Hiking the Grand Canyon

It's a piece of cake," said Grand Canyon National Park Ranger Pam Cox. Her face a giant smile, she was making a gung-ho try at bolstering our courage for the rigorous 9.6-mile hike we faced the next morning. Having descended to famed Phantom Ranch at the very bottom of the Arizona canyon the day before - the first leg of a three-day, five-star adventure on a tightwad's budget - we now had to climb back out again. The South Rim, our goal, towered high above. Way way above. Maybe for her it's no big deal, I thought. She's done it dozens of times. But what about all of us first-timers? Entering the canyon, we had taken the shorter (7.2-mile) but much steeper South Kaibab Trail, and my upper thighs still screamed in pain from the experience. Outbound, we planned to climb Bright Angel Trail, more than two miles longer but reputedly less demanding. Still, I was more than a little worried about whether my legs and lungs were up to the task, and I suspect so were many other hikers gathered for Cox's after-dinner chat under the stars. In the quiet, we could hear the mighty Colorado River spilling over the rapids just down the path.

Obviously I made it to the top, or I wouldn't have written this story. And, no, it wasn't really a piece of cake; Cox (as we all suspected) had exaggerated. Though the trail begins with an easy and spectacularly scenic mile-long hike along the Colorado, the real ascent turned out to be a slow, sweaty, 6 1/2-hour slog (with half a dozen time-outs to recoup our strength). But despite causing aching muscles, the climb also proved to be an ego-boosting climax to an adventure of a lifetime, played out to one of the most beautiful backdrops in America.

The descent to Phantom Ranch (or to Bright Angel campground)

For anyone who relishes outdoor challenges, no self-guided adventure anywhere rates as more rewarding - or cheaper-than a rim-to-river (and back) hike in the Grand Canyon. Just think how many friends you can amaze by telling them: "I hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon."

In her pep talk, Cox pointed out that five million people visit the Grand Canyon annually. But fewer than one percent ever get to the bottom, a mile below the rim, where the views - up close and intimate - appear even more awesome. This near wilderness can be reached only by raft, mule, or afoot. Raft and mule trips (I've done both) cost hundreds of dollars; hiking sets you back next to nothing. Better yet, going on foot turned out to be more satisfying because I did it on my own power. We hikers sort of turn up our noses at the mule-back softies.

From the moment I stepped over the rim, the South Kaibab Trail treated me to nonstop views of multicolored rocks in fantastical shapes: soaring pinnacles, flat-topped buttes, sawtooth ridges, and sheer cliff walls. Though no geologist, even I could spot the dramatic change in rock formations as I descended deeper into the chasm. Far below, the racing Colorado, a vivid green, marked the day's goal. Though distracted by grand vistas, I watched where I walked. The trail clings to the edge of precipitous drop-offs as it zigzags in countless switchbacks down the face of a canyon wall. A stumble could be disastrous.

Part of the fun of this trip is staying at Phantom Ranch, an oasis in the arid canyon depths. A historic national park lodge built in the 1920s, it stands in a shady cottonwood grove alongside Bright Angel Creek, a tumbling Colorado tributary. With Jack Hawes, an old college buddy from California, I planned two nights there, giving us a day to relax between the hike in and out. So how did we relax? We hiked the gentle trail that winds through the narrow, steep-walled gorge traced by Bright Angel Creek. At age 65, we both keep fit - I run five miles almost daily; he's a demon on an exercise bicycle - but we weren't taking chances.

Canyon costs

The hike itself costs nothing, and guidance and commentary from the National Park Rangers is of course similarly free. This, combined with the cheap rates at Phantom Ranch, makes this adventure affordable for almost anyone in decent shape. A friendly, low-key retreat, the lodge accommodates a maximum of 88 people-either in small stone-and-log cabins (48 guests) or in four ten-bunk dormitories (40 guests) - two dorms each for males and females. The cabins rent for $71 a night for two people, not a bad price considering their unique setting. But folks on the mule trips get most of them. The dorms, where we stowed our packs, are reserved for hikers. The $25.50-per-person rate includes bed linens and a towel. Each dorm boasts a hot shower, sink, and toilet.

Not cheap enough? If you're willing to rough it, Bright Angel Campground (928/638-7875), adjacent to the ranch, caters to serious hikers able to tote tent, sleeping bag, food, and cooking gear. That's in addition to drinking water, energy bars and other trail snacks, toiletries, and extra clothing we dorm-bound hikers carried. The campground offers 33 sites, available to a maximum of 90 campers a night. The cost is $5 per person a night, plus a $10 permit for each site.

To save money, pack food. We took the easier option and ate the ranch's group meals dished up at tables for 12. The dinner menu is limited to the same two choices. The steak dinner, served nightly at 5 p.m., is $27.75 per person; mule trippers get first choice. We tucked into the hiker's hearty stew, served at 6:30 p.m. and priced at a more modest $17.25, including green salad, corn bread, and chocolate cake. A breakfast of sausage, eggs, and pancakes is $14.50, and a bag lunch, full of high-energy snacks, $7.50.

At the above prices for room and board, our two-night, three-day adventure totaled just $118 per person, not including modest taxes and a $3 Tecate beer at dinner. Entertainment was Cox's informative wildlife talks. One night, she described efforts to preserve the park's bat population; the next, we learned about the apparently successful effort to re-introduce California condors.