David, another friend named Richard, and I quickly outdistanced others in our group hiking Tonto from Kaibab to Horseshoe Mesa. The last day we accidentally led part of our group up the wrong mesa—following tracks of feral burros and ending up on an obscure mesa across a drainage from Horseshoe. Ramblers later labeled this feature on their maps “Jackass Mesa.”

The burros—whose ancestors were brought by Spaniards and by 19th century prospectors in the Canyon—were feral. Park Service instigated an elaborate round-up, airlift, and adoption program in the 1980s. We did not see them or their tracks in later visits.

We returned to the Grand Canyon a few times, mostly hiking segments of the 95-mile Tonto Trail, which links several South Rim trailheads along much of the Canyon’s length.

In 2023 we wanted to repeat previous trips by hiking from Boucher Trail east to Grandview Trail. Since Park Service had closed the West Tonto from Hermit’s across Bright Angel Trail for work on a water system, we settled for shorter trip but added a few miles to New Hance Trailhead.

Fall colors, feasts & vandals

Bright Angel Creek was glorious with golden cottonwood turning in December. We found a spot, posted our itinerary in plastic holder, and I hiked a mile to check out the famous Phantom Ranch of sprawling stone cabins. When I returned, the tent was up but our stuff was gone! David found ravens fighting over our packs and put everything in the large box provided by Park Service. Empty packs were hung on a rack.

After a day hike up North Kaibab, we returned to Phantom Ranch lodge at 6 p.m., in time for generous steaks, baked potatoes, and salad served family style. Other diners, staying at the ranch, were discussing their hike out the next morning after a 5 a.m. breakfast.

In predawn darkness, I watched lights across the creek as guests started their trek out of the Canyon; much later we started our out-and-back trek to Clear Creek. David had convinced a kindly staff person to keep our extra food, so we had light packs for the good trail climbing out of the canyon.

I later learned that Clear Creek Trail was built by Civilian Conservation Corps in 1930s as a day fishing area for Phantom Ranch guests transported on mules. The wide trail was definitely designed for stock (although no longer used by mules) and good except for a few washouts.

Trail offered scenic views of the river far below (and a small rafters’ camp), Zoroaster Temple, and other formations as we wound around canyons, finishing with long wind around side canyons and into Clear Creek itself. Sadly, descent into the Canyon was not maintained, narrow, and sketchy; I missed a rerouted switchback and skittered straight down washout to a boggy creek.

We had a gorgeous canyon of yellow cottonwood all to ourselves. I followed “social trail” about a mile down the canyon. (The 6-mile route to the river is mentioned in the Clear Creek description along with a 5-mile side trip up the creek to a waterfall.)

Hiking out next morning, we met group of young men surprised to meet seniors and delighted to hear they had Clear Creek to themselves. One stripped off his shirt and bounded down a side canyon, followed by buddies. City pups off the leash! Joining trail at Bright Angel Canyon, we stashed our backpacks in a side canyon and hiked north to kill time before dinner.

When we returned, the top flap on David’s backpack had been unzipped, with gear and our permit thrown on the ground! David thought a zealous wilderness ranger looking for violators had done so in disgust as we had proper reservations for the night, but perhaps had violated a rule against unattended packs in the corridor. (We have met too many NPS wilderness rangers more focused on rules than visitor safety or enjoyment.)

Back at camp we were visited by a friendly ranger. He was cute and engaging; said our permit was marked “aggressive itinerary,” which cues rangers to ensure visitors can handle their planned trip. After discussing previous visits, he thought we were fine. He said some newbies overestimate their capabilities and “we do try to scare the crap out of those people.” I could not believe this friendly soul would vandalize a backpack. (David, setting up sleeping bags and pads in the tent, only heard ranger’s voice, and thought he was lecturing me about rules!)

The next morning, David solved the pack vandal mystery while packing up camp. I had left early. He walked up the trail to the restroom, leaving his packed-up backpack on picnic table. When he returned, ravens were swarming his pack, the top-pocket zipper was open, and stuff was thrown out!

Tonto: Ticket to Solitude

After hearty meal of pancakes, eggs, and sausage at Phantom Ranch, I packed my pack and lumbered up the Kaibab. I was passed by younger backpackers on the river but passed them when they stopped to chat with other hikers. David caught me near Tipoff Point (and told me about raven marauders). We took Tonto Trail east and left crowds. For some time, I could view hikers on South Kaibab Trail—the last people we’d see for next two days.

The East Tonto winds around six side canyons—Cremation, Lonetree, Boulder, Grapevine, Cottonwood, and Hance—before it drops to the river at Hance Rapids. A route called the Escalante Trail continues along river to 12-mile Tanner Trail from Desert View, farthest trailhead east in the park. We would follow Tonto to its terminus on New Hance Trail, ascend New Hance up Red Canyon, and loop back to our vehicle on a powerline road that paralleled Highway 64 along the canyon rim.

New Hance, famous as the most difficult Canyon trail, was second trail built by European miner and hotel owner John Hance, who initially had bult “Old Hance Trail” (an improved Havasupai Indian route up Hance Canyon). He built the new route into Red Canyon after first was blocked by landslides. As early as 1904, New Hance Trail was described as “frightful.”

From previous trip, I recalled Tonto as mellow endless winds around long canyons, with steep walls and rims with river views. I knew New Hance only by reputation.

Soon after we left Tipoff Point and dropped into Cremation Canyon, two bucks eyed me curiously. We had seen a lot of deer hanging around Phantom Ranch, but these would be the only wildlife sighted rest of trip (with one small exception).

On other side of Cremation was only bad stretch of entire Tonto: a steep eroded wall that required scrabbling skills. I wondered if Park Service left that section unrepaired to underscore dire warnings about unmaintained trails. Hikers beware!

The rest of the Tonto was quite good until our final drop to the river on the sixth day of our trek. I had forgotten how long some of the side canyons wound in and out—Grapevine was more than 5 miles around. The trail also skittered on the very edge of stupendous cliffs to side canyons below. It was a good trail—just better to not look down!

When we finally crossed each side canyon, we were rewarded with bright yellow cottonwood, juniper trees, pools of water or flowing streams, and nice campsites. Our first night on Tonto we camped on a mesa; the second night beneath a big juniper tree on Cottonwood Creek.

After crossing Hance Canyon, the Tonto rounded a mesa and switchbacked down a side canyon on its way to the river. In the canyon we met a teenager outpacing his father.

Dad said they’d scrambled 10 miles from New Hance Trailhead that morning and were on their way to Grandview Trailhead. With perhaps three hours of light left, they had 10 more miles to hike, including the precarious Page Spring scramble to Horseshoe Mesa. Hope they had headlamps!

After winding above a side canyon, the Tonto crossed flat area between rock formations and a confusing array of “social routes.” We found one making its way toward the river. Next, a series of contours, drops, washes, and finally washed-out mess of trail to river beach. That last half-mile took about an hour—a contrast to the mostly mellow Tonto.

Beach near Hance Rapids had several river rafter camps but was very windy. I lobbied to camp in a nest mesquite trees on the other side of Red Canyon—a wash we would hike up the next morning. It was sheltered and pretty. A route continued along the river through trees and brush—beginning of the Escalante Route linking to Tanner Trail.

We enjoyed camp until sunset, when the mice came out in droves. They were bold, running right at me as I set up my cook stove and pots—apparently habituated to river raft campers. David finally knocked one out with a rock; after this, mice were more cautious. You could raise a rock and they would scurry back. Still, I kept my camp stove running after water was boiled for freeze-dried meal as stove flame kept mice away.

We wanted to hang our food and packs but knew mice could run along the mesquite branches. David settled for a bear bag hanging a few feet below branch. Next morning I found an array of wrappers on the ground below the bag. Mice had indeed invaded the bear bag but were distracted by our stuffed garbage bag on top (Park did not allow fires, preventing our usual practice of periodically burning flammable garbage). They gnawed wrappers but did not find or contaminate our snacks/lunch packed lower in the bag!

Out of Canyon and back along Rim

Unmarked New Hance Trail followed dry Red Canyon wash 2 miles until meeting lovely pools. Trail then appeared as contour, looping around and then up canyon side. Many switchbacks—steep and eroded—climbed up through the Redwall formation. After a plateau with views of river, trail crossed several amphitheaters en route to main drainage; with washouts, this was the worst trail section to creep up and down. David carried my pack through the most slippery ones.

At lunch stop before a plunge into the drainage, we met backpackers. We had spied them above but they took 15 minutes to cautiously reach us. With long gray hair, he looked older than the woman. They had big backpacks apparently loaded for camp on flats above Red Canyon tonight; another couple would join them for what sounded like an annual party. Then down to the river. “This trail is for the crazy people,” he proclaimed. It took them four hours to get this far, he said. I hoped the 2-mile climb would not take quite that long for us.

It didn’t.

Trail improved in the drainage with short switchbacks in the trees. We met the other couple coming down—another guy with longish gray hair and a younger woman. Trail to the rim was series of steep switchbacks up the cliff face; only difficulty was occasional large rock fall and too many “social trails” offering alternate routes (some NPS cairn work would keep people on same path and reduce erosion). Not too scary going up. Still, the last flat section was welcome—even though a skiff of snow.

Now we hiked main road cautiously into regular bursts of traffic for ¾ mile where the powerline road met the highway. We hiked almost 3 miles on gravel-dirt road; nice in the pines but hard to navigate by headlamps after sunset. Worst was the half-mile cross country scramble where main road circled back toward highway and we headed into dark forest.

We followed our GPS track off road and over a fence to adjacent national forest land to site we had picked earlier, legal for camping (park is not!). Our bear bag was up in the tree, gallon water jugs undisturbed, and water not frozen. We set up camp in grove of slightly burned pine.

Gray and chilly morning at 7,500 feet. We hurried along hilly powerline road and followed GPS off road to large log for water stash. Our water was undisturbed and hot breakfast—first since Phantom Ranch—was appreciated. We planned breakfast at Hance Creek, but I mistakenly packed two breakfasts (cereal, coffee, nuts, blueberries, dry peanut butter) in the rim “bear bag!”

The 12 miles of rim road went fast. We sometimes heard cars on the parallel highway and saw a high point looming, perhaps above a scenic pull-off. Last half-mile we joined the highway, seeing faces of dazed visitors leaving in cars—mostly internationals. Cold near visitor center, with visitors bundled in down jackets and puffy vests. As we drove away from the Grand Canyon, it started to snow.

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