Tuweep

The inner reaches of the Grand Canyon have always fascinated me. I once hiked to the bottom from the South Rim with my grandpa, and although that was an unforgettable experience, there are thousands of people every year that explore that same trail.

I've often wondered what kind of marvels exist in the canyon, especially where humans have not yet trod. I would have to think that there are many places that have rarely, if ever, had human foot step upon it. The trail system in the park covers just a scintilla of what is actually there. I am sure that there are huge sections of land that are completely inaccessible to man, and therefore, insufficiently explored.

One of the corners of the canyon that is accessible, but lightly visited is Toroweap, or Tuweep, as the locals call it. This may be the only place in the park where you drive to a point and see the Colorado River straight below you. The look-off point doesn't draw very many people, largely because to get there, you have to drive over sixty miles on a dirt road across the very desolate Arizona Strip. This made it all the more desirable for me to go there, and I was elated recently when a friend invited me to go there.

My friend, Billy, comes from a true cowboy family. We spent the night at his folk's home in Moccasin where we ate fresh beef roast, corn from the garden, mashed potatoes and gravy, huge slices of homemade bread slathered in butter, and large glasses of milk. His family ran cattle on the Arizona Strip, a huge parcel of isolated terrain that is detached from the rest of the state by the Grand Canyon.

West of Fredonia there is a brown sign that reads Toroweap 61 and the arrow points south toward a dirt road. All the brochures and travel web sites warn you about this road. Bring a spare tire and a high-clearance vehicle, they all advise. Also, bring plenty of extra water and food in case you get stranded, and don't plan on anyone coming to your rescue, possibly for a long time. And just to scare you even more, they state that a tow in this remote area could cost up to a thousand dollars! 

The first dozen miles from the highway were very lackluster. Not even any trees. Only small scrub brush stretching for miles and miles. Red cliffs became visible in the distance as well Mount Trumbull, bulging prominently in the direction that we were driving.

Gradually, a juniper tree here and there began to sparsely dot the landscape and the road began to gently heave up and down. We spotted a couple small herds of antelope, all distant, their white rumps being the most salient, and their backs the colors of red clay.

There is a spot just off the road where there is a huge hole. Not a sink hole, but more like a crevice in the rocks and all the rocks other than where the hole exists are covered by ground dirt. The hole is very deep, but the bottom can be seen by shining a flashlight into it. At its nether parts, there are the bones of a horse. As the story goes, there was snow on the ground when the cowboy's horse didn't see the opening and fell right in.

Along the way we saw a blow snake cross the road. Other two-track roads occasionally jutted off from either side. A barren, volcanic hill loomed in the near distance.

As we approached the flanks of Mt. Trumbull, pinyon pine mingled with the juniper and a large patch of snow was visible high atop the slopes of the mountain. But soon we were past Mt. Trumbull and slowly descending into Toroweap Valley. Prickly pear cacti became more abundant, as well as the “jumping” kind that are in the shape of sausage links.

Approaching us in the distance was the chasm of the Colorado River, or the inner depths of the Grand Canyon. We could only see the upper flatland of the mesas, their steep flanks only slightly suggesting that a gorge of monstrous proportions existed there.

The final several miles were very rocky and required high-clearance. Cacti, heavy in bloom, flourished as did other flora. Puddles of water sat as ponds on the sandstone floor.

We drove to a little parking spot at the rim of the gorge. Only a twenty second walk and we were at the brink. No hand-rails and no fence. Only flat sandstone rock on the ledge and a perpendicular cliff that drops three thousand feet to the river below.

From the level where the truck was parked, there is another level that steps down about four feet and that is as far as you can go and still stay alive. This escarpment is wide enough to walk along, but I always hugged the safer side. To get a good look at the river, it is best to get onto your hands and knees and inch toward the drop-off. Even then my head gets a little bit dizzy.

The river runs from east to west and from our view high above it looks like a wide ribbon. For the most part it is serene, but in a few places the white-water is visible. The churning of Lava Flow Rapids to our west is noticeable. A faint rumbling echoes through the canyon.

We looked for rafters floating down the river but saw none. They would be mere specks, but nonetheless visible. 

Springtime was very apparent as it seemed that a small veneer of grass covered much of the ground within the gorge. On the sides of the river, larger amounts of green growth flourished.

Vegetation on the rim thrived also. Red blossoms crowned the tops of the prickly pear cactus. The shorter agave plants, as well as the taller yuccas abounded. Brigham tea, Indian paintbrush, and other flowers, both gold and scarlet in color, painted the landscape all the way to the edge of the cliff.

We walked to another look-off point that gave much of the same view, but from a slightly different angle. Billy told the story of a horse that almost backed off the ledge. They were lined up for a picture and instead of stopping when they pulled the reins, the horse backed up, his hind legs slipping beyond the edge, and the horse hunching down and the cowboys pulling on the reins and the horse scraping his hooves on the rock to regain sure footing.

We drove a few miles to another area, this one called Lava Flows. This is the only place in the area where one can hike all the way to the river. But the warnings are there: Do not hike this in the summer as temperatures can get as high as 120 degrees. Do not hike unless you have plenty of water. Be aware that there is no trail, it is very steep and exposure is great. In other words, be very careful or you might die.

To our left was the very prominent, but dormant volcano called Vulcan's Throne. At one time this volcano spewed enough lava down the hillside to now make a hike to the river feasible, although still very difficult. 

We hiked down a little ways, but only on the relatively easy part. The thing that impressed me the most, however, is how the flora in the canyon seemed to change with every level that we dropped. The road from Tuweep descended about 500 feet in elevation and as we hiked, we probably dropped another 500 feet. The cacti grew more abundant, but now, large barrel cacti of several varieties mingled with the prickly pear. We also saw a plant that looked like a cousin to the yucca plant, but lighter in it's shade of green and with black tips on the blades. Honestly, it looked like a plant that belonged on a coral reef in the ocean.

The hike down was steep, but mostly it was the small, loose lava rock that made it difficult. From our spot where we turned around, only a small section of the river could be seen. Across the gorge on the south side of the canyon, a dirt road could be seen that streaked across the plateau. Looking down at the river I could see a small trail along its banks. I wondered if it was a game trail and if possibly there was a trail that connected it with the dirt road above. More than likely it was a path made by rafters who had a camp nearby.