*


    Harvey Butchart?s Hiking Log, Volume 3

    September 20, 1969 - September 21, 1974

*

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

*Mohawk Stairway Route
[September 19, 1969 to September 27, 1969]*

Jim Sears, John Wehrman, and Sue Varin decided to take advantage of a
trip by George Billingsley and Jan Jensen to Tuckup Canyon to do what I
have been talking about for some time, see whether there is a cross
canyon route via Mohawk and Stairway. I had suggested that Mohawk would
go if one should use one or more ropes, but I thought Stairway would be
impossible. Without rereading my log in which I suggested that there
would be several drop offs in Mohawk, I suggested that there might be
only one. Jim, however, took two ropes along. I also helped him to the
extent of giving explicit directions as to the road approach. George and
Jan would remain at the rim above Tuckup until dark Monday evening, or
10:00 p.m., as Jim remembered it. At that time George was to conclude
that their non arrival meant that they had returned up Mohawk.

George's part came off successfully. He reported two bad places in
Tuckup close together near the river. He figures that they can be passed
by a clever climber without a rope but that a ten foot rope in the upper
place and a 30 foot rope in the lower make the passage much safer. Water
was running all the way downstream below Cottonwood Spring, but it is so
mineralized that it causes irregularities. He and Jan, after spending
the night after midnight on the rim, reached the Colorado by noon. They
went back up to Cottonwood Spring Saturday night and then made the trip
over to Willow Spring on Sunday. On Monday, after firing some
firecrackers as signals, they returned to the rim directly above
Cottonwood Spring via a crack that is a bit hard to find. They took off
for Flagstaff some time after dark.

On Friday evening, John, Sue, and Jim took off for Mohawk in John's
truck. A few miles from the Supai road, they got stuck in the mud, but
after two hours of work, including putting on chains in the middle of
the puddle, they got the truck backed out of the pool to dry ground.
Then they walked about twelve and a half miles and slept near the head
of the Mohawk Canyon Trail. All they carried for night warmth were metal
space blankets, so they stayed close to a fire each night. On Saturday
they got down canyon to the dropoff at the bottom of the Redwall that
had baffled me. On Sunday they negotiated this with a 50 foot rope and
then rather promptly had to use another rope. This time Sue stayed on
top and threw the rope down. Then she got down about 10 feet and skidded
and fell the rest of the way with the two boys to arrest her fall at the
bottom. There was one more drop of about 10 feet where they let Sue down
by the rope while the two men jumped. At the mouth of Mohawk they built
two large rock piles as a sign that they intended to cross on their air
mattresses. Here John Wehrman proved to be the fastest swimmer going
downstream very little to get across. Jim was afraid that he might even
have to ride through the rapid since he was so slow to cross, and Sue
also lost about two widths of the river while getting across. They got
partway up Stairway before camping Sunday night. On Sunday they found a
very interesting route up the Redwall using a talus to the west. They
were encouraged by finding deer or sheep droppings and even two Indian
arrowheads. There was no problem in the Supai and it was considerably
easier than Mohawk. They pushed on and at the end of the day (Monday),
Jim dropped his pack and canteen to try to intercept George before the
deadline at the end of the road. He missed George by little more than 30
minutes and then had to spend a very uncomfortable night with no pack or
fire. On Tuesday morning all three got together on top. For the next
four days they just sat at the road end waiting for the rid that didn't
come. Once a day one of them went down to the spring for water. Finally
on Friday evening they decided that their food situation would force
them to move and at 4:00 a.m. on Saturday morning they started by road
to reach the main road to Toroweap, about 12 miles away. Jim had
forgotten to bring the map, and he had hesitated starting this trek away
from water because he was unsure about distances. Actually they reached
the main road in less than four hours and proceeded northeast along it.
When they came to a fork they took the road to Craig Ranch because the
sign promises gas and oil and presumably water and people to help. They
were found about a mile up this road by a plane belonging to the Mohave
County Search and Rescue Team.

Other activities of the week included George and Jan's effort at
learning the score by going down Mohawk. They found the abandoned truck
in the middle of the road and then slept a few hours near the trailhead
where the other party had spent the night. On Wednesday they showed what
sort of hikers they are by reaching the water and the drop that had
stopped me in six hours compared to my eight. In getting to the river
and especially on the return, George found a way to bypass each of the
three drops without rope. At one place he found and used a short tree
trunk leaning against the cliff, presumably placed there by prehistoric
Indians. He also found a couple of arrowheads somewhere in Mohawk
Canyon. He was guided along one ledge at a bypass by finding sheep
droppings and he and Jan saw three sheep at a range that invited
photography. On Thursday George and Jan got to the river and back to
their packs at the spring and then reached their truck by 9:00 p.m.

On Friday morning all of us were properly worried at having let four
days pass during which the three missing hikers might be in real
trouble. The general alarm was at last sounded. The Coconino authorities
flew George and Jan over to Kingman, and the Kingman Sheriff called out
the search and rescue volunteers. I took John Zabat and Al Doty to the
north rim starting about 3:15 p.m. after my last class. We intended
camping at the rim above Cottonwood Spring that night and we thought it
would be a good thing to go down Tuckup to see whether we could find any
tracks of the missing three.

On Wednesday afternoon, I had gotten Bill Martin to fly me up and over
Mohawk, up over the Esplanade and around the Dome with the return above
Tuckup. We went upriver to Havasu Creek and then down to Prospect
Canyon. If we had flown low over the rim above Cottonwood Spring, the
search would have ended right then. Two of my impressions from the
flight were that the promontory from the left one half mile above the
mouth of National might indeed offer a way to get down to the water from
the bench which can be followed out of National (wrong, no passage here
observed from boat). Another was that the steep ravine called Mohawk on
the National Monument Quad, about one and a half miles down river from
the canyon called Gateway, may offer a steep route down to the river (no
go either). There are one or two other places where the bench about 200
feet above the water is broken and where one could get to the riverbank.

To return to our proposed trek down Tuckup, we missed the turnoff at
June Tank and drove on to see John Riffy. He straightened us out and
told us that in the morning we should use the shorter road that turns
off just south of the old Graham Ranch. Close to 11:00 p.m., we drove
out near the Toroweap overlook and slept there. After a leisurely
breakfast and an appreciative view of the canyon, the first from
Toroweap for Zahrt and Doty, we drove back and started up the hill to
the Tuckup road end. Near the crossroad about three miles from road end,
we found a metal blanket spread out in the middle of the road with a
note in a can on it. Almost immediately we were under Riffy's plane with
George Billingsley as observer. They dropped a note in a can asking us
to bring our note to the airport to help with the search. Soon after we
reached the main road in Tuweap Valley, we learned from a man in the
lead Jeep that the three hikers had been found from the air up the
branch road to the Craig Ranch. We soon had a happy reunion. It was
fortunate, in a way, that we had not gone to our intended campsite the
preceding night, or the all night drive of the search and rescue crew
would have been in vain. At least I was on hand to bring the three
hikers and George and Jan back to Flagstaff.

*	Impressions from the air
[September 24, 1969]*

The real purpose of the flight was to try to locate the missing hikers
who were already waiting on the rim above Cottonwood Spring in the
Tuckup Basin. I wasn't spending much time looking at routes not
connected with their possible route, so this flight was not very
productive of new information for me. Bill Martin took Ken Hanson, Glen
Friede, and me quite directly to the upper end of Mohawk Canyon. The air
to the west was a bit hazy from burning junipers, but Bill could steer
toward mount Trumbull. We passed to the south of the Wilaha Road and I
was impressed with the very meandering and steep little valley that
Havasu Creek makes so far to the south. We could see where the walls
become precipitous but I missed the place where the Kirby Trail comes
down. We were too far to the south and west for a good view. I did
recognize Black Tank Wash and we knew when we had passed the Supai road.
I also identified features of National Canyon, and I was impressed with
the short separation of the two canyons, National and Mohawk.

The plane settled down over the rim and flew along several hundred feet
above the bed in the broad upper part. We went north over the Redwall
narrows below the rim of the Esplanade. Bill stayed a bit to the left of
center so that I could see more of the bed, but there were many places
where we would be beyond a meander before I could get a view of the
entire bottom. We knew that George Billingsley and Jan Jensen were
somewhere below, but we missed seeing them. Later they told us that they
had heard the plane and had run out into the most visible place nearby,
in the Redwall narrows, to wave at us.

I got a very fleeting glimpse of a chockstone at one place which I took
to be the 30 foot drop that had stopped me. For the rest of the way to
the river I could see water in the bed but no further obstacles. George
later told me that there are two further barrier drops. Sears, Wehrman,
and Varin had used a rope at all three, but George, by careful search,
found ways to bypass all three. He had to use a log that had been
propped against the cliff at one place, presumably by Indians of a
former day.

Next Bill began to climb past the mouth of Stairway and Fern Glen. We
turned north above the latter after getting a good view of Alamo Window
and went high enough to look at the Esplanade and fly north and east
around the Dome. We noted Willow Spring but didn't go very close to it.
If we had gone up over the rim at the end of the road above Cottonwood
Spring, we would have seen the missing hikers camped there, but we swung
around over Tuckup. It seemed even narrower from the Redwall down to the
river than Mohawk or National. We would surely have missed seeing hikers
in its bottom.

Then we flew upriver to the mouth of Havasu Creek. In addition to
keeping a sharp eye for anyone along the bank, I casually watched for
breaks so that one could get off the bench above the bottom river cliff
to the water. They were few and far between, but there were a few. I saw
one on the north side, but I am not sure whether it is upriver from the
mouth of Tuckup, or below there. After passing the place, I remembered
and looked back at the thing on the south side a half mile upriver from
the mouth of National that I had thought to be a travertine cone. I
couldn't make out its composition, but it may well offer a route off the
bench (no).

We continued on downriver to Prospect Canyon. Going down and also while
returning, I remembered to look at the ravine or short canyon called
Mohawk on the GCNM map, about one and a half miles below the mouth of
the big Mohawk Canyon. The aerial view made it look surprisingly good
for a descent route. It is surely worth a try (easy ? ). Perhaps I
should carry rope while checking this one. If I would leave the bed of
Mohawk in the Supai and get down to the river here, I could come up
Mohawk, assuming I had a good climber like George along. He could take a
rope ahead for pulling our packs and giving me a lift.

Bill took us up Mohawk and at this time Ken saw Hualapai Indians on
horseback below us. They had talked to George and Jan and had been very
discouraging about what was to the north. They thought that no one could
get through and that only one's bones would ever be found if he should
try. After circling for altitude, Bill took us over the end of the road
where we could see George's pickup. We followed the road and saw the
other truck and then went home.

*	Beaver Canyon
[November 11, 1969 to November 12, 1969]
[cf., logs of 11/11/61 and 4/9/67]*

This was intended as a trek with Paul Fife of the U of A math staff, but
at the time he was under the weather with a bad throat and couldn't make
it. He had interested five of his department members in the trip and
they came anyway, John Leonard, Richard Thompson, Joe Kelly, Bill
Conway, and John Krimnel. Norvel Johnson was my guest, and it was our
intention to get the others down to the Redwall rim and then head them
along the trail to the Havasu Falls Campground while Norvel and I would
make our way down the narrow gorge of Beaver Canyon through the Redwall
to its junction with Havasu Creek.

We left the Supai road via Camp 16 again. We had to go through two
stretched wire gates this time to reach the road north to a metal tank
along the pipeline. This would be Wate Tank on the National Quad map and
we continued on to the tank due west of Higgins Tank, the large clay
dam. Here we should have swung east to Higgins Tank, but I didn't
remember this point, and a good track leads much farther north along the
pipe line, which I followed. After some curves it finally stopped at a
clay dam with only some wheel tracks in the grass going on to the
northwest. Here we got the point that I had come the wrong way. Four of
the party were in a VW following my lead. The owner of that vehicle was
quite a bit more cautious about the bad road than I was in the Ford
truck, and this slowed us quite a bit.

We went back and over to Higgins Tank and then north. After we got up
the hill north of Bishop's Camp, Joe Kelly decided that his VW had had
enough of the grades and rocky roads and all seven got into my truck. We
soon came to the fence where you turn due west for six tenths of a mile
and had no trouble recognizing the turn to the north. About five
vehicles of the Phoenix Chapter of the Sierra Club had been along here
the previous weekend.

It was already about noon so we ate before starting down the trail.
While putting my pack and extra water in the truck Friday evening, I had
put down my new canteen on the trunk of our Chevy next to the truck and
had forgotten it. When I was ready to hike, I had no canteen other than
a plastic jug, but that was only a little more awkward. When we started
on about 12:50, Norvel led off, but he couldn't locate the trailhead. I
was just a bit uncertain too, but I recalled that it goes down a few
yards into the notch and then turns to the east just below the rim.
Quite soon it becomes perfectly clear for the rest of the steep descent
through the Kaibab and Coconino. Then one picks any route through the
blackbrush slope and finally gets into the bed of the wash.

Although I had read my former logs just before starting, when the big
drop in the bed occurred it took me a few moments to note the trail
bypass to the left and up at first. The lower end of this bypass is
easier still to miss on the return, and I marked it with a two stone
cairn on the top of a large boulder in the middle of the bed and another
small one to one side of the conglomerate material where you start up. I
saw our footprints leaving here, but Norvel passed it by even with my
cairns in place. There were a couple of other places through the Supai
where very short pieces of trail bypassed rough drops in the bed.

The three springs noted in 1967 in April were still running in the fall.
In fact on the return we ate lunch by one just above the Redwall where
the two small cottonwood trees mark the seep in the gravel of the bed. I
also got a refill at the middle spring just above the big drop. Norvel
thought that this water from the Supai gave him cramps, but I didn't
notice any indisposition worse than I can attribute to the effort of a
big hike.

Five of the seven reached the Redwall rim in 110 minutes from the truck,
but we had to wait 15 more for the slower walkers. I gave the Tucson men
careful instructions about the place to climb down to the trail near
Havasu Falls, and then Norvel and I started to look for Crowley's way
through the Redwall gorge. First we got to the bottom of Little Coyote
near where the trail crosses it. Just before it joins the other arm,
from Beaver Canyon, there is a chockstone block that must be where the
Crowleys used a shoulder stand. There was at least a 30 foot drop. To go
down would have meant about 12 feet of working down a crack between the
sandstone block and the smooth limestone wall. Then one could go through
a hole behind a lower block and reach the last drop which appeared to
consist of smooth limestone. I was about half willing to attempt a
descent here since Norvel could give me a belay with the rope I was
carrying, but he didn't like the idea of my trying to come up the rope
with only knots for a grip. We had left the Jumars in the truck, and
there also was nowhere to tie the rope. One should have a piton or a rod
to drive into the gravel of the bed to furnish a place to secure the
rope. After giving this place up, Norvel and I went down the bed of the
Beaver Canyon arm. Here we soon found a smooth drop into a pool with a
deeper drop ahead. We also went along the left wall of the main gorge to
the north and inspected the next two notches. One of these had been used
as an access route according to Donald Weaver on their trip up from
Havasu Creek a couple of years ago, but both of them looked worse to me
than the drop in Little Coyote. From this side we noticed a somewhat
promising place on the right side of the main gorge, a sort of detached
tower or promontory away from the right wall with red sandstone blocks
lying in the crack next to the main wall both upstream and down. We
decided then that if we didn't like this either, we would give up the
project and follow the others to the campground. When we were on our way
south to get over to the other side, we shouted our last word to the
rest of the party who had found the trail and were on their way. At this
break we were able to get down perhaps halfway to the bed, but we could
see that below the sandstone blocks there was still a vertical wall of
smooth limestone both on the north and south sides of the promontory.
However, there are places to tie a rope here and I believe I would use
this as a future rappel site.

When Norvel and I finally gave up and started after the others, it was
4:00 p.m. We poured it on and caught up when we were about halfway to
the junction with Havasu Creek. It was just after five when we rounded
the corner and looked down from above on Beaver Falls, and I knew we
would have to hurry to get to the campground before dark. Norvel did
fine until he began getting leg cramps. Two of the Tucson men kept up
and we got a fine view of Mooney Falls in time to try for a long
exposure photo. We also saw Havasu Falls by dim daylight, but by the
time we reached the cairns marking the descent, it was definitely
getting dark. I could see a few ducks on the way down, but when I
reached the place to use one's hands, it almost needed a flashlight. By
the time I had gone down and made sure there was no easier way, the
other men had their lights in use. Norvel and I were the only ones who
were not provided with lights.

I helped Conway and Thompson down taking the packs and then handing them
on down. We walked down to the camp and then returned with just enough
light left to make it back to my pack and white jug which I had left on
the trail. By this time Krimmel and Johnson had come along and Krimmel
was almost out of talking distance south along the trail. I took them
down and this time we found that we didn't need to remove the packs at
the steep place. We had one light for all three but we joined the others
at the camp and I brought back enough water to make supper and sleep up
along the trail to intercept Leonard and Kelly. Before I was through
eating my soup, they came along and would have had to walk all the way
to the village if I hadn't been there. We were all together at the
campground before ten.

For the return the Tucson hikers went up the good trail to Hualapai
Hilltop while Norvel and I went back up Beaver Canyon to drive the
vehicles out. The previous day had taken a lot out of us and we took
from 7:30 a.m. to almost noon to reach the spring not far above the
Redwall. We started on at 12:30 and reached the truck by 3:30. On the
drive out, I went to the east of Higgins Tank and found the road more
direct to the main Supai road, but this turnoff, about two miles
northeast of the Camp 16 turnoff, is not marked.

*Apache Point
[October 18, 1969]*

After I was taken out by helicopter in April, 1968, Visbak, Ellis, and
Johnson had some spare time as they walked out to Apache Point from
Royal Arch. The pinnacle north of Apache Point looked like a fine point
for climbing. When they reached the top they found an Indian ruin with
good walls left and even a metate. I had been wanting to go there to see
it too, and I also wanted to check the ravine below here to the west for
a possible descent route to the Esplanade. Pat and Susie Reilly were
visiting us, and they agreed that they would like a trip to the area.

It was a good anniversary for the trip since I had gone down from Apache
Point on October 17, 1959, and had rediscovered Royal Arch on the 18th.
I hadn't realized that this trek would be ten years later to the day
until I checked some color slides upon reaching home. We parked as usual
just before the road starts up the hill northwest of the park boundary
sign. The road had been dry and fairly good, and we could go along about
25 or 30 mph. Pat had brought his compass and we tried to follow a
bearing to magnetic north. I also had brought a spray can of yellow
paint, and I stopped fairly often to put a mark on the north sides of
bare trees. We saw a few of these on our way back, but they were the
ones along the horse trail paralleling the telephone line northwest of
Quetzal Point. We could also see our own tracks in the dust here, but we
followed the trail a little farther beyond where we had reached it, and
we didn't see a single yellow spot all the way back to the road. On the
way north we took one good look at the canyon near where we first came
to the rim, and then we kept away from the rim where the walking was
better. In 90 minutes we were right above where the trail starts down. I
didn't immediately recognize that we were just to the west of the point,
and I started along the rim in the wrong direction. I had always reached
this place by coming along a trail from the east which leads to the
descent just west of the point and I was confused by the direct
approach. It was a very cool day and we were all glad to eat lunch in
the sun down on a smooth and bare part of the saddle leading to the
pinnacle. The sun was pleasant. Just below where we were sitting, I
noticed three one gallon glass jugs of the type Colin Fletcher had used
at his caches. The pinnacle is quite striking and merits a name compared
to many places in Grand Canyon which have been named way back. If the
name Apache Point should be retained for the headland on the main rim,
one might call the photogenic pinnacle Apache Plume. Susie stayed where
we had eaten and Pat and I took off to look for a way up. We stayed
close to the base of the towers and soon saw a hollow among the round
turrets that offer a route. After a bit of scree in the ravine, we came
to a critical place. At first I headed up a steep place where the bumps
in the impure limestone offered holds but then I went to the north into
a groove. This was good at first, but there was a awkward chockstone at
the top and I turned back to follow Pat who had gone up our first
choice. Above this careful climbing there was just a good scramble over
mostly loose material to the top.

We immediately found the four or five rooms together on the top. At
places the walls are still two and a half feet high and the metate was
certainly identifiable. It is badly pitted by weathering but the flanges
along the sides are neat and definite. A mano or softer stone was lying
in the metate. We also found several walls that stood like breastworks
along the rim at places where a sentry might be on watch to note
movements of people below or along the plateau. The views in all
directions are fantastic, and I wonder as usual whether the scenery was
the motivation for living here or whether it was for safety from
enemies. It must have been a real problem to get water to this dwelling.

Pat rejoined Susie after this interesting climb and took more pictures
while I went down the slope into the ravine to the west. Ever since my
trip down the trail to the east and around below the point on the
Esplanade, I had wondered whether one could go down here without a rope.
This time, however, I brought mine along just in case it would be
needed. It was unnecessary, however. Below the slide rock, the footing
in the ravine was perfect with no big steps. In the lower half of the
Coconino I came to quite a drop in the bed, but just to the south by an
easy detour, the route continued easily. At one place there is a good
sized rock pile put up as a step, so the Indians had used this descent.
If I had known this descent in 1960, I would have saved at least an hour
of walking time between Apache Point and Fossil Bay. It is a neat route
and for some reason the footing seems better than it does on the other
side of the promontory where the old trail goes down. For one thing,
there are no ravines cutting into the slope below the west side. I
rejoined Pat and Susie on the rim just about when I had predicted using
an even hour for this inspection.

They had gone directly up to the rim above the saddle instead of
bothering with the trail. Here they discovered another surprise. There
is a good projecting ledge near the top forming quite a shelter beneath.
Pat saw that the ceiling is well blackened with smoke and there are now
two five gallon cans of the type Fletcher used for his caches placed
back against the wall. I was wondering whether Leydet had emptied the
one we had found where Fletcher and I had left it and then had put it
here or whether some ranger like Jim Baily had carefully hidden both of
these here. I didn't move the cans nor try to see what is in them
(empty, P.T.R.)

On the return we stayed fairly close to the east rim and got some more
views. I am rather sure that the route used by Billingsley and his
companions through the Supai on the east side of Royal Arch Creek is not
the most direct. They could have come across the Supai terraces and
reached the Redwall rim without first going down to that rim just south
of the rope descent from the lower terrace. One can reach the Redwall
rim above where one leaves the bed of the creek to go out on the lower
terrace. I also noticed the pit where I spent the cold night in comfort
by a fire. The dead juniper wood is still there for the next wayfarer.

We saw our tracks in the dust of the horse trail not far north of Point
Quetzal and Pat saw a couple of the yellow paint marks I had made, but
then we overshot and must have kept to the east of our former route all
the way to the road. We reached it in 105 minutes from Apache Point,
which meant that we must have walked farther and we were rather sure
that we were southeast of the car which turned out to be an even mile
from where we had reached the road.

There was still some of the day left so I took the Reillys to Havasupai
Point. The checks of shade and sunlight over the canyon gave an
unusually fine effect. Holy Grail came out strongly in the sun several
times. Dox Castle and Arthur and Guinevere showed well as did the high
points to the east. Isis was sharp and the profile made Osiris seem very
steep near the top. Huethawali was of course very prominent to the west.
We could easily hear the roar of Serpentine Rapid and it looked rougher
than most rapids from the top of the plateau. It was a fine day and a
great hour to be out on such a point.

*Fault Route at Mile 30.4 and Saddle Canyon
[November 1, 1969]*

After giving up trying to get down through the Supai at Mile 30.4 with
Cureton at the end of May, 1961, I studied Reilly's aerial picture and
decided that we hadn't looked into the right ravine. I had also looked
up from the river at the fault and couldn't see any definite stoppage,
so for several years I had wanted to come back and give this another
try. With my climbing rope and Jumar ascenders, I felt sure that we
could get down to the river even if one couldn't get clear down barehanded.

Jim Sears went with me and after eating dinner at CDL, we slept on the
ground near the Kane Ranch just off the road to Buffalo Tanks. Cattle
that had been rounded up for sale in a pen not far off were noisy almost
all right and our sleep was somewhat broken, but the temperature was
just right for my warmer bag. The moon and stars were brilliant and two
planets were close together in the morning sky. We drove away in the
morning until sun up before eating.

The roads don't seem to correspond perfectly with those shown on the
map, but with just a bit of confusion we parked where I have been
before, across a shallow valley to the north of the ridge above the
slump block fault. By 7:45 we were on our way down and up and down to
the fault ravine. On our return we found that we could have stayed close
to the point and could have gone down directly to the crack next to the
cliff, but I led Jim off to the west and then had to climb back up to
the fault ravine. On the descent we were right next to the cliff and
found the going steeper than I had remembered. Right at the top on the
return, I took a route a few yards to the east and found it easier. This
is also marked with cairns. Cavers on their way to Vasey's must be going
this way. I not only found a series of cairns built since 1961 but a
visible trail in the softer places. The footing was quite good around
the base of the cliff to the south and then down through the Toroweap
and Coconino to a ridge of talus material that extended down to the rim
of the Supai.

As we headed back north to the fault zone, we passed a big block of red
sandstone that was perched on a pedestal of still redder shale and then
we scrambled back upgrade to the beginning of the fault ravine which I
thought that Allyn and I had not fully examined because it starts higher
than the ravines we spent our time in. I don't understand why Allyn and
I missed this main ravine since I find on rereading my notes that we
checked possible descents for one and a half hours before starting back.
Possibly we looked at this and noted that there is a drop off about 100
feet below the top. After seeing this bad place Jim and I checked a
parallel ravine still farther north, but it doesn't provide a bypass. We
went down to the 30 foot drop and I got my rope ready for the descent
while Jim tried it barehanded.

There are several chockstones wedged into the upper part of a rather
wide crack. Jim got below the upper chockstone from the right side and
then worked his way down the crack that is not quite vertical and which
is a bit too wide for comfort. After ten feet of this, it widens with an
overhang. The back wall has some protruding boulders that offered Jim a
precarious grip at crucial places. He was able to get back up without
any help from me, but it was a strain. When he had a chance to rest
about two thirds of the way to the top, he had to stop for wind. This
passage is possible without aids, but I was glad to use my rope and
rappel down and come back up with the Jumars. I tied the rope to a large
block 25 feet back from the edge of the drop, but I didn't succeed in
getting the rope to stay the way I fastened it. After Jim was up and I
began to put my weight on the Jumar slings, the loop around the big rock
slipped and one side came up as if the whole thing might slip off. Jim
should have told me to descend and let him fix it right, but instead, he
held the rope freehand supporting my weight most of the way to the top.
I didn't realize what was going on until I got out on top.

The rest of the way to the bottom was simple talus slope walking. The
river was a beautiful clear green. The open approach to the water
between the closed in vertical walls both up and downriver make this a
most interesting route. It took us 75 minutes to reach the top of the
Supai descent from the car and another 50 minutes to get down from there
to the river. We could have shortened this by about 10 minutes by
driving to the rim immediately above the descent fault.

When Jim and I were through eating next to the truck, we headed back
toward the Kane Ranch to move on to the end of the road by the Saddle
Mountain hunting camp. I noted car tracks leading away from the
established road that must have led to the rim nearest our descent route
at Mile 30.4. I passed one established track that seemed to lead toward
the head of Bedrock Canyon but I turned south on the next branch. I
figured that it should join the main road south and it would be shorter
than going clear back to the Kane Ranch. This was rather rough and slow.
Jim opened a stretched wire gate. He guessed that this meant we were now
in the buffalo range, and this proved to be so. A little before we
reached the well graded road leading to the ranch headquarters, we
encountered quite a herd of buffalo in three groupings over the hills
and hollows. I drove fairly close to one set and took some pictures.

All the main forest service roads in this area are in fine shape at this
time of year and we got to the hunting camp a little before 3:00 p.m. We
got our packs ready and carried enough water for a dry overnight camp.
My guidance faltered after I took Jim below the rim of Saddle Canyon.
When I was here in early September, 1963, and again in June, 1965, I had
found a fairly distinct deer trail along a ledge below the top Kaibab
cliffs. This time I was confused by the different levels. We finally got
down to the one I had used before but only a little before we came to a
fine break in the upper cliffs. On the return we found a very clear
trail going up to the plateau here, and on top we could walk back to the
hunting camp in about 30 minutes.

On the present occasion we put our packs down under a fine overhang
where the floor was even. We expected to get back here just in time to
camp. I believe this is the same place I slept through a rain in 1963.
About 50 yards east the trail cut down through the ledge. We could
always find a good way down here and at one place I noticed some rocks
piled together to form a step. We proceeded as I had done with Norvel,
along the deer trail on the south side above the shallow Toroweap cliff.
Jim had no trouble keeping ahead of me all day, and this time he led
down the slope west of the slide where I had been before. We didn't go
down to the very last edge for a close look, but the drop seemed so
great that neither of us seemed to feel much courage. For the second
time I agreed to retreat without ever uncoiling the rope. We got back to
the truck in less than 90 minutes using the shortcut up to the rim just
west of where we had left the packs. There was time to reach Cliff
Dwellers by 7:20 p.m., eat, and reach home before 11:00.

Even if we had taken the time to rappel down the cliff below the slide,
we wouldn't have had time to look around below. I had to leave the
hunting camp by 11:00 a.m. on Sunday to meet a dinner engagement that
evening. If I am going to take the trouble to rappel down here, I really
should drive up here on Friday evening and have two days to do some
walking on the Esplanade. Perhaps I should examine seriously Euler's
suggested route through the Coconino farther to the southeast.

There was rainwater in a pool at the bottom of the trail into Saddle
Canyon from the north side, and from the looks of the vegetation below
the overhang in the bed farther upstream, there should be a spring.

*Redwall west of Cottonwood Creek
[November 11, 1969]*

Bob Packard and I had come down through the Redwall on the west side of
the west arm of Cottonwood Canyon and we had seen the easy way up the
formation at the upper end. Allyn Cureton had called my attention to
this place and had been up and down here. From the Grandview Trail near
Horseshoe Mesa I had noticed a place in the Redwall northwest of the
spring where it seemed barely possible to climb, but this didn't look
good from below at the spring. Still I thought it deserved a check. Al
Doty went with me, and I knew that he could get up there if anyone could.

We took off from the top of the trail about 9:15 a.m. We could see
hiker's footprints on the way down. While the trail is getting
perceptibly worse every year, it is seeing more and more use. There are
more and more places where the edge of the trail has worn, and the logs
of the upper crib seem to be ready to fall. When we were five or ten
minutes from the top, we met four hikers from Las Vegas. One was Howard
Booth and he recognized me although he had seen me only briefly at
Tapeats Creek in early June 1965. He told me that they had been down in
the canyon for two nights, down the Hance Trail and up the Grandview
with some time spent in going up the river as far as 75 Mile Canyon.
Homer Morgan started with the others, but one of the men had so much
trouble hiking that Homer had taken him back out. We talked a bit about
the float trip from Indian Canyon down to Separation. Homer had told
Howard that the trip had taken quite a bit longer than they had expected
it to take. He also said that Morgan is now stationed at Boulder City.

We arrived at the spring a bit over two hours from when we left the car.
After the recent rains, the spring was running better than it was last
September, but it wasn't keeping water on the surface many yards from
the bog at the highest trees. However, there was running water in the
main bed as it approached the brink of the Tapeats fall. After we ate an
early lunch and I got a refill for my canteen, we started up to the
hoped for Redwall route.

It looked a bit better as we got to the base of the cliff. On the north
there is a place where the first 20 feet are easy, but after that it is
too smooth and steep. Ten yards to the south, there is a place that has
rough weathered limestone with good holds and small steps. I needed to
take my time here to play it safe while Al went up faster a few yards to
the south. When we had gone up about 50 feet, I got stopped. Al could
have gone on since he seemed stronger in the arms and doesn't mind the
exposure. If he had been sure that this was the only difficulty, he
might have continued. I wanted time to walk around the promontory to the
dry arm to the west, so I rather insisted on coming down and getting on
with the hike. We spent about an hour on this investigation. We slanted
down to the burro trail near the creek before going on around.

When we got up past the descent route Packard and I had used, we could
see that the way up is easy. When we actually started up, we soon found
a very distinct trail with clear switchbacks. It continued to the top
before it tapered off. It would have been interesting to go down and
check the route that we had attempted earlier but I was rather sure that
time would be short. As we walked the Redwall southeast, we noted
another very easy way down the Redwall, to the west from the point that
separated the main arm of Cottonwood from the arm with the spring. We
wonder whether this is the quickest way to the spring. Traveling the rim
of the Redwall from the trail over here is fraught with obstacles and
many small ravines out through the rim. We needed more than an hour to
go from the top of our Redwall route to the trail. The slide that covers
the Supai is not too bad a way to go up. There is an unusual amount of
open ground. We arrived at the car a few minutes before five.

In the early morning there were fine cloud affects around the buttes,
and later the air was particularly clear. The shadows were great as we
reached the car. It had been a great day for a hike.

*Bass Trail, Arch Creek, Fossil Creek, and the Tonto Trail
[November 25, 1969 to November 29, 1969]*

The main objective was to check out the possible Redwall ascent between
Forster and Fossil. A year ago we had just had time to look up at this
place from Forster but our four days didn't allow a closer look.

I got an early start from home and I was making out the hike permit by
8:00 a.m. There had been some snow and the road west was wet or icy in
spots. I wondered how soft it would be in the afternoon, but I figured
that the next few days would stay dry. I drove at a good clip and was
hiking by 9:30.

This time I watched for the remains of some dams that Bass had built in
the bed of the wash where the Coconino first shows, but this time I
couldn't identify them. They may have washed out since I thought I
recognized them a number of years ago, or I may have identified them
incorrectly then. A further possibility is that they have been silted in
and overgrown. I did identify the cliff dwellings I had seen before and
saw two others around the corner to the north and high above where the
trail starts down the Coconino. The two close to the trail are each just
large enough for a man to lie in, but they are well preserved under an
overhang with the adobe mortar still in place.

Below the Coconino the trail branches, one part going down directly to
the valley, but now someone has marked the branch that stays high with
cairns. I followed this version until I could see that I should get down
if I wanted to go west along the Esplanade. Progress is fairly easy
along here although no trail develops for the first half mile. The old
trails are going to disintegrate ultimately for lack of burros, but one
can still identify one below Chemehuevi and Toltec Points. I had
forgotten how rough this route is as it heads the canyons. I needed the
map to remind me to keep on the trail until I was northwest of Montezuma
Point. Last year the students had found a good going down the canyon
that develops between Toltec and Montezuma after they had been stopped
by the tributary of Royal Arch Creek west of here. I was interested in
seeing the canyon they had followed to the rim of the Redwall,
especially since they had identified Indian activity here in the form of
mescal pits. However, I was also interested in scouting a more direct
route to the Redwall rim of Arch Creek by staying west of their route.
From Apache Point it had seemed feasible to get down through the Supai
just about anywhere north of the tributary that had been checked and
found impossible. I left the trail and went northwest in the direction
of the point of elevation 4462 on the Havasupai Point Quad. I was able
to get down the upper layers of Supai on the south side of this ridge,
but then I found myself stopped. Playing a hunch I went west and north
around this promontory and came to the first rain pools I had seen since
I passed one at the head of Garnet Canyon. The distant view from Apache
Point had been deceiving, and I was glad that at least I would have
water if I couldn't get down. Still playing it by ear I went around to
the north side of Point 4462. At first glance the wall still seemed
unbroken but I found the needed detached block with a crack behind it
and got down to the rim of the Redwall. I think I had saved a little
time by cming this way rather than the route the students had pioneered.

Walking the Redwall rim around into Royal Arch Creek along a burro trail
was routine but it does not go as fast as it does on the west side since
there is a deeper tributary to head. Eventually I recognized the place
where the daring students had descended the Redwall last spring. There
is some breakdown of the rim and a long talus from below, but there is
still about 25 feet of 75 or 80? wall. The students had reported finding
artificial holes pecked in the rock to make the descent possible. The
place looked too dangerous to me so I walked on for 15 minutes and came
to a perfectly safe way down, right opposite the easy burro trail to the
bed from the west. After I had gone down the bed and reached the foot of
the students route, I left my pack below and went up to see what their
route was like. I decided that the holes they had used were almost
certainly natural. A man would have spaced them closer together. Even
without a pack I preferred not to try the ascent here. About 5:00 p.m. I
came to a big rain pool above a steep drop in the bed, the place where
we had seen six bighorn sheep last year. There was a bare flat rock for
sleeping, so I called it a day.

A short distance to the south of the Montezuma Point tributary of Arch
Creek, I saw an almost certain route down the final Supai cliff. If this
is correct, I could have shortened the time by an hour and could reach
the Royal Arch in one day from the head of the Bass Trail.

On Wednesday I got away after a breakfast begun in bed while the stars
were showing. I remembered just how to climb up from the creekbed to the
bighorn trail out to the terrace east of the bridge using a ravine about
100 yards north of the junction with the Montezuma Point tributary.
There is a good deal of exposure along this trace of a trail, but I am
used to it now. On the terrace I went to the vicinity of the large cairn
and then tried again to see the trace of a ruin that Doc Ellis found in
the spring of 68, but I missed it again as I had a year ago. After the
usual undulations in this terrace that seems so smooth from a distance,
I reached the rappel site. I chose the wrong way down to the shelf, just
a couple of yards to the left of the safe way. The hemp rope that
Hildreth and Fulton had brought was still tied securely as the students
had left it last spring and it seemed very sound. Still I did a body
rappel using the cotton rope I had carried in. I tossed Art Foran's good
climbing rope down to the landing and then carried it down to a place
near the river where I thought I would surely be able to see it on the
return. I didn't look back well enough because when I came by two days
later, I must have been closer to the river and I missed seeing it. I
was down to Elves Chasm by 10:15 a.m. the second day. Since I figured
there was no need for haste, I took an hour's break when I reached a
sunny spot and after walking until 12:30 I took another hour for lunch.
This trip through Stephen Aisle, my fifth, was about the clumsiest. I
got much too high. However I did see two mescal pits, one of which was
associated with a sleeping site under an overhang. Two short sticks were
leaning against the rock ceiling at either end. They would have been
good for supporting a tarp, but that explanation doesn't hold water
since I have never heard of the prehistorics making tarps. I was a
little worried about reaching our former campsite by the river before
dark, but as usual, progress along Conquistador Aisle was much better
and I arrived in plenty of time to collect wood and get organized. I
slept under a ledge which keeps off the dew. There were two rain pools
on the flat rock so that I didn't need to use the river water while I
stayed here two nights. Near morning of the first night, I caught sight
of a mouse near my head, and the second night he really made himself at
home. As I was dozing off he jumped from the wall on top of my bag. I
moved out under the stars, but by 2:00 a.m. I got so chilly that I moved
back under the overhang. In the meantime the mouse had sampled my
cookies and margarine.

On Thanksgiving Day I got off to my usual early start after breakfast in
bed. After studying my aerial pictures of the proposed Redwall ascent, I
thought that I would have to get up the first shale cliff in the canyon
just south of Enfilade Point and work along the slope north to the talus
filled ravine I was interested in. Much of this was very poor footing
and needed great care but I saw deer and bighorn droppings. Finally
after going too high and then backing down, I got into the right ravine.
Most of this is routine block to block stepping being careful about
loose material, but there were a couple of places where one needed to
reach for a grip and find toeholds. Near the top I had to scrap toeholds
in the gravel and get off to the right on a grassy slope. From here I
could have gone out on a ridge to the east that cut off the view
downriver. Bighorn droppings encouraged me to follow a narrow ledge to
the southwest, but this soon gave out. I could look across a small bay
and see some places where one might proceed up to the southwest and
perhaps get into a crack that goes on to the top of the Redwall, but the
way over there seemed especially precarious and all the chances I had
already taken had eroded my moral (this was okay). I wish now that I had
parked my pack containing my lunch and had tried moving on and up.
Instead I very cautiously backtracked down the ravine. If I did so I
would have time to go quite a way up Fossil. Just as a gamble I
continued on down the ravine to the shale cliff which my study of the
aerials had said was continuous. At one place a talus comes within ten
feet of the top so I went there, just to the north of the bed. Imagine
my pleasure to find some breaks that got me down to within four feet of
the talus. As I lowered a foot I found two stones leaning against the
wall to shorten the reach. Now I knew that Indians had used this route.
If I had known this before I went up, I might have persevered and gone
on through. I may never get back here myself, but I would recommend it
to strng and careful climbers as the most spectacular route from the rim
to the river. If I ever go back, it will be from the rim of Fossil Bay
because this seems to be the shorter approach. If there is some fairly
reliable water hole on the Esplanade near where one should start down
the last leg, this approach from above would be fine.

After getting back to the river, I spread out the map and decided
against trying to go as far as Specter. I just went up into the very
impressive lower gorge of Fossil. Dan Davis told me that he had walked
up quite far, but I wonder whether he passed a couple of barriers. At
one place I crawled underneath a big rock and up a sort of wall and at
another I had to pull up by my hands. I went as far as the big round bay
in the west side that has a great rock slide in it. I had looked this
place over from the east side in years past and had even gone down to
the Redwall rim and found that a rope would be needed to get from the
rim to the top of the slide. The face of the slide has weathered to a
vertical wall of rubble and clay and I think there is no chance that a
manageable ravine would form between the slide and the wall. Clear out
from the main slide there is the most impressive example of a round
tower of this rubble and clay I have ever seen. Lower down, I noticed
that the shale on the walls of the canyon is of strikingly different
colors, brown and green with a sharp border. There was some water
flowing which might be permanent at one place and there were more birds
in here and in other places than I usually see in the canyon.

The return was without incident. I missed the mescal pits I had seen on
the way out, and I stayed lower. I recognized the place where Art Foran
and I had climbed up over one of the travertine spines that cut up the
slope of Stephen Aisle and I finally recognized what I must have done on
my first trip along here. One can get from the river up above the
Tapeats about 200 yards north of where there is a pronounced fold in the
strata and the igneous rock disappears. For the best route through
Stephen, one should stay down near the river until he comes to this
place. By accident I did this on my first attempt, but last year and
this I was afraid that the progress along the river would be cut off by
a cliff coming down into the water before it would be possible to climb
out. With the luck of a good guesser, I first followed the best route
along the bank and then climbed up at the last chance to do it. Even on
my sixth and presumably last traverse, I was afraid to go down to the
river for fear that I might be stopped.

There was a trickle of water flowing in the canyon draining the Drummond
Plateau, but it is the saltiest and bitterest I have ever tried. Perhaps
the seep in the canyon east of Salt Creek is just as bad, the one I call
Epsom. From here, with a few mistakes, one can follow a crude trail to
Garnet. It is marked with infrequent cairns, and it leads to a large
miner's claim monument. I saw no signs of actual digging. A little
before reaching Garnet, I met Roger Field, and Betty and three of their
friends were two or three hundred yards behind. I had a nice visit with
them especially since it had been several days since I had talked to
anyone. Allan Troop is a working geologist and his wife Janet teaches
school. Don May is an accountant. They told me about finding several
good rain pools in the next big canyon about an hour's walk back along
the Tonto Trail. I had been hoping to get closer to the car then Garnet
Friday evening so that I could go out on Saturday and this would be my
chance. It was a fine campsite with a good overhang and no mice.

In the morning just across from where I slept I found a mescal pit and
signs of a rock shelter. There was another such site about 20 minutes
walk farther, but I didn't see any water nearby. About a mile downstream
from Waltenberg Rapid I saw an impressive black rock sticking up in the
river. What makes it unique is that there is a neat little harbor open
on the side of the least water, the left. The river was low and all the
rocks showed at Waltenberg, some right out in the channel forming real
hazards. I was told at ranger headquarters that a boat party is going
through at this time. I got to the car by using the flashlight for the
walk from the top of the Coconino. This would have been unnecessary
except that I bungled the approach to the Coconino ascent by going over
to the base of Fossil Mountain looking for the trail.

A postscript to the foregoing account may be in order:

Only once had I followed the Tonto Trail around Copper Canyon. We found
that going down by the mine from the west and coming up the trail out to
the Tonto Trail was at least as quick and more interesting. However,
Dock had sent me an account of a ranger trip down here 30 or more years
ago, and they had noted an Indian ruin near where the Tonto Trail heads
Copper Canyon. Since I had not seen this, I was curious as to what sort
of ruin was meant. The only thing I could see was a very large mescal
pit. Since these are recorded along with actual structures on the master
list, this must have been the ruin referred to.

In going up the Bass Trail in the main canyon, I noticed for the first
time how the Redwall is quite broken on the west side where the canyon
is still wide open. Only the very top would cause trouble to a climber,
and it might also be possible. There would be little reason to go up
here since the Supai forms real barrier cliffs. There are many more
cairns to mark the Bass Trail as it gets into the Redwall narrows at the
upper end of the canyon. Someone has also pruned branches that were in
the way. Where I had just noticed boards lying beside the trail below
the switchbacks up the last part of the Redwall, I now recognized them
as having formed a gate to keep stock either above or below. There is
still some barbwire where the trail has come up through the Coconino
also clearly intended to hold stock either above or below.

When the trail has come up through half of the Supai at the head of the
canyon, it turns and goes up gradually quite far to the north. As I had
found once before, it is possible to scramble up the breaks in the rest
of the Supai and make quite a shortcut. I did this again and found the
place where several short logs are wedged into the crack to form an aid
in getting up an eight foot ledge. There is still a nail in one of these
logs.

There was no excuse for one to become confused and go toward the wrong
cliff to find the trail up the Coconino. The right bay and the one west
of Fossil Mountain do look quite a lot alike, and the break in the
Coconino is actually hidden behind a projecting point. However on other
occasions I had never made a false move here. This time I actually got
out the map and studied it and I still went wrong. Both of these bays
drain into Garnet Canyon. One should note that he needs to cross the
first big draw and follow the second to arrive at the trail. The
students last spring had made the same mistake. When they found no trail
along the west slope of their point, they realized that they were near
Fossil Mountain, but they took the dare and went up the Coconino right
near the end on the west side of Fossil. They didn't consider this
particularly hard, but they built a few cairns just in case they would
have to find the correct route down. I am sure they didn't make their
trip any easier by their success because they would then have to
traverse the rim of the Coconino without a trail and climb up to the rim
through the woods.

*	Redwall routes in Cottonwood Canyon
[December 13, 1969]*

One of my ambitions was to go back to the place where Al Doty and I had
tried getting up the Redwall northwest of the Spring in Cottonwood
Canyon and try coming down from above using a rope. The student hiking
club had also planned to go to Horseshoe Mesa, so I joined them and took
a couple of the members in my truck.

George Billingsley wanted to rappel off the rim and visit an interesting
looking cave below the west rim of the long arm of Cottonwood and the
others wanted to look at the mines. Bob Dye, the new president, was
undecided whether to go with George or come with me and try some rock
climbing. The trail was covered with three or four inches of snow and I
found that my shoe soles were much less effective in keeping me from
slipping than were the vibran soles of the other hikers. I fell behind
in the line going down, and in fact I fell repeatedly so that I had to
exercise extreme caution in passing some of the places where the trail
is no more than a foot wide on a shale slope. Bob went ahead with
George, so he left the trail to go along the rim of the Redwall while I
was far behind. I could see that the snow would make the steep slope
down through the trees and slabby rocks even worse than the trail, so I
changed my plan from following the Redwall around to the west of
Cottonwood to the use of the trail to the bed of the canyon.

On my way down the west side of Horseshoe Mesa neck, I branched to the
south and crossed the valley to go up to the point separating the main
arm of Cottonwood from the one with the spring. I found that Al and I
had come to an incorrect conclusion. The best way up faces the north
instead of the west. At the very top, the west side forms a smooth cliff
while the north side that looks worse from a distance actually has steps
and hand holds. When I was getting a good start on the highest part of
the route, I met Bob Dye coming down. I wanted to complete the route and
so did he, so we merely told each other what we wanted to do and kept on
going.

At the top I met George who was feeling the worse for lack of sleep the
previous night. He had been unable to locate the cave from above and had
come to the conclusion that his 50 foot rope would be inadequate anyway
and that one would need Jumars to handle the return. He decided to rest
and go back the same way. Actually he went down through the Redwall by
the route that Bob and I had just used and followed the trail out.

I went on around the Redwall rim to the place where Al and I had tried
coming up. While I was eating lunch there, I heard a noise and noticed
Bob Dye down below. He had left his jacket and lunch at the spring and
then had gone up to inspect the route I wanted to come down. However,
all three of us had noticed that there is a very steep looking break
about 200 yards south of where Al ad I had tried to climb. Bob preferred
this place and found that it goes through. Most of it is a mere walk up
a talus, but at one place for about 30 feet he had to do a rather severe
chimney climb. The crack was so narrow that his movements were hindered.
When he got out on the ledge above, about halfway from the top of the
slope to the final cliff and the Redwall rim, he found a cairn at the
top of a parallel crack. He concluded that this route would have been
easier than the way he came up. When I told him about the mining camp,
we decided that the miners had a direct route to the spring here.

Before I talked to Bob, I had decided to go down the trail into the west
arm of Cottonwood and walk back via the Tonto Trail. After he told me of
his success I was rather in favor of going down the way he had come up,
but he didn't feel much enthusiasm for this. He had been under quite a
strain in getting up alive, and he didn't like the idea of nursing me
down his route even with a rope, and I didn't press for this project at
this time. He said that his route out of Beaver Canyon, leaving the main
bed about a quarter mile upstream from the spring, is easier than what
he did in getting up the Redwall west of the spring in Cottonwood Canyon.

We were successful in finding the Tonto Trail sooner than I had on
either of the other recent occasions and it took us an hour to go down
the miners trail and get around to the spring. I had less trouble with
the snow in going up, and we reached the rim from the spring in three
and a half hours.

*	Saddle Canyon to Little Nankoweap
[December 20, 1969 to December 21, 1969]*

After three trips to the partial Coconino break just southeast of the
dry Coconino fall in the bed of Saddle Canyon, I was still thinking that
it could be passed using a rope.

In order not to let my thinking be swayed by anyone else, I went back
there alone. After sleeping in the truck I got off to an early 7:15 a.m.
start with only a lunch and my climbing outfit. There was a little snow
in the shade, but the day was fine. I overshot the right descent through
the Kaibab by one point. This turned out to be not too bad because I was
able to climb right down directly to the crucial place in the lower
Kaibab ledge which is accepted by the deer to get down and cross Saddle
Canyon. Although it had snowed before Thanksgiving and after, there was
no water in the pool where Jim Sears and I had seen it November 1st
(wrong, I had looked in the wrong place). This time I did what I did
when I first came here on 9/1/63. I went along the deer trail above the
Coconino on the north side of the Coconino gorge and looked across at
the various possibilities. The shortest drop to good walking seemed to
be farthest to the east, but it was around behind a point and I couldn't
see whether there was much overhang or not. When I got around to the
place I found that one can get down the Coconino to a hidden pocket big
enough to support trees big enough to make safe rope anchors. When I was
20 feet down, I found a big overhang and soon the rope was spinning me
slowly and then faster. The best that I could do was to shut my eyes and
proceed to feed slack to the friction carabineer. In a shorter time than
I thought it would take to be down, I felt a big change. I had the
sensation of swinging many feet sideways, but when I opened my eyes, I
saw that I had stopped spinning with my feet touching a bush.

There were parts of a deer skeleton near where I came down, which makes
me think that some deer at least have a suicidal impulse to try 55 foot
free falls. From the place at the top where I left my nylon jacket to
prevent chafing of the rope at the lip, it would be more like 75 feet
down, but a deer or bighorn might be able to check his fall at a couple
of meager ledges in the upper 20 feet. I was feeling rather elated that
I had finally had the nerve to reverse several frustrating experiences
in which I had chickened out of a project. I should have brought down
supplies for another good day and walked out Little Nankoweap. I soon
found water in pockets down Saddle Canyon, and when I bypassed a fall by
going into the first side canyon from the south, I found water running.
This is probably snow melt and not to be trusted at other seasons
(running for most of the year). There were two or three barrier falls in
the Supai, but the bypasses were obvious and usually multiple. There was
another rain pool where the limestone surfaced, so I assumed that this
prevalence of water would continue along the Esplanade. It took me an
hour and 45 minutes to get from the rappel site to the Redwall rim above
the mouth of Saddle Canyon. The river, running clear, flows in a bed of
green shale with the Redwall rising sheer and smooth for its full height.

After eating on the rim of the grand trench, I went back to ascend the
rope and get home at a reasonable hour Saturday evening. I hooked on the
Jumars prepared to go on up if the rope began to spin. However, when I
was only about 10 feet off the ground the spinning became so bad that I
knew I would be sick if I continued. When I had come to earth again, the
best solution I could think of to check spinning was to fasten the rope
to a shrub in such a way the spinning would be checked but so that I
could pull the rope up when I got off at the top. I can see now that a
fairly heavy stone anchor at the bottom would be better. In order not to
have to use a hand to pull the main rope through the waist band I
decided to leave the waist band off, a nearly fatal mistake. Besides,
the wrist band is intended to keep the Jumar sling rope from getting
away from one's body and it wouldn't have to go around the main rope.
Again when the clamps were about 10 feet up, the rope pulled entirely
loose from the shrub and the spinning started again. I began to descend
but this time the Jumar slings got away from beneath me and my feet came
up even with my shoulders. I was supporting my full weight with my hands
and was unable to maneuver the clamps to descend. After a few desperate
moments I had to let go and hang from my feet which were well fastened
and held by the snug slings.

My first reaction was satisfaction that falling backwards hadn't hurt. I
could touch a rock and grip a shrub right under the rope, and I could
get my fingers in the dirt and work my way up the steep bank until I
could rest my shoulders on the ground. Slowly I realized how serious my
predicament was. There was ice unmelted in the pools below and I had on
only a cotton flannel shirt. From what I have heard a man can't survive
this kind of cold even one night. Even if I had had a knife, which I
didn't, I couldn't have reached the slings around the instep to cut
them. I kept busy with pawing the ground to get more slack and then
resting. Finally I concentrated on getting my feet out of my shoes.
Several lunges were unsuccessful, but finally I got the laces untied.
After several more attempts I got the laces loosened. Then with my right
heel I managed to scrape the sling rope farther toward the toe and then
the right heel was able to get behind the left shoe heel and push the
shoe off. I was able to kneel on the left knee, but the foot was so
bruised and painful that I don't think I could have stood and balanced
on it. However, I soon had the right shoe off still hanging from the
Jumars. After some more work, I had the shoes down and on my feet at
last. First I crawled around and assembled things that had fallen out of
my pockets, light meter, billfold with my truck key in it, and pocket
watch. I knew at one time that my camera was also on the ground, but in
picking up my day pack and canteen, I overlooked getting the camera.

About all I could do at first on foot was to topple around and clutch
the rocks, but I was optimistic enough to think that they would get
better as I used them. Actually, in less than two hours I was walking
about as well as ever. There was no way to reach and bring down the
Jumars to try again if I had wanted to. I was faced with the choice of
sticking around nearby until Roma could send out a rescue, probably a
helicopter, but that would certainly not be until Monday. I didn't have
matches along, a bad oversight, and I knew I would have to stay awake
all night and walk to keep warm, so I decided to do my walking in a self
rescue out by way of Little Nankoweap. I had reached the rope at 2:20
and I got ready to leave at 3:40 so I must have been hanging upside down
for 40 minutes.

While eating lunch I had studied the map and figured that going along
the rim at the top of the Redwall would take about three times as long
as the trip down to the rim, so five or six hours by full moonlight
should do that leg. The way along Saddle Canyon on the south side of the
Redwall gorge was rougher and less direct, but I got back to the river
by 6:00 p.m. The first part of this walk went rather smoothly, but there
are three big ravines to be passed by long detours around to their
heads. There is a fault system that amputates Sase Nasket from the east
rim and it crosses the canyon and chops into a promontory on the west
side. I couldn't decide whether to go up and over using this fault. If I
had had more than moonlight, I could have consulted the map and I might
have tried by the full moonlight. As it was I compromised and climbed
through a saddle only slightly lower than the one that goes behind point
4823. When I was definitely turning along Little Nankoweap, it was 10:45
p.m.

From Barbenceta Butte I had seen what I thought is a route down off the
Redwall coming in from the river that would get one down above the
barriers in the bed. In the moonlight distant details are not distinct,
and after one half hearted detour below a cliff down to the bed of a
ravine from the north, I gave up and followed the limestone as it sloped
up sharply to the west. The catch is that there are several side canyons
to pass. These were slow and just when I seemed to have them whipped, I
came to the main Little Nankoweap going upstream to the north. The moon
went behind the cliffs of Saddle Mountain soon after I entered this
biggest detour. For a time I was on a Supai bench which seemed broader
than the Redwall rim, but when it began to pinch out, I got back down to
the Redwall. The whole place seems impressively steep, and when I
finally reached the north side and looked across I could hardly believe
that it was possible to go where I had just been an hour earlier. The
moon was still shining on high cliffs, but I couldn't see well enough to
dodge tree branches and thorns, and I got through with the richest
assortment of scratches on my face and scalp to date. Cotton work gloves
saved my hands while I was wearing them all night. The crossing of the
main ravine of Little Nankoweap was particularly difficult. Along the
first level the ledge pinched off right next to a fall. When I tried the
ledge 20 feet higher the same thing happened. There was only one more
ledge below the Supai which formed a solid wall along here. To get above
it would require a long backtracking operation and I knew that I didn't
have any energy to spare. I had filled my two quart canteen at a rain
pool in Saddle Canyon about 5:00 p.m. and all the food I had was four
pieces of bread, six cookies, and more prunes than I would want. When I
got back to the bed at the lip of the fall, this ledge went through
although I had to get down on all fours to get under a ceiling. What
won't a man go through just to save his life! I began to think thatI
should have scratched a message on the bare earth at the rappel rope
saying that I was heading for the Nankoweap Trail. It was darkest and
coldest from five o'clock on. I hadn't eaten much in an effort to go
slow on the water, and I often had to sit down and doze for a few
minutes with my head on my knees. After a few minutes, I would get
chilly and struggle on. Fortunately there was almost no breeze and the
temperature which must have been near freezing didn't zap my strength.
Finally at 7:45 a.m. with the welcome sun showing again, I was back on
the Nankoweap Trail. Our college hikers had been along there in force
only a few weeks before, and their tracks across bare clay slopes gave
me courage to cross without hesitation.

There is a definite change in the trail in the last five years. I used
to classify it as one third still good, one third good to show one the
route, and about a third no good at all. With quite a lot more use by
hikers and more rock slides across the trail the proportions would now
be more like 5% still good, 90% good for guidance, and 5% nearly
impossible to follow this from Tilted Mesa to the Saddle. There are now
quite a few plastic ribbons and some cairns to mark the trail. The so
called better places in the trail have more brush than I used to notice.

Soon after the sun reached me I was warm enough to hike without a shirt
on, this on December 21. At one place I tried to get some sleep with the
sun to keep me warm, but I couldn't even dose off. Near Marion Point
there were some snow patches and I tried collecting some for the
canteen. That is slow and I soon noticed some active drips. I put my
canteen and an empty can under the drips and went to find a sunny place
to rest around the corner. Right where I decided to recline were three
plastic bottles that had been left by the hiking club when they came
down during Thanksgiving. Two of them still had some water, so my
problem was solved. I ate my bread and cookies. Three prunes seemed to
be all I could stand. It took much less time to go from Marion Point to
the Saddle than it had to go from where I first reached the trail in the
middle of the Supai to Marion Point.

At 12:30 p.m. I was starting down off the saddle into the snow to the
north. From weariness I was clumsy in the snow and fell repeatedly. Even
where the ground was bare, the frozen mud with some wet mud on top was a
hazard. I made it to the car in two and a quarter hours instead of the
hour and 43 minutes Dirk Springorum and I had needed.

There were plenty of signs of deer in Saddle Canyon and other places I
went through. I was rather sure of some bighorn tracks and droppings in
Saddle Canyon below the Coconino. Some birds and a few flies were the
only kinds of wildlife actually seen.

The towers and walls around Saddle Mountain are outstanding, and I again
saw a natural bridge on the south side of Saddle Canyon east of the
tributary with the running water. Norvel Johnson and I had seen it, but
we gave up the project of walking to it. It doesn't set any records for
size, say about 30 feet long by 15 feet high. It is in a promontory and
shows sky through it, and thus should be called a window.

All in all it was about the most harrowing trip I have ever done, from
7:15 one morning to 2.:45 p.m. the next day with my life in doubt for
about 40 minutes and then the need to press to the limit to get back to
the car. After a good meal at Cliff Dwellers and breakfast at home, I
was still about five pounds below my usual weight. If I hadn't felt so
pushed, I could have enjoyed the moonlight on the pinnacles and the
sunrise. I wouldn't mind that hike again, especially if I could cut out
most of the brush and other problems by finding the way from the bed of
Little Nankoweap up into the Redwall rim. Maybe I'll use that route to
recover my camera. Since it is wrapped in a plastic bag, it ought to
remain in fair condition. There is also a better rappel site that
doesn't involve an overhang, but it would very likely take more than my
120 foot rope.

*	Saddle Canyon
[December 23, 1969]*

When I got to the truck at the end of my thirty one and a half hour
ordeal on Sunday afternoon, I had to call up Roma and relieve her worry
and I couldn't take the time to go after my rope and Jumars. By Monday
evening I was feeling up to the short walk required for their recovery.
Bob Packard accepted my invitation to come along and see some more of
Arizona.

We got away shortly after 7:30 Tuesday morning and made a gas stop at
Cliff Dweller. It took only four hours to reach the hunting camp at the
mouth end of Houserock Valley. After eating lunch we set off down the
slope along the rim of Saddle Canyon. This time I watched our progress
and led Bob down the correct break in the rim where some trail shows. I
hesitated in leveling out on the right ledge, but I got to the right one
after a little thought and marked the place with a red jacket that I
wouldn't need any more. I wasn't absolutely sure how far east we should
go either, but I found the right break where the ledge trail ends. Below
here we went a bit to the west, then down and about 100 yards to the
east around a point before getting on the talus that took us to the
streambed. This time we saw the pool that Sears and I had noticed, but
now it was mostly ice. In trying to follow the trail on the south side
of the bed, I missed it the usual number of times, but we reached the
place where I had tied the rope in one and a half hours.

Bob expressed the sentiment that no one would ever get him to rappel
down such a distance. This wouldn't bother me as much as what he did
when we were on our way back. He went out to Buck Farm Point to enjoy
the view up and down the river. He went out on a little projection over
the cliff and I preferred to look on. There was no difficulty in pulling
up the rope with the Jumar clamps still in place and we went back to the
car without incident in 105 minutes.

I had thought seriously of going down over the irregular and somewhat
convex cliff at the west end of this broken area in the Coconino cliff.
The descent seems to be farther, however, and I don't feel too sure of
every move. If I would get down there it wouldn't take me long to pick
up my camera that I left where I was hanging upside down. If I would run
into any trouble about coming back up, I could still be prepared and
walk around Saddle Mountain in time to see my way by daylight where I
should get down from the top of the Redwall to the bed of Little
Nankoweap. I think I ought to investigate this possibility further. It
is certainly true that the talus goes up from below farther at this area
than it does anywhere else and if there are places where one could stand
by and rest on the way up, it might be not too bad.

The view from Buck Farm Point is outstanding, but I suppose the views
from Toroweap and across from Cape Solitude are justly more famous. The
road to Buck Farm Point is well marked and not too rough, so it is
actually rather easy for a tourist to get there. It ought to be given
more publicity.

*	The Coconino in Saddle Canyon
[December, 1969]*

I became interested in finding a route down through the Coconino in
Saddle Canyon when I heard that R. C. Euler, by using a helicopter for
salvage archeology connected with the projected Marble Canyon Dam, had
found a storage bin and a mescal pit in the Supai of the Saddle Canyon
Drainage. At that time I didn't realize that there is a route down at
the head of Buck Farm Canyon and another just north of the former
National Park Boundary east of Saddle Mountain. I was interested in
finding a more direct way for the prehistoric Indians than to go down
the Nankoweap Trail and north or down South Canyon and turn south.

On my first trip down the road ending north of Saddle Mountain, I tried
the bed of Saddle Canyon and found it stopped by a fall in the lower
Kaibab or Toroweap. Then I located a break in the rim that takes one
clear to the bed east of the fall. A deer trail guided me down here and
along the rim of the Coconino. I found a piece of pottery on the north
side of the rim of the gorge at the big drop through the Coconino. From
the north side I could see that much of the Coconino was covered by a
slide on the south side east of the head of the gorge. When I went
around there to check it, I soon discovered that it didn't go clear
down. I reasoned that during the Indian occupation 800 years ago, this
landslide might have offered a route to the base of the Coconino, but
erosion had cut the lower end into a vertical cliff of clay and rubble.
However, at the east side of the slide material, I saw where I might
fasten a rope and rappel about 85 feet to the bottom. I had brought a
rope in the car, but by the time I got back to it, I was out of the mood
to try the rappel. The next time I visited this place was with Norvel
Johnson. I had carried the rope here, but Norvel insisted that I
shouldn't try anything that risky. I should have left him the car key in
case he had to go for help, and I should have gone down.

The third time, I came alone determined not to let anything dissuade me
from the adventure. I left the car by 7:15 a.m. on the short day in late
December and got to the rappel site without delay. I made sure that the
rappel rope would reach the ground and started down with the carabineer
clipped to the diaper sling and the main rope twisted around the
carabineer two or three times. All went well until I got down about 25
feet and found that from there on I was hanging free of the wall. The
goldline rope began to spin me faster and faster and before long I was
feeling dizzy and almost sick. I shut my eyes and kept on feeding the
rope through the carabineer. Eventually I found myself resting on the
ground and it didn't take many minutes before my insides began to
straighten out.

The trip down through the Supai to get a view of the river from the
Redwall rim was simple. I found a permanent spring coming from a south
side tributary part way through the Supai. After eating my lunch while I
enjoyed the impressive view of the river from the Redwall rim north of
the mouth of Saddle Canyon, I started back to the rappel site. Before
three I was ready to begin the ascent using Jumars. When I had gone up a
few yards, the rope began to twist me around and around. I remembered
how ill I had felt in the relative short trip down and I thought it
might be really serious if I became weak on the slow trip up the rope. I
considered tying the lower end of the rope to a bush or a rock, and I
don't know why I didn't do this. This might have checked most of the
twisting, but instead, I elected to do away with the Swami belt that
keeps the slings my feet were in from pulling away from the body. This
wouldn't really have enabled me to move up appreciably faster, but
somehow I thought it might.

When I was about nine feet up the rope, my feet slipped forward away
from my body and the slings my feet were in were even with my chin. I
hung to the grips of the ascenders until my hands gave out and I fell
backwards with my feet still held tight in the slings. If I had been a
bit lower, I probably would have hit my head hard on a rock directly
beneath and if I had been just a foot higher I couldn't have touched the
ground with my fingers. If the ground had been level, I wouldn't have
been able to help myself either. The day was calm and I was warm enough
with just a cotton flannel shirt, but I had seen ice in the shade and I
knew that dressed as I was I couldn't survive the cold in that helpless
position. I knew that no help would reach me for at least several days
since my wife didn't really expect me home until late the next day, and
I hadn't given her a good location of where on the north side of the
Colorado I would be. I had to do something or else it was my life. I
said a prayer for calmness in the face of the inevitable, and I didn't
struggle aimlessly or give up either. I felt no sense of panic, so I
might say my prayer was answered.

I also found that I could dig my fingers into the soil and go uphill
since there was quite a steep bank. Once or twice I lost my grip on the
soil and swung down again, but eventually I reached a stout little tree
where I could get my left arm around it and roll over with a good view
of my shoes. The rope was now pulled over about 30 degrees away from the
vertical and I could lunge up and touch my shoes. After several
attempts, I could get the shoe laces and untie the bow knots. If they
had been snarled or tied in a double knot, I would have been helpless,
but I got one shoe untied and then succeeded in also loosening the
lacing and getting my right foot down to the ground. It was much simpler
to get my left foot out of the other shoe and then I could take the
shoes out of the slings. My feet had been gripped so tightly in the
slings for so long that they were hurting. I didn't have any stomach for
trying to Jumar my way back up the rope and I would have had to climb
the rope to undo the Jumars. Instead, I started for the car by the
shortest route I knew at the time, back down to the rim of the Redwall
and south around Saddle Mountain to the Nankoweap Trail.

I filled my canteen at the spring, but still it was empty by midnight.
Daylight gave out when I had reached the Redwall rim on the south side
of Saddle Canyon. There was a moon through part of the night but I was
walking with no trail where I had never been by day. Progress was slow,
but I knew I had to keep going. I had a little food that was left from
my previous lunch, but I knew it would be an effort to reach the car.
Still I never entertained the idea that this would be impossible. When I
got around above Little Nankoweap about midnight I could see that there
was a possibility that I might find my route down to the bed above the
impossible falls in the lower end. I was afraid of finding myself in a
dead end and I thought the conservative decision would be to continue
along the rising Redwall rim along the north side of the Little
Nankoweap. I later learned that a deer trail goes through the Redwall to
the bed of the Little Nankoweap and that I could have saved about five
hours if I had taken this gamble. The long way around the north arm of
Little Nankoweap turned out to be a gamble too. At the head of the
canyon, I found that the ledge I was on pinched out and I had to
backtrack to a higher level. This second level also came to an end by
the dry fall. The still higher level seemed to be my only chance,
because the Supai higher than this seemed to form a really high fall. I
found that this third attempt was possible and I had nothing to worry
about between me and the Nankoweap Trail. The only bother was that I
would run into dead juniper twigs that bloodied my face with stabs. The
sun was rising when I reached the trail and I knew that cold wouldn't be
my problem. I had lain down to rest a couple of times in the night, but
I remembered that one isn't supposed to fall asleep when he is cold. By
10:30 a.m. I had reached Marion Point where I found a couple of plastic
bottles with some water in them. Using it I could fill my canteen and
eat the rest of my food. I was slow and weak, but I got to the car
parked at the old hunting camp by 2:45 p.m. I was able to drive to Cliff
Dwellers Lodge where the Bakers used their two way radio and got the
word to Roma that I would be home late after sleeping for a while.

*	Miles 219 and 220 Canyons
[January 2, 1970 to January 4, 1970]*

After our inability in finding a trail in Trail Canyon (Mile 219 Canyon)
last spring, we had received word from Aleson and Belknap that we were
indeed in the right canyon. Aleson had said that we would find the trail
in the long, north arm, and Belknap had said that the trail leaves the
bed of the creek rather close to its mouth close to a cave in the south
wall. When Visbak, Morgan, and Mooz were here again in September, they
had seen the cave and had noted two sticks put in the cave evidently by
Indians. Homer had tried unsuccessfully to reach the cave which is about
30 feet up from the bed. Belknap had told Mooz that the trail goes up
near this cave, but he hadn't made it clear on which side of the bed.
Last spring all of us had thought that the trail should go up the long
arm toward the map location of Kelly Spring, but we had been stopped
cold by a high fall in the bed. We had considered a bypass, but it would
have been difficult and time consuming, and we were running out of time.
On Jorgen's second visit, they had gone up the west arm only to find a
dead end fall similar to the one in the north arm.

From a reprint of Aleson's log of his hike up Mile 219 Canyon, it
appears that his conclusion that the north arm was the correct one was
based only on his getting stopped in the west arm. From there he went
back to the river quite short of water and feeling the worse for the
heat. I would be interested in hearing more about Belknap's conclusion
that he had located the trail. Perhaps he had only located a break where
the burros get out of the bed to the Tonto level. The present trip would
include one more day than we had allowed last April, and hot weather
certainly would not be the drawback. Jorgen joined Doug Slough and me at
Peach Springs about 9:00 a.m. on Friday and we proceeded down to the
river over the road that is now just a little worse than it was last
spring. Ordinary cars were using it clear to the river. Where the water
of Diamond Creek would overflow the roadway, we traveled over fresh ice
even in the late afternoon on our return. The four Mexican Hat
Expedition boats were still on the bank with the oars and rowlocks
removed to prevent unauthorized trips down to Lake Mead. Still I would
think that they might tempt some people into the reconditioning needed
and a canyon voyage.

We crossed the river as we had done last April. I rowed across alone and
then carried the kayak above the riffle. One unexpected thrill was that
when I started across with Jorgen and two packs, we hit a sudden boil
and tipped far enough to ship two or three quarts of water. At last
there was some use of the narrow deck and the cockpit combing. When we
had steadied the boat, we got back into the quiet water and proceeded to
tip the boat over on the bank. Then it was clear that I would take only
one man at a time and ferry the packs across by themselves. There was no
problem after that decision but it would have been bad if Jorgen and I
had gone overboard in that 46 degree water. Our packs were not
waterproofed and although we had buoyant cushions we might not have
reached for them in our excitement. My reaction would have been to swim
madly for shore, about 70 feet away.

We used the route that Bob Packard and I had found on the way up and
came down where we had last spring, to and from the Tonto. I was coming
down with a cold and Doug and Jorgen had not been hiking recently, but
we seemed to make about the same time that we had last spring. We used
our old campsite against the granite just south of the bed of 219 Mile
Canyon. After a leisurely breakfast we got started up canyon at 9:15
a.m. For some reason Jorgen missed the cave with the two sticks where
Belknap says the trail leaves the bed. We certainly saw no place where a
loaded burro could climb out of the bed at all close to the river.
Plenty of wild burros use the bed and we also saw some fresh bighorn tracks.

Shortly after we had passed the tributary from the south, I saw what
appeared to be an excellent way up the Redwall, a fault ravine coming
down from the southwest side. Over the notch at the top, I could see a
skyline that I was sure was the rim of the Redwall. What I didn't
realize from this distance is that this Redwall rim is far behind the
notch, clear across the next side canyon, in fact. I was walking ahead
and soon picked a place to leave the bed. Jorgen and Doug continued
along the bed, but I thought that they were only waiting for a more
direct way up. Jorgen had mentioned seeing a cairn where the north and
west arms come together, and I might have known he was interested in
seeing what might be possible from there. I continued up the talus
filled ravine even though I could see that the others had their own
plans. When I came to the notch at the top, I could see that I was at a
dead end, about 150 feet from the top of the Redwall. I proceeded
gingerly along some meager ledges farther west around a corner, but from
there I could see that they ended in a smooth wall. On my way back down
I had a fine view of two bighorn ewes loping along a broad bench to the
south that curves around into the south rim. I should have followed them
immediately to see whether this route would lead me out to the top, but
I continued down. While I was at my highest point, I could see Jorgen
and Doug proceeding up near the angle between the north and the west
arms. I assumed that they were intending to go along a ledge and get
into the valley above the barrier fall in the north arm. When I got to
the bed, I thought that I would be so far behind that it would be a
waste of time to try to follow Jorgen and Doug. Instead I climbed to the
top of the talus on the left side of Trail Canyon to try to decide where
the bighorns were going. I couldn't see any breaks in the rim cliff then
nor when I was going back to the river.

Jorgen's idea really paid off. They found no indications of anything
remotely like a trail, but they also found a reasonably safe climber's
route clear to the top of the Redwall. They assured me that by careful
route finding I could have gone up without making any long reaches. They
didn't try to go horizontally into the upper valley of the north arm
(the right way). They found themselves on a knoll with a fine 360 degree
view. Across the north arm they could see the Snyder Mine and they
thought there might be a way down into the upper valley of the north
arm, but no trail showed (trail construction in Mile 214 Canyon).
Perhaps the trail from the mine down to the river, assuming that it is
not a myth, goes down directly to the Tonto on the river side and then
gets down the Tonto at the mouth of Trail Canyon. There is one other
possibility that I wish I had checked. One might get up on the talus on
the left side of the north arm and then walk into the upper valley
instead of using the precarious ledges on the right. I didn't check to
see whether the talus goes along high enough (not possible bench on
lower side of north arm).

I left Jorgen and Doug a note on a stick saying that I would return to
the river and then go up the bed of Mile 220 Canyon and still get back
to our camp by 5:30 p.m. I reached the last fork at the west end of the
canyon without seeing anything that might suggest a way up. This is the
only valley I can think of where the bed above the Tapeats splits and
makes two distinct dry falls in the upper edge of that formation. There
are a couple of easy bypasses of these last barriers and no rough spots
in the bed above. However, the Redwall cliffs ring the valley without a
break.

Before we started back Sunday morning, Jorgen and I went up the bed of
Trail Canyon once again and climbed up through the granite and Tapeats
on the north side just around the first bend. On the Tonto level we
found the usual clear burro trail. On the return we went out above the
river and then came down east of a tower of Tapeats Sandstone where the
burros go up and down. This route down to the beach just upriver from
the mouth of Trail Canyon fitted precisely with what Aleson said about
going up and following a trail which went into Trail Canyon above the
granite. The only comment I would make about Aleson's day in here is
that unless the burro trail along the Tapeats rim is a lot slower than
the bed, he was moving slowly to have used seven hours for his
investigation. We could walk down the bed from the fork between the
north and west arms in one and a quarter hours and I have the impression
from Jorgen that one is stopped in about 15 minutes when he proceeds up
the west arm. Harry must have felt the heat for sure.

Our return to the delta upriver and across from Diamond Creek was
uneventful. I enjoyed a smooth ride down through the riffle by myself
after getting Jorgen and Doug and the packs across the river. The
weather had held fair with cold nights, 22 degrees Saturday morning. I
saw more interesting birds than I had expected at this time of year.

*	Trail near Trail Canyon
[January 23, 1970 to January 24, 1970]
[Compare logs for April 26, 1969 and January 2, 1970]*

Last April when we were stopped by the fall in the north arm of Trail
Canyon, we assumed that the trail must be in the west arm. Visbak talked
to Harry Aleson and heard that Aleson was sure it must be in the north
arm. His log from years ago told of his inspection of the west arm where
he was absolutely stopped. When Visbak, Morgan, and Mooz were here on
their float trip down the river in September, they went up the west arm
and agreed with Aleson that there is no way out in that direction. On
January 3rd of this year Visbak and Shough were able to go up the
Redwall near the angle between the west and north arms, but their route
was beyond the capability of a burro although they saw some evidence of
use by bighorn sheep. They saw where the Snyder Mine is located, near
the head and across the north arm from where they stood. They saw no
trail down into Trail Canyon from the mine. All of these negative
results made me think that one should look in another area for any trail
from the mine to the river. I had noticed an area north of Trail Canyon,
about Mile 217.3, where great sections of the Redwall cliff had slipped.
When Jorgen and I had gone up the left side of the river three years
ago, I had studied it with the idea that there might be a route here.
From that distance I couldn't be sure.

With this background I left Flagstaff about 7:00 p.m. Thursday evening.
On my way through Williams I stopped at Cureton's and had quite a visit
with Allyn. By 10:30 p.m. I had reached the midway campground in Peach
Springs Wash, so I slept in my shell camper there. The night was mild,
about 10 degrees warmer than it had been right by the river on January 2nd.

I drove on down to the river before it was really light except for the
bright moon. While I was eating in the truck cab, I had the interior
light on for reading. It was bright day before I finished what I was
reading. After visiting briefly with Harry Wallace, a businessman from
Ashfork who was staying for several days to fish, I got organized and
rowed my kayak across. The river was fairly low but not as low as when I
returned. I noted the beaver cuttings in the willows along the north
shore. It was 8:15 a.m. by the time I was ready to start up to the
Tonto. The route I used was somewhat to the west of where Visbak,
Shough, and I had come down in the former trip, and it was no
improvement. There was a steep place in a crack where I considered
taking my pack off. Still it took the usual 30 minutes to get on the
Tonto. By noon I was down on the sand at the mouth of Mile 220 Canyon
although I had taken time for a few pictures and stopped briefly when my
right knee began to hurt.

This time I made a few notes on some landmarks. The inaccessible large
cave near the top of the Redwall is high on the right side of the river
at about Mile 222.4 and the large mescal pit is right above the trail at
about the same mileage. The overhang showing the trace of a rock shelter
is a few minutes walk upriver from the pit, and the other overhang where
Ellis inspected the cairn is about ten minutes walk farther. These signs
of occupation are less than 30 minutes walk from the spring which in
turn is about 45 minutes walk from Mile 220 Canyon. At the first of the
year, we found only one streambed flowing a trickle but now after some
mild storms, the next gully north is also flowing. I place these sources
at Mile 221.5. There are numerous places where a burro can get down to
the river along here, so water should be no problem to man or beast.
There was one thing which I saw on the way north and missed on the
return which aroused my curiosity. High in the Redwall to the east
across the river, there seemed to be a rectangular cave opening and a
streak across the cliff angling down to it that looked suspiciously like
a crude road. I would like to fly by and see this place better.

After an hour for lunch and a rest, I moved over to Trail Canyon and
left my pack at our old campsite. The way used by Aleson, which Jorgen
and I had come down just before starting back on the previous trip, was
a good way to the Tonto north of Trail Canyon. It takes less than 15
minutes to go from the beach to the Tonto here. I made the mistake of
going up on the south side of the first big landslip. At the top I found
several hundred feet of shear Redwall above me. To the north was a deep
and broad ravine beyond which was a similar but larger slump block.
However, this false climb was repaid by my finding two well constructed
cairns. I have no good theory as to why they should have been built
where they stand, but the line they indicate points across the valley to
the top of the northern slide area.

I considered going down to the bottom of the valley and climbing up the
talus material, but I thought it might be faster to stay on a high bench
and work around. There were a few signs of bighorn along here, but the
footing called for great care. By the time I had reached the top of the
gray slump, it was 3:30 p.m., the time I had set to start back. From a
knoll I had a good chance to study the route ahead. I looked at the way
in detail and from where I stood, I would say it is 99% sure that a
burro could walk up to the top of the Redwall. Another half hour each
way might have been enough, but when I started down, I intended to come
back the next day and go clear to the mine if possible. On the way back
to my pack, I began to wonder whether I had turned off the interior
light in the truck when it got light outside. The more I considered this
the more unsure I was that it was off when I left. Rather than face the
prospect of walking back to Peach Springs and paying a wrecker to get me
started, I decided to head for Diamond Creek. I remembered that Harry
Wallace was going to go home on Saturday, and if I hoped to get his
help, it behooved me to arrive around noon on Saturday. With this in
mind, I moved my pack over to Mile 220 Canyon before cooking my soup. I
had noted that one should be able to get to the top of the Redwall by
the route I had inspected in about two hours and 45 minutes form camp at
mile 219.

There was no freezing during the night and my down bag seemed a bit too
warm. There was even a mosquito around during the second half of the
night. Near midnight the bright moon began to be hidden by clouds which
further strengthened my decision to cut the trip short. Well before six
I began breakfast in bed and by 6:30 a.m. I was on my way in the faint
light of the moon behind the clouds. By seven I was on the Tonto south
of Mile 220 Canyon and by 10:45 I was putting my kayak in the river to
cross. One variation on the return was that I took the high trail which
Shough had followed on our other trip along about mile 221, but this
comes out about even with the clearer lower trail.

Just as I came in sight of the mouth of Diamond Creek, I saw a rubber
boat pull out into the current and shoot down through the rapid. I
learned from Harry Wallace that it was the last of several craft 22
students from Prescott College were taking down to Pierce's Ferry. There
were a number of one man kayaks decked over except for a round cockpit
and the pilot tied a spray cloth around himself to avoid swamping in
breaking waves. Presumably there is a quick release from this if one
gets capsized.

There was no call for this change of plans because I had turned off the
light. Mr. Wallace said that if it had been on he would have noticed it
Friday evening and he could have disconnected the battery for me even
though I had locked the cab.

I felt that the trip had been fairly rewarding. It seems fitting that
the actual use of this route to the top of the Redwall and the trip to
the mine should be made when I have Jorgen with me.

*	Deva Brahma arm of Clear Creek
[January 26, 1970 to January 28, 1970]*

Bob Euler had told me about a ruin on the south side of Deva in the
Supai which has a spring nearby. He said he had the impression, from
aerial observation, that there is a climbable break in the Redwall on
the east side of Brahma and he suggested the ravine just east of the
final e in Brahma Temple on the Bright Angel Quad (15 minute).

Checking this impression was the main project for this three day outing.

The weather had been fine for so long and off and on clouds would
thicken as on Sunday afternoon, that I wasn't sure I wanted to take a
chance on the weather, but when Monday dawned fine, I left. I know that
some hikers think that going from the south rim to Clear Creek in one
day is too much to attempt, but I thought that I should still be able to
hack that. I was pleased to be able to bring it off without too much
fatigue, from 9:10 a.m. to 4:15 p.m. Originally, I had intended spending
the rest of the day loafing and reading, but I got the bug to try again
to find a ruin Merrel Clubb had told me about on two occasions. It is
supposed to be on the south side of the arm coming down from between
Cape Royal and Wotan and Clubb said I would find it on a high ledge of
Shinumo Quartzite. I took just my camera and hustled down to the
junction and up the right arm. The formations are a bit confused in here
but I thought I was looking at the south wall often enough so that I
couldn't miss it. I turned back a little later than I thought I should
and after I was definitely in the Tapeats narrows, I still hadn't seen
the ruin. This is the site that Clubb had a hard time getting into, but
he found a piece of a basket in it.

The night was pleasant under a clear sky and I slept about nine hours,
as I seldom do on the ground anywhere else. Still I got a 7:15 a.m.
start and carried my gear up to an overhang shelter near the top of the
switchbacks as you climb out of Clear Creak on the trail. Incidentally,
this trail is in fine shape now, much plainer than it was in 1950, say.
They have worked it over since the North Kaibab Trail was cut off from
visitor use. Clear Creek itself, where one first strikes it, in 1950 was
flowing along in a bed about three feet deep bordered by willows in a
fine grove of cottonwoods. Then suddenly a flood about ten years ago cut
an arroyo eight feet deep and fifteen feet wide and devastated the grove
until only a few of the saplings were left in a field of boulders. Now
minor floods have brought the bottom of the arroyo up and the few trees
seem to be making an effort to restore the old appearance.

I carried my camera, canteen, and lunch away from the trail over the
hump into the Deva Brahma arm and contoured along the south side of the
valley. I would have made better time by going to the bed and then up
because the footing was precarious. First I checked the arm of this
tributary starting southeast of Brahma and climbed up the lowest fifth
of Redwall before convincing myself that there was a sheer fall ahead.
From a distance the ravine just east of the last e in Brahma Tempe of
the Bright Angel 15 minute Quad had looked good. While I was contouring
northeast from my first inspection, I came to a ravine which I confused
with the one Euler had indicated. I could climb it, but I found that I
had only reached a notch between the main wall and the point I was
supposed to round to reach the right ravine. From the top of my climb I
had a fine view of the ravine Euler had suggested, and I am morally sure
that there is an unscalable fall near the bottom. My view was so
convincing that I didn't bother to try it. However, I had seen a place
on the north side of this arm, on the south side of Deva, which was not
a ravine at all. The wall itself seemed broken into talus slopes and
ledges, and I thought that around a corner there might be a place to
continue to the top of the Redwall. I was working against time again
since I wanted to camp that night at Bright Angel Creek, but I decided
to go up canyon to have a look.

The old East Half Map is of no help concerning details at the upper end
of this canyon, but the branches are accurately shown on the new Bright
Angel Quad. When I came to the turn near the end that goes a little
south of west, I could tell that it hooks to the south. By this time I
didn't relish climbing the place on the north wall, so I resolved to
have a look at what I assumed to be an impossible fall around the corner
in the west fork. When I got to the angle, I found that it is a fault
ravine choked with blocks of Supai from above. With liberal use of the
hands ( I left the Kelty and the canteen below) I made it past several
chockstones and in one place it would have been impossible for me if I
hadn't noticed a hole behind a chockstone. This was a fairly tight fit
and it came out above into some dead oak brush, very well camouflaged.
In fact if I had been coming down from above, I never would have noticed
it. From above the Redwall I could see that this place is caused by a
fault with the west side 40 feet higher than the east. The Maxon Map
omits any indication of this very local break. One can go in either
direction along the top of the Redwall with ease, and the Supai is well
broken leading up to the saddle between Deva and Brahma. I also noticed
that there is a break in the Supai leading down from the top of the
promontory above the saddle on the Deva side. I didn't know where to
look for the ruin and I couldn't spot it.

It took about 25 minutes to go up the Redwall in this ravine and I was
just as slow in getting back to my pack. I carried it down into the
sunshine and had lunch. On the return to the main trail I followed the
bed and found the going much faster. The drop over the dry fall in the
Tapeats and Shinumo is most impressive. I tried passing this to the
north but found that it was impractical and climbed back up and down to
the trail. Even with the extension of the turn around time, I was only
seven minutes late in getting back to the cache of my gear.

The night at the Bright Angel Campground was marred by one splashy
little ten minute rain. I moved my air mattress and bag into the rock
leanto. Just about that time the four young people who were crammed into
the other half discovered a skunk and also a ring tail cat playing
around in the crack in the cliff and they were trying to shoo the
animals away with their lights for the next two hours. The rain was over
so I spent the rest of the night where I had gone to bed. With an early
start I came out in no hurry in four and one half hours including a
couple breaks for reading a magazine. Taking it slow seems to pay off
since I feel no stiffness tonight.

One observation that rather surprised me was that there are bighorn
droppings and tracks up the tributary towards the Deva Brahma Saddle. At
the ranger station I had quite a visit with Les Womack and he said that
a tourist called him to look through a telescope to watch several
bighorns right below Sumner Point on the Tonto across the river.

Another item was the sighting of a window in a fin which thrusts
southeast from Deva. It is the Redwall but is thinner on top than the
window west of the Kaibab Trail. The upper end of this tributary between
Deva and Brahma is outstanding for the rough character of the walls and
pinnacles. It is an interesting place even if there hadn't been any well
hidden Redwall route.

*	Pollux Temple
[February 7, 1970]*

Al Doty, Jim Sears, Ellen Tibbetts, Bob Packard, and I wanted another
try at Pollux. It was cold enough to keep the ground frozen in the
shade, but there was no snow and the weather remained fine and balmy in
the sun. Al had climbed Pollux just last fall, and all of us but Bob had
been off the rim west of Jicarilla Point. Jim and Ellen had been up and
down the break in the Coconino into Slate from beneath Jicarilla, and Al
swore that he could now repeat his route along the spine of Coconino
going north from the notch.

We went along the park boundary road in my truck and then turned off on
the new Jeep road at telephone pole 410. I would have preferred walking
this 1.2 miles after I drove it in the truck with the shell camper
because the rocks were bad in many places and it was about impossible to
avoid bumping into tree limbs. I did break one dead limb and cracked the
glass in a window of the camper. I am also afraid I got the front wheels
out of alignment. When we parked and went west to the rim, I thought the
boys were wrong in having us walk to the right, but very soon they
showed me the right break in the rim. The tree trunk was still where I
leaned it at the hard place last fall. We had no trouble in getting
along beneath the natural bridge and down to the notch directly under
the point. I had just been reviewing the log I had written concerning my
trip down here on October 1, 1961, and I remembered how wrong I had been
in saying that it was strange to find petroglyphs far from any ruin and
where there was no chance of a travel route. We looked around well
enough to find the rock shelter and the fine display of petroglyphs on
the east side of the spur as far north as one can go at the level of the
notch. Jim and Ellen went down the slot in the Coconino toward Slate
which John Wehrman had found to be a possible route last fall while Al
took Bob and me up one ledge of the Toroweap above the ruin and then
north along the ridge in the Coconino. Some of the descents along this
ridge took some care, but we soon came to the place where we had turned
back last fall. Jim and Ellen had made fine progress down the slot and
along the Hermit and they were shouting up to us before we had passed
the worst place. Here Al decided that he had gone right down the crest
instead of around to the side of the steep block as I had thought after
our frustration last fall. He got down all right and directed Bob. I
came down last after tying my rope to a bush and using it for an extra
grip at some of the awkward spots. Bob also held my foot for me as I
groped for the bottom. I could very likely learn to do this without a
rope, but I would prefer to have a friend along to give me the help that
Bob offered. The rest of the way required some route finding, but there
was no real difficulty when we followed Al's lead off the low ridge to
the west down some breaks and along a ledge to the north and then down
to the talus by turning south. He built some cairns that can aid one in
route finding. The Hermit to the north of this place is covered by large
broken blocks of Coconino. Jim and Ellen were waiting for us on the
broad saddle below Pollux.

An interesting feature of the saddle is about the biggest mescal pit we
have ever seen. Only a couple of hundred yards away from the first was
another fine one.

Jim and Ellen had had the thrill of coming on a fine bighorn ram at
close range, about 40 feet. It was so startled that it jumped about 15
feet out and down before taking off.

We found that Al had not taken the easiest way to the top of Pollux.
There are at least three easy and interesting ways to get through the
bottom crags of Coconino at the south end and above here just to the
east of the crest, the walking is easy up a slope covered with small
blocks and slabs of the sandstone. Al led Bob up a harder place farther
north along the east side in an effort to find the place he had used on
the first ascent. I found a simple walk up, and Jim and Ellen found Al's
former route where one crawls through a hole behind a block. There is
just a bit of difficulty and route finding to get up the summit block of
Toroweap. It was a marvelous viewpoint and it was my fiftieth named
summit in the Grand Canyon.

For the return we exchanged routes and Bob and I found the going tougher
in the slot. Bob got a scare when a large chunk gave way when he had his
foot on it. At one place we had to chimney up for several feet. Two and
a quarter hours each way.

*	Snyder Mine and Bighorn Trail Canyon
[February 14, 1970 to February 15, 1970]*

Jorgen Visbak was eager to see my surefire way up the Redwall at Mile
217, so he met me Friday evening at Peach Springs. After eating at the
cafe, we drove down to the mouth of Diamond Creek. There I had the
pleasure of running into Vern Taylor and quite a group of Prescott
College students who were going down the river to Pearce Ferry in two
days starting Saturday morning. There were no kayaks this time, just
open rafts about ten feet by six. They didn't relish the upsets of the
kayaks in the 45? water.

I took Jorgen across directly without going above the riffle as we had
felt we should when the water was high. We had thought we would sleep
where we landed the boat, but both of us thought that it might be better
to make some progress on our trip by moonlight. There was some water in
the cattails at the base of the cliff upriver from the wash at Mile
225.4, right bank, but we got past the jungle and started up a bit east
of the steep and shallow ravine. We know for sure now that this is the
easiest way to the top of the inner gorge. (I now prefer to go up to the
base of the Tapeats inside the side canyon and then go out on the north
side to use this place.) When you near the Tapeats Sandstone, you have
to go to the west again to the break. We walked until 10:30 p.m.
although I had quite a bit of trouble with cactus balls from jumping
cholla, but we reached Mile 223.5 before stopping. The night was just
cold enough to make my down bag comfortable. There was a slight threat
of rain, and when we were ready to move on in the morning, it began to
come down but not heavily. In less than an hour it was dry again and the
rest of the day was fine, cool walking weather.

A snack was eaten at the mouth of Trail Canyon (a real lunch for me),
and we were ready to proceed by 10:30 a.m. I predicted that we would be
at the top of the great slump block in two hours and at the top of the
Redwall in less than another hour. After my experience in the area three
weeks before, we knew enough to go up the northern and larger slump
block keeping away from loose rockslides. The way up the rest of the
Redwall still looked good enough for a burro, but when we got to the top
of the talus material and around a big block just below the solid cliff,
we were in for a surprise. There were several places where we had to use
our hands to go up broken cracks almost straight up between several of
the ledges. Burros, to my judge by the droppings, do not go higher than
the talus. There was no bad exposure nor precarious places where the
packs were in the way and we came out on top in just less than three
hours from the time we left the beach at Trail Canyon.

It seemed reasonable to climb to the top of the ridge of Supai Sandstone
to the west, and from here we could see the mine as well as one of the
finest panoramas of the canyon country. Wishing to keep our altitude and
walk on the level as much as possible, we followed the curve of the
ridge to the north and then to the west toward the mine. As we got
nearer, we had to drop down and cross some shallow valleys and finally
climb up to the mine through the brush. All this took longer than I had
guessed from map study, two and three quarter hours.

From a distance the mine is rather unimpressive, and I thought that it
might only be some open pits. Upon examining it, we found that a lot of
work has been done. One horizontal shaft is about 50 yards long and as
straight as a string. There are other shafts and they have been
connected by ventilation holes. The matrix in which the copper ore was
found is peculiar, not solid rock at all but rather clay cementing limey
modules. I was afraid I might sleep cold out in the open, but when I
bedded down well into the largest shaft, I was too warm most of the
night. Where I first spread my bed there was quite a thorn sticking up
in the water deposited clay, and I ruined my air mattress before I
discovered it. Another feature was that I wasn't aware of daylight and I
first heard Jorgen getting up after seven on Sunday.

After reaching the mine about 4:15 p.m. with three quarters of a gallon
of water, I decided to look for more down a nearby wash. Our plan was to
move out early Sunday morning and go along the base of the Hermit Shale
south to the break in the Redwall that I had found last year with
Packard. We had seen that this sort of travel would be slow, and I was
not sure how much water we would find at that level. Quite soon in
shallow pockets of the polished Redwall in the bed, I came to water left
by the rain that forenoon. Jorgen's feet had been hurting some, and he
did a short reconnaissance around the mine while I continued on down the
wash to see whether I would come to a barrier fall. Jorgen and I left
the mine hoping to find the mule trail starting up to the rim, but the
slight trail we found going southwest soon disappeared in the
blackbrush. He stayed at the same level and went to the bed of the wash
to the west and was rewarded by finding the trash of the main camp where
the miners must have lived. There were some signs of occupation at the
mine itself, a steel woven spring bed and a heating stove. He didn't
find a recognizable trail going to the rim. Since one could ride a horse
in any direction we figured that they hadn't taken the trouble to do
much trail work. Down the bed of the wash I found a more and more
impressively narrow canyon. Quite abruptly I came to what I had been
expecting, a high dry fall. As I looked down from the brink, I saw
something like a trail below, and then I noticed a way to reach it by
going up out of the bed to the right. Here I saw rock wall construction
for a trail and even two steel drill points. Since I had told Jorgen
that I would be back to the mine by 5:30 p.m., I turned back feeling
that I had discovered the trail of Trail Canyon. I found some more
switchback retaining walls and followed the old trail above the
streambed and up a different tributary that led directly toward the
mine. On the return I passed about the biggest mescal pit I have ever
seen. Since our primary interest all the time was to find the trail down
Trail Canyon, Jorgen was more than ready to try returning down the
canyon rather than to go along the high route back to the river. After
an 8:10 a.m. start Sunday morning, we were soon down along a ledge so
narrow that no loaded burro could pass. We figured that they would have
to carry the load piecemeal past this place and load a burro above it.
Almost directly below the dry fall we found a well built cairn and no
more good trail beyond. Behind the cairn was a neat but short cave with
a clear pool of pure water 18 inches deep and several feet across. I
figured that this must be Shanley Spring that Beck had heard about.
There isn't enough flow to run even a few feet below the pool, but it is
so well protected from the sun that we figured it to be a permanent
source of water.

I thought that this would be the end of the real trail, but I was game
to go on down and gamble that Trail Canyon should have a route past the
big fall in the Devonian that had stopped us last April. Jorgen and I
both figured that if we could reach the top of this fall, there should
be a possible, though precarious route along a bench to the right that
would take us to the descent where he and Shough had gone up and down
six weeks ago. We had already gone so far in this direction that a
return by our route of Saturday would mean a very late moonlight walk
back to the boat. We guessed that the immediate route below the spring
should be to the left, mostly because we could see that the right would
be hopeless. After continuing along this bench around a point or two, we
found the necessary breaks and had no more trouble reaching the fall
above the easy bed of the lower canyon. We could get up on a bench to
the left, but we both thought that it must pinch out and went up to the
right. After just a bit of progress to the south, we came to a clear
cairn. It wasn't clear whether we should go on south at the same level
or go higher. If we could have found a safe place to go down a 100 foot
cliff, there was a good talus to the bottom, but we found no way down at
all close.

About here the poor footing began getting on my nerves and Jorgen did
the scouting ahead at our level. His report was that we would have to
climb. We soon had the encouragement of finding a scanty bighorn trail.
This brought back some confidence and we soon found ourselves
approaching the place Jorgen and Doug had come up. When we came to a
good talus to get down to a lower bench, we took the chance and still
found the bighorn trail. Soon Jorgen recognized the route down and we
were using a strikingly steep but safe climb down to the gravel ridge
where there is another well built cairn. This is not easily seen from
the bed below and we think it is not to be confused with the three
cairns Aleson found many years ago. They were probably taken by a flood.

I was most relieved to be back to routine walking and the knowledge that
we could reach the boat and the truck at Diamond Creek before dark. We
felt that the trip had been one of our best, two more routes through the
Redwall and the mystery of Trail Canyon solved including the location of
the spring.

*	Letter from John Nelson to Doc Marston
[1948 IX 3] (copied as written)*

Peach Springs Ariz
Sept. 3rd 48

Mr Otis Marston
Berkeley
Calif.

Dear Mr Marston Your letter received some few days ago.

Have been unable to find any of my records back futher than 1931, but
met one of the men that was in party whom has lived on this side of
river for quite a while but had not seen for quite some time, as he had
just came back from Colorado. Roy Dickerson is his name and was camped
at Winter Camp with Slim Warring for whom he was worcking. the Winter
camp was knowan as Dinner Pockets. they are large pockets in a lime
stone canyon catching rain and snow water. there location is around 3 or
4 miles South West of Joe Price Peak on North rim of Cannon. At Winter
Camp we Organized three mounted parties of two men each. Party No 1 Jim
Hudson and Roy Dickerson went south from Winter Camp leaving north rim
at Kelly Point via Kelly Spring unto red wall as they were unable to get
of red wall there search was made on red wall from sex or seven miles
below or rather they came up sex or seven miles to about oppsit mile 227
on map returning back and leaving to top rim via Kelly Point. Party No 2
Slim Warring & Ross Mills came off Snyder Trail to river at a point
between Mile 219 & 220 on map. Going down river on tonto bench which
runs from nothing around Mile 221 to around seven to eight hundred feet
at Mile 228 at about which point they turned back to Mile 221 waiting
there until we arived from up river. Party No 3 Jack Spencer & My Self
left North rim on Old Indian trail South side of Joe Price Peak reaching
river at a point near or between Mile 206 & 207 We were able to follow
along bank of river most of the Way down only havining to leave river
bank in a few places for short distances Just above Miles 210 on map we
found, which was no doubt Hyde's last camp, river being very low and had
fell around two feet since they had camped.

(two lines of illegible hand written notes)

found at camp tracks in sand bar where two people had camped one small
track and a mans track. tracks showed very plain where the sand had been
damp at time they were there in the blow sand they were very dim and
unable to tell much about them could see very plainly where they had
tied up boat to a boulder and prints of boat or scow was very plain in
sand bar they had built a fire and was no doubt a overnight camp as they
had cooked a pot of Lima Beans no doubt as where they had picked or
washed them we found several baby Lima beans, which Mr Hyde identified
as bean he had raised on his farm. Also found a No. 2 1/2 can oppened of
tomatoes or canned fruit I cant recall which, which we took along with
beans to St George Utah which Mr Hyde said was the brand purchased at
starting point. We then went on down river to Mile 221 where we mett
Warring and Mills at which Point we camped that night. Next morning
returning to North rim and Winter Camp via Snyder trail leaving river
between Miles 219 & 220 on map. Next day returning to St george Utah

My Self or Dickerson could not remember the exact dates but was some
time after the first of year as he stated they had just returned a short
while befor to the Winter Camp after spending the Hollidays in St George
Utah.

in your letter you ask of some men by the name of Bund being with us
there was not. that fall of winter I understand that Hyde returned to
St. George and had some men go with him and they entered the Canyon on
north side of river at mouth of Canyon above Pierce ferry going a horse
back as far as they could into Canyon there could of been some of the
Bundys with this party.

A few years later at Whitmore Wash quite a distance above Parashont Wash
there was a boy drowned while swimming at the mouth of Whitmore wash
whom I believe was a Bundy or a near relative of theres as there was a
Bundy and party spent quite a while in Canyon along the river searching
for the body. In our visit here I was telling you about the two boys
from Boulder City one of which was drowned. in looking back over my
notes I ran acrost the notes I made of that search On June 23 1931 James
R Ervin came into Peach Spring at 8 A. M. accompied by Chas McGee a
Hualapai Ind boy. Charlie stated this boy had came to his camp early in
the morning.

(Camp being five miles North of Peach Spring in Peach Spring Canyon)

Ervin being in bad shape from hiking no water and nothing to eat after
giving him a little nourishment about all he could get out of him was
his partner was some where behind him but did not believe he was able to
get out of the Canyon. on talking to the boy about all I could get out
of him was the same as above, and that he had left the river about ten
miles below diamond canyon.

Organized a party of seven men and two cars we back tracked him to where
he had came off rim into Peach Spring and go around head of Canyon about
20 miles where we picked up track trailing him acrost Milk weed Plains
to Hindu Canyon leaving cars, trailing him acrost Hindu Canyon, onto
bench of red wall, (being only two places between diamond Creek and
Bridge Canyon a man can rim out a foot.) on getting late and from track
it looked as though he had came up the lower one we took a short cut and
found where he had scaled red wall. we then returned to

(Apparently there is another page to this letter that was not included
in this copy of Harvey's logs.)

*Saddle Canyon rappel
[February 28, 1970]*

I had been considering going for the camera which had dropped out of my
pocket when I was hanging upside down at the end of the rappel rope
before Christmas. When Brad Lynn, a colleague teaching police science,
asked me about such a trip and said that he would be free to go with me
on February 28, we set that as the day. He took his two nephews, Howard
and Doug Lynn, in his Bronco, and Al and Jane Doty and Roma went with me
in the Ford pickup. We reached the hunting camp a little before 11:00
a.m. under a rather threatening sky . There was plenty of snow on the
slopes less than a thousand feet above, but only a little fresh snow
remained in the shade at the level of the camp, and we saw no more close
by when we had gone downhill to the east. We ate our picnic lunch and
started for the descent into Saddle Canyon.

Jane and Roma decided to get a view of the operation from the rim. When
we had walked for 30 minutes, I led the group to the deer trail off the
rim with no fumbling. Here, among the junipers of the rim and below,
there seemed to be more fresh signs of deer travel than there had been
in late December. The day was cloudy and felt colder than it had in
December, but there was no ice in the pothole near where you cross the
bed. Once more I noticed the firewood I had gathered when I boiled soup
under an overhang halfway to the bottom in 1965 and I pointed to the
better overhang where I had slept through a very wet night. I also
called attention to a rock pile that may have served to form a step
below a long step down. We saw the women on the skyline and shouted back
and forth as we were following the deer trail just above the Toroweap
along the side of the bed. There was no hitch in going past the place
where the bed takes the big drop over the Coconino and around the corner
into the bay. We had the usual easy time getting down to the rappel site
in the alcove on the east side of this ramp. Brad was impressed with the
scramble down the last bit of Coconino to the basin where I had tied the
rope.

I had been wondering whether Al Doty would like to take my place in
doing the actual rappel and climb back with the camera. I had been
feeling a bit nervous about how well I would get back up. I remembered
that Allyn had done his Prusiking quite a bit faster than I, and Al had
come up the rope north of Cape Finale faster than I last summer. Al had
been practicing recently, and I suggested that he might like the honor
and the experience from the present rappel. We had brought his 150 foot
climbing rope and his rappel rig as well as my more primitive equipment.
He accepted the offer to be the one on the rope. His brake bars and
nylon webbing harness work fine and he was down in a smooth continuous
descent without taking long enough for any spinning to get started. He
had a bit of trouble getting the rope straightened out at the bottom
before he could get down the last two feet. The camera was still in the
plastic bag apparently none the worse for 70 days in the open. Al went
down and around to look at the other sides of the old slide, but he came
to my conclusion. There is no way to climb here without a rope.

Coming back up using my Jumars, even, was not easy. Al made two false
starts and had to go back down to tie his ropes differently. To prevent
spinning we used Al's 150 foot rope as a belay from 20 feet north of
where the main rappel rope was set at the top of the cliff. He tied the
end above the knee of his right leg. With a few pounds of tension in
that rope, there was no spinning. He had a chest sling tied to one of
the Jumar clamps so that he could lie back and rest occasionally. For
some reason he preferred the waist band around the Jumar sling ropes
rather high on his body. He rested three or four times in doing the 75
foot ascent, but he came up the last 25 feet against the Coconino cliff
in fine style. I had been worried as to how he would get along when he
was through with the overhang and came to the edge of the Coconino at
the ceiling. I fixed the other end of the belay rope down far enough so
that he could clamp onto it if the rappel rope was too tight against the
cliff. However, he had no trouble getting one clamp off and fastening it
higher up.

There had been some fine rain while we were doing this, and the women on
the rim were in some snow. The return to camp was uneventful except that
Al picked up a broken arrowhead in the junipers about ten minutes from
the car.

*	Granite Park Creek
[April 3, 1970 to April 5, 1970]*

Ever since giving up the descent of Granite Creek last August, I had
been keeping it in mind. It would be a real help to have rain in the
potholes but one needs a fairly dry road for the approach. This Easter,
the last weekend in March, I took my wife and grandchildren to the beach
in Mexico. This was just as well because there was another big snow over
northern Arizona. Jorgen and I had planned the Granite Creek descent
from the time that we found the route down from the Snyder Mine, and the
weather cooperated beautifully. The road was still a problem but the
walking was mostly cool and pleasant. We still had no sure information
about the route at the lower end of the trek. Bill Belknap, Jorgen, and
two park service men had talked to an Indian living in Prospect Valley
about 1954, but at that time Jorgen hadn't heard much about the area and
he wasn't even aware that the hope was to get down Granite. Belknap says
that they found a trail suggested by the Indian and made some progress
toward Dr. Tommy Mountain, the large mesa south of Parashant, but that
they didn't get very near a real descent of Granite. Some students who
walked up from the river in Granite when they were on a boat party last
September said that one should be able to descend the first tributary
from the south as you go up Granite. This was what I had intended when I
gave up because of the heat last August, so I told Jorgen that we should
try this route first.

After an early dinner at Grand Canyon Caverns, Jorgen and I covered most
of the road out through Frazer Well and through the ravine cutting the
Aubrey Cliffs by daylight. The lights were on before we crossed Prospect
Valley and we parked on the low ridge at the head of Granite Creek. I
might have saved some walking time at both ends of the trip by driving
down the road into the upper valley, but I was leery of its condition
and especially as to whether I could turn around if I came to a bad
spot. We used our lights to go down through the junipers to the road,
but even with only starlight we made good time down the road to the
Supai Sandstone rim in the bed of the wash where the road forks. It was
still before 9:00 p.m., but we decided to sleep there because there is
no recognizable trail any farther. I was carrying a car altimeter and we
found that we were about 1100 feet below the car. We had just a trace of
frost, but I got cold and was awake before daylight. Jorgen's three
pound bag as well as his metabolism kept him comfortable and he had a
beauty sleep while I did a little scouting ahead to get the blood warmed up.

When we started on before breakfast at 6:40 a.m., I disregarded what I
had just observed and led Jorgen around the rim to the south instead of
taking him right down the wash. This south rim route was in accord with
what I had remembered of a marked trail, but we didn't locate the trail
and scrambled down the rocks and through the brush figuring that on the
return we would follow the bed more directly. We bypassed the falls in
the lower half of the Supai by going around to the north and then went
down the bed past the tributary from the south to the spring near the
first showing of the Redwall. Here there was sunshine and we ate
breakfast in comfort about 700 feet below where we had slept. The spring
was running about as much water as I had seen last August, a mere
trickle through three shallow pools on the rocks. Still it supports a
small grove of willows.

Geologists could study the Granite Creek region at great length before
they would learn all about the earth movements and the various sections.
Up near the spring there is clear evidence that the Redwall was deformed
before the Supai was deposited but the major faults that extend for
miles show that the Supai was already in place when they occurred. One
feature that may never have been charted is a graben paralleling the
river but about two miles to the east. One enters the Redwall at an
elevation of about 4300 or 4400 feet and finally leaves it at about 1700
feet. After the creekbed has cut through about 500 feet of up tilted
Redwall while dropping not more than 250 feet, one comes out on a little
Supai Sandstone again. This pattern of going through upturned Redwall
and then going south in a fault valley is repeated about three times
before the creek enters the graben and goes down to the north through
the relatively undisturbed limestone. The whole landscape is cut by
faulting, mostly north south, but there are plenty of anomalies that
don't fit the general pattern. One sort of rock that aroused our
interest was a conglomerate of pebbles ranging in size from walnuts to
apples cemented in a brown matrix. What seemed odd was that it was
uniformly about five feet thick in an extensive sill. I thought of a
volcanic magma penetrating a layer of water worn and deposited gravel,
but I would need a professional opinion. A geologist who could account
for all the features of this region would need months for the work.

Below the spring one walks through a trough at first shallow and sunny
but soon very deep and narrow. Just a week after our storm there were
plenty of potholes with rather clean water. We soon came to the place
where I had been able to chimney down between a smooth chockstone and
the wall about eight feet last summer, but now there was a pool over a
foot deep right below. Rather than go down, take off our shoes and wade,
we elected to test a bypass up on the steep slope to the right. It
worked but climbing down to the bed beyond the fall was as difficult as
the alternate procedure. We probably could have done the wading faster.
Near the end of this spectacular narrow gorge, there were a couple of
holes in the gravel holding water. I recalled that they were about the
same last summer, so they may be permanent. There were no burro signs
about, but the gravel was surely pushed up around the holes, presumably
by bighorn sheep. We found one muledeer skeleton with some of the hide
attached lying in the bed but there were far more bighorn hoofprints and
droppings than deer sign all through this country. Just beyond these
pools in the gravel we noted the cairn and the trail I saw last August.
On the return near here I saw the only horse manure west of this Redwall
gorge. After a quarter of a mile or more in the open south trending
valley, the bed cut west again through another Redwall upheaval. There
were places where the creekbed broadened even before getting through
this upthrust. In one of the narrow places I examined a cave a few yards
up from the bed and found a stout stick wedged between a ledge and a
hole in the ceiling. I have seen similar artifacts in a cave in Salt
Water Wash and one near the ancient platform of poles in Marble Canyon
at Mile 43.3.

In the next fault valley the bed goes south farther before cutting
through another range of up tilted Redwall. When it gets through there
are hundreds of feet of Redwall cliff to the east and Supai Sandstone
quite close to the bed on the west. Soon after the creek enters another
narrow gate to the west it comes out into another short valley. Then the
bed turns west again and after a few yards one comes to a real impasse,
the 40 foot drop in a narrow slot with bigger drops below. We repeated
what I had done last August and climbed up out of the bed to the south.
The elevation had been 2750 feet in the bed, but after going up, down,
and finally up to the west of the main bed where I had camped last
August, we ate lunch at a commanding viewpoint at 3400 feet. We could
see the snow on all north facing slopes along the rim to the east. All
the rim from the point above Diamond Peak to the mouth of Parashont was
visible across the river. Tommy Mountain and the rim to the north of
Granite Creek formed the horizon to the north and northeast. We could
see Diamond Peak as a pygmy among the giants behind it.

When we first left the bed we had to climb about 250 feet and then
descend to cross a minor canyon. As we were looking for a good descent,
we saw a cave that I had not investigated last summer. When we reached
the bed it only took a few minutes to inspect the cave. It was bigger
than I had supposed, going in far enough to require a flashlight. One
had to crouch nearly everywhere and going on all fours was bad because
the floor was covered with cactus spines in the fluffy cave dust.
Indians must have used this cave because I found my first projectile
point lying on the bank below the cave. Small stalactites and draperies
were present and still forming to judge by a couple of drips from the
ceiling.

After our lunch on the high point west of the main canyon going down to
the north through the graben, we had to go south to get down into the
tributary canyon closest to the mouth of Granite Creek from the south.
There was a broad valley in the Supai rock and then the bed steepened
sharply as it entered the Redwall. There were good bypasses for all
obstructions except at two places well down in the depths. At one place
Jorgen led me down beside a big chockstone and then under it on footing
that was invisible from above. At the lower difficulty Jorgen led again.
This time we removed our packs to get down the last few feet to safety.
It would be a real help for a sole traveler to have a rope along for
letting the pack down. There was still some uncertainty as we continued
on down through the impressive Devonian formation, but there were no
more real barriers. It was nearing 3:00 p.m. when we reached the bed of
Granite.

After walking a few yards toward the river, I decided to drop my pack
and scout upstream in the main canyon to see whether we should try to go
out that way on Sunday. Jorgen went on to the river and took his time to
record the area on film. He had a very short and very cooling swim in
the muddy Colorado and put on his trousers in time to wave to a passing
boat party. I had set myself the limit of one and a half hours up
Granite if necessary to check the route. I hurried along with my canteen
and camera through one of the most impressive and continuous narrows I
have encountered. At one place hard and polished limestone forms the lip
of a ten foot fall that is shale below. At another the current has cut a
cave under one wall. When I was beginning to recognize landmarks on the
high walls where the canyon goes up to the south through the graben, I
came around a curve and saw the largest chockstone I have ever
encountered. It was as big as a small house and completely filled a
broad gate at the top of a fall. However, I found a narrow ravine that
could be climbed and used for a bypass to the west. If I had worked on
it, I could also have found a bypass to the east, but this would have
been harder and longer. At the top of the spur I could look down on the
steep bed above the huge chockstone and I saw the advantage of
proceeding at the high level until I would reach the bed on my level.
This walking wasn't too difficult and quite soon I was just above the
bed and could have gone on to where I had slept last August. It took me
only an hour to go back from here to my pack and a little over 50
minutes to go from there to the river.

Granite Park is a fine place to camp especially at this time of year.
There were no ants nor mosquitoes and the wind didn't blow the sand. We
remembered where we had seen the mescal pit three and a half years ago
and had noted an overhang that makes a good rain shelter. This time
there was no threat of bad weather and we spent a perfect night. I
happened to wake about 4:45 a.m. and causally looked at the sky. The
comet was making a beautiful show in the eastern sky and I had to awake
Jorgen to see it. It was the only time I could remember seeing a comet
so well except for the one discovered by the two Japanese several years ago.

When we were walking out via the main canyon on Sunday, we noted that
last August I had been only 1400 vertical feet from reaching the river.
It took us two and a half hours to walk to my campsite carrying our
packs. We also found another way to get down the Redwall. At the north
end of the graben along the eastern break, a slide covers the joint. One
could go to the north at the fall in the slot where I first saw the
bighorn last summer, follow the rim of the Redwall, and come down this
slide north of the giant chockstone. This would probably be faster than
the way we came out which in turn is certainly easier than the way we
went down. If I had just scouted a bit more last August when I felt so
washed up in the heat, I would have slept at the river as I had hoped.

When we were walking out on Sunday we began to believe spring was really
here. There had been no wasps out the day before when we passed the
waterholes, but they showed in force on Sunday. Birds were singing and
the redbud trees were just beginning to show their blossoms.

There was one modification in our route out besides the major one of
coming up the lower gorge through the Redwall to my old campsite. At the
top of the Supai just below the road fork, we stayed in the bed more
closely. We went up beneath the top ledge to the south and then had to
climb next to a chockstone at the last real impediment. The bed along
here was particularly interesting and there was even a slow seep spring.
It has been a most enjoyable and successful trip. Jorgen saw something
also interesting when we were about one third of the depth of the Supai
below the road on a flat north of the bed of the wash. There seemed to
be an old trail for a short distance and then Jorgen found an enamel
ware pot.

*	Redwall gorge of Beaver Canyon
[May 2, 1970]*

Over a year ago I was given a report of a successful climb through the
Redwall up and down Beaver Canyon by Tom and Connie Crowly. Then I heard
that Donald Weaver had climbed out that way and last October Jim Sears
and his friends had done the same trick. Also last fall Norvel Johnson
and I had been steered away by the chockstone drop above the junction of
Little Coyote and Beaver. I wasn't sure that the Crowlys had come this
far up, but a week after Norvel and I were there Sears and his friends
succeeded in getting up here. One girl needed a push but one girl got up
herself. This made me all the more eager to see the place again.

I had four very able companions. Allyn Cureton and Al Doty are known
both for their hiking stamina and for their climbing agility. Bob
Packard can climb about as well as I can and he can out hike me up the
hills as well as on the level. John Ovrebo also has good wind and he had
taken the trip over to Clear Creek and back from Bright Angel Creek just
the week before. We went in my truck to the head of the Beaver Canyon
Trail without incident using the turnoff from the Supai road that is 2.1
miles north of the turn to Camp 16. It is about 19 miles from the road
to the trailhead. We left the pickup at 10:45 a.m. and reached the
spring at the Redwall rim at 12:05 p.m., far faster than my math prof
friends from Tucson and the Sierra Club group that Allyn guided last
October. There was water in several rain pockets and the two springs
were flowing well in the Supai.

After lunch we went down into Little Coyote Canyon and looked at the
chockstone difficulty. As we had expected, Doty and Cureton went down
with no trouble and one of them came back up. Ovrebo, Packard, and I
went down with a belay. At one move Ovrebo lost his footing and put
tension on the rope before he regained a good stance, but if one is
careful the rope is unnecessary. Below the upper chockstone one can go
down the rest of the way either to the left or right. One can crawl
through a hole on the right with no feeling of danger, but on the left
there is a good hand hold where you can let yourself down safely too. We
agreed with the others who have come up this way that Norvel had talked
me out of a good thing. All the rest of the bed was pretty much routine.
Almost all the bed is easy gravel or boulder hopping. At a few places
one has to go to the side around blockages in the center. There is one
place where there is a bare and polished step of limestone bedrock that
calls for hand grips, but this place is only about five feet high. Very
close to the end of Beaver there is also the need to climb up to a ledge
on the left side (northwest). One can make good time and we went from
Little Coyote Canyon down to the mouth in 80 minutes. We seemed to be
hurrying much of the time but we came up just as fast without racing.
There was water in rain pockets as well as at one seep. The spring about
halfway through was running well and it kept water in the bed for over
100 yards. Three of us got along all right without bringing our canteens
away from the packs which we left at the spring above the Redwall.

The upper part of the route just below the chockstone descent is about
the most strikingly narrow Redwall slot I have seen anywhere. When you
look ahead at the curving stream course, the walls sometimes cut off the
view of the sky while there is still a spot of sky showing through lower
down. There are caves of various sorts, some like little Redwall Caverns
on the order of the famous one in Marble Canyon and others high on the
walls. At two places we could look up to the west rim and see big
curving holes that go clear through mostly in a vertical direction.
Seeps in the wall support maidenhair ferns. It is truly a beautiful
trip. Even if one didn't want to strain to get up the hard place in
Little Coyote it would be worth coming in from the bottom and returning
the same way.

One thing of interest in the upper Redwall narrows is that the present
gravel bed is about six inches lower than it has been. There is a band
of lighter gray wall up to a mark that high where the gravel must have
been carried away by a flood not too many years ago. The same kind of
band shows on the bare rock walls in Dragon Creek where the flood
removed the terrace in December, 1966. It is possible that a flood could
scoop out the gravel to bedrock and leave the sort of pool that James
reports.We looked at the place where Bob Dye and Donald Weaver must have
climbed out, one quarter mile up from the spring. It looks wild.

*	Havatagvich Canyon and Moqui Trail
[May 9, 1970]*

Al and Jane Doty met me at the junction of US 180 and Arizona 64 before
7:00 a.m., and we proceeded along the Topocoba Road after a short stop
at the ranger headquarters. I turned off just beyond the cattle guard on
the road south past Akaba and Big Tanks. Indians were branding horses
near the latter. We had problems opening and shutting a tight wire gate.
It took some straining for both Al and me to manage it, and on the
return Jane put the wire over the pole while Al and I stretched the
gate. If I were alone I believe I would now have to drive south at
Pasture Wash and hope that there are no gates this tight along that route.

The road was dry and dusty, quite a contrast to the problem with mud I
faced last September. I made the mistake of turning to the northwest at
the first fork and found where the game and fish people have built a
catchment for rainwater. The next turnoff was the right one and it took
us to Chikapanagi Tank by a reasonably good road which must be more
recent than the map. I led the way past two small ravines to the west of
the one containing the tank and we went down to the Coconino where I had
come up last September, west of the Chikapanagi Wash.

Al and I first looked at the slot in Chikapanagi Wash where it goes
through the Coconino. There was plenty of water in three potholes. With
care one gets down to these two upper ones and then enters the sloping
narrow slot. I strung out my rope as I had done last year, but this is
really unnecessary even for me. At the platform below this narrow ramp,
there is a clump of redbud trees which is a perfect anchor for a rope.
We looked over the first chockstone down about 20 feet. Then below that
there is a big drop. I gave this up and figured that the other place I
had considered a rappel site to be better, especially since the one in
the slot has an overhang. We later returned to this slot and tried to
study it better. Both of us went down to the lower shelf below the first
chockstone. Al could do this freehand but I was glad to use a body
rappel on the way down and the Jumars for a few yards on the return. Al
leaned out and could see that my 120 foot rope didn't reach quite to the
bottom. We could have used the rope he brought to extend mine and we
could have rappelled down, but there was still a much shorter drop in
the bed below which might have been easy to bypass. Since there wouldn't
have been time to have me go down and walk around to the Moqui Trail and
reach the truck by 3:00 p.m., we gave that idea up.

Between our two investigations of the slot, we moved over to the place
to the right and north where the edge of the Coconino is weathered into
a broad ramp through a third of its depth. I could see that the big rock
lying on the slope would be a safe anchor but it would shorten the
useful part of the rope unduly. Closer to the edge I saw a little
juniper and a shrub growing in a bit of sandy soil. I figured that they
should have roots in cracks in the rock beneath the soil and decided to
trust them. Still when we threw the rope down the cliff, it didn't reach
bottom. If we had brought a 150 foot rope or had extended mine with the
other rope, it would have been adequate. One point of interest that Al
noticed was that there is a ledge cut from the cliff where one could
rest from the rappel if desired. I believe I would prefer this for doing
a rappel rather than the slot with the overhang. If I would drive to the
road end and spend the night ready for an early start, I could go
through with this project. We ate lunch at the truck and then drove one
and a half miles southeast along the road but were still not as close to
the Moqui Trail as we could have been. We could see by the way loose
rocks had been kept clear that the Indians maintain this trail. Al and I
went as far as the spring while Jane turned back when she had seen the
beautiful route through the Coconino. Many redbud trees here were
starting to bloom and the wrens were singing. A date of 4/13/70 marked
in charcoal on the wall and initials and other dates show that this
trail is still used. We guess that the spring is a help for the ranching
that is being done in this area.

I drove back to Flagstaff in less than three hours, using the road that
connects the Topocoba Road with Moqui Lodge. It is five miles across
here and does save time.

*	Vishnu Canyon, Sheba, and Solomon
[June 2, 1970 to June 4, 1970]*

After last summer when Jerry Thornton and Joe Hall had shown me that
Clubb was right about the route down from the Cape Royal Citadel going
without a rope, I figured that I could do it alone with the help of a
rope for lowering my pack. I went to the north rim and arrived early
Monday afternoon. My permit said that I would be out by 6:00 p.m.
Friday, but this was mostly to keep them from worrying. I was told at
headquarters that George Beck had moved into his cabin for the summer
and that Donald Davis and his friends were down in Nankoweap checking
some caves. I couldn't find Beck right off so I went out near Bright
Angel Point and experimented with the route for a descent. It was just
like following a deer trail down through the woods to the Coconino and
there is a forested ravine all the way to the bottom of that formation.
This is on the side to Roaring Springs. I had understood that Sigler,
Henderson, and others didn't use this safe but perhaps indirect way to
reach Euler's ruin in the Supai. I think it would be faster to go the
easy way even if one had to walk around farther below. It was peculiar
that the deer don't seem to use this way.

I left the campground well before six on Tuesday and was walking down
the familiar route near the Walhalla Glades exhibit by 6:15 a.m. I still
didn't feel absolutely sure of the best route through the Coconino in
the ravine to the west of the wrecked cars, but I didn't miss the route
by more than a minute on a blind alley. When I came to the first place
to chimney down I let the pack down about 15 feet and then came down the
way I had done it three years ago where I got chicken last summer. A few
yards to the east was another crack where Joe Hall went up and down, and
I noticed something that he had missed five juniper logs which had been
placed upright at the bottom to form a step. There were also a couple of
long slabs placed at the bottom of the crack I used and I take these as
indications that this is a prehistoric Indian route. Clubb said that
Lawes had told him this route would go and perhaps Lawes got the word
directly or indirectly from an Indian. All I would say is that the chain
of knowledgeable people was becoming rather thin when Clubb told me
about it. Down at the ledge with a break in it where I had balked three
years ago just before I would be on the sure talus to the bottom of the
Coconino, I used the nylon cord in a single strand and allowed it to
slip over a shoulder. Before the pack reached bottom 35 feet below, a
strip of skin was pretty hot. Perhaps I couldn't have pulled the pack up
with a single strand, but there was a shelf where I could rest the pack
and use the cord doubled. It took me about one and a half hours to get
through the Coconino with some wasted time getting the cord untangled.

On the shale I didn't see much deer trail on my way over to the Freya
Saddle. This lap took 65 minutes on the way out when I was cool and
rested. On the return I found more deer trail, but for some reason it
took quite a bit longer. When I had looked down from Cape Royal last
summer, I thought I had picked a way through the Supai, but now when I
studied what I thought I had seen, it didn't look good. I could see that
the part of the Supai directly south of the saddle would be easy for
quite a bit of the way, and I now recalled that Clubb had said that he
had probably gone down to the Redwall pretty much below the saddle.
Three times in the Supai I came to drops in the center and found rather
difficult bypasses to the east. The top one of these was about the
hardest. I thought something of using the cord to lower my pack, but
first I climbed down and back without it. This convinced me that I could
go down with it on. On Thursday coming up, it was about all I could
handle but it went. The middle bypass was not at first obvious since it
was 40 or 50 yards to the east. I had been intending to follow the rim
of the Redwall, but now the end of the gorge below looked hopeful. I was
pleased to find that this route was easier as well as being more direct.
There were only a couple of places that needed a bypass, and the route
is obvious and simple. The gorge is first rate for scenery and a cave on
the west side less than a mile from the head may be accessible from below.

A little below the junction with the arm from the Freya Vishnu Saddle
there is a mescal pit. Several entrances to the same cave may be the
explanation for a series of holes which may be accessible from above.
These are west of the north end of Vishnu Temple. Another cave, more
like an overhang, can be reached from the Redwall rim west of the ravine
cutting between Vishnu and Krishna. There is an acre of cane growing on
the wet shale slope well above the creek on the west at one promontory
but the first real spring is in the bed at the contact of the Tapeats
with the Bright Angel Shale. There are three cottonwood trees strung
along below this water. There is no barrier in the Tapeats gorge that
starts less than a half mile below and at a left turn there is a still
better spring. This is where I camped in 1958 on my way back from
Asbestos to Bright Angel Creek. Where the creek makes a horseshoe bend
to the southeast I climbed out and went to the north of Newberry Butte.

Near the junction of a minor ravine from the Newberry Saddle and the
main wash east of Newberry is a mescal pit. I missed it on the way out
but saw it on the return. An unusual amount of charcoal may mean that
this was used more recently than most, but otherwise it looks the same
as all the old mescal pits.

I hadn't seen the upper part of Asbestos Valley beyond the barrier fall
and Billingsley had told me it is interesting so I kept fairly well to
the north and looked down on this part of Asbestos. I could see
immediately what he had told me about the spring not being where it is
shown on the map, or at least that there is one in another place. I
should have gone down the slope directly ahead into the arm without a
blue line and coming from the north of the letter A on the Vishnu Quad
map. I was afraid that there might be a cliff below, so I went back and
then south to where I had been able to get down a rough slope into lower
Asbestos in 1958. On Wednesday I came up this arm and found the bit of
old trail Billingsley had seen and also saw that I had been headed right
the first time. As it was I reached the bed upstream from the ruined
mine shacks and then walked toward the river. Two seeps that had been
running in April, 1958, were dry. I passed the shallow cave where I had
seen a bedroll, quite new in 1958, and weathered a couple of years
later. The sleeping bag was now gone, but there were still some cans and
a lot of book type matches in a cardboard box. The tomato juice cans had
corroded through and were empty, but a can of beans still seemed good.

I had still found no water for camping and I was rather hot and tired.
After reading in the shade for 20 minutes, I decided against going to
the spring in the upper canyon. It might also have no water on the
surface at this time of year, and it would be a long climb. I started
for the river trail figuring that I would use the Colorado water for
camping. Within 200 yards I came to the best spring in the whole of
Asbestos Canyon, at the contact of the red Dox Sandstone and the dark
igneous sill. There was shade behind a big rock so I slept right in the
bed of the stream.

By evening on Tuesday I realized that I had been careless in planning my
food and that I would certainly have to use the instant rice to stretch
my bread. Cooking it on Wednesday before starting on took a few extra
minutes, but I was heading out by 5:40. I could have made better
progress toward my main goals if I had gone up to the Tonto level
through the ravine to the south end of Sheba, but I figured I had time
to see the valley above the barrier fall.

Just south of the letter A in the side ravine there was a lot of cane
and some water. I found the small section of constructed trail and then
soon lost it and went much higher than was necessary to bypass the fall.
The upper spring is in a short and steep ravine that has no blue line
but is parallel to the northeast arm coming down from east of Rama. I
scrambled up to inspect the flow and found it difficult to dip even a
cup in the water because of the dense growth of willows. It was
obviously impossible to get out to the east so I went around into the
northeast arm which seemed at first sight to end in a 60 foot stairwell.
However, there was one wall that sloped and had many small steps which I
could climb. If I had looked down from above I would have figured that
this was no possibility.

From here it was natural to go up and around the north end of Sheba. I
had a definite impression that Newberry, Sheba, and Solomon all should
be approached from the east but I didn't remember whether I should go to
the middle of the east side before starting up. On the impulse I left my
pack at the bottom of a ravine quite close to the north end. There was
nothing to it. There were some steep places where I would need to find
the same way down, but up on the ridge I could go south to that summit
on whichever side of the crest seemed safer. Within 25 minutes I had
gone from the shale to the top of Sheba. I built the first cairn but
when I took pictures to record my ascent, I forgot to cut down the
aperture and my shots will be washed out. I had been considering
settling for Sheba and then going up the Redwall to the northeast of
Rama and then descending to camp in an arm of Unkar, but now I had the
desire for another first ascent and went after Solomon.

Although I left my pack behind a big rock near the base of Sheba it was
still rather slow getting to the north of Solomon. I tried the system I
had used on Sheba, going along a high bench above the top cliff of
shale, but this time the bench ended around the angle. I had to retreat
and go much lower before starting up again on a talus about the middle
of the east side. There was a problem in route finding and the only way
through a high ledge seemed to be up a chute. It ended in two vertical
cracks both having chockstone caps. I picked the one that seemed a bit
easier and was soon even with the top by bracing my feet against one
wall while leaning my back against the other. More from habit than
necessity I reached my right arm out and put a little weight on the
chockstone as I often do. This was a mistake which might have been
fatal. With no scraping this 150 pound rock tipped toward me and came
down on my leg. At first I just held it thinking that I might push it
back into balance, but in my position this was impossible. Then the
weight of the load fell on my right side and I wouldn't have been
surprised if I had felt some ribs cracking. If I had tried too move out
I was afraid it would roll farther and take me down the cliff. When I
couldn't stand the pressure any longer and did give way, I found that
the rock had jammed lower in the crack and was supporting itself. There
was one more worry. Perhaps my canteen strap was caught under it, but no
_ the canteen came free and I was ready to proceed to the top with
nothing worse than some very sore ribs and welts. The rest of the way
took a little study but there was no real danger. I built the first
cairn on Solomon too.

I probably should have gone on into Unkar and camped by water in the
Tapeats where Beck had indicated, but I knew I could get a refill in
Asbestos and then go back to camp in Vishnu for a shorter third day out.
Wednesday was hot and after I had gone around the south end of Sheba and
down the ravine I took a break of 20 minutes. There was now no problem
of enough water, but still I felt pretty lousy in the heat. Salt helps
me but still I lacked pep and my digestion was off. I decided to go up
the old trail along the ramp formed by the top of the Dox Sandstone. It
was a lot easier and it led past a USGS benchmark that I hadn't seen in
1958. Still the contours were time consuming and by the time I had
climbed through the Tapeats northwest of Sockdolager, I figured I had
taken longer than if I had gone back the way I had come. After crossing
the Newberry Saddle, I stayed high and went down to the creekbed north
of the Tapeats narrows. When I came to the spring at the two upper
cottonwoods, it was 8:00 p.m., a good long day in the heat.

Going out on Thursday I decided that climbing through the Supai with a
pack was harder than going up Sheba and Solomon. I had lost the nylon
cord so I didn't have the option of pulling the pack up separately.
Handing the pack to a companion would have been a relief, but I did make
this part on my own. The Hermit Shale was slower than when I was fresh
on Tuesday but by following the deer trails better, I came to an
interesting spring at the bottom of the Coconino about 100 yards west of
the access ravine. It has a copious drip from the ceiling and a shallow
pool below. I had to go to the truck for another rope to pull up the
pack, an extra three hour chore. If I ever come this way again, I'll
leave the rope here. (Flowers and birds great and it was cool on Thursday.)

*Impressions from Lee's Ferry to Diamond Creek (observed by boat)
[June 8, 1970 to June 16, 1970]*

Since so many people go through the canyon, this will be just a brief
review of points that I would like to remember.

Opposite Mile 19 Canyon where one can reach the river from the right,
there is a narrow slot through the Supai on the left. One could very
likely get up through the Supai on the left. There appeared to be breaks
through the higher formations downriver from this slot north of the
route through the canyon at Mile 21.7.

The bank at Mile 19.5 is popular for camping on river trips. Not much
chance for an Indian site to remain unmolested.

There is a Jug Handle Window through a fin of Supai right above our
campsite at Mile 20 on the left bank.

I recognized the scene shown on page 239 of Powell's 1895 book but did
not note the mile (Mile 34.5).

I paced the depth and breadth of Redwall Cavern and the engineer present
did a mental calculation that 10,000 people could stand on the inner
terrace. If one should include all the sandbar that would lie behind a
plumbob tracing the entire overhang, Powell's figure of 50,000 would not
be a far miss.

Ken pointed out the Bridge of Sighs at Mile 35.9 and we noted a less
obvious window just south of it. No sky shows through it.

I was able to lead the party right to the Hopi Salt. There has been a
pronounced change in the ledge on which Allyn and I stepped off the rope
in December, 1958. There is an isolated bit of conglomerate still
cemented to the wall but below the wall is bare. Now one would have to
rappel several yards farther down. Sleight and his boatman, Cliff Rail,
tell about meeting two Hopi Indians near here last year. They had left
their burros at Palisades Creek and had walked the bank to the place
instead of using a rope to get down. After performing some ceremonies in
private at the salt caves, they accepted a boat ride back to the burros.
Presumably they had brought the burros down the Tanner Trail as it would
have been much harder to come in via Salt Trail Canyon, ford the Little
Colorado River, and get to Palisades Creek. Sleight and Rail had not
asked about their route, but they understood that the Hopi had gone up
to the Sipapu on foot.

I was able to keep my bearings in the gorge from Sockdolager to the
Kaibab Trail better than the pilots. Ken and Cliff passed Zoroaster
Rapid without realizing it. I called the shot precisely for the turn
that gave us the first view of the bridge. I was also gratified that I
recognized the base of the Grandview Trail at Mile 80.8.

The ruins west of the mouth of Crystal were not affected by the flood.

Another river party found a corpse in the water and left it for
identification at the mouth of Agate. In addition to the drowned man who
attempted to swim the river below Pipe Creek earlier this spring, there
had been another very recently, about a week before the recovery of this
body.

At Shinumo Creek we visited the pool and the fall near the river. I was
unable to climb above the fall unassisted although there are those who can.

At Elves several of us climbed high enough to reach the wall directly
beneath the Royal Arch.

Between Kanab and Havasu I watched the banks and benches higher up.
Walking from one to the other would be very slow and require at least
three crossings ( _?_ Circa did this with no crossings).

At about two miles below Havasu Creek the immediate talus by the water
becomes reliable for many miles. I can see why Fletcher needed to cross
so seldom. His walk to Diamond Creek was simple but tedious.

About 15 minutes walk up National from its delta, if one can get up the
first eight feet, he can go to the bench where Allyn Cureton and I
walked out to look down on the river. A climber with long arms did this
unassisted, but I needed a boost. I could have placed a driftwood log
here and gone up alone. One can soon get back into the bed and walk to
where Allyn and I left it. This discovery makes National a better access
route to the river than Mohawk. Perhaps Indians used logs in Tuckup and
connected National with Tuckup for a cross canyon route. The stream in
National stayed above ground until the last quarter mile from the mouth.
With the boost from a big man, I was able to chalk up another complete
route from the plateau to the Colorado River.

The red slide west of Cove Canyon furnishes a sure and easy route
through the entire Redwall. If one can get through the Supai in Cove
Canyon, this would complete another route to the river on the right side
(trail through Supai to mine).

I got a glimpse of the loose slope of broken lava at the head of the
Prospect Canyon Gorge where Blake and Emery Kolb climbed out of
Prospect. The basalt fragments slip much more easily than other rocks
and this would be a miserable route for the ascent. Coming down might be
hazardous but much easier. It would be better just west of Prospect
facing the river (no).

There seem to be several ways to come down through the Redwall and lower
rocks on the north side of Dr. Tommy Mountain, upstream from Parashant
Canyon, around Mile 192.

One should be able to get through the same formations from the right
side just south of the mouth of Mile 206 Canyon.

There were other rather direct routes down the same lower formations on
the left, straight as though along faults. I recall one going down just
south of Granite Park and one somewhere north of Mile 206. I should have
made notes on the spot.

As I had noticed before, there are a number of ways to go from the river
to the Tonto between Diamond Creek and Trail Canyon (east side).

At our stage of water, we went to the left of the rock that caused me
trouble on my air mattress at Mile 99.7. The rocks where I had scraped
my elbow were submerged completely. At several places in the Jewel
Rapids, the waves were roaring from wall to wall. I realized I had
passed through at a better stage for a mattress float if you want to
walk the bank. Below Havasu Creek, the way looked easy for a long quiet
float with access to a bank at any time. Every rapid would be easy to
bypass on the bank, something which is not true again in the lower
granite gorge below Diamond Creek.

*	Kirby Trail to Blank Tank Wash
[June 23, 1970 to June 24, 1970]*

I remembered the way to drive to the head of the Kirby Trail almost
perfectly. The dirt road to Hualapai Hilltop is marked now and one
leaves the marked route just west of a big cattle pen by a pond to go to
the ranch called The Well. It is still nine miles to the trailhead, over
two south to a gate west through a north south fence. One more fork
takes one past a metal tank and later a turn to the south at a
crossroads puts one on the single track to the trailhead. I was still
impressed by the amount of work that was put into trail construction. I
had the mistaken impression that about halfway down all work ceases. It
is true that most of the lower part has been wrecked by rolling stones,
but there is still some construction to be found, and the same gentle
gradient is maintained if one is careful to stay on the trail.

North of the trail end on the right side of the wash is a corral formed
partly of stone and partly of wire. Farther north a wire fence was put
across the entire valley. This must be the fence that caused the death
of a number of cattle as mentioned by Casanova, but now it wouldn't stop
anything. The spring is rather high on the left side just south of the
fence. It comes out where some travertine shows, and it is not as high
as the base of the Coconino. Someone built a cement basin with a pipe
leading to it, but now the water misses the pipe. The wild Supai horses
have to lap the water from the very shallow and muddy pool, but I could
catch a steady stream by putting my hand on a flat rock and guiding the
water off the end of my thumb. I was carrying the Williams 1/250,000
Quad, but I soon lost my bearings and didn't know where I was until I
came to Cactus Canyon on the Supai Quad, the only big canyon coming in
from the right. Until then I wasn't sure that I would reach Highwall
Spring in good time. With the scale of the Supai Quad, I could recognize
every bit of the rim and I saw the Kla La Pa Trail right on schedule. I
had worried a bit about whether the Highwall Spring would be flowing
since it had such a small volume in the spring. When I got to it, 18
horses were milling around in the bed waiting to get a drink or else to
get some more water. The water surfaces for only a few yards and the
whole bed was now smelling of manure and urine. The horses left and let
me think over the situation. The nearest better water would be up Moki
(Moque) Trail Canyon and I hadn't seen that for several hot dry weeks.
It was 4:30 p.m. and I was good and tired, so I took one of the shovels
that the Indians had left and tried to improve two puddles so that I
could dip from them with a cup. After 20 minutes I filled a canteen and
doped it with Halazone. There wasn't too much taste, but the smell
nearly turned my stomach. I remembered Gunga Din and made the stuff do
until I got back to Kirby Spring on Wednesday. After a suitable rest
period, I started on to see whether I could go up Blank Tank Wash to
reach the place where I had been over a year ago. It took from five to
six just to get to the junction. I used 25 minutes to get to where I
could take a picture of my rope route last year. Even without my pack, I
felt pretty shot when I got back to the spring and I ate food that
needed no cooking.

My bed was under an overhang which may explain why I was able to use so
little cover all night. Until midnight I needed only my underwear and
then I spent the rest of the night in just shirt and trousers on top of
my bag.

On Tuesday I noted the two ruins I had seen before between the Kla La Pa
Trail and the spring, and while returning from Blank Tank Wash, I also
saw another on the north side under an overhang about five minutes walk
from the junction.

Walnut trees, box elders, and Hackberry trees grow at intervals in the
bed. From halfway up the Kirby Trail one sees a fine natural bridge
north of the trail.

*	Recovery of pots at Mile 43.3 (Eminence Break Route)
[June 25, 1970 to June 26, 1970]*

I have pretty well covered this route in my logs for 10/12/63, 10/27/63,
and 9/20/64. On rereading them I see that I was not moving as fast this
time as I had before. Six years of age and the heat would explain this
discrepancy. My time from the road to the river was 145 minutes and to
go back up I took 220 minutes. The day was the hottest ever recorded at
Flagstaff, but when I got down at 12:30 p.m., I sat in the water to eat.

The river seemed about as high as when we had come by the rock at
Harding in the boat but it fell quite a bit by evening. I used a trail
that seems to be stamped out by river runners to get to the campsite
above the first fast water, about Mile 43.4. When I went up along the
east side of the big rockfall, I noticed that river people have made a
trail and I began to worry that someone might already have taken the
pots. At the top of the rockfall I climbed one crack up to the next
ledge and began to wonder whether I was supposed to go up a second. The
pots were not over to the east at this level, so I climbed on up. My
reaction to this climbing was that it was a bit harder than where Euler
was turned back below the driftwood platform almost exactly across the
river. When I went east along this higher ledge, I still didn't see any
pots, and I began to get nervous. Even if someone had taken the loose
pots, I ought to see the crack where the other three were wedged under a
small rockfall. I began to understand how the men who discovered mines
can manage to lose them. After looking harder at the lower level and
taking a picture or two of the ruin down and to the west, I climbed back
up to the second ledge. This time I looked a few feet higher and saw the
outer pots. Then, of course, I found the inner pots but was unable to
loosen the bits of rock and dirt that have fallen around them. The outer
one is already broken and I was able to take a piece of it for study. If
an archeologist wants to come in here with the right tools and remove
the rock chips or perhaps break the pots to get them out, that will be
his decision. I got enough pictures so that it shouldn't be too hard for
someone on a boat trip to find them and do the right thing.

Years pass between times when I see a chuckwalla, but I saw two on the
way down and one on the way out. I detoured perhaps ten minutes this
morning to check some minor cave openings. They were only five or six
feet deep. There are some other openings that I didn't take time for.
Davis might have a field day down this route.

After getting the pots on Thursday, I had a lot of time to read Time and
wonder whether the place would be crawling with tourists about 5:00 p.m.
They must have all come through on Wednesday. I had the place to myself,
shade under a tamarisk clump until the sun went behind a cliff, then I
got my soup cooked while I thought about the beauty of the area. The
quiet water upriver beneath the bulging cliffs make it one of the finest
places to stop. The river was running clear again. There were a few
flies, but they didn't bother me as they had in upper Havasu Canyon.
Sleeping only a few yards above the river level kept me just cool enough
to enjoy all the cover I had brought.

In the morning the river had risen several feet and for the first time
in my experience, water completely covered the rock in President Harding
Rapid.

I missed my road on the way west. Well west of Tooth Butte there is an
isolated outcrop of bare rock south of a fork in the main road. Take the
north fork and don't worry when you go by a hogan on a rather obscure
track. The old main road got washed out and they established a new one
parallel to it. It should be only 21.6 miles from Cedar Ridge to the
head of the Eminence Break Route.

*	Up Wotan like an Indian (almost)
[June 30, 1970 to July 2, 1970]*

Compare with logs for June 1st, 2nd, and 24th, 1962. I have said more
than once that the Wotan climb is one that I would like to repeat. It
had become more interesting when I found that there is a nice little
spring just beneath the Coconino about 150 yards southwest of the foot
of the ropeless route down from the Sky Island Promontory. When I heard
that two of Schwartz's student diggers had tried going to Wotan by this
old Indian route, unsuccessfully, I was all the more eager to undertake
it at this time.

I reached the north rim well before lunch and had a good visit at
headquarters with Beck and Joe Hall. Then we drove out to the Walhalla
Glades parking and I talked to Doug Schwartz for quite a while. His two
hikers had made their way down the hairy part of the ropeless ravine,
the one to the west of the car wreck, and then had had tough going along
the Hermit. They had found the spring, but one of them had a very heavy
pack and one took a bad slip on a slab of stone. When they came to a
mean looking shale slope under Angel's Window, they turned back and they
came up the same day they started down. I learned that Doug is going
over to Wotan in a week or so by chopper with an entire day to explore
the top for ruins.

At 5:00 p.m., I started down the familiar route which I had covered four
times in early June. It was easy to lower my pack at the two worst
places in the lower Coconino and I left the 50 foot rope tied to a tree
at the lower place. I have to move slowly and feel for the best holds,
but I am getting used to the place that turned me back three years ago
as well as the easier one where I flunked last summer. I reached the
spring in 80 minutes from the truck. No mosquitoes wanted to bite, but
there were lots of bats constantly dashing in under the overhang where I
was sleeping with my feet about a yard from the water. The night was
about right for my light down bag but for the first half I lay half out
of the bag wearing thermal underwear above the waist.

My breakfast of bread and dates was eaten by the first light and I was
ready to go by 4:45 a.m. fresh from the night's rest and with no heat to
slow me, I got over the difficult slope to below Angel's Window in 70
minutes compared to the 100 it took at the end of the day. I used much
the same route, up close to the base of the Coconino, both times. The
shale slope beyond this angle is easier and I was ready to start up the
talus near the northeast corner of the Throne by 7:15.

My memory of the route up the Coconino was very vague after eight years.
I feel fairly sure that I followed much the same route for there seems
to be no choice at several crucial places. One leaves the talus about 20
yards from its top. There are places where one needs to move slowly over
sloping slabs and meager roughness and three cracks behind blocks. I had
the same trouble locating the second of these that I experienced with
Cureton in 1962, but the top one of these is the easier to miss on the
return. The Indian rock shelter is about the third crack and I saw it
both going up and on the return, but in coming down I still made the
mistake of descending the easy dead end and slope below it instead of
moving to the east. One completes the scramble up to the Toroweap Gate
in the bed of a ravine.

The way to the west beyond the gate is quite exposed and meager and the
break through to the top of the Toroweap seemed harder and longer than I
recorded it before. This time I found an old rusty small condensed milk
can on the ledge beyond the gate. To go around to the west end of the
Throne along the north side, I stayed high close to the foot of the
cliff. This time I looked especially at the north ridge where the Wood
Party said they climbed to the top. I was wrong when I said that there
is no way to get started up. Someone like Davis should try this as a
route (Packard and Walters went up). It would remove a lot of my
skepticism if this route toes, but there are other inconsistencies in
their story. I felt that I was proceeding quite a bit slower than when I
was eight years younger, but I reached the rim from the bottom of the
talus in two hours and 20 minutes, just as in 1962.

This time I just walked to the point closest Cape Royal and returned to
the Clubb cairn marking the descent from the rim by 11:00 a.m. After
having lunch I got started down at 11:40 a.m. and reached camp at the
spring by 5:15 p.m. The day didn't seem hot at my level and I had quite
a bit of shade beside the cliffs on the return.

The top impressed me again as being quite dense with the pygmy forest
and I noticed a great many thickets of buffalo berry bushes. Allyn and I
had had the luck to walk right into two Indian ruins. This time I tried
walking where I thought they should be, but I didn't see a thing on my
way northeast. On the return I was somewhat farther south and I came
upon one low wall that should be part of a ruin.

After almost 12 hours on the move, I was quite happy to lie on my air
mattress and rest before dinner. Birds of several kinds were common near
the spring and two with olive undersides perched upside down to get a
drink where the drops were forming on the ceiling. When I was half awake
at one time of the night, I heard larger animals moving around nearby,
almost certainly deer, but I don't think they got up their courage to
approach me close enough to drink. Small rocks also fell within easy
earshot. While I was eating breakfast, a three inch scorpion crossed the
bare rock between the water and the nearest cover. This is the first one
I have seen without having someone point it out.

Going back to the rim Thursday morning was all right except that I
snarled the rope in some brush when I tried to throw it up while I
stayed below to position the pack. It would have been faster if I had
carried it up the difficult climb in the crack and had dropped one end
down in the right place.

The trip was not as thrilling as if it had been my first attempt on
Wotan, but it was satisfying to know that I can still do such things
that discouraged the 20 year olds. To indulge in a little firstitis,
this seems to be the only solo climb of Wotan and I am now six years
older than Clubb was when he climbed Wotan last. He would have mentioned
the spring to me if he had known about it. The chance to start fresh
from the base of the Coconino and not have to carry a real pack on the
second day makes a world of difference. I left the spring with a gallon
of water and still was carrying a quart when I reached the spring at
5:15 p.m. This system will reduce the Wotan climb to mere routine for
one who isn't upset by the tedious and precarious footing along the
Hermit slope.

*	Second ascent of Lyell Butte
[July 25, 1970]*

Jim Sears and Bob Packard went with me. If I had reread my log of
7/31/65, I would have been better prepared for the exhausting day that
we had. Al Doty had also told Jim that it was a hard day to go up Lyell
and get back. We used Al's route and left the Kaibab Trail just below
the Coconino. One can follow a deer trail almost all the way from here
to the east side of Shoshone Point. Near the Kaibab Trail we found a
couple of hats and a few cans, apparently lost or thrown from the trail
high in the Coconino. On the return I was lower and found a steel
cylinder for compressed gas, perhaps lost from the pipeline construction
job (others found a wrecked car and two dead bodies).

We were feeling energetic in the cool of the day and although the deer
trail went up and down a lot, we got to a point above the end of the
east arm of Cremation in one hour and ten minutes compared to the one
hour and 45 minutes I needed along the rim of the Redwall. It was
routine to go down into the valley on the east of Shoshone Point from
the Hermit level. I was expecting rainpools when we reached the Redwall,
but the only one we saw was thick with red mud. Bob was contouring along
above the bed and Jim and I didn't go down into the Redwall as far as we
could have. We joined Bob and proceeded toward the saddle at the
southwest end of Lyell.

By 11:30 a.m. I had my first warning, a cramp on the inside of the knee.
By 11:50 I had a feeling of unusual weakness and called the lunch break.
It was only a little farther to the saddle southwest of Lyell where I
left my day pack and one canteen. We started up toward the northwest
side of Lyell because we could see a place that might be a break in the
massive cliff. Jim got ahead and went up here. He reported that there
were two possibilities above a ledge that was easy to reach, but he said
that both were hard. I felt sure that Al Doty's route was around on the
other side. Jim managed to climb the easier of his two cracks with a lot
of effort, a difficult feat with his summit pack containing a gallon
canteen.

Bob joined me on the southeast side just after I found Al's route marked
by a cairn. It was a crack behind a block, but it had a hard section
requiring chimney work. The bother was that this is not wide enough to
sit against one wall with the feet against the other. I didn't feel up
to the real effort it requires for about a vertical yard. As we were
considering this difficulty, Jim appeared above us. I had brought my
climbing rope in the truck but had about decided to leave it there. Bob
carried it for us in his pack, and now we tossed one end to Jim who tied
it around a big rock above the crack. With the rope for a grip, Bob and
I were able to go up.

This is the crucial place in the climb. We angled to the east up the
slope and found a fairly easy way to get through the next small cliff.
Immediately in front the summit block is impossible, but there are
simple walk ups farther to the northeast on both sides of the top. Al
had really built a fine big cairn. The bare rock surface toward the
northeast end had a number of pockets with water in them. By this time
my leg cramps were bothering a lot. We returned by the same route except
that we tried the very base of the Coconino from Shoshone Point west.
Jim and Bob liked this better than I did. There would be fine level
clear sections and then lots of brush and rockfalls. After 20 minutes of
this, I dropped down to the deer trail we had used in the morning. By
now I was walking very slowly to try to prevent the cramps from getting
worse. When Bob and Jim were about three quarters of the way from
Shoshone to the Kaibab Trail, they also came down to the trial and were
waiting for me. By the time I had rested and eaten a little, it was 6:50
p.m. We got to the truck before 7:30. Our water had just barely held
out, but we had had the break of a cooling rain from 2 until 3:15. The
day had been surprisingly cool for this time of year. I was feeling
discouraged about my showing, but my log of the trip five years ago
shows that I had more trouble then. It is a rough trip for one day.

*	Redwall west of the spring in Cottonwood
[August 1, 1970]*

Joe Crano, a calculus student of mine, went with me. We were going back
to Havatagvich to do the rappel, but I was afraid that we wouldn't have
time to do it right and also get back in time for a bridge party, so I
took Joe to Cottonwood Canyon to try to duplicate the climb Bob Dye made
last spring.

The upper part of the Grandview Trail seems a little worse each time I
use it. When the upper log crib finally goes, it will be rather hard to
use. We could still move right along though, and we needed only 100
minutes to go from the parking lot to the spring in the wet arm of
Cottonwood. We had at least as much trouble finding the water as Packard
and I had last September. I had to dig down in the mud to make a pocket
of water deep enough to pick up half a cupful.

We left all but a canteen at the spring and started to climb about 11:00
a.m. I figured I knew where Dye went up, the ravine in the Redwall about
200 yards south of where Doty and I gave up trying to climb the place
that looks very broken from a distance. One can't see whether the ravine
is hard or safe until he is right beneath it. Right at the top of the
slope one has to climb vertically for 10 feet, but there are plenty of
holds. Above, the ravine splits about three ways. We went up the place
that seemed easier, the eastern most ravine. After some talus walking we
came to another vertical pitch where the holds seemed less adequate. I
got about halfway up the 20 foot hard place and decided that it was a
bit strong medicine for an old man. Joe went through the motions of
having me belay him from below, but he was really on his own as he went
up. If he had fallen, he probably would have stopped of his own accord,
but he might have been badly hurt by the sharp edges that were sticking
out everywhere. I used the rope as a handrail when I went up here.

After another scree scramble, we came to a chockstone overhang. It was
not too hard to pass but again I put some reliance on the ropes after
Joe climbed it. We found ourselves looking down on the outside of the
cliff, but by going down a few yards we could go north to a bench that
seemed to continue to another ravine leading out on top of the Redwall.
One would either have to go up and get over another chockstone or stay
lower and pass a place where the cliff was almost bare with a lot of
exposure. I went up to look while Joe was coiling the rope properly. I
might have found good holds, but I would have had to pull myself up and
over the overhang. I looked at my watch and decided that we should be
getting down to the spring. We were already a half hour behind my
proposed timetable.

After a leisurely lunch we got started back about 1:30 p.m. I hoped to
make it by 4:30, but Joe had more difficulty in walking out than I did.
We were both out by 4:55 and Joe had been working so hard he had an
upset stomach. I had been waiting for him and felt no strain nor any
stiffness after I had been driving back. It is an interesting place, and
we both feel sure that if we had had more time we could have made it up.
I'll have to ask Bob Dye more about the place he climbed the Redwall. If
it was where we climbed, I am not surprised that he was very willing to
walk down to the west of the old miner's trail through the Redwall. It
was more difficult to get down than up.

*	Trip to Siegfried
[August 24, 1970 to August 25, 1970]*

Donald Davis and Robbie Babb had climbed Siegfried Pyre in June by the
approach that I had found as a possibility for Harry McDonald to leave
the rim of the Walhalla Plateau. I still don't have any absolute
certainty that this was the route he used because the old cairn at the
top of Poston Butte is the only bit of evidence that a man has even been
this way before. There are two or three places in the lower Coconino in
the bay west of Point Atoka that would be practically impossible for a
loaded burro, but there is no sign that there was ever any trail
construction here, and we have found no trees cut to allow the burros
access through the dense woods northeast from the Coconino descent. On
the other hand, the route down to Kibbey butte shows a broad trail cut
into the soil at the rim and there is a definite piece of retaining wall
built at one place in the Coconino which was found by Lange when he was
studying Silent River Cave. Of course there are plenty of places lower
down where trail construction would be needed, but a former artificial
trail might have been completely obliterated in 70 years. The chief
argument against the Kibbey Butte route is that it would be little if
any shorter than the Nankoweap Trail for reaching the McDonald workings
at the mouth of Lava Creek. On a real trail a man could go from the base
of Point Atoka to the mouth of Lava Creek in one very long day compared
to the day and a half required for the other routes. Jorgen Visbak
didn't know the nature of the project ahead of time, but he wanted to do
some hiking at this time. He met me at the Ranger Station just after
3:00 p.m. on Monday. We visited mostly with Ken Hulick and chatted with
Joe Hall. I tried to find Beck, but he seemed to be away. Well after
five we drove my truck out to fire road E6 and started down. My system
of reaching the rim rather soon and starting down within less than ten
minutes of leaving the car worked fine. We didn't locate any good trails
until we were well down in the trees, but I saw my landmark, a little
tower of Toroweap rock, standing out near the end of the promontory to
the east of the right bay. I went on the east side of the pulpit rock
that splits the bay at the height of the top of the Coconino, but I
didn't get a good enough look to see my own cairn near its end. Jorgen
and I took only 35 minutes to go from the truck to the spring at the
base of the route through the Coconino. We spotted a good cairn left
almost surely by Davis and Babb at the base of the Coconino and the
little dam that they built to form a small pool at the spring just west
of the cairn was still in good shape.

We had a bit of trouble finding places level and smooth enough for our
beds, but Jorgen scraped out a place near the top of a slope at the base
of the wall about 50 yards west of the spring and I found a spot about
50 feet farther west and down from his. There were a couple of
mosquitoes but I slept all right with my head under my jacket. Since the
elevation is 8353 where we left our truck, it would be well over 7000
feet where we slept. My light down bag was just right.

About 10:40 p.m., after both of us had been asleep, I woke up to a
startling sound. At the top of the Coconino, 350 feet above me, I heard
a lot of rock coming down. Without stopping to think, I found myself,
still in the bag, hopping seven feet and crouching against the wall with
just a second to wonder whether the big stuff would pile down on me. I
thought I heard some grapefruit sized rocks land in the brush about 15
feet away, but the biggest stuff that peppered my air mattress was from
dust to the size of a silver dollar and about as heavy. I shouted to
Jorgen that I was all right. He had awakened only when the chips and
dust landed on him, but our only casualty was that my new air mattress
was cut and the metal reel for my adhesive tape was crimped. This
experience made me wonder about sleeping here. There is a little room
under a protecting ledge near the spring.

In the morning we started down below the descent ravine as I had done
before, but then we tried going up to the base of the Coconino like
Davis and Babb. This route is better until you get around the point
where you begin to see Gunther. Then we learned the hard way that the
brush is so bad up high that one should go low. I have had quite a bit
of experience with thickets of New Mexico locust, but I had never
learned to love it. Jorgen decided that jumping cactus along the burro
trails of the Western Grand Canyon is just good clean fun compared to
the mess we got into. We took four hours to go from the spring to the
saddle between Kwagunt and Lava. Jorgen's knee had been bothering him
and here he suggested that I go on to the Siegfried without him.

I remembered manzanita as being quite bad on the south side of the
"Little Siegfried" in the middle of this saddle so I went behind it on
the way to Siegfried but on the return I took the more direct route on
the south side. I believe the latter is a bit faster. The way to the
southwest angle of Siegfried is much faster walking than what we had
already done and I was able to get from Jorgen's viewpoint to the Davis
Babb ravine in one hour. One goes up the lowest part of the Coconino
just west of the bottom of the chute and then it is a walk up through
over half the Coconino. I climbed up one pitch where attention has to be
paid to hand and toe grips. Here, just below a split in the top of the
ravine, I ate my lunch. I had promised Jorgen to turn back at 1:00 p.m.,
but I recall how I feel if I am waiting for another man, and I decided
to go back early. I assume that the route above here leaves the narrow
slot straight ahead and crosses into a somewhat wider one forking to the
north, the left, facing up (route to east). Progress might have been a
little hairy for me alone. I ought to bring Al Doty or Jim Sears along.
I went far enough to appreciate the accomplishment of Davis and Babb. I
got back to Jorgen an hour before he would begin to worry.

Going down, even below some ledges of Supai east of Point Atoka and
having to climb up again frequently was much easier than the brush. We
went to the base of the Coconino again when we were west of Point Atoka
and we reached our packs in 190 minutes. We saw the red and yellow
columbines along here but on the return we missed two sources of water
that we had seen on the way out. One was a little pool against the cliff
which is less than an hour's walk from where we slept and the other was
a trickle in a streambed in the next to last draw before we reached the
Kwagunt Lava Saddle. A deer trail led to this water from the north, but
we got into some of the worst brush of all after crossing this water.

We had an early dinner where we had slept the first night and then
walked up to the rim. It was rather dark in the rim woods while we were
walking to the highway and we slept on the fire road near the truck.

To give Jorgen's knee a rest we canceled our plan to attempt the
Colonade and took on another project of mine, to see the lakes in the
deep woods north of the Mogollon Rim. I found the mosquitoes bad
northeast of Payson and the night too warm for staying in the bag, so we
got up at 11:00 p.m. and drove up near Woods Canyon Lake for the rest of
the night. After covering the lake in my kayak, we went on to have a
look at Chevelon Canyon Lake. I had been warned not to go down the last
grade to the lake without a four wheeler, but after I covered the top
three fourths of the place that the Forest Service says is not
maintained, I began to think that it would all go, and it was too late
to turn around when I saw how bad the lower part really is. The problem
is getting back up ledges of bedrock almost a foot high. I was really
discouraged, but Jorgen insisted that we could build roadway with loose
rocks. On the first try, I spun the wheels and flipped the loose rocks
out of place. Then Jorgen rerouted me and indicated the right ramp with
green weeds on top of his structure. I loaded about 300 pounds of rock
in the back of the pickup and came up in compound very slowly. I just
barely made it.

We were greatly impressed with Bear Canyon Lake and found that the only
car approach to the water is from the northeast at the dam. One can't
get a boat trailer to the water at Knoll Lake, but it would be easy to
launch a kayak. The drive along the rim and across Clear Creek Canyon
was spectacular. I certainly want to go back.

*	Redwall climbs in Cottonwood Canyon
[September 19, 1970]*

The west side of the wet arm of Cottonwood Canyon had caught my eye for
years. On 11/11/69 Al Doty and I had tried going up the broad bent
Redwall that I had noted from across the canyon, but even the lower part
of this seemed rather risky. On 12/13/69 I had gone up the Redwall near
the point between the wet arm and the long south arm of Cottonwood while
Bob Dye was coming down at the same place. Then I had gone around the
rim to the west while Bob found a way to go up and join me. He talked me
out of trying to come down from above where Al and I had gone up a short
way, and he also didn't seem eager to take me down the route he had just
ascended. We had gone down the horse trail into the west arm of
Cottonwood. Then on 8/1/70 Joe Grano and I had tried going up what I
thought had been Dye's route, a narrow and steep slot that opens to the
southeast and is not apparent until one is right to it. In going south
from the slump area, we passed an open ravine that would be easy at the
bottom. I thought it might be worth a try, but I had formed the idea
that Dye's route was in the hidden ravine farther south. Joe and I ran
out of time just as we came to the worst place in our rather hairy climb.

On the present occasion Al Doty and I got off to an early start and were
walking down the Grandview Trail by 7:40 a.m. It seems perceptibly worse
than on 8/1/70 and the upper part may fall out to where the Grandview
will be classified as a daring mountain climb absolutely impossible for
horses.

As we approached Horseshoe Mesa, I pointed to a climb down in the
Redwall just south of a knoll before one comes to the bay on the west
side of the neck. We decided to check it instead of following the trail.
When we got closer, I confused this knoll with one considerably farther
south. There is a large cairn, three feet high by one and a half feet
thick, about 30 feet down where the going gets steep, so we took this as
a good sign that the route would be possible. After getting down a chute
we came to the hardest place, an almost perpendicular drop of 50 feet,
but with handholds and some ledges. I did a body rappel for 12 feet
using a juniper for my doubled rope, but Al went down using holds in the
limestone. When I was down I went up and down the same way. This place
is just a shade more difficult than the way I found through the Redwall
on the east side of Papago Canyon. If we had been coming up we would
have taken a turn to the south and finished by a simple scramble. There
was just a little route finding necessary to get through the lower
limestone. I had seen O'Neill Spring, dry at the time, only once 13
years ago, so I thought we had time to check it again. This time we must
have never gotten on the right trail. We must have been too low after
going down south of the spring. We did go north until we figured we were
on the spur away from the regular trail, but there seems to be two
spurs. We must have followed an old burro trail that led us farther
south than the place we had come through the Redwall. We finally gave up
the search and went down to the bed of the wash. I would still like to
go down the Redwall where we had intended to and also follow the trail
to the spring.

The spring in the wet arm of Cottonwood could profit by some channeling.
It spreads over a bed several yards wide and is so sluggish that a lot
of scum develops. We had trouble getting a hole deep enough to get clear
water free of the oily looking scum. I found that I had led Joe Grano
too far upstream for the best flow. Al and I ate a very early lunch here
and filled our canteens.

This time we went up the ravine midway between the slump area in the
Redwall and the ravine that Joe and I had attempted. Very soon we were
sure that we were using Bob Dye's route. He had mentioned a short
chimney climb and the idea that he could have found a bypass to the
south for this place. Al and I saw this and used it. It is straight
forward steep climbing with lots of holds. Just south of where we came
out on a bench there is a small cairn which Bob had also seen. Instead
of going directly up via a simple chute, we walked the bench to the
south and looked down where Joe and I had stopped. Using the juniper for
an anchor, it would be easy to rappel to where I had stood. Climbing up
to our bench would be far harder here than where we had just climbed up
to the cairn.

On our way back along the bench to the chute through the top member of
Redwall I spotted an old shovel in a hole at the base of the cliff. Some
dark red different looking rock seemed to be the attraction.

Al wanted to go back via Grapevine Canyon. Instead of going south and
climbing up the Supai where Packard and I had come down, I led Doty
along the Redwall to the north and showed him the old mining camp. It
was noon so we ate the rest of our lunch. I found that I had left my can
opener down at the spring and I opened a small can of peaches by
stabbing it with the point of a pickax. Al and I were impressed with the
kind of men who would live down in that place in a tent in weather cold
enough to require a heating stove bringing in all supplies via the
Grandview Trail, the Tonto Trail, and the horse trail up the west arm of
Cottonwood. We wondered whether they really had visions of wealth or
whether they just liked the life.

We had to go quite a bit farther north to get around the base of the
Supai and it was rather slow going to follow the Redwall rim back south
in Grapevine. I noted the twin hollows below the top member of Redwall
where Art Lange had found the olla.

We began working our way up through the Supai and we ascended the ravine
that breaks through the Supai wall about three fourths of the way from
the bottom of the formation. Doty was leading here and we had a little
trouble with loose rocks that he couldn't help dislodging. We noticed
that there is quite a fault through this ridge with the Coconino about
60 feet lower on the south side of the break. Near the top I left the
ravine and thus missed seeing a small rattlesnake just over a foot long.
We had to climb through something like a third of the Coconino as we
went along the ridge up to the trail. This route using the fault is
probably easier than the ways I have been down through here before, but
it would be better if one were alone and didn't have to worry about
starting rockslides.

*	Left bank from Mile 30.4 to Mile 24.3
[October 3, 1970 to October 4, 1970]*

Norvel Johnson came to our house at five on Friday afternoon as per
agreement. Storm warnings were out and we took our time about deciding
what to do. I thought about waiting until Saturday morning and then
going to Grandview Point where the car could stay on the pavement, but
by 8:15 p.m. the sky was full of stars and we decided to go to Cedar
Ridge and turn toward Shinumo Altar that evening. We pulled off the dirt
road about six miles from the highway thinking that we would have a
quiet though short night. Trucks and cars kept passing at least every
hour all night. One of them stopped and a young Navaho asked me if I
knew where the squaw dance was being held. I hadn't been out to the head
of the 29 Mile Canyon Trail since 1963, but I found the way with the
help of the map. With no fumbles in the drive, we left the truck by 7:45
a.m. The head of the trail is marked by a large cairn, but when it went
along a bench just above the bottom of the wash and seemed to end at the
edge of a cliff, I was confused. Norvel pointed out that he could see
the trail below and that we should go down to the bed. We soon saw that
the trail went this way. Some of the immediate switchbacks are cut in
solid rock with the aid of dynamite. Here is one trail that could be
made impassable with one well placed stick of dynamite. The Coconino
section had also been cut in solid rock, but it is quite possible that
there was a prehistoric climber's trail through here. A horse might
still get down to the bed of the wash at the Hermit Supai contact, but
there is now no trace of a horse trail down the bed of the wash. There
are numerous places where one has to scramble over large boulders with
considerable use of the hands. Incidentally, the thickness of the Hermit
Shale may set a record about here for it may well be 500 feet thick.

Near the top of the Supai, I recognized the place where Henry Hall and I
left our packs in February, 1963. There was no water in the hollows of
the bare rock on Saturday, but on Sunday there was plenty. the first
water we saw on Saturday was down in the Redwall of 29 Mile Wash. There
was a shallow pocket within easy reach and down in a steep sided hole
was water several feet deep. One could count on this second pool, but he
would need a 15 foot cord to let a pan down to reach the water.

We used 45 minutes to reach the bed of the wash from the truck and 95
more minutes to get to the first Redwall. After a pause we started on
along the rim of the Redwall upriver and reached Tiger Wash in two
hours, about noon. Norvel was feeling his lack of condition and called
for a 15 minute rest, but still we needed only two hours to cover this
lap. There were a couple of easily accessible water pockets and some
ledges where we could camp. Norvel stayed behind for quite a while after
lunch and found some bigger water pockets up the bed above where we stopped.

I went ahead without my pack with the understanding that I would return
by 5:00 p.m. I had predicted incorrectly that we would be able to reach
the river at Tiger Wash, and now I wondered whether we would be able to
get down to the beach before Mile 24.7 at Stanton's Marble Pier.
Opposite Tiger Wash we could see a sure way to get down to the river
from the top of the Redwall on the right side. Walking the Redwall rim
didn't average as easy north of Tiger Wash, but I reached the ravine at
Cave Springs Rapid in 45 minutes. Here one could go down to the river
and up through the Supai also. It is obvious that there is a sure way to
get from the Hermit down to the river on the right side.

The whole route along the Redwall upriver from 29 Mile Wash shows
practically no sign of any constructed trail, but we saw a couple of
cairns north of Tiger Wash, the most obvious being just north of the
mouth of the wash. When I had been gone for some time, Norvel started
north also and he got past Cave Springs. I followed the riverbank more
than I did the Redwall rim north of Cave Springs. There were, however, a
couple of places where the water came up to the wall in spite of the
fact that the river was quite low. A big red rock was well exposed in
Cave Springs Rapid. The next rapid upriver had a rock showing now and
then under less than a foot of water rather close to the center.
Navigation at this stage would present problems.

After his trip through the canyon last June, Paul Martin, botany
professor at the U of A, told me that he had seen a juniper growing near
the river. I don't know where he had seen his, but as I was getting down
from the Redwall rim between Cave Springs and 24.7 Mile Wash, I saw
three growing about 60 feet above the river level.

There were several fissures through the Supai in this section on the
right bank, but there was none that would surely give access from the
Hermit down farther upstream than a talus opposite Mile 24.7 Wash.
Someone once told me that Stanton's Marble Pier is really Supai but I
would insist that it is of the upper member of the Redwall. I have
wondered about the name pier. I would think that "turret" would be more
descriptive. There may be a way up through the Supai to the east here
also, but I would feel more sure about the broken area farther upriver.
I am fairly sure that if one came down through the Kaibab and Coconino
at Mile 21.7, he could go along the Hermit Shale for less than two miles
before finding a place to reach the river.

When I had gone upriver to about Mile 24.5, I was beginning to think
about my time limit. I was going along the sand beneath a fringe of
willows when out of the thicket not more than a dozen feet away came two
beavers, one not much more than a baby. They slithered into the water
and I could see them swimming underwater for 50 feet or more. All the
time that we were in sight of the river, the water remained as clear as
a mountain stream. There are almost no mid bars now, but there are still
plenty of clean sandbars. I sat still and watched for the beavers. The
baby disappeared completely, but the mother came to the surface and
floated in the slack water. She finally came almost to the landing near
me where she had entered the water and then she turned and swam upriver
to another, more remote landing.

On the return I saw Norvel's tracks and then overtook him soon after I
had climbed away from the river opposite Cave Springs. We arrived at
camp about 5:00 p.m. and had plenty of time to do the cooking and eating
by daylight. It was so clear, although it had sprinkled about 11 that
morning, that I put aside all thoughts of sleeping under an overhang.
After I had had the first solid sleep of the night, I awoke with rain in
the face. I merely got inside my tube tent and let it rain, which it did
for another hour or so. My light down bag was plenty warm. By midnight
the stars were out and the rest of the night was fine. Enough rain had
fallen to put water in all the shallow pockets.

We walked back to 29 Mile Wash in about 110 minutes. Norvel decided he
would like to see Vasey's from the trail along the rim of the Redwall.
This section of the Bureau of Reclamation Trail is as well preserved as
the trail to Clear Creek and one can make good time. When we were about
to Mile 30.4, Norvel said his knee was bothering and he thought it would
be good to stop at the place where we could get down to the water. Here
I made a discovery. At one end of the lower sandbars, a fairly large
spring is discharging about as much water into the river as flows down
Clear Creek. It was not warm but it felt several degrees warmer than the
river. I looked at the current at this slack stage and decided that I
could swim across here if I didn't get too cold.

Both of us were impressed by the fault. I noted that the Simmons and
Gaskill Guide gives the offset as 200 feet. I was estimating it as less,
but it is obviously quite a throw.

On the return to our packs we saw a part of a pick handle and an empty
dynamite box. After an early lunch we walked from the Redwall contact to
the truck in two hours and 50 minutes. Norvel's and my pace up the
grades at the end was evenly matched. We drove to the end of the various
roads and got some fine views before starting back to Flagstaff.

Saturday afternoon we heard and saw a baloney going below. They shut off
the motor and we exchanged a few remarks.

*	O'Neil Butte
[October 17, 1970]*

Donald Davis heard that a British Columbia climbing party was going to
attempt O'Neill Butte and then he was rather sure that he could see a
cairn on its summit with the aid of binoculars. Last year Al Doty
succeeded in climbing it solo and he reported a maneuver that was
unusual. He tied a piton to the end of his rope and was able to toss it
over a stout bush. Jim Sears and some of his friends had also climbed
the butte twice since Al had succeeded. They hadn't needed the rope over
the bush.

Today we met Al and Jane Doty at the ranger headquarters and Joe Greno
and I went down the South Kaibab Trail with him while Jane went out to
Yaki Point to see what she could see. I couldn't leave home until about
10:00 a.m. since I had an assignment meeting alumni. We didn't start
down the trail until 11:40. Al had already been down to Horseshoe Mesa
Butte and climbed it getting back to the truck by 10:30 a.m.

We reached the saddle just south of O'Neill in 35 minutes from the
parking lot and probably took about ten minutes to get around to the
north side of the butte. Jim Sears had talked about an easier way than
Al had found which involved getting into a crack which was wider inside
than on the outside. Al saw the way he had started up, but we spent some
time trying to find the way we thought Jim had used. To the west side of
the north end we found a fine crack but when I came out at the top of
this fissure, we were faced with a bare cliff, and we were no higher
than we had been at the end of the easy walk. We looked at a couple of
places that Al figured he might be able to scale and then decided to go
up where he had been before.

With the rock completely dry this time, Al was able to use a crack on
one side of the steep but not perpendicular pitch and then get across to
the bush he had used for the rope. The rest of this pitch was steep but
with good holds. About 30 feet up he fastened the rope and I went up
with one hand holding on. Joe also put some tension on the rope on the
way up, but on the return he free climbed down with only the rope for a
belay.

We were on a safe bench and Al led us to the west 30 or 40 yards. The
Sears party had built a cairn out on a prominent rock below a vertical
crack. It was the same place that Al had used on his previous climb. For
about 15 vertical feet, Al had to go up in an angle with a crack wide
enough for a foot. A few small stones which were wedged in the crack
offered a few grips. He made this with ease but again I put considerable
pull on the rope as I went up. There were a few places for the feet so
that I had no trouble in changing my grip when I had coiled the rope
around one hand. I believe Joe also free climbed here.

The next place was where Jim and his friends had gotten into a crack
wider inside than on the surface. As usual Al did this with ease, or so
it seemed. When I got up about one and a half feet, I had a lot of
trouble getting my knees and feet past the constriction about a yard
above the ledge. Even with the rope to pull on, I had to ask Joe to give
me his knee to stand on. This vertical crack had hand holds higher so
that it was not a true chimney climb.

From the platform at the top of this good crack, we went a step or two
west into a wide crack through which we could look southwest below the
whole butte. The width called for chimney techniques with the back on
one wall and the feet on the other. I didn't need the rope. There was
one more difficulty and it caused me a bad moment or two. One had to lie
flat on a ledge and wriggle around a corner with no head room. There was
no space to use the knees. Fortunately there were some pits for the
right hand to hold to and the left elbow could be wedged under the
horizontal crack. I got rather stuck here trying to stay too close under
the overhang, I suppose, and Joe had to brace me a bit from behind. As
usual Al had gone by with no qualms. The rest was a simple walk to the
top through some brush. As to be expected, the views were terrific. I
certainly would have balked at this climb without Al and Joe to help me.

*	Indian ruin below Bright Angel Point
[October 24, 1970]*

In 1955 R. C. Euler used about $5000 worth of helicopter time and found
more than 200 ruins "new to the scientific record." Among his most
impressive sightings was a complex of about six rooms and three storage
bins under an overhang at the bottom of the sheer upper third of the
Supai near the angle over the Transept. Contrary to the impression that
I got from Larry Henderson, it faces Bright Angel Creek rather than the
Transept. Rangers Henderson and Sigler had been guided down to the ruin
by a young man working at the lodge. The college boys at the lodge had
heard about it through word of mouth from Euler and had done the leg
work of finding it. In still earlier years they had worked out the route
off Bright Angel Point and had spent a day going down to the Kaibab Trail.

Al Doty, Bob Dye, and I had been intending to climb Siegfried Pyre this
Saturday. I took them and Jane Doty as well as Mark Price and Bob
Lejewski to the North Rim Campground Friday evening arriving about 12:30
a.m. After a short sleep we set out in the truck for Point Atoka only to
get discouraged by the ominous clouds. After it was too late to think
about trying the very long day of walking and climbing to Siegfried and
back, the sky looked much better. I considered various shorter projects
and finally settled on the trip to the above ruin. I had already scouted
the way down through the Coconino last summer.

We left the black top walk to Bright Angel Point only a few yards back
from the very end and had a sporty climb down with several abrupt ledges
and one fairly vertical descent of 30 feet or more in a broken angle. I
think that my route last summer must have been easier. Mark came with
Dye, Doty, and me on this one and got separated from us right up here
near the top. I fail to see how he got so far behind that he lost us not
noting that at the bottom of the 40 foot descent we had stayed high near
the crest of the ridge. He went on down the slope above Roaring Springs
Canyon, and although he shouted and we shouted, we didn't get together.
After a suitable wait, we figured that he had given up and had gone back
to the top.

For much of the way along the ridge down to the break in the Coconino
there is a clear trail, presumably formed by deer use. Henderson had
given me the impression that they had gone down the Coconino on the
Transept side, but I had found that the ravine toward Roaring Springs is
almost a walk down, the principal hazard being loose rocks that are
easily dislodged. There is a bit of hand and toe climbing at the bottom
of the Coconino.

On the way out we descended the Hermit slope immediately below the
Coconino ravine and then contoured the rim of the Supai southeast to the
break in the next drainage. On the return, Doty led Dye up the ledges of
Supai farther to the south. They got into one dead end and they
considered our descent route as better. On my return after getting
through the Supai, I went directly up the Hermit where it is forested
and one doesn't buck the scrub oak and other brush. While contouring
below the Coconino, one meets plenty of bad brush here also. The descent
through the Supai is easily remembered since it is on the Roaring
Springs side directly beneath the end of the Coconino wall. Mark
eventually reached the Supai terraces beyond this Coconino promontory
and found a cairn near where he could look down to the right and see the
ruins.

The clearest walking along the contour below the top 250 feet of Supai
ledges seems to be along the lowest ledge rather than along the brushy
slope beneath. One can get down where it cliffs out, and around the
corner is a bay with the 250 foot red cliff all in one sheer drop. I was
behind the others as we came around this corner, but I saw the ruins
first. Al led us along the narrow ledge on their level where Bob and I
had to crawl on hands and knees a couple of times on a meager shelf
below projecting rock.

The ruins are among the best. The view across Bright Angel Canyon to
Deva, Brahma, and Zoroaster is more effective at this level than from
the rim. This seems like an adults only settlement because the toddlers
would have to be kept on leash. The walls of several rooms are well
preserved with much of the adobe mortar still intact. Many of the
roofing poles are lying around where the wind has blown them and there
are signs that the abandonment may have occurred when fire destroyed
much of the roofs. There are also some things that we had never seen
before at any ruin. the builders had split some large timber so as to
form boards about one and a half by ten inches by eight or ten feet
long. I saw two holes about as big as a little finger bored through one
end of a plank. Besides one broken metate, there were three neatly
worked rectangular slabs of thin dark rock, similar to slats, that must
have served as doors either to the dwelling or to the storage bins. Vic
Viera says that Schwartz found such pieces of slats at a ruin on the
plateau and Schwartz said they had to have come from a distant quarry.
Al noticed that someone, presumably Euler, had sawed off and taken a
piece of a roof beam.

As we left along the same ledge, Bob Dye noted a tiny spring that even
at this dry time of the year was producing a bit of water. Henderson had
mentioned this spring and I was afraid that we were not going to find it.

The floors of two or three of the rooms could easily be tidied up and
prepared for one's bed. With the spring nearby, this would be a great
place to camp for a night, and we were considering the kind of people
who built this settlement, whether they were lovers of natural grandeur
or were getting away from enemies. There surely are better and more
convenient places to live if they were thinking only of farming and
hunting. We found no potsherds.

We also wondered about the nearest place for a helicopter to land. I'll
have to ask Bob Euler whether he investigated this fine ruin on the
ground. The location of this ruin is one of the most impressive
evidences of the efficiency of the helicopter in exploration and also of
the aboriginal knowledge of all possible dwelling sites in the Grand
Canyon.

*Marble Canyon, Mile 43.8 to Mile 41.8, and Shinumo Altar
[October 31, 1970 to November 1, 1970]*

I started from Flagstaff with the intention of going down Mile 21.7
Wash, south along the Hermit, and then down to the river. I should have
read my 1/14/67 log concerning the route. The Tanner Wash Quad is of
very little use since there are so many reservation roads not shown. I
drove off US 89 at the right place and took the proper right turn. I
became worried when the road went north and even a little to the east.
Consulting the map made me think that I was too far north, and I back
tracked to various and sundry roads south of where I was. They wound
through the hills and ravines to various hogans and I got quite upset.
When it was nearing noon, I decided to junk that project and take on
another, get the remaining pots at the cache across the river from the
platform of poles at Mile 43.3.

The drive out to Tatahatso Point went off with nary a wrong turn. I took
the truck clear out to the cable to get the scenery. The rusty sign
warns one not to tamper with this federal property. The engineers did an
impressive job of cement work below the cable support. No doubt the car
stopped at the level of the lower shelf. I wonder whether they got all
the supplies for the establishment of the lower anchorage by winching
men down the cliff. Perhaps some of the crew went down the Eminence
Break Route and walked the Redwall rim to the lower end.

Recently the Indian Service has installed a rainwater catchment made of
plastic sheeting not far from the head of the route off the rim. There
was no water in the rubber lined basin.

On the return I again had trouble getting the truck up over the loose
rocks and bedrock ledges, so if I ever go down here again, I'll leave
the vehicle above the steep and rocky place below the hairpin turn. This
was my 13th and 14th passage through the upper part of the route, so I
was used to every move. I again noted the dogtooth spar in the cracks,
the natural bridge formed by the tower falling from its pedestal just
west of the route, and the big block of Coconino Sandstone with the
fossil footprints. A section that I hadn't noticed before, high on the
right, seems to be a mass of nearly overlapping depressions. I left the
bed of the main ravine at the right ledge in the Supai to go across to
the mushroom rock and down. On the return I followed the deer trail and
came above the Redwall. The saving in altitude loss more than makes up
for the swing out of the direct line. I reached the river form the rim
in 115 minutes and came back out on Sunday in 155 minutes.

The river was perfectly clear and quite low. President Harding Rapid was
only a good riffle. I could stay near the water on the sandbars most of
the way to just below the pot cache. I detoured to see the Hansbrough
grave and photograph the rocks on it.

This time I remembered very clearly where the pots had been and went up
to the site with a lug wrench for loosening the rockfall on the pots.
When I got there, I found them gone.

In the loose rocks just below the climb up the ledges, I saw my first
rattlesnake for 1970. It was a small one and was just disappearing into
the rocks without rattling. I had seen a black and white banded snake
near the top of the descent. After being frustrated in bringing back the
pots, I walked upriver far enough to get a good look at the Royal
Arches. The night time temperature was just right for my light down bag
supplemented by some clothing.

On the drive to the highway, I detoured and climbed Shinumo Alter. It
takes about 40 minutes to walk the entire top from one end to the other.
There is one pinyon pine along the west rim, and I could see six
junipers near the eastern base. The lack of trees on Marble Platform is
striking.

I saw one fine buck and plenty of tracks along the river. Also some
beaver signs.

*Horseshoe Mesa mine and Redwall west of the Sinking Ship
[November 15, 1970]*

Jorgen's friend, Ted Rado, flew to Las Vegas and came with him to our
house Friday evening rather late. We enjoyed a slide show of shots taken
while Jorgen, Bill, and Mac were floating down the river from Lava Falls
to Spencer Canyon. On Saturday Jorgen and Ted drove to the south rim
while I performed my duties of greeting parents during the forenoon.
After a quick lunch I went to the Bright Angel Lodge and met Jorgen and
Ted again. We left their car at Hermit Rest and then I took them to
Grandview. It was a fine cool evening when we got to Horseshoe Mesa.

I have nearly always gone to the west of the last hump before one
reaches the neck of Horseshoe Mesa but this time I noticed that the main
trail really goes to the east. We hit the head of the trail off the east
edge of the mesa immediately. There was the old piece of machinery, a
sort of winch, and the low mine shaft just before the trail starts down.
Ted had a huge pack and he felt that he couldn't negotiate the trail in
its present poor style. I carried Ted's 35 or 40 pound pack from here to
the mine while Jorgen handled my pack in one hand so that I wouldn't
need to go back for it. There was plenty of wood near the mouth of the
mine, but Jorgen went with me down to the spring below the Redwall for
water. We had a fine time around a small campfire until after nine. I
slept soundly 30 feet back in the mine where it was warmer.

Before going on in the morning, I walked back into all the arms of the
mine shaft. There was no sign of ore in there now, but I suppose there
must have been some at one time. I also scrambled up the ravine above
the trail, but I couldn't go all the way to the higher level of the
trail. We were ready to start on by 8:00 a.m. Quite soon Ted was lagging
and I offered to trade packs with him. After some thought, he accepted
the offer. This didn't solve his problem and he still lagged somewhat.
When we got down to a knoll just above the Tonto Trail, Jorgen put down
his pack and went on down with me to see the old inscriptions at the
farthest south showing of the Tapeats. Jorgen carried all the empty
water containers and we went down to the bed of Hance Canyon at the
first chance. After showing a little water and then drying up, the creek
began to flow well down in the impressive narrows.

It didn't take us long to walk up to the inscription overhang. Jorgen
called my attention to the name N. J. Cameron, 1890, and also we saw
where George Billingsley had carved his name with the date 12/4/66, the
day that he and Bruce Mitchell got me to the top of the Horseshoe Mesa
Butte. We also noticed the name F. Eiseman. Quite a few people now know
about this inscription wall. Jorgen and I parted here and I went on up
the wash to the Redwall promontory west of the Sinking Ship. I had been
thinking that this should be climbable for something like eight years.

I left the canteen and pack below and carried only the camera. The
logical place seemed to be the ravine opening to the south. It was a
talus walk through half the Redwall. The ravine splits toward the top
and I chose the south eastern branch because I feared that the other
fork would leave me with an unclimbable wall near the top. There was one
steep place where I had to pause and use some acrobatics. Higher still I
had to decide whether to walk up the bed of the ravine or climb
carefully up the wall to my right. Again I chose the latter. When I got
to the top of this pitch I was on the rim of the Redwall.

The last climb had been so severe that I preferred to find an easier
route down. I found at once that I could get down easily to the same
ravine northeast of the final bad pitch. Then I tried walking farther
down here and bypassing this ravine. All was going smoothly but I
thought that I might come to an impasse farther down, so I climbed a
rather difficult section and got into the ravine I had used on the
ascent. From below I saw that I could have come down rather easily where
I had given up. Thus there are several possibilities here. The easiest
route is quite similar to the miners' route down to the spring in the
wet arm of Cottonwood. The ascent took about 30 minutes and the descent
about the same. This upper end of the west arm of Hance is a fine scenic
area. I returned to the Grandview Trail as on 8/8/67.

*	Mile 27 Wash to Stanton's Marble Pier
[November 25, 1970]*

After Pat Reilly had called our attention to the cave and the
possibility of getting off the rim of Marble Canyon at Mile 21.7 Wash, I
had made several trips to the area, the most recent being on 1/14/67.
Consult logs for April 24, 1966, and May 6, 1966, for details of the
route down to the Supai directly below Mile 21.7 Wash.

For the present trek, Joe Grano and I drove up US 89 Tuesday evening
intending to sleep somewhere out on the road approach. We couldn't
locate the turnoff since I have been relying on seeing Curve Wash, the
bay in the Echo Cliffs, as a landmark. On the return we noted that the
right turnoff is 14.9 miles north of Cedar Ridge. We found one turnoff
and followed it up the hillside until we saw a hogan that I knew was not
on the right route. Giving up the idea of getting out near the take off
at night, we slept at Bitter Springs.

As soon as we could see distant hillsides, we were on our way Wednesday
morning. The road up the monocline away from the highway is worse than
it used to be. I wonder whether the Indians have bypassed it since there
are some other ways to get into this area. The right turn to the
northwest still confuses me but we did it properly. I recognized the
hogan about four miles from the highway. About a half mile beyond it,
where the road seems to be veering to the northeast is where I gave up
going out on 10/31/70. There is one more fork to the west and in 0.6 of
a mile I would have come to the parking for Mile 21.7 Wash. On the
present occasion I turned onto a dim track to the west and came to its
end too far east but on the rim above the broad valley that is upper
21.7 Mile Wash. We parked just above a gentle descent to the vicinity of
the deep cave, but on the return I noted that the same road we were on
makes an "S" curve down to the rim on the deep wash and that we could
have saved ourselves about ten minutes of walking by doing this.

My memory of the steep drops in the bed to the top of the Coconino had
faded. I didn't recognize immediately the bypass for the ten foot drop.
Joe was able to climb down it in the center, but I followed the ledge
along the south side through a neat tunnel and used the Indian rock
structure for steps to descend. Another surprise was to find water in
several pockets in the limestone. It had been dry for weeks, at least in
Flagstaff.

The route along the Toroweap ledge a few yards above the Coconino south
from the main bed and the neat route through the Coconino still
impressed both of us. We should have gone directly down to the bed in
the Hermit section instead of trying to stay high along the slope which
is cut by bare ravines. I suspect that Chuck Johnson and I didn't
inspect the ravine just south of the main bed as carefully as we might
have for a route through the Supai down to the river. Joe and I got
across this ravine on a narrow ledge of shale not far above the Supai
contact. This is the place where Pat had suggested that I could get down
from the rim rather than in the bed of 21.7 Mile Wash. It looks very
good from below and someday I would like to try this. If we would be
prepared to do a rappel or two, we might get right down to the river.

In the next ravine to the south, there was a lot of talus material
making for a descent route. We detoured down to inspect this. About 300
feet above the river there was a fall that Joe got down using a crack. I
went along a poor ledge to the south. I got discouraged before I met the
absolute end of this ledge. From the other side Joe said that he was
sure we could get down if my ledge had continued far enough to the
south. This would be something else to try someday.

I was sure there would be an easier way down if we went farther along
the rim of the Supai. (When Joe got down the 15 foot fall, he found an
impossible drop just ahead.) We were able to proceed along the Supai rim
or along the talus slope above at a fairly good rate, over a mile an
hour. We could see ravines through the Supai on the right bank, but the
next place I thought would go through on our side, a fault ravine with
talus material at the bottom was impossible near the top. Next at Mile
23.5 we came to a big ravine that offered good possibilities. If we
could get down and across to the talus material on the south side, there
would be a good chance of getting to the river. There was also a good
possibility of getting down the broken material on the right side of the
wash. While I was getting across the ravine, Joe tested the route on the
north side. He made good progress and called back that it would go. I
followed his lead. The key was to go along next to a small cliff, and
from there down was easy. We reached the river at Mile 23.4 or 23.5.
Upriver we could identify the picture of Pewe, page 22. Here we were in
the sun for the first time since 8:15 a.m. when we had started into the
canyon next to the cave. Joe elected to stay here and enjoy a long rest
while I went downriver along the bank to see whether I could reach
Stanton's Marble Pier within a time limit. I was able to cover the 1.1
miles in 55 minutes. There were beaver cut willows and tamarisks and
beaver tracks in the sand. On the return I heard a splash that must have
been a beaver slapping the water and diving. I took numerous pictures of
the Redwall ledges upstream and down from the Marble Pier to verify that
this object is in line with the rest of the Redwall along here.

Experimenting with different routes would have been interesting, but in
line with getting home early, we returned by the known way. Joe had
incorrectly diagnosed his slowness in coming up the Grandview Trail as
due to too much lunch and he just ate some dried fruit this time. When
we came to the final climb up the Hermit in 21.7 Mile Wash, Joe began to
feel sick and weak. He had paced me up the other places on the return,
but now I had to wait 40 minutes for numerous rest breaks in order to
reach the truck.

The weather had been cool and fine all day and it was the payoff for
three previous treks. We took three hours in going from the truck to
Mile 23.4 at the river plus about a half an hour for our detour down the
wrong canyon. If we could get down from the rim where Pat had spotted
the route, we might save a half an hour.

Besides the possibilities of getting down to the river that we passed up
on this trip, I got the impression that there are other breaks through
the Supai to the river upriver from Mile 21.7 Wash when we were coming
down the river last summer. This section of the rim of Marble Canyon
still has a lot of possibilities.

*Clear Creek to Indian ruins south of Deva and the Redwall west of Brahma
[November 27, 1970 to November 28, 1970]*

Ever since Bob Euler had told me about finding ruins "halfway through
the Supai" on the south side of Deva, I had been intending to check the
area. Finding the break through the Redwall north of Brahma on 1/26/70
was a vital step toward these ruins. Since Bob had done his
reconnaissance by helicopter, he didn't have much real information on
the approach route.

Thanksgiving day had been bad because of a slow drizzle and I awoke to
the same sort of weather on Friday. By 8:00 a.m., however, the sky was
looking better and I decided to use the free three days for a serious
attempt. After securing the permit, it was 10:20 a.m. by the time I got
started down the South Kaibab Trail. There was no dust nor snow either,
and with the cool day, I have never had better conditions. I visited a
bit with a few of the unusually large number of hikers on the trail, but
I still hurried. I was gratified to see that I can move as fast as ever,
and I went from the south rim to Clear Creek between 10:20 a.m. and 5:00
p.m., 55 minutes less time than the same trip took last January.

Three parties of backpackers were already at Clear Creek. I visited
extensively with four people from Phoenix, Bill and Jan Robertson, Dave
Ganci, and Charles Rigdon. I had read three articles by Dave Ganci, two
concerning climbing Zoroaster Temple and one on climbing Mount Sinyala.
He and Rigdon were spending a whole day trying to find a Redwall break
that would give them a key to climb Angel's Gate. The very top of
Angel's Gate seems like the ultimate in bolt and hardware climbing. He
and Rigdon are planning a Mount McKinley climb for next summer.

I stopped for a short visit with another group before going on in the
morning, but still I got away by 7:15 a.m., the same time that I broke
camp last January. This time, however, I experimented with a route up
the southwest wall of the arm where the trail leaves the bed to climb
through the Hakatai Shale. It could be seen from our camp near the
water, but from the trail it is not at all apparent. It entails some
rough scrambling but no hand and toe climbing and I saw deer hoofprints.
This route is shorter in time as well as distance compared to going up
the trail and over the ridge to reach the bed of the wash coming down
from the Brahma Deva Saddle.

Last winter I had considered the possibility of scaling the Redwall near
the upper end of this valley on the north side. If this were possible it
would give a more direct approach to the Indian ruins. As I proceeded up
the bed, I gave a close look at the various talus slopes and ledges. In
several places one can go quite high, but there seems to be no way to
get through the top cliff of the Redwall. I concluded that I couldn't
bag my 97th Redwall route and turned south into the ravine I had found
last January. Perhaps I noticed the obstructions more since I had my
pack along this time. There are three or so where I used my hands
besides the big obstruction where I found the crawlway behind the
chockstone. Here I tried pushing my pack ahead of me through the hole,
but there was no chance. Only a small man can get through and he has to
twist and wriggle. I tied my 50 foot rope to the pack and was able to
throw it up about 15 feet to where I could go up and pull the pack up on
the outside. Something that I hadn't seen before is a possible bypass
for this obstruction, a hand and toe climb up the right wall behind a
pinnacle. Coming down form behind the pinnacle is just as hard, but I
believe it would all go all right. In going north around the end of this
valley, I found it better to stay above the Redwall rim which is broken
by many notches. While going up through the Supai in the main wash, I
noticed a peculiar crag of white breccia. It would take a better
geologist than I am to account for it.

Bob Euler had said that the ruins were about halfway from the top of the
Supai to the bottom. I could see one overhang of a ledge about halfway
through the formation but there were a number of promising overhangs at
the base of the top Supai cliff, at the same elevation as the fine ruin
below Bright Angel Point. I acted on the hunch that Euler had seen his
ruins this high and left my pack while I followed the base of this
cliff. I began the search just west of the projecting angle of the Supai
wall midway along the south base of Deva. Within a few minutes I found a
slowly dripping spring. At this dry season one would have to place a
broad plastic sheet to catch all the drops to get a useful amount of
water. To the east there were several inconspicuous ruins, mostly
storage bins. At one place a shoulder high wall still stands. At least
one roof beam still leans against the wall and a fragment of an inch
thick dark rock slab reminds one of the shaped door stones at the ruin
below Bright Angel Point. These ruins are strung out for several hundred
yards and the last low wall isn't far from the promontory where one can
turn the corner and see Obi Point. I felt sure I had seen all the ruins
that Euler had discovered from the helicopter. I'll have to ask him
whether he landed and studied the area.

After eating I was ready to go on at 1:00 p.m. I had been startled to
see human shoe prints in the sandy places below the Redwall until I
remembered that Jan Jensen had come over to Clear Creek from Bright
Angel Creek only one week before. There seemed plenty of time to go
south along the west side of Brahma and Doty's route or north along the
west side of Deva and down to the North Kaibab Trail by the route used
by Jensen. It would be shorter and easier to go down the way I had come
up when I climbed Deva, but Doty's route might be more interesting.

From where I ate to the south end of the Brahma Deva Saddle took half an
hour. I guessed that it would be an hour and a half before I would
arrive at the Redwall descent at the base of the promontory leading to
Sumner Point. Correction: it took a half hour to reach the south end of
the saddle. Here there is a fault that makes it possible to go down
through the Supai. Going south along the Redwall rim below would be more
circuitous even if one could climb through the notch east of Hattan
Butte. I decided to go down one level lower than the saddle and proceed
along the bench trusting to my recollection that there would be another
way to get down through the rest of the Supai after reaching the ridge
pointing toward Hattan. This plan paid off. If I had stayed one level
higher, I wouldn't have been able to descend, but from where I was it
was easy to go down a simple slope to the Redwall rim. I reached this
place in one hour from the vicinity of the ruins, and I thought it would
take me only one and a half hours to reach the Redwall descent at the
base of the Sumner ridge. The walking along the Redwall rim was far
slower than I had figured. There are many little ravines to cross. Bare
crumbling shale was a hazard and many blocks of all sizes had to be
bypassed. When I finally arrived at the descent route, I had taken two
and a half hours for this leg and it was apparent that I would just
reach the Clear Creek Trail before dark. The Redwall descent was worse
than I had remembered it. I lowered my pack by the rope at one place
where one must leave the middle and climb down the wall to the right.
Again where one must leave the bed and go out on the broken area to the
left, I found it harder than I had remembered. Getting back to the scree
in the main ravine seemed at least as hard as climbing out to the broken
ledges east of the bed and I used the rope to lower the pack here also.
Still it took only 30 minutes from the top of the Redwall to the talus
below. It was 5:40 p.m. and growing dark when I got to the trail.

The rainpools in the bedrock of the wash I had been following, just
below the trail, were well filled and I could have camped and slept
under the fine overhangs right next to the trail about 100 yards to the
west. Rain looked likely by now but I proceeded to Phantom Ranch. The
night was so dark without even starlight that I used my flashlight
intermittently. I would shine it on the trail ahead and then try to walk
in the dark to where I had seen it. I reached the ranch by 7:00 p.m. and
had the luxury of bright illumination in the public restroom reading my
Readers Digest while I ate in the shower stall.

After being on my feet for over 11 hours that day, I still felt good
enough to go up the south rim in four and a half hours.

*	To the Colorado River at Lonetree Canyon
[December 5, 1970]*

Our interest in Lonetree Canyon was aroused by Euler's finding an Indian
ruin at the base of the Tapeats on the west side above the fall into the
inner gorge. When Henderson, Packard, and I found the ruin, I noticed a
possible descent to the river via a ravine from the east that connects
with the main canyon near the river. Before I went back to check, Jim
Sears worked out another route down the schist to the west of the main
bed. He told me that my route was very likely impossible and urged me to
try his.

We had used a whole day just to get below the Tapeats and reach the
ruin, so I was prepared for a real long trip this time. Jim had been
down in that area more than one day when he went down to the river. I
brought food for two meals and fully expected to use a flashlight on the
way back up the South Kaibab Trail. After visiting at the Ranger
Station, I finally started down the trail at 8:15 a.m. There was a
little snow near the top but it wasn't enough to make walking hazardous.
The day was cool with ice on puddles at the top of the Redwall. There
were five deer near the top of the Kaibab Trail and I envied the ease
with which they move up or down the steep slope between the switchbacks.
On my return, the same number of deer were down at the rim of the Redwall.

I have never seen ripple marks in limestone, but on my return up the
Redwall switchbacks, I looked up to a projecting flat rock near the top
of the formation. The underside showed definite and big ripple marks. It
seemed to be gray limestone, but perhaps it was limestone belonging to
the bottom of the Supai.

Another anomaly that I noticed on this trip was thin beds of
conglomerate between typical layers of Tapeats. I am not sure whether
this conglomerate, almost like small pebbles cemented in mud, was seen
on the way out of Lonetree Canyon or whether I saw it in Cremation.

Other points of interest were the mescal pit near where the Tonto Trail
crosses Cremation and the window through the fin of Redwall projecting
northeast from Pattie .

I got down into Lonetree a little to the south of the ruin and found a
good little flow of water in the bed of the creek. Jorgen had given up
looking for water in Lonetree when he found none near the lone
cottonwood. I recall now that we didn't find the steady flow until we
went farther down the bed well below the Tapeats contact. If it is
flowing at this time of year, it must be permanent water.

Recent burro signs show that the slaughter left a few. They make their
way along the very steep slope below the Tapeats east of the bed and I
got some help in going over to the place I wanted to start down. I was
somewhat worried by Jim Sears' opinion of the route I had picked, but I
found that my fears were unwarranted. There were a few places where I
had to use care in climbing around a drop in the bed of a ravine, but on
the whole it was easier and surer than Jim's route. Right at the end of
the bed, the river has deposited silt and then the front of the sandbank
has started to break off into the river. To get a view upriver and down,
at least for a short distance, I climbed out on a platform of water
polished schist and ate my lunch there. One cannot go any farther
upstream or down along the bank. It would be very easy to go by the
mouth of Lonetree in a boat without seeing it.

Jim's route up the west wall of the lower canyon has the advantage of
getting one out near the running stream quite close to the break in the
west wall of the Tonto. It requires more constant vigilance and it is
also steeper. I passed four of his cairns so I know that I must have
chosen pretty much the same route he had.

It was an interesting day and it added one more place where the river
can be reached. At the present stage the river was about a foot below
the level of the crumbling sandbank. Just before I started down to reach
the mouth of Lonetree Canyon, I resisted the impulse to go farther east
and see whether I could reach Mile 83 Rapid. I wouldn't presume that
this is possible. The walls seem to get steeper to the east. I got out
by 5:35 p.m., so there was no need for night walking.

*	Off Shoshone Point
[December 6, 1970]*

When Al Doty was climbing Lyell Butte, he studied the east side of
Shoshone Point and wondered whether there might be a route down from the
rim through the Kaibab and Coconino. Recently when he went to climb
Pattie Butte, he checked the place and found that everything worked. It
was also obvious that prehistoric Indians had developed this route since
there were three or four rock piles to serve as steps, two or three
places where logs had been placed, and at least one place where steps
had been cut in the Coconino Sandstone. He wanted to show me the way
down, so we went to Shoshone Point together about 2:40 p.m.

The road to the point is shown on the new map. There is a padlocked
cable across the one lane road back from the highway, but one can move
some tree limbs out of the way and drive a car around the barrier. At
the point are some picnic tables and a concrete grill or two. Below the
rim a few yards, we found a trail contouring that seemed to show pick
and shovel construction. We guessed that it had been built years ago for
early tourists.

Al led me northeast to the rim from the car and we started down a
sloping bay. The dusting of new snow made us watch our footing and I
slipped once. About two thirds of the way through the Kaibab there is an
eight or ten foot ledge clear across the bay. At the easiest place to
descend, a barkless tree trunk has been well placed to assist the
climber. On the return Al was able to get up here without touching the
pole, but I got some real help from using it as a grip.

One should continue down the slope in the bay until he is through the
Toroweap and then follow the bench along the top of the Coconino right
out to the point. One gets down by looking for cracks between the blocks
with now and then a traverse along a narrow ledge above an awesome drop
to the west. Al has put up quite a series of little cairns to point out
the route, but there is usually little choice or reason to take the
wrong way leading to a dead end. There are several ancient rock piles
built at the bottom of the longer steps down, and at one place there is
a series of four Moki steps cut to assist one. At one place a small but
stout forked tree trunk had been wedged into a crack and one could use
it as a step.

We had brought my light 50 foot rope since Al kept warning me that there
was a worse place ahead. When we turned to the east side of the point
and south a few yards, Al warned me that we had now arrived at the most
difficult place. He went down handily, but when I tried to reach the
same holds he had used, I didn't feel that I could get my foot down far
enough for safety. He came back up and held the rope since there was no
logical place for us to tie it. I coiled the rope around one hand while
I used natural grips for the other and got down to the safe ledge below.
We left the rope where I had used it. On the return, we noticed another
way to get past this angle. By using some natural steps a yard or two
lower, one has some good grips and can get past this projecting angle
quite easily. I came up here without using the rope, and I believe I
could do this place and the rest of the route with no help.

This bad spot was about the middle of the formation, but the rest is
mostly a ramp with no difficulty. The first part of the ramp goes north
until it comes to the farthest north part of the route and then it
angles down to the southeast. Just a bit of care is needed in finding
the way off the Coconino at the very bottom.

Only a couple of yards above the very bottom, I noticed some fossil
footprints in the bedrock. This was a switch since the footprints are
usually found about a third of the way form the top.

The route is about the most interesting way I know to get through the
Kaibab and Coconino. There are so many places in the Coconino where it
seems that there is just one way through, and work done by the
aborigines surely makes this one route much easier. With a little
practice one should be able to go from the rim to the bottom of the
Coconino in 45 minutes and thus save almost an hour compared to coming
down the Kaibab Trail and over.

*	Route to river at Mile 21.7
[December 19, 1970]*

When Ken Sleight was taking me down the river, we had camped near Mile
20 and I had thought that I had seen breaks through the Supai shortly
after starting on. I figured that if one were to go upriver after
reaching the Supai at Mile 21.7, he should come to a place to descend to
the river. This was to be the main investigation but I also wanted a
better look at the possible route down in the ravine immediately to the
south of the bed of Mile 21.7 Wash.

Al Doty was over from Williams by 6:15 a.m. in spite of the prediction
for more snow. We got away with a few flakes in the air, but the driving
was easy on a dry pavement. We turned off at the usual place, 15 miles
north of Cedar Ridge, and I felt the usual confusion in getting on the
right road to Piute Cave. When I saw the road up from the steep valley
to the right and saw the hogan on the left, I knew we were on the right
road. I made the proper left turn and was soon at the place where I had
parked with Joe Grano. This time we drove on past swinging left and then
right to get down past the cave and on into the valley leading northwest.

I had the idea that it would be instructive to look over the edge of the
top rim to see where there might be a break through the Supai. Two miles
beyond the cave, we parked and headed for the rim. In about 15 minutes
we reached the rim but we couldn't see any break through the Supai. We
turned left and were soon opposite the mouth of North Canyon at Mile
20.5. It was a fine place to see what I had tried once, come out on the
rim of the Supai from North Canyon and go downriver until it would be
possible to descend. I saw the long exposure of bare shale that had
dissuaded me from continuing, but I am sure I could have passed the
place and continued. There are two or three routes through the Supai on
the right side of the river even before you reach Cave Springs. I now
wish I had continued and succeeded in getting down. We got back to the
truck in about 40 minutes for this reconnaissance and we left the truck
for the second time near Piute Cave at 9:45 a.m.

Bob Packard and Al Doty were impressed by the cave. A big owl flew from
one perch to another while we watched. As usual we got down to the bed
of the wash near the cave. Bob and Al were properly impressed by the
vertical walls through the Kaibab and Toroweap. They liked the slight
problems at the drops in the bed and they saw the places where Indians
had fixed rock piles for steps. They were both impressed with my route
across the nearly vertical slope just south of the big drop in the
Coconino. Bob felt quite a bit of trepidation at crossing this place a
second time in the afternoon. I also enjoyed showing them my route
through the Coconino. Bob did this without noticing it very well so that
he had a bit of trouble finding it on the return.

On our way upriver at the Supai rim we couldn't decide what is the best
level for the easiest walking. It seems surest to go rather high out of
the Supai ledges. It is harder and slower walking than the corresponding
route south of 21.7 Mile Wash. We reached the point opposite the mouth
of North Canyon in something over a half hour. There didn't seem to be
any hope of getting down at all close so we turned back in order to have
time for a careful inspection of the ravine immediately south of Mile
21.7 Wash. Al hadn't been feeling well, perhaps from only three hours of
sleep and not eating a good breakfast. He said that the skyline was
moving around in front of his eyes. We ate some lunch on a point
commanding a fine view downriver, and Al began to feel better. At first
he thought he ought to start out after lunch, but he decided to watch
Bob and me in our effort to get down the ravine to the river.

Two ways that I had considered worth investigation were the somewhat
broken cliff at the end of the promontory separating 21.7 Mile Wash from
its twin to the south and also the bed of this ravine. Bob thought we
ought to try the bed first. We got down to some white strata in the
sandstone, but then the bed dropped with no bypass. In the meantime, Al
had gone out to the point to watch us and also to check the possibility
of getting down there. By the time Bob and I knew we were stopped, Al
was shouting up to us from a place about halfway through the hard part.

Al had built some cairns to mark his route, but he also waited for us on
a projection about halfway through the hard spot. His route goes out
near the end of the cape and then goes down on the south side. There
seem to be several places where one would be stopped completely except
for one way to proceed. The way is to get down first to the west and
then more to the east. There were several places where I turned around
and faced in for the best grips, and there was one crack not far up from
where Al was waiting that really gave me some pause. Al came up and
directed me where I could put my feet. A little farther down was a
saddle leading to a sharp little knoll. Al showed us a steep route down
to the saddle, exposed but with good steps. He had guessed that there
might be two routes to choose from, one going east into the bed and the
other down a chute to the west. Fearing a drop in the bed, we chose the
latter. About halfway down it to the last simple slope to the river,
there was a severe drop with chockstones cutting off any possibility of
going down further in the chute. We tried walking to the east at one
level but were soon stopped. Al tried the next and last possible detour
to the east and found that it did lead to the bed below all real
obstructions. Getting off this ledge required care, but I would tackle
it alone. There was simple boulder hopping from here to the river.

Well above the river there was a lot of driftwood that showed the old
flood stage to be something like 50 or 60 feet above the present level
of the water. Rivermen seemed to have set fire to quite a pile in two
places, to judge by the deep ashes. At one of these old fireplaces, a
Supai boulder, perhaps eight feet in diameter, had had its surface
defoliated by the heat. The remaining surface was a mottled yellow and
pink, the most peculiar colored rock I have ever seen.

From where we ate lunch on the Supai rim north of 21.7 Mile Wash, I
could barely see the Gendarme on the right bank of the river. From map
study in Pewe, I concluded that it is at the bend in the river at Mile 23.

Bob came up the Supai route handily, well ahead of Al and me. I had gone
downriver to photograph 22 Mile Rapid. Al again gave me a bit of advice
as to the placement of my feet at the hardest crack. If I wanted to
bring a pack down this way, I would want to lower it on a rope at a
place or two, but now I wouldn't mind doing it alone. We got to the top
of the Supai in about 30 minutes from the river and then went from there
to the truck in 80 minutes. Bob and Al went high on the slope while I
got down to the bed as soon as I could without sacrificing a lot of
altitude. At first I was far below them, but eventually they came to
some nasty deep ravines that I had encountered with Joe. I got to the
Coconino climb well in front of Bob, and Al had knocked himself out to
reach it almost the same time that I did.

There had been a few snowflakes in the air for much of the day, but when
we started home in the truck, all distant landmarks were gone because of
the snow. I made one slight false turn in getting out to the highway,
but we did the seven miles of poor road in 25 minutes. The last 25 miles
into Flagstaff were very slow because of the icy pavement.

Thanks to Al, we had succeeded in getting down to the river by a route
that matches the route off Shoshone Point for difficulty. In fact, I
would find it easier to go off Shoshone Point alone than to get down at
Mile 21.8 through the Supai, and the others seemed to think my three
inch ledges above the 100 foot drop of the Coconino were as thrilling as
anything we had been through this day.

*	Visbak Tapeats route and Kolb picture of the skeleton
[January 16, 1971]*

Jorgen had found a short way up to the Tonto through the Tapeats cliff
on the west side of the small bay immediately west of Horn Creek. After
studying his picture and rereading his letter, I wanted to try this. As
an after thought, I decided to carry the Kolb picture of the skeleton
and check my impression that it was near the ravine on the south side of
the river leading down to where I had camped on 12/19/66 when my only
project had been to check the trail that Doc's old USGS map had shown.

After a short visit with Ernie Kunzl while getting my permit, I started
down the Bright Angel Trail at 8:45 a.m. My shoes didn't grip well on
the packed snow, so I had to take it easy. Still I overtook a couple
from Sweden and we had a good visit for the rest of the way to Indian
Gardens. I went on from there at a faster pace at 10:30 a.m.

The new sign at the fork of the Plateau Point Trail and the Tonto Trail
says it is 12.5 miles to the Hermit Trail. It had been a bit over four
years since I had been this way, and the detour to head Horn seemed
longer than I had remembered it to be. I noted that the break through
the Tapeats between Plateau Point and Horn is closer to the former. The
trail is in good shape and I could hurry along with very little care
about stumbling. When I got past Horn, I went down to the rim of the
next bay and immediately recognized Jorgen's route. I also noted a
possible route south of his which goes up a slot pointing south toward
Hopi Point. As I was skirting the rim along this bay I came to a clearly
constructed cairn at the head of the south pointing slot and there was
no cairn above Jorgen's route. Remembering Jorgen's remark about going
to the north of a chimney along a ledge, I started down to the north of
where I might have chosen by my own guess. Very soon I came to
difficulties which were certainly not his simple walk up. I retreated
and started down behind a big block and soon saw what Jorgen had meant
by the chimney. He had simply walked a few yards around a block to avoid
a vertical crack. It was a very interesting route and one that should
not scare anyone who is reasonably careful. On the return I passed by
this good way up and went down and south along the base of the Tapeats
for about 75 yards to the slot. There were numerous difficult and
exposed holds and I had to go horizontally along a couple of ledges to
find the route which still seemed quite challenging to me. It surprised
me that anyone would build a cairn to mark this route when there was a
safer way down just a few yards away.

In 1966 I had recognized a vestige of a trail along the base of the
Tapeats, but this time I couldn't honestly say I was conscious of being
on a trail much of the time. The route was well marked by deer and
bighorn droppings as I had noted before. When I came to the head of the
ravine that leads directly down to the bench which is a bit upstream and
across from the mouth of 91 Mile Canyon, the one Emery Kolb and John
Ivens used as part of a cross canyon route, I could recognize features
in the picture of the skeleton. I wasn't sure whether I should descend
the ravine or go farther west as I had when I was trying to follow the
map of the trail.

At first I fixed my attention on some recognizable blocks lying in a
slide on the other side of the river and also on the amount of sand that
shows in the picture at the mouth of 91 Mile Canyon. I could also try to
match the view of a small crag on the south side of the river and west
of my ravine. These didn't give me much of a fix and I continued down to
the water to get a refill for the canteen. Only then I noted a feature
of the skyline that was much more useful, a tower standing about halfway
between me and a deep curve in the Supai. When I got the tip of the
tower in the right perspective, I was about one third of the way from
the river to the rim of the inner gorge and I was out of the bed of the
ravine to the east. I thought I had the spot once, but the small
features in the foreground below the skeleton didn't match. About ten
yards to the southwest, I found a similar mound where I could recognize
at lease one foreground rock as being the same after 64 years. As usual
the 35 mm shot didn't picture the entire scene shown in the Kolb view.
When I tried to get overlapping pictures covering the field, I found
that I was at the end of the roll. Still, I had several previous
pictures identifying the general area.

*	Right bank, Diamond to Mile 204
[January 21, 1971 to January 27, 1971]*

I met Jorgen Visbak at Seligman where he had arrived by the early train
a few minutes before me. After his breakfast, we drove down Peach
Springs Wash where we found the road relocated and broadened. We stopped
on the terrace near the junction of Peach Springs Wash and Diamond Creek
and took pictures of the skyline to match Doc's prints of the old Farlee
Hotel. Jorgen remembered perfectly where to stand. The river was clear
and about the lowest that either of us has ever seen it. It was obvious
that we could cross without carrying the kayak to the quiet water above
the riffle. We left the boat behind some tamarisks near a river party
campsite. The route to and along the Tonto has been covered by other
logs, say 4/26/69.

We had lunch just before we were opposite the basalt remnant at Mile
222. The day was warm and windless, and this continued through the
entire week. During the middle of the day, there was no need for jackets
nor even for shirts. The two springs near Mile 221.5 seemed to be
running less than I had seen them before, but there was some water in a
pocket near the trail where I hadn't remembered seeing it. On the whole,
however, this seemed to be a dry time of year.

We got down into Mile 220 Canyon and had a rest before tackling the
climb up and down and up to cross Trail Canyon. There had been many
breaks in the Tapeats offering routes to the river south of Mile 220
Canyon, but when we had gone a mile north of Trail Canyon, this did not
seem to persist. We were both quite ready to stop for the night when we
saw a good bench about Mile 216.5 with a sporty descent on the south and
an easy ascent on the other side of the side gulch. This was just a nice
place on some grass behind a sand dune, but there was plenty of frost on
my bag in the morning.

We had passed a double mescal pit about Mile 217 next to the trail and
immediately below the route we had used to get up through the Redwall to
the Snyder Mine last April. Just north of the wash that leads up to the
natural arch before you can see through it, we went over a ridge and
beyond the line of sight. Three Springs Canyon across the river was easy
to identify and I speculated that one should be able to go up it and
turn north into the Granite Creek drainage and so proceed to the rim.
Mile 215 Canyon seems shorter and less impressive. The burro trail was
rather straight and clear all the way from Mile 219 to Mile 214 (horse
trail here to Snyder Mine) where the Tapeats ledge practically
disappears. On the way upriver we generally followed the beach with much
boulder hopping between the sandbars. On the return we went higher and
generally found a fine trail that made progress easier on the average.
At lunch time we were opposite Pumpkin Spring. From careful map reading
we put this at Mile 212.9. The day was so balmy that we took a cold dip
in the river before eating and we took a sun bath while we ate.

At the very low stage of the river, many boulder bars and islands were
showing. Rocks protruded even in quiet water where boaters might not
have the warning of a white wave when the level is higher. Fall Canyon
Rapid, well below the mouth of Fall Canyon, had many rocks showing and
the best tongue seemed to lead right toward a rock. In our study of this
rapid we concluded that the big rocks rolled down from a short wash on
the east side and the basalt remnant on the right bank further stops the
river here. The picture of Bessie Hyde at their last camp was consulted
constantly along here, but we were unable to locate it. On the return we
went down and studied a certain cove not far above the rapid, but the
white designs in the polished black rock didn't fit. This picture is a
puzzle since there are few places where the basalt comes right down into
the water.

To get a complete idea of this country we should have gone up Fall
Canyon as far as possible, but we had other things to do. On the return
we were able to find the trail most of the way from here to Mile 209. It
is in the boulder strewn talus. We reached Mile 209 Canyon about 4:30
p.m. and I was good for some more exploring but Jorgen hadn't done any
walking since Thanksgiving and chose to stay at our campsite near the
river and a little south of the wash. He had come down through Mile 209
Canyon with Bill and Homer when they were starting their float trip two
years ago. I decided to walk up the bed to look at the water pockets
that they had seen then. When I was about 25 minutes away from the
river, I turned up an interesting looking chute that led to the base of
the final cliff at the top of the ridge. I had intended to turn back at
5:00 but the spirit of discovery led me on. At the top of the chute I
first tried turning east but that seemed more hazardous than going west.
Even here I had to use some good grips and pull myself up almost
vertically a few times. The way to the top of the ridge seemed about as
risky as what I had already done, but by now the time element was really
pressing. A chute to the southwest seemed easier so I decided to descend
there and go around to pick up my jacket and canteen which I had put
down on a prominent rock before attempting the stiff climb. All this
took a lot of time and it was nearly dark when I found Jorgen and the
campsite at the river about 6:30 p.m.

On one of the float trips, Jorgen had tried walking upstream from the
mouth of Mile 209 Canyon and he knew that we had to go up behind a
basalt remnant. The burros had left a clear trail so there was no
problem. On the return we overshot our ascent route because the best
burro trail goes a little farther up the side canyon before descending.
There are some cairns along the trail south of 209 Mile Canyon, but we
had missed them. We were quite thrilled when Jorgen noticed a clear
retaining wall to support the trail across a small ravine before the
trail comes down near the beach as it approaches Indian Canyon at Mile
206.7. It was the first absolute proof that someone besides the burros
had worked to produce a trail along here. We camped just downriver from
the mouth of Indian Canyon exactly where Jorgen and his friends had
stopped on one of the floats.

It was still before 11:00 a.m. so we put our lunches in my nearly empty
Kelty and started to climb the right slope at Mile 206.9, downriver from
the mouth of Indian Canyon. We could see that we could go quite high and
the rim seemed broken with notches. We were amazed at the height of the
burro traces here, but eventually we got beyond them. The notch we had
hoped to walk through was across an abyss. There was a horizontal shelf
leading around the corner so we proceeded along this unique possibility.
Around this corner we went up to the left until a very exposed and
rotten looking spur would be the only route forward. I have done climbs
that bad, but I preferred looking at other possibilities before
proceeding. We got down to the level of the first ledge and followed a
second around the next corner. Now we could see two sure ways of
finishing the climb, up a narrow ravine to the left, or down the same
and up behind the big knob that was our hope from clear down along the
river. I did the former and Jorgen did the other and we would have tied
in getting out to the west if I hadn't stopped to build a small cairn.
We walked on parallel to Indian Canyon.

We had decided to turn back at 3:00 p.m. and just before this hour we
examined the possibility of a descent through a tributary. We went down
about 100 feet in one ravine and went over a saddle into another, but
there was still no chance without using a rope. There were some caves
along here, but the one I checked didn't even show smoke on the ceiling.
We did see a water hole in the bed of Indian Canyon. I went out on the
rim at one place and saw what I took to be an insurmountable fall in the
bed of Indian Canyon. We returned to our campsite using essentially the
same route except that we went a bit farther toward the bed of Indian
Canyon near the bottom. The burro trail seemed better established here.
We had seen bighorn tracks near the very top of our climb. We felt
greatly rewarded by our discovery of another way to the plateau.

On Sunday we took our lunches only and started up Indian Canyon. At the
first barrier fall we had to backtrack to a rather concealed break in
the cliff on the right side of the canyon facing down. I could imagine
deer or bighorn sheep using this route, but it was pretty amazing to
note burro tracks apparently leading to the same break where we were
pulling up with our hands. There was another dry fall which we bypassed
on the east side of the canyon and then we came to the high twin falls,
one in the main canyon and the other in a tributary from the west. We
followed a burro trail going up the left side along a steep bench. After
rising about 100 feet and getting around a corner, we left the burro
trail and doubled back above the falls. There was just enough of a ledge
to allow us to get into the narrow slot of the main canyon above the
high fall. After a few scrambles past pools in the limestone and minor
drops, we came to an open corridor which looked encouraging. After a
hundred yards of this, we entered another narrows and soon came to the
end of the line, a couple of overhanging chockstones with no adequate
holds for a bypass. Perhaps a daredevil could have gone by here, but I
didn't even want to watch Jorgen try it. We went back and checked the
burro trail and found that it ended only a few yards farther than we had
used it.

It was before 3:00 p.m. when we got to camp at the mouth of Indian
Canyon so we started upriver with the hope of seeing 205 Mile Rapid.
There was some trail but as we approached the rapid we stayed rather low
and had to climb along some crags without a trail to get a good look at
the rapid. The story Jay Hunt had told me about getting trapped in an
eddy against the west wall fitted perfectly so I am convinced that he
knew what he was talking about having to deflate the boat and climb the
cliff rather than risk another upset.

It was now about 3:30 and we had decided to turn back at four. Jorgen
chose to stay and play around near this impressive rapid, but I wanted
to climb up to have a look ahead at the mouth of Spring Canyon and also
at the rim of the Redwall. I had some sort of impression that Jack
Nelson had talked about a horse trail that came down in this area. After
I had gone quite high I was rewarded with the find of a distinct cairn,
the first one we had seen on this side of the Colorado. The trail became
better as I went north and I could also look up and see a nearly sure
way through the Redwall. In fact there was another farther on. I could
have made fast time down to the mouth of Spring Canyon on this fine
section of trail, but I turned back at 4:00 and was able to look ahead
and see that Jorgen wasn't too far ahead in returning to camp.

He was just as thrilled as I was about the new and better possibility of
a route to the rim so we made an early start on Monday to check it out.
We selected a route up to a blank wall near the top where we could turn
north and reach the break in the rim. There were signs that burros come
this high to graze. Jorgen and I separated slightly near the base of the
wall and I had the thrill of finding what was clearly a man made but
disintegrating trail. Very soon we began seeing a succession of cairns
so that we knew we at last had found the old horse trail off the rim
down to the river. We went up the Supai parallel to Spring Canyon and
had some fine views into its depths. Ledge by ledge we went to the top
of the Supai about 2500 feet above the river and ate our lunches. There
was one more cairn which indicated that the trail went south of the
knoll we climbed. It seems to stay on the high ground between Indian
Canyon and Spring Canyon and probably goes around into Price Canyon
south of Price Point (it used to go up just south of Price Point) before
getting to the very top. The pockets on the bare Supai rocks were all
dry, but we could see a trace of snow in the shade of Price Point on the
talus going to the plateau. I had only a two quart canteen along so I
wasn't prepared to go to the top with the possibility of having to make
a dry camp, and even if we were sure of snow water, we knew it would be
a cold place to sleep. We went down and moved our camp to Mile 209
Monday evening.

On Tuesday we moved south to Trail Canyon and on Wednesday we had no
trouble getting back to the kayak. In getting down the Tapeats we tried
a slight variation, going down the usual break facing the river just
through the top cliff and then contouring around into the side canyon to
the chute that I had used before. I believe I like this system the best
of all.

In descending the talus from the Redwall rim on Monday, I found a
bighorn ram's horn. Another observation new to me was to see that the
burros bite off the tips of catclaw and mesquite apparently to improve
their trails through this noxious bush.

*	Havatagvitch Canyon
[February 6, 1971]*

The weather had been dry for quite a time and I figured that the dirt
road west of Grand Canyon Village would be in good shape. After thinking
about the rappel site Doty and I had examined, I had resolved to go back
and use it in spite of the fact that it would be the longest rappel I
had taken on to date. At a recent Sierra Club meeting, I met John
Ritchey, a Ph.D. in chemistry, and Eric Karlstrom, an anthropology
student, both enthusiastic outdoorsmen, and I invited them to go with
me. Al Doty likewise accepted my invitation. Four girls from the hiking
club also took up my offer to show them the Moqui Trail and rode in the
camper.

We got quite an early start since I had a bridge party commitment for
the evening. The foot travel got under way about 9:20 a.m. from
Chikapanagi Tank. I had taken the back road from Moqui Camp to Rowe's
Well and the Topocoba Hilltop Road was in better shape than in the past.

We followed the route down to the rappel site as on 5/9/70 without
spending any time to look at the overhung rappel in the bed of the wash.
I had been having a bit of arthritic pain in my left knee for over a
week, and with the sort of companions I had invited, I found that I was
the slowest of the four men. Doty was the fastest and he was getting his
two ropes ready when the rest reached the scalp in the Coconino where it
is possible to walk down the slope through about half the thickness of
the formation. This time we anchored a rope to the big rock which is
lying on the slope and led the rope around the little juniper tree so
that it will be supported farther north. Then we tied my 120 foot
goldline so that we could begin the rappel farther down. It is possible
to walk down over the rounded and steepened rim several yards. Eric and
John wanted to keep everything very safe so we used the third rope, Al's
150 foot goldline, for a belay rope. When Eric tied himself to the
juniper with the rope twice around his middle, we found that the 150
foot just did reach far enough. Al had three brake bars and a web strap
diaper sling that was better than my gear, so we used his.

The rappel was about 100 feet down, but there were several places where
one could stand on projections and there was no place where one lost
contact with the wall, if one put out his feet. Al went down first
without incident and then I had an enjoyable trip down. I had overcome
my irrational qualms about a rappel just because it was farther down
than I had done before. Of course we made sure that the rope reached the
bottom before we started. Actually there was a ledge about 15 feet above
the bottom from which it is possible to do a careful climb down. John
didn't come down with us because he was afraid of a weakness in one
hand. He belayed Eric but he kept on feeding slack rope so fast that
most of the belay rope was beneath Eric. I was sure this belay was
unnecessary, so no one remonstrated.

By this time it was 11:00 a.m. and we were a little behind the desired
schedule. However, we went to the south and had a good look at the
overhung fall from below. Al and Eric spotted an outside chance for a
bypass, but when we looked at it some more, even Al decided that there
was not a prayer here. Then we went around into the long arm south of
Bear Fall Point. Eric and I checked a possible spring while Al went up a
place where a talus goes quite high on the Coconino. This is just south
of the 5600 printed on the Supai Quad map. We found that at this very
dry season the spring has only a moist place in the Hermit Shale. A
horse trail comes up here though, so there is a good chance that at some
seasons there is water.

Al was already at the top of the Coconino when we got to the top of the
talus. The hardest move of the route is at the bottom. One has to go up
about four feet and get on the bare rock slope with no hand holds. One
braces with the hands on the edge and uses a toe hold below the edge.
One needs to study the bare slope above and use the little rough spots
in going on up. Al got up the last part using pigeonholes in the face of
the sandstone, but Eric and I detoured to the west and walked up.

From below we had seen that there would be a way through the Toroweap
and Kaibab if we could go southeast along a ledge at the top of the
Coconino. After eating at noon, we proceeded along a striking bare
shelf. It soon came to a corner and gave out, but just before this we
could easily walk up to a clay slope above the bottom of the Toroweap.
With a couple more scrambles up or down to the best level, we passed the
tributary just west of the word Fall in the name Bear Fall Point on the
map. Here we could scramble up the slope to the base of the Kaibab rim
cliff. Around the corner to the north, it was a walk up to the top.

In view of the time element, I probably should have insisted that Doty
go back and Jumar up the rope with the equipment that we had not tied to
the end of the rope, since we were so sure that at least he would go
back that way. However, we were all interested in seeing how we could
best get across the canyon back to the truck. When we came to the side
canyon that comes between the words Fall and Point on the map, we saw
that we could get down at least to the top of the Toroweap cliff. In
fact we found a horse trail going down here. This wash ended in a fall,
but we were able to go southeast and get down a gypsum clay slope and
follow a dim trail along the top of the Coconino which led to the top of
the Kaibab. It was only a short way from there to the truck.

I went on to the truck to tell the others why we were going to be
delayed a bit and Eric and Al went down to retrieve the ropes and other
gear. They used the route down from near the point a bit east of the
rappel site. John Ritchey and I went along the rim to the west and
enjoyed a good view through my binoculars of the rappel and Jumar ascent
by Al. It seems to take more time to coil ropes and arrange the gear
than it should, but then Al and Eric surprised us with how quickly they
got back to the truck once they started. They came up the way we had
gone down in the morning.

The day had been the pay off for the previous three trips to the area. I
had been there twice by myself, the first time to follow the rims and
look for a possible route, and second to locate the rappel site which
had seemed like a walk down from above. The next was with the Dotys when
we had brought the ropes but I had chickened at the long rappel. I had
looked straight at the route where we succeeded this time without a
rope, but from the rim across the canyon, we all agreed that we wouldn't
have given much for our chance of succeeding. I believe I thought the
Coconino too steep and also I would have figured that there was no ledge
on which to move over to the route through the Toroweap. We were glad to
find that my informant, Earl Paya, had been right. There were no signs,
such as cairns or Moki steps cut in the rock, that this had ever been
used by Indians, but this must have been the route he knew about. Al
built a fragile cairn above the tricky place at the top of the talus
where one gets onto the bare rock.

*	Mount Wodo
[February 13, 1971]*

Mount Wodo had caught my eye for a number of years, rising alone above
the Esplanade on a pedestal of Hermit Shale. From a distance one can see
that there is a good ramp through all but the bottom 40 feet of the
Coconino on the southeast side, but it didn't appear obvious how one
should get up to it. George Billingsley recently had flown by in a
chopper and he insisted that a ravine on the northeast side could be
climbed. With this encouragement I decided to go after it. Bob Packard
and Scott Holzhauser were originally going with me, but when the time
came, only John Ritchey and Mark Price could make it.

We left Flagstaff early and had our permit ready to head out along the
Topocoba Road by 7:40 a.m. I knew that this road is in relatively good
shape as far as we had used it last week, but it got progressively worse
after that. Beyond the turnoff to Great Thumb Mesa it was worse than I
have ever seen it. The hood of the pickup truck is so high that I
couldn't see the road very well on some sharp turns and humps in the
track. I stopped once for a closer inspection of a place where the edge
of the road was washing out. The worst part was getting back up the
steep grade close to the end where big rocks are showing. It seemed much
worse on the return than when I was easing the truck down over them. I
probably should have had my passengers in the back to give more
traction. At the very end I didn't recognize the turn around and I drove
so far that I had to back up some.

As we started along the trail, we noticed that there is a fine shelter
under an overhang below on the north side of the ravine. Charcoal shows
that it has been used. We also marveled at the road construction down
near the bed of this ravine. The Topocoba Trail down the Coconino hasn't
changed too much during the years since they stopped bringing the mail
down this way. We saw a fresh beer can or two. The day was fine and cool
and we were well down in the Supai very quickly. We could see that it
would be difficult to climb the wall to the north, but I was confident
that there was a better place farther west. I recognized it and we left
the bed about where I had on 3/26/64. There is some old constructed
trail here. We crossed Putesoi Canyon lower than I had before and
proceeded to the top of the Hermit at the east end of Wodo. This trip
took about two and a quarter hours from the car. George had said that
his ravine is on the northeast side of the mountain, so we walked around
there first. In about 50 yards we came to it, but the lower 25 feet
baffled us. Possibly Al Doty could have done it, but it seemed that one
would need to wedge an elbow in a crack. Then 15 feet up the crack
becomes worse. Anyway, we three were more interested in finding a better
way. We went around to the south side where anyone can see a fine ramp
up the Coconino if the lowest 40 feet could be climbed. About a third of
the way along the south side we found a curving crack wide enough for a
possible chimney climb, but we proceeded all the way on around the whole
mountain just to be sure we weren't overlooking any other possibilities.
It was this crack or nothing.

Ritchey finished lunch first and went up to try the crack. He took a
quarter inch goldline rope up with him and then pulled up his pack
containing his photo equipment and some water. The crack varies in width
but it has some bumps along the walls. It was a struggle for us because
we had to change position several times. However, it is not as hard as
the key place on Lyell. This was the hardest place on the entire route.
We found two or three other places where it seems that only one route is
possible. We moved up and to the east along the Coconino ramp and then
started up the east ridge through the Toroweap. From below there was no
sure way through the summit block to be seen, but when we got to it, we
found a crack facing east on the south side. Mark was ahead at this
time, so he was the first person on top of Wodo. We built the first
summit cairn and left small cairns at a couple of places along the route
down. A lone juniper is a good marker of the crucial way through the
bottom of the Coconino. On our way back we stayed on the Esplanade until
we encountered the canyon east of where we had left the bed of Lee
Canyon. There were route finding problems to get down it. We also saw an
immature bighorn ram on the Supai rim from the bed of Lee.

*	Supai in one day
[February 27, 1971]*

George Billingsley told me that it had snowed less west of here a week
ago than around Flagstaff, so I had the idea that the snow would be all
gone from the rim of Havasu Canyon. This led me to think that doing
Watahomigi Point would be in order. John Ritchey, who had agreed to go
with me, called at the last minute but I went anyway. In fact when I
woke up a little after four a.m., I got up and was off by 4:30. When I
reached the turnoff from the main Supai road, the track was snowed in,
by only three inches of hard snow, but I was a little afraid of mud from
a thaw and I was also worried about the rock climb down from the point.
It might be impossibly hazardous from the snow.

It had been a long time since I had gone down the Hualapai Hilltop Trail
to Supai, so I decided to see it again. There are distinct changes. The
road going along the right side of the canyon has been widened and
smoothed. The parking lot has been extended and furnished with a Forest
Service type comfort station. There is also a new building just below
the road a little to the west of the parking where horses can be left in
the shade of a roof. There is a water supply from a big tank, and I
suppose the house can be used as living quarters. Some group, presumably
the Forest Service, has supervised the improvement of the trail down as
far as the bottom of the Coconino and a little beyond so that it is now
smoother and wider than the Bright Angel Trail. Down in the bed of the
wash, it is just as it always has been since the days of Garces and
Ives, except that there is more trash. It seems that people have
discarded whole sacks of cans and bottles along the way. In a few years
I suppose there will be a big enough flood to take care of this mess.
Speaking of Garces and Ives reminds me that I watched for any place that
ever would have needed a ladder. There is one rather steep place where
big boulders are piled so that the trail for horses must detour, but a
man can get down rather easily in the bed. Horse Trail Canyon seems more
likely for the Ives route unless we should call the story made up from
the whole cloth (no, very bottom of Hualapai Creek).

The day was fine and clear but cold. Down in the open valley, I saw a
number of bluebirds and there were more squirrels around than I have
noticed in other parts of the Grand Canyon. The Indians have a fine new
tractor and they are also using quite a bit of bottled gas now. I met
one man going up with a string of pack horses to get refilled containers
and the same man recognized me as I was going out. Another Indian by the
name of Montoya told me that if I expected to go out the same day I
would never make it. Actually I was paying the $2.00 fee just two hours
after I had left the truck and got down below Havasu Falls before 11:00 a.m.

My main project in coming down was to find the route by which one can
get up the cliff on the east side of Havasu Falls. Jim Sears and some
others have told me it is possible, and then I found a passage in G. W.
James describing the route. I should have carried the book with me. I
thought it would be easier to locate from below, so I waded across the
creek and approached the base of the travertine cliff. There were two
places where someone has cut steps in the soft rock. First I went up
near the solid limestone to a shallow cave in the travertine, but I
could see no way to proceed. Next I went up nearer the pool where a
couple of steel rods were driven into the travertine. The way is nearly
vertical and I had to use caution, but when I reached a more complicated
system of joining caves about halfway up the cliff, I couldn't see any
way to proceed. I did take the time to go up Carbonate Canyon, something
that I hadn't done since 1946. I was stopped at the big pothole.

Jay Hunt and Mrs. Hunt were away but on the way out I met the Birds,
friends of the Hunts. Mr. Bird said that Jay has done the climb I wanted
to do. I also talked to a young Indian and he told me that I need a
flashlight to do it since quite a stretch is through a dark cave.
Perhaps if I had started at the top I would have found the right way
down. I ate lunch near Havasu Falls and walked out in just under four
hours. It was my first one day trip to Supai, but I had spent less than
eight hours on foot, surely not too hard a day.

*	Long Canyon Boynton Canyon loop
[March 6, 1971]*

John Ritchey and Harlen Johnson went with me down to Dry Creek and we
parked at the fork of the road just west of the creek crossing. It was
cold and windy as we left the truck at 7:35 a.m. but the day was clear
and it warmed up until we could eat our lunch in comfort in only light
jackets.

The graded dirt roads were in excellent shape even where the roadbed
crosses the creek. If there is ever a runoff or a storm, they will have
to renew the bed where it crosses the creek. We found a road turning
into Long Canyon, but it ended near an auto graveyard. This bit of
contrast with nature is new since I was last here about three years ago.

We had quite a loop ahead of us so I didn't stop to show my friends any
of the side attractions such as the ruin up behind the Three Towers in
the north side alcove or the minor ruins farther northwest including the
bootlegger's caves. They were properly impressed with the vegetation
along the dry streambed and especially the background of red and white
cliffs. I had been up to the edge of the plateau on 2/4/61, but now I
had forgotten the right stream channels to follow. We tried a fork to
the left when the pitch began to steepen, but we were soon stopped by a
fall and from what we saw later, we could have gone up a narrow and
steep ravine to the top. However, we turned over to another bed, the
main arm and proceeded upwards. There were a few places where one uses
the hands that might discourage a non climbing girl. Near the top we
investigated a fork to the left that led to a narrow crack. It led to a
short perpendicular pitch where one would have to use vegetation holds.
We chose to go back and go on up the direct arm where the going was
fairly straight forward. On the rim we had to fight manzanita and other
brush, but we soon got into the tall pines where the walking was easy.

The rim views were grand. We could pick out Bell Rock and Courthouse
Butte, Lee Mountain, and Capitol Butte was outstanding. John kept
thinking about the differences between this scenery and that in the
Smokies. Through the woods we soon found a good Forest Service Trail. It
had frequent rain deflector logs and they had used a shovel to even it
up even where the walking was fine under the trees. This part of Secret
Mountain is very narrow and the prevailing drainage right back from the
rim of Long Canyon was into Secret Canyon on the other side. From one
place we could see the snowy summit of the San Francisco Peaks. We ate
our lunch at a sunny place on the rim overlooking the northern arm of
Boynton Canyon.

We stayed pretty much on the trail until I decided that we had gone
north far enough. I took a look down into Hartley Canyon to make sure we
were above the Boynton Hartley Pass. It looked steep and far down to the
pass, but as an encouraging sign that we had come to the right place, we
found two large cairns. After breaking through the thick brush to reach
them, we found a meager deer trail leading down. I came to one slot that
I thought might be our route up last year, but I thought better of that
and went a bit farther west before starting down. At the top of a chute
we had to crawl behind a little tree that had been washed down here and
wedged in place. I couldn't remember this feature from a year ago, so
this may have been put here by a fairly recent storm. The rest of the
way to the pass was familiar. The view down Boynton was great and we saw
the contrast between the open straight U shaped valley of Boynton and
the narrow bent valley of Long Canyon. The walk down Boynton was easy
and fast with some trail evident much of the way. We met quite a few
people here.

It was still early when we reached the well known ruins in lower Boynton
north of the open meadow. Ritchey called our attention to a small
artificial basin low on the wall behind the lower ruin. I noticed a loop
hole built through the wall that is directed right toward the trail
approach. We then went west along the ledge to the crawlway through the
fin of rock. There is another bit of a ruin along here. The hole through
the fin is so low that Ritchy had to pass his pack through before coming
through himself. We had no trouble going up the next hundred feet mostly
to the west, but along the base of a bare cliff, we had to look harder
to get started up the next pitch. John found a place where someone had
propped an inadequate dead tree between a juniper and the bare rock. We
tested it a bit and went looking for a better place. Farther east we
found a walk up with a pile of stones at the base.

At the foot of the big vertical cliff we had to go east to look for the
impressive overhang that was visible from below. It seemed farther than
I had thought and I was becoming uncertain whether we were at the right
level. Eventually, however, we came around a corner and saw a good sized
ruin up high in the hollow. At first sight I thought I couldn't hack the
climb up to it. After some study, John and I saw that the best route was
directly below in the obvious place. There were a few little half inch
ledges in the red sandstone and we were able to use them to get up the
first eight feet. After that the going is easier but one should watch
for sand on the sloping rock. The cave was bigger than we had thought
and there were several rooms. The clay was still in place to hold the
stones of the wall, and one doorway was well preserved. The ledge to the
east beyond the shelter of the cave didn't continue far but we could see
another poorly preserved ruin at the same level. The approach would be
easy if we should go down and continue east at the foot of the cliff.

On our way along here we came to a peculiar little alcove with a seep
spring in it. If the weather was wetter while the Indians were occupying
this area, they could have used it for their water supply. After going
up to inspect this other ruin, we tried continuing east along the base
of the main cliff. This proved to be impossible and we went back the
same way we had come. From below we could see what Katie Lee had meant.
If we had gone down to a lower ledge we could have followed it into the
bushy ravine that certainly offers one an alternate access route to
these upper ruins.

On the walk back to the truck we were offered a ride by a rancher in his
pickup and accepted it. He took us about a mile and we later realized
that I would have been about 15 minutes late in reaching home than I had
intended if he hadn't helped us. All in all, this is a fine loop trip.
One could spend more time looking into side canyons and checking out
other climbing possibilities. John thought we should be able to climb up
the cliff to the south at the Hartley Boynton Pass, but I thought this
would require technical aids. I am rather sure that there are other ways
to get to the top of Secret Mountain from Long Canyon and possibly Boynton.

*	Fossil Bay
[March 27, 1971]*

John Ritchey and I left for the south rim about 5:00 a.m. We found that
after several years of keeping the District Ranger's Office open 24
hours a day, they no longer do so. We proceeded on our trip off the rim
of Fossil Bay without a permit. As we knew already, the Topocoba Road is
in good shape as far as the fork going to Great Thumb Mesa, although 25
miles an hour is about the maximum safe speed. The road up to the mesa
is a little worse each time I see it, but I knew that last week a Jeep,
a pickup, and a VW had made it. I was careful to clear the tree limbs
when the truck would be tilted by the slopes in the wash and I took the
worst spots in the lowest range of the gears. As I have done before, I
didn't see one turn in time and went a few yards past it. This is in the
bedrock just to the west of the place where one first gets a view from
the rim at the head of Forster Canyon. I parked about a mile north of
the fork where the main road goes to Manakacha Point, or it was about
five miles from the Topocoba Road. It was only a few minutes walk to the
bad place in the road where one has to drive up sharply through a
limestone ledge. A walk of a few minutes more takes one past a fireplace
to a still wilder drive over bare tilted rocks down to the north. The
Jeep road is no longer defined at all north of a place about six miles
from the Topocoba Road.

The most recent occasion when I had been off the rim into Fossil Bay was
7/25/66, and my recollection of the place was not fresh and clear. I
took John out to the rim several times before we got close to the right
place. When we were really close, I almost led him south when we should
have gone north higher, and then we went along to the north before going
down just before reaching a steep ravine. On the return we went up to
the rim directly above the ridge just south of this ravine. Down below
the loose scree slopes, I was able to lead Ritchey directly to the break
in the Toroweap. I was somewhat surprised to note that it took us a half
hour to go from the rim to the Toroweap break. I am rather sure I have
done this sort of thing faster in other years while alone. I am not as
sure footed as I used to be.

My memory of the location of the deep rain pocket was clear. We ate an
early lunch by it and I refilled one two quart canteen which was two
thirds empty by then. The water was down about four inches below the
lip, but it was still about three feet deep. One of the smaller pockets
still had a little water, but this water was green and had more
wrigglers in it than the deep pothole. We found water in one more
pothole, in the wash which heads near the letter k in National Park on
the Kanab Point Quad. The water was about four inches deep and should
not be trusted. It was higher than our route to the south from our lunch
stop.

Our route south along the Esplanade was about where the plateau levels,
but progress is slow because of the black brush and the necessity to
climb down and up at each tributary of Fossil Creek. About 2:00 p.m.,
when we were where the word Fossil is printed on the Kanab Point Quad,
they sky looked more and more threatening. John was worried about the
clay we needed to cross on the return if there would be a hard rain and
I worried about getting the truck stuck at places in the road. We both
thought it best to return while we could. We took a higher route across
the Esplanade but this was a mistake. The ravines were just as deep and
were more frequent. It took us two hours instead of the one and a half
to get back to the vicinity of the big pothole. Going up through the
Hermit Shale and on to the top took us over one and a half hours. We got
back to the truck as it was getting really dark, about 7:35.

About the only positive gain from this trip, in addition to the pleasure
of being in the canyon with a few birds singing and some flowers
blooming, was the observation of a break through the Toroweap and
Coconino at the middle of three arms of the Fossil tributary about three
fourths of a mile north of the BM 6234 on the map. We couldn't see a way
through the top Kaibab cliff, but it would surely be shorter if it
exists, assuming we wanted to get down to the river at Mile 123.7, the
present goal.

*	Coronado Butte
[April 4, 1971]*

Friday and Saturday were taken for the math meeting at Tempe, but during
this fine cool weather, I wanted to do something interesting in the
canyon, so Coronado seemed appropriate. Jim Sears and Warren Tausch came
to our house at 8:00 a.m. and we met Donald Davis and his friends, Ed
Price and John Wehrman, at the Visitors Center where we made out the
permit. We parked just a bit east of the place to leave the highway for
the top of the Hance Trail, where the shoulder is level for good
parking. There are two places where there are car tracks through the
trees to the trailhead. They go on either side of a bare hole in the
clay where the road constructors may have dug and scooped up clay. We
had no trouble finding the trailhead. The trail looks much the same as
ever. There are more cairns than there used to be, but the trail is no
easier to find and follow than before. To avoid dropping lower than the
top of the saddle requires some bushwhacking along the base of the
Coconino crags.

There is an outcrop of Coconino below the saddle, but this is very near
the bottom of the formation. Walking up through the sandstone toward
Coronado is a bit like a scramble since the slope is steep, but there
are no real climbing difficulties. Along here I was leading and Jim was
next. Warren saw something move near Jim's foot and called our attention
to a little rattlesnake about 18 inches long. Neither of us had seen it
although we must have stopped within inches of it. On the way down here
later in the day, I pointed out a slab of the Coconino with fossil
footprints. They were about three fourths of an inch in diameter,
nothing spectacular, but they form more evidence for the widespread
occurrence of these footprints.

We know that we should go along the east side of the butte to find a
ravine leading up. I chose not to follow a high ledge while the other
five strayed up there only to find it ending at a cliff. Thus, I got
well ahead of the others and sat down to eat lunch while they were
coming along. I passed by one ravine that seemed to go up to a cut
through the butte because I was fairly sure that the higher tower was to
the north. There were a couple of ravines that had vertical walls at
their heads, but quite far to the north I found one that might go. We
all got together here and proceeded up after eating. There were enough
difficult places to make it interesting, and we had to do a bit of
jogging right and left to find the way to the level of an impressive
vertical crack between two huge blocks. Here we could scramble up to the
scree filled bottom until we could look down on the other side. All five
of my associates chimneyed up the next 15 feet, but I was carrying a
rope and asked Donald to fasten it above while I got some assistance
from it in going up here. After some more routine route finding, we were
up and could read the notes left by Doty, Wehrman, and Jensen. This
route to the top seemed to be a little easier than the way up O'Neil. I
believe I could have managed the chimney if I had tried very hard.

I climbed down about 40 feet on the southeast side of the summit and
proceeded to the top of the next tower south of the highest one. This
involved some acrobatics as strenuous as anything else I had done in
reaching the top. The former climbers had built a small cairn on it too.
It looked quite a bit harder to reach the top of the lowest tower still
farther south and I didn't try it.

All of us but Jim and Warren went back down the way we had come up and I
used the rope for a body rappel at the chimney. We had to get back to
our lunch stop area where we had put down various belongings. Jim and
Warren were fairly sure that Jan's way to the top consisted of going
down a ravine to the east just south of the main summit. It was easy to
get down 80 or 100 feet, but there it dropped vertically in a sheer
wall. They found that one can proceed along a ledge to the south around
a corner and enter another dirt filled ravine that gets one clear down
to the base of the butte. Warren convinced me that this was the ravine I
had come up so many years ago because he noticed the same tree trunk
leaning against the south wall of the saddle. I had thought that I would
have to shinny up this dead tree to reach the summit, not knowing that
the highest point was to the north so that I could use the ledge.

*	Watahomigi Point and old trail by Havasu Falls
[April 8, 1971]*

After seeing the area from the air, George Billingsley last fall found
the route up to Watahomigi Point. He showed it to several members of the
hiking club, and more recently Jay Hunt and Allyn Cureton have been over
it. It was high on my list of projects.

On the way this morning, I saw three antelope near Grand Canyon Caverns
and five more along the Supai Road. Other observations were a few
paintbrushes and pentstemons but the flowers are not numerous after such
a dry winter and spring. I also saw a few birds including a really big hawk.

One leaves the Supai Road about 47 miles from the highway, a couple of
miles north of the turnoff to the modern house. It is about 18 miles to
the new generator station and over two more to the end of the primitive
road leading to a surveyor's marker. One should stay on the high ground
and walk northwest to the point. The first descent is gentle through a
grassy dip and is well marked with cairns, built by Billingsley and
Hunt. I wasted a bit of time looking down the break to the east but soon
decided that the right way was down the scree filled ravine to the west.

At the top of the Toroweap, there is a very sketchy trail going both
ways. Jim Sears had said something about needing to go to the left, but
I thought he might have meant the part I had already done. I followed
the bighorns to the east around below the point and looked rather
carefully for a way down. It wasn't here so I doubled back to the
southwest at the same level. At one place I got down the top Toroweap
ledge by some careful climbing, but there was no way to clear the lower
part. I retreated and continued the search to the south. Just as I was
getting discouraged and beginning to wonder what I might do with the day
if I were baffled here, I found a cairn above a place to get down the
top Toroweap ledge. Below this there is a bighorn trail going to the
northeast and it leads to a place where a ravine goes through the lower
Toroweap ledge. There was another cairn to mark this break.

The bighorn trail continued to the northeast below this break and leads
to the very interesting narrow ledge for getting around the projecting
corner. There are a few handholds where the shelf is only a foot wide,
so it didn't cause me as much worry as the climb down the top Toroweap
section. The trail goes on at this level at the foot of the cliff and
you come to the pass at the top of the Coconino. The descent through the
lowest 15 feet of Toroweap at this pass is marked with another cairn,
but one can walk down from the pass to the west where the entire slope
is covered by slide rock. I went to the bottom of the Coconino here just
to log another Coconino descent. It is a good way to get to the Redwall
rim of Beaver Canyon. One should go along the Esplanade to a break near
the point where Havasu and Beaver come together.

I had no further problems. On the east side below the pass, I found a
sketchy trail with hiking shoe marks. They seemed fresher than those
made by Cureton and Hunt. I had come up the Supai from Havasu Falls
years ago, but I didn't recognize the place immediately. I was helped to
the right place by some boys who had just topped out. It is about midway
between Havasu and Navaho Falls, and there are a lot of cairns around.
The route down here has seen so much use by now that it is practically a
trail. At first I thought I would cross the creek above Havasu Falls and
go down the travertine climb from above. After eating lunch beside the
stream, I decided to go below where I knew the creek crossing, and
especially since I would need to refill the canteen at Fern Spring
before going back up, I had no trouble. You go out either of two windows
and there are good steps cut in the travertine up to a short tunnel.
Contrary to what the Indian told me, no flashlight is needed. You come
out at a small cemetery with the graves well decorated with artificial
flowers.

On the return I needed 45 minutes to reach the rim of the Esplanade, an
hour from there to the pass at the top of the Coconino, and 40 minutes
to the top of the plateau.

*	Scouting the way to the river at Mile 123.7
[April 12, 1971]*

With six days of spring vacation, I had spent one going down from
Watahomigi Point at Supai, three on Lake Powell with Roma, and I wanted
to use the last two in going from the rim of Great Thumb Mesa to the
river at Mile 123.7. Donald Davis was available so we joined forces. The
plan didn't work out, but we found something better than what I had
figured on doing, going off the rim at the upper end of Fossil Bay and
using the entire day to go back along the Esplanade and getting down
through the Supai and Redwall.

I got on the road by 5:00 a.m. and arrived at the meeting place with
Donald on schedule at 5:30. Donald had slept there where the road from
Moqui Lodge meets the Topocoba Road. It was 7:10 when we were organized
to leave his campsite. Even this late in the season, it had been cold
enough to freeze water in one of his canteens. An unusual feature of the
drive was seeing so many deer, seven before I met Donald and eight along
the Topocoba Road. A delay occurred when I tried to drive off the
Topocoba Road up toward Great Thumb Mesa. I had had a rear bumper put on
the truck just since my trip with John Ritchey. Something made the
difference and we got hung up on rocks only 50 yards from the fork. It
was touch and go whether I would be able to go either forward or
backward. With Donald's guidance, I got the truck loose and backed up to
the fork where we left it. Before we walked on, I suspected that one
front tire was going flat.

Without the five mile boost from the pickup and with the other delays,
it was apparent that we could not hope to reach the river by the route I
had chosen. We decided to put our hopes on finding a shorter route,
especially since Ritchey and I had seen a way to get through the
Coconino. Where the Jeep road comes to the rim north of Enfilade Point,
Donald and I first went north along the rim since I knew that the
Coconino break was in that direction. We couldn't find a way through the
Kaibab just as Ritchey and I had noticed. Finally we doubled back to the
south where we could see a couple of breaks in the rim cliffs. It was
noon before we started down so we enjoyed the fine view and ate lunch on
the rim. If one were trying to establish the identity of the finest view
in the whole canyon, this vista to the east would be a strong contender.

The place we went down is about a quarter mile south of where the road
reaches the rim after passing Enfilade Point. There are some neat
passages among big rocks right near the rim and then you walk down
consolidated slide material through the north facing ravine. It is easy
to get down to the loose gypsum bearing clay just above the Toroweap
Formation. Here one can follow the bighorn sheep trail very easily in
places and in other places the footholds are extremely meager. The rock
is relatively soft and one's admiration is aroused for the sheep who
nimbly cross these four inch crumbly bits of trail with never a thought
for the 300 foot fall that might occur at any time. Donald and I backed
away several times and painstakingly pawed our way up the 45 degree or
steeper slope to get around a few of the worst parts of the sheep trail.

After almost two hours of this, we were above the Coconino break, but
there was no way to get down through the Toroweap. We could see sheep
trails from below converging to the one place where the climb down
appeared to be almost possible. After we had gone beyond the easy part
of the Coconino without any luck, Donald returned to this place in the
Toroweap and tried it. He got down about halfway but the last eight or
ten feet defeated him. It was quite difficult for him to get back and he
felt a bit of panic for a minute or two. On the return to the packs, I
tried going up to the base of the solid Kaibab cliff, but the footing
was worse than along the sheep trail below. My left foot began hurting
probably where a nerve gets exposed as the bones spread apart. Donald
got ahead of me and observed a likely place for a Coconino passage not
too far from a possible route through the Toroweap that both of us had
seen. It is directly below the place we had left the rim.

When Donald started down through the Toroweap, he immediately found
something of interest, a rock pile built up as a step. There is a fine
overhang to the left and he soon reported some charcoal. Very shortly he
shouted that he had found some pictographs. They are done in charcoal on
the low ceiling of the overhang at the far end. The way through almost
all the Toroweap is simple, but Donald knew that he should go to the
northwest along the intermediate slope to reach his Coconino break, a
scree filled ravine. My foot was still hurting so I went down to where I
could look ahead and waited. He reported that there was a little
difficulty in finding a way through the lower Toroweap, but a way was
there. He figures that he could see about 99% of the Coconino route, but
there was no time to check it out. It was 6:00 p.m. when we were eating
on the rim. We didn't walk back to catch the road at the closest place
but headed to the southwest through the junipers mostly following a
horse trail. We came to the dead end spur and followed it to the main
road just before it reaches the Manakacha Point fork. It was after eight
when we reached the pickup and then we had to change a front tire before
we could start back.

We hadn't seen any bighorn sheep but there was plenty of fresh signs. We
had found a way through the Kaibab and Toroweap with signs of Indian use
and this is the much more direct approach to the Supai and Redwall
breaks I have been interested in. It was discouraging for me to wind up
with a very painful foot, but we had had a profitable day by virtue of
what Donald had found during our last hour below the rim. Donald plans
to go back there immediately while I stay at home and nurse my sore foot
and badly blistered lower lip. We really seem to be closing in on the
rim to river route at Mile 123.7.

*	Route to the Colorado River at Mile 123.7
[April 24, 1971]*

When I heard from Walin Burro, through R. C. Euler, that the Supais used
to go down to farm the delta of Fossil Creek, I became interested in
seeing how they could get there short of going down the Bass Trail and
turning west, surely a tedious route. This was about 1960. At the end of
April, 1960, I had found the break in the rim, the Toroweap, and the
Coconino Formations that gives access to the upper end of Fossil Bay.
Not much later, we were going down to the Redwall rim on the northeast
side of the main gorge. In 1965, I started to follow the Redwall rim
around to Specter Chasm where there are some indications of a Redwall
break. Stumbling and breaking a rib ended this ambition. In November of
1960, I got through the Supai to the Redwall rim on the southwest side
of Fossil, but I couldn't get down the Redwall. In June, 1961, I had
gone to the mouth of Fossil along the Tonto and then the river bluffs
from the Bass Trail, and on this occasion I had noticed a possible route
through the Redwall and I conceived the idea of trying to connect it
with the known route through the Supai. This walking the talus above the
Redwall rim would be slow, so I was pleased when I observed from the rim
north of Enfilade Point that there seemed to be a much more direct route
down the Supai, on the north side of the first big notch in the inner
gorge south of the mouth of Fossil. Aerial reconnaissance seemed to
verify these possibilities.

When Donald Davis and I started with the thought of using the known
route down to the Esplanade at the upper end of Fossil, we soon realized
that there wouldn't be time to get down to the Supai and walk clear back
to the route through the lower formations. As told in the log for
4/12/71, we wasted time trying to find a good way to connect with a
break in the Coconino that I had seen with John Ritchey on 3/27/71. We
found a break in the Kaibab rim a long way to the south and then had to
admit that there was no way short of using a rope to get through the
Toroweap. On the way back, Donald kept near the rim of the Toroweap and
he noticed a break in the Coconino much closer to the Kaibab break. He
also found a neat way through the upper Toroweap directly beneath the
Kaibab route with signs that the Indians had been this way. He also
found a break in the lower Toroweap ledge to reach the Coconino break.
The next day he went back and got down the Coconino and looked down the
Supai route. He also found two water pockets, the first smaller one in
the ravine from the Coconino break where it drops into the Supai bedrock
and the other at the same elevation about two ravines to the northeast.
The latter is in the ravine that drains the north side of a little knoll
topped by white material. He also found some ruins under overhangs in
the vicinity and worked rock chips near the top of the Supai descent.

I had made three attempts to get up the route from the river. One ended
when I broke my heel the day before Easter, 1968. During our
Thanksgiving Vacation, 1968, I was back with Foran, Visbak, Mooz, and
Ellis. We had time to look at the route from below, but that was all.
During the same vacation, 1969, I was back by myself. I got up through
the shale and part of the Redwall and then lost my nerve. Now I wanted
to take advantage of all these frustrating experiences and succeed at last.

I had to wait until 8:00 a.m. to get a permit and thus I didn't start
walking away from the pickup at the junction of the Topocoba Road and
the Great Thumb Mesa Road until 9:45 a.m. It took me one and a half
hours to get to the Kaibab break, about a half mile north of Enfilade
Point. I ate an early lunch and left the rim at noon.

Donald had built a fine cairn to mark the way through the top of the
Toroweap and this route to the overhang with a bit of charcoal and the
pictographs at the far end is simple. I had to take great care along
parts of the sheep trail down and north to the Coconino break. Another
of Donald's cairns marks the best place to get through the bottom of the
Toroweap and the Coconino It is simple except at the very bottom for
only a couple of yards. The trail takes one to the right down a sloping
ridge to the Supai bedrock. When you cross to the left side of the wash,
you can see the little water pocket. It seems to be permanent since it
is full of mosquito larvae. When one contours to the left around the
bare bedrock ledges, he is rather sure to see the other water pocket in
the wash on the north side of the white knoll. This is bigger and also
has wrigglers in it. In a shallow depression northeast of this waterhole
there is an extra large mescal pit. I used water from this hole both
going and returning, but I didn't scout the area and thus missed seeing
Donald's ruins. I got from the rim to the Supai descent in one and three
quarters hours without hurrying, especially along the four inch wide
sheep trail in the crumbly gypsum bank.

At the base of the promontory formed the right rim above the mouth of
Fossil Gorge, an earth movement has crushed the Supai rock on the south
side and thus has made it possible to walk down here. It is likewise
simple to walk on along the Redwall rim around the head of the gorge
immediately to the south but the walking is slow and dangerous
thereafter. On the return I found a good water pocket in this narrow
Redwall gorge down about 50 feet and about 50 yards east of the place to
head it. One gets down from the north side. There are several other
pockets above this one but they were all dry. The good one is out of
sight from either rim. From the south rim one can see several cave
openings in the north wall but I didn't bother to check them. One is
round and big enough to stand in. It has some sand and gravel on its
floor, perhaps left by a super flood coming down the main bed.

Quite likely one could climb down from the Redwall rim to a sloping
apron just south of this first ravine, and thus get down to the shale.
However, from my aerial views and from direct observation from the river
level, I knew that one can't get down the rest of the way. Because of
the precarious footing from here south to the fault ravine, I needed an
hour to go from the foot of the Supai descent to the break in the
Redwall just south of the second bay. About where the Redwall slot gets
narrow, there is a big chockstone. The left wall is rough and broken by
small ledges with good holds and I went down about 20 feet almost
vertically without my pack, canteen, and camera. There is a smaller
chockstone where one must climb down backwards. Just before I came to
the big drop in this ravine, I could follow a sheep trail along a safe
ledge to the left and scramble down a chute. With ordinary care I could
work my way over to where I had stood in 1959. I had intended to go back
and bring my gear down to the river, but now that I had already covered
every bit of the route, I decided to head back and camp by water. It was
5:30 p.m. when I reached the Redwall ravine south of the Supai route so
I decided to look for water and succeeded as related above. It was a
windy night and I was glad not to be sleeping on the sand by the river.

In the morning I walked more than halfway up the Supai before eating. I
built a small cairn at the head of the Supai route and then headed for
the break in the Coconino staying somewhat higher than I had been the
day before. I saw Donald's footprints for part of the way. One other
difference occurred above the Coconino. I thought I was following
Donald's route up the lowest Toroweap ledge, but the place seemed harder
than I had remembered it. I had to put my canteen and camera in my pack
and push them up ahead of me. When I had finished this short climb, I
looked around and noted that I had come up about 25 feet north of where
I had gone down by Donald's cairn.

More spring flowers were in bloom than before, paintbrush and
particularly Mariposa lilies on the Esplanade. Canyon wrens were
singing, and I saw one little snake about as big around as my little
finger and fully 18 inches long. The weather was cool but I had plenty
to keep me warm in bed. It was a fine trip.

*	Capitol Butte and the Indian ruin on the ledge
[May 1, 1971]*

John Ritchey and I both wanted a short day and he was agreeable to any
project that I wanted. First we started toward Secret Canyon, but then I
got the idea that it would be fun to climb Capitol Butte again after
nineteen years. We started the way Boyd Moore and I had, along the south
side over to the east, but we didn't go clear around the buttress before
starting up. At one place we found the only safe way and then we were up
and over into the ravine Boyd and I had used. There is a well defined
deer trail through much of this. At several places we had to pull up
with our hands and we needed to go up and then to the right a couple of
times. High up, this ravine ends at a notch behind a little tower. From
there on, the slope is gentle but somewhat brushy. On the return we saw
a small cairn at this notch.

The view from the top of Capitol is outstanding. John saw for the first
time what a broad basin Dry Creek runs through and how scenic it is in
every direction. There is a rock pile on the highest point supporting a
piece of sheeting on a stick. A fireplace beside the summit block
indicates that someone has spent a night on top.

We started to go down the same way we had ascended and then changed our
minds to head toward the west. It was easier to get across to the head
of the ravine going down to the Dry Creek road here then Boyd and I had
found it on the west side of the top. Several agaves were sending up the
big stalk for their one season of flowering and death. Cacti were in
bloom and when we started down the long ravine to the west Ritchey
stopped to photograph a yellow flower. We liked this route better than
where we had come up because of the little trail and for the rich
vegetation. There were copious white flowers on a certain shrub all the
way down.

It took an hour and forty minutes to get from the car to the top. I
noticed that the entire trip took from 8:30 a.m. to 12:30 p.m.

I drove across the valley so that John could get a picture of Capitol
from the west and then we returned to the valley north of Knife Edge
Ridge. I took John up the wash to the dry fall (higher than I had
remembered) and showed him the ruin at the base of the cliff on the
south side. Then I took him around the corner to look at the cleft where
I had been unable to go up about 1949, or I thought I couldn't. Several
years later, after I had seen two college boys do it, I had been able to
climb it, and I wanted to see whether I still could. It was a struggle
for me. At a couple of places I had to chimney up and it is
uncomfortably wide. At another place, I thought I would have to wait for
a boost from John, but then I tried getting a grip over a fin and made
it alone. There were several places where I didn't feel secure and I
would say that this is about at the limit of what I can now do.

There was no problem in going from there to the ruin on the ledge above
and to the north. We enjoyed the view and looked over the names in
charcoal. I couldn't find the one dating to 1901. Then we went down and
I tried to find the ramp where the Indians had pecked toe holds in the
rock. I started looking too far to the west and missed it. Instead we
found another place that I feel sure I had never used before. We found
steps cut in the rock here too. Then I went back east along the base of
the cliff and found the ones I was looking for. This time I built a
small cairn at the top, fairly close to the dry fall. We saw a long
slender snake while we were going up Capitol. Roaming this region gives
me a peculiar feeling. It revives the memories from 20 years ago. At my
age looking forward a like number of years is a sobering thought.

*	Redwall descent between Pinal and Lipan
[May 8, 1971 to May 9, 1971]*

Jim Sears had noticed the possibility of going down the draw between
Lipan and Pinal Points when he was out on the promontory north of 75
Mile Canyon. When they tried this descent, they found the lowest 60 feet
of the Coconino impossible without a rope. They came back and rappelled
here and then found a most interesting way to get down through the
Redwall. Jim wanted to study the area geologically and also show me his
discovery.

I had already invited Eric Karlstrom to go with me to Phantom Canyon for
this weekend, but he readily agreed to switch to this project. Jim had
never approached this Redwall descent from the Tanner Trail. We all
agreed that the trail down to the saddle separating Tanner Canyon from
75 Mile Canyon would be preferable to the route requiring a rappel. Jim,
Jan Jensen, and Ellen Tibbetts went down the Tanner Friday evening and
slept on the flat but exposed place on the Redwall rim. They had rain
during the night and their tube tent didn't keep the water from coming
in underneath. Eric and I left Flagstaff on Saturday morning in some
rain and snow and passed two cars that had gone into the ditch. After
getting our permit, we were starting down the Tanner Trail at 9:05 a.m.
The day continued a bit wet with light showers.

The Redwall rim starting below the east end of the saddle separating
Tanner and 75 Mile Canyons wasn't too hard to follow and one could do
about one and a half miles an hour. When we came near the head of the
Redwall in the Lipan Pinal gorge, we found a fine big cairn with a note
in it. It told us to go past one more ravine and start down the talus on
the other side. There were some other directions, but the most important
was that we could see the entire route from the promontory where we
found the note. We went out to the end and yelled. Our shouts were
answered by the three who were already down the hardest part of the Redwall.

This route is east of the main part of the Redwall gorge in this bay.
Sears had built a cairn on a point near the bottom of the talus, and we
might have seen that we were supposed to go west of this point and down,
but from where we were it looked better to go down to the east and cross
below. When we did this, we found a nasty little drop with no very good
holds and even Eric was hesitant about descending here. In the meantime,
Jim had climbed back up to direct us in person. He told us that they had
come down this way the first time they were here, but the other side of
the point was easier. We backed up and came down the ravine he
recommended. It seemed awfully steep and I had to move very slowly and
accept some direction about footholds from Eric. Then Jim led us down
the rest of the way. It is pretty amazing that there is always a way
down this very steep wall. The lowest 15 feet is the worst and we
lowered our packs on a rope. Ellen and I held on the rope too and
chimneyed down, but from below I saw that it is possible to find hand
and toe holds here too, but one must hang by the fingers to find the
next step for his feet.

This brought us down to a great landslide section where erosion has left
a ridge of clay and boulders between two ravines. Jim pointed out some
fossil footprints on a big slab of Coconino. They were mostly badly
blurred, but they were about the size of my palm and had claw marks like
the good one I found in the Coconino at Mile 19.

We had the word from Billingsley's aerial observation that there should
be a break in the Tapeats on the left side if we would walk far enough,
and of course I knew where we could get down if we went to the place
that I had ascended in January, 1959. At a place south of the word Mile
in Seventy five Mile Canyon on the 1962 map we could get down. It was a
sporty place although the rock was pretty broken. When we were down we
could see a walk down through the Tapeats east of the Pinal Lipan gorge.
It would have been closer to walk in that direction after getting down
the Redwall and the side hill walking couldn't have been worse. Walking
the bed was easy although at one place I didn't trust my ability to
climb down and followed a deer trail bypass. Eric could do the bed.
There is another place to get through the Tapeats farther west but still
on the east side of the tributary meeting the main channel where the map
begins the name Seventy five Mile Canyon. Eric and I got to the river at
3:30 p.m., six and a half hours after we had left the highway. Jim and
his friends stayed up the canyon working over the geology.

By this time the rain had stopped and I read a magazine in the sun while
Eric explored down the beach. He came back in a half hour with the news
that there is a good overhang for shelter about three minutes walk west
from the mouth of the creek and there are some Indian ruins outlined
here. The ground beneath the overhang is smooth and it makes a fine
campsite. Down the beach still further on the sand there are some modern
looking walls made of driftwood and rocks that may have been put up by
river people to support tarps on a rainy night. We all had a fine sleep
at the overhang.

By 6:30 a.m., Eric and I were ready to start the climb out while the
other three were going up Papago Canyon from the river to study the
geology. We left the bed at the first place where one can easily walk
out and climbed the somewhat loose material to the west. It seemed like
a long haul to the top of the Tapeats and when we got there, I noticed
that we had been on the way from camp for an hour and 40 minutes.

As we walked across the flat between 75 Mile and Papago, we were a lot
higher than the bed of Papago. Instead of going down into the bed
immediately and walking up the bed, we tried staying high and even
working our way higher. This was a mistake because there are many
gulches to cross. Finally we came to an extra big one and then went down
to the bed of the east arm of Papago Canyon. The rest of our way out has
been treated in other logs. I had a harder time than I expected because
my left foot was hurting and I had to remove the shoe at rather frequent
intervals. This time through I noticed a log wedged into the crack at
one of the harder places in the Coconino, which probably means that the
Indians used this route. We finally got to the rim at 1:15 p.m. My foot
began to hurt again as we walked the highway, so Eric took the key and
went for the truck.

Flowers were blooming, cliff rose and other shrubs as well as one wild
rose in the bed of Papago Canyon below the Redwall. We heard some birds
sing and a hummingbird buzzed by when we were starting up the Coconino.
We saw droppings and tracks of both deer and bighorn sheep.

There is a natural window through the fin of the Redwall just under
where we stood to shout down to the other three. It must be about 20
feet by 20 feet.

The Sears Redwall route is considerably more difficult than the route I
had found west of and below Papago Point, but I seemed to find the
Coconino of my route rather hard. I had also forgotten the details and
at one place I got into a short deadend while Eric took the right route.

*	Across and back at Toroweap
[June 2, 1971]*

After dinner beside the road on Tuesday evening, I reached John Riffey's
home and spent the evening visiting with him and his friends, Art and
Erna Delareualle. They told me about a rugged trip they had several
years ago. They got a rubber boat and supplies down to the river at
Whitmore intending to go all the way to Lake Mead. Upstream, winds put
them so far off schedule that they gave up the idea at Parashant and
walked out after caching their boat. Del had been a military flier and
then had worked for mining companies and knew the area well from the
air. They went to the mine above the junction of Parashant and Andrus
and found some water in a barrel, but they didn't get any more until
they arrived at Slim Warring's ranch. This took parts of three days and
they considered themselves lucky to have survived.

John told me of a boat party who evidently were not authorized to
proceed. They had just succeeded in getting all their equipment down the
Lava Trail on Monday and Tuesday. John had seen their take off from the
rim through binoculars. One of the six small rubber boats had run Vulcan
(Lava) Rapids right side up, but the people in it seemed shaken by their
ride. The party had lined another along the left bank and then had
carried the other four overland. They had resisted John's suggestion to
skip the Lava Trail and put in at Whitmore, but for the following two
days they were doing all right as John could see when he flew. Two days
later, after getting into the water, they were down about at Mile 217.

After a rather chilly night on the ground beside the truck, I drove on
down the road toward the head of the trail. In 1957, I had walked around
Toroweap Lake since it had some water and lots of mud, but this time I
drove most of the way to the road end. Most of the road was in good
shape but some sharp chunks of lava worried me. I wasn't just borrowing
trouble either because by the following morning one front tire was flat,
apparently ruptured.

I hadn't remembered all the details of this trail but there are enough
cairns to show the way. Right at the top there is an ambiguity with some
cairns directing one over a five foot vertical drop on the left side of
the ravine, the way I had come up in 1957. But on my return this time, I
followed other cairns up on the west side of the ravine, the way I had
started down 14 years ago. The latter is easier. The route uses some
short switchbacks and drifts a bit to the east. When one is two thirds
of the way to the river, the trail cuts slightly to the west into a
steep ravine. About 75 yards down this ravine one encounters the only
real difficulty of the entire route. You have to hold on and kick around
beneath a chockstone to find footholds. I was interested in seeing how
well I would do on this route compared to my performance in 1957 at age
50. Just as I suspected I had become a lot slower. This time I got to
the river in an hour and 35 minutes compared to my hour and ten minutes
14 years ago. Coming out after a good strenuous hike on the other side
took me two hours and 17 minutes compared to my time of one hour and 20
minutes the first time. John Riffey made me feel that I am not all
washed up however by telling me that his best time was two hours down
and four back up.

I had brought my Kelty down with overnight supplies but I just took the
food in a small pack across the river, along with an empty canteen.
Hitherto I have crossed the Colorado on a substantial GI air mattress,
but this time I had a skinny plastic one. Balancing was a bit more
difficult, but the river was very calm and I went up far enough so that
I landed still in smooth water. The level was almost two feet higher in
the morning than it was in the afternoon. I had the mattress deflated
and cached just two hours after I had left the north rim.

This point of departure was on the eastern edge of the delta of Prospect
Canyon and I followed a trail up over the sand and boulders. It led to a
drum full of fuel for some boater. Most of this deep deposit of rubble
forms a straight wall next to the bed of Prospect Canyon and I
considered going back to the river to get into the bed. I was able to go
on up, however, and find a way down. The bed is routine walking with
about three small falls where a bypass is fairly obvious. The geology is
most interesting with the variety of colors in the slide material. The
spots of lava clinging to the steep wall are also dramatic.

I was fairly sure where Jorgen and the others had come down a talus into
the bed, but their whole route had appeared rather precarious and slow.
I preferred a closer look at the way Blake and Kolb had gone up at the
end of the canyon. Blake had complained that the slide material was very
loose and dangerous, but from a distance it didn't look so bad. Most of
it showed vegetation taking hold. The top of the slide was out of sight
around a bend, but I went up with no unusual difficulty. One just steps
on the larger rocks and occasionally loose material lets a foot slide
some inches. I would rather traverse this end of the gorge than move
along the narrow benches with hundreds of feet of sheer wall below on
the river side. Around the corner near the top, the rim was split and
there were at least two ways to get out on top. My way needed some hand
and toe climbing but it was safe. Yellow clay and pebbles on top of the
lava seemed just as hard, and then I was out in the open of Prospect
Valley east of the junction of two washes, the western one being the
main draw through the valley. It had taken two and a half hours from
where I had deflated the air mattress. I am sure I prefer this way to
Jorgen's route. Blake and Kolb came down a different way, but from what
I could see, they must have done something just as dangerous in getting
back to the river.

It was still only 11:00 a.m. so I walked south for 20 minutes. There is
still quite a cliff of Supai rock to the east. From the north side of
the canyon it is obvious that there has been a great fault through here
but it is east of the line of the canyon. Why a canyon would form
parallel to the fault but not along it is a mystery. Just a few hundred
yards to the east of Prospect Canyon the Redwall rim is as high as the
top of the Supai to the west of Prospect. The flow of lava and cinders
makes the actual transition harder to see.

After eating an early lunch where I could see a series of connected
breaks in the rim of the ultimate high plateau above Prospect Valley, I
went back down the same way I had come up. From the rim of the valley
back to the air mattress took an hour and 50 minutes. Of course if a
number of men were coming down the way I did, there would be trouble
with rolling rocks. I dislodged one that I could hear for several
minutes before it finally stopped. I would still claim that this is the
safest and easiest way down to the river from the south. In fact the way
down by the well used Lava Trail on the north side of the river is just
as difficult. I had started from the road end on the north side at 6:30
a.m. and was out in open valley among horse trails on the south side of
the river at 11:00 a.m. This is the natural prehistoric Indian route,
the easiest and quickest way to get from rim to rim without trail
construction between upper Marble Canyon down to Lake Mead.

I felt my previous labors when I was going back up the route on the
north side and it took me two hours and 17 minutes, quite a contrast to
my one hour and 20 minutes of 1957 when I was only 50 and had only gone
down beside Vulcan for a view. Of course if one were to count the time
required to go from the high rim of the Kaibab to the Kaibab on the
other side, the crossing would be more arduous and time consuming, but
it seems only fair to count it from the fair road on the north to the
end of the Jeep road on the south.

A word of warning to anyone using the road approach to the head of the
Lava Trail: the grade isn't bad and the turn around is adequate, but
beyond the dam of Toroweap Lake, there are sharp little blocks of lava
in the road and I had a flat tire by morning, presumably from a casing
break. Low pressure car tires are not safe here.

Blake's account reminds me that I found the spring in Prospect Canyon.
It is only abut 20 minutes from the river just below the contact of the
Redwall and the Bright Angel Shale.

On the descent, I sought out the finer slide material and came down
rather like marking time while whole sections of the debris were moving
along with me.

John Riffey tells me that a geologist working for a mining company had
come down Prospect Canyon to the river. This man, Kofford, had
approached by Jeep from the south.

*	Route west of Cove Canyon
[June 5, 1971]*

Marston had suggested that the prospectors whose note Nevills had found
at the mouth of Fern Glen Canyon had reached the river through Red Slide
or Cove Canyon. While I was on the river with Ken Sleight I noticed that
the Redwall facing the river is rather well covered with a big red rock
slide for a mile or so west of Cove Canyon. I thought this was probably
the route along here.

Riffey told me that Pat Bundy had gone to the river along here somewhere
and he indicated a certain arm of Cove Canyon as the route. What I
couldn't see from the river was a way to get through the Supai, but I
supposed that there should be a way around the corner somewhere inside
Cove Canyon. Furthermore, my map of the Grand Canyon National Monument
(GCNM) showed a trail going down inside Cove Canyon and immediately
around the corner to the west beneath the Supai facing the river. Riffey
was able to tell me that this trail ends at a mine that once produced a
carload of ore, perhaps of copper and zinc. He said that there had been
a ladder up 300 feet of sheer Supai cliff to the road and that there had
also been a man powered hoist to bring the ore up. I wanted to know the
area firsthand.

After spending Wednesday evening at Riffey's, I drove a short distance
along the road that turns from the Toroweap Overlook road to go east for
three and a half miles. I figured I would drive on to the trailhead by
daylight, but after changing the flat tire I thought it might be safer
to walk three miles rather than take a chance on a second flat. The
morning was cool and clear and the whole region is fine, a most
enjoyable place to walk. A bonus was that I got a good chance to see the
animal tracks in the dust. When I came to the rim of Cove Canyon, I had
to study the map again before I was convinced that a trail could get
down. It is most interesting that there should be a gently sloping bay
breaking the perpendicular rim of the Esplanade just at this one place.

The trail is still in fairly good shape as it switchbacks to the base of
the sheer wall and turns around the corner to the west. It is an easy
walk into wildly beautiful surroundings. At the top of the Redwall where
the wall turns northwest is an incongruous patch of bright yellow clay
which the mine developer called the Golden Slide. Here the trail goes
along the very base of the Supai cliff, but it is nearly obliterated. It
is only about as good as a bighorn sheep trail. Incidentally bighorn
droppings and hoof prints are seen occasionally all over this area on
both sides of the river. I saw deer and antelope as I drove through
Tuweap Valley.

On the way down I lost sight of the trail just before I reached the
Golden Slide. Talus filled ravines cut through the top of the Redwall on
both sides of the Slide so I started down the near one. About 200 feet
down, this came to an abrupt drop but I was able to climb back a short
way and make my way over to the other ravine. Here one can go down
through another section of the Redwall before coming to another awkward
drop. On the return I checked the possibility of going up to the west to
the other side of the big red slide. The east side of the residue of a
great landslide has eroded into a vertical wall of rubble punctuated
with fantastic towers and recesses a bit like the patterns at Bryce
Canyon. On the west side of this material, I feel rather sure that one
can walk down without being stopped by a fall for a long way. As I did
it, I had to leave the ravine and go along a very narrow and exposed
ledge to the east. After a hundred yards of this I found a slot that
took me below the fall and from there down to the river was rather
simple. I had to work over a ridge or two of talus material toward the
bottom. It took me two hours and ten minutes to go from the trailhead to
the river.

After lunch I checked Cove Canyon. It is wider and more sunny than Fern
Glen, but there are some seeps in the walls with fine ferns and monkey
flower decorations. Only ten minutes from the river there is a fall that
would stop even a good climber. There is no chance at all of a bypass. I
returned by the same route except that I went up on the west side of the
Golden Slide and found tools and a ladder. It was a fine trip.

Riffey found that Pat Bundy and another man had gone clear to the mine
before getting down to the river. then they had gone along the riverbank
west of the usual Lava Trail before going up to Toroweap Valley by a
route that they think is easier.

*	Mohawk Canyon
[June 9, 1971 to June 10, 1971]*

I wanted to allow a good long day for reaching the river, so I drove the
truck to the shack eight tenths of a mile short of the road end at
Mohawk Canyon before turning in for the night. It was good to sleep in
the shell camper because three horses came around in the night making a
lot of noise. Being alone I could eat as early and go as I wanted to,
and by 5:00 a.m. I was started. Since my main interest was to see the
canyon beyond where I had been before, I took no time out to look for
interesting points in the upper canyon. I did notice that there is still
some water in the pothole in the Coconino, but I spent little time
admiring the walls and towers of the upper valley. In addition to the
place where one could come down from the east rim, I noticed a place
where I figure one could get down from the west too. I would disagree
with George Billingsley who thought that Mohawk is a dull, uninteresting
place.

Most of the way I preferred getting out of the gravel of the streambed
and using the horse trail through the sage and open sandy flats. This
and the decision to keep going without any side investigations resulted
in my best time for reaching the barrier with the pothole and the spring
where I had slept under the overhang. Billingsley and Jensen had reached
this place in six hours from the trailhead when they were looking for
Sears, Varin, and Wehrman, but I was pleased to see that I could do it
in six and a half.

In the Supai, a rattlesnake buzzed hard and long from about ten feet to
one side of where I was walking. I should have thought of my camera
because I am rather sure it was the Grand Canyon pink rattlesnake. It
would be interesting to show a color slide of this snake for
confirmation. It was medium sized, about three feet long. This was the
second I have seen in 1971, more than my average for this period. The
pothole on the flat ledge well away from the streambed still had quite a
bit of water, but it was down from the rim by half its depth. The spring
under the big rocks in the bed nearby was useless. It just made a wet
streak on the rock. It had been flowing well in the fall of 1968 and I
had assumed it to be reliable. However, there was a small flow from the
east wall about five minutes walk upstream from this one. It keeps alive
a bank of maidenhair fern. I believe I could have built a little pool
where it comes out in the clay on top of a flat rock and gotten enough
to be of use.

Billingsley had said that one uses the bench on the level of this
campsite ledge but I saw that he has marked a way to climb up a bit to
get on it. I went straight north at the end of the ledge and then did a
bit of climbing to get on the regular bench. I recognized that this is
what I had done on 9/28/68 and when I had come back I had come down to
the pothole via the route a bit to the south, the one George has now
indicated with rock piles. Within ten minutes along this precarious
bench I noted George's cairns. There are plenty of bighorn droppings
along here so that I should have been encouraged in 1968. Where I
stopped and took my picture then I was only five minutes from the place
George came up. If I had gone on that far I would have been curious
enough to see how far I could get down. This route is back in a shallow
ravine and I didn't notice it from where I stood. All I could see was
that the bench went on and that I was a long way from the river. As
noted in the other log, the east wall had no bighorn signs, and from the
west side on this occasion I could see that it led to a dead end.

George's rediscovery was most interesting. For 40 feet it is very steep
but there are plenty of little ledges. Just as you think that the bottom
seven feet is going to be a hopeless straight drop, you see the stocky
little tree trunk wedged in place. The upper end has been trimmed so as
not to project more than a few inches above the notch in the rock and
the limbs have also been hacked off leaving little stubs that make
adequate footholds. This work seems to have been done by a stone axe
indicating considerable age. The lower end of the little tree has a bend
leading to the root system and this was useful to the early engineer.
Rocks are packed solidly around this base. Probably I could have managed
my pack in getting down here, but I had brought along a rope, and I
lowered my pack with it. On the return I also hauled my pack up. Moving
carefully along the bench and getting down with the time to manage the
rope took about 45 minutes from the campsite by the pothole. About 15
minutes walk down the bed, one comes to a tributary from the east, the
only one in the Redwall that cuts down to the level of the main
streambed. There is a nice flow of water from this side which nourishes
all the water loving plants and flowers and the sound of small falls is
cheerful. Right below this junction, however, the narrow canyon is
blocked by more chockstones. Sears, Varin, and Wehrman took this head on
with a rope, but George found a fairly obvious short bypass. You need to
back up about 40 yards and climb up to a ledge on the west side. The way
down is just a bit difficult, but the whole process can be done in less
time than it takes to uncoil and coil a rope. From the base of this
bypass, it is straight walking down to the river, but this takes close
to an hour. The side stream must be the one draining the northern most
bay of the high plateau between Mohawk and National Canyons. The water
soon begins to disappear in the gravel, but before it finally goes
under, there are some fine bathtubs in the bedrock. The lowest water is
bout 20 minutes walk from the river. A word of warning. Perhaps the
river would be better for drinking. I felt a bit below par as I drank
this spring water on my way out, and it may have the effect of a mild
physic.

I reached the river in nine hours and ten minutes at 2:10 p.m. with lots
of time for reading my magazine and enjoying the scenery. I did go
upriver and climb the river talus for a picture of Stairway Canyon, and
one diversion was to watch three rubber boats go by. They were oar
powered but they were big enough to carry five or six men apiece. The
oarlocks were mounted two or three feet above the frame on top of the
baloney tubes and the rower stood up. They followed the best current
through the minor Gateway Rapid. This size is too big to portage or line
but the one pair of oars would give little maneuverability. At Vulcan
the rower must try to position the boat at the top and then pull in the
oars and hang on.

It was comfortable with very little by way of cover most of the night,
but the gnats which like to crawl around the eyes and nose were a bother
until it got dark. I was walking back upcanyon before 5:00 a.m. and had
no direct sun until after nine. The day was fine for walking with a
breeze and some shade from clouds.

A big buzzing of flies called my attention to a dead doe below the
lowest bypass. I couldn't see what it had died of, certainly not killed
by a lion or predator. Up where the horses and cows can range, in the
bed there was the skeleton of a bighorn. I couldn't tell for sure
whether it was an ewe or a very young ram. I think it was the latter for
horns seemed stockier than those of an ewe although they hadn't
developed much of a curve as yet.

When I was within five minutes of the car, I was admiring some shallow
caves and cubby holes in the limestone. Then I noticed that one of them
went clear through the fin of rock forming a tunnel. On the way out I
felt more weariness than I thought appropriate, but I rested five
minutes or more at the end of each hour and reached the car by 4:40 p.m.
Perhaps 11 hours and 40 minutes uphill isn't inconsistent with nine
hours and 10 minutes going down.

The walls in the upper part and in the lower half are most awe
inspiring. It seems remarkable that there is a good route through such a
canyon. Birds were singing, and flowers were blooming, and it wasn't too
hot. It was a grand trip.

There are several places, along the upper bypass and above at about the
same level, where festoons of blunt stalactites decorate the walls below
shallow overhangs. The lime charged water seems to issue from a
horizontal crevice. They are uniformly about four feet long by six
inches in diameter. I don't think I have seen anything quite like this
elsewhere (east arm of Burnt Canyon).

*	Saddle west of pinnacle 5580 near Lake Powell
[July 11, 1971]*

Just west of the mouth of Cascade Canyon there is an area of little
harbors behind some islands. We found a neat spot for camping here with
a place to moor the boat among some submerged brush with bare rock to
step out in.

On Saturday evening I went up to the top of a knob just east of where we
camped. This involved walking up the bare sandstone just about the
steepest slope possible for crepe rubber soles. The view east and west
along the lake was fine and the vista of Navaho Mountain was super.

At five on Sunday morning I took a canteen and my camera and started up
the same way while the other three were still sleeping. I had to keep
rather close to the sheer wall above the lake to pass the ravines going
down into Cascade Canyon. At two or three places the route took a little
study. When I got up on the flats at the 4240 foot level, I saw that I
had time only to go up to the saddle north of the pinnacle which makes
such a fine landmark for the location of the Rainbow Junction.

I could follow a steep talus on the west side of this saddle. At first
it wasn't obvious that I could reach the top of the wall between the
pinnacle and the equally high wall to the north of the saddle, but there
was plenty of broken material for a ramp at the south end of the saddle.
A notch in the top of the wall prevents one from going very far north
along this saddle, but just before the break I found a well built cairn.
At the south end of the saddle there is a minor crack going down to the
talus on the east side. I didn't feel sure I could get down and up here,
but I am sure a good climber would find it fairly easy. An old twisted
tree trunk was lying on the ground at the base of the crack. There are
no trees around so I assumed that someone had placed this here to assist
in getting up.

The open area called Navaho Valley above the cleft of Twilight Canyon
extends six or seven miles to the north. It was obvious from my
viewpoint that one could get out of the valley to the Kaiparowits
Plateau at the north end. I believe one could go east around the base of
the 5580 foot pinnacle to get into the valley.

I had used more than one and a half hours to get to my highest point,
1800 feet above the lake, and I also saw some tracks that I took to be
bighorn hoofprints. Three or four small birds and a raven were about all
the wildlife I saw. From my height the north side of Navaho Mountain and
the intervening wilderness were particularly impressive. It was a great
experience even though David Haskell, a young ranger I met at Rainbow
Marina, says that there are many better places to hike in that country.

*	Mystic Spring (?) and Spencer Terrace
[October 2, 1971]*

With Mystic Spring shown on the old west half map and with the picture
in James' In and Around the Grand Canyon, I thought it would be a simple
matter to locate the site with a shot that would duplicate the one in
James. I had been by the spot before without seeing anything, but
according to McKee the spring has been dry for many years, but now I
wanted to pinpoint the same rocks shown in the photo.

The day was clear and cool but it had rained on Wednesday and from the
puddles near the village, I was dubious about the road through Pasture
Wash. Out here the road was dry and no new water had run into the tank
20 miles west of the village. Rocks on the last part of the drive to the
Bass Trailhead seemed threatening to tires, but there is no danger of
getting stuck. I drove from the pavement to Bass Camp in one and a
quarter hours.

On a previous trip down the Bass Trail, I photographed what I took to be
a ruined dam built by Bass in the bed of the wash where the trail
reaches the Coconino. I have never seen this again and I suppose it has
been removed by a flood. I was careful to watch for the ruins to the
east of the trail where it starts down the Coconino. On my return I had
a bit of extra time and I climbed up to the high ones directly above
where the trail starts down. The best preserved is well camouflaged and
the last few feet to it require a hand and toe climb. James thought that
these were mere storage bins, but this one has an intact door big enough
to crawl through and it is long enough for a man to lie in. If the roof
rested on the present wall, it would offer head room only for sitting.

There are a lot more cairns to mark the trail than when I first used it.
There is a large cairn with a tree trunk held in the center where the
regular trail and the Esplanade Trail to the west join, but more often
than not I have missed this junction. With all the new cairns, I was led
right to it. When I was coming back this way in the fall of 1969, I went
up into the bay west of Fossil Mountain instead of the one having the
trail. This time I studied the appearance of the right one so that I
would never make that mistake again. Where the wash comes over the
Coconino fall, there is the usual black band, but in the right bay there
is a broad white patch near the top of the black.

I wanted to go to Mystic Spring via the route shown on the Matthes Evans
map which is around the west side of Mount Huethawali. I stayed on the
regular trail until I was past the head of the cutoff near the south end
of Bass Canyon and then I went down across the shallow ravine to climb
to the top of the Esplanade south of Mount Huethawali. Where I crossed
the ravine I encountered two and possible three mescal pits close
together. Walking is faster where the map shows the old trail because of
the blackbrush on the slope closer to Mount Huethawali. There is still
enough burro use to maintain trails through here.

As I approached the west end of the ravine heading at the south end of
Spencer Terrace, I reviewed the picture from James of the burros
drinking at Mystic Spring. The map was studied carefully right on the
spot, but I couldn't locate the picture even though I considered three
levels. When I read the text in James, I begin to wonder whether the map
places Mystic Spring correctly. James refers to the Mystic Spring
Plateau as the western most offshoot of the Le Conte Plateau. I take it
that the latter is called the Darwin Plateau on the map. James speaks
about looking down into Copper Canyon and then riding out towards Mystic
Spring. This would imply that they were going around the east and north
side of Mount Huethawali to the spring which was west of its location on
the map. I also looked for Seal Head Rock, shown by James on page 155
with no luck, from the base of Spencer Terrace to the east and south. To
use my time and get some great views, I walked to the north end of
Spencer. Three days after the rain there was water in the depressions on
the bare rocks, especially where the surface dips before the final rise
to the north. The air was clear and I could see an amazing panorama, but
only one spot of the river, at the mouth of Waltenberg.

*	Siegfried Pyre
[October 9, 1971]*

Ever since Davis and Babb had climbed Siegfried Pyre, I had been eager
to try. Their route is via a ravine through the Coconino on the
southwest corner. For the approach they had used a route off the rim
that I had found on the right side of Kwagunt Canyon near the head and
had followed the Hermit to the Pyre. See the log for 8/24/70.

The year 1971 had been below normal for precipitation so I was
interested in seeing what the seep springs are like in the fall too.
There was still a bit of a pool at the spring just west of the base of
the Coconino descent and the seeps along the base of the Coconino
farther east were also showing the same amount of water as in August,
1970, a wet year. The best of these showed more of a pool than the
spring at the base of the first descent. To find it, remember that it is
at the head of the ravine which goes down to the head of the Redwall
gorge of Kwagunt. The little stream about a quarter mile northwest of
the Kwagunt Lava Saddle was still flowing as well as ever. Jorgen and I
must have entered the thicket in this drainage too high since I recall
that our deer trail didn't go through beyond the water. There is a
continuous trail across the stream lower down, but you don't have to go
as low as Jorgen and I did on the return. On that passage we didn't see
the water at all.

The party this time consisted of Al Doty, John Ritchey, Bob Packard, and
myself. Doty and Ritchey are real climbers and Packard found the grips
and toeholds with greater speed and assurance than I did on this climb.
All of us are good hikers. They were all good sports about the locust
and other thorns and we made good time. It took us 30 minutes to go from
the truck parked at the E6 junction to the bottom of the Coconino and we
were at the saddle where Jorgen waited for me in three hours. We found a
deer trail going to the north of the Coconino spine of the graben which
crosses over to the Lava Creek side south of Little Siegfried. It dodges
the bad manzanita by dropping low and continues along the west base of
Siegfried. We all paused at the right place for a fine view of Hartman
Bridge. We also noticed the place where Davis must have charted the
route off the rim above Hartman Bridge. If this route isn't too slow and
difficult, it would certainly furnish the quickest way to get down to
the charms of this section of the park. Perhaps a rappel and Jumars
would go faster than the climb down the log that Davis pushed over a low
cliff for a ladder.

The other three of the party were seeing this section of the canyon for
the first time and we were all enthusiastic about the views. A big bonus
of this trip was the fall color. Ritchey hadn't realized that there are
plenty of maples in places and that they would put on a show of scarlet
and yellow. John also called my attention to a cave opening just below
the top of the Redwall on the left side of Kwagunt right close to the
head of the gorge. It appears to be accessible without a rope. Using my
Kaibab Coconino descent, it would be as easy to reach as Silent River Cave.

Near the top of the Davis ravine up the Pyre, the ravine splits into two
fissures. I thought Davis had told me that they used the western one of
these two, but I was also sure that he said the break through the
Toroweap summit was around on the east. Al led along a very narrow ledge
by a vertical wall around into the west fissure and got above the first
pitch, about 12 feet up. Ritchey avoided this move by taking hold of the
rounded top of the obstruction and pulling himself up. Beyond there, Bob
and I couldn't see the problems, but Al shouted back that it was still
worse ahead. Bob made up his mind not to try that route. The two
climbers were carrying a 60 foot rope and could have helped us, but they
told us later that using the rope for a handy grip wouldn't have been
sufficient. Bob decided to spend his time looking at the eastern
fissure. One could start up it very easily but the sky shows through
under a chockstone at the top and one feels that it only leads to a
sheer drop beside a straight wall. Bob and I went up here and then found
it quite simple to turn out of the crack to the right where it became
steep. Here we were already on a shoulder of the Pyre and it was an easy
walk to the north along the east side of the Toroweap summit block. The
way to the top was just a steep walk.

Doty and Ritchey were having problems but making progress up their
fissure. At the top of the crack they were 25 feet below the rim and
couldn't get around to the east side because the block that separated
the two fissures was sheer. They had to go to the west where they found
another climbable angle to the top. Bob and I were up more than five
minutes ahead of them and we proceeded to the higher north end of the
rather narrow summit ridge. We had no trouble recognizing the grand
daddy of all pinyon pines, the one Davis had said was 14 feet in girth.
I took my shirt for a tape line and measured the trunk about two feet
above the ground. The shirt, from collar to shirt tail went five times
with a foot still from getting back to the starting point. This tree is
only a few yards from the summit cairn built by Davis and Babb. The
cairn is surprisingly solid and didn't fall apart when Ritchey stood on
it to be on the very highest point.

The hardest part of the climb for me was immediately above where I
stopped last year. Here I asked Al to watch from below and direct me in
finding the steps as I faced in for the descent. I am sure, however,
that I could have studied each move and done it alone.

We started our hike from the highway at 6:40 a.m. and were on the summit
of the Pyre five hours later. We had left our lunches and water below
and with the stops for food and getting some water for the canteens at
the little stream, it was 6:10 p.m. when we all reached the truck.

Siegfried would rank high among the most satisfying summits I have
reached. The area is outstanding for buttes and deep canyons. The route
to the top is just hard enough to be very interesting. The chief danger
is from sliding rocks in the ravine. Our second ascent lacked the thrill
of discovery, but one of our two ways near the Coconino Toroweap contact
was a new route.

*	Second try for Mystic Spring
[November 6, 1971]*

After being unable to locate the photo site for Mystic Spring where the
Matthes Evans map showed it, I reread James and learned that the spring
was near the west end of the terrace at the base of Mount Huethawali.
Perhaps his running account of going out on the Grand Scenic Divide,
then climbing Mount Huethawali, then going to see Mystic Spring, and
after that descending to the river, should not be taken as a single
day's trip in just that order. When one comes down from Huethawali, it
would be natural to go directly west to Mystic Spring instead of east,
north, and then west. However, James speaks of looking down into Copper
Canyon before going west to the end of Le Conte Plateau. I figured that
with this routing, I could watch for the Seal Head Rock and go to the
western most extremity of the plateau and walk right to the photo site
for Mystic Spring.

The weather turned out fine and I got started west from the Visitor's
Center about 8:20 a.m. The road was in good shape still in spite of our
wet October in Flagstaff, and I reached the Bass Trailhead in 75
minutes. This was hitting the bumps rather hard. It would be better to
allow at least five minutes more for the drive. There was a little fresh
snow on the trail but it didn't slow me down. There was even some snow
left in the shade as far down as the Supai. Walking steadily, I reached
the stick in the large cairn on the Esplanade in 35 minutes.

This time I went around the east and north side of Huethawali. I noticed
a couple of beaten down mescal pits before crossing the wash which forms
the upper end of Garnet Canyon and I also noticed the mescal pits that
are below the Supai cliff on the west side of the ravine. There were
fresh burro tracks along here, but the storms had erased the Vibram sole
prints I had seen a month ago. It was easier and faster to get to where
the map had shown Mystic Spring by this route rather than to use the way
shown on the map. The burro trail continued west along the rim, and I
began to wonder whether perhaps Mystic Spring had begun to flow again
and that I would be led to it by the burros. I had no such luck. I
walked and climbed along the west edge of the terrace at a couple of
levels but didn't see the Seal Head nor the place where the picture had
been taken. If there was an earthquake, perhaps Seal Head Rock is no
more. The edge of the plateau is broken up into a jumble of red blocks
and it is interesting to scramble through the chaos.

Views of Apache Point, Wheeler Point, and even Stanton Point are great
and one can see the lower part of Garnet Canyon where the Tonto Trail
ends and the obscure prospector's trail crosses the wash. However, as I
stood on the spot and read the description by James, I came to the
conclusion that he was letting his imagination go. The basin he calls
Ruins of Paradise doesn't have towers and turrets and I couldn't see all
the unusual colors he puts there. I also couldn't see that the abyss on
the south side of the point was deeper than the others, and I am sure
that he could not see the river.

I had expected water in the hollows of the bare rocks, but this time the
exposed surfaces were dry. Just down from the rim in an angular break
there was some snow water left, and I used it for my lunch. I was so
thrifty with my canteen that I carried more than half of my two quarts
back to the rim at 3:00 p.m. There was still some time so I tried
getting down through the Supai into the Garnet Canyon drainage. This
took some careful route finding and the use of cracks behind the big
blocks. When I had only one more big ledge between me and the bed
through which one could walk down to the Redwall rim, I found that I had
to go east and cross to the south side when I came to the bedrock in the
wash. Both above and below here there was quite a bit of water caught in
pockets. Burros had trails down to the water and I was able to go back
to the Bass Trail mostly on these. I was near my lowest point, three
fourths of the way through the Supai about 1:30 p.m. and reached the
truck by three.

*	Road to Mount Dellenbaugh and the Shivwits Plateau
[November 13, 1971]*

I was eager to see what sort of drive Visbak, Morgan, and Mooz had taken
to start down Mile 209 Canyon. Roma wanted a trailer outing, so I
suggested that we could pull the trailer to Saint George and then see
what the road was like to Mount Dellenbaugh and on to the promontory
opposite Diamond Peak. I had been considering for several years the
possibility of making the top of that plateau a base camp from which I
could go down to the river several different ways.

We left Flagstaff about 1:15 p.m. and enjoyed the trip to Saint George
via Page and Kanab. We were in showers of rain in the late afternoon and
we wondered what the road would be like when we got off the paving.
However, it cleared up in the night and there was no sign of mud until
we were in the woods near Mount Dellenbaugh.

I had to ask for guidance in getting out of Saint George on the road
south. You go south to Seventh Street and turn east. It is paved until
you get to the Arizona line. As you get up out of Quail Canyon (Mokiah
on the Grand Canyon 250,000 map) the road is quite winding and steep and
therefore slow. If you follow the rule that the side roads are marked
with their destinations on signs and the main road is left unmarked at
forks, you will have no trouble. I did stop and consult the map a few
times, but we got down to Diamond Butte and recognized it. About a mile
or two south of this butte, the big fork is well marked. A sign says
that you have come 46 miles from Saint George and that the road to the
southwest goes to Mount Dellenbaugh while the east fork goes to Mount
Trumbull.

I felt no hesitation in passing by the turnoff to Andrus Spring but I
was a bit confused when I came to a fork that didn't seem to have any
sign at all. Two and a half miles on along the fork to the east, we came
to the first shut gate with an old sign announcing that this was private
property and that permission to pass could be withheld at any time. We
began to wonder whether the west fork were not the main road. When we
had returned to the fork, we saw a sign that had fallen down saying that
this road led to Pigeon Spring and Pakoon, so we went back to the gate
and proceeded. This road proved to be the correct route and there were
several other gates to be opened and closed.

As we came nearer Mount Dellenbaugh, we came to a fork with no sign
again. The map indicates that the right route swings to the east around
Dellenbaugh so we went that way. The other road must go to Oak Grove
Ranch. Very soon the road became much worse since the surface is covered
with lava boulders and there are many loose and buried in the roadbed.
You come out of the woods into a clearing where there is a large corral
and an airstrip to the south of the road. You can drive down south along
the airstrip and come to a group of metal buildings where the Lake Mead
National Recreation Area maintains a ranger camp during hunting season.
A Jeep road used to go south of this camp to very near the top of Mount
Dellenbaugh, but now even a four wheel drive vehicle can go only about
halfway to the top.

We drove on past this airstrip and came to a ranch where a very vocal
hound was tied to a dog house. One can go on through the grounds through
one gate and meet the main road again, but we turned around and tried
the other fork. It joined the road south of the ranch and before long,
southeast of Mount Dellenbaugh, we came to a ravine where the road is
cluttered with the worst bunch of boulders we had seen on the whole
ride. I was fairly sure that I could keep up enough headway to make it
down and up the other side and in this I succeeded, but just barely. By
this time Roma was determined that we should turn back before we got
into real tire or car trouble, and I went along with her. When we had
the first chance we turned around and made it back to a clearing.

After we ate an early lunch we met a couple of men, Gasich and Espin or
Esplin, who were in a four wheeler starting to look for a couple of deer
hunters that were three days overdue. Mr. Esplin works for the Waring
Ranch and knows the country. He told me just where the Price Point Trail
leaves the rim, about a third of a mile southwest of the Price Point
bench mark (6588) and he also showed me where the trail down to the
Snyder Mine leaves the rim. One should go out along the Jeep trail which
leaves the road just south of Kelly Tanks and then proceed along the rim
to the north of the Jeep road end about a third of a mile. Esplin also
told me that Kelly Spring is dry but that at this time of year there is
water in Kelly Tanks but that this can't be trusted in the summer. He
told me how Georgie White and Harry Aleson left the rim when they tried
to raft down the river like James White. It was from some point, but I
failed to note it. I had the impression that they did not walk down
through Parashant Canyon as I had formerly supposed. Esplin also said
that when Chet and Pat Bundy and their friend had come out Separation
Canyon that they had gone down to the river and had gone up Parashant
Canyon to get home. He rather thought that they had done something like
this twice, but he was not clear about the details. He also said that
the ranch owner, Waring, now lives in Flagstaff.

I would have liked a longer visit with Esplin and if I had been my
myself, I could have offered to go south along with them and the two
rangers who had come from the station to help look for the lost hunters.
As it was, Roma and I drove to the Ranger Station and she sun bathed
while I climbed Mount Dellenbaugh. I walked from the ranger camp to the
top in 47 minutes and got back in about 40. The view from the top is
outstanding. The Uinkaret Mountains are about the most prominent
landmark but one thing that I noted with the binox was the road that
must go down to the Ridenour Mine. I was fairly sure that I could
identify Dr. Tommy Mountain. It is all great country and I am as eager
as ever to see it all up close.

We drove back at a good clip and reached Saint George before 5:00 p.m.
If I remembered how to take all the right turns and should have a four
wheel drive, I believe I could cut down Jorgen's estimate of eight hours
from Saint George to the head of Separation considerably. I believe I
could do the 89 miles to Mount Dellenbaugh in a bit more than three
hours and then do the next 25 in something like two and a half hours. I
would be doing it in less than six hours.

*	Diamond Creek, Kelly Tanks, Separation Canyon, and left bank Tonto
[November 25, 1971 to November 28, 1971]*

For the first part of this trip, there would be little to change from
what I said in the log for 2/8/69. Bill Mooz and Jorgen Visbak developed
maladies at the last minute and couldn't come, so I drove to the river
down Peach Springs Wash after my last class on Wednesday. There was
nothing to do besides sleep so I ate at Seligman and arrived about 10:30
p.m. The road was as bad as I have seen it except for a couple of times
when I wouldn't drive it at all. There was a superflood in the late
summer, and they had to start all over making part of the road. Even
when I drove at less than 10 mph, the truck pitched so that the kayak
came rather loose on top.

The river seemed quite high and I could launch the kayak right under the
pavilion. Still when I was rowing only my pack over, there was no
problem in getting across the swift part of the current. I cached the
kayak near the now empty barrel of gas and a lot of half pint cans of
outboard motor oil. This time I went up to the Tonto via the talus
filled ravine inside the mouth of the side canyon, but then to get
through the Tapeats, I contoured along the top of the granite to the
right and finished the climb where Jorgen, Bill, and I had found a
break. This combination seems to be best and I was on the burro trail
after 35 minutes of climbing with another 20 minutes to cross the river
and cache the boat.

I stayed closer to the bed of the ravine when I was heading for the
break in the Redwall, and this time I saw two mescal pits. I took fewer
pictures and didn't inspect the cave again, and I got to the north side
of the Supai knoll where Bob and I had eaten in an hour less time. I had
seen some rain pools in the bedrock of the ravine only a little way
above the burro trail along the Tonto, but I saw no more before I
reached Kelly Tanks. Crossing the upper Supai terrace after I had eaten
lunch was more complicated than I had supposed, and the top cliff of
Supai seemed to be continuous except around to the right where a great
slide from the Coconino and higher had made a passage. I assumed that I
could have gone to the left around a corner and could have found another
break, but I went up the sure way over the slide. Here I found myself
climbing up steep slopes of Hermit Shale and soon I was so high that it
seemed a waste to go down to the base of the shale and go up the
Coconino and Kaibab where I had intended. Instead I tried going into the
ravine a couple of miles east of Kelly Point. This worked out although
there were a couple of steep little stairwells in the Coconino. I was on
the rim of the Shivwits Plateau at 3:05 p.m. after leaving the truck at
7:05 a.m. Then I headed northwest through the pygmy forest with the sun
as my compass. In 45 minutes I hit the Kelly Point Road but long before
this I saw hunter's boot tracks in the soil. By 5:25 p.m. I was at Kelly
Tanks, only one of which has any water. Mr. Esplin had assured me that
there was water here. I could have melted snow for water for there were
shallow banks in the shady places all over the plateau. the night was
clear and cold enough to freeze a film of ice over half the pond, and I
kept a fire going all night.

I had fallen about two hours short of my goal of going down to spend the
night at the Snyder Mine, but I felt that I had pushed quite hard to
make it as far as I had in one day. On Friday I headed down the draw to
the west of Kelly Tanks and then walked the rim to the south. When I saw
that the ravine was getting deep, I dropped down and followed the
bottom. Near the bottom of the Kaibab, I was stopped by a sheer drop and
had to find a bypass to the north after some climbing. At least two more
detours were needed. When the canyon widened, I could see more than one
way to descend a scree slope right from the rim to the bed. Two or three
of these routes come down from the north and are quite accessible if one
would go southwest from the road south of Rodger Tank.

When I came to the bottom of the Hermit Shale and found the top cliff of
Supai to be a sheer 100 foot cliff as far as I could see along the right
and the left, I acted on a hunch and went south because that would take
me closer to where I had topped the Redwall in June, 1966. This turned
out to be the wrong choice since I had to walk for well over an hour
before I could even see a place that looked rather possible. There had
been some rain pools in the bed of the Kelly Tanks ravine, so I figured
that at the worst I could go back there to spend the night. Then in the
morning I would try some more to find the break through the Supai, this
time on the right side of the Kelly Tanks arm and perhaps have time to
come back up to Kelly Tanks or even over to the Snyder Mine by Saturday
night. Either way I would have time to reach the kayak and cross to the
truck by Sunday morning. Looking across to the north I could make out a
place where a minor graben had occurred and where one could get through.
Trying to use that break and still have time to reach the mouth of
Separation Friday night was out of the question, so I continued around
to the south side of the Supai rim of the big indentation north of the
Kelly Point promontory. After careful study near the point I found safe
passages on about three levels where ledges looked discouraging. I
finally got down to the place I had reached on 6/7/66 and even found a
nice pool of rain water in time for lunch.

As I went on through the Redwall narrows on a gently sloping gravel bed,
I was watching for the overhang on the right where Jorgen waited while
Homer and I went up to check the escape from the Redwall. Jorgen, Bill,
and Homer had missed seeing this two years ago last September. Again I
missed seeing it too, and I think that a flood has piled gravel in this
part of the bed so that the alcove is buried.

A little farther south there is a minor tributary coming in from the
east, but this is not to be confused with a bigger one still farther
south. On the impulse, I left my pack and canteen and tried going up
this arm. Right at the bottom one has to go up a bank to the right of a
sheer fall, and a little farther up there was a rain pool that I could
bypass by walking up a few yards on a not too steep granite slope. Fifty
yards farther there was a bigger pool that needed quite a climb for a
bypass. I could have gone down beyond the pool and I am sure I could
climb out the Redwall on the south a little farther on. As time was
passing, I contented myself with a fairly challenging climb up the
Redwall right where I had started up on the north side. This whole
experiment took 45 minutes, and it almost made me walk down to the river
in the dark. I was very happy to find the Marston, Jordan, Strathern
Party there and ready to cook some steaks. Ranger Jim Baily was there
too, and we had quite an evening gabfest. I had wanted Jim Jordan to
ferry me across the river about 8:00 a.m., but his boat was high on the
bank. We tried pushing and pulling with a rope until we were afraid
there might be some injury to the boat. The water kept on falling until
11:30 a.m. Off and on I had been helping drill a hole in the granite,
but at this time four powerboats came back down the river. I had my pack
ready and was able to get one of the boats to get me across the river. I
went up the opposite wash and climbed to the top of the Tapeats as soon
as I was sure there was a way, but when I came out on the point for a
last look at the party, it was 1:00 p.m. I had eaten, but I realized
that I had my work cut out to make Diamond Creek in a day and a half.

I recognized Bridge Canyon City, only a bare platform now, and I saw
where I had stayed in the short canyon just west of Gneiss to wait for
the boat instead of using my air mattress in the cold water of June,
1966. Even though I hustled all the way, I was just able to reach the
bed of Bridge Canyon by 6:00 p.m. when it is getting about as dark as it
will be before the moon sets. I still had more than a quart of water, so
I got my soup and supper without going to the spring at the foot of the
Redwall in upper Bridge. When I woke about 11:30 p.m., I recognized that
I would have to go to the spring for more water before starting to the
Ervin Spring on the east side of Mile 234 Canyon, so I walked by
moonlight up to the Bridge Canyon Spring. This took an hour each way and
for the return the moon was behind the western rim. I felt quite
relieved when I found a cairn I had built to mark the turnoff to my pack
and bed.

At 6:20 a.m., I began eating my breakfast in bed, and by 7:10 I was
leaving. A note on the Bridge Canyon Spring is in order. I remembered
that they had built a concrete basin to hold the water, but my search by
moonlight showed only a pipe and a seep in the crumbling bedrock. I also
found some timbers nearby. Perhaps the pipe had led down to the basin
and perhaps this is now buried under tons of gravel and boulders. I was
able to scrape out a hole about one half inch deep and fill my canteen
by sucking the water into my mouth and then dropping it into the canteen.

I once suggested that the Tonto Trail along this part of the canyon is
only twice as long as the corresponding river mileage, but a more
realistic estimate would be to multiply the river mileage by at least
three. It took me two and a quarter hours to get from the bed of Bridge
right where the old trail goes up to the east rim of the Tonto over to
the Ervin Spring. I kept on pushing, but when I didn't get past
Travertine until 4:15, I knew I was in for some late walking. Darkness
caught me shortly after I was through 228 Mile Canyon, but the moon was
behind the heavy clouds and I couldn't see whether I was on the trace of
a trail. Even in broad daylight I had missed the trail numerous times,
so I was not alarmed when I would leave it at night. I was only slowed
down and also had more trouble with cactus after the moon was giving me
all the light. I went on around to the east of the little butte just
above Diamond Creek and got down the ravine which lines up with the
break separating this knoll from the main cliff. I had done this before,
by daylight, and the burro droppings were reassurance that I had chosen
the correct ravine. I had walked almost two hours by diffuse moonlight
when I reached the truck by 7:45 p.m. I found it easier to travel by the
weak light from all over the sky instead of going from bright moonlight
into deep shadow as one does on a clear moonlit night. To conserve time
near the end, I ate some salty meat as I walked and almost ran out of
water before I got to Diamond Creek.

The burros are still plenty thick along this section of Tonto, and I
also saw mescal pits in two places, one not far from the head of Gneiss,
I believe.

It was a satisfying trek with two rim to river routes completed, and the
weather held although I felt a few raindrops on Sunday afternoon. I had
a dry road for the drive home, but it will take me several days to get
the knots out of my legs. The Tonto part would have been more enjoyable
if I could have started at 3:00 a.m. on Saturday and could have camped
with the water from the Ervin Spring right on my route. Still the two
hour moonlight hike for water was interesting, but it would have been a
disaster if I hadn't found my bedroll and had had to sit by a fire
without much sleep for the rest of the night. I also intend to check
with Jorgen as to their route through the Supai in getting up
Separation. I believe that it is easier to see the best place from below
than it is from above.

*	Redwall west of White Switchbacks and ruins in Pipe Creek
[December 11, 1971]*

Ellen Tibbetts had told me about going down the Redwall to the west of
the notch at the top of the White Switchbacks of the South Kaibab Trail.
She and Jim Sears had noticed the possibility when they were walking the
Tonto Trail between Indian Gardens and the Kaibab Trail. Later she had
gone down this ravine alone with a pack on her back and had reported no
obstacles. At the bottom of the Redwall there is a big drop of at least
60 feet, but this can be bypassed by going to the south along a bench to
the long talus slope.

Another lead that I wanted to follow was the information from Charles
Bame, a Flagstaff teacher, that there are Indian ruins under a Tapeats
overhang on the east side of the Tapeats amphitheater in Pipe Creek. He
and Larry Bowen had come down here by the break in the Tapeats on the
west side, the place that Billingsley had rediscovered. After finding
the ruins on the east side at the base of the Tapeats cliff, they had
given up the idea of getting down through the granite and walking out
the Bright Angel Trail.

These two objectives would combine to form a relatively short hike, a
good one for a day when I was supposed to get home around 6:00 p.m. for
a bridge party. The highway to the south rim west of the San Francisco
Peaks was hazardous with snow and icy patches so the drive was slower
than usual, and after getting the permit, I didn't leave the rim until
around 9:00 a.m. It was cold and snowing most of the time while I was
getting down to the head of the White Switchbacks. I saw at once that
the lower, northern one of the two ravines going down to the west is the
one to use. The snow on the rocks slowed me down a bit since I couldn't
see the footing very precisely. There were two or three spots where I
had to look a bit for a bypass out of the direct line of the bed, but I
assumed correctly that one goes down the ravine until there is a clear
need for the turn to the left. Where the talus filled ravine changed to
a 60 foot nearly straight drop, I looked for the way to the south. It
was simple with even a deer trail. About 150 yards in this direction one
comes to a slope offering many choices to get down to the Tonto Trail.
It took me an hour to walk down the Kaibab Trail to the top of the
ravine and 50 minutes to get from here down to the Tonto Trail. This
would go a lot faster in better weather.

At this place along the Tonto, although one is well back from the river,
he gets a fine view of the lower part of Bright Angel Creek. The new
engineer's home just south of Phantom Ranch is particularly noticeable.
West and south around one hill, I left the trail and started down the
swale leading to Pipe Creek. This drops off into lower Pipe Creek
farther north than I had realized. It is to the north of the junction of
the two arms of Pipe and one gets a fine view of the Bright Angel Trail
coming away from Garden Creek down towards the bed of Pipe.

The Tapeats, on the south side of this valley, makes several shallow
caves or overhangs, and I was pleased that I could go right to the one
with a couple of imperfect pictographs. A light colored soft rock has
spalled off since the pictographs were put there, but part of a deer
with fine antlers still shows in red clay, a picture of the same sort as
those near the head of the Bright Angel Trail. From here one follows the
base of the Tapeats cliff to the south with one detour down 60 feet into
the granite and back up. There is a bit of trail construction showing at
one place. Just before it is possible to walk down to the Tapeats
Amphitheater, there are a couple of alcoves in the cliff. On terraces
only about 20 or 30 feet above where I had walked on 1/31/68 are some
Indian ruins. A huge rock has fallen on a wall in the northern alcove.
The southern shows a large room outline and about six storage bins, one
a double decker in good preservation.

I left via the Billingsley slot on the west and walked the Tonto back to
the Kaibab Trail. Using the trail around and up the switchbacks, I got
back to the top of the Redwall in 45 minutes instead of the 50 that I
took to get down to the same place.

*Haunted Canyon, Redwall Ravine west of Sturdevant, and the Miners Trail
between Kaibab and Bright Angel Trails
[December 17, 1971 to December 20, 1971]*

I had been to the end of Haunted Canyon only once and that about 20
years ago. I recalled having climbed quite high while Boyd Moore watched
from below, but what seemed like the top 30 feet had turned me back. I
wanted to review the area and see what sort of climber I had been at age
44. After getting my hiking and camping permit it was 4:40 p.m Friday
evening as I was starting down the South Kaibab Trail. The top two and a
half miles were covered with snow, and there was snow in the shade
almost to the edge of the inner gorge. The dark of the overcast moon
less night slowed me all the way down the inner gorge. I had been
careless and had brought no flashlight so I used the light of the men's
room at Bright Angel Campground to cook my soup by Sterno canned heat.
The wind blew all night and I was glad to have the shelter to protect
the flame.

In the morning I called on the ranger, Bob Cornelius, to explain the
change in my plans. On the permit, I had said I was heading for the
Tower of Ra, but the cold night at Bright Angel Campground had persuaded
me not to try to sleep as high as the top of the Redwall. They now
forbid all camping in Phantom Canyon, but Bob thought it would be all
right since I wanted to camp well up in the open valley above the
Tapeats Fall.

It took me a little over three hours to go up the granite at the north
end of the campground and go over the ridge that projects from the base
of Cheops Pyramid and then down to Phantom Creek above the fall. This
time I couldn't locate much of the trail. I think I got too low at first
and then got too high. As I came within the last half mile of the
descent into the creekbed, I saw for my first time a very beaten down
Indian ruin on a high ledge. It is now completely inaccessible for a
climber of my ability and strength, but Al Doty or John Ritchey might be
able to get to it. On the return I found much more of the trail, but it
seems more obscure than it did ten or fifteen years ago. I had no
trouble walking to the overhung campsites about seven or eight minutes
walk upstream and on the north side. A flood had washed across the
terraces in many places, but these campsites were unaffected. Some dry
grass had been freshly burned, but I had a very comfortable bed on some
unburned dry grass. It felt warmer at night than the Bright Angel
Campground. There are two good overhangs both of which show cow chips
and signs of former use as camps. They are only about 50 yards apart.

On Saturday I ate an early lunch and started on without my pack at noon.
It took about 25 minutes to reach the junction of Haunted and Phantom
Creeks. About 150 yards from the junction on the east side of Haunted
Creek I found the same steel barrel that Lynn Coffin had asked me to
check. A 40 pound rock was holding the cover on it, and the same two
sleeping bags were in it, in good condition still. Some food and pans
were in the barrel also and these looked quite recent. Bob Cornelius
knew nothing about this cache.

I have just checked the new map and it repeats the error on the old
showing a permanent flow of water only below the junction of Phantom and
Haunted. Actually, the entire flow often comes from the spring in
Haunted about halfway from the junction to the end in the Redwall. I
noticed the shallow cave in the shale in the salient high above the
spring, and I also saw that one can get up on a high ledge above the
cave. There is an Indian ruin in this cave, and here is where Euler
found a couple of split twig figurines after Beck had missed seeing
them. Boyd and I had found a penciled inscription of a name and a date
like 1926. Boyd and I had used the whole day to investigate Haunted
Canyon, but on my shorter time allowance, I didn't climb to look into
this cave again. I did, however, go up the only real tributary of
Haunted, a dry streambed from the west but there is no chance to climb
out this one. An impressive elongated tower of Muav shale marks the
mouth of this tributary.

The very end of Haunted looked only vaguely familiar. On the east side
of the boxing is a crevice with parallel vertical walls that a good
climber might go up. On the west there is a stream course that comes
down over a smooth vertical fall. Between these one can easily go up a
brushy slope to the base of an almost vertical cliff. I had the wrong
mental image of this cliff. It tips back a bit with some breaks in the
surface. I must have climbed some of this difficult pitch when I was 44,
but now I wanted no part of it. Instead, I made a delicate move and got
into a crevice to the west of the face. It became narrower higher up,
and a strong climber might chimney up to the top of the Redwall here
also. I was now a bit past my deadline to start back, and I am rather
sure that my strength would give out if I tried getting through the
Redwall here. I turned back at 2:50 p.m. and reached camp by 4:45 with
plenty of time to get supper. Here, I spent 13 comfortable hours in the
sack.

On Sunday I got away by 7:40 a.m. and headed over the ridge into the
canyon that is just west of Sturdevant Point. From clear across the
Grand Canyon this ravine had looked promising, but from just across
Phantom Canyon on my way in, I had become discouraged. Now I just wanted
to cross it off one way or the other. Near the end there is a fork, and
the east fork is obviously impossible. However, the closer I came, the
better the west fork looked. Actually, it went very easily. It is about
as hard as the west fork of Vishnu Canyon (i.e., not hard at all). The
broken slope continues into the lower Supai, but about 300 feet from the
bottom of the formation, there seemed to be continuous vertical faces.
Buddha Temple seemed very close but inaccessible. I got down and back to
camp before noon.

By one I was ready for the trek back to Bright Angel Campground. This
trip went off smoothly in two hours and 40 minutes.

I spent almost three hours Sunday evening talking with Cornelius and a
friend of his who works at Phantom Ranch, Peter Bjerke. Bob says that
the bighorn sheep are not too uncommon any more and that he has seen
them more than once with binoculars. Peter reported that the USGS
engineer, Roy Starkey, said he had seen a steam engine somewhere up
Phantom Canyon, but Bob was skeptical as he says that Roy hasn't been up
the canyon even as far as the fall.

Bob also told me of a trail that was completely new to me although he
had learned, after finding it for himself, that a couple of other
rangers had found it first. It goes up from the River Trail well to the
east of Pipe Creek in the ravine that is one bend west of the south end
of the new footbridge. For the first few yards it follows the bed of the
wash, but then it veers to the east and goes by switchbacks up a very
steep and jagged slope. There is quite a bit of trail construction still
showing and there are numerous cairns with a stick propped up in the
middle. Bob couldn't guess why anyone had built it here. My conjecture
is that some miners wanted to pan gold along the boulder and gravel
beach that is so prominent below this trail. Before the River Trail was
blasted out of the solid rock, this beach would have been well nigh
inaccessible from either the South Kaibab or Bright Angel Trails. On the
way out today, I came from the inner gorge on this trail. Constant
attention is required to stay on the trail but it is a logical path
through a difficult area. If we should name it anything, my candidate
would be Gold Panner's Trail.

I walked on out in a total of four hours and 40 minutes.

*	Down Matkatamiba Canyon to the Colorado River
[January 20, 1972 to January 22, 1972]*

We had conflicting reports about getting up Matkatamiba Canyon from the
river to the top of the Redwall. Since I had already been down to the
rim of the Redwall, it seemed that a personal investigation was indicated.

Jorgen Visbak and Bob Dye joined me in the effort. We got a rather late
start and had to find a campsite in the dark on Thursday, a few yards up
the Topocoba Trail from the junction with the Hualapai Trail. The night
was rather cold and we all felt cold beneath where the wet ground took
heat away even through the ensolite pads. We intended to reach the
Sinyala Spring Friday evening, but when we met Jay Hunt in the village,
we stopped and had quite a visit. The Indians have shown him a great
deal about water holes in upper Havasu Canyon and he could tell me more
than I could take in and remember about such things. He rounds up cattle
with the Supais and has learned what rough country the horses can cover.

Starting on near 10:00 a.m., we were going up the Ladder Trail, quite a
trick now with the ladder replaced by a single short pole. I went up
first with the others holding the stick and showing me where to put my
feet. Then Bob came up and Jorgen handed him the packs. I went ahead to
scout the route and didn't see Jorgen manage the bad place without help.
The mesa is cut up with blocks and ravines and it is rather slow to get
to the old horse trail at the foot of the rim cliff. We then had the
problem of heading the numerous arms of Carbonate Canyon. Some were just
tedious, but the two forks of the arm involved real problems in route
finding. Bob found a good water pocket in the south fork of the north arm.

When we were through with Carbonate the going was easier, but Jorgen's
knee began to bother him. About 4:30 p.m. we reached a place where the
Supai bedrock formed fine overhangs with level sand beneath. It is in
line with a huge slab that is standing edgewise in full view up on the
slope. It is about a half mile north of Ukwalla Point just east of one
ravine and about 15 minutes walk from the next, the last that separates
the walker from Mount Sinyala. We found water pockets in both of these
ravines. There were signs of previous camping at this overhang. Jorgen
saw a piece of modern glass pottery, and I found a bit of obsidian.
Jorgen was afraid that he would hold Bob and me back. Since he had
enough water for the night, he stopped at the overhang.

Bob and I went on hoping to reach the Sinyala Spring before dark, but
when we found the good water in the canyon that goes into the bay
between Ukwalla and Point 5394, we filled our canteens and returned to
Jorgen to spend a comfortable night. When we went on in the morning,
Jorgen was still being careful of his knee. Hunt had warned us that the
spring might not be reliable at all times of the year, but we found the
pool eight inches deep with a lot of ice in the overflow pools. After
lunch, Jorgen went out along the Redwall rim of Sinyala Canyon to look
down on the river, and I took Bob up the fault ravine to the saddle
between Sinyala and Matkatamiba and then out on Matkatamiba Mesa to the
canyon at Mile 148.5. Bob got ahead and found a different way down from
the one I remembered from the spring of 1964. There were still some
possible variations different from either of these ways. We scrambled
down over the top rim of the Redwall on the east side to try to reach
the cave I had photographed almost eight years ago. We found the last
few yards of the wall too steep for safety, and Bob just checked a small
opening that went in about 30 feet. We reached Jorgen and his fire in
time for an early supper. Bob found a good overhang at the base of the
bottom cliff around the point to the north, and I scraped out a bed
under an overhang high above the spring to the southwest. It was a warm
night.

Jorgen again decided to favor his knee and do something slower than our
dash to locate a route down the Redwall in Matkatamiba. Bob and I went
up to the saddle in 35 minutes and then were surprised to find that we
needed an hour to go from there down to the Redwall rim in Matkatamiba.
Towards the bottom and at some other places, we found good burro trails.
A clear trail led us south along the rim. It was a bit of a detour when
we came to the next tributary but we could get to the bottom and across
where there was quite a bit of rock bending. We had noted that the
Redwall tilts up to the west so that one encounters it in the fault
ravine 200 feet above the same layer at the actual rim of Matkatamiba,
but where we crossed there is a local deformation. The ravine farther
east is impassible beneath a large chockstone. When Bob went up into the
narrows he found two good pools of water. We had found some pools,
mostly frozen solid in the upper exposed Redwall in the fault ravine,
but I couldn't find the seep in the exposed shale that I saw in 1964.

Soon after we got up on the south rim of this short side canyon, we
heard a repeated shout. We shouted back and saw Jorgen clearly against
the sky about 1100 feet above to the west and possible 2500 feet away.
He had heard me talking to Bob as we walked but he never did see us in
spite of our calling back. It was now 11:00 a.m. and Bob and I had
agreed to turn back after eating at noon.

It was at this side canyon where we saw fine exposures of the brown
conglomerate about 10 feet thick that I had noted west of the Tanner
Trail, in Red Canyon, and along Granite Park Creek far to the west. This
may all be one formation since it is just above the Redwall (Basal
Conglomerate).

Less than a half mile south of this arm, which certainly doesn't lead to
the bed of Matkatamiba, we found a place where a landslide has left a
steep ridge of debris from the bed about halfway to the top of the
Redwall. Furthermore, there is an easy walk down the Redwall to the top
of the talus, so we didn't have to go to the head of the south arm of
Matkatamiba. When we reached the bed, we had 35 minutes to go before
noon. Travel was easy and fast, and the Redwall narrows was as
impressive as any we have seen. When noon came we were making such good
progress that I couldn't bear to give up then. There were a few isolated
barriers in the way, but the bypass was always quite obvious. No burro
signs were seen in the bottom, but the bighorns use it freely. One can
be hasty and choose the wrong way down some of the chockstones, but if
you look carefully, there is a perfectly safe route.

There was a short chain of running pools about halfway from the descent
into the canyon and the river, and then soon after a major barrier, a
continuous stream began. At this place Bob went down by the chimney
technique, and to do this I left the Kelty and canteen above. On the
return we found a simple way up on the west side of the bed. By now it
was 12:30 p.m., but we scented victory and didn't want to turn back. It
was smooth hustling from here on except that the water entered a final
chute over a fall to reach the river. We first tried a bighorn trail on
the east of the chute, but we found it difficult to descend at the end,
so we doubled back and used the west side. A few yards from the river,
we were able to get down to the muddy sand. There is no delta at the
mouth, but we could walk around to the exposed ledges just west of the
mouth. The main current of the river races by next to this ledge with
waves about three feet high. It was now 1:10 p.m. and we had left camp
at 8:30 a.m. We were able to get up on the bighorn trail just west of
the mouth and it took us 40 minutes to get back to the pack which held
both of our lunches.

It appeared that we might get benighted on our way back to the Sinyala
Spring, so I urged Bob to go ahead at his own rate and that I would
follow at mine. He was 15 minutes ahead of me when I reached the west
arm, but I got from the river back to the spring between 1:15 and 5:20
p.m. with about 15 minutes taken to eat lunch. Bob was waiting with a
fire going, but we decided to start immediately to join Jorgen at the
overhang camp. It was dark before we reached the water pocket ravine,
but we located it without fumbling. It was slow to move safely over the
steep bare rock, and we were relieved when we reached Jorgen after
traveling two hours from the spring. The next morning we took six hours
to reach Supai via the Apache War Trail instead of the ladder route.
Jorgen had found his knee perfectly fit again, but I was down a bit with
bad digestion. In the night at the end of Hualapai Canyon some animal
dragged off my pan of cooked rice and left it clean about 50 feet away.
We walked out on Tuesday morning in two hours and 40 minutes feeling
quite elated at finding the route down Matkatamiba so easy. This must
have been the way the Indians traveled from Kanab Canyon to Supai.

*	Third try for Mystic Spring picture
[January 30, 1972]*

I was more than half convinced that the map location, from Waltenberg,
of Mystic Spring should be correct. Bob Packard went with me and took a
keen interest in the old sport of picture identification. When I
suggested that we might be close to the site for the picture on page 148
of In and Around the Grand Canyon, he recognized at once the rocks in
the foreground. We made good time down the trail which was free of snow
although the day was quite cold.

First we looked carefully at the place where the map showed Mystic
Spring and Bob led me down a couple of levels below where I had looked
before. Then paying attention to the phrase "Standing in front of the
spring" on page 154, we went north to the first extension of Spencer
Terrace to the west. We couldn't see the river from here, so it was not
the place that James was describing, but we fund several very deep water
pockets holding a good deal of water, the only places like this we saw
for the day.

Next we went north around the bay to the full western reach of the
terrace. Here we had a good view of the river south of Garnet Canyon and
the valleys below seemed to agree with the James account. There was much
gray and purplish sandstone below to the north. We ate lunch at a place
that had a superficial resemblance to the spot where the burros were
drinking at Mystic Spring, but the real identification was still
lacking. We went a little farther north and then doubled back along the
south side of a bold Supai cliff. There was a definite seep spring here
with one icicle and several drips, but the place didn't match the book
picture. A little farther to the east we found a couple of good mescal
pits.

We were now ready to give up the search for Mystic Spring, but I wanted
to prove that the picture on page 102 had the wrong caption. We set out
at a good clip for the Grand Scenic Divide. At first Bob was hard to
convince. He thought that the mountain in the Maude picture was also
Fossil Mountain, but as we got out farther north on the Grand Scenic
Divide, he became more and more sure that I was right. Time was running
out and we didn't get the foreground to check, but we were sure that we
had identified the mountain as Huethawali.

When we started from the Bass Trailhead, we saw a VW van parked there,
and down on the Grand Scenic divide we found fresh footprints. A solo
hiker had preceded us. There was a distinct burro trail going along the
Hermit below Fossil Mountain. East, below the Divide we could see two
stretches of the river, one of which was Serpentine Rapid. The day was
calm and we could just make out the roar of the rapid. As I was walking
along the level top of the Divide, I was wondering where the hole goes
through, the spot of light that can be seen from the Bass Trail below
the Redwall. If I am ever down here again, I should try to remember the
location of the hole.

When Bob and I turned back toward the trail from near the end of the
Divide it was 2:45 p.m, and I predicted that it might take us until 4:30
to reach the trailhead. We were both in good shape and the day was
invigorating. We arrived at the vehicle by 4:00 p.m. We had gone up the
final 500 vertical feet in only 15 minutes.

Although we had failed in our main objective, we had reproduced two of
the pictures in James and had found two water sources and some mescal
pits. Both Spencer and the Divide furnish unsurpassed views.

*	Routes off Great Thumb Mesa into Matkatamiba
[February 12, 1972]*

Since it takes the average walker a day and a half to get from the
Hualapai Hilltop to the Esplanade of Matkatamiba Canyon, it would seem
interesting to find a way down off the mesa top. I drove the pickup up
the Jeep trail from the Topocoba Road about five miles from the junction
and I could have gone over a half mile farther to where the ledges would
ruin anything less than a four wheeler. I noticed that the Topocoba Road
is distinctly better before it reaches the Park boundary. It isn't too
bad after that until it gets beyond the junction with the Great Thumb
Mesa Jeep trail. I got the pickup over the bad places, but it seems
worse than it used to. The sharp cornered blocks seem as though they
would wreck the tires, and there are rough and steep places where it
seems that one has to keep up some speed to get by with just the rear
wheels for propulsion. I noted that it took me a half hour to drive five
miles. I could walk that distance in little more than one and a half
hours. Since I broke a window of the shell camper against tree limbs, I
believe I'll allow enough time to walk this five miles unless I have a Jeep.

With my early start, I was able to park north of the head of the
Enfilade Route on the east rim. I wanted to go to Paya Point first, so I
walked about 45 minutes north along the road before heading west. In due
time I sighted a corral and an old shack with a cattle tank (dry)
nearby. I kept to the south of the deepening ravine and reached the rim
east of Paya Point above the drop of the wash over a fall consisting of
both the Toroweap and the Coconino. In 1959, when Allyn and I were
walking the Esplanade, I thought I had seen a place where there might be
an access from the rim, east of Paya Point, but now I could see that I
was mistaken (Ohlman and others have been down east of Paya Point on the
north side of the promontory)

George Billingsley had flown along the rim very recently and he told me
at first that there was no way down. When I suggested using a rope, he
indicated that there would be two or three places but they were all in
Matkatamiba itself. Thus I started south from Paya Point looking mostly
across the canyon. I could see a place that looked good where the top of
the Coconino looks beveled and the lower part is covered with talus
material. Furthermore, much of the Toroweap is covered, but there may be
one ledge where a rope would be needed for about 25 feet.

As I turned east on the north side of the bay that bounds Paya on the
south, I could see that the entire Coconino is covered at one place on
the south side of the bay and also at one place on the north side. The
approach to the former was impossible, but I went down to the drop in
the bed and then followed a bighorn trail to the immediate vicinity of
the likely place. The Toroweap is broken by a bench in about the middle,
and I decided that one could get down to the slope covering the Coconino
with two moderate rappels, each about 30 feet high. It took me two hours
to walk to the truck and this could be shortened by choosing a better route.

The main bed of Matkatamiba through the Toroweap and Coconino looked
interesting but I couldn't see it well enough to tell whether it offers
access to the Esplanade. This would be grist for another day's hike. I
have only begun to find the points of interest in this whole area. It
wouldn't hurt my feelings if they would build a good fast and scenic
road out onto Great Thumb Mesa so that I could spend my time down below
in the maze of canyons through the Supai rather than use as much time at
the wheel of the truck as I spend on foot.

Observations: A seep spring beneath the Coconino in the wash that is
east of Paya and south of Panameta. (Not to be relied on in hot weather.)

A buck with fine antlers near a tank on the Topocoba Road. A coyote near
the south end of the mesa. It crossed the road as I was driving south in
the evening.

Antlers that had been dropped south of Paya Point and antlers still
connected with part of the skull in the bed of the deep ravine south of
Paya Point.

*	From Great Thumb Mesa into Matkatamiba
[February 19, 1972 to February 20, 1972]*

On February 12, I had seen from across the canyon a possible way off the
rim. George Billingsley had flown along here and he agreed that this was
a real possibility, and he also recommended the place where the main arm
of Matkatamiba comes out on the cliff. He said that if one could walk to
the east at this level, he would reach a place where the Coconino is
covered.

I thought I was getting an early start when I left home at 5:42 to pick
up two coeds who wanted to get to the south rim for a trip down the
Hermit Trail. Perhaps I wasn't fully awake, because I parked in front of
their address but on the wrong street, one block west of Beaver where I
should have been. No lights were on anywhere, so after a wait of ten
minutes I took off for the canyon. When I was 25 miles away, it dawned
on me that I had gone to the wrong address so I turned around and
reached their apartment over an hour later than I had agreed to pick
them up. At Grand Canyon I waited for them to get the permit and then
took them to the head of the Hermit Trail.

Furthermore, when I reached the beginning of the Jeep road to the mesa,
I got cautious and left the truck on the main road. Thus, I started at
10:50 a.m. with almost seven miles of walking along the road. After a
lunch stop at the junction of the road W2A and W2AB, I walked nearly an
hour along the road toward Manakacha Point before turning north. I had
intended to keep on the high ground to the west of the Matkatamiba
drainage and head directly for the place I had seen the week before.
When I found myself getting down into a draw, I remembered that
Billingsley had said that he thought there is a way to get down to the
Esplanade right at the end of the upper valley. He thought you should be
able to walk to the east along a ledge to a place where the Coconino is
covered by a talus. Near the end I succeeded in bypassing a couple of
drops in the bed and I could see that I was below much of the Toroweap.
Then my hopes were dashed when I saw that there was nothing but a sheer
wall to both right and left and an awesome fall directly in front.
However, this trip wasn't wasted, for a few minutes above the end was
the only water I had seen. A pool in the limestone was frozen solid to a
depth of several inches except that there was water from melting only
half an inch deep at one edge of the ice. I used the suck squirt method
and soon had a full canteen. This was about 3:00 p.m., and I figured I
could make out for dinner and breakfast without more water.

Backtracking up the ravine was helped by locating more of a game trail
than I had seen on the descent and I climbed out at the first tributary
from the west. Since I was rather close to the rim, I had to cross more
than one side valley and it was nearly 5:00 p.m. when I reached the deep
ravine where I knew I should get through the top limestone. By this time
I was rather tired with my full Kelty and the climbing rope and Jumars.
When I saw the very steep slope I would have to cross, mostly covered
with loose scree, I was so discouraged I told myself that the place I
had scouted the week before was preferable even though it would take two
rappels. After a weary retreat up the loose material to the top, I ate
dinner without the usual soup in order to conserve water. I enjoyed the
evening view from the Dome to Fishtail Mesa with Mount Akaba as the
striking feature in the foreground, but after eating I started back
toward the truck in defeat.

In about 15 minutes I realized that it would be like a death march to go
clear to the truck before stopping, so I found a good spot under a
juniper and bedded down. It didn't begin to freeze the water in the
canteen and I was quite comfortable in less than I had brought. Before
morning I had decided to give the route another try and get a refill in
the canteen at the same waterhole before trying to reach the truck. I
left the pack and even the rope at the edge of the mesa and started down
the second time hoping to find a ropeless route. I reasoned that if it
really needed a rope, the place of the previous week would be preferable.

This time I turned the corner to cross the first bay at the very foot of
the cliff and had no real problem. At the next promontory I started down
the gypsum clay slope and found a sheep trail near the bottom. This
required care at places but I was soon where I could see the desired
route through the Coconino. A branch from the main trail led me down to
a near crack through the top Toroweap cliff. When I followed the track
around a corner to the east, I came to a place where the bighorns jump a
four or five foot gap in the ledge. It would be impossible for a man to
jump here because there is an overhang in the way about four feet above
the level you are standing on. I considered trying to hold to some
slight knobs in the steeply sloping wall below the gap, but I decided
that life is too short already. I retreated to the main trail above and
went farther east hoping for a better way.

There was none, but I had a good look at the place where I had been
stopped. I considered the possibility of getting down straight in an
angle just before the place where the sheep jump. When I went down the
second time to investigate this, I found a second crack through the
lower cliff which made it unnecessary to do anything heroic. One caution
to anyone using this lower crack is that a slab standing up edgewise in
the lower part of the crack isn't really solid. One can pull it loose
from below, but even if it were gone, this route is quite feasible. It
was a simple walk across and down through the Coconino. After a short
distance on the bare sandstone, the rest of the route is on a slide that
is cut away steeply on either side. I had brought nothing with me except
the camera, but I figured that I could do without water as long as
necessary to go down on the Esplanade to intersect the route that
Cureton and I had covered in 1959. Even if I never came back, I had
another route from the rim to the river at the mouth of Matkatamiba.

I had left my pack on the rim at 7:10 a.m. and I was back on the rim by
10:15, but I spent an exasperating 15 minutes locating my pack and
canteen. It was at a higher level than I had thought. When I was coming
back up the Coconino, I noticed a big passage behind a fin of the
sandstone. It is the only natural arch or window that I have observed in
the entire park in the Coconino Sandstone. Since it hadn't frozen water
on the top of the mesa, I was surprised to find the waterhole of the
previous day completely frozen to the bottom. I spent a lot of time
chipping ice and stuffing the mush ice into my canteen. I ate with no
water but what I could melt in my mouth and it was almost 1:30 p.m. by
the time I left the frozen pool and it was after two when I got back to
my pack at the bottom of the descent to the bed of the canyon. I
followed the bottom and rather soon came to a well established horse
trail along the bed. This made progress easier until the trail went off
to the west where the valley was opening out. I tried to keep the sun to
my right and by 3:10 I came to the Manakacha Point Road somewhat east of
where I had left it. It took me 45 minutes to reach the road fork. After
taking five or ten, I went on to reach the truck by about 5:30 p.m.

After what had seemed a fiasco on Saturday evening, I had had the thrill
of finding what I feel to be the only ropeless route down to the
Esplanade for many miles. In addition to spotting another window on the
way up the Coconino, I also noticed a small cave near the rim on my way
from the descent route back to where one can get into the bed. It went
beneath a block of limestone where there is a crack. I looked beneath
the rock where it was dark and tossed a pebble. It seemed to go down
rather straight for at least 20 feet. Not being a caver, and also since
I was short of water, I didn't get out the rope to investigate it further.

*	Beyond the Boucher Trail toward Vesta
[February 26, 1972]*

The plan was originally to go off the rim west of Mescalero Point and
get down the Coconino east of the Diana Saddle and climb Vesta the way
Doty did it. When Ritchey dropped out at the last minute, I thought it
might be interesting to approach Vesta along the top of the Supai beyond
the Boucher Trail. The way Doty went needs two climbing ropes, and I
didn't have time to get hold of another (can be done with no rope).

Bob Packard and I left Flagstaff about 6:45 a.m. and after getting the
permit, we left the head of the Hermit Trail about 8:35. I hadn't been
down here for several years but I could see no changes in the route to
the Dripping Springs fork. The spring 270 feet to the right of the trail
at the base of the Coconino is still running a neat little flow out of
the pipes that have been installed and there is a little basin deep
enough for dipping a canteen.

The big change is in the Boucher Trail. It has cairns all along it and
it has been used so much that one can follow it almost everywhere. There
are a few awkward steps over big rocks, but it surely goes much faster
than it used to when one had to hope he could find a deer trail for
guidance. It took us about 75 minutes to go from the Dripping Springs
Trail to the place to start down through the Supai and we were two hours
getting from the head of the Hermit Trail to this place.

There were no consistent deer or bighorn trails beyond at this level.
Progress with safety demanded attention to the footing, but there was no
bad brush as there is along the Hermit Shale on the north side of the
canyon. The view upriver to Granite Falls was outstanding when we
arrived at the northernmost promontory. The river was clear and green
this time. It took an hour to go around the bay above Travertine Canyon.
We had an early lunch soon after we rounded the point with a good view
of Vesta.

By now it was clear that we wouldn't get around Boucher Canyon in time
to try to climb Vesta. We continued along the slope until we could look
through the Vesta Saddle at the Coconino descent that Doty had used. Our
view wouldn't have confirmed his discovery that this offers a free
descent until the very bottom where he had to use a rope. I got a
picture through the notch showing the south end of Vesta and another
from where we had lunch to show the north end where Doty had climbed to
the top. We could see that one could get up through the lower third of
the Coconino rather easily, but from there on it might take some careful
route finding and then some real climbing. I didn't get a very good view
of the possible route up to the top of Vesta along the east side about a
third of the way from the south end to the north.

I looked at Marsh Butte from our route and just about eliminated it from
the realm off free climbing (it has been free climbed, 12/21/79).

There is a place in the Tapeats on the north side of the river just east
of the rim of 94 Mile Canyon that suggests a way to get down to the
river. Since Jim and Jan said that they had seen no way to get through
the Tapeats in 94 Mile Canyon itself, this place might be of importance
for a person trying to go along the Tonto to Crystal Creek (it goes and
so do several places in 94 Mile Canyon).

There were plenty of deer and bighorn signs but we saw no wildlife. I
heard a few pinyon jays and some canyon wrens. The weather was perfect,
but it was getting warm enough to warrant more than two quarts of water
for the entire day. I got a small refill on the return at the base of
the Coconino. Both of us felt the exertion but as usual, Bob came out at
the top before I did. In fact, I took about 35 minutes for the last
mile, a vertical of about 1000 feet. I wanted to prove that this way of
reaching Vesta is impractical, and we found that it was that. To do it
this way, one would have to carry water for a two day trek (Bob later
did this).

*	Glen Canyon, Mile 13.5 to Mile 0, Secret Canyon, and the Klondike Trail
[March 18, 1972 to March 19, 1972]*

Pat and Susie Reilly came up Friday evening and we got an early start on
Saturday. The ranger at the Visitor's Center told us how to reach the
easier way down to the river below the dam, on the north side downriver
from the transformer yard. The gate to the ladder was padlocked so we
had to walk about ten minutes to reach the rim. At first I tried a place
that led down to a sheer wall but I got some directions from a couple of
young fishermen far below. We had to go about 100 yards upriver from
where we were and here we found the metal posts cemented in the rock
with ropes fastened to them. These helped make it safer, but one could
get down the cracks and slopes without aid, and we thought that this
might have been an old Indian route that could have connected with the
canyon on the other side where Jim David had found an old access to the
bottom. We were down by 10:20 a.m. and had the boat blown up and ready
to take off by 10:40. Roma and Susie had walked to the rim but they lost
sight of us shortly before we got to the bank and we were out in the
water before they found us again.

The two man inflatable bore our weight all right except that the back
end had little freeboard. When Pat tried going through a riffle stern
first in the approved manner, the boat shipped some water in the waves
and we had to land to empty it. We were carrying Dock's notes on the
Faatz inscription, the nearby petroglyphs, the various dam sites, and
the Wetherill Flattum first night camp. There was no question as to
where we were along the river since we identified all the bends as we
reached them. At the proper distance below the two ends of Ferry Swale,
we landed and began looking for the inscription at what we both thought
was Mile 10.4. While Pat improvised a repair for one of the rubber
oarlocks that had broken, I went up and followed the wall downstream.
There was no inscription for about a tenth of a mile, and I gave up in
favor of eating lunch. When I took quite a bit longer to finish than
Pat, he started looking downstream about where I had left off. He found
the inscription on the wall just upriver from the bed of a little wash.
An impressive arch is outlined in relief against the wall a bit to the
east from here. One walks up to the right from the Faatz inscription to
see the petroglyphs. These appear to be very old and are of heavy
bellied sheep and square shouldered anthropomorphs with some other
designs thrown in. The incisions are mostly dots pecked into the wall
instead of uniform grooves. I was interested in the question of how the
Indians reached this part of the river. We thought that there is a
fairly good chance that they could have come down from the right rim
directly above this place and then near the bottom they could have used
a talus that is about Mile 10. As I read the map mileage, I would
estimate that the inscriptions are at Mile 10.2 instead of at Mile 10.4

There were a few places where the current bore us along at six or eight
miles per hour, but there were also long stretches where our oar power
was necessary for any real progress. Pat pointed to some gravel on a
right bank bench that had holes in it where the early miners had mined
for gold. At mile 8.8 on the left bank, we noted a spring and got a
needed refill for the canteen. After our lunch and the warm day, a quart
apiece would have been rather slim water rations.

Downstream from here we were thrilled by seeing a beaver slap its tail
and dive. A few minutes latter, we saw a beaver, possibly another
individual, swimming with a stick in its mouth. It was on a collision
course with the boat, and when it was only about 30 feet away, it
slapped the water and dove. We couldn't see where it surfaced.

We noted that the left bank at Mile 7 would have been an attractive
campsite for Wetherill and Flattum, but we didn't take time to stop and
inspect the area. Perhaps I'll run the river again with time to do this
right. Pat spotted the wall shown in the James book, In and Around the
Grand Canyon, on page 234, from memory (Pat was way off). It would have
been interesting if I had carried the book along and had checked Gene
Foster's mileage 5.8. We also noticed the dam sites.

Several boats went up the river under full power even though the river
was quite low. The Charles Spencer boiler was half out of water. The
wind came up as we rounded the curve near the big sandslide and it blew
the light boat upriver when we stopped rowing. There were small
whitecaps, and to keep the water out of the boat, Pat, who was sitting
at the buoyant bow, had to do all the rowing along here. We landed and
walked to the parking lot as soon as we reached the upper ferry site. It
was 5:30 p.m., but if the wind hadn't been against us, we would have
arrived quite a bit sooner. It was a pleasant and interesting trip, but
I would rather have that boat to myself so that I could move around a
bit. As it was, we were both quite cramped and the circulation in my
legs was poor.

Besides the possible access at Mile 10 on the right bank, there is a
long chance that one could chimney up a crack at Mile 5.4, right bank.
If one made it up about 40 feet vertically in the crack, he could likely
walk up the rest of the way and come down the Spencer Trail to the
ferry. The trip was through a beautiful canyon, and if one pays just a
little attention to the right channel, there is no problem of safe
navigation. I would like to repeat this trip with Roma for a passenger.

We spent the night at Cliff Dwellers and started back to Wahweap in the
morning. Our boat was in the going before nine. As we were getting to
the Padre Bay section, we noted a man on shore waving a white flag and
we found that his trouble was a lost drain plug. We went directly to
Rainbow Marina and reported his predicament to the ranger who called
headquarters at Wahweap.

We ate using the gas stove for heating some items at a little cove in
Secret Canyon near the mouth. I was eager to go up Secret Canyon to see
whether we could land and walk very far. It is still impressively
narrow, but we were able to use the motor almost to the end of the
water. There was some driftwood and we had to raise the motor to get
over one log. I got out on a sandy bottom in less than a foot of water
and found that I needed to walk through a 50 yard pool about one to two
feet deep before I reached real dry land. Here I put on my shoes and
needed to walk only six minutes to reach the place where a chockstone
drop had stopped me in April of 1965. I returned to the boat and told
the others the score. Then I picked up a light timber and returned to
the barrier. When I leaned the log against the wall at the chockstone, I
was able to get up. From above I was sure that this was the place I had
been before, and I walked on for 15 minutes. There were open places
where redbud trees were blooming and then there was one more spooky
narrow slot. I also recognized a huge overhang where I had taken a photo
in 1965. As the time was running out, I checked a dud of a possible
Indian ruin before turning back to the boat.

We next proceeded to the steps carved in the bare sandstone just west of
the mouth of Driftwood Canyon above the submerged Klondike Bar. Pat had
come up the old miner's steps from the river before the lake was very
full, or actually when there was just the river. We were both eager to
follow the trail on up, but there was only time to explore about 15
minutes beyond the steps that can be seen from the lake. A little beyond
these, we found more steps and several cairns. On the flat above the
lower bare rock slope, I saw men's footprints in the soil and a big
cairn that pointed me to the west. A hundred yards farther west I came
to a steel fence post with a new sign saying that it was a survey
marker. I could see that one might go up higher on talus slopes on both
sides of Klondike Butte. My impression was that the route on the east
side offered better chances of getting to the top of the Kaiparowits
Plateau. The possibility of tracing the old trail out to the top was
intriguing to both Pat and me. Pat's knowledge of the mining activity at
Klondike Bar and his location of the old trail was invaluable and we
both regarded the day as most interesting.

*	Sinking Ship
[March 25, 1972]*

John and Micki Carrol had visited the Sinking Ship twice without finding
the Indian ruins, so I agreed to go with them and see the place again.
It had been six and a half years since Reider Peterson and I had climbed it.

We parked at the paved picnic area to the southeast of the Sinking Ship
and walked down into the depression and up a bit before going off the
rim. This route is brushy and I didn't find much of the trail I had
remembered from former years. John Carrol seemed to be a bit more
effective at locating some pieces of trail, but my theory that the hotel
people had built a good trail for their guests to take a stroll around
the Sinking Ship is no longer supported by evidence. In fact, there
seems to be very little left of any deer trail around the base of the
Sinking Ship, and the walking is looser and rougher than I had
remembered. There is a good deal of up and down walking.

On other occasions I had noticed a metate under an overhang on the east
side here and a flat piece of sandstone, but it wasn't a clear cut
metate. I should have photographed the rock I had thought was a metate.

It soon became clear why the Carolls hadn't seen the ruin I refer to in
my guide book. They had turned back too soon. Before you see them, you
have to start into the bay that is just below the notch between the
northern most tower and the middle one. I saw the storage bin that is
against the base of the northern tower and then noticed the more complex
set that is a little to the south of the scramble through the notch. We
went up and inspected this set of two or three rooms. Some rock seems to
have fallen from the floor area since the structure was built, but the
builders probably used a short juniper log across a little fissure to
form part of the floor. Two of these rooms were big enough for a short
person to lie in. Adobe clay still holds the rocks together. The bin I
saw first, down to the northeast, has lost all of the clay. It is a bit
large for a typical bin, but no one could lie down inside this room.

We had to go quite a bit lower to get around the base of the north
tower. The views of the buttes to the north across the river are superb
from here and Coronado Butte is also most impressive. There was no clear
deer trail along the base as I had thought but we stayed close to the
cliff. Finally when we were almost to the south end of the last high
tower, we came to the ravine where Reider and I had come down using a
rope. Just a little farther I recognized the place where we had started
the ascent. It doesn't seem a bit obvious that one can go up clear to
the top on this route, but I recall that it wasn't particularly hard.

We followed the trail that still shows quite definitely out to the top
of the plateau immediately above the saddle south of the Sinking Ship. I
walked to the car while the Carrols headed directly for the highway. I
got to the parking with just a bit of a fumble by staying just too low
and walking about 150 yards past it before I saw my mistake. I then
drove more than a mile down the highway to pick up my guests, but they
hadn't reached the road yet. Then I drove back to the parking and waited
a few minutes. This time I found them.

This is a most interesting loop trip when one has less than two hours
for a hike. With the climb to the summit, it is a most satisfactory
achievement.

*	Fourth try for Mystic Spring
[April 15, 1972]*

My color slide of the picture in the album belonging to Bill Bass
finally came from the processing lab and I was sure I could go right
where the parallax would be right and find the old spring site. The
reproduction of the original black and white picture was rather
imperfect, but I thought I could line up the skyline with the right part
of Huethawali and also get the rim of the Esplanade in the right place.

One thing that was absolutely certain from the picture is that the
spring couldn't have been where it was shown on the old west half map
and also on Dock's reproduction of a map where Waltenberg had placed it,
exactly where the Matthes Evans map had put it.

Saturday turned out to be a perfect day for a hike, clear but cold
enough to preserve some snow in the shade at the level of the rim. I had
thought about the possibility that I would need more than two quarts of
water for a full day of hiking, but my worries were over when I found
rain water in the pockets on the Esplanade. There was a little at the
top of the Supai in Garnet Canyon and lots of good pockets, some deep
enough to immerse the canteen, on the west side of Spencer Terrace as I
approached the broad north end.

At this distance north of Huethawali, the south rim was lined up at the
right position on the west profile of the mountain, but I could see that
I needed to be lower than the top of the Supai to get the level rim of
the Esplanade across the mountain close to the bottom of the Coconino. I
also couldn't see any good candidates for the foreground in the picture.
At first I went down to the west at the neck just south of the wide
north end of Spencer. Then I followed a burro trail to the west at the
level just below the top of the terrace until I could see the river
about a mile upriver from Elves Chasm. This is the area that fits best
the description given by James in the book In and Around the Grand
Canyon. This area was disqualified by the position of the skyline
against Huethawali. I could also see that I needed to be quite a bit
lower to get the rim of the Esplanade right. I didn't go right to where
Bob Packard and I had eaten lunch although the foreground in the picture
had some similarity with that vicinity. To get lower, I went high and
walked to the east to descend at the neck. I passed the spring Bob and I
had found. It was still dripping very slowly. To record its location, I
took a picture that paralleled the cliff and showed Wheeler Point in the
background and a large pinyon in front of the spring. I also faced the
other way for a second picture and showed Havasupai Point and Fossil
Mountain as the background. I would like to go through the rest of
Bill's album and see whether there are any similar pictures that would
serve as locaters of the spring called Mystic.

Back at the neck just south of the wide north end of Spencer I was able
to descend although it took some care and route finding. I worked my way
west at the foot of the massive cliff at what appeared to be about the
right height for the perspective in the picture, but I couldn't see
anything remotely resembling the right foreground. There was also the
difficulty that I couldn't recognize any of the features showing in the
picture on the face of the cliff rimming the Esplanade in front of
Huethawali. The north side of Huethawali agreed with the picture, but
this was all I could recognize as being right. For the rest of my time,
I worked my way west and down to the middle of the Supai where there is
a well established burro trail. Around below the northwest corner of
Spencer Terrace the burro trail goes to a rare break, a fault zone, and
goes lower. I would have liked to go down to the Redwall rim for views
of the river and then go around into Garnet Canyon where I know it is
possible to get up to the Bass Trail, but time was running out. I found
a way and got up on the north side of Spencer. The natural route back
led by the spring near the two mescal pits Bob and I had found (fox seen
on the Esplanade east of Huethawali).

*	Matkatamiba Canyon
[April 22, 1972 to April 23, 1972]*

Dr. Jon Thomas came from Wickenberg and stayed with us Friday evening.
We were up soon enough to get the permit and start west about 8:15 a.m.
With some trepidation, I drove the road up on the Great Thumb Mesa and I
got back also without ruining any tires. I saw fresh tracks going north
on W2AB at the fork, and I knew that they had been made the day before
by the Fields. Jon and I stopped the pickup where the telephone line
crosses the road W2A so that we would know which way to walk if we came
back to the road with the truck not in sight.

I might have used a compass on this trip, but we left the truck heading
toward Mount Trumbull. Then we used the high point Elliot for a
destination. The idea was to stay on the high ground and we kept to the
west of the ravines going down into Matkatamiba. This worked very well
because we reached the rim north of 6010 from the road in one hour and
45 minutes.

As we were taking off the packs to eat, we got the greatest thrill of
the entire trip. About 40 yards away, standing in a group against the
rim were five bighorn rams and another, the largest of all, was lying
down in front. They regarded us with interest and stood while I got the
camera ready. I got about three pictures before they decided to take off
at a gallop to the west. I ran and got another shot of them disappearing
behind some rocks.

After lunch we noted the large cairn which Billingsley had built near
the big crack that they had used to come up to the rim. Again I looked
down past a chock stone and saw that we would have to lower the packs by
rope about 25 feet. The chimney climbing down looked a bit hard since
the crack seemed to be rather wide for good bracing against both walls.
Jon would have taken it in stride, but he was quite willing to respect
my judgment and go around the longer, easier way to the west and down.
We went down the mostly loose material at the angle and then went around
the corner to the base of the Kaibab Limestone cliff to pass the scree
slope and then went down the bighorn trail. We used the same crack I had
found before, but I had to take off my pack and manipulate it through
the crack on the descent. On the return I was able to stand out far
enough to keep the pack from catching, and so could Jon with a broader
pack. I next noticed something that hadn't occurred to me when I was
discovering this route. The place that had stopped me when the ledge
gives out can be bypassed not only by another crack to the west, but one
can walk down a simple slope just a little farther west than this crack.
I can't imagine how this escaped my observation before. We now used the
simple slope and proceeded east to the place near the solid wall where
the final descent is made through the Coconino.

On the Esplanade we turned southeast and entered the short ravine. We
saw the slight remains of a fire out on the smooth bedrock where all
trace will be erased by future storms. This must be where Billingsley,
Jensen, and Varin camped. It is near the first good rainpool. There were
plenty of these scattered along the bed of the canyon from here on down
and some are deep enough to furnish water through long dry spells. This
ravine drops into the main arm of Matkatamiba over quite a fall. The
young people had taken this head on, and Jon was able to get down a
stiff drop while I handed his pack down to him. He stood against the
wall and let me step on his shoulders and I got on down with some help
from a small tree. Billingsley, Jensen, and Varin had built a cairn to
mark this turnoff from the main bed. On our return I led Jon up canyon
about 150 yards farther and we found a simple way up and back around
into the same ravine. Once I went too high and had to descend some. We
came back to the bed at the place Billingsley and the others had camped.

Less than a quarter of a mile from where we entered the main bed we
noted some ruins under an overhang on the east side of the bed. The
walls seemed to be without mortar and no complete rooms were outlined.
We didn't spend much time looking, but we missed Billingsley's other
ruins and the petroglyphs.

In getting down to the spring below the big drop, there were two initial
barriers to pass. This may have been the one where Allyn concluded that
we couldn't go on. It is very possible that the barrier that discouraged
Allyn is farther up in the main bed. This one can be passed by getting
down some of the short drop on the right and then going left across the
face to the broken rocks on the west. At the next, much greater drop,
one can go up high on the right and follow a game trail to a slide where
it goes back down to the bed.

We seemed to be getting quite low in the Supai Formation, and I was
beginning to wonder whether Billingsley's big drop around 200 feet would
be a gross exaggeration. I was prepared for a shock and when we arrived,
it came up to expectations. An exact measurement might put the height to
150 feet, but it is clearly out of the class of the other barrier drops.
The view from the top is striking, the red walled valley looking across
to the north rim, the rich grove of cottonwoods below, and the ferns and
columbines growing on the perpendicular walls right below. There is a
lot of seepage both from the lower part of the main wall but even more
from the slot canyon that comes in from the left. We found several
cairns that Billingsley had built marking the crack to the left of the
brink where one can get down to the narrow ledge that goes under the
overhang of the main bed. At one place Jon and I handed down the packs.
Most of the walk around to the east is safe enough, but before one comes
to the slide, the ledge narrows to a four inch track in the steep dirt.
The whole ledge is only three or four feet wide and the footing is
precarious. To complicate things, the overhanging ceiling prevents a man
with a pack from doing much better than a crawl. I passed here with only
a few scrapes of the pack against the ceiling, but the idea of getting
across with his pack rather bothered Jon. I put mine down and carried
his pack across the bad part holding it in front of me. On the return
both of us crossed without removing our packs. We arrived at the lowest
pools of running water at 3:00 p.m. after four and a quarter hours of
actual travel from the truck.

We left the packs here and I changed to my light oxfords for some more
walking. We promptly encountered another barrier fall. Jon came down a
bit of a drop on the west and I did a similar one on the east. The
footing was so bad where I came down that it was time consuming. I
should have gone high on the landslide where we had come down to the
spring, on the east side of the bed, and continued for several hundred
yards. Then I could have come down easily beyond the last barrier in the
Supai. The Redwall shows before one reaches the junction with the large
tributary from the east.

By now I could see that there would be no time to investigate the fault
on the east side of Matkat and Jon was very willing to go along the west
Redwall rim and get down into the main bed below the obstruction. We had
a burro trail of sorts along here and soon found the first way down. It
is easier, if anything, than the way Dye and I had gone down. It took
five minutes for us to walk the bed to where Dye and I had entered and
then we walked on to let Jon see the most impressive narrows, only ten
minutes farther. When we returned, we climbed out on the east side
almost exactly opposite the southern descent route from the west. It was
simple and the burro trail still is showing here.

I passed the barrier below the spring by going high on the slope to the
west. It had some burro signs for some of the way, but before I got
down, I was moving very slowly on precarious footing. The best way is to
stay high on the other (east) side.

We had a fine night with the right amount of bedding. Owls and frogs
furnished interesting sound effects, and I heard a mosquito several
times. I scraped several ticks off me but Jon never seemed to be
bothered by them. We broke camp at 7:00 a.m. and reached the truck by
1:45 p.m. in about five and a half hours of actual walking time. I
showed Jon the Enfilade Point ruins before we headed back to
civilization. I also pointed out the way down to the river.

It was a fine time for a trip, plenty cool, and with lots of spring
flowers.

*	Mystic Spring
[May 6, 1972]*

After studying the pictures I had duplicated from the one in Bill Bass'
album, George Billingsley had gone right to the place. You can easily
walk along the pavement of bare Supai west of the highest part of
Spencer Terrace to where the rim turns sharply to the west as the end of
the terrace widens. Jon Thomas also had told me that Bass used to have a
camp under an overhang near here, but I had been along here twice before
without seeing anything that was like the pictures. Even with the
pictures showing Mount Huethawali in the background, I couldn't tell
which way I should move to get the foreground right. Billingsley gave me
quite explicit instructions, so I knew that I should be down about 20
feet below the broad pavement that forms the west rim of the neck and
then walk to the south. I found the place he mentioned that is rather
hard to pass, a projection that gives very little shelf for walking.
Beyond this point I could see that I was at the right place. The skyline
on both sides of Huethawali was right and the foreground rocks matched
too. Directly ahead under a fine overhang was the old Bass camp with
three pails lying around. There were some walls that may have been to
form a terrace. Leading away from one side of the overhang was a small
cave about six feet deep where someone had left a blue plastic air
mattress. North of the overhang is an intriguing tunnel that leads to a
circular pit in the 20 foot high sandstone. It is big enough to
accommodate two or three small redbud trees.

The spring itself is about 20 yards south of the overhang. According to
the picture in James' book, the main pool of the spring was quite close
to the 20 foot cliff, but now this area is covered with soil. The only
water now seeps from the base of a two foot ledge that forms the west
border of the place where the burro in the James picture is drinking. As
George had said, there is a cup or two of water in a little basin about
a half inch deep by six inches across. The rock down slope from this
little basin was wet, but there was no perceptible flow. About a yard to
the south there was another small seep, but this water merely kept the
soil wet.

There is another wall outlining part of a room quite close to the spring
and a constructed trail leads south of the spring along the ledge until
it reaches a break where it goes up on the bare pavement. There is a
fairly distinct burro trail south along Spencer Terrace.

Walking down from the rim and around the north side of Huethawali is
mostly easy. Without hurrying, I came from the rim to the vicinity of
the spring in about one had a half hours.

All of the water that I had found standing in holes along the pavement
as one approaches the spring was dried up. I didn't go to the other seep
northwest of here to see whether the slow drips were still active.

Evidence that the Indians used the whole area isn't hard to find.
Besides the ruins one passes near where the trail starts down through
the Coconino, there are mescal pits in at least four locations. The
first one is about 50 yards northwest of the big cairn where the trail
comes to the base of the Hermit Shale. The next pair are west of the
trail where it turns north along the north branch of Garnet Canyon. The
next cluster is above the west base of Spencer Terrace where it joins
the main plateau north of Huethawali. There is another pair near the
seep spring near the southwest part of the wide north end of Spencer
Terrace.

After having a leisurely lunch at Mystic Spring, I climbed down about a
third of the way through the formation and walked the broad bare
pavement to the south. I wanted to check for any other water sources.
Although there were many places where the rock was stained white by old
seeps, I don't think there was any other spring. Then I walked out to
the end of Huxley Terrace and got a fine view of Shinumo Creek. I
hustled to get back from the end of Huxley to the rim between 2:15 and
4:00 p.m. There I had the pleasure of a second visit with Mike Armour,
his wife, and two friends. It took me two and a half hours to drive from
Bass Camp home.

*	Second try for Vesta
[May 14, 1972]*

John Ritchey, Lee Dexter, and Bob Packard went with me. We started
rather late from Flagstaff, about 7:15 a.m. since I had been getting
back from Lake Powell the night before, and Ritchey and Dexter were up
even later getting back from a spectacular climb south of Kingman.

The new feature in driving out on the Park Boundary Road is that they
are removing the telephone poles that we have been using for locating
the best parking. The first sign of poles we saw were the bases that
were pulled out of the ground but were still lying there. Then we saw
the whole pole lying on the ground, but the first number was 330. We
were able to read the numbers where they lay up to 350, and we parked on
a rise a little west of 355. This would be about one and a quarter miles
west of the gate through the drift fence. Lee gave us a compass bearing
at right angles to the road and we veered a little to the west. In 35
minutes we came to the rim right at a large cairn, but it was the marker
built by some of our student hikers a couple of years ago. I led the
party east and north along the rim to the two cairns, a small one built
by Allyn and a large one put up by Al Doty. This marks the top of the
Jerry Bortle route.

Immediately below the rim one turns to the east for a few yards, about
40. Then you go down to the west through a crack and come to the steep
slope with the little ledges and the crack over to the east. We tied my
rope to a pinyon and used it for a hand grip all the way down to the
ledge. My memory of this was clear except that I wasn't sure which tree
we had used for a rope anchor before, something like 11 years ago. At
the short but straight drop near the bottom, I used a leg rappel, but I
didn't need more than a hand grip. The others only held to the rope, and
on the return I pulled up with the rope twisted once around my hand. One
could carry a short rope and tie much lower than we did. With four of us
and the need to wait until a person was out of the way for fear of
falling rocks, it took us about four times as long to pass this place
than it would have taken one man. On the return, Lee climbed this pitch
without touching the rope, and Allyn has done this too. Clement and
Tadje could have come this way. Below this pitch the way goes down a
slide through the next ledge and then turns east. You go along about two
thirds of the way to the saddle before finding a bighorn trail down. At
the bottom of this, you need to use your hands, but there is a good grip.

Doty said his way was straight down the break east of the saddle and
involved a short rappel at the bottom of the Coconino. After we had gone
down the red part of the Toroweap, we came to a drop in the limestone.
Bob scouted to the south and I went north. I shouted that signs looked
good, use by animals particularly. I soon found a walk through the
ledge, and farther north, just as we came to the end of the ledge under
a big shallow cave, there was another break that took us into the
Coconino. There was a broken slope through all but the bottom 60 feet of
Coconino north of us, so we inspected it. Lee got down a chimney without
his pack, but John said that Bob and I wouldn't like this place. We
scouted to the south again needing to go back up some of the formation.
There is a high talus covering the lower Coconino and we headed for it.
I overshot it at a higher level, but Bob found the break. I feel sure I
could climb down without a rope, especially if I would lower a pack by a
cord, but we used John's perlon here since we had it. Doty surely didn't
see this or he would have needed no rope.

Then we faced a problem of getting off the talus to the south. I thought
that we would have to go down to the foot of the Hermit to do it and
started down by myself. The others stayed together and Bob found a
place, not at the very top, but rather high. On the return they came
along a lower level, but still above the bottom of the Hermit.

On the talus the first thought was that we would have to go to the
bottom of the Hermit to get past, and I started down by myself intending
to cross at the bottom and then join the others. When I was quite low, I
shouted and found that they had succeeded in getting past the talus and
were about to eat lunch. I also stopped in the shade and ate. Then I
discovered that I was already below the first big cliff of Supai and
couldn't get back up to the Hermit to the south without going back where
I had been. I shouted that I would go down to the bed of the valley at
the Redwall rim and go up the other side to the saddle south of Vesta.
Just a few yards beyond here I skidded and fell on my back. This is
quite common, but this time I landed on a sharp rock that jabbed my back
low on the left and hurt quite badly. I kept on going down for a short
time, but I could feel it getting worse and could tell by my sense of
shock that I had broken a rib or two. I shouted to the others that I was
going back to the truck and they heard me. It was already so late that
they would have taken until 4:00 p.m. to reach the top of Vesta, but
they also felt that they should help me as much as possible, so they
returned too. Besides the weakness of shock, I couldn't breathe deeply
and thus had to move slowly. It felt a little worse when I had to use my
hands to pull up a few places, but I could do it without too much pain.

I was prepared to use my Jumars to climb the short vertical place on the
Kaibab pitch, but I was unable to make out by giving the rope a twist
around my hand. Lee Dexter did this place without touching the rope, as
Allyn has done before him.

We were all remarkably successful in getting back to the truck without
missing the way. At the rim Dexter consulted his compass and gave us the
direction, about 60 degrees to the left of the sun. John walked with me
most of the way while Lee and Bob went off at a faster pace. We found
their tracks and followed them until they seemed to be going too far to
the east. They hit the road within three telephone poles of the truck.
John thought I was also heading too far to the east and he left me a
short way before we came to the road. He missed the truck by only one
pole to the west. When he honked the horn, I didn't have to change
direction at all, but I was the last to arrive.

Besides the fossil footprints I observed, there were also a couple of
mescal pits at the base of Diana about 100 yards northeast of the
saddle. The material has slid down the slope so that it doesn't make a
cup now, but the small stones show the effects of fire.

Even using the Bortle departure from the rim, one should get an early
start. It would be best to sleep next to the truck and leave by seven or
before instead of at 9:45 as we did. Now that we know the route, I could
do it a lot faster. I would want a rope at the steep pitch in the
Kaibab, but I think I could do the rest free. Perhaps there would be a
place on the north end of Vesta that would require help for me to get up
the place where Al did a pull up.

I would also like to go back here with the thought of getting down to
the rim of the Redwall in Topaz. There may have been a bad drop below
where I saw it, but I would like to make sure.

The fossil footprints are on the largest and lowest of several huge
blocks of Coconino Sandstone that have rolled down the gully southwest
of the long talus. They are the most impressive I have seen, not
excluding those on the Eminence Break descent to Marble Canyon.
Unfortunately, they don't show individual tow or claw marks, but they
are big and form a straight track about 25 feet across the vertical face
of the detached block. There are several sets of tracks with some
crossing others. The big ones here are about six inches long and are
about two inches apart on the same side. I didn't inspect them from
close up. There are some other small ones near the chimney where Lee
went down.

*	Glen Canyon, Mile 13 to Mile 0
[May 27, 1972]*

We were planning to take Joe and Sally Hall for a two day trip on Lake
Powell when we found that the outboard motor needed a new part that
would not be here for ten days or so. A second trip down Glen Canyon
below the dam seemed most attractive. Bob Packard was glad to accept my
invitation and Roma was quite willing to drive around to Lee's Ferry to
pick us up.

We considered going around the transformer yard to get to the descent
trail on the north side of the river, but we used the same approach as
when Pat and Susie Reilly were along. From the turnaround, Bob and I
walked south along the west side of the rocky knoll and it took us about
30 minutes to get to the rim and find the head of the trail. This time I
wasted a couple of minutes by getting east of the trail. We were down to
the river in only 15 minutes more. We found a better way to reach the
water than Pat and I had used. A ramp slopes down to the west.

There was quite a bit more water in the river for most of the day than
Pat and I had had, and it kept on rising through the day. The ranger at
the desk at the Visitor's Center said that they had been letting as much
as 26,000 cfs through the power plant, but this may have been for only
part of the day. Some campers we talked to at Mile 10.4 said that the
fluctuation was about five feet in depth.

Our first stop was not more than a mile below the start, on the left
bank, to inspect the access route that Jim David had discovered when he
was in Page as a high school student. Someone has rigged it with ropes
and a long cable at the top, but Bob and I found it more than a match
for our climbing powers. At the bottom we went up an easy talus of
broken rocks and soon saw the need to go up a steep crack over at the
east side. Our rubber soles might have held on the smooth bedrock, but
we felt better with our hands braced on the vertical walls. Above this
place one needs to get out of the main wash to the east and then come
back into it farther up. A simple scramble over breakdown material leads
to another narrow crack where the nearly vertical climb is helped by two
ropes, one tied around a projecting rock and the other to a piton. After
another easy scramble one arrives at the foot of the hardest place. A
long cable comes down here. The only way to do this without a rope or
the cable would be to get into an uncomfortably narrow crack and try to
chimney up. I couldn't see myself going up so far in that 15 inch wide
chimney so I tried the cable. After I had gone up 15 feet using very
meager toeholds to support part of my weight, I came to where there is
nothing but smooth rock. My grip on the cable was getting weaker and I
was afraid I would start to slide. Bob and I agreed that if we had been
wearing gloves, we might have taken the chance of losing a firm grip on
the cable, but as it was, both of us decided to come down at the same
place. There would have been only about 60 feet more of climbing above
this place and there seemed to be enough platforms to stand and rest. It
did seem like the most precipitous place that I have ever seen that was
ever regarded as an access route (Doty and I needed Jumars).

There were a lot of boats up from Lee's Ferry and between some waves
caused by the current and the wakes of boats, our little two man shipped
some water at least twice. We stopped at a sand beach about Mile 10.4 to
tip out the water and eat our lunch. Some people in two boats had set up
a two night camp behind the dune here. In our visit, a man told me that
he had heard that there are four ways to get down between Lee's Ferry
and the dam. I should have asked him his source. Bob and I soon found
the third, the way the Indians had reached the petroglyph site near the
Faatz inscription. Just about Mile 10 on the right bank we started up on
a talus that is soft sand covering a rock slide base. At the top, there
was an easy climb up to a ramp that rises to the east. As this ramp
ends, one can go up the sandrock steeper to the east and then double
back on a steep ramp to the west. Then one gains a lot of altitude over
broken rocks and turns east at a high level until he is out on the rim.
It took us 45 minutes to get to where we could see the top of Tower
Butte and most of Navaho Mountain. Then on the descent, we missed the
way by getting too far to the west. This route is east of the major
ravine that supports some greenery.

Precisely at Mile 5.8, Bob was holding the James book In and Around the
Grand Canyon and he recognized the picture on page 234. Gene Foster was
right.

*	Route to Vesta
[June 11, 1972]*

What with getting the permit after 8:00 a.m. and picking up Donald Davis
who was camping outside the park boundary, we didn't get started away
from the truck until 9:40. Even the uprooted telephone poles have been
removed so that we had to note the mileage from the drift fence. I
parked about 1.7 miles beyond the gate, which was probably farther than
we should have gone. With a compass we tried to maintain a course at
right angles to the road, and we reached the rim well to the west of the
place to start down. After 55 minutes we were ready to leave the rim.

We used the rope at the usual steep part of the Kaibab and got down
without incident. Since the second person must wait until the first is
out of the line of rolling rocks, this is the part of the trip that is
faster for a man alone. I remembered the way off the lower ledge and we
proceeded through the saddle and down the two breaks in the Toroweap. I
pointed to the fire blackened soil and rocks at the mescal pit at the
base of the cliff off Diana. On the return, Donald noticed a burnt slick
next to a low overhang nearby.

Donald was having an off day for climbing. He had been slower in getting
down the Kaibab than I at a couple of places, and when we faced the
place that Packard had found to get through the Coconino, Donald didn't
want to trust his weight to the 50 foot quarter inch rope I had brought
for this place. With the short length, we needed to tie it lower than we
had tied John Ritchey's rope, and I used a block of sandstone with a
little flange on top. I let my pack and water down on the rope and then
came down myself. Donald tried starting down but didn't trust the
layout. Finally, I went ahead to get more pictures of the fine display
of fossil footprints on the big block of Coconino that has rolled to the
bottom of the Hermit. When I was returning, Donald was below the
Coconino. He had made the prime discovery of the day, a safe and
ropeless way through the Coconino. It is about 50 yards east of the
Packard route and involves nothing more difficult than chimneying
between big blocks of Coconino. Going up between these rather smooth
blocks requires quite a bit of effort and I still prefer Packard's way
with a rope for support. The Davis route requires ducking under a block
that has fallen across a crack and some clever route finding where the
cracks lead into each other at right angles.

It was now well after noon and we could see the futility of trying for
the top of Vesta. As a very acceptable alternate, we tried going down to
the Redwall in Topaz. Donald talked me out of trying to descend the
ridge of talus material where we had eaten our lunch and where I had
broken my rib on the previous trip. He could guess that the lower end of
the slide had eroded into a rubble wall. We went up to where we could
get into the bed of the fault ravine. There were numerous small barriers
that were quite easily passed until we began to think we had it made.
Then in the lowest part of the Supai we came to one more big drop in the
bed. The top of this barrier is formed by a couple of chockstones. I
went along a ledge to the right (west) and got down to the next level
below while Donald found a somewhat harder way closer to the bed of the
ravine. Then I followed the bench, with bighorn droppings to encourage
me. One more big one and we would be down to the talus going to the rim
of the Redwall that now seemed quite close. I came to a place where the
cliff was broken into about three or four minor descents. These would be
easy for a sheep to jump down, but I couldn't see myself getting back up
this way.

Across the bed to the northeast, there appeared to be a more likely way
down, but it didn't look very sure and safe to me. Furthermore, it was
now nearly 3:00 p.m. and we would have to turn back. About 100 feet of
rope would make this descent sure, but it is obviously better to keep to
the Hermit and contour if one just wants to climb Vesta.

We had a bit more trouble arriving at the car than usual. Although we
used the compass again, we came out on the road about eight minutes walk
west of the truck.

*	Nankoweap via Kibbey Route
[June 12, 1972 to June 18, 1972]*

Donald Davis came from Fairplay to go with me and we started for the
north rim in late afternoon. After getting the permit and organizing our
packs, we left the ranger center by 9:00 a.m. and parked at the
Greenland Lake area. I had previously walked to the point of the rim to
the south of the depression that leads up to the rim, but this time we
walked north along the highway and then went toward the rim. We got too
far to the north and I started down there with the result that I had to
go east through some bad walking before I came to the Coconino break. We
had wasted time on the rim and more below the rim. I had brought my 120
foot rope and Jumars with the idea of rappelling to save the long walk
from Silent River Cave on the north side of the Kibbey promontory to the
south side along the top of the Redwall. The rappel seemed a long way
down and we went east along the south side of Kibbey looking for a more
appealing site. We found a place where a man without a pack could make
it down ropeless. The route is to the east of a small tower at an angle
of the lowest easy scramble. There is a six foot drop where we used a
dead but strong shrub and about 20 yards farther east I came to the
crucial place, a crack with a large fir sending a limb almost straight
down. With the aid of some toe holds and a dirt bank that comes up in
this crack, we could get down, but we let our packs over the edge by the
rope. Next one needs to go farther east on this brushy bench about 50
yards to where there is a ramp in a crack. Near a big ponderosa pine
Donald found a spring when we were returning. From here there is a
fairly clear deer trail that goes down an easy slope for about a third
of the Supai. Before you come to another bad drop, the trail turns west
along the contour. The bench becomes very narrow and the footing is
precarious around into the rubble filled ravine that goes clear down
through the entire Redwall.

Along the way through the upper third of the Redwall, Donald checked a
couple of cave openings and I went to the opposite side, the east, to
check a larger opening. Mine went in and up to another opening, but no
light is needed. There were some cave formations in it. Down where one
turns the angle at the bottom of the Redwall, we came to the obstruction
that was left by the 1966 flood, a consolidated pile of clay and rubble.
I moved across carefully where the deer have stepped, but it looked so
bad to Donald that he balked until I carried his heavy pack across. As
before, it was necessary to stay in the woods on the right side of the
ravine below this obstruction for about 150 yards. The walk down canyon
is through beautiful firs through a fine part of the Tapeats. The short
tributaries on the north, walled in with named summits Kibbey, Hancock,
Sullivan, and Hayden looked inviting, but we didn't explore them at this
time. Donald later checked the base of the Redwall for cave openings and
discovered a seep in the Muav below Silent River Cave. The spring north
of Ehrenberg Point was running as well as ever and we made an early camp
here.

Since I woke up early, I got off before Donald on Wednesday morning to
go over the pass between Alsap and Brady. The hardest part of this is
making progress over the rock slides. At the top one can go a short way
east along the south side of Alsap to where the ledge ends above an
awesome drop. I saw one rather dubious crack in the rest of the Redwall
upwards towards the Supai of Alsap, but nothing that I wanted to try
climbing. Donald came up to the same place later and went up the Redwall
and made the first ascent of Alsap. He used a crack system in the Supai
on the northwest corner of the tower. From the ledge I had noticed a
deep alcove on the southeast side of Brady and when I went down from the
pass, I angled across under it. From below I could see that it is a
natural bridge of the same order of dimensions as Keyhole. I continued
down to inspect the window through the fin that extends south from
Alsap. At its base is a shelter cave. Since the west end of the window
is inaccessible, I followed the base of the Redwall around to the east
side. The window is a hole about 30 feet wide by 80 feet high and slopes
up to the west. If I had had a bit more nerve or persistence, I could
have climbed into the hole, but as it was I could look up and see that
the roof is cut in two by a vertical hole. I angled back to the west so
as to get through the Tapeats below the Alsap Brady Saddle. From the
east base of the Alsap Window the south approach to the Alsap Novinger
Saddle looked quite feasible. There was one level that was hidden behind
a promontory, and on Thursday we learned that this section was quite
impossible for ordinary non technical climbing. I walked down the south
fork of Nankoweap Creek until I came to one little pool of good fresh
water. No spring seemed to be feeding it, but tadpoles were living in
this water. I got a refill and headed up over the terrace to the south
of Novinger. I had to cross one deep ravine in the shale but the next
one I came to led on to the fork north of Alsap. I got back to camp early.

I had been able to shout to Donald when he was west of Alsap Window and
when he was almost up the Redwall in climbing Alsap, I began to worry
about our splitting up and went back up canyon to look for him. I found
no trace in the first tributary above camp and then I was somewhat more
disturbed by finding his water cache untouched. I met him coming down
from the Alsap climb when I had gone a short way up toward the saddle.

On Thursday we started together to try to reach the Alsap Novinger
Saddle. The climb to the Tapeats was immediately below our camp, but we
soon found that the ravine doesn't cut through the Tapeats. The
projecting corner just west of the bed seemed to be a distinct
possibility. Without my lunch and water, I was able to use an old pine
and get past the edge of a vertical wall. The next trick was to get the
packs up. The steep shale above the angle was about the worst footing I
have ever seen, and I decided that I couldn't even get down safely. It
would be safer to climb out of danger and walk to the west. I had
noticed a ravine quite close, but at the worst I could get back down the
Tapeats far to the west at our route of the previous day. When I checked
the ravine just west of here, I found it easy except at one place. By
taking a couple of friction steps without good holds, I could get by
here also. Donald didn't relish this move, but he had his web climbing
straps along and we looped them around a small tree so that he could
come up from below.

He seemed better able to keep a good pace so when he stopped to look for
a hummingbird's next, I went on across the shale slope into the bed of
the ravine. He went on up the ridge and kept to the south base of
Ehrenberg. I discovered that the Redwall at the head of my ravine was
impossible, and after some shouting I got out of the ravine and joined
Donald. As he had guessed from his Alsap climb on the previous day, the
Redwall wasn't too bad from the Ehrenberg Alsap Saddle up Alsap, but
Ehrenberg is only for the technical steeple jacks (Walters, Ohlman and
Kirschvink did it free). Just before I went along an exposed ledge to
the really easy part, I was buzzed by my first rattlesnake for over a
year. (Donald saw another the very next day.) With only a little route
study needed in the broken north side of the summit block, I was up.

Donald had been busy moving around, but he met me when I came down by
the same route. It was good that I hadn't tried to go directly down to
the Novinger Saddle because the limestone is precipitous for a short
way. We crossed below the Redwall and had little trouble getting to the
saddle. Donald had spotted the best way through the Redwall to ascend
Novinger and the small amount of Supai offered no difficulty. Near the
northeast end, Donald called my attention to a hole where the earth was
kicked up. We think a bolt of lightning struck here.

While Donald checked some cave openings, I went down to the south of the
saddle to see whether I could get through it. I came to a place where it
became a chimney and gave up. Donald found a cave that has about 400
feet of passageways. We got down to the north easily using the same
break in the Tapeats. I had fun sliding through some bare soft shale and
then committed the biggest boner of the trip when I reached the dry
streambed. I turned up canyon and walked away from the spring for over
five minutes. If I had even looked down the bed, the spring was about 30
yards away.

Two of the four nights we were at this spring, rain seemed a distinct
possibility. Donald found a place under an overhanging rock where both
of us could bed down a few minutes walk east of the spring and about 150
feet south of the bed by a little seep among tall yellow columbines. The
birds around this valley were fine too. Donald located a Cooper's Hawk's
nest and taught me to recognize the notes of the towhee and gnat
catcher. We also noticed rock wrens and canyon wrens.

On Friday I went down and around into Mystic Falls fork of Nankoweap
while Donald went up to explore for caves in the Silent River and Hayden
tributaries. I crossed the broad terrace to get into the next fork north
and came down to the bed at a nice oasis. There was a grove of trees
higher than this, but there was no more water until I came near Mystic
Falls. The flow over the fall is permanent but not very great. However,
the sight of water dashing into spray in this part of the canyon is
breath taking even when you know what to expect. After the real show
pieces in Havasu, Deer, and Thunder Creeks, there are very few falls
worthy of note in Grand Canyon. Cheyava doesn't often live up to the
billing of the Kolbs, and upper and lower Ribbon Falls are about the
only others that tourists get to see. Mystic Falls in Nankoweap and what
I call Clubb Falls in the Supai of upper Shinumo just about complete the
list of perennial falls. If Royal Arch Creek had a bit more water, it
would classify high, but of these three, Mystic Falls is the only one to
be seen from a good accessible viewpoint.

I cut across the corner made by the creek to approach the fall for a
closer picture and stumbled across a circular Indian ruin with a bit of
broken pottery nearby. Then I went northeast to get a close look at the
fine cliff dwellings that Beck discovered. They are high on a ledge
under a natural ceiling of Tapeats. The ledge is reached by a talus at
its west end and walking along here is difficult because of falling
blocks, brush, and sloping fill material. First there is a neat granary
and then at the end of the line four perfectly preserved rooms. The
doors are only big enough to crawl through and are set about two feet
above the floor. I noticed that at least one has sticks protruding from
the wall on the inside. I didn't observe whether the ceiling had smoke
stains and I didn't see any sherds. I got back to our appointed new
campsite at the junction of the main arm and the north fork before 5:00
p.m. and then had a long anxious wait for Donald to come along about 9:30.

On Saturday we went up the Nankoweap Trail together. Donald thought Bill
Breed had been shown a shelter cave at the base of the Redwall by Melvin
McCormick where there had been a reed boat at one time. Really, Bill had
been shown from the air, a cave or hollow in the Supai. Euler had flown
this area in a helicopter and had seen no ruin. However, this lack of
discovery would be clear if the ruin were out of sight in the back of a
cave. My main purpose in Little Nankoweap was to see what the lower end
of the valley is like. I had thought that one might get down from my
route when I had walked all right, but that there might be a barrier
drop in the narrows above this place. It turned out that the walk
through the narrows has no obstruction and that a good clear deer trail
goes up to the top of the Redwall where I had been. If I had come down
and then gone up to the Nankoweap Trail at the west end of the valley, I
could have done in three hours what took me eight the other way. The
only sign of previous use was a mescal pit that Donald found near the
base of the Redwall at the upper end of the valley.

We had come to the top of Tilted Mesa by the deer trail south of the
regular old horse trail. To return we used the horse trail and found
this better. In the lower part of the Redwall, the old trail is gone
with the rockslides, but here someone has built a system of cairns to
use the deer trail. The whole thing is much better marked and has been
improved by use since I first used the Nankoweap Trail. There should be
no hesitation about using it now. After Donald and I had cooled off in
the stream and had eaten dinner, we left for our upper campsite at the
Ehrenberg Spring about 7:15.

When we had been going about 20 minutes, we noticed that we were heading
for the valley south of Novinger. We thought we had already missed the
turnoff into the right canyon and climbed up on the terrace. I soon saw
that this move would take us over into the Mystic Falls arm and then we
looked at the map. The arm north of Novinger and Alsap turns right
rather close to Novinger. I didn't recognize this stretch since I had
turned over to the other arm higher up and Donald had come along here in
the dark. When we realized our error, I went back into the bed
immediately while he continued along the terrace. By doing this he saw a
distinct complex of old dwellings forming more than a half circle around
a court. The moon and Donald's carbide light helped us to get back to
the upper spring, but it seemed like a long drag of over two hours.

Our climb out might have been more pleasant if we had started an hour or
two sooner before the sun became so warm. I seemed to have lost a lot of
pep, perhaps from an inadequate diet for nearly a week. Donald spent
quite a time checking cave openings and found some more goodies while I
plugged on up to the truck. I went a bit too far east for the most
direct way up to where we had left the rope and I wasted some time in
the brush. Likewise, at the Coconino I started up too soon and had to
descend 30 feet. As has happened before, I saw the bit of retaining wall
on the return while we had missed it on the descent. I was also careful
to come out on top near the end of the point and I noticed the 100 yards
or more of trail out in the soft earth there.

*	Wall Creek, Manzanita Canyon, route to Clear Creek
[August 2, 1972 to August 5, 1972]*

I needed a rest from climbing Wheeler Peak, so I didn't leave until
Wednesday. My projects were going to be combined with meeting the scouts
from Westfield, New Jersey at Cottonwood Camp.

The trip down the South Kaibab Trail and up to Cottonwood was uneventful
except that when I went down to the river to see whether I would see
George Billingsley, I did run into Bill Gillenwater. This was my first
trip up the North Kaibab Trail since the pipeline was finished. It is in
the best shape ever with the fine new bridges. There are now only five
bridges since the trail has been put over a hill without going across to
Ribbon Falls. Hikers still find it better to use the stepping stones
over to Ribbon Creek and then use a bridge to get back on the main trail
north. The heat came up to expectations and I dipped my shirt in the
creek about every 20 minutes.

The scouting party and their friends were at Cottonwood Camp when I got
there. They were waiting until a cooler time of day to proceed to
Roaring Springs. I visited for an hour and then felt ambitious enough to
go up Wall Creek, an item I had never carried out. I should have talked
to Herm Pollock first, because I missed the major attractions. I climbed
the rubble slope to the north of the creek and then went down in the bed
for a time. Ravines cutting the slope down from the north made going
slow high up, and the vegetation in the bed made travel difficult there.
Thickets cut off good travel next to the bed. When I had done this for
an hour and a half, I had reached the part of the valley where great
blocks have lodged making progress still slower. I could see that I
wouldn't get back to my pack before 7:15 p.m., so I returned via the
high route. I learned, from Herm Pollock, the next day that the real
attractions are a waterfall and a 200 foot tower in the Redwall.

On Thursday I got off to a slow start and then talked to Mrs. Pollock
for a time. She didn't confirm my impression that her son had gone up
Manzanita to the north rim. She said that he and a companion had helped
each other and had succeeded in getting above the waterfall. Manzanita
was a pleasant contrast to Wall Creek for walking along the bed. There
was a little water flowing intermittently, but mostly the bed was dry
and open. At one place I noticed a small flow coming down over a 50 foot
wall from the north side from a spring. There were no barriers of any
consequence until I reached the fork. Water came over the fall in the
south arm and the north was dry, but both looked unscalable. Beck and
Dunn had gone up a place in Modred that looked impossible for me, but I
found out later that Jeff Pollock had not scaled either of these walls.

I backed down to a place where I could scramble quite high on a
consolidated slide, but when I tried going forward to the top of the
fall in the north fork, I soon came to a vertical wall and had to give
up this idea. Farther back, again on the north side, there is a big
slide that obviously takes one much higher. I got up here and had some
difficulty passing a couple of ravines where the slope is bare and
steep, but I was able to come down in the bed of the north arm. I
followed the bed, with only one minor bypass, until I could see that the
Redwall at its end is hopeless. There was still time after my lunch to
do something. I went up out of the bed on the east side of the north arm
with the idea of trying the Redwall at the point that splits the two
arms. I could see that this would be slow, and I wasn't sure that I
could get through the shale cliff to attempt the Redwall. Furthermore,
the very bottom of the Redwall here is not at all sure to be climbable.
If I were to try the complete ascent to the north rim, I believe I would
put my hopes on crossing to the south of the wet (south) arm. There is a
Redwall break there which may connect with broken Supai and Coconino.

Instead of continuing with this idea, I tried the Redwall across the
north arm (on the west side of the north arm). A slide covers all the
shale and half the Redwall. This went all right with a few places that
require pull ups. Right near the top 30 feet I thought I could follow a
ledge to the south into a broad ravine and walk up the rest of the way.
When I got around this corner, I saw that I would have to go down a 20
foot wall to get to the easy part. Back 40 feet there was a chance to go
up behind a flake. This worked until I had only five more feet to go,
but a yellow jacket began to harass me. The second time that it had
darted in and landed on my hand convinced me that it meant business. I
think its stinger didn't reach through the handkerchief I was wearing
and through the hair beneath. I gave up after doing 98% of the Redwall.
It would have been rather late to start anything then, so I went back
the way I had come and had a long visit with Mr. and Mrs. Pollock. For
one thing I learned that Jeff had gone up above the falls using the same
route I had picked. Mr. Pollock walked back to Cottonwood with me and
pointed out seven or eight Indian ruins. He also said that about 18
unbroken pots have been taken out of Bright Angel Canyon, mostly by
people who didn't turn them in.

On Friday I started early down to Ribbon Falls to see a ruin which Herm
called the most photogenic of all. He told me just where to stand to
look for it. I spotted it where he said to look and then climbed up to
it. It looks better from a distance. It was just a poorly preserved
storage bin.

I next tried a route through the Redwall that had been done by Jan
Jensen, south of the one I had used when I climbed Deva. I went up the
slope to the north of the narrow gorge immediately upstream and across
from Ribbon Falls. I thought that there might be an impassible fall in
this narrow part. On the return I learned that this is the case, a sheer
drop of perhaps 200 feet. After a time, I found a deer trail down into
the bed. The lower barrier is in the Shinumo and there is an upper
impassible fall in the Tapeats. The bypass was on the south side of the
canyon near the convex angle. When I got back into the bed, I put down
my Kelty which contained my lunch. The way steepened and some big blocks
had to be bypassed.

The bed was now going up to the south. Near a shale cliff, a slide had
covered the shale on the west side. I followed it up to the base of the
Redwall and even up through the lowest member. I was afraid that the
ledge I was following might lead to a jumping off place, but it went
with no break back to the bed. The top forks but the west part is
obviously impossible. The right route requires some pull ups, especially
one at the very top. In the Supai I angled to the west and found only a
couple of places where one has to scratch for a route. The saddle is
about a third of the way through the Supai, and it took me only 15
minutes to go over to where I had been when I came up from Clear Creek
and had turned south along the west side of Brahma.

I returned the same way and ate as soon as I reached the pack. I checked
the lower bed of this canyon on the return and then went out to the
north again.

The heat was pretty bad most of the time I was down there and I soaked
in the creek before returning to Cottonwood.

There were plenty of fine swallowtail butterflies and some birds in
evidence and I was surprised to see four deer, a doe and fawn in
Manzanita Canyon, and two more in the main canyon. I thought they should
have been up in the north rim's coolness.

Another thing I noticed for the first time was a pinnacle that looks a
bit like the Olympic Torch. It can be seen for only a short distance as
one is going south in the narrows and is approaching the place where the
trail and the pipeline are protected by a cemented rubble wall.

There were beaver signs in Wall Creek, but I saw none in the main Bright
Angel Canyon as I had in years gone by.

Something that I should defend against was the infestation of my
crackers and gingersnaps by hundreds of red ants. Perhaps I should keep
such things in plastic boxes.

*	Climbing to Wall Creek Spring
[April 3, 1972 to April 5, 1972]*

Jerry Hassemer and I spent April 1 7 at the Grand Canyon on a trip that
we had ambitiously planned to include cave hunting in Wall Creek, upper
Bright Angel, the Transept, and perhaps Cremation Canyon. Wall Creek,
however, tied us up so long we never reached our other objectives. I
will focus this report on Wall Creek, since we accomplished nothing of
importance otherwise.

In 1953, Art Lange observed that Wall Creek had its source in an
inaccessible recess above a travertine apron on the lower part of the
Redwall cliff along the north side of Wall Creek Canyon (West. Spel.
Inst. Tech. Rep't #4, 1954). In 1964 I visited it and confirmed Lange's
description. Jerry and I wanted to see if we could climb to the actual
water source and determine if an explorable cave existed. We regarded
this as a one day affair, which proved naive, as it took three one day
trips out of Cottonwood Camp to reach the source. We should have set up
our base camp in Wall Creek; this would have saved three or four hours
of travel time each day. We tried several variations of routes into Wall
Creek but never made a final conclusion which was best. It is most
direct to start up at the south end of Cottonwood Camp, walk for a few
hundred yards below the Muav ledges overlooking Wall Creek Valley, go up
the first available talus to the base of the Redwall and traverse to the
spring. This involves some gully crossings. It is also feasible (and
preferable at night) to follow the bed of Wall Creek from the Kaibab
Trail. This is brushy and requires some stream hopping in the lower
narrows, but there are no drop offs. The cascades below the spring are
best detoured by a talus ridge to the west of them.

On April 3, we began work at the spring. The flow pattern down the
symmetrical travertine half dome looked very much as I recalled it from
1964, but on seeing it again, I revised my estimate from 30 to 40 feet
high to 50 feet or more. Our best approach seemed to be to climb to a
Redwall ledge to the east of the spring, then drop 15 feet from the end
of the ledge to the top of the mound. About 200 feet east of the falls,
a minor buttress gave us a starting point about 15 feet up the otherwise
shear Redwall face. The first technical pitch was a 20 foot, nearly
vertical to overhanging wall to the right of a two inch crack. We found
someone had beaten us to it a few years before; a line of several
quarter inch bolts and a piton were in place. We unfortunately could not
reuse most of these as the nuts and hangers were gone, and Jerry had
five sixteenth inch Star bolts that were incompatible. Setting several
new bolts, and with two chocknuts in the crack, Jerry neared the top of
the pitch (about halfway up the cliff) by evening. I took the last shift
and was able to clip into two old hangers just above. The upper one had
a rusty steel carabineer, still usable, lettered PH20. Evidently Pete
Huntoon had been our predecessor. We found no sign that he had gone any
higher than this or had reached the spring.

Next day I did most of the leading, setting four more bolts on the more
sloping pitch above. A good climber would probably have done it free,
perhaps by layback; but we were too conscious of the exposure and the
absence of help to take chances in the interests of esthetic technique.
We stopped for the day about 15 feet below the ledge, where the rock
became more vertical and rather disturbingly cracked. That night we
found Keith Wilson awaiting us in camp. (He had originally intended to
meet us at the South Rim but had been delayed by snow storms.) On April
5, Keith took the lead. He boldly free climbed the final pitch, using
two chocks for safeties, then set a bolt for belay rappel anchor above
the ledge. I joined him by Prusiking up the rope. Jerry decided not to
come up as the afternoon was now well along; he took some photographs
from below.

I had an odd misadventure on the ledge. Though it had probably 70 feet
of exposure, it was easy walking, two to six feet wide except for a few
feet where the footing narrowed to five inches. Keith crossed this, but
I did not want to follow until I had cleaned and widened it by pulling
out an obstructing mass of loose slabby rock. The disturbance turned a
one and a half inch scorpion out of the moist crack. We threw it over
the cliff, but apparently overlooked another which somehow got into my
clothes, through coveralls and Levis. About two minutes later, while
sorting gear, I felt a sharp wasp like sting in the small of my back,
then another on the left buttock. Searching my pants I found and killed
a small scorpion. It fitted the general description of the dangerous
(neurotoxic) Centruroides species said to inhabit Grand Canyon about one
and a quarter inch long, straw colored, very slender. We considered a
quick descent, as that ledge would be a very bad place to collapse from
a poisonous sting. However, after some minutes I still had not developed
any symptoms beyond mild local pain, and decided to carry on. Within two
hours the pain died away and I suffered no aftereffects.

We set a final bolt above the west end of the ledge to rig the 15 foot
drop to the spring aloove. We found that the wide spread of flow over
the travertine mound is directed by a travertine dam curving several
feet along its lip. Most of the water is shunted to the west side over
the low point in the dam. Behind the dam is a calm, sinuous stream, four
or five feet wide and one to two and a half feet deep, with a fine silt
bottom. The floor of the recess through which it flows is about 15 feet
wide and 30 feet long, with coarse grasses, maidenhair and other ferns,
and a large datura plant. At the west rear is a short blind pocket with
a slit bank above shallow water. The stream issues from the east rear
via a three foot wide crawlway, trending N 30? E (true). Keith lighted a
carbide lamp, waded in a few yards, and reported that further
penetration would be a swimming proposition, with four inch air space
over two to three feet of water. A vertical joint above the east side of
the crawl was too narrow to enter. There was no apparent air flow and we
decided not to soak ourselves trying to get further.

The water could be lowered by knocking out the travertine dam, but the
cave prospects do not justify such gross vandalism. The dam has at times
been higher than it is now. The slit in the rear has a waterline a foot
above the existing level, and hints of others two to three feet above
present level. These lines may be quite old, preserved by semi
consolidation from destruction by the rodents and ringtails whose signs
we saw in the aloove dust. The water flow seems to have been very steady
in recent times.

Our 120 foot rope was not long enough for a double line rappel directly
from the alcove, so we rappelled from our bolt at the east end of the
ledge, leaving an aluminum carabineer of mine as well as Huntoon's old
one further down.

The wet winter has brought on many rockfalls throughout the Canyon. A
very impressive one, which must have happened not more than a few weeks
before our visit, took place about a quarter mile down canyon from Wall
Creek Spring. An oblong block at least 20 by 15 by 10 feet fell from an
overhang above a seep in the lower Redwall on the north side. In going
about 750 feet vertically and 1000 feet laterally, it made about 10
major impacts, leaving craters and trenches up to six feet deep, 15 feet
wide and 30 feet long, and skipping over intervening oak brush. The
devastation would do credit to bombs or bulldozers. At bottom it leaped
50 feet across the bed of Wall Creek, missed some trees, and smashed
against a huge boulder in the opposite wall, leaving a four by five foot
bruise and splitting into two major slabs and about five lesser blocks.
But for this obstacle it might have rolled well up onto the south slope.

In 1964 beaver signs were conspicuous all along Wall Creek, and there
were active dams in the willow and backslider thickets almost up to the
base of the travertine apron. Since then the population seems to have
crashed, and at first I thought they might be extinct in Wall Creek.
However, a few must remain; near the place where Wall Creek cuts into
the Precambrian sediments, we saw cut willow shoots that had barely
begun to weather. I saw no evidence of beavers along Bright Angel Creek
as far up as the old powerhouse site, and wonder whether there are any
surviving elsewhere in the drainage since the 1966 flood.

I noticed a peculiar plant on the west side of Bright Angel Creek a mile
or more above the Clear Creek Trail junction it appears to be a young
date palm. It has perhaps a twelve foot spread but has not yet begun to
show a trunk.

*	Direct route to Hartman Bridge
[August 9, 1972]*

Donald Davis had noticed a break in the cliffs between Points Atoko and
Naji across the canyon from Siegfried Pyre. After he had climbed
Siegfried out of the north end of Lava (when he had found the pot
cache), he came back alone and succeeded in getting down through the
Redwall. He had told me that the main difficulty was in the upper
Coconino where he had passed a drop by means of some dead tree trunks
that he had pushed into place.

I drove to a clearing east of Jacob's Lake Tuesday evening and then went
to the ranger station for my permit early Wednesday. Leaving the truck
about 8:45 a.m. at the paved parking west of Hartman Natural Bridge, I
looked at my compass and headed east. It took 35 minutes to reach the
rim north of where I needed to start down. Shortly after crossing the
main valley, I spotted an Indian ruin. The lowest course of rocks showed
the neat rectangular shape through the pine needles. Attached to one end
of the rectangle was a second room that had a rounded outline. I could
find the place where I came out on the rim and perhaps locate the ruin
again.

One can start down through the Kaibab almost anywhere along here, but
there is a persistent ledge that has to be passed in particular places
where there are cracks. I went down through one and in the evening came
up through another both in the neighborhood of the 8000 foot elevation
figure on the new map. The Coconino forms a deep and narrow ravine but
it is wide enough to offer some choice of route at a few places. I soon
saw the dead tree trunks that Donald had used. The upper ones might have
slipped into place by nature, but the lowest and largest had fairly
surely been placed there by someone, namely Donald. There may be a
bypass for this abrupt declivity. I wonder whether Donald tried a
parallel slot to the north. It might seem a bit brushy and steep to get
over into it, but I have a feeling that deer can go up and down through
it. Incidentally, there was no established deer trail through this way,
as there is west of Point Atoko, but I saw enough evidence of deer
tracks below and above this Coconino break to make me think they use it
occasionally. There are some rough spots in the bed through the Supai,
but they can be bypassed easily in the wood to one side or the other. A
cairn, presumably Donald's, showed where one should go from the bed into
the woods on the south.

The Maxon geological map indicates a dotted line through this tributary
presumably indicating a graduational instead of an outright fault.
However, at the head of the Redwall gorge, a clear fault shows with the
left side 40 feet higher than the right.

Donald had told me where one should start down through the Redwall, out
near the point between Hartman Bridge and the tributary. I made a few
false moves before I got started right off the rim. The way down is to
the north of a pinnacle but not right next to it. After you go down a
ravine, you need to go up another to a ledge that takes you around the
base of the pinnacle to the south. I got a view of the natural bridge
before I realized that I was getting too low. On the south side of the
pinnacle you can go down easily to the south beneath the sheer cliff.

From many places along this Redwall descent I could see the pot cache
cave. A feature that caught my eye was a block of Supai Sandstone about
as large as a room that had fallen and lodged on top of a limestone
tower above and to the north of the cave.

I had studied the picture of the pot cache cave from below in Euler's
article and I had no trouble locating it and climbing up to it. It was a
most satisfying route into the canyon and with a little practice on this
route, one should get from a car to Juno ruin, say, in about five hours.
This is similar to the rappel route off Cape Final, but the Davis route
needs no rope, and it is surely the best for visiting the natural
bridge. I would disagree with Davis and think that the Indians surely
must have used it.

In the evening I came to the road about ten minutes walk south of the
truck. The eight and a half hours of walking time took a lot of energy
and the next day I didn't feel ambitions.

*	Information from Herman Pollock
[August 3, 1972]*

I had told Mrs. Pollock that I would be back from Manzanita Canyon about
4:30 p.m. and Herm was there with her when I arrived. We had quite a
long friendly chat. It went mostly with Herm asking me a simple question
about pictographs or something after which he would open up and tell me
far more than I knew. He sprang facts and fancies on me for an hour with
machine gun speed, so I don't recall all of his statements. Some are as
follows:

The pictographs that Billingsley saw in the east arm of Fishtail near
the top of the Supai are about 30 feet above the ground and are almost
life size. They are not like those in Davis Gulch and the Escalante
country, with bodies shaped like a keystone for a bridge. The very best
displays of pictographs anywhere around are along the walls of Snake
Gulch not very far from the road end. Herm was quite interested in
finding any pictures of men with two or three feathers coming up from
their heads. He had heard from a man in Albuquerque that two feathers
denoted the deity but three merely a chief of the tribe.

Pollock was enthusiastic about the number of ruins in upper Bright Angel
Creek and he walked down to Cottonwood Camp pointing to about seven or
eight along the way. He said that about 18 unbroken pots had been found
in these ruins or in caches, such as one under an overhang near the
mouth of Wall Creek. When the Mormons first reached Lee's Ferry, they
found two wagons of Spanish type still loaded with very rich silver ore.
They took the ore to Salt Lake on orders from Brigham Young. A
sheepherder in Houserock Valley deserted his sheep and found an
extremely rich silver mine but died a few days after his employers found
him. He was raving that he was the richest man in the whole world when
he died, but he was unable to tell his friends where the mine was. It
has never been located since then.

When the first white men reached the mouth of Nankoweap Creek, they
found two boats covered with skin. These might have been the same as the
boat of reeds that Melvin McCormick talks about being at a ruin in
Little Nankoweap. Perhaps they were skin covering a boat of reeds.

Herm Pollock has climbed the Redwall on the left wall of Bright Angel
Creek where the slide covers the formation, and he also went up quite
high in the Supai. His son, Jeff, and another man went up Manzanita
above the falls in the shale by using the slide on the north side of the
lower canyon. They didn't try to go up the Redwall.

Herm told me about some places up in Utah that are tributaries to the
Paria but I didn't understand what was especially noteworthy here,
except that Buckskin Gulch is terribly deep for its width.

*	My observations of Manzanita Canyon
[August 10, 1972]*

I had figured on going down into Manzanita Canyon on this day and
reaching the place I had been the week before. Even on the rim I felt
rather hot and I didn't seem to have any strength in my legs. The
previous day had tired me unduly. I settled for studying the canyon from
the rim in the same way that I had done it in 1968.

I drove out E4 after experiencing a little difficulty in seeing where
the fire road leaves the highway. Mostly it was second gear driving
about 15 miles an hour. I had to go out around a tree to dodge a fallen
log across the road. At another place I dragged a log away from the road.

The place to park is a bit more than a mile from the fork where one road
goes to Point Ariel and the other goes toward Obi Point. The best chance
to get through the Coconino is on the south side of Manzanita about
halfway from the head of the canyon to Komo Point. One should get
through the Kaibab east or west of here. The Redwall break is a bit
farther west. The Redwall of the point between the forks is possible.

*	Interview with Melvin McCormick
[August 12, 1972]*

Melvin McCormick had flown with Bill Breed and George Billingsley over
Nankoweap and had tried to point to the cave where he had seen, about 50
years ago, a reed boat sealed with pitch. Bill had thought the place was
in the Supai north of Tilted Mesa at the head of the Little Nankoweap
and George had gotten the impression that it was near the base of the
Redwall. Years ago McCormick had told me that it was north of the trail
along Tilted Mesa which I assumed must place it in the Supai. At my
suggestion, Bob Euler had been by here in a helicopter at the time of
the work on the Marble Canyon Damsite, but he had seen no indication of
a ruin. Donald Davis and I had been to Little Nankoweap, but we hadn't
given the search for the ruin much of our time. I thought I had better
see McCormick again and talk to him about this.

The first thing he said was that the pilot of the plane was flying so
low over the ridges south of Saddle Mountain that he was thoroughly
upset by the chances they were taking. He didn't have much time to get
their bearings. As he looked at the USGS map, Melvin first indicated the
place as being in Little Nankoweap, but when I pointed out the
difference between the main Nankoweap Canyon and Little Nankoweap, he
said he was sure the place was on the north side of the main Nankoweap
Canyon. As he looked at the map, he wanted to put it down quite close to
the river, but when I suggested that it might be within a mile of the
river, he said that it was that the cave from below looked like a
capital D lying with the flat side down, and that there were hand and
toe holds cut in the rock leading up to the cave mouth. I also asked him
about the ruin where they had seen three skeletons in a sitting
position. He was even more vague about the location of this ruin. He
knew it was near a grove of cottonwoods and was facing the east, but he
couldn't seem to locate it any better than that.

Ten or so years ago, he had told me that he had climbed Chuar Butte, so
I pulled out a couple of pictures of this butte and asked him about the
route. On this subject he seemed to be more sure of himself. He said
that the route was along the ridge that extends to the north, but he
didn't say whether it was to the west or the east side of the ridge. He
may have meant that it switched back and forth. He said the way is quite
safe, once you find it. I should have asked him how many men went to the
top with him. His information didn't tally very well with what I know of
the country when he began to talk about Poison Creek which he indicated
on the map as the same as Carbon Creek. I know about a couple of seeps
in the Carbon Creek drainage and I figured that at least one of them
might be very poor water to judge by the amount of alkali deposited. His
story is about a man who was with his father. The two had eaten some dry
onions before they drank this water. When they threw up, the onions were
green. Then McCormick talked about how the water flowed quite a distance
and looked clear and attractive, but it was still just as poisonous all
the way to the river as it had been at the source. Perhaps there was
much more water in the area then.

All in all, I got the impression that Melvin McCormick has forgotten the
Nankoweap Basin so completely that he can't be of much assistance in
finding the boat or the skeletons again. The only details about which he
keeps to the same story is that he actually saw them, and his
description of the boat and the skeletons hasn't changed since I first
talked to him.

*	Ayer Point
[August 26, 1972]*

Donald Davis had gone down the Hance Trail and followed the rim of the
Redwall to Ayer Point in June. He had not only spotted some interesting
cave openings but had reported the discovery of fossil footprints in
what he took to be a block of Supai Sandstone. I wanted to see the
latter for myself since I have never seen any footprints in the Supai
Formation. I got my permit for a loop trip, down the Hance Trail, along
the Redwall rim, and up the Old Trail.

The day was pleasantly cool. Flagstaff had a light shower in the early
morning, but the forenoon was mostly clear. I parked at the overlook
above the head of the Old Trail and walked the highway to the turnoff to
the Hance Trail. This only took 15 minutes and in another five I was
going down the proper ravine to the Hance Trail. We went down here just
last spring when we climbed Coronado, but things looked a little
different this time. There seem to be more cairns and I was able to keep
on the trail without a miss clear to the bottom of the Supai. Ten and
more years ago, I wouldn't be able to do this and I often found
alternate sections of trail on either side of the streambed. It took me
a half an hour to get to the base of the Coconino and another half hour
to get to the Redwall rim.

The views from the Redwall impressed me, especially the two routes
through the Redwall on the east side of the gorge. The farther south of
the two, which Dan Davis found when he missed the trail, may be easier
than I made it. From across the canyon, the trail route looked somewhat
different from what I remembered it to be. Along this whole way, the
eastern part of the park north of the river was grand. I could count
eight or nine peaks that I have climbed from the same viewpoint.

When Joe Hall was visiting us recently, we talked about the number of
peaks that could be used as memorials for people connected with the
Grand Canyon, such as Maxon and Clubb. I made a guess that there are
nearly as many unnamed summits as there are named ones, but of course
the finest have long since been named. One such unnamed point is beyond
the headland where I turned the angle to go into Mineral Canyon. I
decided that it could be climbed from below more easily than from the
rim I was on. It reminded me of Tyndall Dome.

The head of the Redwall gorge of Mineral Canyon is an interesting place
for a geologist. There are strange bends in the rock with limestone
deposited almost like travertine. There were some cave openings facing
east, at least one of which should be accessible. The chocolate brown
conglomerate above the Redwall is well displayed all along the west side
of the gorge of Red Canyon. I got a picture of it in place resting on a
red non laminated fine grained sandstone.

Donald had said that the fossil tracks are a few hundred feet beyond the
head of Mineral. I was on the lookout for a likely block. I was
beginning to wonder whether this would be my third failure in finding
something that Davis had seen, but just north of a minor ravine I
happened to look at the right block. There was the foot wide, puddly
looking tank tread. I couldn't see the bird like tracks until I noticed
a similar block about 15 feet up the slope. It had the tank tread and
also the small tracks. The large tracks were curving in just a few yards
which led me to believe that the animal was moving slowly. Perhaps the
traverse, indistinct tracks on each side of the central streak were made
by flippers. This deserves the study of an expert, but I thought of a
sea turtle as the sort of animal that would leave such a track. The
small tracks appear in three places on the block although two of the
spots are probably continuous under a thin sheet of sandstone. The
peculiar thing is that they don't seem to follow a definite sequence.
They are also deeper than seems right for a very light small creature.
The thing that Donald won't like to hear is that I am sure they are in a
block of Coconino Sandstone rather than in Supai and thus are not nearly
as unusual as he had thought. Still they may be new to science or at
least I have never seen any tracks like them. (Supai, McKee and Beus
Ohlman had seen similar tracks near the Kaibab Trail.)

I saw the cave openings at the depression separating Ayer Point from the
mainland and I could see that the largest one could be entered very
easily. I don't know whether this is the one that Donald Traced for 250
feet because I didn't look into it.

The dip before one goes up on the flat surface of Ayer Point was
surprisingly deep, and I found that I preferred to use my hands for a
few yards in the getting up on the north side. I would go along with
Donald's suggestion that Ayer Point be included in the summit list, and
thus my collection of bagged peaks goes to 62. I had built a small cairn
on the highest place, or rather a few yards from the place which is
occupied by a dead juniper. I ate a late lunch under an increasingly wet
looking sky out on the edge of the mesa. I had the best chance to study
Asbestos Canyon over and see how it fits into the area. My position gave
a perfect view of the diabase sill where the asbestos mines were
drilled. A fault between Asbestos Canyon and Sockdolager Rapid has
offset the sill by its whole thickness. This has been noted on the Maxon
map along with some other faults that I hadn't noticed.

When I was crossing the notch in the top of the Redwall over to Ayer
Point, I wondered whether there was a Redwall break to the west, and
from the north side up on the mesa, it looked promising. I had been
intending to get over to the Old Trail along the Redwall rim, but I
decided to try to get down to the Tonto here if possible. When I started
down, I found it one of the easiest places of all the Redwall breaks I
know. It is quite a bit like the break to the west at the top of the
White Switchbacks on the South Kaibab Trail. There is one bare but short
cliff which is easily bypassed to the south. From high up I could see a
burro trail going in my direction and I was able to find its beginning,
but I soon lost it. It may have been higher on the slope than I thought.

I now think that I would have made better time if I had gone down the
wash to the Tonto Trail immediately, but as it was I stayed rather high
on the side hill. When shale cliffs began forming beneath me, I
backtracked slightly and went to a lower level. It had been sprinkling
for some time, but now it really began to rain and I found shelter for
ten minutes under an overhang. Then I went down to the Tonto Trail and
proceeded up Hance Canyon. Along here were two of the few live burros
still in the park. Here also I saw quite a large brown bird that let out
a loud Kre e e, the noise that was supposed to represent an eagle when I
was a boy scout in the eagle patrol. The sound was uttered while the
bird was flying.

The trail led me into the bed of Hance well below the junction of the
two forks but south of the inscribed names at the highest showing of
Tapeats on the west side. I was walking in the dry bed well after it had
stopped raining when I was startled by the noise of running water. I got
out on the west side of the bed and soon saw very muddy water coming
along at a deliberate but inexorable pace. There wasn't enough of it to
be called a flash flood, but it had the feature of full volume right at
the forefront of the water.

When I reached the place where the trail goes out of the bed of the east
fork of Hance, I could see great changes, huge rocks and smaller
boulders still in a matrix of clay where the trail had formerly followed
an open bed. Above the Redwall the trail seems to be clearer than I had
ever seen it. I was able to stay on it almost all the way through the
Supai. There are some new cairns along here, but not many. It still
requires more attention than the New Hance Trail. Near the base of the
Coconino, I became confused and probably didn't use the best route. I
followed the bed with one diversion to the west about halfway through
the Coconino and came out just a few yards west of the parking where I
had left the truck.

This was a most interesting loop trip and I owe Donald Davis a thank you
for a fine one day trip.

*	Newton Butte
[September 16, 1972]*

If I could get a real climber to go, I wanted to take him to Newton and
have him help me up. My invitation was relayed to Lee Dexter and he
looked me up Friday morning at the office to say that he wanted to go. I
had already invited Jim Ohlman when I was thinking that the destination
would be the hole through the end of Grand Scenic Divide, but he agreed
to the change in plans and came. A young man who lives at Tusayan, Scott
Thyony, had been in visiting and talking about canyon hiking, and I
invited him to meet us at the permit desk Saturday morning. He was there
and he quickly agreed to the destination, Newton.

Jon Thomas had told me that it is easier to go off the west side of
Shoshone Point than the east side, so we looked at it first. From what
we could see, we didn't agree. We went down in a shallow bay that may
have been the same one Al Doty had showed me, but at first I would have
said that Al's was farther southeast. We came to the same sort of drop
over a Kaibab ledge with a small tree trunk in place as a crude ladder.
Where we started down this time there were a row of heavy picnic tables
right close to the rim. I should go back and check the next bay to the
southeast to be sure of my bearings here. I seemed to find the tree
ladder harder to come up than when I was with Al.

When we got down to the top of the Toroweap, I made the mistake of
taking the men north to the end of the point. We could see that we were
quite high above the Coconino with no way down the cliff. Back where we
had come down from the rim, there was an easy way and we didn't lose
much more than ten minutes on this goof. From here to the end of the
point where the route starts down the Coconino there is a deer trail.

The route through the Coconino seemed a bit more difficult than I had
remembered it when I was with Al, but this may have been because Al and
I were traveling light. I recall that I didn't even have a camera, just
one canteen, because we were coming back as soon as we got through the
Coconino. Jim Ohlman got down all right without removing his full scale
rucksack, but the rest of us were carrying day packs. The slow and
careful moves start at once. I have described this route in the log for
12/6/70, so I don't need to go into details. We were a bit confused a
time or two and we appreciated seeing the cairns that Al had built. Some
of the way was quite impressive exposure and many moves have to be made
with care. Once I said that I might feel like going across the Kaibab
Trail and getting out the easy but slower way.

In the Hermit we followed the crest of the steep ridge directly north of
Shoshone. When the Supai began to show, we had to go to the east to get
down a broken slope and then we continued along the ridge to the notch
above a small butte. We detoured around this to the west and got to the
saddle north of Newton in about 95 minutes from the rim or 105 from the
truck which had been parked south of the cable across the Shoshone Point
Road. I figure that this is about 45 minutes less than I would need to
walk down the Kaibab Trail and across following the Redwall or the base
of the Coconino.

We picked out the right place to begin the climb up Newton from quite
far away. I had remembered rather vaguely from Doty and Sears that it
was around on the east side less than halfway to the north end. Quite a
large block has broken loose and before trying to go up. I had figured
that we would make the top in a lot less than an hour from here if we
could do it at all, so I drank lots of water and left my canteen as well
as my lunch behind.

The very first move up 25 feet to the top of the fallen rock requires
strength and agility. Lee did everything according to accepted
procedure. He anchored Scott, the strongest of the other three men, to a
stout bush by nylon slings and then had Scott give him a hip belay as he
climbed using a crack that became narrower toward the top. Just below
the hardest move at the top, he placed a large nut in the crack and ran
the rope through a carabineer so that a fall would be checked in less
than ten feet. Scott and Jim accepted only a belay from above after
Scott had jerked out the nut. I was able to climb up the first eight
feet but then I used my Jumars, mostly as grips on the rope for the rest
of the way. I am not sure that I still have the strength in my hands and
arms for the top of this crack.

We weren't sure how we should go on above the shelf. At the north end
there is a foot wide crack going straight up, but it doesn't begin until
you would be nine feet above the bottom. I went south along the ledge
and found a cairn near the end of this catwalk. Lee came over and
inspected both possibilities here, a fairly steep ramp to the right with
the last five feet about vertical and another four or five inch crack
going nearly straight up at the very end of the shelf. Here again, the
bottom five feet would be the hardest with a slight overhang. Lee
figured that he preferred the wider crack just north of where we had
come up by the big rock. After he had felt for holds to do the bottom
nine feet and hadn't reached the beginning of the crack, I talked him
into going back to the south end of the ledge and using the ramp. He had
Scott belay him again and he placed a piton near the beginning of this
pitch and a nut higher up, just before the move up the vertical five
feet at the top. The difficulty here was that there was nothing to do
besides place the hands flat on the surface and trust to friction while
pushing. The other two young men made this with some effort and the
assurance of the belay from above, but I swallowed my pride and Jumared.

There was one more pitch that involved some difficulty. We could walk up
a safe crack to the right that led to a juniper above the last few
yards. As usual, these few yards looked difficult, so we tried a steep
place to the south. I could get up the lower half here, but there was a
five foot gap where the rock seemed too smooth for comfort. Lee managed
this with care and a belay. I went up with the rope as a grip. We then
went north along the ledge to where another ramp was easy at first but
managed to get too hard for me. The others handled this rather easily,
but I was glad to pull on the rope for a couple of yards.

From here we could see the last of the wall rather near above us with a
pinyon pine growing right on the top. I figured that we could go rather
directly up here angling just a bit to the north. I got started on the
final pitch but I thought I would feel better with a rope hanging down,
or even someone below with a knee for me to stand on. I told Jim that he
could do it, but in the meantime, Scott had gone north at the lower
level and claimed to have found a scrambling route to the top. Jim did
go up where I had been scouting, but Lee and I followed Scott. I was so
far back that I had to spot my own route to where the others were
waiting, and I crawled underneath a fallen slab at the hardest place.
Lee had done the same, but Scott had another way, slighter faster if not
so safe.

We walked to the highest point together and found the aluminum rod left
by Brad Washburn as well as a small cairn a few yards to the north. It
had taken us four and a quarter hours to get from the rim to the top of
Newton. We had started up the real climb of Newton at 11:00 a.m. and it
took two hours for this climb. The cairns helped quite a bit, but there
was still some route finding and with all the belaying, time passed. The
day was fairly warm and I regretted having left all my water below. I
accepted one drink from Jim's GI canteen.

It took us an hour to get down to the packs and after a quick lunch we
were ready for the walk back up Shoshone Point by 2:30. We got to the
truck about 5:00 and at the end Jim was having more trouble keeping pace
than the rest. He and I both felt some muscle cramping. I was able to
get home in time for our bridge party.

*	Access routes to Phantom Canyon and Johnson Point
[October 21, 1972 to October 25, 1972]*

Will Morrison, a 22 year old student, went with me. He is a good hiker
and companion. We got down the South Kaibab Trail to the Ranger Station
in two and a quarter hours.

On Saturday morning I ran into numerous friends and acquaintances at the
permit desk. Homer Morgan and Howard Booth were there and several
friends from Flagstaff. The weather was cool enough for pleasant hiking
and the record precipitation was over.

After an early lunch at Bright Angel Creek, I led Morrison up the slope
just north of the campground. There are lots of loose rocks and care is
required, but we made steady progress and found more of the old
prospector's trail than I had at times in the past. For one thing where
I used to climb among the large rocks at the foot of the ravine through
the Tapeats, I crossed to the right side of the ravine and found a dim
trail there. A horse would still have a hard time, but a wild burro
would easily do anything that we did along here. As I approached the
divide leading down into Phantom Canyon, I skirted to the right of the
highest hill instead of going through the saddle immediately next to
Cheops Plateau. I liked the new way, but on the return we went through
the saddle and even found a trace of a trail on the southeast flank of
the knoll.

We saw one cairn on our way to the bottom of the valley but on the
return we were able to find more of the old trail. More of it has been
obliterated by loose rocks since I first saw it. It goes well below the
Indian ruin on the high ledge and then rises sharply as you leave
Phantom. We went from Bright Angel Campground to our campsite ten
minutes upstream from the fall in less than three hours. My time on the
return was two hours and 40 minutes, but I was hobbling down the long
slope at the end with a painful knee.

After relaxing for over an hour, I left Morrison at the overhang
campsite and took a climb to look at the Redwall where Merrel Clubb said
he had climbed when he was attempting Isis. I am sure he must have been
confused. He said he and his son looked at the south side of the point
projecting from Isis and found it impossible. (They may have used the
promontory pointing east. Walters and Packard went up here.) Then they
came around to the north side, or rather the east side and succeeded. It
looks far worse than the Stanton routes up and down the Redwall near the
Tower of Ra. It seems hard to believe that the Clubbs went up here when
Merrel said that they couldn't climb the second wall of Supai. The
college students that succeeded in getting up the Supai and then to the
top of Isis agreed that the place where Clubb said they climbed is out.
However, someone good should attempt this before we decide that the
Clubbs went up the west side of the point instead of the east side as
Clubb had told me. I recall only one instance when Clubb was confused
about what he had done. He thought that he and Kit Wing had come down
through the Kaibab and Coconino west of Point Ariel when they must have
used Obi Canyon, the next ravine to the west. Clubb didn't write the
record down and he was not clear on where he had gone through the Supai
on the way to the top of Vishnu.

On this late afternoon hike I went up the ravine to the north of our
camp and returned to the bed via the ravine to the south. This is a
rugged area of crags and very complicated geology. There is a lot of red
sandstone exposed here and along the approach trail southeast of Cheops
that appears to be quite different from the accepted formations. I had
used one hour and 20 minutes for this loop and when I got back, my left
knee was hurting quite badly so that I was sure that I shouldn't
continue with the announced objective of trying to climb Manu Temple.

On Sunday morning I told Will that I felt good enough to do some minor
walking connected with the stock trail that goes below Sturdevant and
Johnson Points. We got away just after 7:00 a.m. and went up the slope
on the left side of Phantom right south of camp. I had been told that
Porter had found a way out of the bed of the Phantom Creek gorge up the
left or north side. Will and I went down the creek which drains the west
side of Sturdevant Point, which we could call Sturdevant Creek.
Beginning below the Tapeats there was water flowing in this bed,
presumably a result of the recent record rain. A succession of two falls
stopped us from staying in the bed, but we were able to climb around
them to the left. The descent to the bed required care, but once we were
in the bottom, it was easy to continue down to the bed of Phantom Creek.

We next walked upstream through a very impressive narrows to the fall.
Only yards from the fall there was a pool that was three and a half feet
deep. I managed to follow Will in climbing by this, but after starting
along the smooth rock on the return, I shed my clothes and waded through
the pool. I also found that I couldn't climb the wall on the right side
just a few yards downstream from the fall, the place I had gone up about
25 years ago. Will went up far enough to see that he could do it. I
believe my main trouble was in the first long reach. In 1947 I am rather
sure that there was more gravel here to get me started.

When we were through looking at the fall, we found it quite easy to go
up a talus on the left side below the narrows. This must have been the
way that Porter got above the fall. It is far easier than our way
through Sturdevant Canyon.

We were able to identify some of the old stock trail as we continued
east. Consistent with my previous observation, we found no surface water
in the grove of cottonwoods and reeds south of Sturdevant Point. When we
came to the canyon draining the big bay south of Buddha, we decided to
see if one could go down it to the bed of Phantom and Bright Angel
Creek. Where we went down, we had a bit of difficulty getting through
the lowest cliff. I went upstream for a short distance and Will went
along a ledge to a point where we could see a break. There was also a
fair flow of water in this bed. When Will was still above me, he called
that there were two deer not far from where I was. I watched them as
they dashed by higher on the left slope. One appeared to be an ordinary
mule deer buck with the velvet still on the antlers. The smaller one had
slender antlers with sharp angles and a white rump. This may have been
the first white tail I have ever seen in the Grand Canyon. I'll have to
ask some expert whether the white tails are known to be in the canyon.

We continued down canyon to a big drop where we stopped for lunch. Then
we noticed that there was a bypass to the right. We would have to go
quite high, then near the base of the top cliff, and then down to the
bed to a place over a quarter mile away and much lower. When we got a
good look at this lower bed, we could tell that it drops over another
big fall into the bottom of Phantom Canyon. This is far down in the
granite and schist and isn't far from the confluence with Bright Angel
Creek. I was right in telling Jacobsen not to try this as a shortcut.

The last project for the day was to climb Johnson Point if possible. On
the west side a long talus takes one up over all the Bright Angel Shale.
The sky began to threaten rain. Will had left his sleeping bag out
beyond the overhang. He seemed to be trailing me rather far back, and I
suggested that he go back and make sure that our bedrolls be kept dry
while I went on, and he agreed to this. On the high bench I turned to
the south and saw several places where a climber like Doty or Dexter
would be able to go up. The limestone had a lot of fractures and many
little holds. I tried going up about halfway from the talus access to
the bench and the end of the point. When I had gone up about 15 feet, I
chickened and came down. Quite close to the end of the point there was a
better place with a walk up as high as I had climbed before. Then I had
to hold to the sharp rock and go up almost straight for some yards. When
I had passed two places like this, I came out on the easy slope up the
crest of the ridge. There may be an easier way than I had used. On the
east side, the ordinary talus slopes go farther down, and perhaps one
could reach a bench here that would connect with some slide that covers
the lower cliff.

It was only 2:20 p.m. when I reached the top of Johnson Point. Both
because I felt a little trepidation about descending and because I
wanted to cover more territory, I followed the Redwall rim around the
bay south of Buddha. It took from 2:20 to 4:30 for me to reach the top
of the Redwall descent in Sturdevant Canyon. I got to camp about 6:00
p.m., just before dark.

Some further words about observations may be in order. One was the
sighting of a hairy woodpecker down in the narrow Tapeats gorge of
Phantom Canyon. At least I would call it a hairy woodpecker if I had
seen it back in the Midwest. It was the only one I have seen in the
canyon and perhaps the only one I have seen in northern Arizona.

As we were climbing out of Buddha Canyon, I spotted a little pediocactus
in bloom. It had two little star shaped purple flowers, very pretty. I
don't think I have ever before noticed any kind of cactus flowers in
October.

In the same canyon that drains the bay south of Buddha, I spotted a big
mescal pit from a distance. We walked up to it at the base of the cliff
that forms the rim of the Tonto. Will Morrison hadn't seen these before
and he was quite impressed with the labor required to pile up such a
great number of small rocks. It is on the east side well above the bed
but below the level of the broad open valley. Something that impressed
me this time was the great contrast of easy walking along the top of the
Redwall on the projecting points like Johnson and Sturdevant versus the
difficulty of following the rim below the Supai cliffs. Great and small
blocks bar the way below the red cliffs, but enough time seems to have
elapsed to reduce almost all such blocks to soil out on the flat
surfaced promontories. One who would like to repeat my route along the
rim from Johnson Point to the head of Sturdevant Canyon should allow for
the slow progress among all the fallen boulders and steep shale slopes.
I was pushing right along to cover this course in two hours and 10 minutes.

Another NAU student, Dave Meyers, joined us at our campsite Sunday
evening. He had walked up Phantom Creek and had been helped up the
difficult climb near the fall by another hiker who was up for the day
only. He had a heavier pack than either Will or I had and he weighs only
130 pounds, but he and Will walked out together while I made a poor
third with my bad knee. It was so weak and painful near the top of the
South Kaibab Trail that I began looking for a stick to use as a cane.
The last one and a half miles took me one and a half hours.

This was the ideal time of year for backpacking in the canyon. We slept
quite warm and still there were no ants. We were surprised when I
noticed a small scorpion under our overhang campsite. It came across the
ground where Will had just been sleeping.

*	North Canyon to Vasey's Paradise
[November 23, 1972 to November 26, 1972]*

Jorgen Visbak and Ed Herrman had arranged to hike with me during the
Thanksgiving break. They came to our house Thursday morning and
Wednesday evening, respectively. I had developed a cough at the last
minute and I thought that going up on the south side of Shiva and around
the Tower of Ra might be too rugged and cold and perhaps a bit chancy
for water as well. I talked them into going down North Canyon and
visiting Cave Spring Rapids and continuing along the river to South Canyon.

We didn't leave Flagstaff until about 8:30 a.m. and by about 11:00 we
were getting some more gas at Cliff Dwellers. We left the highway about
11 miles west of Cliff Dwellers and went past the Kram Ranch.
Previously, I had gone out the road that goes along the south side of
Rider Canyon and had walked south to North Canyon from there. This time,
when we came to a fork that went southeast, I turned in that direction.
We soon came to a steep and winding grade that took the road down to the
bed of North Canyon where it is already about 60 feet deep. Jorgen and I
scouted the road to the bottom to see whether the truck could make it.
Then we drove down and up where the road went along quite a hillside for
a few yards. The outward tilt might be too much for a top heavy camper.
We used the lowest gear, but we made it across and up the other side
without spinning the wheels. The roads were drier than I had expected.
When we came to the next fork, we also took the right hand and drove
southeast to a fence. Obviously this would not lead us to a good place
to get into North Canyon, but we hoped to look into Marble Canyon from
the rim. There was a road along the north side of the east west fence,
so we drove toward the rim. We got right to the rim by car and ate lunch
directly across from Tiger Wash. I could make out Stanton's Marble Pier
quite a little way up the canyon on the other bank.

We went back to the gate through the fence and retraced our track to the
fork. The north fork angled northeast so we followed it about two miles
to a stock tank and parked. It was still a little walk north to the rim
of North Canyon and we could see that we were too close to the river to
descend. We had to walk west about 15 minutes before we could get down.
There were only minor drop offs with obvious bypasses in the bed until
we came down through a bit of the Supai. I believe we entered the canyon
at the farthest east place and we were farther down canyon than where I
got to the bed in 1965 on June 11. The walk down the bed was rather
long, over an hour, to reach the Supai. As before, we got down a small
part of the Supai to where there were good rain pools and overhangs. It
was only 3:30 but we gathered driftwood and spread out our bags. After a
half an hour we started down the bed again.

Quite soon we were stopped and continued along a low ledge beside the
increasingly awesome narrow canyon. We could see where there was a big
drop with no possible bypass, so we made our way out to the river for
the view. We went back at a higher level beside some interesting
erosional features a bit like big baseball caps resting on a wall. The
footing became worse at the higher level and we got down where we had
been before reaching camp. The day had been cold and overcast, but now
it cleared up and Ed's thermometer registered 42? before we retired. It
didn't frost in the night and we were free of dew under the overhang.

On Friday morning we got away from camp at 7:45 a.m. and proceeded along
the bottom of the Hermit Shale around the corner away from North Canyon.
We soon came to the place where I had turned back in 1965. It was still
early and we attacked it with determination and soon found a reasonably
safe place to cross the shale slope, not too high up in fact. For a few
yards I was scraping small steps before I advanced. Even before Mile 23,
we saw a couple of places where it seemed that one might go down to the
beach. I tested one while Ed was taping his feet, but I came to an
impasse. At Mile 23 there is a sort of double ravine. Probably the
easiest way down is on the slide between the two sides, but we got down
the bed of the north one and then worked our way out on the slide
material which forms a dividing ridge. We were down by the river in time
for lunch. The river was clear and green and the sun was warm. The
weather remained fine for the last three days of the trip. We could sun
bathe as we ate.

We had averaged a little less than a mile an hour up on the Hermit Shale
but down along the beach we could go a bit faster. There were only a few
places where we could walk a good sandy beach, but even the big rocks
didn't discourage us. I had a tendency to be wary of getting caught by a
cliff coming into the water, but Ed led and seemed to be the optimistic
type. He guessed right most of the time, but once he had to turn back
and climb to a higher ledge. I had led Jorgen to a still higher ledge in
the Redwall and we came down ahead of Ed. However, most of the time, Ed
was waiting for us whenever there was a difference of opinion as to the
best route. The Redwall definitely shows above the low stage of water at
Mile 23 and before we went much farther downriver, we were walking the
beach below quite a Redwall cliff. When we did have to get up on it to
go past a break in the beach, it was a 60 foot climb. By the time we
reached Mile 24.5 opposite Stanton's Marble Pier, we would say that the
Redwall is 80 feet above the beach. The river was the lowest I have ever
seen it, on Friday afternoon, the day after Thanksgiving. But we could
see that it still comes up 10 feet higher when they are running more of
the generators. There is a line of tamarisks at this higher level. The
old driftwood can be found 50 or 60 feet above the low water level.

When we were well past the Marble Pier and were approaching Cave
Springs, we came to a neat cave with level sand in the two arms. I
wondered if it was the one with the tools left by Fred T. Barry and his
companions. However, George Billingsley came in today and in our
conversation he told me that the tools are still in the cave which is
actually at Cave Springs. When I get my picture back, I can compare it
with the one in the Kolb book and see whether this cave was the campsite
too good to pass up.

At any stage of the water besides the very lowest, we couldn't have gone
along the base of the Redwall cliff to the beach at Cave Springs. As it
was, we had to take our packs off to use the very slight shelf just
above the water. Just south of this cliff was a thicket of cane or
reeds, the only ones we saw between Mile 23 and Mile 31. There was no
water issuing from the reeds, but a few yards farther south, a nice
little spring was coming out of the rocks and sand only a foot or so
above the very low river level. It was clear and decidedly warmer than
the river. On a hot day of summer, I suppose the spring would seem cool,
the average temperature of the rock at this elevation. I could fill my
canteen by catching the spring water in a cup. The next morning when the
river was up, there was no spring to be seen.

We looked for caves in the area and found a number of very shallow ones
in the Redwall to the south of the open rockslide. They didn't have
anything in them and the beds were of broken rock rather than smooth
sand. Jorgen found a smaller but deeper cave at a lower level right
close to where we were building our campfire. It was only high enough to
crawl or crouch in, but the bed was smooth sand. I elected to move my
bed from where I had first set it on some level gravel near the fire
down to the straight cave. There was only a narrow rock ledge in front
of the shaft and the deep water was sloshing the driftwood around
directly below about 12 feet down. When I woke up about midnight, I
noticed that the river had come up five or six feet and I looked out
occasionally for the next hour. When it rose two more feet in the hour,
I moved my bed back to the higher terrace. I slept better after that,
but in the morning I found that the highest water must have been about
1:00 a.m., when I moved. A mouse nibbled at my cookies and was looking
at me when I woke Saturday morning.

Billingsley tells me that the cave with the tools was near Cave Springs
Rapid but higher than we looked. We should have seen it as we left on
Saturday since we went up the talus to the top of the Redwall. Perhaps
my picture of the rapid where we camped will show whether we were
mistaken about the location of Cave Springs. We had only the one spring
and it was covered by normal river level.

We saw that one can go up through the Supai at Cave Springs and also at
one or two places between there and the route we used at Mile 23. I am
not so sure that it is possible to get through the Supai at Mile 26.7
opposite Tiger Wash, but we are sure that one can get down to the river
through the Redwall here. It is a lot harder to get down off the Redwall
from the north at Mile 30.4 where the fault occurs. One has to go up and
well back from the river to find a safe rock slope. We saw no signs that
Indians or others had been along the Redwall bench that we had used.
There were no ruins nor mescal pits. Thus it is all the more surprising
to find the ruins on the bench upriver from the mouth of South Canyon.
There were no traces of burros nor even of deer. We saw no droppings
that could have been deer or bighorn sheep. Perhaps the latter have been
hunted to extinction since the day that the Kolbs saw a dead bighorn on
their 1911 trip through Marble Canyon.

We got down to the river at Mile 30.4 for lunch and again enjoyed the
sun. In fact we stayed there for an hour and a half since we didn't want
to get to our evening camp too early. The walk along the Redwall rim was
just as slow with side ravines to pass as it had been all along. A new
experience for this trip was to see old human footprints in the sand
along the way from Mile 30.4 to Vasey's. Perhaps the college hikers left
them a couple weeks ago. There were a lot of rather fresh human tracks
in the sand at South Canyon.

We left our packs at the top of the Redwall and went down the ravine
about 200 yards upriver from the mouth of South Canyon. Cavers and other
hikers have used this route so much in recent years that they have
established a fairly clear trail, at least as good as any deer trail.
Down below, on the way up to see the skeleton, there is a still better
trail where river parties come up. The skeleton, incidentally is showing
its age. It doesn't seem as fresh as it did ten years ago, but the bones
are still arranged logically. Ed had heard from a river runner that the
skull had been removed and taken to the Smithsonian, but I had to
discourage this belief.

We also went down the near crack to the sand slope to the beach and over
to see Stanton Cave. Ed Herrman had already been to Vasey's once before,
but their party walked the beach below the cave and failed to notice it.
Now of course there is a heavy gage wire fence with a barred door
sealing the interior of the cave. Someone has used heavy wire cutters to
open it just to the right of the door. One can see the trench cut by the
archeologists and read the sign left there explaining what has been found.

We just had time enough to walk the rudimentary trail along the Redwall
rim around into the bed of South Canyon. There were plenty of rain pools
where the bed is bare at the top of the limestone, so we camped on a
sandy place a little beyond the water. There was enough wood around for
another friendly evening fire, but we retired around 9:00 p.m. so as to
be able to get the show on the road early.

I woke the others a bit before six and we were walking again by 7:15 a.m.

Ed had come down to Vasey's with a group of cragsmen armed with pitons
and ropes. The men at the Buffalo Ranch had told them that the route to
Vasey's was from the upper end of Bedrock Canyon. They did a lot of
technical climbing to get down and it took them a long time. I wonder
whether this employee of the state of Arizona was really that uninformed
or whether he was seeing whether the men would really tackle something
that appears impossible.

We went into Bedrock Canyon a short way after bypassing the fall in
South Canyon. The bypass is now clear with cairns and a bit of a trail.
When we got to the top of the fault ravine, I led the others around to
the east toward the river. When we got beyond the point and looked back,
we saw the talus covering the Coconino and decided to do the rest of the
route not the way I had done it before. Hassemer had told me to go east
at the top of the talus, so we did. There were some footprints in this
direction, but we didn't continue over to the place that looked the
easiest since it was harder to reach then to go up through the Kaibab
Formation only a little to the east. There was one place where we had to
use our hands, but it was really quite safe and easy. There was no cairn
where we topped out so we built two, one right at the rim and the other
higher on the terrace in plain sight from a distance.

A bigger cairn out on the point to the west indicated another route. We
didn't take time to go down here and see how hard this route is. It
connects with the talus that covers the Coconino where we had come up,
but it may also be possible to come up the break from Bedrock Canyon
where we had come through the Supai. If I understood something that Jim
Sears told me, this is indeed possible and this would be the most direct
route of all. As it was, we came from our camp to the top of the Redwall
in South Canyon to the rim in two hours and 45 minutes. This means that
one could come up from the beach at Stanton's Cave to the car in about
three and a half hours.

There is now a car track right down on the slump block to the rim where
our cairn was built. They could also drive over to the point where the
larger cairn was already in place. I suppose there is little use for the
route we found about ten years ago off the slump block to the east above
the Colorado. This would still be good if one wanted to go down to the
river at Mile 30.4, and the old can and the Indian potsherd that Allyn
Cureton found along here may indicate that this was an objective.

While we were eating lunch at the Mile 30.4 beach on Saturday, we all
noticed a fine spring coming into the Colorado on the other side. It is
distinct from the one I saw when I came down the trail on the left bank
because one would have a hard time reaching the spring we now saw if we
were without a boat. In getting back to the truck, we used the road most
of the way. At the top of the rise near the slump block, we cut across a
curve, but after that we found the road going in our direction. I think
we missed a fork that goes to the Buffalo Tank and we were on the road
leading to North Canyon Point. The walking was easy and the day was
cool. It was hard to judge our progress on the almost featureless plain
but we finally came to the fence where we had gone out to the rim on
Thursday. Here we tried a short cut using a road that seemed to go in
our direction, but after we had been on it for 20 minutes, we decided to
cut across to the road paralleling this one where we had parked the
truck. It took longer to reach the truck than I had guessed as it was
two miles northeast of a fork or two and a half miles from the gate
through the fence. We had come from the rim above Bedrock to the truck
in just under three hours.

*	East from Lee's Ferry
[December 16, 1972]*

Lee Dexter and Steve Studebaker asked me whether I was going to the
canyon on this Saturday. I had thought something of taking a ski hike,
but I readily changed my mind. Going down the South Bass Trail to Mystic
Spring to see the Seal Head Rock appealed to me, but when the time came
to leave this morning, I was uneasy about the driving west to the head
of the trail. Instead of this project, I got the others interested in
going to Lee's Ferry where we would try to find the way up to the east
rim somewhere north of the Spencer Trail. The Escalante party must have
found some way up here for their horses, and the second Powell party got
a pack train down from east of Paria.

Before we left for the hike, we looked at the sunken boiler of the
Charles H. Spencer and I also talked with Dave Kepper who works for the
Fort Lee Company at the store. He assured me that we could follow the
pole line that goes to the north and then turns east up the broken
slope. We could follow a washed out road over the Chinle hills until it
ended where the line turned a right angle and went steeply up. It was a
steep scramble over mostly loose rocks to the top with a little use of
the hands. At the top we went up to the summit of a knoll which is just
south of the power line and then headed west.

The views from the top of this rim are hard to beat. You can see a
little of Lake Powell and all the fine buttes in front of Navaho
Mountain. The Echo Peaks were snow covered and looked great, and of
course the Colorado River and the Vermilion Cliffs to the west rounded
out the striking scene.

There were thin pockets of snow behind the bushes but walking was easy.
We were far enough north to miss the ravine that cuts down to the south.
We had started about 10:30 a.m. and by noon we had come to the long
slickrock exposure where we could sit down in the sun but were protected
from the wind. The day was cool and we enjoyed the jackets while eating
lunch.

We followed the top of the escarpment on the east and then headed for
what looked to me like the top of the right bank where Packard and I
came up from the river on the float trip from the dam to Lee's Ferry. In
getting off the highest level, we passed some pools formed in the white
sandstone that were six or eight inches deep. They had about three
inches of ice covering the water, so they would last for quite a while
at this time of year. On the return, we broke the ice and got more
water. We reached the rim at Mile 10.2 and I was sure that this was the
descent route.

About a mile farther to the northeast we came out on the rim of Ferry
Swale. Its depth impressed me more than I had expected. We agreed that
it would be interesting to get down along its level bottom, but since it
was about 2:00 p.m., I thought we should be getting back. At the base of
the south facing escarpment, we detoured north to quite a deep shelter
cave. On the approach Steve picked up several flint chips that showed
hand work. In the cave we found bits of charcoal and bone fragments. We
also noticed that someone had been digging the site, pot hunting, and
had left an empty bottle and a Sprite can. There were wheel tracks
around the area and we conjectured that someone had flown over the
region and had noted possible cave sites and then had come pot hunting
by four wheel drive.

We wanted to return via the Spencer Trail so we headed along a track
south of where we had been in the forenoon. Along here Steve noted
volcanic rocks and he and Lee located a dike about three inches thick.
We got to the rim above the Paria Valley north of the trailhead, but
still we had to cross various ravines that cut down our time. We perhaps
could have done better along the same track we had used in the morning
with a turn to the south at the rim. We recognized the trailhead by four
cairns. Two had names in a can dating from 1967. The trail is somewhat
farther south than I had remembered. It was as rough as I had thought,
but still we reached the car in 50 minutes of downhill walking.

*	Tanner Wash to Hot Na Na
[February 3, 1973]*

George Billingsley and Jan Jensen were interested in seeing the river at
the mouth of Tanner Wash and I was eager to finish the project of going
down Tanner and up Hot Na Na. On 9/20/69 we had gone down Hot Na Na to
the edge of the Supai above the river. The group had contained a very
slow hiker so that there wasn't time to go along the river and come out
Tanner as planned.

George and Jan were ten minutes ahead of schedule in getting off and we
got up to Bitter Springs to start walking at 8:00 a.m. We parked at an
old car graveyard at the head of the side wash west of where the first
Standard gas station was located. I had used this draw as an access to
the bed of Tanner in years past, but the place where it enters the bed
of Tanner seemed entirely different now. My picture of 9/19/64 shows the
trail getting to the main bed of Tanner through a narrow slot behind a
big rock. Now there is nothing but open sand and gravel there. A fault
goes through here and this accounts for the access from both east and
west. There isn't any other way to get to the bed of Tanner farther
north. We were surprised by the amount of snow we had to walk through.
The temperature was 25? when we started and down near the river the
maximum for the day was 40?. Although we were in the bed consistently,
George spotted the places where the old sheep trail had been built
around obstacles and taken up on the west side. Ice covered the pools
but we weren't sure that it would hold us. There were places where the
ice had broken under its own weight when the water leaked out from beneath.

George kept us informed about the transitions from one formation to the
next. The color of the rock doesn't help one tell where the contact
occurs of the Kaibab with the Toroweap. The upper half of the Toroweap
is more laminated. The lower or beta member of the Toroweap is massive
and smooth cliff. George remembered that there was no way up to the
bench on the west once one starts down the beta member and I recalled
that the bypass to the west is along the bench well above the Coconino.
Thus we knew that we were at the place to go up on the bench. George
built a small cairn. There is no sign of a deer or sheep trail along
here as one would expect in the western Grand Canyon.

As you reach the place where the lower formations are covered by slide
material, for safety you should go high. Jan crossed a very exposed
place with steep and crumbling rock and clay, but George and I went high
and came down. The bank that reaches up to the top ledge at the lower
part of the bench is now only a yard wide. One wonders how soon erosion
will remove all possibility of getting down here.

There are numerous seep springs in the Hermit Shale and the ice effects
in the bed were the bonus for coming at this time of year. George got so
excited about this ice over the falls that he shot off 20 pictures of
color slides.

When we reached the Supai in lower Tanner, we had too decide whether to
stay up on the rim or to go down the bed as far as it seemed feasible.
George and Jan wanted to try to get to the river just east of the mouth
of Tanner while I was more interested in going over and out via Hot Na
Na. We settled for going down the bed for a short way. I was leading and
stopped when I came to a place that probably is possible. One bypasses a
drop by walking down a rather steep slope in the sandstone. I wasn't
sure that my shoes would grip it safely. The other two weren't up with
me and didn't get to use their judgment. If we had gone down here, we
might have gone upriver on some ledge to where George thought he had
seen a trail up from the river. As it was he and Jan went back and
followed the Supai rim out upriver from the mouth and then couldn't get
down. They went back up Tanner.

We spent three and a half hours getting from the car down to the narrows
in the Supai where we ate lunch. Then it took me a half an hour to back
up, follow the Supai rim and reach the angle above the river. Even with
a couple of detours to get around two notches, I reached Hot Na Na from
Tanner in 80 minutes. The walking seemed easier than it had from Salt
Water Wash to Tanner. However, I had only a few views of the river
itself, but I did get a couple of pictures of Sheerwall Rapid. I also
got a good view of a sharp rock sticking up from the bottom of the river
about a quarter mile downstream from the rapid. The flat rock where I
landed while on my air mattress trip through Marble Canyon was covered
by a foot of water. This is at the upper end on the right.

When we came down from the bench at the middle of the Toroweap to the
bed of Tanner Wash, George and Jan were in front, and they followed the
route that Shough, Packard, and I had used in 1968, slightly to the
south near the bottom of the slide. There is a hard place here, about
one third of the way up from the bottom. I tried going north and down.
About 200 yards to the north I could walk down. I was behind at the
start but I was ahead when we reached the bed. I would always do it this
way in the future. I left a one rock cairn on a high boulder in the bed
for a marker.

There were few birds in evidence in spite of the winter day, Juncos,
ravens, and I saw one owl.

One can go up Hot Na Na without any major bypasses, but there are
numerous places in the bed where one has to bypass big rocks. At times
it seems an advantage to stay up on the talus material to the side. When
Norvel Johnson and I came down through the Coconino, I had thought that
a bypass to the east was necessary around a small fall. I recall now
that in 1969 we went right up the bed here, and I did this in the bed again.

This time I left the bed of Hot Na Na when I first saw a sheep trail
going out to the east. On top I headed for where the Page Highway would
come down to the plain. I crossed numerous Navaho truck roads and more
valleys than I had thought possible. The bare hillsides were good
walking, but on the level the snow was better than the mud where the
snow had melted. I went southeast and reached the rim above Tanner
before I got to the fault where the sheep can cross Tanner, where the
truck was parked. Arriving at 5:40 p.m., I was only about ten minutes
behind George and Jan.

Lower Tanner, in the Hermit, can be counted on for water at any time of
the year. At this time Hot Na Na had a little running as well as quite a
bit of ice, but I don't think one can count on finding it there. When I
passed the southern one of the two caves on the east wall of Hot Na Na,
I could see the pile of owl guano from clear down in the bed of the wash.

It had been a good hike of nine hours of actual walking plus about 40
minutes for resting while eating. I was gratified to see that I can
still take that much exertion.

*	Skeleton site revisited
[February 10, 1973]*

I had been down to the river at Mile 91.2 twice before, on 12/19/66 and
1/16/71. Six years ago I just wanted to see what was left of an old
trail, and two years ago I wanted to see the Tapeats break that Jorgen
had found and also I felt that this was the right place to find where
the Kolbs had taken the picture of the skeleton in clothes. Jorgen had
seen the picture I had taken purporting to show where the body had lain,
but he thought that the place was wrong because the rock in the river
didn't seem to stand out far enough from the shore. Since I could do my
driving on the paving, I chose to go back there with the superior
reproduction from the Kolb's book instead of the print from the National
Geographic.

My start from the top of the Bright Angel Trail was at the same time as
before, 8:45 a.m., but I was able to make better time down through the
snow. Perhaps it was because I had cleated Vibram soles this time, and I
reached Indian Gardens by 10:05. The top mile and a half had deeper snow
than I have ever seen on this trail. The maintenance crew had shoveled a
path through snowbanks three feet deep for long stretches. More rocks
had fallen and been left on the trail also. When I was coming up the
trail in the dusk, a big rock fell in the ravine about 20 yards ahead.

It takes something like an hour and 45 minutes to walk from Indian
Gardens around the head of Horn to the Visbak Break, beyond a shallow
bay west of Horn. There was some water trickling in both arms of Horn,
in spite of the sign at the fork of the Tonto Trail away from the
Plateau Point Trail that says there is no water available for the 12.3
miles to the Hermit Trail.

When I was approaching the place to get down through the Tapeats, I came
on four burros. They seemed to be coming back.

My recollection of the break was rather hazy. I saw the place that I
knew was harder than Visbak's. I couldn't recall how close to the break
that faces south the easier one is supposed to be. As I looked for
Visbak's along the edge of the cliff overlooking the Colorado, I found
three large cairns at the very top of a little knoll. One of them would
have been enough to mark the route down. I thought that I had gone down
the hard way two years ago and had come up the easier way, Visbak's.
When I couldn't find Jorgen's route, I started down the one I had found.
I got by some hard and exposed places and then came to two drops quite
near the bottom. I hesitated and then gave up the route. On rereading my
log, I find that I came up that way. I suppose it looks better from
below. Anyway, I looked harder and found Jorgen's way only about 40
yards farther north, but definitely within the horseshoe of the shallow
bay. It is marked by a low tower with the walkway between it and the
mainland.

When I got to where I could see the sharp rock island near the north
bank and upriver from the mouth of 91 Mile Creek, I kept my eye on the
tower on the north rim of the inner gorge and descended until it was in
the right position for the perspective in the Kolb picture. I haven't
located the picture I took two years ago, but I am sure I came back to
the same place I thought was right then. There was still the difficulty
of the island seeming closer to the north shore than it does in the
picture, but I believe this is because the river was at a higher stage
when the Kolbs were there. I also took a picture near a similar platform
20 yards lower and farther east, but I am sure that the background here
is less true to the 1908 picture. I am sure that the first place is right.

It was 2:45 when I got back to the Tonto and 4:05 when I reached Indian
Gardens. Here I finished the rest of my food and walked steadily to the
rim through the snow from 4:20 to 7:00. I got home by 9:00 after being
held up for a wrecker to pull a car out of a drift at the north edge of
Kendrick Park. The road had been clear in the morning but the wind had
drifted a lot of snow over the pavement since then.

*	Howlands' Butte and source of Clear Creek
[February 17, 1973 to February 19, 1973]*

Ever since Doc Ellis and his friend had climbed Howland's I had wanted
to do it too. I might have tried it alone, but I was glad to have some
expert climbers with me. Eric Karlstrom came in Friday afternoon to ask
a question about climbing Zoroaster, but I talked him out of the idea,
at least at this time of the year when there is snow on the Hermit slope
with more higher. He consulted Ben Foster and their girl friends and
they all decided to go with me.

At my suggestion, Eric got a separate permit for the four young people
so that I would not feel responsible for them. We got started down the
Kaibab Trail at 9:10 a.m. and reached the bridge to the campground at
the bottom in two and a half hours. My shoes without log soles, gave me
real problems in footing on the steep snow at the top switchbacks. There
was quite a bit of mud lower, but the day was fine and the rest of the
trail was in good shape. The girls, Poly Pederson and Margaret Lechner,
were fine hikers, but I can still keep ahead of them. I made the Clear
Creek Trail in about four hours and they came along 15 minutes later,
still good time.

The five of us wanted to go on north to the Indian ruins at the junction
of the Cheyava Falls and wet arms of Clear Creek to camp, but before we
went up there, two couples returned to their packs where the trail first
reaches the creek. They were Al and Karen Hahn and Mike and Nina Morgan.
The men are Ph.D.'s in psychology and work at the VA hospital in
Phoenix. When I asked them if they had some ideas of what to look for
around Clear Creek, they said that they had Butchart's Grand Canyon
Treks. Al, or Doc Hahn, was quite excited about meeting the author.

I slept under the overhang at the ruin while the young people made their
camp east across the creek. I had my dinner near my bed at the old
fireplace and then joined the others for talk around a campfire until
8:30. As usual I was up and could have started on the day's activities
considerably before the rest, but we figured that it would not be too
long a day. I went down and visited with the Hanhs and Morgans until the
others came along. Poly decided not to try the climb in favor of going
to see Cheyava Falls.

We went up to the Tonto via the break near the lower end of the
tributary that comes down from the pass east of the Howlands. I noticed
two presumably prehistoric rock piles that could serve as steps. Instead
of using the top one, which would have meant a pull up, I used an easier
route to the west, and Margaret followed suit. Ben and Karl found harder
ways, but Ben was up first. We went along the west side of Howlands and
proceeded up to the high shale slope. The walking wasn't easy here with
numerous ravines. We returned lower and liked it better. If one wants to
go on east to Vishnu Creek, the route through the pass would be much
faster. (To Vishnu over the Wotan Angels Gate pass is the fastest.)

From Ellis I knew the route up Howlands, around the southwest promontory
and up the slide that takes you past the lowest cliff of Redwall. Then
you go west to the ridge and follow it up. There are a couple of places
where one can go along a ledge to the right to find the easiest route,
and at several places there are minor variations, but the route stays
quite close to the crest where the blocks are shattered. There are a few
loose rocks where one is looking for a grip, but mostly the climbing is
steep but quite good. The exposure is a real factor and I think that
this route is a bit harder than the way to the top of Cheops Plateau up
a similar ridge. My way up Johnson Point was just as severe in a place
or two, but I may have missed the easiest route on Johnson.

At the top of the Redwall, you see that the promontory is quite narrow.
The rest of the way to the top of the Supai knoll was easier than it
looked. We went up on the side nearest us and found convenient breaks
where the small cliffs occur. We took an even hour to go from the talus
below the Redwall to the top of Howlands. The Ellis cairn at the summit
is a super big one. Ben had carried lunch for the others to the top in a
day pack and they ate on the summit. I had snacked below and had then
left my Kelty down there, so I went down alone to eat. I had to be
careful, but I was glad to see that I could do it alone. When the others
came down, Margaret had to accept a belay at one place. However, she is
a good climber and took a course in climbing from Paul Petzold last
summer. That Redwall ridge is just at the limit of what I would
undertake alone. In fact, if I had been alone on the ascent I might have
backed out. Eric and Ben are in the expert class. Eric had climbed the
Grand Teton without a guide and Ben had been an instructor in an Outward
Bound Program.

When we were down to the Creek, Ben and Margaret took it easy. Eric
wanted to go up to see Cheyava Falls even though I told him that it was
too far for daylight walking. He hurried on ahead while I proceeded at
my rate back to our camp at the Cheyava arm junction. As it turned out,
Eric met Poly coming back from having seen the falls and turned around
far short of that part of the valley. I got to my camp a little after
four and decided to see the arm of the creek where most of the water
starts. Ted Rado had told me that there is a superior overhang campsite
up there, and I figured that I could get a look at it before it would be
time to return.

I was impressed by the changes in the bed caused by floods since I had
first seen Clear Creek about 1948. It may have been the time of year but
I suspect that the changes are more serious. Boyd Moore and I and later
Allyn and I used to make our way through thickets of cottonwoods and
junipers where now it is a desolation of boulders. I saw one pretty fall
over a ledge of bedrock, but I didn't see many pools that would be green
with maidenhair ferns in season. I saw some dead mimulas, so there are
still chances of spring and summer flowers.

On the way upstream I missed a fine terrace on the east side of the
creek only about 15 or 20 minutes walk up from my camp. It is well above
flood level sand and a fire pit and a pot or two show that it has been
used as a campsite. Around the corner into the source canyon, there is a
similar overhang that is not much above creek level. The smooth sand
seems to have been left by a flood. I wonder whether Rado really used
this one or the other which shows signs of being an established camp.

At the junction of these upper arms of Clear Creek, I could look ahead
to the left and see the 30 foot fall in the shale which Allyn and I used
as a sign that we should climb out to the west to reach the figurine
cave. There was still time after I had gone into the arm with the water,
so I conceived the obvious idea of getting far enough up the bed to find
the source of the water. Travel was easier than in Wall Creek. When the
bed was thick with cottonwood shoots, I could usually find a deer trail
along a terrace. I noted that tamarisk has already infiltrated the
native flora even this high. The canyon in the Bright Angel Shale is
even prettier than down below the Tapeats. The Redwall and higher
formations show well and the towers and cliffs made a fine show in the
late afternoon. I got beyond the highest water in the bed and saw that
the springs occur on the east side. There is nothing spectacular at the
springs, just water coming out from among the rocks in a dense grove. I
believe cavers have tried without success to find caves higher up the slope.

I turned back at 5:15 and reached the campsite at 6:15 having spent 30
minutes coming down the wet arm before its junction with the other
shorter arm. As I was reaching the area of the ruins, I met Bill
Rietveld who had decided suddenly to visit Clear Creek. He was trying to
find my campsite at the ruins, but he was walking past. We had a good
visit and enjoyed the campfire until nearly 9:00. On Monday we walked
out together. Eric and Ben left the trail at the head of Zoroaster
Canyon and climbed the little butte at the end of the ridge between
Clear Creek and Zoroaster Canyon. It was done very quickly but it
entailed a pull up over an overhang. Still they didn't get to use their
rope. Unfortunately it already had a cairn on it. They reported that
following the ridge out to the butte was more exciting than the climb.

The girls took the long walk from Clear Creek to the south rim in one
day without complaint and were too proud at the end to let me carry
their packs up the last grade.

*	Trinity and west on the Tonto and Shiva Redwall
[March 17, 1973]*

My main purpose in starting on this trek was to climb Claude Birdseye
Point with the additional project of scouting along the ridge north of
Ra for Stanton's camera position for his highest picture. Neither of
these was accomplished but some substitutions made the trip quite rewarding.

Gerrit DeGelecke came to my office to get some information about the
Little Colorado shortly before I was to leave and he accepted my
invitation to go on this one. He was a good hiking companion and in
coming up the South Kaibab Trail at the end of the trip, he reached the
top an hour sooner than I. In spite of his superiority he let me choose
the route at all times for the rest of the trip.

Dock Marston had once furnished me an old map that showed the trail
going up from Bright Angel Creek and over into Phantom. It also showed a
fork from this trail going around the south sides of Cheops and Isis
above the Shinumo Quartzite. I thought that it might be the best way to
get into the upper part of Trinity even if the trail should now be
obliterated. After going up out of the inner gorge at the north end of
the campground through the Tapeats west of the first granite ridge, we
followed the cactus studded hills toward Phantom and then stayed above
the Shinumo around the south side of Cheops. It is sure that there has
never been a trail along here and the footing is very bad with lots of
rocks and cactus. By the time we got to the west side of Cheops we were
very sick of the route, especially since we had to cross a steep slope
of debris and would have to go quite close under the Isis Cheops Saddle
before even starting around Isis. When we found a break through the
Shinumo west of the south end of Cheops, we were happy to be able to get
back into the shaley bed of 91 Mile Canyon. When we got to the top of
the Tapeats well below the upper end of the valley, we should have done
what I had done on 8/19/59, crossed the arm of Trinity starting below
the middle of Isis at the fault but instead we chose to get past the
Tapeats cliff to the right at its head.

By using this route, we ran into the hiker whose footprints we had seen
off and on. It was Anthony Williams and he told us that there was no
water where I had found it twice, at the highest showing of Tapeats in
the bed of the arm below the Isis Shiva Saddle. He said that there were
some rainpools higher, however. I led Gerrit down to the place where I
had camped with rain pools twice (8/19/59 and 4/18/65). There was no
water, so we had to decide whether to go up or downstream. I decided on
going down, because I was sure that there would be a seep at least. A
little north of the canyon through the Tapeats that heads between Horus
and Set , I noticed a seep that fills several pools for 50 feet of
exposed schist. Allyn and I hadn't seen this when we walked up in 1965
so it may get covered by gravel occasionally. This water had a slightly
salty taste and had a laxative effect on me, but we camped here. We were
able to camp under a fine overhang at the base of the Tapeats to the
southeast. This gave us complete protection from some rain that fell on
Sunday morning. I noticed a crude rock shelter under a neighboring
overhang to the north of ours. I couldn't say whether this was done by a
prospector or by an Indian. Our route to this point had been poor and it
took us five and a half hours to reach the place from Bright Angel Creek.

Early Sunday morning we waked down Trinity. It took about 15 minutes to
reach the confluence with the east arm and about 30 minutes more to
reach the place where progress is impossible and the creek goes over
falls in a very narrow slot. Water was running in the bed off and on
most of the way below the confluence and it seemed a bit less brackish
than our spring near camp. We got back to our overhang in time to keep
dry during some showers and we read Time to pass the time. The weather
brightened as we were finishing an early lunch, so we took a half day
walk along the Tonto west of Trinity.

I took quite a few pictures of the river with an emphasis on the mouths
of Trinity, Epsom, Salt, and Monument Creeks. I could see where I had
stopped walking along the base of the Tapeats on the east side in 1959.
There seemed to be a possible climb down from the end of my line at that
time. Gerrit called my attention to a very old rusty five gallon
kerosene can lying beside out route near the rim not far west of
Trinity. (The can was left in 1919 by the Davol Party surveying for a
cross canyon tram. See Life of Stephen Mather.) We missed it on the
return. We kept quite close to the rim as to see the river. Epsom, Salt,
and Monument stirred old memories. At Monument we saw numerous hikers
camped mostly at the east end of the beach. At a point on the east side
of a small ravine east of 94 Mile Canyon, we considered the possibility
of climbing down through the Tapeats. It looked hard, and then we found
an easy way to get down through the ravine itself. One could certainly
walk the slope down to the river here. We were at the end of our time
allowance, so we didn't do more than take pictures of this route. On the
way back, I happened to look up to the rim of the Redwall when we were
in the bay just west of Trinity and I saw a neat natural bridge in the
rim of the Redwall. This bridge could probably be reached since the
break in the Redwall facing the river southeast of the Tower of Set can
probably be climbed. The span is perhaps 40 feet and the opening is
broad in comparison to the height.

On the return I saw a violet in bloom, the only one I have seen in the
Grand Canyon. Quite a few flowers were already out, but the real show
will be later. This has been a wet winter, and all desert flowers will
be fine.

On Monday Gerrit and I got off about 7:10 a.m. and reached my former
campsite at 7:40. We were carrying our full packs and I can't explain
how we were able to get to the top of the Shiva Isis Saddle in an hour
and 25 minutes compared to my time in August of two hours. Perhaps the
cold weather helped that much. Just below the rim about 100 yards west
of the low point of the saddle, I spotted a cave and I checked to see
whether it would be a warm place to sleep. Instead I found it to be
dripping and forming small stalactites. We set Gerrit's plastic sheet
and sauce pan under the drips to get a water supply for camping Monday
night.

We proceeded with nearly empty packs and watched for rain pools. In
spite of the showers the preceding day, there were almost none of any
account. The going was rougher than I had remembered and I was
discouraged by the thought that we were much slower than I had been with
Cureton in 1965. I hadn't reread my log, or I would have seen that we
were not so much behind schedule. It took us two and a half hours to
walk a bit beyond the gully that drains the southwest half of Shiva.
Here at 1:00 p.m., I took stock and decided that if we persisted in
climbing Birdseye Point, we would never get back to our bedrolls before
dark. Just after we turned back, I checked the big ravine to see whether
there might be water at the base of the 60 foot fall. There was no good
sized pool, but a fair stream of water was coming down and a person
could get all he wanted. It would seem that this is melted snow water
from the top of Shiva, so it would be the place to come for camping in
February or March. If Gerrit and I had brought our packs here, we could
have climbed Birdseye the next day. We had eaten an early lunch where
some water was trickling through the shale about one hour's walk from
our bedrolls. Two of the three little basins we built when we stopped at
11:00 a.m. were dry by afternoon.

When we checked the water system in the little cave just below the rim
of the Redwall, we found that Gerrit's pan and plastic sheet had
collected about a quart and with what we had brought back in our
canteens, we had a good dinner. There was only about a cupful more on
the plastic sheet by morning, so either Gerrit hadn't set it right, or
the drips were giving out. We got down to rainpools in the arm of
Trinity before we got dry.

I regret not having inspected the ruin that Davis had found just east of
the first promontory from Shiva. We didn't walk high as he did. Once I
experimented with this and was soon way behind Gerrit who remained low.
Most of the deer tracks were low. The deer are numerous along here and
also down on the Tonto west of Trinity. We found quite a few discarded
antlers. Gerrit found a set of antlers fastened to the skull along with
the backbone. It would also have been interesting to walk around the
base of Isis and perhaps look at the route to the top, but by this time
my feet were hurting in spite of tape around most of the toes.

When we had gone out along the Tonto west of Trinity, I had looked down
on the bed of Trinity and had wondered whether we had gotten low enough
to be in an open part that can be reached, I feel sure, by an easy walk
over the intervening ridge from Mile 91 Canyon. When we left our camp
near the Shiva Isis Saddle, I wanted to check this idea before we headed
back to civilization. Near the top of the Trinity Creek arm from the
Shiva Isis Saddle, there is a steep place where formerly I had gone to
the west out of the main bed. Both going up and returning this time, we
climbed past a chockstone in the main bed. I prefer it to the other. It
was an easy walk down through familiar surroundings to the junction of
the Isis arm with the main arm. Here we left our packs and went on down,
in about 30 minutes, to the jumping off place in the spooky narrows. We
were not far enough toward the river to be able to walk over the ridge
into Mile 91 Canyon, but just upstream from the dropoff there is a
debris filled ravine going up to the base of the Tapeats. We decided to
see whether it is feasible to climb to where I had been along the base
of the Tapeats in 1959. It was sticky in two or three places, and I
would want to let down my pack with a rope, but we could do it. Gerrit
was waiting below to help me if necessary at the hardest place, so I
didn't take a long walk south at the base of the Tapeats, but I am sure
that I was where I stopped in 1959. It is doubtful whether the use of
this route would save time in comparison to going up 91 Mile Canyon and
over to Trinity higher up, but it is an interesting climb.

In leaving our lunch site we went up the arm from Isis and turned into
the access route to the right to get up through the Tapeats. Then I made
the mistake of heading for the top of 91 Mile Canyon instead of going to
the break in the Tapeats directly. We could have turned and gone into
the very head of 91 Mile Canyon, but we preferred going to our right and
getting into it farther south. Instead of contouring as Allyn and I had
done in 1965, we stayed in the bed and then turned up the arm that leads
to the shale saddle to the east. I believe the bed is faster even though
you lose altitude. East of the saddle we dropped down the bed until we
came to the ledges and then we contoured into the arm of the drainage
that comes from the east side of Cheops.

Allyn and I had seen deer head uphill to a break in the Shinumo cliff in
the direction of the descent through the Tapeats to Bright Angel Creek.
We wanted to camp at water pockets we had seen in the soft red rock
beds, so we tried this access to the top. It worked fine with a detour
out of the main ravine to the south near the top and then a cross over
to the north at the very top. It took us 35 minutes to go from the bed
to the top and then about ten minutes to get to where we wanted to camp.
I had predicted a trek of four hours from Trinity over here, but it was
really only three hours and 25 minutes.

The weather had alternated between fine and threatening all day, so we
found a nice looking overhang and spread out our beds. We got fires
going and I cooked soup in a shower. After looking up, the weather
really got wet and we put the plastic sheets over as well as under the
bags. When it was completely dark, the rain suddenly came down hard.
Before long, water was sluicing down the rocks and running down under
our roof. It soaked my trousers that I had jammed back against the wall.
Soon the bags were thoroughly wet underneath and we were cold. About
9:00 p.m. the rain stopped but the storm born stream in the little
valley continued to roar for two more hours. Fortunately I had a can of
Sterno so the wet wood dried and started to burn. About 2:00 a.m. I went
back to bed with newly dried trousers and parka and slept a couple of
hours before my wet knees woke me again. Before five I revived the fire
and Gerrit and I spent the last part of the night around the fire again.

The trail down to Bright Angel Campground seemed quite familiar and easy
and we were there in 45 minutes. The trip up the South Kaibab Trail was
unusual for me because I saw four bighorn sheep at close range, about 30
yards off the trail west of the sign for Bass Limestone. They were two
ewes and their fairly large lambs. I went up the trail and came out to
the edge of the cliff only 30 feet away from them. When they took off,
one lamb didn't want to jump down five or six feet to a lower ledge and
went a little farther then the others looking for a better way. I spent
over five minutes observing them before they were too far away. The top
half of the trail was mud and snow, but I was able to get up in four and
a half hours with no worse feeling than weariness.

*	Seal Head Rock near Mystic Spring
[April 21, 1973]*

I told Betty and Roger Field where Mystic Spring is located and
confessed that I couldn't locate Seal Head Rock, shown on Page 153 of In
and Around the Grand Canyon by James. On their one and only visit to
Mystic Spring and the Bass Camp just around the point to the north, they
came back with the location of Seal Head Rock. They told me that it
isn't a landmark standing above the prevailing level of the Esplanade as
I had thought. It is inconspicuous since it is in line with the rest of
the Supai rim rocks and is about 75 yards south of the spring, right
where the trail south from the spring turns left to go up on the open
area that forms the surface of the Esplanade.

With this sort of information, it was no trick at all to find the site.
It was the first time this season when I thought that the road west from
the village might be safe, especially since I now have the assurance of
being able to shift into four wheel drive in the Jimmy. The road was
quite rough and it was still a bit muddy in a few places, but when I
reached Bass Camp, I found that various two wheelers had made it. There
were about five vehicles parked there.

Although showers and wind had been forecast, the day was fine. I got
from the Visitor's Center to the trailhead in about an hour and 20
minutes and started down by 9:30 a.m. There was very little snow on the
trail, and when there was some, other hikers had trampled a track that
had melted to the bare ground. I had intended to bring my black and
white picture of what I had thought was a bit of a dam built by W. W.
Bass to catch water in the bed of the first draw. I had taken this on
7/6/58 but I have never been able to spot any remains of a dam since
then. I want to go down this trail at least once more, so I hope I'll
remember to carry the picture the next time.

The trail is well marked by cairns now and it gets enough use to make it
clear. At the narrowest part of the ridge separating Bass Canyon from
Garnet Canyon, I met two hikers, Jo Anne Varnum and Eric Oleson. We had
quite a little visit and they were glad to meet the author of the guide
Grand Canyon Treks and I was gratified to meet some more people who
liked it. They asked about Indian ruins and were chargrinned to realize
that they had walked past the ones up in the Toroweap without noticing
them. I also told them where to look for mescal pits. One is just to the
west of the trail and south of the east arm of Garnet. I noticed it as I
passed when I was going down, but I walked right past without seeing it
on the return. There are two big ones below the Supai rim on the west
side of the north arm of Garnet.

I followed the trail as it skirts to the west of the head of Bass Canyon
but branched off toward the right slope of Huethawali. This is south of
the juniper and pinyon trees in a clearing covered by blackbrush.
Naturally I followed a bit of a trail and paused just before the route
was leaving the flat and starting up the broken ledges. I may have been
right by here before, but this time I noticed two clear outlines of
rooms. Part of the walls are still two feet high and show a right angle.
They are about 50 yards north of where a shallow ravine comes down to
this flat. Something I didn't notice until I was coming back from Mystic
Spring and was trying to locate the two rooms again was another mescal
pit. It is about 100 yards north of the rooms.

When I was near Mystic Spring, I found the hole in the rocks that has
the tunnel going out on the level of the camp. I climbed down getting
some assistance from the redbud tree in the bottom. The spring was
flowing about as it was last spring at this time, but there is no basin.
One should chisel a basin in the sandstone or build a dam. I found Seal
Head Rock and took care to line up everything as in the picture of
James. A few yards southeast of the rock is a neat little natural
bridge, about seven feet in span by four feet high with a couple of
yards of space behind.

Since we were having a couple of friends for dinner at 6:30, I had to
start back. I found that I still can cover the ground about as well as
ever, and I reached the car by 3:00. I got home a bit after six.

*	Port Hole and Grand Scenic Divide
[May 5, 1973]*

Years ago I had noticed a spot of light showing through about 80 feet
below the skyline north of the end of the Grand Scenic Divide and south
of Dick Pillar. I wanted to see it close up and discover whether the fin
of rock was really thin or whether the hole might be all that showed of
some winding tunnel. I got started a bit later than I had two weeks
before. For one thing, I had an interesting conversation with a man who
was getting a permit for a month long backpack to the Hindu
Amphitheater, Steve Coney. He and two friends are going to carry huge
packs to Crystal Dragon and really explore the place. I told him some
things about the area, but I regret that I didn't urge him to check the
S H K route up by the Tower of Ra. They were taking a rope and had had
some experience rock climbing. Coney lives in a cabin south of the Elk
Mountains in Colorado that is snowbound six months of the year. He uses
skis to get supplies. The road to Bass Camp was in fair shape and
although rain was predicted, I didn't think enough would fall to make it
bad. I got started down at 9:45 a.m. and was at the large cairn on the
Esplanade 35 minutes later. I noted the position of the mescal pit
nearby, about 50 yards to the northwest of the cairn. I took the
shortcut off the Esplanade through the notch where the rim is low
between Bass Canyon and the Garnet Canyon drainage. Just below the rim
you have to go east for 10 yards or so to the crevice where three logs
help you down. The one with the nail in it is still there but it has
fallen down. I went to the trail and used it to get to the rim of the
Redwall. It looked slow to try to keep up at the right level in the
Supai, just below the top massive cliff. As I headed the gorge I checked
a cave opening about 50 feet down in the Redwall. It would have made a
dry shelter, but it was only 10 feet deep.

The walking along the Redwall rim is relatively easy here for some
distance, but I figured that I should be getting up to the right bench
of the Supai at the second draw north along the east side of Bass
Canyon. Here the rocks are tumbled together making a corridor clear to
the top of the Esplanade. I found myself needing to backtrack once to
get up to the base of the top cliff.

When I was still on the Redwall rim I had a shouting conversation with a
lone hiker down on the trail below. I learned that he wanted to get to
Elves Chasm and I contributed some advice. He finally asked whether I
could be Harvey Butchart, and he said he was going by my book. His first
name was Del and his last name sounded like Harmony. He was from
California and I had met his mother driving a Blazer back from the
trailhead.

The rain with some snow pellets started about 11:00 and I was wearing my
poncho for more than an hour. It got in my way when I had to climb up
the ledges and progress north was as slow as I had expected it to be.
After 12:30 p.m. I was getting near Dick Pillar and finally glimpsed the
small angular hole 30 feet up beyond a higher ledge. I might have been
able to climb to it just south of the hole, but it seemed a bit
dangerous so I put down my pack and went north about 75 yards to an
easier place. The ledge back to the hole wasn't bad and the view through
the hole was striking. The hole is almost rectangular, about four feet
by five feet high and only about six feet through. My pictures from here
will be dull because it was raining and snowing off in the distance.

I returned beneath the top cliff of Supai and then climbed to the
Esplanade at the first chance, back where I had left the rim of the
Redwall. There was a bit of hand and toe work near the very top. I could
follow a fairly good deer or faint burro trail most of the way back to
the Bass Trail. When I was near the streambed draining the west side of
Fossil Mountain, I came to a mescal pit and found another on the south
side of the biggest wash from the same bay. Just to the southwest of
this latter mescal pit was a crudely constructed storage bin. If there
had been any adobe mortar, none was left.

I got to the trailhead at 3:45 and visited with a group who had taken a
five day hike with two children, the younger only seven.

*	Vesta Temple
[May 18, 1973, cf. 5/14/72 and 6/11/72]*

As we noted last year, we should have slept at the car on the Park
Boundary Road 1.3 miles west of the drift fence and started at dawn. We,
Lee Dexter and I, got our permit after 8:00 a.m. and left the Jimmy on
the Boundary Road about 1.3 miles west of the gate through the fence and
started at right angles to the road a couple of minutes before 9:00. We
looked at the compass to get the direction at right angles from the road
and then steered by looking at the sun. This time we reached the rim
about 100 yards west of the two cairns that now mark the Bortle descent.
We used my 120 foot rope as described in last year's log and followed
the same route below. This time, at the base of the break where you get
off the ledge at the lowest hard place in the Kaibab I noticed several
pieces of dead wood which had been placed there a long time ago to
assist in the climb. These might be used to date the construction of the
mescal pits. It is interesting that these obscure routes have been found
and then lost, perhaps many times.

Our route finding last year paid off and we kept well ahead of the
schedule then. I had brought a second rope that was at least 60 feet
long and at the Packard break through the bottom of the Coconino we tied
it better than I had tied the 50 foot rope last year with Donald Davis.
I have changed my mind. Although I think Doty could do this free, Lee
and I were glad to pull on the rope in getting down and up here. Of
course there is the Davis route about 50 yards to the northeast which is
definitely a ropeless route. We went down the talus 50 yards to the west
of the base of the Packard break and used the way off the talus ridge
that Packard had found last year. It is slow and risky to get across
some of the steep and bare shale and the whole way along the Hermit
around to the farthest south bay of Topaz is slow going. We found one
place where a sheep or deer had pawed into the mud for water, and at the
branch of Topaz farthest to the east but not the one down from the Vesta
Saddle, there were some trickles of water that dried on the bare Supai rock.

It took us about an hour to go from the car to the base of the Kaibab
and another hour from there to the Hermit below the Coconino descent. In
another hour and a half we were to the seeps. I built little dams for
the water and used it to supplement our respective gallons we had
carried from the car. I had started to feel the heat by 11:00 a.m. and
my appetite was shot, but we had some lunch by the water. We got on our
way well after 1:00 and could see by then that the trip to Vesta would
require a return to the car after dark. I suggested to Lee that he leave
me and make sure that at least he should succeed, but he turned down
this offer and stayed with me, resting when I had to.

Travel along the Hermit gets easier after this and it takes a little
over a half hour to get from our seep to the saddle south of Vesta.
Walking along the east base of Vesta is also relatively fast. We noted
another mescal pit over here and Lee was amazed that the Indians got
around to so many remote areas.

The climb up the talus at the northeast end of Vesta and the route up
through the Coconino along the ridge to the south isn't particularly
hard. Packard had done this only weeks before when he came in on a two
day hike from Drippings Springs, and he had told me that it is
unnecessary to do any pull ups like Doty described. There were places
where we had to look for a route, and I am sure I identified the place
where Bob went along a little ledge on the west side of the spine.
Climbing up at the south end of this small and exposed ledge needed the
hands. Very soon after this difficulty we had to go around on the east
side where we found a vertical chimney. Fortunately there are good
footholds on the walls and I had no trouble in getting up behind a slab
that has fallen across this chimney. This Coconino route doesn't seem as
hard as the Shoshone Point Route, and the way through the Coconino north
of Jicarilla Point calls for more nerve. There were no difficulties in
getting to the top of Vesta after this, but the route is interesting
with exposures of gypsum clay and some ledges through the Toroweap that
need bypassing.

We reached the rim by 9:30 p.m. in the dark and finally found the car
after 11:00. (We found a broken down cairn at the Vesta Saddle. Dexter
found a fern fossil in the Hermit past the south end of Topaz and
brought it out. He also showed me a near fossil footprint on a piece of
Coconino too big for easy carrying.)

*	Nankoweap area
[May 29, 1973 to June 1, 1973]*

I had four days to do something, so I got Bob Packard interested in
going to Nankoweap with me. He wanted to climb Nankoweap Mesa and bring
back samples of the Toroweap. My special ambitions were to climb Duppa
and Cochise, the Redwall in Malgosa, and the canyon at Mile 49.9, right
bank, and do the Redwall climb northwest of Seiber Point. As usual my
score was far from 100%.

We got a fairly early start and found the Houserock Road in good shape.
Someone had plowed through leaving ruts eight inches deep at one time,
but now the road was dry. However, this was the first time that I had
seen two of the dips running with snow melt water.

We left the Jimmy at 9:45 a.m. and went down the usual trail, the Saddle
Mountain Trail, to the bed of Saddle Canyon. Here I noticed for the
first time that the good trail continues across the wash and up. I
thought that it might go along above the bed, which was running, and
lead over to the saddle, a route that would be much better than our old
way of going along the bed. However, instead of heading for the saddle,
it went up and to the east. Instead of returning to the bed and
continuing the old way, we left the trail and climbed through the rocks
and brush up along the rim of the Coconino cliff. We found ourselves
committed to getting quite high on Saddle Mountain before we could come
down the way I had climbed the mountain before. When we finally came to
a break in the Coconino cliff, we followed a deer trail down. We must
have crossed my former route without knowing it since we descended to
the saddle from the east. This near climb of Saddle Mountain and descent
to the saddle took two and a quarter hours, so we ate lunch at the saddle.

The Nankoweap Trail along the Supai ledges was not as easy to walk as it
had been in December, 1969, and I lost it a few times. The big snows
have made it about as hard to follow as when I first went along it.
There were a couple of seeps that would have made camping possible along
this stretch. We got from the saddle to Tilted Mesa in two and a half
hours in spite of the trail finding goofs. We went down the old trail
through the Redwall which is now marked by quite a few cairns instead of
using the deer trail that I used to consider better. Cairns now mark the
precarious part of the trail where you go east along the shale below the
Redwall. After the first 50 yards, the trail is better and one has no
trouble continuing around to the east to the descent through the Tapeats
and down to the bed near the Butte Fault. Here we slept for two nights
with only ants and little flies to bite us. No mice or other rodents
bothered our food.

On Wednesday, Bob climbed Nankoweap Mesa between 5:20 and 8:00 a.m., and
then he went and climbed Nankoweap Butte before returning to our camp by
4:30 p.m.

I wanted to investigate Billingsley's opinion that the Redwall can be
climbed in the canyon on the right side of Marble Canyon, Mile 49.9. Bob
had gone to the river and back to our camp in two and a half hours on
Tuesday evening. I found that the walking had deteriorated after the
great flood and also because there was three times as much water in
Nankoweap Creek as I had ever seen. It took me two hours one way to
cover the route from our camp to the river. I was prepared for slower
travel along the river bank. I was surprised to find a deer trail along
here most of the way. It avoided the worst of the mesquite by going up
on the slope, but it was often overgrown with wild oats and bigger
things. It amazed me to find three surveyor's stakes along here. About a
half mile upriver from Little Nankoweap when I was high on the slope, my
eye was caught by what I took to be a colossal fish sluggishly swimming
toward shore. Then I realized that it was a beaver.

The first thing I noticed when I reached the vicinity of the reported
Redwall ascent to the west was that the fault passing behind Sase Nasket
hasn't produced a route up to the east. The Redwall is sheer and smooth.
The next thing I noticed was two cairns at the mouth of Mile 49.9
Canyon, one quite large. A deer trail also encouraged me to think that I
could get up this route. I had seen hikers footprints going up the
riverbank trail, and there were some footprints going up the side canyon
too. There were two short detours necessary to get past small drops in
the lower shale. When a great fall stopped travel up the canyon, one
could turn up a talus to the south. A short jog to the right got one
into a similar ravine that led to a narrow slot in the upper half of the
Redwall. It ended in an impossible overhang, but one could go along the
base of the cliff to the right. Here I decided not to try going up a
vertical crack with an awkward move to pass a chockstone at the top. I
suppose a stronger climber would have done this handily, but I could see
a way to proceed at a lower level around a corner. This involved moving
carefully along a narrow and very exposed ledge. I soon came to a place
where if I could climb down about 25 feet and up a still worse place
beyond, I would have the climb made. Broken rocks were wedged together
forming a vertical wall (I did this later, 11/11/74). I didn't like the
looks of the place, so I gave it up. I would like to hear the report of
the other hikers who left tracks along the bed below. I hadn't seen
their tracks this high up, but I wonder who would build a cairn at the
lower end of the canyon if the climb had proved impossible.

While I was eating lunch in the shade after descending, I watched a
couple of boat parties go by. One was a flotilla of eight six man oar
powered boats run by Wilderness World. I considered asking for a lift
down to Nankoweap, but landing those craft would have taken some effort
and time. The oars don't give as much control as even a small motor. If
I had thought in time, I would have taken my air mattress along and
floated down to Nankoweap. As it was, it took only one hour and 40
minutes to walk the distance. Even after a soaking in the pleasantly
cool water of Nankoweap Creek near the river, I was back at camp just
after Bob returned.

On Wednesday Bob and I started together to try to climb Duppa leaving
camp again at 5:20 a.m. He and I both like to enjoy the cool of the
morning for hiking. We put down the gear we didn't need to take for the
day at the junction of the main arm and the one coming from Mystic
Falls. Our estimate of the time required to go from there to the branch
coming in from between Duppa and Swilling Buttes was exceeded before we
saw the tributary. Climbing the slope to the south, we saw that we had
just passed the place. Instead of showing as a dry wash, it ends in a
flat, covered with canes and vines. We walked through the blackbrush
upward and then into the streambed. There were numerous large rocks in
the bed and a dry fall, so we walked up along the slope to the east much
of the way.

Above this falls, the Tapeats looked more and more impressive. The
valley we were in had a lot of charm with trees, flowers, and spring
birds singing. As we approached the Tapeats narrows, it became a glen.
There was an active seep with pools of water about one quarter mile
above the fall, but it would be dry during most years. I had thought
that there would be a way through the Tapeats near the bed and there was
a deer trail around the final obstruction. From here on the walking was
quite open although rather steep, on partially consolidated scree.
Hutton Butte lived up to expectations, quite smooth and precipitous, a
challenge like Buddha, Zoroaster, or Hayden, except that all of those go
up past the Coconino. This would be a job for the experts with hardware.

I had hoped that Duppa would be our kind of climb, and I was right. For
a few yards at the south end, one had to use the hands and move with
care. At the end we went along the west side and then to the highest
point, using a total of about three and a half hours for the trek from
the creek level to the summit. We got down in about two hours. What a
view we had from the top! Duppa is placed so that one sees a ring of
buttes. Bob picked out a place where we might have had a chance to climb
Swilling, near the southwest angle of the latter (we climbed here
10/14/73). One would have to go up either of two rather steep chutes at
the end. I was afraid that there would be no good handholds and that we
would be turned back in frustration, so we didn't attempt it. On second
thought, I believe that this would offer a better chance than a ravine I
had noticed on the north side last year.

We were back to our packs by 1:40 p.m. and after a chance to cool off in
the stream, we carried them up the arm from Mystic Falls. It began to
look more and more like rain, so we considered ourselves very lucky when
we found a big projecting rock with space for two beds already smoothed
out beneath it. It seemed to have been used quite recently. It is about
30 yards from the arroyo that goes up northwest of Seiber Point and
about the same distance from the creek from Mystic Falls. West across
the arroyo about 100 yards is a house sized block that rolled down the
slope and came to rest on one edge. There is a broken bottle a few yards
east of the big rock and about head high on the east side is an
interesting inscription. Last year I was looking for it after Donald
Davis told me about it, but I couldn't seem to see it. Now someone has
scratched the lines so that it now looks fresh, and I couldn't miss it.
The reading is No. 5, 1882. J.H.A. Beneath this reading is a fairly well
done picture of a nude man in profile urinating. Perhaps J. H. A. was
one of Walcott's assistants. He would have been an advance scout, since
the Nankoweap Trail was finished on November 24, 1882.

This neat and almost rain proof campsite wasn't the only unexpected
find. On the way back from Duppa, while Bob was making fast time down
the bed of the wash, I went back down the terrace that we had used on
the approach. Before Bob got back into the wash, we came to a ruin that
showed several room outlines. The two highest walls stand up well above
the blackbrush. I believe that George Beck has charted this one. Then
when Bob was in the wash, I found another site with walls almost
completely tumbled down. The terrace west of the junction of the wash
and the creek is on two levels. This second ruin that I spotted is on
the higher one and is right on the rim of the terrace overlooking the creek.

While I was resting my sore feet at the protected campsite, Bob hurried
upstream to see Mystic Falls and the intact ruins across from the falls.
Before he got there, we had a shower of short duration. I did a little
cooking during the rain. We had more rain before and after dark, but by
putting my plastic sheet over my bed, there was no real trouble. The day
was clear when we started out at 5:30 a.m.

I guessed that we would be at the place in the bed of the canyon where
we would start up the south slope after an hour of walking. It was about
one and a half hours and we had to do a bit of real climbing to pass one
cliff in the Muav. Bob felt better when he removed his pack and pushed
it up ahead. We had studied the area when we came down the Nankoweap
Trail on Tuesday. I had Billingsley's and Davis' word that it would go.
In fact, this route had come to be called the Huntoon route. I wasn't
sure whether the way was up a straight crack or by a zig zag route
farther to the east. From the trail across the canyon, we had agreed
that the way would be to go up a rock slide, then east along the base of
the cliff to a ravine. We figured that we could go up the talus in this
ravine until we could move west along the base of the top cliff to a
ragged area where we could climb the rest of the way to the top of the
Redwall. When Bob and I reached the top of the rockslide, on an impulse
we elected to go west to a crack. We had to descend a bit but at the
lower end of the fissure were two fine cairns, so we knew we had
someone's right place. There were no complications until we were nearing
the top. There was a place where we handed our packs to each other so as
to pull up more freely. I had resolved to stay on the rim of the Redwall
and get around beneath the regular trail before going up through the
Supai, but the way the immediate route looked, we angled up and went
through more and more of the Supai before settling down to contour
around to the trail. There was plenty of brush, but the going didn't
average as bad as many places along the Hermit. We needed one and a half
hours from the bed of the canyon, less than one hour to get to the top
of the Redwall, and one and a half hours to go from there to the trail
and up to the top of the saddle.

After a snack at the saddle, we went right down the valley into and out
of the bed of the wash whenever it seemed advisable. There was rain and
sleet shortly after we started on, and we tried to walk with our plastic
sheets over our heads and packs. When we had gone about three fourths of
the way, we picked up the old trail on the ridge between the two arms of
the creek and followed it successfully. Again we saw tracks of other
hikers, both going and coming. We took one wrong turn when a spur trail
branched off to the left. It quit at a clearing and we turned back down
to the bed and came to where the Saddle Mountain Trail crosses it. Even
after the delays of handling our plastic sheets and then stowing them
away and going off to the cow pasture, we needed only 95 minutes from
the saddle to the car.

*	Cochise Butte and Point Chiavria
[June 6, 1973 to June 9, 1973]*

Bob Packard couldn't go and I didn't try to find another companion. I
drove to the north rim on Wednesday morning and got my permit from
Sophia Hall. I explained that I had checked Donald Davis' route last
year down into the north arm of Lava just south of Hartman Bridge.

At one of the viewpoints I got acquainted with a tourist from Virginia,
Bob Harry. He was about to take off for an 18 day traverse of the Grand
Canyon in a dory with Martin Litton. The cafeteria wasn't open yet, so I
had lunch on the rim at the Painted Desert Viewpoint. I left the car, as
I did last year, at the paved pullout about eight tenths of a mile south
of the saddle southwest of Point Atoko, and when I walked to the rim in
over 30 minutes, I found myself to the north of the place to start down.
Also as before, I thought I should start down before I came to the right
place. When I got down through the scrub oak and locust thorns to the
barrier ledge, I went through at the right break and noticed that
someone has placed a small cairn on a nearby rock to aid the
identification from below. It seems to be the only break for some
distance and it is near the cliffs that protrude to the south of the
access ravine. The break is choked with brush and seems not to be used
by many deer. From above the marker is a bare platform rock just to the
north of the crack.

You get into the ravine from the north where the slope is rather clear
of brush. Last year I had hiked this route with only a pack for my
lunch. This time with gear for four days, I carried a rope and lowered
my pack past the tree trunks at the chockstone. With the rope for
handholds, I could let myself down using only toeholds in the crack
under the chock. On the return I kept my pack on and used the rope for a
grip for my right hand while I used my left on the rock. I also used the
stubs where branches had been on the bare tree trunks for steps. There
are two or three other places in the Coconino that seemed somewhat
difficult for me now, especially during the return.

It was interesting to see good sized snowbanks at the base of the
Coconino. White violets were blooming in the ravine and higher and
flowers were attractive through the entire trip with cacti in great
shape down below.

I stayed in the woods to the south of the ravine most of the way through
the Supai. At one place I followed a clear deer trail for about 200
yards. I was sorry to miss it on the return. Struggling uphill through
brush is always a lot harder than breaking through it downhill. Before
you are at the very bottom of the Supai, the ledges on the south become
impassible and it behooves you to go along the contour to the north and
get down there. I believe that I went higher before contouring on the
return than where I crossed the ravine on the descent. It is a rough
walk over to where you start down the Redwall any way you do it.

I recognized the pinnacle that I had used as a landmark last year and
started down the ravine to the north. A steep descent dissuaded me from
going lower and when I crept around a corner to the south, I found that
I was still much too high. From here on I saw my way, up a ravine to the
south and around the base of the pinnacle. Details of the route seemed
vague after only one year and it was almost as hard to find the route as
it had been before.

It took about five hours to get from the car to the Juno Ruin where I
made camp. There was water in the lower Supai and a fine flow halfway
from the bed near Hartman Bridge to the ruin. There was water coming off
the wall through the moss at the Shower Bath Spring on the left below
the arm from Hubbell Butte. These sources would not be reliable during a
hot dry season, but one should trust the bigger springs several hundred
yards below Juno Ruin.

There was no threat of rain so I slept on a little sand in the open bed
south of the ruin. It was the only night of my trip that the air
mattress held air. I started on down the creek to the junction with
Chuar Creek by 5:00 a.m. Getting out of the bed to the north I found a
bit of pottery. The rangers in 1928 noted a pottery site about a mile
east of Juno Ruin, which they called the Fort. Springorum and later
Davis and Ellis had seen this pottery too. The next day when I was also
coming down the valley I got out on the terrace to the south, farther
upstream opposite the landslide on the north. For perhaps a quarter of a
mile there was a well defined deer trail and then a well modeled metate
of Tapeats Sandstone showed me that it had been an Indian trail 800
years ago.

At the mouth of Chuar Creek, I left my sleeping gear and extra food.
There had been tracks of hikers coming down the main creek, but I saw no
more footprints going up the bed in the direction of Gunther and points
north. The lower part of this bed is exceptionally easy walking on shale
gravel and clay. Galeros Butte looms above the bed like a pinnacle from
Glacier National Park. After you pass the fork that leads up to Gunther,
the bed becomes steep and rocky and then cluttered with fallen trees and
brush. Sometimes I thought it was less brushy away from the creek. I
roughly followed the main draw that leads to the notch west of Cochise.
There was an impressive cliff forming the north side of this notch. On
the way to the top of Cochise, there was another notch but also no way
down to the north. Cochise from a distance had made me wonder why it had
rated a name at all, but when I was on it I was more appreciative. I was
lower than the top of the Redwall to the east and west, but not much.
The geologic map doesn't show it, but there may be a graben through
here. The north face of Cochise shows about all the height of the
Redwall. After eating, I went down to the east and looked at the much
lower notch there. Some deer tracks started down the woody slope making
me think that this would be a real break, but they soon stopped. About
50 yards down the slope I had to do a chimney descent for a few feet and
then 50 feet farther there was a 40 foot rappel. Below that the descent
is clear, but there is no rappel less descent here. (A correspondent
came up here from Kwagunt.)

I was interested in the easy walk up through the entire Redwall to the
west of Cochise. It is clear that one can come off the Lava Kwagunt
Saddle and follow the Redwall rim east and get into Churar Valley this
way. There is also an intriguing way down through the Redwall on the
northwest side of Gunther. The day was getting hot, though, and I had no
ambition beyond getting back to the creek and sitting in the water. I
put my bed where there seemed to be the most shade and the fewest ants
near the junction of Chuar and Lava Creeks, but there were flies that bit.

On Friday I was away from this campsite by 5:10 a.m. By six I was
leaving my entire pack by a big rock on the north side terrace and
heading toward a break in the Tapeats south of Point Chiavria. I had in
mind the project of completing my coverage of the suggested McDonald
burro route from the plateau down to his mines at the mouth of Lava. I
considered going up the streambed in the valley east of Point Chiavria
because if there were a break in the Tapeats here, it would be more
direct. I had to use my hands a bit in the lower Tapeats, and McDonald
would have had to build a trail for loaded burros. Since the only sign
that anyone had ever been this way is an old cairn at the insignificant
top of Poston Butte, I am retracting my former support for this as the
real McDonald Trail. If it were, there should be some sign of trail
construction in the Coconino, some trees cut along the Hermit north of
Point Atoko and elsewhere, and some trail construction through the
Tapeats. I think McDonald must have used the regular Nankoweap Trail.

I went around to the east under Point Chiavria and then looked at the
possibility of a Tapeats break at the foot of the valley north of
Chiavria. There is a good break across on the northeast side of the big
valley east of Siegfried but I don't think it is where the geologic map
shows either of two faults. The fault came through where I was standing
at the brink of the Tapeats cliff, but there was absolutely no chance to
get down here. The junipers and brush go right up the slope to the top
of the notch that separates Chiavria from the rest of the ridge leading
to Poston and Hubbell. Correction! I believe there is a fault cutting
through the Tapeats where I stood with the north side higher, but this
is different from the place where the Maxon map shows the big fault
cutting through the Tapeats quite a bit farther north.

Walking below the top of the Redwall along the north side of the ridge
leading to Chiavria required care but there was no real difficulty in
getting to the far end where I built the first cairn. The climb through
the brush and loose scree to the ridge had been the hard part. I came
down the Redwall on the south side where the big fault cuts the ridge.
It had been so many years since I did this just once with Dirk
Springorum that I had some of the thrills of finding the route all over.
You go down the ravine until you come to an obviously impossible drop
below the Redwall and then you go to the east until it is no big deal to
scramble down. I should have stayed on the ridge of slide material below
right down through the Tapeats, but I began by angling toward my Tapeats
break of the morning. Down at the brink of the Tapeats, I changed my
mind and came back west to the place where the Tapeats is broken to the
west of Juno ruin. I reached the creek by about 11:00 a.m. after leaving
the tip of Point Chiavria at 9:00. I approached my pack from a different
angle from where I had left it, and my landmarks weren't very sure. In
fact I was wondering whether I would have to go beyond and come back
before I would find it, but all at once I saw the pack less than 100
yards ahead, right where I was headed. I soon cooled off in the stream
and ate lunch in the shade.

The idea of going out that afternoon occurred to me, but I felt run down
after so much walking in the heat. It seems that I don't drink enough
even with plenty of water in the canteen. I take extra salt, but I still
come out dehydrated. My appetite also falls off and after several days
of this hot weather hiking, I am definitely below par. What with my flat
air mattress and a rustling in the night which I attributed to a big
black centipede like creature, I didn't sleep too well. I should have
been out where I had slept the first night, but the overhang at Juno
ruin had given me fine shade all afternoon, and I was too lazy to move.

As I lolled around in the afternoon rereading the Reader's Digest that I
had finished the previous day, I also noted the pictographs on the
ceiling. The best is a white rectangle with curving handles at opposite
ends, but there are also some rather vague smears of red clay several
yards to the southeast of this prominent mark.

I got the earliest start of all Saturday morning, 4:45 a.m. The walking
didn't seem too hot most of the way, but I was slowed by dehydration,
malnutrition, and a shortage of sleep. The struggle upward through the
brush and trees and across bare shale slopes made me think that trail
hiking in the mountains might be a pleasant interlude to this sort of
rough canyon pioneering. I got to the rim at 10:50, not much behind my
prediction, but then I cut too far to the south to strike the road. It
took me 40 minutes to reach the highway and then 30 more to walk north
to the car. I should have gone much farther north than I did where the
valley paralleling the rim isn't so deep. It would have been better if I
had reached the road near the dip and then walked south, since this
distance is only 0.8 miles. This route doesn't appeal to me as much as
it did last year. Anyone who goes down this way should brace for some
very bad going, especially on the return.

The conglomerate just above the Redwall that I first noticed in Red
Canyon and later north of the Tanner Trail, in Granite Park Canyon, and
Matkatamiba, also appears in Lava Canyon above Hartman Bridge. It has
the same brown matrix but the included pebbles seem to be somewhat
larger than elsewhere.

Just west of Juno ruin there are some precariously poised blocks of
sandstone seemingly ready to fall. There are striking towers in the
Redwall on the east side of the upper end of the north arm of Lava
Canyon. I also noticed some caves near the bottom of the top member of
the Redwall in Chuar Creek on the west side of Gunther. With the flowers
and the birds and rich vegetation, including some firs beneath the
Redwall, this part of the canyon can compete with the very best.

*	Little Dana Butte
[June 20, 1973]*

Al Doty tried to climb Dana and gave it up, just about the only summit
that ever turned him back when he really gave it a hard try. He had also
given up Newton but when he came back with Jim Sears, they succeeded in
getting up, only to find that it had already been climbed.

However, Ben Foster and 'Eric Karlstrom succeeded in climbing Little
Dana last spring and they also found a cairn on top. Perhaps this
previous ascent dates back to the twenties when Fred Harvey was taking
tourists on the pack trip down to Hermit Camp and then to Indian Gardens
and up (1919 Davol Survey Party).

I had looked at Dana from Mohave Point and thought that the west side of
the notch might be easier than the east where Al had tried to climb
(from above) and where the Foster Karlstrom team had succeeded. The
latter had called part of their climb 5.8, obviously too hard for me
alone. When Lee Dexter asked me to take him to the south rim for a one
day hike, I was eager to have him help me on Dana. We took his friend,
John Victors, with us even though John had broken his wrist and it was
still in a cast. John and Lee had climbed Diana Temple with the cast on
the arm, and I knew what sort of difficulties they had faced on the
Diana climb. I didn't want to take on anything more ambitious than the
route down the Kaibab from the rim to Diana.

There was some delay in getting John and we didn't get to the permit
counter before 8:20 a.m., so we were starting down the Bright Angel
Trail after the mule parties. The mule drivers seem to have been given
some instructions about letting fast hikers pass, and it was a new
experience for me to have them tell me we could walk behind the mules
while the string was resting. Another sight was to see one string of
mules pass at a certain place and have a string of pack mules go off the
trail above a few yards and pass the saddle string. Lee, John, and I
jogged most of the way to Indian Gardens and did this leg in 70 minutes.
The day was cool and we felt fine. We were back on my proposed schedule
when we started away from there by 10:00 a.m.

The walk around the head of Horn Creek was without incident. We noted
that there is still a bit of running water above ground below the trail
in the east arm of Horn. It was still showing in the heat of the
afternoon, but I don't think it can be permanent for the entire summer.

We could see how to walk up a talus and get above the shale cliffs and
the Muav to the base of the Redwall, and the Redwall below the notch
south of Dana looked rather broken. I had convinced Lee that the west
side should be investigated, and he wanted to do that even though I was
in the mood for switching and trying the route used by Foster and
Karlstrom. For one thing, he confessed that he didn't feel in the mood
for any very strenuous and risky climbing this day. I could see that our
timing wouldn't allow a real effort on both sides, especially since I
had agreed to get John home before 9:00 p.m. We walked on around to
where we could see the west side and immediately saw that it is much
more difficult than the east side. We came back to a shady place just
below the edge of the inner gorge and ate lunch.

It was 1:00 p.m. when we were back at the foot of the talus leading up
to the base of the Redwall on the east side of Dana. Although Lee and
John didn't share my ambition, I still wanted to see the difficulties
close up. I agreed to reach Indian Gardens before 4:00 p.m., our
original schedule, and see what I could do towards the climb besides.
The others decided to play around below and experiment with photography.
My shoes didn't grip very well on the talus, but in nearly 30 minutes I
was on the bench at the base of the Redwall. It took me about ten more
minutes to go along toward the notch. I was able to see if a place where
the ledge has broken off was passable, and the real problems would be to
get up to the notch from the ledge. I had to turn around to stay with
the timing.

When I was down near the Tonto Trail, I saw a very old and rusty tobacco
tin. The young men walked up from Indian Gardens in excellent time, Lee
in 100 minutes. I took my present par of two and a half hours, still
faster than the throngs of hikers.

*	Little Dana Butte
[August 3, 1973]*

After the slightly encouraging inspection I had made of the Dana Butte
climb on June 20, I wanted to try again. Scott Thybony dropped in at my
office and passed the time of day on Tuesday after we had come home from
our 25 day tour. He had found a Pima point near the head of the Hance
Trail. He had a week off from his work on the river and I invited him to
go with me to try Dana again. With my agreement, he invited two other
men, his brother, John, and Dick Parks who has a new job of teaching at
the Verde Valley School. John met us at the Visitor's Center and Dick
and Scott were waiting for me at the courthouse. We got to the permit
desk and to the Bright Angel Trail in time to get started ahead of the
mules.

Walking down was pleasant and fast and I still didn't feel the heat much
on the Tonto. It took us only 80 minutes to get around to the place to
climb the talus to the bench that leads over below the notch south of
Little Dana. Water is still flowing in the east arm of Horn near the top
of the Tapeats. There were two small pools and the lower contained
tadpoles. We ate a meager first installment of lunch in a bit of shade
on the Tonto Trail. One of the men noticed a mysterious sort of frame of
iron a few yards below the trail. We couldn't decide what it had been
good for.

The heat really began to be felt as I climbed the talus. A few yards
north of the place where the bench has a sort of barrier break, we were
at a place where we could climb up through steep and rough limestone.
Hands were needed and the exposure was impressive, but there was a
fairly good way to get to the top of the saddle at the north end. There
were three options at one place. Scott went up past some chockstones to
the top while John and I made our way north at lower levels. Our two
ways converged to a place where I found an old rope in place partially
covered with gravel (from the 1919 Davol Party). Just below here we had
found some shade and it was a good thing for me that we had. I got to
feeling almost sick with the heat and a bit dizzy. I reclined as best I
could and suggested that the others should go on without me. In about 10
minutes we were ready to move because I had recovered nearly to normal.
The breeze felt good on top of the saddle. Scott went along the rugged
profile to the north where the lowest point of the notch occurs. He
reported that we would need to make a short descent by rope, and he even
found another piece of old rotten rope at this place. We had my goldline
climbing rope with us, but the more we looked at the way ahead up the
ridge to the top of Dana, the less sure we were that we wanted to try
it. I also didn't know about getting up the 10 or 15 feet of rope, but
later Scott said that the wall wasn't perpendicular and that we
shouldn't have been worried about that. There was a good place to tie
the rope, and we could have used knots for gripping the rope. I wish now
that we had gone on until we actually found a place too hard for me to
climb. I have a feeling that we could have made the summit.

If we had taken an hour or more and finished the climb, it would have
been a very long hard day. I really felt the heat as we walked the
Tonto. I killed some time at the Horn Creek Spring getting some extra
drinks. I had started away from Indian Gardens with two quarts of water,
but I used more than that much in the next four and a half hours. We got
to Indian Gardens at 3:30 p.m. and went on at four. At 6:30 three of us
were at the car, but John had broken ranks. He had told us to go on
ahead and we didn't realize that he had become ill. Scott went back to
see whether he could help and to tell him that we were waiting. Perhaps
it was something he had eaten, but he was 45 minutes behind the rest of
us. We had a break with the weather finally. As we were reaching the
Gardens a little rain fell. The clouds were heavy for the rest of the
day and it was cool as we walked out. Otherwise, I am sure that I would
have needed more than two and a half hours for the climb out.

*	Shivwits Plateau
[August 13, 1973 to August 15, 1973]*

Henry Hall came from Phoenix to go with me and we left home about 10:30
Sunday morning. After a lunch at Cliff Dwellers we had time to go to
Saint George and then south toward Mount Dellenbaugh before camping
beside the road. The weather was fine and I had a good night on the ground.

Near Mount Dellenbaugh we kept to the east at the fork and soon had the
rough lava showing in the road. It was about the same as it had been in
November of 1971. The low flat areas were all dry and not bad for
driving. We switched back and forth from four wheel driving. There are
quite a few gates to open and close and Henry was a real help,
especially where a wooden gate was heavy. I remembered the turns fairly
well except when we opened a gate and kept right. Very soon we found we
were in a clearing with old lumber stacked around. A good guess is that
this is the site of the Parashant Lumber Mill shown on the 250,000 map.

Even in four wheel low I killed the motor once at the bottom of the
ravine that discouraged Roma and me on 11/13/71. It was easy to back
away from the large rock and go on, however. You feel a lot better with
the rugged tires and the much lower speed. There were plenty of other
rough places where we were very glad to be in four wheel drive. When we
came to Shanley Tanks we recognized the place by our distance traveled
and by the cabin that is shown on the 7.5 minute quad map, the Price
Point Quad. A huge pine had broken and fallen across the road in such a
way that it couldn't be bypassed. The ranchers will have to use horses
from here on south until they can get a large chain saw or a powerful
bulldozer.

On this Monday morning we put our lunches in the packs and started off
to look for Price Pocket and Price Canyon. There was quite a bit of
water in the two bigger tanks. We stayed on the road too long and
completely passed by Price Pocket. Then we got to the bed of the canyon
by a steep little scramble and continued down it. When we had been away
from the Jimmy for an hour of slow walking, we came to a good waterhole.
The deepest part was still two feet deep, but it could collect water
three feet deeper before it would overflow. Quite a bit farther, just
before the canyon takes a plunge over the Toroweap, there is another
pool that was quite shallow but that could hold a lot of water.

While Henry waited I made sure that one could get down to this water.
There is a deer trail on the west side. He also agreed to wait for me to
check the possibility of getting down Price Canyon at this drop. It was
brushy but quite safe over on the left side and I could see that there
were no other difficulties down to where Price joins 209 Mile Canyon. If
I ever want to go down 209 before they clear the tree from the road, I
could start down Price. Then I could come back from the river via the
Price Point Trail and arrive at the car very conveniently.

Henry and I backtracked up Price Canyon until we could walk up the east
side. We waited until the brush seemed thinner but the loose scree was a
drag. I knew that Henry had had trouble keeping my normal pace ten or
fifteen years ago, but I thought that he must have improved while I am
slowing down. It still seemed that he needs a lot more rest than I. On
the plateau we headed for Price Point. It steepens toward the end but
Henry wasn't prepared for the fine panorama as we topped the last rise.
He said he had the same feeling that he experienced the first time he
looked at the Grand Canyon.

I was prepared for this view, but it was all most interesting. I could
see where Jorgen and I had been when we came up the Redwall on the Price
Point Trail and had reached the top of the Supai. There was Spring
Canyon and Indian Canyon with their drainages already cutting a big
notch in the Supai. I could see where Jorgen and I had stopped above the
Redwall on the right rim of Indian Canyon. Mile 209 Canyon was the
dominant feature. Granite Park Creek and the many faultings east of the
river only gave hints at the best way to come down to the east side of
the Colorado. I moved to the highest point of the rim where the survey
marker has fallen down in spite of the wires. I also looked for the way
that Mr. Esplin had said one could start down the Price Point Trail. I
rather thought he meant the break in the rim where layer after layer of
lava is exposed and there are many hundreds of feet of slide material in
the trough between the cliffs. Still I thought a more comfortable and
sure way might be via the ridge off to the south beyond this break.

When Henry and I walked back to the Jimmy, the sun was completely hidden
by clouds. I recalled Dock's warning about the difficulty of keeping the
course. The one thing I had intended bringing and had forgotten was a
compass. Henry had brought his on the trip but hadn't thought to take it
on our short hike. We occasionally could see Mount Dellenbaugh and also
we could get a peek at Price Point now and then. Henry had stronger
convictions about the direction than I had. My intuition concerning
direction seems to be weakening with my age. Near the end, Henry thought
that we were too far north and I wasn't sure of anything. We came out
quite well, north of Shanley Tanks, but within sight of the car and
cabin. It took us one and a quarter hours to go from the top of Price
Road to the car.

There was a rain in the early morning and we were glad to seek shelter
in the cabin and built a fire in the range for cooking. The rain gave me
misgivings about going for an all day hike instead of getting out of the
country, but the moon shone in the night and in spite of the heavy
overcast in the morning, I got away by about 6:30 a.m. on Tuesday. Henry
knew that he would make my quest of the Price Point Trail an
impossibility if he tried to go with me, so he stayed at the cabin and
read my magazine.

This time I carried Henry's compass for the return through the junipers.
I left the road just south of the lowest tank and headed toward Price
Point. In one hour I was at the break in the rim above the rock slide.
Instead of going right out on the south tending promontory, I studied
the rockslide. When I saw that there was no uncovered cliff, I started
down. I sought out the places where there was loose but small material
and slid freely. I got down to a juniper at the bottom of the fresh
slide area in an hour from the rim. After this I kept rather low as I
headed Indian Canyon, near the top of the Supai. A broad flat grassy
area was a help in the right direction, northeast.

Where Indian Canyon sent short branches into the Supai, I retreated
uphill and headed them. When I came east again, I was looking down into
Spring Canyon. Along the Supai rim above the south arm of Spring, I came
to my second mescal pit of the day. Under an overhang back of the pit
was the remains of a crude rock shelter. The first mescal pit was in the
Supai west of the grassy flat but I might have difficulty finding it
again. Not far south of the rock shelter, right above the pass between
Spring Canyon and Indian Canyon, a deer trail went down to the dividing
ridge and up to the top of the Supai where Jorgen and I had stopped on
1/25/71. When I was nearing the top of the Supai east of the pass, I
found trail construction and several cairns. On the descent I also found
a broken horseshoe. From Shanley Tanks to this point took me less than
five hours and I feel sure that I could get to the river in less than
four more.

The day had been relatively cool with a cloudy sky, but I finished two
quarts of water with my early lunch. I had two more quarts that just
lasted until I reached the car by 6:15 p.m., but on a clear day I would
have been in trouble.

There were surprisingly many small birds along the Esplanade and I was
also startled to find a number of Ocotillo growing near the top of the
Supai in Indian Canyon. When I was starting up the long drag at the
break in the rim, I was warned by the buzz of a small rattlesnake.

In returning I used a more direct route from the ridge between Spring
and Indian Canyons but then I made the mistake of going much higher than
the meadow I had crossed on the approach. There were lots of minor
ravines to cross and then I finally had to descend almost to the lowest
level of the morning just to reach the rockslide. Going up I kept to the
biggest blocks I could find to avoid loose material, but still the climb
was slow. On top I checked the direction to the sun against the compass
and came west to the road south of the tanks.

I was quite weary and sore footed after my 12 hour hike and was quite
willing to take it easy the next day. Henry and I got a slow start and
then walked to Dinner Pocket. The road junction is quite obscure. There
is nothing but a few larger chunks of lava pushed out of the way to
indicate a road at all. Over the crest of the rise it is more like a
road. Dinner Pocket is first recognized by some corrals and a very old
log cabin. The water was quite shallow with most of the hollow below the
drop in the bed taken by silt. A trail leads down the small cliff on the
north side to aid the cattle. We then walked south along the road until
we thought that we could get a good view out to the west. A short walk
to the rim gave us a very rewarding vista.

When we got back to Shanley Tanks, Henry decided to loaf while I looked
for the real Price Pocket. From map reading it seemed to be farther
north than where we had gotten into Price Canyon. I went down the bed of
the valley south of the tanks. Almost immediately, where the bed dropped
abruptly, I came to two connecting potholes drilled into the hard
basalt. They both had water that looked rather repulsive and had
numerous wasps flying around. The mappers might do well to show the
other two lower waterholes as well as this one.

I was planning to wait until later in the day and then move down to
Kelly Tanks to sleep with the object of getting to Snyder Mine and back
early on Thursday. About noon we could see that quite a storm was
dropping rain to the north and I decided that it might be well to get
out of the area before the road became still worse. We found that the
rain had been spotty, but there were long bad places in the muddy road.
We used the four wheel drive for 17 miles until we were north of Mount
Dellenbaugh and also at one more mudhole on the relatively good road
quite a bit farther north. The Jimmy took a lot of cleaning before all
of the Shivwits mud came off.

*	Big Canyon
[September 29, 1973]*

Roma and I wanted an outing starting after my duties of greeting people
for Homecoming registration, so we elected to go out on the reservation
and look at the access roads to Big Canyon. George Billingsley had told
me what a fine hike they had taken down there in cold weather last
winter. Most dirt roads were snowy and muddy at that time, but they
could get near the head of Big Canyon, the tributary of the Little
Colorado River from the right just above Salt Trail Canyon.

It had been over eight years since I had been off US 89 toward the
Little Colorado and I was quite confused by the many roads that aren't
shown on the map. I played my hunches, but for a time I didn't know
whether I had already overshot the approach to Big canyon. George had
told me of a Navaho Trail into Big Canyon where it is already quite
deep, and my main purpose was to locate it. We ate lunch in the Jimmy
toward the western edge of a big flat. There were some low buttes of red
shale to the southwest and I couldn't tell at the time, but we were east
of where the south arm of Big Canyon starts being deeply incised. When
we drove on we soon came to where the road doubles back in a wash to get
up a minor escarpment where the Blue Springs Quad shows the figure 5000
at a contour line. The road goes northwest between an isolated hump and
VABM 5467. Before it comes to the end of the ridge with the figure 5431,
there is a chance to drive south. This road goes farther toward the rim
of the canyon then the map shows, and you can park within yards of where
Billingsley saw the trail that crosses the canyon. It comes down from
the north midway between and north of the letters A and N of the name
INDIAN on the Blue Springs Quad.

While Roma sat in the car and read a book, I went down the trail with a
time limit of one hour for the investigation. The trail is badly eroded,
but the slope is such that there is no difficulty in following it to the
bed. The Coconino shows 60 feet or so by the time one is down to the
sandy wash. Walking is rather slow because of the loose sand in the wash
and the Russian thistle grows thickly everywhere else. I had time to
start up the trail leading out to the south for a short way before I
figured that half of my time allowance had gone. The day was warm, but I
got back a little before I had said I would. I agree with Billingsley
that the area is most interesting.

I really intended going to near the north arm and seeing where the
college hikers had come out, but I took a turn to the west too soon. We
drove past two super Hogans and headed on west toward the junction of
the south and north arms of Big Canyon. When we came to the end of the
track, Roma stayed in the parked car while I took a 40 minute walk down
and up to the top of the knoll 5235 above the confluence. The canyon was
several hundred feet deeper than where I had been before and I could
look ahead and see it cutting into the Supai before the bends concealed
the bed.

When we drove away from this place, I still wanted to go up near the
north end of the north arm, but we got tangled up near a cattle tank. By
the time we had backtracked and come out on the main road again, we
could see that it would be quite late before we got home, so we came out
to the highway. Acting on impulse, I took a different way out from how
we had come in. At first it seemed that we were on a more direct route,
but then the road turned north. We finally turned east on a minor branch
and reached the good road that must have been built by the firm who
installed the transmission towers. We reached the highway about nine
miles north of Cameron. By either route, it is about 15 miles of slow,
bumpy driving to reach the vicinity of the trail down into Big Canyon.
Using the trail into the canyon, it should be possible to get from the
car to the bed of the Little Colorado in one day. The students have
shown that there is no possibility of going down the Redwall in the bed
of Big Canyon, but one should be able to follow the rim of the Redwall
around into Salt Trail Canyon and get down.

*	Third try for Dana Butte
[September 30, 1973]*

When I thought about the climb of Dana that had eluded me twice, I
forgot how difficult it had seemed on the spot, and I figured that with
a good climber to go ahead and hang a rope down, I would be able to make
it. I was sitting at home, brave enough to go back and tackle it alone.
However, Bob Packard, Christine Turner, and finally, Gerrit Degeleke
decided to do it with me. Gerrit had climbed Confucius Temple and had
taken the course in rock climbing, so I figured he would be the one to
go ahead and hang a rope down to me. Bob took his wife and Christine to
Indian Gardens on Saturday afternoon and Gerrit and I were to meet him
over near Dana on Sunday morning.

Gerrit came over to our house and we started for the canyon at 6:00 a.m.
Bob had been given a hard time when he requested a permit to climb a
butte, but he had the paper so Gerrit and I started down the Bright
Angel Trail at 7:30. We trotted a good bit of the distance to the
Gardens and got there in just over one hour. Perhaps this accounts for
the bit of trouble I had with one knee later in the day. There was a bit
of pain when I was walking the Tonto Trail back but after the rest at
the Gardens it felt all right on the way to the rim.

Bob and the two women were waiting for us in the arm of Horn and he
wondered how I expected him to climb the Redwall directly to the west. I
told him that we weren't even in sight of Dana yet, but the more I
studied his map, the more I realized that I have picked the wrong butte
to call Dana. I have been thinking that the prominent pinnacle farthest
to the northwest was Dana, but the old Matthes Evans map agrees with the
new one in placing Dana as the large triangle of Redwall to the
southeast of the saddle I had been on. I am sure that Eric Karlstrom and
Ben Foster have climbed the one that I had called Dana. Al Doty was
trying for the right one when he came along the Redwall all the way from
the Bright Angel Trail and couldn't get down to the ridge over to the
real Dana. It seems very logical to give the one I had picked a name
like Dana since it matches Tyndall, Marsh, and Cope and it is more
noticeable from any angle than the real Dana Butte. We might call the
one I had picked Dana Junior until they have decided on a name.

We all reached the talus going up to the base of the Redwall about 10:00
a.m. and spent some time resting and eating so that we wouldn't need to
carry any food high on the climb. I led the way along the high bench and
then to the crest of the saddle south of Dana Junior. We all went closer
to the lowest place on the saddle than I had been before, but I let
Gerrit and Bob go to the far side of the last block alone. They reported
that it would be no big deal to use one of our ropes to get down to the
lowest place in the notch, but they seemed to feel the same way I did
about the climbing up from the notch to the top of Dana, Jr. There
seemed to be a series of hard places.

Perhaps in my younger days, when my shoulders and arms felt fine, I
would have wanted to go on and struggle past the hard places pulling up
past the bulges, but this time I suggested that Gerrit and Bob might
like to go on without us while Christine and I made our way down. They
spent some time thinking about the project and then returned too (Bob
climbed this later).

The weather was still quite hot between one and two while we were
walking back to Indian Gardens. I had plenty of water but still felt the
heat, and Robbie Packard was feeling almost sick. She took almost a half
hour longer to get from the base of our butte to Indian Gardens than
Chris and I did. There was absolutely no water in the east arm of Horn
as there had been on 8/3/73.

I showed Christine the Indian ruin just below the trail as you approach
the Gardens and she pointed out an old spring wagon that is almost
submerged in the weeds and grapevines north of the open part of the
Gardens. I had never seen this before, but it must have been here for years.

We all came out in good time since it was shady and fairly cool on the
steep part of the trail.

*	Route into Kwagunt and Swilling Butte
[October 13, 1973 to October 14, 1973]*

Lee Dexter and Scott Baxter missed the first ascent of Confucius and
Mencius and they were quite interested in trying to do the first ascent
of Hutton. I wanted to try Swilling where Packard and I had thought
there might be a class three route. I offered to guide Dexter and Baxter
down into Kwagunt via the Point Atoko Route that I had discovered 16
years ago through the Coconino and fourteen years ago through the
Redwall to the bed of Kwagunt.

Tom Wahlquist and Gerrit Degeleke, who had climbed Confucius and Mencius
this past Labor Day accepted my invitation to go and so did Bob Packard.
I thought that the young climbers might be a real help to me if it
seemed too hard.

We left our names and license with the ranger, Jack Fields, and then
slept at what used to be called Two Rivers Overlook, the scenic
viewpoint south of Vista Encantadora. In the morning we parked at the
turnout to the fire road, E6, and were soon leaving the rim down the
right bay to get through the rim cliffs. It was only two years since I
had used this route to go to Siegfried Pyre and I didn't miss the way.
The little spring at the base of the Coconino was running as well as
ever, just a seep forming a small pool. More than two would have a hard
time getting water for camping.

We kept as near the base of the Coconino as possible on the way
northeast to the base of Point Atoko and saw a good pool of water after
about 20 minutes of walking on the way out. For some reason I missed
passing this pool on the return, a repetition of what happened on our
Siegfried Pyre trip. There are occasional dense patches of brush that
deflect one away from the base of the cliff. There were two or three
bare ravines that had steep clay slopes. We were able to pass them
rather high on precarious and narrow shelves at the base of the
Coconino. Progress while we felt fresh was good and we got from the base
of the access ravine to the base of Point Atoko in one and a quarter
hours. On the return this lap took somewhat longer, about one hour and
35 minutes. Beyond Point Atoko I knew that we should go a lot lower, and
we were able to follow a deer trail much of the way. We didn't seem to
have to buck as much brush on the first day as we did on the second
while returning. There was quite a bit of water in the upper part of the
second ravine northeast of the Lava Kwagunt Saddle. We had left the car
at 6:30 a.m. and had needed 35 minutes to get to the bottom of the
Coconino and about two and a half hours to reach the saddle.

There were some barrier falls in the ravine down from the saddle through
the Supai, but they were not difficult to bypass. Still we were wishing
that we could find a deer trail. When we came to the Redwall rim, I told
the group that I had gone right down the bed 14 years ago but that I was
soon forced to do a hairy traverse along a ledge to the east. Dexter and
Baxter, carrying their long ropes, ignored this warning, but the others,
who had come in my car, followed me into the woods to the east of the
Redwall gorge. It was slow and rugged and we tried getting down into the
main bed. I had not remembered where I had gone back into the main bed
in 1959, but I knew I hadn't used a rope and that the first climb out of
the bed was the only place that I had felt nervous. After some bird
dogging with Packard getting too low and having to return to our level,
we came on a deer trail that led us down and north. About where the
Bright Angel Shale first appears, we scrambled down a break to the bed.
This was right since there was no further obstruction in the bed nor was
there another way off the bench farther north. We came down where the
water seeps from the west slope in the shale and forms a running stream
almost all the way to the Tapeats. We ate an early lunch here while we
waited for Dexter and Baxter. After 20 minutes or more, they came along
with the report that they had needed five rappels to get down the bed
and that one of them had been down 75 feet. They had pulled the doubled
rope down after them trusting that they wouldn't find a rappel too long
for their rope below.

When we came to the Tapeats, I left the bed to go to the east a bit
before I reached the lip of the highest fall and I had a rough time on
the steep slope until we came to a deer trail. On the return we found
that the trail comes down into the bed right at the lip of the fall.
Things didn't look the way I had expected them to and for a little I was
afraid that I had forgotten how to get down the Tapeats. In due time we
found my former passage, a rather narrow ravine that gets into the bed
off the side canyon just before it joins the main bed of Kwagunt. This
access canyon is just west of Banta Point. I noted that there is a
definite notch of perhaps 80 feet depth separating Banta from the main
Redwall. It would be an interesting climb and might be quite difficult
(Ohlman says it isn't bad).

We continued on down the main canyon until we came to the wash that
descends from the saddle between Hutton and Swilling and put down our
camp gear. The trek here from the car had taken seven hours. It was only
1:50 p.m. when we were ready to begin the scramble to the base of
Swilling. Packard started up but decided he was too tired. Degeleke had
a pulled muscle or something that was hurting, so he didn't start.
Although we had a slight head start, Baxter and Wahlquist were waiting
for us at the base of the steep route Bob and I had picked from our
Duppa viewpoint. Bob had had trouble with leg cramps near the end of
this climb and I was well ahead of him, something that has never
happened before. This 1600 foot climb from the south at the warmest time
of the day was when we might have felt the heat, but it didn't seem bad.
I still had water in the two quart canteen when we returned to the bottom.

The route goes along a high bench with half the Redwall already below.
Then behind the southeast promontory of Swilling, there is a double
ravine up the rest of the Redwall. Fortunately it is broken by plenty of
small hand and toe holds. It is steep and requires care, but I can do
such places alone. It was a simple walk to the top of the butte above
about 80 feet of Supai. We were higher than Duppa and Hutton but quite a
lot lower than the top of Colter. We built the first cairn near the
highest point, but the location was suggested by the presence of loose
rock for our pile. We didn't walk to the north edge of the butte, quite
a little distance, but when we looked over the western rim, we saw a
route that might lead to the top of Colter. There may be real
difficulties in getting up the Supai cap, however.

After taking all the pictures we wanted, we started down. I got down
without any more fuss than being careful to look for the holds and
steps, but Bob and Tom Wahlquist wanted Scott to belay them. Bob
preferred holding on the rope for a grip. All this rope work took time
and I was waiting where we had put down our packs for 25 minutes before
Scott and Tom came along.

When we reached the bottom of Kwagunt, we learned that Lee had found a
good little flow of water up a branch to the east from the streambed Bob
and I had used for the ascent to the saddle. Gerrit took us back there
to fill our canteens and it was really dark by the time we were ready to
go down, about a ten minute walk along the bed. We were all thankful
that it was unnecessary to walk about two miles more with our packs to
the bigger spring in the bed of Kwagunt where I had camped in 1959. The
moon was bright but we were all ready to retire early.

We had all eaten and were ready to start in the morning by 6:30 again.
Since we all followed the deer trail up through the Redwall it took only
35 minutes to get through the Muav and Redwall. We had a worse time
through the Supai since we had begun to follow the deer trail to the
east and up and then tried to switch over to the ravine used in the
descent. By 10:30 we were at the running stream and here we ate an early
lunch. In only one hour more than we had needed for the descent we were
out to the cars. There was time to take Tom and Gerrit to see Cape Royal
and we were home a bit after 9:00 p.m.

*	Esplanade between Fishtail and Deer Creek Canyons
[November 10, 1973 to November 12, 1973]*

George Billingsley had told me of some unique pictographs on the
esplanades west of the Thunder River Trail and also of a pair of springs
low in the Supai in the east arm of Fishtail Canyon. David Mortenson had
also said that the route off the Redwall rim going down to the high
talus between Deer Creek and Fishtail, a little east of the nameless
canyon which is in line with the Sinyala Fault, goes without a rope. I
have long wanted to see these things myself, so I figured the three day
weekend would be a good time to do the trip. Tom Wahlquist and Steve
Studebaker, two students, and Visbak, Mooz, and Herman accepted my
invitation to come along. Jorgen drove Bill Mooz from Los Angeles to Las
Vegas where they picked up Ed Herman and came on to meet us at the end
of the Indian Hollow Road by noon on Saturday while I drove the college
students up from Flagstaff that morning.

The weather for the entire three days was perfect, clear almost all the
time but quite pleasantly cool. On the way down, we kept to the Thunder
River Trail until we came to the sign Trail 23 with an arrow pointing to
the east. This was below the knolls to the west and we proceeded along
the level somewhat lower than our route for the return. Our return on
Monday was more efficient but the ground and footing were rougher. We
felt that we were more sure to run into our first objective if we were
low, the larger than life pictographs. Bob Dye had been with Billingsley
when they discovered these figures and had looked at Bob's location of
the pictograph site on the map, but I hadn't made a notation on mine. We
looked from the head of the trail and even used Steve's binox but we
didn't identify the right cliff face.

When we came to the first place that might be right, about one third of
an inch from the east edge of the Kanab Point Quad and near the 4800
foot contour, we found it lacking in pictographs but it was an
interesting campsite with some protection from the weather. There was
20th century camp trash but there were also signs of a mescal pit and
many worked pieces of chert. Steve found some pieces of arrowheads and a
very beautiful small bird's foot arrowhead. He also found a couple of
potsherds nearby. There was a modern stone fire ring and a rectangular
stone lined pit of undetermined purpose.

When we went around the corner of the promontory we could see another
larger cliff exposure about a quarter of a mile away. As we followed the
base of the cliff, curving to the north and then southwest, we passed a
fine low cavity that would give perfect protection during the hardest
rain. When we came this way the next day we looked in and saw a Chlorox
bottle still full of water with a tuna fish can nearby. The cliff we
were approaching was stained with black water marks on its northern half
but the south end was a uniform light brick red. From some distance we
could make out the two larger than life figures that George had named
the Ghosts. They are done in white clay and have rounded shoulders with
hands straight down. The oddest feature on both figures are the three
straight lines going straight up out of the heads.

This Ghost Rock is on the east end of a promontory that can be passed
either to the north or south. Ed went to the south and stayed at a lower
level while the rest followed me to the north. Eventually we came down
from the terrace a few yards and met Ed who had been going up a ramp,
probably a better way. We followed fresh horse hoofprints for a time
which went our way, to the west and to the rim of the east arm of
Fishtail Canyon. When Ed noted a cairn or two, we figured that it was
the place to start down. Bob Dye's notes on a map showed us later that
if we had gone just a little farther west we would have come to Walapai
Johnny's Bean Cave, but we didn't get that far west. We found more
cairns and constructed trail where we were supposed to descend from one
level to a lower one. About halfway down through the Supai, there is a
well constructed descent that is the key to the successful search for
the spring. It is on the east side of the canyon and not far south of
the barrier fall.

We missed seeing a cairn that would have directed us back toward the
fall and then on the same level around into the main east fork canyon.
We learned latter that a burro could get down to the next level in this
arm and follow the bed to the lip of a high fall with a cottonwood tree
growing in the grotto below. To get to the spring which is only 50 yards
past the cottonwood, the burro could follow a constructed trail on the
contour back around the corner into the smaller trail arm to the east of
the main arm. The cliff and fall in this arm can be bypassed by
following more trail on the contour to the southeast until the slope is
easy to descend back to the spring. There are really two springs, one in
each branch of the east fork of Fishtail. They are below the lowest
massive Supai cliff and possibly 150 vertical feet above the highest
showing of the Redwall. They are only about 30 yards apart, one in the
main east fork of Fishtail Canyon and the other in the branch where most
of the trail descends. When we checked the constructed trail into the
main branch we all saw several tools discarded beside the trail: a
couple of shovels, a pickax, and the head of a sledge hammer. We figured
that there must have been some prospecting as well as trail construction
to make the spring more accessible. When I was going out on Monday, I
found a roll of cardboard containing a compact mass of sawdust or
something like it. I broke it easily and cast it aside. One of the men
called it an old weather beaten stick of dynamite. As stated above, when
we came down on Saturday, we missed the cairn that would have directed
us to the north and into the main branch. We contoured to the south
looking for a way down the lowest massive cliff. Nothing looked easy,
and Ed, who was ahead, walked right by the place where Steve found us a
way down a minor ravine. Here loose rocks were more of a hazard than
steep pitches and exposure. We came down to the bed of the east arm a
good quarter mile below the spring. We had taken from 1:00 to 4:20 p.m.
to get here from the cars. There was plenty of firewood and smooth
places for all of us to sleep. Firewood was no problem and we had
campfires both nights.

On Saturday evening we had explored the possibility of climbing the
cliff between the two arms or rather branches of the east arm of
Fishtail. The climbing wasn't severe but there was one place where I
needed to remove my pack and lay it on the block above. I had to hug the
wall and advance beneath a slight overhang. Some of the party did this
with their packs on but we all agreed that this was the hardest place.
By this climb on Sunday morning, we dodged the elaborate contouring of
the Burro Route and reached the level of the crucial constructed trail
up the otherwise unbroken face.

My objective for Sunday was to check the Mortenson Route through the
Redwall about one half mile east of the fault canyon. We left the
accepted trail and went south above the cliff with the constructed trail
and found a way through an intricate set of minor cuts in the terrace.
Then we angled northwest with the objective of getting down the wall
into the west arm of Deer Creek Canyon. We needed to reach a terrace on
approximately the level of the saddle going from the Deer Creek drainage
over to the fault canyon. Unwisely, I led the group past the Ghost Rock
and over near the first campsite we had encountered. This not only
showed fairly modern camp trash but, carved on the wall, the inscription
Dec. 16, 1905.

Not far from this we found a well hidden crack behind a large block that
was the easy way to get down to the next level. Two or the group
followed me down here while Ed and Tom found their own more difficult
and interesting routes through the top cliff. We caught up with them on
the broader terrace below. Walking was easy and quick along here and
soon we rounded the corner into the draw that enters Deer Creek from
just below the Ghost Rock. We crossed this at a lower level and then
went up to the former height on the other side. It was an easy walk from
here to get over the saddle into the fault canyon.

Getting down through the rest of the Supai in this canyon was simple
with only a couple of short detours around drops in the bed. When we
were about 100 yards beyond the junction with the west fork of this
draw, Jorgen noticed a meager seep in some clay and remarked that there
might be more water below. Within 20 more yards we found two nice pools.
There was very little flow, but they were deep enough to fill a canteen
by immersion and they didn't look stagnant and scummy. Before we reached
these pools, I found a rather rusty and very dirty Bowie knife in the
dry bed. Along the terrace at the top of the Redwall we all saw a gallon
canteen hung across the top of a large rock by its strap. It was empty
with the cap hanging loose.

All in the party were struck by the view from the angle above the mouth
of this fault canyon. We could see the river almost continuously from
above Tapeats Rapid down to Fishtail Canyon. The Redwall cliffs along
here, especially on the south side of the river, are overpowering. I
looked for any way for a sheep trail to go up on the south side of the
river, saw none. One could follow the river along the edge of the
Tapeats very easily where we were looking at the south bank, and there
were some breaks where one could descend to the river for water. This
encouraging situation may not continue clear to Matkatamiba, however.
The short canyon in line with the fault just upriver from 140 Mile
Canyon was interesting for having a talus filled bed that would let one
walk up within about 200 feet of the top of the Redwall. Then, as far as
I could see, further climbing would be impossible.

Going east along the top of the Redwall was still easy until we
approached the indentation where we hoped to find the break in the
Redwall. Here were steep shale slopes and some loose rocks that had to
be watched. The rest of the party made better time than I across this
bad slope and Steve was investigating the possible descent routes when I
came up. We didn't give much thought to a break leading down to a notch
behind a blunt pinnacle which was west of the ravine. There were three
chutes and Steve found a cairn between the second and third, so we knew
that one of these should be the way. Steve, Jorgen, and Ed went down the
farthest east chute to a huge Supai boulder as big as a living room. The
way past this seemed very difficult or impossible, so they came back and
tried the middle chute. Steve announced that it was only class four
climbing, but very soon he was trying to string out my rope as a
handline. There didn't seem to be any safe anchorage for it, so he tried
the descent free. Quite close to the top there is a small chockstone at
the top of a two foot wide crack. The safest way is straight down with
slight steps for the toes so that it isn't a true chimney process. One
should have a short rope to lower a pack here. The rest of the way to
the talus is either over talus material in the bed or down a bare slope
of bedrock with small humps and breaks for meager holds. Steve followed
the bed nearly to the bottom of the Redwall, but he couldn't tell
whether this easy travel continues. It is likely that there is a nearly
vertical rubble wall in the bed. Most of the party went far enough down
to assure success, but next to Steve, I went farthest. I departed from
Steve's example in that I moved out of the bed onto the grassy slope to
the west of the draw. I could see that this route was sure to lead clear
to the river.

We saw that there wouldn't be time to continue to the river and still
get back to our campsite at the spring before dark, so we reluctantly
started back at 1:25 p.m. Three of us returned up the east arm of the
fault canyon through the Supai while the other three went up the west
arm. We were all glad to get a refill of water at the pools before we
separated. Ed, Jorgen, and I, who went over the saddle into the Deer
Creek Valley, departed from our morning route in that we went up the
draw that goes right by Ghost Rock. It is more direct and at least as
easy as what we had done in the forenoon. The others came to a place
where they had to help each other up a ledge, but they were back at camp
a half hour sooner than we were. Our route from the Redwall break to the
spring took only two hours and 40 minutes.

On Monday we went from the spring to the register at the trailhead in
less than three hours, and Tom and Steve had taken time out to climb an
impressive little tower in the Toroweap beside the trail just above the
top of the Coconino.

The whole Esplanade region around the head of Fishtail Canyon is cut up
in a fantastic manner. It is a wonderland of red rock with mushroom
rocks and towers that might be called triple decker ice cream cones. We
were amazed by what we saw everywhere. It seems that it should be an
utterly forsaken wilderness, but we had seen plenty of old tin cans at
the overhanging ledges and plenty of signs of Indian use. Jorgen as well
as Steve had found a couple of broken arrowheads. There were also signs
of horses or burros on the Esplanade and even down near the spring. We
all felt that we would like to know it better. Actually, before the
others were ready to start out on Monday, Steve and I went down the
valley from the spring and looked into the Redwall gorge. We came to one
drop in the bed that could have been bypassed farther along the rim. We
decided that in our half hour there wouldn't be time to go down to the
junction with the west fork of Fishtail. There might be water at this
level in that fork as well as the east fork. We all hoped that some day
we would finish the trip to the river at Mile 137.6.

*	Big Canyon
[December 1, 1973 to December 2, 1973]*

The weather wasn't to be perfect, but I figured this would be as good a
weekend for an overnight trip into Big Canyon as any. Billingsley had
told me about its attractions and I thought I shouldn't remain ignorant
of them. Steve Studebaker accepted my invitation to come along. He was
glad to be included since he had been told by Ken Stevens what an
interesting place Big Canyon is. We got away a little after 7:00 a.m.
and dropped Mike Hastings off at the turn off from US 89 to Tuba City.
He was hitchhiking to be with his folks at Navaho National Monument.

I tried to follow the way I had gotten to the head of the sheep trail
into Big Canyon from the north, but I did everything wrong. We saw the
end of the good road at the gravel pit, the road that leaves US 89 just
north of the bridges across Moenkopi Wash. Then we went too far to the
south and wound up, after 23 miles of driving, at a Navaho frame house
on the south side of Big Canyon. We talked to a young Navaho man who
owned a Honda motorcycle, but he didn't seem to know about the sheep
trail into Big Canyon from the south. We turned around and headed Big
Canyon to the west of some buttes and finally got on the road that Roma
and I were on in September. We still made one more false move when we
drove down to a hogan that is shown on the USGS map, but from there it
was easy to go west and south and reach the head of the sheep trail that
I had descended in September. It was nearly 11:30 by the time we were
walking.

The bed of the canyon dropped very slowly most of the time and the soft
sand made the walking rather tiring. There were signs that cows come
down here and at times we were on a cow path. Steve found several bits
of petrified wood in the bed where it had been washed down from the
Chinle Formation. I found small chunks of conglomerate, bright colored
pebbles smaller than marbles cemented in a gray matrix. I forgot whether
they appeared after we had passed the junction with the north arm, but I
remember that there were many pieces of the stuff in the north arm where
we went out on Sunday. There was only one real barrier in the east arm,
a jumble of huge chunks of Kaibab Limestone that had fallen in from the
rim. We saw several fresh looking scars in the Coconino that marked
recent falls. We both wanted to go out the north arm on Sunday, so we
put our packs down at the first water we saw below the junction. Nearby
was a fine flat chunk of Kaibab Limestone that was supported so as to
form a roof in case of rain. We didn't notice it at the time, but there
were mosquito wrigglers in the water. It was 3:00 p.m. when we started
on to get a glimpse of the river. The gray of the Redwall began to show
in the bed long before the bed got steep. We could tell that we were
soon going to get stopped in the bed at the last chance we had to climb
out to the north. The top of the Redwall, about 150 feet above the bed
here, made an easy terrace for fast walking. It was getting past 4:15,
my tentative time for turning back so as not to get caught by darkness,
but we were still not where we could see the river. By 5:10 we were
there and we were glad to struggle somewhat in the darkness to find our
packs in order to get this view. I could see a rift across the Little
Colorado, perhaps a half mile upstream from the mouth of Big Canyon,
where there is likely a route all the way down from the rim to the bed.
I also spotted a cut in the Redwall a few hundred yards south of the
mouth of Big Canyon on the east side of the Little Colorado that appears
to offer a feasible route down to the river. This might need a rope for
25 or 30 feet only. Back up Big Canyon, west of where we left our packs,
we spotted a ravine that seems to give access to Big Canyon from the
south. I would like to try connecting this break with the Redwall break
south of Big Canyon to try to establish another route to the bottom.

Steve had slipped into a pool in the upper Redwall and had gotten his
feet wet. He had brought his flashlight along so he didn't worry about
walking in the dark. While he was trying to change his socks and make
other adjustments to make his feet comfortable, I hurried on to use as
much daylight as possible. I got back to the packs in one hour and 25
minutes.

It was as clear as a bell when we went to bed, but about 2:30 a.m. there
began a fine drizzle with only one small cloud in the sky. Soon,
however, the sky was covered and a sharp rain was falling. We had room
for both of us under the slab. The rain lasted less than an hour and we
both got some more sleep. We breakfasted early and were on the way out
by 7:30 a.m.

The north arm is firmer under foot than the east and it rises faster
with firmer gravel. It also has steeper, closer walls and is more
scenic. In both arms I carried my map in my hand much of the time and I
knew where we were at all times. A complete horseshoe bend around a
pinnacle makes a fine landmark in this north arm. It snowed on us along
here so heavily that Steve wore his poncho for a half an hour, but then
it cleared up.

When we came to the wide constructed trail that George had mentioned, we
saw an intriguing narrow gorge going to the west. It didn't take long to
explore it, because it ended in a dry fall. The plunge pool beneath the
fall is about the deepest of these I have seen. The overflow is about 30
feet above the level of the green slimy water that must have been four
or five feet deep when we were there. I would say that this water is
permanent and it is used by Navaho sheep. When we were going up the
trail, we noticed another large pool in the north fork of this same arm.

The amazing thing about the trail is how wide it is, wide enough for a
Jeep, but the surface is too rough for even that vehicle. This trail
down to the water may also have some connection to a deposit of yellow
soft rock at the rim. This material, only a bit harder than clay, also
has some green and blue parts. Perhaps someone thought he had found a
uranium mine. We got to the top shortly after 11:00 a.m. and walked east
and south as soon as we could head the north branch. We passed fairly
close to a hogan but we gave it some room since neither of us wanted to
cope with a dog.

The wind across these flats kept changing. It was mostly strong and
cold, but when the sun shone for a while near noon, we had lunch. We
should have stayed over near the escarpment that bounded the plain on
the east and walked the road until we came near a peculiar sandstone
slab that is dome shaped above and has quite a bit of space beneath. We
call it the umbrella rock. Instead, we cut off to the south too soon and
had to cross one or more developing side canyons. When we finally hit
the road we had traveled in the Jimmy, I thought we should still go
farther east. This we did, but then we came to a really deep canyon that
would take quite a bit of backtracking to head. Fortunately we could
look far to the north and see a big metal tank that we had noticed when
we were coming in on Saturday. We were near the rim of big Canyon and we
soon recognized the rift ravine where the sheep trail goes out to the
south rim of Big Canyon. Also we soon saw the Jimmy waiting.

On the way out we missed the hogan that is nearby and came to the road
next to the hills near the umbrella rock. On the way out we passed by
the first chance to turn left but we took the second. It went about as
straight as a string to the place on US 89 just south of a bridge and
about a mile or less north of the turnoff to Tuba City. It was only 16
miles from the head of the sheep trail to the highway using this route.
I think this would also be a good way to the head of the Salt Trail.

Two other matters of interest that we noticed were the cairns along the
terrace that leads from Big Canyon along the top of the Redwall into
Salt Trail Canyon, and the other was a peculiar trail worn in the bench
across the north arm from the constructed trail. This may have been
where sheep go to graze. There seemed no other reason for its existence.

*	Big Canyon
[January 19, 1974]*

Before Christmas I proposed going down Big Canyon to Doug Shough on
January 19 and he accepted. When George Billingsley came in with his
maps of finds in western Grand Canyon, I invited him, and Bob Packard
also decided to go with me. I also happened to meet Sally Lockwood and
she decided to go too. George decided to take his own truck since there
would be congestion for so many, including his wife, Sue, in the Jimmy.
We left here just before 7:00 a.m. and met Doug at the turnoff to Tuba
City at 8:30. George led us to the right place over dirt roads that are
a bit better than the average for that part of the reservation, and he
really knows the area. We left US 89 a couple of miles north of the
turnoff and then angled southwest keeping well to the east of the buttes
that mark the beginning of Big Canyon. George knew where to make a right
turn and get on the road that goes out near the confluence of Big Canyon
and the Little Colorado. His guidance was particularly valuable since
low clouds hid all distant landmarks such as Cedar Mountain. We enjoyed
the view down into the Little Colorado upriver from Big Canyon and then
drove back and took a dim spur track leading to a high point about two
thirds of a mile west of the ravine I had selected as the possible
descent (one and a half miles east of Little Colorado River rim).

There was snow several inches deep on the shady slopes and it took us
about 15 minutes to walk over to the head of the ravine. I had decided
from the view of this ravine from the bed of Big Canyon on December 1
that the highest part would be the most doubtful. There were problems in
route finding from ledge to ledge, but Doug solved them quickly enough.
We did see a fairly large cairn about 50 feet below the rim, so we
figured that the Indians have used this access. At one place we crawled
down a short ramp under a parallel rock roof. On the return I missed
this feature. I came up a more exposed crack, but the handholds were
good. When we got below the rim ledges to the broken scree slope, it was
rather snowy. This required care but we were soon down to the start of
the Coconino. Farther north, in Marble Canyon, this formation is
relatively thin, but here it seems to be as deep as it is elsewhere in
the Grand Canyon.

George and I were fifth and sixth in the procession as we strung out in
the descent. Doug went ahead down into the main gorge into the Coconino,
but he found the way blocked by impossible falls. George turned out of
the bed to a point to the west and decided that the way was better
there. I should have remembered this from seven weeks ago. I followed
George out of the bed. While he went just a bit farther west and then
got down by the most difficult move of the entire climb, I traversed
farther west to a simple talus that covers the rest of the Coconino and
continues on down to the bed of Big Canyon. Packard followed me and we
were soon far ahead of the others who used George's route.

When we were below all the difficulties, George decided to go back up
since he had seen the rest of Big Canyon on his first trip into the
area, and Sue and Sally went back with him. Doug and Bob and I were down
in the bed of Big Canyon below this descent by 11:10, about 75 minutes
from when we left the car. We left some of our climbing gear and my
outer jacket here and continued down the bed. The New Year's storm had
left fresh clean water in many depressions where the bed was bare rock.

I repeated my mistake from the first trip and led the others up from the
bed too soon. Within 50 yards we were back on the proper route up from
the bed to the top of the Redwall north of the bed. We noted the cairns
Steve and I had seen. About here, Doug decided that he would be slowing
Bob and me down and he volunteered that we should go on without him. I
thought he would continue at his own rate and get the fine view from
above the confluence while Bob and I would go there to eat lunch and
then proceed toward Salt Trail Canyon along the rim of the Redwall. Bob
and I reached the viewpoint down on the river in 75 minutes from where I
had left my jacket and ate lunch from 12:30 to 1:00. Doug turned back
before this. Bob and I got to the trail in Salt Trail Canyon where it
crosses to the west rim of the Redwall in another 60 minutes. We turned
back a bit after 2:00 and I reached the car at 6:10, just as it was
getting dark. George guided me to the highway.

*	Hance Trail and Papago Canyon
[February 23, 1974]*

Six or so years ago some students had come down into Papago Canyon from
the rim, and on 5/9/71, Jim Sears had led Ellen Tibbets and Jan Jensen
up from the river into Papago and out by a route he marked on a map and
gave me. I wanted to check this route. It would be faster to reach the
break he had marked in the Tapeats from the rim in the east arm of
Papago, the route I had discovered, but I didn't want to chance this
rather difficult climb through the Coconino in the snow. I thought that
I might be able to reach the place from the Hance Trail and get back to
the rim in one long day. Although I formed the plan only a couple days
ahead, I was able to get Lee Dexter and Ben Foster to go with me.

After getting our permit we were parked near the head of the Hance Trail
shortly before 8:45 a.m. The ground was snow covered with places a foot
deep. The walking was mostly easy with a good crust, but our tracks
showed. We hit the head of the trial with no delay. I was wearing rubber
soled shoes without lugs and had quite a bit more trouble keeping from
slipping in the snow than the other two, but both of them took a fall. I
made one bad choice of trail for 20 yards, but mostly we were able to
recognize the right route. There were bare patches but the snow mostly
covered the trail to near the bottom of the Supai. Ben had led a group
of college students down this trail only two weeks ago, but at one place
near the bottom third of the Supai he led Lee to the east side of the
gulch before he should have. Both going down and coming back we held to
the trail much better than I used to in spite of the snow cover.

At one promontory on the rim of the Redwall, I made the mistake of going
around on the level when the trail actually went up over the ridge and
then down across the shale in a ravine. Lee was leading on the return
and he corrected this mistake. We had no further trouble following the
trail. Below the Redwall it seems clearer than it used to. We followed
it more or less along the level to the north above the first big
tributary on the right. Across from us was the big fan shaped talus that
covers the Quartzite cliff. When we came to a mine with some green and
blue copper ore, we headed down the shale slope. In the bedrock of the
stream, there were a couple of water pockets holding about three gallons
of good water between them.

A deer trail came across the Hakatai Shale from the southwest and we
found traces of trail going up the talus. We lost it in a big rockslide
above and headed up and across a small ridge. On the other side we were
able to pick up a distinct trail most of the way to Papago Canyon. We
ate lunch about 12:15 where we had a view of the lower end of Hance
Rapids. We noticed Vibram footprints of a solo hiker coming along this
trail headed toward the Hance Trail. Ben found a piece of shale with
clear tracks of a trilobite.

The narrowness and rugged towers of the west arm of Papago were most
impressive. We crossed this arm and headed for the place in the Tapeats
rim that Sears had marked. It took a bit of looking to find a couple of
ways that I could get off the rim down to the talus only 15 feet below
in one place. While Ben was getting down a difficult place, Lee found me
two routes. He went back to the Tapeats rim while I followed Ben down to
the south and to the bed where Sears had shown the way they went. When
Ben and I reached a 300 foot drop in the bed, through the entire
Shinumo, it was 1:30 p.m. and we had agreed to start back by 2:00.
According to the map that Jim had marked, we were supposed to go along
the Shinumo rim to the east around a point and find the way down (no
right in the steep bed). We reluctantly turned back. We knew that we
would be caught by darkness as it was.

There was more water in the bedrock where we got down into the east arm
of Papago then there had been in the other place. I had brought two
quarts along and was very glad to find refills at these two places. I
drank almost a gallon in all even though the day was cool to cold. I
wanted my two jackets whenever we sat down. It got dark about 6:40 when
we were in the Supai. I had a hard time getting back uphill in the snow
and I held up the others. I was losing my sense of balance from
weariness and had to take some breaks in the Coconino and higher. Ben
stayed with me and we reached the car about 6:45 p.m.

*	Long Canyon and Maroon Mountain
[March 2, 1974]*

I had been thinking about trying to climb Maroon Mountain for years but
something over a year ago I took Lee Dexter there on a reconnaissance. I
had told Bob Packard about it and he wanted to try it too. In fact, this
time he selected the date and invited me to ride with him. He also took
Ken Walters, a geology student, along. Ken is a strong hiker and climber.

We parked at the usual place in the clearing where there is some old
machinery. I had forgotten about the road that goes in farther on the
south side of the wash. Still, Bob might have had trouble driving to its
end because of the width and height of his camper. We had left Flagstaff
about 7:15 a.m. so we must have left the truck about 8:30. We followed
an old track and then cut down toward the wash where a flood had eroded
the trail. We had to pass through a fence without a gate and soon we saw
a car and a motorcycle on the other side of the wash. Not much farther
we went across and used the trail.

I pointed out the site of the Indian ruin behind the triple towers, and
I told the other two about the bootlegger's cave which I had been to
only once. We were on the trail for quite a long way, but at one place
the others were down in the wash while I was south of it on the trail. I
took a wrong turn and came to the end of the good walking where the
track stopped quite far from the wash through bunches of brush. I was
well behind the others when I finally reached the wash again.

At one place Ken noticed a streambed leaving the main arm to go up to
the north. I had been confusing the real Maroon Mountain with the
nameless pinnacle south of it and only about 150 feet lower than Maroon.
On the basis of what I had done with Lee Dexter, I elected to pass by
this wash. We were able to use the new 7.5 minute quad map that Bob had
brought to identify this wash and see that we should go on farther. When
we finally reached the branch that I had thought the best with Lee, we
turned up it for perhaps 30 minutes and reached another tributary coming
down from the real Maroon Mountain. Ken thought that it would be a good
way to start up, but it seemed to me to be leading to some impossible
falls. I overruled him and we went on up about ten more minutes to
another branch. This one looked a lot better. For one thing the slope
was north facing, and there is usually more vegetation and less bare
rock in that direction. Our guess was a good one and there were no
really bad places all the way to the top of the mountain. A deer could
do this easily, and we were actually on a recognizable deer trail part
of the way.

Ken elected to try his own route and he got way behind Bob and me. At
one place I took a ravine west of the one that Bob was in and although
it was a bit easier and led to a cross over to his, he got quite far
ahead. He had found an intriguing place in a very narrow fissure, a
tunnel beneath a big rock. There may be only this one way to the top of
Maroon, but this route isn't hard at all. We got to the top about 11:00
and immediately had to fight our way through several yards of dense
manzanita before we reached a grove of ponderosas. We could tell from
the map that the highest point was to the southeast.

Near a saddle as we proceeded in that direction, I recognized a mescal
pit with charcoal showing. We also saw a place where the woods had
caught fire. There was a lot of brush on top as well as a few
ponderosas. We had been bothered by thorny New Mexico locusts on the way
up, and there were some on top as well as much oak and manzanita. When
we came to the highest part of the flat top, we were surprised to find a
square clearing with a chunk of salt in the middle. An axe had cut down
the two larger trees and to one side there was a full gallon can of
paint and a screwdriver. A piece of paper showed the date 5/4/72. I
believe I was told that the Forest Service had fought a fire on top at
that time, using a helicopter. The views from the top were great and
after lunch, we descended without incident.

*	Nankoweap Trip
[March 16, 1974 to March 23, 1974]*

Tony Williams was planning his own trip to Hindu Amphitheater, but he
accepted my invitation to go to Nankoweap. I met the early plane on
Saturday, and after we had eaten, we took off for Nankoweap. Although I
drove a gas saving 50 to 55, we got to the hunting cabins in time to eat
our lunch and get under way by 12:15 p.m.

Our first objective was to check the route down through the Redwall at
the very head of the arm of Nankoweap directly below the trail. Ellen
Tibbets had found that this would go when she was trying to lead a party
up via the break in the Redwall that Billingsley had rediscovered, the
one that the cavers call the Huntoon Route. It is a steep ravine on the
south side of the gorge that comes up where the Nankoweap Trail levels
off after it has come down through the top Supai cliffs. We had to keep
on west until we came to where a slide covers up the Supai ledges. From
a distance we couldn't see how we were going to get down the 30 foot
cliffs, but we found that the way was quite simple, down a rock slide in
the bed of a ravine that goes directly down into the Redwall gorge. This
fairly easy scramble kept to the left of the bed and continued about
halfway through the Redwall. In fact, it was easy to descend too far
here. We finally came to an impossible drop, and we had to get back up
to where we had seen a flat topped fin sticking out into the canyon.
Billingsley, who had gone down here not long ago, had told me that it
was necessary to switch over to the right, and this was the place. When
we got over to the south of this fin, we could look down a straight
slide to the bottom of the Redwall. We had more difficulty in passing a
fall in the Bright Angel Shale. Tony got down one way near the center of
the wash, lowering his pack by a cord. I chose to creep down a ramp
beneath an overhanging rock and slide my pack behind me.

We reached the shelter under the big rock near the junction of this arm
and the one containing Mystic Falls about 6:30 p.m. We put down our
loads and went down to the creek from Mystic Falls expecting to find a
good flow. Although we had passed a nice little flowing spring up in the
shale of the access arm, there was no water in the creek here. I
insisted that we would find water if we went upstream toward the fall.
After we had walked 15 minutes along the dry bed, we began to worry. If
we had to go much farther, it might get dark on us before we got back to
camp. Tony returned with the idea of having a fire going or perhaps
coming after me with his flashlight while I continued upstream to fill
our canteens. Less than five minutes after he turned back, I came to a
standing pool, and I was able to get back to our campsite before dark.
We slept fairly well although I was awake some because my bag was too
warm and because I heard a mosquito or two and a mouse was interested in
my pack.

My main objective for the whole trip was to try to climb Colter Butte,
but I thought it would be too long for a day beginning at this place. We
carried our packs downstream and found a good flow at the grove with the
cane growing in a dense thicket. This is about a half mile before this
arm joins the main arm of Nankoweap. This had been dry last June. We
left the bed here and tried a supposed shortcut over to the main arm. We
went too high and had to go up and down before we got to the place to
start up the ravine that leads to Duppa and Swilling. This is easily
remembered by the grove of big cottonwoods and the cane thicket. It was
now about 10:00 a.m. and too late to think of starting up Colter. We
decided to try the ascent of Nankoweap Mesa, something that Tony wanted
to do.

I hadn't reviewed my Nankoweap Mesa log from 1963 but I tried to
remember my former route rather than use my eyes. As a result, I led
Tony far too high. We got up to the pass in the Butte Fault where we
could look down on Kwagunt Creek and then ate lunch on the lower part of
the Redwall ridge just east of the pass. Here I decided to take it easy
and let Tony go on without me. He was able to climb faster and I would
have slowed him down. I indicated that he should follow the ridge around
to the Hermit Shale slope above the Supai that forms the east side of
the hanging valley in front of the mesa. He came back as I was finishing
my leisurely lunch with the report that the high Redwall ridge sharpens
to a knife edge and then breaks off without connecting with the shale of
the mesa. By then I realized that I had entered the valley just west of
the mesa across the Redwall notch far lower down. He figured that he
wouldn't have the time to do a good job of seeing the top of the mesa if
he would continue up after making this long false move, so we returned
to our packs. Tuesday, Tony made a fine ascent of Nankoweap Mesa with a
full three hours spent seeing all parts of the top and getting the great
views that one has. Monday was my day to try the ascent of Colter. On
the hunch that the Tapeats might not be broken in the ravine leading up
between Swilling and Colter, I used the same lower route that Bob and I
had used last June when we climbed Duppa. I went up the terrace at the
grove and turned west along the rising rim above the creek. The springs
up this main arm were flowing well enough to keep plenty of water in the
bed all the way to the river. I had no trouble locating the ruin that is
near the rim of the terrace just after I reached the second level. I
swung wide to the west to avoid getting down into the gullies but curved
around to inspect the good ruin that stands above the blackbrush. When
the slope became quite steep with lots of stray rocks, I got into the
bed to the left.

Well below the Tapeats, there is a chocolate red ledge that forms quite
a fall. I bypassed it as we did last June, to the east. There was plenty
of water in some bedrock pools just above the fall. I refilled my
canteen here since I didn't expect to get up into the Bright Angel Shale
where Bob and I had seen a spring. The Tapeats passage is an easy one
with no bare wash showing. Above here I slanted up to the west to get
between Swilling and Colter. It would have been easier if I had stayed
lower and had dropped down a bit to enter the creekbed instead of
struggling along some bare shale slopes to avoid losing altitude. I
continued past the place to go up on the Redwall to Colter to get the
view down across Kwagunt Canyon from the notch just east of Colter.
There would seem to be no descent here nor on the other side of the
isolated hump of Redwall between the two buttes.

The climb up the rest of the Redwall on the side of Colter was difficult
for me near the bottom and at the top with an easy walk between. It is
considerably harder than the climb up Swilling, being quite a bit
steeper. It was easy to walk up the Supai until I reached the summit
block. I circled the base of this 100 foot mass without finding a
feasible way to the top. On the northwest side I scrambled up past the
lowest ledge in the only break I could see all the way around. There
seemed to be no continuation above this 15 foot rise, but I confess that
I didn't walk around the corner to the north on a ledge. I felt that I
would be baffled again here, but I should have gone as far as I could.
There was snow on the northeast slope, but it didn't really bother me.
On the way down the Redwall, I was glad that I had built a little cairn
to make sure that I used the same system as on the ascent. I had to
proceed very slowly and look carefully to make sure of each move. It was
a relief to get down to my canteen and pack below this difficult Redwall.

I came straight down the bed of the wash and checked that there is an
impossible fall in the Tapeats in this valley. I went over to the good
Tapeats break to the east and got down to our camp without incident. On
the same day, Tony had been up toward the Goldwater Bridge and then had
explored up the other arm that is directly north of Alsap Butte. He was
at camp when I returned.

On Tuesday we carried our packs down near the Butte Fault and Tony left
his in a prominent place while I carried mine up over the Butte Fault to
Kwagunt Creek. This was the day that he had his fun in climbing
Nankoweap Mesa with lots of time on top. I got my pack to the top of the
pass in 80 minutes from Nankoweap Creek and then needed 85 more to reach
Kwagunt Creek. It was flowing about half as much water as Nankoweap.
After an early lunch I started on up the Butte Fault toward Malgosa
Canyon at noon.

I stayed in the main ravine all the way to the top although there was
one small fall to bypass. At the top I started to contour around the
basin that drains into Malgosa north of a knob which is north of the
main valley below. On an impulse I went down staying north of this knob
to see what sort of descent there would be here. It was quite steep at
the exposed Redwall but not really hard. I went down and up to the east
just to stand on some Supai bedrock and score another Redwall traverse.
Then I went down into the amphitheater that is almost surrounded by
about half the thickness of the undisturbed Redwall east of the Butte
Fault. It required a little inspection to find the route, but there were
several ways to get to the bottom. I didn't go back up the main valley
to see what the Redwall descent would be like there. I have a feeling
that it might involve a real barrier.

The streambed winds down to an impressively narrow gate and surprised me
by continuing down at an easy angle beyond. A deer trail led me to the
right side of Muav. I had intended to turn back on my tracks here, but
the canyon was so scenic that I wanted to see more of it. It is much
narrower than the bigger canyons to the north and it even reminded me of
Matkatamiba although it is not nearly that narrow. There is always some
talus material on one side or the other to provide bypasses for barriers
in the bed. I had been told that some student hikers had gotten down
here to the river about four years ago, so I concluded that I could
proceed and return along the beach and up the bed of Kwagunt.

I had figured on turning back at 3:00 p.m., but I was so near the river
by this time that I went ahead. The hardest bypasses are in the Bright
Angel Shale at the lower end. Just when I thought I was ready to walk
down the bed to the river, there came a series of real barriers. When I
would find myself on precarious steep shale covered with crumbling bits,
I would back away and perhaps try the other side. It might be a bit
better. I didn't want to get really high up near the foot of the cliff
and go east for fear that I couldn't get down when I got to the river.
In the end, I found that I should have done just this, along the south
side of the canyon. I probably would have found a deer trail at this
level, and at least I would have been above all the bad footing. A
continuous slope of talus would have led me down when I arrived above
the delta. It was 3:45 when I finally reached the sand of the delta.

Walking north to the mouth of Kwagunt was easier than I imagined it
would be and the walk up to the pack above the Kwagunt narrows was also
shorter than I had thought. I was at my pack by 5:35, the time it had
taken for the loop. It was the most satisfying day of the whole trip for me.

On Wednesday I walked back from Kwagunt to Nankoweap and reached Tony's
camp before he was ready to leave for some sort of activity. I should
have followed him down to the river, but as it was I just loafed around
and finished my Reader's Digest. He put in a more profitable day looking
at the cliff dwellings south of the mouth of Nankoweap and talking to a
riverman whose party was stopping there. On Thursday we got a good start
at 7:10 a.m. to go out the Nankoweap Trail. I visited with the leader of
another party who were going out at the same time, Ken Gooderall. He, Al
Matsumoto, and Cindy Bowey had camped at Marion Point on the way in. The
two men had taken a couple of hours and had climbed Marion Point. They
assured me that it is not too hard to pass the two notches in the top of
the Redwall in getting over there. They found no cairn but they assumed
that the climb was fairly routine and didn't build one themselves. I ate
lunch at Marion Point, on the trail above it that is, while I considered
the project of going out to climb it. Tony went on up to the saddle
since he was considering climbing Saddle Mountain. I decided against
trying for Marion Point both because I might be too exhausted for the
rest of the walk out and because it looked a bit dangerous. Tony was
waiting when I came up to the saddle since there was a lot of snow on
the north side of Saddle Mountain. We followed the best route back to
the cabins, well above the bed of the ravine on the easy walking to the
west. We had come this way in 90 minutes from the cabins to the saddle
and it took about 80 to get back.

Tony and I still had enough energy left to take a walk of over two hours
down into Saddle Canyon to try to locate the Indian ruin that Bob
Packard had seen. I should have listened better and reviewed its
location. We got down to the level where we had walked on the other
trips and went on past the place where one can get down to the bed of
the canyon above the Coconino fall. I thought Bob had said this was the
right level and that the ruin was not far beyond. We walked quite far
past this place and finally climbed to the rim not much west of the
Coconino fall without finding the ruin.

When we returned to the cabins, we met Robert Henderson. He recognized
me since he goes to the hiking club meetings. We had a good visit with
him and enjoyed a fire in the stove before bedtime. The weather had been
a bit threatening at night during most of the trip and it actually
sprinkled slightly the night I was sleeping by Kwagunt Creek. Most of
the days were fine, at least by noon. The night at the cabin was quite
windy and we were glad of the shelter. I had been afraid that my bag
wouldn't keep me warm at this elevation, but it was just right. Robert
went on down into Nankoweap to see the Mystic Falls arm by himself.

On Friday Tony and I drove out to Buck Farm Point and enjoyed the view.
Then we came back to the head of Buck Farm Canyon. Ron Mitchell and Dana
Gable had told me that one can get down through the top cliffs at least
through the Coconino here. From a distance I figured that the Kaibab
would present no unusual problems, but when we tried it, both of us were
wondering whether our informants had really gotten down through the
Coconino or had just decided that it is possible from a distant view. I
suppose we should have tried harder and we should have used my goldline
rope that we had in the car.

Instead we drove out to South Canyon Point and studied more of Marble
Canyon from the rim. We took quite a loop walk away from the car and I
showed Tony how one gets down to the mouth of South Canyon from above
Bedrock Canyon. Then we stopped and visited with Chuck Petty, the new
ranger at the Buffalo Ranch. He told me something that is of interest,
that the road goes past the hunting camp for a couple of miles and gives
a still shorter approach to the saddle. He finds mountain lions still
quite common in this part of the Kaibab Plateau. He also told us how
much snow they had this past winter. In spite of the lower elevation,
they seem to have had a harder winter than Flagstaff.

Next we drove along the highway east of Soap Creek and then south to
walk over and look down on Soap Creek Rapid. We enjoyed a good dinner at
Cliff Dweller's Lodge before going to the Lee's Ferry Campground for the
night. It was windy but comfortable sleeping there too. On Saturday we
came south to Cedar Ridge and drove out to Tatahatso Point. I was
somewhat dubious about keeping to the right route, but by chance I never
made a wrong turn. They have removed all evidence of the tram, or all
except two big rods that were anchors for the guy cables. We drove on
the tracks to the viewpoints both north and south of the old tram. Tony
had the satisfaction of finding the site of a fine picture in the book,
Navaho Wildlands. It is at the southwest corner of the area. He also
found Loper's boat with his monocular.

Then he went down the Eminence Break Route and saw the fine fossil
footprints as well as the unique bridge and the crystals in the cracks.
While he was doing this, I hiked north to look at Tatahatso Canyon.
After much doubt, I decided that one can get down through the top
formations as far as the Supai at least. There are a couple of
interesting points to this route, the most demanding being the move
around a point on a six inch ledge. One can get down through the
Toroweap and Coconino on the north side (no on the south side) where a
rock talus fills the crack formed by the fault. We met at the car before
three and drove on home.

*	Papago Canyon
[April 27, 1974 cf., 8/5/61 and 2/23/74]*

When I climbed into Papago Canyon on 8/5/61, I thought that success from
above was impossible and that deer probably couldn't make it into the
valley from the river either. I was willing to accord it the title of
least accessible of all places I have ever been. Then about 1968 I was
told that some students, including at least one girl, had succeeded in
coming down from above the Tapeats on the east into the bed. On 5/9/71,
Jim Sears had led two friends up Papago Canyon and out through the
Shinumo and Tapeats by a route in the east arm of the big drop at a
place that Ben Foster and I considered absolutely impossible on 2/23/74.

Time had been a problem on the latter occasion. I figured that if I came
down into Papago via the climber's route from the east rim of the east
arm of Papago, I might have time enough to reach the bed where I had
been in 1961. Ken Walters canceled a plan for the weekend to go with me.
After getting our permit, we parked just east of the head of the east
arm of Papago and went out to the rim to survey and review the route.
Since the descent was still quite a walk to the east, we drove farther
down the road and parked again. When we reached the rim a second time,
we still had to walk farther east. On the return, when we went directly
to the highway, Ken noticed a culvert where we came out. This would
serve as a landmark for parking at the closest approach.

I remembered the route fairly well since I had been over it three years
ago. However, there were places in the lower Coconino that seemed
uncertain. There are a few options. One can get down to either side of
the big chockstone about halfway down, and Ken and I took alternate
routes to get into the final chute at the bottom. I recalled that one
should switch out of the main ravine to the one to the southwest about
two thirds of the way through the formation. Previous logs (2/4/67,
2/28/67, 11/11/67, and 6/21/68) cover the details of this route down to
the Tonto.

On 2/23/74 I had tried to follow the route Sears had marked on a map
that he gave me, but Ben Foster and I couldn't believe that they had
come up the Shinumo where his map was marked. This time I didn't carry
his map along, but I thought I knew where the route must be,
considerably to the north of where Ben and I had turned back at the base
of the Tapeats in the east arm of Papago. This time I led Ken to the
north along the route I had taken after coming up from 75 Mile Canyon.
Near the north end of this promontory, the Tapeats is quite broken and
leads easily down a long slope. When you are more than halfway down to
the bed of Papago, well north of the junction of the two forks, you come
to the final ravine through the Shinumo Quartzite. Just above the lip of
the fall to the south is a large and well built cairn, the sort that the
prospectors built. Ken and I took this as a good sign that we had come
to the right place for the descent. It is clearly not the one that Jim
Sears had marked on the map he gave me, but I didn't realize this at the
time because I had not studied his map to remember that his route is
south of the fork with the west arm of Papago.

When we stood on the lip of the Shinumo fall and looked down, I was
pessimistic about our chances. Both of us gave up any thought of getting
down at the north side where the rock was water polished, but Ken
started down near the south side of the fall. There were some steps and
handholds here, but I wouldn't have given much for his chances of
getting clear through. There was one move, about halfway down, that was
an awkwardly long step. I managed it by using my knee. Then we reached a
ledge where we could walk north and get down into the bed again. From
here the only thing that held us up was finding a way through a cliff of
deep red rock. We solved this one by going up and to the south. I found
the easiest way, out near the point farthest west where I could safely
get through to the final slope down to the bed. Ken came down a more
difficult route north of where I did.

We had started away from the rim at 9:00 a.m. and we took one hour to
reach the bottom of the Coconino, 30 minutes to reach the place to start
down the yellow slide, about the same time for the Supai, and another 30
minutes to descend the Redwall. I found one little seep with a small
pool of good water where the Bright Angel Shale showed in the bed. It
was only 11:45 when we reached this water, but I elected to eat lunch
here and conserve the water in my canteen. I had brought two half gallon
canteens from the rim so as to take no chances of running out. I carried
more water out in the evening then I drank from the spring at noon.

When we were coming down the easy slope near the bottom of the Redwall,
I showed Ken an anomaly of ecology, a small and misshapen fir tree (may
have been a juniper seedling). It was only about three feet tall and was
dead for the upper half of its height, but the needles tasted like fir
or spruce needles. There was nothing else like it in the vicinity and it
was not in a cool, well watered place as are the colonies of fir forest
in canyons below the Redwall of the north rim.

Ken was impressed with the flowers we saw at this time of year. He took
pictures of several: cactus, Mariposa, paintbrush, and mallow. He was
most appreciative of the cliff rose that was blooming profusely all
along the bed below the Redwall. We also saw numerous redbud trees that
were either beginning to bloom or were past their prime.

From where we started off the top of the Tonto down through the Tapeats
and Shinumo to the bed of Papago took us 50 minutes. Ken wanted to go to
the river and back, and I knew that he could outwalk me uphill, so I
agreed that he should do it. I estimated that he would be at the river
in 20 minutes. He hurried and got there in 18. After spending 10 minutes
there, he got back to where I had turned around in 45 minutes. We
returned the same way we had come down. When I was well started up the
slope that covers the Redwall, I was relieved to hear him yell. I had
begun to worry that all might not be well. He joined me just below the
hand and toe pitch at the top of the Redwall.

I was going up the steeper slopes quite slowly, the Shinumo and Tapeats
in 55 minutes, and the Redwall and Supai still slower. I seemed to get
back my strength for the Coconino and Kaibab, perhaps because it got
quite cool. We did this top combination in 65 minutes, apparently my
fastest time yet for this part of the route. It was a good day, fine
weather, beautiful flowers, and success in finding the route to the bed
of Papago. If Ken hadn't been with me, I might have given up at the lip
of the Shinumo fall. This route from the rim to the river seems to me to
be one of the most interesting ones, in the same category as the
Enfilade Point Route and the Matkatamiba one

*	Buck Farm Canyon
[May 4, 1974]*

Ron Mitchell and Dale Graham invited me to go down off the rim of Buck
Farm Canyon when they were starting a four day trip from there to
Nankoweap. Ron had been over the rim route last fall. Dana Gable had
been on a Lumberjack Hikers trip to Vasey's Paradise a couple of years
ago, and when they had come out, they looked at Buck Farm Canyon. Dana
came to the conclusion that after a short rappel at the very rim, it
would be possible to go down through the rest of the Kaibab and
Coconino. Later he and Ron and at least one other, Ron's eight year old
boy, Randy, had done this rope route. When they were coming out they
tried something else and succeeded without using the rope.

This time I waited at home until Ron and Dale stopped by about 9:00 p.m.
on Friday evening. Then we drove up to the hunting camp at the end of
the Houserock Valley Road in the two cars. Ron rode with me from Cameron
to the turnoff from US 89A and we had an interesting discussion of our
experiences in learning about the canyon country. We arrived at the
hunting camp about 1:15 a.m. and had a poor night's sleep. We were all a
bit sub par the next day because of the short and broken night.

We left Dale's VW at the camp and crowded into my Toyota for the ride to
the rim of Buck Farm Canyon. After looking back at the general area for
the descent from the viewpoint with a cairn a little east of the fork
where one branch of the Buck Farm Road goes south to the Saddle Mountain
Road, we drove back and took the branch road or rather track that goes
straight to the rim near the head of Buck Farm Canyon. Ron showed us the
rappel site just north of this parking, but then he became confused
about the head of the ropeless route. Just a little farther north of the
rappel there is an alcove where Doty or Chuck Johnson would be able to
get down using a narrow crack for about 12 feet. I would have a struggle
and certainly need to lower the pack with a rope. We turned down this
place and went farther north. Since I was carrying only my lunch and a
gallon of water and the other two had 55 pound packs including 28 pounds
of water, I was soon in the lead. I recognized the place where Tony and
I had started down from the rim, a groove behind a big block that has
split and formed a fissure. A little farther north, the soil fill gives
way to broken fragments of rock. Tony and I had left the main fissure
and had gone east and down to the Coconino. Ron said that this is a
different route from the one he had found from below and that this one
is easier. We built a couple of small cairns near the bottom of the
fissure route and on the return I put up a couple on the top.

In the steep clay slope below this gorge, there was a distinct deer
trail and some droppings that led to the Coconino route. It is slightly
south of the Kaibab break. You make your way through almost a third of
the formation from ledge to ledge before reaching the landslide material
that covers the lower portion. At one place near this junction, I
noticed a couple of rock piles that seem to be artificial steps,
indicating that this is a prehistoric Indian route. This may be the only
access that the ancients had to the benches below between South Canyon
and Nankoweap (another way in the bay at 36.8 and at Park Boundary Ridge
mile 49.4). There was no problem in getting down to the bed of Buck Farm
Canyon to the contact of the Hermit with the Supai (first Supai gorge on
south goes).

Where we reached the bed there was a seep spring that had kept a few
small pools on the rock last fall. Ron thinks it is permanent. In the
morning there was a trickle from one pool to the other, but at 4:00
p.m., the rock was dry between pools and there was no water showing even
next to the bank, the source of the flow. There was still a good amount
in a broad pool below a small fall 40 yards from the source. There are
several big falls in the bed through the Supai that make a descent to
the Redwall rim impossible directly down the bed. Ron and Dale put down
their big packs and came out along the contour with me on the north side
of the canyon. After about 15 minutes walk over rather rough and
uncertain footing, Ron showed us where the group last fall had buried
six gallons of water. It is at a fine campsite beneath an overhanging
rock and has a very prominent large Supai rock standing on edge by the
place. One can see this large rock from quite a distance. Ron spotted it
from the rim when we first looked down.

Only 50 yards east of the cache is a big ravine going down into the main
canyon. Ron said that Dana Gable had reported success in getting three
fourths of the way down the ravine and that he said there was no reason
for his stopping there except that time had run out. Ron and Dale now
tried repeating his success. They got down about three fourths of the
way to the easy going at the bottom, but then they were stumped. A rope
would be necessary for the rest. Ron and Dale now went back to their
packs to continue their laborious progress toward Saddle Canyon and
Nankoweap while I went out to the river at the same level, the top of
the Supai.

At places the Supai forms great rounded rocks with fantastic forms,
mushroom rocks and the like. It reminds one of the Supai over near 140
Mile Canyon. There are neat protected campsites under overhangs. When I
was coming back along here, east of the water cache, I found a couple of
places where there were signs that Indians had built rock shelters under
the protection of such overhangs. Walking at this level became quite
easy and relatively fast. Progress along the Redwall rim might be
faster, but only because there are more detours around ravines at the
top of the Supai. This ease of travel probably isn't representative for
most of Marble Canyon.

I was particularly looking for ways down through the Supai to the top of
the Redwall. None seemed absolutely sure along the south side of the
main arm (Bob Dye first on south), but I feel sure that there are some
ways to the east and south. There was no way from where I was walking
until I got clear around Buck Farm Point. When I looked into the ravine
that comes to the river just north of the north corner of Tatahatso
Point, I saw what I was looking for, a landslide talus that completely
covers all Supai ledges clear to the Redwall. This would be the way to
reach the egress from Buck Farm Canyon if one were coming along the
Redwall rim from upriver.

I ate a leisurely lunch where I could see the entire talus to the
Redwall and then started back about 1:30. Perhaps about a half hour of
the way back was where I saw a fairly impressive set of fossil
footprints on a block of Coconino that had fallen down to the rim of the
Supai. The individual footprints were about as broad as long, about
three inches each way. The animal must have been short legged since the
prints were only about seven inches apart on one side, but the
separation of two sides was about the same. The depression of each print
was surprising, about three fourths of an inch, so my picture should
show them.

It took me two hours and 20 minutes to reach the foot of the slide that
covers the Hermit and part of the Coconino and an hour and 10 minutes to
do the rest up to the car. The day wasn't too warm, and I was fortunate
to be walking up the last steep part in the shade. I felt that the trip
had been very rewarding, seeing first hand a very interesting route
through the Kaibab and Coconino and noting some routes through the
Supai. I was pleased to note the possible prehistoric rock shelters and
improvement of the route down. The fossil footprints were another plus.

*	Possible route Montezuma Point
[May 12, 1974]*

Last Fall Gary Stiles had told me about a descent from the rim to the
Esplanade west of Point Huitzil. I had been intending to see this route
ever since then. At last this project rose to the top and I went. Dana
Gable and Frank Charron accepted my invitation and joined me in this.
They drove over from East Flagstaff and we left home in my Toyota about
10:15 a.m., after I had been to church.

It was about noon when we got to the permit desk. We ate lunch from
sacks while we were riding along the Rowe Well Road and reached Pasture
Wash Ranger Station by about 1:20 p.m. I didn't ram the Toyota over the
bumps as hard as I would have driven the Jimmy, but even so we scraped
the high center of the road a couple of times.

I had never noticed a road that goes west from Pasture Wash Ranger
Station along the south side of the long clearing in the woods. It is
left off the recent map but it appears on the Matthes Evans West Half.
We could have saved about 10 minutes of walking if we had driven as far
as we could, to a fallen tree that blocked the road. Soon after we
passed this place on foot from the station, we came to the old Supai
Telephone Line. It is still a helpful guide line through the junipers
and pinyons. After I thought that we were getting too far west, we
veered away to the north where the line seemed to be starting a new
direction more to the west than northwest. Before we reached the rim, we
came to the edge of a broad valley with a rather steep descent. Instead
of studying the map carefully, I elected to go east a bit and stay on
the high ground as much as possible. Still we saw that we needed to go
down and up the other side of a narrow draw.

Quite soon thereafter we were looking out at the broad Grand Canyon
across Aztec Amphitheater to Apache Point. I had brought the Havasupai
Point Quad map with me, and I should have studied it carefully at this
place. I gave it to Dana to consult and then we proceeded on my strong
feeling that Point Huitzil was to our right. First we had to get down
into a big gulch that cut through from the west and gave us the chance
to go nearly to the base of the Kaibab. Deer trails led down this slope
to the east and the west of a local barrier cliff. There was a fairly
distinct trail most of the way north here. First it took us west to the
end of the valley and then north along the gypsum clay slope. Progress
was quite easy and we were soon going into a second bay at the end of
another hanging valley. I should have noticed by now that this
combination of valleys matched the map for Montezuma Point rather than
for Point Huitzil.

We got down through most of the Toroweap directly south of Montezuma.
When we came to the angle where we would change direction from northwest
to due north, the lower trail had to go up to the top of the Toroweap or
else down through the Coconino. We had seen plenty of burro or wild
horse droppings along the way, as well as some hoof prints that looked
like bighorn sheep more than deer. There were some in clay that had been
wet right at the top of the Coconino. Here Dana and Frank went up to the
top of the Toroweap and watched my progress as I went down to inspect
the Coconino.

I found a crack system behind big blocks that went off to the right. The
moves were not very hairy but there were lots of loose rocks ready to
roll. About halfway through the formation, I came to a chimney with a
couple of small chockstones. It would have been short work for men like
Doty and Cureton (Doty used the rope as a handline), but I hesitated and
gave up. I returned to join Frank directly above this route and then we
followed Dana's track to the north. He got to where he could see
Huethawali, but he didn't find any break in the Coconino there. He and
Frank then took a look at the chimney where I had stopped, and they
didn't like it any better. I think Ken Walters would have gone ahead and
then I would have had the courage to do likewise. If I went back there
with a 120 foot rope, this place would be easy and safe. I am sure I
have done worse places on Coronado, O'Neil, and Wodo (no, this would be
hard for Walters).

We returned to the car in less than two hours from below Montezuma
(Packard found a ropeless route 50 yards north of here).

*	Down Crazy Jug Canyon and up Saddle Canyon
[May 17, 1974 to May 18, 1974]*

On 7/20/62 Jerry Bortle and I had tried to go from Swamp Point down
through Saddle Canyon to the head of Tapeats Creek. We had been
discouraged by a smooth chute into a pool and thought that a bit farther
there would be a vertical drop into a similar pool. Several years later,
D. M. Mattox led a party through the canyon without considering these
chutes as very tough. His point of interest was a high fall farther down
that can be bypassed along a ledge to the left and down a talus. Others
had done this descent and Bob Dye had told me about it in some detail.
He said he had slid down a couple of places where he wasn't too sure
that he could climb back, but he could see hiker tracks ahead.

Bob Packard and Ken Walters wanted to see the area too, so they started
off with me. Besides seeing the Crazy Jug descent, they were going down
Tapeats Creek to the river and then along the bank to Deer Creek. After
seeing the falls, they went back to Surprise Valley and detoured to see
Thunder Falls and then came out via Monument Point.

They have torn down all the old cabins at Big Saddle Camp but there is a
new home with bottled gas across the road. I suppose so many hunters
bring their own campers now that there was no call for the old
accommodations. We ate lunch at the two cars just inside the gate that
leads to Crazy Jug Point and Monument Point. We walked the road to the
old corral and soon found the trail. This time I watched for the
peculiar pictograph and found it not in the Coconino as I had thought
but near the base of the Toroweap.

We stayed on the trail even going east to where it reaches a running
stream. It wasn't clear beyond here, but I also realized that we had
come down too far if we wanted to use the trail down to the breccia
pinnacle. We climbed back and started west and soon reached a cairn and
the trail over the saddle by the promontory. When we were about to the
bed of the wash, just east of the pinnacle, the trail was badly
overgrown. Below the pinnacle it was clear to the bottom of the fall,
which had water down it at this time of year. A little farther we
encountered a big well fed horse. It seemed lonesome or thought we might
have some goodies because it followed us for some distance. I wanted to
test my theory that the best way to the Redwall break near the end of
Crazy Jug Canyon is along the Esplanade, so I followed the horse trail
to the west. Then when it became circuitous and began to climb a lot, we
changed our minds and went down to the bed of the canyon.

When we reached the Redwall we put our packs down where we would climb
up to the west and I showed the others the Redwall slot and the overhang
where I had slept on a rainy night. There was plenty of water in a
couple of potholes here and no wasps to speak of. When we got to the top
of the climb at the vertical contact of Supai with Redwall, I made the
same mistake as before and tried to stay high. I ended by going down and
then up the other side to go along above the Redwall out to the break.
This took longer than it should have, and also Ken had a lot of trouble
with the brush since he insisted on hiking with bare legs.

I had no trouble locating the top of the break. The way down is now
marked by cairns along very much the same route that I took in 1968
(8/27/68). Loose rocks are the only difficulty. Water was running from
the nameless canyon across the way and also from Timp. The flow wasn't
enough to keep water above ground into the late afternoon, but before
morning water from Timp was flowing past the junction of Crazy Jug with
Tapeats. There are some drops in the bed of Crazy Jug just before Timp
comes in and we went to the east for a bypass.

After a rest, Bob and Ken continued on to the big flow in Tapeats to
camp while I stayed at the end of Crazy Jug. After my dinner, I walked
up and had a look at the barrier fall and bypass in Saddle Canyon and I
walked into Stina as far as it is easy which isn't far. There was water
here also.

In the morning I started early (5:30) and started up Saddle Canyon.
Surmounting the 80 feet barrier fall was routine. I had problems at the
chutes into the small pools. My rubber soles got wet in one and I had a
struggle chimneying up the chute. At the next chute, the water was too
deep for throwing down stepping stones as before. Rather than get my
shoes completely soaked, I removed shoes, socks, and trousers and waded
to where I could get a bare foot up on the rock. This must have been
where we stopped in 1962 on July 28 since there were no further
obstacles. It is a beautiful canyon with a lot of maples. The birds were
singing and the day was cool, a thoroughly pleasant trip. The canyon
would also interest the cavers but I think that most of the openings are
either inaccessible or are minor holes. I went on up until I was out of
the Redwall on the southwest side and made sure that I recognized
features that I had seen in 1962. If I had shown half the gumption of
Donald Davis, say, and had looked around for a loose tree limb, Jerry
and I would have succeeded in getting through the Redwall. I was back to
the end of Crazy Jug Canyon in less than three hours.

When I went back up the Redwall via Crazy Jug, I found more cairns that
someone has built. The route markers had found some vestige of a deer
trail that bypasses a chute filled with loose material. This improvement
was at the very bottom. For the rest of the way, I repeated what we had
done the day before. Above the Redwall I tried what I have suggested as
an improvement over following the creek bed, going to the top of the
Esplanade as soon as possible. We had seen Vibram shoe tracks down the
Redwall route and below going toward Saddle Canyon. Incidentally, I saw
no tracks above the pools with the chutes. Now I found the tracks
leading to a convenient break in the lower Supai cliff. It was a pull up
but within my power as a climber. Above this bit there were numerous
ways to get to the top of the Supai. I finally reached the well defined
horse trail and followed it around the breccia pinnacle. The trail is so
round about in crossing ravines and passing ridges that I have come to
the conclusion that the stream bed is preferable even though it requires
climbing over a saddle before you finally get to the contouring above
the Redwall.

Just east of the pinnacle I lost the trial in the thick brush. I thought
I might be on it for a while, but when I got a view, I could see that I
was too high. Instead of going down to where I knew it to be, I tried
going on up. This was a mistake because I had slow going across bare
patches of shale and through brush. Just before I reached the horse
trail, I was on a deer trail that made things better for me. I got to
the car by 2:30 p.m.

*	Sowats, Jumpup, Kanab, and Kwagunt
[May 19, 1974 to May 20, 1974]*

For years I had been aware that the Sowats Point Trail led down into
some fine country. It is a more convenient approach to Kanab Creek than
the Hack Canyon route. When I got up from Crazy Jug Canyon, I decided to
pass up the trip down to the Colorado via the Mortenson Route in favor
of something less risky. It would be better to do that with a capable
companion.

The Sowats Point Road is quite smooth and easy on a car at first, but it
deteriorates. When I saw a parked car and had already put the Toyota
over rocky places that are death to tires, I decided to park. By the
odometer I should have been less than a mile from the road end, but I
think their sign is wrong. I was surprised how popular this road is.
While I was sitting in the car, a Bronco passed. I learned later from
Packard who talked to these people and that they had just finished a
trip to Nankoweap with my book for a guide, and that they wanted to talk
to me about some items. Then before morning, two people came along in a
Scout and they were sleeping beside it when I took off in the morning. I
met the owners of the Colorado car which was parked just east of mine.
They had been on a seven day trip down to the mouth of Kanab Creek,
along the river to Deer Creek, and up through Surprise Valley to the
Indian Hollow Campground. They put their packs down there and walked
cross country to try to find the car. They were amazed to find it right
where they hit the road. They were Paul Cunacz and his wife, very
capable hikers, since they had come up from Deer Creek that day and
still reached the road near Sowats Point fairly early. They told me that
the Supai gorge that drains Kwagunt Hollow goes all right. They used it
to get into Jumpup when they missed the horse trail to the north into
Sowats Canyon. They also told me where the trail starts, about 100 yards
east of a fork near the end of the road.

After I had eaten at the car, I walked down the road to see the
trailhead. It is marked by a post surrounded by quite a large rock pile.
It was nearly a mile from where I parked, but the road did seem worse
and I was glad I had taken no more chances on ruining a tire.

The sky looked stormy Saturday evening, but by morning it seemed fine.
The trail is constructed better and looks more distinct when it gets
away from the road. The part not shown on my map leads down from the
road along the side hill near where Kwagunt Hollow comes to the big drop
over the Toroweap and Coconino. Then it contours to the north over to
where a broad slide has broken the Toroweap Coconino cliffs. The trail
heads for a grove of cottonwoods, but there is no surface water until
you are past the grove down to where the bedrock shows.

I was surprised that Paul Cunacz had been unable to follow the trail
north from the grove. It requires only a moment of looking. The
Esplanade here is remarkably even and easy for the walker. The trail is
very distinct until it gets to the bare rock flats near Sowats Canyon.
This canyon is already several hundred feet below the rim rock and it
seems difficult to believe that there is a good way down. The map shows
the trail heading toward the rim, but it doesn't show it getting to the
bottom. I began to wonder where the trail might be and then I spotted a
cairn more than a quarter of a mile away. It was one of a series leading
to a well built but concealed horse trail to the bottom. From the state
of disrepair, this trail construction may have been over 50 years old.
The route is more ingenious and this may be the only place to descend
for several miles. I carried the map in my hand as I walked down canyon
and kept my orientation. Mountain Sheep Spring appeared right where it
was supposed to be. This flows a goodly volume and keeps water on the
surface to the junction with Jumpup Canyon. However, the water is
mineralized and deposits a lot of white material on the rocks when it
dries. This water may have been the reason my internal workings seemed
rather upset for the next 36 hours.

Jumpup through the Supai seems to be a fairly broad canyon and not
especially scenic. I ate lunch at the mouth of Kwagunt Gorge. From the
map I estimated that it might take me two hours to reach Kanab Creek
from there, but I did it in about one hour and 40 minutes, reaching the
junction about 1:00 p.m. The Cunacz couple had thought the walking
through this stretch of Jumpup rather a chore. I could see that the
footing was tiring, rather tedious in the loose gravel that was
fatiguing like walking through snow. However, the Redwall aisle both
above and below the junction with Indian Hollow Gorge is really
something spooky. There were places where the stream cut into the bend
and formed a Redwall cavern effect with the ceiling far over in the
middle of the channel. At other places both walls overhung forming a
corridor like a dimly lit cave. The contact between the bright sun and
these shaded portions was striking. Often the walls bulged out and cut
off a view of the sky. It is easy and safe walking but to quote
Coleridge "A savage place, holy and enchanted."

About halfway from Kwagunt to the main bed of Kanab Canyon, there is a
vertical alcove on the right where water has polished a chute down into
a plunge pool. The water here appears to be permanent. Although there
were some dead moths on the surface and perhaps a few wrigglers in the
water, I would prefer this rainwater to the mineralized stuff in the
springs.

Something that amazed me was to see the tracks of a four wheeler in the
bed of Kanab right at the junction with Jumpup. I feel sure it could
have gone no further.

I was unable to match the map with the sinuosities of Jumpup through the
narrows, but Kanab Canyon was broad enough so that it was easy for me to
keep my orientation and see where I was on the map at all times. Paul
and his wife had urged me to go down Kanab from the mouth of Jumpup,
what they estimated to be two and a half miles to a fine spring. I
passed one side canyon on the left and was approaching the next when I
came to quite a series of clear pools in the middle of the bed. I had
the impression that the Cunacz's had meant a sort of shower bath spring
from one wall where there were columbines and ferns, but since my feet
were sore, I decided to call it a day.

There was a slight chance of precipitation and an almost certainty of
cold wind, so I welcomed the chance to scramble up into an overhang on
the east. I was afraid that my light bag wouldn't be warm enough so I
built walls at both ends of my bed and even gathered a supply of
firewood if I should get cold later in the night. As it turned out, the
wind died and I was plenty warm all night. I enjoyed a long and relaxed
afternoon from 2:30 on reading the rest of my Time Magazine and admiring
the walls. There were two inaccessible caves high on the opposite cliff.

Backpacking is booming at this time of year. I didn't meet anyone down
there, but I saw plenty of footprints. They even went up the side canyon
immediately below Jumpup. I figured I had spare time, so I resolved to
go up there about 10 minutes. As it happened, I was stopped by a high
drop in the polished limestone in only five minutes. There was a fine
plunge pool at the end. I also tried going up Indian Hollow Gorge. The
simple walking here was more extensive, but after Huitzil about 12
minutes I reached a great chockstone. Good climbers have told me that
they have gone through the Redwall in this canyon, but the moves to pass
this place are difficult and a bit dangerous. I was content to take a
picture and return to the mouth of the gorge.

When I reached the mouth of Kwagunt Gorge, I was more determined to go
up and through it. I found that the Cunacz couple were right. There are
good bypasses for all barriers. The canyon is about the most spectacular
thing I saw on the entire trip lots of towers and mushroom rocks. There
was water coming over the falls, and ferns and columbines. Going up the
horse trail through the Hermit and above was simple exertion, but the
passage through Kwagunt Gorge was romantic and dramatic to the nth degree.

*	Tatahatso Canyon
[July 31, 1974]*

Last March I had looked into the upper end of Tatahatso Canyon. I
couldn't really see the way to get down the first small cliff just below
the open valley. It seemed to me that there should be a way hidden by an
angle that at the worst might need a short rappel. I wasn't sure about
all the Supai. From viewpoints across the river, I had gotten the
impression that one might get down that formation somewhere besides in
the bed of the canyon. The only way to make sure was to go down and see
for myself. I left home a little before 6:00 a.m. and had no problems
until I came to a fork in the dirt road northwest of the Tooth and south
of Shinumo Alter. I took the south fork and soon passed an unusual
outcrop of limestone to the south of the road. Eventually, this road,
which aimed toward Saddle Mountain most of the way, ended at a hogan. I
drove back a short way and found a road going north, to the west of a
cattle tank that joined on the right way to Tatahatso. There was another
fork and I took the right hand branch and was soon sure that I was on
the way to Tatahatso. I had no problem in driving back to the highway.
The direct route goes across the bottom of Black Spot Reservoir. This
sometimes collects enough water to force a detour, but the recent rains
hadn't made this necessary.

I parked where the road comes through the minor valley and gives a view
across the Tatahatso Slump block. It was easy to stay at a high level
even with the road and go north to look into Tatahatso Wash. It took
just a little route finding to get down to the bed of the valley just
above the Toroweap drop. From this position I could see that there was
no ropeless descent across the way where I had guessed it to be. I took
the climbing rope around there and began looking for the best rappel
site, but before I had settled on one, I saw a crack behind a block on
the south side that looked appealing. When I tried it, it was just as
good as anyone would want. The lower end of the crack led to a broken
ramp that was easy to follow to the bed of the wash.

The bed is an easy walk down to a high dry fall. Last Spring I had
figured that one could go around a point to the right of the fall and
follow a ledge over to the head of a broken rock slope in the actual
Eminence Break. There is a bit of difficulty in getting on the ledge
that goes around the point. A big fallen rock blocks the natural
approach but I found that I could crawl through a hole between the rock
and the wall. The fault break was easy to descend and I saw another way
to get down. One could follow a bench around to the fault ravine on the
other side of the canyon and come down just as easily. In fact, there is
a distinct possibility of getting down through the fault on the south
side right from the top (Ken Walters and Bob Packard went up here). It
may require a 10 or 15 foot rappel. The rest of the bed had no distinct
problems. However, the whole bed is cluttered with big blocks and one
often has to get over to one side or the other. There are no big drops
in the bed all the way through the Supai.

The upper part of this bed has more redbud trees than most. With the
recent showers there were a number of rainpools through the Hermit and
upper Supai. Most were muddy, some a bit scummy, and one quite clear. I
carried a gallon of water on this hike, but the lower canyon was hot and
I was glad to get a little extra water on the return. There were some
clouds, but the rain that reached me was not enough to wet the rocks. I
had to rest more than usual on the return. I left the car at 9:00 a.m.
and got started back from the Redwall rim above the river at 2:15 p.m.
and didn't reach the car until after 7:00. Hiking in the heat seems to
bother me more than it used to.

When I came to the Redwall, I kept to the south side of the canyon and
got the views of the river from there. If one were to sleep at the car
and get a very early start at a cooler season, it would be interesting
to follow the Redwall rim right around to the south side of the
promontory and come up the well known route there.

*	Saddle Mountain Trail and Boundary Promontory
[August 1, 1974]*

The Saddle Mountain Trail goes from the backyard at the hunting camp to
the bottom of Saddle Canyon. Although it is a bit overgrown as it
crosses the bed, one can see it continuing across and up into the woods
on the other side of the canyon. I had learned the hard way that it
doesn't lead to the head of the Nankoweap Trail, but I thought that it
might go east for a while and then up to the summit of Saddle Mountain.
I figured it would be interesting to see where it goes and then leave it
to get a look at the break off the rim that Mitchell and Graham had told
me about, the one above the river at mile 49.3.

I got out to the highway from Tatahatso Canyon in time to take on more
gas at Bittersprings and I got my dinner out of the pack shortly
thereafter. I kept awake well enough to stay on the road but turned in
for the night near Kane Ranch about 14 miles south of highway 89A. This
was around 10:00 p.m. and I was surprised out of a deep sleep when Chuck
Petty, the ranger in charge of the Buffalo Ranch, came along in his
pickup. He had seen my lights from seven miles away and wondered whether
a plane had been forced down.

I got an early start Thursday morning and I was ready to leave the Jimmy
at the hunting camp by 6:45 a.m. Petty had warned me that the trail is a
rough one, but I wonder what he expects. It was good walking as I knew
from my former experience. After it climbs several hundred feet on the
side of Saddle Mountain, it starts downhill as it goes farther and
farther east. It never does head towards the summit. It must have been
constructed for the convenience of hunters or perhaps ranchers who
pastured cows through these woods. When I was nearly two hours away from
the car, the trail became fainter and fainter. I would lose it and then
rediscover it, but finally it was gone. About this time I went uphill to
get the view from boundary ridge south across the east part of the
National Park. I was directly above the head of Little Nankoweap and I
could look down at the rim of the Redwall where I had picked my way so
painfully most of the night in December, 1969.

The ridge is serrated with deep notches. After making my way as near the
crest as possible, I dropped quite a bit lower on the north side. The
next time I reached the skyline, I found that I was quite far back from
the park boundary with a broad valley between me and the actual big
drop. From my viewpoint I could see the forested flat between the slope
and Saddle Canyon and the narrow necked promontory that the park
boundary bisects. This looked rather distant for the time available, but
I considered it a logical destination for my day of hiking. As I got
lower toward it, the walking became quite easy and I knew I would be out
there before noon.

A declivity of perhaps 60 feet in depth cuts this plateau of land from
the rest of the rim. The highest part of the edge is above Little
Nankoweap and I got a marvelous view down on the bends and tributaries
of that canyon. One might not guess that it is hard to climb out the
north tributary (or perhaps impossible Bob Dye got lost) and definitely
impossible to go up the main canyon from the river. It is also not clear
from here that there is an easy deer trail out of the bed west of the
big drop in the main bed. On the side of the promontory facing the river
one can stand and look down at Mile 50 Canyon where one is supposed to
be able to climb the Redwall. From directly above, it looks easier than
it is. The views up and down the river from here are superb and I was
reminded of the viewpoint on the north side of the Little Colorado. One
is about the same height above the river as he is on the summit of
Nankoweap Mesa.

My main purpose is doing this hike was to examine the route down through
the Coconino that Mitchell and Graham had told me about. I hadn't
reviewed the map I marked when they were talking to me and I thought
that their route was just north of the promontory. As I looked down here
I could see the way through the Kaibab and Toroweap, and the lower part
of the Coconino is covered by a talus slope. I think I had put together
a way through the upper Coconino too, but I didn't feel that I had the
time nor energy to test it just then. When I came home and looked at the
map, I realized that their route is in the next bay to the north.

On the return I walked the flats beneath the slope of Saddle Mountain
and found the going quite a bit faster, three hours and 25 minutes for
the way back to the car. I saw many deer antlers and two bits of pottery
near some probable ruins.

*	Hakatai cable site
[August 14, 1974 to August 15, 1974]*

For years I had been intending to visit the Bass asbestos mines in
Hakatai Canyon. Last spring I learned that Donald Mattox had led a party
down the North Bass Trail and over to the mines via Burro Canyon. This
surprised me a little since from the Tonto across the river, no sure
access route is apparent through the Tapeats cliff. Tony Williams, when
he was coming down the river with Martin Litton, had also visited the
mines. When Dock Marston told me that Eiseman had also visited the
mines, I thought I was long overdue for a trip there too. Dan Davis had
gone down to the tram anchorage on the south side with the intention of
cutting the cable but had then decided that there was no necessity of
doing so. More recently, the cable has been cut, but on the north end.

This has not been a particularly wet year in Flagstaff, but on the way
out to the Bass Trailhead, I could see more flood damage to the road
then I had noted for years. North from the Topocoba Hilltop Road, it
seemed rather necessary to keep the wheels out of the deepest ruts for
fear of getting hung up on the high center. Similarly, the Bass Trail
showed more change than I had noted since I began using it. There were
numerous rock slides and places where water had scoured all the surface
gravel away. Still it is not too hard to follow. There is still less
chance of missing the trail than along the Red Canyon Trail, for instance.

I got started down the trail about 9:30 a.m. and I was not oppressed by
the heat. We were having weather a few degrees below normal for this
time of year, but I was glad that I was carrying a full gallon of water.
I reached the large cairn at the base of the Hermit in 45 minutes and
noted the mescal pit near the trail a bit farther north. I used the
shortcut off the rim of the Supai directly down to the trail in Bass
Canyon. The old timbers are still in place, one with nails dating from
the Bass era, no doubt. These help one down an eight foot drop in an
angle to the east of the notch in the rim. I was prepared to follow the
talus down farther than I had to when I encountered the actual trail
higher than I had remembered it. The trail is very obscure in the tangle
of boulders and vegetation halfway down through the Redwall, but I
remembered that here one must get from the left side to the right.
Finally, it goes down where the valley opens out and crosses the bed for
a short distance. Where it crosses to the right of the wash, the Tonto
Trail leaves and goes up to the west. There are now some cairns along
here and there is a shelter under an overhang on the west that has been
improved with some boards that date from the Bass days. These trails are
not as clear as they were before the slaughter of the burros. There were
a few burro signs, but the number are a small fraction of what they were
fifteen years ago.

I ate my lunch a little early in the shade of a ledge near where the
Tonto Trail leaves the bed and I finished two quarts of water here. I
used some salt along the rest of the way, but I still had a little of my
second two quart canteen when I reached the river. The Tonto Trail is
rougher and more obscure in places than I had remembered. There are a
couple of cairns where one should get off the Tapeats rim and find the
trail down to the Bass copper mine in the bed of Copper Canyon. I went
down to look the place over. Although it had flooded at some recent
time, there was no hint of water in any rain pocket. The water in the
vertical shaft of the copper mine was at the same height as ever, too
far down to reach without a ladder. There were a few changes. The
timbers along the sides of the vertical shaft had fallen into the water
and there is now little free surface to dip a pail in the water.
However, a pole lying in the entrance would serve to push the timbers
aside. One might tie a pan or pail to the end of the pole and reach for
water, something that I didn't need to try.

The steel mesh spring cots had been moved out of the mine shaft to the
open campsite. I put one back in the shaft with the purpose of resting
in the shade as I had done once before. There was a change for the
worse. The water is now a breeding ground for mosquitoes, and a few
minutes of rest was enough. I went up to the west a bit upstream from
the mine and found a trail built in that direction. When the trail
seemed to be going too far to the south before joining the Tonto, I
climbed on up through a break. I was on the lookout for the beginning of
a trail going down to the Hakatai Cable, but none was apparent. There
were no cairns to show the start down to the river. I did see a vertical
mine shaft that must have been of more than superficial depth judging
from the tailings. There were confusing minor burro trails below the
Tapeats rim, but nothing that seemed sure to lead to the cable. I went
along the Tonto Trail until I could look directly down and across to
Hakatai Canyon. The entire slope along here is not precipitous and I
picked a route that swung left to a ravine that trended to the right.
This was all right, but I did have to take it slowly. When I was over
halfway to the river, I ran onto the trail and followed it to the tram
anchorage.

As I had remembered the cable, there was just one supporting strand and
another to pull the car. The number of places where cables are fastened
to the rock got me confused. Cables about as thick as my middle finger
were fastened at three different places. I wondered whether there was
one main cable and others to keep it from swinging. I rather think that
there was one cable and that the others were false starts that didn't
seem safe to Bass. One thing that surprised me too was the height, over
100 feet above the river, at which the cable started. The strand that is
lying the straightest down to the water is threaded under and behind a
large rock the size of two upright pianos. I wondered how much Bass knew
about engineering and what factor of safety there would be in the size
of cable he used and how much force it would require to pull this rock
out of its place.

From the cable anchorages I couldn't see a suitable place to lie down
near the river, so I put down my pack and clambered down over the rocks
to fill my canteens. When I got to the water, I discovered a small sand
terrace a few feet above the water. When I was going back for my pack, I
found signs of an old trail continuing from the tram platform down near
the river level.

The river was cold enough to give me cramps in both feet after a short
immersion, but perhaps this would be only a temporary effect. I dunked
to my neck and jumped out. When I inflated my brand new air mattress and
lay on it, I found that it didn't hold air for five minutes. The river
was fuller and swifter than I like to cross, so I decided not to press
my luck with a crossing. I marked the waterline in the sand with a stake
and watched to see whether my bed might be flooded in the night. Within
an hour, I could see that the water level was going down. By morning the
river was six feet lower than in the evening, and the current was
correspondingly slower. There isn't a long stretch of water along here
free of riffles, but I believe I could start from far enough upriver to
cross safely, when the water is as low as it was in the morning.
Similarly, along the north side, one can't go along a beach for any
distance, but one can climb up and then get down higher upriver.

I could just barely make out a trail through the rough rocks to a
platform at what I took to be the north cable anchorage. Bass and his
crew had to do some hard work to make even a rough trail through this
country. When I came along the Tonto going west, I could see two
baloneys tethered just upstream from the mouth of Shinumo Creek, and
when I was going back on Thursday I saw one moored farther upriver where
one could get onto the trail going from the switchyard around into
Shinumo Creek.

I had used eight hours to get form the car to the river at the cable
site and it took me nine and a half to go back on Thursday. I had a
little of a gallon of water left at the end of the climb out, but I
found that I was greatly weakened by dehydration. This Bass Trail and
Tonto area is far better in the cool weather. Water is a real problem.
On both of my days down here, I was helped by the shade of a few clouds.
I might have been in real trouble if it weren't for that uncertain
assistance. The burros must use the river for water. On the return I
followed the trail up from the cable site to the east of where I had
come down. It petered out on a knoll covered with quartz fragments just
a short way below the Tonto.

*	Point Huitzil Route
[August 24, 1974]*

On 5/12/74 I had made an attempt at finding a route off the rim to the
Esplanade which Gary Stiles had discovered. On that occasion I had
mistaken Montezuma Point for Huitzil and had found a difficult way to
get down through the Coconino. All three of us, Dana Gable, Frank
Charvon, and I had considered a rope essential to get back up a chimney
near the middle of the climb. Gary had said that his route was ropeless
and had been used by Indians as it showed Moki steps at one place. Since
we had run out of time last May, I was eager to go back and find the
right place.

I left home in the Jimmy before 6:15 a.m. and picked up Bob Dye at
Tusayan Ranger Station. After we had gotten the permit and had driven
out past Pasture Wash Ranger Station to our parking, it was 9:25. We
stopped and talked to a young graduate of Prescott College, Larry
Stevens, who is making a study of the birds around the station. This
time we stopped at the fallen tree about a half mile along the road
northwest of the ranger station. When we had walked the telephone line
for a short distance, we found that we could have followed the road
around the obstruction and taken the car about four tenths farther, what
it took 10 minutes to walk. We used the road in preference to the woods
until it petered out. At a place where the telephone line took a sharp
bend to the left, we struck out through the woods and eventually crossed
the deep draw that crosses the park boundary near the figure 13 on the
1962 map. We got a view into the canyon across to Point Huitzil from the
southwest. We could see bighorn trails in the clay slope at the base of
the Kaibab and I picked out a place where the talus covers almost half
of the Coconino as a probable place for the Stiles Route.

Before we had reached the rim, Bob and I had noticed a place or two
where there would be a collection of small pieces of chert. At one of
these we soon saw bits of pottery and Bob picked up imperfect artifacts
of obsidian and chert. At the rim we went down and out on a small
promontory for a better view and I noticed a plain brown piece of only
slightly curved pottery. Only a yard away was about half of a large olla
reduced to pieces no more than three inches across. At several places in
the woods, both going out and returning, we found bits of decorated
pottery, black on red.

In reaching the supposed route below Point Huitzil, we had to go up a
bit and then down into the draw that meets the rim just south of that
point. We walked the easy path at the rim of the Toroweap past a place
where there is a break in that formation with light brown limestone.
Neither of us could think of an explanation for this very local change
in color, but this feature makes a fine landmark (Stile's Route just
south of here). After we had passed by this chance to get down to the
rim of the Coconino, we had to go clear around below Point Huitzil
before we found another break. This detour gave us a fine view of
Montezuma Point, and I could see where I had nearly succeeded in going
through the Coconino in May.

When we came back around the angle of Point Huitzil at the Coconino rim,
we didn't see any way to get through the top part at the place which I
had picked from across the bay. About 50 yards south of there, we found
a break that led down a few yards very easily. Below that slope a crack
with bumps in the walls would allow ordinary climbing for 20 feet almost
straight down, and then for about 10 feet at the bottom, there were
almost no holds and a slight overhang. A fine big pinyon offered an
anchorage for my rope and I did a rappel to the bottom, about 35 feet
down. Bob didn't ask me to send up the rig, and he waited for me at the
top while I proceeded down a slope to the south. There was a real
chimney climb down a crack where my day pack tended to get caught. I
could go on down to another crack that was wider and straight down. If I
had had another rope to do a second rappel, I would have been clear
through the Coconino, but I was stuck. I had a struggle as it was to get
back up the higher crack. I had to push my pack up ahead of me. Before I
jumared up the fixed rope, I tried going north to the place I had
thought the route to be, at the top of the talus, but I couldn't even
reach a crack that might have worked. If this is Gary's route (not his),
he can have it. I would prefer the one below Montezuma Point. I had to
get home to a bridge party so we didn't take the rope and do it.

*	Montezuma Point Route
[September 14, 1974, cf., 5/12/74 and 8/24/74]*

After giving up the idea that the Stiles Route through the Coconino is
beneath Point Huitzil, I was ready to try the place I had found below
Montezuma Point, this time with a rope. Al Doty, Tom Wahlquist, and Dave
Grede went with me. We got to the permit desk at 8:00 a.m., but the new
ranger there assured us that no permit was necessary for a one day hike.
We knew he was wrong but we didn't argue. I asked a few questions about
the recent fatalities below Monument Point, getting contradictory
responses in the morning and the evening when we returned. Both rangers
understood that Heifeld and Kafka had gone down the cliffs from ledge to
ledge with a rope which they pulled down after them. The first
impression was that they had been stopped somewhere in the Coconino, but
the second report was that they got stopped in the Redwall right above
Surprise Valley. After one man had fallen and been killed, the other
wedged himself in behind a rock and died of dehydration. They had left
notes at several levels as they descended, and they had made the mistake
of going down places where there was no possibility of climbing back.
The man who said they were found in the Redwall seemed to know more
about the affair.

I parked the car 1.4 miles north of Pasture Wash Ranger Station just off
the road to the Bass Trail. We had a compass and set our course at right
angles to the road, a little north of west. Before long we reached the
fence and in about 20 minutes we noticed the big draw to the north. We
followed it clear to the open canyon which we reached in about 45
minutes from the car. I thought that this seemed a more efficient
approach to the valley south of Montezuma Point than we had used before,
but when I read that it took us less than two hours to get to the car
from below Montezuma in May, I wonder. This time it took us an even two
hours to get back from the top of the Coconino Route to the car. On the
return we climbed out of the ravine to the north and walked the level
ground on top. However, we probably veered farther than necessary to the
north.

When we left the place where the big draw opens out on the main canyon,
we had a sheep trail along the top of the Toroweap. This continued into
and past the indentation to the north, the bay immediately south of
Montezuma. We stayed at the rim of the Toroweap although in May we had
gone down to the Coconino rim just south of the bed of this ravine.
There is a trace of a trail down here. I remembered from the other time
that there is a way through the Toroweap right above the Coconino break
that I had found. For a couple of minutes I was confused and overshot
this way down, but I soon led the others down to the Coconino at the
right place. I indicated the place and Al led us down through the same
chute that I had found in May. We all took a look down the vertical
crack and then Al fastened the rope to the clump of shrubs that I had
noticed before. About 75 feet of rope would have been long enough to reach.

Al went down using the rope as a grip only two or three times. He could
have braced on the walls and passed the chockstone all right without the
rope, I feel, but it was more assuring to have it there, and it
certainly made this process faster. The other two did likewise but I had
brought my rappel rig and used it. I also used the Jumar clamps in
getting back up, but the other three went up faster than I with only the
ropes to hold to. Fortunately, there is a little platform right below
the chockstone at the top. Passing this chock with the Jumar clamps and
nothing else to stand on would have been hard. There are several places
to stop and rest during the climb up this crack. We saw no sure fire
Moki steps that Stiles had mentioned although Dave Grede thought he saw
a depression in the rock that might be artificial. Below this 35 foot
descent is an easy walk over broken talus to the bottom of the Coconino
and on down through the Hermit. I went down until I was sure I had
crossed the tracks I made when I first went down Royal Arch Creek and
thus covered another route from rim to river. Using this route, one
could probably get from the car to Royal Arch in six or seven hours and
could very likely reach Elves Chasm in one long day from the road. We
were hit by a pellet snow storm with lots of lightning about the time we
were getting up the crack.

*	Grapevine Canyon
[September 21, 1974 cf., 3/24/62 and 4/14/62]*

Bob Dye and a correspondent whose name I can't recall told me about an
inscription under an overhang near where the Tonto Trail crosses a
tributary on the west side of Grapevine. I thought I had it pegged and
that I would just have to get down there and photograph it. While I was
getting my permit for the hike, I noticed that a young couple at the
desk were uncertain where they wanted to go. I invited them to go down
Grapevine with me. They guessed my identity and introduced themselves as
Tom and Louise Strong. I thought it quite a coincidence that I should
meet the people who had been with Donald Davis less than a week after
receiving his letter concerning the trip out to Maroos Terrace south of
Powell Plateau.

We drove to the Grandview parking and when they had arranged their packs
for their two day trek, it was 9:15 a.m. when we got started down the
trail. This was the first time I had used the Grandview Trail after they
opened it for hikers. The new construction avoids the old cribbing of
logs near the top and they have rebuilt the lower cribbing at the top of
the Coconino. The new construction makes the trail quite narrow in short
stretches and I would wonder about trying to take a horse down there
now. There would be a lot of packing necessary to bring in the juniper
logs used in the lower construction. Perhaps they brought mules along
the Tonto and up to the place where they would be needed to carry these
logs. It would be interesting to see whether I could learn more about
this from some ranger.

Tom had a heavy pack of 40 pounds or so, but he set a fast enough pace
for me, even when we left the trail about 50 yards north of the trail on
the east side of the Grapevine drainage. Louise, with a lighter pack,
also was fast enough. I had a day pack with just my lunch and
incidentals, but the Strongs didn't hold me back. We got down to the bed
where the Supai forms a 12 foot ledge. I turned south and went into the
bed right where the ledge crosses while the Strongs found a break 20
yards to the north. On the return I went through a gate in the ledge
right in the bed and had no trouble going up the slope just south of
here. Farther south in the bed, the Hermit and Coconino form a very
sheer cliff.

On the way down, we kept fairly close to the bed and got out only to
avoid dense brush or local drops. When I was coming back I noticed that
the slope on the east side of the wash seemed better and more open. I
believe it pays to stay up here consistently. A cairn on a prominent
rock in the bed seems to indicate that someone thinks that the way up
through the highest part of Supai is better farther north. I recall that
I did this once and came out in the notch just south of the butte that
forms the north end of the Coconino ridge. On the present occasion I
elected to go on up the wash to where we had come down. I found an
animal trail up near the top of the ridge, but there was quite a lot of
loose material that made progress frustrating.

I took the Strongs down to the lip of the fall in the lower Redwall and
then we climbed at the old cairn to the east. I ran into a difficult
place right away and then followed Tom up a better place south of my
first attempt. We had to scout the way ahead since I had forgotten the
details in twelve and a half years. Tom tried the false lead, a higher
ledge, that I had tried in 1962, and then we came down and went north
around the corner on the meager ledge at that level. Louise and I were
now in the lead and we attempted to get across to the clear descent on
the contour but ran into a very bad spot. I then went down and found
where I was pretty sure that Jerry Bortle had led me in 1962. The way
looked bad, particularly if we would have to get down straight past the
platform about 10 feet below where I was standing. I looked harder and
saw that this would be unnecessary as there was a ledge leading to an
easier place farther north. After we were on the broken slope to the
north, it was almost clear sailing down to the streambed. At one place I
had handed Tom his pack and at another place he had hauled it up and
lowered it by a cord.

My conclusion this time is that the tangle of grapevines can be passed
best on the east side. There is a fair burro trail from the springs on
down if you take the trouble to find it. Louise was quite excited when
we saw a live burro and she got a couple of pictures. Besides the burro
tracks, we saw bighorn tracks and droppings from both deer and bighorn
sheep.

The water begins near the ravine on the east below Olla Cave, and by the
time the Tapeats begins there is quite a brisk flow. We followed a dim
burro trail mostly along the west above the bed when the Tapeats showed.
Willows grow dense in the narrow wet bed. The way along the bed below
the Redwall is longer than I had remembered, and it was at least 12:45
p.m. before we came to a drop in the Tapeats where the trail seems to
cross the bed. The water looked good here so the Strongs decided to stop
and eat and rest. I knew I would be pressed for time so I went ahead to
find the inscriptions. After following the trail along the west side a
short distance, I followed it down to the bed of the wash. Here it is
dry and fairly easy walking. It is a very impressive Tapeats narrows,
but there are no bad drops. The first side canyon on the west comes in
deep in the Tapeats, but there seemed to be no inviting overhangs. I
went on down near the bigger tributary that drains the south slope of
Lyell Butte. Following a burro trail I got out of the bed and went
around into this canyon and scrambled down about 50 feet into the bed.
This seems to be the place where the real Tonto Trail crosses Grapevine.
The Tapeats which is quite deep south of here seems to be much lower.
The banks of the wash are the Bright Angel Shale again near the mouth of
this western tributary, but the Tapeats is beginning to form cliffs
again right at the junction.

When I got to the bed of the tributary, I went up to the west but didn't
see any sign of the inscription (west in this bed). I realized that I
was running short of time and turned around. When I got back to the
other tributary farther south, I went up it for ten minutes or so but
still didn't see any inscription. I went up on a platform on the south
side at a place where there is a slight overhang, but it wasn't the
right place. I was still going up where the Tapeats is quite deep when I
decided, about 1:50, that I would really be much later than I said I
would get back if I persevered.

The Strongs were waiting where I had left them although they had gone
north some distance during the interim. After I had filled my canteen
using their cup for a dipper, I found a couple of nice pools deep enough
to immerse a canteen only a few yards south among the willows. I got up
to the parking lot at Grandview from this place, at the south end of the
upper Tapeats narrows of Grapevine, in just under four hours.

One hazard of the Redwall climb in Grapevine is the strong chance for
encounters with cactus. There are several sorts including the small ones
that you don't notice until you put your hand on it. As usual agave also
grows in strategic places. Still this is a most interesting and
enjoyable route and I hope to do it again after I get better directions
on where the inscription is.
*Volume 4 <47692.htm>*