Why God Put Backpackers in the Grand Canyon

WHY GOD PUT BACKPACKERS INTO THE GRAND CANYON THE TRUE STORY, BY GARY LADD

That most versatile of species... trekking below the Grand Canyon's rim. George McCullough photo Long before Major John Wesley Powell, Colorado River explorer, picked his way through the treacherous rapids of the Grand Canyon back in 1869, lived there animals ideally suited to the Canyon's environment. So perfectly suited were they, in fact, they existed nowhere else on earth. Adult specimens had the size and shape of 10-gallon hats. They also were quad-rupedal, surefooted, adept with their forepaws, short-legged, and covered with a rough brown fur that dragged on the ground. They were graced with friendly faces, however, built around a slight muzzle extension. Unkempt bangs shielded wide gray eyes from the desert brightness, and both males and females possessed a peculiar but extremely useful abdominal

WHY GOD PUT BACKPACKERS INTO THE GRAND CANYON

pouch. In spite of their long hair and short legs, they were master gymnasts. They fearlessly bounded from one limestone ledge to another. By nature they were nonaggressive (except during their annual meetings) and gregarious. The Quitch, they called themselves.

Little time was spent foraging and less sleeping. Immense delight was theirs when scrambling along cliffs, playing games, and resting at midday in the shade of a willow by a noisy rapid. But their preoccupation was searching for fossils. Each day they searched, using their pouches for storage.

Fossil searching was fanatical and grew more so as, over the years, fossil finding grew harder. Unquestionably, the environmental niche for the Quitch was an itch to be fossiliferously rich.

The climax of this fossil fever came in the fall when all the Quitch gathered for the annual Fossil Festival and Organizational Meeting at the Royal Archives deep in a travertine cave. A ribbon of spring water flowed from a high cliff at the entrance to the underground chamber. In this stream fossils were cleaned and readied for display. During the two-day festival, fossil finds were tallied and honors bestowed upon those Quitch who gathered the biggest, prettiest, most unusual, and largest number of fossils. Then the fossils were sorted, inventoried, cataloged, and placed in the Grand Vault. A rather staid and dignified affair was the Fossil Festival; but the Organizational Meeting following was a wild party. Every Quitch, no matter his age or how distant his home, was there to celebrate. And that was the joy and the tragedy of the Quitch of the Grand Canyon.

The Organizational Meeting of 1854 was a riotous one, thanks to the finding of a new fossil field. A new record was set for total fossils found in a single season. The year's statistics, after undistinguished decades, suddenly exceeded the old record established in 1717. Unfortunately, the hullabaloo raised by the happy Quitch was more than the ancient walls of the Royal Archives could withstand. The brittle travertine failed, burying beneath a jumble of huge boulders the entire Quitch population.

The Quitch was surefooted; Backpackers are slightly top-heavy but do indeed sport Vibram soles.

The Quitch had a hankering for fossils; Backpackers crave Kodachromes.

The Quitch had pouches; Backpackers have backpacks.

The Quitch had straggly hair over their eyes; Backpackers have straggly hair and sunglasses over their eyes.

The Quitch looked mussy; Backpackers look scruffy.

Today, nothing remains of the curious Quitch or their fossil hoard, nothing except the name "Royal Archives" corrupted into Royal Arch Creek that flows through Elves Chasm.

The unfortunate passing of the Quitch shocked the other life forms of the Grand Canyon like nothing since the Toroweap volcanoes. But time softened the brutal edge as natural laws worked to fill the void.

Adhering to a long-standing policy of non-duplication, natural selection chose a replacement only reminiscent of the lost Quitch. The most versatile of species, the human being, was singled out for the job. A few clever modifications, later described by the arrogant humans as technological advancements, were quickly contrived, and the new creature was set loose on the trail. In many ways the new animal (Back-packer footsorei) is a success. But there is still room for improvement. Witness the following: the Quitch was surefooted; backpackers are slightly top-heavy but do indeed sport Vibram soles. The Quitch had a hankering for fossils; backpackers crave Kodachromes. The Quitch had pouches; backpackers have backpacks. The Quitch had straggly hair over their eyes; backpackers have straggly hair and sunglasses over their eyes. The Quitch looked mussy; backpackers look scruffy. However, whereas the Quitch were quite free of nuisances, the backpacker is plagued by leaky fuel bottles, pack rat attacks at midnight, and a chronic shortage of windmill cookies.

But the physical resemblances are not the reasons why God put backpackers in the Grand Canyon. More importantly, He approves of the backpacker philosophy. The Quitch believed the joy of life flowed from two sources: scrambling on rock and taking pleasure in simplicity. And that is what the Grand Canyon backpacker desires, plus an occasional helicopter evacuation. ☐ Gary Ladd, a free-lance photographer and writer, lives in Page, Arizona. His interests include backpacking, river running, and experiencing the Colorado Plateau.