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AN ADVENTURE PHOTOGRAPHER FOLLOWS IN THE WAKE OF A GRAND CANYON EXPLORER text and photographs by John Annerino black-and-white photographs by John K. Hillers, 1871

Boatman-Turned-Photographer

German-born John K. Hillers originally signed on to Maj. John Wesley Powell's second voyage down the Colorado River as a boatman. When E.O. Beamon, the professional photographer hired for that 1871 survey, left after a dispute with the irascible Powell, fate and Hillers' burgeoning interest in photography ultimately cast the eager assistant in the role of the famous explorer's visual chronicler. The black-and-white photograph above was made by Hillers during Powell's second expedition down the Colorado and through the Grand Canyon. Author John Annerino rephotographed the area near river mile 34 (right) with a dramatic seasonal twist as rust-colored floodwaters coursed over the Canyon's sandstone walls following a powerful thunderstorm.

'Once in a lifetime, if one is lucky, one so merges with sunlight and air and running water that whole eons . . . might pass in a single afternoon.'

Virtually unchanged in the 134 years since Hillers made the first photograph of the site (above), 100-foot-high Deer Creek Falls offers the same visual drama (opposite page) for modern explorers. A consummate craftsman, Hillers' photographic achievements are remarkable considering the physical challenges in getting a bulky view camera, glass plates, chemicals and a darkroom tent to his Grand Canyon locations.

I huddle in a small neoprene boat, shivering. My blistered, wet hands still clench the wooden oars. My sunburned feet stew in an inch of cold gray water. And my weathered brown knees ooze with pink rasp marks from heavy metal camera boxes. I glance up. Between sheets of rain that slice the air like saw blades, I peer down the storm-wracked corridor of stone. The serpentine river slides silently beneath the slippery skin of our boat and twists and turns through the rain, mist and black cliffs until it disappears in the wrath of this 1.8 billion-year-old Grand Canyon that roars with lightning. There is no turning back-now. We are being pulled down the river of no return as inexorable as the man I've imagined all these years-John K. ("Jack") Hillers, who photographed the legendary explorer John Wesley Powell's trip down this same river in 1872. Thunder booms, echoing off Canyon walls deposited by primordial seas. It booms again and again, rattling me with fear as eddies and whirlpools swirl around our boat. I crouch lower in my rowing seat, wondering when we'll be blown out of the water by a bolt of blue lightning, or obliterated by a house-sized boulder exploding from the rimrock. I turn to my partner, a gray shadow drenched in the deluge. He heaves-ho on the bow line and ties off our boat to a tamarisk tree. "So what do you want to do?" he yells. Wind, rain and thunder continue to hammer us, but we can only wait. We are roughly a mile ahead of the rest of our expedition, shivering upstream in immense Redwall Cavern, in which Hillers sheltered in 1872 on Powell's second expedition. "Let's wait for the Disney ending," I shout back. A beam of heavenly light illuminates the weeping abyss with the false hope the storm is about to break. In an eyeblink, dark clouds smother the light, and a black squall marches up Marble Canyon as pellets of rain ricochet like diamonds off the surface of the muddy river. Thunder booms again, and the boat bounces wildly. I bolt upright, expecting to see a hail of stones tumbling from the

side trips

Grand Canyon Trails Follow Path of History by Kimberly Hosey

The Grand Canyon boasts many hikes along both the North and South rims that brim with history and range in difficulty from easy day hikes to treks for experienced backpackers only.

Changes In Plant Life

Made near the point where the Colorado River leaves Marble Canyon and begins its tumultuous charge through the narrows of the Grand Canyon, Hillers' photograph (above) and Annerino's re-creation (left), demonstrate both the immutability of the rock and the changeable nature of the life near the river. Although many of the geologic formations are the same, the river's plant life has changed significantly. Tamarisk, an invasive exotic tree species, introduced to the Southwest early in the 20th century as an ornamental plant or for erosion control, has taken over the banks opposite the camera viewpoint. A particular problem in the Canyon, tamarisk crowds out native species and overruns the river's beaches and sandy inlets. Eradication efforts have so far produced only mixed results.

But it's my partner making the boat move, not the rockfall I'd feared. His name is Rob Elliott, a 45-year riverrunning pioneer and outfitter who has rafted rivers from China to Siberia. My rivers have been closer to home, the Green, the Yampa, Cataract Canyon, the Forks of the Kern and the Salt. But I left off rowing and pursued my passion for photography, writing and exploration, and now have returned after a 14-year hiatus to follow in the wake of Hillers, one of my photographic inspirations. Rob has joined me on my quest, generously providing the boat and oars.

We have darted ahead of our main party to river mile 34 seeking a vista that boatman Hillers photographed on Powell's second expedition in 1871-72. My quest is not only to test myself against these great rapids, but to measure myself against Hillers' vision. Although Timothy H. O'Sullivan took the first known photographs of the Grand Canyon as he struggled upstream as far as Diamond Creek with the Wheeler expedition in 1871, Hillers in 1872 became the first to photograph the Colorado River from Lee's Ferry to Kanab Creek.

I have studied Hillers' photographs and journals for years, since I have been impelled to seek that same spirit of image and adventure. Through weeks of toil and deprivation that 21st-century photographers rarely face, Hillers had overcome

North Rim The North Bass Trail

The 14-mile path begins at Swamp Point on the North Rim and ends at the cable system site on the north side of the Colorado River. The original Puebloan trail was first improved by a prospector in the 1860s or 1870s, then upgraded again in the late 1890s by William Wallace Bass, a trail-builder, settler, miner and promoter who spent 40 years at the Canyon. Getting There: The trailhead, at an elevation of 7,500 feet, begins at Swamp Point. From Flagstaff, take U.S. Route 89 north 116 miles. Turn left (west) on U.S. Route 89A. Turn left (south) on State Route 67 at Jacob Lake. Drive south for 26 miles, just past Kaibab Lodge and DeMotte Park. Turn right (west) onto Forest Service Road 22. Drive 2 miles and turn left (south) onto Forest Service Road 270. Drive 2 miles and turn right (west) onto Forest Service Road 223. Drive 5.5 miles and turn left onto Forest Service Road 268. After about a quarter-mile, bear left at the fork onto Forest Service Road 268B. Continue approximately 1 mile to the park boundary. After you enter the park, turn right (west) onto Swamp Ridge Road. Continue west for about 7 miles to Swamp Point and North Bass Trailhead.

Information: (928) 643-7395; www.fs.fed.us/r3/kai/recreation/.

The North Kaibab Trail

This route is one of the corridor trails and therefore crowded in summer, but among the easiest to access. The trail runs 14 miles from the Rim to Bright Angel Campground and the Colorado River. The top portion, 4.7 miles from the trailhead to Roaring Springs, is steep and the most difficult section. The 28-mile round-trip is not recommended as a day hike, but good day hikes along the trail from the Rim include Coconino Overlook (3 miles roundtrip), Supai Tunnel (4 miles) and Roaring Springs (9.4 miles). Getting There: Follow directions mentioned above from Flagstaff to State Route 67. Drive about 14 miles to the North Kaibab Trailhead, about 2 miles north of the North Rim visitor area. The trailhead shares a parking lot with the trailhead for the Ken Patrick and Uncle Jim trails. Information: (928) 643-7395; www.fs.fed.us/r3/kai/recreation/.

South Rim Grandview Trail

This newly reconstructed trail is the best history-laced day hike from the South Rim, according to Mike Anderson, park historian. Originally designed and built by Peter D. Berry to carry copper ore by mule from the Last Chance Copper Mine, the trail was closed by a landslide for most of 2005. It provides the best access to Horseshoe Mesa and the remains of the mine, which was active from 1892 to 1907. The trail boasts extensive log-cribbing and hand-laid cobblestone rip-rap tread.

Getting There: From Flagstaff, take U.S. Route 89 north to State Route 64. Turn left (west) on State 64 toward the east entrance on the South Rim. Continue north for 14 miles on 64, (also called Desert View Drive and East Rim Drive). Take the left (west) turnoff to Grandview Point. From the overlook, Grandview Trail drops into rugged terrain. Information: (928) 638-2443; www.kaibab.org/bc/gc_tr_gv.htm.

The challenges of photographing the least-inhabited, last-explored region in the contiguous United States. Although my journey includes the relative safety and comfort of a modern river expedition, the storm recalls a passage from Hillers' diary: "Being wet from head to foot anyhow. had to hunt for shelter from the beating rain. Got in the river under the side of the boat. Heard angel's whisper of falling water."

I sit in the stinging rain quaking like a leaf until I, too, hear the first clear whispers of falling water. The thunder falls silent. The wind stands still. The rain stops. I take off my sunglasses and stare at the mud-streaked stereoscopic reflections. The faces are humbled by the great storm, but the eyes still burn with passion to rediscover a connection with the great river. As far downstream as I can see, terra-cotta waterfalls cascade hundreds of feet over cinnamon-red walls into a chocolate brown river. We are sitting in the midst of a living mural that is more Jules Verne than Thomas Moran. We push off from Hillers' camera perch, and I begin photographing a scene he undoubtedly witnessed long before.

Downstream two days later, our six-boat oar-and-paddle expedition prepares to enter the narrow gorge between the ancient opaline walls of Vishnu Schist. Powell called those somber depths the "Great Unknown." On the eve before entering the frightening abyss, he wrote: "We are three-quarters of a mile in the depths of the earth, and the great river shrinks into insignificance. We have an unknown distance yet to run; an unknown river to explore. What falls there are, we know not; what rocks beset the channel, we know not; what walls rise over the river, we know not."

I contemplate the one-armed explorer's misgivings that night. Am I ready for the gorge? I'm not sure. I've had the experience of rafting the unknown river that awaited Powell's heavy wooden boats, but still I find myself fearfully overthinking the upcoming Hance, Sockdolager, Horn Creek and Granite Rapids. Soothed by the starlit river lapping against glistening boulders, I make a simple decision: "Just do what you used to do." I stow my cameras and prepare myself to navigate what Hillers called the "hell holes" and "busters" that had almost swallowed the Emma Dean's and Cañonita's daring crews 133 years earlier.

The next morning I hear the roar of Hermit Rapid as I push my oars into the slick current. We roller-coaster down the booming wave train, the wall of brown water

I sit in the stinging rain quaking like a leaf until I, too, hear the first clear whispers of falling water. side trips Raft the River

Flagstaff is the rendezvous and departure point for many Grand Canyon river trips. Sixteen river outfitters are authorized to run trips through the heart of the Canyon. Mid-May through mid-September is the most popular period to raft the Canyon. Make your trip reservations a year in advance. For a complete list of river outfitters and information on how to launch a private river trip, contact the Grand Canyon River Trip Information Center, (800) 959-9164 or www.nps. gov/grca/river. The outfitters listed are some that offer oarpowered, paddle and motor trips.

Grand Canyon, 5to 16-day Trips

Arizona Raft Adventures 4050 Huntington Drive Flagstaff, AZ 86004 (800) 786-7238 www.azraft.com Canyon Explorations P.O. Box 310 Flagstaff, AZ 86002 (800) 654-0723 www.canyonexplorations.com Grand Canyon Dories P.O. Box 216 Altaville, CA 95221 (800) 877-3679 www.oars.com/gcdories

Weekend River Trips through the Western Grand Canyon

Hualapai River Runners P.O. Box 246 Peach Springs, AZ 86434 (800) 622-4409 Dwarfing our 18-foot boat. Catapulted into a deep black trough, we slide straight up the face of the wave. It collapses over us like a falling roof as I cling to the oars. All I can see is the dark blur of bubbles. All I hear is muffled gurgling. All I feel is the force of the river.

The boat makes a slow steep climb as I plant my feet and get ready. If the angle increases, I will swim for the bottom before Rob's body slams into mine or the boat flips on top of us. But we keep burrowing up through dark water until we break through into sunlight, gasping for air, dizzy with a mixture of adrenalin and joy.

Later, in camp, I walk down the shoreline, staring into the great river and letting tears run down my stubbled cheeks to feel that connection with the one river I'd feared I'd lost forever.

My river journey continues through a succession of infamous rapids as I continue past one surprisingly littlechanged vista Hiller had documented after another. We come at length to Kanab Creek, where Powell had ended his second expedition, fearing the weakened condition of his leaky wooden boats. On September 9, Hillers wrote: "Quite a surprise at breakfast this morning. Major told us that our voyage of toil and danger was at end on the river. Everybody wanted to praise God."

As we pull into Kanab Rapid, it dawns on me that, in some respects, my river journey has also ended where Hillers had left the river. In other respects, it is just begin-ning.

Lava Falls, that ultimate test of Colorado River boatmen and women, lies just ahead. But I suddenly realize I would rather photograph it than row it. My memory of paddle-captaining Lava Falls 14 years earlier in a puny Avon Redshank raft at 33,000 cubic feet per second remains vivid and bright, and nothing I do this day can improve upon that near-perfect run.

Thanks to a friend, Ron, who has helped me climb back in the saddle, I have peered through Hillers' prism and rowed in his wake until the river brought me back home. The images, the adventure, friendships and discoveries have created new memories I will carry with me long after the callouses have peeled and I hear the siren call of this river mistress once again.

I load two motor-driven Nikons with fresh rolls of film, cinch down my lifejacket, take a perch on a wave-battered anvil of black rock and photograph six white boats running the frothing brown rapids of the most legendary big drop in North America. Who could ask for more? Al