dangerous rock
climb, I switched the goal to filling in the route from Crystal around
into Tuna.

At the last minute, Norvel Johnson had to count himself out but a new
student, Chuck Johnson, came along. He had gone up Sunset faster than I
could and he had taken a long solo tour of the attractions of Utah last
summer, so I figured that he had the necessary strength and ambition. We
left home at 3:30 a.m., ate at 6:00 at Cliff Dwellers, and after another
stop at Jacob's Lake reached Point Sublime by 9:30 p.m. There must have
been quite a rain that day. Water was in big puddles over the road, and
at one place we had to swing a dead tree off the road to get past. After
a couple of hours on the ground, we moved into the car a little after
midnight when there was a brief shower. I finished the night with about
two more hours of sleep in the car.

We waited until it was light enough for me to show Chuck the proposed
route along the Tonto on the east side of Tuna and he had time to take
in the early morning view. We drove back to the fire road that cuts
across the Basin to Park Headquarters and parked about a half mile from
the junction. It was much cooler back in the woods then it had been on
Point Sublime. We passed the place where I had left the rim last year. A
little farther on we came close to the rim again and got a look at the
lay of the land. The place where I had come out last year was still
ahead. After skirting the first little valley, we went down between the
first towers of Kaibab Limestone. The deer trail we found led us east
and then we went down mostly using deer trails just west of the spire
that I passed to the east last fall. We got into some bad brush and
thorns at times, but we made fair time and found no problems in passing
through the Supai. It was easy to reach the end of the valley on the
Redwall rim that is about two thirds or a mile south of the 15' parallel
on the East half map. We knew that we should turn south along the rim to
try the descent. I had thought, from a distant view, that the route
might be down the end of the promontory just east of the next ravine,
but after looking the place over, we saw that it would be much easier to
go down the bed of the ravine. There was no difficulty here. Quite a
fault passes through this ravine with the Redwall to the east a good
many feet higher than that to the west. I am a little surprised that
Maxon's map of the Bright Angel Quad doesn't hint at this.

At the bottom of this scramble down the Redwall, I suddenly became aware
that my left foot was giving me fits. There were pains all through it,
but it seemed more like a fallen arch than a sprained ankle. I taped the
instep well and it seemed to be getting along fairly well until we
stopped for lunch two hours later. When I tried to walk on it again, the
pain was intense until I had used it a while. We had reached by noon a
place about three fourths of a mile north of the junction of Crystal and
the arm that comes south from the end of the Dragon. I had been weakened
by the pain in my foot and I could see that my project to go out to the
river and turn up into Tuna that night was out. It seems to me now that
even when able bodied, I should expect to take two and one half days for
that whole traverse.

The permanent flow in Crystal starts in a grove of giant cottonwoods
about east of the name Grama Point on the old east half map. A tiny flow
of muddy water coming down spoiled the clear water.

**
*Aerials Shiva, Osiris, Ra, Flint, and Specter
[October 20, 1966]*

Bill Martin was happy to pilot me on another scouting expedition. I had
resolved to shoot only at preselected spots, but broke this resolution
by potting away at Crater Lake, northwest of Kendrick Park and also at
Red Mountain. At my request we stayed about even with the base of the
Coconino Sandstone most of the time that we were over the Canyon. I
believe that distance above the Redwall and out from the Supai is better
on the whole.

We flew into Phantom Creek enough east to let me get a shot of the
possible Redwall passage west of Sturdevant Point. Then I switched to
the other side of the two seater Cessna 182 for a shot down to the place
Clubb climbed the Redwall on the north side of the east promontory from
the base of Isis. I will believe his word that they climbed here, but I
will say that I would never have considered it as a way to the top of
the cliff (expert climbers say this is impossible). I wonder whether
they even saw my route at the west end of the valley.

Next we passed over the Shiva Isis Saddle and I got a look at the Supai
south of the saddle. A first impression would make one think it much
easier than where the Clubbs came up the Redwall, but I didn't really
pick a route. As we sailed past the south side of Shiva, I confirmed
several men's opinion that deer could walk up the Coconino along the
southwest shoulder and probably go on to the top after proceeding east
along the base of the Kaibab Limestone.

Having the entire back to myself let me slide over to look down on
Davis' route up the final Supai cliff of Osiris. I could see blocks that
would have to be surmounted and I didn't have time to spot any chimney.
I would agree that he made a remarkable ascent. Around the curve of the
cliff to the east where he suggested I check before giving up, I spotted
a much more likely way up. There seemed to be a pattern of blocks with
fissures behind them which seemed inviting to me. I definitely would
like to try this one some time.

The place I had concluded S H K went up from the Tonto to the rim of the
Redwall on the north side of the promontory thrusting north from Ra
looked even better from the air than it had from below. My impression
from the air was that it seemed easier than the route down just north
and east of the Ra Osiris Saddle. Of course an attempt at climbing might
cause me to revise this estimate. I couldn't feel sure that I had
spotted the narrow wall connecting an offshoot with the main rim, but I
saw a suggestion of this feature.

After doubling back for more pictures of the crucial climb area, we went
on south around Confucius and Mencius and up the west arm of Tuna over
the Tuna Flint Saddle. There are definitely two distinct ways to get
through the Coconino west of Point Sublime, but the one I have used is
the one farther south, rather near the end of the ridge.

Before we reached the saddle, I noted something that substantiates
Clubb's report that Lawes and MacRae went off Grama Point when they led
the parachutists up to the road. There may be a route through the
Redwall down from the ridge going to Confucius into Tuna. I believe I
saw it southwest of the word Creek in the name Tuna Creek on the east
half map. At least I feel that this spot is worth checking (not a
Redwall break, ravine on west side).

My impression of the route northwest from the Tuna Flint Saddle is that
one can get down the Supai about anywhere and that it would be easier
walking along at the level of the saddle until one is nearing the hoped
for break in the Redwall. I looked hard at the broken area without being
able to make up my mind. In the first pass, I almost concluded that it
is hopeless without some rope. We climbed clear around most of
Sagittarius Ridge to come back and let me look again. On the way back
from Specter, Bill took me over the area once more and this time I
became almost sure that I can walk down into Flint.

I had been thinking of getting Bill to fly me over Powell Saddle and
give me a look into upper Crazy Jug Canyon, but I decided that I will be
along there during Thanksgiving and that I might not prove anything from
the air anyway. We headed over the Esplanade south of Wheeler Point. I
watched for a way to get down from the rim on the west side of Powell
Plateau and I took a picture of a dubious place west of Newberry Point.
I am afraid I didn't make the best use of the time on this trip. I
didn't feel quite as alert as I had last year. From our altitude, I got
just a glimpse of the top of Thunder Fall, fragmentary but still a
thrill. I could have looked directly below at Bedrock Canyon, but I
remember Stone and Galloway better as we wheeled to pass over Specter.
We were higher this year and I got a better look at the top of the
Redwall ravine. I don't believe the difficulty at the top is a
chockstone, but I couldn't be sure what it is like even though we
circled and passed it again. There may be a short vertical drop in the
wall to a plunge pool before the bed becomes easy to follow on down. I
must study it from the ground. Next we flew the plane south of the mouth
of Fossil where I suspect a Redwall descent is possible. I feel that the
probability of success here is greater than in Flint or Specter. I saw
how to connect the picture I took last year. The ravine through the
lower part is south of where I figured one should come off the rim. The
sure approach would be to come down the Bass Trail and over here with
plenty of places to camp by water, but this would take five good hiking
days all together.

There was so much to see that I am afraid I went into a sort of daze as
soon as I had taken the last picture. Still I felt that the trip had
been most worth while. The high points were the easier route up Osiris,
the Stanton, Hislop, and Kane ascent area, the Flint Creek Redwall
descent, Specter, and the Redwall break south of Fossil. They all make
me hopeful that I will have the time and health to take them on.

**
*Old Hance Trail and Tse An Bide
[November 5, 1966]*

A year or more ago, I had reviewed the location of the head of the Old
Trail in connection with the new parking viewpoint. Reaching the
trailhead is far easier than it used to be before the new rim road was
built. There is a paved picnic area on the east slope of the hill about
four and one half miles east of Grandview Point and between one quarter
and one half mile east of this is a viewpoint parking at the south end
of a bay. It is just east of a fault that has left quite a tower in the
rim a bit west of the parking. There are several forested ravines
cutting into the rim along here, and the Old Trail is in the one
farthest to the east. The rim is higher and unbroken from here around to
the head of the New Hance Trail.

One thing was different. When one has gone down from the road along the
slope for 50 yards or so, one comes to a sign announcing that he was on
the Old Hance Trail, that it was not maintained and that permission was
needed before a trip. We could follow some trail construction indicating
switchbacks for 200 yards farther, but beyond that we just walked down
the rockslide. That rolling rocks are quite numerous is shown by the
fact that the relatively new park sign giving the name of the trail has
already been hit by quite a rock which broke the lower edge of the heavy
board. Near the top of the Coconino it seems expedient to get out of the
ravine you have been in and move to one farther west. It comes back and
joins the first one near the lower edge of the Coconino. From past
experience with this trail, I thought that one should cross several
rather bare ravines to a juniper covered slope to the east. Norvel
Johnson had gotten ahead of me at the very first. He chose the route I
prefer to the bottom of the Coconino. When he went on down the main
ravine, I spoke to him and to my other student companion, Chuck Johnson,
about going over to the forested slope to the east. Without arguing the
point, they simply proceeded down the ravine while I followed my
judgment. They got far below me while I was making the traverse to the
wooded slope, but when I came to the Redwall, I had to wait for them for
about ten minutes. Even when they were within shouting distance, they
continued to make poor decisions. I had to yell that they were headed
for another impossible fall near the very bottom. We got together near
the rock with a large cairn at the place where the trail drops off into
the wash on the east side of the slope.

There is a bit of water polished Redwall in the bed of the ravine that
seemed different this time. As I had remembered it, one could take a run
and get to the top, just a few feet of smooth rock. Now it seemed to be
too high for this. Perhaps a recent flood has deepened the approach. I
thought that it was impossible the first time I came up this way and I
had climbed the weathered limestone to the south to get past. To go up
here, we had to use this system again.

A few yards to the north one comes to the place where you leave the bed
and go either up through a notch or to the left around a bump of rock on
the shelf. I had seen clear trail construction around to the left, but
Dan Davis had built a cairn indicating that the best route was up and
down to the trail on the other side. We took the liberty of destroying
his cairn and building a bigger one at the right place. This is where I
missed the trail on my second passage (my first trip down) and had
followed the bed down to a dry fall where Jack Morrow and I had
succeeded by finding a precarious bypass.

It took about 15 minutes to walk from here down the bed of the east arm
of Hance Canyon to the point directly below the cave. The cave mouth was
still hidden by the lower ledges when I announced that we should think
about starting up. It had taken an even two hours to go from the car to
this place, but this could be shortened by familiarity with the best
route. Chuck and I put our canteens and other gear down before starting
for the base of the cave. The lowest ledge is easily reached by going up
a talus to the north. Then you follow this level to the south until you
come to a ravine through the rock with many good holds. The best place
is around a corner when you are coming from the north. This about the
steepest and hardest part of the climb is where Bruce Faure turned back
in 1957. Norvel and Chuck consistently showed their climbing skill and
strength by choosing slightly harder places to go up then I did. You
follow this higher ledge for several hundred yards until you are
actually south of the cave mouth. There is very little more climbing to
get into the cave. We found deer trail signs even up here, but I don't
remember any in the cave itself. I was beginning to think that the deer
may use this for shelter during storms. When Allyn and I were here in
1957, there were no human footprints noticeable, although Art Lange had
been through it. This time we saw numerous human footprints. It is quite
a cave, unusual for the large outer room with the abrupt tapering to a
corridor 200 feet back. I knew from Donald Davis that the passageway
leading to the top of the Redwall cliff goes slightly north at first and
then turns south as it rises. I was carrying a candle for light, and
when the cave corridor became really low and narrow, there was quite a
draft. I had to protect the flame to keep the candle from blowing out.
Most of the time one could walk upright and admire the decorated surface
of the walls and ceiling. It is a dusty cave and the bosses of
travertine are all covered with orange dust. There seem to be no
stalactites, but the big bulges covered with littler snowball effects
which are themselves pocked with tiny pimples are everywhere. Although
we passed through the whole cave in 40 minutes, I managed to see
something I had never witnessed before in my very limited exposure to
caves, some gypsum flowers that diverged from one spot in the wall and
spread out like narrow strips of bacon. They were thin and translucent
and didn't seem to catch the dust that covered everything else.

At a few places we had to flatten out on our stomachs and wriggle under
a low ceiling. Norvel found the way past some rocks that almost stopped
us. We had to do a few contortions where it was hard to find something
to brace against with your head sticking out a couple feet above one
floor and your feet two or three feet above the other. However, we had
the draft of air to tell us that this was the right route. There were a
few side chambers, but I don't think there is any chance to get lost in
this cave. The upward grade is quite uniform except at the very end when
you are getting daylight again. Then you have to shinny up a steep pitch
of flowstone.

Fortunately for me there are a couple of good spots for fingers to grip.

You walk out standing up in an archway that faces south in a deep niche
below the rim of the cliff. There are a couple of ways to walk away and
get up above the top rim of Redwall and it is an easy 25 minute walk
from here back to the Old Trail where it comes down into the wash. A
deer trail guided me down at the same place where Norvel, Barton French,
and I had descended in 1965. One way to locate this upper entrance to
Tse An Bide is that the one niche is near the south side of a sort of
squarish sunken area. This break goes quite far back into the Supai. It
is a little hard to identify Coronado Butte from below, but the upper
entrance is definitely south of the towers of this butte.

I followed the Redwall rim south to the Old Trail and returned to pick
up my pack in less time than it would have taken to go back through the
cave and climb down to it. Norvel and Chuck went back through the cave
to retrieve Norvel's canteen that he had left towards the lower end.
Then Norvel came back up through the cave and went to the Old Trail
along the Redwall rim while Chuck went on down to meet me at his pack.
We had a late lunch together back where the Old Trail first starts down
the Redwall. While I was finishing, Norvel poked around and found a way
down into the wash to the west. Here he discovered quite a cache of
tools and a hole in the limestone where some oldtimer had been
prospecting. We walked up to the car from here in less than two hours.

**
*Boucher, Slate, and Hermit Canyons
[November 11, 1966 to November 13, 1966]*

Snow and rain a few days before the three day weekend made me change my
plan from the north rim to the south, especially since I could do all
the necessary driving on pavement.

After checking in at the Old Park Headquarters, Reider Peterson, Chuck
Johnson, and I were ready to head down the Hermit Trail by 8:40 a.m. The
day was rather gloomy but the weather got progressively better and
Saturday and Sunday were as fine as a fall day ever is. The Boucher
Trail doesn't deserve to be wiped off the map. We could stay on it more
of the time then we could the Hance or Red Canyon Trail. Someone has
gone along it fairly recently and placed quite a few cairns so that it
is easier to find than it used to be. The other three times I had been
along it, I had missed the trail just below where it starts down the
Supai, but his time we looked ahead and saw that it keeps rather high,
just below the top cliff, until it gets over into the main arm of
Travertine Canyon. We kept on it almost all the way down to the Redwall,
but near the bottom it swings to the east and I thought we should short
cut. This was a mistake because we got into some rough going. The trail
crosses the wash right at the rim.

We ate an early lunch where the trail starts down the Redwall into the
east arm of Boucher. While I stayed by the packs and read Time magazine,
the other two climbed White's Butte. When we subtracted this half hour
from our overall elapsed time, we found that we had come from the car to
Boucher Camp in exactly the same time (5 hours and 10 minutes) that I
had used on my first trip down. We went down to see the rapid and by the
time we were back from the river, it was 4:00 p.m. Now I wished that I
had gone up Boucher to see the upper gorge and had let the others go to
the river without me. I felt fairly sure that I wouldn't see all that
was interesting in the available time, but I started up the bed anyway.
Reider and Chuck elected to stick around camp.

Although I had told the others I would be back by 5:00 p.m., the canyon
got so interesting as I approached the Redwall, that I told myself that
they wouldn't worry if I were a few minutes late in getting back and I
continued on until 4:45 (later R. Fletcher found the Redwall passage up
Boucher and Bob Packard the route through the Supai) I had passed the
main source of water at the upper end of the Tapeats narrows. There was
more water flowing at the base of the Redwall. I was able to reach a
place where the whole bed is an exposed horseshoe of gray limestone with
a 15 foot drop with lots of small ledges that make the climb easy. I
could see the Redwall gorge getting narrow ahead when I had to turn
back. By running whenever the bed was smooth on the return, I got back
in only 25 minutes. There was time enough to cook the soup by daylight.
About the time that some of the stars were showing, we heard distant
voices and could shout to the four Sierra Club hikers who had come from
Phoenix to see the Boucher Trail. Soon we could see their flashlights,
still well above the Tapeats Formation and not coming downhill very
fast. Finally I borrowed Reider's flashlight and went up the trail to
meet them. There was enough light for me to find the trail and follow it
without using the light on the way up. I met the party just as they were
ready to start down the Tapeats, but they were happy to be reassured
that they were indeed on the trail. When we got down to the vicinity of
the camp, my having seen the rough area by daylight really paid off.

The ground was still quite wet from the recent storm, and when I had
been asleep an hour or two, I woke up with rather cold knees where they
stuck off the short air mattress. I could have put my extra clothing
under them on top of the plastic sheet, but I choose to pick up
everything and move into the mine shaft. Finding it was a bit difficult
with no light but the stars, but I kept to it rather directly and slept
fine except that some sort of rat began making a lot of noise near my
toes inside the shaft. I moved out on the platform at the entrance and
the rat must have left. When I moved back in, there was no further noise.

Reider elected to go up Boucher Creek Saturday morning while Chuck and I
were exploring lower Slate. We stayed rather close to the rim as we
approached the mouth of Crystal. I noticed that there is a break in the
Tapeats rim about a quarter of a mile east of the mouth, a short
distance east of the point on which I stood while trying to duplicate
Stanton's picture taken south across the river. The Stanton Party might
have noticed this from below. The sure way to connect with this route
through the Tapeats would be to start up the schist near the mouth of
Crystal and go east along the base of the Tapeats. Perhaps Stanton,
Hislop, and Kane did this since this break would have been more obvious
from below than the place a short walk up from the mouth into Crystal
Creek before starting up.

Another observation was that the supposed break in the Tapeats on the
west side of Crystal near the mouth didn't seem as sure from across the
river as it did from across Crystal. I can't count on getting up there
until I have actually done it (others have used it and I did it in
October, 1977).

After we turned into the route away from the river paralleling Slate, we
had to walk back around one big bay. At the next cut into the rim, I
suggested that we should look closer for a possible descent. Almost
immediately we hit a trail that had a number of signs of being a man
made trail, rocks rolled aside and regular switchbacks. It went down
below the Tapeats and then worked upstream into Slate before going to
the bottom. Near the end there was a place that would stop a mule but
formerly there may have been some walls that held a trail possibly for
stock. Beginning at the bottom of this trail and going halfway to the
river, water was flowing on the surface. We conjectured that the trail
was for the purpose of reaching the water. It was an easy walk down to
the river. From my previous viewpoints, I had never seen a streambed
going clear to the river, but there is one right to river level. The
rapid starts well above this stream mouth and there is very little slack
water at the mouth. If one were to try to stop at Slate, he would have
to steer a boat between the wall and a rock with only a few inches of
water going over it at the present stage. After an abrupt drop of about
a foot, he would have to get into the quiet water that is about 20 yards
long by 20 feet wide.

The whole rapid is broad with many rocks not very deeply submerged.
There was one big rock wall above water towards the lower end south of
the middle of the river. If Tadje, Clement, and Russell got their boat
caught on one of the rocks in Crystal Rapid, it is hard to see how they
could have made it to shore and still harder to see how they expected to
get a rope to it to pull it off. If the rock was the one only 20 feet
from the wall just above where the water goes slack for 20 yards,
reaching shore would not be hard, but getting back to the boat against
the current would be pretty hopeless. Maybe their mishap occurred much
lower in the rapid.

When we went up the bed of Slate, we purposely passed by the place we
had come down in order to test the place that I had seen on my picture
from the other side of the river. The bed of Slate is remarkably
straight, but it makes one prominent jog to the west. As you walk
upstream and turn west, you face an impassable fall in a sort of dike of
brown igneous rock which contrasts sharply with the shiny gray schist
just to the west. We found it fairly easy to climb up south just east of
this fall. The route could be negotiated by a deer or wild burro, and we
could have gone down into the creek bed above the fall. It would be
interesting to see whether one could get through the Tapeats straight
upstream to the Tonto Trail. It was easy to walk on up to the Tapeats
where we went out.

By two we were back at Boucher Camp and in 20 minutes we were on our way
over to Hermit Camp along the Tonto. This was only my third trip across
and I was impressed again with the ruggedness of some of the terrain
close to Travertine Canyon. The trail goes out close to the rim and
gives a fine view of Hermit Rapid. We camped on the east side of the
creek below the south part of Hermit Camp where the Tonto Trail crosses.
I slept under an overhang and was very warm, but we were all bothered by
mice. On the way out on Sunday, Reider, Chuck, and I stopped our hike
long enough to climb Lookout Point. I hadn't remembered what a sharp
little point it has. Of course, there was a cairn on top.

My present thinking about Clement, Tadje, and Russell is that they
lodged their boat on a rock at the lower end of Crystal Rapid rather
close to the left bank and climbed up some distance west of the mouth of
the Creek. They probably followed the bed of the stream until they came
to the barrier fall. On the Tonto Trail, Russell went back and east to
the Boucher Trail while the others went straight up Slate.

**
*From west of Crazy Jug Point to south of Fire Point
[November 23, 1966 to November 25, 1966]*

The original plan was to use five days and carry through four projects:
(1) check the descent into Crazy Jug Canyon, (2) cover the route between
Monument and Crazy Jug Points over to the place where I had been in
Saddle Canyon, (3) climb Cogswell Butte, and (4) check a possible
descent route to the river west of Deer Creek. Doug Shough and I
accomplished the first two, but we both got a bit tired of the cold
nights before we had done the last two. We saw that the fourth would be
out of the question in the four days anyway.

Starting at 5:00 a.m., we were able to park at Big Saddle Camp by 9:30
even though we had to go the long way around because the cutoff from
Jacob Lake to Ryan was closed by construction. We left the car at the
deer camp rather than take it out on the rim road because we didn't know
which way we would be returning. I led Doug off the rim a bit too soon,
a mistake which was apparent when we had no direct route through the
Coconino Formation. However, we could see a way to the west. When we
reached it, we found the trail that I had been over in 1957. It was now
marked with more cairns and even had some plastic ribbons tied to limbs
as identification. We lost it on the lower slope, probably because it
goes west toward Bridger's Knoll. After heading lower and somewhat to
the east, we finally came on a clear trail along the lower part of the
Esplanade. (A way to locate the trail from the rim is to remember that
it is a short distance west of the only hogback between Bridger's Knoll
and the knolls south of Crazy Jug Point.) Progress eastward along the
trail was easy. At first it lay between the pinyon juniper forest and
the bare rocks. Quite soon we saw several large rain pools on the flat
rocks, and we quit worrying about the water supply. As a matter of fact,
these were the first and the last of their kind we saw on the whole
trip. As we rounded the outliers from Crazy Jug Point, the main trail
went to the northeast, but a spur seemed to be leading southeast into
the lower bed of the canyon. We were able to follow a draw down until
there was only one good drop down to the talus that led to the Redwall
rim. We were able to bypass this drop by turning to the north around a
point and scrambling down with no serious obstacles. We could have gone
on down to the bed here, but the bottom seemed quite a bit higher before
it went into a slot through the Redwall east of the fault zone than it
was where it emerged. We went farther south and got down into the bed
with only one switch from the bed of a wash to a parallel fault ravine
to the right. From here we could make easy progress down the bed,
through two impressive narrows, for about 15 minutes, but here the cleft
narrowed to a width of eight or ten feet then there was a sudden drop of
50 feet with sheer walls on both sides. A little above this final
impasse we had walked under a ball shaped limestone block about ten feet
in diameter that was jammed just above our heads. When we got back to
the place we had reached the bed, we decided to continue up the bed and
see what the narrows above would be like. I strongly suspected that we
would be stopped by a fall, but although there were a couple of
scrambles up beside big blocks, we soon came out into the upper stretch
where one side was Supai talus. Above this we entered the uppermost
narrows where the creek cuts through solid Redwall to the east, and here
we were stopped almost immediately by a fall. It wasn't too hard to back
down and climb the fault ravine a few yards to the west. We could go
down a similar ravine into the bed above, and from here on the Supai
talus formed the west slope into the bed. Just before 4:00 p.m., we came
to a running stream that entered by a series of falls from the east. We
had seen just a few standing pools lower in the Redwall so we thought it
would be a good thing to camp here where there was some fairly level
ground just above the junction, and lots of firewood. After eating we
had a cheerful campfire that held live coals all night. My down bag
seemed warm enough but I had my old trouble of night time perspiration
and feeling clammy in spots.

Doug and I were both up before the stars went out and were ready to hike
at 7:20 a.m. We continued up the main arm of Crazy Jug Canyon until a
Supai cliff loomed ahead and to the right. We saw that we could go up to
the west and around at a high level, but we took a deer trail that
doubled back to the south and found some breaks in the cliff. Not long
after we headed down the other side of this promontory we ran into horse
tracks that appeared to be quite recent. They were a real help in
finding the best way although now and then we could pick out an old
trail that wasn't the same as their choice of route. However, most of
the time they kept to the old route and improved it by breaking brush
where it was overgrown. Something that surprised me was the prevalence
of running water in this area. Before we left the main arm of Crazy Jug
Canyon there was water running in the bed, and in the next two areas we
also found running water. Thus we weren't too surprised to find a good
stream in Timp Canyon. Here we missed the horse tracks for a short
distance and crossed a little lower than the horses. Where we crossed
there was a good stream that made a pleasant noise as it came down some
small falls. On the return late in the afternoon, we followed the horses
and were shocked to find no water at all where we had counted on using
it for camping. We soon saw that the spring begins just a few yards to
the south (downstream). Stina Canyon was dry except for a fairly good
dripping spring off a ledge just upstream from where the trail crossed.
The trail crosses Timp just above the highest bare ledge of Supai, but
in Stina there is a high cliff on the south side above where the trail
gets across. The horses followed a path through the oaks paralleling the
bed to the west before starting to climb on the south side.

About eleven we met the pack train coming back from a four day trip. It
was rather obvious that they were deer hunting in the National Park and
most probably on Powell Plateau where fine bucks are often seen. We
chatted with them for a few minutes but stayed carefully away from the
subject of why they were there and where they had been. We saw no dead
deer, but they could have been concealed under the canvas of the pack
mules. They all had guns. A couple of the men in the string of four
riders behind the guide expressed surprise that anyone would consider
walking clear out in those wilds. By 8:45 a.m., we came to a place about
one half mile northwest of Powell Spring where we figured we could get
down into the bed of Saddle Canyon. This guess was correct. We had
wasted a little time on a similar inspection of the short side canyon
south of Stina, but this time I scrambled down into the bed where I had
been twice before and thus filled in one of the three gaps I needed to
cover to establish a continuous route from Saddle Mountain at the
northeast boundary of the park to the west boundary beyond Thunder
Spring, all of this route being north of the Colorado and below the rim.

Doug and I had talked a little of going up on the rim and walking the
hunters and loggers roads back to Big Saddle, but we finally decided to
see how the poachers on horseback could have come down into this area.
We camped near Timp in weather that filled some of the water in the
canteens and then got another 7:20 a.m. start on Friday morning. As we
came along to Crazy Jug Canyon, we decided that they must have followed
the high trail that goes around above the ledges where we had come up by
the deer trail. We were so sure of this that we continued along a trail
that seemed to be heading this way even though we could no longer see
any tracks. When we realized our mistake, we were so high that we tried
to cut through to the east to pick up the tracks. This wasn't easy
because of the brush that was growing in a nearby area for a good many
yards. Then we were about ready to go clear back to where we had last
seen the tracks, we came on their tracks again. It was the best trail we
had been on at any time of this trip. Clear switchbacks led up to a
rather narrow slot in the Coconino. Above here, it continued to climb
through about half of the Kaibab and then it leveled off to the west
where it passed a concrete horse tank where the pipe no longer carries
water. It went up at the end by a gentle slope to the lowest part of Big
Saddle, this dip formed by a graben type movement. This is, next to the
Butte Fault near the west edge of the park, about the most impressive
disturbance in Grand Canyon National Park. The same fault is apparent in
Saddle Canyon and formed Powell Saddle. Under an overhang of the
limestone just before the trail levels out, I saw a pictograph of a type
I had never seen before. It is about 15 feet up from the trail on the
west side. There were fire blackened stones on the ledge and a split
figure of bones, but I saw no pottery or walls. This good trail is
reached by turning off the road to Crazy Jug Point a hundred yards from
where it goes through a gate away from the South Big Saddle Point Road.
Leave the rim at the farthest north point of the Crazy Jug Canyon bay.
We conjectured that this trail was built by ranchers to pasture horses
down on the Esplanade. We saw fresh tracks of a single cow on our trip.

**
*Horseshoe Mesa and Hance Canyon
[December 4, 1966]*

George Billingsley, Bruce Mitchell, and I set out with three objectives
climb the butte on Horseshoe Mesa, find the old inscriptions in Hance
Canyon, and climb the Redwall west of the junction of the two arms of
Hance Creek. We accomplished all three, leaving the car at Grandview
Point and getting back to it between 3:15 and 3:30 p.m.

There was a little snow on the trail near the top. The weather had been
bad the day before and more rain fell all the next day, but we had a
spectacular view as we started down with the sun breaking through low
clouds. The rest of the day was overcast, but no rain fell.

I had been noticing more and more signs that parts of the trail were
about to slide out. Now the place that had me worried has gone and still
one can step by on the bedrock. The places where the trail is held by
logs are also due to go out some day, but they may last another 20
years. We noticed three bench marks, the one shown on the east half map,
another about 1200 feet below the rim and another about at the top of
the Coconino.

We paused a few times for the view on the way down, but we got to the
mine area in 70 minutes. I was surprised to note how fast we could come
up, about 90 minutes. As we passed an open vertical shaft, George
informed me that one can enter the horizontal shaft near the head of the
trail off the east side of the neck and come over into the bottom of
this vertical shaft. On my second trip to Horseshoe Mesa, I had gone
into this horizontal shaft until it was getting completely dark and
stopped just before I stepped into a partially covered hole.

In the open ground between the mine shacks and the base of the butte,
George found an obsidian arrowhead, broken however. This seemed a little
remarkable in view of the number of men that must have been on this
plateau for quite some time.

As we approached the butte, we could see that the top 30 feet of cliffs
would give us trouble. As we went up to the likeliest place on the south
side, well over to the west end, we found a few foot prints. Someone had
had the same idea as ours not too long before. George started up while I
went around below the top cliff to the north side. I thought there
should be an easier and safer route. A little after I got stopped at the
end of my ledge, George and Bruce were looking down at me. I went back
to their route and got up to the hard part, about halfway to the top.
Several stones had been pushed together for a step in the angle. Bruce
came down without help and then made a step for me with his hands. I got
up to a safe place to sit, but I still had some trouble getting out of a
crevice to a step from which I could go on up. We found at least three
badly constructed cairns on the top at different places.

George found another way to get down, over at the eastern end into a
notch. The holds are rather high for the distance one has to reach to
find a place for the feet. I came down here too, but both Bruce and
George supported and guided my feet for the last 10 inches.

It was now only 10:30 a.m. so we proceeded to the bed of Hance Canyon.
George had been down to Horseshoe Mesa three times in the past few
months, but he hadn't been into the long shaft down below on the way to
the spring. This time we were able to find the old trail all the way
down and over the hills almost to the Tonto. Fortunately, there will
still be some trail maintenance by burros if they don't bring in any
more aerial riflemen. We heard some braying over in Cottonwood Canyon,
and there were also some fairly fresh signs in Hance.

According to Reider Peterson and Betty Emery, the old inscriptions are
downstream from the broken wall where one can climb down from the Tonto
Trail. As I had heard from Davis, they are near where the Tonto crosses
the wash. I had the impression that he had said they are under an
overhang on the east side. The Peterson Party were sure that they had
seen the names scratched in the clay under an overhang on the west side.
I led George and Bruce downstream and we searched the west wall. Around
the bend to the right about 300 yards below where we reached the bed
(where the clear water starts) George pointed to a pile of rocks in a
horizontal crack about four feet above the bed. When we took the pile
apart, we found a can of carbide and a sheet of paper in a small glass
jar. It stated that this was cache #1 of the Western Speleological
Institute, left in 1953. We turned and went back upstream when we came
to the highest Archean rock.

I was beginning to get rather discouraged when we had passed most of the
outcrops of Tapeats and had gone by considerable stretches of nothing
but talus coming down on the west. Still ahead we could see one more
overhanging small cliff about 30 feet high on the west. When we reached
it, there were the names, some carved deeply and neatly, but most were
just scratched on in a hurry. The dates ranged from 1885 to 1891. I
didn't recognize any of the men except possibly Boucher. In fact the
first initial was L, the middle was D, but I don't know whether that
clinches the identity of Louis Boucher or throws him out. I took quite a
few pictures and I hope I estimated the light all right.

We ate lunch by these names and when we were through about 12:20, we had
to decide whether there was time to try the Redwall climb if our
deadline for reaching the car was 4:00 p.m. We took a chance and went on
to the supposed break around the angle to the southwest. The first part
of the way up was obvious. There was no choice but to go over to a
fracture zone against a sheer cliff to the right. We went up a slope of
45 degrees over blocks of broken material. George, the geology student,
called our attention to the tilted strata and the seams where the solid
rock had been thrust past similar strata below. This single track led to
a more level region that was still very rough with crags. One had
several choices of route above this place. We could have crossed to the
south and gone up a ravine where the slope was sure, but instead we
turned to the north and went up more directly in the direction we needed
to follow. Here, there was one bad spot where we had to get past a
chockstone. I had to have one of the boys hand my Kelty pack up after I
had negotiated the hardest place. The rest was easy.

Above the Redwall, we could have kept to the level walking around the
point, but since we were already rather high, we went up through the low
Supai through a notch formed by a fault. On this saddle there is a cairn
of undetermined age. On the other side of this pass we went down to the
Redwall again and proceeded across to the trail. Along here we came to
another very tall cairn for its width, about three feet high by one rock
wide. These cairns made me wonder whether their builders had used the
Redwall route we had just come up.

The day had been cool and the walking was all pleasant. We felt
gratified that all three goals had been accomplished.

**
*Horn and Salt Creeks
[December 19, 1966 to December 20, 1966]*

Dock had sent me a copy of a plate from a USGS publication showing a
trail down Horn below the Tonto Trail which turned the angle at the base
of the Tapeats above the river and went west. It was shown staying high
until it dropped fast by small switchbacks to the river opposite the
mouth of the short canyon just east of Trinity. I had been along much of
this trail down Horn. It is in the bed just below the Tonto and then
goes up to a remarkably smooth grassy area on the east side. At the
lower end of this, it crosses to the west of the bed and stays up rather
close to the base of the Tapeats. I had thought that this led to the
steep ravine which goes down to the river at the lower end of Horn Creek
Rapid. I was eager to see first hand what the USGS people had noticed to
the west of Horn.

A committee meeting for the math staff kept me from starting before
10:30 a.m. Monday morning. At the checking station, I was told that all
trails were closed because of the recent flood, but at the District
Ranger's Office they told me that only the Bright Angel Trail to Indian
Gardens and Plateau Point were open. Fortunately, this was exactly what
I needed.

On the way to the trailhead, I caught up with a hiker with a backpack.
He was Joe Maxwell and he told me that he had had a hard time getting a
permit for a solo hike. He had used my name as a precedent, but they had
told him that Harvey Butchart was a special case. They had allowed him
three days instead of the six he had asked for. He seemed quite
impressed to meet me in the flesh when I told him my name. We had a good
visit as we walked down to Indian Gardens and then turned west. He
planned to take his three days to look down the side canyons and then
come up the Hermit Trail.

I left Maxwell when I came to the ravine that cuts through the Tapeats
about a half mile east of Horn. It is the one with the inscription H B
Mar 4 06 which I had seen from above and had later photographed. It is
on the right on a horizontal ledge. This time I passed it without seeing
it. There was quite a little water in small pools in the bed, and even a
little water was flowing. The route below the Tapeats over to Horn is
marked with several cairns and in one place there is a crude rock wall
as if some benighted prospector had built himself a windbreak. Allyn
Cureton came across here from the Bright Angel Trail and said the
walking was all right the whole way. I hadn't been here since 1959 and
my memory of details was getting vague. The lone ponderosa pine is still
alive although I had thought it might be dying before. To prove that I
wasn't mistaking it for some more warm weather liking tree, this time I
took a picture. Just east of the tree is a ravine in the granite that
makes one drop down a little and use his hands for a safe passage. Since
I was here before, I have learned the difference between deer and
bighorn droppings. The bighorn signs outnumber the deer signs all
through this area of cliffs and crags in the inner gorge. I found very
fresh signs especially along the craggy ridge east of Salt Creek.

My recollection of the best descent into Horn was very uncertain. I did
remember that it was south of a spur, but I couldn't remember whether it
was next to the spur or one of the next two. I chose the middle one of
the three and got down, but it seemed harder than I had remembered it.
When I climbed up the west side and looked back, I could see that the
next ravine south was out but the one next to the spur seemed rather
easy, the best route providing one could reach the part that was in full
view.

There was a little water running in Horn and on Tuesday I found some
right where the Tonto Trail crosses.

Along the west side of Horn just below the Tapeats, the trail is still
good enough to speed one's progress although once in a while one can
lose it. It drops in crossing the shallow bay west of Horn and then goes
up to the base of the Tapeats to continue for a quarter of a mile. When
it passes a ridge which brings a view of the canyon from the north,
which Kolb and Ivans pioneered as a route to the north rim, one could
easily go down a not too steep ravine to the river. Since the map shows
it continuing horizontally before descending, I did likewise. When I
started down, I found no vestige of a trail all the way to the beach and
my route was rather close to the switchbacks shown on the map. After
spending the night at the most sandy beach I started up even a bit west
of where I had come down. There was still no trail. I did this with the
thought that I would continue along the base of the Tapeats into the
nameless creek east of Salt, the one I had called Epsom from the taste
of the spring in its bottom. If I had contoured about two thirds of the
way up from the river, this would have been a good idea, but when I saw
that I would have to lose a lot of height to cross a smooth walled
ravine, I decided to backtrack into Horn. At the turn around, I noticed
a well built cairn two or three feet high. Evidently this region has
been prospected.

An oddity at the campsite along the river was a big but phlegmatic
mosquito. He knew what was expected of mosquitoes, but he didn't survive
in his struggle for existence. There were no more. Frost in the shade
hadn't melted all day on the Tonto Plateau. In the inner gorge I found
no frost, and it didn't freeze during the night either.

It would have paid me to drop down and climb back to the base of the
Tapeats because it took one and a half hours to walk back to the head of
Horn and get up to the Tonto Trail. I could have continued around into
Epsom and across it into Salt more quickly than to do what I did. I left
all my gear except for my lunch and canteen just off the trail and got
around to where I could get down into Epsom in one and a quarter hours.
Previously I had entered Epsom at the eastern of two possible entries.
This time I went down just east of the promontory that separates it from
Salt and stayed high on a burro trail that leads to the ridge of schist
and granite that separates lower Salt from Epsom.

Reider Peterson had gone down Salt to the river just a few weeks before,
staying pretty much in the bed. He had done as I had in 1960 and had
bypassed the two upper obstructions including the fall that I called
250' in my log at that time. As an example of why it pays to write logs
immediately, I had told him that the 250' fall had stopped me. On
rereading my log, I note that it was actually the second small
obstruction below the big fall, a place where I took off my pack and
tried chimney climbing against the gray water polished granite. There
was flowing water here in 1960 while Reider found it dry at
Thanksgiving, 1966. He wriggled down this hardest place and easily went
to the river. Now I figured that with his example for a spur, I could
easily go down the way he had, but I thought it would be more
interesting to find another route. With this ambition I followed the
narrow, serrated ridge of black rock that separates Salt from Epsom. I
could see an easy way down if I could reach the deep notch at the north
end of the ridge. The route along this ridge is on the east side. When I
came to the north end, I was convinced that I could not get down there,
but I had a fair view of a ravine into Salt at the south end of the
ridge. It ended at a precipice about one quarter of the way to the bed,
but there was a ledge to the north which led to a broken area that I
thought had possibilities. It worked out as I had hoped and was safe if
one were constantly alert to test every hold. I should have built a few
cairns because it is easy to forget. After going north below the top
ravine, you get a little lower and start working south and down to a
talus. It was an easy ten minutes walk to the river from here. From a
distance there appears to be an easy walk down from the west from the
top of the granite right near the river. This doesn't seem so good as
you walk through the narrow gateway to the river. I didn't see where to
reach the easy scramble to the base of the Tapeats.

On the return, I decided to go back along the bed and see what Reider
had done. The lowest obstruction could be bypassed by a deer trail on
the west. The next two are minor and can be climbed in the bed or to the
east. The next was evidently where I had turned back in 1960, fairly
smooth gray granite with some water flowing over the best place to
stand. I gave a spring and made it up to some steps halfway to the top.
I could have chimney climbed up if I hadn't been wearing the Kelty, but
as it was I jumped down and returned to the route I had used on the
descent. I went up a couple of places that I had avoided on the descent
because I could see that the hand and toe holds were conveniently close
together. It was 3:23 p.m. when I reached the Tonto Trail and an even
6:00 p.m. when I got to Indian Gardens. After eating I continued to the
rim by 9:15 p.m. It was a long day since I had been walking since 7:20
a.m. except for two half hour meal breaks. I regard it as being very
rewarding since I had seen two places new to me. As an added bonus, the
moonlight hike up from Indian Gardens was one of great beauty.

**
*Diamond Peak to Granite Park
[December 27, 1966 to December 31, 1966]*

Jorgen Visbak spent the night with us in Flagstaff and showed me a lot
of his fine pictures Monday evening. The possible hikes were restricted
by the closing of the Kaibab Trail and the snow on the road west of the
village. We settled on a trek to Granite Creek via the Diamond Peak Pass
and the left bank of the Colorado River.

The road down Peach Springs Wash had been rerouted in several places and
was quite safe. I remembered how it had been last June and kept
expecting it to get bad. I lost my nerve and parked about two miles
short of Diamond Creek. Actually, there would have been no difficulty in
getting back from the junction, but it took us only 40 minutes to walk
down to the water. The walk up to the pass was longer than it seemed
from a distance and took us an hour. There was one place toward the top
where it was not only steep but had an abrupt drop. On the return we
found a game trail around this place using the rockslide to the east.

The east slope of Diamond Peak is quite steep, but it seems very broken
and I would consider it a real possibility for me to climb. Near the
top, I believe I could go up the summit ridge from the south. I had
thought something of continuing upriver at the level of the pass, but we
soon saw that this would involve some very rough travel. The route down
to the river was much better. I noted, however, a way to climb the
Redwall to the east of the pass.

We went clear down to the river before proceeding upstream, but on the
return we found that there is a trail along the contour about 300 feet
above the river which leaves the bed where it becomes rougher. Above
this place a sort of travertine conglomerate forms an even floor. On the
return we supposed that a skyline near the peak was the pass and Jorgen
elected to go up out of the bed to it. I decided that I would stay in
the bottom and join him at the top. I soon changed this plan and went up
the next tributary to the west. I joined him at the crest of a ridge
while he was enjoying the supreme thrill of our whole trip, the sight of
nine bighorn sheep in one band. We tried some long range pictures as
they filed across the ridges and valleys to the east. There were no real
difficulties along the river up to 222 Mile Canyon, but the walking was
over broken blocks, short sandbars, gravel bars, and through some
mesquite. We found on the return that we made better time along the
trail that leaves the immediate river vicinity about Mile 225. We
reached 222 Mile Canyon at 5:00 p.m. with the interval since leaving the
car at 1:20 divided up as 40 minutes to reach Diamond Creek, an hour to
get up to the pass, a little less to get to the river, and a bit more
than an hour to walk to Mile 222. There was enough wood and room to put
our bags on fairly level sand. On the return Jorgen even located a
shelter big enough for two under an overhanging block of diabase about a
hundred yards up the slope. In the morning, we made our way almost
immediately past a big outcrop of diabase. This material cracks up in
odd shaped lumps and seems to acquire a shiny desert varnish. The
walking was easy to Mile 221.1 but here the igneous rock comes right
down steeply into the water. We tackled the traverse on ledges about 50
feet above the river to get through all right. This was better than our
choice on the return, a climb up to the base of the sedimentary rock and
a steep descent of around 400 feet. The going near the river was easy to
Mile 219.6 where we had to decide whether to go up a ravine to the north
or try to climb by the black rock cliffs along the river. After getting
by the first difficulty where we took off our packs and passed them by
hand, we came to a nearly vertical climb. I went up the first pitch with
my pack on my back, but Jorgen didn't trust the rotten rock and
precarious holds. I scouted ahead and came back with the report that we
would be certainly stopped ahead. The return down the small cliff was
worse than the ascent and I had to let my pack down by a string until
Jorgen could support it. Then I tossed my canteen down to the sand.
Jorgen thought that it would stay where it landed, so he didn't try to
catch it. Instead it rolled into the river. He acted fast and plunged in
getting one very wet foot in order to save the canteen. We got back to
the ravine and ate lunch before going on. In this ravine at Mile 219.2,
we saw some copper ore, blue and green streaks in the Tapeats Sandstone.
At the top of the ravine we dropped down a short way to cross a small
wash and then climbed higher and toward the river beyond. On the return,
we found that we were paralleling a trail through here. When we were
descending to a more uniform contour walk along a bluff above the river,
we found the trail. In coming back we followed the trail more
consistently and found a mining claim containing a legal paper with the
information that in 1957 Fred Mahone, a Hualapai Indian, was reviving a
claim that was first discovered in 1921. From about Mile 219 to Mile
214.5 we were able to follow the trail quite well and the miles went by
easily. The vistas were fine along here also. There were impressive
rapids in the river and the side canyons looked intriguing. The river
sheet names one Trail Canyon, presumably indicating an access route for
the burros that seemed much more prevalent along the right bank than on
the left, a condition that held true all the way to Granite Park. It
also seemed that the walking might have been faster along that side.

We found that the springs were as shown on the river sheet with water in
the canyon at Mile 220.5 and more and better water at Mile 215.5. As we
approached Mile 214, it was getting close to 5:00 p.m. and we chose a
campsite soon after we were past another outcrop of black diabase. At
this outcrop we made the mistake of following the terrace above the
river along the shelf of Tapeats Sandstone. We were not stopped but it
was slow getting by the huge black igneous rock. We camped opposite 214
Mile Creek. It turned out that this was a fine campsite with quite a bit
of wood and even a shelter under a leaning rock that we had to use
during the rain that arrived the second night of our stay here. It had
been eight and one half hours since we had broken camp, but we had
wasted an hour on the attempt to force a way along the river instead of
leaving it at the copper deposit.

On Thursday morning we started a little earlier than before and promptly
made the mistake of getting too high on the talus slope. There were two
or three ravines just above the river. There seemed to be no more trail
but there were no definite obstacles either. We covered the five river
miles to Granite Park between 8:15 and 11:40 a.m. The area was most
interesting and the broad plain at the mouth of Granite Creek formed
quite a contrast with most of the Grand Canyon. The island is quite a
landmark. As we walked over the dune near the east slope just south of
the creek bed, I found some potsherds, and when we inspected an overhang
at the top of the dune, Jorgen found a small bone that had been
decorated with parallel scratches and had a hole drilled through one end.

When we were rounding the bend at Mile 213 on the return, Jorgen saw
something that I had just walked by only a few yards away, a mineral
spring that had been reported by John Harrington who had come all this
way up from Lake Mead. John had been so busy keeping the boat off the
rocks that he hadn't been able to remain oriented on the map and he
wanted us to get the location of the spring. The spring water is the
same bilious yellow green as that of the Sipapu in the Little Colorado.
Similarly there is a good deal more gas coming up than water. The
temperature of the pool was higher than that of the river, but it was no
warmer than would be expected of a constant yearly average. The most
interesting feature is the smooth, nearly vertical dam that curves
around the pool and separates it from the river. The rim of this dam was
about eight feet above the river level. There was an interesting
indentation in the Tapeats shelf about Mile 212.6 which would have made
a good landing for boaters if the river had been higher. During the
evening there was no wind, but before 8:00 p.m. we noticed that no stars
were showing. Jorgen found the good shelter with his flashlight and
about 1:30 a.m. we had to move into it since the drizzle had started. We
had to do some shifting later when the water began dripping right on
Jorgen. In the morning the world had undergone a fantastic change. Fog
and falling snow obscured all the higher buttes and snow had whitened
the benches to within a few hundred feet above us. We walked until
nearly noon in the light rain and hoped that the sun would dry things
before it was time to camp. There were very few natural shelters where
the floor was level enough. After several false starts the sun finally
showed, but by the time we had reached our site at Mile 222, it had set
behind the cliff. It took seven hours to come from Mile 214.

**
*Attempted descent at Mile 21.9
[January 14, 1967]*

The first time I had followed Reilly's lead and had gone down the small
canyon at Mile 21.7, I had been unable to find a rappel less route
through the Coconino. When I tried again with a rope along, I found a
way through that formation without a rope, but I had run out of time
when I came to the Supai rim above the river. The falls in the main
canyon are obviously impassible, but I had gotten the impression that
the secondary ravine to the south might furnish a passage. The main
purpose of this hike was to see whether this route would go.

Chuck Johnson, student, and Betty Emery, instructor, came with me.
Perhaps as much by luck as by map reading, we found almost the best
approach by car to Piute Cave on the north rim of the right canyon. We
left the highway as usual a little north of Curve Wash just beyond a
turnoff to a group of Navaho houses that are east of the highway. At the
fork very close to the bed of the small wash in the bedrock, I kept to
the left. I had thought that the two branches would soon rejoin, but I
was up on the top of the ridge before I saw a track coming from the
north. I turned right here and soon had to decide whether to turn left
on a long straight stretch that went northwest down across a sloping
plain or keep to the right. We took the right, but before long we found
ourselves going back to the highway with a sheep corral in the valley
down to the left. We returned to the straight road to the northwest and
stayed on the main track. At one place we passed up a hogan that would
have meant a left turn. Beyond here there were no tracks in the shallow
snow. The road bothered me by turning almost north or even a little east
for a while, but then swung northeast again. We kept up on a ridge and
came to a place where we would have had a steep descent to a stock tank
to the right and here we parked. We headed, on foot, west toward the rim
of a canyon that had developed in the valley to the south and found that
this was Mile 21.7 Canyon. We found wheel tracks down off the ledge to
the south and these led right to Piute Cave. We could have driven right
to the cave if we had made an obscure turn back about a half mile, but
walking time from the car to the cave was only 15 minutes.

The snow in the bottom of the canyon made the footing precarious and I
fell more than once. At the drop offs in the bed where one had to get
down by small footholds, fortunately there was little or no snow. Where
the canyon comes out on the wall at the top of the Coconino, there was a
little snow on the exposed ledge, which made me move along here with
extreme caution.

As we arrived at this place, Chuck pointed to a precariously balanced
pile of large blocks of stone resting on a thin slab that was standing
on edge. We almost felt that we shouldn't shout as we passed below.

I was slow in getting down the Coconino over to the south to the ledge
that is the key to the descent, but while Chuck was looking around for
my route, I caught up and went along the lower ledge to the east and
down to the talus. At a place on the lower talus, I pointed out fossil
footprints on a block of Coconino.

It took us two hours to go from the car to the rim of the Supai where I
had stopped before. Here Betty decided to stay and take some pictures of
the river. Then Chuck and I went over to the bed of the ravine to the
south, we could see at once that we were stopped (Doty found the way
down from here). We ate an early lunch out on the point above the river.
I noted three only slightly submerged rocks just to the right of the
middle of the river about Mile 21.6. We reached the car in 115 minutes.
Just below the cave, Chuck showed us a wildcat that I had passed about
six feet away. It was a thrill to see how easily it could get down and
up the other side of the canyon.

**
*Moran Point to the head of Papago Bay
[February 4, 1967]*

Norvel Johnson and I parked at Moran Point about 9:00 a.m. and went
along the rim to the east. My main objective was to get a precise
location for the ruin that David Hunt had shown to Marshall Scholing and
me on July 4, 1961. David had said that he thought Zuni Point was one or
two points west of where he showed us a small promontory with a wall
facing the main rim. As I remembered it after five and a half years, the
charcoal drawing on the wall of a shallow overhang was just back from
the point to the west. I also have a picture taken here of a small wall
showing some clay construction. It didn't take us long to reach this
site from the highway, probably not more than ten minutes. David had
been shown a mark along the road where we should leave it to walk to the
rim.

The rim between Moran and Zuni Points didn't appear to offer any
suggestion of a promontory or overhang. Beyond Zuni, we often got just
below the rim and checked under overhanging rocks or little cavities,
but with no success, until we came to the point that separates the bays
of the two arms of Papago Canyon a hundred yards to the southeast there
was another point that has an outlier butte with a crude wall on it. To
reach the top we had to go southeast about 50 yards. Norvel got down one
place but I went a little farther and went down a notch in the rim. On
our way back to the isolated platform, we passed a low ceilinged cave
that was partially closed with a wall. We had a rather difficult climb
up a notch on the east side of the citadel to the top. There appeared to
be little evidence that this outlier had been more than a temporary
fort. On the west side and 50 feet lower at the farthest north, one can
go along the bench. There is a hollow that is still sheltered by an
adobe wall. West of this is an impressive limestone tower with a scree
filled slope going down to the north between this tower and the butte
with the wall on it. My impression is that one would not get far down
before coming to a cliff.

About halfway from here to the deepest part of the Papago Canyon Bay
were two more promontories with construction on them. One seemed too
easily reached from the rim to be worth while for defense, but when we
walked out on it, we noted low ruined walls outlining about five rooms.
I should have carried a pencil and marked them on the piece of map which
I had along, but almost as soon as we had passed on, the exact location
for these ruins began to seem hazy. When we hit the highway at the head
of the east arm of Papago Canyon, we had time to walk back to Moran
Point and come back along the rim looking once more for the overhang
with the charcoal drawing, but we still couldn't locate it. I began to
wonder whether it could have been east of Papago Point.

When we were looking across to the east side of the Papago Canyon wall,
we noted a place where there is almost a sure route through the Redwall,
and above it one could walk up a long talus slope clear through the
Supai. At the near approach of the highway to the head of Papago, one
can walk down through the Kaibab and some of the Coconino. We couldn't
see the rest of the formation, but it would bear checking. There is also
another break in the rim farther east where one could go through most of
the Coconino, but the bottom appears bad. Investigating these places
would be a one day project. It would be interesting to find that there
is still another route from the rim to the river, down into Papago and
then east to the mouth of 75 Mile Canyon (or right down Papago three
ways). At times we were on the old road out to Zuni Point.

I believe this is the place I was looking for. If we had gone back from
the point below the rim to the west, we would have found the charcoal
drawing (no success on February 18, 1967).

**
*Ruins above Papago Canyon and two false descents
[February 18, 1967]*

I still thought I should be able to locate the ruins shown in the
pictures taken on July 4, 1961 when David Hunt took us to the rim which
he called east of Zuni point. This time I parked not far west of the low
point in the road at the head of Papago Canyon and walked along the rim
to the northeast. I kept the map in my hand and consulted it frequently.
This was not the complete answer to my difficulties, because there are
minor promontories so small that they are not shown on the east half map.

About a fourth of the way from the head of Papago Canyon to Zuni Point,
there is a narrow promontory shown. It is the one mentioned in my former
log as having no value for defense, but there are outlines of rooms on
it. On this second trip, I also ran across a couple of rooms just west
of the base of this projection. Across a small bay to the west, there is
a lesser promontory with a slight notch separating it from the rim.
Norvel and I had gone up on it and found quite a few ruined walls. Today
when I got out my black and white picture of Hunt and Scholing standing
near a wall, I could make a positive identification with this wall and
background. This was the promontory with the vestigial wall protecting a
pocket under the cliff 50 feet down on the west side. A triple tower
just to the west of this shelter makes a good landmark. When I was sure
that David Hunt had taken us here, I was ready to swear that the
overhang with the charcoal drawing would have to be nearby. I climbed
down still lower and went west but found nothing that I was looking for.
On the return I looked to the west at a higher level, but the charcoal
drawing seems to be lost.

I already had the location for the isolated flat rock that involved the
difficult climb mentioned in the previous log. It is the first
projection southeast of the point that divides the two arms of Papago
Creek. I recognized the small cave with the little wall on the lower
approach from the east. In continuing along the rim around the next part
of this bay, I found three rooms only a few yards from the rim at the
southernmost bay part of this bay. At the double point directly east of
the double point named Zuni, I turned back. On the return, I was able to
walk right to the room outlines at the head of the bay, but I may have
missed one of the sites in the woods that I had seen on the way out.

After eating lunch and looking some more for the charcoal drawing, I
spent about two and one half hours checking two possible descents into
Papago Canyon. The one at the head of the canyon went smoothly until I
came to the beginning of the Coconino. Here I spent some time looking at
two places before selecting my first thought as the best. I was able to
go down 60 or 80 feet of Coconino, but then I was stopped. When I tried
the place about a third of a mile farther towards Papago Point, I had to
look a bit to get through the top ledges of Kaibab, but it was fairly
easy and safe to get to the top of the Coconino. As I had planned from
the rim across the bay, I went down to a neat little tower of red
Toroweap Sandstone and then entered the ravine that had looked quite
promising. A daredevil probably could go down here halfway through the
formation (fairly safe through to the Hermit). However, since it seemed
impossible to go lower than that, I didn't press my luck and returned to
the rim.

There was still some snow left in the shade below the rim although the
most recent precipitation in Flagstaff was several weeks ago. I would
guess that the inhabitants of these dwellings along the rim may have
used these houses only at certain seasons. They could get water by
melting snow through much of the winter. Although living on the canyon
rim would be cold, the Indians would have plenty of firewood.

**
*Diamond Creek to 234 Mile Canyon
[March 27, 1967 to March 28, 1967]*

The road down Peach Springs Wash was still in fair shape although spots
of loose gravel and sand made me worry on the return. I hit them faster
than 20 mph in second gear and had no trouble getting through. If I had
bogged down, I would have put on chains. The car was left at the
junction of the wash and Diamond Creek just past the rise where trash
from an old camp can still be found.

Since I couldn't remember clearly any route to the Tonto level nearer
the river, I climbed up directly to the west. On the return I found that
there is a break in a narrow ravine that reaches the creek almost a mile
closer to the river. As you approach the river along the Tonto, you get
an impressive view of Diamond Peak, and from this angle you realize that
it has two summits, the north one being the harder (easier) to climb and
also almost surely the higher. It appears to be a real challenge.

At the sacrifice of fine views down at the river, one can save some time
as well as more distance by climbing over ridges. The first chance
occurs very soon. I followed the burro trail along the contour out above
the river, but I am sure I could have climbed up through the gap in a
ridge in less time. There are plenty of burros in this area, and they
increase in numbers west of Travertine Creek. The trail is rather faint
east of Mile 238 Canyon, but there are clear burro trails, usually at
more than one level about everywhere else.

An observation that suggested a future project was an apparent route
through the Redwall across the river from the mouth of Diamond Creek. To
get out of the inner gorge, one should go up a draw a bit to the west
(east) of Diamond rapid and then follow the Tonto around into a bay to
the east. The very top of the Redwall seems to offer the only possible
obstacle (east better OK). One might camp at the river and then cross,
reach the top of the Redwall, and cross the higher elevations to Kelly
Spring in one day. Going down Separation or Trail Canyon would make an
interesting loop trip.

For the first several miles to the west of Diamond, just about every
ravine on the south side of the river shows at least one break through
the Tapeats Sandstone and hence there are lots of escape routes from the
river. West of Mile 228, these breaks become scarcer, but they still
seem commoner than breaks in the Tapeats in the familiar Bright Angel
section. Something else that really surprised me was the prevalence of
seep springs. Between Travertine Canyon and Bridge Canyon, the side
canyon with no spring at the base of the Tapeats seemed to be the
exception, and there always seemed to be a burro trail down to these
seeps. Water above the Tapeats rim was very unusual, but there were wet
spots in the bay just west of 228 Mile Canyon and of course Ervin's good
spring from near the base of the Redwall from the east side of 234 Mile
Canyon. Travertine Canyon has the most copious flow, almost as much as
you find in Spencer Canyon. I saw a place where a man might climb the
Redwall out of 228 Mile Canyon, back from the river on the east side but
not back to the head. This looks easier than where Ervin climbed out in
234 Mile Canyon. However, 228 is so close to Diamond, it would pay a man
to follow the Tonto east and then walk out Peach Springs Wash.

Despite the drought, there were quite a few flowers blooming. Beaver
Tail Cacti were the most beautiful, but I believe I prefer the delicate
Mariposa lily. Small migratory birds were also plentiful and their songs
were unusual in the dry canyon. I watched for crucifixion thorn and
found plenty growing at frequent intervals in the north facing bays. It
is thicker on the slopes near the base of the Redwall. Ocotillo was
still more prevalent all along the Tonto. Something that I had never
before noticed were lots of Ocotillo with bark bitten off and the whole
stalk covered. One stump had grown to jumbo size, 15 to 18 feet tall and
the individual stalks were two and a half or three inches in diameter.
Still only three stalks were standing and the rest lay around on the
ground, cut off about five feet from the ground. The fresh bark had been
chewed off. Something else that amazed me was to see staghorn cactus
likewise with sections cut through as if the burros had found a way to
use it for food. If they are reduced to eating Ocotillo and staghorn
cactus, I would say that they must be hard up for forage. The Tonto did
seem much more bare of vegetation than in the Bright Angel section where
it is a good thousand feet higher.

If anything the walls of the Lower Granite Gorge from Mile 228 to Bridge
Canyon seemed steeper than they do higher up the river. There were
places where the dark walls seemed almost as steep as El Capitan in
Yosemite National Park. One could stand on the Tapeats rim and look
almost directly down on the river. When one considers the rapids with no
visible gravel bars or ledges beside them, the feat of the Wheeler Party
in getting rowboats upstream seems nearly incredible. It also amazes me
that there would be any men in that party willing to take the boats back
down to Fort Mohave. I should think that they would have seen enough of
those rapids to last them a lifetime.

The Tonto burro trail seems just about as circuitous along here as it is
in the Bright Angel section, about three times as long as the river
mileage. After leaving our car at 9:50 a.m., I sat in the shade of some
rocks in 238 Mile Canyon for a late lunch and was ready to start
climbing out of Travertine Canyon five and one half hours after leaving
the car. Filling two half gallon canteens in Travertine, I went on at
3:30 p.m. and stopped at a dry camp only a couple of yards from the rim
of the inner gorge about 6:40 p.m. just before reaching 232 Mile Canyon.
The immediate reason for stopping just where I did was that I found a
dead catclaw for firewood within easy reach below the rim. I slept right
on the trail with plenty of rocks to wake me if I should start to roll
towards the brink.

The winter weight down bag was a bit on the warm side, but I slept
rather well free of the biting flies that were a real pest where I had
lunch both days in canyon beds, 228 and Travertine. The weather both
days was mainly overcast, and about midnight, it seemed as though a
storm might finally do something. I hadn't scouted for overhangs by
daylight, so I resolved to wait until the rain began and then put the
plastic sheet over me, but instead the sky cleared up.

I ate breakfast before it was really light and got started walking by
5:55 a.m. with the main destination Ervin's Spring. This took one and a
half hours, so I figured that there wasn't time to make my way down to
the river where he had probably come up. I did spend more time following
the rim above Mile 234 Canyon and east above the river, and I have about
decided that there isn't any way to come up from the river between the
mouth of the canyon and the place along the river where I took the
overlapping pictures last summer. I didn't locate the projecting rock,
however. If I took another two day trip in from Bridge Canyon I would
have time to investigate this point further. If I were a good enough
climber, I would like to get back to the car by Ervin's climb up the
Redwall.

I got back to my pack just as I had planned at 9:30 a.m. It took me
about 15 minutes less time to get back to the car than it had to come
away from the car the first day. I took fewer pictures and I also cut
across ridges away from the river. This was a loss as I failed to see
Travertine Falls on the return, but I hope my picture the first day
shows all right. There is a fine landmark at the head of 232 Mile Canyon
just south of where I slept, a small butte capped by red sandstone
standing out away from the Redwall. It is visible for miles, probably
east of Travertine, and Diamond Peak is visible from west of Travertine.

On the west side of a short side canyon east of 228 Mile Canyon, there
is an unusual outcropping of some metamorphic or igneous rock that comes
up higher than the prevailing level of the Tapeats Sandstone. Above the
rim of this, possibly gneiss, I found the only indication that Indians
had once used this barren area, a mescal pit. It may have been fairly
recent since I noted bits of charcoal.

**
*Upper Beaver Canyon and Wescogame Point
[April 9, 1967]*

Allyn Cureton has been doing a lot of looking at roads and routes to the
west of Havasu Canyon, and I was certainly happy to have him as a
companion and guide. He knew that we should turn off the main Supai road
to Camp 16. We went through several stretched wire gates, the first one
to the south of the house at Camp 16. I believe we were following the
road that goes past Higgins Tank, shown on the National Canyon Quad but
the road now goes to the west of the tank. North of the tank it forks,
and since we had elected to go to Beaver Canyon first, we took the west
fork. The place marked Bishop Camp on the map must be where we saw a
burnt down building. There was a gate a mile inside the monument
boundary where we turned due west for 0.6 of a mile. A pile of white
rocks used to mark the turnoff to the north, but no car tracks show for
about 100 yards north of the cairn. When you drive north and zigzag a
bit, you soon pick up the track. At VABM 5947 there is a survey marker,
and soon after you have to go over some mean rocks in the track. There
are a number of other rocky places along these roads both here and on
the way to Wescogame Point. It takes something over an hour to reach
these positions from the main Supai road. The fork near the road end at
Beaver Canyon seems more used than the continuation to Yumtheska Point.

At the end of this road, no trail is immediately evident, but when one
follows the draw north 50 yards, he comes to the rim. You stay to the
right and soon see the trail going down a few yards and then to the
right under the first small cliff. It goes down and to the right at
times using cracks between blocks leaning out from the wall. At one
place the whole trail is supported on old juniper logs. They appear to
have been cut by a steel axe. The trail below has many switchbacks in a
steep scree slope and after swinging to the east finally cuts to the
west to get through the Coconino in the middle of the canyon.

There is a long slope covering the Hermit Shale with soil which supports
a thick growth of blackbrush before one comes to the canyon through the
Supai Sandstone. The trail which had been patently artificial up in the
Kaibab and Coconino was only intermittently seen in the canyon. Some
burro droppings were to be found but these were not as numerous as the
bighorn sign along the upper part of the trail. Three springs are
located in the lower half of the Supai. Just below the middle one, the
bed drops off sharply at three steps which together account for more
than the 40 feet cited by Ives. A ladder might be helpful here, but now
the trail is plainly constructed up on the left side to bypass about one
quarter mile of the south steep bed. If Ives had been coming down this
canyon, he could easily have gone up along this slope even if no trail
were there. I am not seriously proposing this as Ives' route since it is
such a long walk from here to the village. In this impressively steep
and narrow canyon we found several redbud trees blooming, and on the
Hermit level shrubs were in bloom. Two Mariposa tulips were in bloom
near the top of the Redwall. When we reached our former trail along the
rim of the Redwall, we had lunch and then returned to the car. It took
one and one half hours to get down and two and one quarter to get back.

We could see that there wouldn't be time to go down below the Coconino
at Wescogame, but we drove over there anyway so I would know the route.
I am not sure that the National Canyon Quad shows the road we took to
get across. It leaves the way we took north at a huge earthen dam across
the Little Coyote Canyon drainage. This dam looks rather new and the
road follows the rather narrow crest. If a lake would fill behind this
dam, it could be 60 feet deep, an unlikely amount of water.

Allyn's system to get down from Wescogame is to go out along the narrow
ridge nearly to the end. On the northwest side of the end are three
junipers and the descent is about 150 yards back to the southwest from
these. It is plenty steep, especially near the top. He goes down here
clear to the top of the Coconino and then turns to the right along a
distinct trail, thanks to bighorn sheep. The route through the Coconino
past a chockstone requires a rope for one's pack. He reports an easier
way through the Coconino on the opposite side of the point, but he
reaches this from the same rim descent.

**
*Wescogame Point and Diamond Peak
[May 13, 1967 to May 14, 1967]*

Allyn had showed me the way to drive to the plateau approach to
Wescogame Point, about 17 miles from the main Supai road via Camp 16,
the modern home with a TV aerial. Reider Peterson and I walked out on
the end of the Wescogame and ate an early lunch. It looked simpler to
walk down to the bed of the wash on the west side of the rim rather than
to go directly down where Allyn had showed me that we should get
directly down to the top of the Coconino. It was quite a bit longer the
way we went down, but we found more of the surprisingly good trail than
we would have by Allyn's route. We felt fairly sure that the Indians
must have cut some of this in the steep clay bank but that it is now
used mostly by deer and bighorn sheep.

When we got to the place on the north side where Allyn had come down, I
couldn't see much future in going clear down to the rim of the Coconino.
It seemed that one would very soon come to a corner where there was no
way to proceed. When we went on without a trail above the bottom cliff
of Toroweap, we soon saw that there would be no other place to go down.
We backed up around one corner and went down where Allyn had said to.
The route was quite spectacular around the corner at the top of the
Coconino. Reider walked a ledge about five feet lower than the one I was
on. I had to get down on all fours to get by a low overhang, but he had
to clamber up from his ledge just east of this place. He saw a pile of
stepping stones here. Beyond here the trail again became quite distinct.

When we came to the cleft through the Coconino that Allyn had used both
on the north descent and to the south, I got a shock. One has to get
down an almost vertical 25 foot wall before he is in either cleft. After
a bit of searching, we found a way. Reider tried to descend first and
got down halfway before getting stuck. A few feet to the south I saw a
place with more holds and steps. Just where it was getting hard I found
a perfectly placed short groove in the sandstone and then I noticed that
it still showed the marks of a sharp tool which had been used to cut it.
When we started down the cleft to the south, we noticed a cairn and
definite short switchbacks. Halfway down the Coconino there is a large
chockstone but it can be bypassed to the side. In getting back to the
center of the ravine, I noticed a couple of footholds that had been
gouged out with a sharp tool. On the shale below, we figure that the
obscure route probably goes to the left down the shale to the head of
Horse Trail Canyon. We went out on the Esplanade to the rim south of
Horse Trail Canyon and got a fine view of the village area and the wide
part of the canyon to the south.

After getting above the Coconino on the return, we followed the trail
back to the bed of the wash where I had left my pack and then went up
the bed before going up to the plateau. This is probably the fastest way
to reach the car although Allyn's route along the top to the three
junipers and then straight down through the Kaibab and Toroweap is the
fastest way to go down. Saturday evening Allyn met us and we ate in
Truxton since the cafe in Peach Springs was temporarily closed. It was
11:00 p.m. by the time we were getting into sleeping bags where Peach
Springs Wash meets Diamond Creek. I remembered Davis' report concerning
mosquitoes at this place, but it seemed too cool for them. However,
before the night was over, Allyn especially had been bothered. I had
only one. Before the night was over, I was willing to exchange my light
down bag for the winter one.

I hadn't hiked much this spring and I was afraid I had gotten out of
condition. It was gratifying to see that I could walk from the creek to
the pass in 40 minutes, only two thirds as long as it had taken Jorgen
and me with heavy packs. We spent some time with our cameras and then
looked carefully at the east side of the peak. We concluded that my
former idea was erroneous. We decided to go up the talus to the base of
the continuous cliff and turn to the north. At first we thought that we
should go about twice as far as we actually did. We went around the
first point and started the real climbing just south of a big
crucifixion thorn tree. From here our route led up and to the south. On
the ascent we thought we had to go up a nearly vertical route just north
of two small pinnacles. We noted tufts of flowers growing on their tops
to serve as a guide in getting back down. However, on the return, the
descent seemed so formidable that we tried going around them to the
south. This proved to be quite an improvement but it did involve the
uncertainty of getting around a point right below the two towers. Above
the towers, the route switched up and to the north. There was one
particularly steep place where an Ocotillo serves as a guide post. Up
here where we had been using our fingers and toes to get up the steep
pitches, I was startled to find droppings of a deer and also of bighorn
sheep. We actually found tracks toward the north ridge. We reached the
summit along this ridge where one felt a bit more like crouching than
walking along the yard wide crest. There was no previous cairn on the
summit.

Allyn came up with his camera tripod occupying one hand, but he admitted
that he had to put it down and use both hands at a number of places. I
was willing to settle for the north summit only, which I considered a
foot or so higher than the south summit. Reider found that one can get
down from the north summit to the saddle between them and go over to the
south. He built the cairn there just after I had finished mine on the
north. When we looked from the top down to the slopes from the south,
west, and east, we agreed that we had found the only practical route up
for non technical climbers. We thought that we had been pretty lucky in
route finding because there hadn't been any real conviction that what we
were trying would go.

It took us less than two hours to get from the creek to the top of
Diamond Peak even allowing time for plenty of pictures. The return was
done slightly slower. I seemed to be the most timid on the return. There
were lots of safe holds at the steep places, but there were also lots of
places where we were forced to walk on lose pebbles lying on the slope.
I wanted to hold onto something almost all the time. I was about to
conclude that I ought to leave this sort of climbing to younger men. It
was about as difficult as Weaver's Needle in the Superstition Mountains.

When we went down to the river in the car, I found that the road for the
last one and one fourth miles is no improvement over the previous parts.
I bumped the frame a couple of times and a new sound may mean that I
have punched a hole in the muffler. We were surprised to find five or
six cars down by the river. One can drive up on the dune to a turn
around or along the creek to the river.

There must have been quite a few picnickers and fishermen using this
road during the time since they improved it. Almost all the pieces of
granite boring samples have been picked up. To prove that I had seen
such things two years ago, I brought out the only piece I could still
locate.

**
*Kolb and South Rim ruins
[May 20, 1967]*

James sounded so sure that Mallery Grotto was worth seeing that I still
wanted to find it. Earlier I had been searching far out toward Maricopa
Point. This time I looked much closer for overhangs about where the rim
turns north to form the west side of the bay formed by the Garden Creek
drainage. After 10 or 15 minutes here I went over to see whether Emery
Kolb could be of more assistance than the rangers at the Visitor's Center.

In front of the studio sweeping the sidewalk was an Indian, probably a
Supai, who works for Emery. He knew nothing of any pictographs nearby,
but he told me about a couple of pictures down below the first water
station around the next switchback. They are on a large boulder beside a
bit of the old trail above the present one.

While I was talking to the lady who manages the store, Emery phoned
upstairs. He was up and invited me to come down and talk. We had quite a
visit, for about an hour. He said that when he had last seen the
pictographs that James must have been thinking of, there was only a
piece of one deer left. He gave a rather exact location for the
overhang, below and about 150 feet east of the parking viewpoint where
the blacktop road comes to the rim at the head of the Bright Angel Trail.

During my subsequent search, at first I stayed too high and found a mine
shaft that is small but has turns causing the end to be completely dark.
It is hard to see why a miner would expect wealth in the solid Kaibab
Limestone just eight feet below the surface. When I finally went down
through three or four ledges to a steep dirt slope only 40 or so feet
above the present trail and followed tracks to the east, I came to the
real thing. It is a little to the west of the fin of rock through which
they cut a tunnel for the Bright Angel Trail, and the overhang is
distinctly below the top of this projection. I was pleasantly surprised
to find that there are numerous deer and some geometrical designs left.
In fact the only way in which there is any deterioration is that
numerous tourists have scratched their initials in the rock and some
have put them on over the old pictures with a spray can of paint. I
believe it would certainly be no worse if the park service constructed a
trail down here and made it seem more public. The original pictographs
are all done with red clay pigment and show more fine lines than most.
Deer antlers are rendered with a great many branches. There are also
some heavy bodied animals, pregnant sheep, such as one can find at
Canyon DeChelly. I didn't see any great similarity to the markings in
Havasu Canyon at its junction with Lee. These so near to civilization
are also the best spread I am aware of in the Grand Canyon (more near
Thor's Hammer). More study could be done on pictographs to try to
connect them with certain cultures.

After leaving word of the location of Mallery Grotto at the Visitor's
Center, I drove east of Moran Point to the next picnic area and then
walked to the rim to try again to locate my lost pictures of the ruin
under an overhang having the charcoal decoration on the wall. I reached
the rim in the bay just east of Zuni Pint and went to the right. I ate
lunch on the point that separates the two arms of Papago Canyon and soon
came to the defense ruin to the east. I gave up the search before
reaching the cluster of rooms on the promontory where I took the
recognizable picture.

The final project for the day was to find the cliff dwellings around the
bay to the northeast of Desert View first located for me by Ranger Bill
Tanner and later photographed by Betty Emery and Reider Peterson. They
are very low ceilinged, about three feet high, but are quite well
protected from the weather and are well preserved. One feature is that
the builders plastered juniper logs into the relatively thin walls. The
overhang is so low that one has to crawl to reach the farther rooms.
There are signs of other construction at a lower and higher level in the
same general area, the south face of the promontory that forms the north
side of the large bay east of Desert View. The main row of rooms is
reached by going down a slide area about 150 feet below the rim.

**
*Conversation with Emery Kolb
[May 20, 1967]*

Emery was able to tell me where to look for Mallery Grotto, the best
showing of Indian pictographs in the Grand Canyon. Then we talked about
various things of mutual interest. I was right in supposing that he and
John Ivens kept their boat in a cove quite a bit downstream from the
mouth of Pipe Creek. They would go from Indian Gardens out to the west
along the Tonto to the slot through the rim cliffs where I found the
inscription H B Mar 4 06. Emery repeated the story about their trip down
to the boat, downriver to Hermit and back to the rim in one day in time
to give the evening lecture. They portaged around Horn and Monument
(Granite) Rapids. He also gave the figure of his trotting down the
yellow streaked ravine on the north side east of Horn from the base of
the Tonto to the river as 23 minutes.

Emery also gave me some more details of his trip with Ivens downstream
past Horn, up the nameless canyon east of horn, up between Isis and
Shiva, to the rim and back by the Bright Angel Trail. He said they
camped the first night at a spring near the base of the Kaibab east of
Shiva Saddle. At noon the next day they had lunch with Jimmie Owens at
his cabin which stood where the mule barns are now, in Harvey Meadow.
During the afternoon they went on to the head of the Bright Angel Trail
and got down it as far as the base of the Redwall. He implied that they
returned to the south rim on the third day. I asked him what they did
with the boat. He said he couldn't recall ever going after it and in
fact the idea had never occurred to him before. He tried hard to recall
whether they had ever returned to get the boat but his mind was blank on
that point. He could remember many details such as which chicken coop
they had dismantled to get wood for the frame and how they had covered
it with canvas and that the boat weighed 100 pounds, but he couldn't
remember whether they had abandoned the boat or had gone back to get it
along the north side of the river.

Emery's stories haven't changed perceptibly since I first heard them
several years ago. He had the impression that the Scientists had climbed
Shiva in 1938 instead of 1937, but I could well understand mixing up
dates of events of which one is a participant. He said that he purposely
discarded some film boxes in plain sight on top of Shiva and built
cairns on all four corners before the scientific party arrived. New to
me was the information that he had seen a rabbit on top and the skulls
of two stags with their antlers locked so that they had both died of
starvation after a battle. Also new to me was that Eddie McKee had found
potsherds on top of Shiva.

Emery also talked a bit about the prospector that they stopped to visit
with on their way down the river a few miles upstream from Diamond
Creek. He also told me more about the time he and Ellsworth visited Blue
Springs. They rode mules to the head of the trail with a survey party
and went down and back the same day. He didn't know that the last part
of the way through the top of the Redwall is easy if you go upstream 50
yards. They climbed down a cottonwood tree that was growing up against
the cliff. I am sure there is no cottonwood nearby now. It is hard for
me to understand how anyone would miss seeing the easy way to the bottom
after finding the much more difficult route higher up.

After about an hour of such chatter, Emery was tired enough to go to bed
again. He parted on excellent terms and I promised to show him the
inscription pictures from Hance Canyon. He had never been down the Old
Hance Trail, and he knew nothing of Hance's rock cabin.

Emery remembered the ponderosa pine below the Tapeats near his route to
the boat. He also remembered the waterfall in Phantom Canyon and said
that they got past it right near the fall by helping each other up the
cliff.

**
*Impressions from the air
[May 23, 1967]*

Again Bill Martin took me on a day that was overcast and showing a few
rain squalls by the time we could get away, about 2:30 p.m. Reider
Peterson went along, but the others let me call the route. I got quite a
few good looks at a number of climbing possibilities. I hope my pictures
come out well since I snapped quite a few with the idea that I could
look at them later rather than try to study the region and remember the
features.

There is an almost sure route through the Redwall on the southwest side
of Apollo. The ravine separating Jupiter from the ridge to Venus should
also go, but one would very likely not be able to follow this ridge over
to Venus. Another picture shows a likely place to come down the Tapeats
on the south side of Point Chiavria and east of Juno Ruin. Another
picture may be worth studying for a route to the top of Gunther on the
west. Hutton and Duppa were close to our level and made a fine show.

I pointed out Goldwater's Bridge to Reider but it didn't show well in
the shadows. He may not have made it out. We had to circle to gain
enough altitude to go over the shale ridges near Kibbey Butte. The
ravine at the base of Kibbey is easy through the Redwall, but the top
cliff of Supai may be impossible. Surely one could get through it
somewhere not too far away (to S. R. Cave and around or directly). I
believe now that the trail Art Lange found going down toward Kibbey
somehow connected with this ravine and was built to go clear down to the
bed of Nankoweap.

The tributaries of Nankoweap and Kwagunt are striking as they penetrate
back into the Redwall. I snapped some shots in here that I probably
won't be able to identify. Another shot shows the Coconino remnant in
the Kwagunt Lava Saddle and I got a close one of Siegfried Pyre. I was
so busy looking at it that I didn't look down for Hartman Bridge. I
tried for a picture of the rope route down from the north side of Cape
Final and I got quick shots of Juno and Jupiter. We weren't very close
to the parallel ravines through the Coconino below the Walhalla Glades
parking, but I tried for a picture here. I let the out thrust Coconino
that I had seen from north of Desert View escape without a shot, and I
also missed taking one of the chute next of Wotan, and I tried for
pictures of the protruding ridge and also of the two easy places to walk
up the slope west of it.

We went rather close above the top of Zoroaster and Reider and Bill said
they saw a cairn. I got a picture that pretty well covered the summit. I
can't see how one can climb the upper Supai just below the Zoroaster
Brahma Saddle, but it may be a little easier over to the north nearer
Hattan Butte. I don't think much of Ellis' suggestion that the Redwall
should go easily at the base of Jones Point. I could see what Chuck
Johnson meant about the ridge out to Sumner Point being like a knife
blade for width. I'll probably want to crawl for quite a distance here.
I couldn't see how Chuck came up the Redwall without using the ravine.
Another oversight was that I didn't use any chance to see how the
Redwall looks down the ravine to the north opposite the place where we
come up from the Clear Creek Trail (OK).

One shot should show the west side of Johnson Point. This should be
climbable. The ravine paralleling Haunted Canyon on the Buddha Temple
side looks like a maybe (OK). The north slope at the east side of Osiris
through the top of the Supai looks much easier than the Supai along the
west of Brahma. I would like to attempt this. The highest part of the
Coconino on the southwest side of Shiva may be tough. I could see that
the slope is easy to this height. I snapped two more views of Stanton's
ascent below Ra and also of his descent area. We were much too high to
try duplicating his pictures toward Dragon Head and also the shot to the
southwest.

The river was really roaring through Crystal Rapid and I would agree
that it is a major, worse than Hermit. I finished 36 shots and took a
few on my second roll including one of Pattie Butte. At this late point,
I began to feel airsick.

**
*Sierra Club trip and Sumner Butte
[May 27, 1967 to May 29, 1967]*

Jerry Foote notified me about the plans and schedule, so I went down to
camp at Bright Angel Campground and visit him. He introduced me to
several couples. I got acquainted with the Reznicks, the Ellinwoods, and
the Northhooks. Dave Northhook has had a lot of mountain experience
including climbing the Grand Teton. Mrs. Reznick is Mirian Pederson's
sister. I had heard a lot about the devastation caused by the freak
flood last December, but the actuality was even stranger than my mental
image. It seemed freakish that the water kept to a narrow channel beside
the main buildings of the ranch but out through the mule pasture. Some
of the former rock wall is still standing on what was an island during
the flood while the corral is a mess of boulders. Hardly any work has
been done yet to put the trail back up beneath the exposed pipeline.
Wooden bridges get the walker across the creek on his way to the ranch.
They are so near the water that any summer thunderstorm should take them
down into the river. The weather was abnormally threatening for this
time of year, and on Sunday morning at 5:15 I was awakened by a little
sprinkle. I moved up to the porch by the swimming pool but I didn't get
back to sleep. While I was eating breakfast, Allyn Cureton came along.
Two weeks ago I had told him I wanted to climb Sumner on this day.

As we went up the wash leading to the ravine at the beginning of the
promontory to Sumner, we looked at the route up to the lowest part of
the ridge that Chuck Johnson had used. I couldn't see what he had done
to get up one ledge. Later when we were nearly to the main part of
Sumner, I believe I saw a crack that he must have chimneyed up. I wish
now that we had tried it. I knew what we would be up against in the
ravine at the head of the wash, and I figured that if he could go along
the crest of the ridge leading over to Sumner, we should be able to
also. Going up the ravine with a pack, containing my lunch and a gallon
of water mostly, was harder than I had found it three years ago, but we
made it with no real hesitation. The bypass to the east of the vertical
fall in the bed seemed a bit steeper than I had remembered it. We noted
a couple of helpful cairns, probably built by Doc Ellis on his April
16th investigation of the route. It took us abut two and one half hours
to go from the ranch to the top of the Redwall by this route.

From below I had thought that there should be more gentle bypasses for
the drops we could see in the ridge, but we learned that going right
along the top was the only way. In a number of places we had to face in
and descend by hand and toeholds. However, the most unusual part of this
route was the extreme sharpness of the ridge. Allyn trusted his sense of
balance much more than I and kept to his feet, but at a number of places
I did a crab walk or used hands and feet for yards at a time. A few
times I sat down straddling the edge and inched my way forward. At one
place I would have turned back if I had been alone.

We saw a prominent cairn near the lowest place along the ridge and
wondered whether this marked the top of the direct route up from the
east. There was no cairn on the highest part of the butte, but the one
at the edge in view of Phantom Ranch was at least two feet high and just
as wide.

After lunch at our packs just above the ascent ravine, we tried going
down to the north. It was easy to get down over 200 feet, but then there
was a sheer cliff about 100 feet, and there was no way to go along any
ledge to either side.

Sunday evening I talked to the group about my experiences in the canyon
and then had quite a visit with the ranger, Ken Kulick. He seems more
eager to learn his way through the back country than anyone else for
quite a time.

**
*Kirby Trail and the upper Cataract Canyon
[June 1, 1967]*

I had marked the Bachathatooiva Trail, which must be the same as the
Kirby Trail, on my Williams Quad map, but aside from showing that one
should go west through Anita, it was not very helpful. I followed the
main road, what must have been northwest, until it ended at a ranch
called The Well because of the deep well with a timber derrick still in
place. The Lathams manage the area for the Babbitts who own the land on
both sides of Cataract Canyon although the Indians have the bottom as an
extension of their reservation. It is 19 miles from the highway to the well.

I didn't understand Mrs. Latham's directions very well and turned
through a gate about two miles south of their ranch. This road ended at
a metal tank a mile or so to the northwest. After continuing on foot for
a half hour, I decided that this would get me nowhere and returned to
The Well. Mr. Latham was now at home and he drew me a good sketch of the
route to the head of the Kirby Trail. You continue past the gate I had
entered and after veering to the east the road swings west to another
gate. Beyond you continue along a ridge to a fork where the route is to
the left down to a metal storage tank and some feeder troughs. Here the
track is obliterated but you go straight on through and find the wheel
tracks again. Soon the tracks turn north and in a mile from the feed
lot, you come to an east west track. This is a T turn for cars, but cow
paths continue north. I overshot this turn a few yards before heading
west. There are no more forks and in three and one half miles one
reaches the trailhead with a rough cabin. The limestone is broken by
earth movements and a corral has been built using one of the pits.

A peculiar feature of this trail is the rather obscure beginning
compared to the elaborate work of trail building for the upper third
down into the 1000 foot canyon. One might not be sure he is starting
correctly until he comes to the snake rail fence made of railroad ties,
but just below the fence the trail has been built five feet wide with an
unusually gradual grade for the switchbacks and a surface that seems to
have been graveled over the finish with a rake. At several places short
railroad rails have been used to bolster the edge and the size of the
blocks used in the retaining walls is startling. Then suddenly the
costly construction ceases and the trail is what one would expect, a
maze of tracks formed by wild horses and deer down the talus that covers
the Toroweap and Coconino. The bottom is in the Hermit Shale.

As I looked back up the trail, my eye was caught by a natural bridge in
the ravine just north of the trail. There was another, likewise up near
the rim, on the west side of the canyon something like an hour's walk
south along the bed. On my way back paralleling the rim I saw a big
overhang on the west side with an indication of a pit behind the
ceiling, but I couldn't be sure of this. At the lower end of the second
ravine on the east side south of the Kirby Trail, I found another small
natural bridge piercing the rim. They ought to call the whole canyon
Havasu instead of Cataract for the upper end, but if one had to choose a
different name for the upper end, Bridge Canyon might be appropriate.

Walking is easier along the horse trails up away from the bed of the
canyon. Progress was fairly steady although it took me two hours to get
above the Hermit. Around a mile from the trail, I passed a short side
canyon from the west, more like an indentation with vertical walls.

Mrs. Latham had said that the spring which was formerly near the bottom
of the trail is now dry (no, it flows). I looked for it and the best
prospect I could see was a spot of dense green at the top of the Hermit
down canyon on the west side. I intended to inspect it carefully on my
return in the afternoon, but I didn't come back that way.

When I had been walking up canyon for two hours, the appearance changed
abruptly as the bed entered the Coconino Sandstone. It is much narrower
and great blocks impede the way.

Furthermore, there is a great deal of brush to break through. Progress
is slower, but the route is more interesting. There are still small
clearings where one can walk without difficulty, however. The grade is
steeper and it took me only one hour and 45 minutes of this slower
walking to get to the top of the Coconino. It had rained two days
before, and I was watching to see how much water would be left. There
was none in the Hermit, but about 20 minutes before I reached the top of
the Coconino, I found a pool next to the west wall. Right at the top of
the Coconino there were numerous deep pools. The top 30 feet of the
Coconino exhibits a fall in the bedrock that at first sight seemed to be
a real obstacle. I could have gone back and got up, but I was able to
scramble up by some ledges on the east side.

The bed through the Toroweap and Kaibab is similar, not quite so narrow
but still with big rockfalls in the way and much brush. There were a few
shallow waterholes. It took me one hour and 25 minutes to come past the
vertical limestone walls to the place where it is an easy scramble down
the broken slope to the bottom. This change is true for both sides. I
had begun watching for possible exits. The only place I felt sure I
could climb out was to the east only one quarter mile from the Kirby
Trail. There was a grass covered talus from the west wall that would
take one two thirds of the way to the top. Then it might be possible to
go north along the level and enter a side canyon and get up to the rim.
This looked probable but not sure from the east rim as I went back to
the car.

Just before I reached the walk up to the rim, I investigated a cave in
the east wall. It had a smoke blackened ceiling and a juniper log cut
with a steel axe lay on the floor. About a mile north of the exit from
the canyon, I noted a couple of pieces of Indian pottery, black on white
design, about 100 yards from the rim. This was not far from another
ranch with a sheet metal barn and a house painted a weather beaten green.

I had thought that along the rim I would be able to get back to the car
in something like three hours instead of the five plus it had taken me
along the bottom, but it came out more like four hours. There were so
many ravines to cross. I would have been easier if I had stayed well
away from the rim, but I wanted to see into the canyon at intervals.

Perhaps the most unusual thing about the trek was the very chilly
weather for the first of June. Early in the day, I was wishing I had
some gloves and when I ate lunch, I had to put on a jacket and still
move from the shade into the sun. Birds were singing and flowers were
blooming. One wonders how it happens that some places become so famous
as beauty spots while others are virtually unknown. Thousands make the
pilgrimage to Canyon de Chelly for one who goes to upper Havasu Canyon
or to Spencer and Meriwitica. Arizona Highways should do something about
this state of affairs. Still maybe it is a good thing to keep a few
places off the beaten track. A note about ecology might be in order.
There were many walnut trees in the narrows of the Coconino and higher.
I saw one big deer in the bottom and thirteen along the rim, the biggest
group having six. There is apparently not enough hunting on this private
range land. The deer had stripped the big cliff rose shrubs as high as
they could stand and had bitten through some of the slender strands.

**
*Shinumo Amphitheater
[June 5, 1967 to June 8, 1967]*

My primary aim was to complete the traverse from Crystal Creek to
Shinumo and in the process check the possibility of a route down the
Redwall on the south side of Flint about two miles from the Tuna Flint
Saddle. At headquarters they told me that not only was the Point Sublime
road closed but the fire road west through the basin was also
impassable. The scenic drive to Point Imperial and Cape Royal was also
closed, so projects in that direction were impossible or rather better
left until access would be more direct. That left me thinking of
Cogswell Butte and the descent at the mouth of Crazy Jug Canyon into
Tapeats. While I was driving over there I saw signs leading to Quaking
Aspen Canyon and finally Fire Point. I drove back a couple of miles and
started walking south. I crossed Grass Canyon and Castle Canyon and a
couple of tributaries and was able to reach the Swamp Point Road in 35
minutes. In 40 more I was on the point starting down. After 20 minutes
down to the saddle, I could see that the view towards Dox Castle was
what Moran (Moran's painting photographed in Stone's Canyon Country) was
looking at when he painted his famous picture, but I know I didn't have
the right elevation. All through the Supai the view was constricted, so
I first thought that he must have been at the top of the Redwall where
the Bass Trail goes down, or perhaps along the Redwall rim farther to
the south. Still the skyline didn't quite fit, but about halfway down
the Redwall, on a promontory I had everything in the right perspective
with the vertical wall at the left and the skyline right except at the
very right, where the artist took some license. I didn't notice this
agreement on the way down as forcibly as I did on the return. I hope my
camera shot has a big enough field to prove my point. Incidentally, the
painting is more accurate than the etching (Exploration of the Colorado
River and Its Canyons, J.W. Powell, 1895), for the river is not in view,
but the etcher put the river in the right place.

After investigating the place where the map puts the trail below the
Coconino, I found that the best way to avoid heavy brush is to go down a
rockslide west of the spring. At the lower end of the slide, about where
it becomes a streambed, dry of course, there is a small ridge dividing
this wash from a running stream to the east. Here along this ridge some
trail is still usable and some one since I was here ten years ago has
marked it with a few plastic ribbons. One can get water and then cross
the ridge down to the previously used wash where there are some new
cairns. One of them marks the BM 5697. You stay in the wash all the way
to the Redwall. In getting to the west side at the Redwall rim, I
noticed the collapsed cave that forms a bridge. The main drainage south
from Rose Point cuts just to the north of this so it is more like a
window than a real bridge. The wash held a noisy little brook and there
were high wet falls down the Redwall.

I was hoping to get below the Redwall for camping since I had brought
only a cotton blanket and thermal underwear for warmth at night. Two
years ago I had made the mistake of walking right past the proper
descent route. This time I made the opposite mistake by trying to get
down to the ledge across the cliff in two ravines too soon. Climbing
back up was both tiring and time consuming. I had to settle down for the
night on a smooth clearing in the juniper on a saddle leading out to one
of these promontories. If I had reviewed the map, I would have known not
to start down until I was opposite the bay which is the shape of one end
of a dog biscuit. After a cold breezy night which I relieved by a fire
after 10:30 p.m. when the wind subsided, I finally found the right
descent but even then I made the last possible mistake by going along a
ledge that was much above the right one. The right place still shows
much of the trail work. The bay opposite has a well developed bed that
amounts to a fork in the canyon. The trail is much more plainly shown on
the old west half then on the new Powell Plateau Quad map. There is
water on the surface soon after the bed is reached but it soon goes
under to charge for a half mile or so where the Muav bedrock shows. At a
drop in the bed, I noticed a trail taking off to the west and then saw
that the map agreed. Right by the trail is a clear Indian ruin. On the
return I kept to the bed and missed this. Without waiting for the trail
to head back to the wash, I went down to it. I wanted to be sure to set
foot in Redwall Canyon, a tributary from the left, and I also wanted to
locate the rock wedged high above the bed in the Tapeats narrows. The
rock pictured on page 106 of the Kolbs' 1914 National Geographic article
came first. As I had expected, you can't get down to it in the main
wash, but a ravine from the left before you come to the bed of Redwall
Canyon gives access to the bottom and it is only yards to the north
where the rock is lodged. I also tried to go down the bed of Redwall
Canyon to the bed of White Creek, but one spot discouraged me. I
followed the bed down to its junction with Shinumo Creek. There were a
few obstacles where a bypass was easy. At one place the bypass seemed to
be more than a deer trail. Just as I was considering this point, I found
a steel rod in the rock. Bass must have taken some of his tourists right
up the bed, but it might have been more popular to ride a horse up the
main trail to the vicinity. I am still wondering how the ladies in the
long skirts got there in the Kolb picture.

Perhaps the name of Redwall Canyon has nothing to do with the name of
the Redwall Limestone. I once had the ambition to get foot in all the
canyons which have given names to Grand Canyon formations, so now
Hakatai and Hotauta are the only ones I haven't been in.

Tuesday afternoon I went up Shinumo to its junction with Flint. On the
north side a little west of the junction there is a terrace that has
five or six prehistoric rooms outlined, mostly round. There were a few
places in Flint where water was on the surface. At the one I figured
might be the last, where the wash from the southwest side or Arthur
joins Flint, I stopped in the shade for some relaxation and reading. I
planned to attack the cliff the following day and try to reach the Flint
Tuna Saddle before returning. About 4:00 p.m., I got restless and
decided to scout the climb for the next day. One bit of curiosity led to
another, and before I realized what I was doing, I was up against the
wall trying out the holds. Two or three places were scary for me, but I
didn't have to practice any unusual aerobatics, just finding and testing
all holds. When I came to the walk up in the talus, I was careful to
note the steep route from above. It was obvious that I had to go up to
the north and I needed to do a bit more nearly vertical finger and toe
work before realizing that the only way to the top was to get out on a
steep yard wide ramp with a lot of exposure down on both sides. Here I
felt a bit of nausea, the first I have ever experienced in rock
climbing, but it was now only yards to the easy walk to the top of the
Redwall. After a few pictures and a short rest, I overcame that
unpleasant feeling and backed down the way I had come up. My
reconnaissance had turned into the main project. When the Point Sublime
road is open later, I figure it will be easy to come down from the top
and do the rest. I needed no fire Tuesday night.

Wednesday was going to be my easy day, some progress back to the car and
a few incidental investigations. I recalled that once I had formed the
ambition to check out personally all the trails shown on the Matthes
Evans map, so now I tried to find the small spurs, one shown leading up
and east from the junction of White and Shinumo and the other going over
into Burro Canyon. Both were still clear, especially the one to Burro
Canyon. There was a great deal of burro manure to be found over the
entire area, but most of the burros had been gunned from the air long
enough ago to be reduced to bleaching piles of bones. However, I saw two
live ones in Burro Canyon and some recent hoof prints elsewhere. I also
looked over the Bass Camping area more carefully than I had in the very
hot weather of August, 1957. There is a bivouac under a protecting rock
on the right about a third of the way from the White Shinumo junction to
the camp. I saw the old camp remains with a broken down stove again and
also a fireplace made of flagstone closer to the creek. There was a sort
of rectangular pit dug in the terrace across the creek on the right
bank. Perhaps someone was excavating an Indian ruin.

As I was coming down the bed on Tuesday, I had a close look at either a
very young coyote or else a kit fox, and at my camp Wednesday evening I
had to shoo a grown coyote off.

**
*Tanner Trail and direct route up from Unkar
[June 17, 1967 to June 18, 1967]*

On Saturday we took the institute participants to Walnut Canyon, Mount
Elden, and Sunset Crater and had them climb the two latter for
qualification for the one day Grand Canyon hike scheduled for the 24th.
Several of the young people including one girl, bettered my time for the
year: 61 minutes to go up Mount Elden and 18.5 for Sunset. I had invited
one of the 17 year olds, Gary Donaldson, to go with me down the Tanner
Trail for a visit to Unkar if he succeeded in qualifying: 75 minutes on
Mount Elden and 25 for Sunset. He just made these limits. He had said
that he had done quite a bit of hiking around Tucson, so I assumed that
he was used to heat and rough terrain.

By the time we had taken care of all the necessities, it was 7:30 p.m.
DST when we began walking down the Tanner Trail. It seems to be getting
more use than in former years and it is easy to follow. I feel quite
sure that a horse could be led past the worst places and could be ridden
almost everywhere. Since it was past nine when we reached the place in
the lower Redwall where the trail formerly went north to the angle in
the shale cliff (I recalled that the trail no longer shows all the way),
we stayed on the present trail and camped next to the trail at the
bottom of the Redwall. At the last minute I had left the cotton blanket
in the car and had taken my Dacron bag. The night was just too warm for
the Dacron bag. The single blanket would have been better after all. I
heard one mosquito before morning and two or three times a few drops of
rain fell.

It was easy to walk to the river before we needed breakfast. the total
walking time from the car to the river was around three hours. We turned
away from the trail on the lowest shale ridge and came to the river
opposite the Basalt Creek Delta. After eating we continued rather close
to the riverbank and found the remains of the miner's camp again.
Farther west we got well up on the slope and found a very distinct trail
at this level but lost it as we approached the Cardenas Creek Delta. I
had intended to cross the river on my mattress and visit the tent city
of archeologists students on the Unkar Delta, but I could see by this
time that Gary was going to have a rough time getting to the rim before
5:00 p.m. unless we started up, which we did by 9:10. After starting up
the bed of Cardenas, we turned and went up to the Indian fort on the
knoll. It is surely a good viewpoint for the whole area. I also went
down to the edge of the cliff to get a good view of the camp. I could
see quite a few people moving around from one tent to another. As it was
Sunday, I was not surprised to see them taking time out. I waved my
arms, but didn't get anyone to look towards me.

We went on up the ridge but finally saw that we would have to lose some
altitude to get down to the creek bed. I had no trouble in finding the
good break in the basalt cliff and the broken part of the Tapeats. Here
we used a slightly different route through the upper part. On the day
that I had joined the Leydet Reilly Litton Party at Hance Rapid, I had
come down a crack, but this time we went up from ledge to ledge a few
yards to the north. I noticed a deer trail through part of the route up
the Redwall, and I picked up a flake of obsidian, another proof that
this was formerly an Indian route. There were modules of something like
copper ore embedded in the basalt below the Tapeats.

Gary complained about the rough footing over most of this route until we
were back on the Tanner Trail. He had to rest a lot and he figured that
we could have made better time if we had gone back to the Tanner from
Unkar before ascending. He also had a lot of trouble on the steep part
of the Tanner at the upper end and, so I think that we saved some time
by coming up the way we did, even though it took us over six hours to go
from the mouth of Cardenas Creek to the Tanner Trail south of Cardenas
Butte. I wouldn't mind doing this again by myself with time enough to
visit the other side of the river.

**
*Clear Creek
[July 17, 1967 to July 19, 1967]*

I had been intending to use this period to look into Havasu Canyon north
of the Kirby Trail, but the copious rain had convinced me that it might
be hard to drive the dirt roads. I settled for my tenth and probably
last trip (no!) to Clear Creek. Three things over there that interested
me were Jim Bailey's report that there was a natural bridge in the short
side canyon to the west south and opposite Cheyava Falls, the cliff
ruins that Beck had seen south across a small ravine from the falls, and
the possibility that one can go up and down the other side through the
notch separating Angel's Gate from The Howlands Butte.

I left for the canyon after our company left for Denver, and I got
started down the Kaibab Trail about 10:40 a.m. and reached Phantom Ranch
in just under two hours. Johnathon Upchurch, a 16 year old from our math
institute, was waiting for me as planned. After a leisurely lunch we
started for Clear Creek about 2:30 p.m. and arrived at the foot of the
trail in just under four hours. The area shows more flood devastation
than ever, a very far cry from the cottonwood grove and willow lined
shallow creekbed I knew when I began visiting the area in 1946. It used
to be a fine trout stream although the fish were little, but now I don't
believe there could be any left. Above the narrows there are still areas
where the trees are big and the mesquite is still growing on broad
flats. I recognized the place where the old cache of blankets, canned
goods, and pots stood. Someone must have burnt it. All that shows now is
the metal roof of the large box and a large pile of pots.

After we ate our evening meal where we first reached the creek,
Johnathon and I moved up to the junction of the long arm with the wet
arm of the canyon and slept at the overhang by the ruins. The metal tag,
Surface collection by Gila Pueblo. is still there. The thought struck me
that the ground is unnaturally level under the overhang, and I noticed
for the first time a bit of a retaining wall. The clay floor seems to
have been made wet and smoothed by hands and feet, but I can hardly
believe that this could still show after 800 years. It is still a fine
place to sleep. My companion said he heard one mosquito, but neither of
us saw or felt any ants. We were well protected from rain. Although
there were two showers during the afternoon, these were the last for
this trip. Rainwater must have stood for some time in the pockets near
the trail between Sumner and Bradley Points because it had considerable
algae in it.

Sixteen year old Upchurch hadn't succumbed to "the spell of the canyon,"
to quote Fletcher and others. When he had soaked in the creek for a few
minutes before we retired, he remarked that it felt so good it almost
made the walk to Clear Creek worthwhile. In the morning he said that my
project of looking for a natural bridge sounded better than the trip
over, and he came up the Cheyava arm with me. When we found the right
tributary, he followed me up the bed and around a couple of bypasses.
Then when it was clear that I would have to do a little fancier route
finding, he decided to wait below or else go back to camp and read. For
me this was the most interesting part of the trip. There was only one
fairly good way around the fall in the lower Redwall, north up to a
ledge and then along the ledge back to the streambed. One could go on
above other drops in the bed both to the north and the south. I did the
latter and reached the bare main precipice. There is a crack angling up
this wall that a good climber might go up for another 60 feet, but I
feel rather sure that there is a top 20 feet of wall that would be still
harder. I was already up through more than half the Redwall. The nearest
thing to a bridge I found were a couple of chockstones, and there was no
opening behind them.

Before returning to camp, I went up towards Cheyava and looked for the
ruins. At first I was looking too close to the falls, but when I glanced
across to the south side of the ravine, there they were, better
preserved and more obvious than any others in the park with the possible
exception of the row south of the mouth of Nankoweap (better in
Nankoweap). They seem unusually tall for their width and the doors
appear to be tall and slender rather than short and keyhole shaped. The
most interesting feature is the approach. They are on a ledge about
halfway up a cliff of Bright Angel Shale. It is clear that the builders
had to go up to the north of this ledge near the bed of the ravine and
then go southwest along it to the wide part of the ledge to their
structures. When I tried this approach I soon came to a place where the
ledge was completely gone. Now I recall that Beck and his companion came
down a crack from the top of the shale cliff. I'll have to ask George
whether they needed a rope (yes). However they accomplished this visit,
it must have been sporting. It was past time for me to return to camp. I
was getting hungry, and Upchurch would soon have a right to worry. These
ruins certainly enter the competition for the title of most impressive
in the park. They take clear precedence for being the most difficult to
reach. Sturdevant's account of these ruins indicates that there must be
more in the area than I saw. In the April, 1928, Grand Canyon Nature
Notes, he says that there were twelve small caches on the shale ledges
near the falls. Range Brown climbed a 20 foot pole to reach the caches.
What Beck and Hassemer (?) found were three tall rooms with gaping open
rectangular doors. Quite different from storage bins. These are at least
40 feet above the talus below and about the same distance from the top
of the cliff above. The difficult part of the account is how the rangers
who found so many obscure ruins, wouldn't have seen these (Beck says
they did).

Since there seemed to be little possibility of rain, we ate at our first
night camp site and then moved our packs down to the narrows near the
foot of the trail. Johnathan elected to remain in the shade by the creek
and read the magazine I had brought while I investigated the notch
between The Howland's and Angel's Gate. Until this afternoon, I had been
congratulating myself as having unseasonably cool weather, but as I was
climbing up the gulch toward the notch and then from the Tonto level to
the Redwall in the notch, the heat got to me. This route was steeper
than I had remembered it being, and both times I had been here were
during cool weather, spring or fall. The Redwall ledges to the notch
were no harder to climb than many places in the gulch leading the
Tapeats to the plateau. On the south side of the pass I found that I
could get down by a short chimney climb. This might make it handy to
lower one's pack by a short rope, or there is a fair chance of bypassing
the chimney. I would estimate that the use of this pass to proceed east
from Clear Creek would save from 50% to 60% of the time it takes to get
around The Howland's Butte the way I did it before.

I returned from this investigation in about three and one quarter hours.
I had noticed for the second or third time a mescal pit on the terrace
to the left of Clear Creek just above the mouth of the tributary that
starts below Cape Royal. We ate dinner and decided to carry enough water
for the night up on the plateau since there was still plenty of light.
After walking for one and a half hours, we found a smooth place in the
trail and spread out our bedrolls. It was an unpleasant surprise to find
that so far from water there were some mosquitoes and plenty of ants.
After sleeping a little and brushing ants off for a couple of hours, I
suggested that we take a moonlight hike on to Bright Angel Creek. We
arrived at 1:40 a.m., progressing about as fast as we would have in
daylight.

After a visit with Ken Rulick who seems eager to learn all he can about
the canyon, I made the walk to the rim in much shorter time than near
the end of May and Upchurch was still faster.

**
*Tuna Crystal
[August 4, 1967 to August 8, 1967]*

The Point Sublime road was closed as it has been so much of the time
this summer, but after some hesitation Ranger Stanley Albright let me go
out on W1 across the Basin. The rangers have been getting to Swamp Point
this summer by using the forest roads north of the park and getting into
the park by a key. They say the old way using the branch from Point
Sublime Road is particularly bad on the north south stretch. I had no
trouble driving W1 except that I was glad to take Albright's suggestion
to use his lead around a mud hole near the dump. I left the car about
three and a half miles south of the junction of W1 and the Point Sublime
Road.

A compass might have been useful if the sun hadn't been shining. After
going over into the next ravine to the west, I followed along the bottom
for quite a distance and passed the mouth of at least one tributary
before going up. Then a south west course brought me to a point on the
rim a bit north of the right descent. It took about an hour to walk from
the car. This was 10 minutes more than it took in October, 1965, but I
had left the car about a mile farther down the road then.

I remembered my former route rather well, through most of the Kaibab and
Toroweap rather far to the south and then back to the angle of the
ravine for the Coconino descent. Again I used the fine deer trail down
into the Supai. This time I kept rather close to the bed of the ravine
for the Supai too and only turned off to the left when I was about the
level of the Tuna Flint Saddle. It took me about an hour from the rim to
the saddle.

While I was looking for a shady place to sit and eat, I picked up an
artifact, a chert scraper, which I will turn in at the naturalist
workshop the next time I go to the south rim. Leaving my pack at the
saddle, I angled down to the left to the top of the Redwall in Flint. It
would have been possible to go quite far down the Redwall at many places
along here, but I had Beck's word that a complete descent is impossible.
There was a tendency to go too low and have to go up again as I neared
my former ascent through the Redwall. It took 80 minutes to reach my
former turn around at the top of the Redwall and I got back to the
saddle after some pictures in only a little longer. Before I started
down into Tuna, I checked an overhang up on the knob that splits the
saddle. It was very low and there was no sign of a ruin.

After two years the route through the Redwall didn't seem very familiar.
It took a moment for me to recognize the place where I had climbed down
the spur separating the two impossible drops. Again there were two good
sized rain pools in the main bed upstream from where I reached it below
the fall. Plenty of mosquito wrigglers indicated that this water is
pretty permanent. I had left the car with a gallon but still I poured
all the good water into one canteen which was then not a full two quarts
and filled the other with two quarts of stagnant water. There were two
or three other lesser obstacles below this place. At the very next one,
I thought I should go to the west of the bed and at first went too high.
Turning back, I was able to reach the bed by using a lower ledge, but I
decided that I could have stayed in the bed. There were a couple of easy
but longer bypasses to the west still lower. The flood had loosened the
gravel of the streambeds, and there was no standing water where I had
found it in October, 1965.

The burro trails are becoming faint, but I was able to get a little help
from one about half the way to the parachutists' camp, and I found the
break in the Tapeats leading down to the river with hesitation. My
impression that it would all be routine walking down to the river was a
bit optimistic. It was well that I had Reilly's word on the possibility
of finishing this descent. It was getting late and I would have been
worried. There were two or three places in the schist that were as
difficult as what I had done in the Redwall. I found a couple of
potholes near the base of one chute that were green with algae and I was
bothered by mosquitoes most of the way down to the river. There was also
a clear pool still lower where I thought about stopping for the night.
At the bottom I couldn't reach the river down the bed, but I had my
choice of going up and down to the west to a good sized sandbar or up
and down to the east to a smaller one. I elected to go west, but the way
was still not real obvious. I was much relieved to get to the fine level
bar just before dark at 8:40 DST. The river was running strongly and I
might have had a bit of trouble landing my air mattress on the bar
opposite as I had done almost exactly three years before. The main
current poured powerfully into an obstruction in midstream. I have about
decided to give up air mattress navigation while I am ahead. The small
bar for my camp showed no previous use and the threat of rain cleared
away with no wind to stir up the clean sand. There were also no
mosquitoes only a few hundred yards away from the ravine where they were
bad. The first part of the night was warm enough to sleep with almost
nothing over one. My combination of long underwear and a single cotton
blanket was very satisfactory for both nights. I really needed the
blanket only the second night upstream from the junction of Crystal with
Dragon. It had been a rough, hot day, and I had to force myself to eat
adequately to meet the efforts I wanted to put forth the following day.

On Wednesday I started up the ravine at 6:45 a.m. and reached the
campsite in Crystal at 6:40 p.m., so that was another long day. In cool
weather the distance wouldn't have been much of a problem. I was
surprised how long it took me to get out of the inner gorge, 115
minutes. I made better time along the Tonto back to the west arm of Tuna
than I expected. Until I found that I could do this in about 90 minutes,
I had considered giving up the main project of filling in the last gap
of a continuous route from Nankoweap to Kanab within the canyon north of
the river. I was sure I could follow the bed down through part of the
Tapeats to the junction with the east arm of Tuna and follow that up to
the top of the Tonto. Before doing this, I went down the main bed and
found some standing water and then a little farther water running out of
the gravel. I had seen more in October, 1965, but this bit of clear
running water might also be dependent on rains. I was now sure I would
have a place for a good camp if I should have to give up. On the way out
to the river on Tuesday I had noticed a place where one might quite
likely be able to climb up the east wall and thus save quite a bit of
tiresome contour walking along the Tonto. Rather than take even a small
chance of having to turn back and lose enough time to cancel the rest of
the project, I went up on the Tonto and began the hot walk to the end of
the ridge separating Tuna from Crystal. This side is considerably more
cut up by ridges and side canyons than the other, but a slight deer
trail helped at times. In the planning stage I had thought I would stay
low on the platform and get a view of the river and Crystal Rapid, but I
decided I could save a little time by going up through the pass behind
the shale butte at the end of the ridge. I thought it would also be
interesting to prove that this shortcut is feasible, so I took this
route. The Tonto is also a poor place to make time west of Crystal, and
I might have saved by going clear to the bed of Crystal at the break
near he mouth. Since I had been along the bed several times, I wanted
the new experience. Eventually, I passed above the junction of Crystal
with Dragon. For the first time, I was impressed by the fault that cuts
across here from the Ra Osiris Saddle and lifts the Tapeats several
hundred feet higher to the south than it is to the north of the fault.
There are interesting exposures of tilted Shinumo Quartzite capped by
level Tapeats. This faulting must have occurred before the higher layers
were even deposited. I reached the bed of Crystal via the side ravine
formed along this fault. I enjoyed an insect free night among the
cottonwoods beside the clear stream.

It was obvious that Crystal had not experienced a major flood. Even in
the narrows, trees were still growing as before. In the morning, I went
down to the junction with Dragon to note the vast contrast. Dragon had
been a river of mud that had taken out the terraces clear back to the
bedrock even where the bed is 75 or 100 feet wide. I found the old mine
diggings filled with debris but of course the dynamite was missing from
under the overhang nearby. The terrace on the right below the junction
was still there, protected by two living room sized blocks. However, the
December flood had gone between these blocks and had spread clay and
boulders across the lower two thirds of the terrace where Davis and I
had found obsidian and the soapstone pendant. The upper third still had
its mesquite intact. It would be interesting to trace the flood damage
up to the junction of the two arms of Dragon. If only one of these arms
is devastated, it would be evidence that an underground lake had given
way rather than that ordinary surface drainage was chiefly responsible.
One could easily settle this from the air. The walls still show a
striking difference in color where they were formerly banked up with
clay. Some places the flood of mud seems to have dyed the walls yellow
brown above where the terrace reached. A surge of clay and boulders
marked the wall directly opposite the mouth of Dragon about 25 feet
above the bed.

I had thought that the climb out would make a short day so that the
extra 75 minutes of this inspection of the junction wouldn't be missed.
Progress along the bed was satisfactory and I ate a second breakfast at
the last water flowing in the creek although it was only about 9:30 a.m.
I soon learned that this was not the real spring for Crystal which had
kept water on the surface last fall. The highest small flow from the
cottonwood jungle goes under the new gravel left by the flood.

If one wanted a complete tally of all inaccessible caves in the canyon,
he should fly these walls in a chopper with his notebook out. It would
probably give him writer's cramp to try to keep up with all that he
would see in Crystal.

Time passed rather pleasantly and I was a bit surprised to note that it
was already 1:00 p.m. when I reached the fault ravine where the ascent
through the Redwall is reasonably easy. Since I still figured on
reaching the rim by four or so, I took almost 30 minutes to detour up
the Redwall narrows, round trip, that is. It was delightfully cool among
the firs and I startled a doe. I had thought that all good deer should
be up on the Kaibab out of the heat.

Except for the streambed through the Supai, brush is more of a problem
than working against gravity. After a fight in brush at the base of the
Redwall climb, I went too high at the top and got into plenty of
manzanita. One should double back when he is out of the ravine and keep
near the rim of the Redwall to get into the right ravine through the
Supai. A deer trail is a good guide here, but I wasted a good many
minutes by not getting down near the rim of the limestone above the main
gorge of Crystal. I found a couple of small rainpools, very recent, at
the top of the Redwall in the ravine, but there were no larger pools as
there had been last fall. I had taken a couple of short drinks from like
sources in the bottom of the Redwall gorge before starting up, but soon
I was wondering whether I was right in carrying only two quarts on the
last day.

Near the top of the Supai I made my second bad route decision. I
recognized the place where we had left the main bed and gone up the
brush choked one to the left, but I thought it would be interesting to
see whether I could get up to the bare shale ridge I had used on the
return from my first reconnaissance two years ago. After taking chances
in the steep shale, I finally gave this up and tried to fight my way up
through the manzanita and other brush. This was appallingly slow. About
the time a cold rain began, I began pushing to the west and down into
the ravine where the brush had been kept thin by slides. This was the
best route clear through the Coconino, and then deer trails led to the
top, which I reached by 5:30 p.m. This time I avoided the mistake that
Chuck Johnson and I had made last fall when we reached the rim at dark.
I stayed close to the rim even if it meant dropping into a ravine
immediately and having to climb out. In 16 minutes I was on the road and
by 7:20 p.m. I reached the car.

This trek had not only filled the last gap in my north side route in the
canyon from Nankoweap to Kanab, but it had also meant that I had
personally covered my fourteenth route from the rim to the river on the
north side.

**
*Grandview Point to Sinking Ship
[August 8, 1967]*

I left home early with the intention of going back to the upper end of
Havasu Canyon. I wanted to see the canyon from the Kirby Trail to the
Kla la pa Trail and Black Tank Wash, but less than a half mile of the
Anita Road west from the highway convinced me that the plain dirt road
farther on would be impossible after so much rain. I had only two and a
half days so I decided to turn to two ideas for the south rim of which
the first would be to go down on the Grandview Trail and come out by the
Sinking Ship. At first I intended to follow the Redwall Rim from
Horseshoe Mesa around to the break south of the Sinking Ship, but I knew
that would be a slow and exhausting route, cut up by many ravines.

A shorter and perhaps less obvious route appealed to me, and when I came
to the fault at the upper end of the east arm of Grapevine Canyon, I
tried to follow it down into the west arm of Hance Canyon. The climb
down through three fourths of the Coconino was interesting and rather
challenging. I got below a couple of drop offs by going out of the bed
to the east. I believe, with just a little chance taking, I could have
gone down to the last 20 feet of the Coconino, but I could see that
there was still a shear drop with no way around it. I returned to the
Grandview Trail after spending about an hour on the investigation.

At the next notch east, the trail is almost through the Coconino on the
east side. On the west it is still about 120 feet lower. The block
between the two notches has settled, but it is mostly tilted down to the
east. From across the bay near the Sinking Ship, one can see this
situation well from the eastern notch, it was a simple walk over broken
slabs of all sizes clear down through the Redwall. There was never any
difficulty worse than watching one's footing on the possibly loose
rocks. I can't think of another route so simple and direct through the
Hermit, Supai, and Redwall.

I had never been up the west arm of Hance Canyon unless one counts the
time I brought Raymond Wiley down from the Sinking Ship through the
Redwall to check Lange's statement that this was possible. For the
record, this time I followed the bed down to the junction of the two
arms. No burros were near, but there probably were one or two left in
this region. A burro trail leads from the west arm around into the east
arm going toward the seep spring where Hance built his rock cabin.

The route up the Redwall follows a most peculiar slope studded with
small towers of strangely colored rock. One upended block is of a soft
material that is rusty yellow. Two others are deep red, very unlike true
limestone. Here is where I had noted a small natural window made by
cemented fragments. The precipitous top 25 feet at the rim of the
Redwall is also shattered and deep red. This was the hardest part of the
trip for me. I recall that Wiley led me down and up here on the other
occasion. Getting over to the main ravine going up to the Sinking Ship
Saddle and finding the best way up this ravine furnished more problems
than I encountered during the descent. I couldn't remember the details
of our former trip. Near the top of the Coconino, one must leave the bed
and go north. Much of this is over loose slabs that slope the wrong way.
At the top I went directly up to the woods on the rim and stayed away
from the highway as much as possible. Without the hour spent in going
down the wrong ravine and the hour and a quarter spent in going down to
the junction of the two arms of Hance Canyon, this would not have been a
long day. I left Grandview Point at 9:00 a.m. and topped out above the
Sinking Ship at 5:30 p.m. It took more than one and a half hours to walk
back to Grandview Point. Because of the faulting and breaking in this
area, the basin I crossed is most scenic. Several kinds of butterflies
and some birds added interest to the day. The weather was relatively
cool, and I can recommend this to anyone who wants an unusual trip of
great beauty.

**
*Cope Butte
[August 9, 1967]*

The weather looked a bit gloomy at dawn, but by the time I was ready to
start down the Hermit Trail at 8:15 a.m., the sky was fine. Even with
this leisurely a start, I was walking in the shade nearly to the
Cathedral Stairs. The trail is noticeably more eroded than when I first
became acquainted with it. However, there are more cairns to guide one
through the rockslides, and deer trails have developed around big rocks
on the trail. Santa Maria Springs still keeps several inches of water in
the trough near the shelter, but the pipe is gone.

I was down below the notch at the south end of Cope Butte by 11:00 a.m.
I carried the Kodak retina in a trouser pocket, but after taking a good
drink, I left the canteen on the trail. Chuck Johnson had told me
roughly his route, and after studying the wall from the Cathedral
Stairs, I agreed that he had picked the best way. Even so, I had no real
confidence that I would make it. More in the spirit of finding out just
how far I could go than with a determination to succeed, I started up
the scree to the notch.

It is easy to scramble up to a bench that leads around to the west. A
scramble up a short sloping crack leads to another bench which continues
north. At the end of this shelf, one must go up a steep wall with some
holds or a still steeper crack. I chose the crack. It was safe enough,
but I had to search a bit to find all the holds needed. I surprised
myself by coming down this place more readily than I went up. After a
walk up on the untrustworthy scree, one needs to go north again along a
bench. Doubling back to the south, one can easily scramble up to a notch
in the crest of the summit ridge.

From a distance it appears that one should be able to walk along below
the crest on the west side, but Johnson's choice was to use the very top
most of the way north to the summit. I agreed even though there were
numerous places where I went along on all fours or wanted to crouch. It
was similar to going along the knife edge leading to Sumner Point.

The summit is marked by a well built cairn. Johnson found this already
here and merely repaired it. One wonders how many others unrecorded
first ascents there are in the Grand Canyon. It is not too surprising
that the buttes near trails should have been climbed. This would cover
Escalante, The Battleship, Huethawali, and Cope. Sumner is more of a
chore but it is near the Clear Creek Trail. What surprises me more is
that Apollo Temple should have had a cairn. If I remember correctly,
Clubb told me that when he reached the top of King Arthur, he found a
cairn, but later he showed no recollection of having told me this.

The difficulty with climbing Cope is not so much the necessary
acrobatics at one or two places as it is the care needed to avoid
slipping in the scree and also the sense of exposure along the summit
ridge.

**
*Ropeless (?) route from rim to Wotan
[August 14, 1967]*

R. E. Lawes had told Clubb that one of the ravines visible from Angel's
Window on the south side of the Citadel Promontory furnishes a route to
the Hermit Shale, and Clubb passed this statement to me as having been
verified by him, but which of the three he could not say for sure.
Several years ago I had found the break in the Kaibab rim. I had ruled
out the east ravine as being impossible from the top and I thought I had
been stopped by the other two at about the same height above the bottom
of the Coconino. Allyn and I had rappelled at the end of the middle one,
but as time passed, I became less sure that I had really gone down the
west one as far as I could. A further investigation would take less than
a full half day.

I had no trouble finding the break at the top, the closest place to the
parking where you can start down. I found the two overhangs to the west
of the route that shelter pictographs, the ones Rothfuss had seen when I
showed him this break. I also found 25 imperfect hand prints made with
red clay higher under the first overhang to the east of the route. I
took pictures this time.

The walk down to the car wrecks was just as easy as I had remembered. In
100 yards more I was starting down the west ravine. This seemed easier
than the other ravine, although a couple of places might have given me
pause if I had been carrying a full pack. About 80 feet above the bottom
of the Coconino I came to the place which must have baffled me before.
There was a sudden drop in the bed, but one could go over to the east on
the sloping slabs. After 20 feet of easy going, these too showed a
vertical drop of 15 feet. Here is where I must have turned back in 1961.
This time, however, I found a crack over to the east where I could
chimney down using a jam crack for holds. Below, the broad ramp ended in
a sheer drop, but if one could get back into the main ravine, the
problem would be solved. It is filled with slide rock to the base of the
big fall. At two places I feel confident that a nervy climber with long
legs and gripping soles could do this (it goes, rope for pack). There
are no handholds. One would have to step around an angle with only the
friction of his shoes for safety. A fall here might not be fatal either,
but with no one to go back for help, I wasn't about to try the two or
three crucial steps. If I had brought a rope down here and had it tied
to a tree, it would furnish the handhold that would give me safety. With
no rappel necessary and no prusiking up, this route would be far faster
than the way I showed Allyn and used solo on another occasion. I feel
that I might be able to climb Wotan and return the same day , or that a
day and a half would be no strain. If I would go down here, follow the
Hermit over to Freya and get down the Supai to the Freya Vishnu Saddle,
I would have logged another route from the rim to the river. After I had
done the last few feet at the bottom of the Coconino with a rope, I
might get the courage to do it without. Anyway, this vindicated the
Lawes Clubb report that there is a ropeless route somewhere here.

**
*Review of the route west of Point Atoko
[August 15, 1967]*

I had given the rangers my plan for a four day trip down into Chuar
Basin to climb Gunther Castle, starting at the McDonald break through
the Coconino that I had rediscovered in 1957. I had used it twice since
that time, but now several years had passed since I had reviewed it. The
car was left at the clearing at the start of fire road E6, and I walked
into the woods toward the sun. I told myself that 10 to 15 minutes in
this direction would bring me to the rim at about the right place.

Where I started down from the rim, fallen aspens and small firs were a
real nuisance. Below the worst of these I found deer trails at several
levels, but none went down into the breaks between the Coconino
promontories. I worked my way east checking down below at times but
mostly just going out on the Toroweap outcrops and looking at what was
below. There always seemed to be a vertical drop at the bottom of each
of the bays. Finally, I came to where the top rim was hard Kaibab
Limestone and I realized that I had come too far northeast. While I was
walking back toward the car along the rim, I noticed that there is a
broad depression that forms a groove toward the south, which soon begins
to slope away from the rim. In going east, I had been below the rim
before I reached this depression. I would have looked closer to the end
of the line coming southeast from Point Atoko except that I clearly
remembered a picture I had taken along the Hermit as I approached the
right place from under Point Atoko. The way I remembered the picture,
the break was considerably east of the ravine coming directly down from
the highway. I decided to eat my lunch at the car and start over looking
for the place as I had done in 1957. I went back to the viewpoint
formerly called Two Rivers Junction and now the Painted Desert Overlook.
When I went back and began again, starting down from the rim closer to
the highway, I not only avoided the deadfall timber but soon found the
good deer trail leading down clear through the Coconino. There was some
flood damage in these ravines, but mostly the trail was clear through
black organic soil. The seep spring was still just barely flowing just
to the west of the trail at the bottom of the Coconino, and there were
plenty of fresh deer tracks around the seep.

This lost time for the search had thrown me completely off schedule so
that I gave up going after Gunther this time. However, I studied the
approach to the McDonald Route very carefully so that I will never lose
it again. When I followed the main deer trail back up to the rim, I
found that I was only four minutes walk from the car at E6. The
departure from the rim is considerably southwest of the broad depression
in the rim that extends to the south. When the deer trail brings you
down to the correct bay, you see a Coconino outcrop splitting the
forest. The trail goes to the northeast of this. Just to clinch the
identification, I built a cairn in plain sight at the end of this
outcrop. There is a short tower of Toroweap resting on the Coconino on
the far side of this bay, and this support is split from the main cliff
by a long crack. From the promontory west of the bay, I could see that
there is a similar small tower on another promontory farther east. The
thing to look for is the Coconino outcrop splitting the bay for a short
way, with a cairn on its end.

If no mistakes are made, the route is quite efficient. I came back from
the base of the Coconino to the car in 45 minutes walking time.

**
*Through Obi Canyon to Deva Saddle
[August 16, 1967]*

Clubb had told me about his trip off the rim with Kitt Wing to try to
climb Brahma. He thought they had gone down to the east of Point Ariel,
but I saw from the plane that it must have been through the ravine just
east of Obi Point. Still the view from the air didn't give me complete
assurance, and I wasn't sure whether Clubb and Wing had used a rope.
Milford Benham, geology teacher at Glendale Community College and
seasonal ranger naturalist, went with me to check. We drove out E4 and
followed the middle branch when it split. On the way to Obi Canyon, a
half hour of walking, we crossed one deep ravine quite sheer where it
reached the rim. There was a shallow, short ravine before we started
down into Obi. We had looked the land over from the rim just after
crossing the first one. Obi is a very exceptional ravine in that it gets
the walker through to the Hermit with no real climbing problems. There
are a couple of ledges in the Kaibab soon after the canyon begins to get
steep that call for good route finding, but the day after Benham and I
reported on our trip, Larry Henderson and Harold Timmons took their
wives down here. They made it all right and Larry was even carrying his
small baby in a pack. Most of the bed is covered by old rockfalls and
there is plenty of vegetation including firs.

We were gratified to see that we had located the route and we were also
glad that we could proceed west along the Hermit to Deva Saddle. When we
had arrived with only the usual delays in getting around steep shale and
fallen blocks, we had filled in what I needed to have covered my
fifteenth route from the north rim to the river. After eating, we also
went along the west side of Deva until we were sure that I had connected
with my route from Bright Angel Creek. Benham was especially taken by
the views from this saddle. We could see Roaring Springs and upper
Ribbon Canyon. The canyon between Oza Butte and Widforss Point was
directly before us. It seemed to have some water flowing in the lower
end, and the Redwall in this bed might be climbable. I'll have to
investigate this possibility someday.

On the return we found that walking was easier lower along the bench
than the route we had used on the way west. When we neared Obi, we
climbed and came a bit closer to the base of the Coconino. I noticed an
overhang with smoke stains on the ceiling and went up to investigate. We
were both pleased to discover the most interesting pictographs and
petroglyphs I had seen in the park north of the river. The pictographs
were notable for the different colors used: deep red, red brown, yellow,
and even blue. One small design appeared very fresh and different from
the others. Both of us considered whether someone had come along with
blackboard chalk and had done this one. The designs were about all
geometrical and seemed quite different from most pictographs. The
petroglyphs were very old looking and were carved where there was little
of no contrast between the surface and the deeper parts of the grooves.
Two or three looked like standard mazes or zigzags, but mostly they were
random looking curves that might have been dreamed up by a child. This
display brought the rangers down the next day. They poked around in the
pack rat droppings and found many little corncobs.

The rangers used the west fork of E4 as their approach road and they
parked on the rim of the right canyon. This would be a faster and easier
way to climb Deva than the one I used, coming up from Bright Angel Creek
from a little north of Ribbon Falls. I am not sure that it would be the
fastest approach to Brahma.

**
*Route (?) to canyon floor around Kibbey Butte
[August 17, 1967]*

From the air, Beck and I had noticed that a ravine south of the base of
Kibbey seems to go through the Redwall with no obstacles for the walker.
However, the top Supai cliff is unbroken directly above this ravine.
Milford Benham went with me to look for a break in order to get into
this ravine and descend to the bed of Nankoweap Valley.

I was almost as clumsy in finding the way down to Kibbey Butte as I had
been the first time. We parked at the turnout by Greenland Lake and
headed for the rim. When we got a view we were to the south of Kibbey.
Then we followed the old wagon road to the north. When we started down
again, we found that we were north of Kibbey and too far back from the
point. We got rather far down before we came to this conclusion and
wasted time in getting over to the right place, but we finally found a
clear deer trail leading down. As had happened when Allyn came down with
me years ago, we missed the bit of man made trail on the way down but
found it on the way up. There are two ways past an outcrop of Coconino.
When we came out, we followed the trail up to the top of the plateau and
saw that at the very top it is clearly wider than any deer trail. The
old road goes right by the top of the trail near the end of the plateau
above Kibbey. We marked the place with some dead poles leaning against a
couple of trees.

Down below the Coconino the best trail, by now little more than a good
deer trail, slants down towards Kibbey. We found a warm jacket lying on
the trail here, probably dropped by someone returning from Silent River
Cave. It was in poor shape since rodents had been gnawing on it. First
Benham and I checked the Supai for breaks along the south side of Kibbey
near the ravine and we also looked along the Supai rim to the south, but
there was no way down (there is a way, rope needed for pack). At first I
thought that it would be a good idea to get below the top 100 feet of
Supai and follow a ledge from the north side of Kibbey around to the top
of the good ravine. We could go down the north side of Kibbey around to
the top of the good ravine. We could go down the way they go to Silent
River Cave. However, the ledge soon became too steep to follow and I
changed the tactics. We would go clear down to the rim of the Redwall
and try to go around Kibbey at that level.

Getting down to the Redwall rim wasn't all clear deer trail. We were
able to find a fairly good route, sometimes on a trail but about as
often not. Our bypass of a troublesome Supai cliff near the top was to
the east of the draw but lower we got past another bad cliff to the west
of the draw. These places were not too obvious, but Benham proved
himself rather clever at following the deer to the right places. We ate
our lunch right above the entrance to Silent River Cave although we were
not aware of this at the time.

I wanted to see what sort of progress I could make along the rim of the
Redwall. At first the brush was our worst obstacle, but it was a bit
tricky to cross some bare shale to pass the next ravine to the east.
Benham slowed down and waited for me while I went on to the angle that
projects from the base of Kibbey toward Point Imperial. It had taken a
half an hour to reach this place from where we had eaten, so I turned
back and joined Benham. As far as I could tell, the walking gets
somewhat easier beyond this place, and I would say that one should be
able to go on around to the ravine to the bottom in two hours along the
top of the Redwall. We saw another cave entrance below the rim of the
Redwall in the ravine just east of the one we had come down. Perhaps the
explorers of Silent River Cave have been into this one, but if so I
don't know what they found.

It was easy to get from the Redwall rim to the top of the plateau in
less than two hours. An ice axe might be helpful for cutting steps in
the bare shale above the Redwall. If all goes as I think it should, one
might leave the car and be down in the main part of Nankoweap faster by
this route than he could via the Nankoweap Trail. I believe I should try
this project again.

**
*Cogswell Butte
[August 18, 1967]*

After four hours of struggling through brush and over difficult rocks, I
was ready for some plain old trails. Also going down the Thunder River
Trail and climbing Cogswell Butte would fit into the day and a half that
I had before I had promised to start home. However, I wasn't averse to
getting off the rim the quickest way I knew even if I had to do a bit
more scrambling. Thursday evening I had a good visit with Jim and Jerry
Kimmel, the young couple who were studying the ecology of the ponds on
the Kaibab Plateau, and then drove to Big Saddle where I slept by the car.

I have concluded that some combination of getting off the rim and using
the break in the Toroweap and the talus covering the Coconino northwest
of Monument Point should be the best way down to the horse trail along
the Esplanade. I drove the road starting a bit beyond Big Saddle and
heading for Crazy Jug Point and then turned along the rim toward
Monument Point. I left the car where the road turns in away from the
rim, at the low place where you have to start climbing toward Monument
Point. This time I stayed up along the rim and followed a Jeep road that
goes up to a surveyor's tripod. Beyond this the walking isn't bad
either, through the cliff rose and sage. There is a depression that
creases the rim and the plateau to the west not far north of the point.
The Kaibab ledges seem to be getting more like barriers beyond here, so
I started down. I found that I could walk almost down to the deer trail
I had used last year along here, but I had a rather mean time getting
down one small cliff. I should have gone clear to the point, walked down
to the east and then followed the lower ledge around the crest to the
west side where one can walk the rest of the way down. Then I would
still have a rather long walk along a deer trail to the break. This is
marked by a few cairns.

The way I came out Saturday morning is still better, and it is not hard
to find. When you reach the depression along the east rim, cross it and
then turn west. The groove soon develops into a steep sided gulch. It
picks up several tributaries from the north, so the best walking is
along the rim of this ravine just to the south of the thicker brush
growing in the gully. In ten minutes you would be across to the west rim
of Monument where there is quite a ravine cutting the rim. A deer trail
goes down on the north side of this bay and then you can follow it
southeast for a very short distance to the break leading down to the
Esplanade.

Reaching the horse trail was easy and so was walking along it until I
began finding rainpools on the bare rock. I ate a second breakfast where
there is good rain protection because of an overhang and left most of my
gear there. There doesn't seem to be as many horse parties going to
Thunder River as there were 15 years ago, perhaps because floods have
eliminated the fish. There are enough hikers to keep the trail well
defined, and there also seem to be more cairns along the way than
formerly. The forest service has also installed some guide posts where
one might try following the old route off the Esplanade. A few years ago
the trail was worked on and a shortcut was provided. The day still
seemed fairly cool and I made good progress along here and down the
switchbacks below.

Surprise Valley impressed me again as a fine example of a graben. Near
the trail at the bottom of the valley, Supai ledges show in their right
sequence clear below the Redwall to the north. On the south side of the
valley, I was soon climbing undisturbed Redwall that had remained at the
original position. However, the Redwall and Supai above it both show a
tilt down to the west, very slight compared to the big deformations of
the area. It was easy to go up west of the center of the butte, climb
the Supai, and get to the top at the west end of the narrow ridge. I was
deciding how big a cairn to build when I came to a fine big one already
in place. A few of the top stones had fallen over and I replaced them.
With old cairns already on Poston, Escalante, Apollo, Sumner, Cope, and
Cogswell, and perhaps King Arthur, I wonder how many others were climbed
by prospectors who didn't record their movements.

Before returning I went to the rim of the Redwall plateau directly south
of the top. I could have reached the car Friday before dark, but I
stayed below.

**
*Below Kibbey Butte along the Redwall and down
[August 30, 1967 to August 31, 19667]*

Art Lange gave me the hint that there had been a trail going off the rim
in the direction of Kibbey and challenged me with the project of
learning why. He had observed the bit of trail construction about the
middle of the Coconino and had seen the man made trail where it leaves
the rim. He reported that the artificial trail below the Coconino goes
east toward Kibbey so he hadn't followed it further on his way down to
investigate Silent River Cave. From what I know now I believe he was
premature in this conclusion. It may have been going toward Kibbey only
to switchback down the wooded slope to Silent River Cave. There are
signs of switchbacks down in the Hermit Shale and below, but deer have
cut through so much that their trails are the only trails now noticeable.

This time I drove up to the north rim on Wednesday and, after some
visiting with the rangers, was ready to leave Greenland Lake parking at
11:20 a.m. I walked up the bank and headed for the rim until I
intercepted the old rim road. Turning to the north along it, I went down
into a depression and very quickly noticed a well defined trail leaving
the rim. After going down it a few yards, I went back and observed our
poles leaning against the trees. I was able to follow it and deer trail
extensions quite consistently. For the first time I succeeded in finding
the bit of retaining wall on my way down.

When I was nearing the bottom of the Supai, I saw a deer trail going
east along a ledge. I remembered that there was only a very poor trail
along the Redwall rim, so I reasoned that perhaps the deer generally use
a different route to go below Kibbey to the descent ravine. After a
hundred yards along mostly bare shale of this level, I gave it up as I
had the higher ledge on the trip two weeks earlier. It was too slow and
precarious. Deer can trot across clay and shale that I cross by scraping
toeholds and testing each step. Disregarding the 15 minutes I wasted on
this detour, I got down from the rim to the Redwall in an even hour.

My previous estimate of two hours for following the Redwall rim around
below Kibbey was exactly right on the way down. Returning on Thursday, I
took just a few minutes longer. If one were to work just a few days on
this leg, cutting brush and shoveling a narrow trail in the steep clay
banks, this leg could be done in 20 to 30 minutes. It is at the right
height to give one marvelous views of the surrounding buttes from below
as well as being impressively high above the valleys. For most of the
way I could see traces of deer tracks, and on the return I was following
fresh tracks of at least three deer. The route is generally high much of
the way right next to the cliff. There were several places where for
safety I would get down on all fours and test a toehold before shifting
all my weight.

The descent ravine, south of the neck leading to Kibbey, is well hidden
as you approach it. You walk down it on blocks of Supai averaging the
size of a chair. A horse trail here would require quite a bit of rock
work but it wouldn't be too hard compared to the old Nankoweap Trail.
The worst place for the walker is now at the very bottom of the Redwall.
Possibly the flood last December scooped out the material below huge
chockstones and the bypass is along the side of a steep clay flow to the
south. I felt more insecure here than anywhere else. On the descent I
bypassed further steep places in the bed by going through the fir forest
to the south, but while returning I came up the arroyo. I bypassed the
arm separating Kibbey and Hancock, to a fine spring coming out of the
shale on the south side of the dry bed. I camped at a sandy place
between two splits in the bed.

My supper was early to avoid the rain that threatened, but afterwards I
had time to walk down to the arm from Goldwater's Bridge. I had
remembered my warm night in the down bag and had brought only a blanket
and warm underwear. This time I was too cold and after enduring several
light showers under my plastic sheet, I built a fire. On the east wall
of the descent ravine there is an accessible cave.

**

*Water sources in Grand Canyon National Park
[Copy sent to Larry Henderson, naturalist at North Rim in September, 1967]*

    Nankoweap Creek Wet weather seeps in a couple of ravines leading
    down to the saddle of Saddle Mountain. In soil over Kaibab
    Limestone. Running stream in lower Nankoweap Creek and along
    stretches higher up, especially in the arm north of Woolsey Point.
    Some above ground in the arm to the Kolb Bridge and in the next fork
    south.

    Little Nankoweap Creek Only rain pools below the Redwall. No route
    from Tilted Mesa to the Colorado River (false).

    Kwagunt Canyon Permanent water from where the word Creek occurs on
    the east half map. Seeps at the bottom of the Redwall in the arm
    west of Banta Point.

    Carbon Canyon Seep along Butte Fault may be poison. Safe seep one
    half mile north of Carbon Butte in a ravine west of the Butte Fault
    arm of Carbon.

    Chuar (Lava) Creek In cool weather water flows to the river from a
    spring just east of the junction with the drainage west of Juno
    Temple. A hot afternoon will stop the water by evaporation from the
    shale bed, but by 3:00 a.m. the flow reaches the whole bed. Spring
    up (50 yards) the side stream southwest of the word Carbon on the
    east half map. At least three springs including a shower bath drip
    spaced along the north arm of Lava Creek below Point Atoko. There is
    water in the bed a little to the south of Hartman Natural Bridge.

    Basalt Creek There is usually a little bitter water north of where
    the east half map says Basalt in Basalt Cliffs. Farther upstream
    where the map says Springs, I found a grove of cottonwoods and reeds
    but no water in sight.

    Unkar Creek During wet seasons I would count on finding four seeps,
    the farthest upstream being north of the word Unkar.

    Asbestos Canyon Water is permanent in the lower bed above the fall
    to the river. The mining camp was here. I haven't found the basis
    for the word Spring on the map. It is difficult to get down into the
    upper valley from the barrier fall.

    Vishnu Creek In wet seasons there is water in the Tapeats narrows
    and also in the higher part of the Archean. One can reach the river
    by a difficult climb up and down spurs to the east of the bed.

    Clear Creek No problem. Some water even in the arm coming from Cape
    Royal. Local water near Cheyava. Dry above. West arms are dry. The
    main creek starts in the shale south of Ariel Point. Bright Angel
    Creek Water is no problem.

    Phantom Canyon The main source is up Haunted Canyon about halfway to
    the head of the Redwall gorge from the junction with Phantom. There
    is a spring a short distance up Phantom from the junction and a
    little more water on the surface in the shale directly below Shiva,
    in the bed, that is.

    Trinity Creek There are seeps in the schist where the east half map
    places the word Trinity. An apparently (?) permanent rain pool lies
    in the arm coming down from the Shiva Isis Saddle where the bedrock
    (Shinumo Quartzite) last shows.

    Dragon Crystal Creeks The main Dragon Spring is in the Tapeats
    Narrows about where the east half map prints the first T in
    Amphitheater. There are other springs that show locally up both arms
    of Dragon in the forested narrows of the Redwall. Crystal Spring,
    that keeps water flowing in the bed below, is east of the word
    Gawain on the east half map.

    Tuna Creek There are usually seeps in the bed in the Tapeats below
    the junction of the two arms. One can reach the river through the
    ravine off the Tonto about one quarter mile west of Tuna. Apparently
    permanent rain pools occur in the Redwall in the west arm of Tuna.

    Shinumo Creek Water flowing down from South Big Spring. Water in
    spots in the Flint arm to the junction with Gawain. Springs east of
    the Muav Saddle along the good trail. Water in the lower Hermit
    Shale and top Supai below these springs. Water in the bed a short
    distance south of where the Bass Trail gets to the bottom of the
    Redwall. White's Creek flows from just below the Tapeats. This gorge
    can be entered on the east side in a ravine just north of Redwall
    Canyon.

    Galloway Canyon One seep below the Tapeats.

    Stone Canyon Water from springs above the bed on the east below the
    Redwall.

    Tapeats Creek Thunder Spring and the main source at Tapeats Cave.
    Springs in the Crazy Jug arm in the upper Supai. More seeps along
    the Esplanade to the east but one of these needs a search since it
    is below the trail. Powell Spring near Muav Saddle can't be trusted.
    There are usually rainpools in the upper Redwall of Saddle Canyon
    south of the Colorado River and east of Boucher adequately covered
    by Lange.

    Salt Creek Water at places above the Tonto Trail. One can get down
    into the lower bed at two places from the east side and walk to the
    river.

    Ruby Canyon Rainpools near the Tonto Trail in wet seasons.

    Serpentine Canyon One can get down to the Colorado River through
    Serpentine or the canyon just to the east, or through both.

    Bass Canyon Wet season source at Bedrock Tanks. One can reach the
    river by leaving the bed above the last drop and going to the west.

    Copper Canyon Rainpools in the Archean and in the vertical mine
    shaft at the Bass Copper Mine. This can be reached by a spur trail
    from the east off the Tonto and also from the west side of the canyon.

    Garnet Canyon Rainpools, but you can reach the Colorado River a
    little to the southwest of the mouth of Garnet. At the bottom of the
    Tonto Trail, at Garnet, one can continue along the river past Fossil
    Bay. The best water is at Elves Chasm from the stream.

    Comments: In the west arm of Tanner Canyon at the top of the Redwall
    there is a rain pool that may be permanent. I found O'Neil Spring at
    the end of the spur trail shown on the east half map, but it was
    only a wet hole under an overhang with one willow growing near.
    Contradicting Lange, I found an easy deer trail down Escalante
    Canyon to the Colorado River. It is to the west of the barrier fall
    in the bed.

    Bass Trail to Supai along the Esplanade: Dripping spring at the base
    of the Coconino midway between Chemehuevi and Toltec Points.
    Rainpools in Royal Arch Creek in the Supai can be reached by climbs
    down along the west and south arms. The permanent flow begins about
    one third mile south of the word Elves on the west half map. There
    is a chance for rain pools in the west arm and below the top of the
    Esplanade to the west of the south arm.

    Fossil Bay A deep rainpool where the main arm comes down to Supai
    bedrock. Seeps under the Coconino at the upper end of the main arm.

    140 Mile Canyon Practically sure water at the end of the Great Thumb
    Trail at the grove of cottonwoods. Spring just west of Keyhole
    Natural Bridge. One can go off the Esplanade at the saddle
    separating this canyon from Olo and walk down the fault ravine.

    Olo Canyon Seep in the arm southwest of Gatagama Point at the place
    where the 4500 foot contour crosses the bed.

    Matkatamiba Canyon Seeps deep in the Supai in the arm north of Mount
    Akaba. The ground was dry by the cottonwoods uphill from the trail.
    Rainpools in the upper part of the main arm not far above barrier
    falls. Seep in the Sinyala Fault on the east side of the gorge below
    the pass separating Matkatamiba from Sinyala Canyon (observed in
    April).

    Sinyala Canyon Permanent small flow near the bottom of the Supai a
    little to the west of where the Sinyala Fault meets the main Sinyala
    Canyon.

    Havasu Creek Topocoba Spring north of the Topocoba Trail at the base
    of the Coconino. Seeps and rainpools in Lee Canyon not far above the
    junction with Rattlesnake Canyon. Spring in Moqui Trail Canyon at
    the base of the Coconino just south of where the trail enters the
    Coconino gorge. Possible rainpools in many side ravines. Highwall
    Spring shown on the Supai Quad.

**
*National Canyon
[September 23, 1967 to September 24, 1967]*

The wet summer seemed to be replaced by the dry fall when I planned this
trip away from an all weather road. E. D. McKee had shown me where one
could take a dirt road to the head of National Canyon and had told me
that there is an old trail down it. He had heard from the Indians that
one could go down all the way to the river and then cross to Tuckup
Canyon where there might be a route up to the north rim. He had been
down well into the Supai and had found a spring near the upper end. I
had seen the canyon from the air when I was a guest of the Readers
Digest on the scenic flight to Toroweap Lookout. I knew that I couldn't
see all of the canyon to the river in a two day weekend, but I thought I
could be on the lookout for a shorter way off the east rim to begin my
next trip where I left off.

I almost decided against going to National because there had been a
heavy rain Friday night. It seemed to be clearing in the morning, so I
left about 7:00 DST. I spent a few extra minutes in Williams trying to
get a visit with Allyn Cureton. He had been my hiking companion in
previous years and he had more recently spent his spare time in the area
west of Havasu Canyon. He had told me one or two approaches to the rim
of National Canyon and I wanted a refresher. He was eating at some cafe
and I missed him.

Before I reached the road that Allyn had pointed out, I noticed a dirt
road off the Supai road about 14 miles north of Frazier Wells. The
second tank mentioned on the signpost was called National, so I
suspected that this would be the right approach to the road going into
the upper end of National Canyon. After some study of the 1:250,000
Williams Quad map and the National Canyon Quad, I drove off the gravel
road. When I had gone about a mile past the National Tank, the road was
getting sticky and precarious. Without waiting for real trouble, I drove
up a slight grade off the track to park where the ground was firm. Even
walking was sticky until I passed the place where the road split, one
branch going to the right up on the high ground to the east of the
canyon and later the main track going to the west likewise to high
ground. It was easy to walk the track that entered the gradual descent
into the canyon. In dry weather I could have saved myself about an hour
of walking because the road is still in fair shape. However, there is a
steep sided gully that would require a four wheel drive long before one
comes to the end of the road. It took me about two hours to reach the
end of the road. When I was going down on Saturday, I passed the valley
coming from the southeast in block 30 of the map without taking much
notice. On the return it looked about as impressive as the main valley,
but upon checking the map, I was sure I had made the correct decision,
and the end of the road soon reassured me. The canyon soon deepens from
here on and big blocks in the bed make walking difficult. Near the
corner of block 30, one finds a trail on the left of the bed. A bit of
wire has been used to hold the logs forming the edge of the trail, so at
least some trail construction has been done since the arrival of whites.
Not far from where the trail switches to the right slope one comes to a
fine shelter cave near the base of the Kaibab, or probably in the
Toroweap. The main cave is about 15 yards wide by 10 deep and there is a
smaller companion just beyond. There are a lot of charcoal inscriptions
on the walls dating from 1940 to 1958 when Leonard Sinyala signed his
name. I copied Red Vaughn, 10 1 53, Cutes, Bob; Harrison Jackson 10
1956; LGP 1940; Claudia Gibbons, 1957, but there were other marks. One
might have been a prehistoric picture of a lizard or a modern imitation
done in black pigment.

The trail continues along the right wall and drops only slightly to the
ledge at the top of the Coconino. The bed drops over some abrupt falls
as it enters this formation but a little farther on the right, the
Coconino makes a broken ramp. However, the trail goes to the deep bottom
of the Coconino a little farther on using a talus formed by a great
rockfall from the limestone cliffs higher up. A few yards before the
trail starts down from the ledge, one comes to one of the most
remarkable ruins I have ever seen. It is built on a projecting ledge
about 20 feet above the trail. At present there is no way a man could
climb into the ruin (initials and a date on the wall shows that it has
been reached). A couple of juniper poles project from the solid wall at
the place where one would want to place a ladder to climb up. Possibly
they were designed to steady such a ladder. The structure now has no
roof, and the wall rises about four feet at its highest place. At the
foot of the switchbacks to the bottom of the canyon, on the right wall
are the letters C S 1939.

While the canyon bottom is still narrow, one finds a fence across it
just a bit north of the middle of block 19 of the National Quad. One is
now in the Hermit Shale although most of the shale slopes are covered by
talus material from the Kaibab and Coconino cliffs. The bed slopes very
gently for miles to the first showing of Supai. Around the corner to the
left at the north boundary of block 19 must be where McKee found a trail
to a spring. I missed seeing this on my way in and on my way back on
Sunday, I didn't feel that there was time. More rain was in the
offering, and I felt that I ought to get to the car and reach the good
road as soon as possible. There is a lot of vegetation everywhere in
this narrow upper part of the canyon, so a spring isn't obvious from a
distance. I would look for it at the bottom of the Coconino. I was
carrying two gallons of water and was prepared to camp without finding
any. I had figured that if I could reach a steeper part of the canyon,
in the Supai or the Redwall rim where the bed would likely be bedrock, I
should find water in potholes.

In the broad part of the canyon north of block 19, I saw some fine
horses. There seemed to be two stallions each with two or three mares
and I saw at least one colt. They seemed torn between curiosity and
caution, but they finally galloped off down canyon in fine display of
manes and tales. They were big and sleek and seemed to be enjoying an
easier existence than most Supai horses. From here north at least to the
Supai outcrops there are one or more horse trails. About 4:30 p.m. I
came to the first showing of Supai and almost at once I saw a good
shelter about 150 yards to the west of the bed. Rain was definitely
coming, so rather than carry my pack farther, I put it under the
overhang and also foraged for enough wood to cook my usual Lipton's soup
making sure that it also would be dry when needed. I then followed a
horse trail and the streambed for 30 minutes. I could have found water
pockets if I had gone up side ravines. Just as I decided to turn back,
the rain came. In a few minutes I filled a two quart canteen from a
stream that came over the ledge where I was standing for shelter. As it
turned out, my two gallons would have carried me through the whole trip.
I would estimate that I was down through about 100 feet of Supai when I
turned back.

While I was getting supper at my shelter, I noticed a metate a few feet
away. Somehow it had been broken and only two thirds of the stone was
there. To clinch the case for former use, I found a bit of obsidian.
There were no sherds that I could see. At the shelter cave in the
Toroweap, people must have been pot hunting. There were a couple of pits
in the loose material of the floor. At the south approach to the
shelter, I noticed a big corncob. It was about nine inches long and had
12 rows.

I was walking in the rain for almost half the return to the car. I put
the chains on before moving the car, and I am sure I would have bogged
down if I had not done this.

The purpose of the trip was to find a way or ways into the valley as far
north as possible. Although I didn't try it myself, I am practically
sure of a route down leaving the rim at a third of the way from the
south edge on block 9. After getting through the upper cliffs, one
should follow a rather steep bench at the top of the Coconino to a break
at about the middle of the same block. Near the north edge of block 8,
one should be able to go up to the rim on the west. When the top cliff
is reached, he could go south around the corner and surely find a break
(also, check block 27 and perhaps 13).

**
*Trip to Turquoise Bay
[October 1, 1967]*

(written by P.T. Reilly) The objective of the investigation which Harvey
and I had initiated was to check Point Quetzal, advanced by H.E. Bolton
as the probable place from which Garces first viewed the Grand Canyon
and named the Colorado River as flowing therein. This act identified an
upper section of the same river known to the Spaniards by this name
closer to its mouth and is the first Caucasian association of the
Colorado and Grand Canyon. Bolton had taken issue with Coues, but after
studying the John Galvin translation of the Garces diary, I had
concluded that both Coues and Bolton were in error and that a more
likely spot was the deeply indented bay of Turquoise Canyon. Galvin had
confined his work to translation and had not identified the Garces
viewpoint. Bolton had said little beyond making his dogmatic statement
of Quetzal being the Garces viewpoint. I had copies of Coues and Galvin
to help in the identification.

Harvey had studied the distances which Garces expressed in leagues (2.63
miles = 1 Spanish league) between Topocoba Hilltop and the Hopi Crossing
of the Little Colorado. These two places are identified without
reasonable question. Harvey had decided against a one man investigation
in favor of making the study with Susie and me, and we had arrived in
Flagstaff the afternoon of the last day of September. Now, the Butcharts
and Reillys were heading out on Fort Valley Road and the San Francisco
Peaks were decorated with a white cloud mass hovering in the inner basin
like a great snowball. The inner basin is the residual crater and
surrounded by the lofty peaks. As we approached Kendrick Park we saw
some fine examples of ground fog in four distinct strata over the
extensive meadows. Wind currents topped the lower stratum less than ten
feet above the ground as if it had been cut with a knife. We sped along
and the mists were left with the peaks. To the west the sky was
cloudless and we could see Mount Trumbull in the distance. We began to
feel more optimistic over our chances on the Topocoba Road.

The land development scheme east of the Williams Grand Canyon highway
did not seem to be thriving with one good residence in use, one
residence destroyed by fire, and the remainder empty sites with weed
filled streets.

We dropped Roma off at Bright Angel Lodge, turned up the service road
and soon had passed Rowe's Well. We crossed a small stream in a wash
which usually is dry and the water was nearly clear. The range was green
and heavy with gramma, brush grass, and flowers. We jumped a buck, two
does, and a large fawn. There was evidence of heavy rain and after we
had left the graveled portion of 12 miles, we had to bypass mud holes by
cutting out of the ruts into the brush. At one slick place we were stuck
briefly but were able to back out, abetted by a push. Soon we decided
that we would not be able to reach Pasture Wash and began looking for a
good turn around place. We passed a Navaho family which had run a new
pickup off a side road and were warming themselves around a large fire
to belle the old saw that the white man makes a large fire but the
Indian makes a small one. Evidently the Navahos had guessed early on the
pinyon nut harvest. Soon we pulled into a wide place and decided not to
push our luck by venturing into a wide flat directly ahead.

We knew we were an unknown distance east of Pasture Wash but this
portion of the road was over a blank section of the west half
topographic map of GCNP. We had intended to turn up Pasture Wash toward
Bass Camp and cut back on the service road along the telephone line. Now
we would strike out and hope to intersect the rim close to Turquoise Bay.

Acknowledging that we had no chance of getting within reasonable
distance of Quetzal, we locked the car and departed north at 10:40 a.m.
I had my European surveying compass and used a magnetic variation of 15
degrees to establish our north course. The general drainage was
southwest. It was pleasant walking over gently rolling land covered with
pinyon, juniper, sage, and cliff rose. The recent rains had made the air
aromatic with sage and pinyon and a couple of times we got a whiff of
the Navaho fire, which must have been over a mile away. In 20 minutes we
came to a broad wash with good recognition marks and a compass bearing
of its course convinced us it was Prairie Wash. On its far side we
struck a two rut road and Harvey suggested we use it to travel up the
wash. In less than a quarter of a mile we came to a tank, consisting of
an earthen dam thrown across the channel, with a fine stand of autumn
colored pink oak along its left bank. Here we cut up a small wash to
resume our northerly course. Shortly thereafter I found a potsherd and
gave it to Harvey.

Within a couple of miles we were crawling through the fence denoting
GCNP boundary, and commented that its builders were thoughtful to leave
the lower strand un barbed. In about a half a mile we hit the service
road paralleling the telephone line close to pole number 495. I took a
bearing on the road and found it to be close to NW and SE. We decided to
follow the road southeast to ensure not passing west of Turquoise Bay.
Harvey remembered he had left this road near pole #365 when he headed
for Mescalero point a couple of years ago We paced the distance between
poles and Harvey and I both came up with identical measurements of 50
yards or about 35 poles per mile. Measuring back from the estimated
position of pole #365 when we passed pole #470, we left the road on a
NNE course. Within 200 feet I found a potsherd and gave it to Harvey.
Shortly thereafter I saw the ledges below a headland and at 12:30 p.m.
we hit the rim of the east bay of Turquoise in line with its wash.

Lunch and pictures. No sight of the river but its course is
unmistakable. Rereading the Galvin translation made my original choice
of the SW edge of the west bay appear more likely and we decided on a
look. En route we hit the old road, which took a sharp eye to discern,
and we concluded there was little chance of seeing traces of the Supai
Hopi Trade Trail if a wagon road could weather to near obliteration in
little more than half a century. We reached the west bay of Turquoise
where the old road touches the edge of the rim, took more pictures, and
concluded the Garces description could very well have been written close
to our viewpoint.

Suddenly we were aware that the west was heavy with clouds and the sun
was lost from view. We departed the rim at 2:00 p.m. then crossed the
pole road and the fence. We were on a compass heading and without sun
much of the time. Harvey found a potsherd. We hit Prairie Wash, followed
down it past the tank, and hit the car on the nose at 3:12 p.m. Soon we
were turned around and headed back.

In a mile or so a coyote ran NE across the road about 400 feet ahead of
us. As we came abreast, we saw the coyote standing about 200 feet to our
left and looking at us over its shoulder. A hundred feet or so beyond
was another coyote, also standing. Apparently the two were hunting and
the first was chasing a rabbit toward the second when we came along. The
rabbit was probably between them as we passed.

Rain flurries fell on us but we crossed the bad spots without
difficulty, reached the gravel road, and were at Bright Angel Lodge
shortly after 4:00 p.m. We found Roma, who had experienced a good day on
the rim trail, and after dinner at the lodge, departed for Flagstaff.
Heavy rain at times hit us but we arrived home without incident The
following day, at the Museum of Northern Arizona, Alex Lindsey
identified the sherd I found north of the pole road as probable Hopi and
the other two as Kayenta, all parts of bowls.

**
*National Canyon
[October 21, 1967 to October 22, 1967]*

Reider Peterson and I took the car out the road past National Tank and
turned to the right Friday evening. Then we followed the fork that goes
nearest the rim of National in an almost north direction. We slept about
seven and a half miles from the fork where one branch leads into the
main National Canyon. In the morning we drove north to the water tank to
make sure of our location and then drove south along the same road for
0.9 miles. About 8:20 a.m. we started walking, following our shadows
this early. Our course was too northerly and we ran into two systems of
deep valleys and still had to turn south when we finally reached the
rim. As I had noted the route on the previous trip, we started down a
sloping ridge about one fourth mile south of the center of block 9 on
the National Canyon Quad. We finally decided that there are about three
ways through the Coconino and we actually went down a sort of double
ravine that is south of the sure way I had chosen. It was more direct.

It took about one hour for us to get from the rim to the bed of the
valley and 35 minutes more to reach the overhang where I had found
shelter from the rain. After inspecting it we continued along the horse
trail down canyon for 45 minutes and had lunch well down in the Supai.
We had taken two gallons of water apiece but we thought that this might
have to last until late on Sunday. In the side canyon to the west just
where the main bed makes the biggest turn to the east, we saw water
dripping off the wall and considered the possibility that we would need
to use it later. The stretch through the Supai was as scenic as upper
Havasu Canyon, and we remarked that there is plenty of Arizona that has
yet to be publicized.

The Redwall Limestone first shows at the beginning N of the name
National north of the red lines on the map. Both the Supai and the
Redwall, whenever strata are visible, tilt down to the north, so the
gently sloping bed seems to take a long time to get through them. Before
the Redwall got very deep, we noted a shallow cave on the west side, so
close to the bed that floods had deposited level sand in three terraces.
The ceiling was thoroughly blackened by smoke, so it had seen human
occupation. There was no water at all close. We missed seeing this
interesting place completely on the way back when we were making notes
on the map. About due west of the beginning of the word Reservation in
the small print along the boundary is a terrace under an overhang of the
Redwall. Most of the cavity is filled with travertine. While I was
investigating to see how much of a cave goes back above some of the
deposit, I found that there is a row of ruined rock shelters on the
terrace with plenty of bits of charcoal. The cave wasn't impressive, but
I was happy to locate the ruins.

Likewise on the east side of the canyon, west of the v in the word
Reservation, Reider spotted a six foot hole where the stream has cut
through the bottom of a pothole. It is high above the bed and there is
no place where one can see sky through it. Good water appears in the
sand near here. Although it is below ground quite often, one can count
on finding it again very frequently. The horses come down canyon this
far with no obstacles. The bed is still mostly easy walking, but to the
north there are a few places where chockstones have made the
continuation too difficult for a horse. At one place on the way back, we
preferred to take off our packs and pass them up after one had gotten up
between two polished rocks. There was an alternate route but it would
have been longer. At another place we had to detour to the east and come
down a rockslide to avoid some huge blocks in the middle.

About five o'clock we came to the biggest drop off of all, where the
lowest part of the Redwall had formed a cliff. the only possibility was
to go along one bench or the other, unless we had wanted to try getting
down between some blocks through a small fall into a pool, and even if
we had chosen to get wet, it wasn't clear what was below that. We
followed the west slope which seemed to be more roomy than the other. At
5:15 p.m. we rounded a corner and saw that the bench pinched out. We
could also see that if we had followed the bench on the east, we would
have had a couple of difficult places to pass, but then we would have
come to a talus that we could have followed to the bed of the wash. We
could see the bend where the canyon turns west to reach the river. It
would have taken us less than an hour to come to the river, we felt
sure, but we knew that getting back to the car the next day would be
hard. Reluctantly, we turned back upstream and made camp about ten hours
after leaving the car.

The unusual event of my cooking career was that I stepped on the end of
a piece of firewood just as my soup was done. It flipped up and spilled
all the soup on the ground. Fortunately, Reider had an extra envelope
and I was eating soup a half hour later. The night was a little too warm
for our winter bags, but we slept quite well.

On the return we kept the map out and knew at all times where we were,
something that we had not done the day before. Although we were fully
aware of the danger of walking past the last water, we talked ourselves
into thinking that we were sure there was more ahead. We should have
built a cairn at the highest water on the way down. An hour after we had
passed the highest water in the bed, we were finally convinced, as we
emerged from the Redwall into the Supai, that we were not going to be
able to fill our canteens from the running brook. We had to climb up the
grade to the base of the dripping cliff west of the easterly course at
the big bend and try to catch the drips. Besides putting a cup under the
best drip, we built clay dams across the most strategic places on the
wet rock. To dip the shallow water, we sucked it into the mouth and
dropped it into the canteen. This operation took 70 minutes, but it was
faster than walking two hours to get the last water in the bed.

We went up at the same place through the Coconino where we had come
down, and it took us only ten minutes longer to reach the rim. Up on the
plateau, before we were out of sight of the canyon, we put the map down
on the ground and lined it up. In this way we saw the correct direction
to head across the flat country to the road and the car. This time we
avoided all valleys and then had to walk less than 0.4 of a mile north
to the car. There were places on the road out that looked worse by
daylight than they had by car lights, but we reached US 66 before it was
dark.

With what I now know, I wouldn't carry more than two quarts of water
from the car and I might be able to reach the river in one long day. It
was an interesting and instructive trip.

**
*Quest for the Hillers' picture of Dox Castle
[November 5, 1967]*

Dock Marston had found a photograph of Hillers showing much of the same
landscape which appears in the famous painting by Moran which hung in
the Capitol for many years. Pat Reilly had whetted our interest in
locating this site by pointing out that the painting agreed in almost
all details with an etching in Powell's book of 1895 shown on page 276.
Further references to the locality appear in a book by James where he
says that Bass could point to the exact spot where Moran had painted the
picture, somewhere along the Shinumo Trail to the north rim. Powell
said, in the 1895 book, that he had visited the site with Hamblin and
Chuar on September 26, 1870, and had later brought Moran to the place to
see what he regarded as the finest view in the whole Colorado Basin. I
had decided, after consulting some color slides that I had taken from
the Shinumo Trail, that I recognized some salient features in the
painting and the etching, particularly Dox Castle and Sagittarius Ridge.
When Marston turned up the old Hillers' photo, probably taken prior to
the production of Moran, we regarded the identification of the painting
site as settled. The lack of agreement of details in the foreground and
the periphery of the picture could be written off as artistic license.
Since, however, a camera cannot lie, the new question arose as to the
exact site of Hillers' stance while taking his picture.

This project of identification had a further recommendation. It would
serve as very strong support for an interpretation of Powell's itinerary
on the four day trip with Hamblin and Chuar over the Kaibab Plateau from
September 25 to the 28, 1870. On the second day of the trek, he said
they rode south from the great spring and then turned west to a point
from which they could look far to the west and also southeast to a fine
part of the Grand Canyon. Identification of the Hillers' photo site and
consequently of the Moran painting site would be very strong evidence
that Powell had indeed been on Swamp Point as I had concluded from
reading his account of the trip.

Reider and Nancy Peterson had never been to the north rim. They went
with me starting as soon after noon as we could get away. The Point
Sublime Road was still officially closed, so we drove down to
Headquarters to see whether we could borrow the key that would unlock
the gate from the National Forest into the park out near Swamp Point. I
drove the fire road through The Basin, W1, over to the Point Sublime
Road. These 12 miles were in good shape. There was a bad spot in the
Point Sublime Road where Kanabownits Wash crosses it, but we made good
time to the junction with the Swamp Point Road two and one half miles
north of the junction of W1 and the Sublime Road. Just as I had been
told last summer the next five miles were rather bad with several places
where the car might have been hung up on the high center if I had
allowed the wheels to drop into the deep ruts. We got to Swamp Point two
hours after we had left the blacktop opposite the head of the North
Kaibab Trail. Much to our surprise, a Land Rover from Canoga Park,
California was parked there. In the morning we found that the couple who
had come in it had gone down to the CCC cabin near Muav Saddle to spend
the night (Art and Karen Foran). They hadn't known anything about the
cabin nor about water sources in the vicinity. I told them about the
spring ten minutes to the east and about the crucial points of following
the trail down to Shinumo Gardens. They were not very determined to
reach the river via the old trail. In fact they turned back as soon as
they came to some brush near the top of the Hermit Shale where we were
just getting started on our day's excursion.

Before leaving the rim Sunday morning, we had scrutinized the photo and
the landscape. From the rim we couldn't be sure that the terrace shown
in the picture was not the surface of the Supai rather than the top of
the Redwall. I decided to go down and follow the Esplanade and perhaps
climb above the general terrace to match the picture after the distant
objects fell in place. We finally reached fairly good walking on the
Esplanade on the east side of Muav Canyon after very disagreeable
bushwhacking on the slopes below the two or three springs. Water is
quite prevalent here below the Coconino. Some deer trails were helpful,
but they never continued very far at a time (mescal pit 20 minutes
before the end). Four hours after leaving Swamp Point, we reached the
angle where the Esplanade cuts back to the east below Rainbow Plateau.
We could see that the distant scene agreed perfectly with the Hillers'
photo and the terrace in the middle distance was the one on the Redwall
rim which we could now see so well. After careful study and much
jockeying back and forth including climbing down as far as we could on
some ledges, Reider and I came to the frustrating conclusion that
Hillers had been on a terrace about 300 feet lower below the top massive
cliff of Supai. He had left the trail much lower than we had and would
have accordingly avoided most of our mean brush. It would have taken us
two or three extra hours to go back far enough to get down and then
return to the place directly below our stance and we didn't have the
time. However, we all felt rewarded for the trip since our position gave
us marvelous views of the entire region. One could see exactly how the
Bass Trail descends the Redwall. There were impressive overhangs in the
Redwall in the narrows above where the trail descends.

One item that kept coming to mind was the question as to why Hillers'
left the trail to go over to the east side of the canyon and get this
view. Was he down here before any trail improvements had been made and
from a distance had he realized that the vista would be superior from
the east side?

On the return we experimented by going up the slope in the middle of the
bay just south of Rose Point. We could see that the Coconino was covered
by slides, and we found that the walking was not bad since the bed of
the ravine was almost free of brush. Deer trails guided us through the
towers of Kaibab Limestone at the rim. As soon as we reached the rim
however, we had to go down and up the steep slopes of Saffron Valley and
we had one more lesser ravine to cross before reaching the road. This
route, even going uphill, required only two hours and 45 minutes to
return to the car. It is the best way to reach our viewpoint, but it
would not be an improvement when one wishes to go down the Bass Trail.

Along the road back to the car we saw a turkey fly up into a pine. In
one of the meadows as we drove along, Nancy and Reider pointed out
several fine bucks and we saw two or three groups of deer in the
headlights along the road to Jacob Lake. We took time to go out to Point
Sublime. Nancy and Reider were thrilled with it.

(Cairn on the Esplanade where a descent from there to the lower terrace
is possible.)

**
*Kaibab Coconino descent on the east side of Papago Canyon
[November 11, 1967]*

Last spring when I was looking for Indian ruins east of Zuni Point, I
noticed a place on the east side of Papago Canyon where one might be
able to get through the Kaibab and part of the Coconino. What made this
more interesting was the possibility of going along the Hermit east to a
slide that covered the Supai and also a place in the Redwall not much
farther northeast where a descent looked very probable. At the time, I
went down through the limestone to the rim of the Coconino, but further
effort seemed fruitless. From above, I had formed the plan of going down
most of the way through the Coconino to a west sloping ravine and then
getting over into the main one near the bottom. During the intervening
months, I had decided to give this route a better try and get down to
where it would be clearly impossible to proceed. I thought the
investigation would be a good project for a short day.

Although I reached the ranger office around 8:00 a.m., I encountered
some reluctance in giving me a permit for the trip, and I spent quite a
bit of time trying to get a companion, either Ken Hulick or Larry
Henderson. Ken had another commitment and Larry was in Phoenix. I also
parked the car farther west than necessary and took extra time getting
to the point of descent from the rim. One should park east of the head
of Papago Canyon where the highway starts downgrade. The best place is
only three or four minutes walk from the rim.

Getting through the upper ledges of Kaibab requires a bit of study, but
there is more than one way. If I were going through here repeatedly, I
would build cairns. The idea is to get down to a column of reddish
Toroweap Sandstone just above the beginning of the ravine through the
Coconino. At the top of the Coconino I felt discouraged again. I could
see what had turned me back last spring. The plan to switch from one
ravine to the main one down below seemed very precarious, and
furthermore, I could see that there must be an abrupt drop in the main
bed right at the bottom. I continued downward with the thought that I
had resolved to go as far as I could even through there was little
chance for success. Well down in the Coconino, however, I found rather
fresh deer droppings. The deer don't use this route extensively enough
to form a trail off the rim, so I didn't take this slight evidence as
proof that I could get all the way through. There were three or four
places in the ravine where the way below would be invisible until one
stood on the edge of a steeper pitch. I would face in and find
handholds. There were always enough toeholds a convenient distance
apart. One had to take care to find them, and when I was about halfway
down the Coconino I made a rather poor decision, to leave my knapsack
and canteen while I went ahead unencumbered. When I finally saw that my
ravine was better than it had looked from the west rim of Papago Canyon
above, I hated to go back after the canteen and food. The route kept me
in suspense right to the last, but there was a crack that had been out
of sight from above. By 11:30 a.m. I was down on the Hermit. If one
became familiar with all the right holds, he could come down much
faster, but the loose rocks in the ravine would remain a hazard if
several people were coming down together.

Walking along the shale to the northeast was easier than it had seemed
from above. Much of the route was shown by a deer trail. I kept rather
close to the upper cliff. There was no problem with brush, and much of
the shale was soft so one's feet could dig in. I spent a little time
trying to go right down through the Supai in the main draw, but this is
out. It was 12:15 p.m. when I reached the yellow rock slide covering the
Supai all the way down. If I had brought water and food, I could have
gone down to the rim of the Redwall. Since I had given my word to be
home by six, I am afraid that I couldn't have gone much lower that day.
As it turned out, I spent quite a time visiting with Jim Bailey and
still got home by 5:30 p.m. In a normal hiking day, I could go down to
the Tonto and return, thus filling in another distinct route from the
rim to the river at the mouth of 75 Mile Canyon.
[Proved possible for me on 6 21 68 (also see July 7, 1969). **
*National Canyon
[November 17, 1967 to November 19, 1967]*

My two former trips into National Canyon had whetted my interest in
going clear to the river and also in finding the spring that E. D. McKee
had noted at the base of the Coconino up in the narrow part of the
canyon. These objectives were not entirely consistent because I would
need more time at the lower end, but still I would have to park the car
on the road approaching the trail down through the upper narrows. Allyn
Cureton went with me and agreed to walk rather late Friday night by
flashlight and the moon. I left Flagstaff as soon as I could get off
after my last class and picked Allyn up when he was through work. We ate
in the car to save time and I was able to drive the car about four and
one half miles past the place where I became nervous because of the mud
in September. On foot we found that I could have driven almost another
mile. We made rather good time even with no better light than we had. I
showed Allyn the shelter cave with the many names on the wall and also
had him direct his light up to the ruin on the shelf. Below the Coconino
we followed my former system of making our way over the big rocks in the
bed rather than look for the trail. During the return Sunday afternoon,
we kept a sharper lookout for the trail and found it by pieces. We
learned that the horse trail, after getting down by the Coconino,
follows the bed for only a short way. Then it avoids obstructions by
going up to the left and then down to cross the wash to the right slope.
Here it goes up and then drops down through the woods and crosses the
bed again. From here it rises and drops some and then climbs to the base
of the Coconino to the spring. The leg up to the right and down to the
wash and then up to the right of the spring took me ten minutes of
walking time. The spring doesn't run much volume, but it consists of a
pool about ten feet across and eight inches deep. There are some tools
nearby for keeping the pool cleaned out. Fencing just below the pool
seems to be intended to keep stock from getting a drink and then going
dow to the lower parts of National. Actually, a man can creep under the
fence and follow a good trail down to the bed to the part where the wash
becomes easy for a horse. Evidently the trail was constructed not only
for the sake of leading stock to water but also for getting stock into
the broad valley below.

After walking for two and one half hours by 11:30 p.m., we stopped for
the night north of the place where Reider and I had come off the east
rim. This part of the trip was especially easy because of the wild horse
trails. About 8:00 a.m. Saturday morning we got going and were down at
the big bend near Capstone Spring by 11:00. In a few more minutes we
came to the first showing of Redwall at the turn to the north. Again we
saw the smoke stained shelter cave on the west on our way north but
missed the rock shelters on the terrace. On the return we found both.
The west side cave with the level sand left by floods is only a few
minutes walk north of the first Redwall, just north of an open area
following a shallow Redwall narrows. It is 35 minutes walk north from it
to water in the bed. The other terrace with the ruins on it is only six
minutes walk from the water by a small cottonwood, the farthest south
that water shows in a dry season. Just north of this tree the canyon
makes a gentle bend to the east, and at the turn back to the north a
ravine comes in from the east showing the small bridge where a wash has
cut through its bed. Another arm of this ravine has a travertine deposit
forming a cave.

Something that I hadn't noticed on the former visit was that there is a
lot of charcoal bits buried in the sand of the rock shelter terrace. A
similar terrace farther north, fully 30 feet above the streambed, shows
driftwood fragments and likewise lots of bits of charcoal. We
conjectured that this broadly spread charcoal was not from prehistoric
campfires but was rather brought down by a superflood after a forest
fire on the plateau. A carbon 14 date might establish that the rim was
well forested at an early date. This surprisingly high drift terrace was
under a broad overhang of the Redwall cliff. The formation which Dr.
Beus considers to be Devonian Limestone first shows near here. The
crossbedding that I considered unusual for Redwall is at stream level
just beyond. Stan Beus thought that this must be Devonian Limestone
which he is helping E. D. McKee measure.

Allyn noticed names and dates chalked on the wall at the high Indian
ruins above the trail at the top of the Coconino. Possibly someone threw
a rope over the projecting poles and was able to pull himself up. The
date was 1955.

After a leisurely lunch, Allyn and I walked on and reached the place
Reider and I had slept. Here we left our packs and started on by 1:35
p.m. In 20 minutes more we reached the place where the bed drops
suddenly, where great blocks form a real barrier. After Reider and I had
given up the idea of going down among these blocks and had found the
bench on the west a dead end, I had decided to use the bench to the east
as a bypass. This would have worked, but Allyn showed me that he could
get down through the blocks. I proceeded to find a second and easier way
to do the same. It involved some straddling the flowing stream. The
return here was more difficult, but I succeeded by facing down with my
feet on one wall and my hands on the other and going sideways and up.

After only a few hundred yards of progress along the bed, we were
stopped by a chockstone which had collected a terrace of boulders and
gravel forming a 15 foot drop. Allyn thought he could get down here but
I pointed to the poor travel below. There were many spots where the
entire bed was filled with a pool. We could also see that the bed must
drop a good many more feet to the river level, and I concluded that
there would be more of the same type of barrier. We first climbed out of
the bed to the east, but from that height we could see a distinct deer
trail on the bench to the west. It was not hard to back up and climb to
this trail. We soon discovered that this trail was only intermittent. In
many places it was every deer and bighorn for himself. Going was slow
and precarious with a fatal slip always a possibility. However, progress
was possible. After many minutes of this, we came to a place where we
could go more than halfway down to the streambed. Still the last 30 feet
seemed impossible and we found another trail going on at this lower
level. This continued to a bare slope of whitened rock that led back up
to our former level. Now we cold see ahead to what might be the cliffs
across the Colorado. Allyn led me up and over a hump on the higher bench
and announced that he could see the river itself. The meager trail
continued and I decided that we had time to proceed to a view up and
down the river without having to reach our packs after dark. Just as a
safety factor, we were carrying flashlights as well as cameras. We noted
that the last half mile of bed was level and sandy and fairly wide,
quite a contrast to the bed higher up where we could have walked down to
within about 60 feet of the bottom, but it appeared that this lower drop
was sheer. One could rappel and Prusik back up this impressive wall. (6
22 70, climbed down here O.K. Last eight feet bad for me, but I could
use a log.)

The view up and down to the river were outstanding from our level,
possibly 230 feet above the water. As far as we could look downstream
there was no break in the sheer cliff below us, but about a half mile
upstream, we could see a travertine (?) cone which might serve as a
ladder down the cliff (a rockslide no chance). Thus we haven't ruled out
the possibility that the aborigines came along the shelf on the right
side of National and followed the bench upriver to this cone before
coming down to the river for a rim to rim crossing.

On the return we kept closer to the base of the upper cliff on our bench
and made better progress, but it still took an hour of pressing on to
finish with the steep bench and get down in the bed below the upper
barrier. We reached our packs by 5:30 p.m. with time to spare before
dark. Saturday night I was bothered a bit by being too warm, quite a
contrast with the night before. I heard a mouse chewing on my cookies in
the pack, but I merely moved it further away from my head.

On the return I was telling Allyn about some of my recent trips and
almost passed the highest water source. However, I had built a small
cairn in the middle of the bed which stopped us at the last chance to
fill our canteens. We ate a slow lunch at the junction with the biggest
tributary in the Supai coming in from the east and reached the car by
8:10 p.m. The first thing we had to do was to change a flat tire. When
we were most of the way back to the safe road, we got the car stuck in
the bed of the wash where the crossing was quite steep. After some work
with a shovel, we backed it out and found a bypass already cut through
the sage away from this hazard.

**
*Olla Cave
[December 3, 1967]*

Donald Davis had studied the cave locations left at the south rim by
Lange and DeSaussure and he gave me the location of their Olla Cave
along the Redwall rim on the east side of Grapevine Canyon. I had been
down here from the Grandview Trail twice in 1962, the first time through
deep snow. When my projected long trip down Mohawk Canyon fell through
because of car trouble, the visit to Olla Cave seemed to be the most
interesting one day trip I could think of.

It had snowed a few inches only two days before, but since I had done
this climb down through the Coconino and Supai in snow before, I didn't
hesitate to take it on. Chuck Johnson and Allyn Cureton went with me.
Both of them are nervier on the cliffs and stronger on the uphill climb
than I am, so there were no qualms about the strength of the party. We
got to the Grandview parking about nine and set off. The weather was
still cold with melting only in the sun clear down to the Redwall and
the air was as clear as it ever gets. Navaho Mountain stood out sharply
and the winter sun added beauty to all distant scenes.

We found the going plenty tricky, even on the trail. My shoes didn't
seem to grip through the snow as well as the boots worm by Allyn and
Chuck. I had to grip rocks and brush with my hands for safety. We left
the trail along the ridge dividing Grapevine from Cottonwood and stayed
along the crest for several hundred yards. A coyote had left fresh
tracks in the snow, so we rather used them for a guide. We went down and
to the north. Getting below the lower Coconino was something of a
problem, along a sloping ledge. Then we angled to the left and reached
the main bed of the wash where we could get through a couple of rather
continuous Supai ledges. On the descent we left the bed only to dodge
huge chockstones and brushy thickets. The snow was a hazard right to the
bottom of the Supai and along the landslide area where the first Redwall
is covered on the right. Farther north there had been enough sun to
clear the ground. We made rather good progress when we came to the
terrace at the top of the Redwall in the sun.

The location left by the WSI men and relayed to me by Donald Davis put
Olla Cave a little below the Redwall rim a short distance south of the
deep indentation in the rim that is noticeable on the East Half Map.
When we came in sight of this easily recognizable notch, we cut back to
the next crease in the rim and went down to inspect the area for
possible caves. There were none, so we consoled ourselves by eating
lunch. Chuck and I got through before Allyn. As a secondary objective, I
had elected the project of going out along the promontory as far as time
would allow, until 1:30 p.m. We knew that Allyn would have no trouble
overtaking us, so Chuck and I set out to see what we could see. When we
got around the indentation, Chuck noticed some shelters under the top
cliff across on the south side of the indentation. They didn't seem like
much, but we could see that one could go down to them, and they might be
interesting.

I had been thinking all the time that we would need lights to explore
Olla Cave, so I was rather disappointed to find that they were nothing
but two quite adequate overhangs. We became more interested when we
noticed a piece of juniper wedged tightly into a crevice in the ceiling
and another piece propped up among some rocks. There were some very
small stalactite formations indicating dripping water at some ancient
era. There seemed to be no smoke marks on the ceiling, so we weren't too
much impressed. The cave has a rather steeply sloping floor, but one
could build a platform if he wanted to spend the night here. The depth
was quite adequate to keep one dry in the most slanting rain. My biggest
thrill concerning this cave came when I reread Donald's letter and found
that the true Olla Cave has a stick wedged in a ceiling crack and
another propped up by rocks. So we had visited Olla Cave in spite of the
misleading location. On the return we kept out of the wash, along the
base of the lowest Supai cliff. This went better and so did the Coconino
to the west of the fault ravine to the east of the main one.. On the
snowy rocks we needed two and one half hours to reach the car from the
cave. (Mescal pit seen on the return along the Redwall rim.)

**
*Across from Cape Solitude
[December 9, 1967]*

Among the items in the Powell story of the first traverse of the Grand
Canyon that I had found hard to believe was the casual mention of Walter
Powell's climb up to the rim from near the mouth of the Little Colorado
River. Wesley Powell says that Captain Powell set out to climb a point
between the rivers and several lines later says that by comparison of
the barometers, they have learned that the rim is 3000 feet above the
river. He doesn't indicate whether the climb was made on the north or
south side of the Little Colorado or even whether it was directly up
from the Colorado itself. I figured that it could not refer to the route
up Salt Trail Canyon six and one half miles up the Little Colorado and
then to the north.

More evidence that there might be a route down from the north near the
mouth came from Ralph Haynes who relayed the information from an Indian
who said that he knew a way down west of Salt Trail Canyon, but that he
didn't think Haynes would want to try it. Those of us who had seen the
gate through the shale to the valley two miles back from the junction
thought that this would be a likely place to look for the route.
However, the fact that the 1926 river sheets of the Little Colorado
didn't show a route here made its existence look doubtful. If the
supposed route here should be any more difficult than the Blue Springs
Trail and the Indian Maid Trail, I wanted no part of it.

I met Mr. and Mrs. Doug Shough where the Tuba City Road turns off from
US 89. They had never been over to Marble Canyon across the reservation.
I had heard of a shorter way to reach the head of Salt Trail Canyon from
the highway than the route I knew, from Cedar Ridge. Thus we tried two
roads but neither panned out. Even counting this delay, I went from home
to the parking across from Chuar Butte in less than three hours. I just
looked for the best used road that went in the right direction and made
only two short false moves. There are a number of correct choices, at
least two, because in returning we found ourselves on a different road.
By the time we were back near the break in the red rock ridge which
extends seven miles west of Cedar Ridge Post, we were back on the same
road. A rather well traveled road goes south to a point just west of the
head of the bay where we found the descent route. A quarter of a mile to
the north, an obscure track turns off to the west and goes to the best
scenic viewpoint where a good sized cairn marks land's end. From here
the route I had picked for an attempt on Chuar Butte seems impossible,
but there seems to be a fairly sure route up the Redwall on the south
side of 60 Mile Canyon. (Jim Ohlman has done this. Grubb and Haggart
climbed Chuar but missed this route.) One gets a most impressive idea of
the entire east part of the Park, from Saddle Mountain to Vishnu Temple.

While Mrs. Shough stayed in the car to keep warm out of the biting wind,
Doug and I went back to inspect the only possible ravine through the
Kaibab Limestone. I had the idea that we would soon reach an impasse, so
we put down our food and canteens up on the rim. Doug went ahead and got
down the ledges much more calmly than I did. There were three or four
places where I had to face in and use poor finger grips to let myself
down short overhangs until I could find something to stand on. I suppose
if I had been alone, I would have given up. Doug found several stones
piled up in one place to help in getting up one ledge. It was the only
sign for the entire route that we were not the first men to try this.

Below the Kaibab Limestone there was no difficulty. The Coconino was
completely broken and all the Supai was likewise either buried under
landslide material or else easy. When we came to the Redwall we saw that
we would have to get out of the bed. We could get a good view of the
situation by going up on a spur to the east. Beyond this to the east,
there was no possibility to get down, but we could see across the bay a
minor ravine paralleling the Little Colorado. The bed of this ravine
consisted of slide material which we could have walked down. We were
tempted to go around the rim of the Redwall and finish the descent, but
it was getting late for men without their lunches and water. Besides I
had to get back to Flagstaff before 6:00 p.m., so we reluctantly
returned. We estimated that it would take about two and a quarter hours
to go from the bed of the Little Colorado to the rim here.

**
*Spencer Trail and east of Lee's Ferry
[January 14, 1968]*

Since the snow would keep me from approaching most interesting areas in
the canyon country, I thought I would carry through a project I had been
thinking about for years, the climb up east of Lee's Ferry. The new
blacktop road in from route 89A was in fine shape even though the ground
was still covered with a few inches of compact snow right down to the
river level. The north facing Echo Cliffs were strikingly beautiful with
only red streaks showing through the prevailing white. The Echo Peaks
were like something out of the Canadian Rockies. Even before I started
up the trail, I began snapping pictures right and left.

The new concessionaire, Bob Melton, pointed in a general way to the
start of the trail, but I thought I knew enough about where to find it
so that I didn't listen closely. As it turned out, I started up the
talus slope too soon and missed the lower part of the trail. A post was
propped in a rock pile above me on the slight ridge, but still when I
came to it, there was no trail. Farther up I could scramble through a
break in the ledge, and just above this I found the trail. On the return
I followed the trail, or what is left of it, all the way down, and I
believe I saved time by using the shortcut. There are very few cairns
along the trail, but there are some pieces of lath standing as markers
installed by a boy scout troop a couple of years ago. I could have
followed the trail by constant vigilance, but the markers do help. In
the Grand Canyon National Park, a trail as badly eroded as this one
would be given a very bad name by the rangers. How the trail builders
found the best way to pass certain ledges by swinging to the north and
then to the south is quite interesting. At one level rather near the
top, the trail actually slopes gently down to the south to reach the
area where it can make the final switchbacks to the rim. On the way up I
didn't waste much time in trail finding, but on the return, I lost it
for five minutes. The rough and loose footing and snow near the top were
impediments, but I went up the 1500 foot climb in 75 minutes. Strangely,
I wasn't much faster in the descent, 68 minutes. Furthermore, I stopped
for several pictures on the ascent.

The whole area is photogenic, up to the Paria, west to the Vermilion
Cliffs, and down and up the river, and especially across to the Echo
Peaks. If you have any breath left when you top out, you lose it in one
big gasp when you look to the east. I had known the Glen Canyon country,
but somehow I wasn't quite prepared to see Navaho Mountain, Tower butte,
and all the mesas so well. When you get down close to the rim of Glen
Canyon, it is vastly impressive. The walls are as sheer as the
straightest in the Little Colorado. It is like Toroweap on a smaller scale.

After getting to the rim at 10:15 a.m., I walked north fairly close to
the rim to the highest spot in the first half mile. One could look for
miles at the dark winding slot of Marble Canyon cut in the white expanse
of the platform. There is some broken country cut through with ravines
immediately to the east of the raised rim above Paria, but then it
levels off for a mile or more. I had hoped to reach Ferry Swale, but I
found the walking through the breakable crust very tiring. I must have
forced myself at the usual gait required to walk in the nine inch snow,
because I developed some unusual pains where tendons were taking a
beating. I settled for a swing east and then south to the rim at Mile
6.5. I had told Mr. Melton that I would be back to the car before 5:00
p.m., and I actually started down the trail about 3:15.

There were surprisingly many tracks in the snow and bare sand on the
plateau. I recognized jackrabbits and saw one. There must have been
cottontails and numerous mice. I saw one of the biggest porcupines I
have ever encountered. It waddled up into a clump of scrub oak where the
camouflage was perfect. There were also a few cattle.

On the way back I had to go north away from the canyon rim to be able to
cross a deep ravine. When I had crossed one fork, I could see a pair of
shelter caves only a few minutes walk out of my way. The bigger one had
a sort of trail up into it with smoke stains on the ceiling.

**
*Tonto east of Indian Gardens
[January 20, 1968]*

George Billingsley had told me about a trip he had taken with several
companions up Pipe Creek from the Bright Angel Trail. They were able to
get around two or three barriers in the granite and then they found a
crack in the Tapeats on the west near the head of the gorge which made
it possible to climb out to the Tonto. I'll have to ask whether they did
this loop from the rim and back in one day. It was before the big snow
when trail travel was easy.

My project for the day was to find the break in the Tapeats cliff, but I
thought that I would also stop by for a chat with Larry Henderson and
also ask Emery Kolb a couple of questions, particularly about Moran's
visits to the canyon. Unfortunately, neither Larry nor Emery were at
home. The Kolb Studio was closed although the walks were well shoveled.
I don't know how long the studio will remain closed.

The most unusual experience I had all day was my encounter with the
largest herd of antelope I have ever seen. I was daydreaming at the
wheel about 8:00 a.m. about three miles before reaching the junction of
US 180 and state route 64. I came over a rise and saw a flock and my
first thought was to wonder what the sheep were doing so far from the
reservation. I braked abruptly and woke up to the fact that they were
antelope. First I tried a picture, but since the camera wasn't easily
available, most of the animals were rather far away before I snapped it.
Later I realized that the film hadn't turned with the lever, and I don't
think I took a picture at all. Then I began counting and got up to 35.
As an estimate, there were about another 35 that were harder to count.
This is more than I thought were anywhere in this area. It had been 18
or 19 years since I had seen 23 in one band near Walnut Canyon.

About 9:00 a.m. I finally started down the Bright Angel Trail. The mules
had packed the snow almost like ice. My shoes have almost no cleats left
and I had a bad time with my footing. Although I took precautions and
even walked in the gutter where possible, I must have fallen six or
seven times. The snow was clear down below the Redwall and I needed two
and a half hours just to reach Indian Gardens.

Above the trail to the east beyond Indian Gardens, I noted more
terracing and old trails than I had before. I was reminded of pictures
of the area with almost no trees but showing tents or shacks on this
side. At the junction with the Tonto Trail, the park service has a sign
announcing that it is 3.2 miles to the Kaibab Trail. This is odd since
on the South Kaibab Trail the sign says it is 4.3 miles to the Bright
Angel Trail, and this figure was first put up as 3.4 miles. The sign
along the Bright Angel Trail also says that there is no water along the
route, whereas most of us have found water flowing in Pipe Creek by the
old frame cabin.

It had been something like 18 years since I had been along this part of
the Tonto Trail and I was surprised at its good condition. It had been
used recently by mules with steal pegs on their shoes to prevent
slipping on the hard packed snow. As I approached the upper end of the
Tapeats gorge in Pipe Creek, I followed the rim, but I failed to locate
the break that Billingsley had used to climb out. As we had agreed to
play bridge Saturday evening, I felt that I should be back at Indian
Gardens starting up about 2:00 p.m., so I didn't spend much time on the
prime objective. I didn't inspect the building up the creek from the
fall. The roof over the porch has given way, possibly because of the
heavy snow, and someone has ripped most of the south wall away.

It took me 45 minutes to walk from the building back to Indian Gardens,
so I believe that 3.2 is a good estimate of the mileage between the
Bright Angel and South Kaibab Trails. I walked out with less slipping
and no falls in less time than I took to get down in the morning, about
two hours and 25 minutes. The mules wear shoes that don't slip at all,
and they gained on me a little, but I was able to keep ahead.

**
*Pipe Creek
[January 31, 1968]*

Before Christmas George Billingsley headed a group from the hiking club
up Pipe Creek from the Bright Angel Trail at the end of a hike down the
Kaibab to Phantom Ranch and back by way of the Bright Angel Trail. The
walk and climb through the schist and Tapeats were through unknown
country and he was very smart and lucky to get through with no major
delays. Chuck Johnson went down with me to see this area while George
took three companions including his girl friend, Sue Varin, to the river
at the mouth of Horn Creek. They were following my directions concerning
the route as Allyn Cureton had found it in the spring of 1958. For some
reason I could remember that route after ten years more clearly than
most. The three boys and one girl made the climb down through the slot
in the Tapeats, saw the ponderosa pine growing in the inner gorge, got
down to the bed of Horn, and bypassed the two falls in fine style. They
reached the mouth of Horn in only two hours and five minutes from Indian
Gardens. They returned after eating lunch by the rapid via the bed of
Horn up to the Tonto Trail and got back to Indian Gardens by 2:45 p.m.
The snowy trail down from the rim was safer underfoot than it had been
on January 20, but I was among the few in our party who didn't fall
although we hurried down and reached Indian Gardens in 75 minutes. Chuck
and I were down where the Bright Angel Trail gets to the bed of Pipe
Creek by 10:30 a.m. I was immediately impressed by the rugged narrowness
of this section of Pipe. It is as grand as any side canyon and much more
accessible. Within 15 minutes we reached the first real barrier where a
huge chockstone has blocked the ravine. Travertine has built up below
over sundry smaller boulders. Some of the permanent water comes over the
top of the fall under the huge chockstone, but about half the flow comes
out near a round hole about halfway down the travertine apron. According
to instructions, we climbed up a broken slope to the east. About 100
feet up we were able to advance to the south. I saw how we might return
to the bed, but Chuck preferred to continue at the high level looking
for another descent. He found it just as we could go no further at this
height, down the projection and then back into the recess. When we got
down, we followed the bed back to where I had suggested descending and
at the bottom we found a good cairn left by the Billingsley Party.

Progress upstream to the fork in the canyon was easy. George had told me
there would be another major barrier up the main canyon to the east. It
appeared shortly, a very similar chockstone formed a fall. Without
retreating very far, we again scrambled up to the east. There were a
couple of chances to leave the slot we were in and go around the crags
to the south, but we thought that progress would be more certain if we
climbed still higher. There were some bad spots that slowed me almost to
a standstill, but we reached the base of the Tapeats. We learned later
that George had led his party south at a much lower level and had
succeeded in getting back down to the bed. However, when I noted a
little trail construction up here, we felt rewarded. We followed the
trail, obviously used by burros, deer, and probably bighorns, to the
north around the angle and saw that it led to the Tonto level.

There is a good deal of red granite in this area, and just below the
Tapeats the rock seems still different from granite or Tapeats
Sandstone. It seems soft and rotten and there is quite an overhang above
a relatively level floor. When we were investigating this as a possible
shelter used by man, we saw no smoke stains and were about to leave when
I noticed two bits of Indian pictographs. The light colored rock had
spalled taking some of the picture with it, but there was still the
upper part of a stag with the antlers as elaborately done as they are at
Mallery Grotto near the upper tunnel of the Bright Angel Trail. We ate
lunch on this trail below the Tapeats and then followed it easily as it
sloped down to the south right to the open bed of Pipe in an open area
ringed by Tapeats cliffs. While we were coming down next to the eastern
wall, Chuck noticed something that proved to be a prospector's monument
about three feet high. It is about 40 yards west of the bed that was dry
along here. The water seems to begin below the gravel bed in the open
area, but before Christmas Billingsley reported water all along here.
Where the old map showed a spring to the northeast of the head of the
Tapeats gorge, there was still quite a lot of ice both at the lip above
and more where the drip lands at the bottom of the cliff. George had
given me the information that the break in the Tapeats cliff is on the
west just opposite this spring. We soon saw where it had to be, a little
north of an impressive overhang in the Tapeats. It is only about 300
yards short of the very end of the amphitheater with all the rest of the
walls absolutely impossible. What a chance George was taking with a
grueling retreat and an arrival at the rim long after the 8:00 p.m.
ending which this escape route made possible. We could imagine the sense
of relief that his party must have felt when they saw this climbable break.

In the streambed below this spot, Chuck spotted an old weathered metal
sign still holding to its tubular post. Although all the enamel was
gone, it still read in raised letters Pipe Creek. The sign was well
above ground but the shaft was bent and we decided that it had formerly
stood up by the Tonto Trail and that a great flood had carried it down
and had left it standing in this improbable position. Deer and bighorn
droppings on the steep route up the rocks convinced me that these
animals can get up and down with greater ease than a man. At one place
there is a chockstone in the fairly broad crack that forced me to do a
split with one foot on either wall. At the top the former party had
built a small cairn. I realized then that on the 20th I had walked past
this ravine within ten feet of the cairn and had dismissed it as
impossible after the top 40 feet.

In observing the west side below the Tapeats from where we ate lunch, I
decided that the easiest way to bypass the fall just above the fork
would be to go up the west fork until one could get to the grassy slope
leading up to the base of the Tapeats. From here one could walk with
ease around into the upper amphitheater. Since we had discovered the
aboriginal trail on the east, we were glad that we had done it the hard
way. We both decided that George had found a most interesting route into
a dramatic and surprisingly accessible piece of real estate.

**
*Quartermaster Canyon
[February 4, 1968 to February 5, 1968]*

Ever since Donald Davis succeeded in finding a climbing route down into
Quartermaster Canyon, I had been intending to see it too. Bill Belknap's
insistence that there is a well built trail into it further stimulated
my desire to look into these things. I also vaguely remembered that
Martin Litton included the Quartermaster Viewpoint among his tourist
attractions.

Since there might still be snow and mud along the route from Peach
Springs past the Meriwitica Canyon approach, I thought it well to follow
Davis' suggestion and come to Quartermaster via the Diamond Bar Ranch
Road. I was surprised to find the road north from route 66 towards
Pierce Ferry so smooth and fast. One could drive it as fast as any
highway if it were not for the dips that one comes on without warning.
At the end of the trip, I went along about 50 mph until one dip sent me
into a temporarily weightless orbit.

I had never been in this most interesting region. The Joshua tree forest
on the way to Temple Bar isn't as thick as the one in here. Comparisons
are dangerous, but I can't remember as impressive a stand in the Joshua
Tree National Monument. I drove nine miles out of my way to see what
there is at Meadview. This is the land of the real estate speculator.
For miles and miles in this whole area, they have bulldozed straight
lanes through the Joshua forest and surprisingly there are quite a few
people living in vacation homes and trailers off by themselves. The view
is fine, not only down to the bit of Lake Mead but also all around
towards the desert mountains. One extensive cliff south of Diamond Bar
Ranch was still well plastered with snow. Perhaps I should have taken
time to drive another ten miles and see the boating area called South Cove.

The road up canyon beyond the Diamond Bar needs care. It repeatedly
crossed the streambed and there are numerous loose rocks ready to flip
up against a fender or worse. One reaches the plateau in about nine
miles. The map of the Williams Quad is of only minor help in choosing
the right road up here. I wasn't sure whether to head for a gate through
a fence into the Indian reservation or follow a better track to the
left. After a false start, I went through the gate. I could see where
drivers had struggled with mud and snow rather recently, and I was a
little worried too. In a bit more than a mile, I came to a much wider
and well graded road going north. By the map, I knew that I should drive
south for several miles before going north to a corral, but I wanted to
see where such a fine road would lead me. One of my objectives was to
reach the Quartermaster Viewpoint, and if I could find the top of the
Guana Mile cable, so much the better. The best part of this road veered
to the west and came to an abrupt end at a well filled cattle tank.
Beyond here there are a couple of poor tracks. I followed one north and
then east into a small valley and decided that it was getting too bad
and besides that it wasn't going to give me a view anyway.

I next drove the good road in the direction of Peach Springs. It rises a
good many feet as it swings to the south and southeast along a ridge.
There are fine views in all directions. I got visual confirmation that I
was near Quartermaster from here. It seemed farther than I thought it
should be before I had a chance to turn north. Rather close to the main
road there had been a peculiar pen requiring a great many poles of all
heights. Some barbwire was still in place, and it was strung up to seven
or eight feet from the ground. A couple of tracks branched here and I
selected the one to the left. Before I had gone far enough to reach the
corral shown on the map. I become worried about the muddy condition of
the road. I also felt quite confused by the car tracks that are not
shown on the map. It was also rather late, and I had hoped to get down
into the canyon so as to sleep warmer. The idea of turning back and
sleeping somewhere by Lake Mead appealed, so I gave up on this approach.
There were even some soft spots on the main road where the snow was
still melting.

However, instead of heading back down toward Diamond Bar Ranch at once,
I decided to try again finding Quartermaster Viewpoint. This time I
diverged from the fine wide road to the right as it headed north away
from the hill. I passed another well filled cattle pond and when there
would be a fork in the track, I angled toward the open flat that went to
the northeast. This time I came clear to the end, to the plateau
immediately west of the mouth of Quartermaster. For a better view and
for pictures, I went down to the final rim. It should take only a little
over an hour to drive up here from the end of the blacktop south of
Meadview and it compares with Toroweap or any other fine viewpoint. They
ought to put up a few road signs.

Sleeping below the frost line appealed to me, and when I got down past
Diamond Bar, I began thinking of a restaurant meal. I thought I could
get to the cafe at Temple Bar by a short drive from the Pierce Ferry
Road, but I got clear to route 95 before I realized my mistake. Then I
decided to call on Bill Belknap if he was free and drove on to Boulder
City before eating. I phoned and talked to Mrs. Belknap but Bill was out
of town.

After a comfortable night at the Boulder Beach Campground, I started
back to look for the trail into Quartermaster. This time I left the car
where the narrow primitive track first meets the graded road about ten
miles from Diamond Bar Ranch. Since I was trying to locate the south arm
of Quartermaster as directly as possible, I walked southeast and kept
away from the deep washes as much as possible. I see now that it would
have been better to go out on points frequently enough to keep my
bearings. I still had to go down and up ravines. When I thought I was
about past the three forks of the west arm of Quartermaster, I did go
out on a point to look ahead. I thought I was looking at the south arm,
but now I begin to wonder whether it may not have been Jeff Canyon. I
had already crossed a valley with wheel tracks still showing where I
crossed it. The next valley was deeper and steeper walled than any of
the predecessors. Since I could find no trace of a trail here, I went up
the other side and soon came to another just as deep and steep. I
thought I could see something like a trail on the other side, but when I
got there, all seemed natural. After lunch near the end of this draw,
where one could scramble up a broken slope of a low ridge topped by
parapet only to look down a smooth straight wall for several hundred
feet. I went to the plateau again and continued east to get my bearings
by locating Jeff Canyon. There was another deep valley that came into
the same spectacular canyon. From the distance over to the next canyon
east, I am becoming more and more sure that I was looking at Jeff Canyon
all the time. The wheel tracks must lead to the south arm instead of the
south fork of the west arm. These forks and arms of Quartermaster must
be closer together than I realized. By now it was well after two o'clock
and the sky had changed from absolute clarity to a thickening overcast.
I should have brought warmer bedding and more water so that I could camp
by the car. I got back to the car a little worried about the weatherand
drove home Monday evening. It took me only two hours from where I parked
the car to reach Route 66 west of Hackberry Wash. I had seen quite a bit
of new country for me including Quartermaster Viewpoint, but I had seen
neither Belknap's trail nor Davis' route down the south fork of the west
arm of Quartermaster. Another visit is an absolute must.

I was close to four or five Gambel's quail in the junipers south of
Quartermaster and some more in the canyon leading down to the Diamond
Bar. There were also flocks of small birds, possibly vesper sparrows and
chickadees. There were lots of deer sign and occasionally I would figure
that some droppings were from bighorn sheep, but cottontails and one
jackrabbit were the only mammals sighted (plus cows).

Soon after leaving the valley with the car tracks, I came to a faint car
track contouring the hills and going in my direction. This was farther
uphill from where I had crossed in the forenoon. When it finally turned
up a ravine toward the main road, I climbed out toward the car. The rest
of my route was almost flat.

**
*Quartermaster Canyon route reconnaissance
by Donald G. Davis
[September 22, 1967 to December 23, 1967]*

I had developed an interest in visiting Quartermaster Canyon because it
appeared to have promise as the best land route to approach Bat Cave
across the Colorado, and because it seemed to be the least known of the
western Grand Canyon side gorges containing large springs. F.R. Twenter,
the author of USGS Water Supply Paper 1576 A, had analyzed the waters of
all the other large springs of the Hualapai Reservation except Warm
Spring below Toroweap, but he viewed Quartermaster Spring only from the
rim and described it as almost inaccessible. In an interview with Edwin
D. McKee at the USGS building in Denver, I learned that McKee had made a
measured section of the Redwall in a west arm of Quartermaster but
thought the formations below the Redwall would be impractical to descend
where he had been. However, he had been told by someone that a full
descent was possible, and suggested to me that I start with the east
branch, which I understood to mean Jeff Canyon.

Lower Quartermaster Canyon has a flat alluviated floor for much of its
length, similar to that of Meriwitica Canyon but narrower. Above the
spring the canyon branches, forming Quartermaster and Jeff Canyons which
are separated by a long point. Upper Quartermaster proper has in turn a
west arm and a south arm, and the west arm has a west, middle, and south
fork above the head of its main gorge. All these can be identified on
the Williams 1:250,000 sheet. In this report I apply the term fork
specifically to the upper tributaries of the west arm of upper
Quartermaster.

On my return in my pickup from South Dakota to California, I set aside a
short period for an investigation of this area. I drove in from
Hackberry by the Diamond Bar Ranch road because, while this was not the
shortest route from Flagstaff, it involved only 20 miles of really stony
road as opposed to about 40 by the Buck and Doe Road from Peach Springs.
By driving the rocky parts at walking speed, I avoided the blowouts that
plagued me when visiting the Bat Cave overlook in June.

I took the side road to the corral shown southwest of Jeff Canyon on the
map, and drove on a track beyond it to the wash junction about one mile
ESE of the corral, where I parked after driving 64 miles and three and a
half hours from the paved highway. Here I shouldered a day's supplies,
including carbide lamp and one and a half gallons of water, and started
down Jeff Canyon at 6:30 p.m. on September 22. My intent was to use my
time as efficiently as possible by walking down canyon despite
approaching darkness, until route problems or tiredness called a halt.
The former were quick to appear; within one to two miles the wash
dropped in a sheer fall over the lower half of the Redwall. Stopped
here, I decided to ascend to the point between Jeff and Quartermaster
for a comprehensive view of both canyons. Toward the SW end of this
point, near its highest part, I made camp after dark, establishing a
very comfortable bed in the duff of a live oak shrub. I discovered that
the dead century plant stalks, which abound on these Redwall plateaus,
make excellent if short lived torches. The rosette of dead leaves, held
up ablaze on the end of the stem, will illuminate a wide area for
several minutes.

Before breakfast the next day, I took a stroll to the NW side of the
point where, as almost everywhere along these rims, the Redwall cliff
drops sheer into the abyss. As the vistas expanded, this turned into an
unplanned walk to the point's outer end over a mile to the NE. Prickly
pears were ripe, and I flushed a flock of quail which were feeding on
them. Well out on the point I crossed a deposit of basaltic lava which
was not mapped in USGS Water Supply Paper 1576 A. It is now cut off from
deposits on the Hualapai Plateau, but fills a minor topographic
depression which appears to line up with a small lava exposure which
fills a shallow dissected channel directly across Quartermaster Canyon.
It seems likely that the lava flowed along a stress channel which then
extended NW SE across the course of the present Quartermaster Canyon. On
a lava slope I also found a large heap of stones, presumably an old
mescal pit, that had been built up to a height of five feet on the down
slope side.

Two caves near the end of the point could be entered only a few yards. I
was surprised to find that the point dropped off not sheerly, but in a
ragged ridge that may or may not be possible to descend into the canyon.
I reached the lowest Redwall before turning back due to growing hunger,
thirst, and lack of time. There would be route finding problems in the
Devonian limestone below, but numerous old animal tracks and beds
(probably of bighorn sheep) down to my stopping point at least suggest
the possibility of a through route. While looking from the end of the
point, I was also surprised to hear a burro bray, seemingly from the
Tonto level in lower Jeff Canyon. I wondered if they have traveled along
the Tonto from Meriwitica.

A sharp shout NW from near the end of the point would raise as many as
13 detectable, though not loud, echoes.

Directly below the dissected lava filled channel in the NW wall of
Quartermaster Canyon is a crack in the Redwall which might be a route to
the base of the formation. I could not see into its depths, however, and
there may be falls in the recesses. In my opinion the Devonian limestone
and Muav below would present problems at best, and might be completely
impractical at worst.

From the point I could not see any likely routes into Jeff Canyon, and
the south arm of upper Quartermaster was out of the question because of
a large fall in the lower Redwall. I therefore decided to take a close
look at the west arm. I broke camp about midday and left my backpack at
1:30 p.m. on a hilltop south of the head of the west arm. Descending
northward into a slowly deepening valley, I found myself in the south
fork, which entered the main gorge of the west arm a few hundred feet
east of a fall dropping from the middle fork. There was a small fall in
the bed of the south fork at the base of the Redwall, but I bypassed it
by traversing to the right and descending a broken point to the next
level. There were other falls where the bed steepened in the Devonian
limestone just below, necessitating a traverse back to the left under
the first fall and along a distinct game trail several hundred feet to
the west along a bench to a point below the fall of the middle fork.
From here it was an easy descent to the main bed of the west arm on a
talus. At this point I found the disarticulated skeleton of a bighorn
sheep among boulders in the bed.

Further descent of the bed was fairly straightforward, although slowed
by boulders and an excess of catclaw, Hackberry, and hoptree brush. At
several places falls required leaving the bed for distances up to a few
hundred feet, but satisfactory detour routes were obvious. I continued
to the area where the west arm widened at its approach to the junction
with the south arm, far enough to satisfy myself that there could be no
impassable obstacle to continued travel toward the river. I then turned
back, as late afternoon was approaching.

Before returning to the plateau, I investigated the possibility of
ascending by the west fork, which enters the west arm opposite the south
fork. I bypassed the falls in the Devonian in the west fork by a
delightfully spectacular but quite safe traverse along an exposed ledge,
only two feet wide in places, to the west of the falls. This gave access
to a bowl beneath a fall in the basal Redwall. The cliff here was only
about 15 feet high and undoubtedly climbable, but I thought it unwise to
try it un belayed, so returned the way I had come. The middle fork is
hopeless.

Bighorn sheep had been in the bowl beneath the Redwall fall in the west
fork, but it was not clear to me how they reached it. The narrow ledge I
traversed showed no signs of traffic, and I had to break down two
catclaws and a prickly pear bush to travel it. There was a larger ledge
just above, but this had a break which, for me at least, was impassable.
Neither was I able to decide where McKee would have been likely to take
his measured section. I had supposed he might have descended the west
fork, but he did not mention encountering anything tricky in reaching
the very base of the Redwall. If, on the other hand, he used the south
fork, he should not have found it particularly difficult to continue on
below the Redwall.

At 5:45 p.m. I reclaimed my backpack and was back to the truck by 6:30.
On a future trip I would park closer to the south fork by going out a
faint track which leaves the main track one quarter mile north of a
fence corner west of the stock dam north of the corral, and goes north
up a gentle grassy valley to a divide. From here this track should be
drivable at least a few hundred yards further north down another gentle
grassy valley which is tributary to the south arm of Quartermaster. To
reach the south fork of the west arm, it is necessary to go NW on foot
across another divide.

This dam pond was dry and I found no springs, but thundershowers on both
afternoons were enough to replenish little water pockets in the canyon
beds, though not sufficient to set any falls running. A flood while in
the canyons would possibly strand one for a while by blocking crucial
spots on the route, but to be trapped and swept away would be unlikely.

Aside from the rather unpromising crack in the NW wall of Quartermaster
Canyon and the untested possibility of descending from the Quartermaster
Jeff Point, the route down the south fork of the west arm of
Quartermaster is the only way I found into this canyon system. Since
this latter route was not visible from the inter canyon point, it is
possible that there may be other routes I did not see perhaps in the
east tributaries of Jeff Canyon but the places where such possibilities
exist are quite limited.

In spite of the vast extent of Redwall Limestone exposures in the
Hualapai country, I found far fewer cave openings in the Redwall here
than in many sections of the eastern Grand Canyon. Those I have found
and entered have been open only as far as the fill has been able to
slide out. Several such holes are conspicuous NE of the debauchment of
the south fork into the west arm of Quartermaster. In checking these I
found a striped skunk in a crawlway, but did not press the acquaintance.
There are more openings in the Devonian and Muav limestone in the west
arm than there are in the Redwall, but most are inaccessible.
(Quartermaster Trail on the east side of the south arm!)

**
*Quartermaster Canyon
[February 17, 1968 to February 18, 1968]*

Chuck Johnson and I left town Friday evening and slept where the Diamond
Bar Ranch road leaves the Pierce Ferry road. It was just right in my
winter weight bag. We got away before seven and ate breakfast in the car
where the Diamond Bar road meets the Buck and Doe Road from Peach
Springs. We also parked the car here and walked to catch the trace of a
road to the southeast by skirting the base of the higher hills to the
south. This took us to a track that came down a steep grade and
continued north into the south arm valley of Quartermaster. This is the
only valley along here that has a car track, so we presumed that this is
evidence of the trail Bill Belknap had announced down from the east side
of the south arm of the canyon. I remembered that his pictures indicated
the trailhead as not being at the bottom of the draw where it meets the
vertical cliff, but we checked this jumping off place anyway. (Just
below the real trail, up to the east.)

Next we climbed out of the draw to the east and went over one hump after
the other. We could see that the upper part of this rim is more broken
and sloping than at other places and that there are numerous benches
breaking the Redwall and Devonian limestone below, but even though we
descended to a level even with the end of the draw, we couldn't locate
anything resembling a trail. Although we could have gone down a chute to
a level a little lower, we were convinced that there was a continuous
drop below this next level down. Since we had checked the rim for at
least a quarter of a mile north of the draw and had noted that it was
becoming more impassable ahead in the sense that we couldn't descend at
all, we reluctantly abandoned the search for the Belknap Trail. I would
like someone to take me back there and rub my nose in it, but as of now,
I am unconvinced that there is any such trail down from the east side of
the south arm of Quartermaster. A bit of counter evidence was an old
five gallon can we found on the way back along the top of the plateau.

After 45 minutes of fruitless search, we gave up and went over into the
south fork of the west arm of Quartermaster where Davis had found a
practical descent. On the climb out of the draw, I dislodged a 300 pound
rock and scraped a shin as I fell over it. Chuck found a swallow tail
butterfly that was still wet and unable to fly. It had little chance of
survival on this overcast day with rain threatening. We bypassed one
small crease in the rim and soon were going down a draw leading to the
south fork of the west arm. We ate lunch where it dropped over the small
fall. The bighorn skeleton noted by Davis was still there. I remembered
Donald's instructions by heart, but I think we would have done the same
thing that he suggested anyway. It was a simple walk down just around
the point to the right, and we soon discovered that we were on something
better than an ordinary deer trail as we went to the west toward the
base of the fall from the middle fork. After getting down the scree on
this side, we dodged the rough going in the bed by going along the slope
to the left. About the time Chuck called my attention to a pothole
filled with green water below the fall from the west fork of this arm, I
noticed that we were again on quite a good trail. Where this ended, I
cut down a short scree slope and found a pick and shovel below a large
boulder. While chuck was holding them for a picture, he saw an initial
on the pick handle, either a P or a D. the trail seemed to be
obliterated before it reached the pothole, but I concluded that it had
been built that far to water stock. We saw a few deer tracks in the mud
between the big rocks of the steep bed through the Devonian limestone
section, but there were no further indications of a trail. There were no
difficulties whose solutions were not immediately obvious, as Davis had
noted, but the going down the steep and narrow defile was slow and
required caution. It is one of the most awe inspiring canyons I have
ever seen with many pinnacles and mammoth Indian clubs standing on
theirsmall ends. Fresh looking rockfalls add to the feeling of
insecurity. It would be no place for a large group of varied
backgrounds. I can imagine Donald's sense of relief when he saw that he
was coming to the junction with the south arm where the canyon opens up
and there is no longer a chance of finding an impassable barrier. I am
also amazed at his luck in finding himself in the south fork of the west
arm. It seems to be the only place for a descent in this large double
canyon. It took us just under two hours to get from the end of the
ravine in the plateau to the junction with the south arm and less than
two more hours to reach the spring.

A few hundred yards north of where the west arm meets the south arm
there are many holes in the dark brown rock. Most of these caves are
inaccessible, but one was at the top of a short talus. When I inspected
it, I found one petroglyph and several poorly rendered pictographs in
bright red clay. An unusual feature was bosses of the wall smeared with
the red pigment as though someone had tried to erase some of the
pictures with water. After I photographed these on the return trip, we
climbed to a higher cave across the valley. Here we found several very
meager drips, the only water besides some temporary rainpools between
the plunge pool beneath the west fork fall and the spring. There were
numerous nondescript charcoal markings on the wall here and some cuts as
by a knife point. One bit of modern writing gave a peculiar name with
the address of Valentine, Arizona. No date was shown.

The broad valley from here on was remarkable for the broad area
devastated by flood strewn boulders. There is some forage, however,
because we saw seven burros and a fair amount of deer and bighorn signs.
There were sparse groves of crucifixion thorn on the slopes and a good
deal of Mormon tea. We heard a few birds along here.

The walk from the junction with Jeff Canyon took less than an hour. The
spring doesn't show from very far up canyon because of a slight bend.
The smooth cone of bare yellow travertine is the most obvious sign that
it is ahead. The spring now comes out on the south side of the bare half
cone, and this area is dense with primulas and shrubbery. The burros
have trampled a clearing where we decided to camp. It was 4:20 p.m. when
we arrived and after a few minutes we started on to the river with our
packs. The broad flat travertine terrace north of the broad sloping bare
apron at the spring was most interesting. Here one finds a barb wire
corral, a piece of window screen, and also evidence of more ancient use.
Diverging travertine lined channels meander over quite an area where
there was an aboriginal irrigation system. These were probably cut in
the soil, but now they stand up about a foot above the level of the
nearby bare rock. Over to the east side of this terrace there must be
some moisture in the ground because the thickets are still verdant. At
the north edge of the large terrace we could see a little of the river
and got a view of the fall directly below and to the west. We could hear
the water gurgle near the bottom, but the bed above the trail was dry.
We could also see four small shelter caves about halfway from the fall
to the river on the left just above the bed. Belknap had marked a
picture to locate Aleson's home about here, so I wanted to see it.

We went down the travertine to the brink of the fall and found a good
trail up the other side. When we left the trail we were able to walk
down a slope just to the north of the caves. The largest and lowest one
had a number of empty cans in it and two full ones. The new looking one
was filled with a fluid and labeled Pyrene. From here I climbed above
the jungle along the slope out to the river and took some pictures in
the fading light from the granite ledges west of the mouth. After
climbing up a small ravine I followed the trail back to the wash above
the fall and continued along the bed to the campsite. The night was too
warm for comfort in my down bag, and I had to keep my jacket over my
head all night to baffle the mosquitoes.

We took about seven and a half hours to get back to the car, but we
spent 20 minutes inspecting the shelter caves north of the mouth of the
west arm, and we used 45 minutes for lunch and over an hour to reach the
car after getting to the plateau. We had a disturbing experience when we
got to the area of the final ascent. I didn't recognize the fall from
the middle fork because I had remembered it as being closer to the south
fork. Both of us thought the area was completely different from what we
had come down. After some minutes spent in the scree directly under the
south fork end, we decided to go back down the canyon and study our
footprints of the day before. It was a most uncomfortable feeling to
think that perhaps we had found an arm that was altogether different
from where we had come down. We happened to see a slight trail a few
yards above where we were walking and went up to it. Then both of us
recognized the plunge pool of green water beneath the mouth of the west
fork. If we had gone lower than this slight trail when we were almost to
its end, we would have wasted at least another half hour and would have
had a lot more of the most unsettling feeling a person in the wilderness
can have, being completely disoriented. We both felt stupid when we
realized that if we had gone only 50 yards closer to the cliff below the
fall at the middle fork, we would have recognized the scree slope used
for the descent. We felt helpless for only 20 minutes, but we had a bad
time for that interval. We took a chance on the Buck and Doe road to
Peach Springs and found it safe to drive although rutty from a recent
soft state.

We both felt that it had been a most rewarding trip and that
Quartermaster Tanks with the best for interest and grandeur. It would
have taken me days to locate Donald's route down, but with his
information I had logged another descent from the rim to the river.
Perhaps I am exaggerating the time I would have needed to find his
route. The attack should have been to go out on the various points that
separate the arms and forks and study the rim. I probably should have
closed in on this route after a solid day of walking.

**
*Quartermaster Trail
[March 3, 1968]*

After two failing attempts to locate the trail and some further study of
Belknap's pictures with the trail penciled in, I felt sure I could walk
right to it. Donald Davis had loaned me his copies of the pictures, so
to make doubly sure I would be on the beam this time, I carried them along.

Although I had gone to bed about midnight after hosting a bridge party,
I was up about five and was driving away by 5:30 a.m. It took a bit over
two hours to reach the Buck and Doe road west of Peach Springs and by
9:30 a.m. I was parked where the Diamond Bar Ranch road joins the wider
one. It required 72 minutes to walk southeast to join the faint track
contouring the north slopes of the hills and reach the road end where
the upper valley drops off into the south arm of Quartermaster. This
time I noted where one could get into the area by car from the
southeast. There is a good track coming down the main valley. It must
connect with the turnoff nine miles back from my parking. There were
fresh tracks of a power wagon along here, and where Bill marked the
trail as starting up out of the valley at road's end, the four wheel
drive had broken a new track up towards the Jeff Canyon drainage.

I had decided that Chuck and I had passed by the trail and had gone too
far north along the rim, and upon pulling out Bill's picture on the
spot, I saw that this was correct. On my first visit four weeks earlier
I had actually seen a bit of the upper part of the trail and had gone
down it a few yards. I hadn't noticed where it switched and had missed
the goal. Chuck and I had gone to the end of the streambed above the
cliff and had thus been within pebble tossing distance of the place
where the trail goes around to the ledge along the north south cliff
face. As Bill says, it is a sneaky trail that doesn't seem to have a
future, but when one rounds the corner out over space, he sees that the
ledge is very adequate even though it is below a straight wall with
something like an 800 foot wall below. Some of the purple prose that
Ives wasted on the route to Supai might really apply here except that
the width of the ledge gives plenty of assurance of safety. After a few
yards of hugging the upper cliff, the trail continues down to the north
by switching down a grassy slope and then comes to another narrow ledge
just before it goes down a long talus to the bed of the valley. The
ledge, just before it gets onto the talus, was widened with steel rods
and juniper trunks. There is an old gate here, but it is so ruined that
it would break up before one could swing it shut.

One wonders how much use this trail gets now. There are some rockslides
over it and many catclaws and other bushes at various places. I think
one could still lead a horse along it, however. At the bed of the wash
below, it crosses to the west. When that side becomes rough, it goes
back to the east, but finally one just follows the bed in the middle
except locally where the burros have made a better trail. In the present
state of the trail, one needs to watch his footing, but he can make much
better time than he can coming down the west arm. I had intended to turn
around when I came to the junction with the west arm, but while I was
concentrating on finding the best path, I passed it by. I was halfway
between the junction with the west arm and the junction with Jeff before
I realized this. At the rate I was going, 100 minutes from the rim to my
turnaround, I believe I could have gone from the rim down to the spring
in three and a half hours.

On the return after lunch, I climbed up to the west a little to the
north of the shelter cave and verified that Chuck Johnson had correctly
interpreted a huge pile of small fragments as a mescal pit. Even with
time out for pictures, I went back to the rim in two hours. I would say
that I kept to the trail more than 95% of the way. Near the very top, I
saw something on the trail that I had missed on the descent, a very
fresh looking cigarette. The power wagon tracks may be connected with
several new survey markers spotted around the plateau. Another
observation I made on the return to the car was an inscription on a slab
of limestone in the middle of the faint car track near the fence. It was
the date 1935 with initials RDL, I believe and two more letters, Ut.

It was 5:00 p.m. when I reached the car, but I went to the old tram
anchorage above Bat Cave.

**
*Letter from Donald Davis
[February 26, 1968]*

14573 Cortina Drive
La Mirada, Calif. 90638
Feb. 26, 1968

Dear Harvey,

If I missed Belknap's QM Trail, I am at least in good company now. It
looks as if the only way to satisfy ourselves about it will be to go
there with the photographs in hand, which I intend to do on my way east
in spring, if not before. If you decide to try it again first, let me
know and I'll send you the pictures to take with you. On second thought,
I assume yours will be ready for comparison soon, so I'll just send them
on to you now.

You improved on my observations in finding that my route had artificial
improvements. I had not seen the pick & shovel and had assumed that the
obvious sections of trail were just unusually well defined game trails.
In referring to the obstacles to ascend in the west fork, I presume you
had in mind the cliffs of Devonian limestone immediately above the green
pothole. The way around these into the little amphitheater above, at the
base of the Redwall, is quite interesting. From the vicinity of the
pothole you go on back up the middle fork until you can reach the base
of the Redwall. From there two ledges switch back around the angle
separating this from the west fork. The upper is broken down at one
point and impassable, but the lower can be traversed all the way around,
though it is only three feet wide or so in places and I had to break
down catclaw and a prickly pear bush to get by. This is fun and rather
reminiscent of the traverse at the top of the Redwall climb out of upper
Phantom Canyon toward Shiva. Once in the bowl at the top of the Devonian
in the west fork, however, you are faced with about a 15 foot ascent of
a dry fall at the base of the Redwall. This is undoubtedly climbable,
but sufficiently polished that I judged it advisable not to try without
a belay. I doubt if there are any impassable obstacles above that, but
there could be a surprise.

The route up the Jeff QM point, if possible at all, will be intricate
and challenging. One thing that makes me think it may go is the
concentration of sheep (?) tracks where it begins to drop off at the top.

It sometimes pays to watch late night television. On the 23rd I saw the
last part of a 1959 Western whodunit, Edge of Eternity, which was filmed
in Kingman and its environs. This ends with the murderer villain driving
to the guano tram terminal and making the attendant lower him and his
girl hostage toward the cave in the bucket. The hero, a Mohave Co.
sheriff's deputy, jumps on the departing bucket and the showdown fight
is staged out over the canyon, ending predictably with the villain
loosing his grip and shrieking as he drops into the abyss. The tram in
operation was more impressive than its ruins suggest. The bucket,
suitably decorated with a bat symbol and the U.S. Guano name, looked
bigger than an automobile. This is the only feature movie with a Grand
Canyon setting I have ever heard of, and my own background with the tram
and the Mohave County Sheriff's office lent it great interest for me. It
was pretty well done for its type.

Dock seems to be under the impression that George Beck didn't enter the
cave on his recent boat trip.

I knew that George had the Box 83 address two years ago, but wasn't sure
he would still use it now, and guessed the quickest way to reach him
would be to write in care of the place he was staying. I seem to have
been mistaken in this.

If you are getting Summit, would you check the last month or two and the
upcoming issues for articles by John Vincent Hoeman? He is my old
climbing friend, now in Alaska, and he told me a major article of his
was in the works, but did not say in what issue.

Yours,

Donald

**
*Mohawk Canyon
[March 16, 1968 to March 17, 1968]*

Jorgen Visbak drove most of the night after a meeting of the Explorers
Club in Palm Springs and met me at the cafe in Peach Springs. After he
had had breakfast we got away in my car about 9:15 a.m. I remembered
Allyn Cureton's instructions about which turnoff from the Supai road to
take. It is less than five miles beyond Frazier Well and bears a sign
naming about a dozen tanks, the farthest one being 20 miles away. As we
learned later, this road now goes quite a bit farther. Allyn had driven
to its end and had told me that he had been able to see Vulcan's Throne
on the Toroweap side as well as Prospect Valley on the south side. We
found that the road turning to Mohawk Canyon is about nine and a half
miles from the Supai road. One needs to slow down and exercise caution
when driving it in a passenger car, but it is better than the track into
National Canyon. There is one quite steep but short grade (this has been
removed in use again 6/9/76) on the return that required low gear and a
charge, but calling it a Jeep road is a slight injustice. The valley one
drives down is quite similar to that at the head of National with much
sage brush and some interesting erosional features, spiky towers in
crumbling Kaibab Limestone and some bare talus slopes formed by
limestone slides. Near the end of the road there is a shack, a corral,
and a horse trough formed by cutting one side from an airplane wing
tank. At the very end there is a similar manage with the same type of
horse trough. No pipe leads to these troughs, but a piece of garden hose
hanging over a fence indicates to me that water is trucked in and
siphoned into the trough. There was some rather clean water in the
trough at the very end of the road.

Mohawk and National are twin canyons except that Mohawk is the easier
one to reach and to travel through. The trail is better from the start.
Only a few minutes walk from the car we saw a large shelter cave in the
Toroweap Formation that had smoke blackened walls and ceiling. It was a
twin for the one in National except that we saw no evidence of
prehistoric occupation. There were many more initials and some dates
scratched in the blackened surface of the rock than I had seen in the
National Canyon shelter. The earliest date was 1895 but most of the use
seemed to be in the 30's and 50's. This shelter cave is on the west side
just above the Coconino. There is a steep spur trail leading down to a
deep pothole at the top of the Coconino, a convenience for camping that
I didn't see in National. The water seemed green with algae, but I
didn't go down to see whether the color was due to scum. A short walk
beyond the cave along the top of the Coconino leads to an overgrown
talus where the trail descends in easy switchbacks. Just north of this
descent is a well constructed and maintained fence where we had to untie
a rope to let ourselves through a gate.

The bed is not as rugged with large rockfalls as it is in National.
There is some sort of trail along one side or the other, but we stayed
in the bed much of the time. However, when I saw a well built trail
leading up out of the bed to the west, I thought of the spring at the
base of the Coconino in National. We had just a little trouble following
this trail and carelessly missed it once getting too high. Finally it
came up to the base of the Coconino and in the recess in the Hermit
Shale was a spring. Here no one has hollowed out a basin, and the pool
was very shallow and only about as broad as a card table. There were
plenty of cattle hoof prints and the place seemed a bit unsanitary for
dipping water out of the pool. The flow at this time was a constant
trickle from the rock above falling free of the wall, so Jorgen put a
pan under the best spot and had plenty to drink in 15 minutes. We ate
lunch here and were able to start on with our original supply unused.
Jorgen was carrying one and a half gallons and I had two gallons since
we didn't think that there would be any where we would stop for the
night. There was even a good trail down from the spring to the bed of
the canyon.

The Williams Quad map had helped us get the right start, but the Grand
Canyon Quad is on too small a scale to be of much help in locating the
hiker in the canyon. The National Canyon Quad doesn't show the upper
part of Mohawk, so we had trouble telling what kind of progress we were
making. When we were three hours walking time from our car, we came to a
place where the canyon widens with big scallops in the east rim. On the
west, the largest side tributary comes in, and a cowpath seems to go up
into it. In ten minutes we had passed a small seep and then had come to
some fairly deep potholes that may hold water permanently. Immediately
beyond there is a high impassable fall unless one were to find a long
bypass from lower in the side canyon. A definite trail went to the north
at the mouth of this tributary, and Jorgen and I wondered whether it
might go around the barrier and then up to the rim to the west.

The only actual route in, north of the trail, at the head was a break on
the east side just north of the spring only an hour's walk from the
head. There is no close approach by road to the rim here, so there would
be no advantage in using it.

The stream terraces of soil and gravel remain surprisingly broad even in
the lower Supai. We stopped to make camp about where the National Quad
map shows the letter a in Mohawk. While Jorgen gathered firewood and
made himself comfortable, I hurried on without a pack. I got down into
the Redwall before I figured I should keep my word and return by 6
o'clock. At the ravine in the Supai just before the Redwall gorge
begins, I saw a wet streak on the face of the fall on the east side, but
I had no time to go up and check for water holes. If the walking
continues as easy down through the lower formations clear to the river,
I think that I could get to it in two more hours of walking (more like
four hours). Thus I feel that I might reach the river from the car in
seven and a half hours.

Besides four horses and a number of cows, all quite thin and agile,
Jorgen and I saw a buck and a doe in the lower Supai. He also got a
glimpse of a small animal something like a badger. There were also
numerous birds. The scenery was similar to that in National and upper
Havasu, at least in the upper part where we were.

We reached the car by 1:40 p.m. and had time to explore by car out to
the end of the road. There were very few choices, but toward the end we
aimed north and slightly to the west. A lot of miles of water piping
have been laid to big metal tanks for watering cattle. Huge bulldozers
have been used to throw up large clay dams and many of these reservoirs
now hold water. We followed the best road northwest from the last large
and recently constructed reservoir and soon came out to the end above
Prospect Valley. The Uinkaret Mountains loomed large to the northwest.
The cinder hills and slides into Prospect Canyon were just below. We had
a perfect view of Vulcan's Throne and the head of the trail going down
to the river on the north side. The headland nearby to the north cut off
our view farther to the right than the Throne. We could see a great deal
to the west and northwest including the valleys of Whitmore and
Parashant. Mount Dellenbaugh showed to the west.

Much of the forest on this high ground between Mohawk and Prospect has
been burned over, probably to help the grass, and from the road near the
end of the line we had fine views of the San Francisco Peaks and of park
features as far away as Cape Royal and Wotan's Throne. We found a track
leading still farther north but the sage even in the middle of the dim
road was only partially broken down. I declined to risk the road hazards
along here, but even then I found that oil was leaking rather rapidly on
my way out to the highway. I got home by using the ten quarts I had
brought and also getting some more along the way.

One difference between Mohawk and the other canyons I have been visiting
recently is that there is a ponderosa pine forest along the high hills
at the head of Mohawk.

**
*Aztec Amphitheater
[April 11, 1968 to April 14, 1968]*

This trip was planned to settle once and for all whether one can go up
the Redwall from the river one half mile south of the mouth of Fossil
Creek. A secondary objective was to use rope to get off the terrace east
of Elves. Jorgen Visbak and Chuck Johnson had been planning to go with
me for weeks, and then in the last ten days beforehand Clarence (Doc)
Ellis was invited and accepted the plan. He is a 29 year old gun smith
from Sierra Madre near Pasadena and he is experienced in search and
rescue operations.

Chuck and I reached the airport shortly before Doc got there in his
Jeep. We went to the Visitors Center for a few minutes and then returned
to the airport where we found Doc. Jorgen's plane was a bit late and
then we went to the cafeteria before starting out the Topocoba Hilltop
road. It took about 90 minutes to drive in my 55 ford to the park
boundary sign about six miles beyond the crossroad where one turns north
to the Bass Trail. When Jorgen had changed to his hiking clothes and had
organized his pack, we were leaving the car about 3:50 p.m.

We could see where the sun should be although it was behind a cloud most
of the time and Chuck had a compass. We hit the rim about where we had
figured and then went back to higher ground for better walking. With our
heavy packs containing supplies for six days, we thought that 95 minutes
to the trailhead was not too bad. We passed the pit where I had spent a
cold night in comfort by a fire and could still see my pile of unused
firewood. Some of the trail along the west side of Apache Point seemed
harder to follow this time, but the switchbacks through the Coconino on
the east side seemed no worse. We noted the shovel along the trail near
the bottom of the Coconino.

It had been four years since I had been along here and this time I had
not paused to study the lay of the land from the rim above. I had been
so complaisant about my memory that I had neither reread my logs nor
transcribed my route discoveries to the piece of map I was carrying.
Along the Esplanade I immediately began to realize that this had been a
mistake. I was unsure about which promontory was the short and best
route to the Redwall rim. I had been thinking that we would get down to
the Redwall rim by daylight and then use moonlight if necessary to go to
the head of the Redwall gorge in Royal Arch Creek and then camp by a
rainpool in the creekbed. It was a good thing that Doc was along. He saw
a pothole of rainwater about 100 yards below the trail before we had
come to the promontory I had descended before. It was 6:50 p.m. so we
were all ready to camp. The water was in quite a hole on the top of a
fallen rock with only a few square yards of runoff area. One usually
looks for water in the bedrock in the center of a wash, but this was up
to the south of the bed. I would have missed this completely. I don't
know whether there was water here the other four times I walked this
route. The water was several inches deep.

In the morning, after I had been a poor guide by leading the group down
from the trail and then admitting that I couldn't remember the better
route, we went back up to the trail and proceeded south. Now I felt
unsure about how I had done this in 1960, but we saw the water holes and
could start down here. I wouldn't swear that we followed the same route
I had used, but the general outline was the same, down until a cliff
barred the way and then to the south around various points. Doc came to
our aid and found a crack behind a big rock where we could chimney down
the hardest cliff. We had to remove the packs for this, but there was no
trouble in handing them down. I should have remembered this difficulty
if I had gone down here solo. A little lower we rounded the last point
and could see our way clear to the bottom although I didn't like the
narrow ledge we were on to get below a fall over to the other side where
burro trails continued to the bottom. I had the unpleasant feeling
through most of this rough going that I have lost self confidence badly
during the last few years. The three younger men were taking to it
better than I.

We had seen occasional tracks of hikers and I was glad I knew who they
were, Hildreth and Fulton. In the bed of Royal Arch Creek we found the
tracks most of the time. The hard places seemed a little harder than
they had four years ago. The bed was drier than I had ever seen it and I
am sure I had seen rain pools higher on the other occasions. I missed
the angle where we should have left our packs since we just wanted to go
down and see the bridge before going out on the terrace east of Elves.
When we came to the spring, we dropped our packs and proceeded with just
our cameras. I took off my shoes and socks and waded through the first
pool while Chuck got around with the help of a stepping stone. I believe
Doc climbed around everything. A little farther we could see where
Hildreth and Fulton had waded with their shoes on since the tracks were
still clear in the mud covering the rock bottom. I still had my shoes
off so I waded while Doc got around the corner holding to slight
projections. Chuck was able to do this too, but I knew I would take a
fall if I tried this. When we returned from seeing the bridge, Jorgen
followed my example and climbed on a rock from which we could jump about
six feet over and down three and a half feet to a rock ledge. I should
have been warned by the impact not to do this again. Jorgen was
fascinated by the bridge and the flowery pools along the little creek.
This time I looked up from just south of Royal Arch and saw my suspected
keyhole bridge up near the rim of the Redwall to the east. I had been
right. I could see sky through it.

When we climbed out of the bed to follow the bench to the east terrace,
I went a little farther south than we needed to and led the group up to
the base of the cliff. Walking was fair along here, but it got worse and
we found a better trail lower on the return. I know that I had used the
lower route before. Jorgen found a way down to the streambed that
avoided the exposed clay area near the south end of the lower route that
had bothered me before.

We went by the benchmark on the terrace and took some pictures. Not far
east of this cairn, Doc called our attention to two or three Indian
ruins. One still showed its rectangular shape and the walls are still
two or more rocks high. We wondered whether the occupation was made easy
by springs along this terrace. In quite a few places travertine is
visible, making us wonder whether they were wet at the time of
occupation. We soon reached the place for the logical descent. In my
previous notes, I had blithely said that two 15 foot ropes would make it
possible, but now it looked entirely different. I must have been
abnormally chicken since at first I was afraid to go down to the ledge
just above the straight drop. The way down here is really safe, and we
found the rope and note left by Hildreth and Fulton. One interesting
feature of this place is that on the platform about two thirds of the
way to the safe landing below, there are three driftwood poles and a
small pile of rocks. We wondered whether the Indians could have
constructed some sort of ladder here. Someone had at least come up from
below that far for the poles would not have occurred there naturally.

The unsettling part of this rope descent is the need to tie the rope
around a rock resting on the ledge just at the right place. However, it
is about 2 by 2 by 3 feet in volume. Chuck and Doc couldn't budge it,
but they couldn't help thinking of consequences if the rope with a man
below should loosen it. I would now say that the drop from here to the
platform is 25 to 30 feet and the drop below is about 15 feet (after
making the descent, I figure it is a little less than 20 feet). We could
have used Doc's 100 foot nylon for the top and the hemp rope left by
Hildreth and Fulton for the lower place (no rope needed). I made a fuss
about the danger so we turned back. At Jorgen's suggestion, we went
downstream again and camped right under the bridge. High water had
deposited a great deal of driftwood on the ledges where we camped. Our
bags were just right for the temperature of the night, and if it had
rained we could have all slept under the bridge. The moon first cast an
eerie glow on the cliff to the west of Elves, but then the sky became
dark from the total eclipse which was invisible from our position. We
slept late in the morning. I could think of some secondary projects if
we would go back to the car, but Jorgen particularly enjoyed being down
in this locality. Since my guiding and nerve had already been so poor, I
was ready to turn over the planning to anyone else. After ten o'clock,
Chuck and Doc talked us into going back to the descent site on the
terrace and get down by making a rope ladder. Doc had done this before
by tying knots in the doubled rope with slack in one of the strands to
preserve a loop that doesn't grip the foot and hold it. We had made up
our minds to trust the size and weight of the rock anchor.

However, just a few minutes walk from the bridge when we came to the
pool that is hard to pass unless one wades, I jumped for the second and
last time. My heels hit the uneven rock first and I rolled over in pain
realizing that I had hurt myself fairly badly. Still Jorgen jumped the
same place and did all right. Doc and Jorgen helped me back to camp by
letting me swing my worst right foot free and just touch the not so bad
left foot to the ground. At the rougher places I got down and crawled
although my left knee had been skinned in a careless fall the previous
day. I lay on my air mattress the rest of the time I was there. After a
little discussion about procedures, Chuck ate a quick lunch and started
to bring me a helicopter. We figured that he would be able to get to the
water we had seen where we first left the Esplanade trail, go on the
next day and possibly bring the chopper by four on Easter Sunday.

After Jorgen and Doc had given me a chance for some lunch, which I
declined since I felt so lousy, they took quite a trip out on the
terrace west of Elves. I believe they said they got up the second side
canyon south of the bridge. When they had been gone quite a while, they
shouted to me from the edge of the cliff south of the bridge. They
reported that there is no way off that terrace to the river unless the
shelf continues around into the next notch canyon to the west. If it
does, they would have reached a talus. Here is an objective for my
flying friend, Bill Martin.

On Sunday we took our time getting up. Finally, Doc and Jorgen went up
and knocked down a bush that might bother the chopper in landing at the
platform just east of the top of the bridge. If the pilot had decided
that there was too much risk in landing there, a crew would have had to
lash me in a basket litter and take me up the creek, along the bighorn
trail, and out on the terrace east of Elves.

While Doc was killing time near the bridge, he found an imposing set of
ram's horns still fastened to the skull. It was quite old, but we could
tell from numerous fresh tracks that they are still around. There were a
few burros left up on the Esplanade and on the terraces down to the
Redwall rim, but we saw no burro tracks down in the creekbed below the
bad spots nor out on the terraces near the river.

Just as we were thinking about our lunch we heard a noise and soon the
chopper was coming in our narrow gorge between the spire and the wall to
land at the chosen spot east of the top of the bridge. The pilot stayed
in the machine with the blade going. If he had felt a gust of wind,
perhaps he could have given it full power in time to avert a fatal
accident, but there was no wind at all. Jorgen helped me get my
belongings into my pack and soon Doc and Ranger Malcom Nicholson were
helping me up the rough climb to the chopper. On the steepest and
loosest part, I crawled on hands and sore knees, but Nicholson piggy
backed me up some very tiring parts. His help must have saved a good
many dollars in chopper time. Chuck got his pack off the chopper and got
mine on below the bubble and very soon we were off. Chuck had surprised
us all by continuing Saturday afternoon past both water supplies and
camping up on the rim at Apache Point. This accounted for the
unexpectedly early arrival of the chopper.

My feet were not giving me much pain and I thoroughly enjoyed the trip
back. Browning, the young pilot, would fly quite near the cliffs where
he could get a lift from the warm air rising. He turned in Garnet Canyon
although he was far from high enough to cross the Esplanade. By the time
we came to the high place, he had enough altitude. I imagine that a
helicopter pilot can turn fast enough not to crash a cliff even if he
has estimated his rise incorrectly. I took the rest of the pix on my
roll as we went along Serpentine Canyon. I began to wish I had memorized
the map better after that. I believe I saw another place to descend from
the Tonto to the river. It wouldn't hurt to study the stretch from
Boucher to Bass and learn all the ways down.

Ranger Harold Timmons was waiting for us with an official ambulance and
I was taken to the hospital for a check. The doctor made me promise to
get X rays and see McDonald when I reached Flagstaff. Betty and Roger
Field drove Roma to the canyon to get me. After I had bathed and shaved,
Roma took me to the Flagstaff hospital. The X ray pix showed that I had
quite a wide split in my right heel bone. As I write this, I still can't
put much weight on my better ankle so I have to crawl (wheel chair for
two weeks, crutches for two weeks, then a cane).

**
*Havasupai, Manakacha, and Enfilade Points
[June 18, 1968 to June 19, 1968]*

The party from National Geographic, Joe Judge, Toppy and Mary Edwards,
planned a photographic trip to the western part of the park and when Joe
was here in Flagstaff on Monday he invited me to go along. Jim Baily was
the driver and we learned that he really knows the area.

We traveled in a Dodge three seater like a travel all put out by
International. However, this vehicle had only rear wheel drive but four
speeds forward. Jim got us over the bad places very carefully. It would
give him fits to see how much faster Jay Hunt would have driven that
road. Even I take it faster in my passenger car, but Jim gave us a fine
smooth ride and we felt that he knew how to keep from spiking the gas
tank or the oil pan on a rock. We went out along the Telephone Line road
to Pasture Wash Ranger Station and then to Signal Hill Fire Tower.

Several hundred yards past Signal Hill, where a plastic ribbon is tied
around a tree limb, Jim stopped and showed us a rather well preserved
ruin very close to the road, just a few yards to the west. Then he led
us to the rim just east of the road. Under an overhang just south and
below where we stood was a small ruin which probably served as a storage
bin. We also had a fine view of the river from here and could look down
Ruby. I am rather sure that Ruby offers access from the Tonto to the
river. Havasupai Point gave us a rather precariously tilted approach
road and a fine view at the end. However, Toppy said later that it is
not as good for the photographer as Enfilade.

On the way to Manakacha Point we stopped above Forester. Jim combed the
area below with his glasses and showed us where on a previous occasion
he had picked out six bighorns. After the fork, when we were headed west
to Manakacha, Jim pointed out an old air strip that is now overgrown
with young sage brush. It must have been used at the time the mining
company was thinking about installing a cable tramway from Manakacha
down to Supai. We also stopped along the rim about a half mile east of
the end of the road. Jim showed us an old rotted wood ladder lying on a
narrow bench below the top cliff. We couldn't explain this at all. I
wonder whether someone hoped to drag it down to where we had found the
route down through the Coconino with the ten foot break in it. However,
this ladder would have been longer than necessary. I didn't see where
along the rim near here one could get down through the upper cliffs
without a rope, but I knew that this is possible because Doug Shough and
others have done it since the day that I went ahead and found the ramp
through the Coconino. The rest of our party allowed me a little time
here and I went along the rim to the west and found the right place
about 150 yards west of the broken ladder. From Manakacha we could see
the fields of Supai, but the main part of the settlement is out of sight
under the east cliff. I pointed out the Wescogame Point descent route to
Jim.

We returned to the fork and drove about a half mile north to where Jim
had tied a plastic ribbon on a tree limb to camp. From here a 15 minute
walk due east gets one to the Enfilade ruin. Toppy and I went over to it
while the rest were preparing dinner and we made several trips on
Wednesday morning. Jim showed me a fine storage cist under the main rim
opposite the north end of the citadel. It held a note signed (1966) by
R. C. Euler, Larry Powers, and the chopper pilot Wayne Learner, and
perhaps one more. Jim had found this in 1961. There were also some signs
of construction at the top of the talus below the citadel itself.

I found that I could still climb down and up the chimney facing the
mainland towards the north end of the citadel. Jim and I were the only
members of the party to get on top, but Joe scrambled all over the area
between the citadel and the main rim.

Jim gave me a lot of other information of interest, such as the fact
that they killed burros from the air, but only by rifle, and that the
juniper clearance has been stopped as not accomplishing the purpose. It
seems that sage brush comes in faster than grass, and the junipers come
back thicker than before. He also told us about a drowning or two at
Havasu Creek, and he gave us a lot of details concerning the Sierra Club
trip down the river which included him as far as Phantom Ranch. Although
they had rain more than half the time and were miserably cold and wet,
they wouldn't build a fire to dry out because their leader had said that
the driftwood supply was now cut off and that future river parties
should save all wood for cooking. He said that morale was so low that by
the time the party was down to Diamond Creek, they were all divided into
small cliques. Jim has been around the canyon nine years now and he
really knows a lot. He knows the names of the Supai Indians that have
lived in certain shacks not far from the Topocoba Road and he knew
details of goings on at Supai among the Indians.

Jim also straightened me out on a suit against Melvin McCormick
concerning a road across the Grand Canyon National Monument that
McCormick had built without a permit to some sort of mine. I thought it
had been settled against McCormick, but it hasn't been decided whether
he went beyond his rights.

I have come to the conclusion that when I want to know something, I
should get in touch with Jim Baily.

**
*North Rim
[July 1, 1968 to July 2, 1968]*

I had thought that my feet should be able to take at least as good a
workout as I had given them on June 21 so I planned two interesting one
day trips, down through the Coconino and possibly the Supai also to the
Freya Vishnu Saddle and the next day a trip to the cliff dwellings below
about a third of the Supai off Bright Angel Point. As it turned out I
didn't do either of these things. I ran into a hard and fast rule laid
down by the new Chief Ranger that no one should be allowed to go off the
rim without a companion. The administrative head at the north rim tried
to get special permission for me but the Chief Ranger on the south rim
couldn't be reached by phone in time to do me any good.

As an interesting substitute, about 9:30 a.m., I decided to try going
out on Saddle Mountain and look for ruins that Judd had reported. This
would be out of the park so no permit would be needed. (Note that I am
not campaigning for Marble and the lower canyon to be given to the park
service.) I drove out the well graded logging road and then hit the
narrow but easily passable road that goes out on the park boundary to
the Saddle Mountain burn, which I reached twice before by walking from
Point Imperial. This time I noted a small cairn marking the trailhead
and the trail was rather open for about 50 yards. Just when I was
getting up my hopes of making good time through here, the trail gave out
and I was in a jungle of locust and small aspens. The locust brush had
always been shaded by pines, but these had been killed in the fire. Many
were now on the ground further adding to the snarl. I wasn't carrying a
map, and in my dismay at fighting uphill through the locust thorn
patches, I decided to try the bottom of the draw. This would improve the
walking temporarily and then I would have to get out of the bottom
because of downed timber. There were also some blockages caused by the
great flood. The brush was so bad immediately above the bed that I
didn't try to fight back to the higher level. Today when I consulted the
Nankoweap Quad map I found that I was not even heading down Saddle
Canyon. Instead I was at the head of Buck Farm Canyon. One point of
interest in this canyon is a nice little spring that flows above ground
through most of the Coconino and Supai.

The water had disappeared before I decided that I should turn back about
2:00 p.m. I was down where I had good views of the Cocks Comb and here
both sides of the canyon were less brushy. I climbed up to the right and
got above the Coconino. This put me on a broad bench that I recognized
as the route to Saddle Mountain. It is still quite free of brush except
at the west where it starts upgrade to a ridge that forms the park
boundary. There is only a bit of manzanita and walking is easy. The
route to the top of the ridge was better than where I had been on the
way out, and I saw signs of the trail along the ridge. The walking in
the dips near the car were of course just as bad as they had seemed in
the morning, but if I were to try this route again, I would go out the
way I returned. I came to the conclusion that if I ever want to go down
the Nankoweap Trail again, I will start from the deer camp at the south
end of Houserock Valley. Of course if one were staying at the north rim
and had to drive for more than two hours to reach the deer camp, it
would be easier to follow the boundary of the park. Certainly one should
not go down Buck Farm Canyon.

At the end of the Monday hike I had reactivated a blister and had also
gotten some very sore heals so I didn't try for a permit to do anything
ambitious. I drove out on Fire Road E4 and tried to locate a cave that
Jim Baily had told me about. On consulting the map where he had told me
to plot it, I was very close to it, but I couldn't find it. I walked
fairly close to the rim from the eastern most reach of Manzanita Canyon
to Komo Point and then returned to the car. After lunch I drove to the
end of this west branch of E4 and walked out to Obi Point. Both rim
walks gave me fine views of the old buttes from a new angle. I think I
found where one can climb out of Manzanita on the southeast side. There
were numerous places where one could get through the other cliffs. I
found a piece of pottery at the end of E4.

**
*Attempted descent off the east side of Papago Canyon
[August 21, 1968]*

My investigation of this area last fall ended in my belief that I could
surely complete a new route from the rim to the river since I had shown
that the Kaibab, Coconino, and Supai will go without a rope. From the
rim across Papago Canyon, I was almost sure that the Redwall would be
almost as easy as the Supai.

This was my first Grand Canyon hike since my accident and the first one
this year in really hot weather. I still had to be very careful not to
turn my weak right ankle and the caution in placing my feet slowed me
down. I got an early start, getting my permit shortly after seven and
finding the right place to start down from the rim by eight. I soon
realized that I don't have the route memorized and I wasted a little
time route finding. This time I went rather low over to the right and
then turned left to the head of the ravine through the Coconino. Here
too there were many details that I didn't recall clearly. The best way
seems to stay left as much as possible after one has gone down the slabs
near the right at the head. I had to swing to the right in a few places,
and when I came up at the end of my trip, I stayed more to the right so
as to take advantage of some shade. There were some hard places where I
had to pull my weight with my arms. Below two thirds of the Coconino
there is a huge chockstone. On the climb back in the evening, I went up
the bedrock on the right side, but on the other passages, I went over
the boulders on the left.

On the descent it is clear that one has to go left along a ledge over to
a parallel ravine to continue downwards. This is only a few yards, about
20, away from the first one. Here, there are a couple of places where
there are options. On the descent I kept to the crack over to the left
where water would flow and came to a place that seemed difficult while
facing in and I took to a ramp that led me north and was able to double
back. On the return, I was somewhat confused in deciding when I should
cross over to the main ravine. Perhaps the choice of the switch should
be determined by the fact that further climbing would be much more
difficult or impossible, but a few cairns would help. I took 65 minutes
to get down through the Coconino and still longer on the return.

It likewise took me over an hour to follow the Hermit over to the big
slide and only 53 minutes to get back here. I seemed to find more trail
on the return. Something that impressed me this time is how thin the
Hermit Shale is along here, probably not more than 40 feet deep. The
best route down the yellow slide is along the crest rather than in the
ravine. I came back up better than I went down. The Redwall had appeared
very possible from the rim of the canyon to the west. When I started
down the big notch, I could proceed without difficulty through about a
fourth of the depth. Then there was a 40 foot drop that wasn't quite
perpendicular, but it had weathered smooth. I didn't care to try this
although I could see that once through here the rest would be easy
talus. I next tried another ravine to the south. After a still deeper
easy descent, it led to an impossibly sheer wall. I even looked at one
more place still farther north than the main ravine, but it was hopeless
right at the rim. I'll have to cross this off as a possible route unless
one wanted to use a rope. Signs of deer were very rare or missing.

The rough going and the heat really got to me on the return. I should
have worn gloves because the rocks burnt my hands when I was climbing.
Perhaps I would have felt better if I had taken extra salt sooner
instead of waiting until I was feeling rather weak and sick. Big
bluebottle flies were a pest too and even when I finally reached the rim
about 6:10 p.m., I was limping because of sore feet and a big blister. I
have lost some enthusiasm for hot weather hiking.

**
*Salt Water Wash to Tanner Wash
[August 17, 1968]*

Ever since 1964 when I followed Reilly's lead and got to the river down
Salt Water Wash and then had studied the upper part of Tanner, I had had
the ambition to go down one and up the other. I wasn't sure how my heels
would hold up to a full scale hike, but I figured that if they felt too
weak when we reached the river I could take it easy and return without
trying the big loop. Bob Packard, a new mathematician on our staff, and
Doug Shough, were my companions. They both showed more speed and stamina
than I did.

I carried Reilly's log with me and it was of real assistance in finding
the best place to leave the highway, a little to the south of Mile 529.
We also had the Tanner Wash Quad map along and we could see from it that
the gully next to the highway northeast from Mile 529 does not lead into
Salt Water Wash. We thought of driving along the dirt road we had used
before in getting started down into Salt Water Wash from the east, but
since we were intending to hike up to the car from Bitter Springs at the
end of the full day, we parked where we first left the highway. We
followed the dirt road along the east side of the east arm of Salt Water
Wash until we were even with Red Point and then went down along the bed.
I didn't note the time of passing the junction with the main west arm
nor of other landmarks, but we noticed that it took from 10 until 11:45
a.m. to go from the car to the river. I was gratified to see that I
could remember the location of the shallow cave with three sticks placed
crosswise between two shelves. It is on the west side near the Toroweap
Coconino contact. It is difficult to know when you are passing down
through the Coconino here since the formation is generally buried under
talus material. At about this place occurs the highest abrupt drop in
the canyon, and around to the left (west) I could see definite signs of
trail construction. Dirk Springoram and I had seen cairns on the talus
slope above the bed to the west, lower down. There seemed to be more
small gullies, only a few yards deep but still a bother to cross, so we
kept to the bed fairly consistently. My impression is that at one time
the Indians could have brought stock to the river. Men on foot wouldn't
have needed as much trail construction as is still indicated in places.

I had reviewed what Dock had told me by letter concerning the Brown
inscription and I had brought Pat's log along. The river seemed a little
higher than when Dirk and I had eaten our lunch down by the water in a
little shade. We had come down the boulder and pebble outwash and I told
the other men about my desire to see the inscription. I remembered that
the picture Dock had reproduced on his letter showed his head just below
the writing. As I was explaining that the words were not far from the
top of the vertical face, according to Dock, Doug went a few yards ahead
on a little shelf and announced that he had found some words cut in the
patina. There they were just as described. We looked out at the
seemingly harmless currents and wondered why a man would have drowned
here rather than at hundreds of other more likely places. Even at the
present stage, toward the other side, the current formed eddies that
resulted in temporary whirls a few inches deep. The riffle below this
pool was quite lively and showed a rock through the water towards the
right. The water here looked rather shallow. A rapid just before Mile 13
showed an abrupt drop of a couple of feet with two or three sizable
rocks cutting the water. I believe the best channel was right below the
cliff we were on, next to the left wall. Sheerwall Rapid was not seen to
good advantage since we were rather high and lower ledges obscured the
view when we were near it.

After eating we all had a good look at the map and started along the
talus covering the great thickness of Hermit Shale. The Supai is just
showing at Salt Water Wash and soon it gets higher and cliffy. I had
thought that the river could be reached from the left bank only a half
mile above Sheerwall Rapid, but our walk along here convinced me that I
had been mistaken. Bob and Doug had been going quite far ahead of me
down the wash and then waiting while I caught up. Here on the river
talus the same thing happened. I didn't say anything as we all went our
separate ways because I don't like to be regimented myself. Still there
was a good deal more chance of becoming out of touch for long periods
along the river than there had been in the wash. I was soon far in the
rear and I thought the lower levels looked easier. After 20 minutes or
so Doug was down ahead of me on a clear ledge below the cliffs. I
thought he had a good idea so I went lower still to follow him. I
thought I had seen him rounding a corner 150 yards ahead, but before I
reached the place, I came to a 15 foot drop off at the end of my ledge.
I wondered whether he had climbed down somehow, but I retraced my route
wasting 15 or 20 minutes until I could climb above all the Supai
outcrops. When I had about reached Mile 13, I heard someone shouting and
shouted back. Bob had become worried about our location and was waiting.
Doug managed to climb up from below, perhaps at the last place where he
could have, and I finally came along. By this time we were all feeling
the heat. I had brought only a two quart canteen thinking that I could
refill it from the river when we were nearing the side canyon, but my
canteen was empty well before we reached Tanner and there was no way
down to the river. The detour wouldn't have been pleasant even if
possible since we were about 300 feet above the water. My digestion
wasn't all it should have been after too much tuna for lunch and we were
all in the mood to rest at least every half hour. We averaged a mile an
hour along thi side hill boulder strewn stretch which I should have
remembered is par for the course. We reached the turn into Tanner at
3:00 p.m. to find that the talus here is steeper if anything than it is
along the river. I hadn't realized that we would have to stay on the
steep talus so long before we could get down to the bed, and it was four
by the time we were able to reach the seep springs that are rather
numerous in the canyon as it cuts through the Supai.

The water was a life saver although the others complained that it had a
salty taste. Strangely, I didn't notice this and even when I swallowed
some salt I was carrying, it didn't taste as salty as usual. There was a
brisk breeze blowing all day, and we were getting dehydrated just as
fast as one does when he feels much hotter. Dry salt stood out in white
marks on Doug's forehead. After a soak in a deep pool, we started on.

Now I realize that seeing a way where a talus reached to the bench above
the Toroweap from the opposite rim was quite different from knowing
where we should turn up out of the bed to reach it. The walking along
the bed was so much easier than making one's way along the steep talus
above that it seemed a pity to start up sooner than necessary. Bob and
Doug were only half convinced that there would be any impasse in the
bed. After going by several vertical exposures of deep red shale 200
feet high, we came to a dry fall that was a real problem to pass. We
could have done it by a long detour, I felt, but I was also rather sure
by now that we were about to pass the only way leading to the bench
above the Toroweap. I rather insisted that we backtrack and try to get
up on the talus. From about 150 yards below the big red dry fall, we
could go up the first part of a great slide formed of fractured blocks
cemented in clay. About 150 feet up, Bob was stopped by an irregular
vertical wall. I went to the left and didn't like what I saw. While Doug
was thinking about the angle between the wall and a big block of rock, I
started down to try another place. Before I got there Bob shouted that
Doug was up the hard place. Next Bob got up with considerable guidance
from Doug about where the holds were. Doug took my mostly empty Kelty
while I went up the eight foot bad spot. I had been bothered by leg
cramps off and on for over an hour and I was afraid that one would hit
me while I was in the worst place, but this didn't happen. Bob led us up
a routine climb to the base of the Kaibab cliff before we could get past
a bare ravine to go south along the bench. One thing of interest is that
the talus where it reaches the easily climbed part of the bench is only
a foot or two wide. Future weathering may reduce it to the status of a
similar talus on the east side which falls short of reaching the
climbable part of the upper ledges by at least 15 feet. After more great
floods, our route may be no longer passable. After more careful slow
waking, we rounded a corner and were where I had been four years ago.
However, it was 6:15 p.m. by the time we got down into the bed of Tanner
and didn't have to be so wary of a slip. The bright stars were coming
out when we reached the tributary that goes toward Bitter Springs and it
was 8:35 p.m. when we reached the highway.

There was one last bit of excitement when we were within a quarter mile
of the highway. Bob and Doug had a small rattlesnake buzz at their feet.
We did a short detour and came out on the blacktop about four and a half
miles south of the car.

**
*Crazy Jug Canyon
[August 25, 1968 to August 28, 1968]*

I entered the canyon via the trail to Big Saddle Spring where there is a
concrete trough containing only a little rain water. The trail, which
starts at a low place in the rim just east of an old corral, continues
on east beyond the dry spring and goes down a break in the Coconino.
This time I missed the pictographs that I saw when Doug Shough and I
came up this way at Thanksgiving. I should have reread the log of that
trip. This time I followed the rather good trail clear down to the
Esplanade. It angles to the east, and Doug and I had missed the fork. I
probably should have followed it until it joined the lower trail, but I
cut through the brush to the west.

After a little rough going I came on the lower trail that goes west
along the Esplanade. Where I came on it, one has to go up over a
promontory. Here I had to decide whether to go to the south over some
rough scrambling where Doug and I had come up or follow the trail
northwest and down to the base of the breccia pinnacle. I wanted to
learn more about the trail, so I did the latter. It is a good horse
trail all the way although there are brushy places. Just after it passes
to the south of the pinnacle it turns steeply down a ravine to the base
of the fall. There was no surface water above where the trail crossed,
but below the fall, for several hundred yards, there was a stream. I
could have camped here, but this walk had taken less than an hour and I
wanted to camp at the lower spring where Doug and I had stayed on our
former trip. When the trail went up on the Esplanade to the west, I kept
on walking down the dry wash. Progress was steady but I might have gone
south faster along the trail up on the Esplanade (no, this is slower
5/21/74).

In due time I came to the tributary from the east where I was almost
sure that Doug and I had camped. I was rather sure I remembered the red
cliff where the little stream had come splashing down, but now not a
drop of water was apparent. It was now late enough to camp, but I
decided to go on down to the Redwall in hopes of finding rain pools
where Doug and I had seen them at Thanksgiving. It was only two weeks
after a very rainy four weeks. I had started from the car at 3:50 p.m.
with a full gallon of water, but I liked the idea of being able to fill
my canteen in the morning before leaving a camp site. It was about six
when I reached the place where Doug and I had climbed up and down a
fault crack to bypass a narrow slit where the streambed had stayed in
the harder rock and the Redwall on the east side which had been thrust
upward over a hundred feet past the Supai on the west. The hard
limestone must have been pushed up so gradually that the stream could
cut a very narrow channel through it rather than be deflected a few
yards and carve along the joint between the two kinds of rock as it has
done for the past quarter mile. In my search for water, I followed the
dry bed into the limestone. In the first hundred yards there were two
big overhangs. Before the canyon became really narrow, I came to a few
gallons of water in a pocket with a sprinkling of dead moths on the
surface, but what was more discouraging, numerous yellow jackets
hovering around. I had been stung when I first reached the bed and
didn't care for a repeat. Since I was carrying enough water to take me
through the night, I retired to the dusty floor of the big overhang on
the west. Here I was surprised to find plenty of cow chips. As I shoved
them aside to make room for my bed, I wondered how many years ago this
had been familiar range land to some cowhand. If I had a slight tendency
toward lonesomeness, these cow chips were reassuring. I could also count
on staying dry even though the sky had let down a few drops already and
might rain more. I decded that this was a cozy and friendly place. There
were also no ants nor mosquitoes. I was rather warm at first and lay on
top of my bag but for the second half of the night I was glad to have my
light weight down bag. There were several rockfalls while I was drifting
off to sleep and one as noisy as a cannon that woke me out of a deep
sleep. I was also aware of a gently shower, but in the morning there was
no water to share with the wasps.

Since I felt rather sure of finding more rainpools or of getting down to
water below the Redwall in a couple of hours, I went on with only a
quart left. Going back a short way, I climbed over the Supai promontory
where Doug and I had come down. Then I made the mistake of trying to
stay at the higher level. I soon found that I should have gone back to
the bed along the same fault. If I had read the log from two years ago,
I would have proceeded down the bed, but instead I climbed up and went
along some very slow going across ravines and through manzanita.
Thinking about the water situation and also noting that the bed was now
quite a bit lower, I took the next chance I saw to go down. I did reach
a generous amount of dirty rainwater with only a few wasps around it and
got a refill in one two quart canteen. At the bottom of this ravine, I
had to go up and over into the next one south to reach the bottom. Here
I saw an empty can with the label still intact showing that someone had
proceeded me on this part of the route. As I now reread my log, I
realize that Doug and I came off the Esplanade and reached the bed by
this identical approach. Only a few minutes walk below here I came to
the same chockstone which we had walked beneath and then the sudden
narrow drop into the slot. This time I backed up just a few yards and
climbed the lower brushy slope to the west. I could go along it until I
was even with the end of the narrows. The drop in front of me is not
perfectly smooth and in the aerial views it looks tempting. I was not in
the mood to go down finger and toe holds with my pack on my back, so I
retreated. The slope I was on seemed to rise rather high and nearly
reach the Redwall rim with the possibility of doing so just around a
corner. Rather than try any more experiments, I retreated to the sure
route up the break. On my way back along the creekbed, I could see that
I had guessed right. The ledges did not go up to the top.

By going on up a quite a little higher than the actual Redwall rim, I
found easy walking on a terrace of lower Supai. This time I took no
chances of starting down too soon again. I walked out on the point and
looked down the main canyon of Tapeats Creek, perfectly dry at this time
of year. I could see a steady stream of water coming out of the nameless
canyon between Timp and Stina. I wondered whether Matthes and Evans had
seen this water flowing all the way down Tapeats in their day since they
had put a solid blue line in the bed. Walking back along the east rim of
the promontory, I came to the upper break.

Once down the first few yards, after a bit of bird dogging, I decided to
go along the wall to the south. There was a definite easy slope here,
but there was an intense concentration of yellowjackets around the
catclaw brush. I seriously considered giving up the trip rather than
face a host of these. By now my left hand had puffed up 50% fatter than
normal from the sting on the back the previous afternoon. If a third of
the wasps I faced would go to work on me at once, I was fairly sure they
could finish me. Finally, I decided to move ahead slowly and got through
without a sting. It was now easy to walk down along the wall to the
south. There was another chute, but I couldn't see any future at the
bottom. Instead I found that I could go quite a bit lower directly east
away from the wall. The rest of the route was forward and then to the
left staying high enough to get past some steep slides until I reached a
talus that took me almost into the bed. Even at the very bottom, I had
to look for a crack to get down the last few yards. All this blundering
had used up five hours so I had lunch here beside the running water.
There were more birds than I would have expected, and a hummingbird
watched me eat from 18 inches away.

There was no more need to get out of the bed to bypass obstructions or
falls until I was well down into the Tapeats Formation, and here it was
only a matter of crawling over a pile of big broken rocks. I had thought
of going up canyon at the junction with Crazy Jug and seeing the Redwall
impasses of Stina and Saddle, but I felt that by the time I reached the
trail at Thunder River, I would have done enough. I did see a place just
west of the mouth of saddle where I think there is a possibility of
climbing the Redwall (go into Saddle canyon). However, I believe I saw a
20 foot ledge that one could not surmount.

Ever since 1951 I had been trying to get up my nerve to wade Tapeats
Creek. From reading Lauritzen in Arizona Highways, I was braced for neck
deep pools of the cold water. Before venturing into the stream, I
waterproofed my gear as well as I do for floating on the Colorado River.
I found, however, that one never has to get wet higher than just above
the knee. At least 95% of the walking is on land, and enough people do
it now to establish a faint trail. I put my trousers in the pack and
found that my shoes were not harmed by the wetting. I have felt just as
insecure on my feet in fording Bright Angel Creek when it is high. One
can select the fords where the water is not foaming and is usually no
more than a foot deep. In the two or three places where there is no bank
except a vertical wall, one can walk in water only a few inches deep.
During this late August season, the water was not depressingly cold
either. I was under no compulsion to cross fast and get out. It was a
fine experience to see this very impressive canyon through the Tapeats
Formation, but I am not convinced that the route from the trail to
Tapeats Cave is faster by water than by land. I noted that it took me
two hours and ten minutes to get from where I ate a short way into Crazy
Jug Canyon to the main stream, and then it required an hour and 45
minutes to go from there to the junction with Thunder River. I would
estimate that it would take an hour to go up the side canyon to Tapeats
Cave.

When I arrived at the trail I spent a little time looking for the people
who had left the footprints going up Tapeats Creek and back, but they
had already pulled out. The gnats were bad at the regular campground, so
I walked a short way up the trail before I ate my usual dinner. I had
thought of sleeping just below Thunder Spring at the last place to pick
up water before leaving in the morning, but when I felt the cooling
breeze from the cascade where the trail cuts in right by the creek, I
decided to use this sort of air conditioning, especially since my
bivouac down bag was going to be too warm anywhere else. This air
current from the stream worked perfectly and I had one of the best
nights ever. I wonder whether it would be ten degrees warmer than
elsewhere in the winter.

One final project that I carried through on the way out was to see the
route off the rim right at the end of Monument Point. When one goes up
the long talus that goes through the Toroweap about ten minutes walk
northwest of the end of Monument Point, he finds that there is a trail
along this bench to the point. This continues in both directions but it
seems more like an improved deer trail, marked as it is with cairns,
around to just below Monument Point. Here I believe I started up too
soon since I had rough going over loose material and up some ledges.
When I was about halfway out, I came on a well defined trail. There was
even a cowchip along here, although a cow would have to be as agile as a
wild burro to negotiate a couple of ledges that were a scramble for me
near the top. There were a couple of cairns at these questionable
places, but none that I saw right on top. I put up one myself and noted
that the takeoff point for this old cowpath is only a few yards south of
where I told the scouts to turn away from the east rim of Monument Point
and follow the draw to the north most point to use the deer trail down
to the same break in the Toroweap and Coconino. I noted that it took me
two hours from the National Forest Service horse trail along the
Esplanade to the rim of Monument Point, and I needed an hour and 40
minutes to walk from there to the car.

As I see it now, the best route to the upper end of Tapeats is to follow
the trail as I did to the bed of Crazy Jug Canyon below the pinnacle.
Then one should follow the bed for the climb over the Supai spur before
reaching my campsite in Cowpod Cave. Go down the fault line into the bed
again and follow this bed to where Doug and I entered the canyon in
1966. Then climb up to the Supai terrace and proceed to the break in the
Redwall. (Or cross Crazy Jug and go out on the Esplanade. Come off it
near the end this is slower 5/21/74.)

**
*Grand Canyon flight
[September 14, 1968]*

Bill Martin took Lucinda Crimen, Chuck Johnson, and me for a flight of
over two hours for me to check Brahma, Shiva, Osiris, Grama Point, and
particularly the questionable route down the Redwall to the river a half
mile south of the mouth of Fossil Creek.

When we came over the canyon we flew about even with the top of Brahma
and passed to the west of Zoroaster. I wasn't close enough to the summit
block to make out the cairn, but Bill will swear that it is there since
he saw it clearly on another occasion. Chuck and I noted that the west
side of Brahma looks quite good for a climber. I didn't see the place
where Ellis and Davis needed to traverse on friction grips alone but of
course our view was very fleeting. Perhaps the picture will bring out
the spot when I study it. My impression that the best route up the Supai
is above Hattan Butte was reinforced (Doty and Ohlman used this). Here
the walking should be easy and the ledges are not high, but one can
never be sure without doing it. On the other hand the actual route used
by the previous climbers appeared hopeless. This was over northwest of
Zoroaster. We circled Brahma and looked at the Coconino on the east
side. Chuck thought that it looked quite good but I think that it may
not be as easy as the Davis Ellis route on the west. Furthermore it
would be slower to get around there.

From the south side of Brahma we flew to the south of Buddha and I saw
it and Manu better than previously. The ascent in the region of Widforss
Point didn't appear to be very easy. I took a picture of the upper
Haunted Canyon, but we were too far away to get any impression of the
feasibility of climbing the Redwall at its end.

From there we went to the north of Shiva and I snapped a picture of the
ramp up the Coconino that has been used on all successful climbs. As we
circled around Shiva to give me a look at the eastern side of Osiris, I
noted that one can get up through the Kaibab near the southwest corner
of the summit plateau of Shiva. I was too nearly on top of the supposed
route through the Coconino at the southwest outlier of Shiva to be real
sure that there is a good route here, but most of the Coconino is easy.

Our previous idea that the easiest way through the higher parts of the
Supai on Osiris is on the north side of the eastern most projection was
reinforced by this flight. We were too directly above the Stanton H K
route to learn anything new about it. We went from there to the north of
Confucius and I got a rather poor chance to study the Redwall descent
south of Grama Point. From the air the route I worked out down the
Redwall into the west arm of Tuna Creek looks sure and easy compared to
anything near Grama Point. It would be interesting to get down there and
try to go up the Redwall from below. (I missed seeing the MacKae Lawes
ravine on the west side.) We flew over Muav Saddle and dropped down
through Saddle Canyon and Tapeats. I got a fairly good look at the
Redwall descent in Crazy Jug Canyon and I think I could have shortened
the route by going south instead of north when I was down among the
shale cliffs below the Redwall. Chuck and Lucinda were treated to a view
of Thunder Spring and the Tapeats Source Canyon. Then we went upriver
and passed Specter Chasm without trying for a better look at the dubious
route at its head. I was impressed by the roughness of the walking along
the shale benches if I were to try to go from Deubendorf Rapid towards
Fossil Bay on foot after crossing from the right bank.

We got the best views yet of the supposed route down the Redwall a half
a mile south of the mouth of Fossil. The most likely route is near a
straight slot that angles through most of the Redwall, and then a
parallel slot goes through the shale. It appears possible to go along
ledges from one slot to the other (yes).

**
*Mohawk Canyon
[September 28, 1968 to September 29, 1968]*

I knew from the former trip with Jorgen that I should get an earlier
start if I were to reach the river in one day. I had thought from map
study that I could go on to the river in two hours from the farthest
north of the former trip, over a half hour's walk from where Jorgen and
I camped. Thus, I drove from Flagstaff on Friday evening and slept
beside the car about nine miles from the road end in Mohawk. Cows came
by in the night and I might have had more sleep by staying at home with
the alarm set for 3:00 a.m. I drove away in the dawn and warmed the car
before eating breakfast.

One of the major thrills of the trip was to see a big bull elk from the
car while I was in the steep ravine of upper Mohawk. Its rack seemed to
be four feet across and still it went up the side of the ravine as
gracefully as a mule deer. I hadn't realized that there were any elk in
this part of the state.

Shortly after seven I passed the shelter caves and noted water in the
Coconino potholes as before although it hadn't rained hard for weeks.
Apparently the summer rains had been severe and there were signs of
flood damage to the road. This had made it necessary to use a grader and
thus the road was in better shape than Jorgen and I had found it. They
had bulldozed a part following the meander thus eliminating the steep
grade that had worried me last March. The fence and the converted wing
tank at the road end had been torn up. the trail was as good as ever,
but I didn't go up to see whether the seep spring where the cattle and
horses drink was still running.

There are several signs of development of the lower valley in the Hermit
Shale and Supai Formations. I came on a cache of cooking utensils and
horseshoes in a box set up on a rock and I saw a roll of fence wire as
well as another wing tank which was somewhat smashed instead of serving
as a water trough. There seemed to be more cattle and horses than we had
seen before. A group of 11 cows including a calf seemed to think I was
trying to catch them and they went on down the valley in front of me for
an hour and a half without showing enough intelligence to get out of the
main trail where I wanted to walk. Sometimes I would stay in the wash
thinking that they might let me pass so that they could go back to
grazing, but they would hurry on when I was nearly abreast. Finally they
got off to the side when they reached the side canyon from the west
where Jorgen and I found a seep. The horses would show more alarm and
really get clear away even if they had to break into a run along the
rock strewn hillside. It amazed me to see one practically gallop over
ground where I would have been pressing to make a mile an hour. The
valley seemed to be overgrazed in comparison to National Canyon. The
stock must know more waterholes than we were able to see. Although acres
of the best bottom land seemed to support little besides stunted Russian
thistle, some of the horses were big and fine looking.

I was carrying two gallons of water so that I could camp at a dry spot
if necessary and still get out the next day . With my right foot not
completely over the accident and my shoulder straps slowly causing
aches, I had to rest a little more than on previous trips. It was just
before noon when I came to where Jorgen and I had camped. By 12:30 p.m.
I was on my way again and soon entered the Redwall. After 105 minutes in
the limestone, I came to an absolute barrier where chockstones had
lodged and made a 25 foot drop complete with overhang. About 25 minutes
upstream from this was another sharp drop that I was able to bypass to
the east. There were signs of horses above this upper barrier but none
below. Some minutes walk above this upper barrier, there is a wet place
in the gravel. Horses have pawed out holes that had about an inch of
water in the bottom. I saw that I could get a little water here if I
cleared out the hole and dipped with a cup. There was one more slight
drop between this place and the complete barrier, where I had a little
trouble on the return. However, instead of putting my pack up ahead of
me and climbing between rather smooth rocks, I could have fought the
brush and gone up among some broken rocks over to one side.

As I was deciding how to bypass the upper barrier a slight noise called
my attention to two bighorn ewes standing on the bench to the west. They
paused just long enough for me to think of getting the camera out and
then nimbly took off to the north along the bench. They were the first I
had seen since 1961 and my eight and ninth in the Grand Canyon. A few
minutes later when I was starting the detour to the east, a rattlesnake
buzzed but far enough away not to bother me.

Just above the absolute barrier I came to a deep water pocket holding
many gallons and only a few bugs. Furthermore there was a steady trickle
down below the ledge in the bed which was still accessible. Another
advantage of this flat ledge for a campsite was a good overhang with
just enough room for one to sit up in bed. I put the pack down with a
sigh of relief and decided what to do with the rest of the day, from
three o'clock on. There seemed to be a slight sheep trail north along
the bench at my level, but around an angle it pinched out. Then I went
down and up the other side of the bed to the same level to the east.
After going along there for ten minutes, I found that it too ended in a
vertical wall. However, from there I could see that the bench several
yards higher on the west side continued indefinitely. I was quite tired,
but I decided to give it a half hearted try. I could tell that it would
take well over an hour to advance along this bench before I would get a
glimpse of the river. It wasn't too hard to get to the higher level but
there were many places which required care. At one place I had to crouch
to get past an overhang on a narrow ledge and it was slow to pass a
jumble of great blocks in a ravine. After about 25 minutes I came to a
projecting angle from which I could get a good look to the north. The
bed below was much farther down, and I assumed that this meant that the
30 foot drop that had stopped me was succeeded by one or more others.
Wherever I could see the bed it appeared to be quite level which means
that the drops were vertical steps. I returned to the pack when I was
about a mile form the river, or so I figured. If I had been there
another day, I could have started along this bench while fresh. (If I
had gone five minutes longer, I would have gone down the ravine and
found the log ladder.)

I put my bed under the overhang to make sure that the light weight down
bag would be warm enough. As it turned out, I need not have worried. I
spent the night with nothing but my shirt to keep me warm from the waist
up. In the night I was annoyed by the sound of a mouse gnawing in my
pack so I moved it far enough away to stop the sound. After about four
hours of sleep I awoke to the sounds of a brewing storm. Finally the
thunder and lightning became acute and a short rain with some hail fell.
By the time I was ready to walk up canyon, about 6:15 a.m., the sky was
completely clear.

On the way out, about three fourths of the way to the top of the
Redwall, I climbed to what might have been an interesting cave. However,
I found it only about eight feet deep, just enough to appear dark from
below.

Another observation that was more satisfying was to note several small
areas supporting growths of crucifixion thorn. It is thick in Diamond
Creek and fairly common in Peach Springs Wash and along the Tonto to the
west, but I had not observed it in Havasu nor in National. It occurs in
north facing exposures at three places about halfway through the Redwall.

There seemed to be more birds in this canyon than most and one type of
butterfly was common this late in the year. The datura was blooming
sparsely and many yellow flowers were to be seen. I walked out with
somewhat more than my usual number of rest periods and reached the car
at 3:30 p.m. An Indian was repairing the fence. In answer to my question
he assured me that one cannot walk down to the river via Mohawk. I would
now believe him in preference to Bob Euler's informant. (George
Billingsley found the route along the bench on the west side and climbed
down a log.) In fact I would say that the impossible dropoff occurs
higher in Mohawk than in National, and walking along the bench to get a
look at the river seems more difficult than the corresponding route in
National.

**
*Sewrey Route down from the Dripping Springs Trail
[October 5, 1968]*

Several years ago Bill Sewrey told me in Phoenix that he had hopes of
getting down through the Supai from the Dripping Springs Trail. Later I
heard that he and Dewey Wildoner had succeeded in doing this. About a
year ago, Weaver in his Summit article told of their success in
following this route up to the trail with rope used only in pulling
packs up ledges after they had climbed without aid. I had wanted to
check this route myself.

Bob Packard, Derek and Connie Bloomfield, and Allyn Cureton came with
me, or rather Derek took us to Hermit Rest in his van. I regarded this
as a short trip, especially if we returned up the Supai to the trail and
back to the rim, so we didn't hurry. It was close to 11:00 a.m. by the
time we got organized to leave the trail at the last notch in the Supai
before you come to the drop off of the valley with Dripping Springs at
its head. I had noticed this place for many years and I even climbed
down the crack system over to the west side and reached the talus below.
I realized that this would go easily for quite a way, but from the
Redwall rim below there seemed to be little chance of getting through
the lowest cliff of Supai.

After descending through almost half the Supai on the boulder slope, we
came to a continuous ledge. It was only a few feet down and Bob jumped
down a couple of feet after getting as low as possible. I made sure that
we could get up again by going to the east and finding a small tree that
could be climbed within easy reach of the ledge. There were no further
barriers until we came to the impressive lower cliff. Over to the west a
ridge of soil rose high against the cliff and there were some broken
ledges in that direction. Allyn followed a ledge in that direction, but
it was not too easy to get over there. He got down at a place that
needed skill to the next ledge and after going farther to the west, he
returned with the cheering word that we had it made. I went over there
next and did a good deal of stooping and some crawling to get under
overhangs. I followed the ledge farther than Allyn and found an easier
and safer descent. I proceeded according to Allyn's suggestion a bit
farther west along this second ledge and found some fairly safe breaks
and cracks that let us down to the soil slope. At one place Allyn caught
up and stood below to see whether I would need any assistance, but I
made it without anything more than the usual care in finding holds.
Connie came last and she needed just a bit of guidance for her feet. It
is a most interesting route and ranks with the rope route to Supai, but
that would be much harder if the ropes were gone. The distant view makes
this route seem very nearly impossible.

After we had eaten our lunch, we all seemed to agree that it would be
more interesting to go along the rim of the Redwall over to the north to
intercept the Hermit Trail. I should have known that this would take a
lot longer than to go back the way we had come, but we proceeded anyway.
Allyn and I had both been along here, but it seemed hard and slow to
Connie. She had to call for a lot of rests when her heart pounded. Bob
and I went ahead and brought more water back to the others, but this was
nearly unnecessary. We mostly wanted to see how much reserve we had
left. Finally I decided that I had better hit my best pace and get to
the rim to telephone Roma that I would not be in time for the bridge
party. After I had had a good head start, Bob decided to catch up with
me, something that he succeeded in doing while I was in the Toroweap. I
caught a ride with some tourists and phoned from the village. By the
time I had eaten at the cafeteria and had then walked to the district
ranger's office, the others had already been there looking for me. After
they checked the cafeteria and the Bright Angel Lodge, they came back
and we got on the road.

It was a fine fall day and the canyon air was clear after the recent rain.

**
*Walter Powell Route up from the mouth of the Little Colorado
[October 20, 1968]*

Last year in December Doug Shough and I had found the old Indian route
down from the north rim of the Little Colorado which may be how Walter
Powell went up near the mouth of the Little Colorado. J. W. Powell gives
no details but says that a comparison of barometers showed that his
brother had been 3000 feet above the camp. One of the diaries mentioned
that Walter Powell was out trying to reach the rim, but it didn't say he
had been successful. If 3000 feet was the full height attained, the
modern maps would imply that Walter had not been on the actual rim by
about 300 feet. If he went up the route that Shough and I reviewed, he
would have reached the most difficult part of the climb, at the base of
the Kaibab.

A week ago six college boys, led by George Billingsley, after getting my
information about the upper two thirds of the route, went down Salt
Trail Canyon, along the river, and up the Walter Powell Route. They
agreed that the hardest climbing was at the top. I wanted to see the
rest of the route through the Redwall and below. I tried to get Shough
and Cureton to go along, but both were tied up.

On Saturday afternoon I turned off Highway 89 about a mile north of the
Gap at the first side road with a stop sign. Vern Taylor had indicated
that this side road offered a saving of several miles to one who wanted
to reach the head of the Salt Trail. I wanted to check this and I also
figured that it would be about as close to go to the head of the W.
Powell Trail in comparison with the route leaving the highway at Cedar
Ridge. I found this route a little slower to drive than the road in from
Cedar Ridge, but I finally came to the north south road west of the
buttes and I recognized where I would have turned to reach the Salt
Trail. It would have saved several miles. However, when I turned west
where I thought I could go over to the route to the junction of the
rivers I made quite a mistake. The road led down among various rocky
washes. Study of the Shinumo Altar Quad map only got me more confused.
Near dark after three descents and climbs in the car, I finally decided
that I wouldn't connect with the right route. In getting out of the last
draw, after dark, my back wheels were throwing rocks around and I almost
got stuck in a sharp turn where I might have had trouble backing down
the hill. Soon after reaching the flats above, I found I had a flat
tire. When I had returned to the bed of another deep valley, I decided
to wait until day to tackle the hill. The spare tire I had in use was
not very strong. While getting to sleep, I had to decide whether to
persist with the project of the W. Powell Trail or whether to get back
to the highway as quickly as possible. I decided to take a chance and go
ahead.

In the morning I found that the grade out was much less steep and rocky
than the one that had wrecked the other tire. When I came to the third
valley on the way out, instead of going down, I backed away to a fork I
had seen and went northwest. This stayed on high ground and soon I was
on the way to the desired trailhead. I found that I had gone 43 miles
from the highway whereas it was only 24 miles on the way out to Cedar Ridge.

On leaving the car, I headed for the ravine Doug and I had used, but for
some reason it didn't look quite right. Someone had used spray paint
here to mark strategic places for the descent. At one of the marked
places, I was sure that I had not used the difficult chimney under a
chockstone which was indicated by the blue paint. I did know, however,
that Billingsley and his companions had been up here, since they had
reported the painted letters and numbers. After I had gone down the
chimney without my light pack and canteen, I came up another way and
recognized it as the one I had used last year. Below this place there
were no more painted symbols although there were about three places as
hard as any above. This may mean that the route markers had given up the
rest of the way. A little lower I came to a place that had caused me
shivers last year, where I had to grip and swing out to get around a
projection to a place to descend three feet safely. At the bottom of
this step was the rock pile we had noted before, and here I was
absolutely sure I was in the same ravine. The last drop before I reached
the Coconino was about the hardest. Here one has to let his body drop
down several feet holding with his hands alone. Then one avoids the big
drop at the top of the Coconino by going to the east along a ledge. This
route through the Kaibab is through an impressively narrow slot in the
300 foot wall and it consists of a series of seven or eight surprises
that one can advance at all. I can imagine the relief that the
Billingsley Party must have felt when they first saw the painted letters
and numbers and were sure that the rest of the route was possible. They
could be fairly sure that they had the right ravine from what I had
said, but if progress had been impossible, they might have been in real
trouble since they were on short rations for water and food. Below this
there is no trouble through the Hermit and Supai. One keeps over to the
west and passes a series of ridges of talus material. Walking the rim of
the Redwall to the west around to the ravine that cuts through the
Redwall is likewise straightforward, merely a matter of watching for
loose rocks and heading several ravines. It took less than two hours to
come from the rim to the beginning of the Redwall descent. The boys had
built a couple of cairns in this ravine and the lower one was supposed
to show where one should leave it to go out on a ledge to the right.
George had said that I should go along above two flat topped projections
along a narrow ledge until I could go down a talus to the river, or so I
understood him. I crossed a recent rockslide area, just as he had said
and soon found the two projections. Not seeing any way to get off the
ledge, I followed it on with increasingly difficulty until I was facing
the river. Still there seemed to be no way off the ledge. When I came to
a consolidated rockslide that offered no footing, I decided that I had
had enough. It was demoralizing to turn back where I thought the boys
had been, but the strain was telling. I felt slightly sick.

By the time I was back in the break in the Redwall, I was ready for
lunch. I had thought that I would then return to the car, but I could
see that it would be easy to go on down the break through the entire
Redwall and add one more Redwall traverse to my list. I started to do
this at 12:30 p.m. and told myself that I might as well continue along
the base of the shale cliff to the right until 1:00 p.m. Before that
limit arrived, I found that I was on a relatively good route down to the
river. Instead of having to conserve water I had left in a two quart
canteen, I had the chance for a refill at the river, which I reached at
1:10. The five hours and ten minutes since I had left the rim could have
been shortened by 75 minutes if I had not made the false detour along
the high ledge and had waited until I reached the river to eat. I needed
three hours and 50 minutes to reach the rim from the river.

The boys had wasted some time by going up the bed of the inner canyon
through the shale only to find it blocked by falls, although Chuck
Johnson said that they hadn't tried very hard to pass the barriers. I
found their footprints coming up from the river along the rim of the
shale gorge. This makes me wonder why they were ever on the narrow ledge
along the lower part of the Redwall, and where they were able to climb
up to the ledge (I misunderstood, they weren't on the ledge at all). It
was far simpler to stay below the shale cliff which is a lower extension
of the Redwall until one is in the ravine that goes up to the south, the
break where the entire Redwall and much of the shale below can be
climbed on stabilized slide material. I'll have to ask Chuck or George
about this.

The only deer hoofprints and droppings that I found were along the lower
Redwall ledge and also along the shale route at the base of the top
shale cliff. Along here for a few yards I recognized a meager deer
trail. If deer can get out through the Kaibab above they would have to
leap vertically farther than I think possible, but they would have no
trouble with the route up from the river to this place. (George found a
potsherd on this route.)

It was well after six and dark when I reached the highway at Cedar
Ridge. Here, within a block of a public phone, I discovered that the
spare I had put on the previous night had gone flat. After a distress
call, Larry Casto drove Roma up in our car to rescue me. He loaned me
the spare from his Ford and we all got home before 11:00 p.m.

**
*Mohawk Canyon
[November 22, 1968 to November 24, 1968]*

A picture taken at the end of my advance along a precarious bench on the
west side of Mohawk Canyon low in the Redwall seemed to show some chance
that the east side might be broken and permit a descent if one could go
that far along a similar bench to the one I was on. In order to have
time for such a check on an ordinary weekend, I left home Friday
afternoon and was ready to leave the car at the end of the road in
Mohawk by 7:30 p.m. The night was clear but with no moon. The upper part
of the trail and most of the bed below called for the use of my
flashlight but I made about as good time as I could have during the day.
I was concentrating on getting as far as I could in three hours of
walking. Just before 10:30. I noticed a good overhang in the Supai with
a smooth rock for my bed and no chance of dew. It was on the right a
quarter mile below the left tributary where Jorgen and I had found a
seep in the spring of the year. I had come with one full gallon of water
and I figured on getting down canyon to water before I would start out.

Something kept me from going to sleep promptly and it was nearly 1:00
a.m. when I dropped off. I got cold on the underside and woke up
permanently by 4:30. Perhaps I should try ensolite instead of an air
mattress in winter.

In about three hours more of walking I got down into the lower Redwall
and came to the first big barrier, which can be passed on the east.
About five minutes walk below this I saw the first water, a rain pocket
right in the bed. There was no water in the gravel higher up where I had
seen it in September. I left my pack by the water where I had decided to
camp.

First I went on down canyon, about 20 minutes and came to where I had
camped before. There was still a lot of water in the deep pocket (O.K.
6/9/71) in the level rock. It had rained a measurable amount about one
week before. There was less water at the base of the minor drop than
there had been before, so I checked closer. The gravel was absorbing a
good little flow from a spring, enough to make quite a gurgle as it
crossed a sloping rock. I would trust this at all times (no, 6/9/71). I
studied again the drop in the bed. It would certainly require a rope. It
is a fall of about 30 or 35 feet.

My plan had been to go along the bench at the level of the first
barrier, where I had seen two bighorn sheep. I thought they might have
established a trail that would help speed up the walking. There was a
slope that allowed access to the bench just south of where I had left
the pack and as I left the bed I found the bones and some of the skin of
a bighorn lamb about as large as a half grown jackrabbit. Since the
Museum of Northern Arizona keeps bones for identification purposes, I
brought the skeleton back with me.

The bench seemed to be about as slow and bad walking as anything I have
ever undertaken. The footing was poor and there was no trail.
Furthermore the way was cluttered with catclaw and cactus. After a half
an hour of this I was still only about halfway as far north as the
spring and my campsite. My knees were shaky and I sadly concluded that I
would never reach the interesting part of the canyon this way. It took
me longer to get back to my pack. Irritated with the frustration, I
decided to carry a gallon of water up canyon and possibly sleep where I
had the first night.

About ten minutes walk into the Redwall, there is a place on the east
where the walls are completely broken. Furthermore there is a faulting
that has broken a route through the Supai of the Esplanade a few degrees
east of north from here. This is just north of the WC marked R7W and R6W
on the National Canyon Quad. I decided to detour up to the surface of
the Esplanade and have a look around. Right away I found I was on a
trail that had been worked on by Indians. Now it is used by the horses.
After it crossed one small streambed, it passed over a mescal pit, the
first indication I had seen that Mohawk had been used by aborigines. The
trail didn't show all the way up through the broken blocks of Supai, but
there were plenty of horse signs on the Esplanade. The walking was level
and easy up here, unlike the Esplanade east of Supai. There were bare
rock exposures with lots of rain pools, the deepest about three inches.
I had intended returning to my pack as soon as I had reached the top,
but then the view to the north was cut off by a higher part of the
plateau. When I reached the highest knoll, I saw that the view would be
far superior if I walked north to the edge of the point between two
canyons. When I got there it was later than I liked, but the reward was
great. I could see the rim of the Redwall hiding lower Mohawk. There was
a bit of the brown Colorado in sight, but the finest scenery was
Stairway Canyon north of the river. I could also see a way down through
the Supai across the side canyon south of the knoll marked 4317. One
could easily walk the smooth surface of the Redwall rim and get a fine
view of lower Mohawk from the point north of 4317. This detour went too
far to compensate for my feeling that I had gone on a wild goose chase.
In weather a little warmer and wetter than late fall, this part of the
Esplanade would be fine territory for an inspiring expedition. Within a
week after a rain, there would be plenty of water on the flat rocks. I
had pushed my luck rather far and I just had daylight to get bck to my
pack. I had a fairly comfortable night right there.

I ate breakfast in the bag before it was light enough to walk. Before
leaving the Redwall, I checked another shallow cave on the west side. It
was only a few yards to it. It sloped up about 15 or 20 feet, not deep
enough to require a light but deep enough to feel many degrees warmer
than the outside morning air.

The entire night had been clear, but the forenoon looked threatening
from time to time. The wind and sun were changeable. I had slept far
better than I had the first night, but I didn't feel quite up to par,
which forced me to rest more than I used to. I got to the car by 2:30
p.m. Mohawk is a fine, scenic canyon and it is providential that the
permanent spring is just accessible above the absolute barrier. The
Esplanade to the east seems particularly fine for fast walking.
(Remember the route using the log ladder on the west side below the bench.)

**
*From Apache Point to Colorado River and Forester Canyon
[November 28, 1968 to December 1, 1968]*

Jorgen Visbak, Bill Mooz, and Doc Ellis came by air to Phoenix and then
by car to Flagstaff Wednesday evening. Our original idea was to sleep
out on the Topocoba Road to get an early start on Thursday. However, a
gale from the north persuaded us to have us all sleep in our house and
set the alarm for an early start. We got to the District Ranger's Office
by 7:00 a.m. where Art Foran met us. He and I both drove our cars out to
the park boundary sign south of Apache Point and we started our walk at
8:30.

We first saw the rim south of Quetzal Point and then followed the
telephone line until it turned west. Our time to the point wasn't bad,
90 minutes. In the break through the Coconino we noted a pick on the way
down and a shovel on the return. When we were just below the Coconino, I
heard a noise and looked in time to see a bighorn ram nimbly loping away
over this slope of very poor footing. In a short time Doc pointed to it
again silhouetted against the distant background. We were not too sure
that we recognized the exact place where we had spent the first night
last April, but we saw that we had taken very nearly the same time to
get there, three hours.

This time I was sure I could get the party down the correct promontory,
the long one that extends toward the angle above the terrace east of
Elves. We found convenient breaks near the end of each terrace, but we
finally had to cut back to the northwest to find the crucial crack
behind a big rock that took us down the most persistent cliff. I am sure
this is what I had located before, but I hadn't realized that it was
quite this near the end of the terrace. On the return I found a cairn I
had built to mark the place. The way along the Redwall rim is very
winding but it is fast since there is a good burro trail almost all the
way south to the ravine that cuts through the upper Redwall down to the
bed of the creek. This time there were plenty of burro signs along the
bed of the creek but none down as far as the waterholes below the first
big drop.

Just as we arrived at the barrier in the lower Redwall where a brushy
bench extends to the right, one of the men saw a bighorn. They noticed
two or three and finally six were in sight at once. The animals got away
so fast, my only picture might barely show a white rump, but Bill Mooz
has higher hopes for one he took through a telephoto lens. I led the
group around the drop by following the bighorns and getting down to the
bed 100 yards farther on, but on the return the three who came up last
stayed in the bed. I must have done this myself on former trips. Doc
noted some good rain pools below this barrier which we counted on during
the trip out. A few minutes farther down canyon, we arrived at the
tributary from the east where one should climb up on the east bench if
he wants to reach the terrace with the benchmark. We went up immediately
and had to go high to get past a slide where the steep clay walls are
impossible. On the return we went down a ravine to the bed north of here
by perhaps 100 yards. When one stays low along the bench he can walk
right along at a normal pace. There is a recognizable trail almost all
the way which makes travel seem luxurious compared to similar places I
have been attempting in Mohawk and National Canyons. Up to our arrival
near the bench mark I had been predicting our time requirements very
successfully. We came from the car and reached the terrace before four.

By now, however, Bill was feeling his knee and needed a rest. While the
others were stopped with him, I went ahead to relocate the rappel site.
I went down along the north edge of the terrace and came around a knoll
right to the place again. Putting my pack down right on the shelf where
we would need the rope, I went up to signal to the others. It was a good
thing because they were all high on the slope overshooting the right place.

Doc and I tugged at the anchor stone without being able to budge it. It
is bigger and more irregular than I had remembered it from last spring.
It even seems to be cemented by travertine to the floor. I suppose it
broke from natural causes, but if so this circumstance is just as
peculiar as the bedrock weathered rope anchor at the site of the Hopi
Salt Source. If it were more than a yard in either direction along the
shelf, it would be in the wrong place. As Doc fastened his rope around
the rock and got out his diaper sling and brake bar, we had time to note
the two poles leaning against the wall from the platform 20 feet down.
Their lower ends were braced in a man made pile of rocks. They lean like
a ladder without rungs against the wall to the east of the best rappel
site, and the top of the poles is supposed to get one to a place where
the wall can be climbed. Perhaps Allyn or Doc could go up here, but I
would no more want to try this than I would the similar place at the top
of the driftwood ladder near the Hopi Salt Source. There have never been
any nails driven into the poles near Elves and we reasoned that these
poles may be as old as the ruins on the terrace. A C 14 date would be
interesting. (Gary Stiles climbed this from below without a rope up west
of the rappel and then across and up.)

I led off for the rappel and Doc even sat behind the anchor rock and
gave me a belay with the rope Art Foran had carried. Everything went
easily although I felt a few butterflies in the solar plexus before
starting down. there are even some small toeholds below the rim for the
first few yards. The bottom eight feet has a slight overhang but it is
not large enough to cause any twisting and swinging. After I had
unhooked myself, I found that from the shelf I was on it is simple to
climb down a crack to the talus below and reach the place where I had
come up from the river in 1961. I wish my former log had been explicit
about whether I had then climbed on this shelf and had seen the poles.
My present recollection is that I hadn't but that I had seen the shelf
from which we could rappel. I have checked and in the log of last April
I mentioned three poles. This would include the two leaning against the
wall and one that is lying down.

By the time all were down and Art had tried his Jumar ascenders to get
back on the shelf to look for a hip pad missing from Doc's waist band,
it was dark. We were glad we all had flashlights and that I remembered
the easy way down to the river. There was a moon and we had no trouble
getting enough mesquite for a fine cooking and campfire. The sand was
good for our beds but I was a little chilly before morning.

We had a leisurely start about 8:30 on Friday morning and took
surprisingly long to reach Elves. After climbing up to the upper fall
and pool, we started on. The big driftwood log is still perched across
the top of a split rock just as I remembered it from 1961. I was not
clear about where the going was to become most time consuming except
that it was along Stephen Aisle. We got by some of the cliffy
promontories by staying low although we were above a Tapeats bluff above
the water. This kind of walking reminded Bill Mooz of the Beamer Trail
south of the mouth of the Little Colorado. I had already thought of the
similarity of our rappel to that going down to the Hopi Salt Source.
Perhaps it isn't too remarkable that the region above the beginning of
the Grand Gorge should resemble that where the granite is about to go under.

Jorgen was so eager to get on and see the place that I had picked for a
try at climbing the Redwall between Forster and Fossil that we had to
gang up to make him stop at a rainpool at 12:15 p.m. for lunch. He would
hardly believe me when I told him that it would take us two hours of
walking to get down to the river from there. Actually it was 3:30 p.m.
before we came to a place where there was easy access to the Colorado
with sand for sleeping and enough wood. Jorgen had gotten quite far
ahead and when we came along he was about through with a chilly bath in
the river. Bill was already having trouble with a knee, so he and Art
stayed around camp to collect wood while Jorgen, Doc, and I went west to
see the climbing area. This took less than an hour and we were well
beyond the delta of Forster when we stopped. It was clearly too late to
do any more than look at the place. Doc had said that my serials made
the climb seem 75% possible, but now we all thought that the probability
was far less. I still want to try it someday, but when I was on the
spot, I was about ready to write it off as a bad guess (it goes by
Enfilade Point Route).

We saw one burro on the north side of the river west of the mouth of
Black Tail Canyon. We saw our eighth bighorn on the south side also.

I had thought that we would eat lunch at Elves Chasm and then get up the
rope to camp at the Royal Arch. Bill was having a lot of trouble with
his knee, however, and we stopped for lunch at a beach west of Elves.
The early morning had been overcast but now the sun came out in fine
style and Jorgen and Bill had another dip while I was keeping warm in my
jacket. Here I decided to go out on time and let Jorgen and Doc stay
behind with Bill. The others wouldn't be as embarrassed as I would by
not appearing for work on Monday. Art decided to come with me.

Jorgen had his chance and climbed quite high at Elves Chasm. He reported
many little cairns to mark the route, but still he didn't get high
enough to see the fall directly below Royal Arch and the tower. Art and
I got on a bighorn trail that led east and followed it rather high
before we lost it. Our route up to the rappel was much more direct than
if we had gone east to the former camp before climbing. Art went up the
rope using the Jumars first and hauled our packs up before I started up.
the Jumars are much easier than Prusik knots. At the top I found natural
handholds. I left my extra food for the later party where the rope was
tied and of course we lowered the Jumars to the shelf below. The other
three saw us as we were finishing our job on the shelf above the rope
and were able to make themselves heard. Before we left, Art found Doc's
missing pad and we left it with the food. We then concentrated on
getting across the slump and travertine terrace and by the steep bench
to the bed of Royal Arch Creek. Daylight was about gone when we were
going up the bed looking for a rainpool. We were beginning to worry
about having gone upstream instead of down to the spring when we came to
plenty. When we spread out our beds we were careful to put them where it
would be possible to climb high on the bank if there should be a rain
and a flood. The night was mostly overcast and then just before dawn a
slow rain started. We ate in the dark and started on by 7:10. With the
polished bedrock wet, we had to climb around the barriers in the brush
along the slopes. I easily recognized the burro trail by which we had
come through the top part of the Redwall and we were able to follow a
good burro trail along the rim of the Redwall. There are still a number
of burros left in this amphitheater and we saw three as we went north. I
don't understand why this part of the canyon should be such a favorable
habitat for both burros and sheep when neither are common in most of the
park. I hadn't remembered how many headlands we needed to pass before we
came to the right place to go up, but I recalled that it was opposite
the little bridge that we call Keyhole Begay. I walked most of the
Redwall rim with my plastic sheet over my head and the pack to shed the
rain and snow, but as we arrived at the climb, the weather began to
clear. The cloud effects around Wheeler Point, Mount Huethawali, and
other prominences were out of this world. We were able to follow a burro
trail most of the way up through the Supai and I went right to the
crucial crack behind the big rock that was the key to the route.

The trail around below the pinnacle required care with the snow over the
rocks and grass. On the rim we stayed within sight of the east rim until
we came to the telephone line and then followed it for about eight
minutes or to the north side of Point Quetzal. Here Art spread out the
map on the ground and we oriented it with Fossil Mountain that I
recognized. The sun was showing most of the time so we didn't need a
compass. When we hit the road we knew which way to turn and within a
minute we could see the parked cars. It took less time to get back from
the point than we had taken on the way out.

The other three traveled about seven hours on Sunday to come from the
river up through Royal Arch creek and camped just below the crucial
crack in the Supai cliff. It snowed much of the night, but they were
comfortable under a couple of overhangs. They walked on out to the road
on Monday in several inches of snow to find Art's Travel all waiting
where he had taken it back to pick them up on Monday. Bill's knee had
felt worse on Monday than on Sunday, but they had made fair enough time.
Jorgen found a piece of pottery along our route above the river near the
upper end of Conquistador Aisle.

**
*Diamond Creek
[December 30, 1968 to January 2, 1969]*

Doug Shough came from Cottonwood Sunday evening as planned, but I had a
number of chores and wasn't ready to go until after noon on Monday. They
are still improving the road down Peach Springs Wash until now the upper
part is as fast as the road to Supai. It would be a much harder
assignment to keep the lower end of the road out of reach of floods,
much like building the breakwater for a harbor. We met a Mr. Dunnigan
fishing at the river when we were leaving the area. He said that they
can keep the road in shape throughout the year except for July and
August. In my new Ford pickup truck, I had no worries about injury to
the car or getting stuck in sand.

We shouldered our packs where we met Diamond Creek and started walking
at 4:00 p.m. We were intrigued by a road that they have bulldozed across
the flat starting up Diamond Creek. It has been cut by a flood but there
are still rubber tire tracks showing in the sand in a part beyond the
cut. One branch goes up a steep slope and makes one switchback. Mr.
Dunnigan accounted for this as going to an exploratory mine. Doug and I
conjectured that the Indian Service had some money at the end of the
fiscal year that would revert to the U. S. Treasury if it weren't spent.
Anyway, this 500 yards of road is easier on the hiker's feet than the
boulder field it goes through.

During the 90 minutes we allowed ourselves before stopping for the
night, we passed the tandem falls that are a prelude to the black rock
narrows and reached the more open area where some cottonwood trees grow.
It was a little hard for me to climb up the rock to get past the falls
with my pack on my back. The night was chilly but the frost line was a
little farther up canyon. My new ensolite pad did seem warmer under me
than an air mattress, but I missed the comfort of the mattress. I'll use
the ensolite only for cold weather.

On Tuesday we got away about 8:00 a.m. We noted the slight amount of
water coming out of Robber's Roost Canyon. There was lots of jumping
across the little creek and much watching one's footing across fields of
boulders. It seemed to me that away from the streambed were mostly sand
and boulders. We saw three or four horses going up a steep trail near
the side canyon on the north side above the Tapeats. It seemed that one
might have a chance of climbing out through the Redwall in that direction.

We came to the broad canyon down from the pass separating Robber's Roost
Canyon from Diamond Creek about 10:15 a.m. and started up to inspect it
for a horse trail. We left the packs at the bottom and Doug gave me a
candy bar for a possibly necessary snack before we got back to the real
lunch. When the going got a bit rough in the bed of the wash, Doug
suggested going up on the west to try to locate some sort of wild horse
trail. Before long we came to a man made trail that went high above the
bed by switchbacks. Then it contoured back into the bed and went up the
slope to the east. Just when we had concluded that it was going to
continue to a break in the upper cliffs in that direction, it angled to
the west and went up a valley there. The part through the blackbrush on
top was obscure. I continued on through some snow until I was sure I had
connected with the area that Allyn and I had covered three years ago.
The candy bar was most welcome because it took us an hour and a half to
reach the top and an hour to get down.

I wasn't in good hiking shape and we took a long lunch break. I wanted
to show Doug the fine bank of ferns at the upper spring, but I became
confused by a little flow we saw near the horse trail and thought that
the next water coming into the main bed should be the last. This time,
contrary to my recollection from three years ago, the bed was dry for
about a half a mile above the Tapeats and it was also dry above the
junction with the lower spring. We went into the lower spring canyon and
soon I knew that it was a first time for me. I could see what Donald
Davis meant when he said that this spring is harder to reach than the
upper one. It is rougher over the rocks of the bed and the thickets have
more low branches. We continued past the junction with the dry arm and
eventually passed the fern covered bank of travertine below the spring.
We had decided to camp where the lower spring water comes into the main
bed of Diamond and we had allowed an hour for the ascent. When we had
been going up for 55 minutes we were at a place where we could see that
there was a most impressive boxing ahead, sheer walls where a great fall
would form in a storm. On the right side of this spring canyon, a little
upstream from the spring, there may be a place that one could climb out.
If I ever want to catalog all descents, I should check this place. We
got back 20 minutes faster than we had gone up because we took to the
open slope on the south side where horses have made trails. I believe
Davis had noted that this is faster.

We had a premonition that we would have a colder night than the previous
one and I kept a fire going all night. There was no wind but the logs
popped small coals out and made a few small holes in my plastic sheet.
Fortunately none landed on the bag. There was a little ice in the
canteen by morning. On New Years Day we got away about 8:00 a.m. We
walked up the dry bed and found a little water coming into the main bed
from the next side canyon. This was the upper spring canyon. The amount
of water was soon perceptibly greater. I recognized the pleasant walking
under the trees and the pretty little fall over the rock ledge. Doug was
really impressed by the falls through the maidenhair ferns. From my
previous inspection, I thought that there might be a way out through the
upper end of this canyon, but rather than take time to see, we returned
to the main project, to check the arm of the canyon that goes on over
toward Prospect Valley. I thought that because of the great fault, this
would be a logical place for a walk out to the plateau.

Opposite the mouth of the upper spring canyon, we saws a shallow cave
high up in the base of the Redwall. Both Doug and I thought that there
might be a wall of adobe in it forming an Indian ruin. We postponed
inspecting it closer until the return. When we had gone less than
halfway up to it, we both agreed that the wall was merely a natural
rockfall.

Walking the main bed is relatively easy and fast above here for some
distance. The next side canyon from the east looked long and
interesting. From what we could see in passing, there should be a good
chance of walking out to the plateau here too. We kept to the main
canyon, to the north. Just as we came to the precipitous side canyon
from the west, we noted vertical veins of calcite that go across the
side canyon from wall to wall. I had never seen them a foot or more
thick and so continuous. The texture was most interesting in the bed
where the calcite was worn smooth.

The next tributary from the east was visibly impossible, but a little
farther north on the east side, a snow covered slope seems to offer a
good chance for getting out. We wanted to see the farthest north arm, so
we passed by this too. Very soon we saw a rockslide seemingly at the
main fault that looked promising. It was directly ahead while the canyon
makes a sharp meander to the west. We were both fairly sure that there
should be an impassible fall in the bed here although we didn't actually
go far enough to see it. At the top of this slide we were on a narrow
wall that leads to a pinnacle surrounded by the meander. We could follow
a bench ahead on the east and then climb a similar slide to another
saddle. From this we might have been able to get down into the bed of
the wash and proceed north with no further problems, but we elected to
continue along a bench. After we had gone along here for perhaps 200
yards, we saw that we had a good chance of being able to double back and
climb to the top of the Redwall and get a fine view of the whole area.
We succeeded in doing this with some use of the hands. The Redwall rim
on the east is fully 350 feet higher than it is on the west side of this
canyon.

We had succeeded in the main objective but we had also noted four other
places where it would be interesting to try a climb. On the last day we
checked the Lost Man Tributary of Peach Springs Wash and found that it
is impossible.

**
*Through the Redwall across from Diamond Peak
[February 8, 1969]*

Bob Packard and I left Flagstaff in my truck about 7:00 p.m. with the
highway somewhat icy until we reached the Ashfork hill. There was also
some snow on the road into the wash beyond the Peach Springs airstrip.
Below that the surface was slightly muddy for a mile or two, and the
last mile of the road to the river was bad in a spot or two from a
recent flood. We were glad we had a truck instead of a car. The night
was clear and breezy, but we slept warm enough.

The river had been several feet higher, but as it was the level was up
from what I had seen in November and at the first of the year. The
current may have been stronger, but I was able to row Bob over in the
kayak without drifting downstream very far. Along both banks there were
back eddies. I had decided not to go to the ravine below Diamond Rapid
where I had seen a sure way through the Tapeats, but rather to go
upstream to the side canyon there. We landed at a beach and put the
kayak behind some willows. As we walked east to the canyon mouth, we
came on a cache of about 40 quarts of outboard motor oil and a barrel of
gas. It did seem like a fine spot for a camp.

The floor of the side canyon was rather level for about 200 yards and
then as it turned to the left, we found the bed to be gray granite.
After some of this routine upgrade, we came to an impassible fall. I led
Bob up a scree slope to the right which turned again. With some hand and
toe climbing, we got up to a notch from which we could look down into
the gradually rising bed beyond. With a short detour down and up to a
similar notch next to the Tapeats cliff, we got to a narrow and
precarious bench that led north to a ravine going up through the
Tapeats. This ended inside a little tower of Tapeats capped with a loose
block that can serve as a natural cairn for this route. We still had to
walk up 80 or 100 feet to get to the broad Tonto level. Here there was a
well established burro trail that provided fine walking around into the
next canyon east. The canyon where we had left the river is a big one
and is well shown on the Williams 1/250,000 Quad map, but where we
wanted to go up the Redwall is hardly shown at all. The 15 minute Quad
would be a big help when it is finished.

One branch of the burro trail went up towards the ravine which I had
identified as a possible break in the Redwall. Above some abrupt places
in the shale this trail entered the bed. After two or three small
barriers which were easily bypassed, we approached a place where the
canyon forks. Both forks seem to have high impassible falls, but we saw
where some animals had been going out of the bed to the south. The
highest burro droppings were in the bed at the base of this steep
scramble, but we saw none higher. There were bighorn droppings at
intervals all the way to the plateau above, and in the soft soil on top,
there were some very clear bighorn tracks as well as other animal
tracks. When we had gone up around 150 feet on this bypass, we got back
into the bed and proceeded to a narrow slot that looked a bit difficult
from a distance. However, it was fairly easy to find a couple of ways by
the chockstone. We used the bed and then the slope to the north for the
rest of the way to the top of the Redwall. The Redwall shows quite a
displacement where we came out on top, that to the northwest being about
100 feet higher.

Just before the last scramble to the top, we saw a good window to the
north of our route. To the west of the window, accessible along a ledge,
was a shallow cave. Our inspection turned up no pottery but we did find
bits of charcoal as well as sticks that had been brought in but not used
for a fire. There was no way of knowing whether we had been preceded
along here by ancient Indians, recent Indians, or white prospectors,
unless someone would pay for a carbon 14 dating of the firewood.

On top of the Redwall it was easy to walk uphill to the northwest. We
kept to the divide between the big drainage at whose mouth we had left
the boat and the canyon that goes into the river about Mile 219. The
final point from which we turned back about 12:45 p.m. was at the top of
the Supai where the Williams Quad shows a contour around a small butte.
If I had wanted to go on around the base of the top cliffs of Hermit,
Coconino, and Kaibab I should have stayed lower and gone to the north of
this knoll. We ate lunch near the top where we found some water standing
in depressions. From the top there was a lot of scenery. We could see a
bit of the Uinkarets across the Colorado twice. The Redwall on the east
side of the river is far higher than it is on the west side below where
we were. It is also broken and scree covered in many places. We could
see that Diamond Peak, consisting of Redwall largely, is far below the
corresponding strata immediately to the east. We could see up the lower
part of Diamond Creek, but there was no hint of the canyon bed turning
to the north and lying between us and the high rim to the east.

Something that impressed both of us was that the top cliff to the north,
the Hermit, Coconino, and Kaibab, was nearly impregnable. However, I did
find one place where I believe one could go up a scree slope, then west
along a ledge, and finally up through the Kaibab in a broad ravine. This
is facing the bay formed by the canyon upriver from Separation. It is
not to be confused with the place one should be able to break through
the upper cliff at the head of Separation.

On our way up, Bob was impressed by quite a collection of odd
concretions in the Supai. He also picked up a strange looking little
rock. It is black and seems to have a fused surface like slag. It is as
heavy as if it were a meteorite. I brought it home and will show it to
the geologists (manganese ore).

When we got back to the place to start down the Redwall, it was still
only 2:00 p.m. We elected to go out along the rim of the Redwall toward
the river. This was on a promontory with a narrow neck and a blunt head.
This gave us what Bob thought were the finest views of the day, down on
the river both upstream and down.

The trip back down to the boat was only about 15 minutes faster than it
had been uphill. We decided that our most precarious climbing of the day
was not in the Redwall at all but from the rim of the Tapeats down to
the bed of the creek. I had no trouble recognizing the route but the way
along the top of the granite over to the head of the trough seemed
harder at the end of the day. We went down to the level creekbed in the
trough east of the one where we had come up. It is almost straight in
line with the part of the creek that points directly toward the river.

The only excitement of our second crossing was when Bob was pushing the
boat off into the river. His foot began to stick in the mud and he
almost fell in the water and mud. We were packed and leaving by five and
got home in good time at 8:30 p.m.

I figured that it was quite a day. We had found a route through to the
Tonto which I hadn't scouted at all. The route through the Redwall not
only proved possible but it was easier than expected. We found a window
through the rim of the Redwall and also a cave with signs of human use.
We also found that one can make respectable progress over the terrain to
the head of Separation. One would have to be prepared for freezing
temperatures at night above the Redwall, but it would be a good two day
winter hike to come up here and go down to the mouth of Separation.

**
*Middle Echo Peak
[February 15, 1969]*

Bob Packard went with me up to Lee's Ferry which we reached about 9:30
a.m. It was interesting to see the motel units and the store and
restaurant. The Sparks, who now hold the concession, are ready for lots
of business. They offer Jeep trips up the Paria Canyon, boating up to
the dam at $15.00 per person, and they are going to start a new package
in river trips. It will be a three day trip down to the mouth of the
Little Colorado River with helicopter service to bring the passengers
and equipment back up to the plateau. They think that there are enough
people ready to pay $295.00 to make it worthwhile. The drawing point
will be that the patron won't have to endure a mule ride up the Kaibab
Trail at the end of the trip.

Bob and I crossed the river about ten and put the kayak up high in the
brush where a rise in the river would not affect it. There were numerous
fresh beaver cuttings in this riverside thicket and there were many
holes in the soil just about big enough for a beaver.

We went past the rock cabin on the far side of the flat but didn't
inspect it. After some scrambling over the broken hills we came to the
barely recognizable road. In a short time I lost it and we went rather
high above where the road used to go. This was a mistake because in the
increasing drizzle, we had trouble on the clay slope. After getting by
this difficulty, I followed the flat below while Bob unwilling to lose
his altitude, kept up on the rough slope above. We met at the base of
the great sandslide on the west side and ate lunch before starting up.

About 12:15 p.m. we started up the sand and we needed about 30 minutes
to get to the top. We clocked ourselves down the same way later in the
day at five minutes for this slope. In another 15 minutes we had reached
the saddle between the south peak and the middle peak. I noted that we
had gone up toward the middle peak when I had Reider Peterson and Norvel
Johnson with me, but we had given up trying to reach the north peak by
this route without attempting the middle peak. Although it is lower than
the other two, my impression was that it is the hardest climb of the three.

After a short scramble along the ridge, we had to choose the east side
or the west. I couldn't see very far ahead on either, but the west
seemed to lead upwards more consistently. I tried a direct route but
gave it up. I feel sure that Allyn or Donald could get up there, but I
came down and followed Bob around farther along the west side. We soon
came to the end of that ledge, but just before the end, there was a
chance to try to go up at a crack. I couldn't seem to pull up well
enough to reach a place for my knee, so Bob leaned against the wall and
made a cup with his hands at wrist level. With this step, I got up. I
intended to come down and do the same for him, but while I was checking
out the top rocks, he had made it by himself. I built a cairn of
crumbling rock at a place that may be two inches lower than another
block, but I was able to get on top of this slightly higher one also.

There was a way down on the northeast side that seemed to go all right
for the 30 yards that I could see. There was plenty of exposure, but I
took it very slowly. I had no real trouble in getting back to the ridge
south of the summit by a route that is easier than the one we had used
for the ascent. On our return we went lower and caught the old trace of
a road, but we left it to go out on a point or two on the light colored
terrace above the junction of the Paria and the Colorado. It was
interesting to see the thick muddy water mix with the clear. They stayed
apart until caught by the Paria Riffle.

Before we got off the slope, Bob called my attention to four domestic
sheep. Since there were no others around, we guessed that they had
strayed from some Navaho flock and might well pass all their days in
freedom.

The light rain had stopped before time for lunch, and we felt that the
day was well spent.

**
*Towards Lonetree Canyon
[March 8, 1969]*

Allyn Cureton had visited a ruin that Euler had discovered from the air,
and Allyn told me where to find it, below the Tapeats on the west side
of Lonetree Canyon. Unfortunately, I thought I could find Lonetree
without taking the map along.

I left the Kaibab Trail at 8:00 a.m. and found the trail not too bad.
The snow was deep near the top, but the wind had piled it deeper at the
outside edge of the trail in a sort of cornice. Hikers and mules had
formed a rough path in the deep snow. A little lower the clay was frozen
in a rough surface. In fact the day was so cold that in the shade there
was no melting as low as the rim of the Redwall. Below the three and a
half mile post, a little below the last switchback of the Redwall
descent, I left the trail and went southeast into Cremation Canyon. For
a time I was uncertain whether to try to go down the Tapeats narrows in
the west arm or go to the south. I ended by going south of the major
cliffs but I found a way down into the east branch without going too far
out of the way. About here I encountered a group of eight fine mule
deer. Although they weren't very close, all seemed to be bucks with fine
racks. They watched me for a time and then went bounding uphill and out
of sight over a ridge.

Soon after I crossed the bed of the east arm of Cremation, I came on a
good burro trail. This may be along the original Tonto Trail. As I now
read the map, I was too far south and too high to be on the Tonto Trail
until I got across to the east of the bed of Cremation. On the return I
found that there is a way to get down into the bed after all three arms
have come together. One can get up on the west side rather directly, and
I found an interesting trail that goes east from the bed and stays below
the Tapeats, at least to the next cut through the formation. On the
return, I detoured along this lower route for ten minutes. It became
indistinct but I had already assured myself that one can get through the
Tapeats farther east.

When I was below the ridge of Redwall that projects farthest northeast
from below Pattie Butte, I chanced to look up at the right time and saw
a fine window near the top of a fin of limestone. It is broader and
larger than the similar one to the west of the Kaibab Trail. I got a
better look and a photo on my way back.

Shortly after passing beneath this ridge, I had good views across the
river. I could see that one should have no difficulty in coming off the
plateau and getting down Zoroaster Canyon. The surest way would be to
follow the ridge separating Zoroaster from Clear Creek and then come
down to the bed from the east, but there may be a way to leave the
plateau a little farther west. Here there is quite a bit of bare granite
that may be a little too steep.

A little farther east I could look down and get my clearest view over of
the mouth of Clear Creek with its fin of schist projecting into the
current and making a landing at the mouth about impossible. I could see
every bit of the way that Finicum and I had come down in a minor canyon
just east of Clear Creek and I had a fine look at the beach where the
Cal Tech Party camped. I saw that it is quite easy to get around the
corner into the Clear Creek slope and reach the bed a bit upstream from
the mouth, but one has to get through the Tapeats in the same place Don
and I came down. I think this is the valley where George Billingsley
found an Indian ruin, but it may be the larger heading beneath the
saddle of the Howland's Butte. About here I became confused and thought
I could remember that Lonetree Canyon came down to the river west of the
mouth of Clear Creek, and I returned to look for the ruin west of where
I was. After studying the map again, I saw my mistake after I had
reached the ranger station. I had been rewarded by seeing the high
window, the old trail below the Tapeats, and some fine views of the
river, but I'll have to go again to see the ruin. I didn't take time to
check the seep spring in the high shale near the end of the point above
Cremation. It shows better in the summer when the leaves are on the trees.

**
*Lonetree Canyon
[March 29, 1969]*

Joe Hall and his family were at Grand Canyon visiting the Larry
Hendersons Friday evening. We were Joe's guests at Bright Angel Lodge
for dinner and then we had a good visit at Hendersons. About the middle
of the evening along came two cavers, Dave Nelson and Bill Peachey. They
were going on a non caving trip down the Tanner Trail and out the
Grandview Trail. We found a lot to talk about. After a night at the
recently opened campground, I had breakfast at the Hendersons with the
Halls. The Halls were going to take their time starting a week long
backpack over to Clear Creek, but Larry Henderson and Bob Packard came
with me. We started down the Kaibab Trail about eight and reached the
place below the white switchbacks in just over an hour. The head of the
trail was still frozen, but it was in fine shape all the way. On the
return, we had to dodge just a few muddy spots.

We crossed Cremation Canyon above the main Tapeats outcrops. It worked
out rather well, much better than when we were returning. On the return,
I tried to follow the map version of the Tonto Trail. I believe we were
correct, but we had about three deep ravines to cross. Rather than cross
all three one after the other, if one wishes to come to the Kaibab Trail
where the Tonto crosses it, there is only one ravine to cross, and it is
no deeper than two of the arms higher to the south. I was doing it the
best way without realizing it on my trip several weeks ago.

When we came to the place where I had looked up at the window through
the Redwall, the others would have missed seeing it if I hadn't called
their attention to it. It doesn't show up at all well from the trail.
Something that Larry saw much better than I did were the numerous sets
of deer antlers. Perhaps they had been shed just since I had been down
there a few weeks ago.

The day was warm but not too bad for good walking and we found ourselves
approaching Lonetree almost an hour ahead of the time I had been close
on the previous trip. We kept to the best trail instead of going out on
the points for good views of the river and for photos as I had done
before. We entered Lonetree near where the Tonto Trail crosses it and
then walked down the bed. Bob stayed up near the top of the talus at the
immediate base of the Tapeats while Larry and I went down the middle and
checked for water. We had decided to see what the ravine would be like
where it met the inner gorge. As we neared this transition, I left the
bed and went over one spur to the east and then went up and out to the
west. I was able to walk down farther here than the other two could go
down the bed. I could see a short distance upstream and then by going
over a spur to the west, I had a good view of the mouth of Clear Creek.

If one were to try reaching the river at the mouth of Lonetree Canyon,
he should go to the east of the drop off. I am rather sure that one
could go down a route that slopes into the lower part of the wash not
far from the river. It might make an interesting one day return to go
down here and then return to the rim via the river on an air mattress
and go up the Kaibab Trail.

In going down the bed, Larry and I came to a big old cottonwood tree and
lower we found water running along over the bedrock. When we were
through with our inspection of the drop off area, we went up to the base
of the Tapeats on the west side of the canyon. Even before we reached
the base of the cliff, I happened to be ahead for the moment, and I saw
the ruins. There were about four rooms side by side against the cliff
base and just to the north a row of neat storage bins. As usual these
were better preserved than the rooms. We could get up the Tapeats
immediately to the south. Larry called our attention to the many
Mariposa lilies that would bloom soon.

**
*Papago Point and the Little Colorado
[April 3, 1969]*

My intention for the day was to check the descent into Havatagvich
Canyon north of Chikapanagi Tank, but when I was about 20 miles west of
the village on the Topocoba Road, it began to snow so hard that I was a
little nervous about getting back on time. It snowed for another hour
besides the hour that I took to get back to the pavement, and I decided
to spend some time in the library at the Visitor's Center. I just caught
up on some magazines and then leafed through one box of miscellany. The
item that I spent the most time reading was an account by Masland of the
1948 Grand Canyon traverse. I noted that Garth Marston floated through
Houserock Rapid on an air mattress.

After a late lunch I thought I would do a bit of rim strolling. As far
as I could tell without optical aid, Cheyava Falls is booming right now.

I walked out to Papago Point following the east side of Papago Canyon.
There are ruins scattered along the rim to the west of here from Zuni
Point to the head of the east arm of Papago, but I couldn't see any
today. There was a dubious wall, almost fallen down, guarding a couple
of yards of the rim at the end of Papago Point, but I could see no room
outlines either on the promontory or in the woods. The rim east of the
point didn't produce any either to my hasty search. After staying close
to the rim and walking out on projections for 15 minutes, I headed back
to the highway. This lackluster experience was brightened by one
exceptional occurrence. As I was leaving Papago Point, I heard a distant
rumble a bit like a jet plane, but more uneven. I got back to the rim
facing west in time to see a column of dust rising above the rim There
had been quite a large rockfall at least a half mile away. There were a
couple of places on the opposite cliff that had fresh looking scars, but
I believe I identified the place, not really big as such things go, but
definitely more of a fall than I had ever seen before. I only wish I had
been looking in that direction with a clear view when it came down.

In order to use the rest of the afternoon to best advantage, I decided
to go and see the high water in the Little Colorado in the narrows at
the dam site. It had been several years since I was there where the
Bureau of Reclamation had built a high ladder down to the place where
the inner gorge is 70 feet deep and only about 30 feet wide. Still I
remember how to drive near the place. One goes down the same approach
road that leads to the Hopi Trail Crossing. I could see fairly fresh
tire tracks that probably were made by the Holzhauser's Land Rover when
they were ending their float trip from Cameron to this crossing. I drove
the truck about a half mile farther than I had dared take my regular
car, but it was good that I didn't try to go as far as the Land Rover.

When I reached the broad bench above the river, I remembered that I had
been wishing I had a view of the entire river at the Hopi Trail
Crossing. Father Garces had said that they had crossed at the farthest
west place where horses could get across the river. I hope my slide
shows that this is the place. Even with the present high water, the
river splits around two or three islands.

As soon as I had this picture, I hurried back to the dam site hoping
that there would still be enough light for a few pictures there. I
believe that one ladder at the top of the route down through the natural
bridge has been removed purposely, but the other ladders are still in
place. The high ladder seems to be braced about as well as when it was
new, but it sways slightly. I was very careful not to move so as to let
the vibrations build up. Two of the rungs have been smashed, but I don't
think their failure is due to rot. Stones may have fallen smashing them.

The water was boiling through the narrows, but still it didn't seem as
deep as I had hoped. I would estimate that it was only eight to ten feet
deep.

After the storm the sky became as clear as it can be in Arizona and all
the colors were striking. I have never seen the Painted Desert looking
better.

**
*Black Tank Wash and Highwall Spring Trail
[April 7, 1969]*

Ever since reading Frank Casanova's article on the historic trails to
Supai, I had wanted to see the Kla la pa Trail, now shown on the map
near the High Wall Spring. Also from the story that J. W. McKinney, in
1884, had left Bass by going ahead down the main Cataract Canyon and
then had gone back to Williams via Black Tank Wash, I was eager to see
how readily one could leave the canyon bed here. I fumbled a bit in
reaching Platinum Tanks. I left US 180 on the Wilaha Road and after
seven miles reached the old train station. In about seven more miles I
hit the road going north to the big ranch where dams stop the flow of
the main Havasu drainage. From here on one finds little brown signs
directing one to Supai. I watched the mileage and figured that I should
go north when I came to a gate with high posts. In about three and a
half miles the road along the east side of the fence gave out in some
rough country. Rather than spend the day walking from there, I thought
it would be better to drive ahead and see whether there might be a
better approach road. Shortly after passing the next little brown sign
for Supai, I came to a road going north. It is 14 miles and two gates
from the main road to Supai. About eight and a half miles north on this
pair of ruts, one reaches some big cattle tanks that I took to be
Platinum Tanks. I drove past the water about a quarter mile without a
road, and then headed northwest. The canyon rim there had to be Black
Tank Wash and very near where I first looked down to the bed at the top
of the Coconino, I found a constructed trail. This was a bit to the
north of the vertical drop in the main bed and on the east side. There
appeared to be a way down from the opposite rim but I couldn't make out
any trail. My trail stayed above the Toroweap and crossed the bed or
else it just led to a deep and broad rain pool. Some game trails seemed
to go along the clay slope above the Toroweap along the west side of the
canyon. I got down the main bed to the actual Coconino where I found
some more pools just above a sheer drop of at least 150 feet. The only
possible descent was around the corner to the west, and to reach it one
would have to go back above the Toroweap. The wall looked so steep that
I gave up without a closer examination.

After lunch I went back up on the east side and followed the rim a short
distance to the north. From there the Coconino around the corner from
where I had eaten looked much better. Instead of thinking that the story
about McKinney had to be wrong, I began to feel that a good climber
might be able to make it. By this time I had decided to go east to the
High Wall Spring Trail and get down to the spring before time to camp.
The weather was rather cold and the rim here is 5680 feet. I thought
that I would come around from below and try climbing the Coconino in
Black Tank Wash at the end of my trip.

It was good that I was carrying a map because I had to consult it to
identify the promontory east of the bay of High Wall Spring. When I
first reached the rim, I was a bit too far east, but I soon went west
and found a few cairns. Instead of starting down right by two cairns,
the trail really begins about 50 feet farther to the west. There were a
few confusing alternate routes, but the upper two thirds of the trail is
really quite clear cut. After getting through a not too exceptional part
of the Kaibab rim, it slants west to a very unusual talus that
completely covers the Coconino. At places this talus of clay and rubble
is only about 30 feet wide, but this is enough to accommodate the
switchbacks. A horse still has no trouble getting up this route.

There are two Indian ruins to the northwest of the foot of the trail.
One on the left about a quarter of a mile from the foot of the trail and
the other about the same distance on the right side from the foot of the
High Wall Spring spur trail. The latter is much more interesting with
well preserved storage bins.

The spur to High Wall Spring is also well defined. The spring itself is
unimpressive, a wet spot in the gravel and sand that collects into a
tiny channel for about 30 yards and then disappears. The Indians have
two picks and four shovels stored under an overhang which I chose for a
sleeping site. It may be necessary to dig for water at certain times of
the year, but in early April the flow was faster than I could take out
of a little pool with a cup while I was filling my canteens. The water
gathers from the bed which is full of horse hoofprints, so I would
rather drink it after doping it with Halazone.

On Tuesday morning I had eaten and was walking away by 6:45 a.m. The bay
surrounding the spring area is one of the best for the high walls and
interesting pinnacles. By moonlight I considered it especially
attractive. As I walked down canyon in the morning coolness, I looked up
at the Supai walls that form the inner canyon and then above to the rims
1600 feet above the bed and thought that here at least is one of the
unpublicized beauty spots of Arizona. While hundreds of people were
crowding the campsites north of the village at the falls, I had the
feeling that one could spend weeks in the upper arms of Havasu Canyon
without meeting another person. There are horses and cows, but they are
left to shift for themselves. The animals keep trails open along the
bed, and I had no trouble in making good progress down to Moqui Trail
Canyon where Allyn Cureton and I had been several years ago.

When I retrieved my pack which I had left at the junction with Black
Tank Wash, I resolved that if I went up the Black Tank arm and was
unable to climb the Coconino, I would be at least two hours longer in
getting back to the Kla la pa Trail and then to the car. As it was, I
would have a good day of walking without exceeding my strength, so I
resolved to come back for another inspection of Black Tank Wash. I went
back past the spur to High Wall Spring without needing to make the
detour for more water and went on up the Kla la pa Trail. At the top I
spread the map out on the ground and tried to get a sun direction to
follow to Platinum Tanks. Apparently I oriented it incorrectly with a
point that was too close for accuracy, because when I had been walking
for about an hour, I finally saw the truck at right angles to my course
about a mile away.

There were a few small birds singing most of the time, and I noted a
number of flowers in bloom, but the show should be better later. I noted
numerous droppings of bighorns or deer, but I saw none of the live
animals. Just as I was thinking that I don't recognize antelope
droppings, I saw a group of five at quite a distance. Even though there
seemed to be no cause for alarm, they were at an all out run, giving a
fine exhibit of high spirits and perfect health.

I came away with the resolution to go back and try the descent of Black
Tank Wash and also to fill in the remaining part of the bed from the
base of the Kla l pa Trail to the Kirby Trail. the study of further
descent possibilities can be made more easily by following the rims from
which the Coconino cliff can be seen. It is the most persistent barrier
and it is usually obscured by the Supai cliffs along the bottom.

**
*Across from Diamond Creek to Trail Canyon
[April 26, 1969 to April 27, 1969]*

I arrived at the junction of Diamond Creek and Peach Springs Wash about
10:15 p.m. Friday evening. About 2:00 a.m., along came Jorgen, Doc
Ellis, and Bill Mooz. They had had quite a bit of mechanical trouble
with Bill's truck. We drove down to the Colorado River in the morning.
It was high enough to put water under the table in the pavilion at the
east end of the parking lot. I was hesitant to cross in my kayak
although I got as far as the middle. I could almost hold my own against
the current there. We held a council. I suggested some other projects
such as going west for a good inspection of Travertine Creek, but Jorgen
hated to admit that we had to change plans. He suggested some other
projects such as going up river beyond the riffle formed by the canyon
on the right bank and checking the idea of crossing there. When we did
this, we all agreed that the water was considerably quieter and that if
we should carry my kayak and Bill's rubber boat along the cliffy shore
that far, we could cross safely. Bill deflated his two man boat which
weighs about 16 pounds and proceeded to the place. When Jorgen and I had
carried mine a short distance, I suggested that I could row it across
where we were if I carried no passenger and then I could carry it
through the tamarisks above the riffle and come across from the right
bank to do the ferrying. This worked out all right although I had some
trouble finding my way through the brush with the boat over my head. On
the downstream side of the right bank delta, I noted very fresh beaver
tracks in the sand and there were some beaver felled trees. I didn't see
any sign of the cache of motor boat oil and gas that was there three
months ago.

Bill could row upstream along both banks and he could propel his craft
surprisingly well with the stubby oars. He took the packs over while I
took Jorgen and Doc in two trips. We were ready to start up toward the
rim of the Tonto at 9:30 a.m.

I had noted a route through the Tapeats at the top from the other side.
We left our boats safely above the waterline and behind some tamarisks
so that no wind could move them either. The best route up was somewhat
east of the break in the Tapeats which is only about 50 yards from where
the rim goes north along the side canyon. This route is more direct and
perhaps a little easier than the one Bob Packard and I had used inside
the side canyon. It took a bit over 30 minutes to reach the burro trail
on the Tonto.

Progress was rather easy along here. We had agreed to pass up the route
to the rim which Bob and I had used in favor of going along the Tonto to
the mouth of Trail Canyon. I wanted to be sure that we could camp by
water, the river, and I figured that with our rather late arrival on the
Tonto level, Kelly Spring by the immediate climb was out. Furthermore,
it had turned colder than normal, and Bill and I wanted to get by with
our light weight bags. There were three or four detours back into short
side canyons, but this stretch of the Tonto is far better for progress
than any other part I know about. Not far from Mile 224 Canyon we saw
that it was better walking on a lower level that had broadened into the
main terrace. The fracture that made this part of the trail not so
pleasant was the profusion of joints of jumping cactus on the trail. We
all tangled with it, but I may have been the worst off as some spines
came through my shoe leather at one time.

The good terrace gave out around Mile 222 and the burro trail was often
quite obscure in the jumble of rocks, but it was actually continuous. I
don't think that a horseman would want to stay in the saddle along here.
It was about here that we came to a couple of good overhangs. One of
them seemed to have the remains of a wall in it. Before we came down to
the lower level we passed one of the finest mescal pits any of us had
ever seen. It was as big as many a mine dump and had a well formed
circular depression in the top. Not far north of the two good overhangs
right next to the trail, we came to another some yards above our path.
At one end of this good overhang was the only cairn we saw on the entire
trip. Doc examined it and reported the absence of any can or message.
One of the fine features of the trip was the prevalence of flowers in
bloom. The Tonto was alive with the red tassels of the Ocotillo, the
yellow of composites, and especially with the blooming cactus of several
kinds, prickly pear, staghorn cholla, and a small one with green
flowers. The finest display was just as we arrived at the rim of Mile
220 Canyon.

The Tapeats forms quite a cliff above the latter canyon. We found a
sporty climb down a break that Doc declared feasible from a view from
the rim. Bill went down with his pack on his back but I handed my pack
and canteens to Bill and still had trouble getting my toes on the shelf
below. Jorgen used Doc's knee as a step and made out all right. On the
way back we used a better route only a few yards to the east that Bill
had noted. Bill said that from below anyone could see that the place we
came down was impossible.

We considered camping on the delta of Mile 220 Canyon, but Jorgen
particularly thought it would be better to move our packs ahead to Trail
Canyon, since we planned to go up it without them. We had to climb well
above the river to get north to Trail Canyon, and on the first part of
this lap, we encountered a trail that all of us thought must have been
man made. We got down to a good campsite just above the bed of Trail
Canyon and put our packs down.

It was now after 3:30 p.m. so we wondered how well we could inspect
Trail Canyon before we would have to turn back. We soon came to a small
flow of water in the Archean rock but by the time the Tapeats formed the
walls, it was gone. There were no noticeable obstructions in the bed,
which was mostly gently rising gravel. Burros had formed a good trail
all the way up and we encountered two in the flesh. Higher up, on our
return, we saw two more. After walking for about half an hour, we came
into the open valley above the Tapeats. Fifteen minutes farther we
passed a tributary from the left facing upstream. About 20 minutes later
we came to a major fork. The stream beds seemed to have brought down
about equal amounts of gravel. We remembered from the map that the north
arm came from near Kelly Spring so we assumed that it would be the best
route. The burro signs seemed more obvious in this arm, but we did not
really inspect the bed in the west arm.

It was soon past the deadline for the turnaround that I had considered
best, but we hadn't seen what the canyon would do to get through the
Redwall, which by this time seemed to be close. About 5:15 p.m. we got
our answer. The north arm is absolutely out (wrong, go up between the
two forks and then north). There is a high fall coming out of a narrow
slot. We looked for a bypass but didn't see any hope even through we
considered climbing up far back from the fall and then following a ledge
toward the fall (right). Our conclusion is that any trail down from the
rim must have come down the west fork (wrong).

If my feet hadn't been sore, I might have considered getting up at dawn
and going back to inspect the west arm, but I was having some trouble
with blisters and I wanted to make sure I got back to the car without
too much trouble. Perhaps the solution is to go up the route that Bob
and I followed and reach the top with time to explore the route down. If
I would cross the river and sleep on the right bank and start early,
this would probably be feasible.

When we got back to the river, I ferried Doc across. After enjoying a
swim Jorgen and Bill rowed down through the riffle in the small rubber
boat while I took the kayak down to the parking lot at Diamond. There
was really no danger, but I got a sort of thrill from the boils and
cross currents. It was different from the other places I have used the
kayak.

When we got to my truck, we found a note from Art Foran saying that he
was sorry not to have seen our crossing on Saturday morning, but that he
was up Diamond and Robber's Roost for several days to see all that
needed viewing.

**
*Black Tank Wash
[May 3, 1969]*

The objective of this trip was to get a close look at the possible
Coconino descent west of the main stream bed as it drops over the
Coconino cliff in Black Tank Wash. Three students accepted my invitation
to go along, and by 6:45 a.m. Heather Bunte, Sally Lockwood, and Denis
Troyer were with me going out of town on US 180. We used my former
route, the road through Wilaha. On this second trip over this road, I
was more careless and didn't watch the mileage. We overshot and came in
sight of the Supai road before I realized my mistake. On the return to
Platinum Tanks we took the road that goes northeast to the tanks from
farther west than the one I had used before.

Somewhere I was careless and must have run over a sharp rock. When we
were about half a mile off the main track a front tire went flat. I
hadn't tried changing a tire at home, and now we discovered that the rod
which was supposed to unscrew to release the spare froze in the nut
which was wrenched loose from the thin clamp which was supposed to keep
it from turning. We tried various makeshifts since I hadn't carried a
wrench to grip the nut, and finally we decided that we would have to
walk back to the main Supai road and try to hitchhike for help. We knew
that it would be an eight mile walk just to the road. In about one and a
half miles, we sighted a ranch house and decided to take a chance that
we might be able to get help there. Only Mrs. Raney was at home, but she
found a large wrench and took us back to our pickup in their truck. On
the way we met Mr. Raney who was on horseback. Using the wrench to stop
the nut from turning, and also oiling the threads, we got the spare
free, and finally got the spare mounted in place of the flat. We had
wasted about two and a half hours in this interruption.

While we were going for help we saw several antelope. We also saw a
large but harmless snake quite near the disabled truck. On the drive to
the area we had sighted a large hawk perching next to the road. Later we
were to see a cottontail and two coyotes, so we felt that the trip had
been rather rewarding as far as wildlife sighting was concerned.

We parked the truck when the road was about to cross the main bed of
Black Tank Wash. To reach the crucial Coconino cliff, we should have
stayed in the bed for about a quarter mile and then taken to the west
side along the plateau. This was our route on the return, and it was
much more direct than the way we went, up on the east side of the bed,
then down to the bottom where it makes a swing to the south, then up and
down into a draw from the east, and finally along the draw which was my
former route to the trail. We found the trail and used it to go down to
the Toroweap level. It was still well defined around the corner to the
west, but it went on past the place where I had thought we should get
down through the Toroweap to the Coconino rim. This was not hard to
accomplish. We could have gone down another 50 feet of Coconino, but
from what we could see from above, there would be no safe descent below
that. Since I had promised to be home by six or a little later, we
didn't have time to check out everything very carefully. There was still
a fair amount of rather scummy water in the large pothole in the
Toroweap bed.

A daring climber might have used a long crack in the Coconino for the
descent. I had my climbing rope along, but there was no time to try it.
Something that now interests me more than the descent area we were
checking is a long talus under the east rim of the canyon. My impression
is that across Black Tank Wash to the northeast there is a place where
one could go along below the Kaibab cliff and then get down to a talus
that covers the Coconino with only a 15 foot rappel. I would surely want
to check this place the next time for a concealed crack that might allow
a ropeless descent.

**
*Success at Black Tank Wash
[May 17, 1969]*

Five members of the hiking club came with me this time, Heather Bunte,
Sue Barker, Sue Varin, Dennis Troyer, and George Billingsley. We used
the Wilaha approach again. Along the road to Supai from the W. Delta
Ranch, we had the thrill of being raced by an antelope. It began running
all out well over to the left of the road, but it was determined to
speed up until it could cross in front of the truck. I had been going
along this relatively smooth part of the road at 30 mph. I moved up to
35 mph, but the animal finally tore across in front of us rather close.
My camera was in the camper behind. George missed the picture also since
he would have had to shoot through the window screens. I had intended
driving to Platinum Tanks by the road I had used on 4/7/69, but it
seemed to be going too much toward the east and I went back to the route
we now knew better, the end of the loop road that meets the Supai road
farther northwest. We parked where we had two weeks ago and walked north
along the west side of the wash. It takes about 25 minutes to reach the
head of the rough trail going down to the water at the top of the
Toroweap. Three of these holes are rather large and the water is a dark
green. These natural reservoirs must be the origin of the name Black
Tank Wash. Before we started down, Heather and Sue Barker came with me
north along the rim to see how the Coconino descent might look from
there. The part to the west of the sheer fall didn't look very
reassuring from that angle. We could also see that the talus over to the
northeast across the canyon didn't cover the Coconino, but we saw that
it would be possible to get down through the Toroweap. I felt sure that
the rope would reach if there were any way to fasten it. If all in the
party would belay me, I figured that at least I could go down.

When we first went down from the rim, I led the girls out around the
point west of the wash with the intention of getting a close look at the
descent. Before giving that route up, I wanted to see exactly where I
would have to turn back. As I approached the place to start down through
the Toroweap, I changed my mind. I thought it would be better to go
around to the east and get down the sure place first and then inspect
the other place from below. George, Sue Varin, and Dennis were down in
the bed of the wash and then did a daring climb up to a shelf in the
Toroweap. They saw us heading for the east slope and came on to join us.
Sue Varin elected to go back to the car. George didn't feel too spry
either since he says he is very sensitive to heat.

We made our way along the steep gypsum clay slope to the place to get
down one ravine through the Toroweap and then west around until we were
above the long talus. The Coconino was far from vertical here above the
talus. George went down 25 feet until he came to a ledge that almost
overhung, but the footing only about eight feet lower looked not too
bad. After we ate lunch we came back to this spot where we had seen a
fairly large rock lying on a fairly level ledge. I didn't like the
thought of even four people giving me a belay. I would rather have the
rope tied around a tree or a rock that can't become tired. The rock was
about the same size as our anchor at the Elves Chasm descent. The 125
foot rope reached far down below where one could walk away. While the
others watched the rock for any movement, I used the Jumars to go down.
It would have been easier to rappel, but I liked the idea of being able
to change my mind and come back up from any part of the descent. I found
that I could have walked up the Coconino here and just about touched
George's shoe, but he would have had to give me help to reach and climb
on his shelf.

The others carried my pack and rope back for me while I went down to the
bed and then climbed up the talus west of the sheer fall. All but one
place on a rather steep ramp looked fairly good from a distance. By this
time my canteen was empty and I was spurred on by remembering the pool's
above. Much of the ramp wasn't difficult but I had to use minor toeholds
frequently. It was hard enough so that I would have faced in on the
descent as well as in climbing. Then I came to the place that had
worried me from a distance. I soon saw what I had to do, drop down a bit
to go along a ledge which was very narrow where one had to crouch to go
under an overhang. Then at the end of the ledge there was a nearly
vertical crack. Here I could see that man had used the route ahead of
me. Three very old juniper logs were jammed into some cracks. A crotch
in one of the logs furnished a needed step. Above these logs the holds
were poor and I tried wedging my arm into a narrow crack. I could go a
bit higher this way, but I couldn't get out on top. After descending a
step or two, I tried getting out of the safe fissure to locate some
meager steps on the sloping rim of the crack. I didn't feel very safe
here, but this device got me up. There was one more slight embarrassment
when I had to pull myself through a clump of brush, but I already knew I
would make the rest of the way without real tension. The top of this
route leads right by a small natural window, a sign that is better than
a cairn for remembering the way. I was soon back to the Toroweap slope
where we had been two weeks ago, and then was soon back to the water
waiting for the others to join me.

Thus it would have been possible for J. W. McKinney to have come out via
Black Tank Wash when he became separated from W. W. Bass. However, it
seems very illogical to use this difficult route if you have come along
the bed of Cataract Creek right by the good horse trail east of the High
Wall Spring Bay. I wonder whether the Indians became so used to all the
holds along this route that they would come up for water and then go
down again. This passage was enough of an ordeal for me to feel that
once might be enough. I felt like quitting when I was ahead. I am a
little surprised that the Indians didn't develop the route I had come
down. If some holds were chiseled in the rock, I think it would be a
safer way up to water.

It was 3:30 when we got to the truck. I had thought a little of going
around to inspect Havatsgvitch Canyon for a suspected descent, but we
figured that it would be a little late by the time we got there over
roads that I don't know. Instead we reached home before 6:30 p.m.

**
*Route up from Secret (Oak) Canyon
[May 24, 1969]*

What Stan Jones calls Secret Canyon, the USGS calls Oak, and the
Navahoes call Black Water Canyon seemed like a good objective for our
first trip on Lake Powell this year. We had been in there once before
with Reider Peterson when we had our former boat which was a few inches
narrower than our present 16 foot runabout with its six foot beam. We
had shut off the main motor and used the three and a half horse one and
the had used paddles and finally our hands on the walls. I wanted to see
how far we could go at the present stage, possibly 20 feet or a little
more above what we had gone over two years ago (May 1969 3553 and May
1967 3507).

This time we were able to take a shortcut over the narrow wall that used
to separate this canyon from the main riverbed. The water came about
five feet above the rock wall. I believe we could use the motor farther
than formerly, but before long we were paddling again. If we had had
another couple it would have been easier. Roma couldn't do much without
hurting her shoulder that had been giving her some trouble. I sat on
deck at the bow and sculled, but the slight breeze seemed to be doing as
much for our progress as my work. Finally we came to a widening in the
canyon where we could at least turn the boat around. There is a rift in
the rock crossing the canyon here, and I felt sure that I could climb up
in either direction. There was also some fairly shallow water on the
west side and we could see by the ashes where some party had camped here
recently.

While Roma read a book she had brought, I climbed up to the west. My
canvas, rubber soled casuals worked fine on the rock and I could grip
slopes where I might have been worried about the footing in ordinary
hiking shoes. Quite soon I was up at a level where yuccas were blooming
in the sandy soil and many water worn builders showed that they hadn't
moved since the Colorado was at this level. A gently sloping, mostly
bare rock valley went down to the west to the river cliff at one crack.
I was sure there was no other way, and I had to go up and test all the
holds before it proved entirely feasible.

Instead of providing me with a simple walk to the highest point at hand,
this crack really led down to about the level of the platform from which
I had come. However, by going up a few yards and walking along a sloping
ledge, I found a place where I could go up the bare rock slope and reach
the top of this butte.

The view certainly made this 20 minute climb worthwhile. One could look
down into Aztec Creek at the boats already checking their speeds for the
marina. I could follow the course of Secret Canyon for a short way and
see the boat and Roma five hundred feet below. To the east a bit farther
was the open grassy area north of the canyon containing the old hogan
and the beaver spring where the horse trail goes up to the east. Broad
reaches of Lake Powell showed both to the west and the east.

It would have been very interesting to have used the same time paddling
the air mattress to the end of the line in Secret Canyon, but I was glad
I had done this climb. It appeared that if I had stayed somewhat lower,
there would be a way to follow the slickrock country indefinitely to the
south between Bridge and Oak Canyons.

When I got down from the climb, we tried to advance up Secret Canyon in
the boat, but right away it became so narrow that we gave this up.
Either possibility would appeal if there were more time to go along the
high slickrock route perhaps clear to the trail beneath Navaho Mountain,
or to paddle an air mattress to the dry land along the bottom of the
canyon. The country is fantastic and these bits of exploration rank with
anything I can think of in the Grand Canyon.

**
*Jicarilla Point
[June 2, 1969]*

Al Doty and Jim Sears went with me in the truck out to pole 410 along
the old telephone line along the park boundary west of Hermit Rest. When
we were nearing the rim we came on a new Jeep road and decided that this
must be part of the new trip route that Fred Harvey is offering tourists
as an overnight camping trip to the west part of the park. Jim followed
this road back to the main park boundary road and learned that it leaves
the latter just a little west of where we parked. Since my truck could
negotiate this spur as easily as the other, I will be able to get more
than a mile closer to Jicarilla Point in the future. The Jeep tour
planners must have favored the area because it is a long way from Hermit
Rest to Havasupai Point and also because of the natural bridge. A little
past the end of the road we came to the place where Al and Jim had built
a cairn to mark the route down through the Kaibab about 150 yards
southwest of the bridge. Someone had demolished the cairn, but we soon
found that this was the right place and it was also familiar to me from
eight years ago when I was interested in Jicarilla and Slate Canyons.
The 12 foot drop near the bottom of the main top cliff where I had left
a rope before still looked as if I should have a rope, but the others
had come up here holding to slight projecting bulges in the limestone.
At the end of the trip, Al and Jim went up promptly with no trouble, but
I had to drag a bare pinyon pine trunk to the place and I got up using
it as a brace. I might have wedged it securely in the crack a few yards
to the north where I had come down before using the rope. This crack
would be easy if I took the trouble to build a pile of rocks for a
stepping stone at the bottom.

We made our way around the corner and went along beneath the bridge
finally getting down to the saddle between Slate and Sapphire. I had no
trouble finding the petroglyphs I had seen years ago, just to the west
of the saddle. Then the boys took me to the ones they had found a few
weeks ago, about 50 yards north on the Slate Canyon side at the same
level at the end of the possible walking. It is a much more elaborate
display with pictures of many types including the human hand and foot.
They looked fresh and sharp although they have no protection from the
weather. In reaching them we had gone past a poorly preserved rock
shelter. There was a way to scramble up to a higher level of the
Toroweap just north of the ruin and Jim showed me a still less well
preserved ruin at the higher level. No sherds were in evidence nearby.

One can proceed at this higher level and start going down steps in the
Coconino. At places this ridge is quite narrow and generally there is no
chance to walk along below on either side. Attention to route finding is
necessary as well as care not to step on loose rocks. Eventually we came
to the crack where Jim had climbed down into Slate but we didn't care to
repeat his feat of strength and nerve. Just a bit farther Al announced
that we couldn't proceed. I had begun to think that the whole area was a
bit dangerous and I didn't want any accidents while I was listed as
chief of party. We gave up and went back.

After our minds were made up, we looked north and Al saw how he had
gotten past the place before. He had worked his way around below the top
of the steep place by following a slight ledge to the west. Then he had
let himself down a very steep slope using seams in the crossbedding as
holds. This was the final difficulty and he had been able to get off the
spur ridge to the shale in Sapphire. Later we saw that a similar ramp on
the Slate side might be still easier. This route ought to be quite safe
if one were to hang a rope at the crucial place. The climb to the top of
Pollux seemed fairly easy.

We probably should have returned to the attack, but by now we were out
of the mood. After lunch Jim proceeded along the rim and drove the car
back to pole 355 while Al and I walked the rim toward Diana so I could
see where they had left the rim and so I could show Al where we had
found a break, the place where Jerry Bortle had climbed to the rim
without a rope but where I found a rope very consoling. Al's break
looked very similar to ours, but it was several hundred yards farther
west. I am sure they needed a rope. When we came to ours it looked
harder than I had remembered it. The cairn was still there and I
recognized the fir where the rope was tied.

**
*Gunther Castle
[June 3, 1969 to June 5, 1969]*

Donald Davis reached our home Monday evening. We picked up Al Doty at
his apartment at 6:30 and some time later we were headed for the north
rim. Doc Ellis had been there for a couple of days and had done a bit of
looking at what he thought I had proposed for the route. We killed some
time at headquarters and ate at the cafeteria before starting for Cape
Final.

Doc left his Jeep at the start of the fire road E6 and then came with us
to near the end of E7. As usual, I parked west of the crease in the
surface that indicates a small monocline that accounts for the formation
of the ravine we used in getting down through over half of the Coconino.
Right at the rim one needs to find a break in the ledges but the next
route finding is down in the Coconino. One needs to find the right place
and use care in getting down about three drops and then he comes to the
big one. I could see why I had almost given up when Bortle and I had
brought a rope down here. Even with more experience than I had had then,
I could still feel insecure about going over the side of the cliff. I
used a sling clipped to a carabineer with three or four turns of the
main rope through the carabineer. There is a broad ledge about 50 feet
down, and it was a good thing for me that I could get off the rope here
because the rope had twisted so many times that it was in a hopeless
snarl and I couldn't have rappelled another two feet until I had
straightened it. I should be careful in the future to see that the rope
is free below me. We should have carried our packs down on our backs. It
took extra time and was hard on the packs to lower them separately. I
had remembered the system of shelves clearly. When we had gone down the
50 foot rappel and then the 25 foot one, we had to move to the east and
do one more difficult spot about 10 feet by tying a short rope to a bush
growing at exactly the right place. The ledge below this short slide is
meager but adequate and it leads to the forest floor.

Going along through the forested Hermit Shale was surprisingly slow.
There was very little thick brush but there were places where the shale
was bare and hard and the footing was precarious. On the return, Al
called my attention to a deer trail keeping to a much lower level than
the base of the cliff where I led the party on the way down. It was far
better walking. At the base of the Coconino in the descent ravine there
was still a snowbank. We were so sure that all of us would want to walk
out the long but different way via the Lava Kwagunt Saddle that we
pulled down the short rope from the bush expecting to take the long rope
away from the top at the end of the trip.

My impression of the best way down the Supai to the Juno Saddle was very
indistinct. In general I thought we should keep to the north, but right
away I had to modify this. After looking along the top ledge to the
north, we had to come back almost to the middle of the basin to find a
break. There were a few options, but after two or three hard places, the
rest was a walk down. When Al and I returned by this route, I found a
deer trail through the top of the Redwall. On our way down from the
saddle we followed the deer trail to the west until it disappeared in a
ravine. After this we stayed in the same ravine, a better route than I
chose on the way back up. On Thursday morning I led Al uphill in the
juniper covered slope. This seemed to be much better until we found that
we had to cross several steep sided ravines. Coming up we saw every kind
of walking including a couple of rockslides. We finally crossed the
right streambed and found the trail at last as it crossed the ravine we
were going up. It took us about one and a half hours to get down from
Juno saddle to the ruin.

Soon after I had pointed to the white pictograph on the ceiling of the
overhang at the ruin site, the others were showing me several less
distinct but identifiable petroglyphs. We speculated about the loopholes
in the wall of the remaining room and whether the other rooms could have
been built as high with stones since there are so few cluttering the
smooth floor. We wondered how many times this area has been visited
during the last few years. When we started downstream again, we found
footprints in sandy places which Donald subsequently learned to be those
of Bill Breed. We stopped for the night well below the major spring
where the great rock stands on end in the bed. In fact we were only a
few minutes west of the tributary that arises east of Point Chiavria. In
going along the terrace north of the main bed and west of this
tributary, we noted quite a variety of pot sherds. However, no room
outliners were seen but no stop was made to search for them.

We stopped after 7:00 p.m. but in time to get our meal by daylight and
the temperature was only a pleasant 83?. Our bags were on the warm side
but it was quite cool as we made an early start away at 5:30 in the
morning. By 6:15 we were starting up the tributary called Chuar. Before
we reached this place, we had seen a bighorn on a terrace to the south
side of the running stream. Walking was easy here and we had a fine
view, but for this short a distance it did not save any time. Walking up
the dry shale bed of the Chuar arm was so easy that we soon suspected
that we had been pessimistic in thinking that it would take all day to
climb Gunther Castle even if possible.

When I had been flown over the area, I had looked carefully at the
Redwall ravine opening to the south from the southwest base of Gunther
but I was not so sure of the best way to get through the Tapeats. We
were afraid, justifiably as it turned out, of a dry fall in the bed of
the wash coming from the right Redwall ravine. We went up the slope
south of this drainage. If we had kept a bit farther east we would have
missed an interesting region of haphazardly broken Tapeats and we might
have had a smoother walk without dropping down into a couple of minor
valleys.

Going up the shale in the bed and passing some steep places in the Muav
was fairly routine,once I left the bed and found a deer trail bypass.
However, the other three in the bed made at least as good progress as I.
Al seemed to have the most pep on the way up and on most of the way
down. Donald spent some time looking for cave openings and saw a couple
which he checked on the return. From the place I had been sure that we
could go through the Redwall. Then we kept going up and to the west and
found ways through all the upper cliffs out the middle of the west side.
My impression is that the breaks were easier to find and negotiate than
they had been in getting up Jupiter and there was no exposure and
inadequate grips as there are on Pattie. When Donald reached the top and
looked around, he let out a howl of dismay because he could see a small
surveyor's marker made of wood and well anchored with wire standing near
the north end. When we noted the large coil of unused wire which had
been dumped nearby, we concluded that the surveyors had come and gone by
helicopter and that we were actually the first men to climb Gunther
Castle since the Indian occupation.

It had taken us just four hours to go from the running water in Lava to
the top of Gunther. We were on top for an hour admiring the views and
eating an early lunch. One could spend a long time just soaking up
scenery and identifying the points and pinnacles in sight from Gunther.
We wondered why some fairly insignificant humps have names and others
much more magnificent ones do not. Doc Ellis thought that Caleros Butte
would be climbable, or at least worth the effort, but I thought that
Cochise Butte would be more to my liking. It appears to be a mere walk up.

Below about a third of the Redwall, Donald checked a cave on the east of
the wash. It has a smooth floor but is only about 20 feet long. There
were no signs of human use, but Donald found a hummingbird's nest with
two tiny eggs.

When we reached the top of the Tapeats, we decided to follow the easy
slope to the west. Donald went farther over than the rest and saw that
he could get through the Tapeats in the main arm coming from the north.
He went down here and arrived at the junction a few minutes before we
got there. Doc checked the bed in the arm where we had been through the
Redwall and he reported an impossible drop in the lower Tapeats, so we
went back up and down the way we had all climbed in the morning. We
enjoyed the shade of a big rock where Donald was waiting for us. The
bare shale bed from here to the running water concentrated the heat of
the sun and all of us were really feeling the heat when we reached the
stream. Al found that the kippers he had eaten on top of Gunther were
unsettling. We cooled off in the shade or by sitting in the water and
then proceeded up to our campsite. After another rest we carried our
packs up to the Indian ruins called Juno Ruin by Reilly. Al had started
ahead of the rest saying that he felt upset at the stomach. I joined Doc
and Donald as they went along the terrace to the north of the stream.
When we got back in the bed, Donald called our attention to the fact
that Al wasn't leaving any tracks in the sandy places. We supposed that
for some reason he was avoiding them and proceeded. We were weary had
hated the thought of a return to see what could be holding Al back. When
we had reached the last of the water and still didn't see Al, we began
to worry. After giving him 20 minutes to come along, I started back with
Donald to see what could be the matter. We soon reached Al but we found
him in sorry shape. He had tried to throw up a couple of times and was
perceptibly white. Donald went back to tell Doc what was up, and I
stayed with Al to carry his pack. He finally got to the ruins where we
were to camp and lay on his bed without eating much for dinner or breakfast.

As we were ready to go in the morning, Donald called our attention to a
live scorpion a few feet from where Al's bed had been. I found a big
spider under my pad on which I had been sleeping. In the night I had
heard a rodent. All in all this site is a favorite of some undesirable
camp mates. Donald and Doc decided to go out the long way, up the north
arm of Lava to Hartman Bridge and on to the Lava Kwagunt Saddle to go up
the Coconino west of Point Atoka. Donald saw a cave opening opposite
Hartman Bridge and went up to check it out. He let our a shout when he
saw what this shallow hole contained, seven unbroken pots. The biggest
contained three little ones and they all had neatly shaped sandstone
covers. One of them also contained a little basket. The progress was
slow and there was little if any water in the bed. They had to stop for
an hour to melt snow to drink when they came to a snowbank. After they
had done this, they soon came to a trickling stream. They finally came
to a ravine that looked easy from below, but about halfway through the
Coconino they had to do some real climbing and pull their packs up by
rope. It got dark while they were halfway through the Coconino but they
had Donald's carbide light and reached the north rim campground by 9:15 p.m.

Al and I went up as we had come down. He was really worried at how weak
he felt as we were going up through the Tapeats, but his digestion
improved somewhat as we proceeded with lots of rests. He was able to eat
chocolate cookies but not much else. When we stopped for lunch at the
snowbank below the rope, he enjoyed half of a packet of instant mashed
potatoes. Al rather easily climbed up to the bush where we had fastened
the second rope with just a slight boost from me on the shelf below. He
pulled up the packs using the Jumar slings and then I got up by hanging
to the same ropes fastened to the bush again. We Jumared up the main
rope with our packs on our backs and then climbed to the car by 3:15.

On Friday morning we took our time getting off after talking to
Henderson about the pots that Donald found. Then we stopped for a long
visit with Ed Abbey at the entrance station fire tower. Before we left
we were joined in the tower by Chuck Sigler and his assistant. It was
good to get acquainted with these people. Donald was most interested in
how Sigler and Petrillo had climbed Mount Hayden.

**
*Discovery of undisturbed Indian storage grotto, Lava Canyon
[June 5, 1969]
(written by Donald Davis)*

A party including Dr. Harvey Butchart, Alan Doty, Clarence E. "Doc"
Ellis, and I made an exploration trip into the Lava Canyon area below
the east rim of the Walhalla Plateau in Grand Canyon National Park, June
3 5, 1969. Our descent the afternoon of June 3 was by a break in the
upper cliffs north of Cape Final (a 30 foot rappel was required at the
base of the Coconino), thence east along the Hermit bench and down the
Supai to the Juno Temple Cape Final Saddle, and down the Redwall and the
Cambrian formations via deer trails northwest of this saddle. This route
reached the bed of Lava Creek in the Tapeats sandstone just opposite the
small Juno Ruin cliff dwelling and slightly above the main spring source
of Lava Creek which wells up to the bed. We camped about a mile
downstream from this area, and spent the 4th accomplishing our main goal
the first known foot ascent of Gunther Castle, from the south via an
upper branch of the Chuar drainage (the peak had, however, been visited
by surveyors presumably by helicopter). That evening we moved camp
upstream to the Juno Ruin.

Next morning the party decided to split; Butchart and Doty elected to
return to the Rim by the original route, while Ellis and I would go out
by way of upper Lava Canyon to the Siegfried Pyre Walhalla Plateau
Saddle and north along the Hermit around the base of Point Atoko, thence
southeast and up a Coconino break south of the upper end of the bay
north of Point Atoko a route Harvey Butchart had followed some years before.

One objective in choosing the latter route was to see the rarely visited
Hartman Natural Bridge, located in the lower Redwall on the west side of
the Redwall narrows of upper Lava Canyon, west southwest of Siegfried
Pyre. On reaching the area below the Hartman Bridge in mid morning, I
saw two apparently solutional openings in the middle part of the Redwall
on the east side of the canyon, directly opposite the Bridge. A long
talus slope covered the lower Redwall below these holes and it seemed
that they might be accessible, so I determined to investigate them,
primarily to see whether they were the openings of extensive caves.
While Ellis climbed toward the Hartman Bridge, I ascended the opposing
talus slope and a high angle rock scramble of about 50 feet above the
slope. On reaching the right hand hole, I saw that it was only a short
segment of solution tube, obliquely intersected by the wall, but that it
contained a row of excellently preserved Indian artifacts lined up along
the right side. I shouted the discovery to Ellis, who at once started
back across to join me with his camera.

The most prominent objects were four large corrugated gray jars, each
stabilized by careful positioning of small stones around its base. These
were still covered by the original lids, just as the Indians had left
them, and were scarcely even dusty although they were only a few feet
from the outside and were clearly visible from the entrance. The lids
proper were flat sandstone slabs about three eights to one half inch
thick, either rectangular or rounded off to fit the individual vessels.
These lids were for the most part held firmly in place by rough
limestone weights which were probably picked up from the grotto floor. I
took care not to disturb the artifacts in any way except to lift the
lids and observe the contents. Two jars proved empty, but one contained
three small black on white vessels of varied decoration and design. One
of these was small, wide mouthed and ovate; the other two were larger
and jug like, each with a handle. The remaining, and largest of the
corrugated jars, was 19 inches in diameter and height and narrow necked.
It held only a well preserved small bowl shaped basket, barely possible
to fit through the opening! All seven vessels were essentially intact,
though one of the empty corrugated ones had received rim chips while in
use, and another had a long crack visible from the inside.

Adjoining the pottery were a few perishable items. The most interesting
was a bundle of cane rods that had originally been tied together into a
structure that would have resembled a slatted divider or blind if
unrolled. This was falling apart due to disintegration of its delicate
tie strings. Seven unworked sticks of unknown purpose were also
scattered about. We photographed everything in the cache, using carbide
light to attempt photography of the small painted vessels without moving
them from their container or even touching them. I may have replaced the
lids on this jar askew from their original position; on the other three
they were replaced in very close agreement with the original orientations.

Notes were made at the site, using a pocket tape for measurements;
details of the site and contents adapted from these notes are appended
to this report.

Fascinating speculation may be ventured as to the purpose of this
isolated site. The pottery is of types characteristic of Juno Ruin and
other sites which, according to analyses by Schwartz, Euler and other
archeologists, date from the period of largest Pueblo populations in the
Canyon, around 1050 to 1150 A.D. However, Juno Ruins the nearest
habitation site known is two miles down canyon from the grotto. The
highest permanent water in the bed of Lava Creek is, at present, more
than a mile down canyon. It is noteworthy that two or the containers
held only other containers, while the other two, though painstakingly
covered, were empty. The latter could have held water which has
evaporated; but the largest, narrow necked one would have been best
adapted for water storage yet the basket found inside it presumably
precludes this. The site is three or four miles difficult travel from
either of the rim points we used as access. It is interesting, though,
that a tributary enters Lava Canyon from the southwest almost opposite
the grotto, just down canyon from Hartman Bridge. We did not explore
this, but it appeared possible that there were traversable breaks in
both the Redwall and Coconino along it (the other formations appeared to
pose no problem). If so, the cache would be along the most direct
ropeless route from the Juno Ruin area to the rim. This needs further
investigation. The fact that the artifacts did not include food, and
were never recovered by their owners, also leads one to wonder whether
the people left the region permanently after making the cache.

While I was in the grotto, the area was struck by a sonic boom so
violent that vibrations could be felt in the bedrock for several
seconds. It is possible that the configuration of the canyon may have
intensified the sound. No damage resulted to the artifacts being
examined, but I can readily see how delicately balanced walls would be
endangered by such shocks.

The adjacent (left hand) opening was slightly larger than the right one
but contained no artifacts. Our ascent from the area went as planned,
but was tedious, especially on the Hermit Shale traverse, because of
dense brush (including thorny locust and rose) and many steep slick
walled ravines. There was still melting snow in the Hermit north of the
Siegfried Saddle.

I recommended that recovery of the artifacts be attempted only by
helicopter landing in the canyon below. Any attempt to backpack the
larger vessels to the Rim would more likely than not result in breaking
them. A few jolting falls and striking of the back on limbs or rocks are
routine in ascents from such areas.

**

*Descriptions of Lava Canyon Indian site and contents
(adapted from field notes)*

**

*Description of grotto*

Truncated solution cavity in central Redwall near base of sheer cliff
above long talus slope, facing roughly west in east wall of upper Lava
Creek about a half mile WSW of summit of Siegfried Pyre; elevation about
5,800'. Cavity 10' long; entrance ovate, 5" x 40"; floor sloping up
toward rear; interior 6' high near front, 20" high at rear most pot;
artifacts lined up on right side with just enough room for two people to
fit in besides them without contact.

**

*Description of contents, front to rear *

Bundle of cane sticks (30 or more?), to 32" long, loosely fallen into
about 5 groups formerly tied through holes three and a half inches from
ends into curtain like pattern.

Corrugated gray to reddish jar, 10" x 19", narrow (5") mouth; 1 small
sandstone lid carefully shaped to fit inside lip; 1 larger sandstone lid
shaped to fit atop lip; rectangular sandstone lid above; 2 limestone
weights with 2 small stones chinked between contents 1 small (4" x 2")
bowl shaped basket.

Corrugated gray jar (notes on size missing about 15"?), wide mouth; 3
thin flat sandstone lids with 1 rectangular limestone weight contents 3
small black on white pots, 2 of these with handles. Corrugated gray jar,
8 1/2" x 8 1/2", wide mouth; 1 flat sandstone lid, 1" thick with no
weights empty.

Corrugated gray jar, 14" x 14", wide mouth; cracked flat sandstone lid
with 2 heavy limestone weights empty; has crack in lower part of inner side.

Additional items, exact positions not recorded: 3 shaped sandstone lids
loose behind pots. 7 unworked sticks, 5 on floor and 2 in ceiling
niches; largest 5' long and bow shaped. Purpose of these not evident.

At this writing (July 23, 1969) I have not received Photographs.

**

*Clubb Route to Merlin and Modred
[June 9, 1969 to June 12, 1969]*

Merrel Clubb had told me years ago about this route down past South Big
Spring to where the Redwall is broken on both sides of the main Shinumo
Canyon northwest of Elaine Castle. Donald Davis, Dave Nelson, Jim Sears,
and Chester McQuery were able to go with me when I finally gave it
priority for this second week in June. I had been too warm even in my
summer weight bag down in Lava Creek during the preceding week, so I
merely carried a cotton blanket and long Johns. The weather turned cold
on the rim with frost two nights, and three of us who had traveled on my
suggestion about light bedding were a bit chilly.

Head Ranger Veitl gave us the key to the Point Sublime Road. We had no
trouble except in one meadow. Snow was still melting and keeping water
in the ruts, but we drove through all right. The high center on parts of
the road from the Point Sublime Road to our parking place in South Big
Springs Canyon might give an ordinary car problems, but my truck cleared
all difficulties. We had quite a few fallen trees to clear as we walked
along the level bed of the canyon for the part where the old east half
map shows a trail leading to one of the Matthes Evans bench marks. It
was hard to be sure where South Big Springs are located. We expected
more of a flow than we found, but eventually we realized that we had
passed the springs. Davis particularly was surprised to see a lively
little stream in the top of the Coconino Formation.

I should have studied the faint tracing Clubb had put on my map. When we
came to the Coconino we at first went down into the increasingly narrow
gorge until we were stopped by a fall. Then we climbed back out to the
south and followed the rim southwest until it seemed clear that we were
reaching a higher cliff with no break likely. When we looked across to
the north there seemed to be a much more favorable route so we began
back tracking. Jim Sears found a possible route down to the talus on our
side, but I was cautious and vetoed it. It was routine to get across
where the narrow gorge began and soon we were going down a safe place on
the north side, just where Clubb's pencil tracing on my map shows a
route. The hazard here was rolling rocks and there were a couple of near
misses. The Hermit Shale was easy and soon we noted that we were
penetrating the top ledge of Supai.

For four hours since leaving the car we hadn't had a real view of the
Grand Canyon, just forested slopes. Suddenly this was reversed. First we
heard a new noise, then the brink of a fall with gusts of wind shooting
clouds of spray back at us. I didn't go far along the edge to get a good
look at the fall, but it was obviously falling free a distance between
the heights of Havasu and Mooney. There were comparable falls below
without counting the Redwall. This permanent stream doesn't carry a
large volume here but, almost invisible to all but aerial observation,
are some beautiful cataracts. If a name is desired, I would suggest
Clubb Falls. It was now late enough to think of camping. We were by
water and we found some flat ground for sleeping under the scrub oaks on
the terraced banks. As night came on swallows put on a show of aerial
acrobatics.

We were now able to see the cross canyon break in the Redwall that Clubb
had discovered. On Monday evening, Dave and Donald scouted ahead toward
Elaine Castle and reported that there seemed to be a fair chance of
getting down the Supai in that direction. That agreed with what I
remembered from my instructions, so on Tuesday morning we backed up to
the rim of the Supai and started southwest. At places along here the
going was exceedingly slow because of the brush. When we were about
halfway to the Elaine Saddle, three of us were just about fed up with
this bushwhacking. We thought of going back and seeing the best part of
the Paria Canyon or perhaps doing the alternate project of seeing Sowats
and Jumpup Canyons. Chester was neutral, but Donald stuck firmly to his
guns and defended rather hotly the original idea of seeing Clubb's
route. We agreed to go on without our packs and get the view from Elaine
Saddle before calling the retreat. After the first few bad places, the
brush eased up and we even found some signs of a deer trail. The view
from the saddle was all that we had hoped and just as we were leaving,
Donald found an old shirt. I wondered whether it might be Merrel's and
brought away a couple of the buttons of this western type shirt.

We didn't get a good look at the route through the top of the Supai in
the direct line with the Redwall break, but we noticed a deer trail
leading down through the upper Supai cliff when we were on our way back
to where we had left the packs. Still when we reached Jim who had stayed
with the packs, we picked them up and started for the car. After 100
yards of retreat, we reconsidered and much to Donald's satisfaction
headed for the deer trail going down to Clubb's break in the Redwall.
There were no real further problems of route finding with the deer trail
as a guide to the bed of the ravine along the fault. On looking back we
decided that the straight ravine was probably impassible at the top, and
on checking I find that this agrees with Clubb's advice.

Through most of the entire trip, Jim got quite far ahead of the rest of
the party with Donald having to encourage Chester who brought up the
rear. It was true here in this ravine, and Jim came to the place rather
close to the bottom where a large chockstone has lodged. He found that
he could climb down on the west side but that he would need help in
handing the pack down, so he waited until the rest came along. I believe
I recall that Merrel said a lone man would need a rope here for letting
down the pack. Water was flowing in the main bed at the bottom of this
Redwall break and we had our lunch here. Before going on, several of us
walked up the main stream until the Redwall stopped us at a small fall,
only a few hundred yards. I seemed to recall that Art Lange and Aley had
been here also and had gone up the Redwall to the north with poor
results in trying to get through the top of the Supai. I would like to
check with them about this. The immediate vicinity and all the other
upper canyons of Shinumo seem peculiarly impressive even by Grand Canyon
standards. They are so narrow and rugged. Beautiful vegetation abounds
although it makes the going difficult. Both in Merlin Abyss and in
Modred, I saw numerous examples of what I took to be Arizona cypress but
which Davis thought to be a larger type of juniper.

The flow of water where we had reached the bed disappeared underground
before long. I hadn't noticed the last pool and my canteen was about
empty as we reached the junction with Merlin. After Dave and I had
waited quite a while for Chester and Donald, I went back to get more
water as well as to be sure that all was well. However, in something
like 20 minutes walk below the junction, we came to a great spring. The
water emerged from among boulders on the west side and formed a flow
equal to the flow in lower Shinumo during early June two years ago. This
made walking down the creek difficult, and we tried going along the
shale up on the east side above the brush. When I saw what sort of
difficulties this was getting us into, I announced that I would try the
creek again. I lost ground in getting down to it, but I decided to wade
where convenient. Most of the others were worried about what a soaking
would do to their boots. After about a half hour of going along split up
this way, Jim and Dave came down to the stream again, and as hunch would
have it, they met me precisely. They found ways to cross the creek on
logs or rocks while I waded. We made about the same speed down canyon as
Chester and Donald who were still up on the shale since we heard them
yell as they were approaching a side canyon on the east. Here they had
to come down and they got far behind us in the end. Finally, south of
the big tributary on the east, we came to a place where the canyon
widens and we took to the open Tonto level on the west. We got on a good
burro maintained trail that I consider to have been designed by man.
Since there were a few trees growing in the trail that must have been
there for a century, we decided that the original trail builders were
prehistoric Indians rather than Bass and his assistants. This trail soon
had us looking down over the Tapeats cliff into Modred, but we didn't
see a way to get down to the junction of Merlin and Modred as we had
agreed before separating from Donald and Chester. Jim later found and
lost a wy to do this without wading either creek, but at the time, Jim
and Dave went up Modred until they could get down to a good campsite and
I went back up Merlin until I could get down to the break and also see
the trail up on the Tonto if they should be following our tracks. I
shouted about every three minutes while I got supper here and prepared
to stay overnight if I shouldn't encounter Donald and Chester before it
got dark. Finally my shout was answered from just across the creek.
Chester and Donald had been headed for the junction of the creeks. They
waited for me to finish my soup and then we followed the trail right to
where Jim and Dave were camping. There was a recognizable trail down
through the Tapeats to the place, and on Wednesday morning I found that
this trail continues up on the south side of Modred to the Tonto level
and is easily followed around into Flint. Very few live burros are left
after the massacre by helicopter several years ago, but the trails along
the Tonto are still in good shape. We found burro manure well up in
Marlin and Modred and we even saw what seemed like fresh tracks. On our
way around into Muav Canyon along the Tonto level on Thursday we finally
came to some recent burro droppings but we still didn't see any live burros.

Our campsite near the mouth of Modred was the finest we could desire.
There was even rain protection under overhangs with level sleeping
space. It had been looking like rain and there had been a few drops. Jim
and I placed our beds under shelter at the first of the night, but
Chester and Donald waited until rain began to fall about 1:00 a.m.

Most of the gang were late sleepers on Wednesday morning. I fooled
around until Donald woke up and then told him that I wanted to walk the
Tonto around into Flint to close a gap and form another complete route
from the rim to the river. I figured on getting back by one or two. As
it turned out, the trail was nearly perfect and I lost it for only short
stretches a couple of times. I was able to go around to where a distinct
side canyon comes into Flint and get down through the Tapeats in only
105 minutes and return to the campsite in Modred before noon. Counting a
route as distinct from another if it differs in over half the distance
from the rim to the river, I now have 17 routes from the rim to the
river from Nankoweap to Kanab Canyon.

While we were discussing the probabilities of being able to use the
route up one arm of Modred that George Beck had found, a helicopter came
along not far above us. It appeared to have come in from Marlin and went
up Modred and back. We wondered whether the pilot had heard of our plans
and wanted to check on our progress. Ranger Veitl knew nothing of this
machine when I asked him about it.

We found the progress up Modred about as difficult as it had been in
Merlin. We split up again and figured on joining forces at the junction
of the main bed and the arm that originates below Elaine Saddle. None of
us would brag on our routes. I tried to stay out of the brush rather
high on the north side, but I got into a lot of difficult ravines. I did
come on one fairly broad terrace down near the stream where I had noted
a broken metate. At another place on the north side, we found a mescal
pit and some bits of pottery. Davis found some distinct ruins along here
which were not shown in Schwartz's article concerning his trip with
Clubb in 1957. Sears found a couple of cairns and some bits of trail on
the south side of the creek. He also pointed out a trail on the south
side above the brush that would have been far easier than where we were
among the ravines on the north side. Still I covered the leg from our
camp to the junction with the Elaine arm in 110 minutes and came back in 96.

When I reached the junction going up canyon, Dave was waiting at a good
campsite. Donald and Chester were still behind and Jim had been first
again and had gone on to the place where the big rush of water was
coming out of Abyss River Cave, a flow about like the volume of Oak
Creek at Call of the Canyon Lodge. I left my pack with Dave and went up
to check on Beck's route. Jim went with me since he had already seen the
mouth of the cave. We had no trouble from the water above the cave
although there were places where it was above ground. The bay to the
southeast seemed to have very steep walls and I felt sure that Beck and
Dunn had not tried to climb there. Beck had marked my map and I could
tell where we were supposed to branch to the right. After about 300
yards along here Jim and I came to a fall of about 25 feet. It was not
straight up and there were minor ledges about one and a half inches wide
placed perhaps four feet apart. I would grant that very good climbers
could go up here without a pack, but I wouldn't want to tackle that
polished rock surface climbing free. Since we had no rope along to pull
up the packs, and since there was no way for a man to stand halfway up
to relay the packs. I shifted the probability of success by this route
from 95% to 0%. Jim is a much stronger climber than I, but he concurred
in this decision. We then went up the other arm. It stops the walker in
a most dramatic high fall topped by a huge chockstone. All this area is
exceedingly photogenic but I had used my last frame in the forenoon.
When Jim and I got back to Dave, Chester was there but Donald was
exploring the arm beneath Elaine Saddle. He told us later that he had
found a fine cave with good decorations, respectably large and
branching. He also was able to climb the Redwall and he thought that the
Supai would also go. He now considers the best way down into Modred to
be off the south side of Lancelot Point and then down from Elaine Saddle
into this arm of Modred. He didn't try entering Abyss River Cave since
there was suh a large flow of water out of it at this time.

Because of the unseasonable cold, Jim and I didn't want to spend a night
at a high elevation short of the car where we had warm bags. We went
back after giving our support to the others and slept at the trail
crossing near the mouth of Modred. On Wednesday morning while I was on
my trek to Flint, Jim had found a way through the Tapeats down to the
mouth of Modred, but when he tried to recover it as a crossing route on
Thursday morning, he couldn't find the place again without quite a bit
of delay. We gave up trying to use his shortcut and went along the rim
up Merlin until we came to an obvious crossing. The trail along the rim
of the Tapeats down Shinumo and around into White Creek was fine and
easy to follow. We missed the Indian sites on the talus near the creek,
but for quick travel, the Tonto is the way. We were around to Redwall
Canyon in just over four hours from our campsite. Jim was interested in
the old chockstone suspended in the impressive narrows of the Tapeats
both in Redwall Canyon and in the boxing of White Creek. We also admired
the way the trail gets by on bare ledges in Redwall Canyon and the
ravine immediately to the north. We ate a snack at a broad place where
our trail came down into Muav Canyon below the top outcrop of Tapeats.
There was a mescal pit here also.

The old map showed the trail staying to the east of the bed for some
distance north of here. We followed it until it seemed very poor and
then we just went up the bed. We found water in the Muav as usual and
also a separate showing higher and nearer the Redwall climb, although
the bed had been dry for several hundred yards immediately south of the
place to start up. The temperature was just pleasantly warm for our
entire hike, but we were sweating enough along here to enjoy a ten
minute dunk in the cool water.

Maintenance man Bryan Swift and a companion had gone over the route from
the plateau to the bottom of the Redwall last summer and had tied
plastic ribbons to bushes to indicate the best route. They had even
brought a pruning hook down here but hadn't used it. In fact they had
gone off absentmindedly and left it hanging on a bush. Dave brought it
out on Friday. Jim and I had some trouble finding the trail even with
the help of the ribbons. It seems definitely worse than it did in 1957
and perhaps worse than in 1967. I found my campsite at the base of a
shale cliff near the lower water and I also noted where I had had a fire
above the Redwall. My recollection was rather poor of the number of
Redwall spurs and ravines between them north of the place where the
trail goes down the Redwall and the brush seemed thicker than ever. In
fact Donald came out on Friday saying that he didn't understand why
anyone would prefer the North Bass Trail to the Clubb route to South Big
Springs.

Jim and I noted a cave across from the Redwall ascent that was near the
top of the Redwall across the canyon and unlike nearly all the numerous
cave openings at this level. It seems to be accessible from the rim
above. I also pointed out the large hole in the wall near where the
Redwall shows as you come down Muav Canyon. We proceeded up the Supai in
the bed of the creek with numerous obstructions from fallen trees and
brush. Still we followed the few cairns successfully and built a couple
more ourselves. We had seen a little water in the bed right at the top
of the Redwall and then we came to quite a bit more about where the
Supai begins to get steep. I am sure we did things a bit differently
from what I had done before, but we got up all right with no major
mistakes. I found bighorn tracks near the top of the Hermit and we got
out to Swamp Point in nine and a half hours of walking time from Modred.
We then had ten miles to the car.

**

*Frustration near Cape Royal
[June 18, 1969 to June 20, 1969]*

I had been invited to cooperate with Doug Schwartz who was excavating a
ruin about 1.4 miles north of Cape Royal. I drove to the north rim in
time to get another visit with Ed Abbey at the fire tower, lunch at the
cafeteria, and then go out to the dig. The gang was having Wednesday
afternoon free, but I finally located Schwartz reading in his easy chair
under a pine on the rim. Before this, I took two of the boys down the
break south of the promontory to see the pictographs and then we walked
around below the island and returned on the north side. We found an old
tennis ball on the route down to the wrecked cars, and the next day I
even found part of a shovel on the talus material. Generally I consider
such a find as evidence of trail construction at some time, but I would
interpret this differently. Some worker on the highway broke his shovel
and threw it over the side of the cliff. Later Wednesday afternoon I
took Doug and a couple of others north to the Point Atoka route through
the Coconino. We found it with very little wasted movement. This time I
started off the rim just a bit too far to the west, but we soon located
the deer trail and went over halfway through the Coconino. That evening
I went over my map with Doug and gave him the times required for a man
on foot to do various trails connecting with the Unkar Delta.

On Thursday I started down to get through the Coconino with as little
use of a rope as possible to try to establish a ropeless route for
Indians from the rim down to Unkar. I had come down here in August of
1967 and considered a rope necessary for safety just at the very end,
but I had needed to chimney down a crack before I had felt the need for
the rope. This time I reached the chimney but it looked worse than I had
remembered it. I had expected to let my pack down the small cliff by my
rope, but now I wondered whether I would get in trouble trying to go
down the crack (later I did this alone with a pack). I believe if there
had been a companion to get me out of a jamb, I could still do it. After
giving this route up, I loafed around camp until afternoon and then went
over to have another look at the area around Cliff Spring. On June 2,
1965, Norvel Johnson and I had gone down to within the last 15 feet
where Donald Davis had succeeded in going through to the bottom although
he admitted that it was a bad pitch. I decided then that I would want a
rope in my hand to make this friction bit, but now four years later
solo, I balked at a place higher up. On rereading my notes, I see that I
recognized the difficulty here, but Norvel and I passed it without
packs. I felt rather depressed that now four years older I would lose my
nerve for this sort of thing. In partial compensation I followed a deer
trail along the bench at the top of the Toroweap. It is mostly easy and
clear walking but surprisingly far to reach the wall going toward
Wotan's Throne. I went out on the wall and had a fine impressive view of
the Throne and the break in the wall.

Zoroaster and Brahma and points west were also striking from here. I am
sure I could have gone ahead and gone down a ravine to the Clubb Route
through the Coconino, the one that Allyn and I used with the aid of
three ropes. I noted that I can walk from the car parked at the Angel's
Window viewpoint at the beginning of the Cliff Spring Trail and get to
the east side of the wall to Wotan in about an hour. It is faster but
not easier to go down the east side of Cape Royal.

On Friday morning I tried my idea that the Kibbey Butte Route to the
bottom of Nankoweap might be improved by following the Hermit south of
the neck leading to Kibbey along the Hermit with the idea of going down
the Supai over on the north side of the saddle leading to Bradley Butte.
I parked at Greenland Lake and got to the trail. I recognized the place
in the Coconino where it is natural to keep to the left on a deer trail
going down and then take the alternate route where there is still some
manmade wall showing on the way back. Down in the Hermit, the route is
mostly low near the rim of the Supai, but at best it is poor with lots
of fierce brush. At the end of one and a half hours I was not yet to the
farthest west ravine. I got some good views down canyon, but after
careful study of the possible route through the Supai, I concluded that
this idea is no good. It would take longer to get through the Hermit
part, perhaps impossible to get down the Supai, and then very bad to get
back to the break in the Redwall. **

*Citadel Route, Cliff Spring Route, and Lancelot Point
[June 26, 1969 to June 27, 1969]*

Wednesday afternoon saw me driving back to the north rim after a good
visit with our daughter and her children. I had also been dissuaded from
making this a long week of hiking by some digestive trouble. I got to
headquarters in time to fill out a permit and meet Joe Hall. He agreed
to go with me down to the bottom of the Coconino as I continued with the
idea of going down into Vishnu Canyon. When we left on Thursday morning
Gerald Thornton also went with us to see me off and check the idea that
the ravine to the west of the car wreck would go without using a rope. I
was carrying two ropes in my pack as well as the Jumars and a carabineer
for rappelling, so I figured that this time I would go the whole way
regardless.

After noting the pictographs we continued on down past the wreck and
found all the usual interesting places in the route. We got down to the
ledge just below the blunt tower to the east of the ravine, about a
third of the way from the bottom of the Coconino. I pointed out the
oblique crack just east of the big pine which I proposed using as the
rappel rope anchor. Thornton got over into that crack and was soon down
below. Joe did likewise while I rappelled. Then Joe looked a bit and
found another, wider and easier chimney just a few yards farther to the
east. It is among some huge blocks of fresh looking breaks and some of
these blocks of sandstone seem to be perched rather precariously.
However, I imagine that they have been there for centuries. Joe went up
far enough to come out just below the blunt tower and make sure that he
could get down to our route above my rappel. I feel sure now that his
route is the one I had used two years ago (No, I think I used the crack
of Gerry Thornton).

Joe was leading as we walked down the talus below this place and he
brought us to a break that led toward the talus in the ravine to the
west. He hesitated at the same bad place where I had stopped two years
ago. It appeared that with enough nerve one might be able to hop across
a gap in the narrow ledge but the result of a slight miscalculation
would be fatal. He stood back as Gerald came up. Gerald got down on the
edge of the break and held to the sandstone which fortunately slopes the
safe way for a grip. He could let his feet down until they rested on a
rather badly sloping meager surface. Then he had to turn around and grip
something to pull up on the other side of the break. After this he was
through to the talus in the ravine. Joe performed the same maneuver and
likewise made it through this route without a rope while I rappelled off
an overhang, went down the shale until I was sure I had crossed our
former route along here, and came back up the rope using the Jumars.
Before doing these two hard places, I had decided that I still wasn't
feeling quite up to par and that I would give up the arduous two day
trip. It turned out that I had enough strength to carry the pack up to
the rim as fast as Joe wanted to walk with only a canteen.

After taking Joe back to camp and enjoying a leisurely lunch with the
Halls, I felt at loose ends for the afternoon. I had formed the ambition
of going out to look around from Lancelot Point the next morning. At
last I felt the impulse to make good on the route through the Coconino
just east of Cliff Spring. I had reread my log concerning the previous
descent and I knew about the three ways through the difficult part about
one third of the way down the Coconino. This time I looked harder at the
top of the ledge and found the narrow crack that I had used to get down
on the other occasion. It is over to the west of the bare rather steeply
sloping exposure. As before I left my Kelty above this place and now I
went down with my lighter rope coiled around my neck. This crack is too
narrow for anyone at all large. I was a bit worried that I might get
wedged into it, but I know that I had come down here before while Norvel
Johnson had preferred using the natural holds on the exposed slope. On
the return I tried going up the crack, but there was no room to maneuver
and I had to give it up. Then I tried going up the bare rock to the east
where Norvel had come down, but near the top the steps were too far
apart for comfort. Instead, I went down and came up west of a small
promontory where we had ascended four years ago. I may not have found
the easiest way here because I had to pull myself up at one place using
the base of a shrub and a safe rock for the other hand. The walking is
very easy below this hard place. I went over into the bed of the ravine
where water had been running only a week ago. Now it had stopped but
there were still two pools, and on the return I drank from one since I
had left my canteen with the pack. Again at the bottom of this easy
part, I came to the pile of great blocks which makes the descent of the
remaining Coconino possible. The place hadn't changed, but I realized
that my memory of the situation was not exact. I could get down easily
by holding to the upper edge of a rock and giving a slight jump down to
a safe landing. It might be impossible for me to jump that far back up
on the return, so I doubled my cotton rope around the base of a
conveniently placed hoptree clump and proceeded where Norvel and I had
retreated before, and where Donald Davis had gone on. Now I realize that
a rope would be unnecessary. One could build a small rock pile below or
simply lean a stout stick against the rock to help get the additional 15
inches of reach required to grip the good hold above. Of course a rope
that one carries is less trouble to find than the rocks for the pile or
the stout stick or log. The Hermit Shale area below was most
interesting. A broad area was covered with Coconino debris and there
were unusual shrubs and trees growing here. To the east of the descent
the wall of Coconino overhangs slightly and there were a number of
seeps. Deer trails led to this water, so it may well be permanent. I
merely made a loop down to the Supai, took some pictures and came back
to the car. Donald Davis and Bill Stewart intercepted me while I was
driving back and they decided to join me on a trip to Lancelot Point. I
had been planning to go out on the Point Sublime Road the night before
and get an early start, but instead I waited for the others and we got
not such a very quick start. We took both cars so I could come home
before the others, but where we came to the fire road going up on
Lancelot Point, three miles up the Swamp Point Road from its junction
with the Point Sublime Road, Bill and Don got in with me and we drove up
a very bad incline and then along the south edge of the point for 1.5
miles to the road end.

We stayed rather close to the south edge of the mesa until we came to a
big valley that we needed to cross. It was a detour to go east to where
we could cross and then a little later we arrived at another. Eventually
we came out for a view into South Big Springs Canyon and could see the
Coconino descent. We now saw something we had missed as we went along
the bed through the Hermit Shale. At two places on the north side there
were broad wet places in the Coconino cliff. As we watched we were
intrigued by a ghostly white spot that moved around on the broad ledge
at the base of one of these wet places. The explanation was easy. It was
really a waterfall, and the wind was moving it around and shifting the
spot where the water was dashed to spray at the bottom.

We continued along the north edge and finally came to the point. We
could see good chances of climbing the Toroweap at the top of Elaine
Castle at a niche on the north side, but it wasn't to be assumed that
this is sure. We had fine views into Modred and Donald could see about
where he had come up through the Redwall below the Elaine Saddle. He
told me that there is no real difficulty in the Redwall climb, no place
where one would have to take off a pack to get by. Donald and Bill set
off to try getting through the Coconino. They wanted to have a crack at
Elaine. I felt lacking in pep again, mostly from lack of sleep, and I
wanted to drive back to Flagstaff by daylight, so I stayed behind. (Bill
Stewart waited while Davis got a first ascent of Elaine.)

We could see numerous ways to get through the Coconino on the south and
west sides of the Modred Bay and there seemed to be some routes through
the Redwall besides the one Donald had checked. It is an area worth more
study.

**

*Payoff east side of Papago Canyon
[July 7, 1969]*

I had been studying the rim above the east arm of Papago Canyon for some
time. (See logs of February 4 and 18 and November 11, 1967, and June 21,
1968.) Where Donald Davis might have succeeded in one try. I had first
gone to the top of the Coconino and stopped, and then I had gone through
the Coconino and along the shale to the yellow rockslide, then I had
done all of this over and had reached the rim of the Redwall before
giving up. Now my plan was to bring my rappel outfit down and get
through the Redwall too even though I had given up thinking of this
route as ropeless.

The new men at the desk weren't very happy about making out a permit for
me to go alone into an area entirely unfamiliar to them, but after some
questions, they authorized me to go. I left the car by 8:15 with a
stimulatingly cool temperature. I had parked a little east of the near
approach of the road to the head of Papago, and I walked rather directly
to the rim. From there I could see the small tower of Toroweap Sandstone
that serves as a marker for the head of the ravine through the Coconino.
I knew I had to walk northeast to get off the rim. When I was distinctly
to the east of the Toroweap Pillar and saw that the upper cliff would be
clearly impossible beyond, I began looking for a way down. I have a
feeling that I do this Kaibab descent a little differently each time. On
my way from the first view from the rim and the place I went down, I
found a large ruin that I had missed before. It is about 25 feet x 8 and
seems to be in one room. The site is where the rim drops sharply eight
or ten feet down to the east.

The notes about the route through the Kaibab and Coconino in the
previous logs seem to cover the situation. I hadn't reviewed them before
the present trip, and I felt that I was solving route problems with only
a vague knowledge of the best way. Still I got through faster this time,
35 minutes for the Kaibab and 55 for the Coconino. I felt weary and weak
on the return, but I noticed that I did the Coconino in 50 minutes after
a rest, the Kaibab in 25. Near the bottom of the Coconino at the bottom
of one rather hard place I noticed for the first time a short piece of
juniper with the lower end buried in the talus. The upper end makes a
good step. I half believe that this was placed here by the Indians. It
is much less surely artificial than the logs I have seen elsewhere, but
feel sure that the Indians who built dwellings along the rim must have
used this route of descent. It was here also that I used my rope to
lower the two half gallon canteens and then tossed the coiled rope down
12 feet before climbing down my self. If one were coming down with full
backpacks, he would want to lower it likewise.

This time the shale seemed like rather poor walking, but I noticed that
it took me 35 minutes to reach the head of the slide through the Supai
and although I felt that it was worse on the return, I did the same lap
in less time. Through the Supai I stayed high and crossed from one slide
to the next before the ravines developed. At one place I found myself
going too far north and getting above a Supai cliff, but there was
little wasted effort in reaching the same ravine in the Redwall where I
had found the smooth drop. It was 10:53 a.m. when I got here.

I had brought a piton and hammer for an anchor for the rope, but before
I used them, I looked around for optional places to place the rope. Just
to the south out of the ravine, the broken ledges come up quite high and
there is a juniper for tying to. As I was deciding where to use the
rope, I looked over the edge and noted that I could climb down the first
step and that I would have excellent chances for continuing. A little
lower there was also only one safe way through, but the rest was
routine. By noon I was down to the high fall in the Tapeats where I ate
lunch under an overhang. In three and a quarter hours I had reached the
Tonto and my former route up from 75 Mile Canyon mouth thus completing
another rim to river route. On the descent along the Hermit I saw two
bighorn sheep, an ewe and a large lamb.

**

*Elaine Castle
[August 9, 1969]*

Jim Sears and I drove to the north rim and slept just outside the locked
gate leading to the Swamp Point Road. It rained a little and we were
glad to be snug in the shell camper.

In approaching this park entrance, I had made the mistake of
overshooting the turn to the south up the hill on the big logging road.
I kept on west until we crossed Dry Park and then turned toward Quaking
Aspen Canyon. Eventually I got back to the Fire Point Road and turned
east until I came to the Grass Canyon Ridge Road. Not far to the south
is the sign for the turn to the left to the dead end at the park
boundary. In the morning we found the key and drove into the park.

There had been a lot of rain since we were here in June, but the ruts
were only a bit worse. The locust brush seemed higher and thicker on the
Lancelot Point Road, but there was no trouble in driving to the same
place where we had parked with Donald Davis and Bill Stewart.

I had been so pleased with my bypass of the deep ravines on the return
from Lancelot Point before by the swing to the north that I wanted to
show Jim this improvement over our former route to the point from the
car. The joker was that I over did this idea. I kept on to the north as
long as there were valleys draining to our left. Finally when we had
been going north and a little west for over an hour, we came to a very
deep ravine which was a real effort to cross. I still didn't realize
what was going on and kept on heading ravines as high as possible.
Suddenly almost two hours away from the car, we came to a fine road with
no fresh tire tracks on it. I now knew that this must be the Swamp Point
Road, but as it was up on the plateau with level ground on both sides, I
still didn't realize where we were. Now we went southwest and after
crossing one more shallow ravine, we came out on the rim with a fine
view over the Grand Canyon. I was amazed to see what we had done. We
were on the north side of South Big Springs Canyon a little to the west
of the chute that leads down to our Coconino descent of the former four
day trip. We gave up the idea of going down the south side of the end of
Lancelot Point and found it not hard to go off the rim directly down to
the Coconino break. It took us considerably less than two hours to go
from the road west of where the road in from the boundary meets the
Swamp Point Road down to the bed and on to our former camp above the
fall through the Supai.

Here we ate an early lunch and proceeded by deer trail or bushwhacking
to Elaine Saddle. I was feeling the heat by now and I needed more rest
stops than I usually do and certainly more than Jim did. Still we took a
bit over an hour for this contour. After a break we went up to the base
of the Coconino from the saddle and then around to the south. There are
at least two ways through the top of the Coconino after you have pushed
up through the brush. The walk to the base of the cap rock of Toroweap
is routine. Right away as we started around the cliff to the west we
found two Indian ruins that Donald had noted. The summit block forms a
fine roof over a low space with a smooth floor for much of the way
around to the west. It would shelter one from the most driving rain.

The break in the Toroweap on the north side required some testing of
holds and acrobatics, but it was safer than some other parts of our
trek. For instance I slipped on a rock in the streambed and tripped
another time in the woods and fell both times. We easily found the fine
big cairn that Donald had built and we added our names and date to his
in the bottle inside the can. It was a more impressive climb than either
King Arthur or Guinevere and the vista was as spectacular.

We knew that Donald had gone up the Coconino on the south side of
Lancelot back from the point, but we thought it would be worth the time
to try the place just south of the end. Near the top of the Coconino we
split up to try two places. I went east of a huge crag and Jim tried the
route to the west. He came out above me, but his place was more risky
than mine. I had only brush to fight, and then we found a trail around
to the west at the very top. We got to the car from the point in one hour.

**

*Granite Creek
[August 24, 1969 to August 25, 1969]*

As usual, the plans far exceeded the performance. I had talked about an
epic trip for seven days that would include establishing the route from
the rim to the river at Granite Park, then backing up to reach the river
via the fault valley to the north, floating down to Parashant and seeing
its lower gorge, then on down the river to inspect three canyons on the
west, the two versions of Indian Canyon, and Trail Canyon. After
spending one of the seven days at home and planning to spend the last at
the geology seminar, I shortened the trip to include only the descent
via Granite Creek and the inspection of the canyons directly across from
Granite Park. The actuality was considerably more modest.

On the way Saturday evening, I ate at Grand Canyon Caverns and met a
waitress who said that her father in law, Norman Imus, knew the whole
Walapai Reservation better than anyone else. He had been about
everywhere hunting mountain lions. He now mans a fire tower near the
Supai Road, but if he were not there, she told me how to find his home
in Peach Springs. Her directions were easy to follow and I went right to
the house in Peach Springs.

Mr. Imus was suffering from knee injury but he sat up on the bed and
visited with me for quite a little while. He fully shared my enthusiasm
for the wilderness and told me some of the places he had been. He was
down in Diamond Creek with the man who wrote his nickname on the slab of
rock, Tiny, in charcoal. Norman had hung the can on the tree and he also
told about finding a plow down there. He knew the circumstances of the
project, but I didn't make notes on that. He had also been down in
Quartermaster by the trail and knew quite a bit about National and
Mohawk Canyons. He had walked from Mohawk around into Prospect Valley.
He had worked as a surveyor at one time, and he fully understood maps.

Mr. Imus wasn't too happy at the thought of white people roaming the
reservation wilderness areas because he said that there are places which
are sacred and might be desecrated by souvenir hunters. He said that one
old Indian had buried most of his family on a certain promontory and
finally was buried there himself. Norman was afraid whites would like to
scratch around and pick up bones. He also said that he knew some stories
about fighting between the Hualapai and Paiutes, but that he wouldn't
pass them on or discuss the old tales. I mentioned that the book by
Spier had already put one story in print, but that didn't make him any
more willing to tell me any tales. I dropped the subject, but a little
later I asked him whether the name Moho Canyon made any sense to him. He
assured me that it is the same as Mohawk. His certainty about this makes
me wonder again about a route up from the river via Mohawk (found it).

He also said that there is a trail down Granite Creek to the river since
he had seen its head. I should have brought out my map then and had him
point to the trail he meant, but I was getting the impression that he
didn't want to encourage me too much. However, he did say that there is
a running stream down Granite Creek. When I was back from the two day
walk, I went to the fire tower and had another talk with Norman. This
time I spread out the map and showed him where I had been. He showed me
where his trail into Granite Creek is, and I saw that I had found it.
Furthermore, it only is a route through the Supai down to a small spring
at the top of the Redwall. There was no water running in Granite Creek
more than a few yards from the spring. Norman said that he hadn't been
down the trail he had seen, so I carried two gallons of water from the
car as I had planned all the time. The Williams Quad 1:250,000 map shows
no road down the valley through the Aubrey Cliffs north of Frazer Well,
so I was prepared for the route to be rather rugged even by pickup. I
knew that Jorgen and his friends had come this way twice by four wheel
drive vehicles. Even after our recent rains, however, this part of the
road was not too bad. I slept Saturday night in the shell camper at a
three way fork in the road north of Frazer Well. In the morning, I took
the middle fork with some tank 14 miles away. The last named
destination, with no mileage indicated was the Riedenour Mine. When I
saw Imus at the end of the trip, he told me about this mine. It produced
copper and uranium and is located at the end of a very precarious road
that takes one over the mesa to the west of Prospect Valley. The road is
so steep that a pickup must have the back end loaded with rock to get
traction coming out. The only thing that surprises me more than the
weird places prehistoric Indians built their dwellings is that the
prospectors found mines where they did.

On Sunday morning when I got down below the Aubrey Cliffs and followed
what appeared to be the main graded road. I had thought it would go
along Prospect Valley, but instead I soon was driving up a ridge that
separates the valley from the Granite creek drainage. I had thought I
would be walking down the valley due west through the junipers and
pinyons without a trail, but after a 75 yard descent from the ridge, I
came to a good road. It was far easier walking than zigzagging through
the trees. If I had found the right approach, I could have saved about
40 minutes of walking at both ends of the trip. The road goes down the
valley four or five miles, but there are washouts that would stop
anything less than a four wheeler.

This upper end of Granite Creek may not be a simple erosional formation.
There seems to be some signs that it was started as a graben. Or perhaps
the hills with Coconino and Hermit Shale lower than along the walls are
merely the result of slides. The valley floor changes abruptly where the
Supai shows at a dry fall. The road splits. First I followed the branch
to the northwest thinking that it might lead to the trailhead Mr. Imus
had mentioned. When it started uphill, I turned around and took the
branch to the south. When I could see that it wasn't going to take me
back to the rim, I left it and walked west to the rim of a tributary in
that direction. I learned later from Norman that this road goes up into
an alcove valley to a spring. Soon after I came back into the main bed I
was at the first showing of Redwall. When I returned on Monday, I went
right up the point between the tributary and the main canyon and got out
on top of the Supai. While walking near the rim, I came to a big cairn
and then a smaller one. Norman confirmed my conjecture that this was his
trailhead into the Granite Creek. It was indeed the best way down to the
spring, but I would say that this was its only purpose.

Below the spring the canyon began to get narrow. The bed was always
covered with gravel and of a gentile grade. Still there were a few
places where I had premonitions that I might be stopped. I had to use my
hands a couple of times to get past short drops. When I could see
limestone cliffs 500 or more feet above, I began to think that the rest
of the way to the river should be clear walking. Near the end of the
first narrow stretch, I came to a couple of rain pools. Where it opened
up about a hundred yards below these pools, I found a fair sized cairn
out of the bed to the right, and a very recognizable trail going up and
to the north. I followed it for a few yards thinking that perhaps it
held the key to the long route to the river. Then I concluded that it
might just be a route to bring stock down to water, and I resumed the
trek down the bed.

Very shortly I came to evidence of the peculiar upheavals in this area,
Supai Sandstone forming the bedrock of the creek. To the west there was
red sandstone far lower than the limestone I had just been through.
Actually, the five or six hundred foot exposure of limestone didn't
represent that great a descent of the bed. There had been some block
faulting. Now in the open, the bed turned to the south more than west.
Here were some ocotillos and barrel cactus. There followed a succession
of limestone gorges, lesser in length and narrower than the first. On a
north facing slope I found a colony of crucifixion thorn. There were
smaller groups in two other places along Granite Creek. Since I knew
that it is common in Diamond Creek and is represented in Mohawk Canyon,
I would have been surprised not to see any here.

There was a covey of Gambel quail ear the bed at one of the open slopes.
Just as I was about to enter the narrowest place I had come to, I had
the thrill of seeing a bighorn ewe bound up the steep slope to the
north. A little later I saw two more on the south side far above. Only a
few yards into this new narrows I came to the end of the line, a slot
just a bit too wide for chimney climbing. I checked a ledge to the right
but decided that it wouldn't go anywhere. I went back to the open area
and followed the bighorns who had gone up the slope to the south. After
quite a detour crossing a ravine and then going down a slope farther
west, I got back into the main streambed. In doing this I passed a
fairly clean rainpool and saw a bigger one down in the main bed above
the place where I reached it. There had been other rain pockets in the
limestone of the various narrows higher up but they were swarming with
yellow jackets.

I have a healthy respect for these vicious creatures. About a year ago I
was stung and a few weeks ago again. While I was resting in the shade
not too far from one of these rain pockets I was stung again, on the
side of the thumb. I knew what to expect, and by Monday morning, my left
hand was puffed up. The itch lasts for several days.

It was now nearly 4:30 p.m. and the heat was getting to me. At the first
of the day I would walk for an hour and then read a few pages of a book.
Since noon, it was more like taking a five to ten minute break every 30
minutes. I had now come to a level where the Redwall seemed to be at its
lowest appearance. I soon came to a place where the bed dropped away. I
might have gone around this obstruction to one side or the other, but
there seemed to be a similar fall ahead where both walls were sheer. My
impression was that the canyon deepened rapidly in the north tending
reach. I was feeling very weak by now and decided to call it a day. My
two gallons of water would fix me up for dinner and breakfast, and I
knew where I could get more by walking back 15 minutes.

After a night that was mostly too warm but too mosquitoey for sleeping
without using my cotton blanket, I couldn't decide what to do next.
Without much conviction I started to ascend the slopes to the south and
west to have a look at the Redwall in that direction. I could remember
that quite far to the south near Mile 220 the Redwall is broken facing
the river. I was rather sure that this was not true near Granite Creek,
but I thought that another tributary might give access to the bottom
farther to the west. As I was toiling up the slope in the Supai again, I
was sweating so profusely at 7:00 a.m. that I began to worry how I was
going to take the heat later in the day. I also consulted the map and
saw that I was still far from the river. I had no right to hope for a
better route through the Redwall farther west. I had intended to spend
the day looking for a route and then probably come back in the evening
to the water pocket. As I was weary from the heat and already foot sore,
I took the coward's way and started out. I had wasted about an hour
trying to make up my mind. I considered conserving my altitude and
trying to go out a different way, far to the south of the main channel
to head the tributaries in that direction, but I figured that it would
mean a lot of up and down walking besides the extra mileage. On the
identical way back I needed more rests than on the previous day and
reached the pickup by 6:15 p.m. On both days there was some relief from
the heat in the afternoon because of clouds and a few drops of rain.

On Tuesday I saw the country by truck. First I drove on up to the top of
the mesa north of Granite Creek. I was especially thrilled by the view
over the area where I had walked the day before. From a point about 15
minutes walk from the car, I could recognize Diamond Peak and tell
something about both Indian Canyons. Trail Canyon goes in the wrong
direction to be seen well from here, but its companion just to the south
seems to have some promise as a route to the rim (no). Then I drove on
and looked to the northwest. Finally I went back and tried the road
north in Prospect Valley. It seemed to have been little used lately and
I gave up where it crosses the wash about 6.5 miles north of the house
trailer and ranch buildings. After a short, but cordial visit with
Norman Imus, I headed home.

**

*Redwall between Grapevine and Cottonwood Canyons
[August 28, 1969]*

Allyn Cureton had found how easy it is to go up the Redwall at the head
of the west fork of Cottonwood and then had taken my suggestion about
doing an interesting hike down Grapevine to the Redwall rim and around
into Cottonwood. He had followed the Redwall rim clear around to the
Grandview Trail in Cottonwood and then had gone back to the top on the
trail. Cureton had found the remains of a miner's camp on the terrace
above the Redwall.

Bob Packard went with me to the south rim. By the time we were ready to
leave the car at Grandview Point, it was 8:20 a.m. and a fine clear day.
It was Bob's first time down the Grandview Trail, and we wondered at the
care with which the old paving stones had been placed one by one. We
also noted that more and more of the trail was sliding down the hill.
When the timber cribs finally slide away, it will be a real mountain
climb to get by those two places.

As usual in going down into Grapevine Canyon, we turned off the trail at
the first notch and went out on the ridge at the top of the Coconino. We
went north a bit farther before starting down this time and found the
going better. It also helped not to have snow lying on the loose slabs
of sandstone. In the Supai we went north a little, but soon we saw that
we had better go down a ravine to the east. There were a couple of
breaks in the top ledge but Bob found a faster way than mine. In fact he
repeatedly got ahead of me during the whole day whenever we split over
minor variations in the route. Only at the end when he got knee cramps
and began to feel the affects of a cold did I ever have to wait for him.
Walking north along the Redwall rim was fairly easy also, simpler and
faster than it usually is. We noted the place to go over to Cureton's
break in the Redwall, where you can walk down from the southeast end of
the west fork of Cottonwood. We wanted to find the miner's camp and
perhaps walk out on the promontory separating Cottonwood from Grapevine,
so we continued to the west.

We had passed some very smooth places on the terrace and I was beginning
to wonder whether we had missed the camp. Bob was ahead and he saw the
clutter of large cans. There must have been several men in the party and
they must have lived there for many weeks. On the uphill side of a big
rock there was a large room outlined with a low stone wall. A long
straight pole and some old canvas showed that the men had lived in a
tent. A wood heating stove and quite a bit of stovepipe showed that the
weather had been cool. Canteens, a few bottles, long steel drill bits,
pens, and wooden kegs for transporting water made up most of the debris.

Cureton hadn't seen any of the diggings, but as Bob and I went out on
the top of the promontory to the north and west of the camp, we came to
several places which had been prospected to a depth of several feet. One
place had yellow clay and rock, and another had blue and green copper
ore. The view from the end of the promontory was as fine as it is
anywhere in the canyon. We could see a bit of the water of Grapevine
Rapid and another bit of the river farther upstream. On the return we
found a narrow defile where we could go down through the top of the
Redwall. Then we had to slant to the north to get down the rest of the
way to the bed. It was time for lunch when we arrived at the bit of
shade of a juniper in the bed. We were still high above the regular
Tonto Trail, so we followed a dim burro trail at our level around into
Cottonwood before going down to the bed. It was a slight shock to find
no water running in the wet arm of Cottonwood. We had to go up to the
very highest part of the grove before we found any water at all, and it
was just a trickle forming a shallow bog. I had to scoop out the moss to
get my canteen deep enough to fill it. From here I studied the possible
Redwall descent northwest of the spring and decided that it would be
difficult if not impossible without a rope.

We went out in good time with a slow rain to cool us.

**

*Inspecting Havatagvich
[September 3, 1969]*

Earl Paya had told Allyn and me that there is a way from the bed of
Havatagvich Canyon up to the plateau. We had told him that we had just
been up the Moqui Trail so we thought he could not confuse that
tributary with Havatagvich. In April, 1966, I had checked along the rim
beginning from near Chikapanagi Tank and had decided that if there was a
way to get down, it would have to be close to the tank. Betty Emery had
flown the area with Bill Martin and she had reported that there is no
way clear through the Coconino. Still I didn't want to say that Paya was
wrong without a close lock on the ground (Paya right Cf. 2/6/71).

On August 28, I was afraid to drive the dirt road for fear of getting
stuck, but it had dried up some by now. The Topocoba Road was better
than it had been three years ago, but there was water in the ruts at the
19 mile tank. I got the rear wheels clear past the water, but they lost
traction and stalled in the slick mud beyond. After a few minutes of
fussing, putting pebbles under the tires and digging the wet mud away, I
got past this place.

I left the main road just beyond the cattle guard 1.6 miles past the
Pasture Wash crossroad. If I had taken along the Williams Quad map, I
would have been watching for the road that forks away to go to
Chikapanagi Tank, but as it was I missed this and went on. I also hadn't
reviewed what I had written concerning the other trip. I had a feeling
that I was overshooting the right place to stop the car, but I drove on
and took the fork that goes to Moqui Tank where the dam is built with
dressed stone. At the end of the road there is quite a cluster of
buildings. They have quite a clutter of odds and ends lying around such
as a plow, a farm implement to be pulled by horses, and a police van. I
was confused about my location, so I went west and looked down from a
point. This made it clear that I was on the south side of Moqui Trail
Canyon. After 40 minutes for this detour, I drove back and parked less
than a half mile north of where the road from Pasture Wash swings north
to go out the way I had come in. My biggest mistake was made when I
passed the fork that leads clear to Chikapanagi Tank. It branches to the
west only 2.8 miles from the cattle guard on the Topocoba Road.

Just as I had done three years ago, I walked towards Mount Trumbull and
hit the other road. When it seemed to be going unduly far north, I left
it and came to the place where the trail goes down into Moqui Trail
Canyon. With my bearings established, I walked north and hit the
Chikapanagi Road again and stayed with it until I was close to the tank.
There were six ducks on this bit of water.

To go back a bit, while I was eating lunch near the head of the Moqui
Trail, it began to rain in the distance. On one side of the main storm,
what I took to be about 15 miles away, I saw what I took to be a minor
tornado. A thin, curving tube reached down to the ground. What may not
be a true indicator was a broad brush of dark material that formed a
sort of ragged flower pot at the lower end.

At the point of Chikapanagi Tank there is broken a part of the rim which
provides a route down through the top cliff. There is a clear trail
going down and south here. I thought my quest was over, but the trail
ended in about 30 yards at a place where someone had been excavating for
a shallow mine. The way down to the Coconino needed care, but there was
no real difficulty. Once I dislodged an unusually round rock as big as a
volleyball and it rolled all the way to the bottom, at least 700
vertical feet.

There were three scallops in the Coconino that would make it possible to
get through half the formation. The one farthest south seemed to offer
the best route, but there would still be something like 60 or 70 feet
for a rappel (150 foot rope). A large rock is resting on the slope at a
convenient place to tie the rope, but I decided against going down for
fear I might have trouble sliding the Jumars past the lip on the way
back. I worked my way along the steep gypsum slope and looked well at
the Coconino in the bed of the ravine. There are a couple of pools. I
could get down over halfway but then I was stopped. I got out to the rim
on the south.

**

*Hot Na Na Wash
[September 20, 1969]*

In 1965 Norvel Johnson and I had found that one can get down Hot Na Na
through the Coconino and last year, Packard, Shough, and I had hiked a
loop going down Salt Water Wash, along the river at the rim of the
Supai, and up Tanner. At that time I had considered a similar loop
starting down Hot Na Na and coming out Tanner.

As the summer heat subsided, Bob and I thought that it would be a good
time, and he had formed a special liking for Marble Canyon. John Zhart
and Ted Wykoff, two other faculty men, wanted to go with us. They had
both had a long record as hikers, but Ted had not done much recently.

We got a fairly prompt start in my truck although John had been a host
at a party the night before and was still feeling the worse for some
beer. We left the highway at the Tanner Wash windmill and followed the
road up the grade to the west rim of Tanner. I kept to the better
established road that went north along the highest ground west of the
Canyon. I knew I could make a better approach to the place where Hot Na
Na becomes cliffy, but I wanted the truck to be where we could get out
of Tanner without having to walk north very far. The display sign of the
Bitter Springs Station was just visible somewhat north of east, and a
steep little valley just west of the vehicle drained into Tanner. A road
goes down this valley.

As we left the truck walking northwest toward the west end of the
Vermilion Cliffs, we crossed this valley and were soon looking down into
a bigger one with a good road in it, the nameless drainage between
Tanner and Hot Na Na. Then we became confused by various valleys that
were hard to identify on the map. We later realized that any of these
would have led into Hot Na Na. We overshot the first tributary and went
down the second. It led into a big arm which is the main fork to the
west and we soon came to where the east fork joins it. A minor arm comes
in from the right at the same place but it drains an area north of the
east fork. North of this junction there are some chances to climb to the
east rim, but the walls soon become unscalable. For a long way down
canyon there were an amazing number of soft drink cans and even old
buckets and sauce pans lodged among the boulders by floods. I knew we
were in the right canyon, but there was positive proof when we came to
the Coconino. I had just looked at my old pictures of Norvel getting
through the Coconino along a ledge to the east of the bed. There are
some deep rain pools here that I also remembered. On the return we came
right up the bed and got past the pools and found that my old log was
right there is no need to get out of the bed.

There had been some signs that sheep come down as far as these pools,
but we saw no sign of any sort of trail below this place and the way was
slow among the big rocks. Ted was having trouble by now. We should have
warned him about the roughness of this trip, and he should have
confessed before starting about his lack of condition. At this time he
also told me for the first time that he had had a warning from his
surgeon that he might need a second hernia operation on the other side
to match one he had had a little over a year previously. We had figured
that there would be no real trouble in getting down to the river cliff
in time for a noon meal, and that if we didn't get that far that soon,
it would be a sign that our plan was too ambitious. About noon we had
come down a short way into the Supai Formation and had found a seep
spring with shade from a fine big rock. We ate here and decided to be
content with a view of the river.

Bob went down the bed which meant that he did a bit of cliff scaling
that the rest rejected in favor of the west slope above the Supai
ledges. If we had gone to the east, we could have gone down a slide and
continued along the bed. Bob found an impossible drop as he reached a
place close to the river. John and I reached a broad platform at the top
of the Supai near the river and then found some neat breaks that let us
get down to join Bob. We three went along a lower ledge until we had a
good view of Houserock Rapid and the river downstream. The clear green
water contrasted finely with the red cliffs. We must have still been 200
feet above the water.

The trip to the river and back took about an hour. We took a leisurely
bit of rest before we started back up the canyon. The day didn't seem
too warm to me, but Zhart soon felt that his meal was not setting right.
He needed the rests that Wykoff found necessary from his muscle cramps
and general weariness. It was rather tedious for Bob to wait for us. I
found that it was inexpedient to walk very far ahead of Ted because he
was not very good at choosing the best route.

There are two shallow caves on the east side of lower Hot Na Na just
above the Coconino. The original deposition of the rock material may
account for them, but we also noticed that there is some seepage of
water from above. The southern one particularly caught my fancy since
from a distance it seemed that there might be a vertical shaft coming
down at the back of the ceiling. Since Zhart and Wykoff seemed to need
considerable rest, I detoured up to see the cave. The shaft ended only a
couple of yards above the rest of the ceiling, but there was a shelf up
there that must have made a cozy home for generations of large owls. At
least on the floor below, I saw something that I had never run across
before. There was a stalagmite about six feet high by seven feet long
and one and a half feet thick made of the droppings of some bird of
prey. The floor of the cave was littered with small bones, mostly broken
into chips and slivers. This huge pile of droppings struck me as about
as remarkable as an unbroken Indian pot.

After this delay, John felt much better, but we still had to wait quite
a bit for Ted. As he was my guest I felt responsible and stayed with him
while Bob and John went ahead to locate the truck before it got dark. It
turned out that we were right on the beam even though we came back by a
slightly different route. It was welcome news when Bob turned back from
where he had been walking ahead to tell us that the car was in sight. We
all reached it before 7:00 p.m. We had been away from the truck about 10
hours and we all felt that we had had a rewarding day. However, hikers
who are just interested in going down Hot Na Na to the river cliff could
approach the take off much better by driving down the road in the
nameless drainage between Tanner and Hot Na Na.

There were several other rainpools besides those in the Coconino and the
spring near the top of the Supai in the bed, but these should not be
regarded as reliable. It had been raining abnormally during the last
month. At one of the pools in the Coconino, three of us saw about as
large a dragonfly as we had ever seen, probably with a four inch body.
We also heard a few birds, canyon wrens and ravens in particular.

*Volume 3 <47691.htm>*