IF THE SHOE FITS, IT'S ADVENTURE TIME! PETER BUGG'S GRAND WEEKEND

Words, Photos, and Video by Peter Bugg @plbugg

What turns a trip into an adventure? Is it going somewhere new? Physical challenge? Navigating an obstacle? Whatever it is, we were in search of it during a warm weekend in May in northern Arizona.

Bobby, Danica, Mark, and I had driven up from Phoenix after work on Friday, the four of us packed into the cab of Mark’s truck, with the bed full of equipment and provisions for the next 48 hours. We camped at Badger Point, a picturesque slice of BLM land below the Vermilion Cliffs that HMG Founder and CEO Mike St. Pierre, Rich Rudow, and other notable adventurers had used as a staging ground before their epic Grand Canyon traverse in the 2010s. Our aspirations were a bit more modest, but it’s a convenient spot to set up for the night and make the transition from city life to the slower tempo of the backcountry. Four hours in the car had left us with some anxious energy we needed to burn off before we turned in for the night, but a beer and a last-minute run-through of the itinerary and gear list did the trick. As a group, we employed a variety of methods to contend with the warm spring breezes of the open desert: two of us in a rooftop tent, one in a ground tent, and one cowboy camping behind a windbreak made of a cooler, a duffel bag, and a gear bin. In the morning, I think we agreed that the ground nesters got better rest, away from the flapping fabric of the elevated option, but everyone slept well enough that our spirits were not affected. 

We awoke with the sun, made the final additions and subtractions to our packs, and drove 15 minutes to our trailhead on Navajo Nation. We parked the truck, set up shade screens in all the windows, left our permit on the windshield, and began our descent of Jackass Creek a little after 8am. I was coming off of a hip injury that was about seven weeks old, so our itinerary was less heroic than in weekends past - 3.5 miles and 900 feet of descent down to the Colorado River with a little bit of puddle-skirting along the way, four miles of packrafting, and then an afternoon on the banks of the river, watching the light play off the cliffs as the sun set. And it was a great plan. The hike down Jackass started off very mellow - the sun was low, and shadows were long, and we casually picked our way down to the river, stopping to inspect pieces of natural and man-made detritus along the way. 

We were prepared to rappel if needed, but the two precipitous drops were pre-rigged with hand-lines that suited our needs, so the only times we were temporarily slowed were when we had to skirt short sections of mud. Weather was cooperative too, canyon walls provided enough refuge from the sun until we were within .25 miles of the river, and then the water was perfect to dip our feet into and give us some respite from the UV rays bouncing off the sand. All in all, we couldn’t have asked for a better Saturday in the big ditch. 

We inflated our packrafts and set off down the river. Two separate trips in December of 2020 and 2021 have left me a bit gun-shy about getting on the water, but my nerves calmed as soon as we began our float. I had done the bulk of this section of the river in 2021, and we faced similar conditions on this go-around. The first ½ mile had a few riffles that would go unnoticed in a larger raft, but provided just the right amount of spice to add to the excitement and necessitate a quick stop to bail some water and add a few PSI to our boats. 

And then we were off for a glorious, unhurried, worry-free 2.5 miles of floating.

We let the current push us along as we gazed up at the cliffs that grew higher as the river cut down through layers of rock.

We inspected and pondered 10-mile Rock as we floated past. 

We even startled a beaver on the northern bank - probably a trip highlight for me. Alas, all good things must come to an end, and the last ½ mile before our portage around Soap Creek rapid introduced enough of a headwind that we had to buckle down and paddle, but the juice was definitely worth the squeeze. 

And this was the point where our trip turned into an adventure, a tale that will surely be added to the group lore and will be told for years to come. It went a little something like this. 

Danica: Should we put our shoes on for this portage? 

Mark: Oh…no. 

Peter: What? 

Mark: I’m such an idiot. 

Bobby: What?!

Mark: I can’t believe I did this, you guys.

Bobby, Danica, Peter (in unison): WHAT DID YOU DO?

Mark: I left my shoes on the beach where we got into the boats. 

(Simultaneous groan.)

After some discussion, Mark insisted that he would be able to complete Sunday’s exit hike - 3 miles and 1,300 feet of elevation - without shoes. He is in great physical shape, having recently completed an ultramarathon on trails, and we figured we could MacGyver some sort of solution with the supplies we had, so we completed the portage, hopped back in boats, and let the stronger, post-rapid current quickly carry us to the mouth of Saltwater wash, where we would camp for the evening. 

We spent all afternoon cooling down in the river, warming back up on the rocks, waving at commercial boating trips as they passed by, and appreciating an afternoon in a desert oasis as the sun moved towards the rim of the canyon and shadows slowly crept towards us. 

Wind, warmth, and lack of space on the beach were factors to contend with, but when the time came, we found a few flat spots just a little up the wash, and were able to set up comfortable camps for the night. Unlucky experiences with unexpected rain on past trips had prodded us into bringing shelters, but we elected not to use them, instead deciding to sleep under the stars. 

Which meant we awoke pretty early, before the sun made it over the lip of the sandstone cliffs that surrounded us. After a quick breakfast, evacuation, and final round of water collection, we began our ascent of Saltwater wash around 6:20. The early hour was helpful because it meant conducive hiking temperatures and additional shade before the sun got high in the sky. I was also concerned about how quickly we would be able to travel, given that Mark’s footwear was cobbled together from a pair of camp slippers, athletic tape from the first aid kit, and a childhood spent stepping on Legos.

We began climbing straight up the bottom of the wash, which worked, but wasn’t very efficient as it required lots of route-finding through spiky vegetation as well as over and around cantankerous boulder piles. Luckily, after getting tired of the rest of us not taking his gentle hints about a supposed game trail just out of view, Bobby took matters into his own hands, exploring one of the chossy sidewalls to find a much more well-traveled route to the rim. 

The original plan had been to get back to the two-lane highway 89A, drop packs, and wait for Mark to jog the two miles back to his truck - but the updated footwear situation required some adaptation. Luckily, the first truck that passed us going in the right direction took pity on us and pulled over when we stuck out a thumb for a hitch. There was plenty of room for all four of us and our packs in the bed, and we were back to our starting spot in less than five minutes, and safely back to Flagstaff in time for Mother’s Day brunch. 

To answer the question at the beginning - I’m still not sure exactly what moves the needle from trip to adventure, but it certainly makes a better story when things don’t go quite as planned, and you can successfully navigate yourself out of a sticky situation. 

NOTES ON GEAR

There were no individual all-stars on this trip. It was really a team effort. We discussed many times how heavy packs would have made the hike out considerably more challenging, and how we were glad to have learned our lessons on past trips, so we could gracefully adapt to the significant obstacle of being down one set of shoes. We were also thankful to learn the current lesson - double check the beach before you push off into the current - on a one-night getaway, and not on a five-night attempt at a bigger objective. 

HOW I CHOSE THIS ROUTE

As I said above, I had floated most of this section of river in 2021. On that trip, I came from the Grand Canyon side to the northwest, as opposed to the Navajo Nation side to the southeast. I knew I wanted to do something shorter and more manageable due to my injured hip, but I also wanted to cover some new territory. I spend a good amount of time looking at maps and day-dreaming about combining known routes, so I had put this itinerary on my wish-list and felt lucky that favorable weather, agreeable personnel, and ample Grand Canyon experience combined for a fun weekend before the weather gets too hot and we need to search out cooler climates for our outdoor adventures.