The Songs (and Dances) of Beautiful, Badass Backpackers

by D. J. Green | Oct 30, 2024 | Finding the Words, Ground Work

A reverie on four fantastic days in the Grand Canyon

Day 1

Intake of breath as each bend in the trail

reveals stunning view after stunning view.

The rattle of ravens soaring above, and swooping below,

the sheer cliffs of Coconino (sandstone).

The twisting butt drop, shrubbery shimmy, and rock fall crawl—

dance moves on the descent from rim to river.

Lunch stop crunch of carrots and mini brie munch.

Shades of sienna and burnt umber, shift with the sun

on the cliffs of Redwall (limestone), finally, above us.

Silent screams of tired quads and big toes bashed.

A cheer when we step down to the streambed

for the final stretch to camp.

And another when we hear the roar of the river.

Accomplished, we say. We feel accomplished.

The Colorado, clear and green, serenades us as we settle.

We three, the only human souls here, watch moon shadows

climb the cliffs of Shinumo (quartzite).

Then the rapid sings us to sleep.

Day 2

A day out of packs invites a slow start.

Dorea and Deb brew morning coffee and tea,

while Moni tweaks her tent (aka the blue flying squirrel suit), again.

When raft crew after raft crew, (four, or more?) arrive,

pulling up upon the opposite shore, to scout Hance Rapid,

we amble downstream to watch their rides through.

The paddlers’ whoops, and the calls

of the small flock of Red Winged blackbirds

along the river’s edge, the soundtrack of the morning.

Later, as the day heats, we whoop too

upon submerging in the chill of the back eddy

beside “our” beach

where we contemplate the curve of a diabase dike

arching through the Hakatai (shale).

Later still, we share “our” beach with the hot and weary hikers

who join us at the base of Red Canyon.

But there’s plenty of room, and kinship that comes

with the work it takes to arrive at this haven, this heaven.

Day 3

Rising as the moon sets, a Great Blue heron glides

over the wide green ribbon of river.

We break camp, and begin the climb up through the ages.

“Be bold, start cold,” we say. The morning chill

soon feeling welcome as we march upward, hearts pumping hard.

Gaining the Tonto Platform, we glimpse

the steep and sculpted rocks of the canyon’s inner gorge.

The Vishnu (schist) shot through with the Orthoclase feldspar pink

of the Zoroaster (granite). We pause at the wonder of it,

prudent of the breathtaking drop, mere feet from our booted feet.

With more than six miles behind us, and two ahead,

we stop for lunch and water, in the sweet shade of

cottonwoods, serenaded by Canyon frogs.

The water, enough for that day and the next,

make for heavy packs, as we head for Horseshoe Mesa—up, up, up.

Muscles and minds fully engaged, as the trail demands, our team

(truly trekking as a team) tops the Redwall (limestone) cliff,

following Moni’s sure-footed lead—high on adrenaline, and accomplishment.

Day 4

We had to weather the night before first—and what weather it was!

Winds, then storms. Thunder roaring, rolling along the canyon walls.

Moni and Deb sleep head to toe in one tent

(leaving the blue flying squirrel suit safely stowed).

Checking in with Dorea, who sleeps solo, between wind gusts and thunderclaps.

Arising, we inhale the sweet desert-after-a-storm scent.

But with more weather in the distance, we don’t tarry over breakfast

or breaking camp or reflecting on this trip soon coming to an end.

Better to be in the present anyway, with the two ravens, iridescent and obsidian black,

who come to bid us adieu (and to search the camp for crumbs,

though we try to leave no trace). One foot in front of the other

we make our way up, and up, the aptly named Grandview Trail.

Stopping to catch our breath, we drink in those grand views,

along with sips of water and savory snacks (drinking and eating

as much to lighten our packs as to fill any needs). Another long switchback,

“Still in the f—king Coconino (sandstone, of course)…,” she quips

because Deb measures the climbs by formation (doesn’t everyone?).

A group-hike guide cracks up at this, and so we end the journey with laughter.

And love.