Tapeats Creek to end of trail – 112 miles
«The great American West has swallowed us whole. We are scum. Hayduke would approve.» – Early lane
At this point in our journey, I feel deeply connected to the land around us. I find myself looking for ways to make our time here last even longer. I already fear the end. Moving on after a hike like this seems impossible to fathom. How could there be another adventure as great as this one? Perhaps that is the power the Grand Canyon wields over those who venture into its depths.
While one side of my brain fights to keep this road from ending, the other realizes we still have 112 miles to go. This journey is far from over. There’s no time to celebrate yesterday’s seven hardest miles of trail. It’s time to wake up and keep walking.
Shortly after leaving camp, we heard the roar of Tapeats Creek. We only know a couple of people who have managed to traverse this section so far this spring, but despite the sound of raging water echoing through the canyon, we remain positive knowing that others have found a way before us.
Some of the crossovers give Lane a run for his money. He responded: «You’re not going to like this one.»
So I would look for another crossing point, one that didn’t require fighting with my full body weight against the current.
Around lunchtime, we rejoin the National Park trails and see our first day hikers exploring the canyon during a Colorado River rafting trip.
Next up is the Thunder River, which gushes straight out of the canyon wall like a giant fire hose. We stop for lunch under a shaded ledge, sitting beneath the towering cliffs and admiring one of the most remarkable views of the canyon. Later, we turned a corner and entered the sacred Deer Creek Narrows, traversing a narrow ledge carved into the Tapeats sandstone, hundreds of feet above a slot canyon where the water roars below.
As we rejoin the Colorado River for the last time, we stop to cool off beneath the canyon’s tallest waterfall, Deer Creek Falls. Fifty feet away, we admire its beauty and let the mist cover us before continuing into the heat of the day. Some hikers from previous years suggest hitchhiking with a rafting group here to avoid the grueling bighorn sheep trail that stays high above the river for seven miles before climbing Kanab Creek. We decided to continue walking.
I stop to discuss our route with Lane and notice a bighorn sheep climbing up a steep ravine before disappearing into a cliff above. We joke that the sheep is showing us the way, but we continue on anyway.
Not long after, we discover that we are completely out of place. Unable to continue along the lower layer of Tapeats, we are forced to turn back. After all, he should have followed that sheep. We finally found a campsite for the night and re-evaluated our options for getting back on the trail tomorrow.
The next morning, using the trail we had seen the bighorn sheep use the night before had me cursing its slope. Neither of us wants to go back the entire distance, so we start climbing with everything we have. To our surprise, faint sheep trails appear and guide us through the maze of cliffs.
Finally, we find ourselves near the river again after several kilometers of exposed hiking when we notice a beam approaching.
“Can we take your trash?” he shouts.
We later learned that this is a common courtesy of the canyon, the beams help lighten the backpackers’ load. They approach the shore and before long we decide to accept an even greater gift: a four-mile trip down the Colorado River to the mouth of Kanab Creek.
We spent the brief float soaking in the scenery with our new friends, Will and Jim, swapping stories about previous adventures and everything the canyon has given us so far. Before long, we’re standing at the mouth of Kanab Creek, beer in hand, lighter weight from getting rid of our trash, and saying goodbye to our fellow trail angels.
It’s hard not to celebrate. Making up miles after last night’s navigation problem makes the beer taste even better.
However, a few miles into Kanab Creek, the Hayduke reminds us that it is not done with us yet.
For hours we navigated giant rocks, deep pools of water with muddy bottoms, and bottlenecks in canyons before finally finding a place to sleep. Camping in Kanab Creek Canyon is generally not recommended due to the risk of flash flooding from the countless tributaries that feed the drainage. Luckily, we used our Garmin device to text home and ask Lane’s dad to check the weather in the entire surrounding basin. Good news, the prognosis is clear.
The next few days will be filled with endless water walks, vast desert landscapes, and complete solitude.
Finally, we headed to Colorado City, where we were overwhelmed by all the luxuries we’ve dreamed about for days. After checking into a hotel to shower and do laundry, I look at my reflection and realize how much weight I’ve lost.
My body has eliminated almost every gram of fat that I carried at the beginning of the journey. I weigh almost ten kilos less.
Needless to say, I don’t hold back. I spend the rest of the day devouring every hot meal I can get my hands on.
Then comes the final stretch to Zion National Park.
I won’t lie, it feels strange leaving the city. With the Grand Canyon behind us, a part of me feels like the road is already over. The miles out of Colorado City are hard to process.
But at dusk, the landscape changes again, and so does my perspective. I’m happy to be here. Happy to have another National Park waiting ahead.
The next day is a trek across endless stretches of soft sand, and every mile feels like double the effort. Hayduke doesn’t care. It’s time to keep moving.
Finally, we enter what seems like a secret garden hidden from the rest of the world: The Barracks.
We spent hours wading gently flowing waters beneath the towering canyon walls, overwhelmed once again by the beauty of this route. When we found an amazing beach campsite along the creek, with a campfire area and log benches, we decided there was no reason to continue.
We set up camp, prepared a feast, washed our socks in the stream and enjoyed the warmth of a campfire, the first of the entire tour.
It’s a perfect evening. We left the rain fly and fell asleep listening to the frogs croaking and the stream running through the canyon.
Leaving The Barracks and entering Zion National Park is an all-day endeavor. The route is steep, exposed and requires constant route finding. Hayduke gives no respite.
At the end a road appears. Cars zip by on Zion’s scenic highways and suddenly we know we’ve made it.
We sat under a bridge, just as Hayduke would have done.
The official end of the trail has been inaccessible for years due to rockfalls, leaving each hiker to decide where their journey ends.
We hadn’t planned to end the hike here. But somehow it feels good. No official monument. There is no sign of completion. Just a graffiti covered underpass under a bridge, hidden in plain sight. In that moment of understanding the tears begin to flow. I wasn’t ready for it to end, but that’s where this story ends. Tears under a bridge, a lifetime of stories and countless moments of fear, wonder and adventure that I will carry with me forever.
