Across the Plateau

On another trip, I had planned to do a solo hike across the Tonto Plateau, that large shelf that exists about halfway down the slope of the Canyon, and serves as a means for traveling laterally above the Inner Gorge. It is a scrubby plain of sagebrush and a few cottonwoods where a bit more water can be found. It exists because the rocks of the Inner Gorge are so much more resistant to erosion. Because it is a relatively flat zone where so much else is near vertical, it has some beautiful trails that don’t involve a lot of climbing up and down. 

I started down the Grandview Trail with my usual loads of water, and very little else. I had learned by then that tents were usually unnecessary, and even sleeping bags at the right time of year are just extra weight. I did take a ground cloth, a sleeping pad, a blanket and a sheet for my bedding, as well as some warm clothes so that things didn’t get too nippy, even at night. Sometimes the winds can really chill you. 

Hiking down the Grandview, over Horseshoe Mesa past the remains of that old mining shack and the massive pile of bean cans once again, I celebrated having the place almost to myself.

I went over and did a better job of exploring the cave than I had the last time around, although I still did not have a helmet and so did not go too far. Then, I headed down the side of the Mesa on a steep section of trail that cut through a break in the massive limestone cliff of the Redwall, eventually reaching the Tonto Plateau. My plan was to hike along the Tonto until I hit the South Kaibab Trail and loop back up to the Rim. And while it was a solo hike, which I was becoming quite fond of. I always made sure someone knew where I planned to go and when I expected to get back to the Rim.

Glimpsing over the edge of the Plateau into the Inner Gorge always produced a spectacular view. One could see the Colorado River winding between the steep dark walls below, occasionally spotting clusters of rafts, tiny signs of humanity amid the isolation. It reminded me of the beautiful Navajo prayer I had heard:

In beauty I walk
With beauty before me I walk
With beauty behind me I walk
With beauty above me I walk
With beauty around me I walk
It has become beauty again.

Traditional Navajo Blessing Prayer

I have very few photographs of my time at the Canyon, as cameras tended to be heavy then, and film and developing prints expensive. I was carrying a small camera on this hike, though, one of the new disposable cameras as I remember. As I was leaning over the Inner Gorge that afternoon, peering through the viewfinder to capture the scene below, I was rocked by a burst of sound which made me lurch and almost drop the camera into the chasm. A military jet aircraft, running the Canyon at supersonic speeds (illegal, dangerous, and one way to end a career as a fighter pilot) moved on west, swinging down the Canyon. It was clearly bad timing for my photo op. It sure did look like fun, though.

John recently commented “I also got a machine that would read the tail numbers off of military jets and eventually (after collecting a lot of data as to what type of jets they were… Navy, Army, or Air Force) was able to talk with several base commanders about stopping their jets from flying into the canyon.”

As I drank my water supply, I sought water in other ways. I collected water that was dripping from Cottonwood Canyon walls. I filtered some from a green scummy pool through my bandana (and treated it). I found water in small rock pools. I did all sorts of things – short of molesting cacti – to gather water, and stored it so that as I went along my water supply did not diminish. I remember counting five different techniques used to collect it. 

That doesn’t mean I was excited about drinking it, and didn’t, keeping it carefully segregated in different bottles so that I didn’t have to “enjoy” frog-scum flavored water. A better filter would have helped, although with several passes through the bandana it really wasn’t SO green. I had always been interested in survivalism, collecting books by Bradford Angier and others like Feasting Free on Wild Edibles. I had even taught a course on Wilderness Survival at the camp I had worked at several years before, and was pleased that in the middle of this rugged and arid place I could find and collect the most important survival resource.

At one point, I rounded the bend in a small side canyon and there, comfortably browsing along the ledges of rock and sparse vegetation above me, was a Bighorn sheep. I had heard about them, and had wanted to see one forever, but they are elusive and really do not like company. I froze, but it was swiftly clear that the jig was up. He (or she) picked up the pace and moved out and around a curve on the cliffside into the next drainage. I hurried to spot them in the next canyon, but by the time I rounded the corner (s)he was gone. 

Since then, I have actually seen herds of these sheep up at Glacier National Park, where my brother-in-law Scott was an amazing and award-winning backcountry Ranger, but I have never seen Bighorn in the Canyon since that time. They are beautiful creatures, and their ability to navigate near-vertical hillsides is remarkable.

I spent several days on the hike, at least two nights sleeping down on the Tonto Plateau. One night I was in a beautiful little side canyon, and sometime during the night I awoke with the eerie feeling that I was not alone. I knew logically that I was, and listened in the dark but heard nothing but the winds racing across the Plateau. I yelled, and heard my echo.

I confirmed that I was alone when daylight came around, but I almost convinced myself that the little side canyon was haunted. Not sure by what, or who. Perhaps an ancient Anasazi farmer, or one of those crazy bean-bloated miners wandering down from the mesa above, but I was convinced that I was not entirely alone. It’s one of the first and only times in my life that I felt the presence of some sort of supernatural spirit. I am not much given to haunting, but if there was one place I’ve been that was haunted it was that small side canyon, on that starry night.

I eventually made it over to the South Kaibab Trail, and debated dumping my collected water as I was heading out of the Canyon, since I was carrying just as much water as I had hauled down with me in the first place. It would have been fine, as I still had a just a bit of water from the faucets at the Rim, but it was the principle of the thing! I decided to haul it all the way up with me – and then pour it back over the edge. It was a lovely hike and certainly one of the more extensive hikes I had completed at that point.

I was to get in a few more miles.