Grand Canyon and Tuscon!

A quick post before I go to a meeting, then back to the Canyon tomorrow morning for 8 days. The last hitch (Feb 2nd to 10th) was great. Coming off one day's rest after San Diego we soldiered out for another 8 days of cyclic trail maintenance and tread upgrading with the National Parks Service. Building up from almost 16 days straight working hard and living outside, I had a nice little groove going on, but my body was definitely tired. I split time between working up the S. Kaibab trail from Phantom Ranch on cyclic maintenance and making the 4 mile trek up to Skeleton point (over halfway out of the canyon) to gather rocks and crush them to improve the tread going down into the red and whites.

(the rock crusher and 8 tons of rocks that we hauled in)

We collected 2-3 tons of rock from the surrounding terrain and brought it to the gasoline powered rock crusher to make a bunch of beautiful limestone crushed for the trail. I used my time after work to go on some great hikes, including an hour long sprint up Clear Creek trail, and a nice 2 hr walk up the North Kaibab on Super Bowl Sunday. Believe it or not, they piped the Super Bowl Game into the canyon using an internet connection and held a nice party in the Phantom Ranch Bunkhouse. As much as I love watching football, I couldn't stand the thought of seeing a television commercial after so many days out in nature, so I opted for the hike followed by Swiss Miss and adventure whimsy over a nice topo map of the Grand Canyon. Luckily, I had a few coworkers that wanted to do the same, and we had a good time. Some nice wildlife experiences this hitch included a close up encounter with a bighorn who was chilling on the side of the trail, and a fly-by from a Condor during lunch at Skeleton point (9 ft. wing span!).

(wildlife sighting on the walk up to skeleton point)

Post work was time for refreshing dips in Bright Angel creek, a fad that caught on with a few brave souls and made camp smell a little better. All that heavy lifting, hiking and clean living had me feeling beat-up but pure. Our hike out went great, as I chatted away with Alison for 4 hours straight up to the top.

(a dip in Bright Angel Creek)

After the requisite trip to the Green Room (25 cent drinks on Wednesday night) and a recovery day in Flag, Jeff and I headed off for a trip to Tuscon, AZ. Some of his family friends gave us a home base while we took advantage of our 6 days off. Highlights included hiking to the top of Wasson Peak in Saguaro NP, camping in Coronado National Forest (beautiful spot!) and making lots of friends with our positive vibes in the city. Fire dancers, friendly bartenders and a great live performance from "Clam Tostada" at Sky Bar on 4th street got us started off right and we never looked back. Fueled by delicious mexican food and the complementary natures of our minds (I made plans for daytime, Jeff took care of the evening hours), I'd say we had about as much fun in Tuscon as two people can have in 4 days.

I need to sign off now to attend a meeting. I'll be out of touch through Feb. 24th in the canyon, and then I will be attending a two day orientation training in Prescott, AZ. Never a dull moment!

A Full Moon Over Ramona

For the last 7 days, we got off work just as the moon rose over the mountains of Ramona, CA.


We were coming back from days of brushing; removing plants and shrubs from the trail corridor on a new national forest service trail. The whole area east of Ramona burned 5 years ago, and as we dug out agave, yucca and sage, we found burned root-balls from the previous generation of flora. The area has filled in with a variety of chest-high desert scrub and a passerby wouldn’t guess at the recent fire; the scars that are really visible are the fall-line trails that hikers and bikers cut as they continued to use the fragile land. As suburbia fades into federal land, 5000 foot peaks hide creeks and waterfalls that are running at record levels after the recent rainstorms. Residents head out from their palm-treed estates every day with dogs, bikes and friends to explore the space, and they all gravitate to the same community trails. There are a lot of problems with fall-line trails (straight down the mountain); they’re steep, slippery, dangerous, tiring, not fun to walk on, but most importantly they become drainages during rain storms and erode like crazy. The compacted soil supports no vegetation, and canyons as deep as my waist run right down the center of these paths. So, the national forest service designed and staked out a new trail that our crews will devote 17,000 man hours to build over the next year.

(Cedar Creek Falls, where our trail leads to)

We had two days of training with our program director right off the bat and had a chance to cut new tread while learning about the principles of good trail-building. Our trail is out-sloped at a 5% grade and never descends at more than half the gradient of the cross-slope. This keeps the water flowing across the trail, not down it, and is an important part of building a sustainable trail. Our lessons were laid out in the work of the previous crew, which had built 150 ft of new trail right before the rainstorms hit San Diego. The parts that were built correctly survived unscathed, while the tiniest error was highlighted by the formation of a mini-canyon. We did some survey work using a clinometer (to read grades) and practiced staking out our own trails in groups which we then critiqued. After training, one member of our crew headed to Phoenix to try and win a grant for solar panels on our main office, and the rest of us laid into the task of clearing two miles of trail corridor.

The work was straightforward and tiring. We spent 10 hour work days swinging pick-mattocks, pulaskis and shovels at everything in our way and then shuttling the debris down-slope to tuck it into the landscape. At times I felt like the destroyer, razing the landscape while small woodland creatures took flight from my blade. A baby bunny huddled shaking in one of my brush piles for 10 minutes, too scared to move, and I barely spared a thumb sized rodent as I twisted out of a swing half way. I turned up a scorpion and another crew member discovered a small diamondback rattler as he reached to pull up a bush. We were all on lookout for the highly toxic Jerusalem cricket, which took a nip out of my coworker’s wrist. Amidst the carnage, the positive effects of the new trail stood out. Once our trail is finished, the fall-line trails will be re-vegetated and the whole area will be healthier, more beautiful and more sustainable.

Surprisingly, (to me, though probably not to anybody who has attended a home-owner’s meeting) there is some contention in the neighborhood over the new trail. There has been local press about the project, and feelings run the gamut from supportive, to indifferent, to opposed. Since our campsite was located on the side of a road by the trailhead, less than 50 yards from the nearest homes and property lines, anybody who wanted to come visit us could and did. On our second night, an angry, drunk old man, who we named Mordecai, drove his truck into our campsite and insisted that we leave. “Y’all don’t have a f***ing permit! Y’all are f***ing liars!” Our supervisor went to handle it while we all enjoyed the entertainment from the comfort of our tents. He threatened to call the cops on us (which he did), so our supervisor called the cops on him (it was the same cop) and relayed the man’s license plate number. Not to be outdone, Mordecai recited our license plate number out loud to no one in particular (“now I got your f***ing license plate!”), and unleashed his anger on a helpless MSR dromedary, kicking it into a ditch and then hurling it against the side of our trailer. Realizing that his bluff had been called and the cops were on their way, Mordecai jumped into his truck and ran over another dromedary as he high-tailed it out of there. Our super talked with the cop, who ran the plate, and the next day a forest service rep was over at Mordecai’s place to confirm our good word. Friday night at 4am, some friendly So-Cal stoners rolled in and tried to pry open our gear trailer “to see if anybody was inside”, totally oblivious to the fact that they were surrounded by 20 tents filled with sleeping trail-workers. Our supervisor scared the shit out of them by materializing out of the dark yelling “What the f*** are you doing?!?” and then amiably moved them on their way. Most people who came through our camp were just walking their dogs or getting on the trailhead, and everybody we met on the trail was friendly. We brushed 7900 ft of trail in three days, which now awaits a bulldozer to cut the tread and backslope and crews to put in switchbacks and armored drainages.

Right as the work days wound down were some of the best times. The sun cooled and threw pink light on the granite peaks as the moon rose orange behind us. Muscles relaxed and sweat cooled on the walk back to camp, and tools rocked lazily in our arms. The roar of the propane stove meant food was on the way, and food chests were raided by people too hungry to wait. Knives click-clicked on cutting boards while onions hissed, and people relaxed like only hard-working people can. Then, it was the sloshing of soapy water on dishes and the frenetic tak-a-tak stirring of hot cocoa in big plastic cups. Red embers shone from the fringes of camp as someone smoked the day’s last cigarette, and people laughed too loud as they careened through their swiss-miss sugar rush. Finally, everybody drifted off to their tents to sleep amidst the chorus of zippers, snoring and padded feet, under the light of the full moon. (pictures coming later...I'm off to the Grand Canyon for 8 days tomorrow)

Flagstaff Blizzard!...Life inside a Snow Ball

Well, the storm delivered. I would say there were 3-4 feet of snow total, possibly more. It snowed continuously from Wednesday night through Saturday morning and succeeded in driving me and my 6 roommates crazy. The library closed along with a fair number of other businesses; I even heard that a bookstore collapsed under the weight of the snow. We had no option but to watch countless episodes of “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” and soldier our way to vacant bars to stretch our stipends on weekday drink specials. Poor and idle, I survived the storm on a 5 lb bag of Idaho Spuds that I bought from Safeway for $1.29, fried in butter and covered in salsa. Other than oatmeal, it’s pretty much all I ate. Our rigorous and healthy canyon lifestyles were blown to pieces as we wallowed in our own filth and drank the nights away in despair at our captivity. As we anxiously awaited our return to action, the storm kept pushing back our project date, from Wednesday, to Sunday, to Monday, extending our epoch of sloth and indolence to 12 days. The sun remained hidden behind a swath of clouds for days on end and the streets were overrun by pedestrians and hapless vehicles. Alternate freezing rain and snow, accompanied by reported gusts of 60 mph buried Flagstaff in a tempest of biblical proportions! I blame this guy.


Bright spots included building a snow fort and having a snow pant dance party outside our apartment, walking in the winter wonderland and when the sun came out, the storm was over and we got on with our damn lives.