Susan Billingsley - Grand Canyon River Guides

Sinyala Fault, Grand Canyon—1984Iglance back uphill at the slowly disappearing shapeof Alan, where I left him perched on an overhangingrock ledge, sketching the remote and incomprehensiblelandscape visible from the tip of the Great ThumbMesa, part of the Havasupai Indian Reservation. It’sJune, which is a really stupid time to be hiking in thedesert, but I needed some solitude, some exercise, someadventure. A deep azure blue cloudless sky is rimmedwith gigantic, seared, barren, flat topped mountains asfar as the eye can see in panoramic view. I am lookingdown upon these mesas from an even higher rim. Nearly8,000 feet above the mighty pulsing sea somewhere offto my left. There’s a hell of a lot of rock out there shimmeringin the heat.I’ve been working too hard, and the usual politics aredriving me crazy, which means I’m probably drivingeveryone around me crazy, too. So, I’m off for howeverlong it takes to cleanse my soul yet again. Ten days’ offood on my back—more if I need to stretch things,aiming for a remote and difficult route I’d been hearingabout from knowledgeable sources. All of them are crazysons-a-bitches, like me.I am about thirty or forty miles due west as the crowflies from Grand Canyon Village, where around fivemillion visitors annually drive carefully to theirappointed parking spots and gaze over the railings.However, unless you have wings, to get from there tohere is about six hours or more of torturous gravel andfour-wheel-drive bone-rattling. It is waterless—somehand-painted signs warning that all this foreboding sandand twisted juniper is owned by the local natives. A fewbony Indian cattle straggling through the scrub seek anelusive blade of brown, dead grass. Needless to say, thereare no signs of recent traffic. The Great Thumb Mesa isan enormous peninsula of South Rim country forcingthe Mighty Colorado River to flow north in a 45-miledetour around its 4,000-foot descending scarps, where itis finally allowed to flow west, then south again. Themagical canyons of Stone Creek, Tapeats Creek, andDeer Creek face the tip of “The Thumb” from across theriver. Each side canyon deserving its own special notationin this vast geography. I’ve hiked several routes herebefore, though none solo, and none in June. All havepresented wild difficulties of impassible cliff, plunge pool,steep barely cemented scree, dizzying exposure. All havealso offered up evidence of the Hisatsinom, as the Hopitribe call their ancient ancestors, or, as the Navajo tribecall these same people, Anasazi, their “ancient enemies”.Flaked flint and points, rock art, “Moki steps” appear tothe initiated in unlikely vertical cliff faces. I’d deliberatelyonly scanned the maps, wanting to find my ownway, needing the taste of feeling like the first person in along time to pass this way.I wave to Alan, who doesn’t respond as he’sengrossed in somehow capturing a sense of this enormityon his canvas. He’ll return the way we came, in my beatupDatsun, 4x4 pickup, bouncing crazily along the track,sometimes right on the edge of space, a 1,500-foot dropto the Esplanade Plateau below. Not many peopleventure here, even fewer drop into the abyss, followingold Indian trails, which in turn follow fault zones, whichoffer up the few opportunities to descend towards theriver for the 280-mile length of the Grand Canyon…My goal, this time, is not the river itself, but totraverse eleven miles as the crow flies (probably 35 asthe human stumbles) to the heads of some rather remoteand beautiful side canyons within the main Canyon. I’vefloated by the mouths of these same canyons along theColorado, hiked half of them, and always wonderedwhat was around the next bend. The relentless verticalelement will also add another few miles to the journey,up and down, down and up, one way or the other.Another typical hike in The Canyon. 140-Mile, Olo,Matkatamiba, Sinyala, thence to Cataract Canyon,otherwise known as Havasu Canyon, and out and upthrough Havasu back to the rim, where my truck will bewaiting, I hope. Ten days seems more than enough forthis distance. Anywhere else, a fit person might makethat kind of mileage in just a few days. Here, however,impassible obstacles are simply part of the discourse.Headingmiles up long canyons to get to the oppositeside, to which you could have almost thrown a stonehours before, is not unusual. Mistakenly planning to eatlunch at a waterhole noted on the map might turn intoa bit of an ordeal as you are stopped short at a 300-footcliff face. A good trick here, in the “Big Ditch”, is totake two maps, one topographic, one geologic. If youknow the rock layers well, you can double check yourexact location, including elevation. You can, with care,also figure out what cliffs might divide you from your canof tuna.Several natural bridges are rumored to be along thisroute, one actually on the map. Plenty of water holesand springs have been inked onto my maps, and routesalong fault lines through seemingly vertical cliff faces ofRedwall and Muav Limestone layers are noted simplywith a tentative jotted line. I’m going light: no tent, nostove, no fuel, minimal sleeping bag and pad. I’ll simplycamp under an overhang if the weather moves in, anunlikely event during the pre-monsoon season. Andknowing I’m on the Res, I’m not concerned about Parkrules requiring no open fires. Actually, I’m not all thatgreat at following rules in the best of times.As I hit the bottom of the steep 1,000-foot brokenpage 18grand canyon river guides