The Kibbey Butte Route:
A loop hike through Nankoweap

Saturday-Sunday, May 17-18, 1997

by Dennis Foster

A cliff in the Coconino at the saddle between the north rim and Kibbey Butte.

Click on any picture to see a larger image.

     I have always been drawn to the Nankoweap region of the Grand Canyon, perhaps in large part due to the difficulty I had in getting to this area.  I first hiked here in 1983, and have done a number of interesting trips into this canyon.  This trip was prompted by my desire to search out a rather obscure route into, and out of, Nankoweap called the “Kibbey Butte Route.”  It is an access from the North Rim.  On the face of it, the description defies common sense -  a ropeless route (save for lowering/raising packs a couple of times) that has an elevation change of approximately 2500 feet over a horizontal distance of less than a half mile.  Seemingly quite mad, and the allure is obvious.  There are precious few places in the Grand Canyon where this is possible.  Our common perception of the canyon being comprised of sheer barrier cliffs is not without reason.  However, this route takes one through, from top to bottom, the Kaibab limestone, the Coconino sandstone, the Supai group of sandstones and limestones and the Redwall limestone cliff layers.

     The namesake of this route is Kibbey Butte, a very unassuming formation in the Hermit shale level, peaking below the Coconino sandstone cliffs.  Easily visible from the popular Point Imperial viewpoint, on the North Rim, it would likely be the last thing any visitor there would notice.  Indeed, from this vantage point, a route from rim to canyon floor looks quite impossible.  But, the route is blessed with two huge advantages.  One is an easy bushwhack through the forested rim to the bottom of the Coconino level.  The other is an utterly easy and narrow chute through the Redwall.  The heart stopper is the upper 100-150 feet of Supai.

     Two of the canyon’s best known hikers/explorers spent much time and energy piecing together this route, over a number of forays into this area, although they were separated in time by some two decades.  Harvey Butchart, the celebrated master of Grand Canyon hiking, in the company of sometime hiking companion George Beck, actually made an aerial survey of this route in the 1960s.  Butchart’s original bypass of the tricky Supai led him to a miserable contour above the Redwall in order to get to the appropriate “fault ravine.”  It took him a number of climbs through here before finding a suitably direct way through the Supai.  Although his description of this route is included in the voluminous trail logs he has bestowed upon the Cline Library at Northern Arizona University, it didn’t make it into any of his three hiking books.

Click on any picture to see a larger image.

     From my home in Flagstaff, Arizona, it is about four hours to the Grand Canyon Lodge, on the North Rim of the canyon.  I left in the mid-afternoon on the day after the rim opened up in May.  Once in the park I found a spot to cache some water.  My plan was to park in the Kaibab National Forest, at the Nankoweap trailhead.  The Kibbey route would dump me on the rim some six miles from where I had parked.  I would follow alongside the paved Cape Royal road until I was able to follow a trail the rest of the way.  I left two quarts of water where this trail crosses the road.  Following a brief stop at the lodge, and a quick bite to eat, I was off to the trailhead, where I camped for the night.

     The next morning, I was up at 4:30 a.m. and ready to hike by 5:30 a.m.  This hike was to serve another purpose--as an exercise in “doing without.”  Far too often I find myself carrying 55 pounds, or more, when I backpack.  There are three main reasons for this:  I go on long hikes, the weather is quite variable and I enjoy some creature comforts.  But, for this hike I left behind the tent, the sleeping bag, the stove, the fuel, the pots and pans, the Thermarest and the water filter.  I brought along an air mattress (it packs small), a sheet, water tablets (for purifying) and sandwich making food.  Consequently, my pack weighed exactly 25 pounds at the outset of the hike.

     The Nankoweap trail runs some nine to ten miles from this trailhead to the creek.  During the summer this can be brutally hot, and it is not a desirable place to hike.  When loaded down with weight, leaving at less than an ideal time in the morning and if inexperienced, a dry overnight camp may be necessary along the trail before reaching the creek (and it is still some three miles from there to the Colorado River).  I was in good shape, and the conditions were nearly perfect, and I reached the creek by 10:15 a.m., less than five hours after starting down.

     Although a bit early, I decided that a longish lunch break was in order.  When I hike, I find it very difficult to munch along the way.  Unlike the chaos of my eating habits at home, on the trail I pretty much stick to three square meals a day, and do little in-between meal snacking.  Despite knowing this, I invariably will end up a hike with mostly filled plastic baggies of corn nuts, peanuts, raisins and chocolates.  I wonder if they appreciate my showing them around the Grand Canyon?

     By a quarter to noon, I was on my way up the creek.  My target was the furthest spring that feeds Nankoweap Creek.  It would be the last sure water until I reached the water cache I left on the rim.  So, the afternoon was mostly spent rock hopping and crisscrossing the creek.  It was laborious.  It was tedious.  It was mind-numbing after about thirty minutes.  It took me three hours to reach my objective.  With a break along the way, I arrived at a quarter past three.

     One of the characteristics I have noted while engaged in an intense hike is that background noises fade away.  I hardly ever notice the airplanes and helicopters that fly overhead.  At least, while I am hiking.  During the day, when I am resting, I am usually too damn tired to be annoyed by the noise of these overflights.  On the other hand, in the morning and the evening, when I am in a more reflective mood, all is quiet.  It makes me wonder who the people are that complain about the overflight noise.  Probably some bureaucrat, or lobbyist, ensconced away in a Washington, DC office.  Or, some spoiled river rat, who is soaking up the sun on a sandy beach, putting away a cold one and wondering whether it will be steak or trout for dinner.

     I did face one serious concern.  I am no madman, and am easily turned away from climbing through spots that present any exposure.  Especially when hiking alone.  But, for this hike, that place would come some 2000 feet above me, high in the Supai.  It would be there that I would be faced with the potential of having to turn around and backtrack my way out of the canyon.  The fact that Butchart and Steck had come through this route wasn’t enough for me.  I have lots of Grand Canyon experience, but I am no Butchart.  And, I am no Steck.

     I knew that I would use up much of the day getting to this spot, and if I had to turn around, I figured that it would be imperative that I be able to get back to the spring before dark, and out the day after that.  I didn’t really pack a whole extra day’s worth of food, but had enough to nurse me through another 24 hours.  I didn’t want to have to turn around, but the probability of that happening seemed greater as I looked up this boxy canyon, with its sheer cliffs.

     The spring was actually very noisy.  The water gushed out of the side of the ravine in two places, probably flowing at a gallon a second, although my estimate is likely to have a huge margin of error.  I suppose that one may call this “natural noise,” and worthy of some particular respect.  However, I find it extremely difficult to sleep near this kind of water source, so I spent a long while finding a suitable spot to camp, far enough away so that it was not distracting, but close enough so that filling up my water bottles wasn’t a burdensome chore.  The area was quite brushy, and I barely found a place to lay out my air mattress.  A tent would have been out of the question.

     For the rest of the day, I did very little, but drink water, rest and eat.  For those that think a hiking story must include a favorite recipe, here is mine for that evening’s dinner: 

Get two slices of bread from the plastic container.  Open one of the individual packages of mayonnaise (courtesy of Chic-Fil-A) and a package of horseradish sauce (from Arby’s).  Spread generously.  Open a 5 ounce can of chuck chicken (chunk ham may be substituted instead, although then I will likely use mustard instead of the horseradish).  Scoop and spread on the bread.  Put both pieces of bread together and eat.  Hold the lid of the plastic bread container underneath the sandwich so as to catch any that should fall.  For dessert, open up an 8 oz. can of sliced pineapples and eat directly from the can.

      The evening was cool, and I wore some polys to go along with my sheet, and I ended up putting my poncho over me, to further retain heat.  My air mattress turned out to be a big disappointment, as it leaked.  Once I laid down, hardly ten minutes would elapse before it would go flat.  As a consequence, I tossed and turned most of the night, unable to find a comfortable position for very long.  And, as to be expected, I finally seemed to fall into a deep sleep about an hour before I had wanted to get up in the morning.

     I slept through my alarm, although my watch was nearby.  Still, I woke up at 4:30 a.m. and realized that I had to get going.  My breakfast of an instant breakfast drink, peanut butter and honey on a bagel and an avocado just hit the spot.  By 6 o’clock I was on my way up the canyon.

     Without flowing water, it was easier to hike up the bed.  At a major junction, I momentarily missed my way.  I followed the main bed for a bit, as my view was quite obscured by the trees and bushes growing all around.  I regained my course, and the going got slower.  There were lots of fallen trees across the bed that had to be bypassed.  I fell down a couple of times, which made me more angry with myself than anything else.  One gets to feeling just punch drunk when hiking over terrain like this.

     As I neared the end of this box canyon I could start to detect the wonder of the Redwall chute (pictured to the left).  By 8 a.m. I had reached the end of the bed and could look 90 degrees to my right up this compressed passage.  It was the narrowest of cracks and yet it safely gets one through some 600 feet of this cliff layer.  While steep in some spots, and rocky all the way through, it was as close to ideal as one can come in the canyon.

     I easily climbed up through the Redwall, and had started through part of the Supai.  It took barely a half an hour.  I carry a micro-cassette recorder to get an accurate account of the time, as well as to record other thoughts I have.  It was easy to see, from up here, what was going on ahead of me.  My recorded comments paint the picture pretty well, “From here the Supai looks just absolutely horrible, so, I guess that’s the story.”  The fault that generated this route didn’t break apart the upper 150 feet of Supai, hence the difficulty of making this route work.

     I had taken the time to literally draw a map of Steck’s route description through this section of Supai.  I drew in the right descent ravine, the ponderosa that is supposed to line up with Brady Peak, the large overhang, the detached white tower, the critical chimneys to climb, along with the spacing between them, the curious ponderosa grove, with its seep spring and final contour into the ravine leading to the Redwall chute.  I must have read the description a half dozen times, and decided that a picture map would be preferred.  By the time I got here, the map was burned into my memory.  Although certainly crude, it worked for me.

     Steck had taken some two and a half hours to come down through this section, although it was hot, there were four in the group, and they had heavy packs.  I was traveling solo, had a light pack, the temperatures were perfect and I anticipated that I could climb up through spots with the pack on my back.  It took me some 45 minutes to contour over to the first landmark here--a grove of ponderosa trees and a bit of a seep spring.  The contour was quite miserable, although I was following the hint of a deer trail.  On more than a few occasions I found myself holding onto the limbs of trees and bushes while dancing my way across especially steep and unstable ground.  A bigger pack would have made this much worse.

     From the ponderosa grove, the route unfolded before me just as shown on my map.  It seems a rare thing for events to develop just as planned!  I easily found all of the right spots, including the crucial crack that has a fir branch growing down through it, used to assist along the way (pictured to the right).  This was the only place I had to take my pack off, and raise it up after me.  I’m sure that I didn’t win any style points through here, but was happy to find the going as easy as it was.

Appendix 1 - The Kibbey Butte Route Map

     I had drawn a map on a piece of paper which I still have.  But, I know I copied it onto a 3x5 note card for the hike and I can't find that.  The roughed out sketches are not especially great, so I decided to put it together again, below, using some photos I took during the hike to highlight certain features.  All of these photos appear in the text, above.  The map is based on George Steck's description given on pages 130-131 of Grand Canyon Loop Hikes II.

Appendix 2 - Micro-cassette Transcript
Text in brackets, [ ], were added at time of transcription.

Friday, May 16th, 1997 and am beginning to leave from Flagstaff for the hike up the Kibbey Butte route.  It is 2:46 and I’m just leaving the gas station at Flagstaff.  The mileage is 39,648.1.  The weight of my pack is 25 pounds exactly.

It’s 4:38.  The mileage is 120.8, from Flagstaff, and I’m right now crossing Navaho Bridge, arriving here at Marble Canyon.

It’s 5:27, and I’m just leaving Jacob Lake.  Stopped here to get some gas and reset the odometer.  It is sunny and partly cloudy--got some rain down around Cliff Dwellers and in that area.  And, now, on to the North Rim.

The forest road that goes off to the east and the west, leading to all kinds of points, including Nankoweap trailhead, [is] 27.1 miles past Jacob Lake.

It’s 6:01--I’ve just entered the park.

It’s 6:21.  The miles are 39,859.6 and I’m right at the rim where the Ken Patrick trail is, to check it out.  Saw some snow on the way in, and I’m hoping it’s not going to be a big problem here, off the side.  [This is the water cache spot.]

It is 8:17.  The miles are 39,906.5--have come 95.1 miles from Jacob Lake and I’m now at the Nankoweap trailhead.  There’s a couple of vehicles parked over nearby--don’t know that I saw a tent anywhere.  It seems like it may rain a little bit tonight, so looks like I may be setting up the tent.  [I did set up the tent, but it did not rain.  When I arrived here, after first going to the lodge and eating a quick dinner out on the balcony--pizza slice and a salad--it was dark.]

It is Saturday, May 17th.  The time is 5:34 and I’m just getting ready to go here.  All ready to head down.  The sun has been up for as bit.  I did get up at 4:30, but it takes about an hour to get ready to get going.  There are a couple of vehicles here and it looks now like there isn’t anybody camped, so they must be down the trail.

It is 6:35 and I am at the trailhead on the saddle.  The route down was pretty nice.  At the top the trail has been cleared away a lot, so it’s real easy going.  Once you get past the big plateau the brush is still a little bit intrusive.  Had to cross a snowpack over one little stretch too, so it was kind of an odd little outcome.  Real nice day--clear, breezy, but very pleasant up here, which makes me think it’s going to be very hot down there.  So, on to Marion Point.

It is 7:30 and I have stopped in the shade of a tree, somewhat past Marion Point.  I thought I might catch an overhang here with some nice shade, but it’s catching some of the early morning sun.  But, still, it’s a pretty nice spot right here.  I’m going to take a little break, have some water, put some sunscreen on my arms and get this long sleeved shirt off.  It’s still pretty nice.  Of course, we’re still pretty high here in this section.  But, time is going real well.  There are about six, or seven, hikers ahead of me, on the other side of this bay.  I suppose I may be meeting up with them, or passing them, somewhere by Breezy Point, it would seem.  So, anyway, take a little break here.  It is still very clear, and quite calm, right here anyway.

It’s 7:55 and I’m ready to leave this little spot and continue on my way.

It’s 8:51 and I’m at the top of Breezy Point, to stop, have a drink of water, and keep on.

At 9:27, I’m passing camp-on-a-ledge.

It is 9:55 and I have just passed the little sit-down rocks in the Tapeats and am ...on my way I stopped to have a little bit of water there.  When I get down to the terrace I intend to cut across and hit the creek upstream, as best I can, before stopping for a bit.

[Water sounds]  That is the sound of Nankoweap Creek.  It is 10:19 and I have just arrived here just a moment ago.  My traverse of the terraces turned out pretty well, and I came down right at the petroglyph rock.  So, one could never have planned that any better.  I’m going to take a pretty long break here--probably a lunch break, really.  And, head up the creek here in quite a bit.  It shouldn’t be such a big deal getting up there to the higher spring.  Some clouds have rolled in, so that probably means it’s going to be cool and shady this afternoon.  The breeze has been blowing cool, so that’s felt pretty nice.  The sun is warm, but not unbearable, so far.  So, take a break here.

--Some miscellaneous trail notes:  First, the rocks that I placed on the very upper part of the trail, near the saddle, bridging a spot that had washed away, are still there, and it looks to be in excellent shape.
     Secondly, the bypass of the live tree, along Breezy Point, is functioning very well, especially on the way down.  On the way back up, it may be a little bit more of a problem, although the branches that I set in the old trail are still there to discourage that particular route.
     I passed the six, or seven, guys, just a little bit below the Redwall--just as we were beginning the Redwall descent.  They were keeping up a pretty good pace.  I‘m not under the impression that any one of them has ever been here before [They did not know about water being in the creek.], but they intend to go to the river, and, I suppose, spend the night down there.
     Also, as I’ve come down, I am much impressed with how the four day hike would have gone, all the way to Phantom.  Considering that it’s just 10:20 now, clearly one could just take a real quick break here and continue on to Kwagunt and be there by noon.  And, if you spend a couple of hours there, and then pushed on later in the day, I’m sure you could get to Awatubi, or maybe even 60-Mile canyon, before you’d have to stop.  But, of course, I don’t think you’d have to.  From Kwagunt, I think it would be a pretty easy day, with these relatively light packs, to Lava Canyon.
     I suppose an alternative four day trip would be to continue from here on to Awatubi, and then the next day get through Lava and into Unkar, and go down a ways there, to the water.  And, then on the third day, you could get all the way to Clear Creek.  That would make the last day out a lot more enjoyable.
     As I’ve come down, I’ve also been able to look up at Kibbey Butte, and some of that stuff, and I feel real good about that route and being able to get somewhere.  So, I’m really looking forward to that climb out of here tomorrow.

It is 11:45 and I am all set to head up the creek here for the spring by Ehrenberg Point.  The clouds have gotten a little bit heavier--I can still see plenty of blue sky--but, it has been shading things down and cooling things off, so it feels pretty pleasant.  Onwards.

It is 12:44 and I climbed up to the top of a terrace, where Walcott Spring is, and have followed along it, and intend to follow along it until I reach the branch here, heading up where I need to go.  But, not too far up here, on the higher part, a little pottery sherd area that I took a picture of, and a number of rooms here--it seems to me at least four, or five, or maybe even six good sized rooms on the edge, overlooking the creek.

It is 1:00 and I am right near the major fork here, in Nankoweap.  I’ll be heading off to the north and the right hand side, to get where I want to go.  But, it doesn’t seem like I’m going to have too much further to go to reach that upper spring.  The sun is feeling a little bit warm--the rocks are feeling a little bit warm.  So, I’m going to stop here, at the creek, for a little bit--recoup a bit.

It is 1:34 and time to continue on, up Nankoweap, here, to find the spring by Ehrenberg Point.

[water sounds.]  It is 3:14 and I have come to a spring coming right out of the side of the wall, and this certainly seems to be the one that Steck refers to, and that Butchart refers to.  So, take a little look around before deciding on a place to camp.

It is 3:54, and I have gone up and down here a ways and really can’t find much that looks to be a very good camping site.  But, I’ve picked a spot that’s not too far from the spring--far enough away so that I hope that the noise doesn’t keep me awake, but, close enough so that I don’t have to make too big a trip to get to it.  And, so, now I’m just going to relax, kick back, fix water, maybe even dunk myself down here a little bit if the water feels good.

Sunday, May 18th.  It is 5:57, and I’m all set to leave my little campsite here.  My little [air] mattress doesn’t work very well, as apparently there’s a leak, and the thing went flat very quickly every time I blew it up, which made my night less than comfortable.  Or, at least, perfectly so.  And, in fact, the ground was a little bit cold, and that was a little bit uncomfortable, too.  But, I still slept pretty well through most of the evening.  I didn’t hear my alarm go off at four, but I did wake up at about 4:30 and get going in here.  Had a good breakfast--a bunch of water.  I got my four liters.  And, I can see Kibbey Butte from here--it looks mighty, mighty close, although apparently it’s going to take six to eight hours to get to it.  But, that’s the way it goes.  So, now to go up and look for that route through the Redwall.

It is 8:07 and I am at the bottom of the Redwall break, and it looks pretty good, just as everybody says.  Climbing up the ravine here was straightforward, but once I passed the branch that goes off between Hancock and Kibbey the going got a lot slower--(narrower) the ravine was narrower, fallen trees across it and bushy.  [I fell down in here a couple of times.]  In fact, I missed the turnoff and started heading up the wrong canyon for just a couple of minutes before I realized my mistake.  And, I don’t know how well marked that junction is, as I cut across a little area to get back into this ravine.  It is a beautifully cool day--light cloudiness around.  I’ve been in the shade most of the morning.  And, the sun doesn’t look like it’s going to rise on me too much until I’m up above the Redwall.  From here the Supai looks just absolutely horrible, so, I guess that’s the story--see what’s on when I get up there.

It is 8:40 and I’ve reached the top of the Redwall.  It was pretty straightforward--a couple of places that were a little steep, and I actually (put my pole) strapped my pole to the pack and put my camera inside, so that I could better climb up through some of that.  From here, I have to consider what I’m going to do.  The fault ravine continues on through a big chunk of Supai, and I believe that’s what Steck was talking about, in terms of contouring west from that lower break into the fault ravine.  Otherwise, right here, it looks like you could continue along the Redwall for a piece.  There is an upper ledge in the Supai that is possible as well.  To my northeast I can see a solitary little tower, which I think is what Steck, and Butchart [?], refers to, in terms of marking the top part of the route here.  So, it seems that things are working well.

It is 9:00.  Time to continue on.  I’ve decided to follow through this fault ravine to what looks to be a big chunk of the Supai, and then try and take a little higher contour over to the ponderosa tree that Steck talks about.  The next couple of hours will be quite crucial for the success of this trip.

It is 9:47 and I’ve reached the ponderosa grove, where there’s a little seep spring and I’m right next to it.  So, I’m going to grab a place to sit and read my stuff again, maybe even scout out what it is I’m trying to do here, before I put the pack back on.
     I did come across here at the highest level and there was a bit of a deer trail to follow.  There were a couple of spots that were very steep and slick that was a little bit of a problem getting across.  Luckily, there’s some bushes and things like that that are growing around here that allow for one to hold on for dear life.  So, I can see how headed off that way it would be easy to sort of track your way down.  At the top of the fault ravine, though, I did see a couple of little rock cairns, marking this particular direction.  So, hopefully, that will continue on up through here.  [Bird sounds in background throughout this entry.]

WooHoo!  It is 10:36 and I am up around the base of Kibbey--going to work my way around to the isthmus, I guess, that leads to the mainland here [Well, the ridge that connects Kibbey to the rim.] and then take a break for lunch.  What a route.  I decided not to stop and reread things, but instead just take whatever looked good, since I remembered pretty well what the description was about.

It’s 10:40 and I haven’t quite reached the isthmus, but I found a good spot to sit and take my lunch.  So, I’m going to do that.  On the way up, I caught all those spots, pretty much right on.  The first one, by the tree, I went a little bit to my right, around the point, as Steck had mentioned, and climbed right up through there without any trouble.  I saw a rock cairn that was on the other side of the point [at the top of this spot], which would have been the sort of main way, I suppose.
     Then, I found the ravine with the fir branch in it, and that looked pretty good.  It was not hard to climb, but I did have to take my pack off and tie a rope around it.  And, that was a hassle, because the ground there is sloped quite steeply and the pack started to slide away, and so I had to keep tension on the rope while I was trying to climb up through here.  Ended up doing a couple of chimney steps along the way.  And, I reached the top and I had really had just about run out of rope.  So, the two ropes together was just enough, and it was no problem hauling my pack up.
     The last spot that is along that line--I saw a couple of possibilities, but I followed the one that had the dead branch in it--I think Harvey mentioned the dead snag.  It was a little bit of a problem.  I had to really pull myself up to get over the top, because there wasn’t anything to grab on at the top, except right at the very edge-- (a couple of...) a bush and a rock.  And, the detached white rock tower is actually at that level, and below.  So, you wouldn’t see it until you got pretty close to that spot.  Then, I came back along the route that Steck talked about, and I came up a little bit short of his route, but an easy little scramble right up to the base, here, of Kibbey.  So, I’ll have some lunch, and then be on my way.

It is 11:43 and I’m all set to leave my little nice lunch spot.  Very enjoyable, just sitting around and eating something, resting for a bit.  I feel very good, so there must be something to say for that.  Still some high, light cloudiness, keeping the sun a little bit dampened, although it seems a little bit bright right where I am here.  So, on up to the rim, hopefully [to] encounter some of the old trail along the way.

It is 12:24 and I’ve just reached the top of the tower, in the Coconino--the back side.  I lost the trail a couple of times, but seemed to always manage to get back on one.  Very steep, very poor footing, kind of a chore that way, but at least a trail, and, man, the flies are really a buzzin’ around me.  Well, now up through the Toroweap and Kaibab.  It should be a little easier going, but still some climbing to do.

It is 12:39 and I’ve reached the top.  I’ve come out where there’s a burnt tree stump, exactly (where I’ve gone down...) where I went down before.  And, there’s a rock cairn here, and a couple of logs pointing the way, down at this particular spot.  So, how about that.  Well, I’m going to try and wander through the woods here, towards my water point, and hopefully stay away from the road.  We’ll see how it goes.

It is (1:36, excuse me...) 1:14 and I am right now at my water cache.  I tried to follow through the woods, but the going was really tough and it forced me back to the road.  The road was nearby, and it turns out to have been the spot where it’s close to the rim, right before Greenland Lake, and the walk back along the road wasn’t too bad.  The traffic is light, so, and speed was pretty decent [for me].  So, I’m going to fetch my water, take a little drink, and then continue on to Point Imperial.

It’s 1:18 and I’m about ready to go.  I was down only two liters from leaving my campsite this morning, so that seems like a little bit too little water to have consumed, but I don’t feel like I was really saving any at all.  So, I’m now back up to almost four, having had about a half a liter here.  Onward.

It is 2:29 and I’m just passing through Point Imperial, just about to get on the road headed to Saddle Mountain.  I followed the trail all the way here, except that it cut off the end.  [That is, I left it once I knew I was at Pt. Imperial.]

It is 3:27 and as I’m walking along here I see a big grove of aspens and there is the gate.  So, I’m on the Forest Road 610 and all I have to do is hop down to get the truck.

At 3:31 I’m back at the truck.

It is 4:07 and I’m all set to leave and drive home, maybe all the time in the light [daylight].  The miles is [are] 39,906.5 and the trip odometer is 95.1, which would have been from Jacob Lake to the water cache to the North Rim and back here, seemingly quite a long ways.

It was .2 of a mile from the truck back to the gate, that leads along the road to Point Imperial.

It’s 4:34 and I’ve reached the highway.

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