Last evening, I watched a YouTube video of an elderly guy doing a Grand Canyon “rim-to-rim” hike in one day. He almost died. Then, this morning, I saw a CNN story about a young couple and their one-year-old daughter who had perished on a hike near Yosemite last August.
So sad.
In the first incident, the hiker had not paid attention to Father Time, and in both cases the victims had not given proper respect to Mother Nature.
I once hiked down into the Grand Canyon. On that exploratory jaunt (when I was a young 68-year-old fella), I went about three miles down the South Kaibab trail to Skeleton Point. I was alone and didn’t want to overextend myself and it was a good thing that I turned around because I barely made it out of that Hell hole. Lessons were learned that day via my 6-mile round-trip.
The actual distance of a rim-to-rim hike is about 19 miles, starting at the South Kaibab Trail and finishing up on the Bright Angel Trail. Nineteen miles of hiking on relatively flat ground is a chore, but doable, at my age. The guy in the video looked to be about 70-years-old, and I could hear him on the video huffing-and-puffing from the start (on the South Kaibab Trail), going downhill! I wonder about his fitness.
There are a number of things to consider when attempting such a rim-to-rim stunt like this.
First, it’s one thing to hike down into the Canyon, but quite another to scramble out of it. The elevation change from rim to the Colorado River is over 4,000 feet, so the average slope climbing out of there is around ten percent. Some parts are much steeper. It’s a gasser, plain and simple, and there are many warning signs before one heads down the trail.
Second, although the cardiovascular exercise required to hike downhill is much less than going uphill, a steep downhill trek is harder on one’s joints and is dangerous, as well. Forward momentum (with a loaded pack) can turn minor stumbles into damaging falls. I’ve tripped and fallen many times on hikes, but practically never while hiking uphill. By the way, the old guy in the video arrived at the one-third point (the Colorado River) with a turned ankle and sore knees, whereupon he downed 5 Motrin and soaked his legs.
What is particularly troublesome on both the South Kaibab and Bright Angel Trails are the log barriers across the trails to control runoff… due to the trails’ heavy use by commercial pack mule trains. In some stretches, the “trail” is more like a rough staircase: it is very hard on the knees, calves, and thigh muscles.
Plus, there are lots of obstacles on the narrow trail: piles of mule shit, the log “steps”, and large boulders. It is easy to stumble over these items when physical exhaustion sets in.
Third, the canyon rim elevation is roughly 8,000 feet and the bottom (at the river) is around 4,000 feet. The entire Canyon is made of rock, which heats up as the day progresses. A hiker, leaving the rim and heading down toward the river is, essentially, walking into a pizza oven. The old guy in the video left the rim at South Kaibab trailhead at something like 6 a.m., when the temperature was 61 degrees. By the time he got to Skeleton Point (3 miles down) it was 100 degrees. At the Colorado River, the temperature was 115 degrees.
This 70-year-old hiker spent approximately 8 hours of his 13-hour trek in 100 to 115-degree heat. That’s brutal, no matter how old you are or how good of shape you are in. (By the way, a hiker just ahead of the videographer collapsed on the trail about 1-1/2 mile from the Bright Angel rim and had to be infused with fluids via an IV and medically evacuated.)
Fourth, the hiker needs to take copious amounts of liquids/electrolytes to keep the body and mind functioning properly. On my hike halfway down South Kaibab and back out, I packed 200 ounces of Gatorade (12 pounds) and drank every last drop. Hikers can refill their Camel back at the river, but then you begin your steep upward climb toting at least 12 pounds. Water is a double-edged sword, in that way. However, if you run out of liquid before you get to the rim, your body starts to shut down from dehydration, and you begin to make mistakes, like falling off of trails.
Another extreme hiking condition I’m familiar with involves high altitude, where your body is deprived of sufficient oxygen. Mount Whitney in the Sierra Nevada Mountains of California is a good example.
The Whitney trail is the opposite of the Grand Canyon trek, as you start the day at around 8,000 feet elevation (same as Grand Canyon) but then hike 6,500 feet uphill to the summit at 14,500 feet, the highest mountain in the contiguous United States.
The trail to the summit is around 11 miles. The average slope is around 11 percent, with some pitches much steeper than that. It would be a grueling trek just walking in one’s skivvies; however, when you throw in the filled Camel back, medical supplies, food, clothes, emergency stuff in your backpack, and your clothes and hiking boots, there’s at least 30 pounds minimum that you must lug up the hill.
And, you must make sure to retain enough liquids for the 11-mile hike back to your car: there are no water faucets or convenience stations along the trail. There used to be snow/ice along the route, but climate change has minimized that in the Sierras, particularly in hiking season. On the positive side, it is cooler as one climbs up a mountain.
However, the real ass kicker on the Whitney Trail is the altitude. Recall that the Grand Canyon hike involves hiking down into a heat sump, which is the environmental factor that exhausts people. On Whitney, with every step one takes going uphill, there is less blood oxygen available: 15 percent at 8,000 feet vs. 12 percent at 14,500 feet. This lack of oxygen (half of the amount at sea level) takes a toll on your cardiovascular system and the brain, particularly since the hiker is strongly exerting himself for hours on a real-life treadmill. Exhaustion, migraine headaches and vomiting are common side effects above 10,000 feet: it’s your own body telling you, “Get out of here!”
The altitude sickness issue can be somewhat abated if one acclimatizes himself prior to the hike. This involves staying a night at a lower elevation en route to the summit. I’ve done that twice and it helps.
However, in 2004, when I was 56 years young and minding my own business, a friend called me with the news that he and some buddies were going to hike Whitney “tomorrow” and had an extra permit: Would I like to come along? I shouldn’t have (I was out of shape) but I did because I didn’t want to appear to be a wimp. We ended up hiking the entire trail up and back (22 miles) in one day. It was brutal.
Another little annoyance about the Whitney Trail hike is the fact that the weather can change very quickly, particularly in the Summer. Thunderstorms can appear out of nowhere, because of heated air rising against the mountains, and when that happens… all Hell breaks loose. And that’s exactly what happened on the hike with my buddies.
We had just summited and were about to enjoy some food, rest and great views when a friggin’ hailstorm arrived with a fury, pelting us with pea-sized ice gravel. There is no place to hide atop a rocky skyscraper like Mount Whitney, so we had to dodge hailstones and lightning bolts as we retreated as quickly as possible down the mountain. It hailed, thundered, lightninged, and rained on us for the entire 11 miles down the mountain. We made it back to our cars in the dark, soaked and thoroughly worn out. What a crap day that was!
The un-funny thing about it is that it was my second experience with a thunderstorm during a Mount Whitney hike. I fell the previous time when a lightning bolt struck near me, and I was very lucky not to have broken my neck as I tumbled through some large rocks.
The hiking moral: “Anything that can happen, will happen”, so plan accordingly. One of our Whitney hiking guys (the leader, actually) ended up short of water, since he had assumed that there would be snowmelt available on the way to the top. There wasn’t, and he got a well-deserved migraine for his stupidity. (I believe that I hauled 400 ounces of Gatorade that day (about 25 pounds) and consumed every last drop myself.
Hiking alone is usually reckless, although one can get away with it on a heavily traveled trail, as Samaritans will always assist if they come upon a hiker in trouble. Hiking with insufficient fluids, food, and emergency equipment is foolhardy. Taking a 1-year-old on a hike is insane: there’s nothing to be gained and everything to lose.
Of course, young people do foolish things. On my hike back up to the South Rim of the Grand Canyon, I passed young people heading down into Nature’s Oven wearing flip flops and carrying one 16-ounce bottle of water. One long-haired dude was shirtless and barefoot, as I recall, having passed several signs that warned visitors of potentially fatal conditions on the trail.
Knowing when to throw in the towel is also important.
Two years ago, my son Jeff and wife Carol visited us from So Calif and asked if I would take them to Zion National Park for a hike. “Sure”, I said. I was anticipating some easy hiking (as they were), but it turned out that several of the nice hikes were closed due to highwater and landslides. The only interesting one left was Angels’ Landing, something I’ve hiked on several occasions. I said, “We can do some of it and you can let me know when enough is enough, okay?” They were game for the adventure, so off we went.
There are two segments to this hike: 2.5 miles up to Scout Lookout, and then the last mile to the summit. The first is a sturdy cardiovascular test which typically separates the legitimate hikers from the wannabes. I saw an older man suffer a heart attack and die on this steep pitch several years ago.
Surprisingly, Jeff and Carol, who do not hike a lot and smoke cigarettes, made it to Scout Lookout. I was surprised as were they. We enjoyed the view and ate snacks.
And then, we had the summit scramble ahead of us, with narrow ledges to negotiate, cables to help from falling (1,000 feet to your death!), and a lot of people to deal with. There is a reason that this hike has been deemed “The Most Dangerous in America”: one slip and you can fall to your death. It is bad enough having to negotiate this tricky scramble by oneself, but doing it in a crowd, with many stupid and inexperienced young people around, is madness: if they slip, you fall.
Jeff, Carol, and I took one look at the 100-person scrum at the bottom of the first cabled sandstone escarpment and said, “This is a disaster waiting to happen; we’re outta here!” Instead of risking life and limb with all of those monkees, we enjoyed a leisurely hike down the mountain and lived to see another day.
(Evidently, Zion National Park management came to the same conclusion in 2021. Angels’ Landing now requires a permit to hike, and the number of hikers on the trail is limited for safety sake.)
The 70-year-old hiker (in the YouTube video) survived his Grand Canyon rim-to-rim adventure, barely, but now acknowledges the wisdom in Clint Eastwood’s maxim, “Man’s got to know his limitations!”
I might get talked into a Grand Canyon rim-to-rim hike with friends in the coming year but it would include an overnight at the Colorado River, for sure. Otherwise, that is one Bucket List item that will go unchecked.
Better still, I can do the hike on YouTube from the cozy confines of my living room couch while sipping a Diet Coke and munching on some Doritos chips.
