TransCanyon Ski Jacob Lake to South Rim - concluded

Day Six -- The usual struggle and slow start. We all ski out to the rim again for a look. It’s clear now. Then we go back to get some water from the ice-proof spigot by the ranger cabin and head for the Kaibab trailhead. At the trailhead, discussion popularizes the idea of towing packs down the trail. Skis off, snowshoes on. Roger and Kristen disappear quickly, then Mike, then Mary and Nancy with me behind, and Marshall behind me. I start out trying to use my skis as poles, but they just go deep in the snow and are no help at all. My sled tow-poles can be uncoupled in the middle and make good half-length sled tow-poles. Although I can move fast enough, it’s not really much fun alternately bracing and pulling the sled. After a while I decide it’s not fun even if it’s almost working and so I stop to disassemble everything. This is a long and involved process because I have to untie tow-poles and traces from my pack belt, get the belt reattached to the pack and secure everything else onto the pack. By the time I finish, Marshall has gone by, also with all his gear on his back.

Now comes the big test: I lift it. I get the straps over my shoulders. I straighten up. It's amazing!! Yes!!... I have all this stuff on my back and I CAN STILL STAND AND EVEN WALK!!!

After another mile I arrive at the tunnel, and on the other side there is no sign of snow. Now the snowshoes come off and go onto my back. I can see Roger and few others at the bridge below and hollering up. I holler back. It feels good to have solid ground underfoot. Even with this huge pack I am almost skipping down the trail. There are a few ominous signs, however. A patch of fresh earth, rocks, and small trees from a landslide cuts across a section of switchbacks. I learn later that this debris fell while the first members of our group were repacking their gear at the tunnel.

At the other side of the bridge I find the mysterious message "seven out of cave." What could that be? Well, there could be seven waterfalls on the opposite wall depending on how you count them.

A short distance later is the famous "icefall." There's ice, but it's dirty and there are a few steps between. Rather than waste time with crampons, it's easy to step carefully once or twice and get across. Here and there are more signs of rockfall along the trail. This is the dangerous part and it's best not to dawdle. Although I think I am moving at a good pace, no one is in sight ahead.

At the Roaring Springs fork, Mary is there. We move on together and enjoy a good chat on the way to Cottonwood Camp. The mood when we arrive there is cheerful. It seems that the seven of us must be the seven dwarfs, it's just a question of which one we are: Roger -- "Doc" (fixes gear and carries a full medicine box); Kristin -- "Sleepy" (lots of time in bed; no options without a tent); Mary -- "Sneezy" (she sure has been); Nancy -- "Happy" (cheerful in spite of adversity); Marshall -- "Dopey" (not true but by default); Mike -- "Bashful" (still seems a stranger after sharing a tent 4 nights); Doug -- "Grumpy" (not very, I think, but it's a fair call).

Mike did OK without snowshoes, but you could see the deep holes he made. Kristen tied ropes on her skis and was quite secure on the snow. Roger skied, crashing when faced with the option of going off the end of a switchback. Nancy had been worrying all trip about the icefall, but it was not as bad as it might have been. All of us with snowshoes and sleds had no trouble except for grumbling about the weight. "Seven out of cave" meant that Roger watched for all of us to come out of the tunnel before going on. It's warm, it's dry, it’s time to stretch out and eat everything there is to spare, and then sleep well and secure and warm!

Day Seven -- Just after dawn and as the sun strikes the rim I hear a huge rockfall somewhere up the canyon. It's a good place not to be at this moment. Morning involves a lot of packing and I'm still slow to get started. On the trail, I soon pass Roger. Later, I learn that he has twisted a few things from skiing down the trail.

Trail miles slide past quickly underfoot. Signs of rockfall are often seen. Mike makes his joke by dragging his sled to leave a mark on the trail in several spots, which we seem all to have noticed and appreciated. Most of us arrive together as a group. Soon all the packs are lined up along the bench by the dining hall. We pose for photos, but most are not willing to hoist packs again for the occasion. With all afternoon to enjoy, I unpack everything and get it all dry in the sun. Nancy and Mary are sending gear up on mules. Marshall and Roger split a sack to send some gear up too. Weighing packs on the scale behind the store, mine is heaviest at 64 pounds.

We enjoy the Beer Hall, and Diner is HUGE.

Day Seven -- Hike out up Bright Angel Trail. My pack with the showshoes hanging on either side reminds me of angel wings -- not flying up out of the Canyon today, but all the unknowns and uncertainties are far distant behind us -- this is just a big heavy load and some long distance to carry, and I know that I know how to do that.