Seeing Marble Canyon the Hard Way

The 'Back Way' to Marble Canyon

A tough three-day trek leads to Grand Canyon views usually seen only by rafters

A large crow took flight several feet below the rim of the side canyon we planned to hike into.

As we watched the bird soar across the chasm, I recited the counting crow rhyme from my childhood: One for sorrow, two for joy.... I waited for the crow's mate to join it. But it danced solo on the open air, and I felt a shudder of apprehension at the silent omen revealed the night before embarking on a 16-mile, three-day trek.

Photographer Kerrick James and I stood on the ledge trying to find the nearly forgotten Shinumo Wash Trail that is tucked away in far north central Arizona. Here and there we were able to pick out what appeared to be the winding track first bushwhacked in the 1950s by workers sent in by the U.S. Bureau of Reclamation to test the potential of damming the Colorado River at Marble Canyon. But the lengthening shadows and rocky terrain lying 2,500 feet below us obscured any real sense of a trail.

The night turned cool and James and his friend, Jay Holiday, and I picked out constellations in the black velvety sky until the moon rose full and ripe, casting its silvery light on the silent plateau.

The next morning, we headed out eagerly on the elusive, little-used trail. The sun quickly burned away the night's coolness as we started down the steep, narrow path to the canyon floor. The heat thickened and we drank much of our water supply, confident that plenty more awaited us just a few short miles away. Veterans warn of the dangers found in the canyonlands. Sturdy boots, hats and plenty of water prove absolutely essential, especially in the summer months when temperatures can reach 108 degrees during the day and then drop drastically at night. Even as well prepared as we thought we were, we soon discovered these dangers are real and that distances can be deceiving.

Few hikers attempt this portion of the rugged terrain and, until the 1960s, only about 300 rafters had run the Colorado through the Grand Canyon. During the construction of Glen Canyon Dam from 1956 to 1964, the Bureau of Reclamation looked to Marble Canyon as the location for the next in a series of dams planned in the Grand Canyon to ease the river's dramatic fluctuations and control the sediment buildup at Lake Mead. The plans for Marble Canyon Dam started a chain of events that led to a conflict between the Bureau and the Sierra Club. In 1966 the Sierra Club took out full-page ads in The New York Times urging the public's protection of the Grand Canyon, and river runner Martin Litton began shuttling people down the Canyon in his dories to further get out the word.

After two hours of strenuous bushwhacking through desert vegetation that wound through a maze of boulders and past sudden drop-offs, we found ourselves with a depleted water supply and Marble Canyon nowhere in sight. We understood why only river rafters see the places we were attempting to hike to. The trail kept [PRECEDING PANEL, PAGES 6 AND 7] In the northeastern stretch of Grand Canyon National Park, a backpacker's shelter overlooks Redwall Cavern, a vast chamber carved by the Colorado River.

[ABOVE] If captured, collared lizards will defend themselves aggressively by biting.

[RIGHT] After miscalculating their water needs for a hike to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, Jay Holiday and Carrie Miner have miles to go before they'll drink.

My companions and I had tasted a hint of sorrow and fear, experienced the joy of a new day.

Continued from page 8 switching from side to side of the narrow spur canyon and we lost it countless times, backtracking and building cairns to help us find our way back. I began to feel like Hansel and Gretel and a friend leaving a trail of rocks, and wondered about the trials lying ahead. The "short spur trail" from the guidebook finally brought us to an overlook at a juncture called Silver Grotto, where the gorge we were following met Marble Canyon and the Colorado River.

The enticing blue-green water rushed merrily along through the canyon, tempting us with its siren's song echoing up the sheer 700-foot walls to tease us. We gazed wearily toward the water, so close but still so very far away, before continuing on our way. A long drink and a cool soak occupied our thoughts as the trail continued along the escarpment until it at last it dipped down to the river at a small sandy beach where we camped. We had hiked strenuously for eight hours, five of them without water.

Tamarisks clogged the meager shore. Stumbling to the river's edge, we filtered the water and drank generously as fast as we could pump it out of the filter. The sand seemed soft, but here and there Rough-cut rocks jutted out to trip the unwary. Standing at the bottom of the canyon, it seemed as though the river had trespassed, cut too deeply into the earth to expose rock never meant to see the light of day. The polished cliffs gleamed a blood red and the higher reaches of the exposed Supai, Coconino and Toroweap formations towered high overhead. Dusk settled quickly, plunging the canyon into deep, ominous shadows. James and Holiday laid their bags on the slopes, with a path between them, while my small tent nestled near a tiny thicket of tamarisks. Ants quickly covered the tent, backpacks and sleeping bags and the sand found its way into every place the ants missed. Exhausted, we hoped for a better day tomorrow and hunkered down for a long, cold night. One is for sorrow.

The next morning, I arose still feeling dehydrated as James tempted me with a cup of coffee. When I stepped out of the tent, my fatigued muscles refused to hold my weight and I immediately plopped onto the sand, which teemed with inquisitive ants. A furious scramble and a cup of coffee later, I sat on James' sleeping bag, and watched him cook breakfast. The guys quit talking to me when I answered In snarls and grunts. They laughed, but I failed to find anything amusing about the morning. This just wasn't any fun. And then the sun peeked over the rim to light the Canyon and my perspective began to change. That's when we saw them tiny deer tracks that passed between the sleeping bags and headed down to the river. We felt shocked to find out we'd had warm-blooded company during the night. Until this time, I'd wondered why humans would travel in a place shunned even by animals. Birds sang in the new day, fish splashed in the river and things unseen rustled the mea-ger shrubs. As we headed farther into the wilds [ABOVE] Miner and Holiday make their way along one of the more well-defined legs of the Shinumo Wash Trail in 29-Mile Canyon.

[OPPOSITE PAGE] Day dawns near Vaseys Paradise on the final morning of the hikers' adventure.

Later that morning, we marveled at the contrasts of the red walls against the vibrant green of the river. When John Wesley Powell first braved these waters in 1869, he dubbed the river-polished expanses of Redwall limestone the "Marble Pavement," a term later adopted in the naming of Marble Canyon. Redwall limestone, deposited in an ancient ocean about 350 million years ago, normally bears the color of an overcast sky, but the limestone on those walls bore a cloak of red stains where the Supai formation and Hermit shale have leaked iron oxide down the smooth cliffs.

We hiked along a narrow path cut in the Supai formation, looking 800 feet down sheer cliffs to the river below. About 2 miles from camp, we came to an overlook affording a magnificent view of Vaseys Paradise, a warm spring breaking out of the sheer Redwall cliff face to fall hundreds of feet to the river below. A green carpet of mosses and ferns draped down from the clear springs, which dashed to the river in silvery skeins. When Powell first saw the spot, he wrote, "On coming nearer, we find fountains bursting from the rock, high overhead, and the spray in the sunshine forms gems, which bedeck the wall." He named the warm water springs Vaseys Paradise for his botanist colleague G.W. Vasey.

A 10-inch-long collared lizard joined us during a break at the springs. We sat in amazement as the fearless reptile scurried down to perch next to Holiday. The black bands around its neck and its green "jeweled" collar gleamed. The lizard and Holiday watched each other in silence for a long while, sharing in the beauty of the day and the splendorous sights below.

After another mile, we could see tiny yellow rafts and their occupants stopping to explore Redwall Cavern, an immense limestone cave that Powell claimed could seat 50,000 people. From our vantage point, we could only make out the shadowed entrance of the enormous cavern and tiny-looking rafters walking on the sandy beach. Our trail ended at the old dam-builders' campsite, where a few concrete slabs, U-bolts and cable remnants testify to the trail's original purpose.

That night, back at our campsite on the little beach, things looked different, sounded different, felt different than they had the previous night. The setting suncast a golden light over the craggy landscape, revealing a symphony of brilliant colors millions of years in the making. On the third day, we left early, hoping to beat the heat on our way out. The trek back took less than half the time we'd taken finding our way in. The canyon opened for us, showing us the way out of course the cairns we'd left at every turn helped.

As we neared the top of the escarp-ment, the black wings of a crow briefly blotted out the sun. But this crow had a Friend. I smiled at the pair surfing on the thermals as the rest of the counting crows rhyme came back to me: One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy, five for silver, six for gold.

Seven for a secret never to be told.

I looked back toward the canyons we'd explored, marveling that I had actually been there, I'd really gone down into that wild place where people meet their true strengths and weaknesses. My companions and I had tasted a hint of sorrow and fear, experienced the joy of a new day, discovered silver linings and golden hopes and tasted a hint of the unknown this land holds. It's an ancient secret whispering through those canyons to those who enter. It just took me a while to hear it. AlH ADDITIONAL READING: Grand Canyon: Time Below the Rim, a scenic-adventure book published by Arizona Highways, portrays the inner Canyon's seldom-seen landscapes with some 200 color photographs by Gary Ladd and accounts of treks into remote areas by nature writer Craig Childs. See page 45 for ordering information.

FEES: The backcountry hiking fee is $5 per person and a camping fee of $5 per person, per night. TRAVEL ADVISORY: Spring and fall are the best times to hike Shinumo Wash Trail. Wear sturdy hiking boots and take plenty of water. Permits for hiking the Shinumo Wash Trail can be obtained from The Navajo Nation.

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION: Navajo Nation Parks and Recreation, Cameron Visitors Center, (928) 679-2303.