Phantom at the Bottom of the Canyon

On the Bright Angel Trail to Phantom Ranch, South Rim of the Grand Canyon. Douglas Sechrist Tucked away deep in the great corrugated depths of the Grand Canyon lies what must be one of America's most unique and remote resorts.

Hundreds of thousands of hopeful travelers from all parts of the world want to visit it, perhaps not so much for the sake of seeing the mile-deep ranch, itself, but because of its location on the floor of the "world's most sublime spectacle."

Whatever the reason, this special place has been unabashedly attracting large numbers of people since 1903, when David Rust established the first camp here for travelers and hunters.

Naturally, he called it Rusts's Camp. It must have proven a worthwhile investment, too, because four years later, in 1907, he undertook to put in a tram-way across the Colorado River. It traveled on a single cable 60 feet above the turbulent Big Red.

After that things remained relatively unchanged, physically. Even the arrival of President Theodore Roosevelt in 1913 did little to alter things, except perhaps the name. It became known as Roosevelt's Camp for several years after his visit.

The real change, however, came in 1921, the fateful year in which the area came to the attention of concessionaire Fred Harvey. After seeing it and liking it he directed the construction of a large ranch-type building, to serve as a hotel, on the site.

Once it was on the drawing boards it was just a question of what to name it. The task fell to Mary Jane Colter, Harvey's staff architect at the Canyon. And the name she chose echoed all the uniquely special qualities of this place set deep in the bowels of a magnificent canyon. She called it Phantom Ranch.

Since that day there have been even more alterations, mutations and permutations at the ranch. But one thing hasn't changed at all since 1903, and perhaps never will: the difficulty in getting to it.

Unlike other popular resorts, you can't reach Phantom Ranch by conventional means unless you call mule riding or hiking conventional. And helicopters are out because National Park regulations forbid the use of aircraft for visitor shuttling in the Canyon.

So you'll probably take the popular mule trip to the ranch. It requires making reservations in advance and takes two days, which includes an overnight stay, part of the package price for the trip. Hikers pay only for food and lodging.

But despite the sometimes rough journey, your arrival at the ranch will be memorable as will be your stay here.

Situated beside the sparkling clear waters of Bright Angel Creek, an excellent trout stream, Phantom Ranch perches on a 14-acre cottonwood-shaded opening between sheer walls of some of the oldest rocks in the world.

Although hardly a ranch in the true sense of the word, this mule rider and hiker motel plays the role perfectly. Its construction is of stone carried from the bed of the creek and wood brought down the Kaibab Trail from the canyon rim on the backs of mules. Also to come via mule power were the stoves, refrigerators and all of the furniture.

And don't ask for a double bed. There aren't any. Since the trail is only about one mule wide in a lot of places, single beds were all that could be brought down.

Food is also served in the ranch tra-dition. You can eat all you want. And it's "tops," as one saddle-sore mule pas-senger said recently. "Too bad it's so far from the highway. It'd make a million!"

When supper's over you might want to visit another of the ranch's special attrac-tions the swimming pool.

Set in a cool, green oasis of pomegran-ate, fig, olive and, of course, huge Now, unless you've made reservations for your mule trip well in advance, forget it, especially in the summer. There are only about 55 mules available in peak season, “and about 555 people a day usually want to ride them,” the trail fore-man will tell you. Hikers on the other hand, get a rate break if too few mules are available, be-cause this leaves beds open at the ranch. But unless you're an exceptionally rugged individual and a seasoned hiker to boot, you'll find walking to Phantom in the summer a grueling experience. Along with the stifling heat, it's a seven-mile hike down the Kaibab Trail, and eleven miles via the Bright Angel Trail to Phan-tom Ranch. You could get in serious trouble. Many do. And if you have to be rescued it could mean considerable ex-pense for you. Really the best time of year to make the trip, all things considered, is spring and fall. Reservations for mules are easier to obtain and hiking is much more pleas-ant.

(Right) The mule trains, Phantom Ranch's only source of supply, makes its way along well maintained canyon trails.

(Far left) Saddle-sore but not sorry, a group of canyon visitors on their way to the ranch.

(Left) Beauty surrounds while healthy appetites get a welcome trail-break.

(Left below) Last chance for a little camaraderie at the hitching post. The ever-popular canyon mules are usually booked solid for months in advance.

(Below) A Canyon spectacle - sunrise along Bright Angel Trail, near Indian Gardens.

But. But if you like snow spectacles, well, then, maybe mid-winter is for you. You'll find the rim decked with snow and even more beautiful than the travel literature descriptions. And mules are available. Occasionally, though, you may find the trails closed because of an overabundance of the white, fluffy stuff. And when the trails close, Phantom Ranch shuts down, too. Such times are rare, though.

But whatever the time of year, each season offers its own particular sensory delights here. And after your first visit you're bound to come back again, because like the friendly mules, Phantom Ranch gets to you.

"I'll go!" He developed a closeness for the ranch, as do thousands of others every year. One lady, Jim remembers, came to the ranch for a day and stayed a month. "This is the place I have been looking for," she told him, and joined in with the workhands who managed the ranch. Like so many others who visit Phantom Ranch she sensed that ultimate in peace and beauty here that severs, at least temporarily, our connections with the hustle and bustle of the outside world.