Life at the Bottom of the Canyon

Back to the Basics Life at the Bottom of the Canyon

Bruce Aiken gestures toward the stream that rushes past his front porch and the steep canyon wall beyond it as he talks to his wife, Mary. “This is the real world,” he says, and she shakes her head, counters as if on cue: “This isn't the real world, Bruce. The real world is up there, and it's a mess. Down here, this is better, but you can't say it's the real world.

“The real world is full of pollution,” she says, “and problems and families that aren't close. We've escaped from the real world. We're lucky.” “We're lucky alright,” amends Bruce, “but we haven't escaped the real world. We've escaped to it.' Both recite their lines with the familiarity of actors in a play that is enjoying a long and successful run. After all, a good-natured argument is an old-fashioned form of entertainment, and Bruce and Mary Aiken, by inclination as well as circumstance, are very much attuned to the simple joys.

They have to be. There is no television in their lives, no movies, no cocktail lounges. For about 10 months each year, Bruce and Mary and their three small children live at the bottom of the mile-deep Grand Canyon without those 20th century amenities. Their life-style was chosen years ago when Bruce was an ambitious geology student, so ambitious, in fact, that he set his sights low. He knew there was room at the bottom.

“Hey, if you love rocks, there's no place like the Grand Canyon. First time I came here, I thought it would be like a fantasy to live on the Rim. Then later, when I found out that there was a job that would mean actually living in the Canyon itself, well, I knew that somehow I had to get that job.” place like the Grand Canyon. First time I came here, I thought it would be like a fantasy to live on the Rim. Then later, when I found out that there was a job that would mean actually living in the Canyon itself, well, I knew that somehow I had to get that job.” His voice trails off. A small yard separates his house from Bright Angel Creek. In the mornings, it's not uncommon for deer to graze in the yard. In the evenings, Bruce and Mary often haul out mattresses to sleep under the stars that blanket the sky on clear nights.

“Yeah, I heard about this job,” Bruce continues. “I was summer help, working on a trail crew living over at Cottonwood Camp. We were working on the North Kaibab Trail, so we used to come right past this house on our way to work. I used to look at it and think how great it would be to live here. And then, of course, I got the job. That was eight years ago.

“And I'll tell you something else, and I'm really serious. Mary and I kid about it, you know, but right now I'm being serious. I think this is the real world.” Mary has gone inside and is reading to the children. Only the slight whirl of a tape recorder and the rushing of the creek disturb the silence. Since neither seem able to respond to the cue, Bruce shifts to another subject.

“I don't know if I want you to print this, but the Bright Angel, at times, has the best trout fishing in the state . . .

He talks for a minute about the dietary habits of brown trout and the convenience of having dinner swim by the front porch, then excuses himself. It's time to go to work.

“Drop by the pumping station later,” he says. “I'll show you around.”

(Background) A violent summer storm in full regalia masses over the Grand Canyon. Michael Collier (Insets) Silas, 3, left, fills part of a warm summer day with a cool dip in Bright Angel Creek, while his sisters, Mercy, 8, and Shirley, 5, earn pocket money selling lemonade to thirsty Canyon hikers.

The North Rim of the Grand Canyon is one of the wettest dry spots in the world. Despite an average annual rainfall of more than 22 inches and an average annual snowfall of more than 120 inches, there is virtually no groundwater. It disappears into the 250-foot-thick layer of Kaibab limestone that forms the capping formation of the north and south rims. This limestone is a perfect aquifer, readily dissolved by water with a slight acid base. The pine forests on the northern rim add just the right touch of acid to the rain and snow.

The limestone soaks up the water like a sponge, temporarily holding some while the rest passes down through channels that are steadily being carved and enlarged. After having descended more than 4000 feet and taken on the appearance of an irresistible force, it runs smack into the immovable object - the Bright Angel shale.

When the water hits the shale, its downward flight is abruptly halted. It moves along the top of the impermeable shale until it finds an opening in the canyon wall. Then it pours out of that opening with such force that it could have only one name - Roaring Springs. At certain times of the year, the water rushes out at a rate of more than 5000 gallons a minute.

And when that water comes roaring out Bruce Aiken is waiting for it. His job is to send it back up.

There's something special about night in the Grand Canyon. Mary slips into an almost rhapsodical monologue about night in the Canyon, as she moves along a trail on the way from the house to the pump station, half a mile away.

"I never used to like it, you know," she says about life at the bottom, "until I started walking at night. See Bright Angel Creek? It flitters like that at night. It sparkles like diamonds as it goes over the rocks. It looks like a river of diamonds rushing past our house."

The trail she's taking is a shortcut. In one section, it begins to wind along the edge of a steep cliff. Mary turns on the flashlight she almost forgot, had remembered only as an afterthought, and shines it behind her as she walks. The night is dimly illuminated by a quarter-moon and countless stars. The canyon walls are somehow more awesome in the faint light.

"You can feel God," Mary says without pretense. "I never really knew God until I walked down here at night. I mean the power, the glory, all that stuff. You can feel God, sense His presence."

A visitor nods his assent. The sense of the creation, that this is how it all looked in the Beginning, is almost intoxicating. It's easy to see why Bruce and Mary laughed at a question about drugs. They're both under 30. The question hadn't seemed so silly in the daylight, but who needs an artificial high when the real thing comes every night?

"It's really easy to hike in the moonlight, beautiful, too," says Mary. "It gives everything a different look. Some nights it's so clear down here you'd be amazed. And the stars. There are clouds of them.

"No, I've never seen a UFO. Not up close anyway. I've seen a lot of strange lights, but they were probably satellites or something. I used to look at the stars and think 'Come and get me' but that's when I lived in the city. I guess cities do that to you."

You ought to be able to hear the pump station before you see it inside it's loud enough with its clanking and churning that you have to yell to be heard by a person four feet away but the water at nearby Roaring Springs is too much competition. Still, it's a noisy place to work. Outside the roaring of the water, inside the din of the machinery.

"I used to tell myself I'd never work around noise," hollers Bruce, as he shows a visitor the new pumps. "I was into quiet. Now I'm at home with this. I can hear a strange sound in all this noise and pick it up immediately. I know something's wrong, and I can usually tell by the sound what it is."

The pump station, which Aiken operates and maintains, supplies the North Rim with its only source of water. The first pumping facility was built in 1928 by the Union Pacific Railroad, which had been awarded a contract to develop the North Rim of the Canyon. Three pumps, each powered by its own 50 horsepower motor, were installed to pump water 4000 feet up through 2.5 miles of pipeline.

The railroad turned the station over to the National Park Service in 1972, and the three original pumps which Aiken named the Primera, Segunda, and Stupida.

The old station was demolished, and Aiken is sad about that decision. He thinks it should have been made into an historic landmark.

"I suppose I'm sentimental about things like that, but for years it was the heart of the North Rim," he says, and amid the clanking and churning of the pumps, his metaphor seems strangely appropriate. Then, detecting a foreign noise somewhere in the clatter, he jumps up to adjust a valve. When he comes back, he's smiling.

"Even new equipment requires attention once in a while."

Life at the bottom isn't all picking out noises, nor is it all religious hikes in the moonlight. There is the matter of making a home.

Mercy is 8, Shirley is 5, and Silas is approaching his 3rd birthday. The Aikens have been educating their children themselves. Mary has been teaching English and math and Bruce the sciences. The Aikens have no misgivings about teaching their children, but Mary sometimes worries about the lack of social interaction.

But that will be remedied this fall when the children will be enrolled in school in Ajo, the Aiken's winter home.

"There aren't many children hiking around down here. Whenever I see somebody with kids (the Aiken home is at the foot of the North Kaibab Trail) I rush out and offer to babysit. Usually the parents are delighted. But, like I say, it's unusual to see small children down here."

On the other hand, Bruce sees some advantages to the children's relative isolation.

"When we're on the outside, they fight a lot. Down here, they have to get along together. After all, if they can't get along with each other, who are they going to play with? And I think they learn to use their imaginations much more, too. They're always inventing games or singing."

Actually, the family's life-style is geared toward education. Bruce and Mary are both avid readers, and their interest has rubbed off on their children. Mercy already reads very well, and both parents constantly read to the children.

The world of consumer credit, however, will have to be taught. The kids won't learn by observation. Except for a grocery bill that arrives shortly after the monthly order has been flown in, and a telephone bill, the Aikens have few expenditures. Utilities are furnished by the Park Service and the monthly rent is automatically deducted from Bruce's paycheck.

The grocery bill is usually kept low through the family's self-sufficiency. Bruce often catches dinner in the Bright Angel, Mary is an accomplished baker, and a garden provides the family with fresh produce.

Perhaps partially because of their diet "We couldn't run out and have junk food for dinner even if we wanted to," says Mary the Aikens are an extremely healthy family.

"We've probably got the cleanest air in the state down here," says Bruce, "and the water from the springs is just great."

Also keeping the family healthy is the fact that they must walk everywhere. In fact, the only time the Aikens get ill is when they go topside.

"It happens like clockwork," laughs Bruce. "As soon as we get to the top, we rush out and do all the 20th century things. We go get a pizza or some hamburgers, go to a movie and buy some candy. By the 2nd or 3rd day we're all sick, but at least we get those things out of our system."

Although the Aikens seldom drink alcoholic beverages they usually order beer with the groceries. The beer is reserved for drop-in people. down and all they can do is rest. We just love it when they come.

"Yeah," he says, in response to a question, "they're all afraid of the hike up. Who isn't? It's a long climb. Some-times just the thought of it makes them stay longer. We've had them stay for up to 10 days. But like I say, we love it. Just one time in 8 years have either Mary or I been sick and that's when Mary had a sore throat and could hardly talk. I keep telling her, she brought it on herself by talking to her sister so much."

Sometimes the visitors are invited guests. Governor Bruce Babbitt, his wife Hattie, and their oldest son Chris-topher, stayed with the Aikens several years ago, when Babbitt was attorney general. He had been unable to get a reservation in any of the regular camp-grounds and, through an uncle who is a friend of one of Babbitt's hiking part-ners, the Aikens invited the Babbitts to stay with them.

"It was great," recalls Mary. "I really like them. They're just regular people."

Sometimes the people who drop in, do so inadvertently. As employees of the Park Service, the Aikens offer first aid and help to hikers whose expertise is overmatched by their enthusiasm.

Some hikers fail to carry water with them. Some expect to find a hotel or a restaurant at the bottom of the trail and are dismayed to discover that the closest Grand Canyon monoliths and early morning fog are the kinds of scenes that have reawakened Bruce Aiken's interest in the visual arts, par-ticularly painting. He has two successful showings of his work on the South Rim to his credit. Jeff Kida/

Kathleen Norris Cook

Thing, the snack bar at Phantom Ranch, is nine miles away down Bright Angel Canyon.

Because of their isolation, the Aikens have had to manufacture their own di-versions. Both Bruce and Mary paint.

Bruce, who studied visual arts before moving to Arizona and falling in love with geology, has found that his interest in painting has been rekindled. He devotes much of his leisure time to the art, and has had several successful showings of his work on the South Rim.

The sales of his paintings have increased dramatically, and Bruce says his art would be the only reason for leaving the Canyon.

Then there are the usual family sing-alongs, the nights spent reading together and, of course, the family hikes to fill up their time. The Aiken home is less than three miles from Ribbon Falls, One of Mary's and the children's favorite spots.

Perhaps most importantly, there have been hours and hours of talking. And at least a few minutes of old-fashioned, enjoyable disagreements.

"It's a back to basics kind of life,"

says Bruce. "That's why I call it the real world."

Mary smiles, shakes her head, counters as if on cue, "Bruce, this isn't the real world...."

Bookshelf

by Mary Lu Moore Inquiries about any of these titles should be directed to the book publisher, not ARIZONA HIGHWAYS.

AN INTRODUCTION TO GRAND CANYON GEOLOGY. By Michael Collier. Grand Canyon Natural History Assn., P.O. Box 399, Grand Canyon, AZ 86023, 1980. 42 p. $2.95, softcover.

The author, a graduate geologist, photographer, writer, and veteran Colorado River boatman, involves his readers in a search for understanding the complex geological history of the ever changing, ever constant Grand Canyon. In a conversational manner, he describes the Colorado Plateau; sedimentary, metamorphic and igneous rocks; and structural and erosional history. Each chapter has a brief summary, with a synopsis of two billion years of Canyon geologic history at the end of the volume. Maps, illustrations, and absorbing color photographs are skillfully used to illustrate points mentioned in the text. There is a bibliography for additional general and technical reading. Here is an easy, painless, sometimes humorous introduction to a complicated subject.

CAVES AND CANYONS. Illustrated by De Grazia; Words by Sister M. Angela Toigo, O. S. B. Benedictine Sisters, 3888 Paducah Drive, San Diego, CA 92117.1979.48 p. $3.75, hardcover.

Once again Ted De Grazia and Sister Angela have combined talents to bring us a pensive, spiritual, colorful, work of art. While Sr. Angela's sensitive poetry can be interpreted as reflecting moods of the Grand Canyon, it can be even more appropriately viewed as describing the recesses of the human mind contemplating God. De Grazia's visual imagery deftly projects the same feelings. A charming and enriching sequel to God and a Mouse.

WHERE WATER FLOWS: THE RIVERS OF ARIZONA. By Lawrence Clark Powell, with photographs by Michael Collier and a foreword By Bruce Babbitt. Northland Press, P. O. Box N, Flagstaff, AZ 86002. 1980. 64 р. $25.00, hardcover.

As Governor Babbitt states in his foreword, “In the Sonoran Desert the wet rivers are lifelines that delimit where people settle, how they live, what they grow, and ultimately, the shape of their culture.” Powell's retrospective essay historical yet contemporary, objective yet personal acknowledges that essential vitality. Treating the seven largest rivers individually, and using their original Spanish names, the author gives each a biography and relates his personal experiences with them. Readers will encounter along the way a number of well-known personalities and references to other authors who have written about our state. Michael Collier's splendid color photographs capture the immensity and distinct personality of each river. Don Bufkin's map places them all in perspective, although map devotees may reach for a more detailed map. This is a thoughtful, timely publication which will be valued by those who esteem Arizona's geography, history, and literature.

THE ENCHANTED LIGHT; IMAGES OF THE GRAND CANYON. Photographs by Barry Thompson; Introduction by Stephen Carothers. Museum of Northern Arizona Press, Rte. 4, Box 270, Flagstaff, AZ 86001. 1979. 73 р. $7.00, softcover.

In his introduction Grand Canyon naturalist Carothers philosophizes about his increasing feeling for, awareness of, and reactions to, the Canyon and the Colorado River. With great feeling, photographer Thompson captures nuances of the Canyon's light and shadows in black and white photos of incredible clarity and depth.

THE COMPLETE GUIDE TO AMERICA'S NATIONAL PARKS. Compiled by Patrick J. Quirk and Thomas F. Fise. National Park Foundation, P. O. Box 57473, Washington, D. C. 20037. 1979. 292 p. $4.95-85¢ mailing, softcover.

Beyond the unassuming title are descriptions of 353 national parks, Beyond the unassuming title are descriptions of 353 national parks, monuments, recreation areas, seashores, historical sites, and more arranged alphabetically by state. For each state there is a map showing major highways in relation to national parks and monuments within it. Each entry contains a mailing address and telephone number, brief description, and directions to get there, list of activities, accommodations, and other data for visitors, and general information including any necessary safety precautions. A good table of contents and index make this volume easy to use. A list of peak visitation months helps vacationers plan their visits accordingly. Take careful note of the mailing address, as it does not appear in the publication.

THE GRAND CANYON: UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL. Robert C. Euler and Frank Tikalsky, Eds. Foreword by Bruce Babbitt. Western Montana College Foundation, Dillon, MT 59725. 1980. 88 p. $7.25, softcover (plus 55¢ mailing).

A number of experts devoted to the Grand Canyon have written essays on their special area of expertise. Following Governor Babbitt's general remarks are chapters on Canyon geology, flora and fauna, ecology, history, archaeology, river running and exploration, and hiking trails. Also considered is the serious threat of the impact of man, including his dams, which changes the nature of the Canyon and the Colorado River and adds human pollution. At the end of each topic is a short bibliography. Interspersed throughout the text are 27 fine color photographs. Of varying length and depth, these essays help one acquire new perspectives and aesthetic enrichment from the Grand Canyon experience.

GRAND CANYON WILDFLOWERS. By Arthur M. Phillips III; Photography by John Richardson. Grand Canyon Natural History Assn., P. O. Box 399, Grand Canyon, AZ 86023. 1979. 145 р. $6.50, softcover.

This beautiful, sturdy take-along is well indexed, with a glossary of essential terms and a very pertinent bibliography. There are meticulous descriptions and locations of flora by geographical distribution and seasons of occurrence. Arrangement is by color a real boon for us botanical unsophisticates then within categories used in most botanical manuals. The very instructive introduction is to climatology and botany of the North and South rims and the inner Canyon. The many photographs are of superior quality. This book is a must for all who traverse the Canyon by foot or water.

Yours Sincerely

Comments and questions from around the state, the nation, and the world.

Editor, I have been receiving Arizona Highways over fifteen years. Every year as the renewal date comes due I feel it is the one and only magazine I can't do without.

Helen Edward Hillsboro, IL P.S. I share all my issues with the Jr. High School and I received a thank you from the principal on behalf of all the students.

Dear Helen, Thank you for your kind letter. We often receive letters and phone calls from people like yourself, who have subscribed to Arizona Highways for years and now they don't know what to do with all their back copies “they're too valuable to throw away.” We most often recommend that they be given to schools, as you did, or libraries, hospitals, old people's homes, etc.

-the Editor Editor, Each month we look forward to receiving Arizona Highways Magazine. It really blessed our hearts in January to see our special bird, the sandhill crane, in it. We have wondered where they go, for we enjoy watching them from early spring until it starts to turn cold. We watch them in the fields about a mile from our home the world around us is indeed beautiful and we thank you for putting it in print.

Russell & Catherine Bradbury Dellwood, WI Dear Russell & Catherine, Sandhill cranes are indeed impressive birds. They nest as far north as Canada, Alaska, even Siberia, and they winter as far south as Mexico.

-the Editor Editor, I was alarmed when reading the January, 1981, issue to find you have moved the “Wilderness of Rocks” (page 29) from the Chiricahua Mountains to the Catalina Mountains.

K.C. Hamilton Tucson, AZ Dear K.C. Our apologies. We switched photos at the last minute and failed to change the caption. The photo is of the Santa Catalinas near Tucson. And the Wilder-ness of Rocks is in the Chiricahuas.-the Editor Editor, Our son was recently transferred to Phoenix from here in the frozen North. In order to show us more of the beauty of Arizona, he gave us a subscription to Arizona Highways. His statement to us was, “... it's all here just as you see it pictured. There is no way I can tell you better.”

T.J. Mahonik North Syracuse, NY

Editor, This past summer I had the pleasure of experiencing the gorgeous state of Arizona for the first time. I found the scenery there to be the most breathtaking I've ever seen. Arizona Highways has been sent to me as a gift, and I could never enjoy anything more! Your photography and articles are most special to me and bring back the memories I treasure most from those “Islands In The Sky.”

Jan Myers Vincennes, IN

Editor, Having received now for the past four years your indeed rarely beautiful magazine, I feel it my duty to tell you about the intellectual stimulation and spiritual re-creation the interesting articles and magnificent illustrations offer me. Living in a small village in the Alps, and standing at the threshold of age when the end of one's life is always present, I can hardly find words to express my appreciation for this valuable monthly diversion.

Hedwig Thullner Siebenburgerheim, Germany Editor, It seems futile to select any one issue for comment, but January 1981 was outstanding . particularly that story on Fort Huachuca with the four cavalrymen silhouetted against a backdrop of Arizona mountains at sunset. Charge it off to the foggy imagination that comes with old age, but someone seemed to be blowing “Taps” on a badly dented old Army bugle. Margaret Delehanty San Mateo, CA Editor, I want to thank you for the lovely article on my birthplace Bisbee. I spent my early years living on the hill in Warren and have wonderful memories of accompanying my grandfathers around the area: trips to Fort Huachuca, movies at the Lyric, Mass at St. Patrick's, tasting my first beer in Brewery Gulch and my favorite outing breakfast at the Copper Queen Hotel! . I thank those (who live there) for their loving care, and I thank you for taking me back to my earliest memories.

Joan Cunningham Evans Westminster, CA Editor, Having taken your magazine for the past 4 years I have accustomed myself to the excellence, with respect to your other wonderful photographic contributors, [and] of any Muench picture. I was full of expectancy when on page 26 (December, 1980) there was a footnote saying “Following panel, Colorado River from Toroweap Point, Josef Muench.” But when I turned the page I gasped to myself, “How did he get that!” In green “old” England that picture really registered. Such a multitude of red, orange, brown shades and such brilliant sunshine! Thank you Josef Muench!Philip Newman Oxted, England (Inside back cover) From the 3000-foot height of Toroweap Point, on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, the river-runner's boat, lower left, is an insignificant dot, racing to collide with the violence of Lava Falls just ahead, on the Colorado River. Josef Muench (Back cover) Filled to the rim with cloud vapor, the Grand Canyon takes on a strange, somber mood. Read more about the Canyon's exciting visual variety beginning on page 14. David Muench

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