mattvogt7
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- Jan 20, 2012
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Links to the rest of the trip reports from this series:
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
Day 2 was going to be a test, and we knew it. We struck camp and were on the trail by first light, enjoying the cool quiet after the windstorm the previous day. Our packs only had food for two days as we had planned to get to our cache at the base of the Horse Trail on the second day. Since we had missed our mileage, we knew that we had 23 miles ahead and all we could hope for was limited boulder fields.
Terrain down canyon from 17 mile camp
We made great time the first few miles as the section of canyon we were in had long, flat, hard packed sand that made for easy walking. The odd thing about the boulder gardens were that though they were a pain and slowed us considerably, they were also the sources of large green cool pools of water. So while we would wince when we saw one coming in the distance, we needed them as they provided natural pooling for large sources of water.
Nice big pools in one of the first days boulder garden
About ten miles in we stopped under an overhang on canyon left to get a breather and take a lunch. We had made a tactical error the first day by taking an extended lunch break, and would not make that mistake again. We stopped for just enough time to remove our shoes and socks, consume some food and have some water. Spirits were high as we were allowed (though brief) a moment to sit back in the shade and take in this beautiful canyon that seemed to be ever deepening.
Start of the long, increasingly big, boulder field
It was a good thing we did not know what was coming so as to quell the ever present struggle between mind and body. After taking off from our lunch spot we came around a corner to one of the largest boulder fields we had yet seen. We navigated the first stretch, roughly half a mile, took a brief respite and regrouped under a cottonwood only to find a larger and longer section just down canyon.
Lunch time.
The "trail"
Our pace slowed considerably and the high afternoon sun provided no reprieve. Breaks became more constant and, in the same cycle of the day prior, meaningless chatter and excitement waned. It was a rough stretch that would eventually see us navigating a roughly 4-mile long house sized boulder field that took hours.
Can you spot the hiker? Attempting a high left bushwhack route to avoid the boulders
Looking back now this was the hardest – physically and mentally – section of the trip. Taken as part of a lower mileage day it would not have seemed so grueling, but the fact was we had little choice with whether or not we could rest or even slow our pace. We had a schedule and a point we needed to get to the second night. The previous day’s problems had put us behind, and it became a huge internal battle between where we were mentally and where we needed to be physically. In every long distance hike I have attempted there is a point where the trip becomes more about overcoming mental stumbling blocks than physical pain, and this was such a time.
More boulder gardens.......
Taking a break on a packed sand ledge beneath some shade we had, for the first time in hours, a distance as far as the eye could see of flat boulder-free walking. It was the perfect place to take a break, chug and top off water, and regroup. A quick assessment told us we were roughly at mile twenty-nine (twelve for the day), it was two o’clock, and we had eleven more to go to the Horse Trail cache. At that moment, it did not seem doable, and the excitement we felt during lunch seemed to have vanished. It was decided that we would shoot for the hour on fifteen minutes off schedule again, and we took off.
Break-time after hours of scrambling
The next eight miles were composed of large boulder fields but were separated by longer section of flat packed sand, so we had better luck making miles. We got to mile thirty-seven around 7pm and, coming around a large left-hand bend, the character of the canyon changed dramatically. I heard a soft rippling of water echoing down-canyon and could see a small river in the distance. Luckily, we had just topped off all our water as we had finally reached “Glugging Springs” a heavily mineralized sulfurous spring that came flowing in on canyon right.
Both Jarrod and I hiked down to the spring and took a break. This was the last landmark for us for the day other than the Horse Trail where we would camp. We were utterly exhausted and sore, but again, we felt like we were in striking distance, with our destination just three miles down canyon.
Glugging Spring and the newly transformed canyon of the Little Colorado. I wish we had taken more pics.
Down canyon from Glugging Springs the canyon sermed to exchange large boulder gardens for long sections of quicksand. We said goodbye to dry feet (which we would not have for another 3 days) as we went from navigating rock to navigating quicksand. All in all, I can say I preferred the quicksand to the boulders, and though our pace was still less than fast, an occasional waist high misstep into quicksand was preferable to the hot slog we had experienced up canyon.
Something within us changed when after we reached Glugging Spring, echoing the sheer physical beauty that was evolving in front of us. The green waters now flowing between the massive red walls, though undrinkable, seemed to lessen the harshness of this remote environment. We seemed to gain strength from this new feature; its constant motion moving down canyon resembled our own journey and provided a stark contrast to the dry, dusty, static nature of the upper canyon. The
landscape was moving with us, this was the water that would flow, turquoise blue, down to the Horse Trail, Blue Springs, Salt Camp, past the Hopi Sipapu and finally into the cold swift currents of the Colorado in Grand Canyon.
The sun had long ago gone down behind the level of the canyon as we closed in on our goal in the cool shade of the early evening. The walking became robotic again, with the new-found resiliency came a no-nonsense perceived purpose to our steps. As a result, a distance opened up between Jarrod and I after a river crossing I took my pack off on a sandbar to wait. After consulting the map I could see we were roughly half a mile above Horse Trail camp. I pulled out some chili cheese Fritos and got a little too comfortable.
When Jarrod came upon me I was thoroughly relaxed. As a result, my mind was telling me, “you are comfortable, you are so close, why not just close the distance in the morning?” I offered Jarrod some chips and asked if he wanted to camp in this spot and that I was OK with either decision (mentally I was not ok) and that it was his call. I think in doing this, allowing him to make the call, absolved me of my laziness, making it easier to accept. Looking back, it was the one moment on the hike where I had cracked, letting the mental game defeat me. Luckily, the chips hit Jarrod in the right spot, he wanted to press on, and I followed.
Finally to Horse Trail camp, exhausted and getting ready for bed.
We got to the base of Horse Trail around eight fifteen. We dropped our packs, scrambled a small distance up a dry wash until we found the overhang that housed our cache. We carried the four gallons of water and buckets of food down to our packs, collected them, and walked across the river to a flat sandy bench that would be camp. We tore into some extra food, downed some Tylenol and Motrin, drank a good deal of water, and crashed with a little bit of light still left in the canyon. We had hiked 23 miles. 23 hard miles and we were exhausted. We were at mile 40 (of a 65 mile trip), only 11 miles to Salt Camp and 16 to the confluence. Tomorrow would bring Blue Springs and perhaps the single most enjoyable day of hiking I have ever had.
Links to the rest of the trip reports from this series:
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
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